Give him an inch... thought Jim, his head throbbing, his nose feeling like it was about a foot wide and stuffed with putty. "Sandburg, you're killing me!" he said, his voice muffled by a tissue. The throbs in his head synchronized themselves to the drum beats coming from Blair's room. It was definitely not a pleasant sensation.
"Is it working?"
Is your objective to do permanent damage? "What?"
"On your cold!" he said enthusiastically. "These rhythms, they promote better circulation--something I picked up from the Mombatu tribe in Kenya. Open up all those passages, sort of like a...a sonic antihistamine."
"Would you turn it down?"
"Come on Jim, just give it a chance!"
"Give it a rest!" he interrupted, then seemed to regret his harsh tone. "Please?" His eyes gave away his sincerity.
"Fine," said Blair sounding a little more pissed off than Jim hoped he'd be. Jim watched he went back into his room to turn it off then pulled out a Kleenex, futilely trying to clear his nose. When Blair returned, he seemed to have shaken his ill humor off. "That's okay, that's okay," he said animatedly, "cause I got something else for you. And it's almost done." He lifted the lid off the pot simmering on the stove and inhaled. Jim tried not to gag.
"Come on, would you forget it? I'm fine," he insisted, looking as healthy as he could manage, considering he *wasn't*.
"You know what? You are amazing. All that crap that you put in your body that you call food and you won't take anything for your cold!" Blair's voice was both incredulous and accusatory.
"I don't believe in chemicals," explained Jim simply.
"No argument from me, but this stuff is not your over the counter...stuff, here. I mean, it's...it's all natural."
Jim looked a bit less reluctant to give it a try, but knowing Blair's eating habits he was still wary of it. There were limits to what a newly discovered love for the man would make him do. "What's in it?"
"A little bit of this, a little bit of that...it doesn't matter."
If I didn't know better, I'd swear you knew you had me wrapped around your little finger already. "Any illegal substances?" he asked in a last ditch attempt to get out of trying it.
"No, no, come on! Well, maybe if you're in Zimbabwe. I mean, they have restrictions on certain US goods." He paused, examining his creation. "Look at this, let's check this out." Lowering his head towards the pot, Blair took a big sniff of its aroma and promptly coughed. "Mmm, mmm, now that stuff...that'll clean your sinuses," he added with a big grin.
"Or clean the floor," amended Jim, an even warier look of disgust on his face.
Blair put the spoon he'd been stirring with down and moved over to Jim's side of the island. "Hey, nobody's making you try it, but you're the one with the cold, man. Your choice."
"I choose to live," said Jim, opening the fridge for some juice. Blair turned quickly and brushed his lips against Jim's neck on his way by. Jim jerked away.
"Okaaayyyy," said Blair, holding up his hands in surrender and moving around to the other side of the island again. "Maybe that wasn't such a good idea after all."
"Sandburg, you just startled me."
"Nobody startles you, man. Come on...are we together or aren't we?"
"Sandburg...Blair..."
"You know what?" said Blair, taking the lid off the pot again and allowing the smell to permeate the loft, "don't answer that because I am not in the mood to hear it. Breathe deep, man, it'll help, trust me."
Blair disappeared into his room again and Jim had to follow if he wanted to continue the conversation. Sneezing once and wiping his nose on the tissue, he walked over to Blair's door. "Can we talk?"
"I don't know," responded Blair, his back to him. "Can we talk? Or are we going to spend the rest of our partnership not talking 'cause that's sure what it feels like to me."
"I didn't mean to do that, you really did startle me. All right?"
"I guess."
"Come on, what do you want me to do?" Jim gave a tentative laugh. "I'm contagious you know."
Blair turned. "Are we together or aren't we?"
"I...we really need to talk about this."
"What do you think we're doing?"
"We're getting ready to go in to the station," said Jim automatically. "This isn't a good time. We can talk about it--"
"Later," finished Blair. "It's always going to be later, isn't it. You really are unbelievable."
"Blair, wait," he said, coughing a little as the rushed words scratched his throat. "I mean it." He stepped into Blair's room a little nervously--this was Blair's territory and coming inside meant stripping off a little more of his facade. "I can't leave it like this between us--I don't want you to be mad at me because I want to find the right time and place to talk about us."
"Tell me when 'later' is, then."
"Tonight," said Jim firmly. "Tonight. We'll order in some food and lock the doors and turn off the phones...and tonight we'll talk about it."
Blair smiled. "Good. Now put some clothes on. You have a job to do."
"Oh, and Blair?"
"What?"
"Yes, we are."