Disclaimer: Pet Fly and Paramount own the copyright to The Sentinel 
and its characters. This piece of fan fiction was written solely 
for the love of the characters and to share freely with other fans. 
No profit is being made from the posting of this story.


Don't Stand Under the Mistletoe 
   with Anyone Else but Me

by Natalie L
nat1228@comcast.net

The Cascade Police Department's annual Christmas party was in full
swing. Only, for Jim Ellison, the festivities were not all they could
have been. Over the past couple of months, he had found himself
involved in a new relationship, and the object of his affection was
unfortunately nowhere to be seen.

Megan Connor sidled up to the somber detective. The red sequined dress
she wore clung to every curve, accentuating her figure. Jim barely
noticed.

"What's wrong, Love? You look like your best friend died." She took a
sip from the buttered rum she held in one hand.

"Not funny, Megan," Jim grumbled, as the Aussie Inspector invaded his
personal space to hang over his left shoulder.

"We need to cheer you up," she decided. "How about a dance?" She set
her drink down and grabbed at an elbow, pulling the reluctant
detective onto the dance floor.

He tried, unsuccessfully, to pull free. "I don't feel up to dancing
right now," Jim protested.

But Megan was insistent, and strong. She soon had him out on the
floor, slow dancing to _I'll Be Home for Christmas_. When her taciturn
dance partner showed no sign of opening up and talking, she ventured
to start the conversation.

"So, where is Blair this evening? I haven't seen him around."

"He had some party thing going over at Rainier. He said he'd be here
around nine." 

Something in Jim's voice made Megan glance up at the clock--10:17 p.m.
Uh oh. So that was the reason for Jim's mood. She shifted in his arms,
pressing closer. "Don't worry. He'll be here. You know how those
university Christmas parties can get. He probably just couldn't get
away."

The music ended, and Jim led Megan off the dance floor and over to the
refreshment table. Ladling out two mugs of buttered rum, he offered
her one before sipping on his own.

"I suppose," he agreed. "It's just that he promised he'd be here. I'm
wondering if I should be worried. You know Sandburg."

"Yes, I do," Megan agreed. "And if Sandy said he'll be here, he will.
I'm sure he's just having a good time . . . like you should be." 

The sudden disappearance of the man next to her caused Megan to look
toward the door. Beyond Jim's retreating back, she caught a glimpse of
a saucy smile and a bouncing ponytail. Blair Sandburg had arrived.
What happened next had her smiling knowingly.

Blair had paused in the entrance, scanning the room for the one man he
wanted to see more than any other. Abruptly, Jim Ellison stood in
front of him, blocking his entrance into the room.

An arm snaked around Blair's shoulders, and a hand came up to cup his
chin, tipping his head back slightly, and drawing him near.

"Jim," he hissed between clenched teeth. "Not here. Everybody will
see. They'll know."

Jim glanced up, and Blair's gaze followed. A large bundle of mistletoe
hung above their heads, tied with a bright red bow.

"I don't care *who* knows, Chief," Jim said, loudly enough for those
standing nearby to hear. "An opportunity like this only comes once a
year." He pulled Blair to him, and stole his breath with a hungry
kiss, while wolf whistles, cat calls and applause rang out behind
them.

**MERRY CHRISTMAS**