A Quiet Sunday

by alyjude


Jim Ellison yawned and stretched lazily. It was Sunday morning and the detective had no where he needed to go and no one he needed to see. All he had to do was enjoy one long, lazy Sunday. He looked at his bedside clock. Nine AM. Yeah, he could get up now....but he didn't. Without conscious thought he scanned the loft, specifically the room directly below. Blair was still asleep , but begining that restless movement that signaled approaching wakefulness. Jim knew if he got up now he would certainly beat his roommate to the shower. But better yet....he could get a start on breakfast. Yeah, that would throw Sandburg a real curve. With that wicked thought in mind he threw the covers off, jumped up and out, grabbed his robe and headed downstairs.

Pancakes? Yes, just the ticket for a Sunday breakfast he decided. As he neared the french doors that seperated Sandburg's room from the rest of the loft, he heard the movement of sheet and blankets being tossed aside, the sound of feet hitting a cold floor, a muttered shit and the sound of a body standing and wrapping itself in a robe. Ellison couldn't help but smile. He decided to cheer up the younger man.

"Hey Chief, you've got first dibs on the shower! And how do pancakes sound for breakfast?"

On the other side of the door all movement ceased and there was complete silence. Then the door opened slowly and one sleepy blue eye peered out at him.

"Uh, Jim, did I just hear you say something about me and a shower and you and pancakes?" Blair's voice was still husky with sleep but the tone was definitely unbelieving.

"Yep and if you time it right, the pancakes will just be bubbling by the time you finish." And with that Jim moved into the kitchen knowing full well he was leaving a stunned anthropologist behind him.

"Come on Chief, get a move on. Time, tides and pancakes wait for no man."

It must have finally sunk in because there was a sudden flurry of movement from Blair's room, followed by a whirl of body and hair as Blair practically ran from his room for the bathroom. He skidded to a stop in front of the door, looked back and waited.

When nothing happened, one expressive eyebrow shot up.


Jim, who was just plugging in the griddle, glanced up and smiled, "Well what, Sandburg?"

"Aren't you gonna say it?"

"Say what?"

And then in a perfect imitation of his Sentinel, Blair responded, "Chief, you better not use all the hot water!"

Ellison just shook his head, smiled and turned back to the griddle. His grin widened as he heard Blair go into the bathroom whistling. He was whistling the theme from "The Twilight Zone".


Jim couldn't remember when he'd been this relaxed. He was stretched out on the couch, the Sunday Sports on his lap and the rest of the paper in a neat pile on the floor. He was between games and taking a few minutes to enjoy the relative quiet of the loft. He let his eyes wander around his home until they came to rest on Sandburg.

Blair was sitting on the chair, leg drapped over the arm, reading a book. Ellison briefly wondered why his partner wasn't in his usual place on the other couch but then he saw the answer. The sun. Blair was occupying the only place in the loft that was getting direct sunlight. Like any smart animal, he'd found the one really warm spot and claimed it as his own.

Jim found himself grinning again and he finally tore his eyes from Sandburg and let them come back to rest on his newspaper, but he really had no desire to continue his perusal of local sporting events. Instead, he decided to concentrate on the thoughts moving quietly in and around his brain. One thought, or word really, was currently taking center stage. Happiness. As Jim lay there, relaxed and contented, he acknowledged a universal truth: Happiness was not a goal. It could never be something you worked towards. Happiness was a moment. A moment in an ordinary life. Like now. This moment. Jim Ellison was completely happy. In another hour, he might not be, tomorrow he might not be. But now? Yes. And for Ellison that was a hell of an accomplishment.

Duty. Honor. Career. Protect. Serve. These were words Jim Ellison knew. Words he experienced. Happiness had always belonged to others, not him. Until now. So what had changed? Why could he now recognize and experience this elusive thing called happiness? Why did it now wash over him like a gentle, warm and cleansing summer rain? And even more surprising, why so many like moments? Moments not always at the most peaceful of times, not always at home, sometimes at the office, on stakeouts, in the truck, in the middle of a crime scene. These moments came during quiet times and sometimes even at the most horrific times.

Like on the top of the Cascade P.D. building, looking down at a young man who was asking him if his days were "always like this?" Or sitting in a cold, drafty warehouse eating popcorn and sharing pieces with a barbary ape. Spending a day putting up french doors and watching his roommates face when he got home. Or when Blair turned down Borneo. Upstairs with Naomi and looking at an old photo album of Blair. Having a bomb go off in an elevator and then hearing that heartbeat. Or a lizard...in Sandburg's pants. Standing on a ship in the middle of the night...in the middle of the ocean, looking at his watch, counting down and when he reached zero.....no explosion. On stakeout and looking at his partner just as he pulled on that silly fur hat. Talking about his brother, right here...and being listened to. Finding out the difference between a "lilt" and a "twang" as so expertly demonstrated by Sandburg. And Maya....deported.

Jim sat straight up, the paper sliding to the floor. Every moment. Clear as a bell. All with one common denominator. Blair Sandburg. Every Moment.

Jim looked over at his partner. Blair had put the book down and his face was turned toward the few remaining rays of sun, a smile playing around his lips. Suddenly, he turned toward Jim.

"Hey, Jim, do you ever think about us?"

Jim nearly choked.

"Us, Sandburg?"

"Yeah, Ellison, us. The partnership? The "you" sentinel, "me" guide thing."

"Actually, yes, I think about....that." He looked over at Blair, gauging his mood and then added, "That....and more."

Blair pulled his glasses off and let them swing from his fingers, "More? As in?"

"As in, someday you...getting married, having children...moving out."

"You're not going to make me move out until "after" me and the Mrs. have children? I'm touched."

"Ha, Ha, Chief, very funny. But that is what I think about....the day you move on."

Blair frowned and looked hard at Jim, then around the loft. Slowly he got up, put the book and his glasses on the coffee table and began to pace. Ellison watched and noticed a method to Blair's pacing. He was walking to everything that signified the two of them. A picture on the shelf...the painting they'd picked together, the kitchen table they'd chosen, some books they both liked...CD's they'd purchased. Finally the younger man stopped in front of the balcony doors. And he just stood there, saying nothing, doing nothing. And Jim waited.

Blair spoke without turning, "Move on." And after another lengthy pause, "Jim, why did you say that someday "I'd" meet someone? Why not you? Why wouldn't it be you that meets someone, gets married, has children?"

Jim got up and walked over and stood beside his best friend.

"I've been "married", it didn't take."

"So now you're off marriage? Like, it couldn't happen again?"

"Chief, we're talking about you."

"No, Jim, we're talking about you."

The two friends continued to stand, side by side, gazing out over the city. After what seemed like an eternity, Blair broke the silence.

"Jim, why couldn't it happen again for you?"

Jim puzzled over that question a moment and then some of the haze seemed to lift and he saw a truth so simple it stunned him, left him breathless. It was as if his life were a double door and he'd been living it with only half the door open. Seeing only half of what was there. But now, both doors were open. And it was beautiful.

Jim took Blair's arm and walked them both out onto the balcony. Once outside he dropped Blair's arm and faced him.

"I don't want a wife, Blair. I have everything I could ever want or need. I have you."

Blair looked up at his friend, his arms resting loosely at his side, his head tilted back, then, "You know, I always thought I'd fall in love at first sight, with thunder, lightening, drums, music swelling....", a ghost of a smile played around his mouth, "What I never expected was this....that it would come so silently, so quietly. And so just there. Like breathing."

Jim was nodding as he added softly, "I know."

Both men had been standing so straight, a few inches apart. But now their bodies began to sway toward each other, like two beautiful shaded trees, leaning into the sun....one giant tree bending and the smaller tree stretching.

Jim's lips touched Blair's. Soft, gentle and caressing. Then he pulled away, needing to see Blair's eyes and as he did, Blair's hand came up and one finger brushed lightly over Jim's lips and he whispered a question.

"Jim, have you ever....I mean...".

"No, you?"

Blair grinned and shook his head, "This will be interesting", he chuckled.

"I'm not worried. I have a feeling we'll figure it out, after all, you are a scientist, used to experimenting....". This was followed by a low laugh from Blair, "And you "are" a detective, used to investigations...".

"Right. You experiment and I'll investigate."

"Definitely, but remember....I've worked with you long enough to know my way around a thorough investigation."

Jim's head bent down and he brought his mouth close to Blair's ear, "And I'm certainly no stranger to experimentation, since meeting you." Jim slid his mouth back to Blair's and this time hands joined in the experiment and lips parted so that tongues could investigate.

Without thought, both men moved into an embrace, Jim's arm closing around Blair's waist, his other hand moving up to tangle in hair. Both of Blair's arms encircled Jim's waist and the kiss deepened.

It was Blair who finally broke away.

"I think we ought to take this inside, don't you?"

Jim answered by taking Blair's hand and leading them back through the doors, stopping just inside. Once again the two men faced each other, Blair's hand still in Jim's and again, it was Blair who spoke first.

"So. The kiss was.....different. Better, but different."

"Much better."

"Incredible, actually."

"Mmmm." Jim's eyes were focused on Blair's lips, then they travelled down until they came to the collar on Blair's shirt. They fastened on the button.

"Now that's different."

With great difficulty, Jim brought his eyes back to Blair's, "Whaaat?"

"You. Looking at the button of my shirt. I'm usually making that visual move with a woman."

"I see what you mean." And slowly Jim reached out and began to unbutton the blue shirt. When Blair's shirt was open, Jim gently pushed it off the now tense shoulders and then pulled it down, dropping it on the floor. He let his gaze roam over Blair's chest, taking in the soft chest hair, the solid shoulders then down, following the line of hair until it narrowed at the belt. With only slightly shaking hands, he began to undo the belt, then started pulling the zipper down, his knuckles brushing against Blair's erection. The touch forced a small moan of pleasure from the younger man. Jim brought both hands to Blair's hips and was about to pull the jeans down when Blair stopped him.

"No, your turn." And small, quick hands took the bottom of Jim's t-shirt and pulled up as Jim raised his arms. The t-shirt soon joined the other shirt on the floor.

Blair gave a quiet "yes" and let his hands "experiment". He started at Jim's shoulders, then down, fingers splayed out, feeling every inch of skin, his fingers alternating between soft feathery touches and firm strokes.


"God...Blair....I need you....need to taste you." And Jim began to move Blair back against the wall and once there his hands went to Blair's hips and the jeans and briefs came down and Blair stepped out of them and Jim's hand connected to the young man's chest, pushing him back against the wall and he knelt in front of Blair and finally tasted.

The weakness hit Blair first, followed by such intense pleasure that breathing became increasingly difficult. He braced himself on the strong shoulders below him and at that point coherent thought became a distant memory. His body began to react to the wonder that was Jim Ellison's mouth and tongue. His hips began thrusting, slowly at first, his fingers digging into those shoulders and as Jim took more of him into his mouth the thrusting became more frantic, deeper. Jim's hands moved from thighs to hips and seconds later Blair came, in long shuddering bursts and his knees finally gave way and only Jim's hands kept him from falling. Jim brought himself back up, wrapping his arms around Blair and using the wall to help support his lover. Blair's head fell forward onto the broad chest. After a few seconds Jim felt Blair mumble into his chest.

"James Ellison, you are one hell of a great detective."

"Care to show me what kind of scientist you are?"

"Oh yeah....". And he did.


Both men sat naked on Jim's, no, "their", bed, a half eaten pizza between them. They had spent the rest of the day and early evening "experimenting" and "investigating" each other's bodies and had finally taken a break when two growling stomachs had interrupted a very passionate moment.

"We did okay today, " Blair mumbled through mozzarella cheese, "Of course, I felt like Captain Kirk."

"Captain Kirk?"

"Yeah, you know? Boldly going where no man has gone before.....", he snickered.

Jim nodded, grinning broadly, "Right. The final frontier."

"Mmmm, virgin territory."

"Uh, Blair, I think we'll have to save the "Virgin Territory" for tomorrow night."

"Oh. Right. I'd better read up."


"So you can investigate."

"And experiment."

"God, you gotta love science."

"And detective work."

"Who knew they could work so well together?"

"Blair, shut up and kiss me."

And he did. And did.


"I guess we're a couple now?" Blair spoke into Jim's chest.

"Yep. A couple."

Blair waved an arm around, "Our room?"

"Yep. Our room."

Broader wave, "Our loft?"

"Nope. Our home. Always."