My Sentinel Fic- (thank God thats over!!!)
Now this is my first ever Sentinel fic, and I'm not sure how its turned out so...please be gentle.
A/N: Written for the Sentinel ’Get a Clue’ fic-a-thon. My prompt was ‘Daryl Banks, training manual and Cascade Towers’.
Beta: The ever patient and mocking the-fun-monkey and Brixxx!Their rewards are in heaven, or food.Whichever they prefer
(Have also just realised thatI may have used my prompts wrong so..if I have I'm sorry. I used them individually rather than together...)
Title: Accident waiting for a place to happen
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: J/B,B/OMC
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Angst, Non-con, hurt/comfort
Disclaimer: No, nothing to do with The Sentinel belongs to me(aside from my DVD's) and this isn't for profit.
Summary: One Of Blair's old friends returns to Cascade. Is Jim losing his Guide and how is the Sentinel going to react?
“How is it that I, Sentinel, equipped with pole, lines, lures and bait only caught four fish and you, nature boy with a stick, caught twice as many?” Jim had groused over this topic for the entire drive back to the loft, his macho pride severely dented by Blair’s continued ability to kick his ass at just about anything.
“Psychology my man. It’s all in the mind.” Blair raised his hands to his friend’s head and waggled his fingers.
“What? You saying I don’t really want to catch them? Cause I gotta tell you, Chief, I really do.”
“Nah. That’s not it. You gotta think like a fish, be the fish. Only when you reach true fishiness will you achieve your goal.” The student pressed his palms together in front of his chest, fingers pointing forwards and undulated his hands and arms, pretending to swim like a fish.
“Think like a fish, huh? Well I guess that explains a lot about you.”
“Hey. If you’re going to be like that, then I won’t share.” The caught booty sat in a cooler full of ice packs in the rear of the truck. They had had to drive a little further to find an area that wasn’t catch and release but the results had been worth it. What hadn’t been eaten at the campsite was to be cooked for dinner and Jim’s meal would be very meagre if he couldn’t convince his roommate to hand over some of his catch.
“Come on Jim, hurry it up. I wanna take a shower.” Blair raised one arm and took an exploratory sniff. “I need to take a shower.” Grimacing, Blair looked over at the man driving. “I would apologise for the smell but I gotta say, even to me you’re kind of ripe.”
Jim pulled into a space outside their building. Gathering their gear from the truck bed, the pair headed in, sneering at the defunct elevator and slowly pounded up the stairs, bags slung over weary shoulders.
“I got to tell you Chief, this added exertion isn’t helping at all with the smell.” Blair grinned at his friends bitching.
“Hey, I’m not so fond of myself right now. Faster we conquer the stairs, sooner I can shower and you can cook. It’s your day isn’t it?”
Not waiting for an answer, Blair slid the key home, nudging the door open with one booted toe. Hearing Jim closing the door behind him, the young man dropped his burden and began stripping as he made a bee-line to the bathroom, layers of fragrant cloth in his wake.
Jim could almost see the stench radiating off the shirts. He resisted the urge to kick them into Sandburg’s room, determined instead to glare meaningfully at them until his roommate tidied them himself and apologised. To that end, the cop looked up, only to see the bathroom door close. Ah well, the glaring would have to wait until Sandburg returned in a billow of steam and no doubt wrapped in every towel the pair possessed.
The older man settled for unpacking the fish and gathering the necessary utensils and other food stuffs he needed to make a meal. By the time Blair had exhausted the hot water supply of the greater Cascade area, steam was rolling gently from under the door before swelling out in a great rush as the student stepped out of the bathroom.
“Smells good, big guy. Shower is all yours.” Blair resumed drying his hair as he sauntered into his room, disappearing inside.
“Yeah, well you smell better too.” Checking on the progress of the food, Jim turned the burners down and went to take his own shower. With a yell at his roommate to keep an eye on dinner to make sure it, or the loft, didn’t burn, he went to take his own shower.
Dressed in jeans and a T, pulling on a long sleeve shirt, Blair glanced at the food and went to sort through the mail that had piled up in their absence. His pile seemed to consist of loan statements and junk mail. A familiar scrawl caught his eye and he tore into the envelope, tugging the enclosed letter free.
“Hey, watcha got there?” Unbeknownst to him, Jim had finished his quick shower and snuck up behind him, his own mail in his right hand. Folding the letter back up, Blair turned to his friend.
“Just a letter from a friend. He’s gonna be in town for a few days, and he’s suggested meeting up. I get to play personal tour guide.”
Jim crossed to the stove, turning off the grill and checking the rice and vegetables. “Who’s the lucky tourist?” Jim was intrigued by the visitor and wanted to ensure that his friend’s precious time would not be wasted by someone that did not deserve the man’s attention. If he was going to lose out on time spent with Blair, then the other person better be worth it.
“His name is Taylor. He helped set up all the techno-stuff in the anthro department. He used to work for Rainier but quit when he got a better offer. Plus it allowed him more time with his band. Not that they do all that well, but it’s his real passion. Technology stuff just pays his bills. And boy does it ever.”
The meal was pleasant, both men happy to be clean, warm and well fed. As Blair washed the dishes Jim perched on the back of the couch, staring at the offending items that still littered the otherwise immaculate loft. It had nearly killed him to just leave them there and not yell at Sandburg to clear them but he was determined that a look should be adequate. As he placed the last dish in the rack, Blair turned to see what had so entranced Jim’s gaze. When he saw his dirty clothing he rolled his eyes. He dried his hands off on the dish cloth and collected the clothes, depositing them in the hamper, determined to do laundry first thing in the morning. Settling down on the foot of his bed, Blair ran through a list of things he could do with Taylor, glad he had a week to prepare.
----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----
“Sandburg? Chief?” At the sound of Jim’s voice, Blair downed tools, cracking his spine as he stretched, before slithering off his bed to poke his head round the door.
“Yeah, man?” An inquisitive look was plastered across the honest features.
“I need to ask you a favour.” Blair wandered out of his room to stand by Jim at the base of the stairs. “I was meant to go with Daryl to the mall to pick up all the stuff for the party, but I’ve been called to Court so……”
“Uh-uh,” Blair retorted, taking a step back on the stairs so he could stand eye to eye with Jim. “Uh-uh,” he repeated, “I like my life the way it is, thanks. I like it safe and boring and most importantly, I want it to be long.”
The words amused Jim rather than annoying him. He knew Blair had a sense of adventure and a reckless streak; it was what stopped him from ever staying in the truck. He was certain that his young roommate would jump at the chance to help out on the shopping spree. If he had to, he’d play the Sentinel card. He already had a pitch rehearsed in his head about strip lighting and the noise of other shoppers. Fourth of July craziness or not, Blair was going to the mall.
Seeing the slight smile gracing his friend’s lips, Blair shook his head again. “No way, man. I seriously hate the mall.”
Jim laughed. “Well, I can tell that by the way you dress.” He couldn’t help the chortle that escaped at the expression that garnered from Blair. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I hurt your feelings? I forgot that looking like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards is fashionable these days.”
“Well, excuse me, Mr. Jeans and a T. I happen to prefer my clothes a little more unique. Why should I dress like everyone else, when I’m not like them? I like my clothes, I like my hair, and I’m not changing that for anyone. Not even you, Oh Great Sentinel.”
Jim caught a hint of wounded pride behind the words and chastised himself for his teasing. He knew he mustn’t have been the only one in the world that had picked on how his friend dressed and Blair had probably had to defend himself innumerable times. The fact that it was over something as trivial as clothing, made Jim feel ashamed that he had upset his roommate.
“Look, uh, I’m sorry, that was out of line. Anyway, you gonna help or not? Darryl is going to be here in half an hour and you know this is all he’s talked about for weeks. The Station’s Fourth of July picnic hasn’t been off his mind since he asked to help organise it.” Jim was trying to get just the right balance of authority and wheedling. He could see Blair starting to crack, his head bobbing slightly from side to side as he weighed up the pros and cons. He suddenly fixed Jim with an accusatory glare.
“You don’t have Court; Simon told me a couple days ago that you were Court free for a good few weeks. You never intended to go through with going to the mall did you? Did you?” Blair punctuated his words by stabbing the Sentinel in the chest with one indignant finger, backing the larger man into the living room.
“And you think that if you pull the little-boy-lost routine that I’ll just roll over and do whatever you say. Uh-uh buddy, not this time. You told Darryl you would help him, and help him you will.”
“Listen Sandburg, the Mall is going to be crowded, loud, the place stinks at the best of times and you expect me to go there without my Guide? If I’m going, you’re going.”
“No, I’m not.” Blair’s previously teasing tone took on a hard edge as he stood up to the man before him. “Taylor arrives tomorrow and I want to have finished the chapter I’m working on so I can devote my time to him, instead of you for a change.” Blair looked shocked at his words, the ensuing silence enveloping the two men.
Jim scowled. What was so wrong with his roommate? The light tone of the mock-battle had been lost, replaced with by a tinge of resentment. Did the young man resent spending time with him? Did he bore Blair?
“Sandburg?” As soon as it arrived, Blair’s anger fled in the face of the anguish obvious in the utterance.
“I didn’t…I don’t…I’m tired Big Guy, I didn’t mean it.” Blair flashed a brilliant smile at the cop, strong hands grasping broad shoulders in a brisk hug. “I’ve been staring at the screen for too long. Break will do me good.” Darting back into his room, Blair grabbed another shirt, despite the summer warmth.
“Let’s go.”
The two men filed out the door, Jim tossing a reminder to his friend not to forget his keys.
----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----
“Monopoly….War….Cleudo…..Chess….” Jim could hear Blair’s mumbling as well as the distinct sounds of boxes hitting the floor. ‘What the hell is he up to now?’ Jim wondered as he threw back the covers, shivering slightly as the cool air assaulted his sleep-warmed skin. Clad only in his boxers, the older man stepped to the railing and peered over it.
Blair sat on the floor, legs folded beneath him, his butt resting on his heels. In a pile behind him sat a number of slim rectangular boxes, all pilfered from the bookshelf before him. In a number of seconds another joined their ranks, knocking two away from each other before sliding down to hit the floor.
“Sandburg, what the hell are you doing?” At the sound of his roommates voice, Blair’s head jerked up, his eyes wide in surprise. “Sorry man, did I wake you?”
“No, the annihilation of my floor woke me, your continued muttering is keeping me awake. What are you looking for at...” Jim glanced at his watch, brow crinkling in annoyance, “...6am on a Saturday?”
Blair at least had the good grace to look sheepish. “I couldn’t sleep and figured I’d read a book but I founds the games.” He gestured towards the mess behind him. “You don’t strike me as the board game type. I was kinda surprised to find them here, you know?” Jim turned away from the railing, grabbing a t-shirt from the dresser and pulling it over his head as he jogged quickly down the stairs.
“Yeah, they’re Carolyn’s. She left them here when we…when she…. I didn’t know what to do with them and didn’t want to throw them out so…” He glared meaningfully at the mess, making ‘tidy it’ motions with his hands until the young man before him got the message and at least made a neat stack of the rejected games as Jim started a pot of coffee.
“You’ve never expressed interest in them before, Chief. Thought gambling was more your thing.” Jim grinned as Blair replaced the boxes on the unit and groaned as he stood; even young knees unforgiving for their time on the hard floor.
“Yeah well, you and the guys from Major Crimes got a little too lucky of late and I need that money for books you know. Figured I’d try something a little more sedate, a little less….”
“Likely to lose you money?”
“Yeah. Something like that. You mind?”
“No. Something on your mind?”
Taking the proffered mug of coffee from Jim, Blair sunk into a chair at the table, using his right leg to nudge out the opposing chair in invitation, wincing as the legs squeaked in protest at the rough treatment, possibly scratching the immaculate floor.
Pouring a mug of the aromatic dark liquid for himself, Jim took the chair and sat facing his roommate.
“Well?”
“Taylor arrives today and I guess I’m just concerned about keeping him entertained. We’ve written each other a bit, and talk on the phone but it’s been a while since we’ve actually seen each other, you know?”
“Well considering what I remember you telling me about some of your friends, I’m not sure I’d want to spend even that amount of time with him. Remember Larry?” Jim laughed and dodged the inevitable punch thrown his way. “Besides, he’s here on business right, so he’s just going to want to relax, so do stuff like that. Catch a game, go for some drinks and just stop worrying so much.”
“Yeah but Taylor…” Blair broke of whatever he was going to say and tried to articulate what he meant with his hands. He was failing miserably.
All week long it had been Taylor this, Taylor that. Jim was certain that if he ever met the other man he’d hate him on sight. Hell he was halfway there and all he had to contend with at the moment was the ghost. Not wanting to show his momentary flare of anger, Jim tried to help out his floundering friend.
“Well, like I said, just play it easy. Try asking him if there is anything he wants to do. Make plans but don’t get stuck with them if they aren’t what either of you want to do. Be flexible.” Blair stared at the other man in astonishment.
“Be flexible?” he parroted back. “Be flexible? This from the man who could make a metal rod look positively supple?” Jim stood from the table, hiding his reaction by burying himself in the fridge under the pretence of looking for something suitable for breakfast. He knew Blair was right but he didn’t want to face that at 6am in his own kitchen. He decided to try and keep the light tone of the conversation going, still concerned over Blair’s little episode the day before. Nothing more had been said about it but Jim was worried.
“Oh, you wound me.” Jim backed out of the fridge, sure that there was nothing more than fruit available and that just wasn’t going to be enough this morning. “Hey, you want to go out for breakfast? Pastries, danishes, the whole nine yards, my treat. You’re going to need your strength up to keep Taylor entertained, although if what I hear of the computer industry is true, he’s going to have a hard time keeping up with you.”
Blair shot him a quizzical glance, eyebrows shooting up into his hair line. “What?”
Jim picked up an apple, to tide him over until both men had showered and changed, and bit into it, juices bubbling to the surface as he bit into it, small drops splattering the counter and Jim’s hand before being wiped away. He turned to regard his friend, pleased beyond reason that he could still stump the little guy.
“Well, come on. He works with computers all day long. I’m willing to bet he’s gained a few since you last met him, and I hate to have to tell you this, but you take a lot of work. Running after you, trying to fight against the pull to the Sandburg Zone, not to mention feigning interest when you get all scientific.” Jim eased the sting of the tease with a smile, gnawing the remaining flesh of the apple from the core. Blair just glared at him.
As Jim chewed, Blair snuck a glance at the Sentinel, the golden skin of his jaw stretching as his mouth worked, lips pursed to keep any further juice from escaping. Leaning against the counter, relaxed and affable, despite his interrupted sleep, Jim was beautiful. And utterly off-limits. But then Blair was really used to not getting what he wanted.
The sound of the apple core hitting the trash can pulled lair from his ogling as Jim advanced across the kitchen. For a moment the young man was concerned that Jim had caught him drooling and was going to demand he tell him why, but the older man just walked straight past him in the direction of the shower.
“I feel like hot water today. That ok?” Blair made a show of agreeing with his roommate and graciously allowed him first shower. Checking his watch, he wandered to his room to pull out some fresh clothes and pack his bag for later when Taylor was in town.
----- ----- ----- ------ ------
Breakfast had been wonderful, even if after the caffeine injection Blair’s babble consisted almost entirely of Taylor-talk. Jim was glad that he had arrangements to meet Joel when Taylor would be dropping by. He was pretty sure if he even heard the name mentioned one more time he’d scream or kill someone. Quite possibly both at the same time. Although it would be tempting to hang around so that the victim could be the star of the morning himself.
Jim had dropped Blair off at a bookstore on his way back to the loft after having gotten many assurances that he would be back in time to meet Taylor. Jim had no intention of hanging around to play host just because Blair could keep his head out of a pile of dusty tomes long enough to remember that the real world existed out there somewhere. The chances of the plan succeeding were actually pretty good as there were hours yet before Taylor’s arrival. By which time, Jim would be long gone.
After having cleaned out the fridge, hoping Blair wouldn’t notice when some of the bacterial study he called food mysteriously ended up in the trash and scrubbed the counters until they gleamed, Jim was headed up the stairs to change when he heard footsteps in the hall, short thuds that slowed past #307 but carried on past, only to stop short. A rustle of a paper followed and the steps returned. Walking to the door, Jim pulled it open just as the person on the other side raised his hand to knock.
“Yes?” Jim figured his welcome greeting could use a little polish but he didn’t recognise the man and didn’t know what he wanted. The man in the hallway was a little shorter than Jim, just topping six foot and though he was not as muscular as the cop he was in no way slight. His blond hair was slicked back from his face with so much gel it looked as if he’d only just stepped from the shower. Green eyes were well set in a tanned face. A cruel mouth and strong jaw made the man look hard rather than attractive. A black blazer was slung over one shoulder in stark contrast with the crisp white shirt beneath, where an expensive-looking gold clasp still rested between buttons. A necktie peeked out of the right pocket of the man’s slacks, the vibrant red like a wound on the fabric.
The man smiled. “Mr. Ellison, right?” Jim’s stomach hit rock bottom. This, this, was Taylor? Where was the guy that made Joel look slim and went translucent in sunlight? Why did Taylor have to look like this?
“Mr. Ellison?” the man before asked politely as he reached out a hand to shake.
“So, you’re Taylor? The guy started to grin at the large man still blocking the doorway.
“That’s me.”
“You’re early.” The engaging grin was gone in a flash. Jim figured that despite his near instant dislike of the man, that he was at least owed an explanation. “Blair isn’t here. He’s not expecting you for another-” Jim checked his watch, “ninety minutes. I can give him a call, see if I can get him home.” Jim had every intention of having Blair back in the loft before he could do some harm to Taylor.
“Hey, yeah that would be great. I’m only here for five days so it would be nice if he was here for some of it, you know?” Jim made a point of not responding. He knew Blair could be a little flaky but he didn’t like other people commenting on it when it was their own fault that the man in question wasn’t around.
“You better come in then.” It pained Jim to step away from the door and allow the other man into his home. Looking down at his rumpled shirt and clocking Taylor’s near immaculate attire, he headed towards the stairs. “Take a seat; I just need to change my shirt.” Jim bounded up the stairs, wrenching the first shirt he came across out of a drawer and pulled it on over his t-shirt.
“So, Blair said you’re a cop, a detective?” Taylor was still standing in the kitchen, green eyes watching Jim’s every move in a truly unnerving manner. “You always wanted to be a cop?”
It took a moment for Jim to unclench his jaw. “No. I was in the Army but I left and I needed a job. Seemed to fit me ok.”
“Well more than ok from what I’ve heard. You’re thought to be the best cop out there; finding people first and fast.” Ah, so we had reached the buttering up portion of the day. Taylor could obviously feel the tension and figured a little greasing of the wheels might make the cop feel a little more inclined to be nice.
Jim acknowledged the compliment with a tight grin. “I do my best, get lucky.” He held up a hand to quell the inevitable fawning that would try to accompany that statement as he picked up the phone to call Blair.
“Sandburg, your friend is here… No I don’t know… Maybe he caught an earlier flight. Just…ok…I will….ten minutes? Ok.” Jim hung up, hoping the Blair was right and that he was only a few minutes away. He turned and relayed the information to Taylor, knowing the man had heard at least his side of the conversation but deciding it would only be polite to let him know.
“So? How long have you known Blair?” Taylor smiled as he asked, seeming to be genuinely attempting a conversation.
Jim barked out a short laugh at the question. “Sometimes it feels like forever.” Green eyes flashed with amusement, the man moving closer to Jim to pat him on the shoulder. “My condolences.” Jim fought not to recoil at the touch and the proximity. At this distance Jim could smell the computer technician, the aroma an unwelcome intrusion into the cop’s head. The tang of fresh sweat and a cloying aftershave was permeating Jim’s head, making his feel woozy, as if he’d stood up too fast.
Jim took a step back, covering his revulsion by turning away as if to collect his coffee mug, waving an empty one at Taylor in silent invitation to join him. “No thanks.” Jim busied himself, refilling his cup, stretching out the time he could politely spend not conversing with the blond man and limiting the contact between them.
“So, how’d you do that trick with the door?” At the question, the right side of Jim’s mouth quirked up into a grin. From the slight quiver in Taylor’s voice, the older man could tell that his opening of the door before hearing a knock had put the young man of his balance. Good. He could almost smell the curiosity rolling of Taylor as the other man once again stepped closer. It made Jim’s blood boil; why couldn’t the guy get the idea and step back. Without turning, Jim muttered something about having good hearing.
Behind him, the blond man seemed to realise that Jim was not a small talk kind of a guy. The large man was becoming increasingly annoyed with the other man’s presence and was planning all the torture that he could impart on Blair for being late. Where the hell was the little guy anyway? Silence descended pretty quickly over the inhabitants of the loft, broken only by the clinking of crockery as Jim put away the last of the washing up and rinsed out the jug form the coffee maker. Turning he leant his butt against the counter and crossed his arms against his chest, knowing full well the figure he cut as his biceps stretched the thin cotton of shirt. Usually he only utilized his imposing stature on criminals and lawyers. He was willing to make an exception.
And yet, when he looked up, those green eyes didn’t show a hint of fear. Taylor coolly regarded him from his spot by the table, his pose mirroring Jim’s, although his own was far less intimidating.
“I think we both know that you don’t seem to like me very much, despite never having met me before, so let’s not bother tap-dancing around each other. I’m not sure why you have taken this dislike but I’m guessing it’s got something to do with Blair.”
Jim appreciated the man’s frankness but was perplexed that he had been read so easily. Why couldn’t the computer technician just assume, like everyone else, that Ellison was a cranky asshole? Jim did his best not to scowl.
“I don’t have any problems with you. I just don’t know you and you’re in my home. With me those are generally not two things that go together.” Jim figured his explanation sounded pretty plausible.
Taylor narrowed his eyes as if assessing Jim. It was unnerving. Was this how perps felt? Jim could feel his hackles rise, the desire to throw this guy out of the loft via the window was overwhelming.
Just as Jim straightened up, fingers itching to form fists, biceps tightening in anticipation, the human hurricane known as Blair Sandburg whirled in the door.
“T, man, you made it. Gimme a sec to get changed, I’m not so fresh, and we’ll catch up.” True to his word, Blair rushed into his room and moments later returned in a new set of shirts, walking up to Taylor and enveloping him in a huge hug. The two men chatted fro a few minutes in Blair’s room as they discussed their plans for the day before walking into the kitchen to grab a few apples and a couple bottles of water.
“Hey Jim, we’re heading off to the park. Want to come with?” The look Taylor shot Jim was pure don’t-you-dare-say-yes. Not wanting to seem intimidated or miss a chance to piss the guy off Jim was tempted to say yes but Blair looked so happy he didn’t want to ruin his day.
“Nah, Chief, I’m good thanks. Got some stuff I got to do so, go have fun.” After the two had left Jim growled, a low menacing sound like a caged beast. Why was he acting like this? Why was he taking such a hatred to Taylor? The little voice in his head contrived to tell him it was only because the other man seemed to be a jerk and Jim had heard nothing but his name for a week and frankly seeing him in the flesh was an anti-climax.
----- ----- ----- ----- -----
The evening had been a bust. The woman that Joel had set Jim up with had been the most boring person he had ever had the displeasure to meet. She was so wrapped up in her fishbowl of a life that she couldn’t see the bigger picture. She didn’t care for or about anybody that wasn’t in her own social circle and considered anything that got in the way of her plans to be the enemy. Jim was all for having goals but she was off the scale. Besides, he was trying to cut back on the sheer number of psychotics he dated. He couldn’t take the teasing from Blair anymore. The food had been exquisite yet expensive and Jim would have happily spent his time watching a game with him roommate, arguing over what type of take-out the younger man would allow him. The cop often worried that Blair took greater care of Jim’s diet than his own.
Maybe the night wouldn’t be a total loss; it was still early enough that, despite endless teasing from Blair, the two could take in a movie on the TV, maybe some popcorn before crashing. As Jim reached the end of the street to turn towards the lot where he had parked the car, he remembered that tonight Blair was off entertaining Taylor. Just like the last two nights,
While waiting for the pedestrian sign to change to walk, Jim took in his surroundings. He had deliberately chosen an out of the way place for the date, not wanting to be seen by anyone from Major Crimes for fear of teasing and he wanted to stay away from the commercialized areas that were loud and brightly lit. Unfortunately his date had seen this as a sign of great romance rather than just a way to avoid excessive stimuli. Despite his obvious lack of interest she had clung like a limpet. His extraction had been less than smooth and he was worried that he’d be having an uncomfortable, not to mention unpleasant, conversation with Joel in the morning.
Movement off to his left caught Jim’s interest. A tall, blonde man, wearing a mask not out of place at a masquerade ball, was trying to dance his male partner down the street, the pair twirling and laughing as they pin wheeled from one side of the sidewalk to the other, apologising to lampposts and mailboxes alike. Neither seemed drunk, just happy to be alive and in each others company. The movement of the man’s partner seemed familiar, the laughter one which Jim knew as well as his own.
Blair.
Blair wasn’t simply showing Taylor around the town. He was dating Taylor. This was a date. The dancing stopped at the corner, with Taylor drawing Blair, bouncy and breathless, against his body ceasing the peal of a further giggle fit with a kiss. Blair appeared to get with the program very quickly, expressive hands gripping the others body to him, swaying the pair in a slow circle as they embraced.
Jim could do nothing but stare. It was at once the most beautiful and most horrific scene he had ever witnessed. The raw splendour of the two men, taking pleasure from each other firing an arousal so strong it took Jim’s breath away. But that Blair was with another man nearly drove Jim to tears. Forcing himself to look away, not to stare, Jim turned right down the street towards the parking lot. He needed to get back to the loft, back home. There everything would be comfortable, familiar. Nothing there ever changed and he could get his bearing back. And when Blair returned they could talk. Or not. Whatever.
On the short trip back to the truck Jim was achingly depressed; he was alone and craving the contact of another. He had long suspected that Blair happily sampled from both ends of the Cascades gene pool but had never shown any interest in Jim than his usual easy-going attitude and an unnerving readiness to argue for anything and everything he cared for.
Jim knew he could stake no claim on the younger man but it didn’t stop him from fearing every pretty co-ed that was able to crawl up under the covers with the young anthropologist, didn’t stop him fantasising over the countless ways he could dispose of the bodies with no evidence. Jim was terrified of the one, male or female, that would turn Blair’s head so much that he would forget his obsession with Sentinels, move out and be lost to the older man. It could be anyone at anytime.
Maybe it was Taylor.
In his mind Jim could see the pair going to Club Doom, dancing together. He knew enough from seeing Blair dance around the loft that the guy had an easy, natural rhythm; loose and cool. Blair put everything into his dancing; hips thrusting, arms weaving, curls swirling around his head. Jim could see the sweat that would plaster the hair to skin, see the tongue that would snake out to clear the upper lip. The pair would leave together, off to the apartment Taylor was borrowing, hot, sweaty and achingly aroused. They would fall onto the bed together, strip each other, their gasps and pants would fill the empty space as they vigorously drove each other to climax.
Unlocking the driver’s door and settling himself into the seat, Jim felt a crushing wave of jealousy. How dare Blair give his body to someone else? How dare Taylor presume he could touch what he didn’t deserve? Shaking his head, Jim started the truck, slid it into gear and indicated to pull out into the traffic. Blair wasn’t his, never was, never would be and one of these days he would have to give him up without a word, having never had any real right to him.
Oddly enough when he got home, Blair was already there. He looked up from the couch, where he was lazing, to smile at Jim when he walked through the door.
“Ohh, date at eight, news at eleven, huh?” The smile was easy, accompanying a salute with the beer bottle grasped in the young man’s right hand.
“Well, you don’t seem to have done any better, Chief.” Jim surreptitiously checked over his roommate for signs of sex or arousal. Nothing, nadda. Lips, while full, weren’t bruised or swollen. Blair had changed since Jim had last seen him, so he could only faintly detect the smells of smoke and alcohol that were left on skin and lingering in hair. Realising he was once again staring, and thankful the student had been distracted by the red-headed news anchor, Jim grunted something about getting changed and headed up the stairs. While he changed Blair read out the TV listings and they both finally agreed on a movie to watch.
Jim lost the battle about popcorn, cutting Blair off in mid-lecture about that much fat so late at night. Jim eschewed the option of pointing out that calories were calories regardless of the time of day but stayed quiet. His mind was in too much turmoil to deal with an all out assault from Blair. Paying no attention to the movie, Jim spent much of the time stealing glances of the other man, cataloguing every inch of available skin.
Jim suddenly felt awkward. Being back in the loft had seemed such a good idea; if he was surrounded by the familiar then he could broach the new with Blair. He hadn’t expected the intimacy, even if it was only one sided. He shouldn’t know something like this about his friend if the information hadn’t been offered freely.
Looking up from the TV Blair yawned widely, jaw cracking. “I’m going to bed. Tell me how it ends.” The student rolled off the couch and shuffled to his room, turning on the light before rummaging for his shirt and boxers and heading for the bathroom.
Jim listened to him in the other room; he could hear the water running as teeth were brushed and the splash of water against skin and sink as soap was rinsed. The water shut off. As he waited his turn, memories from the evening filtered through Jim’s mind. Memories he shouldn’t have, and didn’t want.
Blair and Taylor.
It hadn’t bothered him before when others touched Blair. People seemed to do it a lot. The young man just had one of those faces teamed with an easy going personality that just made people gravitate towards him. He seemed to have zero personal space so he was constantly being handled. Jim himself often mock-punched or patted his partner. It had never been an issue before.
Tonight it was.
Blair opened the door, face still slightly damp, clutching a small towel in his right hand as he dried his face. Seeing his roommates back immovable before him, Blair stepped forward, concerned.
“Hey, Jim?” He reached out to touch the tanned shoulder. Jim jumped at the touch, whirling round to face his assailant.
“Jim, you ok?” Jim could see the lips moving but heard nothing. He blinked rapidly and shook his head, as if trying to clear the fog in his mind. Blair gripped the broad shoulders, fingers moving in soothing circles, tips digging into the tense muscles, forcing the larger man to try and relax.
As Jim saw Blair open his mouth to speak, he shook his head and interrupted. “It’s not a zone, Chief. I can’t hear you.” A low level hum resonated in his head followed swiftly by a high pitched whine. Jim’s hands flew up to his ears, dislodging Blair’s hold, as he tried fruitlessly to drive the sound away. Moment later it stopped.
“Jim, Jim, are you ok?” Jim dropped his hands to look into the anxious face of his guide. He nodded.
“I’m fine. Must have turned a dial too low or something.” Blair wasn’t convinced by the answer. There was an uncertainty in the cop’s eyes that disturbed him.
“Jim, if we can find out the cause, maybe we can fix it. You gotta tell me what its like. What is bothering you? Is it like before, when you were with Beverly?”
“Sandburg, let it go. Just drop the science stuff and let’s just get some sleep huh? I don’t feel like being your little lab rat right now.”
Blair’s face instantly shuttered to hide his pain at having been shot down, again. This wasn’t about his research, this wasn’t about the diss, this was just about him wanting to help his friend. The older man was so obviously concerned and tried to hide behind walls of sarcasm and great waves of animosity.
“Yeah, sure, whatever man.” Turning on his heel, Blair resisted stomping back to his room and slamming the door. Instead he walked slowly away, his body rigid with tension, his steps slow and deliberate. He reminded Jim briefly of a drunk who was desperately trying to appear sober by being calculated and methodical. The cop knew he’d just hurt his friend but could do nothing to stop himself. At times like these it was often like he was standing outside himself, watching. His astral self would scream and rant at him to just shut the hell up but his mouth seemed to have cut all ties to his brain and words just spilled over his lips like wine. Much more behaviour like this and his brain was just going to permanently hang an out to lunch sign and he’d never get his mouth and brain communicating again. He’d never get him and Blair communicating again.
Sighing, Jim continued his assent of the stairs, tired thighs burning at their use, feet sore and falling heavy upon the steps, his footsteps echoing up into his empty room.
When Jim descended the stairs the next morning there was no familiar aroma of coffee, no half comatose Sandburg shuffling to the bathroom, greeting the cop in a monosyllabic slur. The bathroom was neat and the kitchen stowed away.
Propped up on a mug that sat by the coffee machine was a note.
‘I’ve made you an appointment at the Doctor’s at 5.30. Humour me, and besides I’ll know if you don’t go. It’s my night to cook but I won’t be in, so I’ve left a $20 on the side for take out.
Blair.’
----- ----- ----- ----- -----
Jim sat in the doctor’s waiting room, elbows resting on his thighs, hands hanging loose between. He really should have brought something to read, something to occupy his hands while he waited. The magazines that lay scattered across the coffee table were all very much aimed at women and the only urge towards them that Jim felt was the overwhelming desire to collect them and stack them neatly.
Looking up, Jim read the posters on the walls, smiling at the warnings to practice safe sex and be checked regularly. Chance would be a fine thing. The next wall showed adverts for products the doctor’s endorsed, probably coming with their own exorbitant price tag.
‘You do have a choice’, one informed Jim, ‘Take control of hair loss now.” Grimacing, Jim ran his right hand through his receding hair. It had never bothered him and at least it was his own colour. No ‘Just for Men’, for him thank you very much. Feeling the soft strands tease across his fingertips, Jim pondered growing it slightly. The buzz cut was familiar and easy to care for but maybe it was time for a change. Shaking his head, he dropped his hand. Nah, short was easy and he wasn’t the kind of man who embraced change. Besides, he’d seen the amount of care and attention that had to go into Sandburg’s hair. The young man’s hair suited him, but unlike seemingly everyone else in Cascade, Jim preferred when it was pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. It was just so Blair when it was like that, restrained but waiting to burst free at the most inopportune moments.
He couldn’t really think as to why he was here. The last time this had happened he’d been checked out and there was no medical basis for his complaint. But Blair had insisted he be checked, in case each situation was different. His hearing hadn’t come back in the same way as the time previously so, here he was bored out of his skull waiting to be poked and prodded. And Blair wasn’t even here to amuse him. He was off entertaining Taylor. Jim shut his eyes against the images of them spending the afternoon exploring each others bodies, furiously making love and languidly kissing the day away.
Jim knew if he had put up enough of a fuss that Blair would be sitting, cross-legged, on the chair next to him, trying in vain to teach some new meditation technique to keep the older man’s mind off the impending torture that he was fairly certain would be to no avail.
Jim knew the real reason for the loss of his sense. If they were, as Blair believed, related to his emotions then it was in fact Blair that was responsible. There was a difference between knowing that Blair was out there dating, sleeping around and actually witnessing it. Sure he’d seen the young man on the couch with Christine but he hadn’t yet developed any feelings beyond annoyance and resignation. Being here at the doctor’s was a waste of time. Standing, Jim pulled on his jacket, just as the door to his left opened and the doctor entered.
“Mr Ellison?”
“That’s me.” Well might as well put up with it after having waited so long. Blair would be devious enough to call the surgery if he thought for even a second Jim was lying to him about being checked out.
Well that was an afternoon wasted. Jim was certain the doctor was starting to see him as a total lunatic what with the number of times he was in and out of hospital and the surgery. The cop had come up with a cover story that a blast had left him temporarily unable to hear properly and that the loss had been followed by intense pain. According to the doctor everything was fine and he should have no further problems.
Part two"
A/N: Written for the Sentinel ’Get a Clue’ fic-a-thon. My prompt was ‘Daryl Banks, training manual and Cascade Towers’.
Beta: The ever patient and mocking the-fun-monkey and Brixxx!Their rewards are in heaven, or food.Whichever they prefer
(Have also just realised thatI may have used my prompts wrong so..if I have I'm sorry. I used them individually rather than together...)
Title: Accident waiting for a place to happen
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: J/B,B/OMC
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Angst, Non-con, hurt/comfort
Disclaimer: No, nothing to do with The Sentinel belongs to me(aside from my DVD's) and this isn't for profit.
Summary: One Of Blair's old friends returns to Cascade. Is Jim losing his Guide and how is the Sentinel going to react?
“How is it that I, Sentinel, equipped with pole, lines, lures and bait only caught four fish and you, nature boy with a stick, caught twice as many?” Jim had groused over this topic for the entire drive back to the loft, his macho pride severely dented by Blair’s continued ability to kick his ass at just about anything.
“Psychology my man. It’s all in the mind.” Blair raised his hands to his friend’s head and waggled his fingers.
“What? You saying I don’t really want to catch them? Cause I gotta tell you, Chief, I really do.”
“Nah. That’s not it. You gotta think like a fish, be the fish. Only when you reach true fishiness will you achieve your goal.” The student pressed his palms together in front of his chest, fingers pointing forwards and undulated his hands and arms, pretending to swim like a fish.
“Think like a fish, huh? Well I guess that explains a lot about you.”
“Hey. If you’re going to be like that, then I won’t share.” The caught booty sat in a cooler full of ice packs in the rear of the truck. They had had to drive a little further to find an area that wasn’t catch and release but the results had been worth it. What hadn’t been eaten at the campsite was to be cooked for dinner and Jim’s meal would be very meagre if he couldn’t convince his roommate to hand over some of his catch.
“Come on Jim, hurry it up. I wanna take a shower.” Blair raised one arm and took an exploratory sniff. “I need to take a shower.” Grimacing, Blair looked over at the man driving. “I would apologise for the smell but I gotta say, even to me you’re kind of ripe.”
Jim pulled into a space outside their building. Gathering their gear from the truck bed, the pair headed in, sneering at the defunct elevator and slowly pounded up the stairs, bags slung over weary shoulders.
“I got to tell you Chief, this added exertion isn’t helping at all with the smell.” Blair grinned at his friends bitching.
“Hey, I’m not so fond of myself right now. Faster we conquer the stairs, sooner I can shower and you can cook. It’s your day isn’t it?”
Not waiting for an answer, Blair slid the key home, nudging the door open with one booted toe. Hearing Jim closing the door behind him, the young man dropped his burden and began stripping as he made a bee-line to the bathroom, layers of fragrant cloth in his wake.
Jim could almost see the stench radiating off the shirts. He resisted the urge to kick them into Sandburg’s room, determined instead to glare meaningfully at them until his roommate tidied them himself and apologised. To that end, the cop looked up, only to see the bathroom door close. Ah well, the glaring would have to wait until Sandburg returned in a billow of steam and no doubt wrapped in every towel the pair possessed.
The older man settled for unpacking the fish and gathering the necessary utensils and other food stuffs he needed to make a meal. By the time Blair had exhausted the hot water supply of the greater Cascade area, steam was rolling gently from under the door before swelling out in a great rush as the student stepped out of the bathroom.
“Smells good, big guy. Shower is all yours.” Blair resumed drying his hair as he sauntered into his room, disappearing inside.
“Yeah, well you smell better too.” Checking on the progress of the food, Jim turned the burners down and went to take his own shower. With a yell at his roommate to keep an eye on dinner to make sure it, or the loft, didn’t burn, he went to take his own shower.
Dressed in jeans and a T, pulling on a long sleeve shirt, Blair glanced at the food and went to sort through the mail that had piled up in their absence. His pile seemed to consist of loan statements and junk mail. A familiar scrawl caught his eye and he tore into the envelope, tugging the enclosed letter free.
“Hey, watcha got there?” Unbeknownst to him, Jim had finished his quick shower and snuck up behind him, his own mail in his right hand. Folding the letter back up, Blair turned to his friend.
“Just a letter from a friend. He’s gonna be in town for a few days, and he’s suggested meeting up. I get to play personal tour guide.”
Jim crossed to the stove, turning off the grill and checking the rice and vegetables. “Who’s the lucky tourist?” Jim was intrigued by the visitor and wanted to ensure that his friend’s precious time would not be wasted by someone that did not deserve the man’s attention. If he was going to lose out on time spent with Blair, then the other person better be worth it.
“His name is Taylor. He helped set up all the techno-stuff in the anthro department. He used to work for Rainier but quit when he got a better offer. Plus it allowed him more time with his band. Not that they do all that well, but it’s his real passion. Technology stuff just pays his bills. And boy does it ever.”
The meal was pleasant, both men happy to be clean, warm and well fed. As Blair washed the dishes Jim perched on the back of the couch, staring at the offending items that still littered the otherwise immaculate loft. It had nearly killed him to just leave them there and not yell at Sandburg to clear them but he was determined that a look should be adequate. As he placed the last dish in the rack, Blair turned to see what had so entranced Jim’s gaze. When he saw his dirty clothing he rolled his eyes. He dried his hands off on the dish cloth and collected the clothes, depositing them in the hamper, determined to do laundry first thing in the morning. Settling down on the foot of his bed, Blair ran through a list of things he could do with Taylor, glad he had a week to prepare.
----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----
“Sandburg? Chief?” At the sound of Jim’s voice, Blair downed tools, cracking his spine as he stretched, before slithering off his bed to poke his head round the door.
“Yeah, man?” An inquisitive look was plastered across the honest features.
“I need to ask you a favour.” Blair wandered out of his room to stand by Jim at the base of the stairs. “I was meant to go with Daryl to the mall to pick up all the stuff for the party, but I’ve been called to Court so……”
“Uh-uh,” Blair retorted, taking a step back on the stairs so he could stand eye to eye with Jim. “Uh-uh,” he repeated, “I like my life the way it is, thanks. I like it safe and boring and most importantly, I want it to be long.”
The words amused Jim rather than annoying him. He knew Blair had a sense of adventure and a reckless streak; it was what stopped him from ever staying in the truck. He was certain that his young roommate would jump at the chance to help out on the shopping spree. If he had to, he’d play the Sentinel card. He already had a pitch rehearsed in his head about strip lighting and the noise of other shoppers. Fourth of July craziness or not, Blair was going to the mall.
Seeing the slight smile gracing his friend’s lips, Blair shook his head again. “No way, man. I seriously hate the mall.”
Jim laughed. “Well, I can tell that by the way you dress.” He couldn’t help the chortle that escaped at the expression that garnered from Blair. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I hurt your feelings? I forgot that looking like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards is fashionable these days.”
“Well, excuse me, Mr. Jeans and a T. I happen to prefer my clothes a little more unique. Why should I dress like everyone else, when I’m not like them? I like my clothes, I like my hair, and I’m not changing that for anyone. Not even you, Oh Great Sentinel.”
Jim caught a hint of wounded pride behind the words and chastised himself for his teasing. He knew he mustn’t have been the only one in the world that had picked on how his friend dressed and Blair had probably had to defend himself innumerable times. The fact that it was over something as trivial as clothing, made Jim feel ashamed that he had upset his roommate.
“Look, uh, I’m sorry, that was out of line. Anyway, you gonna help or not? Darryl is going to be here in half an hour and you know this is all he’s talked about for weeks. The Station’s Fourth of July picnic hasn’t been off his mind since he asked to help organise it.” Jim was trying to get just the right balance of authority and wheedling. He could see Blair starting to crack, his head bobbing slightly from side to side as he weighed up the pros and cons. He suddenly fixed Jim with an accusatory glare.
“You don’t have Court; Simon told me a couple days ago that you were Court free for a good few weeks. You never intended to go through with going to the mall did you? Did you?” Blair punctuated his words by stabbing the Sentinel in the chest with one indignant finger, backing the larger man into the living room.
“And you think that if you pull the little-boy-lost routine that I’ll just roll over and do whatever you say. Uh-uh buddy, not this time. You told Darryl you would help him, and help him you will.”
“Listen Sandburg, the Mall is going to be crowded, loud, the place stinks at the best of times and you expect me to go there without my Guide? If I’m going, you’re going.”
“No, I’m not.” Blair’s previously teasing tone took on a hard edge as he stood up to the man before him. “Taylor arrives tomorrow and I want to have finished the chapter I’m working on so I can devote my time to him, instead of you for a change.” Blair looked shocked at his words, the ensuing silence enveloping the two men.
Jim scowled. What was so wrong with his roommate? The light tone of the mock-battle had been lost, replaced with by a tinge of resentment. Did the young man resent spending time with him? Did he bore Blair?
“Sandburg?” As soon as it arrived, Blair’s anger fled in the face of the anguish obvious in the utterance.
“I didn’t…I don’t…I’m tired Big Guy, I didn’t mean it.” Blair flashed a brilliant smile at the cop, strong hands grasping broad shoulders in a brisk hug. “I’ve been staring at the screen for too long. Break will do me good.” Darting back into his room, Blair grabbed another shirt, despite the summer warmth.
“Let’s go.”
The two men filed out the door, Jim tossing a reminder to his friend not to forget his keys.
----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----
“Monopoly….War….Cleudo…..Chess….” Jim could hear Blair’s mumbling as well as the distinct sounds of boxes hitting the floor. ‘What the hell is he up to now?’ Jim wondered as he threw back the covers, shivering slightly as the cool air assaulted his sleep-warmed skin. Clad only in his boxers, the older man stepped to the railing and peered over it.
Blair sat on the floor, legs folded beneath him, his butt resting on his heels. In a pile behind him sat a number of slim rectangular boxes, all pilfered from the bookshelf before him. In a number of seconds another joined their ranks, knocking two away from each other before sliding down to hit the floor.
“Sandburg, what the hell are you doing?” At the sound of his roommates voice, Blair’s head jerked up, his eyes wide in surprise. “Sorry man, did I wake you?”
“No, the annihilation of my floor woke me, your continued muttering is keeping me awake. What are you looking for at...” Jim glanced at his watch, brow crinkling in annoyance, “...6am on a Saturday?”
Blair at least had the good grace to look sheepish. “I couldn’t sleep and figured I’d read a book but I founds the games.” He gestured towards the mess behind him. “You don’t strike me as the board game type. I was kinda surprised to find them here, you know?” Jim turned away from the railing, grabbing a t-shirt from the dresser and pulling it over his head as he jogged quickly down the stairs.
“Yeah, they’re Carolyn’s. She left them here when we…when she…. I didn’t know what to do with them and didn’t want to throw them out so…” He glared meaningfully at the mess, making ‘tidy it’ motions with his hands until the young man before him got the message and at least made a neat stack of the rejected games as Jim started a pot of coffee.
“You’ve never expressed interest in them before, Chief. Thought gambling was more your thing.” Jim grinned as Blair replaced the boxes on the unit and groaned as he stood; even young knees unforgiving for their time on the hard floor.
“Yeah well, you and the guys from Major Crimes got a little too lucky of late and I need that money for books you know. Figured I’d try something a little more sedate, a little less….”
“Likely to lose you money?”
“Yeah. Something like that. You mind?”
“No. Something on your mind?”
Taking the proffered mug of coffee from Jim, Blair sunk into a chair at the table, using his right leg to nudge out the opposing chair in invitation, wincing as the legs squeaked in protest at the rough treatment, possibly scratching the immaculate floor.
Pouring a mug of the aromatic dark liquid for himself, Jim took the chair and sat facing his roommate.
“Well?”
“Taylor arrives today and I guess I’m just concerned about keeping him entertained. We’ve written each other a bit, and talk on the phone but it’s been a while since we’ve actually seen each other, you know?”
“Well considering what I remember you telling me about some of your friends, I’m not sure I’d want to spend even that amount of time with him. Remember Larry?” Jim laughed and dodged the inevitable punch thrown his way. “Besides, he’s here on business right, so he’s just going to want to relax, so do stuff like that. Catch a game, go for some drinks and just stop worrying so much.”
“Yeah but Taylor…” Blair broke of whatever he was going to say and tried to articulate what he meant with his hands. He was failing miserably.
All week long it had been Taylor this, Taylor that. Jim was certain that if he ever met the other man he’d hate him on sight. Hell he was halfway there and all he had to contend with at the moment was the ghost. Not wanting to show his momentary flare of anger, Jim tried to help out his floundering friend.
“Well, like I said, just play it easy. Try asking him if there is anything he wants to do. Make plans but don’t get stuck with them if they aren’t what either of you want to do. Be flexible.” Blair stared at the other man in astonishment.
“Be flexible?” he parroted back. “Be flexible? This from the man who could make a metal rod look positively supple?” Jim stood from the table, hiding his reaction by burying himself in the fridge under the pretence of looking for something suitable for breakfast. He knew Blair was right but he didn’t want to face that at 6am in his own kitchen. He decided to try and keep the light tone of the conversation going, still concerned over Blair’s little episode the day before. Nothing more had been said about it but Jim was worried.
“Oh, you wound me.” Jim backed out of the fridge, sure that there was nothing more than fruit available and that just wasn’t going to be enough this morning. “Hey, you want to go out for breakfast? Pastries, danishes, the whole nine yards, my treat. You’re going to need your strength up to keep Taylor entertained, although if what I hear of the computer industry is true, he’s going to have a hard time keeping up with you.”
Blair shot him a quizzical glance, eyebrows shooting up into his hair line. “What?”
Jim picked up an apple, to tide him over until both men had showered and changed, and bit into it, juices bubbling to the surface as he bit into it, small drops splattering the counter and Jim’s hand before being wiped away. He turned to regard his friend, pleased beyond reason that he could still stump the little guy.
“Well, come on. He works with computers all day long. I’m willing to bet he’s gained a few since you last met him, and I hate to have to tell you this, but you take a lot of work. Running after you, trying to fight against the pull to the Sandburg Zone, not to mention feigning interest when you get all scientific.” Jim eased the sting of the tease with a smile, gnawing the remaining flesh of the apple from the core. Blair just glared at him.
As Jim chewed, Blair snuck a glance at the Sentinel, the golden skin of his jaw stretching as his mouth worked, lips pursed to keep any further juice from escaping. Leaning against the counter, relaxed and affable, despite his interrupted sleep, Jim was beautiful. And utterly off-limits. But then Blair was really used to not getting what he wanted.
The sound of the apple core hitting the trash can pulled lair from his ogling as Jim advanced across the kitchen. For a moment the young man was concerned that Jim had caught him drooling and was going to demand he tell him why, but the older man just walked straight past him in the direction of the shower.
“I feel like hot water today. That ok?” Blair made a show of agreeing with his roommate and graciously allowed him first shower. Checking his watch, he wandered to his room to pull out some fresh clothes and pack his bag for later when Taylor was in town.
----- ----- ----- ------ ------
Breakfast had been wonderful, even if after the caffeine injection Blair’s babble consisted almost entirely of Taylor-talk. Jim was glad that he had arrangements to meet Joel when Taylor would be dropping by. He was pretty sure if he even heard the name mentioned one more time he’d scream or kill someone. Quite possibly both at the same time. Although it would be tempting to hang around so that the victim could be the star of the morning himself.
Jim had dropped Blair off at a bookstore on his way back to the loft after having gotten many assurances that he would be back in time to meet Taylor. Jim had no intention of hanging around to play host just because Blair could keep his head out of a pile of dusty tomes long enough to remember that the real world existed out there somewhere. The chances of the plan succeeding were actually pretty good as there were hours yet before Taylor’s arrival. By which time, Jim would be long gone.
After having cleaned out the fridge, hoping Blair wouldn’t notice when some of the bacterial study he called food mysteriously ended up in the trash and scrubbed the counters until they gleamed, Jim was headed up the stairs to change when he heard footsteps in the hall, short thuds that slowed past #307 but carried on past, only to stop short. A rustle of a paper followed and the steps returned. Walking to the door, Jim pulled it open just as the person on the other side raised his hand to knock.
“Yes?” Jim figured his welcome greeting could use a little polish but he didn’t recognise the man and didn’t know what he wanted. The man in the hallway was a little shorter than Jim, just topping six foot and though he was not as muscular as the cop he was in no way slight. His blond hair was slicked back from his face with so much gel it looked as if he’d only just stepped from the shower. Green eyes were well set in a tanned face. A cruel mouth and strong jaw made the man look hard rather than attractive. A black blazer was slung over one shoulder in stark contrast with the crisp white shirt beneath, where an expensive-looking gold clasp still rested between buttons. A necktie peeked out of the right pocket of the man’s slacks, the vibrant red like a wound on the fabric.
The man smiled. “Mr. Ellison, right?” Jim’s stomach hit rock bottom. This, this, was Taylor? Where was the guy that made Joel look slim and went translucent in sunlight? Why did Taylor have to look like this?
“Mr. Ellison?” the man before asked politely as he reached out a hand to shake.
“So, you’re Taylor? The guy started to grin at the large man still blocking the doorway.
“That’s me.”
“You’re early.” The engaging grin was gone in a flash. Jim figured that despite his near instant dislike of the man, that he was at least owed an explanation. “Blair isn’t here. He’s not expecting you for another-” Jim checked his watch, “ninety minutes. I can give him a call, see if I can get him home.” Jim had every intention of having Blair back in the loft before he could do some harm to Taylor.
“Hey, yeah that would be great. I’m only here for five days so it would be nice if he was here for some of it, you know?” Jim made a point of not responding. He knew Blair could be a little flaky but he didn’t like other people commenting on it when it was their own fault that the man in question wasn’t around.
“You better come in then.” It pained Jim to step away from the door and allow the other man into his home. Looking down at his rumpled shirt and clocking Taylor’s near immaculate attire, he headed towards the stairs. “Take a seat; I just need to change my shirt.” Jim bounded up the stairs, wrenching the first shirt he came across out of a drawer and pulled it on over his t-shirt.
“So, Blair said you’re a cop, a detective?” Taylor was still standing in the kitchen, green eyes watching Jim’s every move in a truly unnerving manner. “You always wanted to be a cop?”
It took a moment for Jim to unclench his jaw. “No. I was in the Army but I left and I needed a job. Seemed to fit me ok.”
“Well more than ok from what I’ve heard. You’re thought to be the best cop out there; finding people first and fast.” Ah, so we had reached the buttering up portion of the day. Taylor could obviously feel the tension and figured a little greasing of the wheels might make the cop feel a little more inclined to be nice.
Jim acknowledged the compliment with a tight grin. “I do my best, get lucky.” He held up a hand to quell the inevitable fawning that would try to accompany that statement as he picked up the phone to call Blair.
“Sandburg, your friend is here… No I don’t know… Maybe he caught an earlier flight. Just…ok…I will….ten minutes? Ok.” Jim hung up, hoping the Blair was right and that he was only a few minutes away. He turned and relayed the information to Taylor, knowing the man had heard at least his side of the conversation but deciding it would only be polite to let him know.
“So? How long have you known Blair?” Taylor smiled as he asked, seeming to be genuinely attempting a conversation.
Jim barked out a short laugh at the question. “Sometimes it feels like forever.” Green eyes flashed with amusement, the man moving closer to Jim to pat him on the shoulder. “My condolences.” Jim fought not to recoil at the touch and the proximity. At this distance Jim could smell the computer technician, the aroma an unwelcome intrusion into the cop’s head. The tang of fresh sweat and a cloying aftershave was permeating Jim’s head, making his feel woozy, as if he’d stood up too fast.
Jim took a step back, covering his revulsion by turning away as if to collect his coffee mug, waving an empty one at Taylor in silent invitation to join him. “No thanks.” Jim busied himself, refilling his cup, stretching out the time he could politely spend not conversing with the blond man and limiting the contact between them.
“So, how’d you do that trick with the door?” At the question, the right side of Jim’s mouth quirked up into a grin. From the slight quiver in Taylor’s voice, the older man could tell that his opening of the door before hearing a knock had put the young man of his balance. Good. He could almost smell the curiosity rolling of Taylor as the other man once again stepped closer. It made Jim’s blood boil; why couldn’t the guy get the idea and step back. Without turning, Jim muttered something about having good hearing.
Behind him, the blond man seemed to realise that Jim was not a small talk kind of a guy. The large man was becoming increasingly annoyed with the other man’s presence and was planning all the torture that he could impart on Blair for being late. Where the hell was the little guy anyway? Silence descended pretty quickly over the inhabitants of the loft, broken only by the clinking of crockery as Jim put away the last of the washing up and rinsed out the jug form the coffee maker. Turning he leant his butt against the counter and crossed his arms against his chest, knowing full well the figure he cut as his biceps stretched the thin cotton of shirt. Usually he only utilized his imposing stature on criminals and lawyers. He was willing to make an exception.
And yet, when he looked up, those green eyes didn’t show a hint of fear. Taylor coolly regarded him from his spot by the table, his pose mirroring Jim’s, although his own was far less intimidating.
“I think we both know that you don’t seem to like me very much, despite never having met me before, so let’s not bother tap-dancing around each other. I’m not sure why you have taken this dislike but I’m guessing it’s got something to do with Blair.”
Jim appreciated the man’s frankness but was perplexed that he had been read so easily. Why couldn’t the computer technician just assume, like everyone else, that Ellison was a cranky asshole? Jim did his best not to scowl.
“I don’t have any problems with you. I just don’t know you and you’re in my home. With me those are generally not two things that go together.” Jim figured his explanation sounded pretty plausible.
Taylor narrowed his eyes as if assessing Jim. It was unnerving. Was this how perps felt? Jim could feel his hackles rise, the desire to throw this guy out of the loft via the window was overwhelming.
Just as Jim straightened up, fingers itching to form fists, biceps tightening in anticipation, the human hurricane known as Blair Sandburg whirled in the door.
“T, man, you made it. Gimme a sec to get changed, I’m not so fresh, and we’ll catch up.” True to his word, Blair rushed into his room and moments later returned in a new set of shirts, walking up to Taylor and enveloping him in a huge hug. The two men chatted fro a few minutes in Blair’s room as they discussed their plans for the day before walking into the kitchen to grab a few apples and a couple bottles of water.
“Hey Jim, we’re heading off to the park. Want to come with?” The look Taylor shot Jim was pure don’t-you-dare-say-yes. Not wanting to seem intimidated or miss a chance to piss the guy off Jim was tempted to say yes but Blair looked so happy he didn’t want to ruin his day.
“Nah, Chief, I’m good thanks. Got some stuff I got to do so, go have fun.” After the two had left Jim growled, a low menacing sound like a caged beast. Why was he acting like this? Why was he taking such a hatred to Taylor? The little voice in his head contrived to tell him it was only because the other man seemed to be a jerk and Jim had heard nothing but his name for a week and frankly seeing him in the flesh was an anti-climax.
----- ----- ----- ----- -----
The evening had been a bust. The woman that Joel had set Jim up with had been the most boring person he had ever had the displeasure to meet. She was so wrapped up in her fishbowl of a life that she couldn’t see the bigger picture. She didn’t care for or about anybody that wasn’t in her own social circle and considered anything that got in the way of her plans to be the enemy. Jim was all for having goals but she was off the scale. Besides, he was trying to cut back on the sheer number of psychotics he dated. He couldn’t take the teasing from Blair anymore. The food had been exquisite yet expensive and Jim would have happily spent his time watching a game with him roommate, arguing over what type of take-out the younger man would allow him. The cop often worried that Blair took greater care of Jim’s diet than his own.
Maybe the night wouldn’t be a total loss; it was still early enough that, despite endless teasing from Blair, the two could take in a movie on the TV, maybe some popcorn before crashing. As Jim reached the end of the street to turn towards the lot where he had parked the car, he remembered that tonight Blair was off entertaining Taylor. Just like the last two nights,
While waiting for the pedestrian sign to change to walk, Jim took in his surroundings. He had deliberately chosen an out of the way place for the date, not wanting to be seen by anyone from Major Crimes for fear of teasing and he wanted to stay away from the commercialized areas that were loud and brightly lit. Unfortunately his date had seen this as a sign of great romance rather than just a way to avoid excessive stimuli. Despite his obvious lack of interest she had clung like a limpet. His extraction had been less than smooth and he was worried that he’d be having an uncomfortable, not to mention unpleasant, conversation with Joel in the morning.
Movement off to his left caught Jim’s interest. A tall, blonde man, wearing a mask not out of place at a masquerade ball, was trying to dance his male partner down the street, the pair twirling and laughing as they pin wheeled from one side of the sidewalk to the other, apologising to lampposts and mailboxes alike. Neither seemed drunk, just happy to be alive and in each others company. The movement of the man’s partner seemed familiar, the laughter one which Jim knew as well as his own.
Blair.
Blair wasn’t simply showing Taylor around the town. He was dating Taylor. This was a date. The dancing stopped at the corner, with Taylor drawing Blair, bouncy and breathless, against his body ceasing the peal of a further giggle fit with a kiss. Blair appeared to get with the program very quickly, expressive hands gripping the others body to him, swaying the pair in a slow circle as they embraced.
Jim could do nothing but stare. It was at once the most beautiful and most horrific scene he had ever witnessed. The raw splendour of the two men, taking pleasure from each other firing an arousal so strong it took Jim’s breath away. But that Blair was with another man nearly drove Jim to tears. Forcing himself to look away, not to stare, Jim turned right down the street towards the parking lot. He needed to get back to the loft, back home. There everything would be comfortable, familiar. Nothing there ever changed and he could get his bearing back. And when Blair returned they could talk. Or not. Whatever.
On the short trip back to the truck Jim was achingly depressed; he was alone and craving the contact of another. He had long suspected that Blair happily sampled from both ends of the Cascades gene pool but had never shown any interest in Jim than his usual easy-going attitude and an unnerving readiness to argue for anything and everything he cared for.
Jim knew he could stake no claim on the younger man but it didn’t stop him from fearing every pretty co-ed that was able to crawl up under the covers with the young anthropologist, didn’t stop him fantasising over the countless ways he could dispose of the bodies with no evidence. Jim was terrified of the one, male or female, that would turn Blair’s head so much that he would forget his obsession with Sentinels, move out and be lost to the older man. It could be anyone at anytime.
Maybe it was Taylor.
In his mind Jim could see the pair going to Club Doom, dancing together. He knew enough from seeing Blair dance around the loft that the guy had an easy, natural rhythm; loose and cool. Blair put everything into his dancing; hips thrusting, arms weaving, curls swirling around his head. Jim could see the sweat that would plaster the hair to skin, see the tongue that would snake out to clear the upper lip. The pair would leave together, off to the apartment Taylor was borrowing, hot, sweaty and achingly aroused. They would fall onto the bed together, strip each other, their gasps and pants would fill the empty space as they vigorously drove each other to climax.
Unlocking the driver’s door and settling himself into the seat, Jim felt a crushing wave of jealousy. How dare Blair give his body to someone else? How dare Taylor presume he could touch what he didn’t deserve? Shaking his head, Jim started the truck, slid it into gear and indicated to pull out into the traffic. Blair wasn’t his, never was, never would be and one of these days he would have to give him up without a word, having never had any real right to him.
Oddly enough when he got home, Blair was already there. He looked up from the couch, where he was lazing, to smile at Jim when he walked through the door.
“Ohh, date at eight, news at eleven, huh?” The smile was easy, accompanying a salute with the beer bottle grasped in the young man’s right hand.
“Well, you don’t seem to have done any better, Chief.” Jim surreptitiously checked over his roommate for signs of sex or arousal. Nothing, nadda. Lips, while full, weren’t bruised or swollen. Blair had changed since Jim had last seen him, so he could only faintly detect the smells of smoke and alcohol that were left on skin and lingering in hair. Realising he was once again staring, and thankful the student had been distracted by the red-headed news anchor, Jim grunted something about getting changed and headed up the stairs. While he changed Blair read out the TV listings and they both finally agreed on a movie to watch.
Jim lost the battle about popcorn, cutting Blair off in mid-lecture about that much fat so late at night. Jim eschewed the option of pointing out that calories were calories regardless of the time of day but stayed quiet. His mind was in too much turmoil to deal with an all out assault from Blair. Paying no attention to the movie, Jim spent much of the time stealing glances of the other man, cataloguing every inch of available skin.
Jim suddenly felt awkward. Being back in the loft had seemed such a good idea; if he was surrounded by the familiar then he could broach the new with Blair. He hadn’t expected the intimacy, even if it was only one sided. He shouldn’t know something like this about his friend if the information hadn’t been offered freely.
Looking up from the TV Blair yawned widely, jaw cracking. “I’m going to bed. Tell me how it ends.” The student rolled off the couch and shuffled to his room, turning on the light before rummaging for his shirt and boxers and heading for the bathroom.
Jim listened to him in the other room; he could hear the water running as teeth were brushed and the splash of water against skin and sink as soap was rinsed. The water shut off. As he waited his turn, memories from the evening filtered through Jim’s mind. Memories he shouldn’t have, and didn’t want.
Blair and Taylor.
It hadn’t bothered him before when others touched Blair. People seemed to do it a lot. The young man just had one of those faces teamed with an easy going personality that just made people gravitate towards him. He seemed to have zero personal space so he was constantly being handled. Jim himself often mock-punched or patted his partner. It had never been an issue before.
Tonight it was.
Blair opened the door, face still slightly damp, clutching a small towel in his right hand as he dried his face. Seeing his roommates back immovable before him, Blair stepped forward, concerned.
“Hey, Jim?” He reached out to touch the tanned shoulder. Jim jumped at the touch, whirling round to face his assailant.
“Jim, you ok?” Jim could see the lips moving but heard nothing. He blinked rapidly and shook his head, as if trying to clear the fog in his mind. Blair gripped the broad shoulders, fingers moving in soothing circles, tips digging into the tense muscles, forcing the larger man to try and relax.
As Jim saw Blair open his mouth to speak, he shook his head and interrupted. “It’s not a zone, Chief. I can’t hear you.” A low level hum resonated in his head followed swiftly by a high pitched whine. Jim’s hands flew up to his ears, dislodging Blair’s hold, as he tried fruitlessly to drive the sound away. Moment later it stopped.
“Jim, Jim, are you ok?” Jim dropped his hands to look into the anxious face of his guide. He nodded.
“I’m fine. Must have turned a dial too low or something.” Blair wasn’t convinced by the answer. There was an uncertainty in the cop’s eyes that disturbed him.
“Jim, if we can find out the cause, maybe we can fix it. You gotta tell me what its like. What is bothering you? Is it like before, when you were with Beverly?”
“Sandburg, let it go. Just drop the science stuff and let’s just get some sleep huh? I don’t feel like being your little lab rat right now.”
Blair’s face instantly shuttered to hide his pain at having been shot down, again. This wasn’t about his research, this wasn’t about the diss, this was just about him wanting to help his friend. The older man was so obviously concerned and tried to hide behind walls of sarcasm and great waves of animosity.
“Yeah, sure, whatever man.” Turning on his heel, Blair resisted stomping back to his room and slamming the door. Instead he walked slowly away, his body rigid with tension, his steps slow and deliberate. He reminded Jim briefly of a drunk who was desperately trying to appear sober by being calculated and methodical. The cop knew he’d just hurt his friend but could do nothing to stop himself. At times like these it was often like he was standing outside himself, watching. His astral self would scream and rant at him to just shut the hell up but his mouth seemed to have cut all ties to his brain and words just spilled over his lips like wine. Much more behaviour like this and his brain was just going to permanently hang an out to lunch sign and he’d never get his mouth and brain communicating again. He’d never get him and Blair communicating again.
Sighing, Jim continued his assent of the stairs, tired thighs burning at their use, feet sore and falling heavy upon the steps, his footsteps echoing up into his empty room.
When Jim descended the stairs the next morning there was no familiar aroma of coffee, no half comatose Sandburg shuffling to the bathroom, greeting the cop in a monosyllabic slur. The bathroom was neat and the kitchen stowed away.
Propped up on a mug that sat by the coffee machine was a note.
‘I’ve made you an appointment at the Doctor’s at 5.30. Humour me, and besides I’ll know if you don’t go. It’s my night to cook but I won’t be in, so I’ve left a $20 on the side for take out.
Blair.’
----- ----- ----- ----- -----
Jim sat in the doctor’s waiting room, elbows resting on his thighs, hands hanging loose between. He really should have brought something to read, something to occupy his hands while he waited. The magazines that lay scattered across the coffee table were all very much aimed at women and the only urge towards them that Jim felt was the overwhelming desire to collect them and stack them neatly.
Looking up, Jim read the posters on the walls, smiling at the warnings to practice safe sex and be checked regularly. Chance would be a fine thing. The next wall showed adverts for products the doctor’s endorsed, probably coming with their own exorbitant price tag.
‘You do have a choice’, one informed Jim, ‘Take control of hair loss now.” Grimacing, Jim ran his right hand through his receding hair. It had never bothered him and at least it was his own colour. No ‘Just for Men’, for him thank you very much. Feeling the soft strands tease across his fingertips, Jim pondered growing it slightly. The buzz cut was familiar and easy to care for but maybe it was time for a change. Shaking his head, he dropped his hand. Nah, short was easy and he wasn’t the kind of man who embraced change. Besides, he’d seen the amount of care and attention that had to go into Sandburg’s hair. The young man’s hair suited him, but unlike seemingly everyone else in Cascade, Jim preferred when it was pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. It was just so Blair when it was like that, restrained but waiting to burst free at the most inopportune moments.
He couldn’t really think as to why he was here. The last time this had happened he’d been checked out and there was no medical basis for his complaint. But Blair had insisted he be checked, in case each situation was different. His hearing hadn’t come back in the same way as the time previously so, here he was bored out of his skull waiting to be poked and prodded. And Blair wasn’t even here to amuse him. He was off entertaining Taylor. Jim shut his eyes against the images of them spending the afternoon exploring each others bodies, furiously making love and languidly kissing the day away.
Jim knew if he had put up enough of a fuss that Blair would be sitting, cross-legged, on the chair next to him, trying in vain to teach some new meditation technique to keep the older man’s mind off the impending torture that he was fairly certain would be to no avail.
Jim knew the real reason for the loss of his sense. If they were, as Blair believed, related to his emotions then it was in fact Blair that was responsible. There was a difference between knowing that Blair was out there dating, sleeping around and actually witnessing it. Sure he’d seen the young man on the couch with Christine but he hadn’t yet developed any feelings beyond annoyance and resignation. Being here at the doctor’s was a waste of time. Standing, Jim pulled on his jacket, just as the door to his left opened and the doctor entered.
“Mr Ellison?”
“That’s me.” Well might as well put up with it after having waited so long. Blair would be devious enough to call the surgery if he thought for even a second Jim was lying to him about being checked out.
Well that was an afternoon wasted. Jim was certain the doctor was starting to see him as a total lunatic what with the number of times he was in and out of hospital and the surgery. The cop had come up with a cover story that a blast had left him temporarily unable to hear properly and that the loss had been followed by intense pain. According to the doctor everything was fine and he should have no further problems.
Part two"