It's A Sentinel-Guide Thing

by Ceryndip

Jim practically carried Blair back to bed. He didn't need sentinel senses to feel the heat radiating from the fever. Blair rolled to his side and curled around his aching stomach. He moaned softly as the covers were pulled over him.

"Chief, we need to take you to the ER. They've got some stuff that will stop all this throwing up and settle your stomach." Jim sat on the edge of the bed.

Blair shook his head no.

"I know you don't want to move right now, Chief, but--"

"No, I just need you to..." Blair sighed in frustration and opened his eyes. He looked up at his sometimes dense partner. "Look, Jim, when you're sick or hurt, how do I make you feel better?"

"You usually hold my hand, rub my shoulder, forehead." Jim shrugged not quite seeing where this was leading, "You touch me, I guess. Physical contact."


"And...I feel better. I figured it was a Sentinel-guide thing."

"Uh huh, works both ways, Jim," Blair replied quietly.

Without hesitation, the Sentinel reached over and placed his hand on his guide's forehead, "That makes sense, huh?"

Blair closed his eyes as Jim slid his hand down the side of Blair's face and around his neck to his back where he began rubbing small circles between his shoulder blades. Jim could feel the tremors of chills beginning again through the t-shirt.

Pulling Blair up, Jim slid behind him and lifted his feet to the bed adjusting the pillow against the wall. The sentinel held out his arms and the guide dove wearily into them. His chills ceased immediately. Jim embraced his sick brother, one hand brushing through his curls and the other stroking his back. Soon, Blair's breathing eased and slowed in sleep. The Sentinel held vigil through the remainder of the night watching over his guide.

The great city would have to get along without his protection, the sentinel was needed at home.


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