Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Will return when finished. I'll make sure they're both dry and well balanced. CHA?!

Notes: No warnings. Just Jim and Blair smarming up the place. Rating: G!

*...* means thoughts.

HUMMM for the Holidays

by Wnnepooh

"Hm-hmm-hm-hm-hmmm-hm..."

Even before he opened the door, Jim caught the familiar sound of his partner's voice. Plopping his eys in the basket and shutting the door, the detective followed his ears to the kitchen where Blair was busy routing through the cabinets and drawers. Jim didn't even try focusing on the young man, choosing instead to study the items spread over the cooking island and counterspace. *Eggs, flour, sugar, ONIONS?* Jim thought, doing a double take at the other various spices and vegetables. "Say, Chief?"

"Hmm -hm-hm-hmm--hm-hmm-hmmm. HMMM?" he said, standing up and placing the large frying pan on the stovetop. Blair tossed a surprised smile at his friend.

"WHAT are you doing with ALL this stuff? And do I REALLY want to know?"

Blair laughed at the look on the big guy's face - a combination of interest and trepidation evidenced by a wince and a scruntched nose. For all that they'd been friends and room mates for over three years, he knew that the former Army Ranger was still afraid of one passive anthropologist alone in the kitchen. "I'm just getting ready to make some dinner. Speaking of which," and Blair cleared his throat. "I thought you and Simon were going to work late and order in something at the station?"

Relaxing his facial muscles, Jim found the smells weren't as unpleasant as he'd expected. He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge then explained that Simon had gotten a surprise invitation to dinner from Daryl. Evidently their Captain's ex-wife was going out to dinner on business and Daryl didn't want to miss out on the opportunity to be with his father. So they'd called it a night and headed to their respective homes. As Jim watched his friend grating potatoes and nodding, he smiled and realized that he was glad to be spending the time at home himself. "I know you just started on that, but waddaya say we order some Chinese food and kick back to watch the game tonight?"

Jim had walked to the living room as he'd asked the question, missing the look of panic on Blair's face. It wasn't that Blair didn't want to spend the time with Jim - he really DID - since they'd been busy the past couple weeks. There had been three seminars they'd attended not including the one Blair had given to the rookies. Then the entire crew from Major Crimes had volunteered to help with the Thanksgiving Basket Brigade. That had been three days solid of stuffing and delivering food baskets to local families and shelters. And with the holidays just around the corner, Blair knew they'd get even busier.

The month of December didn't always bring out the BEST in people - at least not the people he saw come through the doors at the station. *Granted, most of them are already in handcuffs when they reach us...*

Ellison heard his partner chuckle then start to hum that tune again, and turned to see the kid still working away at the food. "SANDBURG." He said, turning to catch the young man's blank stare. "Hello? Answer?"

"Huh?" Blair said rather distracted. "Would you repeat the question?"

Jim did so, then saw the look cross the kid's face. "Chief, what? Were you expecting company? Did you have plans?" There was a disappointed tone to Jim's voice.

"NO, man!" he said quickly, hoping Jim wasn't thinking of leaving. "It's just..." As hard as he tried, Blair couldn't stop the blush that crept up his cheeks and he pushed a knuckle under his nose to keep from laughing nervously. The plan to remain calm vanished much too quickly as he realized his hand was covered in onion juice. The vidalias were MUCH stronger than Jim's normal white milds. It was the main reason Blair had purchased them that afternoon. As he hurried to the bathroom, he caught a glimpse of his friend rushing to his aid.

"BLAIR! What's wrong?" Jim had heard the sudden gasp and choking sound his friend had made before rushing off. Standing in the bathroom doorway, he watched the anxious anthropologist wash his hands thoroughly even as the tears streamed down the young man's face. "Are you okay, Chief? Just give me a sign you're all right..."

He rinsed his hands quickly then wet a washcloth in the cold water. As he held it to his face, Blair mumbled a sorry and made his way back to the kitchen. He hadn't made it more than four steps when he felt Jim's large hand on his shoulder guiding him to a stool. Once seated Blair felt the rumpled cloth removed from his eyes then replaced - neatly folded, of course. Unfortunately, it left his mouth completely unobstructed, which Blair knew was Jim's silent way of insisting on CLEAR answers.

"Would you like to tell me why I'm getting the impression you WANT me to leave?" And Jim crossed his arms over his chest, his voice mimicking the posture.

Blair removed the washcloth, blinking a couple times to clear his vision. "I don't want you to leave, but..."

Jim took a deep breath and finished the sentence. "But you had plans for the evening. I see."

"Yeah." Blair said, then shook his head. "I mean NO. Nah, man. See?"

"Better than you right now," and he motioned for his friend to put the washcloth back on his eyes.

Blair wanted to, but was afraid Jim would leave before he could explain. "Look, I kinda have something started here." It worked, and Blair saw the large man stop and look at him. "I DON'T want to order Chinese. I don't want to let this go to waste..."

Jim's attention was brought back to the mass of veggies and such. "Let WHAT go to waste, Sandburg. Either you're making a cake with the flour, eggs, and sugar, or you're making salad with the celery, onions, and peppers. I STILL haven't figured out the potatoes or the bread crumbs. I mean we DO have croutons..."

He couldn't help the laughter, and actually had to reach out and pull Jim back, setting the man on a stool while he returned to the other side of the cooking island. "Matzo crumbs, Jim. NOT bread crumbs."

"There's a difference, Emeril?"

"BIG difference! Kosher or NOT kosher." He saw his partner smile over at him. "I'm making Latkes - potato pancakes, man." Then added under his breath. "I kinda had the evening planned around them..."

"Sandburg, even under your breath is easy listening to me," and Jim shook his head. "Never say things you're not willing to explain. Now GIVE! You have the evening planned - with whom?" Jim watched Blair begin to blush, again, as he answered.

"Uh, would you believe Rudolph?"

*I KNOW I'm gonna regret this...* Jim thought briefly, then fired his question anyway. "Rudolph who?"

His face lit with a blinding smile, Blair answered happily. "That would be Rudolph the Red- nosed Reindeer, Jim."

"Why do I bother?" Jim asked to the ceiling, then brought his gaze down to his once again busy buddy. "WHAT are you doing to those onions?" He asked quickly, noticing Blair had just mixed a teaspoon of sugar with the miced onions.

The young man laughed again, then explained that sugaring the onions and peppers kept them from getting bitter during cooking. Seeing the interest on the larger man's face, Blair narrated every part of the mixing process for the Latke recipe he had. About ten minutes later, mix prepared, Blair stood waiting to add the oil to the heating skillet. As he stood there, he began humming then mumbly-singing.

"Hmm -hm-hm-hmm -hmm misfit."

Jim, who had been copying the recipe into his badly battered cooking notebook, looked up at the unusual word. There was more humming and he went back to copying the directions.

"Hm -hm-hm-hmm- hmm nitwit."

Jim glanced up in time to see his partner adding the olive oil to the pan and continued to watch as Blair prepared large mounds of the mix then placed them into the pan for frying. Thinking the song was not as important as the cooking, Jim started to write once more. He'd barely gotten two words down when Sandburg sang a whole sentence.

And WHAT a sentence it was!

"You can't fire me - I QUIT! I just don't fit in..."

"OKAY!" Ellison boomed.

The sound of Jim's voice startled him and Blair backed up, dropping he spatula onto the floor. "GEES, man! Like to give me a heart attack!" Reaching quickly for the dish rag, Blair cleaned up the small mess and grabbed another spatula managing to flip the fried cakes over just the second they turned brown. "Perfect!" Looking up at an unamused Jim Ellison, Sandburg shrugged. "What'd I do?"

"That song, Chief." And Jim shook his head, smiling all the while. He'd just fitted that song and the humming together.

"Yeah, it's the misfit song from Rudolph." He quickly pulled a couple latkes out of the pan, setting them on a rack to drain, then formed a couple more patties and started them cooking before looking back to his friend. He knew he couldn't keep anything from Jim.

Seeing the look on his partner's face, Jim took a deep breath and rubbed the back of his neck a bit. "You can tell me it's just in anticipation of the show, Chief. " The big guy said with his normal smile of understanding.

"Okay. It's just in anticipation..." He stared at the pan and continued. "Do you believe me?"

"No." And he left it at that. "What do we have to go with these?" Jim asked, crossing to the fridge.

"I got some fresh sour cream and chives." Blair said, smiling slightly. "But I prefer the honey mustard Naomi sent me."

Jim reached into the back corner of the fridge's bottom shelf. "You mean the stuff you hide from me?"

Blair just agreed, then plated a couple of the cakes for Jim who happily inhaled the fragrance of fried food.

"I thought you didn't like stuff like this - fried and all."

Plating a couple for himself, the young man smiled and tried to eat and talk while cooking. "Vif iv wiffwennd."

"Chew, swallow, talk." Jim teased.

"This" and Blair washed it down with some iced tea. "is different. It's NOT deep fried - just crisped. Unless you didn't notice, I nuked the spuds after I grated them. You only have to cook them until their crispy and LIGHT brown on the outside." He watched Jim chew and nod. "And I'm using extra virgin olive oil. Good stuff!"

"Where'd you get this recipe? And why haven't you shared it before?" Jim couldn't help the slight hurt in his voice. He had to admit the things were really good and couldn't imagine WHY Blair hadn't made them before.

"Naomi usually makes them. One of her vegetarian specialties." He took another bite of the latke, swallowed, then a deep breath before continuing. "And I'm usually not here when she makes them..." Blair caught Jim's gaze and immediately looked back down at the pan. "I'm usually not here for the start of Hanukkah. Last year Naomi and I went to my cousin's home in Seattle, remember?"

Jim nodded.

"Well, mom makes them each year for the first night. But..." The pan in front of him popped just then and Blair hurried to flip the latkes before they could burn.

Jim didn't need his friend to finish the sentence, though. He knew Naomi had called a couple days before and that the younger Sandburg had mentioned expecting a package. It had obviously come that day and Jim turned to see the opened blue box on the coffee table. From the looks of it, there was enough chocolate coinage to send all of Major Crimes into sugar shock. "So," he said quietly. "She can't make it this year, but sent you the recipe and hoped you would make them for yourself. And you were gonna do that tonight? But it's not the first night of Hanukkah?" Jim said quickly as he cast a glance to the calendar. He always got Sandburg eight little things for the holiday. Even though they enjoyed exchanging Christmas gifts as well, it was something he felt Blair deserved as his friend.

"Yeah I know, but Rudolph's on tonight. It's my favorite."

Jim noted the smile was back on his friend's face. "Well, I think I can get through ONE hour without football..."

Blair had to laugh, then. "Yeah, right. I know you're not even interested in tonight's game. That's why you planned on staying late." As he removed the last of the latkes from the pan and turned off the burner, Blair took another cake and another glop of the mustard and headed for the living room. "C'mon, man. It's gonna start any minute..." Right on cue, the screen went blank after commercial, then began the show's opening sequence.

"COOL!!"

"Get your feet off the... Oh, what the hell..." Jim said, then plopped his body onto the couch next to Blair and set his stockinged feet up on the coffee table. "JUST tonight..."

But Blair was already intent on the animated snowman on the screen, and Jim watched as his friend's lips mouthed EVERY word of dialogue exactly as it was said. They laughed a lot. Shook their heads a lot. Each unafraid of seeming a bit juvenile and knowing the other would understand. When it was over, the two men cleared the dishes and Blair started to clean the rest of the kitchen. Jim noticed the kid was still humming the misfit song.

"You can tell me, you know."

Blair hesitated momentarily as he put the flour canister back on the counter by the sink. He'd gotten so used to sharing with Jim that it wasn't a matter of whether or not he could tell him - just when. He turned and leaned against the counter, smiling at his friend. "I - uh - was a geek growing up."

"Duh." Jim caught the dish towel before it hit his face.

"I don't know, man." Blair said as he crossed back to the cooking island. "I always thought of myself as an outsider. No dad, kinda Jewish, kinda hippie, kinda different, just -well- just kinda weird."

"A misfit." And Jim's jaw clenched for a second, then he wet his lips and smiled. "I think I can relate."

"Betcha could." Blair said in all honesty. "I just always wished that I had somewhere to go - like the island? - that people would accept me for who I was."

"But that's not the point of the show, Chief." Jim said, then paused, still open slightly. *I'm reduced to arguing morals of children's programming. What has he done to me?*

"I know, Jim." Blair said and smiled. Obviously the big guy had been paying attention after all. "It's about facing up to being who you are."

"Yeah," Jim said with a smile. "And letting others realize you can't betray your nature just to please them. It's also about helping others to understand how to accept - howdoyousayit? - diversity..."

Blair chuckled, seeing Jim smiling as well. "Naomi used to point that out too. I guess that's why she let me watch Rudolph but not the other Christmas stuff. It's not that we were religiously offended, just that she couldn't stand the blatant commercialism of the other specials."

"My dad wasn't big on kiddie stuff like that." Jim started, surprised that the memories didn't hurt so much any more. At least not when he talked to Blair. "Sally used to let us watch them in her room since my old man hated the TV unless it was sports or news. She'd give him some excuse about moving furniture for her or cleaning the basement, then sneak us up the back stairs." He smiled, remembering those few good times with Stephen. "Felt good to just be a kid once in a while..."

"Yeah, man." And Blair smiled. "Still does."

"Can't argue with you there, Chief." Jim sighed and looked at his watch, a sudden crazy thought coming to him. "You know the mall is on Holiday Shopping hours, now. Bet that means the indoor Goofy Golf place there is still open. Feel like being a kid a little while longer?"

Blair's smile spread from ear to ear as he took a step towards the door. "Last one to the truck pays!" Grabbing his coat, he was out the door before the detective could even begin to laugh. And laugh he did as he slowly walked down the steps and out into the night.

"C'mon! It's getting cold out here!"

"Getting?" Jim teased as he walked slowly towards the truck. "Sandburg, it's DECEMBER! We're in the Northwest! OF COURSE it's cold - you schmuck! See? It pays to wait for the guy with the keys..." and he jingled the keys at his partner as climbed into the cab.

"Yeah, yeah. Next thing you know" Blair said as he watched Jim SLOWLY pop the lock on the passenger door, "you'll be telling me it pays to let the guy driving win..." He huddled into himself as he shut the door.

"Come to think of it, Chief," and Jim smiled as he started the truck. "That's a very good rule to play by..." he said laughing. "A VERY good rule."

~Finis~

Okay! This is WAAAAAAYYYY longer than I thought it would be! It's just something that was kicking around and one of my mooses kinda stomped it into place. I know Hanukkah doesn't start for another week, but Rudolph was on LAST night and I just couldn't resist!!!! It IS my fave! I love the BUMBLE!

Anywho! happy holidays to all! OH, and if anyone wants a KILLER Latke recipe? I've got this great one! I hope to have a link to it right here very soon. And for you vegans out there, you can do it with or without the eggs. The KEY is in the preparation!