Looking For A Miracle (Or Dessert)

by Silvina

Fandom: The Sentinel

Pairing: Jim/Blair

Rating: R

NOTE: This one especially I'd love some feedback on. The conversations were hilarious at the time, but as the disclaimer says, maybe you just had to be there. Also, please keep in mind that I've seen Star Wars once, as part of a bet (he had to watch all of DS, I had to watch the trilogy, part 1, and the remastered versions), so there may be some mistakes there too. Jsut let me know if you find any.

Standard Disclaimer. Who knows, maybe you just had to be there.

Looking for a miracle (or dessert)

by Silvina

He woke up with a craving for flan. No idea why, he just felt like flan. The last time he'd had flan he'd been dating Maya, before everything had gone to hell and Jim had tried to comfort him with noodles.

Things were different now. Maya had moved on with her life, and he was a cop, Jim's full partner, on and off the field.

The entire day, flan kept popping up in his subconscious. When they left the station for lunch he was overjoyed to find flan on the dessert menu, only to be interrupted by Jim's hearing gunshots. Of course Jim heard gunshots just as he was about to order his dessert.

Of course these gunshots ended up involving a high-speed chase ending on foot through the backyard of someone who mistook Blair for a trespasser. The Sandburg zone was a joke compared to the Ellison zone.

Dirty and exhausted when they finally got back to the loft, he walked straight to the shower. When he ran out of hot water and not a second before, he found that Jim had placed a clean change of clothes on the hamper so that he wouldn't have to get cold.

"Thanks, man."

"Dinner's almost ready, why don't you get the movie ready to go?"

The familiar music settled him as Jim brought over a plate and a mug of tea. "I'm still not seeing what you get out of watching this movie again."

"Come on, man, it brought together the mythology of so many cultures-"

"You were what, eleven? And you sounded like a textbook then, too?"

He ducked the pillow being tossed at his head.

"Shut up, they're entering Cloud City. This is important."

Watching Blair more than he was watching the television, Jim grinned as Blair tried to warn Han and Leia about Lando. "Nice architecture."

"Easier on Sentinel senses, I bet. Hey, Jim -"

"No, Sandburg. I don't want to know what test you've thought of that combines my senses and Star Wars." He stood up.

"Where are you going?" Blair asked.

"Relax, Jedi. I'm just going for dessert."

"What's dessert?"

"Flan."

"Flan? Really?"

"You don't like flan?" Jim's tone somehow implied shock that someone could not like flan.

"Are you kidding me? I've had the worst craving for flan all day. I was going to order some at lunch before you heard the shots."

When poor Han Solo met his carbonite fate, Blair gave in to his inner dweeb. "You know what I always wanted? One of those cardboard stands of him frozen like that."

"They actually made those? And people brought them? Thank God for the army."

"Naomi wouldn't let me have one cause it wouldn't fit in the car. You know what, though, if you could get the original mold, you could make a life sized flan." He giggled at the screen, waving with one hand.

"Look, it's Harrison Flan."

"That's pitiful, Sandburg."

"Flan you very much."

"Sandburg."

"It's Flanuary."

"I'm taking the flan away from you." And he did, almost tripping over Blair's backpack on his way to the kitchen. This didn't help matters any.

"Oh Jim, don't trip and . . . flan!" He howled.

"What's flan got to do with it?"

Blair just clapped a hand over his mouth.

"Now you've got me doing it, asshole." He wasn't really upset, though, it was rather nice watching Blair laugh hysterically. Maybe just one more. . . "Have a nice flan."

Blair finally managed to stop laughing, but only because he'd fallen asleep drooling on the couch. Jim carried him upstairs, undressed him, and put him to bed. After turning off the tv and checking the doors and locks, he went upstairs himself.

An hour later, Blair was dreaming of Jim-shaped flan, just for him.

Cold toes made him uncomfortable enough to wake up a little. He rolled over into the warmth of the real Jim-shaped Jim, and fell back asleep. He got to keep this one.

END

sdelcul@yahoo.com