Rites of Passage

by Grace


Disclaimer: The characters of The Sentinel do not belong to me. No infringement intended.
Notes: Many thanks to my fire ends for inspiring me.
Archive: Certainly, just let me know.

Rating: PG
Category: PWP
Summary: Written for a Tavern challenge - a night of bickering with the boys.

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Jim frowned at the television, muttering irritably, "Three hits. These guys get paid millions and yet they only manage three lousy hits."

"Well, Jim, the Braves do have some of the best pitchers in baseball." Blair handed Jim a fresh beer and plopped down on the couch, deftly snatching the remote control from his roommate's hand. Ignoring Jim's glare, he proceeded to surf for something to watch now that the baseball game was over. He stopped briefly on A&E which was showing part two of a four part series on Galileo and quirked a questioning eyebrow at his parter.

Jim shook his head, "Seen it already."

Blair's eyebrow climbed higher as he regarded Jim with a steady gaze. Rolling his eyes, Jim began reciting in a terrible British accent, "Galileo invented a horse-drawn water pump, he did experiments on specific gravity of objects in motion, he invented the telescope, he taught mathematics, he wrote heretical papers, he went blind, he died." Dropping the accent, Jim said, "Isn't there some pre-season football on?"

Blair grinned at the plaintive tone in Jim's voice, the man was a sports nut, that was for certain. "Why watch football when there's re-runs of "Beverly Hills 90210" on?"

"Sandburg," Jim growled, his fierce tone undermined by the ghost of a smile on his face. "That's it, you have forfeited the right to the remote control." The older man got Blair into a headlock and attempted to wrestle the sacred device from his hands. "This is for your own good, Chief." With a cry of victory and one final tousle of his curls, Jim released Blair and settled back into the couch with the remote control.

"Aw, come on man," Blair complained, "I was only joking."

"Too late, Sandburg, you should never abuse your power that way. It leads to corrupution and then the locals rise up to topple your regime of educational television."

"A little diversity in your television habits is a good thing, Jim. If it weren't for me, you'd have been reduced to a grunting, back-slapping..." Blair's tirade trailed off as he looked at Jim in mock horror. "Oh no! I'm too late!"

"Very funny, Darwin, very funny. You know, there is nothing wrong with unwinding after a long day by watching a game."

"Of course, as long as it doesn't bother you that you're sublimating your feelings of anger and helplessness into a violent and bloodthirsty sport."

Jim took a long pull of his beer as he searched for something worth watching. "Nope. Doesn't bother me a bit, Chief."

Blair shook his head, "I feel like Jonas."

"And Ezekial and Jeremias would be Simon and me then?" Jim questioned after a long pause. His eyes crinkled in amusement at Blair's stare of disbelief. "What? Is the big, dumb detective not supposed to know things like that?"

"How do you know so much about the prophets?"

"There are these things called books, Chief, and you're not the only one who has access to them." At Blair's exasperated sigh, Jim elaborated with a shrug, "I went to Catholic Military School for a while. It was strict and you tended to remember what you were taught."

Blair shuddered dramatically, "Nuns and guns. How terrifying."

Jim tilted his head as if in thought, "Not nearly as terrifying as those clumps of hair I find in the shower drain."

"Aw man, you're just jealous. You know, I can start saving them for you so that next year, when you go completely bald, we can make you a nice toupee." Blair ducked, laughing as Jim swatted at the back of his head.

"That's it Sandburg, as punnishment we're watching Lifetime," Jim paused for effect, "Television for Women." He fended off Blair's frantic attempts to regain control of the remote as he surfed for the channel. "Oh, here we are, now let's see. Hmmmm, it has Melissa Gilbert *and* Kellee Martin in it, it's called "Love Will Come to You." Jim talked louder as he read aloud from the TVGuide, trying to drown out Blair's anguished howls. "A mother and her daughter, separated at birth, both fall for the same man, who is dying of a terminal illness."

"Please!" Blair held his hands to his ears. "My brain is trying to escape! Anything but that, I'll play nice, whatever you want!"

Chuckling, Jim flipped through the TVGuide some more; he wasn't done torturing his Guide just yet. "Ooh, here we go, on MTV there's the musical version of "Romeo and Juliet", starring Brittany Spears and Ricky Martin."

Blair howled. "I'm losing I.Q. points just *thinking* about that."

"Okay then, how about 'Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf'?"

"Jim, man, you know I'm terrified of Elizabeth Taylor." Blair shuddered dramatically and pantomimed holding a coat hanger as he stalked Jim across the couch.

"You know, Chief, you should see somebody about these issues you have with Elizabeth Taylor." Jim ducked as the imaginary coat hanger came down on his head, and laughingly fended off Blair's renewed attempts to regain the remote control. "We could watch the Chicken Man on the Food Channel," he offered.

"I'd sooner jump out of an airplane again. That man is nuts, you know?"

"True. How about "Live: From the Grand Ole Opry" on the Nashville Network?"

In response, Blair clasped his hands together and fell to his knees in mock prayer. "Lord, if you need to take someone now, please, let it be me." He paused and opened one eye, regarding his laughing parter with ire before closing his eye and continuing. "On second thought, take Jim, he --" His speech was interrupted as a throw pillow caught him on the side of the head. Jumping up, he eyed his smug roommate. Jim was standing in the kitchen now, remote held aloft in his right hand.

"You know," Blair began as he stalked his prey, "there was this big cedar tree outside my room when we lived in Charlotte and I was scared of it for the longest time." Jim eyed him warily as he came within striking distance. "Then one day I found out that the tree had a weakness and suddenly, for all its might and bulk, it didn't scare me anymore."

Jim's eyes narrowed, "So what was the tree's weakness, oh mighty hunter?"

Blair's voice dropped to a hush. "It had a scar where it had been hit by lightning and behind that scar it was hiding something." With Jim's eyes fixed firmly on his face, Blair let one hand snake out towards Jim's unprotected side. "It was hiding the fact that it was *ticklish*!" Blair savored the momentary look of confusion on Jim's face just before he struck, his hand unerringly guided to the most sensitive part of his sentinel's ribs. With a howl, Jim collapsed to the floor, writhing with laughter, the remote falling from nerveless fingers as he tried to coordinate a defense. Then, as quickly as it had come, the attack was over.

Blair plucked to remote from the floor and practically danced back to the couch, leaving a flustered Jim, trying to catch his breath on the floor. After a few moments, ice blue eyes met Blair's across the room. "Trees aren't ticklish," Jim said in a slightly peevish voice.

"No. But you are." Blair chuckled as Jim scowled and stumped back to the couch, already anticipating the torture that Blair was going to dish out in return.

"Now, Jim, speaking of tickling, there's this fascinating documentary on PBS about rites of passage for the nomadic tribes of the ancient druids." Blair grinned happily and continued his lecture as Jim groaned and life between Sentinel and Guide continued on as usual.
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End

Feedback of any kind will be entertained by Grace .


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