"How was the service?" Jim asked as Blair walked in, hanging up a dripping coat.
"Nice," he answered, unwrapping his scarf and hanging it on a hook to dry. "Really nice. So, how're the Jags doing?" He came to settle next to his lover, who put an arm around him and pulled him close.
"Up 71 to 68." He heard the quiet rumble of a stomach next to him. "Need anything?"
"Nope. I'm fine," Blair answered, snuggling into the embrace. He laid his head on Jim's shoulder and closed his eyes.
"You sure?" Jim was concerned at the continued gurglings he heard coming from Blair.
Blair nodded. "Don't worry about me, Jim. Watch your game." He adjusted his position a bit in Jim's embrace and closed his eyes again.
"If you're tired, we can go to bed," Jim suggested.
"I can go," Blair said, reluctantly untangling himself from his comfortable position and standing. "It's awfully early for you. Me, I get tired easily these days."
"I don't mind keeping you company," Jim insisted, starting to rise.
Blair pushed him back down. "No, really, Jim. It's okay. I'm shot, no good for anything but sleep. You watch your game. Enjoy yourself."
"You sure, Chief?" Jim looked up at his lover.
"I'm sure. Good night, Jim."
"'Night, Hon."
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