Title: Sealed With A Kiss

Author/pseudonym: Silk

Fandom: The Sentinel

Pairing: Jim/Blair

Rating: PG

Email address: silkn1@att.net

Disclaimer: All things Sentinel belong to Pet Fly and Paramount. Not me. This work is not for profit.

Status: Complete

Date: 5/23/02

Series/Sequel: No

Other Web Site: http://www.angelfire.com/ny4/tinsel/

Archive: If I sent it to you, you're welcome to it.

Summary: A misunderstanding ends up bringing Jim and Blair closer together.

Warnings: m/m, AU, angst, hopelessly romantic ending

Notes: This was originally published as part of My Mongoose Ezines.

Sealed With A Kiss
by Silk

"What are you doing?" Jim frowned at the furtive way Blair swept whatever paperwork he was working on off the kitchen table.

"Nothing, Jim." Blair's cheeks were slightly flushed. He wasn't sick, but he was definitely hiding something.

"That's a whole lot of nothing you got there, Chief."

"Yeah, well, it's nothing you'd be interested in," Blair muttered under his breath.

"How do you know?"

"I just do, okay?"

Jim held up both hands in a classic gesture that said, "I surrender peacefully." But he wasn't giving up *that* easily. He was just waiting for the right moment to make his move.

Changing the subject, Jim asked, "You up for dinner? What say I get some Thai from that place over on Fremont you like so much?"

"Why?" Blair retorted.

"Why what? Why get dinner? Cause I'm hungry and eating takes care of that particular feeling? Or why Thai? Cause you like it and I feel like doing what *you* want for a change?"

"Why?" Blair repeated, his blue eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

"Huh? You lost me, Chief."

"Yeah. I know," Blair murmured, the words low enough to challenge Jim's senses.

"Talk to me, Sandburg."

"Not now, Jim."

"You're making me worry, Sandburg, and you know what I'm like once my worry button gets pushed."

"Christ, Jim, you're so fucking relentless. Don't you ever back off?"

"You don't."

Blair nearly smiled at that. "Touche. But that's cause I'm usually dealing with a stubborn Sentinel who refuses to get in touch with his feelings long enough to admit he has 'em."

Jim leaned closer. For a second, Blair imagined that he could feel the heat radiating off that well-toned body. For *him*. But that was a ludicrous thought. Jim didn't want him. Not that way.

"Seems to me I'm dealing with one stubborn Guide who's not so different."

"Look, Jim, I was just reading a couple of magazines, that's all. Okay?"

"What was in the magazines, Sandburg?" Jim smiled, his perfectly even teeth glaring brilliantly at Blair.

"Pictures," he whispered.

"Of?"

"Stuff."

"Oh, that's a good answer. For a fifteen-year old. What kind of stuff, Chief? Or do I have to pry it out of you?"

"How would you do *that*, Jim?"

Jim's light blue eyes flickered enigmatically for a moment before dropping to Blair's mouth. "Well..." he purred, sounding like Blair imagined his Spirit Guide would sound. "First, I'd have to open that mouth of yours."

"Oh, yeah?" Blair replied weakly, knowing that Jim was reading his soaring heart rate as a clue of some sort.

"Yeah..." Jim paused. "Now how do you suppose I do that?"

"Umm..."

Jim closed his eyes seconds before claiming Blair's mouth in a kiss that had everything to do with hunger and nothing to do with food. Without thinking, Blair reacted instinctively, opening his mouth to admit Jim's tongue. After several moments, they parted breathlessly, driven by the urge to fill their lungs with oxygen.

Jim looked every bit as stunned as Blair. "Wow."

"You can say that again."

"Wow."

"Very funny, Jim. Now let me finish putting all this stuff away."

If there was one thing Jim wasn't prepared for, it was a noncommittal Sandburg. Sandburg was anything but noncommittal. He *always* took sides and he knew his way around a good argument. For him to fluff off a heartfelt kiss from his very male roommate like that was...well, it was so un-Sandburgian.

"We need to talk, Chief."

"Jim, if there's one thing I know right now, it's that we so do *not* need to talk about this."

"But we do. Sandburg...Chief! How can you *not* talk about this?"

Jim felt vaguely outraged that Blair was treating this so lightly. He...he...fell for it, just like he always did. Misdirection. Blair was almost as good at that as obfuscation. When the conversation headed in a direction that Blair couldn't tolerate, he simply steered things the other way.

Blair glared at Jim, his full sensual mouth drawn into a thin tight line. "Don't fuck with me, Jim!"

"I wasn't! Tell me what we're talking about here! Please?"

"You want to know what this is about, Jim? It's about wanting something I can never have! Still feel like talking?"

Blair didn't wait for an answer. Instead he dropped the pile of papers in his arms, splat!, in the middle of the kitchen table and stalked away. Unfortunately for him, he was in his stocking feet and his retreating footsteps didn't make quite the impact that they might have.

Jim didn't hesitate. Once he heard Blair enter his room, he quickly rescued the errant bits and pieces Blair had discarded. What he saw definitely gave him pause. They were clippings, clearly cut out from magazines and arranged in no particular order.

Clippings of weddings. People toasting each other. People getting married. People claiming the happy lives rightfully due them.

No wonder Blair didn't want him to see these. No wonder Blair didn't want him to know what he was feeling. Here he was, obviously pining for a wedding with all the romantic trimmings, with no girlfriend in sight. No wonder Blair reacted the way he did to Jim's kiss.

Blair must have thought Jim was crazy to make a pass at him. Yeah, riiight, Jim thought. He wasn't crazy. What he *was* was in love.

But it looked like a classic tale of too little, too late.

"I could have made you happy, Chief," Jim whispered to himself.

Meanwhile, inside Blair's room, the young man in question lay on his bed, pressing his face hard into his pillow to muffle his sobs. When he finally raised his tear-streaked face to gulp a fresh breath of air, he whispered, "I could have made you happy, Jim."

*****

Jim pulled open his desk drawer and searched for a pen that was *not* out of ink. When he couldn't immediately locate one, he cursed and slammed the drawer shut. On his fingers.

He stood up and literally upended the desk.

Blair jumped back a couple of feet at the noise and shouted, "Are you okay, Jim?"

"No, I'm not okay, Sandburg!" Jim bellowed back. "I just smashed my fingers in my desk drawer! In fact, one of them is probably *broken*!"

Before his stunned partner could respond, Jim found himself facing an irate Captain. "Ellison! In my office!"

"Wha--Sir? I'm the wounded party here."

"The only wounded party I see here is a defenseless desk. Why do you want to kill it?"

Jim mumbled, "Iwaslookingforapen."

"What? What was that? It sounded suspiciously like you were looking for a pen."

Without raising his head, Jim nodded.

Simon glanced at Blair, then at Jim. "On second thought, I want *both* of you in my office."

Blair winced and piped up, mentally lamenting the way his voice broke. "I've--er--got plans, Simon."

"I know you do, Sandburg. In my office. Now." Simon glowered ominously, the fiery end of his cigar flaring briefly.

Certain that Blair's "plans" had something to do with his impromptu art project the night before, Jim attempted to intervene. "Let him go, Simon. I don't need him anymore."

Unfortunately, Jim's choice of words couldn't have been worse if they had been calculated to cut Blair to the quick. "Jim!" Blair paled visibly, but Jim didn't appear to notice.

Unobtrusively surrounding Blair with his not inconsiderable bulk, Simon shepherded the younger man into his office, glowering at the irate Sentinel who waited there. "You. Sit." Simon pointed his index finger at Jim.

Reluctantly, Jim sat. Simon glanced at Blair. Interrupting the deceptively tranquil picture was the young anthropologist's almost rhythmic jiggling of his jeans-clad knees.

After closing the blinds, Simon slowly turned back to face the two men. "Look, I don't pretend to know what kind of a relationship you two have--"

"Sir--"

"We don't have one--"

"Shut up. Did I say you could speak? No, I did not. I said you could sit. So sit, Ellison. Quietly."

Simon continued. "I don't *want* to know how the two of you interact *personally*. But when you bring it into my station and it affects how you work, I need to say something."

Jim regarded Simon with what might have been a neutral look on anyone else, but on James Joseph Ellison, it was anything but neutral. It was the bland, nondescript expression of a trained predator biding his time.

Simon met his gaze evenly with one of his own and Jim was forced to lower his eyes. His captain was not a man to underestimate.

"I don't know what's wrong, Jim, but I want it fixed. I don't care if it's a Sentinel thing or an Ellison thing, but if you can't fix it, let Sandburg take care of things. He's always been able to help you before."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, man," Blair said tensely, "but I don't think Jim *wants* my help this time."

"You're spreading yourself a bit thin, aren't you, Sandburg? What with planning your wedding and all?" Jim said sarcastically.

Blair's deep blue eyes widened dramatically. "That was private! Between you and me! You son of a bitch!"

Simon shook his head as if to clear it. "Excuse me? Did I just hear you say that you and Jim are getting married?"

"I wish," Blair muttered under his breath.

At the same time Jim narrowed his eyes to slits and said, "What did you say?"

Blair raked a hand through his thick dark curls, totally destroying the carefully-pulled together look he'd been striving for when he dressed that morning. "You heard me," he said with a sigh, "or aren't your senses working either?"

Jim frowned. "*I'm* the one you think you can't have?"

Simon held up his hands and said cheerlessly, "Glad I could get you two talking again, but guys, too much information. Why don't you take the rest of the day off? You're not getting anything done anyway."

"I thought that's what got you so pissed."

"I thought you wanted someone else."

"Right. This used to be my office. B.E.A.S. Before Ellison and Sandburg," Simon explained to no one in particular.

"The only one I ever wanted was you, Jim," Blair said softly, his hair falling gently across his face.

"Splendid. I think I'll take a walk." Simon placed his hand on the door, but stopped short of opening it. "Oh, and guys? Don't do anything I wouldn't do in here."

After Simon left, Jim hauled Blair into his arms, savoring the feel of that solid, muscular body against his. "I couldn't blame you if you wanted to marry someone nice and soft and sweet, Chief."

"Now why would I want someone like *that* if I could have *you*?"

"Are you sure, Blair?"

"Are you planning on kissing me right here in Simon's office?"

"Well, he did say not to do anything he wouldn't do..." Jim smiled mischievously.

"Guess you'd better get me home, then. I wouldn't want to ruin your reputation at the PD."

"Screw the PD."

Blair's eyes darkened. "Take me home. Put me to bed. I'll even let you...fluff my pillows."

"Really? And what do I get?"

Blair wrapped his arms around Jim's neck and pulled his face close for a kiss. "You get me. Forever. Or...as long as you want me."

"You were right the first time, Blair." Jim nuzzled his new lover's jawline, silently celebrating the fact that they were no longer apart.

End