The Purchase

by Kass

Written for Chanukah 2012. Thanks to Sanj for beta! .

"You don't have a menorah," Jim repeats, disbelievingly.

Blair looks at him as though he's speaking a foreign language. "Earth to Jim. I've been living here for three years, I've never had a menorah."

"I thought you just kept it at your office," Jim protests, though even as he says the words he realizes it's ridiculous. Why would Blair have been hiding his menorah at work?

But Blair's looking at him now with that expression that means he's just figured out a new piece of the Jim Ellison puzzle. Jim braces himself for whatever revelation is coming.

"You thought I had one, but I kept it at Rainier," Blair says quietly. "Because I didn't want to -- whatever, foist my religious rituals on you or something."

Jim nods; it's close enough.

"And this year, since I don't have an office anymore," Blair's smile is rueful but Jim can't see any actual pain there -- he should know, he's spent the last six months trying to parse Blair's facial expressions, to be certain that Blair really is okay with joining the PD, with all of these changes -- "you thought maybe I'd light candles here."

"Something like that," Jim acknowledges. Though it's really more like, this year, now that they're finally sleeping together, he thought Blair might let him in to this piece of Blair's personal life. For a guy who gestures big and talks big and flirts with everything that moves, Blair can be surprisingly cagey about actually sharing things that matter.

Except it turns out that Blair, being the classic rolling stone who gathers no moss (though does gather a surprising number of ethnic blankets, Peruvian panpipe CDs, and scribbled-on notebooks), has no keepsake menorah of his own.

"Fine," Jim says, and stands up. Blair blinks up at him from the couch where he is still slumped, and Jim offers him a hand. "If you don't have a menorah, we're going to go get you one."

"What? Jim, it's almost five o'clock," Blair protests. "Chanukah starts in, like, ten minutes."

"Too bad," Jim says. "You should've thought of that before now."

"You are a pain in my ass," Blair grumbles, but he stands up and puts on his jacket. "It doesn't have to be a dedicated menorah. We could just light tea lights, I'm sure I have plenty of those."

Fondness makes Jim bold. "Maybe I want us to have a menorah. You ever think about that, Sandburg?"

Blair blinks at him, owlishly, surprised for an instant into silence. Hah, Jim thinks. Take that. Sometimes I get to be the sentimental one.

"Mea culpa," Blair says gracefully, having recovered his equilibrium. "I hadn't realized this was a joint purchase. In that case, I think the gift shop at Chavurat Beit Yisrael sells some really expensive chanukiyot; we should start there."

"Now who's a pain in the ass," Jim grouses, but he's smiling, and he kisses Blair -- strong, sweet, smells like organic shampoo, tastes like the lousy coffee they were both drinking at the PD this afternoon -- before they head out the door.

The End

  • Back to my due South page.