A/N: Blair gets an eyeful. Yeah, it's kinda clichéd, but it made me smile, and in my head it's deeper than it might appear. :-) Also: After I'd written about half of this down, I began to wonder if I hadn't already read the core idea here someplace else. If anyone finds this to be more than the usual "fanfic is often pretty repetitive" sort of familiar, please let me know.
"Hey Sandburg, my wife got double prints of the pictures she took at the picnic -- thought you might like these."
"No sweat. Catch you later."
"Yeah," Blair replied absently as he began flipping through the pictures.
First was one of Jim at bat in the softball game. Nice action shot, Blair thought as he checked out the angle of Jim's follow-through, and put it at the back of the stack. Next came one of himself telling a gaggle of other people's girlfriends some story or other -- he barely remembered it happening, but here was the photographic evidence, him caught in mid-gesticulation with everybody watching him. He put the second behind the first.
The third was another candid group shot: he, Jim, Simon, Henri, and Megan standing around the keg. Blair laughed quietly at the memory of the "discussion" that Jim and Megan had had about the merits of American vs. Canadian vs. Australian brews. He tucked that picture behind the others and looked at the last one.
And stopped breathing for a moment. Oh shit... oh shit, do I really look like that? The shot was of just the two of them, standing together holding plastic cups of beer and talking. Blair looked closer at the photo. Oh god, look at me -- it's just a camera trick, right? He couldn't really have been standing there, in front of all their friends and colleagues, staring up at Jim like he was... was... Great, not only do I look like a lovesick puppy, but words now fail me? What's next?
He wasn't sure that lovesick was the right word, but there was a definite air of adoration about the Blair in the picture. Like I'd do anything he told me to, except maybe 'sit, stay.' Like I'd follow him anywhere, fetch his slippers, run to greet him with tail wagging, barking madly... Is that how it looks --how I look -- to everybody? Because that's not what I --
The pictures fluttered to the floor out of Blair's loosened hold. After a stock-still moment, he bent to pick them up, his mind racing through an increasingly-impressive string of curse words in multiple languages.
His shock finally wound down, and he ended his mental tirade by voicing a hearty, plain-English, "Well fuck!", startling the passing records clerk and sending her scurrying faster down the hallway where Blair still stood.
That is what I do! Did I somehow not notice that? Everybody else must already know -- I mean, there's proof! He glared at the picture of the two of them. I've got some kind of pathetic crush on the guy -- this is horrible! How embarrassing! Why did I not know this?
But as he continued to stare at the picture, a different light began to dawn. He looked at himself, staring up at his partner. Then he looked closely at his partner, staring down at him. And he finally realized what the picture was really showing him. It wasn't that he had a crush on Jim.
We love each other, Blair thought with a smile. We love each other -- we're just being blind and stupid. But look -- I've got photographic evidence!
He headed down the hall to Jim's desk at a near-run, and called Jim's cell phone to leave a message on his partner's voicemail. "Hey Jim -- can you come straight home after you get out of court? I've got something to show you!"
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