Summery Blair reflects on his fellings for Jim.
Blair stood behind his friend and partner trying really hard not to stare at the man's ass. Trying and failing. He kept sneaking looks and then glancing round the Bullpen to see if anyone had caught him looking. They all knew, he thought, they all had to know. For the last few weeks Blair could feel himself turning beat red whenever Jim smiled at him, or touched him in anyway, and being a Sentinel, Jim was naturally very touchy when it cam to his guide. But it wasn't the pats on the back or the light taps on the head that made Blair's breath catch in his throat, or made his heart rate go up a hundred knots. It was the light brushes of skin against skin when they both reached for the last donut, the warm smiles Jim gives him when he works out something important in a case. Jim is a Sentinel, he has to know, and he had to be able to smell the arousal from Blair whenever he sees Jim stroll about the loft with just his boxers on. Maybe he had already noticed the way Blair looks at him and was just ignoring it, repressing it like he does with every damn thing. Blair sighed and forced himself to thing about something else, but his eyes kept wandering down to focus firmly on the way Jim's jeans cupped his butt perfectly. Not for the first time, Blair wished that Jim would turn round and see Blair the way that he saw Jim. As more than just a partner and best friend, but as something more, well, fun. Blair sighed again; he couldn't live like this much longer. Sooner or later he was going to have to tell Jim how he felt about him. Even if my some miracle it wasn't already blindingly obvious, it soon would be.
"You Ok, Chief?" Jim asked, his voice shocking Blair out of his thoughts.
"Yeah Jim, I was just thinking."
"Oh, about what?"
"Nothing important." Blair said with a tinge of sadness. "Nothing important at all."
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