Archive of Our Own ^beta

'The Sentinel' and all its characters belong to Pet Fly and Paramount. I heard Henri is trying to get DVD rights, so hopefully someday I'll be infringing on him as well.

Millions of thanks to Pam and Mary for the brainstorming, beta and nudges. Any mistakes you find are mine; they tried their best to get me to listen to reason! Thanks to Pam for the line about the mountain, to Mary for the title and to SORT for being the crazy slasher chicks ya are, with all that entails.

A wee bit of backstory -- in my universe, Jim and Blair get together in late May, about 3 weeks after the whole Alex fiasco. Therefore, my 'season 4' is AU from that point. I take the rest of the TS seasons as gospel.

"Then I'll just wait until you're done."

"Chief...." Jim paused, knowing that the 'be reasonable' he'd originally intended would send his partner barreling straight from mild stubbornness into pure... well, unreasonableness. "I can handle this on my own." Deep blue eyes narrowed and an obstinate chin lifted. Jim sighed. He understood -- now more than ever -- why Blair refused to be left behind in the truck during a case, but this was different. This time their suspect was already in custody and was, in fact, primed and ready for a patented 'Ellison interrogation.' The only issue was timing. "Blair, I don't want you to miss out on that lecture. You and Daryl have been talking about it for weeks, ever since Simon suggested we all get out of town together for the long weekend."

"Jim, it's not a big deal --"

"Yes, it is. You know they don't offer guided tours of the dig site on weekends, so today's your only chance." Jim took in Blair's pensive expression, then appealed to his guide's protective streak. "Besides, if you don't go, Daryl'll have to drag Simon along and that won't be fun for anyone."

Blair tilted his head down, hiding a smile as the man in question entered the room.

"Well, Sandburg, are you riding up with Daryl and I or are you going to waste the last Friday of the summer loitering around the police station?"

With an effort, Jim kept his face impassive as Blair looked back up. He'd made his feelings clear -- yet another recent change for the better in their relationship -- but the actual decision had to be his partner's. He needed Blair to know he was respected as an equal member of the team, and if that meant keeping anything resembling orders, intimidation and blustering to a bare minimum, so be it. It wasn't as if they'd ever done much good anyway.

Blair raised one eyebrow slightly, analyzing Jim's silence. His lips curled in a small, appreciative smile as he responded, "You know, Simon, technically this really isn't the last Friday of summer; Labor Day predates the equinox by almost three weeks." Seeing the captain's eyebrows draw together, he averted the impending explosion by raising a conciliatory hand and heading for Jim's desk. "But seeing how loitering is a criminal offense regardless of the season, let me just grab my gear and we can get out of here."

Mollified, Simon nodded, then rested a large hand on his lead detective's shoulder, momentarily drawing his attention from the younger man's preparations. "So, we'll see you up there in a few hours, right, Jim?"

"As soon as I get this scumbag to crack and hand the D.A. another iron clad case," Jim replied with a lazy smile.

Simon sighed plaintively. "I envy you. All you've got to deal with is a low-level hood with an over-sized chip on his shoulder. I've got to keep a teenaged boy and him out of trouble," he said, gesturing at Blair, who was tightening the straps of his camping pack over his shoulders.

"Hey!"

Chuckling, Simon headed for the elevator. "I'll meet you downstairs, Sandburg. Two minutes!" he warned, his booming voice easily carrying back to the squad room.

Blair 'hmphed' his disapproval, then grimaced as his ponytail was captured and pulled by the heavy pack.

Shaking his head, Jim stepped closer and deftly maneuvered the heavy mass into a safe zone. "Trouble," he said softly, tucking an errant curl behind Blair's ear before letting his fingertips trail over the sensitive skin of his partner's bared neck. "Try to stay out of it for a few hours, okay? I'll be there as soon as I can."

"I know," Blair replied, angling his head toward the gentle touch, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure. "You be careful too, okay?"

"Sure thing, Chief." Jim focused his hearing for a moment and, realizing they were alone, leaned forward to brush his lips over Blair's.

Startled, Blair's eyes popped open and he took a small step back. Glancing around, he grinned, then pulled Jim into another brief, but slightly more satisfying, kiss. "So much for no PDAs at work, huh, man?"

Jim laughed, giving Blair a nudge toward the elevators. "Technically, Sandburg, it's only 'public' if someone's around to see it. Now go catch up with Simon before he leaves you here."

"As if that would be such a bad thing," Blair murmured as he entered the elevator, waiting until the doors slid shut before adding, "Love you."

"Same here, Chief," Jim whispered, wishing Blair could hear him, then picked up his fresh cup of coffee and headed back to the interrogation room.

"Sorry for being late and making you handle dinner on your own, Dad," Daryl apologized, clearing the last of the plates from the table and delivering them to Blair, who was already elbow-deep in suds in the kitchen of the cozy, but well-apportioned, cabin they'd rented.

"That's okay, Daryl. I had a feeling you two might get carried away at the dig site, and you certainly can't hurt a good pot of chili with a little extra time on the stove." Simon stood, stretched, then carried his cup of coffee over to the decadently broken-in couch in front of the fireplace. "Besides," he continued, "this way you two have to handle all the clean up."

"Gee, thanks, Simon," Blair replied, catching a glimpse of the big man's smug expression. "And how clever of you to find a way to dirty nearly every pot, pan and utensil in the place in the process."

Simon toasted Blair with his mug before lifting his feet onto the coffee table and picking up his paperback, an old Hillerman novel that he'd finally been able to start.

Picking up a dishtowel, Daryl began to dry and put away the freshly-scrubbed pans. "But, man, it was worth it, wasn't it, Blair? I mean, I know you said you recognized the guy running the dig, but I didn't expect him to let us poke around after everybody else split. Those designs, the ones that looked kinda like Haida carvings, but more basic -- those were so cool! Hey, did you notice he said that some of those potshards were from further inland? What do you think they were traded for?"

Listening to Daryl's excited chatter, Blair grinned, suspecting that he was getting a good dose of how he sounded to everyone else. "I don't think anyone knows for sure yet, but Dr. Pierson thinks it may have been for salmon. There's evidence there was a breeding stream up in this area, but they'll need to do some carbon-dating to see if it's the right timeframe. And I had a feeling he'd be willing to let us take a quick look around once we mentioned you were going to start minoring in anthropology later this month."

Daryl beamed for a moment, then shook his head. "Nah, somehow I think it had a lot more to do with him reading your articles on Chopec rituals than me starting school."

Blair let the soapy water drain out of the sink, then helped Daryl dry the last of the dishes. "I wish Jim had let me give him co-writing credit on those. I may have done the actual typing, but he saved me a ton of research time." Reminded of his partner's continued absence, Blair checked the clock, then glanced anxiously at the front door. He was only vaguely aware of Daryl leaving the kitchen and spent the next several minutes staring out into the blackness beyond the cabin windows. A loud pop from the fireplace distracted him from his vigil, and he forced himself to join Simon on the couch and reach for his own paperback, a surreal piece of fiction called 'Geek Love.'

"Blair, why don't you give him a call?"

Blair lowered his book and gave Simon a surprised look. "What? No, that's okay. I'm sure he'll be here soon."

"Suit yourself. I just thought it might make you feel better."

"I'm fine, Simon. Really."

Simon nodded amiably, which Blair had learned was rarely a good sign. "So that's why you've been staring at the same page for the past 10 minutes? Funny, I always imagined you to be a faster reader than that."

Blair sighed, then gave up the pretense and tossed the book onto the table. "I just don't want him to think I'm checking up on him, you know?"

Sitting up from his relaxed sprawl in front of the fireplace, Daryl reached for his cup of cocoa and asked, "Why not? You always used to." He took a sip, then clarified, "Before you guys got a clue, I mean."

Blair flushed, uncertain how to reply. He and Jim had decided to handle the change in their relationship much like Jim's sensory abilities -- letting people in on a need-toknow basis, with Simon once again the first on an as-yet short list. And while Daryl's easy acceptance was appreciated, Blair was honestly often more comfortable with Simon's extension of his sentinel-based 'I don't need any details' philosophy. The chirp of a cell phone prompted a relieved sigh and a softly muttered "saved by the bell" as Blair reached for the phone.

"Blair Sandburg."

"Hey, Chief. It's me."

An incandescent smile lit Blair's face as he heard his partner's voice. "I figured as much. What's up, man? You almost here?"

"Not even close, unfortunately. It turns out our 'low-level hood' wasn't quite as low-level as we thought and, well, we ended up making several more arrests after you left."

Blair bounced slightly in his seat in excitement, holding up a hand to forestall Simon's questioning look. "That's great, Jim!"

"Yeah. Except that we have to try to get something out of these guys before they get lawyered up, plus deal with the paperwork, so...."

Blair visibly deflated and Simon's gestures for information became more insistent. "So... you're not going to be able to make it tonight?"

"I can, just... late."

Hearing the obvious hesitation and knowing how ragged Jim had been running himself, Blair tamped down on his own disappointment and replied, "No. You should stay at the loft tonight." Hearing Jim prepare to argue, he played to his lover's 'blessed protector' instincts. "Seriously, Jim. That'll be a lot better than me worrying all night about you driving up here alone and tired after the week you've had. Now talk to Simon before he has an aneurysm. I'm sure he thinks you've managed to blow the place up or something by now."

Blair handed over the phone, forcing a small smile as he got up to refill his mug. He listened to the one-sided conversation, suddenly glad that he'd cheated on their R&R rules and packed some of his university paperwork. He had a feeling it was going to be a long night, and getting prepped for the new semester would be a lot more distracting, and useful, than just staring into the fire.

He reached the sofa just as Simon was wrapping up, then took the phone back to say his own goodbyes. "Hey."

"Hey yourself. You've got plenty of bacon and eggs, right?"

"Yeah...." Blair replied, puzzled by the non sequitor, wondering why Jim was suddenly interested in making a shopping list.

"And pancake mix?"

"Jim...."

"Good. Because I'll be there first thing after daybreak and you better have some kind of courtship ritual cooked up."

Blair couldn't help but laugh, thinking back to that first Larryless morning at the loft. Leave it to Jim to remember something like that. "You got it, man."

"Alright. Listen, I better go. The sooner I get in there --"

"The sooner you get home and get some sleep. Gotcha." Blair paused, and the silence quickly became awkward. "So, uhm... take care, okay?" he finally added, trusting that Jim would understand everything he wasn't able to say.

"Yeah. You too, Chief. Night."

Frowning over Jim's weary, disappointed tone, Blair turned to put down the phone just in time to catch Daryl's eye roll. "Jeez, Blair."

"What?" Confused by the irritated look on the teenager's face -- he thought he'd succeeded in keeping things 'professional,' at least judging by Jim's reaction -- he turned to Simon, hoping for an explanation.

Simon simply handed Blair the phone as he got up to refresh his own cup of coffee. "I hardly think you'll be offending Daryl or I's delicate sensibilities, Sandburg," he grumbled.

Slowly the light dawned and Blair hit speed dial.

"Ellison."

"Hi. I'm glad I caught you," Blair said.

"What's wrong?"

Blair grinned at the immediacy of Jim's reaction. "Nothing. Just... I love you."

"You too, Chief," Jim repeated, but this time Blair could easily visualize the satisfied smile accompanying the pleasantly surprised reply.

"Cool, man. Good night."

Blair rolled over and readjusted his pillow for what felt like the hundredth time in the seemingly endless night. Opening one heavy eyelid, he was at first annoyed, then relieved, to see the slightest hint of gray slipping into the velvety dark outside his window. On the one hand, he'd probably managed no more than an hour of sleep; on the other, the approaching sunrise meant Jim was on his way. Pushing aside the nest of blankets he'd burrowed under while reflexively seeking the missing warmth of his sentinel, Blair slipped into his robe and headed for the shower, grinning despite the lethargy dragging at his limbs.

A short time later he was in the kitchen, inhaling the heavenly aroma of Simon's latest specialty blend and digging ingredients out of the fridge as quietly as he could. He was pretty sure Jim had been joking about expecting breakfast to be ready, but seeing as he was awake, and had two other mouths to feed, getting a head start seemed like a good idea. And if he just happened to have ulterior motives regarding keeping a certain detective's strength up, well, he doubted he'd get too much of an argument.

Lost in a salacious daydream, Blair stifled a startled yell and jumped sideways as a heavily muscled arm brushed by him on its way to the coffee maker.

"Simon!" he finally gasped, his voice half an octave higher than its usual morning timbre.

Chuckling as he poured the rich brew into a large mug, Simon raised an eyebrow at the wide-eyed observer, then noticed the amount of food sitting on the counter. "Good Lord, Blair. Are you planning on cooking for an entire army?"

Aggravated by the combination of a restless night, the earliness of the hour and Simon's amusement, Blair turned his back and began working off the remnants of his adrenaline rush on the dozen eggs waiting next to a large mixing bowl.

"No, but the last time I checked, cops and college students both still fell into the 'bottomless pit' category," Blair replied, nodding a terse 'good morning' to Daryl before brusquely waving off his offer of help.

Shrugging, the drowsy teen helped himself to some orange juice and joined his father at the table.

"My, aren't we surly this morning," Simon observed. "Ellison rubbing off on you?"

Pounding Daryl on the back a moment later, Blair couldn't help but laugh at the stunned expression on the captain's face. The man had undoubtedly believed his days of being showered with his son's breakfast drink were over a long time ago.

"Actually, Sir, doesn't that fall under some kind of 'don't ask, don't tell' policy?" he asked, eliciting another breathless snicker from Daryl.

Maintaining an innocently curious expression, Blair tossed a damp dishrag in Simon's direction, then turned back to his cooking, letting the familiar grumbling and imprecations sooth his frazzled nerves. By the time Daryl joined him at the stove, he was able to offer a close approximation of his usual infectious grin.

"Are you sure you don't want to come with us?" Simon asked, settling his fishing hat in place and picking up his tackle box.

"Or have us wait here with you?" Daryl offered, casting a hesitant glance at the fog-shrouded landscape outside the cabin windows.

"No, that's okay, guys. I'll just wait for Jim and we'll catch up with you later." Blair gestured at the table which, now that the dishes had been cleared, was covered in paperwork. "I've got plenty to keep me busy in the meantime."

"Didn't get a whole lot done last night, huh?" Daryl teased, stumbling a bit as his father gave him an admonishing nudge onto the front porch.

Watching Daryl gather up the rest of their gear, Simon paused for a moment in the open doorway, then turned back to Blair. "I'm sure he'll be here soon. Maybe he's just waiting until the fog lifts; visibility can be pretty limited on days like this."

"Uhm, Simon..." Blair began, raising both eyebrows and making a gesture toward his own ears and eyes as a reminder that sensory limitations weren't really an issue where Jim was concerned.

"Oh. Right. Well, I'm sure if anything had come up either at the station or the loft, we would've heard something by now," Simon replied, patting the waterproof pouch that held his cell phone, pager and cigars. "So, you about ready, son? Time's a wastin'."

Loaded down with gear, Daryl flashed Blair a piteous look before answering his father. "'Time's a wastin''? Jeez, Dad, it's barely past 7:00."

"That late!? Come on, then." Simon started off toward the river trail at a brisk pace. "Oh, and Sandburg, call me when he gets here. That's an order!"

"Yes, Sir," Blair called back. "Just make sure you've got your phone set on vibrate. Of course, depending on where you've got it, you still might end up scaring the fish. I remember this one time..."

"Sandburg!"

Using the jostling of the tackle to cover his laughter, Daryl shared a mischievous grin with Blair before catching up with his scowling father.

"That man just doesn't know the meaning of 'too much information,' does he?" Simon grumbled, taking one of the poles from Daryl.

As the familiar complaint drifted back to the cabin, Blair frowned. Unbeknownst to Simon, he'd already tried reaching Jim at the loft and on his cell twice. And it could be hours, maybe even a day or more, before they'd hear anything if Jim had zoned on something at the loft. Or worse, if his stubborn sentinel had decided he didn't need sleep after all, then had a problem while heading up the mountain in the middle of the night. Taking a deep breath, Blair forced himself to remain calm and let his negative thoughts go. A panic attack wasn't going to help anybody, least of all him. And short of having Simon issue an APB, there wasn't much they could do at this point anyway, not with Jim only an hour or so overdue. Rubbing his hands together, Blair walked back into the cabin, determined to keep himself busy and distracted while he waited.

After storing the leftover pancake batter and omelet fixings in the refrigerator and starting a fresh pot of coffee, Blair eyed the breakfast dishes and class schedules with equal trepidation. Reasoning that the pans would just get dirty again once Jim arrived, he gathered up the least offensive of the paperwork and headed over to the couch. At least there he'd be more comfortable if he dozed off, and it certainly wouldn't be the first time Jim had found him snoring under a pile of Rainier documents. Settling into the thick cushions, Blair's smile turned lascivious as he remembered just how creative Jim could be about waking someone up.

Jolted awake by the shrill warble of his cell phone, Blair fumbled his way off the couch, scattering papers across the floor in the process.

"Jim?"

"I gather that means you haven't seen or heard from him yet?"

Stifling a yawn, Blair walked into the kitchen. "No. I, uhm, must've dozed off for a few minutes." Glancing at the digital readout on the coffee maker, he blanched. "Simon, it's almost 10:00!"

"I'm well aware of that, Sandburg. That's why I'm calling." Blair could hear Simon taking a deep pull on his cigar and reflexively took a calming breath of his own. "Look, Daryl and I are going to wrap things up here for the morning. You try getting hold of Jim and then call me back."

"Yeah, okay, Simon."

Shaken, Blair called the loft, the station and Jim's cell, but only managed to reach the answering machine, Jim's voicemail and -- most disturbing -- "the cellular customer you're trying to reach is not available at this time." He left messages at all three, then filled Simon in.

Knowing he had a good twenty minutes to wait before Daryl and Simon got back, Blair poured himself a cup of coffee and walked out onto the front porch to keep an eye on the road. Not that he needed the caffeine -- "wide awake" was an understatement for his current state -- but it would give him something to do while pacing.

Ten minutes later, he heard it -- the blessed rumble of an engine as old as he was, accompanied by the rattle of a large chassis taking a pothole-riddled road at speed. Setting down his coffee, he stalked toward the driveway as Jim arrived in a cloud of dust.

"Jim! Where the hell have you been?"

Barely a moment after the words left his mouth, Blair saw the relieved smile and tiredness fade from his partner's expression, leaving behind a granite mask. Once commonplace, these days it usually only made an appearance during an interrogation, or when a certain guide took a serious misstep. "Shit," he whispered, wondering when exactly he'd start remembering that senses weren't the only thing sensitive about Jim Ellison.

Slamming the truck door and brushing past his lover, Jim growled, "Joyriding, Sandburg. Where the hell do you think?"

Grabbing Jim's wrist, Blair let the taller man's momentum swing him around, then held on tight as he tried to pull away. "Jim, come on, man. I'm sorry." Loosening his grip, he ran his hand soothingly up and down the tense forearm, ignoring the glare he received in the process. "I was worried, okay?"

Jim's expression softened slightly, and he sounded more petulant than angry when he replied, "I'm not a child, Chief. I don't need constant supervision."

"Of course not," Blair agreed, realizing that something had triggered Jim's dependency issues -- in a big way. Eyes twinkling, he grinned slyly and added, "You're a big, tough ex-Ranger slash cop slash sentinel, the very epitome of macho independence."

Caught in his own trap, Jim studied his toes intently, his face turning a pale shade of pink.

Blair moved deeper into Jim's personal space, resting his free hand on his partner's broad chest. "But you're my epitome, and almost four hours late. Now, somehow I doubt you put three of your closest friends though all that worry for a simple joyride, but if you did...." He paused, giving the quiescent nipple under his fingers a sharp tweak. "Then you are so sleeping on the couch."

"Blair," Jim groaned, his body reacting instantly to the intimate touch. Looping long arms around his partner's waist, he tried to pull him in closer.

"Hold on a minute, big guy," Blair cautioned, both hands now on Jim's chest, keeping a marginal distance between them. "How about you tell me why you're so late?"

"How about I get a proper 'hello' first?" Jim purred, eyes focused on the sultry allure of Blair's pout.

Tilting his head, Blair made a show of considering the offer, then nodded. "Deal, but only if I get an explanation and a proper apology later."

"Will an improper one do?" Jim asked, lips brushing Blair's as he spoke.

"Oh, yeah," Blair breathed, fisting his hands in Jim's shirt and pulling him down into their much-delayed 'good morning' kiss.

Feeling Blair's hands slip up and over his shoulders, Jim relaxed into the solid form pressing tightly against his own. Safe in his guide's arms, Jim loosened his control over his senses, letting them ebb and flow freely in a way he rarely dared without Blair at his side. A gentle wind whispered through the nearby pines, wafting tendrils of long, silky hair across his cheeks. The cool breeze carried the sound and scent of the woods as well as providing a sharp counterpoint to the rising heat between them, but it was taste that demanded the lion's share of his attention.

Underneath the bitterness of coffee and sweetness of syrup, Jim could detect just a hint of one of his favorite flavors -- post-nap Blair. Contrary to true morning breath -- which he had the luxury of filtering out, unlike Blair, who had more than once shoved him toward the loft stairs while muttering, "I love you, man, but not all of us have benefit of dials" -- it wasn't strong or sour at all. In fact, it was closer to musky, tasting almost like Blair's arousal smelled, and was one of several reasons Jim relished sneaking home for lunch on the rare days his partner didn't accompany him to the station. Blair never could resist catching a few z's on the couch, claiming that daytime television was the leading cause of situational narcolepsy.

Slipping his fingers into the back pockets of Blair's jeans, Jim lifted slightly, echoing Blair's low moan as eager erections fell into proper alignment. Suddenly wishing for nothing more than the chance to get both naked and horizontal with the enthusiastic bundle of hair and hormones in his arms, Jim reluctantly broke the kiss to suggest a change of location. Drawing in a deep breath, he grimaced as he picked up the all-too-familiar odor of a freshly lit cigar.

"Simon," he muttered, laughing softly as Blair opened dazed, uncomprehending eyes and tried to pull him into another kiss. "Chief, Simon and Daryl are on their way."

"Yeah, yeah. But we've got at least another five minutes. Come back here, man," Blair argued, resisting Jim's efforts to release him.

"No, now. Trust me on this one."

Sighing, Blair dropped his arms and took a step back just as Daryl appeared at the trailhead, with his father only a few steps behind. Both men were winded, having obviously made the trip as quickly as possible.

Dropping his gear next to the truck, Simon chomped on his cigar for a moment, assessing the undamaged condition of the vehicle and its driver before fixing a baleful glare on the still-breathless, kiss-rumpled men.

"Sandburg --"

"Simon, I --"

"Jim! Good to see you made it here in one piece," Daryl interrupted, turning his welcoming wave into a brief gesture toward the net of trout draped over his shoulder, a convenient explanation for his immediate retreat to the relative safety of the cabin.

Jim nodded, acknowledging both the greeting and Daryl's quick thinking. He'd have to thank the young man later for the timely diversion, but first he had some apologizing to do. Seeing Simon already building up a new head of stream, he wrapped a protective arm around Blair's shoulders before stepping into the fray.

"Simon, I'm really sorry for being so late and not letting any of you know. I tried calling, but I kept getting a 'no service' message on the damn cell phone every place I stopped. Finally I quit trying and just concentrated on getting here. Which I did only a few minutes ago, or Blair would've called you by now. Right, Chief?"

Grinning engagingly at their captain, Blair nodded and leaned into Jim, slipping an arm around his waist as a tactile acceptance of both the apology and the explanation.

Rolling his eyes, Simon replaced the cigar between his teeth and headed for cabin.

As Jim finished off his belated breakfast and Daryl ended his rundown of the best of the local fishing spots, Blair helped himself to the last of the coffee and took a seat. Chewing a oversized bite of pancake, Jim reached for Blair's coffee mug, which was at first pulled away, then surrendered, but only after a smoldering staring contest had begun.

"So, Jim," Simon said, breaking the quickly rebuilding tension between the two men, "why didn't you just call from the loft once you realized you'd be getting a late start?"

"I didn't get a late start." Faced with three patently confused expressions, Jim ducked his head and added, "I, uhm, got lost."

"What?" Blair asked, head tilted and eyebrows raised as if certain he'd misheard.

"I got lost, Sandburg. Is that alright with you? I took a wrong damn turn and then discovered that the only way to get to this highway from the other side of the mountain is to drive all the way back down."

Blair met Jim's glower with a carefully blank expression for a moment, then a grin slowly spread across his face. A muffled snicker from Daryl's direction broke the silence and Blair burst out laughing, with Simon's low chuckle soon joining the chorus.

Shaking his head, the sentinel concentrated on his plate, hoping that there might be enough pattern left in the syrup to zone on. Let Blair figure out a way to explain that to Daryl, he thought. True to form, however, Blair noticed his attempt and laid a hand on his forearm, grounding him.

"I'm sorry, man, really," Blair said, small riffs of laughter sneaking out between his words. "But, I mean, I didn't think it would be that complicated, you know. More like, 'Look, Jim. Mountain. Go up.'"

"He's got a point," Simon added as Blair attempted to drown his amusement in a swallow of coffee. "If it's that difficult, maybe Sandburg should drive from now on."

For the second time that morning, Simon found himself the recipient of an unexpected, and entirely unwelcome, shower of liquid from across the table. Judging by the dour expression on his face, the fact that it was coffee rather than juice, Blair rather than Daryl, and Jim taking a turn at the back slapping did nothing to make the situation more palatable.

"Now what did I say?!" he bellowed, making himself heard over Daryl's guffaws, Blair's coughs and Jim's comforting murmurs.

Catching his breath, Blair snorted once, then laid his head down on the table, giving in to a fit of silent laughter. Still rubbing his hand in circles on Blair's back, Jim felt his face flush once again and muttered, "Inside joke, Sir."

Slamming both palms on the table, Simon stood and reached for another cigar. "Daryl, what do you say to packing up some food and taking a nice, long, quiet hike for lunch today? I think giving these two some 'alone time' is the only way any of us will get any peace this weekend."

"Sure thing, Dad. I'll make some sandwiches while you go change." Daryl moved to the counter and started laying bread out, then grinned over his shoulder. "Again."

Blair lifted his head, looking concerned and more than a little embarrassed himself. "Daryl, Simon, you don't have to --"

Simon lifted a hand to stem the flow of Blair's words, the mock-irritation on his face morphing into a decidedly smug grin. Shaking his head and chuckling, he headed for the room he was sharing with Daryl. "Some days it's almost too easy."

Standing side by side on the porch, Jim and Blair returned Daryl's wave and Simon's nod, then walked back into the main room.

"So," Blair said, rocking on the balls of his feet, hands clasped together in front of him.

"So," Jim replied, the corners of his lips tilting up.

Blair waited until Jim blinked, then sprang into motion. "Last one to the bedroom has to sleep on the wet spot!"

"Cheat!" Jim yelled in reply, catching up in three long strides. Wrapping his arms around Blair's chest, he lifted and swung the smaller man around, then backed them both through the open doorway. "I win," he proclaimed, giving a conveniently elevated ear a quick nibble before loosening his grip.

"Mmm... I think I can live with that," Blair murmured, sliding slowly down the wall of muscle behind him, then turning in Jim's arms. "Even though you cheated at least as much as I did."

Jim splayed his fingers across Blair's lower back, gazing down into eyes shining with the combination of mischief, love and desire that had become his touchstone. "Hey, all's fair, buddy."

"Just remember you said that," Blair warned, a devilish grin making a brief appearance as he reached for the top button of Jim's shirt.

He stepped forward, backing his acquiescent partner toward the bed, not stopping until Jim's long legs pressed against the mattress and the worn cotton hung open, exposing seemingly acres of pale, nearly hairless skin to Blair's avid gaze. Delaying only long enough to pull his henley over his head, he pounced, knocking Jim backwards onto the bed before straddling his grinning lover as he crawled up to join him.

Resting his hands on either side of Jim's head, Blair lowered his torso until their bared chests and stomachs were nearly, but not quite, touching, then brushed his lips over the hollow at the base of Jim's throat. The barelythere touches sent jolts of electricity dancing along his nerves, goosepimpling his skin as each individual hair stood up and took notice. He smiled against the hard ridge of Jim's collarbone, knowing that every sensation he was enjoying was undoubtedly magnified for his sentinel.

Closing his eyes, Jim used a combination of touch and sound to track Blair's position -- the soft rasp of hair dragging along smoother skin, the tantalizing closeness of body heat, the slick wetness of lips and tongue as they traced the rapidly escalating pulse of his jugular. He felt as much as heard the nearly silent whisper of his name, the hushed syllable his only warning before the scrape of teeth along the edge of his jaw turned into gentle bites.

Dialing down until the increasingly intense caresses were more pleasure than pain, Jim wrapped his arms around Blair and pulled him closer, rubbing against the hirsute flesh like a cat on a fresh catnip pillow. Anchoring his fingers in the wild tangles spilling over his hands, Jim tugged upwards until Blair's mouth covered his, then dove deeply into the rich taste he'd been addicted to since their first kiss, only weeks after their disastrous run-in with a psychotic female sentinel.

With Blair's lips firmly in place, Jim disentangled his hands, abandoning the lavish curls for the seductive curve of Blair's spine, alternately massaging tensed muscles and caressing supple skin. Swallowing Blair's low moans of appreciation, Jim slid his hands lower, cupping and then squeezing the firm mounds shifting restlessly under the tightly-stretched jeans.

Jim groaned deep in his throat as Blair sat back, deliberately settling his weight just-so into the cradle of Jim's hips. As nimble fingers traced the curve of his stomach and teased at the button of his pants, Jim could feel the tempting cleft rubbing against him, even through two thick layers of denim. He arched into the heat and pressure framing his straining erection, then groaned again as Blair rose on his knees, effortlessly riding the wave of Jim's motion, denying him the friction he needed. With a frustrated growl, Jim clasped Blair's hips, holding him in place as he thrust up again, drawing a gasp and a low whimper from his mischievous lover. Meeting widelydilated eyes, he nodded toward the prominent bulge in Blair's own jeans, his raised eyebrow silently asking, "Are you done playing?"

With Jim's hands holding him steady, Blair leaned to the side, slipping his hand under one of the pillows. Tossing the tube he'd retrieved onto Jim's chest, he grinned triumphantly.

"I take it we're not flipping a coin this time?" Jim asked, matching the grin as Blair rolled off him and began wriggling out of his remaining clothes.

"No way, man. I want you inside me. As in, yesterday," Blair replied, impatiently shaking off his second sock before settling onto the bed on his stomach, arms pillowing his head, legs spread wide.

"Gee, I don't know, Sandburg. I might get lost. Maybe you oughta dri --"

"Jim!"

Laughing, Jim smoothed his hand down Blair's flank, savoring the encouraging wiggles that resulted as his fingers drifted lower. Tracing the crease between buttock and thigh, he palmed the lush curve for a moment, then pressed down on the sleek skin just behind Blair's already drawn-up sac. The desperate noise that resulted abruptly reminded Jim that he still had far too many clothes on.

Under Blair's unwavering, lecherous gaze, he stripped quickly, then painstakingly coated several of his fingers with a thick layer of lube. By the time he was done, Blair's eyes fairly glowed, the thin rings of blue around the heated black a clear indication of his growing arousal. As Jim rolled back into place, draping a thigh over one of Blair's and using his knee to press Blair's legs further apart, a small part of his brain wondered if looks like that were the true cause of spontaneous human combustion.

There was nothing, Blair mused for probably the several hundredth time in the past few months, like being made love to by a sentinel. Certainly nothing in his past -- not traveling the world, nor the communes his mother favored, nor many, many years on campus with a diverse and highly experimental student body -- had managed to prepare him. Jim knew every one of his hot-spots and eagerly exploited them all, especially the ones Blair himself had somehow been unaware of until recently. At times it was the most ecstatic experience he could have ever imagined; at others, the most frustrating, because if there was one thing you could say about Jim Ellison in bed, it was that the man enjoyed taking his time.

"Come on, come on, come on," Blair chanted fervently, pushing back to drive the single, slick digit deeper inside.

Jim made a sound midway between a laugh and an exasperated sigh, then nipped at Blair's shoulder blade. "God, you're a pushy bastard. Why can't you be in this much of a hurry when I'm on the bottom?"

Bringing the few of his still-functioning brain cells to bear, Blair paused in his zealous attempt to hurry along the process. Resting his forehead on his folded arms, he replied, "Because usually when you want me to drive, you don't really want me to hurry, not unless I want to. You want to... oh god, Jim... stop making decisions for a while, stop... yes, right, mmm, there... stop thinking, just feel, just be."

Pausing halfway through his self-appointed task of treating each of Sandburg's vertebra to a color-raising kiss, Jim lifted his head and frowned down at the sweaty body stretched out next to him, stilling his hand at the same time. "And you don't?"

Deprived of both the nearly painful suction of Jim's lips and the slippery counterpoint to his rocking hips, Blair emerged from his bliss-induced state. "Wha? Jim, don't stop! Jeez, man, of course I do."

"You were still forming sentences," Jim accused softly.

Twisting to meet doleful blue eyes, he said, "You want to take it slow, literally drive me out of my overactive mind? Fine, great. I'd love that, I swear to you I would. Just... not now, not after this morning. Please?"

Blair sighed with relief as Jim nodded, then moaned and dropped his head back onto his arms as re-slicked fingers teased at his entrance.

"Of course," he couldn't resist adding, knowing Jim could easily hear his muffled words, "you'd probably have to tie me down and gag me to really do it right."

He glanced up as Jim froze again, then shivered at the feral light of anticipation glowing in his lover's eyes. "Jim?" he asked softly, then hissed a triumphant "Yes!" as he felt the sudden burn of three fingers sliding in, twisting and stretching him open.

Reveling in Jim's primal response, Blair shifted back and up, onto his knees. The unexpected move earned him a growl, followed by a thrust that pressed all three long, elegant fingers firmly against the sweet spot deep inside. With a keening whimper, Blair lowered his head to the mattress, knees slipping further apart in mute supplication.

Blair's willing surrender struck straight at the heart of Jim's possessive streak. Feeling a sudden urge to mark his territory, he licked a broad swath across the nearest buttock, then bit down hard where the muscle was thickest. Reading only surprised approval both in the tightening of Blair's body and his hoarse shout, he repeated the process on the opposite side before mouthing his way up the sweatslicked spine.

Moving into position behind his increasingly restless lover, Jim teased them both by using just the tips of his fingers to hold Blair open. He pressed forward, slowly but steadily easing himself inside, using the ragged sound of Blair's breathing and the tenseness of his body to monitor his pace. Once they were thigh to thigh, he paused, content to rest motionless for a moment in the strong grip and satiny heat of his partner. A quick roll of Blair's hips and an impatient grunt got Jim moving -- short, even strokes that soon built in intensity and speed.

The low moans and groans of the two men blended seamlessly into an erotic chorus, punctuated by random words -- affectionate insults interspersed with hoarse commands -- delivered through bitten lips on stolen gasps of air. Braced on his elbows, Blair slipped easily into the rhythm of the sounds, faltering only once, when a tight fist gripped him.

With Blair's howl of relief still echoing in the small room, Jim sank his teeth into the delicate skin where neck met shoulder and pressed in deeper, finally relenting and giving his lover the harder and faster he'd been begging for since the first stroke. Feeling the familiar electric tingle spiraling out from base of his spine, he changed the angle of his thrusts, determined to drag Blair over the edge with him. As the wave of sound and sensation crested, every muscle in his body seemed to lock, then abruptly release again. Two sets of hips jerked out of control as heart-stuttering orgasms washed over them both, leaving nothing but bowed, sweaty bodies and the sound of desperate, heaving breaths in their wake.

Holding Blair tightly against him, Jim settled them gently onto their sides, giving his brain a moment to reassemble itself before rolling onto his back. He echoed Blair's disgruntled murmur as their bodies parted, then carefully maneuvered his languid partner until the curly head rested heavily on his chest. Wrapping his arms around Blair, he breathed a sigh of pure contentment. Fingers ghosting over damp skin, he waited for the inevitable, but thankfully short-lived, post-coital chatter to begin.

Feeling blissfully 'claimed,' Blair melted into the protective serenity of Jim's embrace. Lazily waiting for his breathing and heartbeat to return to their normal rhythms, he draped an arm across Jim's waist, then rubbed his cheek against his impromptu pillow. He smiled at the low rumble he got in reply, hearing the echoes of a jungle cat in the purring response.

"Well, that was... different," he said softly. "Who knew the mere mention of a trip off the vanilla-brick road would bring out the panther to play?"

A touch as light as a butterfly brushed over the indentations marking his rear and the firm muscles under his sated grin tensed. Lifting his head, he saw the beginnings of selfrecrimination and guilt sparking in his lover's eyes.

"Jim?"

The eyes immediately shuttered, flicking first to the marks on Blair's throat, then to the ceiling.

Raising himself on his elbow, Blair cupped Jim's chin in his free hand, gently encouraging the sentinel to meet his eyes again.

"Look, man, if that in any way sounded like a complaint, we need to get you back into the lab for some hearing tests, pronto."

Leaning forward, he rewarded the guardedly hopeful expression on Jim's face with a reassuring kiss.

"Yeah?" Jim asked when their lips parted, grinning at Blair's attempt to stifle a yawn.

"Yeah," he replied, laying his head back down as Jim's eyelids drifted shut. "Oh, and Jim?"

"Mmm?"

"Don't forget; it's my turn to drive."

Laughing softly at his partner's somnolent shiver of anticipation, Blair drifted off to sleep.

End Maybe Sandburg Should Drive by Star: [email protected]

Author and story notes above.

Disclaimer: The Sentinel is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount.