Venture Forth by SassyInkPen (Adult)

[bluebrocade.livejournal.com]

Hiya! bluebrocade here, getting a late start reccing The Sentinel for you this month. I generally like relationship based fics, especially first times with great J/B banter. I've got a mixed bag for you this month though. Two fabulous road trip first-time fics, a Blair/Rafe fic, one short but hilarious gennish fic, one short hilarious and oh-so-wrong fic, one nice long angsty fic and maybe a few other surprises...hope you enjoy 'em!

Fandom: THE SENTINEL
Pairing: Jim/Blair
Author on LJ: sassyinkpen
Author Website: Sassy's Smut Emporium
Why this must be read: Because it's one of the best Sentinel road-trip fics ever written! Blair challenges Jim to be spontaneous and go on a road trip with him. A real road trip. No destination in mind, just driving, seeing the sights, going where the spirit moves you. So, we've got Jim and Blair basically trapped together for a week. They hang out, they talk, they learn a few things about each other and make some long-awaited changes to their relationship. This is a great first-time fic with just the right amount of angst and hawt sex and humor, but what makes it great is Sassy's ability to write terrific, spot-on Jim-Blair dialogue.

Excerpt:

"Eat me," mumbled Blair, stuffing his head under the pillow and trying to kick Jim from inside the confines of his sleeping bag. All he did was manage to twist it all up.

"Up and at'em, Nature boy," chirped Jim, prodding him in the ass. "You said you were going fishing with me."

Blair grunted and wriggled away from Jim's hands. "I have spontaneously decided to blow you off in favor of more sleep. You neglected to mention that we'd be getting up in the middle of the night to do this."

Jim laughed. "It's not the middle of the night. The sun's coming up and the fish are getting excited, now get your ass out of bed or else."

Blair shrunk deeper in his cocoon. George, as it turned out, didn't offer a whole lot in the way of lodging. So, no matter how good the food might be, they'd opted to track back a little ways to the state park and camp out again. Jim was looking to get in a little fishing, and Blair was hoping to check out the petrified forest area. It was suddenly quite clear which activity they would be doing first. He resolutely ignored Jim's chatter and the muted commotion of tackle boxes and fishing rods being brought out with as little noise as possible. Like the fish were gonna know what he was up to. Moron.

When he heard the tailgate popped and lowered, Blair furrowed his brow, wondering vaguely what the hell Jim was up to, but not interested enough to poke his head out to see. Unfortunately, the reason was made plain when he felt Jim's hands clamp around his ankles and he started sliding toward the rear of the truck, sleeping bag and all.

"Jesus, Jim, get the hell off, man," he groused, struggling against Jim's grasp, but being too tangled in the bag to be very effective. He felt like an overgrown caterpillar.

"Nothin' doin', Sandburg. You're going fishing whether you like it or not."

"Ok, all right, fine. Have it your way," Blair said, resigned to his fate. He started to push his head out of the top when he was suddenly hoisted up onto Jim's shoulder and found himself viewing the world upside down through the mess of his hair. "Oh...this is not cool, man. Put me down, I said I'd go already."

"You had your chance," Jim told him. He sounded disgustingly cheerful. Asshole. "I tried to get you moving and you wouldn't have anything to do with it. Now I'm ready to go."

Blair hung limply and contemplated the back of Jim's vest as they headed down the bank towards the water. Struggling, he'd already found, was not terribly effective. Plus, from this height it could get him seriously injured, and he'd rather nurse a wounded ego than a cracked skull. Reasoning didn't seem to be going down that well either. Maybe all this 'let's get Jim to be more spontaneous' stuff wasn't such a hot idea. Maybe if Jim didn't equate being spontaneous with being obnoxious.

"Hey," he said, noticing the thermos strapped on top of the tackle box. "Is that coffee?"

"Yup."

"Cool."

"Thought you'd appreciate that," Jim said.

"Yeah, I do. I'd appreciate being put down, too."

"In a minute," Jim told him. "We're almost there. I scoped out this spot last night, it's great."

"That's marvelous." Blair bumped along helplessly. His head was starting to throb slightly from all the blood pooling in it. As screwed up as this situation was, though, he had to admit that part of him was lazily thrilled that not only did he not have to get out of bed for this, but he didn't have to bother walking either. The morning air was crisp on his face, but the rest of him was still snug and warm in his sleeping bag. Jim could eat dirt if he thought he was coming out anytime soon.

"Here we are, Sandburg. End of the line." Jim crouched down to unload the tackle box and rods, and then deposited Blair on the ground. Blair immediately snuggled down into the bag again, but peered out warily when Jim poked him. "Here's your pillow," Jim said.

"Hey, man," Blair said with a grin, "You're all right. I guess I don't have to kill you after all." He popped a hand out and grabbed it, pulling it inside and disappearing again. He could hear Jim chuckling as he started to rig up his pole. This wasn't so bad. Jim could fish, he could snooze. There was coffee. Life was good.

Venture Forth

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