Chapter Text
Jim sighed heavily as he rested his head on the top of the open refrigerator door. Only one person he knew wore boots that made that kind of noise in the hall. He pulled out a beer and made his way to the front door to surprise his unwelcome guest. It had been a long day and Jim had been looking forward to a little quiet time alone, especially since Sandburg had flown the coop earlier and probably wouldn't be returning until morning.
"Brady," he said dully as he opened the door and caught the burly detective in mid-knock.
"Hi, Jim. Is Blair around?" Jay asked, not nearly as surprised as Jim would have thought. But then again, the other detective had already figured out Jim’s little secret when they shared a jail cell in Mexico. Brady had a large duffle slung over one shoulder and carried a twelve pack of Bud, already half gone, under the other arm.
"Sorry, he's out for the evening," Jim said, pointedly not inviting Brady in, hoping the cowboy would get the message.
"Oh, right, hot date tonight with Sheila what's er name," Brady grimaced and leaned against the wall as if it were the only thing keeping him upright.
"McRay?" Jim guessed.
"Yeah. That's it. Sheila McRay. Blair’s been talkin’ about her for a while now. I knew they had a date tonight, dammit. I musta forgot. Sorry I bothered ya," Jay turned and staggered back down the hall toward the elevator.
As he started to close the door, Jim realized he didn't have to be a Sentinel to catch the wave of booze coming off the other man. "Hey, Brady, you're not driving are you?" he called out as the elevator door opened. He still didn’t want company, but he’d feel guilty as hell if something happened to Brady, or God forbid, some innocent bystander when he could have stopped him.
"Yeah, Jim," Jay huffed sarcastically as he stepped inside the car and punched a button. “My life's not deep enough in the toilet yet. I thought I'd try for a DUI to round things out.”
"What's wrong?" Jim asked with a sigh, caring more than he was comfortable with.
Brady stopped the closing elevator door with a hand and gave a pale imitation his usual prize-winning smile. "Nothin’. Don't worry about it, Jim. Have a good one."
"Wait a damn minute," Jim growled impatiently as he made up his mind and strode forward, adding his hand to Brady’s on the door. "I can't just let you leave like this. You look pitiful and you smell like a brewery."
"Don't worry,” Brady assured quietly. “I'm not driving. I came in a cab."
"Still, I can't let you wander Cascade in a drunken stupor. At least come inside while you sober up." Jim reached into the elevator and caught Brady by the strap of the duffle bag, pulling him back into the hall.
"I don't want to sober up," Jay insisted and broke Jim's grip with a hard shrug of his shoulder. "Get off me."
"I'm not letting you leave like this," Jim replied, matching Jay's tone.
"You man enough to stop me?" Brady challenged, dropping the duffle but hanging onto the beer like a lifeline.
Jim laughed. "It always comes down to a pissing contest between us, doesn't it?" he asked. "You obviously wanted to talk about whatever's bothering you or you wouldn't have come looking for Sandburg in your condition." He bent down and grabbed the bag and headed back into the loft, leaving the door open behind him.
Brady followed slowly with a bewildered look on his face. "Jim? Don't you want to fight?"
"Here. Let me put those in the fridge. Have a seat," Jim instructed. Jay fished out two cans before handing over the rest. "I've got one, thanks," Jim said with a tilt of his own bottle.
"These are for me," Jay stated as he stumbled toward the couch a beer in each hand.
Jim winced as he watched him go before completing his task and joining him in the livingroom. Brady was a lot of things, but drunk and disorderly wasn't usually one of them. Even after losing his partner, Jay had managed to hold it together. At least on the outside. "Look, I know I'm not Blair..."
Jay snorted and popped open one of the beers one handed. "How long you gonna keep me here?"
"Until you sober up some," Jim answered, snatching the beer away.
"That may take a while," Jay responded, retrieving the other beer he had stashed behind him and opening it with a messy pop. He sucked the foam down before it could overflow.
With a sigh of resignation, Jim sat the extra can down on the coffee table. "Suit yourself. I'm going to bed." The mood Brady was in, if he said anything else, they probably would fight he reasoned.
Brady nodded absently before reaching into his jacket and pulling out a little velvet box. "Everybody's gonna know soon enough I suppose," he said cryptically before tossing it to Jim.
The sentinel settled on the other end of the couch and cracked the box open. "Gee, Brady. I don't know what to say. I just want to be friends," he quipped.
Jay laughed. "Yeah, that's what Megan said."
"Oh," Jim said apologetically, examining the diamond ring a little closer. "You popped the question."
"I could have lived with no," Jay confirmed. "But she freaked. She threw me out."
"What? No way. Megan loves you."
"That's what I thought," Jay whispered forlornly, leaning his head back against the couch, his hat tumbling backwards into the floor unnoticed.
"I mean it, Brady. She's impossible to work with after she's been around you. She just floats around the bullpen. I can't believe she turned you down." He closed the box and set it on the table.
"I can't really blame her. Hell, I don't have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of. I sold my beautiful red truck to pay off the debts from my little venture into the world of private detective. Not that I mind my little piece of shit Honda, but I’m sure Megan doesn’t want to be seen in it. Everything else I own in the world is locked up in a storage shed in Houston or right there in that bag."
"Megan's not like that," Jim argued. "She's not about things."
"Ellison, that doesn't make me feel any better," Jay groaned, closing his eyes.
"Talk to her."
"I'm done talking. Now I'm gonna drink," he declared, polishing off the beer in his hand.
"Don't give up, maybe she'll change her mind if you give her some time," Jim urged one last time, feeling genuine sympathy for his friend’s friend.
"If wishes were horses, beggars would ride."
"Get some sleep," Jim said, climbing to his feet.
"Thanks, Jim," Brady replied as he pulled off first one boot and then the other.
"You can stay as long as you need to," Jim offered sincerely.
Brady smiled a real smile this time. "Just tonight, Jimbo. I'm going undercover in the morning."
"You think that's wise?" Jim asked.
"Why not? At least I'll have somewhere to stay for a couple of weeks." He fluffed a pillow and positioned it next to the armrest.
"But will you be able to keep your mind on the job?"
Jay stretched out on the couch. "I'll be okay," he declared as he closed his eyes.
Jim unfolded the afghan from the back of the couch and covered his sometime adversary with it before heading off to bed himself. He stopped halfway up the stairs to turn around and look. He’d never be able to sleep if Brady kept up that earth-moving snore.