Friends in Low Places

Danae

Disclaimers: Not mine…

Notes: 1. This is Katz's fault…. She knows why! J

2. I don't do humor very well… so be warned… this probably sucks.

3. Various lyrics "abused" without permission… not a song fic, but there's some singing! J

4. Not beta'ed… just spell-checked. Some misspellings are intentional and you'll understand why when you see 'em!

If he hadn't already had a few, he would never have entertained the idea of going inside but he was already a little buzzed, and a little pissed off. He had had the week from hell and he had not even begun to get drunk when he had decided he could not stand the company he was in a moment longer. This place was surprisingly close by and if anyone had a problem with him being there, well, he felt like a mix-up. And the music would suit his mood nicely. He headed inside. The doorman only waved him in. No cover charge apparently. Even better. The twang of a steel guitar and the smell of stale beer and peanut shells assaulted him as he made his way to the bar. The bartender raised an eyebrow and quirked a smile at him as he plopped his large frame on top of an empty barstool. "Get a beer?" he asked the man.

"Just name your brand, buddy, and we're in business," the burly freckled and redheaded man replied.

"Whatever you got on tap."

"Sure thing." He turned and grabbed a mug. He filled it and placed it in front of his new customer. "Two bucks or you wanna run a tab?"

"Tab."

A sloppy salute was his answer and the man was gone, checking on his other customers and conferring with a cute pony-tailed waitress at the other end of the bar.

Simon Banks sighed and picked up his glass. He swallowed half the mug before he put it back down. What a week. Thank God it was over. Monday had started with Brown being shot in an arrest. Nothing too serious, the man was going to be fine. In fact, he was home on Tuesday, which was when the flu hit and Rafe, Taggert, and Connor ended up out sick. Which began the double shifts for Simon and what was left of Major Crimes. Wednesday had Vice offering to send him a few guys but when they arrived, they immediately pissed off Jim Ellison by hassling Jim's unofficial partner. Sandburg had appeared to take the incidents in stride, but Jim had informed him otherwise. Blair had been hurt and hid it successfully in the bullpen, only to become depressed and angry once he was home. Thursday, Simon had Sandburg in his office, accepting apologies from two very contrite Vice cops and Simon himself for not seeing the problem until Jim pointed it out.

Then Friday, boy, did Friday suck? Blair-speak! Did he just think that thought? Damn that Sandburg! He was rubbing off! He put that aside, however. Back to Friday. After his double shift, Diana had called him to ask say she did not want to see him anymore. Well, there was one exception to that. She still needed an escort to the Country Club's charity auction and since he had already gotten his tuxedo cleaned and pressed and planned to go, could he still? He cursed himself a fool. He should have told her to take her country club and its auction and shove them both where the sun does not shine, but he did not. He started to use work as a very convenient excuse, but he did not. The cause was a good one, despite the stodgy self-serving assholes who were sponsoring it. Simon's Aunt Eleanora had died of cancer after all.

Yet, as he sat there thinking back on his whole two-month relationship with Diana Marlow, he wondered why he had ever pursued the woman. She was selfish and shallow. She was only interested in charities events as a chance to show off her newest dress and to be seen as a concerned and caring citizen. Of course, he had never noticed any of those things until tonight...Saturday, the charity auction, his last association with Ms. Diana Marlow. Tonight, he had seen her without benefit of smitten eyes. Then again, maybe he was being harsh because of the pain she managed to inflict. Oh, he was no longer smitten, but that did not mean he was not heartbroken. Heartbroken might be too strong a word, he thought. If he were to be totally honest with himself, he would admit that it was his pride that was broken. She had dumped him then, because she knew he was too much of a gentleman to back out of a commitment, paraded him around in front of her friends as her escort for the evening. Not her friend, her date, even her ex, no, she introduced him as her escort. Once he had had a few champagne glasses full of pain relief, so to speak, he was able to stomach most of the auction. Then came the announcement that she had another ride home, her plastic smile pasted perfectly on her plastic face, and her arm threaded through the arm of an equally plastic man who no doubt drove a Mercedes with heated seats and one of those satellite locating systems. Bitter, Simon? He asked himself. Well, yes. He finished the beer and suddenly, the bartender was back. He nodded and another beer appeared. He picked it up and turned around on his barstool to notice the other patrons of the bar for the first time. He also noticed the music for the first time. Yes, he had made a good choice, he decided, as someone who was definitely not Hank Williams sang, "Your Cheating Heart." He toasted Diana and downed the beer. It was karaoke night. This could be fun.

"Damn, damn, damn!" he swore as he stubbed his toe. He scrubbed his sleepy eyes and blinked as he reached the lamp and flipped it on. "Hello!" he snapped as he snatched the phone receiver up from its cradle. "Got it, Jim." He waved at his roommate as he noticed Jim standing at the top of the stairs. "Hello," he repeated.

"Chief, please tell your vampire friends that we work in the daylight," Jim grumbled.

Blair waved him off again and turned his attention to the phone. "Yes, this is the Ellison residence." He stuck out his tongue at Jim who started down the steps. He chuckled, as did Jim, who had apparently tuned in to the conversation. "Yes, we know him. Give me the address." He scribbled down the address. "Thanks. Be there soon." He hung up the phone. "Are you believing this?"

"I won't completely believe it until I see it, Chief. Get dressed. We have a stampeding captain to wrangle."

Blair winced at the image that gave him. "He wouldn't appreciate the comparison, Jim."

"Yeah, but according to that poor bartender, it fits."

Twenty minutes later, Blair pulled his Volvo into a parking space outside The Cowboy Round-Up Saloon. "I hope we can get him in the backseat, Jim."

"I got back there; he can get back there. Besides, it'll be easier than trying to get all three of us in the truck. We'll get him back there." Jim led the way into the building.

As soon as they stepped inside, they heard it. They rounded the corner and could see it. Simon Banks stood on the stage, doing a drunken line dance and singing, loudly and badly, "'Don't tell my heart! My Achy-Breaky Heart. I just don't think he'd understand!'"

Blair was about to burst but one look from Jim's stone cold eyes made him straighten his face. He followed Jim to the stage.

And the man on stage was still singing. "'You can tell your dog to bite my leg!' Jim!! Blair!! Oh, I'm messing up my song! 'Don't tell my heart!' That's not right! Now look what you did!"

"Let's go, Simon. It's time to go."

"My song's not over, Jim! Oh, here we go! 'If you tell my heart, he might blow up and kill this man.'"

"Simon!" Jim rubbed his face.

"Yee-Haw!" Simon yelled as the song ended.

Blair doubled over with laughter only to be elbowed in the ribs by Jim.

"Are you finished now?"

"Nope, got another song coming up! You'll like this one! Start that next one!" he ordered the DJ.

The song started and Blair listened to the words. Simon was lamenting living the high life for his woman and he was smiling until Simon started the chorus.

"'I'm going back to a better class of loser! This up-town living's really got me down!'"

"Hey! I'm offended!" Blair protested.

"'I need friends who don't pay their bills on home computers and they buy their coffee beans already ground!'"

"That leaves you out then!" Blair growled.

"'You think it's disgraceful that they drink three dollar wine! But a better class of loser suits me fine!'"

"Okay! That's enough, Simon." Jim got up on stage and tried to take the microphone away from their captain.

"Jim, sing it with me!" The chorus started again and Simon was wrestling with Jim for the microphone. "'Yes, a better class of loser suits me fine!'" The music ended and Blair saw Jim sigh with relief but not for long as Simon grabbed him around the neck and drew him in. "'Hello Darling! It's nice to see you! It's been a long time! You're just as lovely as you used to be!'" There was no music and the DJ just shrugged.

That was all Blair could take. He had to escape before he exploded. "Jim, I gotta—" He started for the door.

"Sandburg! You leave me with him and I'll kill you and scatter your miserable remains up and down the Pacific Coast!" Jim warned. He could do it too, Blair realized, and get away with it. He cringed and stepped up on stage.

"I can't remember the rest of that song!" Simon moaned. "Blair! I can't remember the rest of my song!" Simon reached out for him with the arm that was not filled with Jim and dragged him over. He tucked Blair under his arm and kissed his head. Blair felt the flush spread over his face. "He's cute, Jim. You ever noticed how cute he is? Damned unfair that he's so cute. Diana thought he was cute. Too bad you don't have a Mercedes, Sambug, Sanbug, damn, can't talk, Bl--air. You could have taken Diana home if you had a Mer--cedes."

"Let's go home, Simon."

"I'm not done singing! Can't 'member my damn song though."

"Then sing another one, Simon," Blair suggested before he had thought the suggestion through.

"Yeah, I can do that!"

Jim slapped him in the back of the head. "Good going, Einstein!" Jim snapped.

"Sorry! I wasn't thinking." They eased the big man toward the edge of the stage slowly.

"Let's see, what to sing?" Simon was thinking hard, it seemed. Of course, it was hard to think when one was this soused, Blair thought. "I got it! 'Crazy! I'm crazy for feelin' so lonely! Crazy! Crazy for feelin' soooo blue-oo!'"

"Oh man!" Blair moaned.

"Your bright idea, Chief."

They had him down the steps now. The bartender approached. "He ran a tab, fellas. Who's going to pay?"

"He is," Jim replied as he reached into Simon's tux jacket and brought out his wallet. "How much?"

"Forty-two bucks."

"Jesus!" Simon squeezed Jim's shoulders and continued to sing.

"Well, he started on beer but switched to Johnny Walker. Sorry, guys. Here's his keys. I took them about forty minutes ago. He gave me your number then, 'cause he knew he wasn't driving home. Said he'd tell me when to call but after he practically cleared the place when he took over the karaoke, I figured it was time to call." He gestured to the nearly empty bar.

"He ran everybody away?" Blair was incredulous. Simon was pretty bad but he had heard worse. "Crazy" was over and "Blue Moon of Kentucky" started. And Simon was trying to return Jim's favor by lifting his wallet out of his jacket. Jim slapped his hands away. Blair snickered and got pinned with another Ellison stare.

The bartender laughed. "It was a slow night to begin with. He just wouldn't stop singing so the other die-hards here only for the karaoke left."

Jim had fished a fifty and a five out of Simon's wallet. He handed it to the man. "Keep the change. You deserve more for having to listen to him."

The good-naturedly man laughed again. "Hey, it's a country music saloon. If a man can't come here to mourn the loss of his woman then where the hell can he go? I'm just glad he had friends who'd come and get him. Have a good night, guys. Come back and sing with him next time."

"Not a chance in hell," Jim growled. "Let's get out of here."

"Are we leaving?" Simon asked.

"Yeah, Simon. Jim's making us go home." He was going to catch hell over that one! But the look on Jim's face was worth it. He grinned at his partner who snarled at him in return. They made their way to the door.

"But I want to sing some more." Simon pulled back, nearly causing Blair to fall.

"You can sing—" he started but Jim had other ideas.

"Blair! Don't you even think it. Enough singing, Simon. Your voice is tired. You don't want to injure your voice, do you? Can't come back and wow 'em again if you injure your voice."

"Can't yell at us properly either." That got him another snarl from Jim.

"Good point!" Simon thumped him on the chest. "Gotta be able to keep you two in line!" He stood up and straightened his jacket only to sway dangerously to the left. "This floor's uneven or something," he complained. Jim caught him.

"Yeah, that's it all right, an uneven floor."

The doorman held the door open for them as they wrestled Simon out into the parking lot. They more or less dumped the big man into the backseat of Blair's car. He was too out of it to mind. As soon as Jim and Blair were in the car, however, he decided to favor them with another song.

"'Goodnight, Sweetheart, well, it's time to go. ba-bo-ba-ba-do—'"

Jim groaned.

"At least it's not country, man." Blair just could not keep a straight face. Jim, on the other hand, was stone-faced and silent as they drove to Simon's.

Half an hour later, Jim motioned Blair ahead of him while he locked Simon's front door. Blair got in the car and waited for him. Jim glanced back at the door and grinned. He made his way to the car.

"Jim, I'm sorry. It was just so—" Blair said as he got in.

He held up one hand to cut his partner off. He looked at Blair and let the grin spread slowly across his face. Blair returned the smile then both of them burst into laughter. "'Don't tell my heart, my Achy-Breaky heart!'" Jim sang, just as off-key as Simon.

"'Crazy! I'm Crazy for feelin' so lonely!'" Blair chimed in.

Then together, "'Goodnight, Sweetheart, well it's time to go!'"

"'Ba-bo-ba-ba-do!'" Jim lowered his voice into a good imitation of Simon's bass.

"Oh, this is going to be soooo much fun, Jim!"

"You can say that again, Sanbug."

"Hey! You're Darling so you may just want to keep the Sanbug to yourself, buddy!"

"But he kissed you and he thinks you're cute!" Jim pinched Blair's cheek.

"Damn."

"Don't worry, Sanbug. I can guarantee he doesn’t want that out anymore than you do. Oh, this is going to be fun," Jim chuckled again. They sang and laughed all the way home.

Alarm, he realized. Did he turn on the alarm? Simon rolled over and cautiously opened one eye. He closed it quickly. His head felt like there was a construction crew inside trying to get out. His mouth tasted and felt nasty though and he had to get up and take care of that. He found the edge of the bed and sat up slowly. That was when he saw the note by the bed. He picked it up and read.

"'Thank you for the lovely serenades. Next time, maybe we can be there for the whole show. Take two aspirin and call us when you feel human again. Signed, Your Friends in Low Places, Sanbug and Darling.' What the hell?!"

The End