Title: Four Doors

Author: Caro Dee

Fandom: The Sentinel

Pairing: Jim/Blair

Rating: R for crude language and sexual dialogue.

Archive: WWOMB

Feedback: Lovely. Yes.

E-mail address for feedback: carodee@popullus.net

Sentinel_Thursday website: http://www.livejournal.com/community/sentinel_thurs

Disclaimers: Not mine, belong to Petfly, etc., No profit, yadda yadda

Notes: As usual, I brought the cake and Senbetas provided the icing. Thank you, guys.

Summary: Sen_Thurs Challenge #16: Jim and Blair on different sides of a locked door/gate.

Warnings: Slash. I've been told it deserves a spew warning (Um... that means it's funny).

Four Doors
by Caro Dee

Man, I'm so late. Jim is gonna kill me. Bursting out of the elevator, I run down the hall, throw my books down on the floor, and dig out my keys. At least, I try....

Fuck, where are they? Checking the pockets of my jeans, front and back, then the ones in my jacket. No... fucking... keys. I bang my head against the door and whimper.

An amused voice comes through the door. "Lost your keys again, Sandburg?"

"Yeah, sorry. Open the door, Jim."

"I don't know, Sandburg. What are the chances that this is your way of saying that you don't really want to live here?" He's enjoying this. Jerk. "Can you say passive-aggressive, boys and girls? Sure you can."

I hate him.

***

I bang on the door in desperation. "Hurry up in there, Sandburg! Other people need to use the john."

"Go away! I'm really, really busy right now."

"Yeah, well, I don't know what you did to that chili but it's burning its way out. Let me in!"

I hear him mutter, "Join the club." Then louder, "Okay, okay."

The blessed sound of flushing. Then the door opens and Sandburg comes out. "You better be quick too, Jim. Because I'm planning a return visit *real* soon."

Pushing him out of the way, I charge into the bathroom and reel back. *Oh, my God!* Where are the fucking dials when you need them?

***

"Ellison! My office!" Simon's bellow brings us both to our feet. Following Jim as he heads into Simon's office, I'm stopped by a large hand on my chest.

"Ah, ah, ah! Since when is your name 'Ellison'?"

My mouth drops open. I mean, Simon always yells 'Ellison' and I always follow Jim. That's the way we do it.

"Official police business. *Not* official observer business."

I step back and Simon shuts the door in my face. Thinking resentful thoughts, I wander back to Jim's desk. I mean, I've been a big help over the past couple of years and they *still* pull this 'You're not a cop' routine.

Settling into my chair, I lean back and stare into Simon's office. Jim and Simon are laughing and Simon pours Jim a cup of coffee. 'Official police business', huh?

For a moment, I catch Jim's eye and he quickly looks away. Uh-huh. The evidence is in. Do they think I've forgotten my birthday's next week? I'll be sure and *act* surprised, guys.

***

"Jesus, Jim. Relax, will you? Have you ever done this before?"

"I *am* relaxed," Jim hisses at me. "Just do your job, Chief."

"What do you think I'm doing? It's not working. You need to relax. Maybe you need a drink or something to put you in the mood."

"Sandburg! I do *not* need a drink. I *am* in the mood. I need you to try a little harder, that's all."

"That's all? Man, I'm telling you--I am knocking and I can't get in. Open up, man."

"Blair, I love you but if you don't fuck me RIGHT NOW, I'm going to kill you!"

Love you too, Jim. Even if you are a tight ass.

end