Way Past Twenty-one
Back when they met, Jim noticed early on that whatever Blair did he did with complete focus. Right now, Blair chopped vegetables and jiggled to some internal rhythm. Periodically he sang 'who do you love?' in his best hoochie coochie man tones, low and rich.
Jim came up behind Blair and stood against him, resting his hands on the counter either side. The movement of the knife stilled. Jim nuzzled Blair's ear and murmured, "Hey there, mannish boy. Who *do* you love?"
Blair leaned his head against Jim's shoulder. "You, of course."
Yeah. No blues around here. Sing it.
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