Title: Domestic Primates

Author: (the other) G.M.

Archive: Yes, anywhere!

Fandom: The Sentinel

Pairing: Jim/Blair

Rating: PG 13 for brief nudity

Warnings: none

Summary: Jim chases a nude Blair, around the loft, with a towel.

Disclaimers: All characters are property of Pet Fly Productions. For sanitary considerations, I promise to thoroughly scrub Jim and Blair with lots of soap and hot water before returning them to the fandom.

DOMESTIC PRIMATES

By (the other) G.M

Blair wrapped a towel around his freshly showered mid-section. He stepped out into the hallway, glancing toward the living room. Jim stood in front of the balcony windows with arms outstretched, wearing only his favorite workout shorts, unmoving in the golden shaft of early morning light, like a prehistoric insect trapped in amber. ' It's probably nothing,' Blair thought, shrugging off the scene as he walked to his bedroom.

Nagging doubts re-surfaced in Blair's mind. They had the annoying habit of always doing that, but Blair Sandburg was Blair Sandburg, and doubts and anxieties were always at the age of his consciousness, waiting for their turn at bat. During the entire time that the two of men had been roommates, Blair had never seen Jim stand so trans-fixed in front of the window like that. Jim hated meditation, or anything even remotely similar to relaxation techniques. Maybe he had zoned out. Curiosity got the better of Blair. He stepped carefully over a pile of opened books and went back into the living room."Jim?"

Ellison remained motionless. Blair walked over and put a hand on the larger man's shoulder. "Jim. Buddy?" Powerful arms grabbed Blair, pulling him unnaturally close. He felt the intense heat of Ellison's skin, warmed by the sunlight, pressing tightly against his own exposed torso.The driving, primal drum beat of Jim's heart assaulted his ear. The embrace became uncomfortable... too close. He tried to move, but couldn't. "Jim! Can't breathe!" Blair said, his voice straining to be heard through a large tangle of wet hair.

Muscular arms lessened their boa constrictor-like hold on the smaller man. "Sandburg?"

Blair lifted his head up from Jim's chest; his face red, from being squeezed mercilessly against Jim's well-developed pecs. "Ouch," Blair said. He untangled himself from the bearhug, eyeing Jim cautiously. "You okay, man?" Blair rested his hands on Jim's forearms.

"Sure, Chief," Jim said.

Blair felt that something was still wrong with Jim. Maybe there was more to the zone out than he suspected. Jim was never this affectionate with any of his friends, even girlfriends; and he only used that tone of voice when he was holding back something. But what?

"Something you want to... tell me?" Blair offered, trying not to sound too confrontational. Jim said nothing. A totally ridiculous, highly improbable thought surfaced in Blair's mind. His face filled with worry. "Your not dying, are you?" Blair said, his heart racing.

Jim's deep, almost spaced-out laugh, resonated off of the balcony windows that the two of them were standing next to. That deep voice always had a calming influence on Blair, but now it was having just the opposite effect.

Blair looked deeply into Jim eyes, trying to find some hint to what was going on. "Your not leaving--" Blair said, a light trembling in his voice.

"Nah," Jim interrupted. Jim's giddiness passed; his expression became more serious -- the Jim Ellison that Blair had become accustomed to. Jim could see the depth of concern on Blair's face; the soulful hunger in those deep blue eyes. "Just a good zone out buzz, Chief."

"From what?" Blair said, a note of suspicion still in his voice.

"Sunrise," Jim said, motioning towards the balcony windows with both arms. "It was so... warm. I got caught up in it."

Blair crossed his arms, unsure whether to accept the explanation, and still confused by the sudden and unexpected show of affection from his roommate.

"Maybe I got a little carried away," Jim said. Blair knew that this was the closest he would ever get to an apology, or even an acknowledgement of the hugging incident, from Jim. He gave Jim an understanding smile and started back to his bedroom.

Blair felt a tug and sudden chill. His towel was gone. He quickly covered himself with his hands. As he turned, he saw Jim twisting the towel into a whip. "No! Jim! Man!" Blair put an arm up defensively and tried to back away. Jim surveyed Blair's lean, furry physique, looking for a sensitive, unprotected area to attack. A devilish grin appeared on Jim's face. Blair panicked and ran for the other side the couch.

WHACK! WHACK! Like a viper, the towel struck Blair's defenseless backside in quick, successive attacks.

"Run for your life hair boy!" Jim yelled.

Blair raced around the couch and into the dining room, with Jim in hot pursuit. Jim's expert use of the towel herded Blair like a cowboy steering an errant calf.

"Jim! Jim, please!" Blair pleaded. "That hurts man." Jim paid no attention, he was too caught up in the thrill of the hunt. Blair nervously kept the table between Jim and himself. Jim slowly paced around the dining room table, watching for the single perfect moment to attack. Nothing. He decided to try a different strategy: he let the towel uncoil, and begin twirling it back into a whip. It worked. Sensing that a few seconds delay on Jim's part might offer time to escape, Blair ran as fast as he could to the safety of his bedroom.

WHACK!

As he entered, Blair felt the bite of the towel upon his bare cheeks. He slipped on some ungraded papers and went flying through the air, landing on the bed with an audible "OOMPH". Jim stopped just inside of the doorway to Blair's room. Realizing that he would be trespassing on Blair's "safe place" if he entered, he backed out of the room.

Blair laid motionless. A look of concern crossed Jim's face. Movement. Blair looked back towards the doorway, brushing the damp hair from his face, trying to see if he was safe from the flannel-shorts-clad predator standing there. Blair noticed a brief half-pucker on Jim's face, just before Jim walked off to the bathroom in good spirits.

After catching his breath, Blair walked over to the dresser and pulled out a pair of white briefs. Jim was definitely in an odd, quirky mood today. Blair was puzzled by that quick little half-pucker that Jim made. It seemed somehow familiar. Memories of some of his Primate Studies classes came flooding back. That expression was an abbreviated form of primate lip smacking, and when used by human males, indicated affection or close friendship, i.e. stereotypical male-bonding. ' Jim's frisky and friendly today.'

The underwear's elastic waistband snapped against Blair's waist. 'And the towel whipping, what was that? That could be the title of my next paper: "Fraternal Towel Whippings As Mock Anal Assault" by Blair Sandburg. I'm sure that will be really popular in academic circles.' Blair chuckled.

Jim walked past Blair's room carrying an arm full of dirty laundry -- mostly Blair's clothes from this morning's shower. 'Jim never does that. He always prefers to bitch at me about cleaning up after myself when I take a shower.'

Jim paused in the living room and held out a sock, eyeing it suspiciously. "Hmm...stiff socks," Jim said loudly, ensuring that Blair would hear every word of it. "Dating scene been a little slow, Sandburg?"

Blair cringed. He could just imagine the smirk on Jim's face when Jim had said that. Jim was the alpha male around here, and he rarely let Sandburg forget it. 'He's toying with me, and loving every minute of it. Besides, the guy could hear EVERY sound that comes from my room, if he wanted to. Let it slide.'

Jim headed out the front door and stopped. "Hey, do I use a half cup or quarter cup with your stuff?"

Blair walked cautiously out into the dining room wearing only a snug fitting pair of white briefs. "A quarter cup."

Jim nodded and started out the door. "Hey," Blair said. "Thanks man...for doing the laundry."

Jim looked his semi-nude roommate over from head to toe and smiled. Blair noticed that Jim made that half-pucker expression again just before he closed the door behind him. Maybe the friendship was changing, or growing into something else, something more comfortable between them. 'The title of the paper would have to be changed,' Blair thought, 'not that it would actually ever see the light of day at any university. Maybe "Male-Bonding Behaviours Between Same-Sex Domestic Partners" by Blair Sandburg. Nah, sounds too gay.'

Laughing away this latest, ground-breaking anthropological paper, he walked back to his room to finish getting dressed. Change was in the air, and it seemed to be for the better.

THE END