Work Text:
Countermove
by SubRosa
Author's disclaimer: The boys and the bullpen all belong to Pet Fly, sadly, and not to me at all.
Blair breezed through the doors of the bullpen, calling a quick 'hello' to Megan , and waving to Rafe, who saluted him with his coffee mug. An almost imperceptible hitch interrupted his stride as he passed Jim and a tall, chestnut haired woman near the front of the room, but he continued on, flashing a grin and a 'hey man' in their direction.
Reaching the desk, he tossed his backpack on the floor, then turned to give his partner a surreptitious glance. His movement stilled, forehead creased with thought.
Rafe nudged Taggert, who had just returned from the break room. "What do you think Sandburg is up to now?" he asked, drawing the larger man's attention to the anthropologist's uncharacteristic stillness.
Taggert watched for a moment, and then followed Blair's intent gaze. Warm brown eyes glinting with sudden humor, he nodded toward Jim, who was laughing at his companion's latest comment and replying in an intimate murmur. "Looks like Ellison's making his move, so offhand, I'd say this is--"
"--the patented Sandburg countermove!" Rafe finished with a quiet snicker, leaning back against a desk to enjoy the show.
They watched as the curly haired man blinked and pulled himself up to his full height, taking a deep breath. He shook his hair loose from its leather tie, slid his coat off to reveal a silky blue button-down shirt, and picked up a file from the desk, barely glancing down at the label. He strode purposefully to Ellison, red folder held out like a friendly warning.
"Jim, could you check out some of these interviews in the Larsen case--oh, I'm sorry, man. Were you in the middle of something? Sandburg turned guileless eyes to the woman, as if noticing her fully for the first time. "Hi, I'm Blair Sandburg, Detective Ellison's partner. You are...?" He held out his hand, eyebrows raised, head cocked in polite interest.
"I'm Sandra Johnson, from Tacoma PD." She took the offered hand, a smile warming her wide mouth.
"Oh, wow, Tacoma. Have you lived there long? No? Man, there used to be this great little restaurant. . . what was it called?" He turned to Jim. "I have got to take you there, Jim. The Antique Sandwich Company--that's it. Not quite Wonderburger, but they have got the best sandwiches, just huge. You'd definitely love it." He blazed a smile in Jim's direction, handing him the folder. "There's the Larsen file, Jim. We've just got a few things to take care of . . . . "
Taggert and Rafe watched Jim's face soften in bemused affection. Blair's hands danced as his words worked their magic. Still chattering, he put a guiding hand in the center of the other man's back.
"You're going to be here for a while, right, Sandra?" He asked earnestly. "It's been really great talking to you, but we've got to get cracking on these files..." His voiced trailed off, prompting a reply.
"Of course, please--work comes first."
"I just knew you'd understand. I really appreciate this, and I'd love to talk Tacoma with you again. When you get back home, you should check out that restaurant." He patted her on the shoulder and propelled Jim back toward the desk, leaving the visiting officer in the center of the room, a dazed smile on her face.
Rafe straightened his suit jacket, fully prepared to take up the slack with the lovely Ms. Johnson. He shook his head, laughing. "I wonder if Ellison has ever caught onto that little act."
Taggert smiled as he watched the partners, heads close as they discussed the folder now opened in front of them. He clapped his friend on the shoulder and started back toward his desk with a "Why do you think he flirts with those women in the first place?"
End