Three hours later, the party was in full swing.
Blair was the Easter Baby Chick and the hit of the hunt with the kids. Rafe looked - pink, and remained at the top of the hill, giving out Easter baskets and patting the children awkwardly on their Easter best heads.
Blair had to admit, this was fun. He was running, chasing, yelling, guiding and generally acting like the six year old that he was, deep down inside. He peeped for the kids, squeaked for them, pecked them, lifted them, swung them around, and pointed out Easter eggs.
The parents remained at the top of the grass, drinking champagne, idly talking as they watched their children scamper after the big chick. Some talked business, some promised contributions to the Mayor, some wandered over to the buffett for an early snack.
Jim and Simon, with ears and tails in place, were moving through the crowd, pouring champagne while Jim took every opportunity to catch glimpses of his partner. Every now and then, he'd see a flash of yellow, hear a wild peep, followed by childish laughter. He shook his head and smiled. Blair was nothing but a big thirty year old kid. But damn, what a cute kid.
As the party wore on, no one noticed the three men, dressed in suits, moving through the crowd, pressing in close, and whenever possible, lifting a wallet, snicking a watch, a bracelet, a necklace or a wad of bills.
Well, almost no one noticed.
Blair was running after a little boy, peeping loudly as the boy pointed up the hill to his father, laughing uproariously. Blair glanced up, spotted the father and the pick-pocket behind him. He watched, amazed, as a wallet was plucked from a pocket and stuffed into another pocket.
"Well, I'll be damned."
He searched the buffet tents, spotted Jim and said quietly, "oooh, Jiiimmmm, we have trouble."
He saw Jim freeze, then turn in his direction.
"Jim, twenty feet to your left, man in a dark blue suit, standing with a woman in a pink sheath. Got them?" Jim nodded. "Check out the man behind him. He's a pickpocket. I've spotted one other."
Jim nodded, walked over to Simon, bent in close, giving Banks the information. Both men started down toward the parents on the lawn, two other Major Crime detectives, cum waiters, Carl Phillips and Brad Withers, moving from the opposite direction.
"Jim, the other pickpocket is to Rafe's right, in a blue sports coat and red tie." Jim nodded again as he and Simon split up.
The child that had been leading Blair on his merry chase had now run up to his father, giggling about the big baby chick and begging his father to let him take it home. The pick pocket was frozen, hand near the mother's arm, probably getting ready to remove the very expensive ruby bracelet.
Unfortunately, the little boy who was now resting comfortably in his dad's arms, spotted the bad man and started yelling. The man gave a panicked look around him, spotted Jim and Simon, broke away and started running down the lawn. Two other men started running in various directions at the same time.
Men yelled, men ran, families panicked, children scattered, and one pick-pocket ran right toward a big baby chick. On his way, he knocked down two children. The baby chick ran toward the kids, picked them up, checked them out, promised them special chocolate eggs, handed them over to their worried parents and took off after the pick-pocket.
The chase took them down the grassy hills, onto the driveway, out the gate and onto the street. At one point, Blair swept the hood back and ripped off the beak, but try as he might, he couldn't find a way to kick off the chicken feet.
Back at the mansion, Jim and Simon were chasing another criminal, while the third one was currently flat on his face in the grass, six children sitting on him, surrounded by angry parents and Detectives Phillips and Withers.
Jim finally tackled his pickpocket, bringing him down hard and moments later, had him cuffed and turned over to one of the security guards while he and Simon ran after Blair.
(*> (*> (*>
The only thing Blair could hear was the sound of his rubber feet hitting the asphalt and his own breathing. He was running hard, the hood behind him flapping in the breeze.
The pick-pocket was still ahead of him, but Blair was gaining. They'd crossed Exeter and were currently running down the almost deserted, lakeside, touristy Madison Avenue.
The heat of the suit was killing Sandburg and he was cursing the holiday, all mayors, Easter eggs, bunny rabbits, baby chicks and especially cursing too tall Sentinels and captains.
Up ahead, his criminal had swerved left, crossed Madison and disappeared into an alley. Blair followed, picking up speed, made his own sharp left and thundered into the alley. His hand was working its way into the chicken suit, trying to get to his gun, but fluffy material kept getting in his way. He finally connected with it just as the man made a wild leap for the chain length fence that separated the alley from the street beyond.
Blair whipped out the gun, leveled it on the jerk and yelled the usual, "FREEZE SUCKER! CASCADE PD!", feeling proud that he sounded a lot like Shaft.
This was his first Freeze sucker since becoming Jim's partner.
The guy actually did freeze, but Blair could see it in his eyes, the decision to bolt. For some reason, this infuriated Sandburg.
Recklessly waving the gun around, he yelled, "DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT.
LOOK AT ME, YOU IDIOT. DO YOU SEE WHAT THE FUCK I'M WEARING?"
The idiot looked, one hand up on the top of the fence, one leg poised and ready to jump.
"A CHICKEN SUIT, GOT THAT? I'M WEARING A FUCKING CHICKEN SUIT AND I JUST CHASED YOU SIX FUCKING BLOCKS AND I CAUGHT YOU, YOU ASSHOLE, WEARING A CHICKEN SUIT."
One leg dropped slightly, the idiots mouth hanging open now. Blair lowered his voice.
"Now, listen and listen good. I am not going over that fence in this fucking chicken suit, is that understood?"
The idiot glanced up at the top of the fence, which represented freedom, and back at the redfaced chicken waving a gun. He wavered.
"I CHASED YOU SIX BLOCKS, REMEMBER? I CAUGHT YOU, SEE? IF YOU TRY TO GO OVER THAT FENCE, I'LL SHOOT YOU IN A PLACE THAT WON'T ALLOW YOU TO SIT DOWN UNTIL JULY FOURTH, GOT THAT?"
The idiot nodded, but gave a furtive glance up, which set Blair off again.
"*I* - AM - NOT - GOING - OVER - THAT - FENCE - IN - THIS - SUIT. NOW CLIMB DOWN THIS INSTANT, PLANT YOURSELF ON THE GROUND, KISS ASPHALT AND PUT YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD!"
When the idiot didn't immediately react, Blair added, "NOW, ASS HOLE!"
The idiot knew when he was licked. He dropped down, kissed the asphalt and put his hands behind his head.
As he lay there, he watched big orange rubber feet slap their way over to him, stop in front of his face as hands grabbed his wrists and he was quickly cuffed.
As his rights were read, he was hauled up and marched back out onto the street by a big, yellow, Easter Baby Chick.
He'd never live this down and he'd be dogmeat in prison when this got out.
(*> (*> (*>
Jim had just run out onto Roosevelt Drive when Blair came around the corner, pushing a cuffed suspect in front of him.
Jim skidded to a stop, a grin spreading across his previously worried countenance. God, had he ever seen anything cuter? Sexier?
Blair was huffing loose curls out of his eyes, the yellow hood flapping behind him. The orange beak sat perched on top of flyaway hair, his face flushed red and sweaty and his big yellow, plastic feet slapping the ground, punctuating his anger. The yellow fur seemed to wrap itself around Blair, the wings wiggling in counterpoint to Sandburg's mumblings. Jim had the sudden urge to throw the guy up against the nearest wall and have his his chicken way with him.
Simon came pounding up behind him and froze as he caught his first glimpse of his newest detective.
"Simon, if I were you....", Jim's voice trailed off.
Even from where they stood, Simon could hear Sandburg mumbling under his breath.
".....running all over this fucking town, dressed like a chicken, and you decide to try to go over a fence? I so don't think so."
Then, "God, what the hell is this? Shit, it's melted chocolate. Those kids got melted chocolate all over my gun...now how the hell did that happen?"
And finally, "Fuck, it's Jim and Simon. I will never live this down, never in a million years."
This last set off the idiot, who tried to twist in Sandburg's grasp as he yelled, "YOU? YOU won't ever live this down? What do you think they'll do to me in prison when this gets out? I was caught by a fucking chick. With long curly hair and two earrings!"
Blair nearly tripped over the rubber feet at the idiots words. He whirled him around, eyes blazing.
"I AIN'T NO CHICK, DICKWAD!!"
Simon rushed up, took the idiot off Blair's hands and handed him over to Withers, who'd come up behind him.. As Withers took the guy, Jim said, "Trust me asshole, he ain't no chick!" Then Simon added with a smirk, "He's the Easter Baby Chick and don't you forget it!"
Blair stood there, barely surpressing his fury, ready to kill both men. Simon caught the signs and decided to escape with Withers. As they passed through the gates, Connor, Rafe and Michael Binks ran down to see if Sandburg was all right.
"He's fine, guys. But Jim is about to wish he were back in Peru. I suggest, unless you really get off on violence, you make yourselves scarce."
No one moved.
Blair stood in front of Jim, chest heaving, all yellow and - yellow, except for his face, which was beet red. His hair, which had been tied back for the chicken hood, was now mostly loose, flying all over the place, some tendrils plastered to his face, bits and pieces on his forehead, his hands waving wildly, his mouth going a mile a minute.
"And you, you and your stupid ass rules!" He walked past Jim, still muttering, and Jim caught, "rules, rules and more rules. Don't flush after ten, no feet on the table, no sex in the loft," Megan's eyes widened at that one, and Rafe actually guffawed while Blair continued to ramble.
"....and the no twain meeting, I mean, what is that shit? What am I? Chopped liver? I'm not appealing? You can ignore me for three years? And what would happen if the god damn twain did meet, uh? The end of the world as we know it? I don't think so, buddy, nuh, huh."
"Chief?" Jim spoke quietly.
Blair stopped, his mouth clamping shut as he turned back around to face Jim.
"What you asshole."
"You look - edible in yellow."
Blair frowned. His head tilted to the right. Then it tilted to the left.
His mouth opened, shut, opened again.
Jim, realizing that maybe Blair needed another hint, raised his hand in the air, made a motion as if pulling on a chain and said, "Toot-Toot, twain stopping here, all aboard for the Ellison~ Sandburg station."
Blair closed his mouth again. Then he opened it and said, "I'm wearing a chicken suit, Ellison. A god damned chicken suit."
Jim agreed happily. "Yes, yes you are. And you look - cute. Very cute."
"Cute. And - sexy as hell. Come here."
Blair gave Jim an unreadable look, but his legs carried him back to where Jim was standing.
"That's better. Care to shovel some coal into my engine? Let me give your caboose a push? Check out the observation car?"
"Did I mention how much I love that little yellow caboose of yours? The way it wiggles when you run?"
"Jim, shut the fuck up." With those words, Blair reached up, grabbed the sides of Jim's head, hauled him down within reach and kissed him soundly.
When they parted, Jim whispered out, "toot-toot."
(*> (*> (*>
Back at the gate, Megan let out a groan. Simon looked down at her and asked, "What, you don't like the idea?"
"You know I love the idea. I just wish I'd known that all it would take was a stupid yellow chicken suit to get them together. I could have saved us a fortune in chocolate."
(*> (*> (*>
The bad guys were gone, and after standing in line for another two hours getting the heroic Baby Chick's autograph, the kids were gone along with thier parents, who'd spent the same amount of time thanking the police, the baby chick, the bunny rabbit and the Mayor for the best Easter Egg Hunt ever, especially since they would all get their wallets, jewelry and money back in a few days, once evidence and the D.A. had finished with it all.
All the help had disappeared, leaving the mansion clean and spotless. Nest to the Mayor's pool sat one hot and tired chicken, one horny Sentinel and chicken lover, one horny pink rabbit, one Mayorial Assistant, also horny and addicted to pink, one Captain of Major Crime and one exchange officer from Australia.
Michael leaned forward and addressed the group.
"I can never thank you enough for today. This whole thing could have been a total disaster, but not for all of you. The Mayor is pleased and he received several committments for his next campaign and it's all thanks to you." His words were for everyone, but his eyes seemed glued to a large pink rabbit, whose face was now matching in color.
Simon stood, stretched and as his arms came back down, they brushed something velvety on his head.
"Shit, I'm still wearing the ears."
He turned his best steely eyed glare on his detectives and demanded, "And why didn't anyone tell me?"
Megan, not the least bit unnerved by the steely glance, said, "They just look so natural, Captain. We must have forgotten they were there."
"Ah, Connor, thank you so much for taking the heat off of me," Blair threw out, grinning broadly.
Simon's eyes narrowed dangerously as his right arm lifted and pointed.
"You two," he pointed at Jim and Blair, "go change. Sandburg, you look ridiculous in that thing. Rafe, go somewhere with Michael. Connor, don't move an inch."
Jim shot up, dragging Blair with him, backing all the way to the dressing rooms, nodding and saying, "Yes, sir, right now, sir, anything you say, sir."
Rafe and Michael stood as well, both smiling brightly at each other. "I know a great little Mexican place over on Sunset, you game, Michael?"
"Do you mean, Tortilla Flats?" At Rafe's nod, the two men walked away, toward the back, completely unaware that Rafe was still - in the pink, so to speak.
Simon turned back to Connor, took a menacing step toward her and said, " Don't forget, Connor, I paid for that Godiva chocolate, you still owe me."
She held out her hand for a hoist up, stood and smiling up at her boss, said cheekily, "Why so you did, sir. Care to take it out in a nice dinner at, say, La Trattoria?"
"Connor, I don't like that twinkle in your eye."
"Captain? Give it a while, it'll grow on you."
(*> (*> (*>
Jim slipped into his jeans, pulled on the black shirt, buttoned it, then neatly folded the waiters uniform and set it back where he'd found so many hours ago. With a smile, he placed the tail and ears on top of the white shirt.
He'd just turned back to the mirror to double check his appearance when a loud thud sounded from next door.
"Blair? You okay in there?"
The angry mumbled reply brought another smile to his face.
"No, I'm not. I can't get the zipper down. Get your ass in here and lend me a hand."
"That's me, Chief, always eager to lend a helping hand to a friend."
He left his dressingroom, pulled open the door to Blair's and started laughing. He couldn't help it. Blair looked - delectable.
Sandburg was kind of bouncing up and down, his hand tugging on the zipper, the hood flopping around behind him, his big plastic feet getting tangled up and nearly tripping him.
"Calm down, Chief. Stop moving, let me help."
Blair stopped his bounce and gave Jim an exasperated look followed by the most helpless expression Jim had ever seen on his partner.
"It's stuck, Jim," he whined, "It's really stuck. I'll be in this thing forever, and just when the twains are about to meet, and I won't be able to do anything, and have you ever seen chickens fuck?"
Jim chuckled as he pushed Blair's busy hands away and applied his own zipper expertise to the problem at hand.
"No, Chief, I don't think anyone has ever seen chickens fuck. But I've never seen rabbits and chickens fuck, but I'm game if you are."
Blair's head was down, his eyes glued to Jim's fingers, which were so far unsuccessful in lowering the chicken suit zipper.
"I'd be game, Jim, if we could get me out of this thing. Oh, man, it really is stuck. And I'm hornier than the man who told his wife that yes, the blue dress did make her look fat."
Blair started bouncing again, as if gravity would force the thing down, and Jim realized that Blair was indeed horny, that the bulge his hand kept striking was Blair and not part of the costume so he decided that maybe a show of brute strength was needed. He took both sides of the chicken suit, up at Blair's neck and pulled.
There was the terrible sound of ripping material, followed by Blair's whispered and awestruck prounouncment.
"Jim, you tore my chicken suit."
But Jim wasn't really listening, because when he'd torn the suit, he'd gotten a handful of yellow lycra and ripped it too, and he was currently staring at a mostly naked Blair.
Shaking his head, Jim said in wonder, "No, he ain't no chick. Definitely not."
Blair glanced down and realized that he was bare from neck to crotch, the lycra suit and furball hanging from his shoulders. He quickly stripped the torn suits from his body but they got stuck at his feet because he was still wearing the rubber chicken feet, which caused him to trip and fall up against Jim, who caught him close.
The feet were quickly dispensed with.
Blair looked up, but before he could say anything else, Jim was kissing him again, with tongue.
Jim's hands were all over his body, rubbing and stroking, so Blair started to rip off Jim's clothes, but the bigger man stopped him with, "I have to wear these later, idiot."
Right was right so Blair just unbuttoned and unzipped as Jim smashed him against the back wall.
Their bodies were flesh to flesh now, even though clothing still hung and draped.
"wow," Blair said..
Jim grinned and said, "Yeah, wow."
They kissed again, tongues delving deep as Blair's fingers gripped Jim's shoulders and Jim's fingers wound their way around springy curls.
Blair realized that Jim was really - plunging, almost as if he were trying to get to his dick through his mouth but since it was the best kiss he'd ever had, he decided to let Jim try.
As the kiss deepened, Blair found his right leg kind of - jumping, trying to wrap itself around Jim, and Jim, sensing this need, hooked one hand under Blair's knee and gave him a little hike which brought their cocks into immediate and hot alignment as Blair's leg hooked onto Jim.
Dear God, the twains were going to crash.
Jim was feverishly humping now, his mouth all over Blair's body, lips and teeth attacking and all Blair could do was hold on for dear life and get the occasional lick, nip or bite in himself. His own hips were rocking, but not by much as Jim had him slammed into the wall.
The friction of their cocks rubbing and striking each other was driving Blair crazy, but he needed more and wanted to give Jim more, so he dropped his right hand, wrapped his fingers around the hard shaft and started pumping. Jim caught on and his hand soon had Blair's cock and with all the lip and tongue action, the hip action and the hand action, Blair was coming hard, Jim's tongue halfway down his throat and it felt fucking incredible, and he was trapped, and it felt good, and then his brain exploded.
(*> (*> (*>
Their bodies slid down to land in a heap on the floor, Blair on top.
Jim couldn't really move or talk, but he wanted Blair close, so he just tightened his grip around the younger man's waist. Blair's head had flopped back onto Jim's shoulder and he let his face drop into the comforting hair.
Several minutes passed, neither man moving, eyes closed and both just - feeling.
Jim recovered first - sort of. It would be safer to say that he rediscovered verbal skills first.
Blair managed to move his mouth into the semblance of a grin.
"Blair? You realize this twain isn't going to meet with any other twain, ever again. Right?"
Blair tried out his verbal skills, not at all certain he had any left.
Brains exploding tended to wipe verbal skills off the map.
"I'm a one twain kinda guy."
"That makes you a one guy kinda guy."
"yep. And the twain shall never meet, uh."
"But the two did."
"Finally. But shit it took you long enough."
"Yeah, but I didn't have to beg, Chief."
"Ah, but Jim, you haven't fucked me yet."
"No, beg. This chick ain't easy."
"You ain't no chick and you are easy."
"Nuh, uh. And we should move. We just had sex at the Mayor's house."
"We had sex in the Mayor's pool dressing rooms. Big difference."
"You going to argue, or are we going to go home, eat chocolate and watch you beg? And did I mention, I have chocolate flavored lube?"
Jim shot up, jostling Blair to the ground, but not for long. He pulled him up and said, "Come on, what are you waiting for, Christmas?"
Jim started to tug at him, trying to pull him outside, Blair resisting the whole way.
"Uh, Jim? I'm naked here, man. And you're not much better."
"Shit. Well, get dressed and hurry."
Blair grabbed his jeans and underwear, slipped them on, then pulled his sweater over his head as he tried to slip into his loafers at the same time. He'd barely taken his jacket from it's peg and his gun from the heap of fur on the floor when Jim was tugging again.
"Jim, Jim, wait, man, the suit, it's ruined, we can't just leave it here."
"So next year, they won't invite you back."
"Oh, yeah, right. Too bad."
"But I did hear Michael say something about what a cute elf you'd make for the Mayor's Santa Claus pageant."
"Oh, man, you are so going to have to beg now."
"By the way, 'fess up. It was you sending us the chocolates, right?"
"No, Detective of the Year. It was Megan. She was trying to get you to see that we belonged together. How could she know you were the type to fall for a guy in a chicken suit."
Jim pulled on Blair's hand, which brought Blair up against Jim's chest, where the older man captured him.
"Did I ever tell you about my Carmen Miranda fixation?"
##End He Ain't No Chick##