Sweetness and Light

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Blair finished his preparations and slid the plate into the microwave. Setting the timer, he set the power on high and hit start. Just then the phone rang. Scooping up the receiver, he spoke into it. "Hello? Oh, hi, Sarah. Nothing really. My roommate's taking a shower while I get dinner cooking. What's up?"

He began walking across the room. "Yeah," he said. "I've got'em in my room. Let's see," he continued, opening the French doors, "now where did I put them?" Rummaging through the piles on his desk, he chatted with the girl on the other end. "Here they are," he said triumphantly, pulling two tickets from beneath a stack of term papers. "Friday at eight. Yeah," he said, grinning widely, "I'm looking forward to it, too."

Just then a loud banging echoed from the kitchen. "Oh, shit!" Blair exclaimed. "Look, Sarah, I gotta call you back!" He ran for the kitchen just as Jim plunged out of the bathroom, hair plastered against his skull, soapy lather dripping on the floor, gun held firmly. "It's okay, Big Guy!"

"A peep. You know, spun sugar baby chicken? You can only get them around Easter?"

Jim just looked at him, then turned and headed back into the bathroom. Blair quickly mopped up the soapy water, then scraped the caramelized sugar out of the microwave. By the time Jim finished his shower, the table was set and food was steaming gently from serving dishes.

Jim pushed his plate away, then took a long swallow from his beer bottle. "That was good, Chief. Thanks."

Jim looked over at him. "So do you want to explain why you were exploding sugar chickens in my microwave?"

"They're not supposed to explode, Jim," Blair said earnestly. "You blow them up. There's a difference."

Reluctantly the detective trailed after him into the kitchen, curiosity obviously winning over good sense. Opening a cupboard, Blair pulled out a pack of pink peeps. "The yellow ones are the best," he said, placing the confection onto a plate and popping it into the microwave. "But they were all sold."

Jim just raised an eyebrow as Blair started the microwave. "Look at that, Jim. Isn't it cool? Naomi and I used to do this all the time."

Watching the candy bubble and expand, shrinking when Blair hit stop, only to expand again, the Sentinel shook his head. "Only you, Chief."

Blair pulled the plate out and scraped the mess into the trash. "Aren't you supposed to eat that?" Jim asked. "Oh, no," Blair said. "They're totally gross, Jim. The only point of them is to blow them up. I mean, people do eat them, but I really don't see how."

Jim turned and wandered back into the living room, shaking his head. "I just don't get it, Chief."

Blair cradled the receiver against his ear, sprawling comfortably across his bed. "So I'll pick you up at six, and we'll have dinner before the exhibit opens, okay?" He grinned at the enthusiastic response. Shifting position, he frowned as he heard noises from the kitchen. It sounded like... no, it couldn't be. The sounds continued, and he sat up. "Look, babe, I gotta go check on something, okay. I'll see you tomorrow."

Setting the phone down quietly, he moved as noiselessly as he could to stand in the kitchen doorway. He watched as Jim Ellison peered through the microwave door, punching the machine on and off. He struggled to hold back his laughter, but a strangled snicker emerged. Jim whirled to face him, turning red as he met Blair's eyes.