Sentinel Fan Fiction Page || Fanfic -- Humor
Summary: Answer to CascadeTimes Awful Fic Challenge. Can we say way-over-the-top and perhaps reaching parody status? ~grin~
A Cliche in the Life
by Becky and Robyn
Once upon a time, in the fair City of Cascade,
There lived a cop and his partner, rightly portrayed
In literature far and wide, as friends and best buds
Through thick and thin, nasty tests, crooks, and floods,
Always striving for right and righting the wrongs,
And are gloriously upheld in legend and songs.
But like all grand myths, some tales grow quite wild
Of the big buff cop and his fluffy partner so mild.
So gather close to the fire and see of which we speak;
Set aside food and drink in case thou dost shriek.
For a story once told must ever be heard
Come listen and visit the theater of the absurd....
"How was the nap, Chief?" Alerted by the changing heartbeat of his guide, Jim eyed the tousle-haired figure as it shifted under the red afghan.
Blair stretched on the small couch and pushed away the soft afghan as he sat up. He smiled at Jim, then shifted his gaze to Simon who stood in front of his desk. "Great. Thanks for the use of your couch, Simon."
Simon grunted, then shoved a cigar in his mouth. "You shouldn't be staying up all hours of the night grading papers anyway. Aren't midterms over yet?"
The grad student sighed and shook his head. "You would think so, but they never seem to end. As soon as I get done with one gigantic stack, another one rolls into my lap. There's just not enough hours in the day." He bounced off the couch and clambered onto the table. He swung his legs back and forth. "Not that Jim minds. Fewer free hours means fewer tests."
Jim glared at the mention of tests, then shifted his gaze to the bullpen, seeing Cassie Welles, bedecked in thigh-high leather boots, a leopard-print blouse, and a way-too-short skirt, flouncing into Major Crimes. She stopped in the midst of the bullpen, pirouetting around somewhat impatiently, her eyes searching the desks and assembled cops. Few paid any attention to her, ignoring the display of her feminine wares. Most were glued to computer screens, catching up on the never-ending three-foot stack of paperwork on their desks. Her eyes swivelled to Simon's office and met Jim's eyes.
"Uh...Captain?" Jim hedged.
"What!" The captain in question snapped back.
Before Jim could warn him, Cassie strode past the desks and knocked imperiously on Simon's door. Not waiting for a response, she pushed inside, head held high and chest thrust just slightly outward. She smiled in gratification as Blair's eyes widened a bit in appreciation, though Jim, the object of her attention, simply raised an eyebrow.
"Did you want something, Welles?" Simon boomed, his voice ringing loudly and bouncing off the walls. The cigar clenched between his teeth broke in half. He growled in disgust and dropped both halves on a growing pile on the floor before reaching for another from a CostCo-sized locked cigar box next to his desk.
"I-I..." She stuttered to a halt as Brown, headphones dangling around his neck, burst into the office.
"Captain! We've just received a bomb threat!"
Another cigar bit the dust as Simon chomped it in half and spit it out. "What!?" The yell rattled the windows. "To what? Where?"
Rafe, smoothing a hand down the side of his new, very expensive Hugo Boss suit, sidled up next to Brown in the doorway. "The mayor is planning to speak this afternoon at the new strip mall. The bomber plans to blow him -- and the new mall -- up."
Megan appeared on the other side of Brown. The pink dingo coat she wore blinded them, although it was looking a bit ragged after extended wear. Her eyes widened and she gasped, "The new mall? Isn't that where the new donut shop is opening, Jimbo?"
Leaping from his chair, jaw clenched and hands balled into fists, Jim said, "How dare he! He can't come into my city and do that! I won't allow it!" He tagged Blair's arm before striding through the doorway, Brown, Rafe, and Megan parting before him like the Red Sea. "Come on, Sandburg -- to the sentin, er, the hayseed-mobile!"
Blair slid from the table and hurried after the departing detective. He was heard to mutter as he grabbed his overstuffed, underappreciated backpack from the detective's desk, "Talk about me not keeping a secret, Ellison..."
Simon snatched another cigar and shoved it in his mouth, only to remove it again and wave it in the air. "Don't just stand there! Go after them! Back them up!" Brown, Rafe, Megan, Joel, and all of Major Crimes stormed out the door, with their loyal commander bringing up the rear after refilling his pockets with a supply of cigars.
Moments later, the bullpen stood empty.
Well, except for the pouting female in Simon's office. Cassie huffed indignantly. "Well...well...well!" Then she hurried out after them, not wanting to left out of the incipient excitement.
Hours later, after much sentinel-sniffing and guide-guiding and cigar-chomping and cops-milling and whitesocks-flashing and an extended gratuitous car chase scene that resulted in a few more dings in the hayseed, the bomb was discovered, disarmed, and the looney bad guy arrested. The donut shop dedicated their new opening to Jim, gifting him with free donuts for the next year -- even if he did drop his gun during the foot chase through their kitchen.
However, it wasn't over yet. Just as the sentinel, taste dials set up on high and turning a deaf ear to his guide's dictates about healthful eating, was about to bite down onto the very first freshly baked glazed confection, another evil voice rang over the heads of the assembled crowd.
"Now I've got you, Ellison!"
Jim spun to find another wild-eyed looney bad guy standing at the doorway to the donut shop -- and he had Blair! Blair's eyes pleaded with Jim to save him since that's what sentinels did -- save their trouble magnet guides from bad guys who found them to be such tempting targets. Said sentinel reached for his gun, only to remember he hadn't retrieved it from under the third counter on the left side of the green door in the kitchen. He settled for a menacing growl. "What do you want?"
One arm around Blair's neck where a glistening knife threatened, the bad guy grinned malevolently as he slowly backed up. "You're gonna pay for what you did, Ellison. You killed my cousin's brother's son's uncle's roommate's sister's goldfish!"
"Blair had nothing to do with that. Let my guppy go." Jim took a step closer, donut still clutched in one hand.
The knife pressed closer. Blair whimpered. The crowd gasped. Simon broke another cigar.
Jim stopped in his tracks, jaw muscles clenching tightly. His biceps bulged as he tightened his fists, the donut crumbling to the ground forgotten. He straightened and lifted his arms slightly. His green jewel-tone shirt (which incidentally nicely highlighted his beautiful, although currently ice blue, eyes) stretched and snapped at the seams, exposing strips of Jim-skin underneath.
Females, oddly predominantly red-haired, gasped and brought out a multitude of fans to wave off the sudden heat. Megan was heard to say, "Oh, my." Someone unknown muttered, "Another shirt ruined!" Cassie had an asthma attack and had to be removed from the scene.
Shirt tatters hanging from his shoulders, Jim leaned toward the bad guy trying to Blair-nap his guide and hissed in a deadly whisper, "Let him go and I'll let you live. If not..."
The bad guy broke out into a sweat, swallowed hard, then pushed Blair into Jim's waiting arms and ran to hide behind Brown and Rafe. "Save me!"
Jim swept his guide behind him, glaring at the would-be Blair-napper until he'd been safely led away by Brown and Rafe past Simon and the newest cop-on-probation assigned to collect the broken halves of the captain's cigars. Jim recognized the new guy trailing Simon as the big bad Vice cop who'd made the mistake of hassling Blair the week before.
Murmured chanting behind him pulled Jim's attention away from his scowling captain. He discovered Blair seated cross-legged on a small table, meditating, a travel-sized vanilla-scented candle resting in front of him, little flame flickering bravely. Satisfied that Blair was happy, Jim returned to the counter to receive another freshly-baked glazed donut from the giggly young donut girl. As he munched away on it, Simon arrived next to him, chewing on a new cigar.
"How 'bout lunch, Jim!" The captain's voice boomed again, startling the giggly young donut girl into retreating through the swinging kitchen door.
Licking the last of the glaze from his fingers, Jim nodded. "Sure thing. Let's see, yesterday I had Wonderburger, the day before was Mr. Tube Steak, before that was Chinese takeout -- no, wait, that was supper. We had tongue that afternoon. How 'bout pizza?"
Simon yanked the cigar from his mouth and pursed his lips in consideration. "Pizza! You sure Sandburg can handle that?!"
As the word 'pizza' reached the meditating Blair's ears, the young man's eyes flew open and he gasped. Knocking the candle over and the flame out, he nearly fell onto the floor in his efforts to untangle his legs. "Aaaaahhh!!! They're coming to get us all! Jim!" Blair reached out blindly for Jim.
Jim was at Blair's side in an instant, grabbing his arms. "Blair! Buddy! Chief! Honey-sugar! What is it?"
One hand pressed to Jim's well-muscled chest, his fine-boned fingers curling into the remnants of the big man's green jewel-tone shirt, Blair managed to say, "It's a flashback! The fire people are coming! I'm scared. Hold me!" He fell against Jim, snuggling and even attempting to purr. "Ah. You're so warm, did you know that?"
Blessed Protector instinct rising to the fore, Jim wrapped both arms around Blair and glared all around him, daring anyone to naysay his right to comfort his partner. The cop on cigar duty snickered. Megan calmly walloped him and threatened to make him wear the pink dingo coat. Jim grunted his approval. His jaw clenched ominously, the muscles working overtime. His guide's panicked heartbeat echoed in his ears and rattled around in his head for awhile. His arms continued to tighten around the smaller man's form. Only when hearing a muffled squeak from his breathless guide, did he release some of the pressure. "I've got you, Chiefy. Don't worry. The ashes can't hurt you."
"Are you sure?" Blair's plaintive sobs were pitched to be audible only to Jim's sensitive ears, but the quaking of his frame was noticeable by all.
Simon chewed viciously on another cigar. Megan watched with wide eyes. The crowd held their collective breath. The rest of Major Crimes leaned inward. Everyone knew that life in Major Crimes -- sometimes Cascade at large -- revolved around Ellison and Sandburg.
Jim petted the long, silky, brown-with-highlights-of-red, curly hair as he inhaled the fresh strawberry citrus kiwi herbal scent of Blair's shampoo. "We just need to do a little clapping." He demonstrated by giving a few sharp awkward claps behind Blair's back.
Blair backed up a little and gazed at Jim with his big expressive dark blue 'puppy dog' eyes. "Oh, Jim." He sniffed. "I'm better now. Thank you."
The assembled crowd blew out a breath of relief.
Megan wove her way to Jim and Blair's side. She held an open thermos, from which pungent steam rose and circled. She poured some of the hot liquid into the plastic lid (which also passed as a cup). "I just happen to have this with me. This is some of Sandy's special relaxing, all-natural tea, brewed from plants native only to a five-foot circle in a nameless village of Paraguay. I thought it would help."
Jim coughed at the scent, but took the cup and carefully assisted his post-flashback partner drink the tea.
Blair sighed in satisfaction, smacking his lips. "Ah...thank you, Megan. This is just what I needed. 'Course now I'll have to take another nap." He stared mournfully at Jim, then at Simon.
Simon broke another cigar, then waved them both away. "Go home. Take a nap."
"Very good, sir." Jim snagged Blair's arm before he started heading for the giggly young woman at the donut counter. "C'mon, Hopalong. Let's go home."
"Sure thing...Kid." Blair giggled.
Jim sighed. Simon rolled his eyes. Megan tried to hide a smile behind her hand.
Sentinel and guide walked and bounced, respectively, through the crowd of female admirers and donut eaters and cops to the trusty blue-and-white hayseed. Their voices drifted back to the donut shop.
"You going back to flannel?"
"Have to. This material just doesn't handle muscle flexing well. I can't believe we ran out. I didn't know a month's supply could disappear so quickly."
"Wasn't yesterday laundry day?"
"It's waiting to be sorted. Mounds and mounds and mounds of shirts."
"Don't pout. It's like that every week."
"I know. It's disgusting."
The curly-haired guy and his tall buff partner climbed into the waiting sentinel-mobile which backed up, one wheel dropping off the curb where Jim had left it after the earlier car chase. The truck turned and chugged down the road, riding valiantly into brilliant light given off by the setting sun.
~ The End ~