Okay, guys, I have to say this is slashy but it is NOT -- and I repeat NOT -- slash. What it is is a realistic (okay, sort of) depiction of what might happen as a result of Jim's sentinel senses given a certain set of environment factors. Yes, I have scientific evidence to back this depiction. Rated PG. Not Beta Read but I think I caught most of the typos. :-)

This is just something I had to whip out before going to bed, probably the result of a somewhat sleep-deprived mind *grin*

Bio "Chemistry"

Jim sat in front of the television and nursed his beer as House Representative John Mica spoke endlessly about the "bad drugs" and the "bad" Clinton administration. Jim had no idea why he was still listening to the speech. It had started out interesting enough, then disintegrated into a one-man soap box touting the stupidity of the Clinton administration. Quite frankly, Jim never saw much difference between any of the administrations in how much crime or drugs ended up hitting the streets, which was all that really mattered in his line of work.

*Oh, get off it,* Jim growled silently at the senator, guzzling the last of his beer and resting the empty bottle on his knee, his fingers absently sliding over the smooth lip of the glass.

Blair's Volvo chugged outside -- three stories down and a block away. Jim snatched the remote control from the couch next to him and flipped through the channels, mindlessly scanning the programs as he tracked the car's progress toward the loft. He glanced at the clock. It was nearly 10 p.m. and Blair's early arrival must have meant the kid hadn't scored on his date with Sarah.

Moments later, the car door closed and Jim listened as footsteps drummed into the building and dashed up the stairs, emerging onto the third floor. The room seemed to grow warmer in response to the proximity of the young anthropologist. Blair's breath came heavy now, his footsteps more sluggish as they progressed down the hall toward the loft.

The door swung inward and Jim looked over at Blair as the young man glided into the loft, depositing his backpack beneath the coat rack and hanging his jacket on the hook. The room seemed to grow a notch warmer and Jim felt a bead of perspiration form on the back of his neck.

Blair flashed a smile at Jim and shuffled into the kitchen. "Hey, Jim. How were things today at the station?"

Jim rose from the couch and headed toward the balcony. "Fine. Nothing exciting -- paperwork, a meeting, and a few leads that didn't pan out."

"Sorry, I couldn't make it today, Jim. Glad things were slow for you since I wasn't there."

Jim opened the balcony doors and turned to look at Blair. "Chief, are you catching a cold? Your voice sounds kind of funny."

Blair shrugged and shook his head as he grabbed a beer from he fridge. "No, don't think so... Jim, man, it's freezing in here. What's with the doors?"

Jim meandered into the kitchen slowly. He could swear he felt a charge gradient in the room that seemed to increase the closer he got to Blair. "Actually, it's hot to me."

"Really?" Blair reached up to place a hand on Jim's forehead and the soft touch sent shivers all through Jim's body.

"You feeling okay?" Blair set his beer bottle down and moved closer to Jim. "You do feel a bit warm."

*God.* Jim moved away quickly, his back bumping into the refrigerator.

"Jim?" Blair's brow creased and he took several steps closer. "What's wrong?"

*Wrong?* The room was so damn hot, and larger droplets of sweat coalesced on Jim's neck and back, snaking paths along the lines of his muscles. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry, his heart pounding in his chest.

Rational thought fled, his senses overwhelmed with the thick odor of the body in front of him and the soft, silky curls and full, tempting lips.


"Jim?" Blair repeated again, his stomach tight. Jim was just standing there looking at him as though he were a prime rib all decked out on a plate. "Come on, man, talk to me... Jim? Jim, are you zoned? I --"

Suddenly, Jim lunged forward, his strong hands wrapping around Blair's arms, his body leaning in, his lips moving down.

*Holy, shit!*

Blair twisted out of the grip and made a beeline for his room. *Damn, damn, damn.* How could he have been so stupid? He almost made it through the doorway when strong arms grabbed him and pulled him back.

"Blair..." Jim held him tight, pressing him up against the wall.

"Jim, man, back off! This is a chemical reaction. A --" His words were cut off as Jim's mouth closed over his.

"Mmmaaaahhh!" Blair slammed his hands into Jim's chest enough to push the larger man back a few inches, then ducked underneath Jim's arms and hurtled himself toward the front door. He heard Jim hot on his heels and pumped his legs faster.

*Move!* He had to dump his clothes and fast. They were probably saturated in the stuff. Not that *he* could smell it himself, so he really had no idea, but to Jim it was obviously like a drug.

Blair flew down the hallway toward the stairs, slipping his shirt off and hurling it through the air behind him. He ran down the first flight, slowing down to yank off his sneakers and socks, then unbuttoning his jeans as he descended, hopping and bopping awkwardly as he worked his way out of the denim while staying just a few inches ahead of the mad Sentinel.

*Just a little further.* He had to get outside where the night air would dilute the remnants of the perfume Sarah had playfully splashed on him. He'd thought nothing of it at the time, having no idea that the liquid was anything other than regular perfume, but Jim's reaction was so extreme that the perfume must have been one of those "human pheromone" brands.

Female pheromones.

Blair burst through the front doors, now dressed only in black, silk boxers decorated with little red hearts. The night air hit him like a block of ice, blasting the sweat from his skin and making him shiver. Rainwater from an earlier shower lingered as ice on the sidewalk and Blair lost his footing, sliding all the way to the curb and slamming into the hood of a black jaguar, the headlight catching him in an *extremely* sensitive area. The car's alarm screamed a retaliation at him, its lights flashing angrily.

*Oh God.* He doubled over and fell to the cement, shivering and half naked but in too much pain to be embarrassed.


Strong arms turned him over and Blair focused on Jim's crinkled face and narrowed, blue eyes.

"God, what happened? What...?" Jim looked around briefly, his face twisted with confusion. "What the hell are you doing out here dressed like this and... and how did I get out here? What happened?"

Blair couldn't answer the Sentinel. All he could do was lay there and gasp through the pain for several seconds. Finally, the throbbing abated enough for him form a reply.

"Just... don't go back... into the building until I... get rid of... oh man..." Blair clenched his eyes tight. He didn't think he'd ever walk straight again and he could pretty much rule out any extracurricular activities for a *long* time.

"What the HELL is going on here?" A deep, familiar voice boomed.

Okay, now Blair was embarrassed.

He looked past a suddenly red-faced Jim to see Simon staring down at him with what looked to be a mixture of disbelief and amusement.

"Hey! What are you guys doing to my car?" A large man with a buzz cut and cold, dark eyes stormed out of the building's front doors, his expression murderous. "You so much as scratch her and --"

Simon flashed his badge and the man shut up instantly. "Just a little accident here." Simon moved to intercept the man. "Your car's fine sir."

*But I'm not,* Blair added silently.

Simon gestured toward the front doors. "This is police business, sir, so if you'll just step back inside..."

The rest of the conversation was lost on Blair as he became overwhelmed by the pain, though he did hear Simon mention something about stopping by to drop off a tape. Jim's arm snaked around his waist and helped lift him to his feet. The building tilted momentarily, then whirled back into place and acrid bile touched the back of Blair's throat.

"You okay?" Jim asked quietly.

Blair nodded, breathing hard as he leaned on Jim and hopped toward the building. He stopped suddenly before reaching his destination and looked at Simon, who wore an 'I know this can't possibly be what it looks like' expression.

"Simon, can you go inside and pick up my clothes? They should be somewhere between here and the third floor. Just follow the staircase. When you get them, try not to hold them close to your body, but stick them in the washer and set the machine to HEAVY LOAD."

Simon raised his eyebrows, a smile tweaking his lips. "Uh... okay, but you two are going to explain this to me later."

"Actually, Sandburg will have to do the explaining," Jim said, looking down at Blair. "The last thing I remember is you walking into the loft, Chief."

"Well, Jim," Blair began, leaning against the older man, "let's just say, for the future, you should stay out of perfume shops. Sarah was apparently trying to, uh, make an impression on me. You know those perfumes they sell that are made from pure human pheromones..."

Two groans cut off his explanation and he had to chuckle at the surprised flash of horror that took over Jim's face, contrasted by the budding laughter that rose in Simon as the captain disappeared a bit too quickly into the building.


"Yeah?" Blair struggled to suppress his own amusement.

"Did I --"

"Big time." His voice shook, threatening to disintegrate. "I'm flattered, BIG Guy, really, but I don't want to ruin our friendship."

The edges of Jim's eyes flared red and his cheeks flushed. "If you hadn't already paid for this in pain, I'd hang you upside down off the balcony. You say a word about this to anybody and I'll make sure you end up in lock-up wearing nothing BUT those attractive boxers."

*Huh?* Blair looked down and groaned with sudden realization. "Oh man, I forgot I had these on. They were a gift from Sarah. I --"

"Uh-huh. Sure, Chief."



"I'm freezing."

"We'll be inside in a minute. I can hear the washer starting now."

"Warm me up?"

Jim pushed away so suddenly and with such an alarmed growl that Blair lost total control, disintegrating into a heap of laughter on to the wet sidewalk, cold and shivering, the spasms reviving the pain in his groin.

"Laugh it up, Sandburg, but from now on you'd better keep your love life on a leash or I'll have you neutered."

The End