The Comforts of Home Page 3

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  Jim arrived home first, making sure to keep Blair’s car in sight behind him the entire way, wanting to be certain that his partner got home this time. It had taken him nearly fifteen minutes to get that last lug nut free. Blair had insisted on doing the rest of the job himself, only letting Jim help him in the most peripheral way. They’d worked quickly and without further mishap...or further conversation, Blair unusually quiet.

  Jim waited until Blair had parked his car before pushing out his door. The two men entered the building together. As they stood in the elevator, side by side, being carried to the third floor, pools of water gathered at their feet. Still Blair remained silent.

  “You should grab a hot shower when we get inside,” Jim said, looking down at the smaller man beside him as he shivered. “It’ll take the chill out.”

  Blair shook his head, sending water throughout the car. “You’re only wet because you came to help me,” he said, his teeth chattering slightly. “You take the shower.”

  “I’m not that cold, Sandburg. You are.”

  “Jim, I--”

  “Just take the damn shower!”

  “Fine,” Blair snapped.

  The elevator dinged, delivering them to their floor. Blair stepped out first, trudging toward the loft, his shoes making loud squishing sounds as he walked. He flung the door open, went to his room, gathered a handful of dry clothes, stomped to the bathroom and slammed the door shut.

  Jim dropped his keys in the basket beside the door and peeling off his jacket and hat, headed to his room to change. After putting on his only other pair of jeans and another light sweater, he headed downstairs. The shower was still running so he ordered Chinese to be delivered and after checking the kettle, making sure it had water in it, he turned the stove on to boil.

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  Blair stood under the hot spray of water, eyes closed, hoping the pounding shower would wash away his frustration. It didn’t work. He didn’t want to spend the rest of the night in this uncomfortable silence that seemed to hang between himself and Jim but he didn’t know how to change it. He couldn’t say he was sorry because he hadn’t really done anything wrong. He sure as hell knew Jim wouldn’t apologize because it simply wasn’t in his nature.

  So instead, he needed to find his own center, his own peace within himself and just let this go. He sighed, took several deep breaths, and managed to relax.

  Turning off the water, he stepped out and quickly toweled dry. He’d brought in his sweats, a clean T-shirt, his favorite flannel shirt and his thickest socks. Standing in the warm bathroom wearing his most comfortable clothes, he felt more like himself. He towel dried his hair, hung up the damp terry cloth - no need for a lecture on that - and stepped from the bathroom determined to try and put this whole thing behind him.

  He could smell the food almost immediately. His gaze tracked to the table. It was set with two plates, Chinese carryout boxes scattered across the top.

  “Hungry?” Jim asked, carrying two bottles of water to the table, setting one at his place and one at Blair’s before taking his seat.

  Blair blinked several times at the scene before him. He had expected to emerge from the shower and have to make dinner. It was his turn as Jim had pointed out on the phone. But instead, Jim had ordered in.

  "It’s getting cold, Chief.”

  “What?” Blair looked at Jim. His partner was already at the table, shoveling food on his plate. “Oh sorry” He shuffled forward and took his seat. His gaze fell on the cup of tea sitting beside his plate, steam rising gently from the mug. “You made me tea?” He looked up at Jim. His partner had never made him tea before, always complained about how the different smells from all his different flavors bothered his sensitive nose.

  Jim continued to mound his plate with food. “I thought you might still be cold and it would help warm you up. It’s that one you always say helps you sleep.”

  Blair raised one eyebrow. He knows which teas are what? He wrapped his hands around the cup and sipped, surprised to find it flavored with honey -- just the way he liked it.

  “I told them no MSG,” Jim said casually, using his chopsticks to pick up his first taste of food.

  Blair shook his head in confusion. “What?”

  “When I ordered the food. I told them no MSG.”

  “You did?” He’d asked Jim so many times to order the food that way but his partner had always argued that it didn’t matter if you asked for it that way or not. The food was going to come with MSG because they put it in ahead of time and couldn’t take it out and he didn’t want them laughing at him because he was stupid enough to make a request they had no intention of fulfilling. So he’d never complied with Blair’s request...until now. “Thanks, Jim.” And as Blair’s gaze traveled over the assortment of food covering the tabletop, he realized that it was comprised of all his favorites.

  His gaze shifted to Jim again. He watched his partner eat his dinner, his gaze only flickering up to Blair on occasion, as if checking his reaction but unable to maintain eye contact for more than a few seconds at a time. And Blair knew without a doubt that Jim was sorry for how he had acted today, that the food, the tea, even the request for no MSG were all done as a way of apologizing. That even his inability to look at Blair projected his feelings of guilt over the whole incident.

  “What are you smiling about, Chief?” Jim asked, his gaze shifting briefly from his plate to Blair then back again.

  Blair shrugged one shoulder, not really realizing that he had been. “No reason. Just feeling...content I guess.” He lifted a box of food and began filling his plate. “So did I tell you about the kid I had in class this afternoon? The one who tried to talk me into giving him an extension on his paper?”

  Jim shook his head. “This one try to bribe you like the last two?” And for the first time since they sat down to eat, Jim met Blair’s eyes, locking his gaze with his partner’s. He smiled good-naturedly, comfortably. “You should take that money, Chief.” He jabbed one of his chopsticks at him. “I’m telling you, you’d make a fortune.”

  Blair chuckled. “Hey, next time I just might. Anyway, he came to my office and...”

  Outside the rain continued to pour down, blanketing Cascade in a cold, wet dampness. But inside the loft, there was only warmth and friendship and a deep understanding that held two people together.

  The end.