Wackadoo by Kerensa

Wackadoo - Kerensa

Note: This was a story requested by Patt where Jim first realizes that he loves Blair. She agreed to my doing it as a crack fic, so be warned.

“Bl-air!” Jim Ellison, Sentinel extraordinaire and serious hottie, bellowed. After a few seconds with no answer, he screeched again. “Bl-air!”

Around the neighborhood, a multitude of dogs began to bark. The fact that the neighborhood was mostly either businesses or apartments, neither of which was likely to have dogs on their property, is entirely irrelevant to the story. As Jim stood waiting, several cats raced out of a nearby alley, startling and upsetting the fastidious Sentinel.

‘Time to clean the alley again,’ he thought to himself. The super neat freak had made it his habit to use Lysol on the garbage cans (even those not his own), mop the alleyway ground and scrub the bricks, at least twice a month. Apparently his efforts to keep this little area of his territory clean weren’t enough, if those cats were any indication.

“Bl-air!” he sang out, hoping that the third time would be the charm.

“What?!” Blair Sandburg, Guide to Jim’s inner kitty and cutie pie to boot, yelled out in frustration. After he had opened the balcony doors, of course, otherwise all we would have heard was a muffled, “wwuh?” which really wouldn’t have made any impact at all.

“Ah, Blair, there you are.”

Blair rolled his eyes and looked down at the ex-Marine. “Well, yeah, I do live here, you know. As do you, twit,” he muttered the last under his breath, but of course Jim’s cute little ears could hear a gnat fart three miles away (although, why he would want to is beyond me), so he heard what the younger man said, but chose to ignore it. “And there’s my beloved car,” Sandburg pointed to the rusty hulk of a vehicle that had been slapped with an ‘Abandoned’ sticker more times than not, but hey, if he wanted to pretend it was actually a car, who was going to argue with him.

“Yes, I had hoped you would be home,” Jim said with a fatuous smile on his face.

“Uh huh, it’s not like you could see the light on inside, or hear me.” Blair shook his head, making his dark, so-many-colors-no-one-could-describe-it, hair swoosh back and forth on his definitely manly, but much too thin shoulders. Ellison sighed at the sight, making Blair peer down at him even more. “Man, what’s wrong with you? And what the hell is with you making like Stanley Kowalski?” he asked, referencing the character from A Streetcar Named Desire, the one who stood outside and bellowed his wife’s name.

“I have come to a conclusion,” the Sentinel said, with a hand over his heart, as he paused dramatically.

“You have heartburn?” Blair guessed when Jim didn’t continue after a few long seconds.

Ellison frowned and lowered his hand. “No, it is a wondrous conclusion,” he stated with certainty.

“Oh-kay.”

“I LOVE YOU!” the balding man bellowed out. Even Blair, standing quite a few feet above him, was startled at the loud sound and took a step back.

“Woah, man.” Blair blinked several times and chanced a quick glance over at Captain Simon Banks, tall, dark and studly, with an unusual attachment to his cigars, who just shrugged as if to say, ‘beats the crap outta me.’

“Will you shut up!” someone from two buildings over yelled out of his own window. “Some of us are trying to sleep here.”

Ellison glared at the other man, although his being several hundred feet away kind of dimmed the strength of The Ellison Glare. Jim wasn’t thinking rationally, though, so he continued to glare until the man shut his window again. The Sentinel nodded his head at how well he had intimidated the other man.

Simon glanced at his watch and furrowed his brow. “Sleeping…at 4:00 in the afternoon?” he said quietly, more to himself than anyone else. The big man shrugged, he guessed that if the neighbor worked the night shift he might be asleep.

“You love me?” Blair asked softly.

“Yes! I realized it just this afternoon, as I was typing up my reports. I remembered other times when I was alone in the squad room, just me and about 15 other people, and it hit me out of the blue that I love you, Blair Jonas Sandburg.”

Simon turned his head and rolled his eyes discretely at the sap falling out of Ellison’s mouth. The hit from out of the blue had actually been Megan Connor, their pink dingo coat wearing Australian transplant, who had literally smacked the Sentinel on the back of the head. Jim had been complaining about the paperwork and not having Sandburg there to do it for him when the red headed virago had hit him and called him several strange names—the nicest of which had been, bonkers*—and the rest of which may or may not have been Oz cuss words, Simon just wasn’t sure and he certainly wasn’t going to ask her.

All Banks did know was that a light had seemed to go on over the ex-Ranger’s head. He had hurried over to Simon’s office and burst in—Simon had just barely had time to sit down behind his desk, so it wouldn’t look like he’d been spying on his people through the slats in his blinds…which he had been—and begged the captain to go home with him. Banks didn’t know why his presence was needed at this declaration, but he knew better than to let an agitated Ellison behind the wheel of a vehicle. Why, their insurance premiums had doubled in the last 6 months alone, mostly because of Jim’s driving.

“Jacob,” Banks muttered from behind his hand.

“What?” Jim asked, just as quietly.

“His middle name is Jacob.”

Smoothly, Ellison turned back to face the balcony. “I love you, Blair Jacob Sandburg,” he said with a sincerity that convinced Simon, and more importantly, Blair.

“Well, Jim, I love you too.”

“Wonderful!” the Sentinel exclaimed. “Will you live with me?!”

“Uh…”

“Will you be quiet!!!” the man down the block bellowed again. His face looked interesting, red as a beet and mashed up against the screen on his window. He did have a valid point about the noise that Jim was making, but truth in fact, he was making a much bigger racket than Jim had even thought about doing. Once again, he slammed his window shut.

Jim ignored the man, Simon rolled his eyes at the theatrics going on, and Blair just looked confused. Cute, but confused. “Uh, Jim. We already live together, man.”

Ellison blinked once, but otherwise hid his consternation. “Then, will you continue to live with me?” Jim asked.

“Sure,” Sandburg agreed, giving Jim a smile, which might have been a little strained.

“And we’ll be together all of the time. It will be wonderful!” the cop exclaimed.

“Yes, yes it will,” Blair agreed. He forbear pointing out that basically nothing was going to change because of Ellison’s declaration. From the way Simon was shaking his head it was obvious that the cop’s mind was in complete agreement with Blair’s. “So, why don’t you come on up here,” Sandburg suggested.

Jim nodded and immediately wrapped one hand around the iron metalwork that comprised the lower level of the balcony and started to climb. Simon grabbed hold of the back of Ellison’s shirt to stop him.

“Just a suggestion here, Jim, but why don’t you take the elevator? Or even the stairs?”

The ex-Ranger blinked a couple of times; it was obvious that his new-found love for Blair had caused a fog (or a Brain Cloud**) in his head. After only a moment, though, he nodded decisively, and stepped back down on the ground.

“Right!” he bellowed, causing Simon, who was standing right next to him, after all, to wince as the loud sound made the captain’s ears ring. “Thanks, Simon,” Jim said in a quieter tone, before slapping the bigger man on the shoulder and turning to run up the stairs.

“Thanks, man,” Blair told Simon quietly, because he *so* did not want to go to the emergency room because his soon-to-be lover had broken his fool leg trying to climb up the balcony like Romeo.

“Rummy*!” the neighbor screamed before slamming his window one last time. Last, mainly because the idiot shut it so hard that it broke.

Banks shook his head once more and then nodded to Blair, before he got back into his ‘big butt’ car; he wanted to get out while the getting was good, before Ellison pulled him into any more drama. “What a whacker^,” he muttered, giving a mental tip of the hat to Megan’s influence for the word. It wasn’t certain who he was referring to, Jim or the twit down the street.

The End.

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Notes: Betaed by Bobbie

*Thanks, Lyn.
^Thanks, Annie.
*Thanks, Kate.
** This is my tip of the hat to one of the funniest movies, Joe Versus the Volcano.