Fully Staffed Service Center, Open Twenty-Four Hours

#10 in the Construction Series

By Caillech

caillech2000@yahoo.com

http://www.arkwolf.com/caillechsite/index.html

This is the standard disclaimer. They don't belong to me. This story is not intended to violate any copyrights held by Paramount, UPN, or Pet Fly Productions.

Author’s Notes: Thanks go to Spacepixell for beta-ing and suggestions.

This story contains corporal punishment. Be warned.

~*~*~

Blair sat cross-legged on the couch, arms crossed tightly against his chest. He huffed short, measured breaths, pointedly ignoring Jim.

Jim came up behind Blair, mussed his curls and squeezed the base of his neck before allowing one hand to rest lightly on the top of Blair’s shoulder.

“Quit pouting, Chief,” he suggested mildly.

“I’m not pouting,” Blair pouted amid a cloud of pout-filled air. “I just don’t understand why you think I need a babysitter, man,” he added. He scrunched his face into a sour grimace, but then realized it was a wasted effort, since he was facing away from Jim. He stiffened and jerked his shoulder, dislodging Jim’s hand.

Jim shook his head wearily and walked around the couch. He sat on the coffee table, facing Blair, and placed his hands on Blair’s knees.

“Since when is Seth a babysitter?” Jim asked as he jostled Blair’s legs. “Huh?”

Blair set his jaw and turned his face away from Jim. He wriggled his legs and bottom, in an attempt to get Jim to let go, but Jim just dug his fingertips firmly into Blair’s flesh.

“Since you called him and asked him to come baby-sit while you’re out of town?” Blair questioned back, tight-lipped. He continued to stare off into space. “I’m seventeen, for cryin’ out loud.”

Jim drew a deep breath. “I didn’t ask him to baby-sit, kiddo, and you know it. I thought you’d like it if the two of you had some time together, and I’d feel better knowing you weren’t alone.” Jim shrugged and tried to get Blair to look at him by leaning sideways into Blair’s line of sight.

‘And I’d like that too,’ Blair thought, ‘if I hadn’t already made plans for some of the time that I thought I’d have the loft to myself.’

What he said to Jim was, “Yeah, well, it sure feels like you think I need a keeper.” He tried to avoid looking at Jim, but it wasn’t easy, what with Jim practically bent in half in an attempt to get Blair to look at him.

Jim cracked a smile then and chuckled. He knocked Blair’s knees together a couple times before letting go and tapping the tops of Blair’s thighs. “A keeper, huh?” he chided as he stood and walked toward the kitchen. “Now there’s a thought.”

Blair gave in then with a chuckle of his own. Jim was only looking out for him, after all. And it wasn’t as if Jim didn’t have cause to be a little wary of what he might get into if left on his own. His soon to be aborted plans just proved that theory. Besides, spending a few days with Uncle Seth would be great, he admitted to himself.

Blair unfolded himself, flipped around onto to his knees, and leaned over the back of the couch. “Hardy har har, very funny. Don’t get any ideas there, big guy,” he deadpanned. He worked his feet up under him and, bracing his hands on the top of the couch, he sprang upward and vaulted over the back. He joined Jim in the kitchen, snatched a banana off the counter and started peeling it.

“The couch isn’t a trampoline, jungle-boy,” Jim admonished as he watched Blair bite off half the banana. He crossed his arms and leaned against the kitchen counter with a look of tolerant amusement on his face.

Unable to answer around a mouthful of mushy fruit, Blair worked his entire body into one big question mark, topped off with a youthful look of ‘what, huh, who me?’

Jim rolled his eyes. “So we’re okay with Seth coming to stay and it’s not because you need a sitter?” he asked, grinning optimistically.

Blair swallowed and licked his lips before answering. “Yeah, Jim, it’s cool.”

And so it was arranged that Jim would leave for his four day conference in L.A. the next day and Uncle Seth would arrive some time later the same day before Blair got home from class.

…and Blair would have to cancel the hastily improvised party he’d planned to throw while he had the loft to himself.

Only things didn’t exactly go as anticipated.

Jim left as planned, but the conference ended up being shortened by one day. Which was fine with Jim, as it meant he’d be able to catch a Friday evening flight back to Cascade, and still have the weekend to spend with Blair and Seth.

Uncle Seth arrived as planned and he and Blair spent two days enjoying each other’s company. Despite Blair’s class schedule, they still managed to take in a movie, catch a Jags game on TV, and reminisce about their short, but so far eventful, recent past. Seth filled Blair in on more of Naomi’s childhood as well as his own background. They plotted more time together, and joked about how they could ‘talk’ Jim into the three of them going fishing or camping together.

And then Seth got a business call on Friday morning that would necessitate him leaving Cascade overnight, and not return until Saturday afternoon. He’d be gone for less than twenty-four hours, so he had no qualms about leaving Blair on his own for that amount of time. But half way to his destination, Seth got another call informing him all was well, so he turned around and headed back to Cascade.

…and the word about Friday night’s party at Sandburg’s place had spread before Blair could stop it. What had started out as Blair planning on having six or eight of the guys over without having Jim hovering about, had turned into a come one, come all type of open party. Blair had been worried about how he was going to avert a disaster of monumental proportions, both for his social standing, as well as his being able to do nothing but stand, if Jim got wind of things. And then everything fell into place and it once again looked as if he’d be home alone, that is to say with no parental-type supervision, come Friday night.

Which to Blair’s way of thinking was karma, just pure karma.

It wasn’t until Jim and Seth arrived simultaneously at the loft just before midnight, amidst a raucous crowd of college students, blaring music, and a generally trashed apartment smelling of incense, beer, weed and pizza, that Blair remembered karma came in several flavors…good, bad, really bad, and oh shit my butt is toast.

“What the hell…?” Jim bellowed loudly as he surveyed the premises. He quickly scanned the entire area, and found Blair sitting on the floor near the balcony doors, swaying to the music and talking animatedly with a couple other wobbling youths.

Seth was already herding people out the door as Jim invited everyone to leave.

“You’ve all got to the count of three to get your butts out of my home,” Jim ground out loudly.

Blair jumped to his feet, but found he wasn’t able to move, as Jim’s gaze nailed him to the spot. He chanced a glance at Seth, and the looks his uncle returned were a mixed bag of anger, disbelief and sympathy.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” Blair whispered as he watched his friends stumble and stagger hastily out the door. A few mumbled thanks and apologies were tossed his way, but the comments quickly faded under the blast of Jim and Seth’s icy demeanors.

Jim stood with his hands on his hips. His eyes never left Blair, but his body language made it clear that he was absolutely aware of everything going on around him. Seth joined the surveillance and only two sets of keys needed to be confiscated. Their bewildered owners were thrust upon one brave soul who came forth as a designated driver.

It occurred to Blair that the floor needed his attention, so he hung his head and studied it intently.

Once all the partiers were gone, Jim eased his stance marginally. He rubbed his forehead with one hand and turned to Seth.

“I’m sorry, Jim,” Seth said as he took in the mess around him. He looked from Jim to Blair and back. “I got a business call. I thought it’d be okay,” he stammered weakly.

Jim started to cut Seth off, but Blair spoke first.

“It’s not your fault, Uncle Seth,” Blair said. He shoved his hands in the front pockets of his jeans as he raised his head. “Geez, I mean, I had this planned before Jim even told me he’d asked you to come.” Blair looked at Jim pleadingly. “You can’t blame Uncle Seth for this Jim, I mean, shit, I tried to cancel it, but word had already gotten out, and then when Seth got called away, and trusted me to stay alone,” Blair hung his head again and kicked one foot against the other, “I just let it ride.”

Jim held his hand up to Seth, who was about to say something else.

“Oh, I know exactly where to place the blame for this, Chief,” Jim stated calmly.

Blair’s head shot up. “Maybe I should go to my room, huh?” he offered shakily.

Jim nodded curtly and Blair scooted past him. When he reached the door to his room, he turned back around and looked at Seth.

“I’m sorry I took advantage of your trust, Uncle Seth,” Blair apologized sincerely. Then he looked at Jim, gulped nervously and asked, “Are you, um, gonna, you know,” he shrugged, “tonight?”

“Yup,” Jim answered succinctly.

Blair blushed as he cast another glance Seth’s way and then ducked into his room.

Seth frowned and gave Jim an odd look. He pointed to Blair’s room as he questioned, “What was that all about?”

“I’m going to punish him for this,” Jim answered, waving a hand to encompass the mess, the lying, everything. “I’m going to paddle him. A good old fashioned, over the knee spanking,” Jim clarified before Seth could question him further. “If you have a problem with that, you might want to step outside for about fifteen or twenty minutes.”

“I,” Seth hesitated, meeting Jim’s eyes, “No, I don’t have a problem with it.” He nodded his head toward Blair’s room. “Give him a few good wallops for me.”

Jim grinned and shrugged out of his coat. He stepped over the littered mess of cans, bottles and plates that were scattered across the floor and hung it on one of the pegs by the front door. “Leave all this,” he instructed, “Blair’ll be cleaning it up shortly.”

Seth nodded. He sat on one end of the couch and watched as Jim shoved his sleeves up his arms and entered Blair’s room, closing the door with a soft snick.

Blair was standing next to his desk, nervously drumming his fingers on the wood surface.

“Lecture?” Blair asked as Jim shut the door behind him.

“Is one needed?” Jim responded.

Blair shook his head, looking truly contrite as he began nervously fingering the hem of his shirt.

Jim sat on the edge of the futon and waited.

“Hairbrush?” Blair asked as he glanced first at Jim and then at the brush he’d set on his desk.

“Yup,” Jim answered.

Blair sighed and picked up the brush. He shuffled over to Jim’s side, handed Jim the brush, and without being told, unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down past his knees.

Jim guided Blair down and across his lap. He placed a hand in the small of Blair’s back, anchoring him securely. Blair squirmed, testing his freedom, and then settled down, realizing as always, that he wasn’t going anywhere until Jim let go. Blair shivered and tensed his butt cheeks as Jim pulled his boxers down, exposing his bare bottom.

The first swat landed with a loud smack. Blair reacted with a startled yelp, jerking and wiggling.

“Ouch, ow, ow!” Blair hissed as the paddling continued. He felt his face grow warm; blushing deeply, as he realized Uncle Seth could no doubt hear what was going on.

As if reading his thoughts, Jim said, “This is from Seth,” as he walloped Blair’s bottom heartily with at least a dozen rapid-fire swats.

“Dang,” Blair whined pitifully, “shit, ow, ow, dang, I’m sorry,” he chanted as the hairbrush continued to land. “I didn’t drink any of the beer,” he offered in way of pleading for leniency, “or smoke anything either.” His butt was stinging, fiery hot, and he closed his eyes tightly, hoping Jim would let up soon.

No such luck. Jim delivered a very sound paddling. He covered every inch of Blair’s butt with resounding thwacks as he brought the brush down over and over. The bottom in front of him was soon bright red and Jim could feel the warmth of the heated flesh every time he brought his hand down.

Blair buried his face in the brightly colored quilt that was bunched tightly in his grasp as he bit his lips. He sniffled and choked back heavy sobs, as he kept up his litany of remorse.

“Please Jim, enough,” he hiccupped. “I’m sorry.”

Jim threw the brush aside and ended the punishment by spanking Blair with his hand, emphasizing his displeasure by a series of six especially hard swats right to the center of Blair’s bottom.

As soon as Jim removed his hand from Blair’s back, Blair jumped to his feet and yanked his boxers up. He danced in place for a few minutes, rubbing furiously at his stinging rear as he pulled up his jeans.

Jim watched the display, shaking his head, before standing up. He hugged Blair briefly, but reassuringly, and then grabbed Blair’s upper arm and walked him out to the living room.

Seth stood when he heard the door open again. He and Jim exchanged knowing looks and he waited as Blair hesitated for a moment and then walked slowly toward him.

“Com’re, Shortstuff,” Seth urged as he reached out and pulled Blair in for a hug.

Blair wrapped his arms around his uncle and accepted the comfort offered.

“You okay, Shortstuff?” Seth asked as he rubbed Blair’s back and shoulders sympathetically.

“Yeah,” Blair breathed with a shaky chuckle, nodding his head. He pulled away and took a good look at the loft, whistling softly.

“Whoa, man, what a mess,” he moaned. He looked at Jim, grinning sheepishly. “Guess this doesn’t do much for my not needing a keeper argument, huh?” he groused as he set about picking up.

“Nope, ‘fraid not, kiddo,” Jim replied with a devious smile.

Jim went into the kitchen and snagged a couple of beers from the refrigerator. He motioned for Seth to join him on the couch and handed him a beer. The two men put their feet up on the coffee table and stretched out, watching Blair as he cleaned up the mess, and helpfully pointing out any bit of trash or debris that escaped the kid’s notice.

The two men clinked their bottles in an amicable toast, each more than happy in his role as keeper.

the end