Said
Jim was so exhausted he could barely even hang onto his panic, allowing himself to be held upright still as Sebastian carefully dismounted, and then lowered down with that same care. He startled when Seb wiped him down, but held back his protest because he was in no fit state to perform his usual habit of cleaning them both up himself.
It felt odd, letting Sebastian wipe come and lube and blood off of his body.
It was more of a shock to have a water bottle placed in his hand, and to need help to drink from it. Jim truly wasn’t feeling well, to the extent he felt even less human than usual.
Not tiger-like though.
More like he was a liquid in a man’s skin, his bones barely a memory and certainly not capable of holding him upright.
Jim puddled against the pillows where Sebastian had poured him. Jim’s eyes were already closed but his ambitious nature defied his mortal frame. He threw out his arm like a rolling wave and crashed against Sebastian. Barely conscious, he caught Seb’s hand. His fingers found the gaps between Sebastian’s own and melded there, tight as a death grip.
Consciousness swirled away from Jim and he slept heavily. Not like the dead though, his dreaming was too lively for that.
The panic of being trapped beneath Seb - too close, too not in control - threaded its way through Jim’s dream. As did the vivid memory of being young, using his body in ways he never would now, except for today.
Jim dreamt he’d known Sebastian when they were both younger, Jim awkward and ill-socialised and touch-starved and inexperienced. Jim had previously found photographs of a young Sebastian when digging into the man’s background and that image came alive, bearing down on Jim all broad shoulders and simmering emotions, intent on something more unsettling than violence.
That Sebastian kissed Jim in the dream, firmly at first, experienced, but softening into how it had been that time in the kitchen. And Jim still didn’t know what to do, but Seb moved his lips to Jim’s neck, mouthing him like Jim didn’t even realise Seb had done when he was awake.
“What are you doing to me?” Jim mumbled, and the words Sebastian had said as he brought Jim to climax drifted from younger Seb’s dreamy lips.
~
Sebastian's hand spread slightly, reflexively accommodating Jim's fingers as they pushed between his, which closed and tightened in response. Strongly, but not with crushing force. More like... soothing whatever made Jim's grip so desperate. Confirming whatever Jim needed reassuring about.
He wriggled closer, and closer still... Jim had fallen into a restless sleep; occasionally his brows furrowed, or a slight tremor ran over his skin. Half asleep himself, Sebastian curled around him, and even though that could hardly shield Jim from whatever was going on in his high octane brain, things quietened down a bit?
What are you doing to me?
"Not ever anything you don't want me to," Sebastian murmured. "Promise." Sleepy as he was, the question might have well swirled up from his subconscious, but it had a soft Irish lilt to it, and Jim's hand twitched slightly. His eyelids too, maybe he wasn't even awake...
"I'll take care of you," Sebastian whispered, turning his face, nuzzling the damp, warm side of Jim's neck, "my beautiful... feral... kitten. Whatever you want me to do... Whenever... however. And whatever you want to do to me..." Hadn't that been their understanding all along, a given from Jim Moriarty's rules alone? But now it was Sebastian, telling him, his voice thick with sleep, unguarded, every word all the more uncalculating and true. "The whole wide world is yours, kitten, and I'll lay it at your feet..." Even though you're thoroughly capable of bringing it to its knees by yourself, Sebastian thought fondly. It was ever so nice to have a bit of help, wasn't it?
~
Jim did not lay much trust in promises, but he did trust his own ability to recognise a lie. Being informed by the dream Seb that the blond would never do anything you don’t want me to, promise was incongruous enough with Jim’s experiences of men that he almost startled wide awake.
But this was Sebastian, and even in Jim’s dreams, there was an element of trust Jim allowed no one else. Perhaps even more so here, when his subconsciousness held more authority than his logic.
Jim permitted Sebastian to hold and kiss him freely.
I’ll take care of you, the blond told Jim’s neck. Jim grew still at the assertion, caught between the knowledge that no one did that and the certainty that Seb was different. Jim just couldn’t quite remember why, half caught in the dream’s depiction of them both as much younger men, but retaining all the same some feeling that Sebastian Moran did take care of him, in ways no one else ever had.
Jim pressed his head against Seb, feeling lost and overwhelmed but holding on tight to the big blond regardless. Seb kissed his neck with an affection that made Jim tremble, confused and wanting and certain he wasn’t supposed to show any emotion or weakness but that maybe Seb didn’t count.
Jim slowly relaxed into the nuzzling, but his eyebrows shot to his hairline when Sebastian dared to call him a feral kitten. HIS beautiful, feral kitten.
Jim was neither beautiful nor anyone’s, although he could reluctantly see how Sebastian might think him a small, snarling beast, puffed up with his own sense of superiority and ferociousness.
Jim opened his mouth to complain, but Sebastian had called him his and beautiful… and Sebastian wasn’t a liar, was he? Deluded probably, but why shouldn’t Jim take advantage of that, if it meant the truly beautiful blond wanted to lavish him with affection and his protection and-
Whatever you want me to do… Whenever… however. And whatever you want to do to me…
Jim looked to the blond quickly. Sebastian’s gaze and tone held a devotion that seemed earnest and truthful, but Jim struggled to comprehend why anyone might want him so.
Sebastian seemed in no way confused, his heart rate calm against Jim’s chest as he continued. The whole wide world is yours, kitten, and I’ll lay it at your feet…
Few people had given Jim Moriarty anything he hadn’t manipulated them into providing, but Jim heard warm sincerity in Seb’s voice. He wasn’t just offering to take care of him, but to provide everything Jim’s ambitions had ever burned for, and Jim’s heart swelled and ached from it.
But Jim could take the world himself, he was certain of that.
“Call me ‘kitten’ again and you can consider how cute I am when I claw your eyes out,” Jim grumbled, but he reached for Seb’s clothing and it disappeared itself with a physics-defying, dreamlike quality that made the back of Jim’s brain light up in warning.
Jim became urgent as he pushed the alarm aside. His kissed his way down Sebastian’s stomach, dropping to his knees with a reverence he knew he’d never showed anyone else.
“I love you,” Jim whispered against Sebastian’s skin, so quietly the rush of blood to Seb’s prick seemed louder. Not even here could Jim feel safe sharing his vulnerable feelings.
Sebastian’s hand settled on Jim’s head, and tilted it up. He’d heard.
Flickers of stripes danced in shadows across Sebastian’s flesh, something about Seb’s sensitive hearing telling Jim there was something else to be afraid of.
“I love you too,” dream Seb said, and Jim’s eyes burned. He sat back, creating distance between himself and Sebastian’s skin.
“No you don’t. You can’t,” Jim said.
Sebastian regarded him with the blank, animalistic stare Jim suddenly recalled from the tiger incident. “I do,” he said accusingly, “and you know it. The problem is you. If you weren’t so fucked up you’d be able to save me, because you can’t kiss me better when you aren’t capable of lo-”
Sebastian screamed. It was the scream burned into Jim’s consciousness, the most horrifying noise in his memory’s arsenal: Seb changing. In the worst kind of pain, the type that wasn’t erotic or fun, the type that frightened Jim silly.
And then Jim was sitting up in bed, and the screaming was his own.
He was clutching Seb’s hand so tightly it hurt, and he wasn’t sure why Sebastian was curled around him, but it was real Seb, adult Seb, and he was giving Jim such a look of alarm - of worry - that Jim wasn’t certain he’d really woken up. Didn’t Sebastian know this was all his fault?
He’d sent Seb into the path of that were. And he was no closer to making that okay.
~
Only in a dream could Sebastian defy the rules of their universe, because they were as irrefutable as laws of nature, and as detrimental to disregard. Like gravity for instance…
The things he dared to do in his dreams, in reality they would have the same consequences as stepping off a cliff or in front of a train. Jim had shown him a glimpse of it the other day, and it had not just been a little grumble and the kind offer to have his eyes clawed out.
But now the foundations had shifted a bit, and so Sebastian's dreams got bolder... in this dream, Jim did kiss him back, and told him... well, the last three words Sebastian had been told he could ever hope to hear from him (at least not in that order or context), regardless of how intimate their relationship would become. 'No weaknesses' was basically the Moriarty motto, of man and empire alike. No pressure points, no leverage anyone could use against him. If anyone truly understood that, it was the chief of staff of said empire and bodyguard of the emperor.
And yet, in that surreal, transient moment between waking and sleeping, Sebastian heard it..., softly, just a breath against his skin -
I love you
"I love you too," Sebastian whispered, heart tripping, skipping a beat or two, overwhelmed by that confession he'd never expected to hear... Nor to make for that matter, because Jim knew everything about him anyway and had made it clear Sebastian was many things to him, but rather should not get overly fanciful ideas involving romantic-
A blood curdling scream and a grip that almost broke his hand jolted Sebastian out of his wishful dream -
Jim was sitting upright, staring at him wide-eyed and almost catatonic with terror. Sebastian rolled and scrambled to his knees. He never imagined anything could plant fear in Jim's heart - not on such a scale.
Sebastian held Jim's hand with the same force, hoping to snap him out of what could only have been a horrible dream, briefly wondering whether they'd inhabited the same one - the pinnacle of bliss for Sebastian being Jim's worst nightmare?
Wrapping his other arm around Jim, he made little soothing noises, like one would with a child, or a frightened horse, or a trembling ... kitten. Not caring whether this would earn him a broken nose or a scratched face.
"I'm here, I've got you... Just a bad dream..." Maybe the fever returning, or maybe some sensory glitch or heightened perception as he himself had been experiencing too while incubating... ? Not wanting to believe that didn't mean it was impossible. Jim's skin felt clammy and his breath came in short, ragged bursts.
~
Jim was not used to being trapped in panic, but he was now. His screaming sputtered out as he began to struggle to breathe, and his throat felt scratchy and raw with every breath he did manage to drag in.
Distantly he knew someone -Sebastian- was touching him, trying to reassure him, and that would have been alien enough to deal with even if he wasn’t rather distracted by not being able to fucking breathe!
Just a bad dream…
That got Jim’s attention, because this was considerably more serious than a scary nightmare in his book, but the comment broke him out of his hyperventilating as he sent Moran an incredulous glare.
Sebastian simply seemed relieved to have caught Jim’s attention. Jim frowned weakly, panting, and regarded their clasped hands.
He didn’t say anything about them. If he acknowledged it he’d have to release Seb and Jim wasn’t quite ready for that yet. He tried not to think about it, but comfort drifted up from his bent fingers regardless.
He spluttered a few times, the air hitting the back of his sore throat stinging and catching his breath tightly.
It was difficult to process what had happened when he had to spend so much concentration on breathing evenly. He couldn’t really manage either adequately, but segments of Jim’s dream flickered through his mind and made him physically cringe.
That started off a coughing fit, and Jim had to release Seb then. Jim thought they both found that regretful, but he couldn’t dwell on that either; he kept coughing and it wasn’t stopping. He felt Sebastian’s large hands on his back, trying to help him. That was comforting but not entirely effective. Jim felt dizzy, struggling to breathe again as a fresh wave of panic crashed over the ebbing eddies of the first. Jim felt – sick.
He stumbled off of the bed on legs held up by urgency alone and crashed into the bathroom. He fell to his knees in front of the toilet and retched.
He sensed more than heard Seb padding after him. Jim wasn’t certain whether to find the man’s presence comforting or embarrassing then, but Seb startled him with a careful hand on his scalp.
His hair. Sebastian was smoothing back Jim’s loose hair, keeping it from his face as he threw up… mostly bile. Shouldn’t there be more evidence that Jim had been eating ferociously recently?
It wouldn’t be normal to have digested everything already, right? But Jim knew that for all Seb’s sleep had been disrupted after being infected, it hadn’t been like this.
Once he was able, Jim sat back weakly, using Sebastian’s strong legs for support and not even regretting it. Seb’s fingers became lighter on Jim’s head as though debating letting go. There was no one else in the world Jim would permit to touch him this way, and certainly no one else he wanted to do so. His throat ached with the urge to tell Sebastian not to let him go, but he was still himself enough to have some pride and sense of self preservation.
Jim wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and grimaced. He should brush his teeth, or at least gargle mouth wash, but his legs felt weak and his thudding pulse warned him he didn’t have the energy to stand yet.
Jim curled in and pressed his clammy forehead against Seb’s leg.
“I think you might be right,” Jim rasped. Seb stiffened against him, hearing the unsaid maybe I was wrong.
Jim shivered. “I think perhaps I…” He swallowed. What else could it be? He wasn’t the type of man to have a panic attack!
“I think I must be ill,” Jim said. Seb’s leg felt wet where Jim’s face rested. It felt worse than the sweat elsewhere, but Jim never cried, so it must be sweat. It smelt salty, although it was hard to smell anything over the acrid presence of stomach acid.
Jim moved his face to a part of Seb’s leg where the pale hair was drier, and cushioned himself in the familiar flesh. He could hear Seb’s pulse as much as the one in his ears, and Jim tried to follow the noise instead of the flickering threat of his remaining panic.
~
Jim’s screams turned into great, uneven gulps for air. They were painful to watch, but Sebastian’s considerate alarm subsided a little when it turned out Jim had still enough oxygen to glare. Still, Sebastian kept his hold on his hand as long as Jim didn’t make any actual move to the contrary. Very suddenly he did, scrambling away and dashing through the bathroom door, apparently driven by the much greater urge to cling to the toilet bowl than to Sebastian.
Sebastian followed him, wishing he could help in some way other and more effectively than feeling sorry and holding Jim’s hair out of the way during his ordeal of heaving and retching and basically turning himself inside out.
God, Sebastian should have told him no and insist he’d rest. He felt helpless and miserable to see Jim like that: fragile, and as sick as a dog, even more so when he turned to press his damp forehead against Sebastian’s leg. Even the back of his neck, when Sebastian massaged it with very light pressure and very small motions of his fingers, felt cold and sweaty.
“Now you do have me me worried,” he murmured, “admitting I might have been right.” It was a feeble joke, and well, no, he wasn’t even joking.
He picked up a glass from above the sink, discarded Jim’s toothbrush from it and filled it with cold water; handing it to Jim before flushing the toilet and lowering himself to Jim’s level by sitting down on the tiles beside him. The poor little sod didn’t look like he would be going - should be going - anywhere soon.
With a disgusted grimace Jim took a gulp of water, rinsed his mouth and spat into the toilet, then repeated the process. Like with a cat in distress, it was hard to tell whether he rather wanted some space or contact.
But after a while, putting the glass down, Jim shifted his posture so he could lean against Sebastian’s leg.
“I could bring you back to bed,” Sebastian offered. He rearranged his limbs and Jim too to make them both a bit more comfortable - as far as you could be in front of a toilet. “Or … we can stay for a bit.” At least there was underfloor heating, and no danger of impending hypothermia on top of… whatever all this was. Maybe he should insist on calling the doc, again, because it didn’t look like the bug going around next door, nor the symptoms Sebastian had experienced.
“Wanna talk about the dream?” Sebastian asked cautiously, realising that very moment he sounded like a shrink. Sweet Jesus. But yes, he meant it. Sharing close living quarters with Jim for months, he’d never seen any sign that the boss of the London Underworld was prone to nightmares.
~
There had been a time when Jim Moriarty could not have imagined having someone fuss after him when he was ill, never mind his being able to tolerate the proximity of anyone else when he felt weak. Taking comfort in the thing would have been preposterous.
Yet here he was, accepting Sebastian’s gentle touches and the glass of water and feeling gratitude for it. Part of Jim wanted to curl up into a ball and insist on solitude, his usual response to being horribly ill, but there was also an alarming majority that wanted curl up with Seb and demand comfort and attention until the dreadful feelings abated.
A horrifying state of affairs really. Especially since Jim was pinned by the unsettling suspicion that part of the roiling in his gut was guilt - and he hadn’t given much credulity to his being capable of that before.
There were a lot of emotions Jim hadn’t considered himself capable of before Sebastian fucking Moran wormed his way under his skin.
Jim’s unfocused, worried gaze sharpened as Moran chose to open his mouth. Wanna talk about the dream?
“No I fucking don’t!” Jim responded with ferocity.
He pushed angrily away from Sebastian and dragged himself up against the sink. Wanna talk about the dream- what did Seb think he was, a bloody child?
Jim would have stormed off, had he the energy. Instead he settled for violently scrubbing at the inside of his disgusting mouth with his toothbrush. Although even that was exhausting.
Jim spat and avoided his own gaze in the mirror. He was supposed to be practising not losing his temper with Seb, and Sebastian was only trying to help. He was always trying to help. He’d been sitting on the bathroom floor with Jim for that very reason, when he could simply have stayed in bed.
But Jim was so sick of saying ‘sorry’. He’d apologised more in recent days than he had in most of his life put together.
Jim’s head throbbed where it had hit off of the wall days before. He wasn’t sure whether that was a stress response or a side effect from tonight’s overexcitement.
Jim glared at the sink. “Everyone has bad dreams sometimes,” he told Sebastian tightly.
Jim did have nightmares sometimes, but nothing like tonight’s. And they’d been markedly less frequent since Seb moved in.
Jim wasn’t deeply upset by nightmares about being tortured or losing his empire. He was used to pain, detached from it, and he’d started with nothing so he was confident he could always start over. Before the worst dreams had been about never creating his empire at all, simply being trapped in a world he wasn’t built to fit into. Or… sometimes upsetting things, from his youth. His mother’s last day was always a topic that managed to unsettle him with confusing feelings he’d otherwise grown out of.
Tonight’s dream had been different. It had started off unsettling in ways Jim didn’t dare examine, but then it had filled him with a terror he couldn’t explain. It wasn’t like he’d been so frightened when Seb had changed out on the balcony.
But it did bother him that Sebastian had been hurt, and Jim didn’t normally care about anyone. Not really.
And there had been a sort of fear bubbling underneath his skin the whole time he’d been worried Seb might die. Panic even, and not least because Jim might never understand how Moran affected him the way he did if the blond bastard went and died on him.
Jim paled. He’d had a nightmare about Sebastian. About loving, hurting, and perhaps losing Sebastian.
…Which meant he’d let someone get close enough to him to be a significant weakness. If he cared about Moran enough to have an earth-shattering nightmare about him, then Seb was a risk. A real and tangible, undeniable risk. A pressure point.
Jim took a deep breath, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. The only logical thing to do would be to terminate said risk, but he already knew he’d rather cut off a limb than lose Seb forever.
Jim flicked his gaze to Sebastian and tried to will the unnatural sheepishness from his expression. “Consider yourself grounded until further notice. You can still come and go next door as you please, but I don’t want you off of the grounds.”
~
Well, one could always ask? But unsurprisingly Jim had no desire at all for a session with Sebastian Freud… It incensed him so much that he dragged himself up to the sink and grabbed the toothbrush. And if it wasn’t enough to get rid of the lining of his stomach he now tried to scrub off the one in his mouth too.
It was hard to watch, but Sebastian had an inkling more interfering would not be appreciated. Yeah, everybody had a bad dream now and then, as Jim pointed out. “I know,” Sebastian agreed. “It’s just that…” - this had seemed an exceptionally bad one. He trailed off when he went from seeing the top of Jim’s head in the mirror to receiving a warning scowl via the same route. The ghoulish pallor of Jim’s face and his red-rimmed eyes quite dampened Sebastian’s relief that Jim was able to stand again. But there was no point in pushing, not with a man who was as aloof and untouchable that he’d incited the legend that he wasn’t a man at all. And had yet divulged more about himself to Sebastian during the past days and weeks than to anyone. Not many, but some boundaries Sebastian recognised and accepted. The ones that would probably not even be enforced by outbreaks of fury and violent lessons, but coldness. Which would be worse than anything else – being shut out and…
His train of thought resulted in a slight delay to grasp what Jim said next. Grounded?
“Wait… What?!” For a moment Sebastian’s stare was blank, then utterly incredulous. “Why on earth… ? I mean, whatever the fuck for?”
Even considering Jim’s moodiness, he couldn’t make heads nor tails of that order. As far as he could tell, he was not a liability anymore!
~
Jim’s face crumpled darkly at the questioning. “Because I said so!” he barked. Venom straightened his spine and strengthened his legs; for a moment Jim was so full of resentment and frustration … of fear and humiliation… that he almost took a swipe for Sebastian’s eyes. Jim was too sick to win a fight but that didn’t mean he couldn’t get some dirty hits in.
Then Jim pressed his lips together tightly and inhaled deeply. His face twitched with the instinct to snarl but he fought that instead.
“Because even my subconsciousness is smarter than the average human,” Jim snapped after a few difficult moments. “And it… brought some oversights to my attention.”
Jim scrubbed at his tired face for a moment. “You must know by now that even I fuck up, right?”
Jim dropped to the floor with less grace than usual. He leaned towards Sebastian. “I’m not being very helpful, am I?” Jim murmured, eyeing Seb’s face.
Jim chewed his lip, uncertain how to explain himself without… actually explaining. Because it was bad enough to let someone have power over you without letting them know it.
“I don’t have any doubts about your abilities,” Jim said, because Seb had worried enough about that recently. “I just… failed to take something into account. And I’m in no humour to deal with replacements if anything happened to you. So humour me until I say otherwise, yes?”
~
For a blink, Sebastian saw torturous frustration in Jim’s features, agony and an expression so alien, that he doubted his perception… It was wrestled down and - Because I said so! - back was James Moriarty’s ferocious, reassuringly lovable self. It sent a defensive twitch through Sebastian by sheer reflex, but he relaxed again when Jim crumpled down beside him, deflated by that brief outburst.
“I know,” Sebastian replied. He knew that Jim’s little finger or three of his brain cells in deep slumber were smarter than any average person, but yes, still he sometimes fucked up. Which was quite inexplicable really – or would have been, had Jim’s fuck-ups ever been the result of intellectual failure.
“But that’s what I’m here for, right?" Sebastian pointed out. "I mean, that’s my job -” to temper whatever might occasionally lead to such fuck-ups, like Jim’s moodiness, irrational temper and crackpot whims. As it turned out Jim had still not lost the ability to glower, and Sebastian made a small placating gesture, “- I mean… one of them.”
As Jim leaned towards him Sebastian got bolder again and agreed: “And no, you’re not being helpful… Why not tell what it is? I’m well again” – at least for the time being – “so what danger should be out there that wasn’t there four weeks ago?”
Sebastian paused, struck by a quite … impossible thought. Ludicrous really. Jim Moriarty would be the last person on earth to feel guilty, right? Guilty, that something happened to one of his employees in the line of duty. He usually just ranted about the inconsiderate idiots that forced him find a replacement. Danger was part of the fucking job, which therefore came with a great salary and a lot of fringe benefits (more than the army ever bothered to offer!).
On the other hand ... - these past weeks he had endured an out-of-sorts Sebastian around the house, and had really gone out of his usual way and cared for him – his patience, all the doctors, the new blinds, the changed security rota, and not least his willingness to indulge the wacky theories far enough to prepare for the possibility of them being true.
~
Jim blinked. Sebastian thought… he was around to clean up Jim’s fuck ups? Sebastian’s job was to keep Jim alive, and if he thought all those times Jim had gotten them into sketchy situations were mistakes, then he really didn’t understand how boredom usually clawed at Jim. All of those death defying antics were deliberately provoked and rarely regretted. Jim had been so obsessed with his work (or keeping himself so distracted) that he often only felt alive when he wasn’t certain he’d live, and the sex he had with Seb after such merrymaking only served to prove to Jim what a great lark those games were.
Of course, now Jim had gone and gotten attached, he was going to have to stop playing with death in that manner, or at least stop bringing Sebastian along, since his expiration was a concern. Jim scowled. All of this was shaping up to be the biggest fuck up of his life. Probably already was, by miles.
Sebastian was never boring though. He pleased Jim in a way Jim honestly couldn’t remember ever experiencing before. He just… fit right. Into a gap Jim hadn’t acknowledged was even there.
“You have quite enough ammunition already without telling you every little concern that runs through my head,” Jim snapped at Sebastian, but there was a warmth in his tone he hadn’t meant to put there. Was that a good thing? His retraining his brain to be less harsh with Seb paying off? Or ought he be concerned he was being soft on Sebastian without even meaning to?
Jim huffed and shimmied down onto his back on the warm tiles, his legs folding automatically against Seb’s. He rested an arm over his face and admitted, “The problem has been developing much longer than four weeks Seb.”
Perhaps they had gone past the point of no return then, but Jim suspected even if Sebastian hadn’t encountered a supernatural creature he’d have gotten to this position in Jim’s affections eventually. Jim might have still been taking stupid risks with Seb’s life then, but like Caruso had so unhelpfully pointed out: Sebastian had been changing things around here for some time already.
“No one outside knows about this oversight yet, I expect,” Jim said slowly, and held out a ragged palm to halt Seb’s complaints. “I just don’t want you out of my pocket until I’ve decided what to do about things. It’s not… a mistake I’ve ever made before, and I need time to weigh my options.”
Jim nudged Seb’s thigh firmly with his own. “It’s not a punishment, and it’s not permanent. I just don’t want to take more stupid risks with you right now.”
Jim rubbed his face tiredly. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not taking the rest of our problems well and I just want to get us through this month before I tangle myself up in anything else complicated.”
~
Full of righteous indignation one moment, all of Sebastian’s objections were silenced the next, when Jim, instead of ranting, simply just asked him to let it go.
“A problem that has been developing for more than four weeks?” Sebastian shifted to increase the quiet, strangely innocuous contact between their legs as they were lounging on the floor. “I should insist to know, but…” he sighed, “I reckon it’s pointless to ask?”
But… nothing could be further from the truth, because although Jim still didn’t divulge the exact nature of the problem itself, he did give an explanation that mellowed Sebastian so much he came close to melting into a puddle on the floor. A little lump of affection gathered in his throat. Not a punishment, and not a no-confidence vote, Jim was grounding him because he thought he - Sebastian – might be at risk? The warmth tingling up Sebastian’s spine had nothing to do with the pleasantly heated surroundings.
“Alright”, Sebastian quietly agreed, “as you say.” And while his heart did a few silly, exulted little skips, Sebastian refrained from breathing any more comments. Jim, looking exhausted and fragile, had returned an arm over his eyes as though he’d already admitted too much.
His poor hands, seemingly unable to retain any kind of cover or bandage, reminded Sebastian of everything Jim had done for him lately. And to him as well. God… wrong thought. Well, wrong time and place at least. They needed rest, both of them, but especially Jim.
“Back to bed?” Sebastian offered after a while. The tiles might be heated, but long-term they were not overly comfortable.
~
Jim made a reluctant noise and leaned into Sebastian’s strong legs a little more. No he didn’t want to go back to bed, exhausted or not. The icy fear his nightmare had elicited still twisted his tired muscles tightly and Jim had no intention of relaxing his guard yet.
It was strange having company in the aftermath. Jim didn’t tend to sleep beside the men he fucked and since adulthood his playthings had all been more frightened of him than Sebastian had ever been.
Jim’s grandmother had climbed the stairs to his bedroom at nights when he’d first been dumped at the farm after his mother’s death. The woman wasn’t much one for comforting, and Jim was even less sure how to accept it, but she’d settled him back down and told him fairy stories to soothe him as though he was a much younger child. Or perhaps that was the usual treatment for children his age; he hadn’t had enough of a normal childhood to know.
Jim hadn’t quite felt safe then. He’d kept waiting for bad things to happen, whether that meant police or his dad coming back for him or just… life on the farm. It hadn’t been pleasant for him. But it had stayed with him, that the irascible old woman had bothered.
Sebastian bothered staying up for Jim too, even getting close when Jim was vomiting. He didn’t need to do that.
Jim felt safer with Sebastian than he’d ever felt with anyone else, ever. Wasn’t that perverse, when the man had so much power to take away everything that had ever mattered to Jim?
All Jim had ever wanted was to be in control, and now things were spiralling. How bad they might be if anything ever happened to Sebastian was too alarming to think about. There were great big holes in Jim’s web of possibilities where things became too overwhelming to contemplate, never mind take control of.
But Sebastian was lying here on the bathroom floor with Jim, and he didn’t have to be.
“Go get some sleep, Tiger,” Jim said. “I won’t get back to sleep but there’s no need for you to suffer. I think I’ve passed the… the sickness stage… so you don’t need to worry about me.”
~
"I know." But the most comfortable bed held not half the appeal as sharing the bathroom floor with Jim, leaning against him. A warm, fuzzy feeling wafted through Sebastian, very different from and yet emanating from the same place as the thrill and elation he felt on the occasions when Jim entirely relied on him in the field, or without hesitation gave gave him a task he’d entrust no one else with and had never done so before.
Jim rarely told him in so many words, but Sebastian knew that such assignments existed. Not even necessarily kills, ghastly retributions or brutal enforcing – Jim had access to any number of people for that - but things so vital to the running of his empire or so close to its dark and beating heart, that Jim had never considered leaving them with someone else.
To make no mistake – Sebastian did get conflicting signals here now, when Jim told him to go to bed, while at the same time his weight got heavier in small increments as he gradually relaxed. But Sebastian had become quite adept at dealing with conflicting signals, living with the man who was one inextricable conflict himself. Sometimes he bore Sebastian’s protectiveness and care with grace, and even seemingly liking it; sometimes he exploded in vitriolic spite, because he mistook caring for pity and accepting it for weakness, and there was no room for reasoning with him on that regard.
So despite all his doubts Sebastian offered a sound of agreement about Jim’s self-diagnosis, but he didn’t move a muscle to leave. “I don’t mind,” he mumbled. “Can as well sleep here.” He knew suffering, right? This was not it, not a warm if hard floor and an array of pointy limbs and nubby vertebrae resting against him. Stretching a bit, he reached up and pulled three out of a stack of luxurious towels from a low shelf to cushion his head, leaving one if Jim should want something to wrap around himself. If Jim wanted no company, he was free to leave, but not as long as he was too poorly to do so on his own two legs.
Deeply satisfied with his logic, Sebastian closed his eyes.
~
Sebastian Moran was the most contrary man Jim had ever had the misfortune to know, and the uncomfortable feeling clawing in Jim’s chest made Jim quite certain he wouldn’t have things any other way.
He kicked one of Sebastian’s large feet. “There’s a very expensive mattress through there that you’d do better to have the use of.” Jim knew he was wasting his breath as he said it - as usual - and he felt a twinge as Seb made a dismissive noise of agreement and got comfortable on a few meagre towels. Few people blatantly disobeyed Jim, but who else would do so in favour of an uncomfortable night on the bathroom floor?
Jim lightly pinched one of Seb’s nipples. They’d clearly healed a bit already, but were still a tender, puffy pink. Sebastian hissed, throwing him an unimpressed look.
“Don’t think a night on the floor is going to earn you any sympathy,” Jim said. “Kitchen’s due to be finished tomorrow, and however long it takes, I’m expecting you to cook afterwards. Your little holiday is over.”
Sebastian grunted.
Jim wavered. “I suppose if you’re staying you can make yourself useful. No reason why we should both suffer the floor.”
Sebastian had only half managed to raise his brows questioningly when he found his chest plastered with a pointy, little consulting criminal. Jim wriggled, getting comfortable and closed his eyes briefly as he inhaled Seb’s familiar scent. Jim was unlikely to sleep again, but that was no reason not to get some rest.
If he could. The shadow of the nightmare hung in the recesses of Jim’s mind, not forgotten.
“You’ve got terrible taste in men,” Jim whispered as Seb’s breathing started to deepen. “But I wouldn’t trade you for anything.”
~
Sebastian found himself being arranged and then occupied like a pillow. Ah well, never mind he’d pictured himself sharing the floor with Jim, not acting as a cushion. He sighed. “Yeah, I have…” he sleepily agreed with Jim’s verdict about his taste. “But yours is impeccable.”
Not least because Sebastian would have lain down on a bed of nails for him. For the very man whose whole empire was built on the fact that everything and everyone had a price, and yet, who’d not trade him for anything. “’M very glad about that.”
The hand on his chest curled slightly and a sharp nail pressed into his other nipple, but quite unobtrusively, and instead of a warning growl Sebastian answered with a soft, sleepy huff.
A few of his muscles twitched lazily as he repositioned one arm, his hand covering Jim’s, which gradually relaxed.
~
In most things Jim would not doubt his taste to be impeccable, but men? Most of his sex left a great deal to be desired. The only one he valued was Sebastian Moran, and that was the most questionable choice he’d ever made. Not that it even really felt like much of a choice: he was drawn to Seb despite the many logical reasons for Jim to draw a line in the sand before he got himself robbed, hurt, or killed. Honestly he deserved all three for being such a weak little fool.
That didn’t stop Jim from noticing -not for the first time either- how comfortable he found Seb’s chest, and his blasted company. His insubordination, and dogged loyalty. …His smell. Jim was appreciative of it all, and the fact vexed him horribly.
Jim made a lacklustre effort to scratch the tender parts of Sebastian’s chest for the way the prick voiced his gratitude; Moran was the only one whose voice could be entirely devoid of smugness and yet ring with it regardless. Bastard.
The cunt covered Jim’s hand with his own large one, and somehow that quelled Jim’s unkind instincts.
“Go the fuck to sleep,” Jim grumbled, and Sebastian did, with such rare obedience Jim half wished he’d captured the action in film. To remind himself that Moran was actually capable of behaving of course, not
because Sebastian looked at all… content. Heart-clenchingly content.
Jim silently cursed himself for having less sense than God gifted a field mouse, and then made an appalled face when he realised he was so agitated that he’d regressed to one of his grandmother’s admonishments. What a wretched night.
Jim considered how drained and shaken he felt and resigned himself to it not getting any better. So he’d been stupid enough to develop feelings for someone, so what? It wasn’t as if he was capable of really loving anyone the way a person was supposed to, so what did it matter? He might be blatantly smitten by Seb by his usual standards -oh God oh fuck don’t think about that too hard- but how could ordinary people possibly recognise what passed for affection from such a twisted soul as Jim Moriarty?
What did love even look like for other people? For Seb? He’d certainly never had sex so fulfilling, but what had it been like for Seb to have his… emotional needs met? In the past?
The thought made Jim all sorts of jealous, and trying to picture himself aping any such thing made him horribly uncomfortable. So there, Sebastian was perfectly safe, because if Jim was incapable of even picturing being a… a partner? then no one could ever accuse Jim of having a weak spot in someone.
…Except… Sebastian knew, didn’t he? Jim didn’t know how, but… in some way, he was sure Seb knew. There would have been no point in kissing Jim the way he had that time in the kitchen if he didn’t have such a point to prove. It had certainly put Jim in his fucking place for the first time in bloody years.
Jim moped to himself and watched the gradual change in light across the tiles. He hadn’t bothered to switch the light on when racing to empty his guts, and he didn’t think Seb actually needed artificial light anymore to be able to see at night. Sebastian didn’t seem to need much of anything, but he made a displeased noise in his sleep when Jim tried to peel himself away.
Jim found himself accepting the order with ease, only questioning himself when he nosed Seb’s chest in an apologetic gesture of affection. Fuck. Jim was losing his bloody mind.
Jim groaned and closed his eyes. He opened them again quickly when Seb’s arm curled more comfortably around him. Even unconscious, Seb was a more loving person than Jim.
Jim didn’t know what to do about that, much less how to feel, so he simply burrowed further into Seb’s embrace and resigned himself to watching for the early morning sun to reach through the window. Except his eyelids were heavy, and when Jim opened them again, it was inarguably morning.
~
By rights it should have been an uncomfortable night. And – superficially – it was. Between the hard floor and the weight on top of him Sebastian had to made small adjustments in position every now and then to slightly shift the most edgy parts of Jim’s anatomy (and the man basically consisted of edges), but that didn’t take much away of how ridiculously … pleasant he found this arrangement. And between stretches of sleep he had time enough to bask in that proximity and closeness they needed an excuse for to happen.
Well, he wouldn’t need one, but Jim did – be it a nightmare, an upset stomach or the flu…
Over the course of the night, Sebastian also had time to get more familiar with his changed senses, which seemed to have been subjected to another change since the turn. He seemed to have gotten more attuned to them, to handling them. These past weeks, and especially during the days leading up to the shift, he’d perceived them as torturous. Scary, because of the apprehension and the wild theories without any real knowledge of what was happening. Now though… Maybe it was just the result of knowing what they were dealing with, as crazy at it still felt, but it felt like now there’d started the process of exactly what Jim had told him he would do, had to do: adjusting.
Before, the new scale of noises, lights, smells mostly had had a jarring effect, sometimes nauseating, sometimes inciting uncontrollable urges or aggression, but now there was the hope that that wasn’t necessarily how it would stay.
In the admittedly sheltered surroundings of a quiet room by night they blended into each other like a tapestry, as though Sebastian’s brain was sorting the threads and the colours into a picture that made sense – three-dimensional, picturing the world around him, just different from how he’d been used to perceiving it.
Deep shadows had gone from potentially dangerous places to something easily evaluated, like his very eyes were fitted with a night-vision optic, just without the shortcomings of the man-made equipment. The safety margin one had to abide by because there were always things you wouldn’t be able to see or hear, had shrunk considerably. If you could hear the bats, the infinitesimal crepitation of the house, the soft crinkle of a potted plant unfolding another leaf, you didn’t need to worry too much about missing a car pulling up, or footsteps, or any other signs of impending danger, and technical gadgets like say… smoke detectors fell woefully short of Sebastian’s newly sharpened senses. But most of all, his brain seemed to be developing mechanisms to cope not just to keep him from going insane but utilising the new input.
And why not? How else did animals cope? How could a dog be fast asleep under the kitchen table despite the din of household and TV, but still perk up when a certain car turned into the top of the drive half a mile away? How could cats bump and rub their faces against your leg, while their whiskers were so sensitive they could feel a breath of air move. They all, even humans, had filters their brain ran things through, Sebastian simply needed to hone and adjust his.
And even though the death of night in a quiet bathroom was the lowest level challenge, you had to start somewhere, right?
For now… he savoured the soft sounds of Jim’s breathing, how it warmed and cooled the skin below his right collarbone, how its patterned changed, together with Jim’s heartbeat, when his sleep got lighter, or when he was awake, but didn’t move.
Of course Sebastian was not equipped to hear his thoughts, but he sensed a bit of restlessness. No signs of any panic attacks though…
As dawn crept in, Jim dozed off again, and so did Sebastian.
He woke up again as Jim nuzzled his chest, hairs tickling his chin. Sebastian tried to feign ongoing sleep, but couldn’t suppress a groan when he heard the message tone of his phone. Surely next door, announcing the kitchen blokes.
~
Jim awoke considerably more refreshed than he had expected to. Using Sebastian as a pillow had seemingly gleaned him more sleep than anticipated after such a disturbance earlier.
Still, Jim wriggled tighter against Seb. Awake or not, the prospect of parting did not fill him with enthusiasm.
Sebastian’s phone bleeping pleased Jim even less. He didn’t know whether to be amused or annoyed when Seb vocalised his own displeasure, because that confirmed Jim’s suspicion that Sebastian was awake, and thus perfectly aware of Jim’s nuzzling.
Jim did not want to get up, but they did need a kitchen. He patted Seb’s chest then peeled himself reluctantly from the man’s warm skin. “No rest for the wicked.”
Sebastian made a noise of acknowledgement as he pulled himself up into a sitting position and stretched. Jim curled his fingers and knuckled Seb’s scalp with the least scabbed parts of his admittedly finally healing hands.
“You’d best make time to shower whilst they’re escorted over,” Jim said. He trailed his hand down Seb’s neck and rubbed his shoulders, mildly aggrieved but marvelling nonetheless about the total disappearance of the scratches he’d left there yesterday. “Lord knows they won’t need tiger senses to smell what I’ve done to you otherwise.”
Jim draped his arms over Seb and sucked a mark into his neck. Seb’s cheekbone needed touched up too, but Jim rather preferred to brush his teeth a second time before putting his mouth that close to Seb’s face.
“Not that I’m complaining,” Jim added, and he… wasn’t? What he had permitted yesterday was overwhelming and not something to be repeated but… he didn’t properly regret giving Sebastian more control yesterday, despite the unsettled night that followed. Sebastian was different, from everyone, and for all it worried Jim that Seb was special, there was a tiny, reckless, traitorous part of him who wondered what it would be like to… share control, sometimes, just with Seb. To let Sebastian climb on his dick just because he felt like it, to… pull him into… cuddles… just because Seb was allowed to touch him like that, to… to just not have to police every little thing but instead just… let Seb treat him like… a person? A person he was allowed to touch, wanted to touch?
Jim sighed and pulled away, feeling dirty.
~
Sebastian hummed placidly, tilting his neck so Jim could comfortably refresh the bruise at the side of it. The sound from his chest took on a pensive note, as Sebastian contemplated whether he would mind if someone smelled Jim on him, or what they’d done…
He was torn between his pride, which still refused to entirely come to terms with being owned so completely by Jim Moriarty as he was, and another, very strange variation of that same pride of… exactly that. And the by no means symbolic but very prosaic urge to shower.
By the way – although they both reeked, Sebastian noticed the sickly note in Jim’s smell had abated somewhat.
Sebastian briefly held his breath when Jim had referred to last night, the memory of making him tingly all over, and giddy, and slightly apprehensive about a possible fallout. Their encounter had been … extraordinary in any way. Not that they had a … pattern as such, but there were Rules and Boundaries, and they’d ventured far behind them last night. They both had, but Sebastian wouldn’t have been a bit surprised if in hindsight he would be the one to take the blame, and the consequences. So he was so stunned by Jim’s off-handed remark that he didn’t complain.
“Oh, me neither.” Sebastian smiled and leaned forward. After a night on a tiled floor he expected a cacophony of complaints from various body parts which had all taken their beatings over the decades, but… it wasn’t too bad. A twinge here and there, but rather faintly. Just like his old scars, looking less severe since his shift. And the fresh ones… He rolled his shoulders and stretched his back, aware of the curious (and slightly miffed?) look Jim gave him. The burn of the scratches had faded into a slight itchiness during the course of the night, now he couldn’t feel them at all any more. While that was still wondrous, Sebastian almost felt bad about it, because Jim looked like hell.
Jim’s posture and the setting of his shoulders told Sebastian overprotective fussing would not be appreciated right now. Also, tending to Jim under the shower might lead to prolonged distractions from his day job.
“You’re right, gotta dash,” Sebastian murmured instead. He was in and out of the shower in less than two minutes, and after haphazardly drying off, he struggled into fresh clothes. “I’ll be downstairs if you need anything, yes?” Which as horribly superfluous to say, but he secretly liked the domestic ring of it very much.
~
Jim dragged himself to his feet as Sebastian hopped into the shower, and Seb’s speed was ‘helped’ along by Jim running the tap to brush his teeth. He shot Seb a playful look via the mirror, then shook out a towel that Seb accepted with narrowed eyes. Resting some of his weight against the sink, Jim used the towel to tug Seb in. Jim’s fingers curled around Sebastian’s neck and pulled him down -Jim was in no state to risk getting on his tiptoes on the tiles- and the water dripped down Jim’s bare wrist. He briefly licked Seb’s yellowed cheekbone, droplets of water catching on his tongue, then Jim sucked a fresh mark onto Seb’s
face. Sebastian’s expression made Jim’s insides twist.
Jim pulled away and gave Seb a dismissive swat. More of a pat really. Sebastian was already walking out the door, but then he looked back. I’ll be downstairs if you need anything, yes?
Jim rolled his eyes weakly, opening his mouth to say something dismissive, but what came out was: “I know you coped with the noise yesterday, but if it gets too loud, or just too much, then delegate; don’t be a martyr.”
Jim frowned at himself, and the look Moran gave him, but he did mean it. “It’s still new. For you,” Jim said a little defensively. Like he was talking to Caruso, who’d known him since he was just an ambitious little idiot, more than a third of his life, and not someone he’d been living with for less than a year.
Caruso was family, of a sort, but Jim still kept her at arm’s length. He’d never wanted anything more and it hadn’t occurred to him to.
And yet Sebastian Moran had sauntered into Jim’s life and it was different. Jim ate more, he slept more, his mood swings were less tied to his blood sugar. He wanted more.
And Jim had told Seb more about his life than anyone alive. He’d done things with Seb he hadn’t done with anyone left alive. Hell, he’d done things with Seb he’d never with anyone else.
Not just sexually either, although enjoying Seb’s pleasure certainly was alien. Jim was… in some ways comfortable with Sebastian. He liked having him around - felt better, when he was around, and… there were ways Jim could relax that he hadn’t even noticed happening. Instead of crisp mouthfuls of premeditated threats Jim just… spoke to Seb. Without thinking sometimes, just… automatically, like the method of weighing consequences that he typically used more than his lungs was just… unimportant. False. Unnecessary. It was almost like Jim had been holding his breath without knowing it all these years and suddenly… Sebastian Moran had breathed strange life into him. And what was Jim supposed to do with that?
…Except trample it all down and curse himself for a foolhardy fucking simpleton.
Sebastian had agreed, to his instructions if not necessarily Jim’s grim thoughts about himself, and went pulling on clothes and disappearing downstairs. And Jim was alone.
He stepped into the shower and settled under the stream, sitting on the floor with his knees drawn up.
He had research to do. And delegation of his own.
…Or perhaps he could lie face down and wait out the urge to drown himself?
~
“I’ve had the impression at times you quite like me in the martyr role.” Sebastian grinned, but despite his boss’s eye-rolling, and his usual claims that to look out for his investments - like his sniper’s sensitive ears - was nothing but sensible, Sebastian very much sensed a degree of caring for this particular piece of property (well, not just the ears, but the man they were attached to) beyond anything he usually displayed towards the world. And although that was still very much different from normal human standards, it was enough for Sebastian to put a spring of elation into his step. And also, to swing by his own room and responsibly pocket an assortment of ear plugs before he went downstairs.
It was Poppy and Gary who’d escorted the kitchen blokes in, while Tom and the dogs were in the process of vetting the content of the builder’s vehicle before it was finally allowed up the drive and back up to the front door.
Two of the guys who hadn’t been here yesterday furtively eyed Sebastian’s bruises, but only briefly. He realised it probably made his appearance more dangerous to people who didn’t know how he’d come by them, and their own staff who knew - well they’d had enough time to get used to the sight.
The day passed with a lot of work – it was a tall order to fit a custom-made kitchen in a day, and Sebastian lent a hand where he could without getting under anyone’s feet. He respected people who where experts at their jobs, no matter what that job was, and didn’t baulk at being relegated to fetch and carry. It wasn’t quite as much fun as the demolition had been, and he also had to be mindful not to get too carried away into an incredible hulk impression, but it was actually satisfying to help build something. When the noise of drills and screwdrivers got to much for him he removed himself as far as the winter garden to sort through the heap of salvaged things from their old kitchen.
Even a 3D model on a laptop screen was only so much to go on, and so when he returned to see their new kitchen taking shape he was quite satisfied that reality didn’t fall behind. The granite worktops and matte stainless steel appliances looked good and would continue to do so even without constant polishing (Christ, he’d become a fucking housewife!) and the fronts of what looked like sanded driftwood gave it all a certain warmth it would have otherwise lacked.
Jim, very much an ‘out with the old, in with the new’ kind of person in (almost) every regard, would naturally expect the whole content of the kitchen to be simply replaced as well, but Sebastian would be damned if he’d let go of his favourite knifes, and a few other things that had survived the tempest of fury. Like their handsome, handmade kitchen table, that had been built to withstand a lot of things. The slightly dented kettle was a nice memento too, and as for the tableware – well whenever had they needed a set of twelve of everything at once?
Sebastian’s stomach growled, pointing out it was almost noon, and he rang ahead to next door to have Caruso put something to eat together, only to hear that she’d already done so – sandwiches for the workmen, and a bit more elaborate meal for the residents.
Sebastian went next door to fetch it, and make a brief inspection of the plague ship, manned by a somewhat diminished crew but reasonably afloat.
Twenty minutes later he carried the tray upstairs to Jim’s bedroom.
“How are you?” Still alive, and behind his laptop, if not as well groomed as usually. “They say they’ll be finished by tonight, it’s looking good already.” If he might say so himself! “God, especially the walk-in freezer.” Their pantry had been extended and the shelving on one side replaced with this fascination thing. “You know, the one to store whole sides of beef and game, not the hearts of your enemies…”
~
Jim did not particularly want to leave the shower but he supposed the water would need to be turned off to connect the new kitchen’s plumbing so he dragged himself out from under the water. He still felt like there was something other than bizarre and unnecessary feelings lingering underneath his skin, but he couldn’t just lie in bed until he was ready to face it; he’d need considerably more power than he currently had to persuade the moon to extend her deadline.
Jim dried and combed his hair -with an actual comb, his fingers were healing but not that well- and supposed dipping said fingers into any hair product was probably a poor idea. Perhaps Sebastian could help with that tomorrow? Jim felt too poorly to order a hairdresser to fix him up, but Seb already knew Jim wasn’t feeling his best and was unlikely to make that difficult.
Although perhaps not. Having Seb’s fingers in his hair was different from paying someone else to do it, even if Seb was technically on the payroll himself.
Grimacing, Jim wobbled his way into boxers and an undershirt. Then needed a break to catch his breath. He pulled on a shirt with mother of pearl snap fastenings that were a bit easier to manage than ordinary buttons, but left it gaping a bit more at the neck than he would ordinarily. If not for his undershirt he’d probably be flashing his nipples at Seb later.
There was no way he was going to manage socks without sitting down, and trousers seemed like an unnecessary effort. He sure as hell wasn’t going to the office today; he probably wouldn’t even go downstairs until the kitchen fitters were gone.
Jim took a pair of socks over to the bed and pulled them on as he waited for his laptop to boot up (not that it took long). The bed itself still smelt of sex, and of Sebastian in general, but that didn’t annoy Jim and he tried to ignore the reasons why.
He focused his irritation on the noise downstairs instead, and let it fuel his drive to work. He needed to hand over a bunch of complex projects he was no longer interested in (compared to supernatural tigers everything else had lost its intrigue) to other people and… progress various arrangements in case he didn’t survive the next full moon.
An oddly optimistic part of him felt like spending the morning dealing with commissioning the perfect collar for Sebastian, but there was the more pressing matter of trying to find Seb a fucking cure. And for Jim to not die, which really ought to be higher up his list surely.
Jim sourly tried to ignore that. His mood wasn’t helped by trying to deliver verbal orders over the din of the kitchen, nor the fact that everything seemed too loud, too bright, too exhausting.
Jim was somewhat miserable by the hour lunchtime crept around, and he felt exasperated by the uptick in his mood as he heard Seb’s soft steps on the stairs. Ravenous as he was, Jim knew it wasn’t the food improving his mood.
Jim listened to Seb prattle on for a few moments then his lips quirked dryly. “If I was going to introduce you to the taste of my enemies’ flesh I’d rather give you the enrichment of letting you tear their chests open yourself. It’s dreadfully cruel to let a tiger get bored.” His stomach rumbled and Jim sighed, shoving aside his laptop. “We might need to think about extending the fucking freezer if I stay hungry like this…”
~
“You are such a responsible owner.” Sebastian handed Jim a plate, uncovered the dishes on the tray and arranged the food. Feeling a slight twinge of alarm, not caused by Jim’s musings about entertaining his tiger – it was, after all very Jim, putting a gleam into his eyes more than any fever could - but because inside Sebastian something stirred with interest as well, ears pricking and tail twitching. A bit lazy still, half in a slumber, and easily subdued, but there were more than enough reasons to expect that this might change as the time drew on towards the next full moon…
Sebastian distracted his thoughts by pondering the strange combination of Jim feeling sickly but still ravenous, but realised that line of thought was not suitable to make him less uneasy.
“Well, there are worse things than you having an appetite,” he reassured them both while watching Jim heap toast and bacon and eggs onto his plate, then he hurried to save a share for himself. “And it won’t be long before we have a functioning kitchen again.” His cooking skills would never match that of Caruso or any cook worth his salt to be honest, but therefore all the more chuffed he was that Jim, discerning little snob that he was in all things - still seemed to like whatever he scrambled up.
~
Jim wasn’t certain whether it was his pride, self-preservation instinct or just common sense that stopped him from telling Moran that he was genuinely trying to be ‘a responsible owner’. There were only so many times Jim could admit such a thing before someone as bright as his tiger would make uncomfortable (accurate) conclusions about why Jim made such efforts.
It was no hardship to throw himself into eating instead. Jim was hungry. But there was no point thinking on that; he’d seen how Sebastian’s appetite had increased last month after all.
“Worse things like having you defile my bedsheets at every opportunity?” Jim said, because there would be time to stress later. “You might as well sit with me to eat; sheets need changing anyway.”
Jim shoved a forkful of egg into his mouth and kept his gaze on his laden plate. He didn’t know how he felt about the too sharp or simply pleased looks Seb shot him sometimes. A further mouthful kept Jim from admitting how comforting he found it when Seb was puttering about in his -their?- kitchen. The presence of previous protection staff had worn Jim’s nerves raw, but Sebastian was a different breed altogether. Somehow. It was perplexing… perhaps more than the fucking were tiger thing.
A lot of things Seb did were perplexing. Like spending the night on the bathroom floor instead of a comfortable bed. Or bearing to be near Jim at all; most people found him uncomfortable to be around if he let his mask slip even a little. He was too angry, too uncanny, too other.
Sebastian smiled when Jim touched him. Even when Jim’s temper was showing Seb wasn’t in the habit of recoiling from Jim’s presence.
Jim was not in the habit of seeking out the touch of others. Sex was one thing, but the way he touched Seb (and the touches he permitted from Sebastian) were something more complex. The more Jim took the more he craved.
He’d forgotten to strap his weapons on today. There were strangers in his house, but Jim didn’t feel the usual pressing need to be able to defend himself, because Seb was …around. The only danger was how Seb made Jim feel.
And that they wouldn’t both survive the full moon. Where would Sebastian go, if Jim was gone?
Jim pushed his food aside, feeling sick. His usual urge to lash out was overtaken by a pathetic urge to snatch for Sebastian and the shame made Jim’s entire body hot.
~
Sebastian plopped down onto the bed, steadying the teapot on the tray with one hand, with the other saving the dish with the bacon and eggs from sliding off.
“You’re right,” he agreed pleasantly and picked up the second fork, “it’s going to be me who’ll be changing the sheets anyway, so a little defiling makes no difference.” Of course it did, because it was against The Rules, but on the other hand… who other than Jim had over time subtly permitted, invited or even provoked him to break them? Jim would of course fervently deny that, but Sebastian had good instincts. On top of his disposition to question boundaries and test them.
Which didn’t mean that when he complied, said instincts went to sleep. So even while digging into the delicious food, Sebastian didn’t miss the sudden change in Jim’s appetite and demeanour. He’d never get used to the speed with which such things happened – and lately Jim had outdone himself on that front. Just that… Sebastian didn’t sense the usual stage-acting that normally played quite a part in Jim’s mood-swings, but instead it seemed genuine. Going from reasonably content to distressed or unwell, almost as though the first… triggered the second. Which was a nonsensical notion, right? But he couldn’t shake it.
Although slowing down, Sebastian kept on eating, because the fiercely self-sufficient little psycho wasn’t a fan of being mothered or fussed over. Or pretended he wasn’t.
“What’s wrong, need a bucket again?” Sebastian asked softly, but also quite bluntly.
Suddenly Jim looked sweaty and pale, but of course pitying him would not go down well either.
~
“No,” Jim said, because he refused to be sick or explain what was wrong. He curled in on himself a little more, trying to find the resolve to push past the feeling of helplessness and the anger that provoked.
“You’re welcome to what’s left on my plate,” Jim said, trying to reach for a normal tone. It had previously been a given that Seb could help himself to Jim’s leftovers, especially for the last month, but Jim’s appetite had been something else recently.
He took a deep breath and raised his head again, forcing himself into an approximation of normal, even if he could feel a flickering of emotions twitching across his otherwise blank facial expression. It didn’t make sense to put on a happier face; might trick Seb into being less careful than he needed to be when Jim felt this vulnerable and therefore potentially very volatile indeed.
Jim hadn’t bothered with a tie, so he played with his cuffs instead. If he’d been with other people he wouldn’t display such agitation, but Sebastian spent enough time here behind the curtain that he already knew Jim wasn’t made entirely of stone and spite.
Jim couldn’t remember feeling protective of anyone else. Not like this. He sort of knew, although he avoided dwelling on it, that some of the team next door had only survived so many of his tempers because he had some small fondness for them. Caruso was a grounding influence that Jim relied on. Tom would probably have been killed if he hadn’t helped tend to Jim’s poison garden for years, garnering some small attachment. Saavi had skirted close to Jim’s frustration during brainstorming sessions, but he’d kept her whole because he enjoyed those sessions.
Sebastian was something else entirely. Jim actively worried about exposing Seb to his worst bouts of temper, and to harm from outside aggressors, and… and about what would happen to Sebastian if he no longer had Jim.
That was new. Jim hadn’t cared about his clients, or the powerful people he’d mentored under, or the animals he’d tended, or even, to some extent, his mother. He’d cared for her, as a chore and yes okay perhaps emotionally to an extent, but he’d expected her death for so long that it hadn’t been a source of significant fear. And he’d never had to worry what she would do without him, not like this.
Jim wanted Sebastian to be safe and well and happy, and he’d never been twisted up by such a desire before. It was too late to send Seb away, and lashing out wouldn’t solve anything.
But Jim couldn’t bring himself to draw Seb closer either. Even as ridiculously and appallingly clingy as he’d felt these last few days, Jim couldn’t imagine letting Sebastian closer than he already -alarmingly- had. That wasn’t just a fear response; Jim honestly couldn’t see how Seb could at all benefit from being… what, closer? Jim’s… person that he cared about? What good would that do either of them??
Yet still, Jim hugged his knees and wished he was pressed up close to Moran instead.