Maybe Not the Last Straw

Jim walked into the loft and stopped dead in his tracks. Once again Blair had planned some romantic tryst with a woman and left the place a mess. Burned down candles were scattered across the coffee table and end tables. At least h is guide had used Vanilla scented candles so he wouldn't be sneezing all night and end up with a headache. The kitchen, however, was another matter – pots and pans were piled in the sink. Dishes with remnants of whatever Sandburg had cooked stuck to the sides were piled on the counter.

This was the last straw. Blair was going to have to learn to clean up the messes he made or he was going to have to find a new place to live. He'd learned to handle a little of his guide's normal clutter but this was way past what he liked his home to be like.

Shrugging off his jacket, he hung it on the hook and headed to the refrigerator. Hopefully Blair and his 'friend' left him at least one cold beer. Finding he was in luck, Jim downed a third of the bottle immediately before heading to bed.

Rubbing his temples, he climbed the step to his bedroom. The whole Sentinel Guide thing apart, he had an unusual relationship with Blair. They were roommates. 'Unofficial' partners on the force. Sometimes lovers. It was the sometimes lovers part that mystified him. He didn't know why he let it continue. Especially the way Sandburg chased skirts. The only reason he could come up with was that the sex was good. It was hot and fun. However, he knew if he allowed himself he could fall for Blair, but if he did, he'd want a commitment and he knew his Guide was incapable of doing that as evidenced by the way he flitted between women.

Setting his now empty beer bottle down on his nightstand, Jim unbuttoned his shirt and sat on the edge of the bed to unlace his shoes. He heard Blair mumble "Jim" but thought it was just his guide dreaming downstairs. That was until he felt the bed shift behind him. Turning he saw Blair, or at least the top of Sandburg's head, as the rest of him was buried under the covers.

"Sandburg! What the Hell?" Jim yelled, causing Blair to jump and and bolt upright in bed.

"Jim, you scared me."

"You're lucky I didn't do more than scare you, Sandburg. What the hell are you doing in my bed? Did your date kick you out of yours?" Jim demanded. Not wanting to be in the middle of a tiff between Blair and his current lady friend. And definitely not wanting *his* bed involved.


Jim watched as Blair rubbed his eyes, trying to wake up enough to comprehend what he was being asked. "Yes, date. You know, your current flavour of the week. The one you made the romantic dinner for," he reminded his roommate sarcastically and then much to his surprise watched Blair go instantly from confused to indignant.

"I cooked for *you*. You ungrateful…"

Jim cut off anything else Blair was going to say with a kiss. Blair confused, was cute. Blair indignant was downright sexy and he couldn't resist a sexy Blair, especially when he was already in his bed.

Blair responded instantly then pushed him away almost as fast all ready to get in his face. "What was the occasion?" Jim asked before his Guide could even start.

"I… I… I'm tired of all the women when all I've ever really wanted was you."

Jim smiled. It was as if Blair had known what he'd been thinking but then his Guide always had been like that. Pulling Blair closer, he whispered, "Me too, Chief," before he kissed him. The mess downstair definitely wasn't the last straw for them…

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