Unpolished
Once again, Sebastian had slept better than these past weeks. Was that part of the … cycle? The beastly idiosyncrasies abating a bit after the turn, to build up again over the next four weeks? They were not entirely gone though. Usually a morning person, he threw a mildly hostile glance towards the slanting bright sunlight, then a longer, scrutinising one, towards Jim.
Who did not look well rested and instead still a bit feverish, which, this early in the day, did not bode well. But god did he look fucking cute, tousled hair and drowning in a faded blue jumper. Of course, never ever could Sebastian let this be known, nor the weird, silly, proprietary tingle it sparked inside him.
But maybe Jim sensed something - or maybe he was just feeling hot again - because with a glare he yanked the garment off and threw it at Sebastian. Who caught it with a grin, finding it hard to resist burying his face in it to revel in Jim’s scent. Instead he sloppily folded it and put it down within Jim’s reach, should he want it again later.
Sebastian acknowledged Jim’s surly claim he was fine with a nod, but not even trying to look like he believed it. The untypical appetite of the little anorectic, normally something to celebrate, reminded Sebastian of Jim’s ominous conviction that he was to turn into a stripy menace as well. As if dealing with him needed to become any more tricky!
“Well, I will enjoy returning to my duties and earning my keep,” Sebastian admitted. Jim wasn’t entirely wrong that lately he hadn’t been exactly an asset in that regard. “But first I’ll get us breakfast.” He stretched languidly and got up. “Although I have no intention to disappear for hours.” Had Jim sounded… a little bit querulous at that prospect?
“Any special requests?” He recalled they still didn’t have a kitchen, but there was one next door, and a cook.
Jim mumbled something like, “Anything, just enough of it,” while rolling to the least sunny part of the bed.
Sebastian threw on some clothes and went downstairs. He rang next door to relay Jim’s wishes to Caruso, then the kitchen outfitters to hasten their efforts. They had ordered the appliances already and promised to send someone over today for measuring.
Half an hour later two of the day team appeared like a delegation of footmen, carrying two laden breakfast trays, and Sebastian made two trips to carry them upstairs. Jim was already digging in and Sebastian poured tea for them both. Then he eased himself back into bed again and perused the selection. His tiger self must indeed be slumbering, because he found himself starting with the porridge – a dish he had a conflicted relationship with, because it reminded him of boarding school, none too fondly. But Caruso’s concoction had managed to turn this around. It was steaming under a melting crust of butter, cream and brown sugar, and had nothing to do with the sort of bland, slimy mush that would have given him PTSD-like flashbacks.
~
Jim was certain there was something distinctly insubordinate in the way Seb grinned at having his own jumper thrown at him, but he didn’t have the energy to do anything about it. The fact that Jim liked how Seb’s eyes shone when he was up to mischief made Jim a bit more uneasy than he already felt.
Still, Sebastian actually folding an item of clothing without being told to was a nice change, even if there was a distinct lack of military crispness to the folds. Jim felt a further wave of pleasure when Seb placed the sweatshirt near him, free for further use, and Jim had to remind himself that he was not becoming the sort of person to… well, to adopt the oversized clothing of the man one was screwing. Although Jim didn’t hand the thing back either. He was sick, and his defences were down!
So it was a good thing Sebastian didn’t argue when Jim insisted he was fine, because Jim got especially cranky when he felt vulnerable. It was probably best that Seb was out of the way for some of today, if Jim’s symptoms weren’t going to let up.
Jim smiled in relief when Seb agreed to breakfast, sinking back into the pillows, but then looked over quizzically as Seb said that although he was looking forward to returning to his normal duties, he didn’t intend to be gone for long.
“Surely you’re glad to slip the leash for a bit?” Jim murmured. “I’m overbearing even when I don’t feel wretched, and you’ve been stuck with me longer than most.”
Sebastian looked at him oddly.
Jim made a face. “Don’t get excited, I still expect you to behave next door,” he told Seb, although they both knew Sebastian would hardly slip the leash in front of other people anyway.
Jim pushed at Seb so he would stop looking at him. “Feed me, I am fading away and if I lose corporeal form I’ll be able to torment you in even more ways than I do already.”
Sebastian’s lips twitched at that, and he had the decency to ask what Jim wanted to eat. Jim made himself comfortable in the least horribly bright and hot part of the bed and murmured a response.
Sebastian threw on some clothes and that surprised him; Jim expected Seb to shower and take care of his appearance for his first day back. Sebastian surprised him further by disappearing as soon as he’d brought him breakfast, only to return with his own.
Jim cracked a small smile. He’d expected Seb to want to eat with the team, and it felt nice that the man had chosen not to. Had chosen to be beside Jim instead, even though they’d been practically glued at the hip of late and Jim wasn’t really on top form today.
Jim tore into his breakfast with less manners than usual. If Seb felt like airing any complaints about it Jim would remind him of Seb’s habit of eating raw bacon right out of the fridge. Jim’s own appetite was more voracious than anything he’d known in years.
Still, when he was finally full he picked up one last morsel and held it out. Sebastian looked at him, but then obligingly snapped it up. Jim hid a smile. Just because he’d grown to enjoy the intimacy of sharing his food with the man didn’t mean he had to broadcast his foolish feelings all over the place.
Jim rubbed idly at his throat. He could do with a shave, and a shower, but had the motivation for neither. Perhaps he ought save his energy for working. He might actually be able to make up for lost time without Seb around to distract him, although his various aches felt likely to fight such efforts.
He really ought to get up. There was a lot to do.
Instead Jim leaned in to nip lightly at Seb’s neck. Sebastian let him, and Jim slid a possessive hand under the man’s top. He wasn’t certain why; he was far too poorly to do anything vigorous.
“Don’t be gone all day, will you?” Jim grumbled into Sebastian’s shoulder.
~
Sebastian snapped up the last piece of bacon dangling in front of his nose like any good pet would, and was rewarded by the crunching succulence in his mouth, but even more so by the delight dancing in Jim’s eyes. Not so much teasing as… Well, whatever it was, it should have mentally prepared Sebastian for - -
Well, it had not.
He froze mid-chew when Jim snuggled closer, groping little paw sidling up Sebastian’s bare chest. The hand, and the fact that it was warm for change, was only responsible for part of the shock. More so it was the silly exultation Jim’s request sparked in him, and the intriguing tone, decidedly grumbly and pleading at the same time.
“Of course I won’t, I’d want to look out for you, wouldn’t I?” Sebastian couldn’t refrain from nuzzling Jim’s hair, and barely from stroking his shoulder and pulling him closer.
He’d learned how anything resembling tenderness could horrifically blow up in your face. So Sebastian settled for pressing just his thigh a bit more against Jim’s. The Maginot line of the little sociopath was not entirely static, but Sebastian assumed it to be somewhere between his hip and sternum. Any ventures north were allowed by invitation only.
“I’ll only set the state of high alert back to normal, and see how the endemic situation is over there.” He didn’t seem in a hurry though, maybe due to the fact that Jim wasn’t either. “And I’d never slip the leash in public,” Sebastian added with a little smile. He’d only do that in private, between the two of them. The consequences were slightly less detrimental, and more enjoyable in nature.
~
Jim was surprised by the tenderness Sebastian showed him, and couldn’t bring himself to protest because… well it was comforting, for reasons best not examined. Because he didn’t normally like people in his personal space, proximity always had to be on his own terms, and he absolutely hadn’t ever had this sort of tactile relationship with any of Moran’s predecessors.
Jim decided the best course of action was to pretend he hadn’t noticed anything wrong. If Seb dared suggest that Jim had then pressed a fraction closer Jim would deny it.
“Looking out for me against deadly threats, yes. I’m not going to keel over in your absence,” he muttered, although his body seemed to want him to at least wish death was imminent.
Jim looked up curiously. “Don’t you get bored, stuck here all day? You like people much more than I do.” It didn’t need said that people tended to like Seb better than Jim Moriarty too.
Jim found himself relaxing a sliver when Sebastian voiced his intention for his first day’s itinerary to be a short one. Although it shouldn’t really matter: Jim had research to do, so he would be entirely occupied, and it’s not like Jim had ever been clingy before. Had he? If he’d gotten needy as a poorly child he couldn’t remember it.
Was this because Seb mattered to him? He felt vulnerable so he wanted the blond close? Or… was this an animal thing? Was Jim already starting to lose his higher faculties, responding emotionally instead of with reason?
Jim could barely manage a flat chuckle when he considered the possibility of a tiger endemic. “Christ, I hope it’s not spreading. I’ve got some good people there.”
Well, they were all more than good, Jim didn’t tolerate anyone but the best in general and certainly not with his personal security staff. But Jim had gotten out of the habit of constantly finding replacements after losing his temper, and was starting to realise what a pain and waste of his time having to regularly do so happened to be. Staffing had been so much more stable since Seb arrived, and the thought of having to replace everyone next door if they tore each other apart with claws and teeth might have given Jim a headache even if he didn’t have one already.
Jim considered absently. “I know some of the men are big, but I think Caruso could take them, if it came to a fight for territory. I’m not sure I can picture her killing the team though, more like scruffing them and trying to corral them in a basket like kittens.”
He had such a peculiar habit of voicing his stream of consciousness to Seb instead of the usual exhausting weighing of consequences. Almost like Sebastian was an extension of himself. Perhaps that would explain why Jim tolerated him so readily.
And why the thought of being separated was unsettling.
Jim managed a small smile as Seb promised to be a good boy where other people could see him. That certainly made life easier, but it also felt oddly pleasant that Sebastian’s mischief was just for him. Or both of them, really. Theirs.
Jim dropped his head back to Seb’s shoulder. He was definitely losing his marbles.
He scratched Sebastian’s torso and grumbled, “Just as well, because I’d have to get very creative with punishments now you heal like some comic book character.” Seb didn’t squirm nearly as much as yesterday’s game merited, and Jim sighed. “It frustrates me no end that the one time I go easy on someone they fucking have supernatural healing powers.”
Jim paused. Was that too honest? But Seb knew he wasn’t like the others, right?
~
“Life isn’t fair,” Sebastian conceded. “But… I got the distinct impression you like being creative.” He couldn’t help but smile, and abstained from more cocky remarks. Only because Jim was currently not in the mood, and even with Sebastian’s new healing feature, didn’t mean he couldn’t come up with a myriad of ways to truly fuck him up. The memories of the other day when Jim had described it to him in vivid, scary detail were too fresh to get presumptuous…
But there’d been something else: almost sounding like an admission that there were more reasons than the tedium of finding a replacement that curbed Jim’s most violent, savage impulses. That had never stopped him before, hadn’t it? With others. And he might call it being a responsible owner or whatever he liked, it might mean he cared for Sebastian? Or something akin to it. To the extent and in the twisted way the wirings of a psychopath allowed it. At least that’s what Sebastian liked to think. Of course, to make a remark to that effect would likely trigger the little bastard to fly into his face and claw it off just to prove how wrong he was.
For now though, Jim’s nails raking gently over his rapidly healing cuts and welts made Sebastian squiggle a bit and his eyes close for a moment, blissfully.
“Well, maybe see it as a … bonus?” he suggested. “Whenever you feel like experimenting -” Jim was, at heart, a scientist, and his curiosity dark and twisted “ - or when I’ll inevitably misstep, … I'm more likely to survive it, and with less lasting damage than anyone else.”
He slightly rubbed his scratchy cheek against Jim’s hair (no hands, so hopefully, that was okay), recalling the note of surprise in Jim’s voice earlier.
Don’t you get bored, stuck here all day? You like people much more than I do.
You’re one of them too? Sebastian thought, and, insanely enough, the one I like most.
“And no,” he said instead, “I won’t get bored staying here and making sure you don’t keel over. That’s about all the excitement I can take after the last forty eight hours.”
And if Jim stayed where he was, head resting on his shoulder, Sebastian would postpone even that short trip next door… indefinitely.
~
Jim huffed, a wry smile curling his lips despite how unpleasant he felt. “You might be right… sometimes.” Jim nipped at Sebastian’s neck hard enough to make the big blond jump and curse.
“I’m not adverse to simple pleasures either,” Jim said brightly, dark eyes twinkling. Sebastian touched the circle of teethmarks now decorating his neck and gave him a dry look.
Jim blithely manhandled Seb back into a position that was comfortable to lean against. Sebastian made a noise suspiciously like a sigh but made himself pliant. Jim licked Seb’s throbbing skin in acknowledgment and possibly appeasement.
Sebastian let him, and Jim recommenced scratching affectionately at Seb’s torso like the man really was some sort of big cat. By the way Seb wriggled nearer and smiled, closing his eyes despite his proximity to Jim’s teeth, it was clear the man enjoyed the touch. Jim enjoyed this too. All of the moments like this.
Sebastian chose that moment to suggest his supernatural healing might be more of a boon than a bane. Jim considered that, but something in his chest twisted when the man suggested it made him more protected against the damage Jim might feel provoked to inflict sometimes. Jim didn’t know how to respond to that, because there was suddenly a lump in his throat at the thought that he might not inevitably end up alone again when he eventually lost his temper violently. That Sebastian might be okay. Safe, even around him.
No one else in Seb’s position had survived before. But then, no one else had Jim’s feelings in knots the way Moran could achieve quite guilelessly.
Jim suddenly felt… guilty? As Seb reminded him how little rest he had managed recently. How much he’d been through.
“Sorry,” Jim said, because that was what you were supposed to say when your belly felt tight and you realised you’d been self-absorbed at the detriment of someone who… mattered, right?
“Are you… Have you had enough rest?” Jim asked awkwardly. He pulled away to try to look Sebastian over critically.
“I didn’t mean to get distracted,” Jim said quietly, brushing Seb’s hair out of his face. The man’s skin didn’t feel as warm as usual, but the stickiness of Jim’s cheek where he’d stuck it to Sebastian earlier made it clear to him that he was the one whose temperature was atypical.
“I’m not… used to having someone else around to take into account the way I have you,” Jim admitted, toying with Seb’s hair because it was easier than meeting his eyes. “Most of my interactions with other people are premeditated, but with you… you’re always here so I… I’m not as polished with you.”
Although it wasn’t really Seb’s proximity that made Jim lower his guard and accept the man’s presence as not requiring the intricate performances of ‘Jim Moriarty’ that almost everyone else received.
“Tell me if I push you too much or… expect too much of you, too soon,” Jim said, braving Sebastian’s gaze. “You can’t do your job properly if I work you too hard.”
That reasoning, of course, only applied to Daddy’s favourite. Jim certainly had a considerable amount of work to do today, regardless of how poorly he felt.
~
“I am -” starting to truly worry about that bug. Sebastian stopped that slipping out, because it would have been a bit unfair. Jim had been tolerant towards him for weeks, Sebastian had just been too caught up in his malady, its symptoms and worries, to truly grasp how much out of character that was for Jim. “I am going to tell you if I’m feeling overworked.” To make doubly sure that didn’t sound snippy, he quietly added: “It’s much appreciated. The last four weeks too.” He’d seen what Jim normally did to people who didn’t function the way he needed them to and ceased to be a good return of investment.
Sebastian was used to working hard and to ruthlessly push himself, especially physically - it was part and parcel of the type of military career he’d had. And although he still put an effort into keeping fit and well trained, it was safe to say that the challenges in the employ of Jim Moriarty were different, and other limits that kept getting pushed.
He stretched, in order to make the most satisfying contact with Jim’s nails, and also to tilt his head enough to look at him. It was a rare thing to catch a glimpse of … uncertainty on it, as Sebastian did now. Who knew even Jim Moriarty needed a bit reassurance now and then? But that was the thing: no one but Sebastian was allowed to see that, and it fanned the glow of protectiveness inside him. And pride and the thrilled realisation that indeed he must be special to Jim.
“I don’t want premeditated or polished,” he murmured. “Let that be for everyone else.”
Jim stirred, wriggling into a more comfortable position, and unprompted Sebastian shifted accordingly to accommodate him. He loved these little domestic spells, as much as the undercurrent of danger Jim reminded him of whenever he got too complacent.
A smile tugged at the corner of Sebastian’s mouth, while he felt the bite mark on his neck throb.
~
Jim nodded slowly. “Good man. If you’re game enough to manage this job-” being around me “-then the least I can do is make sure you’re looked after.”
Sebastian seemed relatively pleased with that, but there was an odd mix of worry and protectiveness marking his face too.
Before Jim could remind Seb that he was fine, Sebastian softly responded to Jim’s pseudo-apology about polish. The thing Seb was being given less and less, as even Jim’s consequences of doom were increasingly disregarded in favour of blurting out whatever came into his head, like… like a normal, brainless person.
The type Seb got along with so well. Although surely it said something that Sebastian could get along with Jim at all, when so many couldn’t?
Sebastian’s assertion that he didn’t want Jim to go to that extra effort he had to for everyone else, the heavy implication being that Sebastian was quite happy with the rawer, clumsier, realer version of Jim Moriarty was… powerful enough that Jim had to bury his face in Seb’s shoulder for a moment. Jim wanted to say something witty and flippant to detract from how seriously he was taking the comment, but that lump was back in his throat making it impossible to say anything at all.
Jim didn’t understand it.
Not for the first time he thought of the fairy tale cures he repeatedly encountered on his research into Sebastian’s malady. True love’s kiss was said to be one of the most powerful of all, but…
It had felt like love, when Sebastian kissed Jim in the kitchen. But Seb had transformed into a tiger anyway, so for all Jim resigned himself to believing the terrible attachment he felt to Moran was love, it couldn’t truly be reciprocated, even if Seb himself seemed to maybe… well, when he had kissed Jim, it had felt like Seb thought that he… felt… that way. For reasons Jim could hardly believe, and he must be right, because otherwise the kiss would have worked, wouldn’t it?
Whether Jim initiated or not, whether he let himself accept it or not, magic knew, didn’t it? You couldn’t trick it, couldn’t lie to it. Whatever the secrets of your soul, magic knew, so whatever Jim felt… it wasn’t enough. It was foolishness.
Which meant lover’s tears wouldn’t work either, even if Jim could manage to make himself weep.
But what was this, if it wasn’t really love? Why did Jim feel… all that he did?
Was Sebastian his friend? Was that why Jim valued his companionship so highly? It wasn’t like Jim had much experience of true friendship to compare with.
But wasn’t friendship a sort of love too? Hadn’t there been tales where true love’s kiss had come from a friend or family member?
Was Jim simply so defective that whatever he suspected was love was not enough? Psychopaths were reputedly incapable of love in the usual sense. Jim had never been entirely certain whether that was truly all that was wrong with him, but perhaps whatever supernatural magic had nestled within Seb’s blood - within the blood of them both - knew for certain: Jim Moriarty was not capable of a love that was worth having. He couldn’t save Seb with it.
So Jim would have to use his obvious gift, his big brain, and find a cure with that. Because if Seb killed him when they both turned, how would Jim ever be able to keep his promise to ensure Sebby was okay?
~
Sebastian had expected a snippy remark, something along the lines that he would see what this got him – so unhesitatingly opting out of having that buffer zone that wasn’t only a protective layer for Jim himself, but – believe it or not - also for the people he dealt with.
Sebastian was basically settling down right in front of a roaring fireplace after happily, gormlessly removing the screen and said burn me.
How could he not? It was a place of honour and privilege and … there was nowhere else he'd rather be.
But the remark never came. None at all. He couldn’t see Jim’s face either, as it was hidden against his shoulder. But he could sense … - he was at a loss what it was that he felt in that light, wiry body nestling against his own. Like powerful turbulences not breaking the surface. Just breathing and heartbeat. Apart from that Jim was entirely still.
Sebastian became aware that his fingertips gently, slowly stroked from Jim’s hairline down to the nape of his neck, and whatever the bloody consequences might be, now he did put his arm around Jim’s shoulders. They were stiff with tension. Nothing else happened for a long while.
Then, infinitesimally slow, the tension started to leave. Not entirely, but enough to make Sebastian rest his chin on top of Jim’s head, very lightly.
“Each to their own basket,” he murmured. “You know – the tiger plague next door.” Jim was right - Caruso would sort them out…
No - with polished and premeditating Jim, Sebastian would never be privy to these loopier and unguarded ramblings of Jim’s mind, and he wouldn’t want miss that for the world. And everything else that came with being gloriously, perilously close to the fire.
~
Jim felt deeply conflicted by the appearance of Sebastian’s fingers in his hair. The gesture was soothing and unsettling all at once.
Because almost no one touched Jim Moriarty without permission.
There used to be fighting of course, but that was familiar and for the most part rare these days. Generally Sebastian would intervene, and being touched by your bodyguard in the line of his duty was hardly for pleasure. Even if they did tend to fuck afterwards. But then, hadn’t Jim fantasised when he was younger about having someone caring who would violently protect him? Jim did have a nasty habit of getting into danger just to watch Seb get them out of it.
It wasn’t like any of that was tender though.
Caruso touched Jim, now and again. A hand on his shoulder, a brief smoothing of his hair, brushing something from his suit. Those touches weren’t without a familiar sort of affection - Jim wasn’t convinced she’d ever stopped seeing him as a scrawny boy in his twenties, more ambition than sense - but she knew better than to linger.
Jim did not easily tolerate being touched. He didn’t trust it, either you were close enough to be physically hurt, or the touching meant something else he didn’t trust either.
He’d tolerated being touched more than was comfortable when he was younger, still learning his trade and in need of others to help him. It had been a relief when he’d outgrown the need for that.
Sebastian touching him was… different. It made Jim feel things.
Things that didn’t make sense, like safe and not safe all at once. Comforted and alarmed. Even aroused, but repulsed.
Because it didn’t do to get close to anyone. Especially not strapping, great fellows who wanted you. That was just fucking common sense, even normal people knew that big, strong, murderous men were dangerous.
Jim liked all of those things about Sebastian. Jim had always enjoyed twisting powerful men to his whims.
But Sebastian was different. Jim wanted him, in ways he had never, ever, even dreamed of wanting anyone.
Jim wanted Sebastian to touch him, sometimes. To hold and pet him like he was doing now. To pull him close now and again. To sling a possessive arm around him when there was no one there to see… perhaps… perhaps even if there was.
Jim could never let that happen. Emotions and loved ones were weaknesses in and of themselves. And if Seb was only infatuated with Jim, and would come to his senses eventually, Jim certainly couldn’t change the rules for him.
Because how would he bear it, when Sebastian eventually left? Now that Jim knew he was capable of caring for a man romantically? Now that Jim knew he’d been touch starved all of these years?
And because he was so desperate to be touched, and his resistance so low between his tortured emotions and his physically unwell state…
Jim let it happen. He didn’t pull away or even complain.
And… And Sebastian Moran curled an arm around him, and how the fuck was Jim supposed to cope with that??
He stayed put, simmering with self-loathing at his weakness. This would only end badly.
Sebastian seemed to be able to tell that Jim was tense, but he didn’t pull away, even though he must know this was forbidden.
Instead Seb murmured about Caruso organising the team into baskets, and the blatant distraction even worked for a moment, as Jim supposed that might make sense following the wacky logic that was becoming the norm around here: whilst kittens were kept together for warmth, supernatural tigers seemed to run hot and depositing them all in one place would probably start a fire. Which would be the cherry on the cake really.
Jim sighed and rubbed his head against Sebastian. Like a cat scent marking his human, not that Jim meant it that way.
“I’m not dying you know,” Jim said flatly. “And even if I was, I wouldn’t need…” cuddled “this.”
Jim tried to make himself pull away. It was for the best.
Except… Jim had never had a fully functioning sense of self preservation. Denying himself what he craved was boring.
Jim pulled Sebastian down onto the bed and crawled on top of him, arching his neck towards Seb’s hand until the man set to petting Jim’s hair again.
“Don’t read anything into this,” Jim grumbled. “I’m… out of sorts, that’s all. This doesn’t change the rules, or anything.”
~
“I know.” Sebastian would never fall prey to the misconception that Jim needed … this. But Sebastian had also never seen Jim tolerate something he neither wanted nor liked.
Of course the little fucker would never say that – instead he resorted to Simon’s cat impressions to get it, and Sebastian complied happily. After having been pushed and pulled into shape for maximum comfort like a pillow, he resumed stroking Jim’s hair, the back of his head or whichever body part happened to appear under his hand.
Maybe it was stupid, or even pathetic to be so ridiculously delighted by such a small thing, but that didn’t diminish it. “I know,” he repeated in a sleepy murmur. “And I won’t.” Read anything into this. “’Tis only because you’re poorly.” The Rules stayed put, of course. Except when Jim undermined them himself, or Sebastian tiptoed around them and Jim let him, at least for a little while.
Like now.
There was no point in dwelling on how those little … scraps might only make him long for more. For now he was utterly content.
~
Jim had been so young, the last time he had vied for physical affection like this. But he was old enough to know better now, and nothing good could come of this.
Of melting across Moran’s chest, being carefully held and tenderly petted. The way Jim ordinarily slicked his hair was a deterrent against such touching, but productless as it was now made it simple for Sebastian to comb his fingers through. It actually seemed to make Jim’s head ache less, the touching.
It seemed to please Seb too. His body was relaxed underneath Jim, and his voice was a soft, dreamy thing.
It hurt to hear. How wretched was Jim, that being sick for one day could have his defences so weak?
Reluctantly, Jim pulled away from Seb’s gentle hand.
“Don’t you dare fall asleep,” Jim said quietly. “You’ve got work to do, and so do I.”
Sebastian stiffened underneath him, and he was never one to shirk his duties so… he liked this? The touching?
Jim forced himself to drop that strand of thought. This could not become a recurring mistake.
Still, the moment had been more precious than Moran could ever know.
“Thanks,” Jim murmured soberly, unhappily sliding off of Seb’s comfortable (and comforting) broad chest.
~
It was one of those little interludes, of which Sebastian wanted to save even the tiniest detail and commit it to memory, which was of course futile, because such rare moments were never just the sum of the details, but something … magic. And although it wouldn’t do to become sentimental or moony like a lovestruck teenager, Sebastian basked in it.
Unfortunately, Jim Moriarty was even less a stranger to discipline than the soldier. Illustrated by having built a criminal empire when reaching thirty, while all Sebastian had to show was a dishonourable discharge. Well, plus a very sought-after skill set he’d acquired along the way. From serving one Empire to another, very different one. And his professional pride in commanding the forces of Jim Moriarty’s empire was more than just that. Pleasing this man, or even just to be near him beat everything he ever imagined - benefits and dangers alike. And, by now, the sense of belonging as well.
So, yes, it was a bit of a comedown when Jim slid off him like a cat from a pillow, thanking him drily. Sebastian suppressed a sigh and finally rolled out of bed. “My pleasure. Any time.” He tried for an equally perfunctorily polite tone, success middling.
He heard the whine of the laptop powering up behind him while he padded to the bathroom. Under the shower and while drying off afterwards, he took stock again, more awake and in much better shape than yesterday – actually so much better than the last time any member of the team had seen him, that it might raise a few confused eyebrows. They were an observant bunch next door.
His cracked cheekbone had healed, but at least that had been replaced by some sort of haematoma Jim had sucked into place again, although that too had started to fade a bit already. Sebastian stuck a plaster to the side of his neck, where the deep cut from Jim’s blade had miraculously turned into a vicious bite mark – but of course whoever only saw the dressing would be none the wiser.
“They’ll probably notice the hickeys are gone,” he mused, when walking back into the room to put on a shirt. Should he bother Jim for a replacement? And wasn’t that the best excuse ever?
The clacking of the keyboard paused, while Sebastian buttoned up his shirt, but then resumed. Even with his hair still sticking up, Jim Moriarty had resumed his imperial position – the emperor’s clothes momentarily being a faded oversized jumper.
“Well, they’ll probably just assume my make-up skills are getting close to yours,” Sebastian prattled on while donning a pair of jeans.
~
For someone who had been so looking forward to getting back to being more than a kept boy, Sebastian sounded a little … put out? at the dismissal, although he did make some effort to keep his tone neutral. Jim wasn’t sure why, which only added to the list of frustrating mysteries about the man. Moran was hardly touch starved, and it wasn’t as if he was only ever groped either. Jim had a peculiarly domestic way of touching the man, like Seb was a beloved pet or something. Which he was, but Jim hadn’t even loved his animal pets enough for much of that, so where the instinct came from Jim honestly couldn’t determine.
His family had occasionally petted Jim’s hair when he was a boy, and he did live with Seb, so perhaps it was a learned behaviour? It was uncomfortable to think about.
As was why Sebastian would want to touch Jim so kindly, and be displeased about stopping.
A control thing perhaps? Seb wasn’t in the habit of submitting to just anyone, so perhaps he liked having a bit of an active role, however small?
That thought made Jim feel ill, because as prone to spoiling the blond as he was, there was no way Jim was willing to share control. To let anyone have power over him-
Jesus, as if Jim didn’t feel sick enough already. He probably trusted Seb more than anyone, but somehow that made the hypothetical scenario worse. One could at least nurse their hate when forced to submit to an enemy, but someone you-
Jim dove for the laptop before Seb mistook his uneasy shiver for a chill.
Jim’s fingers sweated as he switched the thing on, but it didn’t cause any of the wounds to sting. The scabs were a bit more substantial now, but his manicurist would be horrified.
Jim listened to the shower and felt an odd pang of loneliness at the thought of Seb leaving for even a short amount of time.
Which was ridiculous. And then Jim noticed he could hear Seb moving around. Seb who was large but graceful even before the tiger situation.
Could Jim hear that because he was consciously listening, or was this proof of his senses developing beyond their human limits? Or… was Jim just so attuned to the man that he could pick Sebastian out of any other household noise, however slight?
Jim huffed and booted up a few programs. He still felt wretched, but whilst before it stole his concentration, now it focused him. He’d always been skilled at running on spite.
Jim sent off a few terse but brilliant orders to things that were woefully overdue. There was some satisfaction in that, but it seemed mostly dull. Things had felt boring before Seb but now? Now that Jim knew there was a whole world of supernatural possibilities yet to explore? How could he possibly care a fig about London or beyond?
Jim almost didn’t look up when Sebastian returned, but he could smell him. And recently any time Seb had showered it had been before or after sex, and there had been some lovely touching during too. Jim found himself growing distracted, like a hormonal-
Oh. Oh for fuck’s sake. Jim was never going to achieve anything but orgasm ever again if he wanted to fuck his Sebastian even more than usual!
And then Seb spoke, feigning mere speculation but his voice leaking hope and flirtation. For all of Seb’s mysteries, Jim had committed enough of the man to memory to at least understand what Sebby wanted this time.
“Come here,” Jim said, trying to close the laptop over softly enough to suggest casualness, although Seb’s sensitive hearing made him shift stance like it had been slammed. Sebastian obeyed anyway.
“I’m not having anyone thinking I’m lax in your upkeep,” Jim growled, and he snatched at Seb’s belt buckle to pull him closer.
Jim curled his arms around Seb and inhaled, senses flooded, and nuzzled for a moment whilst he negotiated with himself over whether he was well enough to send Sebastian next door with a pronounced, just had the back door smashed in limp.
Jim was not. He took some of his immediate frustration out on Seb’s poor throat, groping the man because that was partly what he was for, and drank in the noises of surprise, pain and welcome that came in return.
Jim detached himself, feeling somewhat appeased by the blown and almost vacant look of Seb’s eyes, then turned the man around bodily. As Sebastian glanced back curiously, Jim cracked his palm off of his blond’s rear. “Off you pop, precious. Don’t miss Daddy too much.”
~
While Sebastian had been more worried that someone next door would inevitably take notice of his uncanny healing abilities, Jim’s wish to show he was not neglecting him was of course an even more compelling line of reasoning. Which was still nothing compared to the shocked thrill when Jim grasped his belt buckle and the consecutive onslaught of several Pavlovian reactions. These included a surge of blood to the general vicinity of Jim’s hand, and suddenly week knees who cheerfully offered to fold immediately, even more so when Jim slung his arms around him and pulled him down, enough to reach his neck. The vicious attack made Sebastian groan in protest and arousal alike. He bared his throat, yet somehow managed to quell the impulse to crumple onto the bed and roll over. For all it was worth – he wanted to preserve some shred of dignity and prove he hadn’t become entirely useless where his work and duties were concerned. Which was almost impossible, but helped by a seemingly similar resolution of Jim, who with a final lick over the fresh bruises, let him go. Breathing heavily, a dazed Sebastian was turned around and sent off with a hearty smack to his backside.
Was it legitimate to miss someone already, before you’d even left the room?
“I already do.” Vexingly Sebastian’s voice was a bit to hoarse to achieve the desired effect of sounding facetious. Drat.
Not turning again, he cleared his throat on reaching the door. “I won’t be long.” Good. He’d managed that a bit more casually.
Okay. Bite marks getting worse was, after all, more explicable than them disappearing over night, right? On arriving next door, he’d had time enough to straighten out his thoughts, button up the top of his shirt and overall regain his composure.
At first Sebastian simply made the rounds surveying the state of things. The day shift seemed to be a man down (or woman rather, Dara wasn’t here), Gary sitting at the surveillance screens instead of Eamon and David appearing a bit run down and not quite like the Man’s Health model he usually looked like.
The curious and inquisitive glances were kept down to a minimum- they’d all had enough time to swap news-stories during the ‘changing of the guards‘. Which overlapped between seven and eight o’clock morning and evening. During those times Caruso served breakfast and dinner, and as long as a skeleton crew was in functioning order, it gave people from the two teams the chance to eat together, to brief and debrief and making the handover as they saw fit. So everyone was up to date of anything relevant that happened on the previous watch.
There was something tugging at the back of Sebastian’s mind he needed a moment to put his finger on. It was the smell. Not altogether pleasant, but very subtle. Sebastian wasn’t sure he would have noticed at all without his newly developed hair-trigger sensorium.
After peeking into the kitchen and interviewing Caruso, he had everyone gather in the surveillance room.
“Well, as this building seems to be turning into Lambaréné - how bad is it?” Sebastian looked at everyone and at David in particular, and not only because he was their CO.
Apparently no one here didn’t consider themselves too poorly to work, but that didn’t say much because they were of that ilk who rather carried their heads under their arms before considering themselves unfit for duty. “I want everybody who’s seriously unwell to step down. Do some swapping with the night shift if necessary. As long as each crew isn’t down more that two, that’s okay. Otherwise draft in temporary replacements from the mobile security detail, there won’t be a lot on for them during the next days.” Not if he had a say in it anyway.
“There are no grounds anymore for the state of high alert, everything goes back to normal.” Which also meant, no more skipping him to report directly to Jim. “I won’t be going anywhere, for the time being.” For the next twenty something days, to be precise, but that seemed quite a peculiar statement to make, so he didn’t. He’d been quite vague concerning the reasons for said state of high alert when issuing it a few days ago, and there was just as little reason to be more specific as to why it was revoked.
Sebastian looked around for any questioning faces, before walking over to the crates of water bottles by the wall – as a subterfuge to pass a few of them, mainly David, without freaking them out by blatantly sniffing at them.
Sebastian returned with a water bottle and took a few gulps. So they didn’t need to strain their poor eyes to catch a glimpse at his throat. “You’ll all make an honest assessment for yourself whether Sicilian chicken soup and whatever other remedies are available is enough.” He screwed the cap back onto the bottle and looked at David. “You’re off duty. Leave it with Des and the teams to reorganise themselves.” Sebastian’s tone brooked no argument.
~
I already do.
Sebastian’s words startled Jim, enough that he couldn’t keep his face from betraying his feelings. Thankfully the blond kept his back to him, so Jim had the opportunity to compose himself.
Seb just meant he’d been blueballed, right? But it hadn’t sounded like…
Well, how would Jim know what Seb sounded like? Who’d ever regretted not getting to spend more time alone with him?
Jim sat back and watched Sebastian leave, feeling uneasy at the jump of pleasure in his chest when Seb promised, I won’t be long.
Jim rubbed at his mouth, disgusted at himself, and flinched as the edge of a scabbed finger made his skin tingle with déjà vu. Sebastian’s lip had been burst in the kitchen when they’d…
Well, when Sebastian had been provoked, and his idea of punishment had been thoroughly fucking with Jim’s head.
Except Jim couldn’t make himself believe that Seb was inclined to do that, so…
Jim ran his finger carefully over his mouth, eliciting an echo of the physical sensation from before.
He felt sick. And not just his infection symptoms.
And hungry, actually. Already. Was this what Seb suffered through?
Jim hated it. If he ignored the pangs would they go away like they used to? Or was Jim bound to the needs of his body now?
He’d certainly been thinking more with his dick of late, but that had started before Seb got mauled.
Jim sighed and reached for his laptop. The only part of his body that mattered was his brain and it had far too much to do for anything else to demand attention.
Find a cure. Run the empire. If Jim died… that needed a new plan too.
Jim rubbed his temples. As if he didn’t already have a headache.
Still, he hadn’t achieved the life he had by allowing human frailty to get in the way. So he knuckled down and got to work.
He’d negotiated three international deals and ordered one death by the time something managed to grab his attention. Had he heard..?
Jim had always been sensitive to doors opening. His childhood had made him wary of the company of others, and a criminal adulthood had hardly lessened that sensitivity. Jim hadn’t ever been a fan of sharing his space either, and a significant proportion of his issues with Sebastian’s predecessors had been a rising irritation born from an inability to relax.
But Jim did relax around Seb. So much so that noticing the front door open jarred him from his thoughts.
Only to trigger more. Had he always been able to hear the front door open from all the way up here?
And if he hadn’t, was that a tiger thing, or… a fixation on Sebastian? For all of his apprehension about the possibility of transformation, Jim thought the latter might be more concerning.
He buried his head in his knees. Listening hard, he followed Seb’s location through the house.
“If you neglected to bring food you can go right back next door,” Jim said when he finally heard Seb’s tread in the corridor. Sebastian scoffed softly and kept walking. Hungry and anxious as Jim was, Seb’s approach held a higher appeal.
Jim settled on his stomach and raised an eyebrow as Seb entered. “So your verdict? Am I the only lucky boy you’ve shared the mother of all STIs with, or are stripes going to be highly fashionable next door this month?”
~
He shouldn’t have worried. The despotic and querulous demands for food that reached Sebastian’s ears long before he’d reached his room proved that Jim was reassuringly far away from the brink of the grave.
He should also not be feeling butterflies in his stomach like a silly teenager about sharing something so intimate with your beloved like an … STD. Something sexual, after all! And sharing it exclusively.
Least of all was it appropriate to ogle the rear of the reclining patient, who’d draped himself across the bed, very likely on purpose.
Jim’s pointy turn of phrase still made it hard for Sebastian to straighten the grin off his face and assume an expression appropriate to the - alleged – seriousness of the situation.
“The only thing highly in fashion next door right now is ibuprofen,” he reported while putting down a tray with food Caruso had given him. “And anything they’ll be shedding in the near future will probably be virus, not fur.”
Sebastian went over to the window and opened it. Coming back into the room, there was that same faint but peculiar smell in here as Sebastian had noticed next door. It dissipated a bit and was then replaced by a much more savoury one, when he lifted the lid from one of the dishes on the tray - lamb curry and rice. Was this agreeable? Apparently it was, as Jim made a grabbing motion and squirmed into a sitting position.
His appetite had yet to cease to startle Sebastian, but it was in sync with what he'd gleaned next door.
“They are a few men down, but not alarmingly so. It's still all manageable with a bit of shuffling. No one is seriously sick yet, and none of them is off their food, Caruso said.” Yes, which didn’t prove the harmlessness of the plague. But: “Other than that they’re behaving quite normally for people who just caught a bug. No reports of strange urges or aggression or … other weird symptoms.”
~
Sebastian looked Jim over as he entered, presumably checking he wasn’t close to expiration. But then his gaze lingered behind Jim as Jim spoke, and at first that was a mystery. Whatever had Seb’s attention wasn’t so captivating that Seb didn’t hear or respond to what Jim said, because Sebastian’s lips curled playfully and made some witty little joke that made Jim love him that bit more.
And then upon realising that, Jim grimaced and sat up, squirming to shake off the uncomfortable thought.
Seb’s gaze dropped away, and Jim belatedly realised the blond had been admiring his backside, which pleased and annoyed him in similar quantities.
Sebastian set down the food but instead of settling himself nearby, he crossed the room and opened the window. Jim touched his face absently, wondering if he still looked flushed. He still felt wretched, but not quite so much like he wanted to peel off his overheated skin.
When Seb returned, Jim started to eat with an appetite he didn’t even remember having as a teenager, although it wasn’t as though he’d managed many growth spurts around then.
Jim listened interestedly as Seb debriefed him without needing to be asked, and Jim kept his mouth full so he didn’t accidentally say something as moronic as I missed you. Like Seb hadn’t been next door plenty of times in the past month.
“It’s not like you were glaringly different in the first few days,” Jim pointed out. “Any grumpiness was put down to being in pain, which it would be for anyone next door with a bug, I’d imagine, and if they’re feeling a bit loopy they’d probably discount it as part and parcel of being feverish.” Jim considered. “If you had been strange over the first few days I’d have put it down to all the medication, but it was more gradual than that, wasn’t it? I knew something was off by the end of the first week, but you didn’t start getting obviously prickly and oversensitive overnight.”
Jim set down his lunch briefly. “Which is just as well for you, because if it wasn’t a gradual change in your behaviour I don’t know if I’d have managed as much patience.”
Jim reached over and nipped at Sebastian’s bruised throat. “You’re a royal pain in the neck at the best of times.”
~
Sebastian smiled “And yet you -” he caught himself just in time, “- tolerate me graciously.”
The curry was delicious and breakfast had been two hours ago after all, so Sebastian grabbed a fork as well and dug in.
Jim was right – the build-up of Sebastian’s symptoms had been gradual. Had they come overnight, no way Jim would have put up with it. With him. Not even in the most gracious of moods.
“Well, how exactly could all of next door have gotten infected by me? It’s not exactly an airborne infection, right?” It fact, whatever it was those were creatures gave you, it could not be easily transmissible by any means, or the world would be teeming with them. “And I neither bit them nor fucked them – so how?”
It was a viable question, which maybe did away with Jim’s fixation that this place was going to turn into a cattery next month, but, as his bloody analytical brain was going to point out, that still didn’t remove the possibility that he was suffering from something entirely different, something he so evocatively called the mother of all STIs. That logic was not to fault. Except for one thing, something he couldn’t sense how Sebastian could. “And they all smell like you!” It had slipped out before Sebastian could pause and reflect and maybe find a more diplomatic wording.
~
Sebastian hadn’t technically said anything wrong, but there had been a hesitation in his voice, an unsaid insinuation, that made Jim retreat sharply from what might otherwise have been a lengthier nuzzling. That gave Sebastian opportunity to eat, whilst Jim no longer had any appetite at all, but at least shovelling food into his ashen mouth gave him something to occupy himself with.
Sebastian vocalised musings on how his infection might have been transferred next door, if it had been at all.
Ordinarily Jim would have had feelings about whether or not Seb had bitten or fucked his colleagues, but he let it lie. He was still stinging after Seb’s insinuation earlier that Jim had been so graciously tolerant for… well… the reasons, perhaps, that Jim had been such.
“The skin on your hands was broken because of the silver,” Jim said quietly. “Possibility of transference -small, but perhaps that’s all it takes- any time you brushed hands with someone delivering a meal. Or perhaps even items that have touched your mouth, saliva traces on a fork or some such.”
Sebastian looked at the fork in his hand dubiously.
“It’s unlikely, but less impossible than what’s already happened around here,” Jim pointed out. “Of those who seem sick, it might be sensible to determine whether any of them had a possibility of easy transference, some broken skin from sparring or tending the garden or a fucking papercut. If it’s that simple we might not need to quarantine anyone, but if it continues to spread… Well, Dara’s sick, so in all likelihood Farah will be too. But if it’s spreading wider than that, if it’s people who haven’t touched you or your meal things recently, then… perhaps everyone who is sick is infectious enough to transfer it, and there’s only a short incubation period needed.”
Jim was so focused on mentally mapping who had delivered food (or collected plates) over the past few weeks that Seb’s final comment crashed his well-ordered thoughts into confusion.
“Like me?” Jim said. “You’re the only one who ever wears the same products that I do. And even with my shampoo, you still smell like you. Your skin, your sweat…”
Jim paused. He hadn’t felt well enough to shower when Seb was next door, and he had been sweating much worse than normal. And not sex-exertion sweat either, which he mostly didn’t mind the smell of. Illness sweat, which was… bitter… and…
Jim almost asked Sebastian what the man was doing letting him sit in his bed all day if he smelled so terrible, but… exactly what could the man say? He could hardly order Jim to shower, could he?
But he wasn’t fucking incapable either.
“If you’ve got a problem with something, you’ve got a tongue in your mouth,” Jim said coolly. “You’re quick enough to complain when I’m not eating or sleeping enough for your liking.”
~
For a moment Sebastian was utterly charmed by the realisation that his smell was something … Jim noticed. Well, of course, everybody had that – their own unique smell, and didn’t he know that after these past weeks. Although Jim would probably protest and insist it was all about biochemistry and molecules, Sebastian basked in the thought that his smell was something Jim was intimately familiar with, something he recognised, something he was able to pick out of others. Something that meant... Sebastian to him. Your skin, your sweat …
There were few sensory associations more primal and powerful and more intimate than smell, and to think that Jim…
Well, he had developed the habit to nuzzle Sebastian quite frequently, which implicated that he liked…
Sebastian looked up as Jim’s tone changed and became a bit haughty. A touch insulted?
“Oh god, no, that wasn’t meant as a complaint,” Sebastian hurried to soothe the prickliness and any misunderstandings. Christ, while Jim was eerily capable of reading the finest nuances, he was also prone to – intentionally or not – twist or misunderstand what you said. So what was it he had chosen to hear now? ‘You’re smelling of sickness and decay and my poor cat nose can’t take it.’ ?
“All I’m saying is, I think next door has caught some bug or flu, and you’re probably simply in the same boat.” Hopefully! “You don’t smell horrid or disgusting. There’s just this whiff of something … well, it’s not exactly pleasant, but that’s not the point. It’s faint, but peculiar and very distinct, and usually not there. It’s like… like a few fennel seeds were in that curry for instance.” No, there were not, this was just an analogy. “And I smell it on you and it’s definitely rife next door as well.”
To be fair, all this was still no consistent proof against Jim’s apocalyptical scenarios, and the argument of likelihood probably wouldn’t float either. Until recently, how high would they have estimated the chance that were creatures existed?
Yeah, Sebastian could read that in Jim’s now somewhat smug expression, but he went on: “If transmission occurred via such means as you describe, Caruso should have been the first to catch it from me.” She handled most of the dishes, from everyone. “She’s fine.”
Sebastian mopped up the residue of the delicious sauce with a piece of bread with concentration. “I don’t suppose a shower would hurt though,” he cautiously observed, eyes back on his plate.
~
Jim wasn’t certain when Moran’s opinion mattered enough that Jim felt like drowning himself in bleach, instead of pouring it down Seb’s nose for daring to make him feel self-conscious, but there it was. He’d let his defences down, and allowed someone to make him feel less than, as if all he’d done to conquer the world meant nothing.
Jim bared his teeth in a grimace of a smile. The indignity didn’t sting nearly as the knowledge that he wouldn’t do anything about this. Were it anyone else it wouldn’t matter whether they guilelessly spoke the truth or not, he’d brutally punish the merest slight.
But for Sebastian Moran there were new rules. Perhaps no rules at all.
Jim huffed and deigned listen to whatever else Seb had to say. Some choice insults about his poorly appearance perhaps?
No, his logic was under fire now. Wonder of wonders.
Jim eyed Seb dryly as the blond reported that his theory must be wrong because Caruso had not succumbed. As if anything could penetrate her thick skin.
Without bothering to respond, Jim grimly watched Sebastian eat. In theory Jim could imagine all kinds of creative violence to soothe the slight, but whatever he tried to picture brought him no pleasure. He frowned and looked away from Seb, but not before the blond’s posture showed he wasn’t oblivious to the fraying of Jim’s unusually well-tethered temper.
Jim’s spine straightened in time with his rising brows as Seb suggested he go shower on a whim other than his own.
Jim pushed his cooling food aside tersely and considered his limbs. He still didn’t feel good -fucking far from it- but he had a limited amount of energy.
How far would it take him? Enough to stand in Seb’s shower? Enough to leave, shower in his own bathroom?
Did it matter?
Jim carefully got off of Seb’s bed and tested the strength of his legs.
Sebastian shifted as though to help, but Jim barked at him to stay put. He didn’t want the man’s hands on him right then.
Jim stepped towards the remnants of the bedroom door. His muscles protested and his prior limp did him no favours.
~
From Jim’s glare - and general experience – Sebastian had expected a lot of things, like his reasoning to be torn to shreds and subsequently dissolved in acid, but not Jim pushing his bandaged feet out of the bed to go and follow Sebastian’s casual but also somewhat brazen suggestion to … take a shower?
Sebastian dropped the piece of bread back onto the plate instead of putting it in his mouth. “Wait, let me -”
His move to get up and scramble after Jim was stopped and reverted by a snarl and a baleful glare that made Sebastian sink back, just as automatically as a dog who’d been told to stay. Looking just as crestfallen. And a bit peeved.
Yes, of course, Jim was very capable of … keeling over, all by himself! For a second he looked so wobbly that Sebastian’s impulse to help almost took over regardless, but there was something in Jim’s eyes that bordered on disgust. Whether with Sebastian, the situation, or himself was impossible to say.
Well, suit yourself, Sebastian thought crabbily, yet still poised to rush after him and pick up the pieces.
It was bloody painful to watch Jim limp out of the room. Sebastian crept out of bed to stealthily follow, but the mission was thwarted when his phone rang.
~
Jim had never had much time for being sick. With the exception of a few bewildering moments on the farm where - despite everything working for its keep - he’d been firmly sent to bed to recover from some bug he wasn’t used to… he’d always been too busy to be sick. As an adult, he’d had an empire to build and run. As a child… well, he had a household to run. A sick mother and a poorly coping father to tend to.
Jim hadn’t tended to pick up many playground bugs because he’d missed so much school either directly caring for his mother or being too neglected to be sent or have the required things to attend. He’d grown up too adult in some ways and not nearly experienced enough in others, knowing how to have serious talks with doctors when his mother wasn’t lucid (and his father either working or drinking) but being noticeably lacking in proper socialisation.
He hadn’t noticed that at first. But when his father had actively tried sending Jim to school (trying to shield him from his mother’s last days, as if Jim wasn’t already scarred) the other children were wary of him. Like they caught the scent of death and decay that lingered on him and his house, and subconsciously they feared it was catching. It didn’t matter how much young Jim washed himself or his clothing (and he did all the household chores back then) he could never scrub the aura of undesirable from himself.
So maybe he was feeling a little sensitive when he made the decision to leave Seb and go shower in his own bathroom. And perhaps he shouldn’t have snapped at Seb and quite probably he was in no fit state to make it the small distance to his en suite. Jim certainly wasn’t well enough to stand unaided in the shower for long.
Jim trailed his hand along the wall as he walked, supporting himself, and wondered how things had ended up like this. With something heavy and slippery on the tip of his tongue that he had to press his lips tightly against, lest he ask Seb for help.
And then Sebastian’s phone rang, and his voice carried out into the corridor. The kitchen company.