Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or concepts of the Sentinel

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Home Alone
by M
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Blair Sandburg was alone in the loft. Alone in the loft on a Saturday afternoon.

Ordinarily that would be fun but not this Saturday.

Nope. This Saturday, Blair was cleaning.

Cleaning. Alone. On a Saturday.

Spring cleaning time and yet again Jim had managed to find a way out of it.
Well, this time he hadn't really tried. Nope. This time fate had done it. Or
rather Simon had, when he called Jim into Major Crime to assist on some case.
Which left Blair to do the cleaning.

"This sooo....sucks!" He grumbled, filling the bucket with warm water. "I hate
mopping." He added as he swirled a hand around in the water, mixing up the suds.

As he turned away from the sink his eyes fell on his backpack, which lay on the
counter.

Sticking out of it was the Ricky Martin CD a friend had given him.

A grin suddenly lit the young man's face as an idea popped into his head.

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"If Simon calls me in on my next day off, I swear I'm quitting." Jim grumbled,
stepping out of the truck. "Rafe could've handled that one in his sleep."

Walking into the building his hearing picked up on something quite interesting.
Music.

That Ricky Martin guy, if his memory was right.

And mingling with the music and lyrics was Sandburg's voice.

A grin slowly spread across the Sentinel's face as he made his way up to the
loft. Blair had to be singing at the top of his lungs.

That, combined with the words, was making for a very interesting sound.

"I'm a desperado,
Underneath your window,
I can see your silhouette
Are you my Juliet?
I feel a mad connection with your body."

Jim was chuckling by the time he reached the door to the loft.

And the sight that greeted him, when he opened the loft door, propelled him into
full scale laughter.

In the center of the kitchen, stood Blair, dancing around with the mop, using it
as a mike. The anthropologist was the picture of kinetic energy as he sang along
with the stereo.

"Shake your bon-bon
Shake your bon-bon
Shake your bon-bon!"

Blair danced around in a circle, falling silent when he spotted Jim who was
leaning against the doorframe, laughing.

Abandoning his mop and walking over to the stereo, Blair shut off the music and
turned to face his friend. "Something funny?" He asked archly.

Jim chuckled. "No. Nothing at all." He responded, schooling his features into
the picture of solemnness.

Blair raised an eyebrow and met his friend's eyes steadily. "Uh, huh...Right."
He said finally, his voice skeptical.

Jim held his Guide's gaze for a long moment then slowly, inevitably, his eyes
began to dance with merriment. Next, his mouth began to twitch until he began
laughing again.

"Sorry, Chief, but you looked absolutely..." He shook his head, laughing.
"You're something, Blair, that's all I can say."

Blair watched as his friend closed the door and took off his coat. "Hit the
music, Sandburg. Let's finish cleaning."

Blair grinned and hit the play button on the stereo.

Ricky Martin promptly blasted through the loft.

Jim winced for a second, before his hearing adjusted to the noise level, then
went for the spare mop.

He might not have been aware of it, but his antics had worked a miracle on
his Sentinel's frazzled nerves.

But then, Blair had a habit of doing that.

Whenever it seemed as if Jim was about to explode from stress, Blair would do
something, whether intentional or not, so absolutely crazy and hilarious that it
would instantly put the Sentinel at ease.

Jim grinned at Blair, who was again singing along with the music.

'Don't you ever change, Chief.' He silently ordered the anthropologist. 'Stay
just the way you are.' He smothered a laugh as Blair's curls bounced wildly.
'Absolutely crazy.'

Finis