Though I've written a few X-Files slash stories, this is my very first slash based on the television series, "The Sentinel." The possibilities of that show... Whew! DISCLAIMER: I don't own Jim or Blair; they're property of UPN and Pet Fly. However, I make many trips to Vancouver, and if they come back with me in my suitcase one time, well I *will* eventually send them back. THANKS: I have to thank my cybersis Steff for urging me to start writing again, after not having written any fiction for over ten years. Major thanks to Panda for becoming my friend through feedback on a Mulder/Krycek story I wrote, then using her powers of suggestion to get me to watch The Sentinel. She's now my editor, and I thank her for her support. Shelley, this story is for you! (It's your fault, anyway... You planted the seed in my head!) This is "The Bears" by Squidgie. It's rated PG13 for implied M/M relationship and a little cuddling. Feedback is REALLY requested! This is my very first Sentinel story, and I'd like to know what people think of it. You can reach me at firstname.lastname@example.org. I don't know who archives Sentinel slash, so feel free to archive it, but please email me and let me know where it's been archived. Thanks. *********************************************************************** Blair almost flew out the loft's front door, grabbing for his keys and slamming the door noisily behind him. "UURGH!!!" The groan of frustration eaked from his clenched mouth, while his hands flew from their restless point at his sides, now aiming at the sky trying to make sense of it all. "Why is he so pig-headed?!" he asked himself, incredulously. As soon as he uttered the words, he regretted it, having momentarily forgotten that Jim, Sentinel hearing no doubt focused intently, could hear every word. As he made for the stairs, the door behind him flew open. Blair took the stairs two at a time, a voice bellowing down after him, as if to ensnare him before he could flee. "I'm *NOT* pig-headed. *YOU'RE* being *UNREASONABLE!*" The voice trailed after him, and he knew he had to escape, at least for a little while. When he heard the door slam from the floor above him, he knew he was alone. Jim wouldn't come after him. Jim would rather sit in the loft and brood for hours. /Unreasonable, huh? Yeah right./ Blair thought as he exited the building and walked along the busy street. It had started as a little nothing; Blair had to finish grading his student's papers and didn't want to go out - besides, it was their one month anniversary! There was nothing more he wanted than a nice, quiet dinner at home with his beloved. The thought made him smile to himself. /Well, maybe more than *just* dinner./ Thoughts of the, well, it wasn't a fight as much as it was a tiff.... Well, a tiff or a disagr.... Blair sighed heavily. "Shut up, Blair!" he scolded himself. The brief smile was now lost from his face, replaced by a scowl that represented what he was feeling inside. Yes, he'd wanted a nice, quiet dinner at home, but, "After all," Jim's words echoed through his head, "It's poker night. Poker night!" Blair huffed as he remembered Jim asking why it was that they couldn't just go out some other night? "Pig," he said to himself, continuing down the busy street, his eyes darkening to match his mood. *** Before he knew it, Blair realized that he had stewed for a good hour, and was now about three miles from the loft. And cold. /Why the hell did I walk out of there without my coat?/ he berated himself. /Well, I should head back. Jim may be pig-headed, but he'd get over it and damn, but it's cold!/ he thought, and turned around mid-step, when something in the window of the store he was in front of caught his eye. It was followed by a smile that could only be described as impish. "Oh, man... Jim'll kill me." he grinned, and walked determinedly into the store, pulling out his wallet as he strode in. Yes, he was a total romantic, but why was Jim so...the totally unromantic type? He reminded himself as the clerk rang him up, /He may be unromantic, Blair, but he's yours./ Satisfied with his purchase, Blair waltzed out of the store, as if he were on air, the mood that brought him this far from the loft now totally forgotten. He decided to get back, make his apology with the aid of his purchase, and pile himself into the truck for the poker game. After all, there were going to be hundreds of anniversaries with Jim to celebrate, if he had anything to do with it. The sun had begun to set as Blair closed in on their building. He looked up and saw that, though subdued, the lights were still on, which meant that Jim was still home and had not gone out. He carefully and quietly made his way up the stairs and was almost to the door, when he heard soft music coming from inside. /Soft music, and the incredible smell of....lasagna? What is going on here?/ he asked himself, and turned the key in the door. As the door opened, Blair instinctively moved his hand over to the basket to drop his keys in, but missed it by a foot. There, leaning back on the table that was now draped in cloth and filled with delicious smelling items, was his lover, a meal in himself. "Welcome home, Chief," Jim said quietly and smiled to himself. Blair noticed that Jim was dressed now in a pair of khaki pants and a blue silk shirt that made his eyes dance in pools of color that challenged the movements of the candles spread about the loft. "Are you going to come in?" Blair suddenly remembered that yes, he *was* supposed to be breathing. He took a breath in, but the look of awe never left his face. "Um, uh... Jim? Um, what's going on here, man?" The words he had spoken earlier about Jim not being a romantic now haunted his memory. "What does it look like, Chief? A nice, quiet dinner for two." The words oozed from Jim's mouth not unlike honey escaping it's container. "But this was *poker night*, Jim. You wanted to go out and play poker with the boys. What is this?" An easy laugh escaped Jim's mouth, his massive chest moving rhythmically underneath his shirt, the fabric brushing up against his nipples sensually. "That's what you thought, Chief. I only *told* you it was poker night to get you out of the house. This dinner," he let his arms flow over the food and wine on the table, "was supposed to have been eaten at the restaurant. It was supposed to be a surprise. When you left, I called and had to pay a pretty penny to get it delivered. After all," he added quietly, "it *is* our anniversary." By this time Blair had practically melted into a puddle of goo, though his face still held it's awe. He carefully engaged his legs, after desperately trying to remember how they worked, and walked over to his lover. "Jim, " he whispered, "Thank you. You're incredible, man." Blair threw his arms around Jim, pulling him tightly into his chest for a massive hug. As he did, he noticed Jim squirming in his arms. "What is it?" Running his hands over the fabric, he asked, "What? The shirt getting to you?" Blair's eyebrows flew up and down, innuendo hanging heavy in the air. A meaty hand left where it'd attached itself to Blair's buttocks and reached for Blair's stomach, touching something through his shirt. As the two separated, Jim asked, "No, this," he said, pointing to Blair's stomach. "What is it?" Blair blushed, his eyes bright with glee. "Um, just a little something that I picked up while I was out." He began to unbutton his shirt to take out it's contents, when Jim dropped his gaze, eyes spotting the gift. "Oh no, Chief! You promised!" The room was filled with Blair's laugh, which Jim's frown tried to extinguish. "Jim, I promised no more *teddy* bears. This isn't a teddy bear Jim. It's a panda bear." His smile beamed bright, threatening to drown out the candle light that illuminated the loft, and Blair's mouth began to form a word. Jim's eyes darted from Blair's lips to his eyes and back, focused and intent on quelling the onslaught before it began. "Blair? Blair! Don't you say it, Blair! Don't you dare!" all while Blair's lips tried to speak, forming the forbidden word. "Oh Jim... I wouldn't *dream* about it," he added, handing Jim the stuffed animal. Under his breath, but loud enough for a Sentinel's hearing, he added, "Pookie bear" and suppressed a laugh. "That's IT!" Jim mockingly yelled. He threw the panda across the room and grabbed Blair, tossing both their bodies down onto the couch and thrust his lips to Blair's, kissing him deeply. It was one way he could think of to shut Blair up. *** After dinner was finished and put away and the wine polished off, the two lovers slowly made their way up to their bedroom. Jim stopped mid-step and turned, bounding past his lover and back into the living room. "What is it?" Blair asked. "Go ahead and climb in bed. I'll be up in just a second," Jim called after him. As Blair got undressed and slipped between the sheets, he could hear Jim downstairs, walking the length of the loft, as if searching for something. Seconds later, Jim appeared at the top of the stairs, holding the previously abandoned panda carefully in his hands, bringing the grin back to Blair's face. Jim sat down on the side of the bed, placing the panda carefully next to the teddy bear that Blair had given to him a couple of weeks prior. "Not another word, Chief," Jim instructed, as he removed his clothing, then slipped between the sheets and took his lover into his arms.