Startled
A Sentinel Fic for the Halloween challenge
Warnings: On this list? Uhm, I mean, no slash, just discipline.
Fandom: The Sentinel, but it's kind of AUish, in that I just sort of used the characters and the world,and ignored most everything else the show offered. That's okay, isn't it?{g}
It wasn't often that James Ellison got to sleep at night, like a regular person. Usually, between cases, stake-outs and scheduling, he got to bed somewhere between midnight and four in the morning, if he got to bed at all. There might be a few days in a row when he was off, or on days with a light load, but they were rare.
So when the chance came to hit the hay at ten p.m., he jumped at it, landing in perfectly ironed sheets. With a sigh of bliss, he abandoned himself to inertia, sleeping the sleep of the just.
When the ghost appeared a scant three hours later, Ellison's first reaction was to be pissed off.
He'd been out, soundly sleeping, when his skin had picked up a dramatic shift in the air currents around him. A chill came with it, and the palest of sounds, less than a whisper, but enough when put with the rest to rouse a Sentinel.
He rolled over in bed, yanking back the sleep mask, prepared to find whatever window Sandburg had just opened, and pitch him out of it. Instead, he froze as he saw a figure floating above him, some three feet in the air above his bed.
It was a human shape, vaguely, but he couldn't make out any distinct features. It seemed to reach for him, and he thought he saw a movement in the area of the head, possibly lips moving, if this thing had lips. He could see right through it, see the moon through the skylight beyond it. The gray light gave the thing a smoky, milky look, and it was blurred along the edges, like it was moving out of synch.
He processed this all without being aware of it, the detective and Sentinel cataloguing and storing all the data it could, before the man could even begin to think clearly. At the moment, Jim could only remember thinking one thing clearly.
"I'll never get back to sleep, now."
It wasn't rational, but it was all he had time for before he did the next logical thing.
He screamed. A big ol' girlie scream, loud and with a great deal of serious meaning behind it. And he didn't much give a damn who heard it.
The scream had a secondary effect, however. The ghostlike figure seemed to startle, then began to move almost violently, before vanishing completely.
Jim was panting like he'd run a mile, and his sheets were soaked with cold sweat. He was terrified to move, and afraid to stay where he was, but an urgent impulse from his bladder helped convince him to leave the dubious safety of the bed.
He crept to the edge of the bed, then launched up and out like a rocket. He bolted down the stairs, not daring to look over his shoulder, and secured himself in the bathroom. He didn't need the light, but he turned it on anyway.
After several deep breaths, damn he could almost hear Sandburg, he felt steady enough to take care of business. By the time he'd washed his hands and face, he could begin to think clearly. For Jim, this meant he was now ready and willing to disavow any and all knowledge of what had happened, beyond conceding that he'd had a weird dream, probably brought on by the strange tofu-goat cheese- marinara ziti he'd eaten for dinner.
"That was enough to cause anybody to have a nightmare. Where does Sandburg get these recipes anyway?" Jim grumbled to himself as he retrieved a bottle of water from the refrigerator.
His Guide had left a note that he'd be working late at the U, helping another graduate student with a term project. He'd left Jim dinner and instructions for heating it, along with a reminder that the Volvo was still down for the count, and a ride in the morning would be, like, so cool, man, unless it was really late, and then he'd just sleep on the couch in his office.
Jim had dutifully eaten it, partly out of guilt for the Wonderburger he'd sneaked at lunch time. But no more. From now on the rule was that if he, with all his senses, couldn't identify every single ingredient in the first taste, he didn't have to eat it.
Nodding to himself for emphasis, and thusly decided, Jim moved toward the stairs. He chewed the inside of his top lip for a moment, before turning back toward the couch. He grabbed the remote control, telling himself that since he couldn't sleep anyway, he might as well surf the tube.
Jim settled down, grabbed the afghan Blair insisted be left on the couch, and turned it to the History channel. It was an hour devoted to those who had harnessed electricity, and he was asleep, despite his earlier fright, within twenty minutes.
He wasn't surprised to find himself in the jungle. A bad shock often brought the comfort and clarity of the Spirit world, and Jim smiled as he saw the large black sleekness of his Spirit Guide approach. The big cat seemed to be playing, standing stock still, then suddenly pouncing on nothing. The cat darted here and there, batting and leaping at the air, but Jim could sense that it wasn't serious. The animal was simply toying with something only it could see. As he thought this, Jim's brow furrowed, his smile fading, even as the Jaguar turned to face him, blinking lazily as though satisfied that his difficult human had made the connection.
The next time Jim woke up, it was daylight, and the television was still expounding wisdom. He shut it off, rubbing a hand over his face. He was off, so he wasn't concerned with the time. He did a quick scan, but knew that he wouldn't find Blair's heartbeat. If Blair had come in, Jim would have been roused, scolded and sent back to bed, with the assurance that they would talk in the morning.
The events of the previous night came back to him, and he warily made his way up the stairs to his bedroom. He sensed nothing, found absolutely nothing, even with all his senses cranked as high as he dared. Well, nothing really unusual. He'd caught the faintest whiff of Blair's scent. He wasn't sure when his Guide had been up here, or why, but at any rate, he found nothing related to the apparition.
Convinced he'd dreamed it, Jim allowed himself a half-second to be worried about the scream, then was thoroughly disgusted with himself. He mentally kicked his own ass while he stripped the bed, then went to do laundry. He was just finishing the perfect hospital corners on the top sheet, when he heard Sandburg approaching.
The heartbeat was a little fast, and Jim leaned over the rail to catch a look at his roommate, see if anything was visibly wrong.
Blair looked distracted, but seemed fine, and Jim put the signs of tension off to everyday life.
"Hey."
"Oh, hey, Jim."
"You okay?" Blair's heart had spiked when he looked at Jim.
"Yeah, fine. A little tired. I didn't get much sleep last night, not going to get much tonight, either. In fact, I'm just home long enough to shower and grab some fresh gear. I have to help Dylan again tonight." Guilt showed in a quick flash on the handsome face, and the heart spiked again.
"Uhm, I'm sorry for leaving you alone again, man, I know we usually hang out together on your day off, but this is really important."
Relieved at finding the source for Blair's unease, Jim managed a smile, waving away the apology.
"It's fine, Blair. We didn't have any plans, it's not like you're breaking a date with me." He got a grin with that, and Blair relaxed.
"You sure? I mean, you're okay that I'm not going to be home much this week?"
"It's fine, Chief. With one exception."
"Yeah?"
"No more new recipes. That one last night, well, let's just say it didn't make the cut."
Blair chuckled, heading into his room to grab his clothes.
"The thought that I might be pushing it with that one, did occur to me. Why do you think I made it for you when I wasn't home to hear you complain?"
Jim, feeling better than he had since going to bed the night before, finished making his bed and headed for the balcony. He was settled in the relative sunshine, reading the latest spy thriller, when Blair ducked out.
"Okay, man, I'm gone. The Volvo's fixed, so I'm set for transport. I'll just be in and out for the next few days, Dylan's project is at critical, so we'll probably miss each other in passing. If you don't care, I'll handle the meals next week and you can fend for yourself until I'm done."
Jim's eyes lit up like a child at Christmas, and Blair shook his head, arching an eyebrow as he assumed a stern look.
"Don't even think about it, Ellison. I'll know if you cheat. One steak, one hamburger, that's it, the rest of the time you cook a meal or do the vegetable take-out from Wong's, got me?"
"I got you, Chief. I don't know why I let you dictate my food choices, but I got you. I'll play nice."
Jim's tone held long-suffering, and Blair snorted at the obvious ploy for sympathy, and thus, mercy.
"Uh-huh. Just like you did yesterday for lunch?"
Blair didn't laugh at Jim's look of shock, but it took all his willpower to maintain a stern demeanor.
"That's the other reason I tried out that recipe last night." He said it with a bright smile and even blinked coyly, before hefting his backpack and walking toward the door.
"Later, Jim."
Blair had been gone for some fifteen minutes before Jim gave up trying to figure out how he knew. With a sigh, he headed inside, digging out some chicken from the freezer. He resignedly made an assortment of steamed vegetables and brown rice to go with it, ate it somewhat belligerently, then turned on the television. The Jags were playing, and between the game and the beer that went with it, Jim felt pretty darn good by the time he was ready for bed.
He hesitated only a moment, before squaring his shoulders and lying down. He left the sleep mask off, but turned out the lights. He forced himself to relax, and was soon asleep.
When the ghost appeared this time, there were some differences.
First of all, Jim didn't scream. He thought about it, but decided that he couldn't rationalize it away two nights in a row, so he settled for biting his bottom lip and trying to breathe calmly.
It was more solid looking this time, he noted, though still milky. He could see through it, but not clearly, and the shape was definitely human. The features were a little more distinct, too, although still somewhat vague, and he saw that the movement was lips. It was saying something, but Jim couldn't see it clearly enough to make out words. The arms reached for him, grazing the air just millimeters above his skin.
Every muscle he had tensed, and he had a good many. He held his breath as the hands skirted his skin, not actually touching, but with Sentinel senses, it was close enough.
When the head leaned over his own, and he was suddenly face to face with it, the need to do something was too strong to ignore any longer. With a roar, Jim moved as though to push it away. His hands went into it, and for just a moment, along with the shock and a cold tingle, he could have sworn he felt something vaguely familiar.
Whatever it was, it was gone before he could analyze it further. The being recoiled as though physically hurt by the touch, and vanished completely.
"Okay," he thought to himself as he labored to bring his breathing and his senses back under control," that was no tofu-induced nightmare. This thing is real."
He sat up, positive he didn't want to think about it, but knowing he needed to do so. Jim felt sure it wouldn't be coming back, and in a strange way, he was reassured by the fleeting touch of the thing. It hadn't seemed evil or even mean. It had exuded nothing but curiosity and concern. It seemed as though it were trying to tell him something. Jim thought back, focusing on the lips, trying to piggyback sight and sound.
He was almost surprised when he made out words, a little garbled and distorted, but words.
"Jim...don't ...afraid. Not..hurt...trying...inside"
The rest of it was too mangled even with his abilities, and Jim gave up with a sigh of frustration. He rubbed a hand over his jaw, wishing he knew how to reach Sandburg. This was clearly in his Guide's realm, not his. He'd talk to Blair the next time he saw him. He thought briefly of leaving a note, pictured the wording, and discarded the thought.
But, thinking of Blair had made him think of his Spirit Guide. Maybe if he could get back to sleep, he'd find a clue. Jim carefully went through the process of calming himself and relaxing, thinking grateful thoughts that Blair had taught him this. It worked, as usual, and soon Jim was back in the jungle.
The powerful muscles of his Spirit Guide rippled as he launched himself in the air, batting, and then landed in mid-run. The big cat chased this time, still playful, but more intent on catching whatever was teasing him. Jim watched and thought he caught a flash of blue-grey fur shimmer just out of reach of the cat.
Actually, as he looked more closely, the jaguar's paw simply passed through the shimmer, and when it batted again, there was a distinct flash of a wolf's tail moving out of the way. His Spirit Guide stopped then, turning to see if Jim had caught it. Satisfied, the cat then flopped down on the ground and began grooming contentedly. Moments later, the wolf appeared, approaching cautiously.
Seeing that the jaguar was intent on ignoring him, the wolf lay down nearby, and settled with an almost wistful expression on the lean features. The ears were a bit drooped, but the eyes would dart to his feline companion from time to time, as though uncertain.
Jim stirred, saw that it was still very early in the morning, and sighed before drifting back to sleep. He was too tired to think about it, but just as he found oblivion, he noticed that the air around him smelled like Blair.
If Jim seemed a little off at work, no one commented. His disturbed sleep showed in the light tinge of grey under his eyes, but was barely noticeable. His distraction was put down to Blair's absence, since Jim minus Blair frequently led to slightly off-kilter Jim. The truth, however, was that Jim was thinking.
He puzzled all day over the events of the past two nights, and he thought he had it figured out, but it made no sense. He tried to call Blair, but apparently the cell phone wasn't working again, and the office phone remained unanswered.
Swearing softly, he decided that his assumptions were just going to have to remain as they were, and proceeded to build a plan based on them.
When he came home from work, he called Wong's, not in the mood to cook. He took a shower, grabbed a beer, and hesitantly breached the entrance of Blair's room. He felt bad being in there without Blair's consent, but he needed the candles his Guide used for their shared meditations. Jim still wasn't good at meditating alone, but could manage well enough if Blair did it with him. He'd had some luck in the past, maybe he would today as well.
He found the candles and the special incense, guaranteed not to drive a Sentinel crazy by being too anything, and put them on the floor by the fireplace. About that time the food came, and Jim deliberately didn't think about anything except eating and relaxing in front of an old episode of Starsky and Hutch. Of course, since Blair had enlightened him about fanfic and slash, in particular, he didn't really enjoy it as much anymore. He was too busy trying to figure out if there was UST or not. Tonight, he decided he didn't care if they swapped tonsils, he just needed the distraction.
It worked, and when he sat down to meditate, he thought it might actually succeed. He lit the candles and the incense, took a series of calming breaths designed to help him open his mind and began.
When he opened his eyes again, he knew what he had to do. Glancing at the clock, he discovered that he'd meditated for almost twenty-seven minutes, a personal best. He was oddly pleased, and blew out the candles and incense almost cheerfully. He replaced them in the drawer of Blair's desk, and turned to leave, whistling. As he did so, his eyes fell on Blair's bed. On the books lying on Blair's bed. A quick scan of the titles and the pages marked broadened his smile, and feeling immensely pleased with himself, he decided to celebrate with another beer, one of the special ones they kept for company.
Beer in hand, he stretched out comfortably on the couch and read another chapter in his book. He read until he was tired enough for sleep, and then went upstairs almost eagerly.
He fell asleep easily enough, and his irritation at being wakened from a very erotic dream faded as he realized what had awakened him.
He opened his eyes to see the entity again hovering over him. The features were even clearer now, and despite the trace of fear he instinctively felt, he was more convinced than ever that he was right.
He lay calmly, letting the milky white form come closer. When it was skimming just above him again, Jim decided it was time. He smiled, crossed his arms as though bored, and said calmly,
"Sandburg, you can tell Dylan the experiment worked. Now, you crawl off whatever astral plane you're channeling and get your ass home. We're going to have a loooong talk."
The face showed an almost amusing mix of shock, elation and dread. The lips opened as though to speak, but when Jim barked, "Now, Chief!", they closed again, and the figure vanished.
An hour later, Jim heard Blair's heartbeat coming up the elevator. It was beating fast, and when he entered, Jim could practically smell the fear coming off his guide.
It didn't help that Jim was standing just a couple of feet inside the door, or that he was doing his best mean cop routine. It didn't help that he'd dressed again in black jeans and a tee-shirt, and looked completely menacing. It didn't help that Jim had his hands on his hips, and took the opportunity to flex as he crossed his arms instead.
Blair looked about six. His hair was wild, the tie barely hanging by a few strands in the back. His eyes were huge, and darker than Jim had seen them in a long time. He was wearing an old academy tee-shirt of Jim's and sweat pants, both a faded navy, with a flannel shirt over the top. It was one of Jim's old flannel shirts, and too big for him, which was why he liked it, but it only added to the illusion of a small boy facing up to an angry father.
The younger man swallowed audibly, but to his credit, straightened his back and moved directly in front of Jim. He looked down for just a moment, then raised both eyes and chin.
"If you're going to kill me, can I ask you some questions first? I'd really hate to die with them unanswered, it would suck big time. Although karmically, after this, well, I guess it would only be eternally fair, though according to some tribes in the South Pacific,...."
"Shut. Up."
Blair gave another audible swallow, and a small nod, closing his eyes again for just a moment, and taking a deep breath.
"I'm not going to kill you. I am going to make you pay, and pay big, but you will not die. I will answer all your questions, but later. Right now, I ask, you answer. The truth, the plain, unvarnished, non-Sandburgian truth. All of it, holding nothing back. Don't even think of obfuscating, you are on way too thin an ice for that. Am I clear?"
"Clear." It came out a little hoarse, and Blair cleared his throat nervously, twisting his hands together in front of him.
"It was you, all three nights?"
"Yes."
"Dylan's project, real or something you came up with to cover things up?"
"Both." Blair winced a little as he said it, and Jim motioned toward the couch. Blair sat down, and Jim took a seat on the coffee table across from him.
"Tell me."
"It- it started out with me trying to help Dylan. He was trying to replicate an experiment that seemed to prove astral projection, or spirit travel, was possible under clinical circumstances. But Dylan couldn't focus, he kept falling out of the trance state before he could get to the main part of the experiment. I tried to help him, but it was no use. He couldn't meditate his way out of a paper bag. So, the experiment had to be listed as a failure. But his process seemed sound, and I thought it could work, so I asked him if he'd let me try. He couldn't use it for his paper, it would be too subjective to be valid, but he was curious, so he agreed to spot me."
"You could see and hear me?"
"Yes. You scared the shit out of me when you screamed. I didn't know you could see me, and I had no idea that you could hear me." At this, Blair turned desperate eyes up to Jim.
"I never meant to scare you, Jim, honest! I didn't think it would even work, it was just something I did to see, you know? I mean, I thought, if I could learn to reach you like that, it might come in handy, I mean, think about some of the circumstances we find ourselves in, some of the situations. If I could get to you and get a report, even a visual, not, not to mention how just plain cool it would be, I mean.."
"Blair."
"Yeah?"
"That explains the first night. It doesn't explain why you didn't talk to me when you saw me the next day, or why you tried it again the next night. I'm really curious about those."
"I was going to tell you, Jim, honest, but when I came in and you didn't mention anything, I thought, well, maybe you hadn't really seen me, maybe I'd just showed up at the wrong time or something. I mean, it was possible that you were having some other kind of nightmare, not very likely, I know, but still..."
"Chief, you're dangerously close to becoming creative here."
Blair ran a hand through his hair, found the dangling tie, pulled it out, toyed with it, sighed, and licked his lips before speaking again.
"I tried it again, because I couldn't help it. It was such an absolutely incredible experience, the rush, the -the sensations, the implications...Jim, it was the most awesome feeling, and I had to know if I could do it again, I had to be sure that either I could or couldn't make it work twice. It was even easier the second time, and when you stayed asleep at first, well, I thought no harm, no foul, you know? Cop didn't see it....."
He darted a quick look at Jim, deciding this might not be the best time to whip out that particular phrase from college. Jim wasn't looking quite so lethal, but he still looked plenty pissed.
"It didn't happen. I know, I used that one myself before I became a police officer. Now, why didn't you talk to me today?"
"I couldn't think how, and then, well, I fell asleep. It's hard work, and after my class I crashed on the couch in my office and didn't wake up till almost seven. That's when I meet Dylan to set things up. It was so much easier last night, I had to see if it would progress, if I could find my way even faster. It did, I did. You caught me and I damn near scared Dylan to death. He thought I'd gone someplace nasty or found a demon or something." Blair's mouth quirked at the memory, then he sobered again, turning a bit to face Jim more squarely.
"That's the truth, Jim, the real truth. I never meant to hurt you or scare you, I swear it on my oath as your Guide. I'm sorry, Jim, honestly sorry."
Blair said nothing more, only waited quietly.
"Alright, Chief, here are your answers. First, yes, I could see you, but only as a vague outline. The first night, I thought I'd found a demon. Later, I blamed it on that damn meal you made me eat as punishment for the Wonderburger. Then, I had a vision."
One part of Jim was explaining how it had been for him, what he'd experienced. Another part was busy deciding exactly how to best punish his Guide. He thought he knew, but even though it was suggested by his Spirit Guide, and supported by his meditation, he was reluctant.
"The clincher was your scent left in my room, stronger each night, but tonight, I could see your features clearly enough to know that it was you. Plus, when I meditated this afternoon, your name came up." He paused, then couldn't help adding with some pride, "By the way, twenty-seven minutes."
"Yeah? Wow, that's a respectable time, Jim. What made it different, do you know? Was it a change in procedure? Did you use the candle and incense? Was..."
Blair closed his mouth when Jim held up a hand. The light in his eyes dimmed considerably as he did so, and while it pained Jim, the older man was determined not to drag this out.
"When I was leaving your room, I saw the books on Astral and telepathy on the bed. The passages you had them open to all spoke of the same thing. It was the last nail in the coffin."
"My coffin." Blair muttered it, another sigh escaping him. Jim couldn't help a chuckle. He reached out, cupping Blair's cheek with one hand.
"I'm not going to kill you, Chief, I thought we got that straight already."
"We did. But I can't help it, man. I already felt guilty, you know, but listening to it from your side, well, that made me feel worse. I never meant...I said that already, and I already apologized. But that's not going to be enough, not this time, is it?"
"Nope. You broke a lot of rules, there, partner. A lot of rules. Care to name a few?"
"Not really, but I owe you that much, at least. I took part in an experiment that wasn't completely safe, without telling you. I sort of lied.."
"Blair Jacob." Jim almost whispered it, and the younger man ducked his head, flushing just a bit.
"You're right, you're right. I did lie to you, both by commission and by omission. Uhm, oh yeah, I used you in the experiment, without your consent or knowledge, and I scared and worried you needlessly. I- I can't think of anything else, is, is there anything else?"
He looked genuinely unsure, and Jim smiled tenderly at him, shaking his head.
"No, I think that about sums it up."
"Has the Blessed Protector decided what he's going to do me yet?" Blair knew this wasn't about Jim getting revenge.
The same responsibility that gave him the right to make decisions about Jim's life as Guide, gave the Sentinel the same rights as Blessed Protector. They were equals, each one having the right and duty to watch over and protect the other from harm, including self-harm. Both men had come to know this almost from the beginning, had accepted that they would, at times, have to punish and accept punishment. It was simply part of it, and worth it for the rest.
"Yes, but I really don't like it." Jim bit at his bottom lip as he tried to think of a way to phrase it.
"Oh, man, this is going to be bad, this is going to be so bad, you're trying to break it to me gently, for crying out loud. Okay, man, just, just tell me, let me have it."
"You've earned a spanking, Blair."
Blair closed his eyes tightly, gritting his teeth, shaking his head as though to refuse.
"No, no, no, no...dammit! Fuck!"
He stood up suddenly, pacing back and forth, muttering to himself, running his hands through his hair, waving his arms from time to time.
Jim said nothing, only waited. He knew Blair wasn't fighting him or his decision. His partner was simply trying to process, to work it through so he could take it in the proper spirit, with the right mind frame.
After several minutes, Blair came back over, standing beside Jim. He was calm, nervous, but ready to face the consequences of his actions.
"I'm ready, Jim. How do you want me?"
"Over my knee. It's a child's spanking, Blair." His guide accepted this with only a slight quiver, hands moving already to the waistband of his pants.
"Where?"
"This is fine." Jim shifted a bit, knowing that the table would more than hold them both. He held out his hand and Blair pushed his sweats and briefs down to his knees, then let Jim help him into position.
When he was secure, Blair reached back and drew up the shirts, baring his backside. He squirmed just a moment, getting comfortable, then took a firm hold on Jim's left leg, wrapping his arms around the calf.
"Is hearing and touch dialed down?"
"Yes." Blair never forgot to ask, never.
"I'm ready, my Sentinel."
Jim let his hand rest briefly on the naked rear, a warning that he was about to start, and a comfort at the same time. He then drew back, and smacked down hard on one rounded cheek.
Each finger was printed clearly in bright pink. Blair released his held breath and took another. Jim printed the other cheek, then began raining spanks down on the vulnerable flesh. Jim spanked hard and he spanked slow. This wasn't anger or vengeance, but genuine discipline, pain with a purpose, and with love behind it.
He made sure he covered the entire surface of Blair's bottom, shading each globe equally hot with pain. Jim ignored the fingers squeezing his leg with a death grip. He ignored the cries coming from his Guide. He ignored the distant howl of a wolf. He ignored his own desire to stop. Jim spanked until he saw a large black cat's paw shielding Blair's crimson rear from further punishment.
Gratefully, Jim stopped, then winced as he looked at the much chastened bottom in his lap. Dark red and burning hot, Sentinel eyes knew that while he hadn't bruised his Guide, he'd ensured that it would be hours before Blair could sit comfortably.
"Finished." The young man crying across his knees sagged at the word, and the hands pried themselves from Jim's leg. Carefully, Jim eased Blair over, then stood with the younger man in his arms. He carried Blair to his room, moving the books aside and turning down the covers with a skill born of practice. He then set Blair down gingerly, giving the shaking form a chance to move carefully onto his side.
Jim stripped the briefs and sweats the rest of the way off, no need for modesty between them right now. He then helped Blair off with his shirts and on with the flannel nightshirt kept for such occasions in the back of Blair's underwear drawer.
Once clothed, Blair moved to lie on his stomach, and Jim tucked him up securely. Then, and only then, did he allow himself to comfort his Guide.
"I'm s-sorry, Jim."
"Shh, hush, Blair, it's okay, it's over. All done, shhh."
Blair quieted as Jim sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing his back and murmuring soft words, before beginning to hum.
Jim had a nice voice, nothing special, but strong and pleasing, a good quality, if untrained. He hated singing. Despised it, because he said he always felt silly. He never sang for anyone, never had.
Except Blair. Blair had mentioned once that nothing made him feel as safe as being held and sung to, that it reminded him of being very young, when Naomi would hold, rock and sing him to sleep.
The first time he'd spanked Blair, he'd been at a loss as to how to comfort him after. He'd never been good at that kind of thing, but his Blessed Protector wouldn't let him just walk away. At last, he'd remembered Blair telling him that, and had begun to awkwardly pat the lean back and sing the first song that came into his head. Alright, so maybe Santana wasn't right, but it was better than nothing, and had made Blair feel better.
Now, he rubbed soothing circles and smooth figure eights, and he sang an old Welsh lullabye he'd found in a book one day. It helped them both, and soon, Blair was sleeping, a few tear stains and the occasional shudder the only remaining sign of his distress, aside from the fact that Jim could still easily feel the heat coming off the well-spanked backside, despite the covers.
He smoothed the hair away from Blair's face, placed a chaste kiss on the forehead, and went up to his own room, to his own sleep.
He'd just settled down when he heard the whine. Without opening his eyes, he patted the space beside him, waited patiently while the wolf nestled against him. He knew downstairs, the jaguar would be stretched out carefully beside Blair, knew the big cat would permit an arm to wrap around it's neck for the night.
With a sigh, Jim slept.