Title: Hairboy and Bad-Attitude Ellison? No Way!

Author: Scorpio

Archive: SXF, WWOMB, CKoS, the Den

Fandom: The Sentinel

Pairing: H, J/B (implied)

Rating: R (language, implied m/m)

Series: None.

Category: POV (see notes)

Disclaimer: All things Sentinel belong to Pet Fly. I own nothing but a lazy dog and a beat-up car, but I'll fight to keep both.

Notes: This is a POV. Henri Brown tells the story and the whole kit-n-caboodle is his mental ramblings and thought processes. Can we say *denial*?

Warning: minor language, implied m/m

Summary: You can lead a Detective to the clues, but can you make him solve the case?

Hairboy And Bad Attitude? No way!

by Scorpio

Henri Brown stood in the break room frowning, the fading echoes of his friends and co-workers laughter ringing in his ears. He stared at a spot in the air mid-way across the room, thinking hard. He was a detective damn it, he would have *known* if something like that was *really* going on. Wouldn't he?

Henri could feel the wave of denial rise up in him. Of *course he would have known. The whole idea was absurd. There was *no way* that Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg were lovers. Best friends? Yes. Roommates? Yes. Partners? Yes. Lovers? Henri smirked and shook his head at *that* thought. N-O. No. Never happen.

Hell, Jim Ellison was an ex-Ranger! A trained killer, for God's sake. The thought was too ridiculous to even think about. And Blair Sandburg? The man was a walking, talking babe-magnate. Hairboy could (and *had* as far as Henri knew) charm the panties off of a frigid virgin. No way the little skirt chaser would climb into *any* man's bed.

So why did most of the detectives in Major Crimes and almost half of the detectives in Vice just try to convince him otherwise? They had all acted like he was either blind or a fool. Henri was *damn* certain Mrs. Brown didn't raise no dummy. So what was the deal with all those comments anyway?

Henri considered it for a while. He could only think of two things. One, everyone had suddenly gone nuts-o on him. Possible, yet highly doubtful. *Or* they were trying to pull a fast one on him. Convince him and then wait for him to make an ass out of himself. *That* was very very possible. Shee-it. They probably had a damn betting pool on how long it would take for him to crack and say something to one of them.

Henri snorted to himself in the empty room. Like *that* would ever happen. Not! Jim,... well, let's just say that Bad Attitude-Ellison had a nasty reputation for a quick fuse and a heavy hand in the violence department. And Henri Brown, Detective Junior Grade, was here to tell you it was *well* deserved. And Blair? Hairboy would just laugh in his face and then offer to cook up some foul tasting witch-doctor brew of his.

And who knew what weird shit would happen if he let Hairboy go and do some of that crazy Voodoo crap on him? He could keep *those* experiments to himself and Jimbo, thank you very much.

Henri paused in the act of refilling his coffee mug.

Was *that* it? Did the guys think that Blair and Jim were bumping uglies because they did all that strange ass mystical stuff together? Henri chuckled.

Hell, that had to be it. Hairboy had always been into that stuff as far as he knew. Candles and meditation and rituals and herbs and things like that. And after he moved in with Ellison, well old Jimbo started to get into it as well. Hell, the man was almost mellow somedays. He could almost see how they could misunderstand it.

They weren't lovers like everyone thought, they were practicing some weird ass magic shit. After all, Hairboy had traveled all over the world with his freaky-ass mother and then later he went on expeditions with Rainier. And Jim? He had spent all that time in the jungle back in his Ranger days. Living with the natives and shit.

Henri could barely contain his smirk. Those two did Voodoo,... not each other. They were on a week long camping trip right now and everyone figured that they were spending the time to get all freaky in the woods. Henri was sure they were. Just not the way the guys all figured. It wasn't sex, it was probably some weird ass ritual to stop the rainy season or some such crap.

Everyone would see he was right. They'd come back in a few days all nice and mellow from their vacation. Calm and centered, Hairboy would start trying to sleep his way through the secretarial pool,... again. And Ellison, well, he'd probably try and sleep his way through the female D.A.'s... again. They'd see. Henri was sure of it.

*****************
1 week later
*****************

Henri spent a significant amount of his time watching Jim and Blair. He couldn't help it. The idea had been planted in his head and it wouldn't shake loose. So, he observed.

What he saw was faintly disturbing. When he thought about it, he realized that it was nothing he hadn't seen before. It was just that *now*, he wasn't just looking, he was *seeing*.

What was it that he saw? Nothing *major*. It was just that those two acted different with each other than they did with anyone else. Little things.

They invaded each others space without thought or reprisal. They didn't even seem to think about it or even realize it themselves. They touched, they bumped and they reached across the others body or work space to grab things. Henri tested to see if *anyone* could do this. He was rewarded with a strange look from Blair and a warning growl from Jim.

Then there was the flirting. Hairboy flirted with *everyone*. If it was breathing, Blair would flirt with it. Hell, Henri had watched Sandburg try and flirt with malfunctioning *machines* in an attempt to convince them to work properly. But *Jim* didn't flirt with anyone. Unless he *meant* it. And Jim flirted with Blair. Constantly.

Another thing he'd know without realizing was the sheer amount of time the two spent in each others company. When Blair was still teaching, they spent time apart because Sandburg had responsibilities at the U. Now that he was no longer with Rainier, they spent *all* of their time together. Working, eating, recreation. Vacations. They had been back four days, and not *once* had they been separated as far as he knew.

Henri watched as the two men got up from their desks and walked out of the bull-pen together. He figured he'd better observe them some more.

***************
2 weeks later
***************

Henri tuned out Rafe as Ellison and Sandburg walked into the bullpen arguing with each other. That struck a cord in him. *Most* people tended to back off and try to cool down whenever Jimbo got his panties in a bunch. It was considered the prudent course of action since Ellison had a habit of winning arguments with his fists. There were only two people who had the cajones to stand up to the ex-Ranger and tell him off to his face *and* in front of witnesses. Captain Simon Banks and Detective Blair Sandburg.

Simon Banks was 6 feet four inches of frustrated ex-Army Drill Sergeant, high-blood pressure having, coffee drinking, cigar smoking, pissed off Police Captain. It wasn't such a shock that the big black man would get in *anyone's* face and scream for all he was worth, now was it?

But Hairboy was a mere five feet seven inches tall and he was *maybe* a hundred and seventy-five pounds soaking wet and with his boots on. He was a bundle of curls, flannel and indignation. One would never look at Blair and picture *him* as the person to send in to go toe to toe with a six foot tall two hundred pound ex-Ranger with a bad-ass attitude.

Henri felt himself jump slightly as the swearing and growling pair stormed into the Captains office and slammed the door behind them. He sighed and rolled his eyes. Great. Now Simon was going to spend the rest of the day snarling at everyone else because Larry and Curly decided to go bring their problems to Moe.

It was obvious what the problem was. Hairboy and Ellison needed to go get laid. Neither one of them had been out on a date since they got back from their vacation. Hell, now that he thought of it, they hadn't gone out on a date for a *long* time. Way before the camping trip. Henri chuckled humorlessly. *That* explained it.

A little voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like his partner Rafe informed him that if they weren't dating women, it could be because they were, indeed, sleeping with each other and it was an exclusive arrangement. Henri snorted and squashed that thought immediately.

With a shake of his head, Henri turned back to his work to find that Rafe was long gone. He shrugged. Oh well. Digging into a file sitting on the top of a stack, he immersed himself in the details of a rather viscous string of burglaries that more often than not left the sleeping families tied up in their beds.

He wasn't sure how long he had been involved in his paperwork when Simon's door opened once again. Henri looked up to see Sandburg and Ellison come out. Unlike when they went in, they were now smiling. Hairboy was bouncing along at Jimbo's side. Hell, the bigger man even reached out and *ruffled* Blair's mop of curls. And damn if the kid didn't *lean* into the touch like a puppy who was getting petted.

They turned and walked out of the bullpen together. Jim's hand was resting on the small of Blair's back and Blair's hands were gesturing in the air wildly. It was a scene that Henri had seen a million million times, yet something about it demanded he pay attention for once.

It was sort of odd, now that he thought of it. There was no real need for Jim to have his hand on Hairboy's back. It's not like he needed to show Blair where to go, or keep them from getting separated in a large crowd. Yet, there it was. That simple light touch.

Like a flower blooming, his memory opened up and supplied him with tons of stored images of Jim just casually touching Blair. Ruffling his curls, touching his back, a hand on his arm, sitting next to each other with knees that bumped together. And then, his mind turned it around and showed him instances when Blair touched Jim. A light touch to an arm, fist clutching the back of a jacket, gentle pats to the belly.

Henri watched as they walked into the elevator across the hall. They turned around and Blair reached out to push the button for the floor they wanted. Just as the doors began to close, Henri saw Jim reach out and tuck a stray curl back behind one of Blair's ears. Blair turned a blinding smile of pure joy up at him.

Henri just sat there gaping. His stunned mind tried to come up with a way to describe the look shining out from Sandburg's deep blue eyes. A word that wasn't *love*. His mental gears were grinding hard and then his engine stalled.

It *couldn't* be love. Right?

***************
1 week later
***************

Henri stood outside the loft holding a paper bag full of chips and salsa. His personal contribution to Poker Night. It was Ellison's turn to host it and Blair was fixing the main snacks. Still, he had asked everyone to bring a specific item. Henri was the salsa and chip man.

Suddenly the door opened and Bad-Attitude Ellison was standing there grinning at him as if he'd just won the lottery. He was quickly hustled inside. His bag of goodies was taken and then replaced with a frosty beer. He was a little early and the guys were still setting things up. So, Henri took the opportunity to check out the loft. Last time he was here, the place had just been shot up by some maniac with a taste for Hairboy tar-tar.

The place looked good and he said so. He was rewarded with a brief lecture on some of the repair work Jimbo had done so far as well as an exhaustive list of things he still wanted to do. Blair just rolled his eyes and handed Ellison another beer. It was obviously something he had heard *many* times before.

It was at that point that Simon showed up at the door. Jim and Blair left him to go escort the Captain inside, so Henri took the time to *really* look around the loft. A jolt of shock ran through him like electricity. The main room wasn't *too* obvious. It was supple. A gentle blending of things that were evidently Jim's and Blair's respectively as well as a *lot* of things that could be either of the guys, or mostly likely, both.

It was Blair's bedroom that caused the big reaction though. Or the fact that it wasn't there. Oh, the room was still there all right. It was tastefully decorated too. With a big pine desk, a wooden bookcase and a rather large filing cabinet. Pictures and masks hung on the walls and fetishes and statuettes stood on the shelves and the desk top. It was a nice home office, and it was painfully obvious that it was Blair's.

Henri felt slightly dizzy and hurriedly went into the main living area to sit down on the couch. He looked up to see Jim giving him an oddly concerned look and he tried to flash a smile at him. He just needed time to think, that's all. He took a deep breath and considered the situation.

If Blair's old bedroom was now an office,... *where* did the younger man sleep? Almost unconsciously, Henri's head turned to look up at the bedroom loft Ellison used. He *tried* to stop himself from doing it, but he just... couldn't. It was like when you slowed down on the highway to view a spectacular crash. You just *had* to look.

There it was. A boot. *Blair's* boot. Next to the bed and slightly peeking out from between the rails that ran the length of the loft. As Henri stared at the lone boot, he felt the world shift violently to the left.

When he turned back to face his friends who were setting up the card table, he found that Ellison was still staring at him, an odd expression in his normally stoic face. It took Henri a moment to recognize that look. Vulnerability. Fear.

That look wasn't a pleading one. Jimbo wasn't begging for acceptance. Instead, he hoped it would happen naturally. That much was evident. However, if he decided to storm out of here in a fit of anger, he wouldn't be stopped.

Henri turned and watched Blair bounce around the kitchen with Simon and Rafe. He was setting up the food and the two bigger cops were desperate to sample it all. Megan would be here soon and so would Muldoon and Withers. Everything was exactly the same as it was ten minutes ago. Only he himself had changed. He knew something he didn't before.

That thought stopped him. He *had* known. The guys had told him, but he had refused to believe. Now he *knew*. If the evidence of the office and Hairboy's boot next to Jim's bed didn't do it, the expression on Ellison's face said it all.

How *did* he feel about this revelation? He had spent a lot of time and energy denying it. But why? Was it because *he* wasn't gay, so he just assumed that none of his friends could be? Was it because he looked up to and admired Jim as a cop so that meant Jim had to confirm to some macho standard that was pitifully outdated? Or was it because he had enjoyed living vicariously through Blair and his revolving door of a love life?

But even more important than that, how did he feel now? Could he accept this new aspect of their relationship? Could he still think of them as not only co-workers, but as close personal friends?

Henri looked around the loft again. He watched Blair and Simon and Rafe for a long moment. Then he turned to look at Jim. The big cop was still watching him. Intently, quietly.

Yes... yes he could.

Henri smiled at Bad-Attitude Ellison and smiled. He mouthed the words "Congratulations Stupid" and watched the unease melt away from his friend's blue eyes. Then, he stood up and went to join the game.

END
No Way!