Unchained Aggression
by WindDancer
Disclaimer on FanFic Page
Dedicated to my dear sister Myst, my hubby and beautiful children who all deal with my bad moods and frustration. I love you all! :)
Jim pounded up the stairs to the Loft with enough force to shatter his shins. It had been the week from hell and he was the designated driver.
Monday started off with a bank robbery by a man dressed a BoZo the Clown, Tuesday began with a hostage situation at the Salvation Army Clothing store, Wednesday followed with a bomber on a bridge and a pregnant car thief who delivered in the stolen car, Thursday roared in with Simon sending him on a Mayoral "kiss-ass-job." And those jobs meant stupid black tie dress and too tight shoes!
And Friday...well, he wasn't playing! Thanks to his sore attitude and sharp tongue Simon had all but thrown him from the bullpen via the top story window.
"No Sir!" Jim ranted out loud to himself as he thrust the key into the deadbolt lock and twisted it. "I'm not going back there!" Slamming the door behind him he threw his keys towards the basket hard enough to send it flying from the table and onto the floor.
Never looking back at the spilled item he shrugged off his coat violently and flung it towards the living room. "No, I get the whacko cases! The cases that are just too weird for even Sandburg. And I find that disturbing!"
Stalking around the kitchen he looked for something to take his frustration out on. Nothing came to eye in the orderly spotless room. Just out of spite he ripped the dishtowels from their holders and threw them on the floor. A few well placed kicks sent them sailing across the hardwood floors quietly. He didn't feel any relief.
He was tired, nerves frayed and patience spent. He wanted to exact his frustration on something and he wanted to do it now! He couldn't pummel Simon was giving him the assignments, he couldn't throttle the Mayor for being such an ass, he couldn't even threaten the burger boy who left the mayo off his burger. No, he was wired and had no clue how to defuse himself! He needed and wanted his Guide.
As if on cue the object of his mind bounced through the door and froze. Jim's steely look of rage transfixed him in his spot near the door. The wayward flying dishtowel landing in the center of his chest just as Jim kicked it yet again.
Blair swallowed, unsure of what he'd just walked in on. The Loft was somewhat disarrayed and heading for disaster if he read the look on Jim's face correct. And whatever the poor dishcloth had done, he didn't want to be privy too!!
"Uh, Jim, something wrong, man?" Cocking his head to one side he still didn't move from his spot and his right hand held the dishcloth loosely at his side.
Jim worked his jaw while his darkened orbs drilled Blair. It was one of those looks Blair had seen him give a perp in interrogation. He shuddered inwardly. Oh, man, what have I done now!
Jim inhaled, bracing one outstretched arm on the counter and the other outstretch arm on the fridge. "I'm...I'm...pissed Chief! And I don't know what to do?"
Blair approached a few steps, his hands out in front of him in a calming gesture. "Ookay, what do you want to do?" Bobbing his head back and forth he tried to coax a shred of calm into his Sentinel before he had a stroke.
Jim chuckled. A scary near cackle that made the hair on Blair's neck stand up. "I want to HURT somebody, Chief! Rip their arms off and beat them half to death with them! And then I want to-"
"Jim! Whoa! Jim! Easy, let's not go there man!" Blair neared his Sentinel ,his hands outstretched and flat against Jim's heaving chest. He could feel the tension and energy radiating from the man. "That's a little more Black Ops than I want to know about, 'kay."
Jim closed his eyes for a few seconds and blew out a breathe. "I'm all tight inside, Blair. I feel like I'm gonna snap!"
Blair understood.
"Go sit." He said firmly. Taking control of the situation that was sending his Sentinel out of control. "Now."
Jim complied without a word. Forcing his rigid taunt frame into a kitchen chair he sat with his back to Blair. His chest rose and fell quickly and for a minute he felt he might hyperventilate but quickly closed his mouth and focused on slowing his breathing.
"Here." Blair handed him a container wrapped in the discarded dishcloth he'd held earlier` and a spoon. "Eat."
Jim opened his mouth to object but quickly closed it when Blair's hands settled across his shoulders.
"Eat." Blair's command carried the weight of an entire army. Jim felt instantly powerless to argue further. Something in his Guide's touch stripped him of any will to continue his earlier tirade.
One hour later....
Jim lay stretched on the couch and Blair seated on the floor next to him, his back against the couch edge. Both men were calm, relaxed and on the verge of sleep.
"Better?"
Jim smiled, eyes closed, he exhaled deeply, "Much. Much better, Chief. Thanks."
Blair sat the wrapped container on the coffee table and leaned back, his head thrown back, his curls flopping against Jim's side. "You could have saved me a little more."
There on the coffee table sat a demolished container of Ben and Jerry's "Real Vanilla Bean" ice cream....
~The End~