A Hairy Situation
Author's webpage: http://www.annies-world.de/eagle01.htm
Author's disclaimer: We all know Jim and Blair and the rest of the bullpen-guys belong to PetFly, not me, sad enough. I put them through a little bit of mild angst. But they are fine now. Trust me. Would these eyes lie? ;)
No copyright infringement intended. No money changed hands. Don't sue me. I own nothing that'd be worth it.
A hairy situation
Jim stared at the screen of his computer. Why did the damn thing do that to him? Why? There was only one logical explanation: his computer hated him. What a perfect way to end a day that had been nothing but hell.
"Hi, Hairb..." The word seemed to have stuck in Henry's throat as he saw Blair step from the elevator.
"Hi, Henry. Brian!" Jim heard the familiar voice from the other end of the room.
"Sandy! What happened?"
A crowd gathered around Blair. Everyone wanted to get a glimpse of him.
Jim only heard appreciative chatter. "Looking good, Blair." "About time, Hairboy." "Smart decision, Sandburg."
Finally. Blair was finally back. Jim sighed. He was the only human being on this planet who could brighten his day.
A day full of investigating leads that lead nowhere, interrogating suspects who didn't cooperate, doing paperwork and fighting with this stupid computer. Blair would make it all right. He could make everything all right. His Blair. The sturdy, stubborn, energetic Blair. The Blair with the beautiful big blue eyes and wonderful auburn curls that fell over his shoulder. Jim loved those curls. The feel of them when he ran his hands through them. The smell of herbal shampoo. The sight of a thousand shades of red and brown in the last light of day. The sound of his hair brushing over the satin pillow when Blair turned in his sleep. Hell, he even loved the taste of them when they occasionally slipped into his mouth in the heat of the action. All he wanted to do tonight was to get lost in his lover's beautiful hair.
He looked up and saw the crowd part. Someone walked over to his desk. Jim's eyes grew wide.
It walked like his Blair, talked like his Blair and definitely had his Blair's heartbeat and smell. But it didn't look like his Blair.
Jim blinked to make sure it wasn't a hallucination or some horrible trick his Sentinel-senses were pulling on him.
"Hi, Jim. Are you finished? Can we go?" Blair smiled broadly.
"Blair, is that you?" He couldn't believe it. It really seemed to be Blair. Blair with a new haircut. Blair without the beautiful long curls.
Blair with short hair.
"Who'd you expect? Cindy Crawford? C'mon man, the Chinese take-out I got on the way here will get cold."
"Go ahead. I gotta finish something here. I'll be home in a few."
"Okeyday," Blair chimed, then winked at him and made his way out of the bullpen.
Jim sat at his desk in shock and stared after him. The hair was gone.
"Doesn't he just look great with short hair?" Rafe stopped by Jim's desk, a stack of files under his arm.
Jim just shot him a glare. Rafe made a face, put his head between his shoulders - should Jim decide it made a good target- and tip-toed back to his own desk.
A couple of minutes later, Jim snagged his jacket from the back of his chair and left the station.
More than two hours later, Jim entered the loft. Without a word, he hung up his jacket and locked the door.
"You're finally here. What took you so long?" Blair got up from the couch to greet him with a hug and a kiss. But as soon as he saw the look on Jim's face, he refrained from doing so. He didn't know what had caused Jim's bad mood. Maybe he'd just had a terrible day. Better not disturb him in his cave. He'll come out into the daylight again when he'd be ready to.
"I put your dinner in the microwave. You'll just have to push the button."
"Not hungry, Chief. I'll just go to bed." Jim left Blair standing there and went upstairs.
Blair blinked after him. Okay, plan B. He'd wait for an hour or so and then go after Jim and snuggle up to him. Then, after a serious cuddling session, he would talk. He always did. Plan B never failed.
But when Blair slid under the covers a few hours later, Jim just turned to the other side, facing away from Blair and didn't react as Blair put his arm around him.
When Blair woke up, he heard Jim in the kitchen. He reached for his sweatpants and padded down the stairs.
Coming out of the bathroom, now fully dressed, Blair took his favorite red mug and poured himself a coffee.
"So, what are your plans for today, Jim?"
"Gotta work, Einstein."
"D'uh. How could I forget?" Blair grinned. "I mean after work. How about going to the movies?"
"Having dinner at the cute little Italian restaurant we discovered last month?"
"Go to the park, shoot some hoops?"
"I don't think so."
Blair frowned. What was wrong with that guy? He hadn't said more than three words when he came home the night before and now he snapped at him with every word he said.
"Okay, Jim. What is it?"
Jim looked at him before turning back to the paper.
"You turned a cold shoulder on me last night. And now you give me the feeling that you'll actually bite me if I ask you one more thing, as if that had ever stopped me. So, what's wrong with you?"
Blair growled. "Nothing. Yeah, right. Fine. Whatever. Play this stupid little game. Sit gloomily in your cave! Tell me when you're finished. But stop behaving like such a shit!"
He poured his coffee into the sink, set his mug aside and headed for the door.
"Why did you do it?" Jim folded the paper and looked at Blair.
Blair stopped in his tracks and turned. "Huh?"
Jim got up. The paper landed on the table with a loud 'slap' as Jim yelled, "Why the hell did you do that?"
"Why did I do what?" Blair looked astonished.
"Your hair. Why did you do that to your beautiful hair?" Jim whispered sadly.
"That's what this is all about? Oh man! You're that bitchy because I had my hair cut?"
Jim stepped closer to Blair and raised a hand as if to run his fingers through Blair's hair as he had done a thousand times before. But his hand sank to his side again.
"I loved your long hair, honey. And you know that. Now it's gone. Why did you do it?" Jim started to sound desperate.
Blair laughed. "Because I wanted to. You know I've hated that long fuzzy mess on my head for a long time. It took me hours to wash and dry. There was hair everywhere. They clogged the drain in the shower. They were in the sink. I shed hair like a dog getting its summer fur. We needed a new vacuum since the old one died because of my hair. I spent more money on shampoo, conditioner, mousse and hairspray than an average family! It took me hours to style it and after a couple of minutes it just hung down again. I always needed a leather band or something to tie it back. Jim, I just couldn't stand it anymore!" He had gotten really angry during his explanation.
"And," he added, "I think the short hair looks really good on me!"
"You look like..." Jim stared at him, "Art Garfunkel."
Blair started to pace. "I don't. I look good. For the first time in more than two years I look into the mirror and actually like what I see. I hated the long hair and I'm very happy that it's finally gone."
"Why didn't you ever say anything? We could have talked it over. You could have at least told me that you want it to be that short!"
"Sorry, Jim. It was my hair. It was my decision. It is my head. The neo-hippie look might have been good when I was twenty-five, but I'm thirty now. I have grown up in the past five years, and I need to show that in my looks as well. The hair is history! Once and for all!"
"But...I loved the hair."
Blair looked at Jim for a short moment and then began to gesture wildly.
"Oh! Big bad cop Ellison here loved the hair! How could stupid little Sandburg ever assume that big bad cop Ellison actually loved him, when he only loved the hair!"
With that Blair grabbed his jacket, ran out of the loft and slammed the door shut.
"Blair! BLAIR!" Jim followed him to the door, but Blair was already gone.
It was rather late when Blair returned home again. He headed for his old room, which they had turned into an office a while ago. He stopped when he noticed dozens of candles burning everywhere. The table was set beautifully and he smelled something yummy simmering on the stove.
Jim, who was wearing his flowered apron over a black turtleneck T-shirt and his black jeans, was stirring sauce.
"Hi," he whispered and waited for Blair's reaction.
"Hi, Jim." Blair peeled out of his jacket.
"Dinner's almost ready."
Blair turned to walk into his office.
He stopped in the doorway and waited.
Jim cleared his throat but still his voice came out only as a whisper. "I'm sorry."
Blair slowly turned and raised his head to look at Jim.
"I'm so sorry, Blair. I spent the whole day trying to think of how to apologize. I never meant it to sound the way it did. I loved your long hair, right. But, Blair, I love you, more than my life. No matter how long or short your hair is."
Blair still stood there and watched Jim.
"Blair, please. Say something."
Blair took a deep breath. "You hurt me, Jim. Okay, maybe I should have told you that I was going to have my hair cut short. But you knew that I was sick of it. I wasn't sure if I had enough courage to finally have it done, so I didn't say anything. I wanted to surprise you. I guess, I got that part right. But I'd never thought you'd react like that. That you'd absolutely freak about it. And for one moment you really had me believing that our relationship was more about my hair than it was about me."
"I never meant it that way, Blair. It's about you, only about you. If only I could take those words back." Jim sighed deeply.
"I spent all day sitting in my office wondering if I'd have to sleep on the couch until my hair grows back."
Jim smiled. "I couldn't sleep without you by my side." He stepped over to Blair. "I'm really sorry, Blair, please believe me. I love you."
"Love you too, blue eyes." Blair wrapped his arms around him as Jim captured his face to kiss him.
Jim gently explored his mouth, as he had the first time that they'd kissed so many years ago. Blair leaned into the kiss, running his hands up and down Jim's back.
They were interrupted by the sizzle of the pasta water boiling over the rim of the pot. Jim let go of Blair and leaped over to the kitchen to rescue it.
"So, I assume, dinner's ready now?" Blair laughed and sat down at the table. He sniffed as Jim put the bowls down in front of him. "Hmmm, fettuccine Alfredo. Man, I love that."
They started to eat. "Oh, Jim, this is delicious. And all those candles around. You knew I wouldn't be able to resist that."
Jim grinned and then looked at Blair.
"I guess I'll have to get used to that now," he said with a sigh.
Blair flashed him a smile. "Me too, man, me too."
"?" Jim looked at him questioningly.
"Do you think it's easy having long hair one day and short hair the next! All day long I tried to toss it back over my shoulder, only to find there's nothing there. And you should have seen me this morning under the shower. I used waaaaay to much shampoo. I looked like Silvia Fine."
"The Nanny's mother?"
"Oh, the blonde?" Jim burst out laughing. "Darn, and I missed that."
When they finished dinner and the dishes were done, Blair walked over to the balcony doors.
Jim stepped up behind Blair and wrapped his arms around him and slowly nibbled at Blair's throat.
Blair turned his head up and asked with triumph in his voice, "See?"
Jim stopped. "What?"
"Without the hair, this is much easier." Blair grinned and leaned back into Jim's larger frame.
"Oh! So you just did it so it'd be easier for me to give you some hickeys?" Jim smirked.
"Hickeys weren't exactly what I had in mind."
"Thought so." Jim buried his nose in Blair's hair. Okay, it was shorter, much shorter than what he was used to. But the curls were still there. And they felt the same. They smelled the same. And they hadn't changed their color. He was sure they wouldn't taste any different. He would miss the sound of the long strands brushing over the pillow, for sure. But he still loved the hair. He loved it because it was part of Blair. Because he loved Blair. His Blair.
"So, anything in mind for tonight?" he whispered suggestively into Blair's ear.
Blair turned in his arms. "Why don't you just go upstairs and I'll join you in a few?"
Jim was already halfway up the stairs. "Sounds like a plan, Chief."
I swear, this was written before I saw the pics of shorthair Garett. But you can add me to the 'Oh, my God! He looks great!'-department. And while we're at it, would you hand me another drool bucket, please? <G> Ef