Title: The Sweetest Day
Author/pseudonym: Candy Apple 
Rating:  E
Pairings: J/B

Status: NEW, complete
Date: 10-17-98
Archive: YES
Series/Sequel: NOPE.

Disclaimers: Pet Fly owns the guys and The Sentinel.  No money being
made.  Just for fun.

Summary: A day Jim dismisses as a greeting card holiday takes on a
new meaning.


THE SWEETEST DAY

by

Candy Apple


     Scanning the bullpen, Jim shook his head with a slight smile.  It
was amazing how the greeting card companies could throw a room full
of normally logical, down-to-earth men into a bunch of hand-wringing
wrecks.  Valentine's Day was a given--if you're in a relationship and
screw up on that day, you're in hot water until the next major holiday,
which you better get right if you value your life.  But *Sweetest Day*? 
So far he'd overheard three dinner reservations being made and two
flower orders being placed. //At least a few of us'll be getting some
tonight,// Jim thought cynically.

     He put the final touches on the report and signed off on it. 
Most of the paperwork was done, and even though he'd given up a rare
Saturday off to do it, it was worth it.  It was almost dinner time now,
and Jim sat back in his desk chair for a moment, contemplating where
to go grab a bite to eat.  It was doubtful Blair would be sitting home on
Saturday night--especially not one with any slight romantic
significance like Sweetest Day.  No, Blair would have something lined
up for tonight.

     "So who was she?"  Simon asked, pulling his sport coat on as he
passed Jim's desk.

     "Who?"  The detective frowned as he rose also, grabbing his
coat off the rack and falling into step with Simon toward the elevator.

     "The mystery woman."

     "Oh--the donut thing," Jim recalled.  He had almost forgotten
the first thing that had greeted him when he arrived that morning. 
Jenny, the girl with the bagel cart, had delivered what had to be the
largest glazed buttermilk donut in history to Jim's desk, with the
message that it was a Sweetest Day present from a secret admirer. 
"No, I haven't heard anymore about it."

     "You didn't pick up anything from the donut?"

     "Yeah, probably about 600 calories, God knows how much
cholesterol, and a lecture from Sandburg if he finds out."

     "What he doesn't know won't hurt him," Simon responded,
laughing as they stepped into the elevator and Jim pushed the button to
take them down to the garage.  "Big plans tonight?"

     "Yeah.  I have a date with a pizza, a beer and my remote
control.  How about you?"

     "I'm taking Amy to dinner at that new seafood place downtown. 
The one they built in that renovated warehouse near the docks."

     "Oh, yeah.  How're things going with her?"  Jim asked
conversationally.

     "We've both had our share of rough spots in the relationship
department, so we're both a little wary.  But we're having a good time
getting to know each other."

     "Great.  I hope it works out," Jim said with a slight smile as the
doors opened and they started out into the garage.  

     "So where's the kid tonight?"

     "I don't know.  Probably romancing some unsuspecting T.A.
from the U."

     "Sounds like Sandburg.  See you Monday, Jim."

     "Yeah.  Tell Amy I said 'hi'."

     "Will do," Simon called back over his shoulder, heading for his
car.

     Jim let out an almost audible sigh as he reached the pick up.  If
he'd stayed home, he'd have probably spent the day with Blair, doing
something scintillating like grocery shopping or washing the truck or
doing laundry.  Still, he missed spending the time with his roommate. 

     Inserting the key into the ignition, Jim felt a wave of
depression.  He loved Blair, deeply and with every fiber of his being. 
He'd been on the verge of saying something several times, and
sometimes when Blair had looked at him so hopefully, waiting for a
verbal affirmation of their friendship, he'd let it pass.  How do you
release only as much of a feeling as is appropriate?  When you love
someone desperately, how do you tell them in shoulder-punching,
buddy terms that they're your best friend without saying more?

     The traffic was heavier in the business district, and as Jim
waited for a red light to change, he reached a decision.  Changing
lanes, to the chagrin of a couple other motorists, he pulled up in front
of a bookstore he'd visited with Blair a couple days earlier.  It sold
primarily used and antique books, and Blair had found a copy of an old
Anthropology text signed by the author--someone Blair claimed was
someone important--someone whose work Blair had read, studied and
respected.  

     Jim spotted the store owner locking the front door as he pulled
up to the curb to park.  He jumped out of the truck and rushed up to the
small storefront, motioning to the owner to let him in.

     "Sorry, sir, we're closing," he called through the glass.  Jim
made a couple of other pleading gestures, and when the man was
unmoved, Jim did what he had never done before--pulled out his badge
for purely selfish reasons.  When the elderly man saw the police badge,
he unlocked the door and opened it for Jim.  

     "I didn't mean to alarm you, but I thought maybe if you saw the
badge, you'd feel more comfortable letting me in after hours," Jim
explained, needing to explain his use of the police ID fairly rapidly
before he found himself in trouble for having used it at all in this
situation.

     "What do you need, officer?"  the man asked, obviously
puzzled.

     "I was in here a couple days ago with a friend of mine, and he
saw a book he wanted, and I completely forgot to get in here and buy it,
and his birthday is today," Jim lied fluidly.

     "Oh, I think I remember.  The guy with the long hair?"

     "Right.  He was looking at an old Anthropology textbook."

     "I'm sure it's still here.  Come on in."  The man shut and locked
the door behind Jim.  "Now let's see."  He moved toward the back of
the store, finally locating the volume in question from inside a locked
display case.  "The price is $275."

     "Excuse me?"  Jim asked, eyes bulging.  He knew Blair had
made a face about the price, and he also figured it must have been
steep for Blair to leave without it, since he'd spent several minutes
reverently looking it over, running his hand over the cover like it was
some holy text.

     "It's signed by the author, and he's been deceased for about
twenty years.  It's a first edition--the book is over sixty years old, sir,
and in near mint condition."

     "You said $275?"  Jim asked again.  A long pause ensued.

     "I could sell it to you for $250, but not a penny less, or I'd be
taking a loss."

     "Really," Jim muttered under his breath, figuring the book
probably came from an estate sale or some other source in which the
buyer didn't realize what price it could fetch, or was desperate enough
to sell it for about half of the current asking price.

     "Look, technically I'm closed, and I have to be getting home--"

     "Deal," Jim said decisively, relinquishing the book long enough
for the man to carry it back to the cash register and ring up the sale. 
"Do you have anything to wrap it up with?"  Jim asked.  For $250, he
figured the guy ought to be able to come up with something.

     "All I have is some plain brown paper I use for shipping, and
some twine."

     "Well, it's not elegant, but I guess it'll have to do.  Could you
wrap it up for me in some of that?"

     "Sure thing," he responded, giving Jim his abused credit card
back before retreating through a curtained doorway to his back room. 
Returning with a sheet of the paper, he wrapped the book carefully and
tied the twine around it, leaving a big, loopy bow on top.  "Bet he'll be
mighty surprised with this," the store owner commented, smiling a bit.

     "Yeah, he'll be surprised all right," Jim agreed, smiling,
thinking just how surprised Blair would be by not only an expensive
gift, but by what Jim planned on telling him.  "Oh, man, look at that
rain!"  Jim complained as he accepted the package, unzipping his
jacket and pulling it around himself and the book, lest it suffer any
water damage.

     "Have a good evening," the older man said, opening the door
for Jim to leave.

     "Thanks for opening up for me," he said, rushing out into the
rain and finally climbing into the dry haven of the truck's cab.  Laying
his treasure on the seat, he drove toward the loft.

*******

     After another mad dash through the rain, he found himself
inside the building and riding up in the elevator toward home.  He'd
been happy to find Blair's car in the parking lot, and hoped that meant
that by some miracle of fate, Blair didn't have a date.  As he
approached the door, he could hear soft instrumental music wafting to
his sensitive ears.  Definitely not Sandburg's usual style.  There were
smells, too.  It was food for sure, but Jim's curiosity was too piqued to
stand in the hall and analyze what it was.  He opened the door and
stepped inside the loft.  

     A fire in the fireplace cast a cozy gold glow around the living
room, candles on the table added a dancing light to the rest of the loft.  

     "Blair?"  Jim called out to his friend, knowing he was
somewhere in the loft, and finally homing in on his heartbeat, which
was coming from Blair's bedroom.  In a moment, the younger man
emerged from behind the partially open French doors, wearing a pair of
jeans and a Jags sweatshirt Jim had bought him the last time he'd gone
to a game with Simon.  The captain had offered Jim the spare ticket,
and at Blair's urging, Jim had gone, but hadn't enjoyed much of it
without Blair by his side.  So on the way out, he'd bought the sweatshirt
and taken it home to a stunned and very pleased Blair.

     "Hi," Blair said, a little uneasily.  "I thought you'd probably be
hungry--unless you ate on the way home?"

     "No, no, I didn't.  I, uh, had another stop to make."  Jim pulled
the package out from under his coat.  "Here," he handed it to Blair, who
accepted it, looking bewildered. //Nice presentation speech, Ellison. 
I'm sure he'll remember this moment always,// Jim ridiculed himself.

     "For me?"  Blair still looked disbelieving.

     "It's, uh, a Swtstdyprsnt," Jim mumbled.

     "A what?"  Blair asked, frowning.

     "You know, today...it's, uh, well, one of those Hallmark
holidays."  Jim gestured awkwardly toward the package Blair was
holding. 

     "Oh, right.  Happy Sweetest Day to you too, Jim," Blair said,
grinning fondly at his stuttering partner.  "Is it okay if I open it now?"

     "I was kind of hoping you would," Jim responded, laughing
nervously.

     "Okay."  Blair tore into the paper like a kid at Christmas, and
when it was all stripped away from the book, he stared at it,
dumbfounded.

     "Did I, uh, pick up the right one?"  Jim knew it was a lame
question, since there weren't an abundance of signed Anthropology
texts in the book store to begin with.

     "Yeah, you did."  Blair ran his hand over the cover much the
way he had in the store.  "This is really mine?"

     "It's really yours, Chief," Jim replied, chuckling a little at his
partner's unabashed reverence for the book.

     "I don't know what to say."

     "Thanks'll work fine," Jim responded, grinning.  Blair set the
book gently aside on the table and threw his arms around Jim, hugging
him tightly.  Jim reciprocated the hug, holding Blair close and savoring
the feeling.

     "Thank you," Blair said so quietly and so sincerely that it
conveyed to Jim just how much the gift meant to him.  He pulled back
from Jim, smiling a little.  "I still can't believe...Jim, this cost a
*fortune*."

     "Well, I had two kidneys, and since I only really needed one..." 
Jim shrugged, laughing softly at Blair's rapt expression as he carefully
turned a few pages, then went back to the front to examine the author's
signature.

     "There's just one thing you have to do."

     "What's that?"

     "You have to put a message in it."  Blair handed Jim the book.

     "What?  You mean like a note?"

     "Well, sort of.  Haven't you ever given anyone a book before? 
You write a message inside the cover, and it's nice if you put the date
on there too."

     "You want me to write in your book?  Blair, this is a collector's
item."

     "I will never sell this book as long as I live."  Blair took it back
and held it in his arms, against his chest.  "And it would be even more
valuable *to me* if you wrote something to me in the front of it. 
Please?  It doesn't have to be anything big."

     "I'd be honored," Jim said, his voice a little husky.  Blair's face
broke into a big grin as he hurried back into his room and found a pen
he considered suitable for the task and presented it to Jim, who sat at
the table to write his message.  "By the way, Chief, the place looks
great, and something smells pretty good too." //Besides you...// Jim
added silently.

     "Knowing you, you haven't had anything to eat since that donut
this morning," Blair said, sitting down at the table next to Jim.  "So I
fixed us salad and there's chicken baking in the oven."

     "I'm starved.  And you're right, I forgot about lunch completely. 
Hey--how'd you know about the donut?"  Jim watched as Blair
shrugged.

     "Happy Sweetest Day from your secret admirer."  Blair watched
Jim's motionless expression for a moment, and then laughed a little
sadly.  "I thought this would be a good day to, uh...tell you how I feel." 
Blair paused, the silence from Jim seeming to stab him in the heart like
a dagger.  "Guess I really called that one wrong."

     "Blair, I...I..."  Jim paused, dumbfounded when Blair had taken
the ball out of his court that way and declared his feelings first.  He
looked back at the book.  "I should sign this," he said, and Blair
nodded, all his prior enthusiasm drained away.  Jim knew he should
grab Blair and kiss him, profess his love, reassure him that all those
feelings were returned...but then, Blair hadn't really declared his
forever commitment.  Just that he had sent Jim a donut on Sweetest
Day.  And cooked dinner.  And asked for his signature in the front of
this book, which would render it much less valuable as a collectible. 
And looked like his whole world had just shattered into a million
pieces at the thought that Jim didn't want him for an admirer.

     Jim picked up the pen and wrote his message, signed it, and
then turned it around toward Blair.

     "All my love forever, Jim.  
     Sweetest Day, 1998"

     "Does this mean...?"  Blair looked up from it hopefully, eyes
bright with moisture, and tinged with fear.

     "It means just what it says."  Jim looked into those deep blue
eyes, and found the courage to say what he needed to say.  "I love you,
Blair.  And I never dared to dream my secret admirer would be you."

     "You mean it?"  Blair asked in a hushed tone.

     "Hey, I wouldn't have written it--in *ink*--in the front of a $275
book if I didn't mean it, would I?"

     "I guess not," Blair responded, chuckling a little brokenly.

     "So...uh...is there anything you want to tell me?"  Jim looked at
Blair questioningly, with a slight smile.

     "Oh, my God...Yes!  I love you too!"  Blair launched himself at
his partner, straddling the larger man's thighs and wrapping his arms
tightly around Jim's neck as he laughed at his own very significant
omission in their conversation.  "I love you so much.  I thought maybe
you did too, but I wasn't sure."

     "Be sure."  Jim wrapped his arms around his new lover, sliding
a hand up into the mass of soft curls.  "This is one thing you can be
sure of for a lifetime, Chief."

********
Happy Sweetest Day, Everybody!! :-)