The Sentinel: Blair/Jim, Sinner, PG
Title: Priorities
Fandom: The Sentinel
Characters/Pairing: Jim Ellison/Blair Sandburg
Prompt: #3 Sinner
Rating: PG
Summary: Blair has a moment of conscience and remembers where his heart lies
She'd been monitoring his class for two weeks now. When the Dean had first asked about it, Blair had agreed to a couple of days, figuring that a little publicity - even from the sort of yellow new age journal that she worked for - couldn't be that bad. He knew she was looking for the dark side of archaeology; the human sacrifice and depraved acts that were still practiced throughout the world but rarely made it into the legit journals due to the sensationlism. What she wanted was something like... like a Sentinel... and Blair was damn well not going to give up Jim.
Not even for a woman with legs that seemed almost taller than he was, so long that she had to stretch them out in front of her because crossed they didn't fit under the table. Her skirt barely came to mid thigh, bare thigh, and bare calves, and curvaceous and sleek ankles that were only highlighted by the strappy sandals she wore. Despite the first hints of spring outside, she wore a turtleneck that clung perfectly, a shimmering shade of blue that was both strong and feminine at the same time. It was a modern twist on the classic schoolgirl look, right down to the metal rim glasses she wore. Realizing that it was a game, a ploy to draw him in, didn't make it any less effective, though it did make it easier to resist. Easier but not impossible.
It showed in the fact that he didn't ask her to leave the third day. Or the fourth. Or when she returned on Monday after the weekend. He didn't turn down the coffee and danish she brought him, or when she started sitting in on the class after and coming in a few minutes before the earlier class ended. Three weeks in she asked Blair to lunch. He hadn't seen a reason to be rude. There had been no word about the things he'd thought she was there for. Human sacrifice. Genitalia mutilation. The death and dismemberment that seemed to hold the media's attention. Blair was beginning to think that he'd misjudged her. He held that belief for another week. Right until she invited him to dinner. Not just dinner, but room service ordered to her hotel room.
He should have said no. Blair wasn't the type to give her the sensationalized story she wanted, the sort that dehumanized the tribes he'd been with and played up the beauty of a free land over such nations and people. In the end he'd agreed to the date. What could it hurt? She was hot, willing to dress cute and sweet to get his attention and it wasn't like he actually owed her anything. She was taking a chance, betting on something that was far from a sure thing. Why not enjoy that for himself with dinner and whatever else might come?
The bathroom mirror was fogged still and Blair had finally given in and pulled his curls back into a tight ponytail. Tugging a clean white tee over his head, he was wriggling into a flannel button down when he realized that Jim was not only home, but asleep on the couch.
Immediately Blair's gait changed, softer steps that he knew would still be heard by the Sentinel as if he were firing a gun in the small space. It wasnt about not making it sound, it was about respecting a man that had given Blair a lot. A home. A place where he belonged. Friendship. Looking down on the sleeping form, Blair couldn't help but feel something. It wasn't quite guilt. Not quite but it was so close that he wasn't sure there was a difference.
Jim hadn't just given him a home and friendship; he'd shown Blair that emotions sometimes shouldn't always be given into. Not every time. Not when Jim had made Blair realize that there were varying levels of emotions. Going out to her hotel would be like cheating on a relationship he wasn't even in. They weren't a couple, after all. There shouldn't be any guilt in enjoying himself with a pretty girl.
***
Shifting on the couch, Jim's nose wrinkled. Before his nap he'd been trying to ignore the scent of Blair's shampoo, the way the whole place seemed to smell of his partner, wet and soapy. Not all of that was covered by something much less appetizing, but a bit more edible in a nutritional sense.
"Chief?" Rising, he spied the short man in the kitchen, white tee showing cooking stains and the kitchen covered in vegetables, bowls and simmering dishes. "I thought you had a date?"
Looking up, Blair smiled and smoothed his hair back from his brow, the hairline damp with steam and work. "Yeah well... she cancelled."
"Oh. Uhmmm... sorry?"
Blair shook his head, still smiling. "Don't be. I'm not."
Fandom: The Sentinel
Characters/Pairing: Jim Ellison/Blair Sandburg
Prompt: #3 Sinner
Rating: PG
Summary: Blair has a moment of conscience and remembers where his heart lies
She'd been monitoring his class for two weeks now. When the Dean had first asked about it, Blair had agreed to a couple of days, figuring that a little publicity - even from the sort of yellow new age journal that she worked for - couldn't be that bad. He knew she was looking for the dark side of archaeology; the human sacrifice and depraved acts that were still practiced throughout the world but rarely made it into the legit journals due to the sensationlism. What she wanted was something like... like a Sentinel... and Blair was damn well not going to give up Jim.
Not even for a woman with legs that seemed almost taller than he was, so long that she had to stretch them out in front of her because crossed they didn't fit under the table. Her skirt barely came to mid thigh, bare thigh, and bare calves, and curvaceous and sleek ankles that were only highlighted by the strappy sandals she wore. Despite the first hints of spring outside, she wore a turtleneck that clung perfectly, a shimmering shade of blue that was both strong and feminine at the same time. It was a modern twist on the classic schoolgirl look, right down to the metal rim glasses she wore. Realizing that it was a game, a ploy to draw him in, didn't make it any less effective, though it did make it easier to resist. Easier but not impossible.
It showed in the fact that he didn't ask her to leave the third day. Or the fourth. Or when she returned on Monday after the weekend. He didn't turn down the coffee and danish she brought him, or when she started sitting in on the class after and coming in a few minutes before the earlier class ended. Three weeks in she asked Blair to lunch. He hadn't seen a reason to be rude. There had been no word about the things he'd thought she was there for. Human sacrifice. Genitalia mutilation. The death and dismemberment that seemed to hold the media's attention. Blair was beginning to think that he'd misjudged her. He held that belief for another week. Right until she invited him to dinner. Not just dinner, but room service ordered to her hotel room.
He should have said no. Blair wasn't the type to give her the sensationalized story she wanted, the sort that dehumanized the tribes he'd been with and played up the beauty of a free land over such nations and people. In the end he'd agreed to the date. What could it hurt? She was hot, willing to dress cute and sweet to get his attention and it wasn't like he actually owed her anything. She was taking a chance, betting on something that was far from a sure thing. Why not enjoy that for himself with dinner and whatever else might come?
The bathroom mirror was fogged still and Blair had finally given in and pulled his curls back into a tight ponytail. Tugging a clean white tee over his head, he was wriggling into a flannel button down when he realized that Jim was not only home, but asleep on the couch.
Immediately Blair's gait changed, softer steps that he knew would still be heard by the Sentinel as if he were firing a gun in the small space. It wasnt about not making it sound, it was about respecting a man that had given Blair a lot. A home. A place where he belonged. Friendship. Looking down on the sleeping form, Blair couldn't help but feel something. It wasn't quite guilt. Not quite but it was so close that he wasn't sure there was a difference.
Jim hadn't just given him a home and friendship; he'd shown Blair that emotions sometimes shouldn't always be given into. Not every time. Not when Jim had made Blair realize that there were varying levels of emotions. Going out to her hotel would be like cheating on a relationship he wasn't even in. They weren't a couple, after all. There shouldn't be any guilt in enjoying himself with a pretty girl.
***
Shifting on the couch, Jim's nose wrinkled. Before his nap he'd been trying to ignore the scent of Blair's shampoo, the way the whole place seemed to smell of his partner, wet and soapy. Not all of that was covered by something much less appetizing, but a bit more edible in a nutritional sense.
"Chief?" Rising, he spied the short man in the kitchen, white tee showing cooking stains and the kitchen covered in vegetables, bowls and simmering dishes. "I thought you had a date?"
Looking up, Blair smiled and smoothed his hair back from his brow, the hairline damp with steam and work. "Yeah well... she cancelled."
"Oh. Uhmmm... sorry?"
Blair shook his head, still smiling. "Don't be. I'm not."