Pestilence
Sebastian continued to savour his soup while listening attentively to Jim’s description of his symptoms and, for what it was worth, comparing them to his own.
‘Heightened emotions’ - yes, if you wanted to call it that, his usual self-control had been especially wobbly.
’Not himself’ – yes, definitely. His self by nature being very different from Jim’s. For whom, totally human things like enjoying eating in bed and being cared for constituted horribly vexing abnormalities.
During what you could call the incubation period, Sebastian had been brimming with a torturous energy, that had his temper fraying and constantly on edge. Which was rather close to Jim’s normal state, which had actually evened out a bit?
But according to Caruso, this had started before India, and thus before any potential infection. (And while it quietly pleased and tickled Sebastian that he might have such a beneficial effect on Jim and his surroundings, it did not help much with the assessment of the current situation.)
“I haven’t felt tired,” he chipped in. “Quite the opposite, but not in a good way.” He lifted his bowl, unabashedly slurped down the dregs of the delicious soup and licked the last drops from his upper lip. “The sensual aberrations I recall from very early on, but yes, they increased. We can keep testing your smell and hearing and appetite and such…” He swapped the empty bowl for the pie dish and dug in. “I would even let you sniff my bacon. For research purposes only though.” He suppressed a giggle and ended up with a soft burp.
And suddenly he was absurdly overwhelmed by Jim’s brave reassurance, that he had nothing to worry about, because Jim would take care of it. As he always did. Jim would fix it, because that’s what he did.
Without looking up from his food, Sebastian nudged him back, just as gently.
“And I’m your body guard.” Meaning he would protect Jim, no matter what. While in his right and human mind. And even when he was not, now that he had a better idea of what to expect.
He slowed his eating while something struck his mind.
“In all those… sources about were creatures –” Never mind how bonkers they all appeared, they were long beyond that line of reasoning – “well, they all say the shift occurs at or around the full moon, right? Or have you seen others?” While Jim seemed to be thinking, Sebastian carried on: “So that can mean different things. Either the incubation period can vary in length. Or the infection only occurs at those times. When these creatures…” He paused, swallowing, his mind boggling at the fact such was the terms now applying to himself. “… are not in their human form.”
~
I haven’t felt tired. Quite the opposite, but not in a good way.
Jim eyed Sebastian. “Like you have so much energy you want to peel off your own skin?” he said flatly. Sebastian’s expression faltered and Jim shook his head. “That’s my… normal,” Jim admitted.
He scratched absently at his neck, leaving pink marks on his pale skin. “I’m tired in my bones, like when I have pneumonia or sepsis or something that my body’s not able to easily shift.”
Jim held up his torn fingers. “But as you can see, I’m healing. No visible infection or telltale pains… and the way my nose is bothering me I think I’d smell an infection so you surely would, right?”
Jim considered. “Could be that I don’t have the same reserves as you, so I’m burning more energy with whatever’s going on in my blood. Or it could be like when suburban mothers abuse their kids’ ADD meds because whilst it calms the kids it gives neurotypicals more energy. Or I might not be infected at all, but something certainly doesn’t feel normal.”
The sensual aberrations I recall from very early on, but yes, they increased. We can keep testing your smell and hearing and appetite and such…
“That seems sensible,” Jim sighed. He grimaced as Sebastian joked and burped, because of course his pet had no decorum regardless of the seriousness of the situation.
But Jim had told him not to worry.
Sebastian nudged him back. I’m your bodyguard.
Yes he was. “Normal bodyguards concern themselves with physical threats,” Jim found himself saying. “You already go above and beyond with all the other fussing you do on behalf of my welfare.”
Like he cared. Jim shifted uneasily at that. He had so few easy experiences of being cared for, if any, that the prospect made Jim feel a little helpless. Why the fuck would anyone care about him anyway? Maybe when he was younger, less cemented in his fucked up habits, but he was hardly likeable enough for normal people to get protective over him.
Caruso was, a little, but she was an outlier and didn’t count. She came from a mafia family; her sense of what was normal or acceptable was different from most people’s.
Although Seb killed people for a living, so wasn’t exactly sheltered.
Sebastian paused eating, providing a very interesting point about whether weres were only contagious in their animal form.
Oh fuck.
“We didn’t transfer any blood when you were turned but I touched your mouth,” Jim said, exasperated with himself. “My hands were torn and your gums… your jaws… they were wet. Because you’d been eating. That could…”
Jim sighed and flopped back onto the bed, narrowly avoiding upturning any food only because he was light and the soup was already demolished. As was the rest of Jim’s meal, with the exception of the ginger biscuits.
“I am such… a fucking… idiot…” Jim cursed himself. He sulked into Seb’s jumper for a while then said, “I just had to satisfy my fucking curiosity. Admire your fucking incredible teeth.”
Jim sat up and drew his knees up, shifting the soles of his feet to their sides so as not to put pressure on them.
“I’m sorry, this is my fault,” Jim said, entirely uncharacteristically. “I should be keeping an eye on you like I said I would and instead I’ve made everything so much more fucking difficult. I have no impulse control at all sometimes. I’m sorry. I’ll sort it.”
Sebastian looked at him very oddly, like he was suddenly trying not to look at Jim directly. Like-
Oh fuck. Two apologies in one breath? Jim wasn’t even the sort of man to apologise on his deathbed…
“Well I’m definitely fucking sick with something,” Jim groused, voice tight with embarrassment that he refused to otherwise show.
He reached for a broken part of Seb’s pie and shoved it into his mouth to wash down his foot. With any luck he’d choke and never have to look back at this ignoble moment.
“No leftovers for you today either,” Jim muttered. “I am the world’s worst owner. You must have been dreadful in a past life.”
Seb was a killer in this life, but Jim could hardly hold that against him. Seb’s kills were hardly as messy or sadistic or frivolous as Jim liked his own personal efforts to be.
~
Jim was right. Considering that due to his hypersensitive sense of smell Sebastian was able to tell apart different sources of blood on Jim, there was no reason to think he wouldn’t pick up any signs of infection from his wounds just as easily. There weren’t any, as Sebastian assured himself by slightly craning his neck towards Jim and breathing in through his nose.
But something was certainly off, just that Sebastian couldn’t quite place it. No wonder, because the lingering smell of rich food definitely interfered with olfactory assessments. But other signs were glaringly obvious. Apologies, coming from Jim Moriarty, were as shocking and unheard-of as self criticism. Jim stealing his food - not for the sake mischief but plain hunger - that was unprecedented. Although that didn’t quite drown out the flattering, pleasing image of Jim admiring the fucking incredible teeth of his pet tiger.
Sebastian bared the human but still impressive version in a smile upon Jim’s excuse for being a less than exemplary owner. Fucking karma, no less.
“Maybe we were both quite thorny or carnivorous specimens,” he mused. “Or the opposite, and the universe had to do some rebalancing.”
Chewing on a biscuit, he considered what Jim had said before. With a good memory of the wretched and agonising state he’d been in for the past month, his mind boggled imagining that’s how Jim felt all the time. Christ. All his life.
“Well, Caruso hasn’t made comfort food for nothing - there’s a bug going around next door, so maybe that’s what you caught. If it’s not … well, let’s assume it’ll be another four weeks until we have to deal with it.” He knew that putting off dealing with things did go against Jim’s very grain, but what good would it do right now?
“So why not, for today and just for a change, just do what your body tells you to…” Gently he nudged his dish towards Jim, relinquishing the remnants of his pie. “Eat and sleep.” It was a very simple but well-tried strategy since the dawn of time. “Shall I go and tidy up the big bed or do you want to stay here?”
~
Maybe we were both quite thorny or carnivorous specimens. Or the opposite, and the universe had to do some rebalancing.
Jim managed a weak chuckle at that. Yes, Seb had surely been a piranha, hadn’t he? And perhaps Jim had been a Venus fly trap, pretending to be harmless whilst plotting the horrible demise of his intended dinner.
The thought of either of them ever having been good was even more ridiculous. Jim simply never learned how, no matter how much he tried to mimic ‘normal’ in his youth. And Seb? Seb the exasperating, infuriatingly contrary creature? What did his soul know of innocence?
Although… Seb was very good to him. A caretaker as much as a protector. Did that count, if the person Sebastian was so good to was wicked through and through?
Jim listened to Seb continue to speak and scoffed again. “You mean Dara? I’ve barely seen her. Although if she feels anything like this you have my blessing to keep her off duty until she’s better,” Jim said with a grimace.
He blinked slowly. “It’s just her that’s sick, right? What are her symptoms? You haven’t been near her particularly, have you? Let her brush up against one of your injuries or touch your used cutlery with a cut hand or…”
Jim buried his head in the nearest accommodating surface (which happened to be Seb’s lap) and bit down on a small scream.
“As lovely as it would be to be the only fucking criminal in the world guarded by an entire team of weres, I don’t want to fucking deal with a team-wide outbreak,” Jim said, sounding both muffled and strained. “Especially not the first time I fucking turn.”
Jim felt crumbs fall onto his head from the ginger biscuit Seb had halted on its way to his mouth. Huffing, Jim sat up and shook the crumbs out of his damp hair. And then moved to a cooler part of the bed, not quite wanting to risk wiping away crumbs with his torn hands.
Jim stared at the crumbs on the sheets. “I don’t care which bed we’re in; I don’t have time to sleep.”
He took a biscuit himself and nibbled at it glumly. “Far too much work to do. It never fucking ends.”
Jim wrestled Seb’s jumper into a pillow. “Fuck this,” he muttered, “I’m too tired for-”
Jim paused. “Do you suppose that if Dara eats the dogs we won’t need to bother training replacements? How far could your senses pick up an intruder from?”
~
Sebastian almost dropped his biscuit when Jim suddenly buried his face in his lap. Sebastian’s other hand automatically moved, but halted itself just shy of Jim’s hair, as cautious as you’d be with an unpredictable cat. You did not touch Jim Moriarty in ways he did not appreciate, least of all when he was vibrating with frustrated vexation, and especially not while his teeth were in proximity to delicate parts of your anatomy.
And for a moment, due to Jim's muffled voice, Sebastian was sure he’d misheard.
Jim’s penchant for considering all possibilities inevitably not only brought about the smartest, but also the most ludicrous ideas, although they rarely failed to be thoroughly fascinating. Like… Sebastian’s affliction running rampant amongst the staff.
“I wonder what they’d all look like,” he heard himself say instead of wisely keeping his mouth shut and not joining Jim’s feverish nightmares. “Dara would surely have as blood red claws as always; Tom’s coat sporting barely any orange at all; and Gary’s exceptionally large…”
He came to as Jim shook crumbs out of his hair and rolled away. Sebastian cleared his throat and mumbled: “No you’re right, we don’t want that.” He brought the biscuit to his mouth, now that further crumbs were in no danger of embedding themselves into Jim’s damp hair, and took a bite.
“No, I haven’t been near Dara, or any of them really. Not in a way to infect them.” He ate the rest of his biscuit and selected another one. “It was you who mentioned something going round next door, and I assumed we were talking the flu or some stomach bug and not lycanthropy.” Or tiganthropy. “I still reckon we do, because if my souvenir was as contagious as that, half the world would have turned by now, right?”
Jim nibbled on a biscuit and looked a bit peaked. Admittedly the possibility of the whole team including boss and chief of staff all turning, and at the same time, was as inconvenient as it was riveting. And also unlikely (not that that point had held up to reality before).
Sebastian haphazardly swiped most of the crumbs off the bed, while Jim went from defying sleep to snuggling in quite quickly.
“So, I don’t think Dara or anyone else will eat the dogs anytime soon.” Except … maybe himself, given the chance in four weeks time? And the creatures sensed this, going by their recent reactions to him? Not that he took any joy from that thought, but he still considered whether he’d be a capable substitute.
“Hm… I can hear things going on outside the front door from here, or in other rooms. I’m not sure about out in the open though.” He remembered his little stints outside in the feverish days leading up to the change. “I can cope quite well at night, and in reasonably quiet surroundings, but the general din of a city in daytime is a horror, a cacophony of sound and light and smell.” Something his new senses had yet to become accustomed to. If they could. “The dogs probably have an advantage there.” They were used to their natural senses. And capable of filtering the intel.
~
Sebastian’s musings were whimsical, but perhaps it wasn’t wrong to suppose something of a person’s outward character lingered when a person transformed. Looking at Moran, fine specimen that he was, had a habit of making Jim very stupid, whether Seb had stripey fur or not.
Doing his best to push that thought away, Jim considered the rest of the team. He could easily imagine Caruso as a fierce tigress, scruffing everyone she came across and trying to gather them together to look after, like the farm cats had done with each other’s kittens. Jim didn’t know what would be worse, being in Seb’s teeth or Caruso’s. He comforted himself with the thought that Caruso wouldn’t be able to find a basket or cardboard box big enough to deposit him in, never mind the entire household.
Did that seem ridiculous? Jim rubbed at his forehead, intent upon checking his temperature before realising his hands were too warm to tell if he was feverish. Which probably meant he was unreasonably warm, because his fingers were always cold.
Which wasn’t always a bad thing, for him at least. It was thoroughly amusing trying to work poor Seb open and having the bloke yelp at the unwelcome difference in temperature.
Jim regarded Sebastian. It was comforting that Seb was talking a lot of sense, and that he tended to resist the worst case scenarios that Jim was conditioned to expect.
“If anyone else is infected, another day won’t make much difference. I’ll be researching as much as I can anyway,” Jim said. He stifled a yawn and tried to squash the worry that he might quickly become too poorly to do anything useful.
He poked Sebastian. “Tigers don’t much like visiting human-populated areas; they only hunt there if they’re desperate. But cats and dogs manage just fine with city noise once they’re used to it. And great, big bastarding tiger or not, you are domesticated. So you’ll get used to having the volume turned up, and on the days when it bothers you, I’ll only tease you a little about wearing ear protectors around the house.”
Jim yawned again and swore softly. “Fuck it, I give up; I’m taking another nap. Don’t worry about making noise if you get bored; my hearing doesn’t seem as sharpened as my sodding sense of smell.” And I like to hear that you’re close. “I’m used to hearing you being around anyway.”
Jim burrowed the back of his head into the pillows rather than his nose. Just thinking about that sense had him obsessing over every fucking nuance of Sebastian’s scent again.
Jim huffed and threw an arm over his face. He tried to breathe through his mouth, but it didn’t really help. Just thinking of Seb’s smell could make Jim smell Sebastian in an otherwise empty room. Moran fucking better not have been as obsessed with the were who had turned him.
Jim shifted restlessly, but he could feel his body succumbing to sleep. If he concentrated, he could hear Seb’s heartbeat in the otherwise quiet room. It moved at a different pace from Jim’s, their sizes and fitness levels always having been very different. But it was soothing to listen to. Sebastian was so close Jim could throw an arm around him and press his face into the warm flesh of Seb’s strong chest. It probably wouldn’t even hurt Seb’s skin by this point.
Jim hadn’t set an alarm on his phone. He tried to raise his hand but realised he was too sleepy.
“Wake me in a bit?” he mumbled. “I’ll… try… not to bite your head off…”
~
“Yeah, I’ll get used to it,” Sebastian said, referring to his transformed senses and the necessary adjustments. “In fact I think I already started to.” He felt better than he had before the shift. “Either that or the symptoms are cyclical too.” His… beastly side satisfied, appeased, for a while at least. “And if they are, I’m sure I’ll be coping better. I think at least part of my insufferable temper had been due to… well - ” it wasn’t easy to spell it out, but then he did: “fear. Not knowing what was happening. Fearing I might forever become useless.” But now, understanding the problem, they’d be able to deal with it. Even if Jim was afflicted as well, which for the moment Sebastian still refused to believe.
And, whether or not - a day, a night, or the time of a nap wouldn’t make a difference. Sebastian was glad Jim too started to see that point. He was also glad the endless fidgeting subsided somewhat.
“Yes, I’ll wake you in a bit,” Sebastian agreed, intending no such thing in the event that Jim would actually manage to sleep.
“Are you comfortable?” Sebastian’s hand crept over the side of the bed, found the switch hanging down there on its cable, and flipped it a few times. “I … received a very sweet and thoughtful present yesterday,” he pointed out, “in case you’re feeling cold. Of course you could also …” Sebastian slightly wriggled his fingers, like temping a shy animal to come closer.
~
Jim Moriarty was rarely surprised, but hearing Sebastian admit fear was… unexpected. And perhaps… unsettling.
“You wouldn’t be useless,” Jim said flatly. It should have been enough to leave it there, but he found himself adding, “Your obvious work skills are replaceable, but you’re not… your value is not purely in the sum of your marketable parts.”
Jim shifted restlessly. He didn’t know the safest way to make his point that would also reassure Sebastian, and wasn’t it odd how none of the work things Jim had first valued Seb for really mattered, compared to the surprises? None of what he thought mattered could have made Jim make concessions that left him vulnerable, but Sebastian Moran was so much more than Jim had anticipated.
Jim nodded when Seb agreed to the parameters he was allowing himself for sleep. The alert part of Jim was sceptical, but mostly Jim was too tired to care. Jim felt worn out and his fidgeting lessened unconsciously.
Jim twitched when Sebastian had the affront to reach for the electric blanket’s controls, and call it a… a… sweet and thoughtful present, the utter bastard.
“Keep that fucking thing off or I’ll rewire the cables with your arteries,” Jim snapped. “Can you not tell I’m too fucking hot-”
Jim paused. The hand he had lightly lashed out at Seb with had connected. And Seb was… cool to the touch.
Jim sat up and moved closer. Ordinarily he was always cold, and Sebastian warm, so if Jim felt unbearably hot and Seb wasn’t…
“You got hot,” Jim said. Sebastian looked at him. “You’re always warmer than me but over the last month you’ve been a furnace…”
Jim rubbed at his skin a little. “Is it uncomfortable like this all the time? Or does it settle?”
Jim ran his scabbed palm over Sebastian curiously, and not without a hint of jealousy. Seb’s skin felt so lovely and cool.
Moran had offered to let Jim come closer, hadn’t he? When he thought Jim was cold?
“If you mind, I don’t want to hear it,” Jim mumbled, and he scooted closer. He threw a leg over Seb as though expecting resistance, then hesitated. He could take whatever he wanted, right? And this wasn’t snuggling or anything forbidden, it was just… practical. Because Seb was cooler.
And the fact that Jim felt a bit sickly and miserable despite the fun they’d had, well, if Sebastian was ever going to take advantage when Jim was tired he’d have done it already. So this was safe, right? It was allowed?
Jim was certain it was not, but resting his chin on Sebastian’s comfortable chest felt… good.
~
“I don’t mind,” Sebastian murmured, shifting ever so slightly to help Jim into a more comfortable position, after the wee bugger had crawled on top of him. Unlike the poikilothermic little reptile that he was, who usually came for warmth, but instead for… cooling off. The laws of nature had indeed taken a hit, and that was a bit disconcerting.
“Yes, it’s been quite uncomfortable over the past weeks,” Sebastian agreed with Jim’s observation regarding his body temperature, “but it’s gone now. For the moment anyway.” Just in time he stayed his hand before mimicking Caruso when she’d felt Jim’s forehead. “You do feel like you’re running a fever though.” What he didn’t say was that Jim also… smelled a bit different. Not sickly per se, but a bit … off. Was that a sign of the Change already? Sweet fucking Jesus, he hoped not.
However, for the moment it was Jim who felt like a furnace, and yet it was not unpleasant. His jaw and chin, despite the sharp edges and angles, had found a surprisingly comfortable position on Sebastian’s chest, and his limbs had wrapped themselves around Sebastian in a way that reminded him a bit of a gecko, an unusually hot-blooded one.
Sebastian’s hand rechecked the switch of the electric blanket to make sure it was off. No need for warmth at the moment. Jim’s weight settled down a bit, his breathing too, and Sebastian’s eyes drifted shut. What a strange position to be in. And yet it felt … ridiculously pleasant.
Maybe Jim’s reassurance had something to do with it, and Sebastian relaxed too, when he recalled it: that his value was more than the sum of his marketable parts. It generated a fuzzy cloud of warmth in his belly, and undeniable relief. Which was maybe a bit pathetic, because a mere few days ago it had been Jim who’d tortured him with a cruel lecture about his inexistent market value, should Jim Moriarty choose to cast him out. He had, repeatedly, played with Sebastian’s deepest fears, because of course he knew them – as he knew everyone’s.
“More even than a collection of warm holes?” Sebastian mumbled drowsily.
~
It shouldn’t really have mattered whether Sebastian minded Jim using him as furniture or not. But it felt good anyway, having permission, and Jim didn’t want to examine why. Moran had an unnerving manner of making Jim feel welcome and encouraged, as if he wasn’t already the master of all he surveyed and the blond’s submission meant something. Something that wasn’t simply that Seb did as Jim wanted because that was how Jim’s rules worked, but because Sebastian somehow enjoyed all of this.
Not just the fucking. These moments. When Jim felt sick and crawled on top of Seb, as if it wasn’t uncomfortable to be pinned and bored by harbouring a bundle of sharp bones on one’s chest. Sebastian’s cool skin was soothing, and despite the constant rattling of negative consequences running numbers in the back of Jim’s brain, telling him he knew better than to ever let his guard down or let anyone get close, Jim felt… safe. In a way that he certainly shouldn’t, with everything supernatural going on around here, on top of his treacherously unruly feelings.
Jim rubbed his cheek against Seb in acknowledgment when Sebastian reassured him that the discomfort of being so warm did eventually lessen. Which obviously it had to, if Seb was so nice and cool now. Or perhaps just a normal temperature.
Jim huffed at the mention of fever and pressed his hot forehead into Seb’s chest. Yes, he was feeling wretched. But Sebastian’s proximity helped, Christ help them.
Despite his instincts screaming impotently at Jim to move, Jim closed his eyes and felt his body relax into limpness, and he was on the edge of drowsing as he supposed it was odd, feeling like melting when he was being cooled down.
And then Sebastian spoke, his own voice relaxed and on the brink of sleep, in response to Jim’s comment about his value. More than even a collection of warm holes?
Of course. Possibly Moran was the only thing in the entirety of Jim’s empire that Jim couldn’t bear to be without ever again. And wasn’t that terrifying? A sore point, ripping open into a chasm of weakness and Jim just kept letting Moran dig deeper into him. It was all Jim’s rightful instincts could do to prevent Jim handing Seb a shovel and letting him tear up everything that made Jim invulnerable.
Jim should hate Sebastian, but he couldn’t even imagine what that would be like. And he’d always had a spectacular mind for seeing things he could build or destroy.
“You can’t trick me,” Jim mumbled. “You know what you are… I won’t let you ruin everything…”
He meant to nip Sebastian’s skin in warning, but as he drifted off the action was more like a kiss.
~
“I’d never…!” Sebastian mumbled, a sleepy smile in his voice. Imagine the nerve, trying to trick the smartest, most infamous, most vengeful man on the planet. Well… maybe he sometimes did, at his own peril and only ever with the best intentions, like getting Jim to eat, or rest.
Like now.
Cuddling wasn’t allowed of course, but surely… keeping Jim from cricking his neck or sliding off his perch in his sleep… didn’t count as such. It also wasn’t ridiculously cute how Jim had fallen asleep mid-nip, but his slightly parted lips against Sebastian’s skin was simply a good way to monitor his breathing, right?
Sebastian drifted off into a light sleep too, which was the very best excuse to not wake Jim from his slumber.
Sebastian awoke to pins and needles in his right arm, the uneasy feeling that if anything Jim’s temperature had increased, and the faint but still lingering scent of … sickness. Moving as little as possible, Sebastian worked the feeling back into his hand and gently ran the back of his fingers along Jim’s neck and the side of his forehead. It was glowing, and not with health.
“Jim?” Sebastian murmured, before realising the inappropriate address. Luckily, Jim didn’t stir and Sebastian corrected himself: “Boss?” A few good old-fashioned cold compresses seemed in order, but at the same time, Sebastian didn’t have the heart to unceremoniously dislodge the poor little bugger.
~
It was the urgent undercurrent in Seb’s tone more than anything else that prompted Jim to push away the heavy sleep which had taken him. Jim felt atrociously unrested, and whatever was lurking under his skin was sapping his energy in a way that felt parasitic more than super.
“Not so loud,” Jim complained, although he sort of remembered Sebastian hadn’t been all that loud at all.
Jim lifted his head reluctantly from Sebastian’s chest, grimacing at his damp hair and the loss of comfort. Not that Seb’s body was all that comfortably cool anymore, some of Jim’s unbearable body heat transferred to the man, but not so much that Jim felt at all better.
Jim rubbed at his face and pushed himself up with difficulty into a seated position. His limbs ached and he couldn’t quite find the energy to hold his head or shoulders up properly.
“What’s wrong?” Jim muttered.
Sebastian’s body language seemed off, but Jim’s head felt too foggy to process that. Before Seb could get much in the way of words out of his oddly pursed mouth, Jim cursed.
He massaged his eyelids with the heels of his hands, ignoring the rough skin, and said distractedly, “I told you to wake me up so I could work, didn’t I?”
Just the thought of weaving intricate plots or staring down mountains of nonsensical research made Jim’s head pound.
He didn’t really have a choice though, did he? The empire needed near constant attention and consideration - which Jim had been thoroughly neglectful of recently - and if Jim didn’t manage to rip the truth from the myths about their furry future… anything could happen. What if the changes were only cyclical at first? What if they became unpredictable? What if eventually the change into another creature was permanent?
Jim regretfully accepted that he’d have to suck up his wretchedness and get to work. Seb had managed to be more than a sorry mess into the first week, and he’d had sodding great gouge marks in his chest at the time.
Jim could handle a bit of computer time.
He dragged himself up against the headboard and nudged Seb.
“Get me my laptop, will you?” Jim said. “And… some cold water?”
Jim squinted at Sebastian’s face. The blond had shifted at his side, but his expression… Jim’s senses must have been more tangled than he realised, because it looked like Sebastian was considering telling him no.
~
Sebastian didn’t know what squeezed his heart more: How utterly wretched Jim looked, how he painfully struggled up to get working, or his assumption that Sebastian had woken him because he was such a good boy, following orders.
A badge he was about to lose. When Jim nudged him to go and fetch his laptop, Sebastian grimaced but didn’t budge. “Well, I will get you cold water…” he gently nudged Jim back, “but I don’t think you should be working.”
Jim blinked at him like a surprised owl, then he mumbled something about research and Sebastian sighed. Like Jim, he knew quite a lot about the ruthless self-exploitation of one’s body - and the consequences. Like his knee, which right now, as he was getting up, didn’t quite twinge as it usually did when getting out of bed. But there was no time for research on that right now.
“Listen, I know we don’t have many medically sound references in all this, but to me you look quite different to how I was feeling over the past weeks,” Sebastian tried to reason. “And with people next door ailing as well, why don’t we just assume you all have the friggin’ flu or something like that and are not about to collectively sprout tails and furry ears.”
Sebastian went to the bathroom. When he came back he handed Jim a glass of water, then he laid out a big bathing towel on one side of the bed and motioned Jim to move there. Then he made a second trip to the bathroom, soaked a bunch of smaller towels in cold water, wringing them out so they were damp but not dripping. He returned just in time to intercept Jim tottering towards the door.
“No no no.” Jim’s body felt hot and frail as Sebastian caught him by slinging his free arm around him and directed him back to the bed. Jim folded with a few feeble complaints but not much resistance as the back of his knees met the edge of the bed.
“C’mere,” Sebastian murmured as he gently made Jim lie down, “this will feel nice, and hopefully you’ll be able to sleep and I’ll consult with the doc about this… pestilence.”
He wrapped a damp towel – cool but not icy – around each of Jim’s lower legs, surreptitiously taking a brief whiff of the wounds on his feet. He smelled nothing alarming. The antibiotics were obviously doing their job, even if they did nothing against whatever bug circulated in their household.
“Where do you want these?” There were a few more towels. “Chest? Wrists?” He folded one up and offered to put it on Jim’s forehead.
As an afterthought, Sebastian reached under the bed and pulled the plug on the electric blanket.
~
Sebastian might not have said the word, but his refusal to fetch Jim’s laptop was mind boggling. Who the fuck did the jumped up fuck toy think he was?
For some strange reason instead of immediately shouting at the blond, Jim found himself explaining, drained and exasperated like he was dealing for some bizarre reason with a stupid child, that the work needed done. The research-
Moran had the audacity to sigh, and before Jim could draw up the words in his cottony mouth to deal with that, the prick then suggested Jim might be succumbing to the fucking flu. Like some sort of mortal man, with no iron will or empire to run.
Before Jim could tear into Sebastian for that insult, Seb wisely retreated for the water. Once returned, Jim drank from the glass gratefully despite his mood, and eyed the towel Seb asked him to move himself onto skeptically. Yes he was sick, but if Seb was worried about Jim spilling water on the bed why did he then fuck off back to the bathroom instead of hovering like he usually did?
Jim didn’t have time for this. He drank some more water then put the glass down. He stood up, feeling wobbly, and headed to the door to get his computer his own damned self mostly through the strength of his spite.
Sebastian said something that raised Jim’s eyebrows as he reached the door. And kept saying it. No. No no no.
Jim opened his mouth to protest, but Sebastian herded him back to his bed with such bewildering tenderness Jim couldn’t quite find his usual fire to put the bastard in his place. Sebastian had Jim lie down, and Jim found himself succumbing, and then Seb mentioned the fucking doctor and Jim remembered how to bristle.
“I’ve seen quite enough of doctors for one day!” he snapped. They were a necessary evil at times, especially when Seb was ill or injured, but Jim had already tolerated having blood drawn this morning and he was in no humour to tolerate anything else.
Sebastian cleverly placed a blessedly cool, damp towel on Jim instead of arguing and Jim made a soft noise of approval. That felt good. Really good. The corners of Jim’s eyes felt odd.
He blinked until he felt normal, biting his lip as Seb placed another cool towel, and clenched his fists. This felt bloody wonderful, and Jim had not a jot of time for the temptation.
Jim snatched for the folded towel Seb offered him, which would likely feel like heaven over his closed eyelids, and whipped at Sebastian with it instead.
“You need t’learn teh fuckin’ listen,” Jim snarled. He breathed out slowly, anger evident, and continued crisply, “I am not your fucking boyfriend, Moran. At this point you’re barely even worth being called an employee; you’re just my possession. At least a collection of holes wouldn’t think themselves important enough to try refusing me. I shouldn’t have to explain to you that it isn’t your fucking place to tell me no or obstruct the work that needs done-”
Jim firmly held up a hand as Sebastian looked tempted to protest.
“I know you’re trying to be helpful,” Jim said coolly. “And if I was another man perhaps I’d find it sweet. Precious, even. But I don’t have time to act like a common man; I have work to do. Work that won’t wait! So- so I need you to be on my side, and not an obstruction. I shouldn’t have to waste energy on an obstruction.”
Jim slouched down a little and held the towel to his forehead. It felt so good he had to swallow a whimper of relief.
“Go get my laptop, or get out of my sight and I’ll get it myself.”
Jim lifted the towel to regard Sebastian carefully.
“I’m not trying to hurt your little feelings or deny that these towels don’t feel fucking brilliant. But I don’t need this. What I need is to ensure work ticks over without issue and that you - we - are going to be okay. There’s no time for… this.”
Jim massaged his face tiredly. “I promised you. So get me my fucking laptop. Before you make Daddy really, really cross. I am trying to be patient, but as you can see, I’m not feeling very well.”
~
For a little while it looked like Jim would sensibly yield to his symptoms and the soothing and beneficial effects of Sebastian’s ministrations – until he started to ooze vitriol again. Which was probably so effective against any biohazards that Sebastian’s worries were completely unnecessary.
He pursed his lips, then pressed them together into a thin line. “Of course I’m not your boyfriend. Just your property selfishly keeping the hands that feeds me alive,” Sebastian mumbled, but without much venom. Jim’s wretched condition simply left him unable to feel angry or hurt – against which he had developed a fairly thick skin anyway. Especially since Jim did incorporate an apology of sorts.
“Well, I don’t see how much use you’ll be to your empire in this state, but what do I know,” Sebastian groused and continued to strategically place damp towels, noticing the little signs of relief Jim stubbornly tried to suppress. Sebastian got up and moved towards the door. “Just don’t move, I’ll get you your laptop.”
In doing so, he dragged his feet as much as he could, in the hope that the fractious patient might fall asleep until he got back. Unfortunately he didn’t know enough about gadgets to de-charge or otherwise disable digital devices that didn’t involve brute force, and that of course would only inflame Jim’s temper further.
He dawdled away a full ten minutes before he tiptoed back into the room with the laptop. He set it down on the bed by Jim’s side.
By now one of the towels was covering Jim’s face like a shroud. His chest was rising and falling, slowly, but reassuringly.
Sebastian refilled the empty glass on the night stand and stealthily settled down on the bed beside Jim. Keeping himself from touching and feeling the temperature of Jim’s skin, he realised he got a pretty good sense of it simply by being close. As much as a relief the cool towels could be, there might be a tipping point when the heat of the little skinny body would tip over into chills.
~
It felt oddly unpleasant when Sebastian agreed that he was not Jim’s boyfriend and Jim hated himself for it. Then told himself he wasn’t himself right now and that weakness didn’t count.
Sebastian lingered, adding some more wonderfully cool, damp towels, and softly grumbling the sacrilegious but glaringly obvious likelihood that Jim was too poorly to work. Jim did his best to ignore that too. It’s not like it was a choice - he was sick and the work needed doing, so he’d have to work whilst sick. You didn’t need genius to understand that.
Sebastian at least had enough good grace to agree to fetch Jim a laptop and rescued Jim from the wretched little journey it would have taken Jim to do it himself.
Although Seb seemed to take forever. Jim could have stumbled the whole way there and still been faster, surely? Or was he so poorly his sense of time passing was suffering?
The unwelcome question about what it would be like to have an actual boyfriend - and one blond in particular - malingered too. Jim tried to push it very far away, and frowned as he thought about his temper. If it was supposed to become even worse in the following weeks and Jim already felt miserable and snappish… he was likely to say something much more cutting than you’re not my boyfriend in the future. And the violence…
Jim had to break the habit of always lashing out, at least for now. Or find a way to communicate -to himself as much as Sebastian- when his attacks weren’t actually meant, to be able to step back before things escalated.
Jim groaned to himself and flopped the length of the towel over his head. It was a cool, grounding weight, but Jim still felt rather tempted to drown himself.
Eventually Jim noticed Seb’s return and set his jaw. He didn’t even want to work, but he had another chore to perform first, didn’t he?
“You are appreciated, you know,” Jim said disgustedly into the towel. Peeling it off of his face, he sat up to take his laptop, but flinched as his head spun a little. Bloody marvellous.
“I’m just grumpy,” Jim muttered in Sebastian’s direction, not looking at the man. He clutched his head and snatched for the computer, flopping with an uncomfortable lack of grace onto his stomach to open it whilst lying on the towels.
Everything hurt, and the instant the screen woke up Jim felt a deeper wave of resigned dread; just looking at the boot up screen made his head throb.
“You can go play, if you get bored,” Jim said, risking a glance over his shoulder at Seb. As an afterthought, he added, “Maybe stay within yelling distance? Not in the den or for a run?”
Because… Jim really didn’t feel good.
The home screen welcomed Jim and he started with his emails, organising and prioritising as best he could manage. He ought to focus on the more pressing issues, but he found himself tackling the low-hanging fruit; it was all he could do without properly engaging his foggy brain, and at least the reduction in the number of outstanding problems felt like some sort of progress.
Jim sat up after that, reaching for his water. He finally felt a bit cooler, and he pulled the warm laptop onto his stomach as he kicked away some towels.
Jim decided he’d had enough work for the time being and burrowed himself back into research. It made his head swim at the best of times trying to determine what sounded fictitious and really was, and what was as genuinely supernatural as their recent experiences.
“You know I’m not one for safe words,” Jim found himself saying, and that felt farcical too, “but is there something I can do or say in the next few weeks if I… hurt… you… your… fucking feelings?” Jim rolled his jaw uncomfortably. “I imagine I am going to say a great deal to you that won’t be pleasant, or meant, or even deserved.”
Jim tried to scowl at his screen, but found himself searching Moran’s face instead. “Is there anything you need me to… not do? Or do? If things get… explosive?”
~
Sebastian tilted his head, but still wasn’t sure whether he’d misheard the muffled words through the towel. But when Jim peeled it off and the disgusted look on his pinched face like chewing something very distasteful dispelled the doubts – he was apologizing… again.
Which made Sebastian feel pleased and worried at the same time.
Everything over the last weeks, and days, and particularly the last twenty-four hours had been a roller-coaster ride of such increasing intensity, that it left even someone addicted to hair-raising roller-coaster rides somewhat ...exhausted.
Stretching out on his side of the bed, Sebastian watched Jim work, now and again nudging a damp towel over the side of the bed as Jim discarded them. It was difficult to tell whether he was getting better; it might simply be the glow of the laptop screen that deepened the unhealthy tinge on his face.
“I’m your bodyguard, not a toddler,” Sebastian murmured placidly when Jim allowed him to go play, secretly glad Jim admitted to wanting him not too far away.
What Jim said next brought him back from sleepy to fully alert. Safe words? Now slight worry did become slight alarm, because that either meant Jim was now making even preemptive apologies, or contingency plans in case he found himself unable to keep his word regarding not seriously harming Sebastian. Or rather his… ah yes, his pesky little feelings.
“Are you … proposing to install a safe word in case of undue emotional cruelty?” Sebastian’s brow furrowed with the attempt to keep up with what was happening here. His eyes flickered over to Jim with a cautious glance, before they suddenly seemed to find the folds in some random pillow so captivating they warranted a concentrated scrutiny. “Well, what am I supposed to say – ‘Rosebud’? ‘Snowflake’?” There was the merest hint of sarcasm in his voice, but it was strangely gentle.
He was talking to the man who with his tongue alone could flay your soul and dignity and feelings with the same cruel efficiency as using a knife upon your body. But who obviously acknowledged how the first could even be more damaging than the latter, and somehow found himself obliged to offer some sort of… safeguard. A bit awkward and fumbling and … and probably for the first time in his life.
And Sebastian felt his heart trip and melt into a fucking puddle.
’Then just don’t say those things’ would have been the thing to tell a normal, ordinary person, but they both knew that was not how Jim worked. He was different, as he’d explained himself. He was erratic, at times psychotic, with a sadistic streak a mile wide, and because he was who he was, he didn’t bother much about impulse control, or take any precautions for when it failed.
Until… Sebastian.
It was like witnessing an inhuman struggle to see him … admitting that, so before he could regret it, Sebastian turned onto his side to face him. “Well, I know it might happen, right, and I’ll deal with it… I’ve managed so far.” Still, this was not carte blanche, not quite. “Just maybe … don’t let the sun set on it?” Sebastian wasn’t high maintenance – not in that regard anyway. Jim could be horrid, he knew that. He lived with it, and a few mumbled words from the little fucker were enough to set the world to right. Whether that was pathetic or not – it was enough.
The corner of Sebastian’s mouth curved imperceptibly when he realised he’d literally quoted a fucking bible verse on Jim Moriarty. Then again, there was a silver crucifix lying on the side table Jim had entrusted his life to.
“And,” Sebastian added after a brief pause, “no fucking around with threats of sending me away.”
~
Despite how he felt, Jim’s lips quirked at Sebastian’s assertion that he wasn’t a toddler.
“Compared to me, you’re all about as bright as toddlers,” Jim muttered wryly. He glanced at Seb. “I tend to think of you as a reasonably bright pet if that’s any comfort.”
Jim’s amusement dropped starkly as the conversation focused itself on safe words and undue emotional cruelty.
“Yes,” Jim said simply. Seb didn’t seem too impressed by that, so Jim turned slightly away from his laptop and tried to find the words to best communicate his reasoning.
“As much as I don’t relish the thought of us coming to significant blows later in the month, I trust that you are capable of defending yourself reasonably well… and… that we are both wired in such a way that a physical fight might resolve itself into a bout of hate-fucking,” Jim said matter-of-factly.
He glanced away, touching his keyboard absently and shrugged uncomfortably. “It’s not like you have as much of an equal footing with the things I say. I know I can be… vicious, and manipulative, and it’s not like you could argue back without provoking me further, which won’t help if we’re both… on edge.”
Jim scoffed at Sebastian’s safe words suggestions and gave the man a mild glare to admonish Seb to take things seriously.
“I wondered more whether… there were things you would find particularly comforting, reassuring, that… even if I say something that rings true, if I twist it until it properly hurts, it’s… not real. I’m just angry. I… wouldn’t really keep you around if I truly believed the worst things I say, would I?”
Jim pinched the bridge of his nose tiredly. It felt horribly vulnerable, talking this way, but how worse would it be… if Moran ever wanted to leave? If Jim said or did something harmful that the man couldn’t tolerate?
“I’m only being selfish, you know,” Jim said dryly, glancing to Seb then glowering at the computer. “I just hate the thought of some infuriating ‘new guy’ bumbling about the place if I had to replace you.”
Jim was quiet for a beat, then he twitched his shoulder in response to Sebastian’s assertion that he always managed to deal with Jim’s cruelty, and not to let the sun set on it.
“I told you,” Jim mumbled, “I want you in my bed-” he made a face and gestured to their surroundings “-or at least, sleeping at my side, every night. No matter what I say to you, what I do to you, how mad I am at you… or… us at each other…. If we’re still sharing a bed, there’s still an element of trust, right? I… fully expect that… sometimes, I might… push you, and… you might not be okay with it, and you might need… space…”
Jim groaned and slapped the laptop closed. “I don’t know! You know I’m not good at… bonding, or empathy, or… whatever. I’m horrible and I’m terrible and if it wasn’t for our chemistry surely even you would have the sense not to involve yourself in something so inherently dangerous as to tie yourself to me of all people.” Jim took a deep breath and said tightly, “But since you are this stupid and I promised to try to look after you, I’m… trying.”
Jim was simmering, his physical and emotional discomfort making him want to tear holes in the fabric of the bedding he found himself twisting in his fingers. He hated this. He hated not knowing what to do or say or being without the upper hand and doing this of his own fucking volition was atrocious and-
No fucking around with threats of sending me away.
Jim scoffed tightly and cuffed Sebastian’s arm. “Then stop putting me in positions where I can’t rightly justify keeping you around, you cunt.”
Jim chewed his lip. “I do think we’ll need to give each other space in the last week and maybe earlier. So we don’t kill each other. But I’ve sent you on jobs for longer. It will only feel odd because we’ve been living in each other’s pockets. And once you’re working properly again you’ll be used to having some independence back anyway. It’s not going to be a punishment… it’s to keep you -us- safe.”
~
As well as Sebastian might be able to physically hold his own against Jim, he was rather defenceless against his cruel verbal attacks.
“Oh I do know quite well what you mean,” Sebastian said with the hint of a smile as Jim tried to explain this to him. “I am a reasonably bright pet after all.” Which should make his pride bristle, instead it purred, a traitor, appeased by the smallest morsel of a compliment, as long as it came from Jim.
As he continued, Jim’s tortured effort to communicate grew almost painful to witness. It was like watching someone – metaphorically – peel the flesh and skin off his soul. But it was also, to Sebastian’s ears, a bit like ... listening to poetry.
No matter what I say to you, what I do to you, how mad I am at you… or… us at each other…. If we’re still sharing a bed, there’s still an element of trust…
“Yes.” Sebastian nodded - Jim seemed to be grasping exactly what he had meant.
That there needed to be some… reset button, some way for Sebastian to know that whatever Jim said or what had passed between them, it did not touch their foundation. That, even if Jim screamed blue murder, he still wanted him – by his side, in his bed, in his life.
And Jim tried to give Sebastian that reassurance, not just some cheap advance apology for foul moods and appalling behaviour (well, maybe a bit of that too, the little fucker). Jim Moriarty was literally the master of everything, except his own temper and his dark and cruel impulses, and he not only admitted that, but also the fact that for once he was mindful of the possible consequences and that their horrific destructive potential needed curbing.
Because he cared for the man who was reasonably bright yet stupid enough to follow him home and stay. Put it down to chemistry – after all a much more innocuous explanation than … fate. Or even more unspeakable reasons.
Sebastian snorted softly as Jim punched him. Yes, he would try his best as well, keep trying to not give Jim any reasons to send him away – not the sending-away on assignment, or to a safe house or panic room, but the sort that would entail an infuriating ‘new guy’ bumbling about the place. The thought alone made Sebastian reflexively bare his teeth.
Then Jim started fretting again about how to get two were creatures towards the full moon and beyond without them killing each other.
“You’re right,” Sebastian agreed with the concepts of space and independence and precautions. “But … we won’t solve that problem tonight, and we don’t have to. Let’s sleep?” he suggested with a yawn. From Jim’s side of the bed he could hear and feel a bit of dissent simmering. But in the end, this day had been so long it felt like a week, and they were both beyond tired.
Jim kept fidgeting for a bit, the damp towels ending up on the floor, except one, which he draped over his forehead, but eventually he settled down.
Sebastian’s eyes had already closed, when he heard a mumbled, “Night, tiger.”
Sebastian hummed a reply, a sleepy smile in his voice. He had gotten comfortable as well, not too close to Jim to be intrusive, but hopefully close enough to sense if Jim got worse during the night.
“That’s a good … word actually,” he murmured.
“When you’re saying it I mean.” Not a safe word, but a … reverse safe word?
Tiger. It was barely a day, since Jim had bestowed that name on him, for obvious reasons, but it already felt as lived-in and cosy and comfortable as a favourite garment.
It had a nice ring to it. Of fondness and warmth, and Sebastian was sure Jim could utter it in an infinitive number of ways - praising or teasing, chilling, sharp or seductive, and scolding of course …
But not hateful or truly venomous.
Jim calling him Tiger meant that the world - theirs anyway - was basically alright, no matter how it might look or feel.
~
Jim felt a horrifying wave of affection when Sebastian’s response to being called a cunt was only to snort softly. Comfortably.
Who was the last person who’d been that comfortable with the scoldings of Jim Moriarty? Certainly no one since Jim had established himself.
Sebastian’s amusement dipped when Jim mentioned a replacement live-in bodyguard, and that didn’t help either. The way Seb grimaced made Jim want to kiss the discomfort from the man’s face, promise him that Jim never wanted anyone else, and thank Christ that Jim felt too poorly to act on that terrible impulse, because nothing good could come of such fucking stupidity.
At least Jim had enough other problems to occupy him. He was almost surprised when Sebastian agreed easily enough that Jim was right about the need for precautions, but of course Seb had a catch: they weren’t going to solve anything tonight, so might as well sleep. Jim hated that Sebastian had a point, even if his miserably aching muscles agreed with the man.
Jim half-heartedly argued the entirely true point that he had far too much work to do to succumb to sleep (or indeed this horrible sickness), but Seb was already yawning and even as Jim reached for the laptop to continue working, he found himself putting it aside instead. His stomach grumbled and he ignored it, lest he end up the size of a house, and kicked at the towels in annoyance instead.
Sebastian didn’t say anything, but Jim knew he was keeping the man awake. He felt an odd twinge of guilt at that; Seb had been through a lot lately and he was supposed to be returning to some of his usual duties tomorrow. He’d need a good night’s rest.
Jim lowered himself stiffly onto his side and tried to find a comfortable position. He murmured a goodnight to Sebastian, but opened his eyes when the man responded with more than a sleepy agreement.
Jim rolled onto his back, but didn’t quite turn enough to look at the man. “What, a pet name?” Jim scoffed. His stomach felt odd. Calling Seb Tiger was a bit more personal than the collection of semi-mocking, generic endearments Jim generally used for the man.
Jim risked a glance at Sebastian and put a condescending tone in his voice as he added, “If you don’t find it too on the nose, Sebby, then fill your boots, tiger.” Jim rolled his eyes, but when his gaze settled back on Seb the blond didn’t look remotely exasperated, just comfortable and half asleep.
Jim sighed and pushed at Sebastian even though the man wasn’t really crowding him. “Just go to sleep,” Jim grumbled softly. He noticed Seb was warm to the touch again and glanced down at his arm; the fine, dark hairs along Jim’s forearm stood on edge. The cool towels had worked, bringing down the feverishly high temperature.
Jim pulled on Seb’s faded sweatshirt and tried not to think about how much he enjoyed wearing the ugly thing.
There was movement at Jim’s back and he had an alarming moment thinking Seb had lost his fucking mind and was about to pull Jim against his front to share his body heat, but Seb wisely only moved the covers, throwing the duvet over Jim’s legs.
Jim tried to ignore the sliver of disappointment that tainted his feeling of relief. It was shameful and poorly advised enough that Jim had spooned Seb already without letting the big brute return the favour.
Jim tried to sleep, but even exhausted as he was, it was a struggle. His brain was foggy and sore but refused to quieten, and Jim was hyper aware of Sebastian’s proximity and scent as the big man slept beside him.
Jim’s chill didn’t last and he kicked his side of the duvet away quietly. At least he didn’t get hot enough to rip the jumper back off too. That was an improvement, right?
Jim wasn’t sure when he actually fell asleep, but when the spring sunshine crept over his face it felt like a personal slight. They hadn’t lowered Seb’s blinds before sleeping last night and the brightness felt deeply unpleasant. As did Jim’s head. And his skin.
Jim rolled away, turning his back on the blasted brightness, and found himself closer to Sebastian than expected. Jim blinked, and Seb didn’t look too fond of the daylight either, but he seemed more rested than Jim felt and looked at him with a disturbingly analytical expression.
“I’m fine,” Jim growled, lying through his teeth even though he could feel that his skin was flushed enough to be noticeable. He pulled off his -Sebastian’s- top and threw it at the blond.
“Enjoy catching up with your little friends today, but make sure you don’t overdo it. And bring me fucking breakfast before you disappear for hours; I’m fucking starving.”
Jim’s stomach snarled loudly in agreement and Jim grimaced a bit at that. It was one thing complaining; quite another for his body to be in vocal agreement. This was all fucking Moran’s fault.
Jim snatched for one of the leftover biscuits and glared a challenge at Seb to dare say anything about Jim’s recent appetite.
At least he wasn’t craving raw meat yet.