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A Special Anniversary by Alyjude
Blair walked into his home, shaking off the rain and grateful for the warmth inside. He did his usual hanging up of wet stuff, dumping of wet stuff, scuffing off wet shoes and running his fingers through wet hair; all typical for the Pacific Northwest during the tag-end of winter. Or spring, fall or summer--take your pick.
He wasn't surprised by the absence of an attacking five-year-old or the dog that followed the five-year-old wherever said five-year-old went; he'd heard the television even before he'd opened the door. It was six o'clock and between six and six-thirty, Monday through Friday, rain or shine, a pink squirrel named Chester and his best friend, a bug-eyed Martian named Beepop (an ET that would have caused Steven Spielberg to curl his toes in frustration) cavorted across the screen on channel thirty-three. Children all across the city were quiet for thirty minutes every day and Blair was pretty damn certain that most parents wished Chester was on 24/7. When they didn't want to skin the damn animal.
He turned toward the living room and, sure enough, there was his son.
Except....
Jake was watching the show upside-down.
And it wasn't even a commercial.
He took a few quiet steps closer.
Jake was on his back, on the big, overstuffed chair that practically had Jim's name emblazoned across the seat, head hanging over the edge, skinny little legs climbing up the backrest. His eyes were clearly on the television, his attention definitely engaged, even if Chester was... upside-down. Because Jake was... upside-down.
Oh, and there was Goody... upside-down.
Okay, that explained a great deal. Goody was sound asleep next to Jake on the big chair--which Blair would have to wipe off before Jim spotted the dog hairs--on his back, legs in the air, ears pointing toward the sky, tongue lolling.
Thank God Jake's tongue was simply sticking out the corner of his mouth.
With a slight shake of his head at the wonder of the scene before him, Blair turned toward the dining room which would take him to the kitchen, which would take him to Jim--if the pan clanging sounds were any indication. And he desperately needed to be near Jim.
*****
He pushed his way through the swinging door, walked up to his partner, who was just about to start peeling carrots for their dinner, and kissed him on the cheek that was absent-mindedly lowered for him.
"He's watching Chester upside-down," Blair said as he snagged a piece of carrot.
"I know. I can only hope doing so improves the show," Jim said in tune with the scrape-scrape of the vegetable peeler.
"Doubtful." Blair could smell their dinner so glanced over at the range. At the complete absence of any clue as to their evening meal, he asked, "What's for dinner?"
"It's a good thing your son didn't hear that question," Jim muttered.
"Hey, it's a fair question. I've been in court all day while you got off at two, you lucky bastard, so naturally it's only right to expect dinner cooked for me tonight and to inquire as to what that dinner might be."
"The question of who should cook is not the issue, but the question of what we're eating is the question that should not need to be asked. Or so I was informed earlier today."
Blair really loved Jim. He really did. He especially loved him like this, namely wearing form (specifically Jim's form) fitting jeans, a slate blue pullover sweater with two black buttons at the neck--both unbuttoned--the sleeves pushed up almost to his elbows. And to top off the ensemble: his flowered apron. Jim smelled terrific, looked relaxed and happy, and had the ability to drive Blair to sexual peaks just by going barefoot; which he was at the moment. Even as Blair wondered why what they were having was the issue, he had the overwhelming desire to take Jim to the bedroom and have his wicked way with him even though he was currently driving him crazy by deliberately not telling him what the hell he was talking about.
"Aren't you going to ask?"
Shaken from his thoughts, Blair said, "Huh?"
"Why what we're having is so important tonight?" Jim reminded.
"Oh, right. I was just musing over how you can drive me crazy in the simplest ways, thus forgetting whatever it is that you said, because you're also barefoot, but I'm going to bite anyway by asking why what we're eating is a question that should not be asked."
"Sharing semen on a regular basis has improved my mind. I understood what you just said."
Blair lightly twisted a bit of waist flesh on Jim. "Spill."
"It seems, as I was informed upon arriving home, that today is Jake's anniversary."
Frowning, Blair watched Jim dump the carrots into the boiling water even as he wracked his brain for anniversary-type dates. He came up empty-handed.
"I'm drawing a blank here, Jim. Anniversary for what?"
Opening the fridge and removing the already made salad, Jim carried it to the table. "It was exactly," Jim said as he walked over to the oven and opened the door, "ten days ago today that our beloved son had this for the first time." He got the oven mitts, slipped them on, and pulled out a large loaf pan full of brown sugar-and-ketchup crusted meatloaf.
Blair studied their entrée a moment and finally said, "It's possible our son is--"
"Weird?" Jim asked as he set the pan on the trivet next to the salad.
"That word might be a bit harsh; I was going for eccentric. Our son might be a bit eccentric."
"No, dear," Jim said with a grin. "That would be Jake's short father. Jake is just plain weird, in a wonderful, little boy way."
Jim drained the carrots, plopped them into a bowl and added a daub of butter before carrying it to the table to join the rest of the meal. Blair, who'd followed him, snagged a carrot, popped it into his mouth and, while chewing, said, "So when exactly did this momentous occasion occur?"
"Ten days ago, Blair," Jim said, as if talking to five-year old. "Weren't you listening?"
"Okay, I should have asked 'where'? We haven't had meatloaf since... have we ever?"
"We have not. But it seems that mediums have meatloaf quite frequently. And," Jim said as he undid his apron, "it's six-thirty, the show is over, and in about... three seconds... our son--"
"daddy! poppy! is my anneeeeversereee dinner ready?"
Jake thudded into his father, arms wrapped around his legs. Face shining with happiness, he looked up and said, "hi daddy! you're home."
Winking at Jim, Blair said, "I certainly am and so happy you finally noticed. How was Chester tonight?"
"he saved the world as we know it again, daddy, but he did it upside down. it was a mir-ackle."
Lifting him into his arms and exchanging Eskimo kisses, Blair said, "Well, thank goodness we're safe again. Looks like dinner's on the table. You ready to eat?"
"i be very ready."
Blair sat him down at the table and as Jim slid in on the other side, Blair scooted in next to Jake, who'd pulled his phone book over and was now perched atop of it. While Jim dished up the food for them and he poured milk into Jake's glass, he asked, "Where's Goody?"
"i don't know, daddy," Jake said, clearly knowing very well that Goody was where she always was at any meal.
"Is she lost?" Blair asked even as the animal in question sat on his foot.
"nope."
"You sure?"
"yup. and can i have a big slice, poppy?"
Jim quirked an eyebrow but nevertheless widened the area he was going to cut for his son. "Does it look as good as Deidre's?"
"yummm, poppy."
"Deidre?" Blair asked. "As in Deidre Falls?"
"Hello? Did I or did I not mention the word 'medium'?" Not waiting for an answer, Jim went on. "Seems our Jake and your mother had lunch with her--ten days ago today--and she made him--"
"magikal meatloaf," Jake finished for him. "how come we never had magikal meatloaf, poppy?"
"Dare I say--I don't know?"
"You dare," Blair quipped. "And to be honest, Jake, I don't think I've ever had meatloaf." At the shocked look on his son's face, he added quickly, "Oh, I've had something called 'Meatloaf Surprise' in school, but trust me, it didn't look or smell as good as this. And I'm positive this will taste ten times better too."
"poppy, does this have the magikal ingredient in the middle?"
"It sure does. I got the recipe from your Nomi."
"yipppeee!"
Blair craned his neck to see what the heck Jake was referring to when Jim said, "Ricotta cheese. It's actually an inspired recipe."
"Ah, gotcha."
Jim passed Blair's plate over to him, a plate now full of salad, a really terrific-looking slice of meatloaf oozing with cheese, and the carrots. Blair had to admit that it looked truly magical. He was impressed.
Jake already had a mouthful of the meatloaf and was nodding enthusiastically, clearly happy with his poppy's efforts to duplicate the meal he'd obviously enjoyed with his Nomi.
As the meal progressed, they chatted about their day while individually sneaking small bites to Goody, who sat quietly beneath them, knowing full well food would be coming her way. Jake made constant small noises of appreciation as he ate his meatloaf and, at the end of the meal, pronounced it not only as good as "my deidre's" but the bestest ever "anneeeeversereee" dinner.
"Of course, from what you said, Jake, it was lunch, so technically, this isn't-"
"Blair," Jim warned.
"oh, i know, daddy, but now, in another ten days, i can have another anneeeeversereee meatloaf!"
Both men looked at him and then at each other. "He's a scamp," Jim said.
"Sneaky too."
Jake beamed.
*****
Jim turned the bed down and folded the bedspread neatly before draping it over the footboard. The bathroom door opened and Blair wandered out in a cloud of steam.
"You didn't join me."
"Son, dog, joint peeing, wanted to know why either Goody couldn't join him in the bathroom or he join Goody at a tree."
"Ah, that age old question." Blair sat down on the end of the bed for no other reason than he wanted to.
Jim undressed and, after a look at his mate, decided his shower could wait until the morning. "I bet you used to watch television upside down," he said, grinning.
"Bet you didn't."
"Nope, never did. Never even thought about it."
"That's the difference between us," Blair noted.
Frowning at the odd tone, Jim sat down beside him. "You okay?"
"Sure, sure. Court was kind of tiring."
"Always is. All that sitting while being forced to watch the bullshitting."
"Yeah." He glanced sideways at Jim and said, "I used to enjoy it. What happened?"
"The bloom is off the rose, eh?"
"Guess so."
"You never had a side before, Chief. Not really. Now you do. You were there to help make sure one of the bad guys was put away and had to listen to a bunch of fancy tap dancing by all parties concerned. It jades you after a while."
"The tap dancing is important--it's what the judicial system is all about--but today," he shook his head in defeat, "today was a travesty. A caricature of what court should have been. But it's more than that, Jim. Judge Willits--I think Jude's people got to him."
"No way, Blair. I've known Henry Willits for years, he's one of the good guys. His court--"
"You're not listening. He shot the DA down every chance he got. He sustained when he should have overruled the defense, and overruled when he should have sustained the prosecutor. It was blatant. Hendricks was so stunned by the time court adjourned for the day, he was still sitting there, in the empty courtroom, shocked."
"Jesus, Blair, you saved all of this up until now?"
"What, I should tell you while we're reading to Jake? Or giving him his bath? Or playing with him and Goody?"
"Point taken." Jim sighed heavily. "You know... Simon and Willits go back a long way."
"I know. You both have history with the man. He's always been the guy you hope to get in court--until now."
"I wonder what Hendricks will do."
"Appeal if Jude walks, which he will if tomorrow is anything like today."
"You didn't testify?"
Blair shook his head. "And trust me, I'm not looking forward to the moment when I'm finally called. Willits will probably allow Fitch to crucify me in spite of any objections from Hendricks. And the press was there today, which means they'll be there tomorrow, which means--well, you know what it means."
"Shit."
"Sums it up rather nicely. Of course, this isn't the first time I've testified, not by any means, but it will be the first under these types of circumstances." He turned toward Jim, eyes full of worry. "We can't let Jake watch the news, just in case, Jim."
"I know." He got up and reached out his hand. "Come on, let's go watch our son sleep for a few minutes, watch a dog snuffle while trying to take over a race car bed, and then indulge in some hot monkey sex."
Taking the offered hand, Blair allowed Jim to haul him to his feet and, together, they headed for Jake's room. As they walked down the hall, Blair whispered, "You do know this won't work when he's twenty-six."
"I know, but until then, he's our island. Although, if we handle his wife right...."
The End--for now