Six hundred and one. Six hundred and two. Six hundred and ....

Jim tossed back the covers and threw bare legs over the edge of the bed while scrubbing his face with fast, jerky motions.

This wasn't working.

The loft was cold, colder then he normally kept it, not that he could do anything about it. Cascade was in the grip of another windstorm from hell, typical for fall weather in the northwest. Power was out, rain was beating at his skylight in a manner that caused Jim's fingers to itch for tools to build an ark.

He'd just finished a twelve hour shift.

He should be exhausted.

"Right... tell that to my brain," Jim muttered to the empty loft. He slipped his feet into a pair of fuzzy, fleece lined slippers and donned his robe, both gifts from his last birthday. Simon and Blair had conspired, pooling their funds with everyone from the bullpen. The gifts were nice, too - nicer then he would have treated himself to.

Since he didn't have a roommate to worry about waking at the moment, Jim stomped down the stairs as if punishing the loft for failing to let him sleep. He filled the tea kettle at the sink, his eye straying to the microwave clock - which was a big blank square? Oh yeah, no power.

Well, Jim had to admit he was tired, very tired; but for whatever reason, he couldn't sleep.

The loft seemed a stranger to him. Jim's gaze traveled around the spacious room, landing on different knickknacks and oddities as the blue flame under the kettle heated his water. There was his new poster of the bird, he liked that. Blair had giving him a half day of teasing over that purchase. As if Blair's stupid tribal mask was any better.

Face it, the two of them combined added up to one twisted version of Martha Stewart.

Another gust of fierce wind howled outside, hitting the brick building hard and rattling all the glass panes in the windows. Jim scratched his head and walked over to the cordless phone.

No dial tone? Oh yeah, no power.

He thought about getting his cell phone out, but shook off the idea.

The kettle begin to sing and Jim removed it from the heat as he rooted around Blair's tea basket for something that would work.

A distant slam of a door several floors down gave him reason to pause.

Come on... come on... Yes!

The familiar footsteps headed up the first flight. By the time they reached the door, Jim could pick up the splash of each drip of water as it fell to the wooden hallway's floorboards. Judging by the frequency of the drips and the fact he never heard Blair's car...

Jim had a second cup of tea ready by the time the lock was turning and the door slowly opened.

"It's okay, Sandburg. I'm awake."

"Oh... I'm gonna hit the light, then. Watch the eyes, man... oh, no wonder the streetlights were out."

Taking a second to light an emergency candle, Jim took one look at his roommate and barked a laugh.

Blair couldn't be any wetter if he'd swam home from Rainier University, which - considering the weather - might have been the case.

"Yuck it up, man." Blair retorted as he began to peal layers of wet cloths off and let them drop with wet plops onto the floor.

Jim clamped his lips together with an apologetic look. "Sorry, but you'd need a big cat to even classify as something they would drag home. What happened?"

Blair was getting down to his last few layers and Jim hurried to get him some towels.

"The storm decided to flood the road between my parking lot and the main street and the university. I think the motor got wet, you know that something-or-other-cap that you're not supposed to get wet? I think I did - thanks man - anyway, I had to leave it, the wind totally destroyed my umbrella - actually, I think that was your umbrella - but I got a ride from Stu as far as Woodland Road when his car died and we both just decided we'd walk." Blair's head had disappeared under a towel as he finished his story. "Whatcha doing up, anyway? Storm keeping you awake?"

Jim handed his friend the tea as soon as the towel was dropped around bare shoulders. "Something like that."

"Thanks, is it okay if I just dump these wet things in the tub and crash?"

Jim nodded, finishing his tea and heading for the stairs. "This time... and snuff the candle before you go to bed."

As Jim waited for his bed to warm up again, he let his eyes close with a sigh. The tea did the trick, warming him from the inside out. Blair puttered around downstairs before retiring to his room.

The storm still howled. The power was still absent. The loft hadn't really changed temperature in the last fifteen minutes. Yet, Jim felt himself beginning to drift while listening to the dulcet sounds of his roommate's breathing below.

Must be the tea...

The End

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