An Angsty Little Moment That Turns Out Fine
by Helen W.
Some time after TSbyBS...
"I could do this."
Jim's shoving the Cascade Times across the table, pointing to the left-hand column of the second page, and at first Blair thinks he's talking about a bit about a new Exxon station out on Rt. 7. But, no, it's an AP article about some hundred-year-old safe in a basement in Texas that nobody can get open.
"I can crack safes," Jim says, and he's trying to fake a smile so hard he's even crinkled the corners of his eyes.
And for an instant, Blair can actually see it, Jim hunched awkwardly in front of a dial, his injured leg at some improbable angle, a cane lying nearby, trying to keep his hand from shaking (SHAKING? Where did that come from?) as he teased out a combination.
"As good guys or bad guys?" Blair asks, and now Jim really *is* laughing, even though it wasn't all that funny, so Blair decides to roll with it. "Let's go do some crimes, man." Though he actually kind of hated Repo Man. "We can blame society."
"I don't think so, Chief. We're both white suburban punks, or close enough."
"Doesn't mean it doesn't hurt," Blair says, then, quickly, "so, let's keep you away from things requiring kneeling for a while."
Jim shrugs, tops off his coffee, and grabs the sports section, and it takes a moment or two before Blair realizes he's been holding his breath.
But Jim's fine. His leg will heal fine, he'll be back on the job in a couple of weeks. Maybe on desk duty before that if the docs say it's okay. And then Blair can work on figuring out what he's going to do about Simon's job offer.
It's all going to be fine, really.
* * * THE END * * *
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