By Polly

"What did you say?" Blair asked as he wiped the countertop, only half listening to Jim. Apparently, Jim had mentioned to Simon that he would be using Blair for slave labor during the quarterly cleaning orgy; to which Simon had tossed off 'Blair's gonna kick your ass for wasting his free weekend with that'.

Brilliant observation on Simon's part, Blair wryly noted to himself. He would like to kick Jim's ass for wasting their weekend with this. To add insult to injury, the weather was flawless, clear skies and warm sunshine, practically begging them to come out and play.

If he didn't love the big anal jerk...

"I told him I wasn't worried about it."

"You aren't worried about it," Blair automatically echoed, putting his active listening skills into play despite his lack of real interest. What was this shit speckling the edge? Eww, gross.

"Nah, it's not like you could kick my ass anyway."

"I couldn't?" Blair asked, suddenly paying attention.

"Maybe if I was asleep, Chief."

Using his free hand, Blair Sandburg rubbed at the headache that had settled over his eyes. This had the added benefit of removing Jim from his immediate line of sight - fortunately for Jim - and would hopefully diminish Blair's urge to smack the crap out of him for his patronizing, condescending tone.

"Jim, Jim, Jim. That sounds suspiciously like a dare," Blair said, forcing humor he didn't particularly feel into his voice. He looked at Jim, who was still squatting in front of the refrigerator, scrubbing beneath the crisper drawer, which was soaking in the bathtub.

In bleach water.

Which was part of the reason his head hurt, while sentinel Jim had merely dialed down the irritating fumes.

"It's not a dare. It's a statement of fact. Nothing against you, Chief - we both know how scrappy you are - but I have training and experience you don't have, not to mention size."

Now, that was just unnecessary, Blair decided thoughtfully, trying to remember the last time he'd been this aggravated with Jim. So, he was scrappy, huh? Since that term brought to mind a certain yappy cartoon sidekick, it was far from complimentary.

He started opening drawers, preparatory to removing their contents and wiping them out... and lo, there were handcuffs.

Hmm. Must be a sign.

"Hand me the ZorbX, would you?" Jim asked, reaching back without turning around.

"Sure, Jim," Blair said, and struck. Left hand went under Jim's arm, pinning it, while right arm hooked around Jim's neck, in a perfectly executed sleeper hold. Five to eight seconds for the perp to lose consciousness - as he'd been trained - and all he had to do was take Jim face-down to the floor to keep Jim's right hand out of the action.

Ten seconds had Blair cuffing Jim's hands behind his back, and just to prove he wasn't the kind of heartless bastard that would make his roommate suffer, Blair got a pillow off the couch for Jim's head and waited for him to awaken.

It took a few minutes, then those pale eyes were blinking at him in furious astonishment.

"Sandburg, I'm gonna-"

"Ah!" Blair lifted a peremptory finger. "You're gonna say, 'Chief, I'm sorry for underestimating you. I will never do it again, nor will I use the word 'scrappy' to describe you.' Or, Scoob, I can move your happy ass to the sofa where you can spend the rest of this lovely sunny day and tonight, a-l-o-n-e. Now, what do you say?"

He watched a variety of expressions cross Jim's face, saw the moment that it got funny, and fell in love all over again when Jim started laughing.

"I'm sorry for underestimating you, Chief, and I promise, I will never do it again, or call you scrappy again, although I'm thinking it would make a good safeword if we're going to play with handcuffs. Now, how about we pack up some sandwiches, head for the park, and enjoy this lovely sunny day like it should be enjoyed?"

"Good idea!" Blair levered Jim up to his feet and gave his ass a squeeze just on general principles. "Let's go! It's a great day to be outdoors!"

"Uh, Chief, the cuffs? Chief? BLAIR!"


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