Work Text:
Diclaimers: The usual ones. They do not belong to me and probably never will.
***
Saturday.
Nowhere to go.
Jim buried his nose in the pillow and stretched. Too lazy and comfortable to open his eyes. He could feel the rays of the sun, their warmth and light.
His mind was wandering. Carolyn had called yesterday, the Williamson case was ready to be handed over to the DA, a jerk in Vice had called Blair a mere tag-along.
Jim smiled. Blair had all but ripped the guy to shreds. His mate had made him proud.
Jim's eyes flew open. Mate ?!
He turned to lie on his back.
Mate? Carolyn had been a wife, a friend. Lila had been a lover. Jack had been an occasional fuckbuddy.
Mate? Was it a Sentinel thing? Jim concentrated on Blair. His Guide was still asleep. The familiar heart beat was going steady. Memory supplied sight and smell. The blueness of eyes and the richness of colour in the soft hair. Jim's hands remembered touching the body covered in layers of cloth. His palms tingled in cherished memory. Taste felt left out.
Mate? The word left out. It felt appropriate. Right.
Jim could hear Blair struggling to wake up.
***
Jim was watching Blair. His Guide was talking enthusiastically about his favourite subject, people.
Jim had all his senses honed on Blair. They were having lunch at their favourite restaurant. The Sentinel could relax and lower his guards in the familiar place.
Jim was still trying to figure out that one word. It had crept up on him, ambushed him and would not let go of him.
Why now? They had been living together for years. They had laughed together, even wept together. How long had the word been waiting in the shadows for that one moment?
Jim lifted his head. Blair had stopped talking and was looking at him.
***
Jim was sure Blair knew about his dilemma, at least in a general way. His Guide had been looking at him in away one would look at a particularly slow student who is finally figuring it out. Another clue were the amused and ...impatient?... glances he had caught.
It was time. Dinner had been done and eaten. The dishes had been washed and dried. Jim had checked the locks.
Blair was standing in the living room looking at Jim. Doing his best not to fidget. Or push Jim in any way.
Jim was ...not nervous. Suddenly he knew why the word felt right. It fit. That's what they were. Mates.
He tried it out. It sounded and tasted *right*.
Blair smiled brightly enough to light up the loft. And Jim's life.
***
End