Wrote this years ago. I'm not sure what's up with the formatting, so I might be playing with this if it doesn't come through right. First of... four in this series, I believe? Just little bits of smarm.

Tigger and Pooh

by Jendra

I hope I did this right!

Disclaimers and warnings. I don't own them. Not any of them. Not Jim, not Blair, not Tigger or Pooh. Please, those who do own them, Panzer and Pet Fly and whoever... don't sue, I don't have any money.

This is not a first fanfiction, but it is a first Sentinel fanfiction... probably a last too, (once everyone kills me for writing it.) It is the shortest thing I've ever written and is pretty much pure silliness. Not beta'd.

Comments and constructive criticism welcome at .

Archive if you want to (though why anyone would...)

Jim looked up as he heard hesitant and unfamiliar footsteps approaching the door of the loft. They stood outside for several minutes, setting off alarms in the Sentinel's mind. He surged to his feet, and grabbed his gun from the table by the door. Quickly, he opened his senses, first checking on his Guide, working quietly in his room. Some of his tension left him asBlair's heartbeat and breathing showed that he was calm and unworried.

Next, Jim checked the person standing outside of the door. The person's heartrate and breathing was a little fast, indicating worry, apprehension, or anticipation. Suddenly, the doorbell rang, and Jim winced slightly as he quickly visualized the dial needed to turn down his hearing.

Holding his gun ready but out of sight, he opened the door. "Can I help you?" he asked the young man standing nervously in front of him.

As soon as the door opened, the young man began speaking. "Tigger, hi! I know you didn't..." it was at that moment that he realized that the person in front of him was not anything like the one he was expecting to see. His words trailed off in confusion as he looked at the large man looming over him. "You're not Tigger, are you?" he asked in a small voice as he blushed brightly.

Jim raised an eyebrow. "Tigger?"

"You aren't," the stranger moaned. "I'm sorry, I thought this was the right address. I'm sure this is the address Blair gave me. I'll stop bothering you now."

"Hold on a minute, are you looking for Blair Sandburg?" Jim asked, putting the safety on his gun but still holding it ready for quick action and out of sight.

"Yes, I am," the young man replied. "Do you know him?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Jim replied with an unsmiling face. "SANDBURG!" he yelled back into the loft, "There's someone here to see you."

Blair walked out into the living room. "Who is it?" he asked, pushing his glasses back up his nose.

"I don't know, Tigger," Jim answered, trying hard to hide the grin he felt trying to break out. "Why don't you tell me?"

"How did you...?" Blair brushed his hair back as he looked up at his larger friend.

Jim motioned to the man peeking around from behind him.

"Blair?" the man said as he saw the young anthropologist. "I know we weren't meeting until tomorrow but my flight got unexpectedly moved up so I decided to stop by and see if you were free."

"Lorax?" Blair grinned excitedly. "Sure, I'm free. Come on in and let me go get a jacket."

Blair dashed into his room with Jim just a few steps behind him. "Who is he, Chief?" he asked immediately as he closed the door.

"Huh?" Blair asked distractedly. "Oh, he's an Internet chat buddy of mine that's in town for some convention. I told him I'd show him the town."

"How much do you know about him?" Jim asked, all of his Blessed Protector instincts coming to the fore.

"Calm down, big guy," Blair shook his head. "Not all my friends are related to the mob or criminals, you know." A glance at his Sentinel's face showed instantly that that wasn't good enough. Blair sighed loudly in exasperation. "His name's Ray Snyder. He's a writer of children's books for a small publishing company in San Francisco and working on getting his Master's in child Psychology. He's in town for a comics convention and I told him I'd show him around."

"He seemed very shy and nervous for a psychologist," Jim said, not ready to move from his spot by the door.

"Well, he's not a practicing one," Blair admitted. "He's mainly majoring in it to help understand how children feel so he can write better books. Now, can I go? I'm sure he's wondering what's keeping me."

"Alright, Chief," Jim reluctantly stepped away from the door. "But take your cell and if anything strikes you as weird or out of the ordinary, you call me immediately, understand?"

"Yeah, yeah," Blair answered. "I understand, and I'll be home before curfew, dad." Blair threw Jim a smile to make sure he understood he wasn't really annoyed with his friend's overprotectiveness.

"By the way," Jim said as they left the room. "Tigger?"

Blair grinned. "Blame him," he said, pointing to the man sitting on the edge of the couch. "He thought it fit better than the one I'd been using and everyone agreed."

"Well," Ray said softly. "You did seem very bouncy and flouncy in our conversations."

"Bouncy and flouncy, hmm? Good way to describe him," Jim agreed smiling slightly at his partner. "Fits him even better than Chief."

"Oh man, you are 'not' going to use it at the station are you? That would be 'so' uncool," Blair shuddered at the idea. Hairboy was bad enough.

"I don't know, I'll have to think about it," Jim answered.

Blair glared at him. "Let's go," he said to Ray, who seemed a little shocked at Jim's demeanor.

"Have fun," Jim said as the two young men walked out the door. Then he started softly singing...

"Oh the wonderful thing about Tiggers,

Is Tiggers are wonderful things,

Their tops are made out of rubber,

Their bottoms are made out of springs.

They're bouncy, trouncy, flouncy, pouncy,

Fun, fun, fun, fun, fun,

But the most wonderful thing about Tiggers,

Is Oof!"

The last was the sound of a quickly thrown jacket hitting his face as the door closed behind his laughing roommate.

Jim went to put the jacket back next to the door as he absently listened to the two men walk away.

"You mean, 'that's' the guy you call Pooh?" Ray's voice was incredulous.

"Yeah," Blair said, a grin in his voice. "Once you get to know him, he's a real teddy bear. Of course, you know, if he does call me Tigger at the station, I won't hesitate to start calling him that."

"Pooh?" Jim muttered in disgust. "Over my dead body, Chief, or yours."

Blair's voice answered back to him, as if he had developed Sentinel hearing of his own. "I can just imagine Jim's face if I did. Or Simon's... It would be a blast, even if he did kill me immediately."

"Justifiable homicide, Tigger," Jim answered, to himself.

Blair's whisper floated through the air as he got into his car, knowing Jim was still listening. "You really are a 'willy, silly, nilly, old bear', Pooh."