(Barely PG)
Notes: Thanks to the incomparable LemonDrop who gives great writing advice and told me this was charming.
"Jim, what color are my eyes?"
"Huh...Huh?" Jim looked across his desk at his lover.
"The Guide has asked his Sentinel a very simple question."
"Sandburg--" growled Jim.
Blair lowered his voice and said, "Answer me. What color are my eyes?"
Exasperated by the stupidity of the question, Jim raised his voice: "Blue, Chief, blue!"
"No." Blair replied, very seriously.
Now Jim stared at his partner, a not-so-very-amused look in his own 'blue' eyes. "Dammit, Sandburg, I am a Senti--"
"Shhhh!" Blair erupted, interupting him.
"Shhhh! Shush to you too, Chief, and I was saying, I am a--" Jim lowered his voice a decibel, "a sentinel. My eyesight is way, way beyond 20/20. I can count every hair in both your nostrils," and now whispering, he continued, "and even enjoy counting every single hair in your as--"
Blair's eyebrows arced toward the bullpen ceiling at that lover-ly confession, a tad awestruck that Jim revealed that tidbit outside the enclosure of the loft. He sputtered, "Ji--um..."
Blair coughed, trying to control the guffaw that threatened to bubble out. He wished he could make his blush recede, too. "Heh, heh, Big Guy--"
"Now, Chief, no more silly stuff from you this morning. You gonna finish that report? Naw, well wanna ease over there while Henri's in the breakroom, and stuff it under his paperwork pile?"
Jim Ellison was tickled at that brilliant idea, "Yea, he's so far behind, he won't find it 'til next Thursday."
Jim returned his attention to his computer, then felt Blair's warm hand rubbing his left thigh.
"Ellison," demanded Blair, "What color are my eyes?"
"Blue. Blue. BLUE! Blue 'til I'm blue in the face, Sandburg!"
Blair crossed his arms and shook those russet curls at him. "Wrong, Oh Sentinel of the Great City!"
Now James Ellison was more than frustrated and exasperated, he was angry, wondering about the game Blair was trying to play. What sort of trick...
"Well, if they're not blue, they're...okay...Sapphire?"
"Nope, Jim."
"I know: azure."
"That answer, too, is wrong."
"Cerulean?"
Blair was absolutely stunned at that poetic word coming out of his lover's lips. "Whoa, buddy, living with me has certainly improved your vocabulary! I'm totally impressed with your word choice, here."
Jim sniggered. "I only get linguistic help from my Professor out of bed. In the bed, Junior, you only seem to know three words: 'Harder!' 'Faster!' 'More!'"
It was Blair's turn to laugh now, knowing Jim thrived on teasing him. "Any more...educated...guesses as to the color of my eyes?"
"Well, they're a very dark blue...blue like the ocean at night, ya know the color right before a big storm...yep, that it, Chief! Indigo! That's a purplish, inky blue, right?"
There was a triumphant grin plastered all over Jim's gorgeous face. "I finally gotcha there! That's the eye flavor you prefer, isn't it, sweetheart?"
Blair growled, "Watch it with the 'sweetheart', Jim, 'til we get into the truck. Then I'll show you just exactly how sweet my heart really is," he snickered. "But, wrong answer, my man."
Jim, greatly desirous (as they say in the paperback romances) of ending this farce, shouted, "All right, Darwin, you tell me: what color *are* your damned eyes?!"
"'GREEN, Jim, GREEN! And if I ever see you sliding that big hand down over Rafe's backside again, on any pretext whatsoever, innocent or not, and I also mean checking out his old Army wound down there, my eyes will be BLACK with rage. YOU GOT THAT?" And Jim distinctly heard a wolf howling jealously over his mate.
"Yes, dear," the jaguar meekly answered.
The Bluish End.