Archive of Our Own

Notes: Ok, this one started about part four. I was thinking (DANGEROUS
ground people) and umm, well I started with Debt..then got ideas for
this...then Cyper...then Night Train...They should be along soon...

That damn garbage truck.

Jim hated that moment.

The Sentinel laid in bed, hands folded over his chest, playing it over and over in his mind. Dammit, that just pushed it all right in his face. It showed him just how vulnerable this thing made him, made him realise that for once in his life he needed someone.

And every part of his soul screamed against it.

Needing backup was one thing, but Sandburg? That annoying little hippie freak who talked too much, wearing those crappy jeans and white shirt and that multicoloured vest that just hurt his eyes to look at. The way it caught the blue of his eyes, the softness of his hair...

Jim's hands drifted down his chest to his crotch.

And it felt so damn good, having that compact body sprawled on his. The fumes of the truck wafting unnoticed over his head as he felt that reassuring weight, that hair, as soft as it looked tickling his cheek, knowing that the smaller man's crotch was pressed tight against him as he tried to meld himself into the detective.

His fingers gently kneaded his balls, coming up to stroke his erection.

And that thumping in his ears, like some sort of voodoo call, the kid's heart doing overtime, pressed so tight against his back that for a brief moment it felt like he had two hearts. And it felt good.

Jim brushed his thumb over the tip of his penis, so sensitised it felt like a heavy animal crawling across his groin.

He knew he was deluding himself. Hell, the kid had stated, point blankly there was nothing more. Thesis for control. Straight swap. As soon it was over, Sayonara. He went on being a cop, and the kid got those three letters and went on to greater things.

But there had been all those sensations roiling over him. Blair's heartbeat, slowly beginning to come under control, sweat, sharp sweet tang across his tongue - and the kid was good looking. Ellison should know, he'd pulled time in vice with the required sexual activities, and Sandburg was damn fine-looking.

And damn fine feeling too.

Especially when he touched his arm. Soft grip, with an underlying strength. A casual touch, so unexpected, yet expected that it sent a pure bolt of sexuality into his groin.

Jim strained on his bed as the memories kissed his mind. He had had his sense of touch blown open so wide he felt like he could feel the movement of every single corpuscle underneath the other man's skin, even through his jacket.

And then the kid asked him to check out that girl.

Jim stilled his hands in mid-motion, penis drooping as it considered the ramifications. The girl.

Something in him had smacked a little nasty then. "She thinks you're a dork" A pathetic attempt at denial, hoping in some obscure little child-like corner of his mind that somehow if Sandburg was booted by one sex, he might turn to the other. Or more specifically, to one particular member of that sex.

But no.

After everything, after the wild ride through the city on the bus, after fighting over Veronica for the gun - Jim let a smile quirk his features. Hippy vs. Military. And the hippy won. Maybe he should have paid more attention during the sixties - Blair shook it off, moaned for a bit about his camcorder...then at the brief meal at Wonder burger Jim treated him to after the paperwork, picked at his salad, chatted to his new research subject and zeroed in on the waitress.

Waitress.

Then he had disappeared after the meal, promising to keep in touch.

Idly, Jim turned his head to look at the phone, then the clock behind it. 23:50. He reached out, the hesitated. Should he? It was kinda late...

Then again he was a Uni student. Bound to be up all hours, right?

Before he changed his mind, Jim reached out and tapped in the number.

"Mmmm? San'burg," a sleepy voice bleared at him.

"Sandburg. Ellison." Jim picked at the edge of his blanket, feeling absurdidly like a twelve year old asking for a date.

"Jim? What's up?" he could practically hear the kids brain rev up to full drive. "Are you ok? Are your senses mucking up?"

Jim shook his head, then realised the kid couldn't see it. "No. I was just thinking..."

"Yeah?" the kid's voice was cautious. Probably thinking I'm gonna toss him out.

"With these senses, and getting you ride-along status. I don't think we can wait." Jim paused for a minute. "I want you to come down tomorrow and sort the paperwork. I don't want this sense thing to start screwing up my work."

"Sure!" Sandburg was eager again. "I mean, I got some classes early, but once I get them cleared, I should be right. How's ten sound?"

"Fine. I'll pick you up at the university." Jim put the phone back down in it's cradle before he blurted something he regretted.

Settling himself down on his pillows, he gazed up at the ceiling and sighed. Working with the kid 9-5? He'd drive himself insane, yoyo-ing between drooling and pushing up defensive shields. Or the kid would drive him insane with his incessant chatting. Maybe if he kept it cut down to major work, until he got this thing under control, he'd survive with his libido intact. He could do this. He was in control. Hell, he'd survived Army training, Covert ops, Vice and being married to Carolyn. A little hippie who just happened to pop his buttons? No problem.

No problem at all.

"Yeah, keep dreaming Ellison." He shifted again and tried to sleep.

End