Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Due to length, this story has been split into two parts.

Author's homepage: http://members.aol.com/rainy1666/page/index.htm

Rating: NC-17

Pairings: J/B

Warnings: Graphic m/m sexual depictions.

Notes: Waves to Paulette and to she who suggested the POV change. Special thanks to Tex for not giving up on me despite a rotten first-draft. Virtual kisses to Maeg, without whom my web-site would have been an embarrassing affair at best. No spoilers. No condom use. If you're under eighteen, beat it or I'll squeal to your folks.

Disclaimer: The Sentinel, its characters, concepts and history belong to UPN and Pet Fly Productions. This is a non-profit work of fan-fiction, created solely for the private enjoyment of Sentinel fans. This story may not be sold, published, publicly displayed or archived without express permission from the author.

Truth or Dare - part one
By Rainy Day

"Oh, man. This is unreal."

Jim had to agree. Indeed, he was beginning to suspect he would be old and gray by the time they reached their destination.

It was a beautiful day in Cascade; perfect weather for a long weekend getaway. Unfortunately, Jim mused, everyone else seemed to think so, too. The line of cars seemed to stretch on into infinity. Even with his Sentinel sight, Jim could see no end to them. They had been stuck in the same place for so long the big man had actually put the truck into "Park."

The curly-haired man beside him sighed mournfully and muttered, "Are we ever gonna move?"

Blair had been muttering variations of these same phrases for the better part of an hour and his repetitiveness was beginning to wear on Jim's nerves. Despite the fact that being trapped alone with his roommate mirrored the start of Jim's every secret, late-night fantasy, he now wished he'd not insisted on the 'all play and no work' weekend. If Blair had something constructive to do, he wouldn't be so intent upon getting on Jim's last nerve. With a calm patience born of long years in the military waiting for orders to come through, Jim continued to stare straight ahead and said nothing.

Shifting in his seat, Blair pushed at the shoulder harness of his seatbelt absently. The moment he released the belt, it promptly snapped back into place, smacking at the lower portion of his bare neck with a stinging "thwack!" Wrestling with the seatbelt as if it were trying to strangle him, Blair suddenly grunted with annoyance and removed it.

"Put it back on." Jim didn't bother looking at the younger man.

Blair glanced at the retracted seatbelt. "Why?"

"We're on the Interstate, Chief."

"But we're not moving."

"Doesn't matter. It's the law. Put it back on."

Undaunted, Blair pointed to the dashboard. "We're in 'Park,' aren't we?"

"Well...yeah. But...."

"So if we're in Park, we're not technically driving. Hence, it's not illegal."

Blair-logic. The Sentinel had long ago discovered he had no definitive defense against Blair-logic. No matter what an argument was about, whenever they fought, Jim somehow found himself fighting on Blair's terms. Frowning in exasperation, Jim decided he wasn't in the mood for battle in the Sandburg Zone. "Fine, but the second we start moving again, the seatbelt goes back on."

"Sure thing, Jim," Blair agreed placatingly.

There were two full minutes of blessedly peaceful calm, then Blair started fidgeting with renewed vigor. Jim knew it was Blair's natural hyperactivity that made his Guide shift constantly and wiggle in his seat. Confining Blair anywhere was enough to make the man half-crazed. But then, being in close quarters with a confined Blair was no picnic, either.

"Stop wiggling, Sandburg. It's not gonna make traffic move any faster."

"I'm not wiggling. I'm just…restless. No, I'm bored. I am so bored, I'm gonna go insane! Whatta ya think's going on up there, anyway?"

Glancing over at his partner at last, Jim watched as Blair looked out over the sea of cars on the Interstate, squinting as if he would be able to make out what held up traffic. Jim didn't bother pointing out that if he couldn't see what was blocking traffic, Blair would never be able to.

"Oh, man. This is, like, so unreal!" Blair complained again. "Whose idea was it to go camping on Labor Day weekend, anyway?"

Jim frowned at his companion. Blair knew very well whose idea it was. Jim's patience, which he had discovered limits to only since his young friend moved in with him three years ago, finally snapped. "This wouldn't have happened if we'd left at four like I'd wanted," Jim groused at him.

"Come on, Jim, I didn't even get to bed until two! If I hadn't finished writing those syllabi before we left, I wouldn't have been able to come along at all. Cut me some slack, man."

Jim relented. "Sorry, Chief. I know you're busy with the school and the station and all. It's no one's fault. Let's just make the best of it, okay?" Jim gave Blair what he hoped was a conciliatory smile and relaxed when Blair smiled back.

"Okay. I'm sure we can find something constructive to do. I know we agreed to total 'R and R,' but I really wish I'd brought my laptop. Hey!" Blair continued without waiting for an answering comment, "Maybe we could run some tests...."

"Forget it, Chief. We're on vacation, remember?"

"Okay, then. Why don't we play a game?" Blair grinned up at the Sentinel hopefully and explained, "That's what my Mom and I used to do on long road-trips when I was a kid. It was a lot of fun!"

Jim gave his roommate a side-long glance. "A game? What, like 'I Spy With My Little Eye'? No thanks, Chief."

"Oh, no way! I always hated that game. I'm talking about something more interesting. Truth or Dare!"

"Don't you think we're a little old for kid's games, Chief?"

"It doesn't have to be a kid's game. We could put an adult spin on it!"

"'An adult spin'?" Jim asked, amused. "This your way of finding out about my sex life, Chief?" he teased.

Blair snorted, "Can't find out about something that doesn't exist, man."

Jim scowled and tried to cuff his companion on the side of the head, but Blair had anticipated the move. Ducking away in plenty of time to avoid the swat, Blair stretched his back lethargically and leaned heavily against the passenger-side door. Restrained by the seatbelt he'd stoically insisted upon wearing, Jim couldn't reach him. Blair smirked victoriously.

Giving his partner a half-hearted scowl, the big man shook his head affectionately, but with a practiced air of exasperation.

"You want to get me back?" the smaller man teased, smiling. Jim, who assumed this to be a rhetorical question, said nothing. As if Jim had responded in the affirmative, Blair continued, "Then it'll have to be in Truth or Dare. Come on, Jim, it'll be fun!"

"It would be pretty hard to do dares stuck in the truck, Chief," Jim responded, frowning at the traffic jam once again.

"Oh, I don't know. I'm sure I could figure something out," Blair smiled wickedly and alarms went off in Jim's head. He knew that look. It was the look Blair got when he was up to no good.

"Forget it, Chief. If I know you, you'll dare me to moon the car next to us."

"No, I won't. There are kids in that car. Wouldn't want to warp their minds or make 'em grow up feeling inadequate, or something."

Inadequate? What was that supposed to mean? Jim glanced over at his partner, but Blair just looked back at him innocently. Jim frowned. Blair didn't usually go around complimenting other guys on their.... Jim shook off the thought. Blair obviously didn't mean anything by that. He couldn't. He was probably just trying to get a rise out of Jim. It was just Jim's mind reading something into nothing--telling him what he wanted to hear--turning everything Blair said into some kind of sexual innuendo.

"Hey, I've got it!" Blair crowed with a snap of his fingers. "We could agree on dares ahead of time. I know, we'll combine the game with Twenty Questions. We each get twenty and our last questions end the game. For dares, the one who refuses to answer has to make breakfast on the next day it's not his turn. Whoever ends up with the fewest breakfast-making days wins. Agreed?"

Jim tilted his head, considering. He didn't like idea of answering questions that might betray his feelings for his partner. But then, it was unlikely his feelings would become a topic of serious consideration. Besides, this could be an excellent medium with which to gauge the other man's responses to things he never talked about. The perfect way to discover the answers to questions he'd never before been able to ask. It might be his only chance to get to know the inner-Blair--the Blair he'd glimpsed only on rare occasions.

Aloud, Jim responded, "Since you're the one with all the secrets, you'll end up with all the breakfasts, Chief. Unless you ask me something classified from my military days, I won't bother taking any dares. I have nothing to hide. You sure you wanna play this game?"

Blair nodded enthusiastically, "Yeah, it'll be fun!"

Jim shrugged and tried to look bored. "Okay, Chief. You go first."

"Okay. How old were you the first time you did it?"

Jim looked sideways at Blair and cocked an eyebrow. "'It,' Chief?"

"Come on, Jim," Blair laughed, "You know what I mean. The first time you had sex."

Jim frowned. "I not sure I want to play the 'Sandburg Version' of Truth or Dare," the Sentinel grumbled and assessed the traffic before them once again.

"Too late, you already agreed to play. You don't wanna have to make twenty breakfasts, do you? But," Blair shrugged and glanced out the window with what was clearly an attempt at an indifferent air, "if you're that afraid of questions, I guess I could let you off the hook...."

Jim scowled, aware he was being baited, but unable to ignore the challenge, nonetheless. "Wait, before we start...why are you asking? You planning on putting this information in your thesis? 'The Sex Lives of Sentinels,' or something?"

Blair looked surprised. "No way! I wouldn't do that! Tell you what, nothing we say goes beyond this weekend. Once it's over, we can never even refer to each other's answers again--not even in jest--let alone tell anyone else. And we both have to tell the absolute truth. So if you can't be totally honest about something, you have to take a breakfast. Agreed?"

Jim hesitated, then nodded and looked out the window as he said, "Eighteen."

"What?" Blair frowned.

Jim cleared his throat, then clarified, "I was eighteen the first time."

"Oh! Eighteen? Whoa! A late bloomer, huh?"

Jim looked into his partner's laughing blue eyes and frowned indignantly. "I had a very strict upbringing. Besides, it's not all that late! I mean, how old were you, Romeo?"

"Fifteen. My turn again."

"Wait a minute! That wasn't my question!"

"Sure it was. You asked, I answered. Now I get a question."

Jim bridled. So that was the way Sandburg wanted to play the game, huh? No problem. Two could play it that way.

Blair pondered for a moment longer, then asked, "What was the weirdest place you ever did it?"

Forced to put his retaliatory plan on hold while he cast about for an answer, Jim glanced down at the dashboard, eyebrows knitting as he quietly considered. The fact that he had to think about his answer appeared to be a surprise to his companion. Evidently, Blair had expected him to say "In a car," or something equally mundane, and Jim felt a momentary flush of pride as he watched a look of surprise slowly replace the amusement that had thus far dominated his Guide's ever-expressive countenance.

He drew the moment out, reveling in the notion that Blair now suspected his partner of being a man of much greater experience than he let on. It was what his ex-wife would have called "a macho-thing." This thought brought the answer to the forefront of the big man's mind and he shifted in his seat, slightly embarrassed despite his pride in having shocked the world-wise Blair. "Um. In an airplane, I guess."

Blair's eyes grew large. "In an airplane? James Ellison, Mr. Upright Citizen, doing it in an airplane?" Obviously, Blair couldn't picture it. Jim felt his ego falter, far more bothered by his Guide's incredulity than he'd ever let the younger man know.

Waving off his partner's reaction absently, the Sentinel just snorted benignly and nodded agreeably, remarking, in his most offhand tone, "I was a lot younger then." Inwardly, Jim glowered at the disbelief in his partner's eyes. Face it, Ellison, Jim told himself sternly, he thinks you're a stodgy old cop, too repressed to take chances and too old to be spontaneous: Old, repressed and set in your ways--everything Blair was not.

A bloom of anger blossomed in his chest. While the Sentinel knew his Guide had no clue his feelings went beyond brotherly affection, Jim still felt, irrationally, as if Blair were rubbing his nose in it. His partner was having the time of his young life at Jim's expense. Time to turn the tables on him, Jim thought. Time to put one disbelieving, curly-haired anthropologist in the hot-seat, blast him with a spotlight and watch him squirm. The best defense is a good offense, Jim reminded himself, and you'd better take the offensive fast, before you give yourself away.

Even as his feelings whirled, Jim considered his question carefully. It wasn't simply a personal question; it was a question that, Jim was certain, Blair had never asked himself. If Jim's live-for-the-moment partner were to be totally honest in his response--and Blair had, after all, made the rules himself--he would have to look deeply into his heart and admit to them both what one thing could actually hook the man and reel him in.

"So tell me, Chief," Jim began mildly, turning in his seat to meet his Guide's eyes, "What would it take to make 'Love 'em and Leave 'em Sandburg' finally settle down and commit to one person?"

As he'd expected, Blair was somewhat taken aback by the question. He was quiet for so long Jim thought he wouldn't, or possibly couldn't, answer. But before Jim could speak, Blair lowered his eyes, regarded his feet for a long moment, then answered softly, "Love."

Jim stared in surprise at the suddenly still figure beside him, unbalanced by the softly spoken word, but Blair's expression was unreadable. "You mean you've never been in love, Chief?"

Blair looked back at Jim impassively. "I didn't say that. And it's my turn. Um, who was it?"

"Who was who?" Jim asked absently, still thinking of Blair's answer to the last question.

"The girl who could make Jim Ellison flout convention and do it on an airplane."

"Oh. Carolyn."

"Rats! I should have figured that out. What a waste of a question."

"We were on our way to Aruba for our honeymoon. Got a little carried away on the plane and snuck off the bathroom." Jim was relaxing now and telling his tale like an anecdote. "We hit turbulence just when...well, you know. It was kind of...too late to stop. We had so many bruises we were too embarrassed to be seen in swimsuits on the beach!" Jim gave his friend a crooked grin.

Blair laughed. "Oh, man! That's hysterical, Jim! Gods, I wish I'd known you then. You know, when you were young and spontaneous. Still sowing your wild oats and all that. Boy, we coulda painted the town red!"

"Who says my oat-sowing days are over?" Jim asked indignantly. "My sex life isn't as dull as you think it is," Jim informed his friend imperiously. "I still have an oat or two."

Blair laughed, amused by his friend's phraseology. "Do you?"

"Damn right I do!"

"Well, be sure to let me know when you're ready to sow 'em, man!"

"You'll be the first," the big man quipped and Blair looked at him sharply. Jim gulped. Had he really just said that? "So," Jim tired to cover by distracting Blair with a question, "have you ever been in love, Casanova?"

Blair gave him a strange look and answered simply, "Yes. My turn. Um. Have you ever been with a guy?"

Jim choked, then rounded on his friend. "Just what's that supposed to mean, Sandburg? You trying to find out if I'm secretly gay? Is that what this game is about?"

"Calm down, Jim. I wasn't trying to insinuate anything. I was just curious. And no matter what your answer is, it doesn't matter. Sleeping with a guy doesn't necessarily make a man gay, just like not sleeping with guys doesn't necessarily make a man straight. Naomi always says that's everyone's really bisexual. Just programmed by society. Conditioned."

"And you agree with that?"

Blair shrugged, "I don't know. But it's certainly a viable theory. Sorry, Jim. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. You don't have to answer. We can just forget the game, okay?"

Jim realized that not answering would only make Blair think there was something from his past he was trying to hide, and that wasn't true. He didn't know why it was important that Blair know he'd never been with a man, but it was. "It's okay, Blair. I just thought...." Jim shook his head. "No. The answer to your question is 'No.'" Jim took a deep breath, not entirely sure he wanted to ask the same question of Blair--not sure he could deal with the answer. He cleared his throat and as casually as possible, asked, "Have you?"

"Have I what?" Blair asked, puzzled. He looked preoccupied.

"Have you ever...you know…with a guy," Jim looked straight ahead, trying not to sound like he cared.

"Would it bother you if I had?"

"Why should it? And it's not your turn. Answer the question."

"Um. No. I've never slept with a guy."

Jim looked over at his roommate speculatively. Blair had put a strange emphasis on the word 'slept.' "I thought we had to tell the truth here, Sandburg."

Blair frowned, "I am telling the truth. I said I've never slept with a guy. I didn't say I never dated one."

Jim turned in his seat. "You dated a GUY?" He hadn't meant that to come out sounding so accusatory.

Blair ran a hand through his hair, trying to hide his blush. "Yeah, well. It was a long time ago. He asked me out and I guess I wanted to see if.... Well...it didn't work out."

"You wanted to see if you were gay," Jim deduced. He spoke softly. Sandburg was already spooked.

The younger man nodded slowly, "Or bisexual. Or whatever."

"What happened?"

"He kissed me."

Jim waited, but when Blair appeared unwilling to add more, he prompted, "And?"

Blair shrugged and looked over at his partner somewhat apprehensively. "And nothing. No fireworks. No earth-shaking sexual realizations. No nothing. I kinda decided...." Blair waved a hand.

"That you weren't. Bisexual or whatever," Jim repeated Blair's earlier words and made his friend smile.

"Yeah. I guess."

"You guess?"

Blair waved off the question. "My turn again. Have you ever been attracted to a man?" he asked cautiously.

Jim shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He could lie. Blair wasn't a Sentinel. He'd never know. It would be easy. Jim opened his mouth to say "No," but what came out was, "Breakfast."

"What?"

"I'll take a breakfast."

Blair stared at his friend, clearly shocked. "Whoa," he said in amazement. "Are you trying to say...."

Jim sent his Guide a withering glare. "I'm not trying to say anything," he spat, confused by the dirty trick his mind had played on him. "I thought that was the point of breakfast. So you don't have to answer either way. Don't try to make it mean something."

Blair nodded, looking somewhat chastised.

Jim decided he'd had more than enough of being on the awkward end of the questions. Time to take the offensive. He could make Blair just as embarrassed as Blair could make him. Jim smiled evilly to himself and came up with a new line of questioning. "So…when was the last time you had sex?"

"Uh…'made love' or 'had sex'?" Blair asked, looking uncomfortable.

Jim shook his head. "Don't even try to stall with semantics, Chief. Answer the question."

"Um. Maybe seven months ago."

"SEVEN MONTHS?!" Blair's face burned. Jim could feel the heat from across the cab. "What about all those women you go out with?"

"What about 'em?"

"You're saying you go out with all those women and sometimes stay out all night, but you haven't had sex in seven months?"

Blair looked angry. "Seven months, two weeks, three days and an odd number of hours, okay?" Blair turned and looked out the window. Jim could see resentment in his friend's faint reflection. He could make out something else, too. Something that looked like hurt.

"Blair."

After a moment, "What?"

"Why?"

"None of your business, man."

To say Jim was knocked off-kilter by the discovery of his friend's abstinence would be an enormous understatement. Where was the kid when he stayed out all night? When he came home in the morning smelling of foreign soap and shampoo? Jim stared at his friend's reflection, trying to decide what to say, when he heard the blast of a car horn. Looking up in surprise, he found traffic again moving with close to normal speed.

"Get your belt on, Chief. We're off."

Jim watched his best friend fumble with his seatbelt, clearly aware he was under scrutiny. Jim looked ahead, as if now concentrating solely on traffic. As the big man shifted into drive, Blair managed to secure the wayward belt at last. But as they headed for the campground, the detective watched his companion out of the corner of his eye. It seemed this round of Truth or Dare was over. Jim, however, planned to finish the game one way or another. Something was hurting his friend and Jim was determined to figure out what it was. But he would bide his time. Wait for the right moment to get Sandburg talking.

Jim Ellison was nothing if not patient. This game of Truth or Dare, the Sentinel mused as he guided his truck through the congested holiday traffic, was far from over.

Jim woke with a crick in his neck and groaned softly as he sat up.

"You okay, Jim?" Blair was squinting across the darkened space in the tent, but Jim was sure he could see no more than vague outlines.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just slept in a bad position. I don't think I was built for extensive tent-dwelling." Blair laughed his agreement as Jim tuned-in to their surroundings. He could hear the soft patter of droplets as they hit the nylon dome above them and he glanced up ruefully. "Don't tell me it's still raining?"

"Worse than ever. Hasn't let up for a minute."

"What time is it?" Jim yawned.

Blair glanced at his watch, then frowned. Obviously he could see nothing, so he simply held up his wrist. Jim's sight zeroed in, the distance and dimness no obstacle to Sentinel vision, and told his friend, "After seven."

Blair sighed, "No fishing for us. Again. Two solid days of rain! Couldn't you tell it was gonna be like this?"

"What am I, the weather-man?" Tilting his head, the big man tried to stretch out his sore neck and winced indelicately.

"I mean your senses. Supposedly, the ancient Sentinels were able to tell when a storm was coming. Didn't your senses register the moisture in the air?"

"My senses can do a lot," Jim groused, "but they can't predict the weather."

"Hm. I guess the old-time Sentinels had to develop that skill, what with living in outdoor huts, exposed to the elements and all. Protect the tribe by gauging if a tsunami was coming. Stuff like that. I wonder…."

"Don't even think about putting me in the maze, Chief. I'm here to have fun."

"Oh, yeah. We're really having fun now. Non-stop rain, two inches of mud outside, damp sleeping bags. Tell me," Blair dead-panned, "whose idea was this camping trip again?"

"Watch it, Sandburg. There's a cold, wet forest out there with your name on it," Jim warned.

Blair snorted, "Don't I know it. But that's not much of a threat, man. If you don't throw me out, I'm gonna have to leave voluntarily," he sighed regretfully, wrestling with his sneakers. "Call of nature."

Jim tried to suppress a chuckle, "I prefer to think of it as karma, Chief. That's what you get for giving me such a hard time in the truck on the way up here."

"Jim Ellison preaching karma?" Blair laughed as he tied his tattered laces. "Now I've heard everything! What's next, you gonna try to explore your feminine side?"

"I don't have a feminine side, Sandburg."

" 'Course you do. Everyone does. I'm not trying to impugn your masculinity, or anything. It's simply a matter of being in touch emotionally with the inner...."

"Didn't you have to go to the bathroom, Sandburg?" Jim tried to head the lecture off at the pass.

"Huh? Oh, yeah! Be right back." Blair unzipped the tent-flap part-way and peered out into the gloom suspiciously. With a resigned sigh, he pulled the zipper down the rest of the way and ducked out of the tent just in time for a bright bolt of lightening to decorate the sky, as if to announce the sudden successive increase in the downpour.

"Oh, man!" Jim heard as he zipped up the tent's nylon entryway, and he paused with it slightly open to shout, "Karma, Chief!" A distant, but exceptionally profane string of curses met this assessment and Jim chuckled to himself as he zipped the flap the last inch and awaited his partner's return.

It had taken them the better part of Saturday afternoon to pitch the tent and set up camp in the downpour. By the time they'd managed to put together a meal of cold canned food and trail-mix, they'd been more than content to collapse in their damp sleeping bags and await a brighter day.

It never came.

They had been trapped in the tent since their arrival without even a deck of cards to help occupy the time. They had already exhausted discussion on every topic from the Jag's chances of making the Championship this year, to how likely it was a second gunman had fired from the grassy knoll. Yet, whenever there was a lapse in the discussion, Jim found his thoughts turning to the surprising revelations to which he'd become privy during their drive to the campsite. With the weather dead-set, as it seemed to be, upon ruining their weekend, there was little else to do. So as the sunrise battled the dank gloom of the storm, Jim watched the dissipating shadows on the tent walls as he again contemplated their impromptu game of Truth or Dare.

There had been something about not only Blair's responses during the game, but his questions that hovered just below the surface of Jim's awareness--something vaguely disturbing. The stricken look on Blair's face when Jim had asked him about his current sexual adventures was with the Sentinel still.

'Seven months,' Blair had said through a veil of anger and pain. It had been seven months since his Guide had last been with a woman. This was shocking not simply because the behavior was out of character for Blair, but because during all that time Jim had not caught on. Seven months and he'd never even suspected. Some friend you are, the Sentinel chastised himself. Something is hurting your partner so deeply he practically becomes a monk and you don't even notice!

No, that wasn't right. Jim always noticed when Blair was gone all night. He never slept well without his Guide's heartbeat to ground him. And despite his best efforts to afford his partner the privacy he deserved, Jim would always find himself covertly cataloguing the smells on the man when he returned in the morning, freshly showered and with a skip in his step. Blair was obviously trying to cover up his new-found chastity. But why?

A feeling of dread swept over the Sentinel. Was Blair ill? Had his friend contracted some sexually transmitted disease that forced him to abstain to protect others? Blair was impulsive. He could easily have made a mistake, and one mistake was all it took in this imperfect world to earn a death sentence. It would be just like Blair to try to cover up such an illness--especially if there was nothing that could be done to effectively treat it.

The very thought made Jim feel as if he'd swallowed broken glass and it was all he could do to keep from rushing out into the rain to find his Guide and demand the truth. But that would only make his friend further withdraw. He dare not approach the subject directly, lest his trusted, but somewhat flighty partner cut and run. A subtle approach was needed.

The game! Yes, that was the answer. They had to finish the game. All Jim had to do was to come up with the right questions.

A weirdly sucking, alternately smacking sound interrupted his thoughts and Jim unzipped the tent flap slightly to peer out into the gloom. Head down, shoulders hunched, Blair was trudging toward the tent, his unhappy gait rhythmically punctuated by the sounds of wet feet sloshing in mud-laden sneakers.

"Jim, man. Open up." His partner sounded miserable, but prudence demanded Jim allow only conditional ingress.

"You're not getting in this tent wearing those muddy sneakers, Chief. Take 'em off."

Soulful blue eyes rose to meet his. "Come on, Jim! They'll get ruined. Open up. I'm freezing out here!"

"No way, Blair. Leave 'em outside. They're wet and muddy already. They can't get any worse."

Blair heaved a mighty sigh and toed off his sneakers, balancing precariously on his toes in the small, still-clean area of the laces. Just as Blair began to sway on his perch, Jim quickly unzipped the flap the rest of the way and, reaching out an arm, pulled Blair into the tent before he lost his balance completely and flopped headlong into the mud. Unprepared for the action, Blair toppled forward instead and Jim ended up flat on his back with an armful of wet, gasping Guide.

Jim grunted with the impact, the weight of his friend forcing the air from his lungs, and he gasped harshly, trying to catch his breath. Yet even as his body struggled for oxygen, the Sentinel's mind was hard at work, cataloguing sensations, memorizing the feel of his Guide against him. Blair's body was pressed to Jim's full length, his weight a welcome heaviness.

Blair's head lay just below Jim's chin and he could smell the younger man's shampoo and natural odor--made fresh by the wet of the rain. He could feel Blair's respiration--as his chest was laying flush against Jim's lower chest and upper abdomen. Jim found that if he concentrated, he could even distinguish the small brown nipples and the fur that decorated them. The button at the top of Blair's jeans pushed painfully into Jim's lower belly, but he ignored it, focusing instead on the warmth pressing against his groin--the warmth of the younger man's sex touching his own. Jim closed his eyes, afraid he might zone, so powerful were the sensations. But at that moment, Blair rolled off him and Jim nearly wailed at the loss.

"Jim? Jim, you okay, man? You're not zoning on me, are ya?" While trying to regulate his breathing, the bigger man slowly opened his eyes to find Blair kneeling beside him, head tilted, regarding him with wide, worried eyes.

"No…" he croaked, cleared his throat and tried again, "No. Just got the wind knocked out of me, is all." Jim tried for a reassuring smile, which fell short of appearing genuine by several light years. But Blair nodded thoughtfully, his curious eyes leaving his partner's only to travel down the planes of Jim's chest.

"I got you wet."

"Wet?" Jim looked down at himself and found the rainwater imprint of Blair's body on his sweatshirt and jeans. Looking up, he finally noticed that Blair was shivering. Blessed Protector instincts kicked in at the sight and the fog permeating the big man's brain lifted instantly, giving him the focus he needed to take charge of the situation. "Blair! You're soaked!"

"Rain'll do that to you, man." Blair still regarded Jim assessingly, but with some measure of surprised amusement. Jim ignored the gaze, more immediate concerns consuming his thoughts.

"Get out of those clothes before you catch your death, Chief." Quickly, Jim zipped up the tent-flap to block the morning chill. Turning to his pack, the older man rummaged within until he found a warm sweatshirt and a thick pair of wool socks. Turning to toss the aforementioned items to his partner, Jim found himself frozen with his arm drawn back.

Blair had removed his shirt and he now lay on his back atop his sleeping bag attempting to wiggle out of his wet jeans. They stubbornly clung to his hips and grunting his annoyance, Blair pushed his hands into the sides of his wet boxers and shoved, finally succeeding in wresting the entire damp mass of clothing down to his ankles.

Jim had to bite his tongue to keep from gasping. Downy fur swirled about chestnut-colored nipples, tapering as it descended toward Blair’s midsection. Jim almost zoned on the pattern of the younger man’s chest hair. The tapering curls seemed to point toward Blair’s abdomen, as if intentionally directing Jim’s attention lower.

Unable not to look, Jim felt his gaze slide across the planes of Blair's hard, flat belly, where the skin still prickled with gooseflesh from the wet chill of the air. The fine hairs stood up in response to the prickling and while Blair's attention was focused upon his struggle with his clothing, the big man dared to allow his gaze to travel yet lower--his sight enhancing automatically, as if it had been designed for this purpose alone.

Jim had always wondered how he would react to this sight if by some strange twist of fate he should obtain his heart's desire. Now that he was confronted by the reality, however, his most erotic fantasies paled in comparison.

The younger man's sex was lax, draped casually over one thigh, but this condition did nothing to take away from the sight. Blair was not, as Jim had always imagined, perfectly proportioned. Rather, he was quite large for a man his size. He was not endowed with the stocky thickness Jim had envisioned in his secret dreams, but was instead slender and almost delicate-looking. The rosy head of Blair's sex, made overtly visible by his circumcision, somehow made the slender organ look both gentle and powerful.

Other senses began reporting in. His Guide's smell was a pounding assault to the Sentinel's olfactory nerves and to his astonishment, Jim found that if he concentrated hard enough, he could almost taste Blair from across the tent. The scent was intoxicating and damn-near impossible not to get lost in. Jim had to shift his focus back to sight to keep from zoning on his Guide's savory smell. Turning his attention back to his partner's sex, Jim found Blair's manhood to be not merely sexy, but strangely graceful as it shifted in response to its owner's movements. Jim marveled that the soft organ could light such a fire within him, for as he savored the sight his heart begin to pound in his chest.

Blair turned then, digging into his belongings, and Jim was treated to yet another spectacular view. The white globes of his partner's naked flesh seemed to glow and wiggle as he rummaged in his knapsack--the muscles of his gluteus hard and flexing as he leaned further down to get at something in the bottom of his bag. Jim felt his body leaning forward, seeking contact with the vision before him, and he had to forcefully pull himself back.

Was his roommate doing this on purpose? Was he trying to tease Jim, or simply drive him mad? Jim shook his head violently. No. That couldn't be. Hadn't Blair told him that he had no such feelings for men? What was it he'd said? No fireworks? Yeah, that was it. The earth hadn't moved for Blair as it did when he was with women. Why had Blair stopped sleeping with them, then? Jim wondered, feeling fearful, yet again, when the only answer he could come up with was "illness."

Jim came back to himself with a lurch as he realized that Blair was looking at him speculatively. He was half-turned toward Jim, a pair of sweatpants hanging from one hand and obscuring the view that had sent the Sentinel deep into his own world of thoughts. Shaking himself inwardly, Jim tossed the articles he held in his partner's general direction and mumbled, "This is warmer than your flannels."

With that, the big man hunkered down into his make-shift bed, tossing the top of his fluffy sleeping bag over his body casually, as if only to ward off the cold. Clasping his hands firmly behind his head, Jim closed his eyes, giving the perfect appearance of a lazy vacationer intent upon catching a few more "Z's."

It had been too much. Jim's body still tingled where Blair's had touched his, and seeing his partner moving about the tent so unabashedly naked had produced the expected result. Jim was half-hard, but hoped that he'd covered up before Blair had noticed. Daylight was rapidly chasing away the shadows of night, but the overcast sky still held the tent in some gloom. With any luck at all, Blair hadn't noticed his state of arousal.

Jim tried to relax his body as Blair begin to move once again. But though he'd managed to make his eyelids droop with convincing lethargy, Jim's hearing compensated by pinpointing the movements behind him, sabotaging his attempts to restrain and dampen his traitorous libido. He could clearly make out the slide of cotton over smooth skin as his roommate dressed behind him, the soft sounds shooting straight to his cock. He needed a distraction and returning to his plan, Jim decided to cut to the chase.

"We never did finish our game of Truth or Dare," he remarked observationally and with as much casual indifference as he could muster. As this statement was a rather extreme non-sequitur, Jim wasn't at all surprised to find Blair repeating his words for verification.

"Truth or Dare?"

"Yeah. It's your turn." Jim's eyes were still closed, his head still resting lazily upon his clasped hands.

"He wants to play Truth or Dare?" Blair asked the tent wall. Wisely, the tent stayed out of it.

"As he can't think of anything better to do, yeah. Why not?" Jim replied, easily shifting into the third-person to answer for the silent tent around them.

When this didn't bring an immediate response, Jim opened his eyes and looked over his shoulder in hopes of reading his partner's face. Blair was sitting on his sleeping bag in the lotus position, his serene countenance oddly offset by the official insignia on Jim's Cascade PD sweatshirt. He had donned the fluffy blue socks Jim had lobbed at him as well, and his maroon sweatpants clashed with the entire ensemble. He was drying his curls with a small towel and the ringlets had, in the face of the pouring rain, tightened up to hang in clustered swirls about his face.

He looked altogether adorable.

Sitting in his cross-legged position had stretched the soft cotton material across Blair's crotch. The outline of his penis stood out clearly to Sentinel vision, and it was only through a tremendous act of will that Jim managed to keep his gaze upon on Blair's face. "So whatta ya say, Chief? You up for Truth or Dare?"

"Sure," Blair agreed with an amused snort. "I dare you to go make breakfast."

Jim frowned. "That's a penalty, not a dare. Are we changing the rules?" Despite Blair's obviousness facetiousness, Jim was determined to play out the scene seriously.

Blair grinned, moving easily into teasing mode. "Yeah, why not? The forest has great dare potential." Pushing a wet lock of hair behind one ear, the smaller man eyed his comparatively dry roommate with a dangerous smirk.

Ignoring the threat in his partner's wicked grin, Jim continued innocently, "Well, can't be any worse than Hell Week during Basic Training." Blair's smile broadened to near nefarious proportions and, feigning fear, Jim leaned away. "Um...on second thought, maybe we should just forget it."

"Oh, no, you don't! You suggested it, Soldier Boy. You're not getting out of it now!" Blair bounced slightly where he sat, obviously with visions of evil dares he couldn't wait to try out on Jim.

The Sentinel smiled inwardly, well aware of his partner's tenaciousness once he'd seized upon an idea. Outwardly, he gazed at Blair with horror. "What have you got on your evil little mind, Sandburg?" the big man asked warily, knowing his reluctance would only fuel his roommate's desire to play the game.

"Oh…nothing too evil, my friend, not to worry," Blair replied in a tone guaranteed to worry Jim greatly. "But we've gotta play with real dares now that we're not stuck in the truck." Blair cocked his head teasingly, "How about this…. We can ask questions first, then if we don't want to answer, we can take a dare. But we'll keep the option of answering the original question open. So don't be afraid, Jim. If a dare is too much for you, you can always answer the question."

Jim sat up in his sleeping bag. "I'm not afraid of your questions, Sandburg, or of your dares."

Blair snorted, "Famous last words, Ellison. Put up or shut up!"

Jim gave a low growl in the back of his throat, more for show than at his partner's aggressive challenge, and groused, "Why do I get the feeling you're going to have me streaking through the woods before this game is over?"

Blair's eyebrows shot up. "Hey! I hadn't thought of that one. That's pretty good!"

Jim gave a low, resigned sigh, but kept up the challenging tone, lest his roommate catch on to his subterfuge and renege on playing the game altogether. "Do your worst, Sandburg. We'll just see which one of us ends up running through the forest naked."

Blair laughed delightedly and shook his head. "Okay, tough guy, you asked for it." Blair tapped his lower lip with a finger, his eyes shifting back and forth thoughtfully. "Um…. All right…why?"

Jim frowned. "Why? Why what?"

"Why'd you want to play this game?" Blair asked shrewdly and smiled at Jim's look of surprise. "Either something's bothering you and you need to talk about it, or something I said in the truck on the way up here's got you freaked-out and you're using this game as a way to ask me about it. So what's up? What's on your mind?"

Obviously, the day had yet to come when he could pull one over on his Guide. And now he'd have to tell the truth. Damn.

Jim wracked his brain, trying to think of a way of leading up to the answer slowly. "I…I was afraid…I thought you might be…." Giving up, the big man shook his head and said hesitantly, "Blair, I think I can best answer that by asking my next question. Can we jump ahead?"

Blair looked at him strangely for a moment, then shrugged, "Sure, man. Go for it."

"Are you sick, Chief?"

Blair looked as surprised as he did confused. "Sick? What are you talking about, Jim?" Blair's heartbeat remained steady, the regular beat pulling Jim from a world of fear and anxiety. Glorious relief flooded through the Sentinel and he released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding as he flopped back on his sleeping bag. His muscles felt like jelly, limp and slackened in response to the blessed alleviation of his worst fear.

"Jim? You all right?" Blair leaned forward, concerned.

"Yeah…I just thought…. When I found out you hadn't been with anyone for so long, I got worried that…." He couldn't say it.

Blair's brows knitted momentarily, then his face cleared. "Oh! You're talking about STDs, like HIV or something?"

"Well…yeah," Jim agreed with a grateful sigh. It was a damn good thing for both of them, the big man mused, that Guides came equipped with limited mind-reading capabilities. Or perhaps, he continued to joke to himself, Sentinels came equipped with thought-transference abilities. Whatever the case, Jim was sometimes glad Blair could read him so easily.

Blair leaned back with a half-smile and shook his head reassuringly, "No way, man. 'No glove,'" Blair recited, "'no love.' Naomi taught me that mantra before I knew what sex was." Blair's heartbeat remained strong and steady, reinforcing the truth of the statement. "You should know I'm smarter than to get caught in that trap, Jim."

Jim gave his friend a slightly self-deprecating grin and responded, "You're right, I should. Must be a Blessed Protector thing," he shrugged. Blair nodded his understanding, looking, somehow, both reproachful and pleased.

"It's kind of nice, you know. Having someone to worry about me." Blair had obviously decided to lean toward 'pleased,' for he gave Jim his million-dollar smile and queried, "So that's what you wanted to know? That's why you wanted to play this game? To find out if I'd contracted some sexually transmitted disease?"

Jim looked down, feeling foolish and somewhat guilty for having underestimated his friend's intelligence in matters of intimacy. "Uh…yeah. I couldn't figure out how to ask you. I was gonna pose some leading questions and monitor your heart-rate, but you…." Jim trailed off with a wave of a hand.

"…Figured out what you were up to before you managed it," Blair finished for him, still smiling.

"Yeah. Sorry, Chief. I should've been straight with you. I'm just not good with words the way you are. We don't have to play any more."

Blair shook his head. "That's the reason we should continue. This kind of game is a great conduit for getting in touch with your emotional self," Blair told him, rapidly regressing into 'Professor Mode.' "It's a non-threatening formula for the illustration of feelings. It's the perfect thing for you. I mean, you're not exactly an easy person to get to know. And you not only have trouble opening up when it comes to yourself, but you don't feel free to ask me personal questions--even when you're worried about my health--and I'm your partner!"

At Jim's reluctant hesitation, Blair waved a warning finger, "Hey, you started this. Now you have to finish it. There's no backing out now." Blair paused to give his friend a quirky grin, "But if it'll make you feel better, I promise not to make you run through the forest naked."

Jim sat up with a smile and shook his head. "All right, Chief. You win. We'll finish the game. Uh…whose turn is it?" Somehow, he had lost track. But Blair answered decisively.

"It's mine. We've each asked six questions, which leaves fourteen more. You answered my question--even though you did it by using your sixth turn--about why you wanted to play this game. Now I get a question."

Jim just nodded, trusting his partner to keep track. Blair had a mind like a steel-trap.

Blair nibbled on his bottom lip, absently brushing a strand of hair from his eyes as he considered. "So…uh…what would you have done if I'd answered 'Yes'? I mean, like, if I really was sick?"

That was a ridiculous question and Jim decided to say so. "Stupid question, Chief. What do you think I'd do? Kick your sick butt out on the street so you could die alone and friendless?"

"So you'd take care of me?"

"Of course, I'd take care of you! You're my partner, for God's sake!" Jim was getting angry. Did Blair really think he was some kind of back-stabbing, fair-weather friend who'd desert him when the going got tough? "You're starting to piss me off, here, Chief. Do you seriously think I'd drop you like a hot potato just when you needed me most?"

"That's not what I meant! It's just…well, with all your talk about STDs, I just got to thinking. I knew what you'd say, I guess I just needed to hear it, you know?"

Jim relaxed, but his partner's question bothered him greatly. If Blair was as careful as he'd said he was, why did he waste time worrying about such things? Aloud, he responded, "That's okay, Chief. I understand."

Blair gave him a tight smile and bit a lip briefly. "It's your turn, then. I know there must be things you'd like to know, but ordinarily wouldn't ask. Now's your chance. You can ask me anything. So go for it, man."

Even though it was his turn, Jim still felt, oddly enough, that any question he posed would leave him somehow…exposed. Clearing his throat awkwardly, Jim hesitated, regarding the tent-flap critically to keep his eyes from communicating his embarrassment to his partner. "Well…I was thinking about what you said in the truck. About dating a guy, I mean."

Blair became suddenly still. "You okay with that?"

Jim glanced at Blair, reassured, for some reason, by his friend's nervous query. "Sure, Chief. You were young. You were experimenting."

Blair frowned. "So you've made allowances to excuse my foolish behavior?"

Urp. Only two minutes into the game and Jim had already managed to wander into the middle of a mine-field without noticing it. "That didn't come out right, Chief. You can do whatever you want. It's your life. It's not my place to judge."

Blair tilted his head, still frowning. "It's been my experience that people who say it's not their place to judge, always do. I think a lot of people pretend things don't bother them because they know they shouldn't be bothered. They know what's right, but their feelings say something different," Blair finished somewhat haughtily. Jim had the distinct impression Blair was talking about him.

"You shouldn't be so hard on people, Chief. At least they're trying. They're not out committing hate crimes, for God's sake." Jim frowned to himself, struggling to pull his thoughts together. "What I mean is, a lot of people know what's right, they try to do what's right and they teach their children what they logically understand is right. That's a pretty big step for some of people." Jim heard his tone turn cold, but he couldn't stop his next words. "Who's judging now? To judge others by their feelings, especially feelings they don't like or want and are trying to overcome, is pretty unfair if you ask me. It's a tough battle, sometimes, doing what's right in this world." Why was he getting so defensive? Wasn't this a hypothetical conversation?

Blair looked chastised. "Yeah. You're right. Sorry, man. I guess I was afraid you would…."

"Judge you because you dated a guy?"

Blair colored slightly, then shrugged, "Yeah. It was kind of a confusing time for me."

Treading carefully, the big man hazarded, "There would have been a lot of difficulties if you'd discovered that you were…." Jim trailed off uneasily.

"…Gay," Blair finished for him, "or bisexual."

Jim nodded his agreement.

"Jim, I'm an anthropologist. I've studied all aspects of our society and dozens more. I know all about the way groups and subgroups judge others--measuring by their own tribal standards and prejudices; justifying their beliefs and actions by clinging to old taboos. You don't have to tell me about how some people might react if I dated a guy. I've forgotten more about such things than you'll ever know." Blair paused to look at Jim pointedly and his silence weighed heavily in the tight confines of the tent. "How does this relate to your question? Exactly what did you want to know about my dating that guy, Jim?" Blair had kept his voice light throughout this oratory, but the intensity of his gaze was unnerving.

Swallowing noisily, Jim muttered, "I guess…just how you felt about it. If…if it would have been worth it to you. You know, to pursue a relationship with that guy if you'd found out that you were," Jim paused to wave a hand, "so inclined. If you would have been willing to face all the difficulties that go along with that lifestyle…especially if you had a choice. I mean, assuming you still liked women and all."

Blair nodded thoughtfully, considering. "It's not a matter of the lifestyle, it's the person. If I'd discovered I had those kinds of feelings for him--and if he'd been special enough to make it worth a little harassment from the outside--then, yeah. I'm sure I would have risked anything for him. It might have been easier to date only women, but since when is taking the easy way out the right choice? Almost never, in my experience. And definitely not where true love is concerned. That kind of thing is pretty rare in this world and far too precious to throw away over a little outside heat. Think Romeo and Juliet. All the odds were against them. And even though their lives ended tragically, for them it was worth it. They got to experience the kind of love that only comes along once in a lifetime. True love, man. That's what makes life worthwhile."

Jim couldn't help but smile. Blair had an optimistic view of the world, of that there was no doubt. But he also opened doors for Jim no one else ever could. When the man spoke, Jim found he was able, if only for a moment, to look at the universe through Blair's eyes. He cherished these respites from the harshness of his own world-view. He loved looking at the world through "Blair-colored" glasses and reveled in these glimpses of life as Blair saw it.

"Jim…is it my turn, yet?"

Blair was looking at him quizzically and Jim realized, suddenly, that he'd been smiling at Blair stupidly for the past few seconds. Quickly shaking off some foolishly romantic visions of battles fought and won for unlikely love, the Sentinel dragged himself back to the present. Clearing his throat gruffly, Jim responded, "Yeah, Chief. Go for it."

"Okay. Um…." Blair tilted his head and regarded Jim with a sidelong glance as he asked, "If I wanted to date a guy now, would you freak?"

The warm contentment of the moment before drained from the tent like someone had pulled a plug. A chill seemed to sweep through the thin nylon walls around them and it was all Jim could do not to shiver visibly. Blair wanted to date a guy? Who? The heat of unexpected jealously replaced the chill and Jim tried to keep from clenching his jaw. "But I thought you said…in the truck you said…. Why do you want to date a guy?"

"I didn't say I wanted to. It's just a theoretical question. What would you do if I did?"

Just a theoretical question. Fine. Good. "I wouldn't do anything. What could I do?" The game wasn't simply not going the way Jim had planned, it was also stirring up painful feelings in him when all he'd been trying to do was help! The irony of the situation left him feeling vaguely irritated. "You're a grown man, Sandburg. You make your own decisions." Jim's irritation was suddenly covered by a wave of defensiveness and he snapped, "Why are you asking me this? Do you think I'm homophobic, or just a bigot?"

Jim's teeth were clenched now. He couldn't help it. He could feel the muscle in his jaw jump and knew his roommate could see it. This was something he'd never been able to control. And as always, it gave him away to the one person who understood what that twitching meant in any context.

"No, Jim! I'm not trying to imply anything! Stop reading into everything I say. I only wanted to know…."

Jim cut him off, "You wanted to know if I'm such a bigot I'd kick you out of your home for the crime of having feelings for a man? Well, I wouldn't. I'm not saying I would be entirely comfortable with it…but that's my problem, not yours. It's your life."

"But you wouldn't like it," Blair stated emphatically and tilted his head as he watched Jim carefully.

"So? You need my approval?" Jim snapped, more sharply than he'd meant to.

Blair thought about this for a moment. "Yeah. Maybe I do."

This answer was so unexpected it knocked the wind from Jim's sails and his anger tapered off, leaving him floating on a sea of uncertainty. Blair needed his approval? His opinion was that important to Blair? Before he could speak, the younger man continued, "Our friendship's too important to risk ruining it over something like that. You're my best friend, Jim."

All the anger and indignant defensiveness evaporated at these words and Jim was left feeling only vague pride and confusion. Unable to find the proper words to express his churning feelings, he could only nod slowly and attempt to tell his partner, with his eyes, what it meant to him to have a friend who placed so much value on his opinion.

A small smile played at the corners of his Guide's mouth and the big man relaxed. Blair always understood. The tension in the tent had evaporated, but Jim was still left feeling confused and weakened. Why did everything with his Guide have to be so difficult?

"So," Blair tilted his head slightly and asked softly, "what would you do?"

The conversation had gone so far astray of the original question, Jim needed verification that they were talking about the same thing. "You mean, if you started seeing guys?"

"Yeah. Or said I wanted to."

"Do you want to?"

"It's not your turn, Jim."

The big man sighed. "If my approval was that important to you, I guess I would have to give it. You're my best friend, too. My Guide. I'd…want you to be happy," Jim finished uneasily. He'd said this only because he knew it was the right thing to say, but the moment the words were spoken, he knew them to be true. He looked down so Blair wouldn't see the sadness in his eyes. "You already know how some segments of society might react. If you chose to take that chance…I'd just tell you to be careful."

"Careful?" Blair asked, he seemed touched by the sentiments expressed.

"Yeah. You know," Jim waved a hand, as if the gesture alone could convey his thoughts.

"You mean, like, condoms and stuff. What you were talking about before. Protection against STDs."

There it was again. The evidence of Blair's ability to read him. "Yeah," the big man confirmed, feeling awkward, but still greatly touched by the import Blair placed upon his views.

"Like I said, man, I'm smarter than that."

Jim nodded, acknowledging the truth of this statement. "It's my turn now, right?" the Sentinel asked uncomfortably. Blair was watching him carefully.

"Yeah."

"Have you…thought about it?"

"About STDs?" asked Blair, " 'Course. Gotta think about that stuff these days."

"No. About the 'guy-thing.' I mean…have you thought about what it would be like to date a guy? To…" Jim floundered briefly, then just came out with it, "be with a guy? You know, that way."

"Yeah."

"Yeah?" Jim was surprised. "You've thought about that?"

"I think about a lot of things, man," Blair shrugged, clearly trying to downplay his response. "The old noodle never sleeps, ya know?" Blair tapped his temple lightly, as if his head were a visual-aid to the discussion. Suddenly amused, Jim found himself smiling at the gesture. He never used to smile like this BB. 'Before Blair' nothing could call a smile to his face so quickly. Now the easy smile and quick grin came naturally. At least where Blair was concerned.

"Okay, Sport, your turn again. Fire away."

"Um," Blair bit his lip and tilted his head before asking carefully, "What kind of guy would you approve of me dating?"

Jim felt the bottom drop from his stomach. So it wasn't just a theoretical issue! "I've already answered that question. I told you I'll give you my blessing…you know…with anyone that makes you happy."

"That's not what I'm asking, here, man. I want to know what kind of guy you wouldn't have reservations about me getting involved with. If you could pick out his main qualities, what would he be like?"

As if it weren't bad enough that Blair wanted to date another man, he wanted Jim to pick one out for him, too? The very notion of Blair with a man other than himself made Jim almost physically ill. But Blair was waiting patiently for a response, so Jim clamped down on his feelings and dutifully summoned up an ideal mate for Blair: A man as young and irrepressible as his Guide was; an open, carefree kind of guy who was intelligent, trustworthy and deserving. Someone better than an old, repressed cop who ran from his feelings like his life depended on it.

Battling down a wave of nausea at the thought, Jim managed to stammer, "I guess…I guess, if you had to date a guy, I'd want him to be someone you could trust. You know, someone who'd stick with you through thick and thin. Someone who could be counted on to take care of you if you were sick or hurt. Someone who would look out for you. Not take advantage of you. Someone who would…well…put your happiness first. You know," Jim waved a hand and gave his friend a sad smile, "someone perfect."

Blair nodded thoughtfully, a small smile gracing his lips, and asked, "Would he be handsome?"

Jim snorted, pushing away the hurt, "Sure. Why not? Since this mythical person can practically walk on water, what the hell? He can look like a statue of Apollo, if that's what you want."

The small smile remained, but was joined by an amused twitch. "Wow. I'm a pretty lucky guy."

Jim grunted, hurt and confused by the subject. "Is it my turn yet?"

"Yeah, sure. Shoot."

"Are you serious?"

The smile faded slowly and Blair stared at Jim for a long moment. "Yeah. I think I might be." Jim was suddenly very glad they hadn't eaten breakfast. He wasn't altogether certain he would have been able to keep it down. "But I'll wait until I find a guy you really approve of," Blair added magnanimously.

Yeah, Jim snorted to himself, well that's gonna be one long wait. Aloud, he remarked, "I told you already, Sandburg, I'll approve of anyone who makes you happy." Unless I kill him, Jim mused maliciously, chop him into little pieces and mail him all over the continent. Approval or murder? It was a toss-up. "Your turn, Chief. You let me ask you questions about your sexual history, so fire away. Was there anything you wanted to ask about mine, but never did?"

Blair nodded thoughtfully and Jim wished, for the hundredth time in their partnership, that he had a direct line into this partner's thoughts, as Blair often seemed to have into his. The Sentinel took a moment to study his Guide's face, but couldn't glean anything conclusive from the younger man's expression. Even so, Jim again felt that there was something couched in Blair's strange questions--something important he was missing.

"Well…yeah, now that you mention it," Blair answered hesitantly. Obviously, there was a question about his romantic encounters Blair wanted to ask--and judging from the nervous way Blair was twisting the toe of his sock, it was bound to be a doozy. "So…" Blair began casually, a sure sign his question would be anything but, "um…what's it like for you?"

Jim had lifted his arms to stretch out his back, trying to ease the bothersome kink in his neck, but at the odd question, he paused mid-stretch. "What's it like?" he repeated in confusion.

"Yeah," Blair affirmed somewhat shyly. "You know, being with someone."

Suddenly, Jim understood. "You mean because of my Sentinel senses," he stated thoughtfully.

"Yeah."

Jim resumed his stretch before laying back on his sleeping bag and rubbing at his neck idly. Finally--a question he was comfortable with. "Blair, how long have you wanted to ask me that?"

Concluded in part two.