CLEAN SWEEP
It had taken him a few months of awkwardly asking what he should do before they fell into a routine. Now, when the time came Blair knew exactly what his duties were. On these special mornings he woke to the smell of breakfast cooking. He would sit down to eggs, bacon, toast and coffee, eating slowly as Jim read the paper. Jim would have finished just as Blair sat down and he would watch his partner eat as he sipped a cup of coffee and read. It was comforting, eating the meal Jim had fixed for him as his partner scanned the pages for interesting articles. And then, when he'd placed his dirty dishes in the sink, it would begin.
Ellison would smile at him then disappear up the stairs to his room. Blair made it a point never to stir from his chair until he head his partner begin. Up there, just above his head, the echo of Jim's movements would drift down to him. Blair would smile to himself, tracking Jim's efforts by sound. Ellison always started with the desk, he'd dust it before doing the dresser and nightstand. It wasn't until the vacuum started that Blair would head into his own room. Jim would expect him to strip his bed and collect his dirty clothes for washing. Sometimes Blair straightened the mess which collected in his private area, but usually he ignored it.
By the time the vacuum stopped Blair would be ready. He'd meet Jim as he came down the stairs and take the roll of linen his partner carried. The whole thing had the flavor of ritual about it, both men moving silently, each knowing exactly what had to be done. When the clothes were in a basket near the backdoor, they would meet in the living room. Together they would dust the furniture, sweep the floor, and vacuum the rug. Blair never would have thought such mundane, boring tasks could be so satisfying. But each time they shared this ritual he felt....closer, more a part of Jim's life. To an outsider it wouldn't have proven earth-shattering or spiritual in any way, but to him it was almost religious in the feelings it imparted to him.
It was a sharing, an affirmation of the life they had together. No one else had ever been allowed to participate, not even Naomi with her furniture moving. This was something only he and Jim did and Blair found a secret pride in the fact. To him this act made the loft not Jim Ellison's apartment, but their home, cared for by both of them equally. After they had finished the cleaning Jim would cast a glance in his direction, silently asking if he wanted to move anything to a new place.
The first time Jim had asked, Blair had changed it all. He'd wanted to make his mark, to claim some territory in a way. Every single stick of furniture had been pushed, rolled, or carried to his exact desire. But it hadn't worked. Sitting in the newly arranged loft, Blair had realized it looked wrong, the configuration had been awkward and impractical. The next day, before Jim got home from work, he'd moved it all back. Now, when Jim looked at him, he'd carefully consider a move. Once in a while they changed something as their needs changed, as a new item found its way into their home. Once in a while Jim would move something, change a table or lamp if he thought it wasn't comfortable for studying, but usually it remained static. The important thing, as far as Blair was concerned, was that he'd been given the opportunity to make a change. It warmed him to the core, made him feel like Jim really wanted him to be comfortable.
When the cleaning was finished, Blair would gather their clothes together and head down to the basement and its washing machines. He sorted the clothing and linen into lights and darks before throwing them in. Jim had been furious the first time his white T-shirts had become dirty gray, now Blair was careful about the laundry. It was another ritual they'd perfected one which made him smile. He tossed it into the machine and later Jim would saunter down to put it in the dryer. Together they'd head down to fold it and carry it back upstairs. For a few days after that each would grin as he discovered the other's socks or shorts in his drawer. It was a intimate connection between them and Blair wouldn't have it any other way.
Living with Jim had become the mainstay of his life, Blair realized. It was the first time in his life he'd had a home and someone to look after him. Naomi had taught him to move quickly, to only keep what he could carry, but that had all changed. Now he had stability, a place to come back to time and time again. Blair found he could collect the things he'd always wanted, bring them back to the loft and keep them near him. He had a room where he didn't have to worry about being in someone's way, Jim never said a work about the clutter. In fact, he seemed amused by the collection of artifacts and books. He'd given Blair personal space, and privacy and asked for nothing in return. And if Blair felt compelled to display something in the main area of their home, Jim would just shrug and there it would stay.
Blair looked around, amazed by the change in their home. When he'd first moved in, carefully keeping his things in small boxes in his room, the loft had been cold and bare. Now, the place radiated a life of its own. Like the cleaning, making the place comfortable had become a shared experience. No one else shared this with Jim, just Blair Sandburg and it made Blair's heart swell with pride. Sparing on last glance at the man who had become his best friend, his protector and the center of his life, Blair moved to the kitchen sink and started doing the dishes.
"Hey, Chief," Jim's voice echoed around the loft. "I'm thinking next week we should wash down the walls before we do a really good cleaning."
Blair stared at his friend for several long moments, the vision of hauling buckets of water, mixing cleaning solution, trying to meet Jim's standards without killing himself...... "Are you nuts? What the hell do you think I am, your personal slave? I am not washing walls......" Belonging, commitment and family were one thing.....that much hard work was another.