'Skyrockets in Flight', Jim/Blair, PG
Written for the glorious Day of Schmoop over at
schmoop_age. The prompt was "kissing under the fireworks".
The Sentinel, Jim/Blair, PG, 840 words and only a little schmoop, honest.
If you're unfamiliar with The Sentinel, Jim has enhanced senses and sometimes he has trouble controlling them. Blair is the geek anthropologist that helps him, and obviously that's easier to do if they're living together. The slash writes itself.
Beta kisses to
janedavitt. Thank you!
SKYROCKETS IN FLIGHT
Jim shook his head decidedly. “Not on my grill, Chief.”
“Come on, Jim! Tofu dogs are healthy! I’ll bet you’ve never even tried one.”
“You’d win that bet.” Jim smirked. “It’s a holiday, Sandburg. Declare independence from health food for a day, huh?”
“Do you have any idea how much fat is in a bratwurst?”
“No.” Jim pushed past Blair. “And you’re not going to tell me. It’s about the flavor, not the calories or the sodium content or anything else.”
Blair made a face. “Flavor.”
Jim pulled two beer bottles out of the fridge and waved one in Blair’s direction. Blair nodded and reached out to take it, twisting off the cap and raising it to his mouth. “Boiled in beer and then grilled,” Jim said, smacking his lips.
Blair narrowly avoided choking on his first gulp. “You could have just said that, man.” He peered around Jim towards the fridge. “Are you sure we’ve got enough?”
“Relax, Chief. We’ve got enough beer to last us through the seventh.”
They clinked their bottles together in a salute to the Glorious Four-Day Weekend.
~~
Jim started grilling out on the balcony just before sunset, and they ate their meal and watched the sky change color and belched and laughed and relaxed.
By the time they’d cleaned up, dusk had passed and night had settled in. Jim and Blair had settled in, too, lounging in their deck chairs, chips and dip on a table between them, a cooler of beer at their feet. Waiting for the show to begin.
Right on schedule, a flash of light rocketed skywards, and a thunderous boom sounded in the near distance. “This is so cool!” Blair exclaimed. “It’s like we’ve got ringside seats!”
Jim winced and dialed down his hearing. A giant blue waterfall effect burst across the sky, spawning smaller red and green torrents. The lights faded, but Jim’s retinas still held the image, and he blinked. Faintly, he heard the next rocket, and the sky filled with a bright white chrysanthemum. He winced again.
Three launches, three explosions of bright light and loud bangs. Loud even with his hearing dialed down? The next rocket sounded like it was going off right beside him, and Jim jumped to his feet and covered his ears, ducking. Red and white poinsettias filled the sky, and Jim squeezed his eyes shut. The fireworks behind his lids were green. Hands touched him and he whirled, panting.
Blair’s lips were moving, but Jim couldn’t hear him, couldn’t hear anything. Pink and blue dahlias. He hadn’t heard the rockets launch. He stared at the sky, confused. Blair’s hands reached up and seized his head, turning Jim’s face to meet his anxious gaze. “Jim!” Had he heard that, or read Blair’s lips? Jim shook his head, and Blair gripped him tighter. “Jim! Look at me! Listen to me! Tune the rest out, it’s okay, man, you can do this.”
“I heard that!” Jim gasped. “Chief, I can’t control my senses! I dialed my hearing down and it shot back up again. And the light…” The light was in Blair’s eyes. Reflected…
“Just focus on me,” Blair urged. “Don’t look at the sky and tune out the sounds. Just you and me, everything’s cool.”
Jim felt more than heard the high-pitched whistling, and he stared, entranced, at the specks of light that darted and swerved and wheeled like a flock of birds across Blair’s eyes.
“Let’s go inside,” Blair said, slowly and distinctly. He released Jim’s face and took his hand. “Come on.” Twin green peonies filled his pupils.
“It’s okay,” Jim answered, resisting Blair’s tug. “Everything’s back under control.”
Blair frowned and pushed his hair behind his ear. “You sure?” White explosions on black, and a faint popping in Jim’s ears. Strobes. “Jim?”
“Beautiful,” Jim murmured. Blue sparks, now, raining down, disappearing into the blueness that surrounded them. His hand cupped Blair’s jaw gently. Blair blinked several times, and when he stopped green and red and white blossoms overlaid each other, and the thudding in Jim’s ears was his own heartbeat.
“Oh, man,” Blair whispered, staring up at him, and the sound pierced Jim. Blair’s gaze flickered up to the sky as a myriad of colors burst and spread and soared and fell. Jim could hear the whizzes and the bangs and the booms and the cracks, and it all sounded blessedly normal now. Dilated pupils turned back to him. “Grand finale.”
Jim nodded slowly. “Grand finale.” Blair’s tongue darted out and moistened his lips, and Jim leaned down and Blair reached up and they were kissing, and the sky lit up around them, and touch and taste came to the forefront for them both.
But even as he focused in on the feeling of Blair’s strong body in his arms and the flavors of beer and salt and sour cream overlaid with an essential Blair-ness that saturated his mouth, Jim’s Sentinel hearing was picking up the oohs and ahs that filled the Cascade night.
He thought they seemed entirely appropriate.
schmoop_age. The prompt was "kissing under the fireworks".
The Sentinel, Jim/Blair, PG, 840 words and only a little schmoop, honest.
If you're unfamiliar with The Sentinel, Jim has enhanced senses and sometimes he has trouble controlling them. Blair is the geek anthropologist that helps him, and obviously that's easier to do if they're living together. The slash writes itself.
Beta kisses to
janedavitt. Thank you!
SKYROCKETS IN FLIGHT
Jim shook his head decidedly. “Not on my grill, Chief.”
“Come on, Jim! Tofu dogs are healthy! I’ll bet you’ve never even tried one.”
“You’d win that bet.” Jim smirked. “It’s a holiday, Sandburg. Declare independence from health food for a day, huh?”
“Do you have any idea how much fat is in a bratwurst?”
“No.” Jim pushed past Blair. “And you’re not going to tell me. It’s about the flavor, not the calories or the sodium content or anything else.”
Blair made a face. “Flavor.”
Jim pulled two beer bottles out of the fridge and waved one in Blair’s direction. Blair nodded and reached out to take it, twisting off the cap and raising it to his mouth. “Boiled in beer and then grilled,” Jim said, smacking his lips.
Blair narrowly avoided choking on his first gulp. “You could have just said that, man.” He peered around Jim towards the fridge. “Are you sure we’ve got enough?”
“Relax, Chief. We’ve got enough beer to last us through the seventh.”
They clinked their bottles together in a salute to the Glorious Four-Day Weekend.
~~
Jim started grilling out on the balcony just before sunset, and they ate their meal and watched the sky change color and belched and laughed and relaxed.
By the time they’d cleaned up, dusk had passed and night had settled in. Jim and Blair had settled in, too, lounging in their deck chairs, chips and dip on a table between them, a cooler of beer at their feet. Waiting for the show to begin.
Right on schedule, a flash of light rocketed skywards, and a thunderous boom sounded in the near distance. “This is so cool!” Blair exclaimed. “It’s like we’ve got ringside seats!”
Jim winced and dialed down his hearing. A giant blue waterfall effect burst across the sky, spawning smaller red and green torrents. The lights faded, but Jim’s retinas still held the image, and he blinked. Faintly, he heard the next rocket, and the sky filled with a bright white chrysanthemum. He winced again.
Three launches, three explosions of bright light and loud bangs. Loud even with his hearing dialed down? The next rocket sounded like it was going off right beside him, and Jim jumped to his feet and covered his ears, ducking. Red and white poinsettias filled the sky, and Jim squeezed his eyes shut. The fireworks behind his lids were green. Hands touched him and he whirled, panting.
Blair’s lips were moving, but Jim couldn’t hear him, couldn’t hear anything. Pink and blue dahlias. He hadn’t heard the rockets launch. He stared at the sky, confused. Blair’s hands reached up and seized his head, turning Jim’s face to meet his anxious gaze. “Jim!” Had he heard that, or read Blair’s lips? Jim shook his head, and Blair gripped him tighter. “Jim! Look at me! Listen to me! Tune the rest out, it’s okay, man, you can do this.”
“I heard that!” Jim gasped. “Chief, I can’t control my senses! I dialed my hearing down and it shot back up again. And the light…” The light was in Blair’s eyes. Reflected…
“Just focus on me,” Blair urged. “Don’t look at the sky and tune out the sounds. Just you and me, everything’s cool.”
Jim felt more than heard the high-pitched whistling, and he stared, entranced, at the specks of light that darted and swerved and wheeled like a flock of birds across Blair’s eyes.
“Let’s go inside,” Blair said, slowly and distinctly. He released Jim’s face and took his hand. “Come on.” Twin green peonies filled his pupils.
“It’s okay,” Jim answered, resisting Blair’s tug. “Everything’s back under control.”
Blair frowned and pushed his hair behind his ear. “You sure?” White explosions on black, and a faint popping in Jim’s ears. Strobes. “Jim?”
“Beautiful,” Jim murmured. Blue sparks, now, raining down, disappearing into the blueness that surrounded them. His hand cupped Blair’s jaw gently. Blair blinked several times, and when he stopped green and red and white blossoms overlaid each other, and the thudding in Jim’s ears was his own heartbeat.
“Oh, man,” Blair whispered, staring up at him, and the sound pierced Jim. Blair’s gaze flickered up to the sky as a myriad of colors burst and spread and soared and fell. Jim could hear the whizzes and the bangs and the booms and the cracks, and it all sounded blessedly normal now. Dilated pupils turned back to him. “Grand finale.”
Jim nodded slowly. “Grand finale.” Blair’s tongue darted out and moistened his lips, and Jim leaned down and Blair reached up and they were kissing, and the sky lit up around them, and touch and taste came to the forefront for them both.
But even as he focused in on the feeling of Blair’s strong body in his arms and the flavors of beer and salt and sour cream overlaid with an essential Blair-ness that saturated his mouth, Jim’s Sentinel hearing was picking up the oohs and ahs that filled the Cascade night.
He thought they seemed entirely appropriate.