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Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import
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Published:
2020-11-04
Words:
3,355
Chapters:
1/1
Kudos:
7
Hits:
1,112

Pocket Paradise

Summary:

Fandom: Sentinel
Pairing: Implied
Status: Finished
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, and I'm not making any money off this.
Archive: Yes
Notes: *thoughts or soundeffects*
Summary: Blair wants a trip to Jamaica for Valentines Day, and Jim has to get creative.
Submitted through the Makebelieve_YG mailing list.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

Pocket Paradise
By Scribe

February 2nd

Jim came into the loft to find his partner and lover, Blair Sandburg, slumped on the sofa, head thrown back and eyes closed. Jim paused near the door, studying him as he pulled off his gloves and coat. Blair was awake, (he could tell by the way the younger man's heartbeat had picked up just a little when he'd entered), but he gave no sign he was aware of Jim's presence. Jim noted the faint shadows under his eyes, and his paleness. That nice, honey-colored tan he'd acquired over the summer had faded along, so it seemed, with Blair's high spirits.

It had been a rough autumn and winter. Since late September it had been growing steadily colder and wetter. Weeks went by without a clear day, then the snow had started in mid-November, and it hadn't gone away. There had been leaden skies, and rain and sleet just often enough to bring the snow to slush consistency on a regular basis. The population of Cascade had been miserable, but cold sensitive, sun worshipping Blair had been suffering.

Jim went into the kitchen. A few minutes later he emerged with a steaming mug and went to the couch, holding it under Blair's nose. The warm, spicy fragrance enveloped the younger man's face, and Jim saw his nostrils twitch. He didn't open his eyes, but reached up, and Jim gently guided the mug into his hands. Blair took a deep swallow of the hot tea, then sighed. "Cinnamon, a warming spice. Thanks, man."

"You're welcome, Darwin. Want me to build a fire?"

"Silly question."

"I guess." Jim went and began to quickly and efficiently lay a fire. "One of these days I'm going
to have to teach you how to do this, so you can fend for yourself."

"It warms me better when you make it, Big Guy." He drank the rest of the tea, watching Jim do his 'survival stuff'. When Jim had the fire going Blair patted the cushion beside him. "Come share body heat." Jim sat with him, and Blair shifted the afgahn he'd been using to cover them both, then snuggled against Jim's side.

Jim stroked Blair's hair. "Happy Groundhog Day."

Blair snorted. "I watched a re-broadcast of the annual event at Punxatawny. That damn Phil saw his shadow. Six more weeks of this shit."

"Don't put too much stake in that prediction."

"Trouble is, that's pretty much what the meterologists are saying, too." He sighed. "Anyway, I should be back into work tomorrow, unless I have a relapse tonight. It's not fair, man. You didn't get sick. The doctor said I'm the only patient this season who had a reaction to the flu shot. Why does the prevention or the cure have to have so many side effects?"

"There's been a real nasty strain going around. A couple of people have died out on the east coast."

"I know, I know, just be grateful it isn't any worse. I'm just tired of being grateful things aren't any worse than they are. I'd rather be grateful for something good."

"Speaking of... What do you want for Valentine's Day?"

Blair didn't hesitate. "A week in Jamaica." Jim laughed. "Okay, a weekEND in Jamaica. I'd even
settle for a day trip." He sighed dreamily. "Sun, sand... You and me on a private beach." He wiggled his eyebrows. "A nude beach."

"Damn, babe, this is short notice. If I hadn't bought that CD..."

Blair shrugged. "Forget it."

"The fourteenth is a Thursday. If it fell on Friday or Monday, I might've been able to swing a long weekend in Acapulco or Cozumel."

"Jim..." Blair kissed him. "I was kidding--sorta. A card will be fine, some carob candy." He laid his head on Jim's shoulder. "Maybe some Jamaican travel brochures." He nuzzled against Jim's neck and began to sing softly. "Aruba, Jamaica, ooo I wanna take ya to Bermuda, Bahama..." He couldn't see the thoughtful light in Jim's eyes.

 

February 5

"Where's Jim?"

Rafe looked up from the file he was studying. "Down at the coffee shop with some guy named Perrelli, I think."

Blair frowned. "Short dude? Follically challenged?"

Rafe grinned. "Bald as a cueball? That's him."

*Perrelli, Perrelli. Yeah, that's a retired cop. Jim introduced me when he helped us run that sting on the fences. He got them to stash some of their merchandise at a storage unit he runs.*

They were indeed at the coffee shop, sitting in a back booth with their heads close together. Perrelli seemed to be ticking off items on a list. Jim, alerted by his familiar heartbeat, looked up as he entered, and nudged Perrelli. The older man looked up, spotted Blair, and folded the paper, putting it in his pocket. As Blair approached he stood up, offering Jim his hand. "You can do whatever you want, Jim, don't worry. I'll make those arrangements for you. Just make sure my wife doesn't hear about this. I'd never hear the end of it." He nodded at Blair. "Sandburg, good to see you. Sorry I can't stay."

Blair slid in across from Jim as Perrelli exitted. "What were you discussing, and what shouldn't his wife find out?"

"Hm?" Jim gestured at the waitress, who approached with another mug and a pot of coffee.

"Perrelli. What were you two plotting?"

"Oh, nothing much." The girl refilled Jim's cup, then started one for Blair.

"Well?" Jim sipped, making a show of appreciating the hot coffee. *He's stalling.* "Well?"

"Well, you know that the Cops 'n Kids group has been discussing having some sort of Spring Fling in a couple of months? Robbie has a nice lot behind his Storrit, and he said we could use that for booths, a barbecue, that sort of thing. We could even use a couple of the empty units to sell crafts."

"Oh." That didn't sound very interesting. "Who roped you into that?"

"Nobody. It was my idea."

Blair blinked at him. *Jim? Volunteering?*

Jim noticed his expression. "Have a piece of apple pie. Lulu says it was made fresh this morning."

"Are you trying to distract me?"

"Yes."

"It's working. One piece of pie, Lulu, and melt some cheddar over it." Blair settled in to savore the tart-sweet filling and flaky crust as Jim watched him with an amused, and somehow pleased, smile.

 

February 8th

Blair noticed the light flashing on the answering machine, and punched the button as Jim tossed his keys in the basket. A slightly familiar voice came over the speaker. *Beep* "Yo, Ellison? It's Rico. I got those sketches done, dude. Drop by my place to approve them, then I'll show you the colors I picked out." *Beep*

Blair frowned as Jim came up behind him. "Sketches? Say, isn't Rico that artist that was in with the forgery ring?"

"Yeah." Jim reached past him and erased the message. "He turned state's evidence and he's out on parole."

"Why is he calling you? What sketches? What colors?"

"My Christmas presents for next year. I'm going to commission a series of parody sketches of everyone. Should be a hoot."

Blair groaned. "Shit, Jim! Christmas was less than two months ago and you're already shopping for next year? You're insufferable sometimes. So help me, I don't want to hear a WORD out of you from now till Christmas Eve about whether or not I've done MY shopping."

Jim smiled as his Guide stomped upstairs, muttering all the way.

 

February 10th

"Jim, how the hell did you get paint on your clothes?"

"Since when do you wash my clothes, Sandburg?"

"You're complaining because I'm doing something cleanly?"

"The last time you washed my clothes I had to buy new underwear."

"I thought you looked cute in pink jockeys, and that damn T-shirt said it was colorfast."

"I don't care. You never wash anything red in hot water. Anyway, you forgot the fabric softener. I'd have been chafed."

"Shit, yeah. I'm sorry about that, man." *rub* "Don't wantcha getting rubbed the wrong way, do we?" *rub rub*

"Mmm."

"What were we talking about, anyway?"

"Hell if I know. C'mere."

 

February 12th

*grit*

"What the FUCK?"

*grit grit*

"Shit."

Jim, on the sofa, glanced at Blair. He was in the kitchen, staring down at his feet. "What's the
matter?"

"What the hell is this on the floor?" *grit grit grit* Jim was studiously watching tv. Blair's eyes
narrowed. "Jim?"

"What?"

"Don't play dense with me. There's a mess on the kitchen floor, and for once I didn't put it there.
What is it?"

"It's sugar. I spilled it."

"And didn't sweep it up right away? Don't think so. Besides, it's brown."

"It's BROWN sugar."

"Brown...?" He was silent. "What the hell would you be doing with brown sugar? Do we even HAVE brown sugar?"

"Not anymore--I spilled it." Blair reached for the wastebasket. "And I took the garbage out." He
started for the door. "And the garbage truck has already been and gone. Don't have a cow, I'll clean it up." Blair watched him suspiciously as he swept. "What's your problem, Sandburg?"

"I'm not sure." He regarded the brown grains in the dustpan as Jim dumped it. "If I was Fraser, I'd taste that."

"Don't be disgusting."

"You still haven't told me why you were using brown sugar."

"That's right." Jim took two beers out of the refrigerator and handed one to him, opening his own.

"You're distracting me again."

"That's right."

"Jerk." Jim had taken a sip. Now he grabbed Blair and kissed him, feeding the cool liquid into his mouth and following it with a malt-flavored tongue. Blair sighed, wrapping his arms around him. "MY jerk."

 

February 14th

"Nice roses, Megan." Jim gently touched one pink petal of the bouquet that nestled in the milk glass vase on her desk.

"Yeah." She grinned. "My guy talked about sending me a strip-o-gram, but I convinced him it wouldn't be a good idea in the bullpen."

"Darn, Meagan. Deprive us, why don't you?" She laughed. Jim's smile was a little shy. "I got my
roses at home this morning."

Megan smiled, delighted. "Yeah?"

Jim nodded. "Two dozen red longstems. Blair said he didn't want to embarrass me at the office."

"He's a thoughtful boy, is our Sandy." She glanced over to where Blair was immersed in paperwork. Lowering her voice she said, "How's it coming with his prezzie?"

"Everything's ready. I just have to pick up the food and set it up, then get him there."

"He doesn't suspect?"

Jim tilted his head, sliding a glance back at his Guide. "He's figured out that there's something going on, but he doesn't know what." Jim smiled. "It's been driving him crazy. He's like a cat--he has to know everything."

Megan stifled a giggle, and Blair shot them a look. Both Jim and Meagan gave him innocent, questioning looks, and he muttered to himself as he went back to his work. When his attention was withdrawn, Meagan whispered. "Any other catly qualities?"

"He usually asigns the feline attributes to me, but..." he leaned over and whispered in her ear, "we
both purr on occasion."

"You've gone through a lot of trouble on this, Jim."

"He's worth it."

"He is. Good on ya, Ellison. He's a lucky boy."

"So am I."

Blair looked up to find Jim standing over him. "Hey."

"Hey. I'm gone."

Blair glannced at his watch. "Uh, kinda early, huh?"

"I talked to Simon. I have a few things I need to get done." He pointed at Blair and said severely. "Come straight home. No side trips, no dawdling."

Blair studied him. His voice was stern, but his eyes were twinkling. He glanced at the humorous card, the one that featured Garfield, that was propped on his desk, then considered the large box of yogurt covered nuts and raisins that had been at his bedside when he woke up (which was half gone by lunchtime.) *I knew this couldn't be all. Somethinging's up.* "Okay."

He worked another two hours, then put away the last file and got his coat. He met Meagan at the door as he was pulling on his mittens. "See ya Saturday, Sandy."

Blair tugged his knit hat down over his ears. "What do you mean Saturday? What happened to Friday?" Meagan bit her lip. "Don't tell me you talked Simon into giving you Friday off?"

"Um, yeah, that's right."

"Well, crap. No wonder he turned me down." Blair sighed. "Well, I'm not going to begrudge it. Have fun, Aussie."

Meagan smiled as she watched him slouch off, head down. "You, too, Sandy."

By the time he got home Blair was hoping that whatever Jim had planned included a roaring fire and maybe a hot bath. He opened the loft door to find Jim standing in front of it, coat still on, overnight bag in his hand. "Hi, Darwin. Turn around--we're not staying."

"What? Jim, I just got out of that mess outside," Blair whined. "Can't I even warm up first?"

"What's the point? You'd just get cold again." Jim stepped out, relocking the door, and took Blair's arm, marching him back out to the truck. "You'll get warm--believe me."

In the truck, Blair said, "So, what? You book us a night in a no-tell motel?" Jim smiled. "Okay, not a no-tell. Luxury suite?" Jim whistled. Blair looked at the bag and winced. "You didn't get me a gym membership, did you?" When Jim lifted an eyebrow he said hastily, "Not that that would be a BAD thing."

"Just be patient, and you'll see. I need to stop here for a minute." He pulled up to a gate. Behind it
Blair could see rows of concrete sheds, some with single doors, some with the type of roll-ups you saw on garages. There was a sign on the gate that read *Perrelli's Storrit*.

Blair shivered as Jim rolled down the window, leaned out, and began punching a code in on the keypad that stood beside the drive. "Shit, man, if you needed to talk to him, why didn't you just call him on your cell phone?" Jim didn't answer. The gate slid open and he drove through. The door to a small portable building at the front opened, and Perrelli peeked out. When he saw Jim he grinned and gave him the 'thumbs up' gesture before shutting the door. "What's that all about?"

Jim drove down between two rows of sheds, heading for the back of the lot. "Maybe the Jags just won a game."

"The Jags aren't playing tonight. Our butts would be in front of a tv if they were."

"True." Jim turned a corner and parked in front of a shed, shutting off the engine.

"Why did you do that? Do you mean to tell me we're going to be here so long that you can't leave the motor running."

Jim opened his door and grabbed the bag. "There will be motors running--trust me. C'mon."

*"What?"* Blair watched in disbelief as Jim went and worked the combination lock that closed the shed door. Jim left the bag at the shed and came back.

He opened the truck door before Blair could think to lock it. "Out."

"Jim, I don't care if you've got a pony in there. It's too damn cold." He sqawked as Jim grabbed his collar and dragged him out.

Jim slammed the truck door shut, and pulled a dark scarf out of his pocket. "Turn around."

Blair eyed the scarf. *Okay, that's one of our toys, so it isn't part of the present.* "Why?" Jim grabbed his shoulder, firmly but not roughly, and turned him. Then he tied the scarf over Blair's eyes. "Hey, I like blindfold games, but can't we wait till we get wherever we're going?" Jim took his arm, and he heard him opening the door. "C'mon, Jim, I like doing it in different places, too. Wasn't I the one who jumped you in the stacks at the Uni library last break? But not in a cold, dank concrete storage shed. Have a little romance, man. Have a little... Whoa." He'd been hit by a wave of warm, dry air. "What...?"

He reached for the blindfold, and felt Jim grab his wrist. Jim whispered in his ear. "Uh-uh. Daddy
spank."

*Oh, man. I think I'm in for something special here.*

"Careful, babe, there's sort of a step up here." Jim led him forward, and Blair stumbled as the ground beneath his feet seemed to shift and slide. Jim held him securely, and Blair heard him shut the door. The chill draft behind him was cut off. He sniffed. Something smelled very good. It was vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place it. "What's going on?"

"You'll see."

Blair knew enough to stand still as Jim peeled off his cap, mittens, and coat, then removed his top shirt. He was glad, actually, because he had started to get a little too warm. In fact, for the first time since September, he felt like he might have been comfortable going shirtless.

"Okay." Jim removed the blindfold. "Open your eyes."

Blair did, and gasped. "Fuck."

"Yeah, soon."

Blair was looking at a seascape, painted on the smooth concrete wall. there was an azure sky, complete with fluffy clouds, over a blue-green sea that seemed to roll in to golden sand. The effect was almost uncanny, because the painted shore seemed to blend into the sand on the floor. That was why his footing had seemed to shift--the floor was thickly coated with warm, dry sand. No wonder he'd had to step up--it had to be several inches thick. Blair tuned in a slow circle. The same scene was painted on each wall. The illusion was broken only by the door on the wall. "Oh, wow."

Jim was watching him with satisfaction. "Our own little island."

Blair started really looking around. There was a small, free standing pool in one corner. He went to it and dipped his hand in the water, smiling when he found it warm. The heat was coming from a couple of glowing space heaters against the wall, and several strong sun lamps.

In another corner there was a small camp stove with a pot simmering on it. Blair went to it, and looked at Jim, who nodded. Blair scooped up a tiny bit of the contents on the wooden spoon beside the pot and tasted it. A huge grin split his face. "Conch stew!"

"You know Derek in Vice? His mom made it for me. Check the cooler."

Blair opened the cooler and looked at the squat glass bottles nestled in the ice. "Red Stripe!"

Jim set the bag on a small table, then punched a button on a small squat machine. The sound of waves lapping against a beach filled the room. Then he punched a button on a tape player and the soft sound of steel drums tinkled out. Blair laughed in delight.

"I couldn't take you to Jamaica, so I brought a little Jamaica to you." Jim started to unpack the bag. "I've got some big beach towels. Our sleeping bags are over there, for when we're finally ready to sleep. Oh, by the way, we have tomorrow off."

"What? Simon told me I couldn't..." He trailed off, seeing Jim's grin. "And Meagan... Damn, Jim, how many people knew about this?"

Jim started ticking them off on his fingers. "Simon and Meagan, as you've guessed. Perrelli. He's
thinking about keeping it like this and renting it for romantic trysts. Rico, to do the painting. He owed me. Derek for the conch stew. I didn't tell the guy who helped me haul in the sand..."

"What--no billboard?" But he was smiling.

"Smart ass." James went back to unpacking. "Condoms, lube, toys."

Blair peered into the now empty bag, and raised an eyebrow. "Where are the swim trunks, man?"

Jim grinned wickedly as he began to unbutton Blair's shirt. "You said a nude beach, Darwin, and I'm holding you to that." Blair started giggling helplessly. "Happy Valentine's Day, babe."

END

Notes:

This orphaned work was originally on Pejas WWOMB posted by author Scribe.
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