Work Text:
The Fishing Shirt
by Wolf aka Nancy
He couldn't find it. His favorite fishing shirt. His lucky fishing shirt. Maybe it was in a different drawer. He started on the next drawer, and still couldn't find it.
If he couldn't find that shirt they couldn't go fishing this weekend. That was all there was to it. Fishing just wouldn't be the same. So, he finished getting dressed, and packing his duffle.
Coming down the stairs, he dropped his stuff by the door. Heading to the kitchen he hollered, Chief, get a move on. We're going to be late getting on the road."
"I'm coming, I'm coming." Came the muffled voice through the door. About five minutes later the double doors to the room under the stairs opened and let out a whirlwind of hair.
Jim looked up, and there it was. His missing shirt. Blair Sandburg, his partner and guide was wearing Jim Ellison's lucky, favorite fishing shirt. Jim just shook his head. Well, at least the shirt would be going with them.
Grabbing two hot mugs of coffee, he ushered his guide out, and they were gone fishing. Lucky shirt and all.
The End