Title: I Had a Dream

Author/pseudonym: Silk

Fandom: The Sentinel

Pairing: Jim/Blair

Rating: PG

Status: New/Complete

Date: 12/23/01

Archive: If I sent it to you, please feel free to archive.

E-mail address: silkn1@att.net

Series/Sequel: No

Website: http://www.angelfire.com/ny4/tinsel/

Notes: This is set post-TSbyBS. No spoilers for specific episodes. Blair is now Jim's partner, which would make this AU, but it doesn't really play a significant part in the story.

Disclaimers: All Sentinel characters belong to Pet Fly and Paramount. I am merely playing with them nicely. This work is not for profit.

Summary: Jim wants to know why Blair cares what he eats. He finds out.

Warnings: M/M, AU, First Time.

As always, for Tinn



I Had a Dream
by Silk

"You should see a doctor about that, Sandburg."

"About what? I had a dream. What's the big deal, Jim?"

I watched in awe as the big, buff detective in my life devoured an entire day's worth of cholesterol and managed to smack his lips doing it. "Take human bites, Jim," I reminded him.

Jim smiled, his mouth shiny with grease from the real butter that still dripped from the third slice of toast he held between slick fingers. "I love toast."

"Yeah, I can see that. But getting back to the dream thing--"

"Okay, Sandburg, you win. You've killed my desire to consume gross quantities of fat," he said, wiping his hands on a napkin.

"It was just a dream, Jim."

"That *I* starred in."

I buried my face in my whole wheat muffin which was spread with an organic concoction of strawberries and orange marmalade. "I wouldn't say you *starred* in it, exactly."

"I had a featured role, then. And how come *you* can stuff your face with tons of sugar?"

"*I* don't have the cholesterol from Hell. Speaking of doctors--"

"We weren't. Speaking of doctors. Anyway, I'm not going." Jim set his mouth mutinously and I knew he wasn't budging from the kitchen table until he forced some sort of acquiescence from me.

"I don't know why you want me to agree with you, Jim. You don't listen to me, anyway."

"That's not true."

"It is."

"Fine," he said, scraping his chair back from the table. "You don't do anything about your dream and I won't go to the doctor. We're even."

"Not really. My dream wasn't real, Jim. My dream won't kill me. Or you. But your cholesterol spiraling out of control *will*. But hey, if you don't care what happens to you, you selfish son of a bitch, why should I?"

"Excuse me? Where did that come from?" I could feel Jim staring at me with that mindblowing intensity that he usually reserves for criminals.

I sighed. Overreacting like this was a sure sign that I was getting dangerously close to revealing my true feelings for Jim. I loved him. More than friendship. More than partnership. But I'd been stuffing my feelings down into some deep, dark corner of my heart for so long...and it was getting harder and harder to hold them back.

"Never mind, Jim. I hope you and your heavily buttered toast are very happy together."

I stood up and made a break for the door, but Jim got there first and blocked the way out with his considerably larger frame. "Run that by me again, Chief. What difference does it make if I croak from a heart attack or a bullet?"

I swallowed hard and forced myself to look into those hard, glittering eyes. "You can't help your job, Jim. It's what you do. It's what you are. I accept that. But you could do something about the way you treat your body."

"Oh? And why do you care?" he purred.

"I'm a...a big fan...of your body," I blurted out before my mind could overtake my tongue.

For some reason, Jim looked absurdly pleased. "Really."

"Yeah. Can I go now?"

"You ride with me now, Chief, remember?" Jim reminded me. Suddenly his fingers were in my hair, pulling and tugging and stroking in a way that was nearly a caress.

"What are you doing?" I whispered. I hated to speak for fear of breaking whatever spell Jim was under, but I had to know. I had to know what Jim was thinking...or feeling.

"Something I should have done a long time ago," he whispered back.

I couldn't move. All I could do was wait impatiently to see what would happen.

He nudged my lips apart and claimed my mouth in a deep, satisfying kiss that couldn't be mistaken for anything else. Not friendship. Not partnership.

Relationship.

It was a relationship kiss and we both knew it.

"I love you," he whispered into my mouth.

I felt the insane urge to giggle uncontrollably well up in my chest. "Man, you'll do anything to get your butter every morning, won't you?"

He kissed me again.

Damn, he tasted good. His butter-coated mouth latched onto my neck and I melted.

"Okay, I can see I'm going to be the soul of compromise here."

A smart man knows when to bend. Especially when he's getting the better end of the deal.



End