Warnings: schmoop, smarm, oh and fluff.
***
Jim and Blair had decided to use up some of their time owed and go camping in the nearby national forest. The days were still warm, well warm for Washington, but for the most part, the camping season was over. This almost guaranteed peace and quiet for the Sentinel and his Guide. Leaving the truck near the Ranger’s station, Jim and Blair hiked the rest of the way in, setting up close to a trout stream to make their camp. With their two man tent pitched, freshly caught trout baking in the fire pit, Jim and Blair rested against a log waiting for their dinner to finish cooking.
Jim’s eyes were closed, he appeared asleep. Blair knew that his Sentinel was merely recharging his city noise weary batteries. He turned over the fish then settled back next to his Sentinel.
“What do you hear?” Blair whispered Sentinel soft.
“A million leaves rustling in the wind. Thousands of creepy crawlies on the ground.”
“And under? Can you hear them underground? What about burrowing mammals, can you hear them too?” Blair asked, ever the enthusiastic anthropologist ready to test his Sentinel’s abilities.
Jim chuckled. “Yes, Chief, I can hear them.”
“What about scent?”
“The fish is almost ready, there’s a storm coming and something died about two miles south.”
“Please don’t tell me it’s human,” Blair said with a sigh. “I’d really appreciate our weekend without a murder mystery.”
“No mystery, Sandburg, it’s a rodent, probably a ground squirrel.”
“That’s amazing, Jim. You can tell the difference between species?”
“Some smells are hard to forget.”
“I hear ya.” Blair didn’t ask for an explanation, painfully aware of Jim’s history. “What about touch?”
Jim leaned forward, placing his hands flat on the ground next to him, feeling the vibrations. “There’s a family of deer grazing on the other side of the stream. And if I’m not mistaken, a logging rig about ten miles away on the highway. Mount St. Helen’s may be rumbling.”
“Wow. What about taste?”
“Give me a piece of the fish and I’ll let you know,” Jim smiled. The fresh mountain air was making him hungry. Blair took the fish off the fire then served it up while Jim got them a couple of beers and some vegetables from the cooler they brought with them.
“This is great!” Jim said around a mouthful.
“So?”
“Parsley, lemon grass, olive oil, oregano.”
“And?”
“A touch of salt.”
“Ah, but what kind of salt.”
“Sea salt, my little guppy.”
“Damn,” Blair said snapping his fingers. “Thought I got you.”
“You taught me well, Darwin.”
Sentinel and Guide finished their meal then efficiently cleaned up to prevent any curious wildlife from poking around during the night. Letting themselves digest before hitting their sleeping bag, the lovers stared up at the night sky.
“Bet you can see a million stars up there,” Blair murmured, snuggling closer to Jim. The night air was growing chilly; the heat seeking Guide cuddled with his furnace-hot Sentinel.
“Nope.”
“No?”
“I only see one,” Jim whispered into a curl covered ear before nuzzling it. Blair smiled, leaning into Jim’s touch.
“You ready to make like a burrowing mammal, Jim?” Blair asked, leading his lover into their tent.
“All night long, Chief,” Jim replied. “All. Night. Long.”
-end-
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