Disclaimer: I don't own our buddies, our "boyz." I'm just borrowing them and I'll give them back when I'm done. (boo hoo hoo)

Notes: Guess what _I_ was doing last night? Once you read, you'll know. I'd like to say this took my mind off not being able to make the CON this weekend, but that's lame. I wanta go to VAAAANNNNNCOOOOOOUVERRRR.... **VB SIGH** I hope you all had a lovely time. For those of us who got stuck at home...read on. Smiling takes your mind off things. [CHA!] (Um, that's NOT in Gaelic.)

Ahhh, Sweet Revenge..

by Wnnepooh

SMACK!

The sound resonated around the room. Two pair of blue eyes met, challenged, then broke contact. The smaller man rubbed his reddened flesh, staring at the outline the offending object had made on his skin.

"You didn't have to do that..." he remarked in a heated but small voice.

"Do it again and get more of the same." Came the stern warning. "I'm not gonna tell you twice."

It was childish, sure, but he stuck his tongue out at the man as soon as he turned away. *This is so NOT fair.* Blair thought to himself. *Cruel and unusual punishment, if you ask me.* Tucking a stray curl behind his ear, he reached out again. His hand was back in his lap at the slight movement from the burly man.

"Anh anh anh, Sandburg." The even tones belied the threat in his face as he crossed his arms over his chest. He stood there, staring down at the young man. Maybe he shouldn't have smacked him so hard, but the kid's hand shouldn't have been where it was. He was just asking for it.

"How long are you gonna keep me here?"

"As long as it takes." he said with a vengence, stabbing a finger into the air. "I want you where I can keep an eye on you." He took a deep breath and half smiled to himself watching his captive wootch around in the seat. Of course the kid was antsy. When wasn't he full of energy, bouncing everywhere? But being confined to the seat, taunted as he was...well, Blair was a jumble of raw nerves in a sweater with too-long sleeves.

The Anthropologist stared across the cooking island, vigorously biting the nails on one hand. He'd been there for what seemed forever. In they went, out they went. Menacing him each time they came close. The deliberate teasing that singly did little harm, but collectively was the essence of pain. "What do you want from me?" He said in a strangled voice.

"Nothing. I want you to do nothing - say nothing. I don't need any help or hindrance from you. As long as you sit there quietly, we won't have a problem. I see that hand move over here again, and you'll get more of the same." He punctuated his remarks with a pointed utensil, the same utensil that had made the red mark on Sandburg's hand. A red mark the kid was rubbing absently, reminding the large man of the pain it had caused.

The beeper went off ever so quietly and he turned around in practiced ease. He opened the door, slipped the tray out and set it on the counter, turning in time to see the kid's hand reaching out again. He'd heard the creak of the chair as soon as he'd been distracted, knew Sandburg had gone for it. His hand went out extending the utensil and making it connect once more with the offending limb. Another red mark appeared only slightly off from the first one.

"Cut it out, man! I'm not hurting anything." Blair turned blue puppydog eyes to his partner.

"Look, Chief!" The big guy started. "I've got one more batch to make. I promised 8 dozen cookies for the Police Athletic League bake sale. And 8 dozen cookies is what they're gonna get. WITH or WITHOUT a couple of your fingers mixed in. You got me?" He waved the spatula at his partner.

"Would you watch it with that thing? Gees!" He didn't hide it. Blair stuck his tongue out at Jim adding a bit of a smirk and crossed eyes. "ONE cookie isn't gonna mess you up. You've got plenty of dough there. C'mon..."

"NO!" And he smiled to himself. He had more than enough dough to finish up the final dozen cookies of his promise. The last batch was just for the two of them. If he was being cruel in making Blair watch as the cookies cooled right in front of him, then that was fair return for the kid drinking the last cup of coffee that morning. Of course it was about torture.

"If I can't have a cookie, then can I go to my room, please?"

There was pleading in his eyes. Pleading that Jim took several moments to consider before nodding. He watched as the kid quickly entered his room and lit a couple candles. *Probably to cover up the smell of baking cookies.*

"Hey, Chief. If you're gonna fire them up, at least shut the doors so you don't overload me, 'kay?" Jim was rewarded with a nod, a shut door, and aborigine music. "Pout now, Sandburg. You'll be happy later." And he laughed out loud as he heard his partner scream into his pillow.

~~~the end~~~

I have to thank my daughter for this one. She was just sitting there, watching me make the cookies for her class when she comes up with the best inspiration I've ever had. She was pouting because I wouldn't give her a cookie. Her exact comment was, and I quote: "If I was Blair, you'd give me all d' cookies I want!" Does this kid KNOW me or what? Aren't kids wonderful?