By Ginalin


For someone I know who loves short hair Blair…


"They caught him doing what?" Detective Blair Sandburg looked at the pitiful lump of humanity in front of him on the EMT's gurney once again and winced. The guy's face looked like it had had a close encounter with a sausage grinder.

The EMT gave Ellison a questioning glance and he nodded. "Get this guy out here."

The much tattooed and pierced bartender rolled his eyes. "He was outside sniffing the seats. You know, on their bikes." His voice lowered on the last comment in a mockery of intimacy. "Some kind of smell freak or sumthin'. Geez, is that fuckin' crazy or what?"

Blair decided that this was definitely a case of silence being the better part of not getting your ass kicked, so he simply nodded and went to pull a pencil out of his hair, and belatedly realized it was gone. He sighed and reached for the mechanical pencil in the shirt pocket of his jacket after pretending to rub his ear.

"So, Mr., um, Sidewinder, what happened then?" Blair coughed.

"Well, like I said, the Gravediggers here caught this dude sniffing around their bikes outside. And I mean really sniffing. You know these guys don't like nobody even touchin their rides much less this kind of kinky shit. I guess they got a little carried away teachin him a lesson."

"Right." said Blair, looking at the now quiet half a dozen bikers waiting for transport to lockup. Each one was handcuffed to a table in the bar. Jim nodded at Blair and then quietly gave an apparently disgruntled man in leather his estimate at how long it would take to get a size twelve boot out of his ass.

"Well, thank you for your help, Sidewinder, I'm sure the district attorney's office will be in touch to depose you."

"Whatever." replied the man, obviously less than enthused. "These guys are good customers, I only called because I don't want my place tore up again. They're pretty good guys, really. Don't really want to lose their business, you know?"

"I'm sure when they're not assaulting fellow bar patrons, they're just sweet as can be." Jim commented wryly, coming up to Blair.

"I think I saw that one with the tattoo that says 'I Skull-Fucked Your Mother's Cold Dead Body' helping a senior citizen across the street." Blair joked.

Jim smirked at Blair and sat back with him to watch a couple of uniforms lead the gang out to a waiting transport.

"Well, I guess we better go get started on all the paperwork so we can get home at a reasonable hour tonight." Blair stood and stretched his back until it audibly popped.

"Sometimes I think I'd have been a better cop if my dad had sent me to secretarial school." Jim stood too, and absently reached over to give the bared neck in front of him a quick rub.

"I still can't get used to it." He smiled and shook his head. They began to walk to the truck.

"Yeah, me with short hair. Who'd have thunk? After all my carrying on about it, too."

"You miss it, don't you?" Jim asked quietly.

"You noticed, huh?"

"I notice everything about you, Chief. I miss it too. Especially the smell."


"Yeah, with all that hair, every time you moved your head, I got hit with a little blast of herbal something or other. Nice, kind of miss it. Like my own personal Blair Sandburg air freshener."

"You're so weird." Blair laughed as he got in the truck. "You know that?"

"Yep, that's me, your very own smell freak." Jim grinned at him as he reached over and patted Blair's cheek.


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