Title: Turns out Jim and Blair...you know.
Author: Sassyinkpen (Dec 2007)
Rating: Hard R
Word Count: 1990
Genre: Slash
Spoilers: None
Warning: None
Requirements: Dramedy

Part 1/1

Jim may be practically invincible when it comes to bullets and bad guys, man, but if you start talking feelings and relationships and the nitty-gritty of life, he just comes apart. He does not handle it well at all. Which is why we spent the better part of a month trying to get caught necking by Simon Banks.

Yeah, you heard me right. Actually trying to get caught.

See, Jim figured it like this: If Simon caught us making out, that would pretty much clue him into the fact that his top detective was gay, and that he was gettin' it on with his hunky civilian ride along.

Not that he really wanted Simon to think about us getting it on, but catching us in a lip lock was sure to leave no doubt about what was happening, yet would be sufficiently awkward to preclude any long winded discussions on the subject.

Sort of, "Cat's out of the bag, now let it run" kind of thing.

I offered to just tell Simon about us myself, but Jim assured me that Simon would prefer it this way too. I just don't understand guys who don't take the time to get in touch with their feelings. And these are a couple of guys who are perfectly comfortable talking about other emotional subjects. Jim has no trouble spilling his guts to me.

Still, far be it from me to get in the way of Cro-Magnon man trying to communicate.

Jim hatched this plan after a dicey half hour in Simon's office trying to explain why we were going on a fishing trip and Simon wasn't allowed to come with. It's not all that unusual for guys to horn in on each other's plans, so when Simon heard about this trip, he got excited and tried to invite himself along.

Oh man, would I have liked to have been a fly on the wall to hear Jim try to get himself out of that one without explaining that his tackle was going to be reeling in a whole different kind of big one.

After that, Jim wanted to get Simon clued in so that in the future he could just do the old wink-wink-nudge-nudge without having to get into specifics.

We tried dropping hints and innuendos, but those all just went right over Simon's head. He was completely oblivious even when Jim and I spent an entire week with our hands all over each other any time Simon was in the room. (I didn't mind that failure too much, because by the end of the day, Jim was impossibly horny and let's just say that his performance in bed was inspired. I kept telling him that we really needed to give it another week or so.)

Once, I just tried to grab Jim and lay a big wet one on him right in front of Simon, but Jim freaked on me. He flipped me over and put me in a headlock before I knew what was what. Simon roared with laughter, but remained totally clueless. By the time Jim was getting thoroughly fed up with the whole thing, he tried the same maneuver himself in Simon's office when we were supposed to be heading out for beers and a basketball game with the crew one night. Simon just stuck his head back in the door and barked, "Will you two quit clowning around and get your asses moving! I don't want to miss the tip off!"

Well, Simon, my friend...it just sailed right over your head. Again.

There was the time we tried to let him catch us in the break room, but just before he got to the door all hell broke loose. They were bringing in a couple of guys strung out on crack and something about the way the fluorescent lights were flickering set one of them off, taking the other right along for the ride, and by the time we were done, we had two uniforms and one of the crack heads in need of first aid, and a broken window to the secretarial office.

The thing is, when you set out to try and control a surprise situation, more often than not, it bites you in the ass and you get surprised yourself.

And that is why one sunny Friday afternoon, Simon Banks went to take a pee and discovered his favorite crime fighter on his knees in the men's bathroom sucking cock like a seasoned pro.

I was braced against one of the sinks, hands behind me clutching porcelain for dear life, and Jim was, as I mentioned, on his knees. And let me take just a minute here to say that far be it from me to make use of my studies for puerile purposes, but I had no idea that the search for a sentinel was also the search for mind blowing oral sex. I mean, I had some suspicions about the applicability of sensory acuity in the bedroom, but Jim...Jim, man, he takes things to a whole new level.

So, like I said, I was in the seventh ring of heaven and focused completely on the dismantling of my last shred of composure by Jim's mouth and the fingers he'd just slid into my ass, so what happened first is kind of a blur to me, but the shock brought everything after that into sharp relief.

One minute, carnal bliss of the most extraordinary kind, and the next, a cold wash of wind from the hallway, a flash of light filled with a hulking black silhouette, and a booming "WHAT THE HELL?!"

Then it was gone. Retreated. My heart was hammering in my chest, my blood was like ice, and Jim was staring up at me with a mixture of rage and horror. "I thought you said you locked the door!" he snapped.

"No, YOU were supposed to lock the door," I hissed back. "I was already half out of my mind with lust because you wouldn't shut up about all the nasty things you're going to do to me this weekend."

"This was your idea, Sandburg, you were supposed to take care of it."

"You were the last one in, you wer-"

"BOTH OF YOU SHUT UP AND GET YOUR DAMNED PANTS BACK ON!" yelled Simon, beating on the door with his fist.

Jim stood up and gave me an arch look. "I already have my pants on."

"Asshole," I snapped as I struggled to cram myself back into my jeans before Jim yanked the door open.

Simon loomed darkly. "My office. Now," he said through gritted teeth.

We were in his office within two minutes, literally, but he still glowered at us as if he'd been waiting a day and a half. I felt sick to my stomach, because this was bad, man. This was so much worse then the necking we'd hoped to get caught for. This was like...over the top in terms of responsibility, taste, class, not to mention station appropriate behavior. I mean, I don't even know what we were thinking. Well...I know what I was thinking. I was thinking Must Get Sucked Off Now Or Die. Why in the hell Jim let me talk him into it, I don't know.

After he let us squirm for a lot longer than a day and a half, Simon finally said, "Would either of you care to offer an explanation?"

Jim was standing next to me all stony faced, parade rest, eyes fixed on the wall somewhere over Simon's right shoulder. He didn't say anything.

I cleared my throat, and said, "Uh, yeah...that was my fault, Simon."

"Which part of it?"

"The, ah, unlocked door. I mean, I actually did think it was locked so I wasn't all that worried, you know, but I guess it wasn't and, um, well....we wouldn't even have been in there if it wasn't for me, so I guess that's my fault too."

Simon flexed a few tendons in his jaw. "From where I stand, that is the least of your worries. Jim?"

"Sir, I....it just happened, Sir. I realize the department frowns on situations like this."

We weren't just talking blow jobs in bathrooms here, we were talking the whole ball of wax. Jim and me as an item period. Fraternization, or whatever they call it on the police force.

"Frowns on is putting it lightly. Do you realize what kind of position this puts me in? I may have to revoke Sandburg's observer status."

I jumped forward and said, "Simon. Come on, man, you can't do that. You know what's at stake here. Look, I swear to god we'll keep this out of the station from now on. It'll never happen again."

Simon shook his head, "It's not just that. Every time you two are out there, I'm going to have to worry that Jim's head is in the right place and he's going to be free to do his job."

I made a face and opened my mouth to say something pretty rude, but Jim stopped me. "They're afraid that if there's trouble, I'll be too worried about you, or you'll try to interfere to keep me safe. That we can't do the job that way."

"What, and you don't have that problem with every other set of partners that you send out on the streets? There have been studies on cops that have shown that due to the extreme nature of the job, partner relationships between cops are often stronger and more intense than most marriages. You can't tell me that when any one of these people are in a tight spot, they aren't thinking about where their partner is, and they aren't just as liable to take risks to protect their partners."

"There's a line," Simon said, "And you two just crossed it."

"Simon, I'm sorry," Jim said, "I tried to avoid it, I really did, but this sentinel stuff is screwing me up in every way possible, and I just...couldn't."

"Simon, Jim needs me out there," I tossed in, just in case anyone was losing sight of that fact.

Simon came around and sat on the edge of his desk, folding his arms over his chest. "All right," he said, "I have no choice but to turn my head the other way on this, because the risks are greater without you there than with, but you two had better toe the line on every other detail, you got me? Everything is by the book, reports are in on time, and your conduct is impeccable. Got it?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Oh hey, man, no problem."

So yeah, the whole thing kind of backfired on us, and that's sure as hell not how we would have liked to have it go, but in the end it was mission accomplished more or less. Simon knew, and he knew that we knew he knew, and he and Jim were now free to talk in thinly veiled double speak and vague references and they were both pretty cool with it.

A few weeks later, Simon admitted to us that he'd noticed that Jim was in a much better mood and had assumed he'd been getting laid, but never in a million years would he have guess it was me that doing the laying. He didn't say it that way. In fact, I think he just sort of let the sentence trail off with a jerk of his head toward me.

All told, though, things worked out, and Simon eased off us a little. We have maintained a level of perfect professionalism when at the station ever since, and thankfully, we have yet to really put Simon's concerns to the test.

Oh yeah....and when we really want to fuck in a public bathroom? We go down to the bar.