'Simmer', The Sentinel, Jim/Blair, PG, (Five senses, five days)
This story was published in the My Mongoose e-zine, which was one of the items put up for bidding at the Moonridge Auction (a charity that works with animals). Artwork by Peter (the great). ~ 300 PG words. Beta-read by the lovely and talented
janedavitt.
SIMMER
Blair turned at the sound of Jim’s key in the door. Tuesdays Blair was busy at Rainier for most of the day and Jim worked alone. Today they hadn’t even talked, so Blair was eager to learn if any new cases had come up. He gave the pot of stew one last stir and prepared to give Jim his full attention.
Jim entered, closed the door behind him, locked it, and leaned against it with a heavy sigh. Blair’s eyebrows went up. Jim turned his head towards Blair and said wearily, “Hi, honey; I’m home.”
Blair’s eyebrows went up higher. “Hard day at the office, dear?”
“It sucked the big one, sweetheart.”
Blair snorted and struggled to keep a straight face. “You say that like it’s a bad thing, darling.”
“You have no idea, muffin.” Jim pushed himself away from the door and came into the kitchen. “Something smells good.”
“Stew,” Blair told him, offering a spoonful for Jim to taste. “But tell me about your day, sugarplum.”
Jim eyed him. “Sugarplum?” He blew on the spoon to cool its contents.
“What, you don’t like that one?” Blair grinned.
“No, it’s not that,” Jim said. He gave the stew a taste. “Nice,” he approved.
“Thank you. So what have you got against ‘sugarplum’?”
“Not a thing.” Jim smiled slowly. “In fact I was just about to call you that, but you beat me to the punch.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Blair said with a complete lack of sincerity. “I stole your sappy endearment! Is there any way I can make it up to you?”
Something flickered in Jim’s eyes. “Come here, my little kumquat.”
Blair turned off the burner underneath the stew, took Jim’s outstretched hand, and happily followed him towards the staircase. Dinner could wait; something much more important had just begun to simmer.
janedavitt.
SIMMER
Blair turned at the sound of Jim’s key in the door. Tuesdays Blair was busy at Rainier for most of the day and Jim worked alone. Today they hadn’t even talked, so Blair was eager to learn if any new cases had come up. He gave the pot of stew one last stir and prepared to give Jim his full attention.
Jim entered, closed the door behind him, locked it, and leaned against it with a heavy sigh. Blair’s eyebrows went up. Jim turned his head towards Blair and said wearily, “Hi, honey; I’m home.”
Blair’s eyebrows went up higher. “Hard day at the office, dear?”
“It sucked the big one, sweetheart.”
Blair snorted and struggled to keep a straight face. “You say that like it’s a bad thing, darling.”
“You have no idea, muffin.” Jim pushed himself away from the door and came into the kitchen. “Something smells good.”
“Stew,” Blair told him, offering a spoonful for Jim to taste. “But tell me about your day, sugarplum.”
Jim eyed him. “Sugarplum?” He blew on the spoon to cool its contents.
“What, you don’t like that one?” Blair grinned.
“No, it’s not that,” Jim said. He gave the stew a taste. “Nice,” he approved.
“Thank you. So what have you got against ‘sugarplum’?”
“Not a thing.” Jim smiled slowly. “In fact I was just about to call you that, but you beat me to the punch.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Blair said with a complete lack of sincerity. “I stole your sappy endearment! Is there any way I can make it up to you?”
Something flickered in Jim’s eyes. “Come here, my little kumquat.”
Blair turned off the burner underneath the stew, took Jim’s outstretched hand, and happily followed him towards the staircase. Dinner could wait; something much more important had just begun to simmer.