#08 in the Construction series
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This is the standard disclaimer. They don't belong to me. This story is not intended to violate any copyrights held by Paramount, UPN, or Pet Fly Productions.
Author’s Notes: This story would not have been conceived or written without Spacepixell’s input, corrections, suggestions and some excellent scenes and dialogue.
This story contains corporal punishment. Be warned.
~*~*~
The grin on Jim’s face was almost as wide as the one adorning Blair’s face as the youngster posed for his driver’s license picture. He shook his head and covered his mouth in an attempt to stifle his chuckling while watching the kid’s antics. He had to give the photographer credit for the amount of patience she exhibited while trying to get the teen to quit bouncing excitedly and stop talking for the two minutes it would take to snap the picture.
Twenty minutes later the paperwork was completed, the fees were paid, and the hot-off-the-presses two and half by three inch laminated card was being admired by its owner.
“Congratulations, Chief,” Jim said as he mock punched Blair on the shoulder. “Looks like taking lessons from someone other than me paid off.”
Blair looked at Jim, wide-eyed. “Awww, Jim, man…” he began.
“It’s okay, Chief, I’m teasin’,” Jim assured quickly as they walked out of the building. “Wanna drive?”
Blair grinned. “You betcha!” he answered as he held out a hand and wiggled his fingers impatiently.
Jim fished in his pocket, withdrew the keys and dangled them enticingly over the open palm that was shoved toward him.
Just as Blair was about to pluck them from Jim’s grasp, they were snapped up and out of reach, hidden within the sentinel’s fist.
“You want the lecture now? Or in the truck?” Jim asked.
Blair’s hand fell to his side and he rolled his eyes dramatically. He shoved both hands into the front pockets of his jeans and rocked back and forth on his heels. He heaved a resigned sigh as he looked at the no-I’m-not-kidding expression on Jim’s face. He nodded his head toward the truck and they resumed their trek to the parking lot.
Jim motioned for Blair to get in the driver’s side as he climbed into the passenger seat. Once they were both inside the cab, Jim went directly into parental mode.
“Okay, kiddo, first things first,” Jim stated seriously. “Driving is a privilege and with it, comes certain responsibilities. I know you know the rules. You aced the written exam more than once. And the examiner today said you did an excellent job at the behind the wheel test. Now, I know I’m not the best example of…”
A loud snort interrupted Jim’s discourse, followed by a hasty apology from its source as Jim threw a sour look at his charge.
“All right,” Jim acknowledged with a smirk. “What I’m trying to say is I’ve picked up some bad driving habits as a cop that may have seeped over…”
“Seeped over?” Blair interjected with another snort. “More like completely overtaken, um, oops? Sorry, man.” Blair tried offering Jim an angelic look, but it was totally unconvincing when delivered along with a chin quivering with suppressed laughter.
Jim cleared his throat meaningfully and pinned Blair with a stern glare.
“The point is, I expect you to obey the rules and to drive defensively and responsibly; especially when you have passengers,” Jim blurted out before he could be interrupted again. “Got it?”
“Yes sir,” Blair answered sincerely. “Got it.”
“Good,” Jim replied as he handed the keys over to the anxious youth. “Oh, one other thing. Your month of no privileges with your own car starts today.”
A loud groan, accompanied by a pained look, was tossed Jim’s way. “Come on, Jim,” Blair whined.
“Forget it, Junior. Don’t even start,” Jim interjected. “The agreed upon punishment…””I never agreed…” Blair mumbled sarcastically.
“You really don’t wanna go there, kiddo,” Jim warned glibly. “I don’t remember asking you…”
“No shit, man,” Blair grumbled. He instantly regretted his hasty retort and tried to make amends. “Damn, um, I mean, um, rats,” he fumbled, giving Jim a contrite, cherubic glance. “Sorry, Jim.”
Jim just shook his head, deciding to cut the youngster some slack. It was a landmark type achievement, earning your driver’s license, and he didn’t want to spoil it. He was still picking his battles and he’d expected a little attitude about the car situation. But the kid had been quick to ‘repent’ and damn if he wasn’t getting good at his latest ‘I’m an angel, really I am’ look.
He reached over and messed Blair’s hair before swatting the back of his head playfully.
“The month’ll be over before you know it and hopefully it’ll be a lesson you remember,” he consoled.
“I know, I know, it’s just, I was hopin’ you’d forgotten,” Blair quipped.
Jim smiled at the illogical optimism only a teenager could muster. “Nope, buddy, nice try, though,” he answered. “Now that mouth of yours is another matter…”
To Blair’s visible relief, before Jim could finish that thought, the police radio crackled to life. A call for all units in the vicinity of a shipping company at the nearby docks was issued. A warning of shots fired and officer requesting immediate backup was barked over the airwaves.
Jim immediately held up one hand in a shushing manner and listened closely to the banter. Other than him, the nearest unit was at least ten minutes away. He was off duty, which normally would never have stopped him from responding. But having a sixteen-year old civilian with him changed things.
Blair’s face grew serious and his gaze darted back and forth between Jim and the radio.
Jim grabbed the mike and responded to the call, giving his ETA at the scene as three minutes.
Blair fumbled for his seatbelt, but before he could secure it, Jim was out of the truck and at the driver’s side. He yanked the door open, and Blair started to slide across the seat.
Jim shook his head and jerked it to the side. “Out, kiddo,” he snapped.
Blair hastily complied and hurried to the opposite side of the truck. By the time he got there, Jim had the truck started and lights flashing. Blair pulled the door open and started to climb in.
Jim frowned at him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He pointed a finger at him and growled a command. “Wait here.”
“But Jim,” Blair protested. “What if you senses…”
“No buts, Chief,” Jim warned. The three words carried the full implication of what would happen to Blair’s butt if the order was debated or ignored.
“Fine,” Blair retorted sharply as he slammed the door. He threw his hands up demonstrating he was clear of the truck and in compliance with the edict.
“Be careful, Jim,” he whispered fearfully as the truck sped away.
He started pacing up and down along the curb, hugging his arms to his torso, imagining all that could go wrong. He knew this was Jim’s job and that the detective put his life on the line day after day. It somehow felt different, though, when he was here, in the thick of things, rather than half way across the city in a lecture hall. He glanced in the direction Jim had gone and his pacing changed to deliberates steps, his feet following his gaze. After a half a block, he started jogging, and by the time he reached the end of the block, the guide was running to catch up with his sentinel.
Arriving at the scene, Jim was flagged down by Henri Brown. The two detectives conferred briefly as H brought Jim up to speed. Henri and Rafe had met up with an informant, hoping to gain some information on a smuggling ring supposedly operating from the shipping yards. During the meet, several of the suspects had shown up unexpectedly and spotted their cohort. Things got ugly fast. Gunfire ensued; two of the suspects had been wounded and were down for the count. Their informant had fled with the two other suspects in pursuit. H and Rafe had separated; Rafe had taken off after the fleeing men while H secured the two downed suspects and called for backup.
Jim and H took off at a run and soon caught up with Rafe. He was hunkered behind some large crates on a loading pier that jutted out into the Sound. He was pinned down by gunfire coming from behind stacked shipping pallets about twenty yards away. The informant had ducked into a nearby storage building and he wasn’t sure where the third man was. Jim peeled off and doubled back, swinging around and behind the man firing at Rafe. He easily got the drop on the man and soon had him disarmed and cuffed to a pole.
Rafe ran to the building and entered it as Jim and H began a sweep of the perimeter, looking for the missing gunman.
Blair reached Jim’s truck and looked around frantically. He spotted Jim and H just as the two men disappeared into an alley leading to the docks. He ran after them, keeping low and close to an adjoining wall. He slowed his pace at the end of the alley and cautiously peered out onto the open expanse.
The detectives came into view and he breathed a sigh of relief. It quickly caught in his throat and he ducked out of sight as Jim turned toward him and began his covert maneuver. He plastered himself against the wall and held his breath. He squeezed his eyes shut, and willed himself to calm down.
When he chanced another look, Jim had subdued the gunman and was once again on the prowl. He eased himself out of the alley and scampered to the left, crouching low as he ran. He made it to the safety of a stack of crates piled near the edge of the pier, where he had a better view of the entire area.
Jim and H were slowly circling the building from opposite directions. From his vantage point, Blair had an unobstructed view of three sides of the building as well as the rows of walking space between crates and pallets. He realized the detectives must be looking for someone, but there was no one else in sight.
Just as Jim reached the end of one of the walkways and stepped out into an open area, Blair caught movement out of the corner of his eye. The gunman was on the roof of the building and was leaning over the edge; and he had a clear shot at Jim.
Blair jumped to his feet and shouted a warning. “Jim! Watch out! He’s on the roof!”
Both Jim and the gunman turned toward the unexpected voice. Jim’s heart leapt into his throat as the assailant took aim at the youngster.
At that moment, H barreled out from the far side of the building, shoving Blair out of the line of fire. He dropped and rolled onto his back and pointed his gun at the roof.
Jim fired at the same time, and the gunman fell. He looked over at where Blair had been standing just in time to witness his guide plunge backward off the pier, propelled over the edge by the force of H’s push.
Not believing his eyes, a hoarse shout of “No!” escaped his lips as he bounded over to the edge, silently praying there were no pilings, rocks or moored boats underneath. He looked down and hitched a relieved breath at the sight of his spluttering charge breaking the surface of the water. H joined him and another relieved sigh was exhaled. Within minutes, the area was swarming with police vehicles and ambulances as back up arrived.
Jim let the rest of Cascade’s finest deal with the suspects and crime scene as he watched Blair swim to a nearby ladder. Blair scurried up the steps and as he reached the top rung, he was unceremoniously yanked up by the scruff of his neck and plunked down hard in front of his distraught guardian.
Blair began shivering uncontrollably, both from the cold water soaking him to the bone as well as from the realization that he was in deep shit.
Jim’s mouth worked wordlessly for a few seconds before he pulled Blair to him and hugged him fiercely. Jim held him and rocked him, too angry…too relieved, to say anything just yet.
Paramedics soon joined them and a warm blanket was wrapped around them both as they were led to a waiting ambulance. Jim watched in silence as the medics checked Blair over.
The youngster managed to look everywhere but at Jim. His angelic ploy…innocent looks and wide, sad eyes…garnered the sympathy of everyone but the one person from whom he needed it most. He wiggled nervously on the gurney with the knowledge that very soon any attempt at sitting would be very uncomfortable.
Soon everything at the scene was wrapped up and everyone, including Jim and Blair, headed to the station. Jim wasn’t happy about it, but Blair had ended up at the bust and needed to give a statement.
“Jim, I,” Blair started hesitantly once they were in the truck.
“Not a word, Junior,” Jim stated. “I’m way too angry to get into this with you right now. You need to give your statement and then believe me, when we get back to the loft, we will discuss this.” He gave Blair a look that sent new shivers through the young body. “My hand and a hairbrush will be doing most of the talking.”
Blair gulped, nodded, pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders, and slouched down into his seat.
Once at the station, Jim bustled Blair straight to the locker rooms and into a hot shower. He needed to get his guide clean, warm, and into dry clothes before anything else. He hunted up a couple of large towels and then plopped down wearily on one of the benches to catch his breath for a moment before going in search of something for Blair to wear.
Simon came to his rescue by arriving with a set of Cascade PD sweats. He sat next to his friend and waited a few moments before speaking.
“Do I need to ream you out for allowing Blair to go with you on this call, Jim?”
Jim turned to his boss and gave him an incredulous look. “You think I let him come along? We’d just left the motor vehicle department. I left him there with explicit instructions to wait for me there. No one, no one, was more surprised than me to see him there, sir.”
“Did he pass?” Simon asked.
“Huh?” Jim answered.
“His test? Did he get his license?” Simon clarified.
Jim shook his head and chuckled. “Yeah, he did.”
“Good for him.” Simon cleared his throat and stood. “Do you need some privacy?” Simon waved his hand, indicating the empty room. “I can make sure no one comes in…”
“No, sir. That won’t be necessary. I’ll deal with it at home,” Jim answered. “Just have to add another page to the instruction manual,” he quipped.
Simon smiled. “You got it, Jim.”
An hour later, sentinel and guide entered the loft. Jim went straight to the kitchen and pulled a bottle of water from the refrigerator. He took it to Blair, who hadn’t moved since taking two steps inside. The youngster took a few sips, licked his lips and then took a few more gulps. He looked at Jim and a crooked smile threatened as a single tear rolled down his cheek. Then he hung his head and spoke.
“I’m sorry Jim,” he began, once again trying to offer some sort of contrition.
“Go into the bathroom and get the hairbrush, Blair,” Jim instructed calmly.
Blair shuffled down the hall and into the bathroom. He opened the drawer in the counter and retrieved the large, flat backed oak hairbrush Jim had acquired recently. Blair had guessed when Jim purchased it that it hadn’t been for use on either the older man’s short-cropped hair or his own thick, unruly curls.
When he returned to the kitchen, Jim was already seated on one of the straight-backed chairs. Blair handed him the brush and Jim placed it on the table. Without another word, he grabbed Blair’s forearm and pulled him down over his lap.
Blair yelped at the sudden change in position. They both knew why Blair was being punished, so Jim began spanking without any preamble.
The jersey-covered bottom was quickly warmed as Jim spanked hard and deliberately. The vision of Blair popping up unexpectedly, directly in the line of fire, fueled the force of Jim’s blows.
Blair’s gasps and cries were tuned out as Jim let the scene replay in his mind.
The youngster hissed and wiggled. His butt stung and throbbed and Jim hadn’t even started with the brush yet. He began frantically kicking and yelling, pleading for Jim to stop amid tears and swearing.
His initial anger at Blair’s blatant disobedience and recklessness now somewhat lessened, Jim halted the spanking. He drew a deep breath as he reined in his anger. He pulled Blair to his feet and walked him to a corner, deciding he needed to cool down before finishing the spanking.
Turning Blair toward the wall, he finally spoke.
“We’re not done yet, kiddo. I’m too angry at the moment to paddle you with the brush, but we’ll get to that in a minute. I want you in this corner, hands at your sides, nose to the wall, until I’ve cooled down. Got it?”
Blair stood still for almost five minutes before Jim’s words sunk in fully. His backside hurt incredibly already and Jim still intended to use the brush. A long, heartfelt tirade, incorporating every swear word Blair knew, in several languages, was hurled at Jim before Blair could stop himself.
The string of expletives hung in the air, wafting out of the corner of the living room nearest the balcony doors.
“That’s it, kiddo,” Jim declared. “It’s high time I do something about that mouth of yours.”
A very bedraggled and wide-eyed Blair peered over one shoulder, both palms clasped over his mouth as if the action could negate the foul language he’d just spouted.
Jim was peering at Blair, his steely blue eyes conveying the fact he’d not forgotten about the long overdue promised comeuppance for Blair’s language. He made a twirling motion with his index finger. “Turn around, Chief,” Jim ordered and jerked his thumb toward the bathroom. “And march!”
Blair’s hopeful look disappeared. His shoulders drooped slightly and he dropped his eyes, going for a contrite look. “Aww, Jim,” he mumbled, “I said I was sorry.”
“Move it!” Jim stated sternly, a hint of exasperation in his voice.
Blair startled at the loud exclamation and skedaddled from the corner, trying to keep as far out of Jim’s reach as possible.
Jim fell in step behind Blair, herding his reluctant charge down the hall and steering him into the bathroom.
Blair grimaced as Jim gave him a firm swat on the behind before he stepped around him and reached for the small squirt bottle on the counter. He wrinkled his nose and backed up until his shoulder bumped into the doorframe.
“We can do this the easy way or we can do it the hard way, Junior, but it is gonna happen,” Jim said matter-of-factly, one eyebrow arching. “How much more do you think your backside is up to right now?”
Blair sighed as he rubbed his already tender butt, remembering he still had another trip over Jim’s knees coming. He took a tentative step toward Jim and didn’t resist as he was pulled all the way into the room.
Jim leaned hipshot against the counter and squirted a few drops of soap into his left hand. He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, feeling the sliminess of the soap as he contemplated his guide.
He cocked his head toward Blair and commanded, “Open up.”
Blair pressed his lips together and going where a guide should fear to tread, he shook his head, wet ringlets splattering drops in the immediate area.
Jim squashed the attempted rebellion before it had time to take hold. Grabbing Blair firmly by the upper arm, he turned him about and landed a dozen swift hard smacks to the tender butt. Before Blair could react to that indignity, he was spun about once again. With his mouth still open, and an aborted protest still on his lips, the sentinel took advantage of the ‘opening’ and squirted several drops of the soap into Blair’s mouth.
Jim immediately clamped one hand over Blair’s mouth, closing and sealing it shut in one motion.
Blair’s instinctive buck and struggle ceased quickly as he was embraced closely from behind with a warning swat to his hip, emphasizing Jim’s curt words. “Don’t even think about it, Chief.”
Blair slumped against Jim’s chest in defeat. He tried in vain to ignore the bitter tang of the soap and not swallow or run his tongue around the inside of his mouth.
By the time his muzzle was released, Blair had vowed to himself to have a mouth sweeter than a baby’s breath. Blinking furiously to clear fresh tears, Blair dove for the sink, sputtering and spitting furiously. Dancing on the balls of his feet as he rinsed and re-rinsed, it took another swat to his bouncing backside for him to register Jim’s words.
“That’s enough, Chief.”
Jim lightly ruffled Blair’s curls in understanding before steering his guide out of the bathroom with a firm hand on the back of his neck.
“Water, juice, soda, tea, ya gotta gimme something,” Blair pleaded, his head swiveling to gaze longingly at the fridge as they passed it by.
“I don’t think so, kiddo,” Jim stated dryly. “We’ve got some business to finish up here and I want you to get the full effect of the consequences of your actions while my brush is discussing things with your butt.”
“Awwww, Jim,” Blair whined, “Please, no more!”
Jim was not to be deterred. He led his charge into the living room, pausing only to snag the hairbrush from the corner of the dining table. With the same cool efficiency that he’d earlier used to bundle his guide into the set of borrowed PD sweats, he now removed them with a tug. In one smooth swoop, Blair was back over his lap and held securely in place, his rosy pink bottom elevated.
Blair immediately began frantically kicking and twisting. Jim put a quick stop to Blair’s attempt to free himself by shifting the wiggling youngster to a position draped over one knee. He swung a leg up and over Blair’s legs, bringing the thrashing to a halt. Blair’s voice kicked in and while it was notable his language was carefully edited, his spirit wasn’t and he protested. Loudly.
“Jiiiiiiiiim!” He yelped. “Can’t we just talk about this? I’ve learned my lesson! Honest!”
Finding the new position offered virgin territory to paddle, Jim put the hairbrush to good use, peppering the wiggling butt with a flurry of swats.
Blair’s protests turned into fussy yips interspersed with gasping breaths as the paddling progressed, leaving him in a flood of fresh tears and remorse.
For the moment, Jim tuned out the distress in Blair’s voice. Intent on imparting a lasting message to the squirming target over his knee, he concentrated instead on delivering a sound paddling, saving any show of comfort until he’d finished his task.
It was only now, as the fire in his backside ignited to an intensity that left him speechless, that Blair truly realized how much he’d frightened Jim.
“You. Will. Never. Do. Something. As. Reckless. Again. Understand?” Jim punctuated each word with increasingly stronger swats, imprinting the last directly on the spot he’d originally hand-spanked Blair earlier. Then he stopped, but didn’t lift the hairbrush from direct contact with the quivering bottom.
Blair began nodding furiously. “I won’t! Ever! I swear!” he gasped.
Jim waited just long enough for Blair to give a slight wiggle before landing the brush one more time at the curve where buttock met thigh. His charge would remember his vow, at the very least, for the next few days. Jim tossed the hairbrush aside and laid his hand on Blair’s bottom, feeling the warmth permeate his palm.
At this moment, he allowed himself a tiny feeling of remorse. But he quickly shook it off, reminding himself that the warmed bottom under his hand was a small price to pay if it helped guarantee Blair’s safety.
Blair tended to listen much better in his present position, and Jim planned to take advantage of it. “I’m gonna hold you to that promise, Junior.” He fluttered his fingers once across the warm flesh.
Blair flinched and once again nodded vigorously.
“H offered his spare handcuffs for future use if needed, and right now that idea doesn’t sound half bad,” Jim observed, still fluttering his fingers.
“Y-you w-w-wouldn’t? W-would you?” Blair squeaked as he pushed up with his palms from the cushions of the couch and shook his head, eyes wide.
Jim just tilted his head assessingly at Blair.
Blair gulped and shook his head, causing his curls to fall down around his face. He flopped back down onto the cushions, burying his face in them.
“No trying,” he muttered. “Being. Good. Angel, in fact. That’s me,” he assured.
Jim snorted softly and gathered up his fallen angel, settling him on the couch next to him and hugging him gently as the youngster hissed and fidgeted. He kissed the top of the curly head and lightly flicked one errant curl off Blair’s face as if straightening a dented halo.
“Why, Blair?” Jim asked.
Blair just shrugged, shaking his head, as he tried to figure out the irrational need he’d felt to go after Jim.
“Come on, kiddo,” Jim prompted softly as he squeezed Blair’s shoulders encouragingly.
Blair pulled out of Jim’s embrace and popped to his feet. He rubbed absently at his butt and stared at the floorboards. He drew a breath, as if he was going to start talking, but instead just shrugged again.
“Something must have been going through that head of yours,” Jim reasoned.
“That’s just it,” Blair mumbled, still staring at the floor. “It’s like I didn’t have a choice.”
Jim contemplated this statement for a moment before comprehension slowly dawned on him.
“It’s this sentinel thing,” he stated with conviction.
Blair’s head shot up and his eyes grew wide. “What?” he whispered.
“Almost from the first minute I saw you, I was,” Jim searched for a word, “drawn to you I guess. Like I needed you, and you needed me. But at some level that I didn’t get.”
“Oh, man, Jim, this is so cool,” Blair said. “Maybe it’s not just sentinels that have a, a, um, I dunno, a genetic or inbred thing going. Maybe once their abilities come online, they hafta connect up with their counterpart, you know? The dude that helps him? What if their companion dude has like, a built-in radar? Oh, wow, I need to do some more research, man.”
Jim nodded in agreement and offered Blair a warm smile. “I think you’re right.” His eyes narrowed and he grew more serious. “And just like I need to learn how to use and control my senses, the companion dude needs to learn to control his reckless and impulsive tendencies, especially if his sentinel has given him a direct order.” He arched his eyebrows. “Unless the companion dude wants to spend most of his young life over the sentinel’s knees?”
Blair looked at Jim sheepishly and his eyes grew even wider. He rubbed at his sore butt again, shaking his head slowly.
“More research, man, definitely need to do more research,” he agreed eagerly. “Now if only I had a car, I’d be able…”
Jim laughed aloud and shook his head fondly at the pitiful attempt. “Smooth, Junior, real smooth.” He stood and gave Blair a quick hug before turning and steering him toward the kitchen. “Let’s eat.”
Blair laughed along with Jim. “I wonder why you didn’t know I was there, at the pier? Until I stood up? Maybe I should set up some tests…”
Jim groaned, “There you go, being reckless and impulsive again.” He turned as if to go back to the living room. “Now where’d I leave that brush?”
Blair held up his hands in surrender and stuck out his tongue before darting into the kitchen.
The sentinel smiled and followed his companion dude into the kitchen.
End