Disclaimer: The Sentinel and his universe belong to Pet Fly.
Quality Time
#11 in The Sparrowhawk Sandburg Series
by
Besterette
Besterette@aol.com
Stepping out of the elevator, Jim Ellison fished his housekeys out of his pocket, smiled faintly, sorting through the keys for the right set. He opened the door to the apartment, stepped inside, and his grin widened. Beau Sandburg stood in the middle of the room, facing the other way, bent over. His eyes explored the curve of a rump covered by tight white ribbed leggings. "Now there's a sight to come home to after a tough day at the office."
She grinned at him from between her ankles and straightened, turning to face him. "Now that I've shed the babyfat I'm trying to take off a few pounds."
His eyes roamed the voluptuous curves on display. "I kinda like the upholstery the way it is."
She made a rude noise, glancing down the scoop neck of her black tank top. "Milk. It does a body good," she quipped, then shook her head, tossing her short brown hair. "I'm never gonna be skinny, I don't have the build for it. Short and stocky."
"Sturdy," he corrected her. "A lot of woman in a little package."
She smiled. "I can eat rabbit food like Mom, or I can eat what I like and burn it off. And I went through too many Heath bars while I was writing, though I was actually being careful because of the caffeine."
"Taking a long break?" Jim asked hopefully, coming over for his kiss. "I can give you a good workout." She hadn't been neglecting him, precisely. Her attention was divided in three, Work/Baby/Jim, and the balance shifted as needed. It just seemed, lately, she was preoccupied with one of the other two when she was with him.
Beau's grin went elfin. "I'm finished. Sent the manuscript off and everything." Her nose wrinkled. "But I need a shower first."
"I'll help."
After their shared shower and some good clean fun, they settled down for a domestic evening. Beau went in to take care of Jake while Jim straightened up the bathroom, hanging up the towels, rinsing the tub, rearranging the vanity. All her little tubes and jars. St. Ives Apricot Scrub. Toothpaste. He lined up everything neatly on their shelves in the niche by the sink, and frowned slightly. A few Bath And Body Works. Healing Garden. No Crabtree And Evelyn. No Burt's Bees.
They sat down at the table to pay the bills. They went half on everything related to Jake and the apartment. There was a brief argument about Beau raising her rent payment. The small economies he had noticed, he hated to think she was depriving herself. She responded that she wasn't a kept woman, that she was going to pay her fair share. Jim backed down, recognizing the warning signs, and not wanting to spoil the evening with a knock-down drag out screaming fit.
He'd already eaten before coming over, but he kept her company while she fixed herself a quick salad. Then they spent a few hours companionably cuddling, half watching TV, half necking and talking quietly.
"Waaaa!"
Jim started, then nudged Beau with selfish guilt. "Hon? Baby's crying."
She lifted her head from his shoulder, muzzily. "Huh? Oh. Okay. Jake. Okay," and settled back down, sound asleep.
Jim chuckled softly, and carefully disengaged himself from their embrace, brushing back her bangs to plant one on her forehead. Rather gratifying to the male ego that he'd totally exhausted her, Sandburgian bundle of energy that she was. And he knew that she only went back to sleep because she knew he was there to take care of their son.
He got to his feet with a sigh. The subtle approach, walking stiffly, rubbing the small of his back, and leaving furniture ads lying around, wasn't working. He'd have to ask again. Maybe argue that buying a bigger bed was for his comfort, so he should pay for it. He'd be happier with a bed he could stretch out on. One with some room to roll around...
He scratched at the waistband of his boxers as he walked down the hall, taking a deep sniff at the open doorway of the nursery. Talcum powder, Baby Magic, Murphy's Oil Soap... not a dirty diaper, he noted gratefully, and continued into the kitchen for a bottle. He ran through the steps automatically, listening to Jake complain at the top of his little lungs. "I'm coming, kiddo, I'm coming," he muttered, checking the temperature by squeezing a squirt onto the inside of his wrist and licking it off.
He turned on the nursery's light, set the bottle down on a convenient bookshelf, next to the patchwork velvet teddy bear Naomi had given them that Beau had named Burton. He went over to the crib and lifted Jake with a soft grunt. "Getting big." He carried Jake back over and sat in the rocking chair, easily snagging the bottle again. Jake fussed a little, not wanting to take the nipple. "C'mon Jake, don't wake up Momma, she's awful mean to your old Dad when she hasn't had enough sleep."
Apparently accepting that his midnight snack wasn't coming on tap, Jake began to suck, chubby tiny hands coming up to clutch at the sides of the bottle. Brown eyes narrowed, peering up at him with an expression he'd read as suspicion on an adult face. Maybe this was confusing him. Milk from Daddy. Good excuse for the next time he was too lazy to get up. He smiled as Jake steadily worked at emptying the bottle. Jim sat back, looking at the cool blue walls, the white furniture, and a preschool's worth of toys on display, content.
The Sandburg half of the family would be proud. He was getting in touch with his feminine side. There was just something comforting about this. Sitting here in his home, one of them, and there were only four places he'd lived that he considered home, out of a few cruddy apartments, barracks and BOQ's. His father's house, his hut in the Chopec village, the loft, and here. Home.
The woman he loved in sated slumber in the bedroom. A sweet, fierce,
woman who wouldn't leave him. He was beginning to accept that. He'd tested her, trying to scare her off, and she wouldn't budge. Wouldn't let him get away with it. She fought back, understood him, just as he knew when he was indulging in self-destructive behavior and still couldn't stop. She stayed. And his son. The warm fragile weight of his son in his arms, the baby-heartbeat he had first heard twinned with Beau's own growing stronger as he grew. The soft swallowing as he fed his son.
He didn't really remember the afternoon of Jake's conception. Just a hazy, dream-like time of unending pleasure. Which he wouldn't mind experiencing again, except he knew that he'd frightened Beau badly when she realized that he had zoned. Looking back, he was surprised that it hadn't happened earlier, before he had any control over his senses at all. He was lucky it had happened with his Consort, guide-and-girlfriend.
And he was lucky they had blended into a family fairly easily considering they hadn't even talked about children until they were having one. Hadn't even really talked about a capital 'F' future, other than trying to spend as much time together as possible. Something Blair and Beau had in common. Neither of them wasted much energy on regrets, or might-have-beens. They accepted situations, processed, and moved on. Beau simply pulled up stakes in Boston and moved to Cascade to have their baby.
They split the costs involved and Jim tried to spend weekends with her, to help with Jake. Naomi staying in town, and his old man turning out to be a better grandpa than a father helped. They were available to babysit for a few hours. It was working out okay. He hadn't expected fatherhood. Not after the divorce. Only felt a twinge of the old male urge for immortality when he saw some doting dad in the park tossing a ball around with his son, or launching a kite for his daughter, or the other way around. And then suddenly he and Beau were parents.
He watched as Jake's eyelids fluttered, sleepily, the bottle nearly empty, the suck-and-swallow not as hungrily urgent. Another hostage to fortune. He'd lost so many people in his life. And now there was this tiny helpless fragile creature who depended on him for everything, whose very existence he was responsible for.
What do you fear?
Responsibility.
Somewhere, that darn cat was laughing at him. Or purring. Whatever.
The biggest responsibility a man could take on and he found such joy in it.
Beau rolled over, reaching out, and the emptiness woke her. She pushed herself up on one shoulder, trying to remember if Jim had left. He never left without waking her to say goodbye. And sometimes got so involved in saying goodbye he ended up spending the night in spite of himself.
As her head cleared, she realized that she was hearing something. Jim's warm light baritone drifted softly through the midnight silence.
"... Turrah lurrah lurrah, turrah lurrah lie, turrah lurrah lurrah, hush now don't you cry..."
She smiled and snuggled down into the pillows again.
Jim glared down at the 'full' bed. Very full. Beau had sprawled out in his absence, hogging the whole center of the bed. He thought about sleeping in the living room, but the futon wasn't exactly comfortable either.
"Beau. Scoot over," he whispered, patting her shoulder. She rolled back to her side, and he managed to slide in, without banging his head on the headboard, or the soles of his feet on the footrail. Beau immediately rolled back, tucking her head against his shoulder, throwing a leg over his, half climbing on top of him.
He kissed her temple. No wonder she thought this bed was big enough for the both of them. Feeling the warmth of her body, listening to her and Jake's sleeping breath and heartbeats, he drifted off to sleep.
~ End ~
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Page last updated 8/15/03.