Title: Talking to Santa

Author: Caro Dee and pam h

Fandom: The Sentinel

Pairing: Jim/Blair

Rating: R

Status: Complete

Archive: WWOMB

Feedback: Lovely. Yes.

E-mail address for feedback: carodee@popullus.net and pamschat@sonnet.co

Disclaimers: These characters do not belong to me. The Sentinel is owned by Pet Fly, etc. Not making any profit here.

Notes: Big thanks go to Pattrose for the plotbunny that led to this story. Thanks to Helen and Sheila for doing the beta. Dates are taken from The Sentinel Timeline on The Nightowl's Nest site. This was originally part of the Slash Advent Calendar 2003 at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2003

Summary: Jim has other plans for Christmas and Blair talks too much.

Warnings: None.


Talking to Santa
by Caro Dee and pam h

*1974*

Dinner's over and it's time for chores. Naomi helps carry the dirty dishes from the big dining room into the kitchen. Blair follows behind, carrying one cup at a time and cheerfully delivering it to the guy stacking the dishes. The guy grins and says, "Thanks, kid," every time. He has a long, bushy, blond beard that Blair stares at with unblinking fascination.

Now they're putting on their coats and going outside. They do this for the first few nights every time they're in a new place. Naomi says it helps to know that no matter where they are, the stars look the same and that the entire world is their home.

Blair runs through the snow to their spot on the split rail fence. He waits for Naomi to lift him with an 'oof'. He's too heavy for her to hold anymore and he misses that, so he leans against her as she stands there hugging him to keep him from falling off.

They stare up quietly at the stars. Blair's a little sad - missing Charlie and the other kids, but he really likes Sarah and Willy and Sunrise, so he thinks it's going to be okay here.

Suddenly, Naomi starts talking, her face raised upwards. "Dear Santa, I'm really looking forward to Christmas this year. The gifts I would like are freedom for oppressed people, equality for women, safety for animals and plants everywhere, and that all rich, capitalists pigs learn to share the wealth. And I'd like some new jewelry, maybe a necklace or a bracelet. Thank you."

Blair frowns thoughtfully. Naomi is the smartest person in the world but, sometimes, she pretends for little kids like other grown ups. "Charlie said that Santa isn't real." Charlie was much older, at least seven, so he knows things.

"Ah, did he?" Naomi runs her fingers lovingly through Blair's hair. "Well, sweetie. He was half right. Santa isn't a real person like you and me. He's more like the angels or the nature devas. He's one of the spirits of giving and it's very important to tell him what you want. How else does the universe know what to send you in your life?"

"Oh," says Blair and settles back to think things over. He knows he can't ask for anything big because they'll have to leave it when they move on. But he can bring small things with him. "Hi, Santa. Can I have a new picture book?"

"What kind of picture book, Blair?"

"Indians!" Blair jiggles with excitement. They'd watched a movie a couple of days ago with cowboys and Indians and everybody here cheered the Indians and booed the cowboys. It was fun.

When Christmas morning comes, Blair eagerly watches as Naomi opens his gift and finds the bead necklace Janice helped him make. She puts it on and admires herself in the mirror. "This is the most beautiful necklace I own now." Blair grins proudly. It was really hard getting all those beads on the string. He's glad Naomi likes it.

Then it's his turn. Naomi helps him carefully take off the wrapping paper and fold it. Yes! It's a picture book. He looks through the pages for hours. He didn't know there are Indian-type people all over the world. He makes Naomi read the words to him over and over until she laughs and sends him out to play with his friends.

He's pretty pleased with Santa.



*1968*

Jimmy is sitting at the kitchen table carefully copying Sally's writing onto another piece of paper. He's been learning his ABCs in school so his letters are only a little wobbly. He's being extra careful because this letter is *really* important.

He knows better than to ask Dad for help with his plan. But he knows Sally misses Mom too. So he went to her and told her what he wanted. Her eyes got shiny and she smiled kind of funny, but got out the paper and pen and wrote down what he told her.

Stevie's taking his nap. He's just a little kid and can't be trusted not to blab. But Sally's quiet and smart and she's been extra nice since Mom left.

He half-watches her bustling around the kitchen fixing dinner. It's beef stew and Sally makes it early so it can simmer all afternoon. He takes deep whiffs of the frying onions and beef and the sharp garden smell of the cut up vegetables waiting their turn. He likes Sally's stew.

He's finished writing and signs his name. He checks between his letter and Sally's to make sure he hasn't made any mistakes. This is too important.

*Dear Santa,*

*My name is James Joseph Ellison but most everybody calls me Jimmy. My Dad says that if I'm very very good there will be presents under the tree. I've tried my hardest to be a good boy this year. Please don't bring me bring me presents for under the tree. What I want for Christmas is to have my mom come home. That will be the very best present and I'll try even harder to be good. Thank you Santa.*

*Sincerely,*
*Jimmy Ellison*

He tells Sally that he's done and she brings him an envelope to write Santa's address on. She folds the letter for him and he puts the stamp on very carefully so it won't fall off.

Then Sally checks the simmering stew and they go get their coats. Sally holds his hand as they walk to the corner. She holds the flap of the mail box down for him as he stretches up to drop in his letter. Then they walk back.

When Christmas comes and he sees all the presents under the tree, he runs into the kitchen. Sally quietly holds him while he tries not to cry from the terrible disappointment.

He waits all through Christmas day, just in case Santa changes his mind. But when Mom never comes, he goes to bed that night knowing that he's not ever talking to Santa again.



*1995*

Juggling the four heavy grocery bags, Blair managed to unlock the door, push it open, enter, and kick it shut with one leg, all without dropping a bag. Locking would have to wait until he'd deposited his goodies in the kitchen.

"Hey, Sandburg!" Jim greeted him cheerfully from his bedroom.

"Hey, Jim," Blair yelled up, lurching the last few steps and dropping his bags on the counter. "Take a look at the stuff I got for Christmas. Have you ever had Glogg? It's this Scandinavian hot wine punch. I've got this really great recipe. You're going to love it."

Jim came trotting down the stairs. "Sorry, Chief. I'm not going to be here for the Glug."

"It's Glogg," Blair said automatically, taking in the fact that Jim was wearing a ski jacket and carrying his small suitcase. "Where are you going?"

Jim grinned. "Vicky invited me skiing for five days. I checked the ski report and there's some fine powder up in the ski resort area. Perfect skiing snow."

"But... it's Christmas. You won't be back in time for Christmas." Blair felt lame pointing that out, but he was so disappointed he didn't really care.

"Yeah, well, Christmas isn't that big a deal for me. And spending it skiing all day and sleeping all night with a beautiful blonde sounds like a pretty good way to celebrate to me."

"But... but you stayed home last year." Blair knew he sounded like a broken record.

"My senses were still shaky then and I figured it was safer. But I'm handling them pretty well now, so I'll be fine." Jim snapped his fingers. "Oh wait. I almost forgot."

He dashed back upstairs and came down with a wrapped package. He held it out to Blair. "Here you go, Sandburg. Merry Christmas and all that jazz."

Blair stood there, holding the gift. "I, uh, I don't have yours ready yet, Jim."

Jim shrugged. "Don't worry about it. I'll get it when I get back Can't really take whatever it is with me anyway." He checked his watch. "I'm running late. I gotta get out of here."

He reached out and pulled Blair into a hug. "Merry Christmas, Blair. Don't celebrate too hard and no wild parties in the loft!"

Then he let go, grabbed his suitcase, and he was gone.

Blair looked at the present and the grocery bags filled with holiday goodies. Suddenly, he didn't feel like celebrating at all.

***

It was Christmas Eve and Blair Sandburg was feeling more than a little Bah, Humbug!

He'd tried. He really had. After all, he was Blair Sandburg, 'Mr Congenial', nominally Jewish, but brought up in Naomi's inclusive, 'all celebrations are valid' philosophy, so with determined good spirits, he'd set out to enjoy Christmas anyway. He'd accepted Simon's invitation to join him and Daryl for Christmas dinner. He'd made the round of last-minute Rainier departmental get-togethers, cheerfully eating the chip and dip and the store-bought
eggnog and flirting with whoever was willing to flirt back. He'd come home and spent the evening preparing the Christmas feast because he certainly wasn't going to let all this food go to waste.

But the specter of Jim's absence filled the loft. Because, although he'd spent a few Christmases alone before, he'd actually thought he had, well, almost family to spend it with this time. Guess Jim didn't see it that way.

So there he sat, sipping a very fine batch of Glogg and feeling sorry for himself. In defiance of the house rules, the livingroom table was covered with all the dishes he'd prepared. He'd tried them all, a bite here and mouthful there. But he just didn't feel hungry. So he consoled himself with another couple of glasses of Glogg.

His thoughts drifted back to the Christmases he'd shared with Naomi. Unless her current boyfriend was well off, they never had the money to indulge and presents were kept to a minimum. He chuckled, remembering the ritual of "Talking to Santa" that had continued until he went away to college. It was their private joke and even this year, Naomi had called to find out what he'd asked Santa for. Despite her total faith in the efficacy of making your needs known to the universe, their Christmas ritual had really been her way for them to let each other know what gift would be most appreciated.

Suddenly, he felt a yearning for that childhood connection with Naomi, that breathless anticipation of wonderful things coming closer. He stood and went to grab his coat. Putting it on, he opened the balcony doors and stood there, gazing up at the stars.

"Hey, Santa, old man, old buddy. It's been a while, hasn't it? Did I ever remember to thank you for all the great stuff you've given me over the years? No? Well, muchos gracias. You've been good to me. Especially since you finally coughed up my sentinel." Blair snickered and drank another gulp of his Glogg. "Although it took you a few years to manifest, didn't it? Better late than never though and I totally owe you there, man. Best thing and all that..."

"This year... the sentinel was great... is great, I mean. Don't get me wrong. No complaints here, man. But this year, do you think I could have Jim too? The sentinel is great and I love working with him and studying him. Endless fascination there. The thing is, Jim is this unique and special guy all on his own. I really love him, maybe a little too much for my own good, but he's so guarded. A total arms-length kind of guy. We're getting closer and life is pretty good, but do you think you could put in a good word for me? Maybe let him know that I'm safe and would never hurt him. And,
well.... I know he's straight, but is there any chance at all? That's really what I want for Christmas, man. You take your time. Don't rush. Maybe it'll take a couple of years. I can wait. But, hey, the friendship thing is really cool too. Don't mess with that, okay?"

Suddenly he heard someone at the door and, in his slightly inebriated state, for one fleeting moment, it seemed like an instantaneous answer to his request. Then he heard the key in the lock and his blood ran cold, sobering him up instantly. What the hell was Jim doing coming back so early? He must have heard every damn thing Blair had just said.

Any hopes he might have that Jim had been distracted and not actually listening to him fled when he caught sight of the complete blankness of Jim's expression. *Shit!* He could feel his face burning with embarrassment and dread.

"Hey, Chief," Jim said quietly, as he took off his coat and hung it up. Then he walked past Blair and headed up to his room, where Blair could hear him unpacking his bags.

Blair took another gulp of his Glogg and dithered about his best course of action. Should he act like nothing had happened? Should he insist they talk and he could reassure Jim that he'd never do anything to make him uncomfortable? Should he go pack his stuff up now?

Jim came back down and headed into the kitchen. Blair watched him inspect the pot with the warm Glogg in it and ladle himself a cupful. Jim took a sip and turned to meet Blair's gaze, his own eyes shadowed and unreadable. Blair felt his heart lurch. So now he knew. He hadn't realized that actually knowing for sure would be so painful.

From the safety of the kitchen, Jim said, "Vicky broke her leg."

Blair really didn't give a shit about what happened to Vicky. His voice was flat as he said, "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Took a turn too fast, lost control and banged into a tree. I got her to the hospital and then she wanted to go stay with her parents. So I came home." Jim cleared his throat. "That's why I'm home early."

That pain in his chest was starting to burn a little. Blair realized he was angry. Hell, he was furious. "Of course," he said with icy calmness. "Why else would you come home? Why would you want to spend Christmas here?"

Jim's head came up sharply and he stared hard at Blair. "Chief--"

Blair threw up his hand. "Stop! Stop right there, Jim. It's late and I've had too much to drink and I just don't want to talk about this tonight. I'm going to bed." He placed his cup carefully on the table. "Sorry about leaving the food for you to clean up."

"Don't worry about it. I missed dinner because I didn't want to stop. It, uh, all smells good. I'll have something to eat and put it away. You go to bed and get some rest."

Feeling incredibly tired and depressed, Blair simply nodded and walked off. Closing his bedroom door, he undressed and crawled into bed. The TV came on quietly and Blair lay there, staring in the dark, aching.

After a half hour the TV was turned off and he heard the sounds of Jim puttering around, the fridge door being opened, dishes being washed. Long after Jim had gone up to bed himself and the loft was silent, Blair remained awake, looking at the emptiness of his life.

***

He woke up to a loud banging on his door and a cheerful voice saying, "Merry Christmas, sunshine. Get your ass out of bed or you'll miss breakfast."

Blair groaned and rolled out of bed. He was slightly headachy and parched and his mouth tasted awful, but thank God he didn't have a hangover. Shuffling sleepily to the bathroom, he heard Jim bustling about in the kitchen.

After a nice hot shower, he was starting to wake up and feel human again. He got dressed and reluctantly headed out to face the music.

Jim was wearing the apron, clutching a spatula, and staring eagle-eyed at the griddle. When his sentinel senses indicated the exact perfect moment, he swooped in and flipped the pancakes quickly and expertly. That done, he looked up and gave Blair a wide grin. "Hey, Chief. Glad you could make it. I thought I might have to go in and drag you out of that shower before the pancakes got cold."

Blair blinked a second in mild stupefaction and then realized that was how they were going to play it. Last night never happened and they were simply the best of friends. Okay... it still hurt but the friendship would be safe. "Miss one of the three times a year you do more than burn toast for breakfast? No way, man!"

He thought he saw a slight relaxation of Jim's shoulders as he realized Blair was going along with it. "Hey! I do my share of cooking. Plenty of weekend breakfasts."

"No, actually, Jim, you tend to go, 'I don't feel like cooking this morning. Let's hit the Pancake House.'"

Jim laughed and bent to open the oven door. He carefully lifted the done pancakes on top of the others warming in the oven. Scraping the mixing bowl vigorously, he managed to pour two more pancakes onto the griddle. "Hey, I've set the table already. You want to put out the O.J. and the coffee?"

"Sure," Blair said easily and started to move past Jim to get to the fridge. Jim turned and threw out an arm to pull Blair in close.

They stood there silently. Blair relished the hug and couldn't resist dropping his head onto Jim's shoulder for a second. He could feel Jim trembling just a little and tightened his hug for a second and then pushed away. Smiling but not quite able to meet his eyes, Blair turned and briskly starting getting the orange juice out of the fridge.

Breakfast was... strange. Jim was charming and talkative. Any conversational silence was quickly broken by a cheerful question or observation. Jim, in his own special way, was acting almost manic. Blair gritted his teeth, smiled and kept up his end of the conversation. Hell, Jim was *trying*, wasn't he? He had to give him a lot of credit for that.

After breakfast, they did the dishes together, working side by side. Blair washed the dishes and handed them off to Jim to dry. It had to be his imagination that Jim was leaning in closer than necessary, but it was annoying and made it hard for him to concentrate. Probably just Jim's way of showing that he was comfortable hanging around the queer.

*'Jeez, Blair. Feeling just a little bitter there?'*

Jim dried the last dish, put it away, and handed the towel to Blair who dried his hands on it. "Hey, time to open the presents, Chief."

"Okay," Blair mumbled, unenthusiastically. He followed Jim into the livingroom where Jim had piled the presents on the table.

Jim poked around in the pile and moved aside the gifts for Simon, Daryl, Megan, the guys. Then he picked up a package and handed it to Blair. "Merry Christmas!"

The package was awkwardly wrapped and squishy. Blair pulled the paper apart and held up the dark blue wool hat and matching gloves. The wool was soft and warm. "Hey, thanks, Jim." Blair smiled and pulled the hat on. Oh yeah, winter chill was not getting through this baby. "This is great."

Jim smiled back and his eyes slid away. "Well, I saw it in the gift shop at the ski lodge and thought you'd like it."

Blair was touched. Jim had thought of him even in the middle of his blonde ski-babe getaway. His voice softened. "I really do like it. Thanks."

Jim cleared his throat and picked up a present with his name on it. He pulled off the paper and opened the box only to find another box. Inside that box was another one. Jim rolled his eyes. "Oh very funny, Sandburg."

Blair grinned. "Keep on going. You'll get there eventually."

Two boxes later, Jim pulled out three small pieces of paper. He frowned at them and then burst out laughing. "Gift certificates to Wonder Burger! You're spoiling me here, Chief. Hey, aren't there six certificates to a pack?"

Blair said sternly, "You can have the other three for your birthday. Just because I'm relaxing the dietary rules for Christmas, doesn't mean I'm okay with you doing this as a regular thing."

"You're so tough," Jim teased. "Almost as bad as my drill sergeant."

"Hey, I need to be tough to handle a tough guy like you. Go on, I've got two more presents for you there."

Jim fell silent a moment. Blair frowned, puzzled. Jim was acting fidgety and... was he blushing?

Jim cleared his throat nervously. "Actually, Chief, you should open this present next." He handed over the gift he'd left with Blair before the ski trip.

Mystified, Blair opened the package. It was a couple pairs of silk thermal underwear of the best quality. A wonderful, useful and soon to be much appreciated gift, but didn't explain Jim's manner. "Wow, I'm going to be really warm this winter. Thanks, Jim."

"I, uh, I thought these would keep you warm during the day. I, uh, well... I've got another gift to keep you warm at night."

Okay, Jim was definitely blushing now. Trying to sound encouraging, Blair said, "Yeah? What is it, Jim?"

Jim pulled something out of his pocket, peeled the tape off and slapped the Christmas bow on his chest. "Me." Then he sat there, flushed with embarrassment, with an uncertain smile and an unmistakable hint of fear in his eyes.

Blair's mouth dropped open. He looked at Jim sitting stiffly there on the couch and he wanted to be kind, to tell Jim that this generosity wasn't necessary, that he didn't need... *a Goddamn Pity Fuck! Jesus!*

He jumped to his feet, gifts dropping to the floor unheeded, and forced out, "I'm sorry. I can't do this." Then he fled to his room before he could say something unforgivable.

***

A couple of hours beating up his pillow until it rolled over and played dead, then meditating for calmness helped. Looking at it from a more detached perspective, Jim was really only being kind. It was a genuine act of friendship to offer up something he knew Blair wanted. It was love, just not the kind he'd hoped for.

Time to act like an adult and apologize.

Jim had slammed out the front door a couple minutes after Blair had retreated to his bedroom. He'd come back about half an hour ago and turned on the TV too loudly.

Blair stood there a moment, watching Jim slouched on the sofa and drinking his beer. There was already one empty on the table. Okay, Jim's not taking this too well.

With an ostentatious sigh, Jim reached for the remote and turned off the TV. "What do you want, Sandburg?"

Blair sat down next to Jim. "I have to apologize for my behavior, Jim."

Jim's face hardened. "Forget it. I made a pass; you turned it down. Are we through here? Because I'm missing the show."

"Well, I could have been more thoughtful about it."

Jim turned towards Blair, angrily. "You know, Sandburg, you're right. You really could have. It wasn't easy to put myself out there like that and you could have let me down easier."

"You're right. And for what it's worth, I'm really sorry. Our friendship deserves better than that."

Jim's eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. "You are so full of shit, Chief. Apology accepted. Now get out of my face." He turned and clicked the TV back on, staring rigidly ahead.

Blair stared at Jim, stumped. Why was he so angry? Surely he felt relieved to realize Blair wasn't going to take him up on his misguided offer. "What is your problem, Jim? Why are you being like this?"

Jim stiffened. Then he slowly turned the TV off again. "I'm not angry, okay. I'm just disappointed. That okay with you, Chief? Am I allowed to be disappointed?"

"What?"

"Hey, you didn't want me. I thought you did and you didn't. Allow me to feel bad about it, okay?"

It was Blair's turn to respond stiffly, "I'm sorry I hurt your pride, Jim."

Jim frowned. "My pride? What are you talking about? I'm disappointed that, well, you know... *we're* not going to happen."

Blair gaped. Whatever he had expected to hear, that was not it. "You... you *wanted* something to happen?"

"Where were *you* this morning when I made a fool of myself, Chief? I wouldn't have made a pass if I didn't want us to happen."

"I thought you were offering a pity fuck!" *Oh, Jesus. Oh God.* Blair's heart was pounding.

Jim gave him an disbelieving look. "What? You're my best friend and my partner. Why would I risk that for a pity fuck?"

Because you're my friend and... you love me? Okay, feeling really dumb right now. "Well, I thought you heard me talking last night and you were feeling sorry for me."

"I heard you talking and it made me realize that there were possibilities here. I'm sorry I was mistaken."

Blair just had to ask, "Jim, are you bi?"

Jim rolled his eyes in exasperation. "No, Sandburg. The long hair fooled me into thinking you were a girl. I am never calling you a genius again." Then, he grudgingly added, "I have to admit it's more looking than doing, if you know what I mean."

Blair was feeling too happy to be indignant. He could see his ship coming in and it was mighty fine. "Damn. I had no idea."

"It's okay, Blair. I understand and I won't make a pest out of myself. It's just... I'm disappointed, okay?"

"Jim?" Blair leaned forward into Jim's space, his eyes heavy and smiling. He gleefully watched Jim's Adam's apple bob convulsively.

"Yeah?"

"Can I still have my present? I've changed my mind."

Jim leaned back slightly, expression blank. "Should *I* be worrying about a pity fuck now?"

"Mmmm, no. I think you should lie back and let me unwrap you." With a feeling of joy so intense he felt like yodeling 'Hallelujah!' at the top of his lungs, Blair reached out his hand and put it on Jim's thigh.

Jim stared down at it as if it were a tarantula, then looked back up. His expression was uncertain, with a terrible hopefulness that filled Blair with tenderness. "Blair... are you sure?"

"Yeah, I get it, Jim..." Blair's grin burst out and was answered by the one on Jim's face. He moved in closer and placed his hands on Jim's chest, gently sliding them up and down.

"This gift is non-returnable..."

Deftly, he undid the buttons of Jim's shirt, slipping it off his shoulders and down his arms, releasing the cuffs so that it pulled right off and he could toss it back over his shoulder. Jim looked disgruntled for a fleeting second and then grinned as if to say, 'Fuck it!'

"Non-exchangeable..."

Blair pulled Jim's T-shirt up and over his head. It joined the other shirt on the floor. Jim was staring mesmerized at Blair's face, as if Blair were some fascinating, unexpected treasure.

"Non-refundable..."

Blair looked at the banquet spread before him and reached out with one finger to gently caress a nipple. Jim hissed with pleasure, his arousal evident in the growing tightness of his pants. Blair kept a sharp eye on him to make sure he wasn't about to zone on this.

"You don't have to worry...."

Blair continued smoothing his hands across the sculptured shoulders and chest, feeling the fine tremors that were rippling through Jim's body.

"Your gift is perfect..."

His hands moved down to Jim's belt. Belatedly remembering to breathe, he gulped as the buckle came undone.

"Right color..."

Now that breathing had started again, he couldn't seem to slow it down as the top button on Jim's pants slipped free. He wasn't looking up but he knew, he *knew* Jim's eyes were glued to his face, reading every expression, every hitch of his breath, every beat of his heart. Blair felt so turned on right now.

"Right style..."

The zipper was drawn steadily down and, as the pants gaped open, Blair reached a warm hand inside to grasp Jim's very erect cock.

"...and right *size*."

With a sultry grin and a wiggle of his eyebrows, Blair proceeded to slowly stroke and squeeze. Jim's cock felt wonderful, warm and hard, sliding through his hand. Even better though was the look on Jim's face as, eyes closed and panting, he trembled and pushed up into Blair's hand.

"Exactly what I wanted for Christmas."

Reaching up with his other hand, Blair pressed Jim's head down until their lips were barely a breath apart. Jim's eyes flew open and, gazes locked, they both searched and found the depth of the other's feelings.

Blair whispered into his open mouth. "Now just shut up and stop distracting me while I'm unwrapping my present."

Bringing their lips together, Blair commenced kissing Jim thoroughly enough to melt his badge. As Jim responded passionately, Blair couldn't help thinking, "Santa, my main man. You do *fine* work. I am going to be *sooo* good this year!"



The End