{"id":105,"date":"2011-08-27T14:32:52","date_gmt":"2011-08-27T14:32:52","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.squidge.org\/walterh\/?p=105"},"modified":"2011-08-27T14:32:52","modified_gmt":"2011-08-27T14:32:52","slug":"archiving-old-fic-the-bears-the-sentinel-jimblair","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.squidge.org\/walterh\/2011\/08\/archiving-old-fic-the-bears-the-sentinel-jimblair\/","title":{"rendered":"Archiving Old Fic &#8211; The Bears &#8211; The Sentinel &#8211; Jim\/Blair"},"content":{"rendered":"<pre>Though I've written a few X-Files slash stories, this is my very\r\nfirst slash based on the television series, \"The Sentinel.\"  The\r\npossibilities of that show... Whew! :)\r\n\r\nDISCLAIMER: I don't own Jim or Blair; they're property of UPN and\r\nPet Fly.  However, I make many trips to Vancouver, and if they come\r\nback with me in my suitcase one time, well I *will* eventually send\r\nthem back. \r\n\r\nTHANKS: I have to thank my cybersis Steff for urging me to start\r\nwriting again, after not having written any fiction for over ten\r\nyears.  Major thanks to Panda for becoming my friend through feedback\r\non a Mulder\/Krycek story I wrote, then using her powers of suggestion\r\nto get me to watch The Sentinel.  She's now my editor, and I thank\r\nher for her support.  Shelley, this story is for you!  (It's your\r\nfault, anyway... You planted the seed in my head!)\r\n\r\nThis is \"The Bears\" by Squidgie.  It's rated PG13 for implied M\/M\r\nrelationship and a little cuddling.  \r\n\r\nFeedback is REALLY requested!  This is my very first Sentinel story,\r\nand I'd like to know what people think of it.  You can reach me\r\nat walterh@squidge.org.\r\n\r\nI don't know who archives Sentinel slash, so feel free to archive it,\r\nbut please email me and let me know where it's been archived.  Thanks.\r\n\r\n***********************************************************************\r\n\r\nBlair almost flew out the loft's front door, grabbing for his\r\nkeys and slamming the door noisily behind him.  \"UURGH!!!\"  The \r\ngroan of frustration eaked from his clenched mouth, while his \r\nhands flew from their restless point at his sides, now aiming at \r\nthe sky trying to make sense of it all.  \"Why is he so pig-headed?!\" \r\nhe asked himself, incredulously.  As soon as he uttered the words, \r\nhe regretted it, having momentarily forgotten that Jim, Sentinel \r\nhearing no doubt focused intently, could hear every word.  As he \r\nmade for the stairs, the door behind him flew open.  Blair took \r\nthe stairs two at a time, a voice bellowing down after him, as if \r\nto ensnare him before he could flee.\r\n\r\n\"I'm *NOT* pig-headed. *YOU'RE* being *UNREASONABLE!*\"  The voice\r\ntrailed after him, and he knew he had to escape, at least for a\r\nlittle while.  When he heard the door slam from the floor above him,\r\nhe knew he was alone.  Jim wouldn't come after him.  Jim would\r\nrather sit in the loft and brood for hours.  \r\n\r\n\/Unreasonable, huh?  Yeah right.\/  Blair thought as he\r\nexited the building and walked along the busy street.  It had\r\nstarted as a little nothing; Blair had to finish grading his \r\nstudent's papers and didn't want to go out - besides, it was their\r\none month anniversary!  There was nothing more he wanted than a\r\nnice, quiet dinner at home with his beloved.  The thought made him\r\nsmile to himself.  \/Well, maybe more than *just* dinner.\/  Thoughts\r\nof the, well, it wasn't a fight as much as it was a tiff.... Well,\r\na tiff or a disagr.... Blair sighed heavily.  \"Shut up, Blair!\" he\r\nscolded himself.  The brief smile was now lost from his face, \r\nreplaced by a scowl that represented what he was feeling inside.\r\nYes, he'd wanted a nice, quiet dinner at home, but, \"After all,\"\r\nJim's words echoed through his head, \"It's poker night.  Poker night!\"\r\nBlair huffed as he remembered Jim asking why it was that they couldn't \r\njust go out some other night?  \"Pig,\" he said to himself, continuing\r\ndown the busy street, his eyes darkening to match his mood.\r\n\r\n***\r\n\r\nBefore he knew it, Blair realized that he had stewed for a good hour,\r\nand was now about three miles from the loft.  And cold.  \/Why the hell \r\ndid I walk out of there without my coat?\/ he berated himself.  \/Well,\r\nI should head back.  Jim may be pig-headed, but he'd get over it and\r\ndamn, but it's cold!\/ he thought, and turned around mid-step, when \r\nsomething in the window of the store he was in front of caught his\r\neye.  It was followed by a smile that could only be described as impish. \r\n\"Oh, man... Jim'll kill me.\" he grinned, and walked determinedly into \r\nthe store, pulling out his wallet as he strode in.  Yes, he was a\r\ntotal romantic, but why was Jim so...the totally unromantic type?\r\nHe reminded himself as the clerk rang him up, \/He may be unromantic, \r\nBlair, but he's yours.\/  \r\n\r\nSatisfied with his purchase, Blair waltzed out of the store, as if \r\nhe were on air, the mood that brought him this far from the loft now \r\ntotally forgotten.  He decided to get back, make his apology with the\r\naid of his purchase, and pile himself into the truck for the poker\r\ngame.  After all, there were going to be hundreds of anniversaries\r\nwith Jim to celebrate, if he had anything to do with it.\r\n\r\nThe sun had begun to set as Blair closed in on their building.  He\r\nlooked up and saw that, though subdued, the lights were still on,\r\nwhich meant that Jim was still home and had not gone out.  He\r\ncarefully and quietly made his way up the stairs and was almost\r\nto the door, when he heard soft music coming from inside.  \/Soft \r\nmusic, and the incredible smell of....lasagna?  What is going on\r\nhere?\/ he asked himself, and turned the key in the door.  As the\r\ndoor opened, Blair instinctively moved his hand over to the basket to\r\ndrop his keys in, but missed it by a foot.  There, leaning back on\r\nthe table that was now draped in cloth and filled with delicious\r\nsmelling items, was his lover, a meal in himself.  \r\n\r\n\"Welcome home, Chief,\" Jim said quietly and smiled to himself.  Blair\r\nnoticed that Jim was dressed now in a pair of khaki pants and a blue\r\nsilk shirt that made his eyes dance in pools of color that challenged\r\nthe movements of the candles spread about the loft.  \"Are you going\r\nto come in?\"\r\n\r\nBlair suddenly remembered that yes, he *was* supposed to be breathing.\r\nHe took a breath in, but the look of awe never left his face.  \"Um,\r\nuh... Jim?  Um, what's going on here, man?\"  The words he had spoken\r\nearlier about Jim not being a romantic now haunted his memory.\r\n\r\n\"What does it look like, Chief?  A nice, quiet dinner for two.\"  The\r\nwords oozed from Jim's mouth not unlike honey escaping it's container.\r\n\r\n\"But this was *poker night*, Jim.  You wanted to go out and play poker\r\nwith the boys.  What is this?\"\r\n\r\nAn easy laugh escaped Jim's mouth, his massive chest moving rhythmically\r\nunderneath his shirt, the fabric brushing up against his nipples\r\nsensually.  \"That's what you thought, Chief.  I only *told* you it was\r\npoker night to get you out of the house.  This dinner,\" he let his\r\narms flow over the food and wine on the table, \"was supposed to have\r\nbeen eaten at the restaurant.  It was supposed to be a surprise.  When\r\nyou left, I called and had to pay a pretty penny to get it delivered. \r\nAfter all,\" he added quietly, \"it *is* our anniversary.\"\r\n\r\nBy this time Blair had practically melted into a puddle of goo, though\r\nhis face still held it's awe.  He carefully engaged his legs, after\r\ndesperately trying to remember how they worked, and walked over to\r\nhis lover.  \"Jim, \" he whispered, \"Thank you.  You're incredible, man.\"\r\n\r\nBlair threw his arms around Jim, pulling him tightly into his chest for\r\na massive hug.  As he did, he noticed Jim squirming in his arms.  \"What\r\nis it?\"  Running his hands over the fabric, he asked, \"What?  The shirt \r\ngetting to you?\"  Blair's eyebrows flew up and down, innuendo hanging \r\nheavy in the air.\r\n\r\nA meaty hand left where it'd attached itself to Blair's buttocks and\r\nreached for Blair's stomach, touching something through his shirt.\r\nAs the two separated, Jim asked, \"No, this,\" he said, pointing to \r\nBlair's stomach.  \"What is it?\"\r\n\r\nBlair blushed, his eyes bright with glee.  \"Um, just a little something\r\nthat I picked up while I was out.\"  He began to unbutton his shirt\r\nto take out it's contents, when Jim dropped his gaze, eyes spotting\r\nthe gift.\r\n\r\n\"Oh no, Chief!  You promised!\"\r\n\r\nThe room was filled with Blair's laugh, which Jim's frown tried to\r\nextinguish.  \"Jim, I promised no more *teddy* bears.  This isn't a\r\nteddy bear Jim.  It's a panda bear.\"  His smile beamed bright, threatening\r\nto drown out the candle light that illuminated the loft, and Blair's\r\nmouth began to form a word.\r\n\r\nJim's eyes darted from Blair's lips to his eyes and back, focused and \r\nintent on quelling the onslaught before it began.  \"Blair?  Blair!  \r\nDon't you say it, Blair!  Don't you dare!\" all while Blair's lips tried \r\nto speak, forming the forbidden word.\r\n\r\n\"Oh Jim... I wouldn't *dream* about it,\" he added, handing Jim the\r\nstuffed animal.  Under his breath, but loud enough for a Sentinel's\r\nhearing, he added, \"Pookie bear\" and suppressed a laugh.\r\n\r\n\"That's IT!\" Jim mockingly yelled.  He threw the panda across the room\r\nand grabbed Blair, tossing both their bodies down onto the couch and\r\nthrust his lips to Blair's, kissing him deeply.  It was one way he\r\ncould think of to shut Blair up.\r\n\r\n***\r\n\r\nAfter dinner was finished and put away and the wine polished off, the\r\ntwo lovers slowly made their way up to their bedroom.  Jim stopped\r\nmid-step and turned, bounding past his lover and back into the living\r\nroom.  \"What is it?\" Blair asked.\r\n\r\n\"Go ahead and climb in bed.  I'll be up in just a second,\" Jim called\r\nafter him.  As Blair got undressed and slipped between the sheets,\r\nhe could hear Jim downstairs, walking the length of the loft, as if\r\nsearching for something.  Seconds later, Jim appeared at the top of the \r\nstairs, holding the previously abandoned panda carefully in his hands, \r\nbringing the grin back to Blair's face.  Jim sat down on the side of the \r\nbed, placing the panda carefully next to the teddy bear that Blair had \r\ngiven to him a couple of weeks prior.  \"Not another word, Chief,\" Jim\r\ninstructed, as he removed his clothing, then slipped between the\r\nsheets and took his lover into his arms.<\/pre>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Though I&#8217;ve written a few X-Files slash stories, this is my very first slash based on the television series, &#8220;The Sentinel.&#8221; The possibilities of that show&#8230; Whew! \ud83d\ude42 DISCLAIMER: I don&#8217;t own Jim or Blair; they&#8217;re property of UPN and Pet Fly. However, I make many trips to Vancouver, and if they come back with [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[5],"tags":[21,26,9,27,23],"class_list":["post-105","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","tag-archived-fic","tag-the-sentinel","tag-fic","tag-jimblair","tag-slash"],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p2ZgDO-1H","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.squidge.org\/walterh\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/105"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.squidge.org\/walterh\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.squidge.org\/walterh\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.squidge.org\/walterh\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.squidge.org\/walterh\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=105"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.squidge.org\/walterh\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/105\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":106,"href":"https:\/\/www.squidge.org\/walterh\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/105\/revisions\/106"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.squidge.org\/walterh\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=105"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.squidge.org\/walterh\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=105"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.squidge.org\/walterh\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=105"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}