Author's webpage: http://www.skeeter63.org/jayci

Author's disclaimer: The characters from the TV series "The Sentinel" are not my property, and I am not making money off of them. That's all I have to say.

Real Estate by J.C.

Jim walked around the spacious room, his excitement growing as he imagined Blair's stuff there, noting with satisfaction the bathroom off to the side. Blair would probably say that the building lacked character, but it did have a great view, and an elevator that looked like it wouldn't break down for many years to come, a factor that made Jim's knees groan with appreciation. And there was something to be said for the kitchen, a large, well-ventilated space, gleaming with stainless steel. He was sure that once all of the various items that Blair had accumulated over the years had been dispersed throughout the place, it would seem like home in no time.

He walked back through the condo to the front door where the real estate agent was waiting.

"Places like this don't stay on the market long, Mr. Ellison," Chrissy...or Prissy...or something like that said, going on again to needlessly list the selling points. "And I told you that I can get a great offer on your loft--just say the word."

Missy, he finally remembered, Missy Craine, and he nodded, taking one last look around, thinking, 'This is the one.' He had looked at a dozen homes--not just condominiums, but houses of various sizes, too. In the end, he had shied away from the idea of being the two men on the block sharing a house, and how that might seem, not to mention that he wasn't looking forward to weekends spent mowing grass and trimming hedges. He had almost decided on another condo, further into the city, in an old, renovated building in a neighborhood that he knew Blair would have liked, but it had seemed airless to Jim, the only view that of the other buildings...plus, it didn't have an elevator at all, and the thought of having to climb all those stairs everyday was somehow depressing.

"I'm willing to put up a considerable amount in cash, if they want to come down some." He quoted a figure not too much less than the asking price. "Let me know if they're interested."

Smiling, showing pearly whites that Jim guessed had been paid for with her numerous commissions, Missy said, "I'll be in touch."

Now's the time, he told himself as he drove home. He grinned as he anticipated Blair's thrilled reaction to finally getting his own bedroom and bathroom, and felt inordinately pleased with the idea that he had circumvented Blair suddenly deciding that doing the cramped-spare-room-thing had gotten old. Somehow, some way, through the grace of some higher power that had decided to have mercy on him, he had gotten to keep Blair in his life, even more so now that they were official partners. And with their new home...well, they'd be well on their way, wouldn't they? Though the final preferred destination was something that Jim hadn't dared put a name to, he was sure that all he had to do was stick it out long enough, remove enough stumbling blocks and they'd naturally get there.

He was still smiling when he got to the loft, hummed softly to himself as he fixed dinner, and swallowed down the urge to chuckle as they ate, waiting for the perfect opportunity to spring his surprise.

"I think I'm going to put the loft on the market, Chief," he said when they had cleaned their plates and there was a lull in the conversation.

"What?" Blair asked, tapping his fork on the table, his forehead creased in a frown.

"The loft. I'm going to sell it. The agent thinks I can get a good price--"

"When were you going to fill me in on this?" Blair cut in, his voice gone very quiet.

"I'm telling you now. I've looked around, and I think I've found something perfect. I just need you to--"

"Right. How long do I have to look for a new place?" Though, his words were still soft, they had taken on an edge.

"New place?" Jim repeated stupidly, frowning as well. "What are you talking about? You're coming with me. You'll have your own room and everything. A real room with plenty of closet space and its own bathroom."

Pushing back from the table, Blair jerked to his feet, face red with anger. "I'm coming with you? My own room? Who are you...my father? You can't just make decisions for me like that, Jim."

Stunned by the unexpected reaction, Jim found himself getting increasingly annoyed. "What do you care, Sandburg? You can not pay rent there just as well as you do here."

Blair hit the table with a fist that was still clutching his fork. "Is that what this is about? I can pay rent, Jim. Thanks to you, I have a real job now, remember? Health insurance, pension plans, and bank accounts that actually have money in them. As a matter of fact, I can find my own fucking place to live, too. I was doing that long before I ever met you. I'm a grown man, you don't have to take care of me."

A quick exit, punctuated by the slamming of the doors to Blair's room, effectively ended the conversation. Feeling bewildered and upset by the way that things had gone, Jim cleaned up from dinner, his face grim and unsmiling, hating the ugly, edgy silence that seemed to hang heavily in the air.

~*~

For the first time in the year that Blair had been carrying a badge, Jim wished his partner were still with the university. At least then, when there had been strain between them, Blair would disappear for the day, dedicating himself to academic responsibilities, or either Jim would take off early, giving them a little space before Blair would show up and they got down to police business. But, since they had been working together officially, they had gotten into the habit of taking turns driving into the station. One week using Jim's truck, the next using the newer used Volvo that Jim had convinced Blair to buy, something more reliable than his old car had been.

'Christ, I do act like his father,' Jim thought, unhappily.

They kept up the car-pooling, though Jim had expected Blair to take his own car that first morning after his little surprise. But instead, Blair had pocketed his keys and ridden the whole way in silence, the tension so thick that Jim could practically smell it. They continued to solve their cases, but being partners had become an abnormally polite and professional experience that Jim found nerve-racking. After work, where before they had spent most evenings at the very least sharing dinner, Blair had taken to going off alone to places unknown, doing things he didn't talk about, leaving Jim to fend for himself.

Jim hadn't said anything when the rent check had showed up on the kitchen counter. He had merely accepted the money, without discussion, though he didn't want it...didn't need it. The mortgage on the loft was reasonable, thanks to the nice down payment he'd been able to make with his back military pay, part of which he'd also used for other investments that had done fairly well over the years. He had money in the bank, and outside of a taste for decent electronic equipment and good-quality clothes, his needs were simple enough. He didn't spend much...unless you counted the occasional power tool or kitchen gadget binge. And he'd always thought Blair contributed more than enough in his own way. Jim didn't want his damn money, especially since it seemed that was what Blair thought Jim did want. But he took it, knowing that to reject it would only make things worse. The bulk of it, he just put away, determined that one day he'd use it on something for the two of them.

He was operating under the assumption that by keeping quiet, it would keep the peace, but, panic had been festering just under the surface of him, ever since he figured out that Blair hadn't just let it go, wasn't just paying rent as a way to settle things, but was actually looking into finding somewhere else to live. As a counter-defense, Jim had abandoned the idea of selling the loft, thinking that him making a move would only force Blair into making his own move. Instead, he hoped that if he stayed put, Blair might simply do the same.

~*~

"If you're waiting for me to go before you put the loft up for sale, then you should know that I can be out of here in three weeks. It would have been sooner, but, well..." Blair trailed off, turning to leave the room without bothering to finish.

Jim felt his skin grow extremely cold in spots, and closed his eyes for the seconds it took for him to bring it under control. He had only had a few weeks to feel that they were on the road back, that his 'just wait, things will settle down' philosophy was in fact valid. Just long enough to relax, only to be sucker-punched when he hadn't been looking.

"No." The word was out of his mouth before he could stop it.

Blair froze, stood still for a good thirty seconds before turning back. "No?"

"No, I'm not waiting for you to go. No, I'm not putting the loft up for sale. No, I don't want you to be out of here in three weeks."

"Jim...it's probably past time that I move out, you know. And we'll still be partners and everything. That won't change."

It's all slipping away, Jim thought, and he wondered if maybe he just wasn't capable of saying the right thing. "Blair, hasn't it ever occurred to you that there might be a reason that I wanted you to keep living with me?"

"Look, I'm sorry for making that comment about you being my father. I know you just didn't want to leave me in a bind, and I appreciate you looking out for me. We're best friends and that's what friends do, right?"

"Come on, Sandburg, I know I'm not the total hardass that some people think, but you've seen me with my friends...I still prefer my space and solitude."

Blair nodded as he spoke. "Okay, so you mean it has something to do with being a Sentinel? Needing my presence to help ground you with your senses?"

Jim crossed his arms, his gaze steady. "For the sake of argument, let's say it's not that."

"So, it's not anything Sentinel-related."

"Right."

"And it's not a friendship thing...not just a friendship thing."

"Right again."

Though he seemed calm, Jim could tell that Blair was either getting scared or nervous as hell as he tried to think his way through the situation.

"So, you want me to stay because...you want me to...because you...want me?"

Give the man a gold star, Jim thought, but only managed to whisper a 'yes' in response.

"I see. And if I don't feel the same way?"

Jim shrugged; glad that Blair didn't have the ability to sense the nervous fear that was filling him as well. "Then, I hope that I didn't just make a total ass out of myself, but I want you to stay, anyway. After all, we still have the Sentinel thing, and the friendship thing." He grinned, hoping it didn't look as fake as it felt.

"And if I say that maybe I'm really just worried about ruining our partnership?"

Recognizing an opportunity when it was staring right at him, Jim walked over and stood in front of Blair. "I'd say, 'Take a chance and try it...try me.'" He leaned down, kissing Blair with a gentle brushing of lips and hesitant flicker of tongue. And though he had imagined it a million times, he hadn't come close to capturing what it was like to fill his senses with Blair that way. He almost groaned with pleasure and relief when Blair deepened the kiss, and he fought not to overdose on the taste.

"I never thought anything like this would ever really happen," Blair said when the kiss had ended and they had spent a few moments just looking at one another.

"But, it's okay, right? The working together, the living together, the being together?"

"Everything," Blair said with certainty, "and, um, I don't need my own room. I think I'll just share a closet and bed with you."

Happiness bubbled up inside Jim, and he lost the fight with a silly grin. "Bed, okay...but closet? I don't mind rumpled sheets, but you don't mess around with dry cleaning."

Blair laughed, smacking Jim lightly on the side of the head, then immediately stroked the spot with his fingers. "Fine, I hear you. But, that means we can forget all about anybody moving, right?"

"I don't know...like you said, you're a grown man. Don't you think it's about time for you to invest in some real estate?"

"Yeah," Blair answered, his voice soft, his eyes warm with tenderness, "I do."

Sensing that they were talking about a lot more than buying a condo, Jim let Blair take his hand and lead him to the stairs, kissing him again before they walked up together.

~end~