Author's homepage: http://www3.fast.co.za/~tmar/slash/slashst.htm

The following is written for the private entertainment of fans. No infringement of any copyrights held by anybody is intended. This story is not for profit. The author makes no claims on the characters or their portrayal by the creation of this story. So there. ;)

Dogtags.

That was how it started: Blair caught sight of Jim's dogtags.

He'd have expected that someone who'd gone through what Jim had gone through while in the army would have gotten rid of them first thing, but then he didn't know if you were supposed to keep them, or if Jim was just keeping them because. So, of course, he asked.

"Hey, Jim, why do you still have these?" Blair held up the Sentinel's dogtags.

Jim looked, then really looked. "Dunno, Chief. Sort of a souvenir, I guess. If I ever had to re-enlist or we had a war or something... I dunno," he repeated, shrugging.

Blair was a bit shocked. "Re-enlist?"

"Nah," Jim Ellison replied. "I could put myself up for reactivation as a Ranger if we ever got invaded." He grinned.

Blair looked down at the tags in his hand. "Jim? Put them on?"

"Why?"

Blair had no good answer for that one. "I dunno. I mean, I've seen you go all primitive on me, and yet... I don't think I've really seen you go all 'Army Ranger' on me."

"And wearing these would help? Kind of like a visual resource?"

"Well... yeah, man."

"Okay." Jim shrugged, grabbed the dogtags from his Guide's hand, and put them on. "So?"

Blair tried not to smirk. "It might look better if you weren't wearing a dress shirt."

"Well, I was in court all day, Sandburg," Jim grumbled, but he pulled off the shirt obligingly and laid it over the back of the couch where he'd already put his tie earlier.

This time the Guide did smirk. Jim wore only a tank top under the shirt, and now he definitely did look more 'Army Ranger'.

"Better?"

"Yeah."

"This serve your idea of 'The Sentinel' better, Chief?"

"Hey, they should put you on the recruiting posters, man," Blair laughed.

Jim just sighed, shook his head, took off the dogtags and pitched them to his partner. "Heads up, Darwin!"

Dogtags.

For some reason, Blair couldn't get the idea of Jim in dogtags out of his mind. He'd never put the damn things back where he'd found them, and now they were lying on his night table, taunting him, and he didn't know why. Was it the idea that Jim had been in the army? He knew that. He had the article from Time to prove it: the story of the Ranger who'd spent eighteen months in the jungle and come out a hero. Not only that, but Jim had told him numerous stories about his army days, about his old unit, the works.

It was past midnight, but the Guide knew he'd never get any sleep at this rate. He turned on his light and hunted through his bookshelves for that issue of Time. There, in not-quite-so-bright-anymore colour, was Jim. Jim wearing that bandanna, Jim in his uniform...

Blair had read the article so many times that he knew it by heart, but he flipped open the magazine anyway. Aha - there, in another shot, was Jim. In fatigues. Wearing his dogtags. Blair found the picture oddly fascinating.

Trust the army to come up with such a simple way of 'tagging' its people. Oh, the anthropologist knew why dogtags were necessary, but the idea of anyone even daring to tag Jim in any way was just... He had no words for it. But Jim had always been a good army man. He had followed orders, even to the extent of holing up in Peru for eighteen months when no one knew where he was or even what his orders had been. Jim had been loyal to the Service, and in turn inspired loyalty from the people who knew him.

Blair looked at the dogtags again, lying there, as if to say, 'We're part of what makes Jim who he is.' It was a powerful thought. Blair closed the magazine, put it back, turned off the light, went over to his bed and... scooped the dogtags off the night table. There was only a split-second of indecision before he put them on.

He slept like a baby after that.

Jim, of course, didn't notice his dogtags were missing - he didn't wear them anymore; didn't think about his time in the army all that much. So when he came home to find a beautiful woman yelling at his Guide, he had no way to know what she was yelling about.

"It isn't like that," Jim heard Blair protesting as he walked towards the loft.

"What am I, Blair? Cover?"

"No!"

"How many people your age have a male roommate? Do you think I'm stupid?"

"Maddie, please!"

"You just keep the separate rooms for show, don't you? What kind of sick thing is this?"

"We work together, okay? That's all, man!"

"Liar."

Jim had stopped in front of the door, but was hesitant to go in. Although, as he'd told Sandburg before, it was his place. He heard a familiar tinkling sound as Blair continued to protest, "I'll take them off, all right? Will that help?"

"If you really wanted me so bad, you should have taken them off before," came the indignant reply. More tinkling. "Leave them on. They obviously mean that much to you."

"Maddie - "

"I'm done here, Blair. No one treats me like this."

"Like what?! I haven't done anything!"

Jim stepped away from the door just as it was yanked open. The girl just gave him a dirty look and stomped off towards the elevator without saying another word.

Jim walked in quietly to find Blair buttoning his shirt and mumbling, "Man, oh man," to himself.

"Hey, Chief."

The curly head jerked up. "Oh, hey, Jim." Jim could tell that Blair's casual demeanour was just a put-on.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing, man."

"Come on, Chief, that girl ran out of here like you were Jack the Ripper. What's up?"

"She got mad over something, that's all."

"Are you into something kinky?" Jim asked.

"What? No way!"

"So what did you have on that she didn't like?"

Blair sighed heavily and flopped onto the couch. "Promise you won't get upset."

"No guarantees, Chief. You know me."

Blair unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and extracted what looked like... "Those are my dogtags."

"Got it in one," Blair sighed.

Jim took off his jacket and came around to sit next to Blair on the couch. "Why are you wearing my dogtags?"

His Guide just sighed again. "I dunno, Jim. They were there, and the idea of the army tagging you was kinda fascinating, and I thought they might help me understand..." He threw up his hands. "I have no idea, okay, Jim? I like wearing them."

Jim tried to follow this. "You like wearing dogtags?"

"They make me feel... closer... to you somehow."

Jim just blinked, and went for a question that might have a better chance of getting an answer that made sense. "And Maddie got mad because you were wearing them."

"Yeah. She thinks... well, you know."

"What?"

"Ah, come on, Jim!"

"Sandburg, now is not the time to play Twenty Questions, okay? I've had a long day and I'm tired. Cut to the chase."

"She thinks we're together."

Jim made his 'this I get' face. "I guess that makes sense." There was a long pause. "So you gonna take them off now?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I need to keep wearing them until I can figure out why I'm wearing them. Does that make sense?"

"Coming from you, yeah." Jim got up. "Look, I'm gonna take a shower, all right?"

"Yeah, okay. Want some coffee when you get out?"

"Great, Chief."

And that had effectively ended the conversation. But it didn't end what Blair was coming to think of as 'The Saga of Jim's Dogtags'.

For one thing, he was almost constantly aware that he was wearing Jim's dogtags. It was like a piece of jewelry that you were pleased to have, that you made sure you were wearing, that you took pride in wearing. Blair didn't understand it, but he didn't take the things off, either.

It was a few weeks after his ill-fated conversation with Maddie, that Blair had to take the tags off for the first time. He had to be X-rayed after a prospective car thief Jim was chasing - prospective because Jim had tackled him before he could actually steal the car - ran right into him, using him as a handy lever to get up. Blair's ribs hurt like hell, and for some reason the hospital just wouldn't take Jim's word that nothing was broken.

The anthropologist had to take off everything from the waist up, including the dogtags. The nurse gave him a funny look when he handed them to her, but she didn't say anything as she gave him one of those green gowns to wear. Blair felt oddly naked without them as the radiologist took the films.

Of course, nothing was broken, just as Jim had said. "Just some bruising," the doctor said as she handed Blair his things back.

"Thanks, Doc."

The first thing Blair put on was, of course, the dogtags. He felt a weird 'rush' as he put them on, and then he knew.

At least, he knew part of it. He got a rush from wearing Jim's dogtags. But he still didn't have the why. And then his scientific predilections took over and he started to ask himself questions. Things like: was it the dogtags specifically? Was it anybody's dogtags? Jim's dogtags? And if it was because they were Jim's, would he get a rush from wearing something else of Jim's?

So he experimented. He went to an army surplus store and asked if they had any dogtags. They didn't, but the guy who ran the store was ex-army himself and still had his, so Blair paid the guy $30 to borrow them for a day, and thus he discovered that it wasn't dogtags specifically that gave him the rush.

He theorised that it was because they were Jim's. The next step would, therefore, be to put on something else of Jim's and see if that did it.

Blair didn't allow himself to think any further than his latest experiment. He didn't allow himself to wonder why wearing something of Jim's would make him feel this way. First, he had to finish his experiment.

He waited until Jim had a two-day stakeout at a safe house, then begged off due to 'university responsibilities'. This way, he could put on Jim's clothes while he was gone and have time to wash them and put them back before Jim came home.

Jim's favourite sweater. Yeah, it felt nice but that was all.

Jim's sweatpants. Comfy, but way too big.

Jim's Jags cap. Like he really wanted to be a walking advertisement for a sports team.

Jim's short-sleeved blue shirt. Well, he looked good in it - baggy stuff was in. He made a mental note to borrow it sometime. No 'rush' at all.

Jim's khaki tank top.

As soon as he pulled it over his head, Blair felt it. It was almost a physical sensation. He stood there, in Jim's bedroom, wearing only his own boxer shorts and Jim's tank top, and it was a rush all right. Blair felt shaky with the discovery and backed up, sitting weakly on Jim's bed.

It was the idea of the army, of the whole macho thing, that did it. The idea of Jim wearing this stuff, of being able to wear the same items that Jim had when he'd been out doing testosterone-laden activities. It was the whole idea of Jim, army guy.

Blair lay back; he couldn't help himself. He flashed on Jim wearing his tank top. Jim in the bandanna in Peru. Jim in fatigues. Jim in dogtags. Jim in dogtags and nothing else... Blair realised that he was more turned on than he'd ever been when alone. He was turned on by the idea of Jim. Jim doing army-type stuff. Jim slamming him up against his office wall. Jim getting in his face. Jim manhandling him. Jim chasing crooks. Jim holding his gun in just that way... Jim.

"Oh, man." Blair stared at the ceiling. "This is not good. I'm attracted to Jim."

He didn't expect anybody to disagree with him, certainly.

"Why is that not good, Chief?" asked Jim Ellison's voice, sounding amused.

Blair scrambled up, off of Jim's bed. "Huh? Oh, geez. Look, Jim, don't be mad, okay. I can explain."

Jim leaned against the wall and smirked at him. "This has something to do with my dogtags, right?"

"Huh?" was all Blair could manage.

"You're wearing my shirt, Chief."

Blair realised he was still wearing the khaki tank top. "Uh, yeah. See, I realised I liked wearingthemsoItriedsomeoneelse'sandnothingmansoIwondered ifitwasyourclothesanditturnedoutthatanythingaboutyouinthearmydoesitforme gofigure..." Blair was almost hyperventilating when he got to the end of that sentence.

Jim ducked downstairs and returned with a paper bag. "Breathe, Sandburg."

Blair obligingly breathed into the bag for three breaths. "Thanks, man."

"You're turned on by the idea of me in the army. Do I have this right?"

"Well, it must have started out that way. I've always been kind of pumped over closed societies, you know, and the army is like, wow, the best example of a closed society. And the idea of you in that whole testosterone-laden environment, doing those kinds of things... And then I flashed on you as a cop, then just you being you." Blair blushed. "It was started by all the army stuff, yeah, but I have to tell you, I find you hot." He could not look at Jim when he said it.

"Blair." Jim said it so matter-of-factly that the anthropologist couldn't help but look at him. "Are you saying you're attracted to me?"

"Yeah." It was mumbled quietly, but of course that didn't matter to a Sentinel.

"You're sexually attracted to me, is that right?"

"Yeah."

"You'd have sex with me if you could?"

"...yh..."

"Tell me, Sandburg. You wanna have sex with me?"

"Yeah!"

Jim smiled. "Good." And then he was in front of Blair, tilting his face up and kissing him. "Good, because I wanna have sex with you, too."

It was all so good, what Jim did to him after that. He was kissed, and licked, and undressed, and he couldn't make himself say a word. Jim undressed himself, and Blair could only look his Sentinel up and down, still unable to open his mouth, even as Jim placed him on the bed and covered him with his naked body, placing them flesh to flesh, skin to skin, chest to chest, hardness - oh G-d! - to hardness, lips to lips...

Jim's tongue was exploring his mouth, and Blair finally managed to moan, even as he opened wider, letting Jim in completely, holding nothing back. And Jim's hand was encircling his erection, squeezing him gently, not trying to do anything more, not yet. And Jim lifted up and looked into his eyes and said, "We're gonna have sex now, Blair. All the way. But you gotta tell me if this is okay, if it's really what you want. Come on, Chief. Tell me."

And Blair looked up at Jim looming over him in alpha male style, and almost came just from the sight. "G-d, Jim, I want it bad."

And then Jim was suddenly gone, rummaging in the nightstand, and pressing a tube into his hand. "Do it, Chief."

Blair still lay on his back, unable to get his mind around this. "Y... you want..."

"You to make love to me, yeah. Thought we were on the same page here."

"I thought you were going to do me," Blair squeaked.

"Not if you haven't done it before. I don't wanna wait, and this'll be faster."

Somehow, Blair wasn't surprised that Jim had done this before. He felt he should be surprised, but he wasn't. He made a mental note to ask Jim more about this... later.

Jim was talking to him. "Blair?"

"Huh?"

"You haven't done this before, right?"

"No, man."

"Okay. Let me do it." Jim snagged the tube from his hands, squeezed some out and without any preamble plunged his fingers into himself.

Blair bit his lip to keep from making an exclamation. He didn't think he had ever seen anything as sexy as Jim getting himself ready for... "Oh, man." Blair closed his eyes for a second, but the image was imprinted on his memory for all time. And then he felt slick hands touching him, and gasped. He opened his eyes to find Jim carefully - and slowly, oh geez - lubricating him, and smiling.

"Doing okay, Chief?"

"Oh, man," the Guide repeated. He grabbed the comforter in his fists in order to keep control, closing his eyes again. He wanted Jim so bad...

And then Jim's hands were gone, and Blair opened his eyes to find Jim lying on his back, knees up, open to him. "Well, do something, Chief," the Sentinel commanded.

Blair moved forward, staring at the place where he and Jim would soon be joined. "Do something..." He repeated Jim's words.

"Now!" And the urgency in Jim's tone pulled Blair from the weird numbness he'd felt upon being told that he'd actually get to make love to James Ellison, ex-army Ranger. He moved forward, taking hold of himself, and ever so carefully, slid into Jim's body, which opened for him effortlessly.

"Oh. My. G-d." Blair just stared. He was inside Jim. He was making love to Jim.

And then Jim hooked one leg around his waist and pulled him flush against his body. "Fuck me, Chief."

"Man!" That was all it took. Blair thrust into Jim's body over and over, unable to stop himself, unable to slow down, unable to think of anything except the need to possess Jim, to come inside his Sentinel...

And then Jim's other leg came around his waist, and stilled him. Blair dragged himself out of the mating imperative and asked, "Wh... what?", only to see that Jim had his dogtags in his hand.

Blair was unable to articulate the question, but his Sentinel read it in his eyes. "Put them... put them on, Blair."

Blair grabbed the dogtags and slung them over his head.

"Oh, yeah," said his Sentinel, and it was all over. Blair moved forward again, thrusting for all his might, fucking Jim the way he had been asked to, coming inside him with a strangled shout of his Sentinel's name. "Jim!" Blair collapsed, face-down, on top of his roommate. "Oh G-d."

He wasn't sure how long he lay like that, but it couldn't have been more than a couple of minutes before Jim stirred. "Uh, Sandburg, we're not finished here."

Blair slid gently out, noting that Jim had not had his own orgasm. He looked into Jim's eyes apologetically, but Jim only smiled. "Wanted to watch you, Blair. It was beautiful. Amazing. I could feel it... all." The Sentinel sounded... sublime.

Blair crawled up to lie next to Jim. "What do you want, James?"

"Whatever you're comfortable with."

"I think I'd like to try..." Blair moved down the bed, hovering over Jim's needy erection, the dogtags tinkling as they brushed Jim's thighs. Blair grinned at Jim grabbed the comforter this time in an attempt to stay in control. He'd have to ask Jim later what had almost set him off. But for now...

Jim arched almost off the bed when Blair's mouth enclosed his erection. He could tell the younger man was inexperienced, because he didn't do much... but Jim didn't need much at this stage. Using one hand to hold Blair's head still, he thrust up into the warmth of his Guide, one part of him being careful not to choke the man he loved. "Oh G-d!" The dawning realisation that he loved Blair was enough to make him frantic. He thrust faster and faster, finally coming in a series of pulses, all of which Blair didn't even try to swallow.

But it didn't matter. When Jim came back to himself, Blair was cleaning him with a rag emblazoned with dinosaurs. He recognised it - his Guide's old bath towel. He must have made a noise, because Blair looked up at him and grinned. "Thought you'd zoned."

"I think I did, just a little." He lay comfortably while Blair went downstairs to rinse out the rag...

He must have dozed slightly, because when awareness returned Blair was lying cuddled next to him, head on his shoulder, one hand tracing idly over his chest. "You all right, Jim?"

"More than all right." He smiled happily.

"I didn't even realise I wanted that, wanted you," his Guide said, sounding surprised. "But I did. I do. I... I wasn't used to thinking this way; I couldn't identify the feelings."

"I love you."

"I thought... What?!"

"I love you, Chief. Always have. I just never thought you'd go for something like this, so I just pushed it away. But it's true."

"I love you, too, Jim. Weird, huh?"

"What is?"

"That these..." Blair grabbed the dogtags... "would be the catalyst for this, for us."

"Whatever works, Chief." Jim grinned.

Blair's sated mind suddenly remembered that he had a question. "What almost set you off, before? When I leaned over you just now."

Jim smirked in a way that told Blair he understood something new. "I finally got why you were turned on, Chief." At Blair's blank look he continued, "You did look damn sexy wearing my dogtags."

It wasn't too long before people started noticing the dogtags, now that Blair didn't need to hide the fact that he was wearing them. Most people just shrugged and didn't say anything, but there were a few people who were more curious than most. Megan Connor was one of them.

"Hey, Sandy, are those dogtags?"

Blair smiled, holding them up. "Yeah, Megan, as a matter of fact, they are."

"Don't tell me you were ever in the army."

Blair knew Megan knew he'd never been in the army. His mother would have died on the spot. "No, man, but Jim was."

"Those are Jim's?"

"Yeah."

By now a small crowd had gathered, made up of most of their friends in Major Crimes. They were all waiting for the next titbit.

"Why are you wearing Jim's dogtags?" Megan didn't disappoint.

"Because it turns us on," Blair said calmly, waiting for the reaction.

"Yeah, right," said Brown, turning back to his work, the others following. They obviously thought Blair was joking, which was fine with him.

But at least two others knew better. Only Megan and Simon were left standing at the copier where Blair was xeroxing a file for Jim. Simon just grumbled, "Well, just keep them under your shirt, okay?" and went back into his office. He'd always known this was gonna happen, he just didn't want to think about it. "No, no, don't go there," he said to himself, immersing himself in paperwork.

Megan leaned close to Blair's ear and whispered, "Congrats, Sandy. You're meant for each other."

Blair hugged the Inspector. "Thanks, Megan."

Jim finally came up from the property room where he'd been checking out some surveillance equipment. He was, to say the least, shocked when Megan kissed him on the cheek and repeated her congratulations. He looked at Blair questioningly.

"Dogtags," was all his other half said.

THE END
Copyright T'Mar, April 1999
All rights reserved.