Chore
Jesus… what, now?!
Apparently yes. Jim wrenched his arm away and marched towards the door. When he was gone, Sebastian let out a deep breath and closed his eyes, feeling slightly queasy. Not at all by what Jim had requested, but why, and how.
Sebastian could honestly claim he wasn’t easily rattled and that he could take a lot of things in his stride. Since being with Jim, he’d gotten even better at that. And, at the same time, worse.
Christ, talk about secretly yearning for something - like … to reciprocate a bit, to not just receive but also give back – and then having it handed to you in the fucking worst possible way. With revulsion plain in Jim’s face and every fibre of his body and nothing but the wish to ‘just get this over with’.
The other things Jim said – like calling it their bedroom – were very much the sort of thing Sebastian usually picked up and went over and over again in his mind, until they were polished to shiny little treasures he tucked away because they had to mean something, right? But for now they were insignificant compared to Jim demanding Sebastian do something he deemed so horrid he could barely abide it and so chose the most impersonal space their house had to offer. Did not want their bedroom to be … well what - fucking desecrated?! By the sound of it.
Jim did not want to associate this with their bedroom, but could he ever not associate it with Sebastian after, not detest him?
And maybe it was all moot anyway, maybe Tiger Seb wasn’t gay at all but only territorial and only wanted to kill rivals and not fuck them. Sebastian felt that hysterical itching in his throat again.
Well. If it had to happen this way, there was only one thing he could do, to make it less horrid for Jim – which the little madman basically expected - make it good. Although Sebastian could think of ten different reasons why Jim might find that even more loathsome.
To counter his own nerves, Sebastian went for a quick cigarette on the balcony, then on the tightrope walk of preparations too. A quick shower, then to the guest bedroom, then, wrapped in a towel he gathered … lube, maybe a fluffy blanket? A bottle of water... God, he hated what should have been something nice and exciting being turned into some sort of … clinical procedure, but he also had the feeling that sultry music, rose petals and candle light would not go down well.
~
Jim felt like he might actually be capable of bursting into overwhelmed tears, but the last thing he needed was for Sebastian to smell - or hear - such a thing. Shaking, he fumbled his buttons as he stripped and did his best not to scream.
He washed clinically, finding the task a struggle since he was tenser than he could remember being in some time. He actually wanted to hide in the water for as long as possible, but it had already taken him a long time to prepare.
He dried and dressed in an amount of layers unnecessary for the actual task ahead, but wholly necessary for his nerves. He felt more armoured in a full suit. He’d have put shoes on too if he didn’t think that would be a shade too ridiculous.
Jim dragged himself to the spare bedroom with less grace than he might his own execution.
Sebastian was there, with more expressions on his face than Jim could process. He was so anxious that his brain was going into overdrive analysing all sorts of irrelevant data. None of it mattered, because there was no way out of this. The task was necessary: desensitising.
Jim tried to channel his focus elsewhere. He already knew the outcome of what was about to happen. What he needed to do was control his body and emotions enough that he wasn’t leaking fear hormones right into Seb’s supernatural nostrils.
He controlled his voice fiercely, refusing to let it quaver. “I need to face you for this. Not… staring into each other’s eyes, just… control.”
He took a dizzying breath and undid his belt buckle.
~
As Jim entered the room, Sebastian almost propelled himself out of bed, sure something unforeseen had come up.
"Oh, are you going ou - " He broke off. One look in Jim's face made it clear he hadn't donned his Westwood armour against one of his many opponents, but... whatever he felt he had to endure - literally - at the hands of Sebastian. "You really don't need to do this. Just lock me away when the time comes, or before! I don't see why that shouldn't work!" The last thing he wanted was to hurt Jim ‐ it went thoroughly against his grain, his feelings and it painfully devalued his loyalty. It denied him everything he longed to be for Jim, and If Tiger Seb had different urges there were measures enough to prevent it.
But Jim was unshakeable, he downright ignored all his objections, but came straight to the ... torturous procedure. Sebastian wanted to scream. But he also knew there was no way to avert something Jim had set his mind to.
Jim wanted to go through with it.
Sebastian breathed deeply, closing his eyes in desperation. "Well, you need to be in control you say. I assume the command is yours, at all times. Means a safe word ends it on the spot. There's no other way I'll do this. And for the protocol: it's a horrible idea."
He gave the bed beside him a gentle pat, wondering what would be the best way to do this... Jim wanted control, Jim wanted to face him, Jim actually didn't want this to happen at all, nor take his clothes off for it.
~
Jim’s hands paused on his fly at Seb’s words, and a strained laugh forced itself out of his mouth. He covered his face for a moment. A safe word.
“I don’t have a safe word,” Jim said. “I don’t even let you have one.” He lowered his hands just enough to wrap around his upper arms and squeeze, as though that might keep him together. “Too… possessive and controlling, to give you that. Don’t like being told what to do. And besides, I can usually read my partners well enough to know what they want even when they don’t, and it’s my choice what I give them.”
Jim huffed. “We’re not using a safe word. I’m not having some seemingly innocuous word becoming a ticking time bomb that might crop up in an unrelated conversation and… distract me.” He sighed. “No traffic lights either. I’m not ‘green’; I’m just choosing the lesser of two evils.”
Jim took another shaky breath and looked at the ceiling. “If I tell you to ‘stop’, you stop. If I tell you to ‘wait’, you wait. And you don’t make it worse by trying to check in with my feelings.”
Jim lowered his chin and removed his suit jacket. He tossed it aside with less care than usual; he fully intended to burn his entire outfit afterwards.
“It’s your job to protect me; look after me. Please me,” Jim said grimly. “Just… do that. I’m not… concerned… that you might hurt me. I just find this distasteful. I’m sure you’re capable of doing an adequate enough job that I won’t be compelled to scarper off and bathe in bleach afterwards.” He tilted his head dryly. “Although I expect afterwards I’ll need some… space. And then to fuck you properly so we can put this behind us.”
Jim squeezed his belt hard for a moment, then drew closer and pushed his clothing down enough to free his privates. He stood grimacing between Seb’s thighs for a moment. Then he stepped out of his trousers and straddled Sebastian stiffly.
“So we’re clear, darling: if you try slapping my arse to lighten the mood I shall remove your jugular with my teeth.”
~
"Understood." Sebastian suppressed a sigh. No lightening the mood, no referring to any feelings, simply a task... To do something Jim found inherently distasteful - so much so that actually he almost did look green around the gills, despite claiming the opposite.
If that wasn't motivating, what on earth could be, Sebastian thought vexedly. But Jim straddling him - disgusted expression or not - was much too distracting, and exciting, and yes, indeed motivating. Mission objective was clear: take care of him, please him and preferably so that Jim wouldn't perish from self-loathing. Wait, did that mean, he shouldn't be too pleased... Would that make it worse for him?
Sebastian realised he was procrastinating and reached for the lube…
It felt utterly strange, horrible even, to go about this like doing an assigned chore, without any preliminaries, without even something as simple but essential like... a kiss.
"I don't mind, you know..., me not having a safe word I mean," maybe this was a bit of prattle to distract Jim, but it was also the truth. Sebastian hadn't been shocked about being denied one, but rather... turned on. It had taken things out of his hands, it had made him breathless with adrenaline and arousal both. And somewhere, deeper inside, strangely calm. Grounded. Finally... seen. Understood.
One hand at the small of Jim's back, he steadied and also adjusted their position ever so casually, so his slicked hand had room enough to sneak down between both their legs, his fingers mapping out their target, not timidly, but not in undue haste either. Just in time he remembered the not staring into each other's eyes part and when Jim's arms went around his neck - not an embrace but just taking a hold - Sebastian leaned his forehead against Jim's shoulder... so close that his ears, eyes, nose would not miss any reactions or directions. Neither of course did he miss the physically obvious non-reactions. Not that Sebastian could have hoped for more, not at this point. But it rather increased his motivation to be honest... Jim on the other hand grew more resentful and impatient quickly, but if he wanted to say something it got a bit lost as Sebastian's fingers went from languidly stroking to bolder explorations to one of them... pushing in. Sebastian bit back a moan, struggling to keep himself from making the bloody noises he aimed to coax out of Jim, who barely tolerated what were utterly innocent physical contacts compared to... this. Speaking of which - Jim had not expressly forbidden those, had he... So, when Sebastian added the second finger, he also dipped his head until his teeth and tongue found Jim's nipple.
~
“Course you don’t mind: you know I fuck you ragged, and that I haven’t kept you alive this long just to get carried away with rough foreplay,” Jim muttered in response to Seb’s comment about safewords. “Not that your feelings about that matter, thank you very much.”
Jim settled by Sebastian’s shoulders and tried to wait out his ordeal. He was so taut with tension that if he were a bow string he would have irreparably snapped.
He willed himself to just get this over with, but that was proving difficult when he was so tense. He’d struggle to insert one of his own fingers right then, and Seb’s hands were… much bigger. And his fingers were thick, strong things. Sexy really. Masculine and rough and-
Oh.
One down. Or at least, the very tip was in. Jim tried his best not to tense up further and instead coax the digit in.
Things were tight and slow and uncomfortable, even with Sebastian’s generous application of lube. Jim couldn’t help grimacing, and had to keep preventing himself from biting through his lower lip.
Seb worked in that first finger dutifully, and Jim resented the situation thoroughly. The action seemed to take forever.
Seb couldn’t fail to notice Jim’s inability to relax. He seemed to take the matter into his own hands, startling Jim with his hot mouth whilst he eased in another finger.
The attention made Jim feel conflicted. A flutter in his balls suggested any distraction was appreciated, but Jim didn’t even really want to enjoy this. If Seb could just shove some fingers in and milk Jim’s prostate into a passable enough orgasm that Jim could tick off this awful necessity then that would be… sufficient. Enjoying the damn thing seemed worse somehow. Jim simply wanted it to… not be overly traumatic or sore.
Which he was likely going to be, if he stayed this tense. Jim tried his best to latch on to the distraction Seb offered.
“No teeth and no marks,” Jim growled. “…Your tongue is okay.”
He managed to sink a tiny bit more over Seb’s fingers.
~
Sebastian grabbed the precious opportunity, within the given boundaries of course. Not with his teeth, but kisses and lips and tongue were allowed... anywhere he could reach apparently... While his fingers tried to be insistent yet as gentle as could be. By holding onto his shoulders Jim had a good measure of control too, but it still felt... all wrong. Jim's whole body exuded resistance, stiff as a board, except the one part ... where it would have been desirable (Sebastian's prick was a different story, although it had the decency to hold back a little too). Probably as vexed as its owner, because ... how in God's name did you please someone who didn't want to be pleased?!
Sebastian nuzzled Jim's collarbone, letting his hot breath wash over pale, damp skin. His fingers made a tiny wriggle to get a little bit closer to where they needed to be... Jesus, this almost felt like abusing a fucking virgin. Which Jim had told him he wasn't, but through whatever trauma he'd ended up hating this as much as he did, he'd been adamant this was not the time nor place to talk it over. "Look, I know this is some abhorrent and ... perfunctory thing," Sebastian mumbled against Jim's throat, "but to ... get off in an even half decent fashion, it would be good to relax ... just a tiny bit." He never ceased teasing the tension out of the muscles clamping down around his fingers. "I won't hold it against you if you happen to ... not find it entirely horrible." he promised in a rough whisper, "fuck, I'll even wipe it from my memory..."
~
God, but the kissing made things worse. Jim couldn’t ever stand being slobbered over, but it wasn’t an entirely terrible sensation when Sebastian was the perpetrator. The kisses had an affectionate, protective flavour to them that did uncomfortable things to Jim’s head. Especially when he was in such a vulnerable situation.
He wasn’t entirely certain when Seb had unfastened the neck of his shirt - previously buttoned almost tightly enough to choke - enough to gain access to his clavicle, but his hot breath there made Jim shiver. He liked that. Or perhaps he simply liked Sebastian.
How dreadful. It was bad enough getting attached without starting to make exceptions for what was allowed. Necking. How fucking juvenile.
The pleasantness of it jarred with what was happening elsewhere. It was worse, somehow, to enjoy even a fraction of the lesser evil. Jim felt tense enough to shatter into a thousand pieces at the slightest force, which was not ideal when he was trying to fit Seb’s large fingers inside of himself.
Sebastian’s advice shifted that vulnerability to ire.
“How the fuck am I supposed to relax?” Jim snapped. “This isn’t like us both pretending not to notice that we sometimes sleep a bit too closely together because I want to be able to continue sharing my bed with you… This is huge. You might suppose I’m reckless enough with my life that your affliction doesn’t faze me, but I assure you that not having autonomy over my body very much does. Just… asking you… being in this fucking room with you like this… It’s a fucking lot, okay? I certainly wouldn’t be going to this effort if you weren’t the first person in… fucking decades… that I can bear to share living space with. I am trying. But I’m incapable of relaxing at the best of times, and this is not that!”
~
Hm, besides the whole situation being quite bizarre, maybe they were making some progress? It felt like the tightness around Sebastian’s fingers had abated a fraction? After all, being irritated and spiteful and berating Sebastian was a much more natural state for Jim to be in than an insecure bundle of nerves…
"But you are..." Sebastian said soothingly, "in control I mean. I'm obeying your every word." He hated the ... clinical touch this all had, but since pleasing Jim was his purpose on this earth, he tried regardless. 'Against all adversity' right? Basically his motto. With a slight twist of his fingers he found the spot that made Jim's breath catch in his throat mid-tirade and even that small sign had Sebastian's pulse make a pleased little jump.
~
Jim felt his eyes burn. He felt so very far from in control. Sebastian was being comfortingly obedient, but the entire situation had Jim feeling deeply overwhelmed. He’d always wanted a real intellectual challenge, but finding a cure was proving to be more difficult than anything he’d ever attempted. He constantly felt stupid and frustrated and fucking lost. Even as grumpy as Seb was recently, he was still a godsend, because without his influence Jim certainly wouldn’t be eating or sleeping or perhaps even bathing. He probably would be hurting himself too, because not only did he feel stupid, he felt panicked. He didn’t trust his body to manage the stress of the change; no amount of eating could get him to Seb’s size, and last month’s change had weakened him. Of course, Jim had comfortably gone many ten day stints without eating, and Seb couldn’t manage ten hours, so perhaps his body would adapt differently…
Jim wasn’t convinced. And of course the risks of death or assault were preying heavily on his mind. He wouldn’t be doing any of this at all if he didn’t feel forced.
Although… Sebastian was inside of him. Perhaps that was enough? Could they stop?
The relief that spread through Jim granted Seb’s fingers better access. And Sebastian, natural predator that he was, curled said fingers directly against that part of Jim he never shared with anyone else.
His breath caught.
Maybe… maybe he could manage this?
“There,” Jim whispered, as though Seb couldn’t tell perfectly well that he’d found the place that sent small sparks right through Jim. “That’s not… terrible..?”
~
Sebastian smiled fondly. "Not terrible?" he murmured. "Well let's work from there, shall we?" He did, circling his fingertips, pressure subtly alternating. "It isn't, is it?" Now he started to sound a little bit breathy himself, "in my modest experience anyway." Although that wasn't necessarily applicable to Jim of course. They were very different - the reason they were so compatible in the first place. On the other hand, basic anatomy and physiology applied to (almost) any man. And while that might irk Jim, it also provided a marvellous excuse? Sheer reflexes. No pesky, traitorous feelings involved all all. No shame in it at all... Had he taken into account that with a bit of shifting their position afforded Sebastian's mouth access to his cock? Bowing his head, he extended his pleasing efforts. The combination didn't elicit protest but a slight, exquisite shiver...
~
Sebastian’s voice was… soothing. Patronising probably, but Jim was feeling vulnerable enough to appreciate the low, reassuring rumble of Seb’s words.
And it did feel… not all bad, what Seb’s fingers were doing. It didn’t feel like when Jim touched himself, but… Seb’s fingertips nudged him in a way that made Jim’s toes curl and his face scrunch… in pleasure.
Jim quivered, surprised and confused by how this could somehow feel good despite being the very one to insist Sebastian manually force an orgasm from him in this manner.
Seb shifted and Jim barely fluttered his eyes, trusting that whatever Sebastian was intent upon - changing angle or some such? - it wouldn’t be terrible.
Jim jolted at the sudden heat of Seb’s breath near his cock, then there was his tongue and his hot mouth.
That wasn’t part of the ‘favour’ but it helped. It really helped. Trembling, Jim touched Seb’s chain for the first time since entering the room, feeling a disorienting mixture of gratitude for and pride in his
chosen… companion.
“You really are a treasure,” Jim breathed.
~
Oh, such praise was the last thing Sebastian had dared to hope for. He agreed with another pleased sound, without interrupting what he was doing. A lot of the tension had dissipated, and then... Jim even canted his hips, actively participating...? Sebastian got bolder, increasing speed and pressure just a bit, then, getting encouraging feedback, a bit more. He was feeling light-headed, starting to enjoy this...and the unmistakable proof that Jim too seemed to find this... 'not terrible' anymore. Whether this was a realistic rehearsal of what Jim seemed convinced would happen at the next full moon appeared more and more irrelevant...
~
Jim felt a wave of… fondness when Seb hummed an agreement to his praise. Jim moved a hand from Seb’s shoulder to that golden hair, not to control the motion, but simply for increased closeness. Besides, Seb seemed to like being petted, and he was being such a good boy.
Jim bucked, overwhelmed by the pleasures inside and out. He could almost forget about his reasons for asking for this, when Sebastian attended to him so beautifully. Although… enjoying this had its own concerns…
“Hard and fast,” Jim panted, squeezing down on Sebastian’s fingers to get his attention, “don’t give me time to think…”
~
Sebastian remembered Jim had told him that very few things were able to shut down the noise inside his head, even for a little while. Sebastian could. Not always, and not for long, but better than anyone else... And he did his best now to stop Jim from thinking, even though he wasn't exactly thinking very clearly himself anymore, instead rather intoxicated, all his senses drunk with the smell and taste of a mate in heat... his mind glitched - wasn't that what Jim had predicted with trepidation, that the primitive parts of Sebastian's brain would take over, the parts beast and man shared without much differences ... Well, for the moment only one thing seemed reasonably certain: for pleasing said mate, animal instincts and intuition came in much more handy than clear thinking. Sebastian had closed his eyes, guided and encouraged as much by scent and sensation as by Jim's reactions and the occasional breathless request. He had become so used to the chain collar around his neck that most of the time he wasn't consciously aware of it anymore, but he always was when Jim touched it, as though it conducted some electromagnetic current warming the core of his body, tingling from his neck down through his chest and abdomen to his balls. Oh sweet fucking Jesus if he came just from having his fingers inside Jim... He hoped he'd be allowed to keep the parts of him with even higher potential to get the wrong ideas.
~
Jim panted and writhed jerkily, caught between Seb’s mouth and fingers. Sebastian was being a very good boy, keeping the pace such that Jim’s brain was stuttering in a feedback loop of pleasure and little more.
Jim whined and yelled, falling fast towards the point of no return when there was nothing to focus on but a constant barrage of pleasures. Sebastian’s mouth had complete control over Jim’s prick and his fingers were sending so many sparks behind his eyes Jim thought he might fit.
And then he was spasming hard, screaming, and clutching Sebastian tightly as he came with less dignity than he usually had the wherewithal to perform.
Jim clung on tightly, squeezing his eyes shut and shuddering as Sebastian sucked out every last drop of him. Those large fingers slowed, coaxing small sparks of pleasure still as he stroked small circles deep inside Jim. Jim’s legs trembled, feeling insubstantial and weak. It occurred to Jim that it was largely Seb’s fingers in his arse keeping him from tumbling into a puddle of a human being on the floor, and the thought of being so undone sent a fresh flush of heat across Jim’s chest.
The dignified thing to do would be to dismount and clean off. Jim couldn’t. All that stress had blown right down Sebastian’s throat, and now Jim was boneless and dazed. Exhausted.
Jim eased off his grip to let Sebastian sit up properly and breathe. Jim seemed to be labouring to do so himself, his breaths ragged and rasping and increasingly self-conscious.
He threw his shoulders towards the bed in a weak attempt to detach himself, and groaned as Seb’s fingers jerked inside of him at the motion. Shakily, Jim reached for Sebastian’s wrist and pushed feebly, needing an end to the overstimulation. The deed was done, and Jim ought to march right out of that door before he embarrassed himself any further.
Except… then he’d be bound to obsess about this. Overanalyse it in ways that discomfited and shamed him.
Jim flicked his gaze to Sebastian, who still hadn’t retrieved all of his fingers yet. That didn’t appear to be spite. Seb looked a little worse for wear himself, and Jim’s brow furrowed in confusion at the mess of him. It had felt like Seb had drained every molecule of come directly from Jim’s balls, but there was evidence to the contrary down Sebastian’s front. Had Jim came so much Seb couldn’t swallow it all in time? How embarrassing, for this to produce such a response.
Jim reached for something to wipe Sebastian off with, although his arm swayed, not quite managing to follow instructions.
Jim sighed and curled into the pillows instead. His brain was starting to kick into action, and what it was saying about this sordid performance was not pleasant. Jim sighed.
“Seb?” he mumbled. “Can you do that thing with my hair… like when I was sick? It helped.”
Faced with some uncomfortable insinuations from his traitorous mind, Jim needed all the comfort he could glean.
~
For a moment Sebastian didn’t even have a conscious recollection of what thing he’d done with Jim’s hair when he’d been sick – some small, tender and rather instinctive gesture surely – and yet Jim had… Not just a recollection but asked for it again. In a small voice, like he was embarrassed, or asking too much.
Intoxicated, euphoric and blissed out as Sebastian was – this added a warm, thrilled flutter on top of everything, and then a breathtaking wave of fierce tenderness.
They’d collapsed back onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, but for once – unlike usually during or after them having sex, it was Sebastian who’d been able to hold on to at least a modicum of composure. Even his own orgasm had been more of a … collateral event through which his focus had remained on Jim, on the beautiful sounds he made, on the abandon and perfection with which he’d come apart. Also, Sebastian had enough of his wits left to know, that it would be indeed have to be as he’d promised: He must never refer to it let alone gloat or jest about it… Which didn’t change one bit how blissfully content he felt and proud and … just a teensy-weensy bit smug.
Well, a lot. And most of all… simply happy.
“I’ll do everything you ever want,” he murmured, his fingers slowly smoothing back the damp, tangled strands of Jim’s hair. His other hand had found the discarded towel for an unobtrusive, only marginally more dextrous attempt to clean himself, before his arm snaked around Jim to hold him. Not too closely, but … Well, Jim’s predictions were rarely wrong, but ‘I expect afterwards I’ll need some… space’ obviously was. The happy little tingles inside Sebastian refused to dissipate, although he didn’t allow himself to forget the nature of Jim’s fears that had brought all this about.
“And never,” Sebastian added, mouth close to Jim’s skin, breathing deeply, “anything you don’t want me to.” He was fucking eloquent, wasn’t he? But his brain wasn’t fully back online yet either. He closed his eyes and gently pressed his forehead against Jim’s side. “I know I can’t speak for ...when I’m not myself. But - ” But – wasn’t he? Was there nothing left of himself when he changed? Bloody hell, he’d tried to eat Jim… “But maybe that can change too?”
Maybe not the most romantic afterglow topic, but Jim didn't do romance, he had requested this as a prophylactic... procedure and Sebastian had the feeling it might still be better than Jim thinking and freaking out about the indignity of having liked it.
~
As Sebastian snuggled close, pet Jim’s hair, and made promises, Jim felt relief.
Stress too, for enjoying such things. He was far too attached and vulnerable, but really, the damage was done: he was infected already and there wasn’t anything he could do about it. So what if he felt shaken and needy after a bone-shattering orgasm?
Jim wasn’t one for pillow talk, and Seb was probably right to deflect with a distraction right about then, but Jesus, bringing up the tiger thing again felt like being drenched in ice water. Jim couldn’t help but shiver, pressing closer to Sebastian’s warm body even as he considered Seb’s question.
“The werewolf lore seems to vary, but for some creature curses - bloodlines? - that does seem possible. Any story about selkies I remember from childhood featured a soul with their wits about them, and I didn’t find much to contradict that online. It doesn’t seem impossible to do, I just haven’t figured out how yet.”
There seemed to be a never ending pile of considerations for Jim lately. He was incredibly stressed about the lack of a cure and everything that might befall them both on the full moon, but his attention was split in other unpleasant ways. Jim had been updating many plans for his possibly imminent death, including what the fuck to do with Sebastian then. He’d need somewhere to live, and things to keep him occupied, but who would keep looking for a cure then? Could anyone be trusted with his wellbeing?
Jim had a hard time trusting even himself; trusting others with something so important seemed abhorrent, even if he wouldn’t be around to witness it.
It wasn’t like Sebastian could be left alone either. Who would feed him after a turn? As much as Jim told himself that he wasn’t attached to anyone, he hated the thought of Seb alone and helpless, and even the thought of Caruso inadvertently being infected if she tried to tend to him.
It was all a bit fucking much, so his temper was ferociously frayed by the time the full moon approached.
He’d been sure to brief David and Des to keep well out of his way, and Sebastian’s too. Moran was being an atrocious grump, and all the worse for Jim’s sour and volatile moods.
Two days before the full moon, they’d already stopped speaking to each other entirely. However Jim had insisted on fucking Seb over the kitchen table, and instead of reaching for the knives, Seb had taken it and seemed calmer for it.
So they were talking again, apparently. Which was just as well, because they had agreed to stay in panic rooms on different floors during the change(s), and Jim insisted on checking the tech that would allow them to communicate if human.
They’d been stocking those rooms with food too, but Sebastian kept snacking on it. That made Jim want to yell, but not as much as the fact that he kept anxiously gnawing himself.
~
Knowing why he was feeling how he did had taken some of the anxiety out of it or rather the… uncertainty, but not the gruelling tension as something got ready to bend and break his bones again, sink its claws into his mind and shred it apart … Wondering whether Jim felt the same … made it worse. But it was hard to tell. Jim was volatile and irritable by default. But he was also methodical dealing with problems, and despite the torture and frustration about not finding a cure that fixed the primary one, he fiercely focused his attention on navigating the fallout. To get them both through it. Like he had four weeks ago, although this time it might turn out even more difficult.
Furniture in the panic rooms was scarce to non-existent, but there was a huge supply of food. Some of it unfit for human consumption like big, vacuum-wrapped slabs of raw meat, and there was nutritious things even a very weak human could ingest without much effort. This was stored in containers even a creature with supernatural strength but without opposable thumbs would hopefully find impossible to access. The best provisions for the recovery were useless if there was nothing left of them when needed. (There was also a lot of food Sebastian found hard to resist, as long as he had opposable thumbs – ham, sliced cold meats, roastbeef, grilled chicken…)
Eating helped. Helped to slightly turn down the apprehension, and the pressure inside his skull, or at least temporarily distract from it. Eating and… sex too. Jim had insisted, and Sebastian had gone along, not just out of sheer physical need, but also, well… as much as his animalistic side craved challenging and upsetting the hierarchy, it infused in him a weird sense of calm and reassurance to feel it being reinforced. Stable. How far this would carry over into the impending upheaval and chaos remained to be seen, but Sebastian had felt quietly grateful even though his nails had left scratch marks on the kitchen table.
The possibility that he might hurt Jim during the change greatly upset him, as did the possibility that he wouldn’t be able to help him help him…
“Shouldn’t you at least let someone from the team in on it? Into all this I mean?” he said without much preamble, walking into Jim’s office (without knocking and eating a pulled pork sandwich – two offences at once, under normal circumstances, which they currently were not). "What if you do turn as well, and afterwards are too weak to even unpack the food?” His memory was patchy but Sebastian seemed to remember he had barely been able to swallow soup afterwards. And probably would have died if he’d needed to lift as much as a spoon.
Let alone the fact that they didn’t know whether they’d turn at the same time – this might depend on the time of night Jim had gotten infected? Or what if something went wrong during the change back? Did they need the moonlight for the change? The morning sun for the change back? God, this was driving him insane. But seeing Jim’s harrowed, wild-eyed look, Sebastian decided one difficult question at the time was enough.
~
Jim wasn’t sure whether he was irked or soothed by Sebastian letting himself in unannounced. Well. Not unannounced. Jim could sense him approach… somehow. He was always very aware of where Seb was, even with his quiet tread.
The pig was eating again too. It was all he did. Jim wouldn’t really mind, except that his own stomach stirred impatiently at the sight. Jim didn’t even like pork, but his mouth was watering of its own volition. His brain probably was burning significant calories with thinking overtime, but it was distracting being constantly hungry recently.
Jim pinched the bridge of his nose at Seb’s question.
“The team are warned before they join about risks of death or torture, not… this. I don’t want to risk further infections, especially if I might not be around to manage them.”
Sebastian’s face dropped at the reminder. Jim clenched his jaw, too tired by now to drag out a lie to reassure him.
“Ignoring that,” Jim said, “if I do turn, and it takes more out of me than it did you… I absolutely don’t want to be seen in that state. I’ve programmed messages for next door to check in on you if I’m not well enough to do it.”
Jim looked away. “You’ll be able to assess the state of me from the monitor if we remain in our intended places. I… can stand to be starving or unconscious for a while, but… I trust you to determine if it is absolutely necessary to bring anyone else in, if I need urgent care before you are well enough to attend to me yourself. If I’m just weak… Caruso and Tom have been here longest. I’d rather you called them, regardless of which shift is on duty. If… I’m mauled… most of the team are fine with gore, except Saavi. I don’t care how urgent it seems, you don’t let any of the team near me or any fluids without gloves and protective gear. No contamination. Clear?”
~
Sebastian nodded. He had listened intently, processing everything Jim said, regardless that he still thought that if that freaking thing was as contagious as Jim considered it to be, the weres would have taken over from the humans a long time ago, populating the earth. But they’d had that dispute before and this time Jim didn’t seem hell-bent on not being bored but to be safe rather than sorry. Also, Jim’s brain would probably malfunction if forced to not make contingency plans for each and all possibilities, including the unlikely ones. Amongst which were those Sebastian didn’t want to entertain at all – like Jim not being around anymore.
“Believe me, it’s not a matter of being hungry or unconscious for a bit,” he mumbled, remembering how the aftermath of the changes had felt: strength and energy draining out of his body at a rate like several of his arteries had been sliced open. He understood Jim didn’t want to be seen weak or incapacitated, but if necessary Sebastian would call in the team no matter what Jim decreed now. Hell, he would feed them to him if necessary.
Jim looked at him as if he was reading his mind, so Sebastian recounted obediently: “So, Tom and Caruso as first responders. I’m just not sure if it’s sufficient to have someone looking after me only, so I can look after you then… there simply might not be enough time.” What if his own recovery was too slow? Another chilling thought he didn’t care for at all. “Honestly,” he said quietly, if I were to lose you I wouldn’t give a flying fuck if London would be swarming with were tigers at the next full moon.”
~
Jim pressed his lips together tightly. “Yes, I did see the state you were in last time,” he said in a remarkably soft, tactful voice compared to how snappish he’d been all week.
He sighed and mentally flicked through options of saying the same facts in the way least likely to displease Sebastian.
“I’m not trying to dismiss how things were, only that… Well, my protection teams usually had to work harder to keep me alive than most do with their principals. Despite my best efforts to the contrary at times… I’m quite experienced in staying alive. I might not have the body mass you do, but I’m more accustomed to starving, and… bleeding out, probably. I’m probably perfectly capable of malingering long enough to maintain some shred of dignity…”
Jim pushed his hand through his hair. “And no: Caruso and Tom only if I’m weak and safe to approach.” Jim’s nose crinkled. “If I’m dangerous I’d prefer to lose whoever’s most disposable to me. I’d suggest Mwamba, but I know you’re fond of him, so… use your judgement. Lewis, probably. He’s still wet around the ears, comparatively. Easiest to replace. But of course… none of this is normal, so… if you have any doubts about any of the team keeping their mouths shut about this… Terminate them. Even Caruso. It’s one thing becoming a tiger; a lab rat is quite another.”
Jim’s gaze flicked to Seb without quite meaning to when the conversation turned from practical to… sentimental. It was on the tip of Jim’s tongue to deliver a sharp lecture on not being able to lose what didn’t belong to you in the first place. Certainly Jim had been quick to anger recently.
Instead he gazed at Sebastian for a long, serious moment before muttering, “You’ll be fine. I’ve willed you an estate suited to your privacy and security needs. I’ve made coherent notes about your condition and listed potential contacts bright enough that they have some chance of curing you, whilst not being mercenary enough to sell you as an experiment or weapon. You’ll have to practice your patience, Tiger, but you’ll be fine.”
~
Sebastian had finished his snack while restlessly meandering across room, now he stopped and their eyes met. The surprisingly mild response at first pleased Sebastian, until its contents had sunk in and created something like a slow-motion shock. As though Jim’s meticulous provisions in case of his demise had just turned what Sebastian never allowed to be more than a theoretical possibility at the back of his mind into a much more palpable, potentially realistic one – that he’d survive Jim. There was a beat of silence, oddly at contrast with the turmoil inside him and what he wanted to say. No, and fucking NO! That was not the deal! The deal was that Jim would outlive him, because it was Sebastian who’d protect him with everything he had, down to his very last breath and…. Well, breathing was difficult right now, because Sebastian’s throat had closed up, listening to all those details and preparations, which Jim must have thought about a lot. Working it out, down to things that wouldn’t even have crossed Sebastian’s mind…
It still felt like half a fucking roasted pig was stuck in his throat, but after averting his eyes and staring intently out of the window without seeing much, he slowly started to get a grip on himself again. A petulant bodyguard, ranting and raving denial would be ludicrous and pathetic, and the last thing Jim needed on his plate on top of everything.
Breathing became possible again, and Sebastian did so, carefully, slowly. Still, his voice was still smaller than he would have liked when he finally said something. “Blimey, estates seem to come my way…” He slightly cleared his throat, “whether I want them or not.” Barely disinherited of one, already bequeathed with the next. By a man who seemed to have thought of everything to make sure he’d be okay.
Whether because he cared for him, or just out of responsibility… There was a kernel of serious truth in Jim’s joke about him being a responsible owner. Jim (who never much contradicted anyone calling him a psychopath, but rather nurturing that reputation), not only knew deep down that it would be difficult for Sebastian on his own, but was intent on giving him the best possible chance. Knowing that releasing a wild thing you’d tamed back into a world it no longer fit often ended badly. Someone moulded to fit him so perfectly would never fit anywhere else again – and Sebastian hadn’t been very good at that even before.
Yet, down at his very core, Sebastian was also a survivor…. Just that … what would be the point, Sebastian thought. But he didn’t say it. Not after everything Jim had just told him, after the lengths he’d gone to.
“Maybe,” Sebastian said quietly, tearing his eyes off the big trees and the lawn outside. He realised he’d slumped, so now he slightly straightened his shoulders. “I’ll be … okay.” If that’s what you want me to be, he thought, looking at Jim again, I’ll try. And if it kills me. Because he’d forever try to be what Jim wanted him to be, that was his purpose. Hell, somewhere in between human and supernatural creature – that couldn’t be much harder than in between the home he’d never had before and the one he would have had lost.
Fine he certainly wouldn’t be. But maybe okay.
And to no longer ask himself if he really fucking believed that himself, and because his trust in his self-control wasn’t very good right now, he ambled over to one of the big chairs, sat down and changed the topic – somewhat. “How are you more ‘experienced in bleeding out‘ than me?” he asked. “Whoever had anything to do with that, can I meet them some day? Preferably at a full moon?” Although as far as he knew Jim, chances were good they weren’t alive anymore anyway.
~
Sebastian seemed to find it difficult to breathe after Jim’s attempt at reassurance, and that was as odd as it was vexing. Seb seemed so attached in ways that-
Well, in ways it was no good to think about.
Luckily, Sebastian got himself back under control. He even perhaps made an attempt at a joke, to which Jim could only manage a shrug, because… well, Sebastian was perfectly welcome to live in any of Jim’s properties after his death, but he probably wouldn’t want to continue living here if it was… where he’d killed Jim.
Best not to think about that either.
“Of course you’ll be okay,” Jim said briskly. “You’re a big tough boy, and it’s not like I’m easy to live with. You might even enjoy the peace.”
Jim doubted that actually.
“I expect you to take good care of what’s mine, in my absence,” Jim added, because he didn’t like the idea that Seb might not take care of Jim’s most treasured object.
Sebastian seemed thoroughly in need of a distraction; his tone as he changed the topic wasn’t fooling either of them. Jim regarded him for a moment, then stripped off some layers. “Because you’re not a fucking idiot,” he said tersely in regards to matters of experience.
Sebastian looked at him, and Jim’s expression briefly twitched. “Shut up,” Jim said, before Moran managed to say anything witty.
Jim regarded his pale skin, and the lighting. “I mostly scar silver,” he said, moving towards better light because he wasn’t certain just how well Sebastian could see most of the scar tissue.
Jim traced some of the marks where it was more obvious that he’d been shot or stabbed. He’d once showed Sebastian where Caruso had plucked bullets from his body, but they didn’t generally talk about his scars. (Sebastian’s of course Jim grilled him on, because he was possessive and wanted Seb’s skin known only to himself.)
“I’m quite annoying,” Jim said with a crooked smile, then admitted, “I’m also… I get bored so easily, and at least if someone’s trying to kill me I might not be bored.”
Jim held his hands to his chest for a moment, then held out a forearm, shifting it under the light. “Defensive obviously,” he said of the scars on the outside. Pursing his lips, he turned his arm, exposing his inner wrist.
“Defensive too, I suppose,” he said soberly. He tapped his forehead. “Gets too noisy in here and… you know… mad geniuses.” Jim touched the scar tissue. In most places the blue and green and purple of his veins were more striking than anything else, but here and there the skin visibly puckered and buckled where it had been attacked or cobbled back together.
“Being alive mostly hasn’t been much fun,” Jim admitted.
He took his arm back, crossed them both over his chest, and shrugged. “It’s had its good parts though,” he added, not quite meeting Sebastian’s gaze.
Jim brushed his hair back from his face with a sigh. “So no: no one you need to hunt down, darling. No one’s ever carved into me as deeply as I have myself.”
And he would rather not be hunted down and eaten by his tiger.
~
The origin of some of the scars wasn’t the most surprising revelation - Sebastian knew enough about scars to read them pretty well – but a profoundly sad one.
Sebastian also knew a thing or two about being reckless, the addictive nature of danger, those exhilarating close brushes with death and disaster but Jim had felt compelled to take this to a whole other level. That flirt with destruction, not even stopping when no opponent was was around to oblige, himself his own worst enemy. The most dangerous.
They both knew this, but it was only on rare occasions that it was talked about.
Or rather screamed about, when Sebastian was shaken and furious by having his job to keep Jim alive turned into a farce and a nightmare. Then there were the still rarer occasions when Jim talked about it, quietly.
But Sebastian knew, Jim kept a lot from him, maybe because there was a limit to the extent any comparatively normal human being was mentally equipped to … understand. And because some things Jim simply didn’t care to share, because no one, not even Sebastian needed to know…
When he had allowed him glimpses into his past, it had mostly been of the early years, the odd little waif of a boy on a Galway farm. Swapping war and scar stories with Sebastian had not been part of those reminiscences and kept mainly one-sided, with Sebastian the one being grilled. And forthcoming. Of course he’d seen all of Jim’s scars, often contemplating them on occasion in the twilight of their bedroom, longing to run his fingertips over them as though this was a way to know someone intimately (it was, and that’s why Jim seemed obsessed with knowing every nick anyone else had dared to leave on Sebastian’s skin -like it was a precious canvas a discerning artist was convinced no one had the right, or the skill, to leave their marks on but him).
Sebastian in turn could only fantasize about exploring Jim in the same way – Jim was eyes only, except when specifically permitting or requesting a touch, within very strict limits. Like a freaking cat really.
But there had been good parts, right? In Jim’s life. To imagine otherwise would really be unbearable, and one of the truly good things Sebastian knew, because he could see, were that none of the scarred self-inflicted injuries were recent. Although you had to wear blinkers the size of barn doors to ignore the ones on his hand and feet, that fell into a category that wasn’t that far off. Jim hurting himself because the alternative would have been to hurt and possibly kill Sebastian.
No, Jim never talked about his scars and him doing it now, humouring Sebastian, was heart-wrenching, because it felt like he might feel compelled to catch up on a few things before it was too late.
“Well, I won’t come after you,” Sebastian said firmly. “I won’t. Because I’m going to lock myself into that bloody panic room tomorrow at fucking noon.” With a safety margin of a few hours, in case the timeline was dodgy. And all the precautions Jim had thought out and put into place, that certainly meant that this time he liked the odds to be stacked in his favour, right? That he wasn’t entirely carefree whether he lived or died. Because he didn’t want to leave Sebastian to an unknown fate.
Or maybe, maybe because he was less miserable with Sebastian around, Sebastian, who calmed the voices a bit. Sebastian, who wanted to believe that these last months had been one of the ‘good parts’ in Jim’s book.
~
Jim stepped closer, telegraphing all of his movements because they were both so irritable lately, and tugged Sebastian’s hair affectionately.
“I know, baby. My point is that I don’t want you worrying about me: I am very experienced at staying alive even when I did my best not to. It is my job to think about anything and everything that could go wrong, and prepare us for it.” Jim pet Seb some more and murmured, “I always think the worst: doesn’t mean it’s actually going to happen, alright? If at all possible, I’m going to be around to annoy you for years to come. You’ll probably wish you’d gotten free of me.”
Jim’s fingers slid down and touched Seb’s collar. They were both going to dislike its removal tomorrow; he was certain of that. But he’d do his best to take the edge off of that with a few orgasms before they separated.
“Now you listen to me,” Jim told Sebastian, “your job right now is to be a good boy who stuffs his face and does his best not to worry about anything. It’s my job to worry. I’m good at worrying.” Jim managed a teasing smile. “And you are very good at stuffing your face.”
Jim put his scarred arms around Seb. He wouldn’t be leaving him, not if he could help it…
~
Sebastian let Jim step into his space without hesitation. It wasn’t Jim who was vexing, but this whole blasted situation. “No!” Sebastian ground out through clenched teeth, “It’s my job to protect you!” Not just a job, but his purpose. “And now I can’t! Not only that, but you need to protect yourself from me!”
What a fucking aggravating insanity, and it drove him up the fucking wall - when – mentally - he was not exactly his usual solid and reliable self to begin with. You knew the universe was seriously out of joint when Jim Moriarty was being the most calm and stabilising factor in the room. But he was. By the way, Sebastian actually liked Jim tugging his hair. It seemed to have become some form of communication that didn’t need any words. Of course it could be punishing, but often it felt more like a gesture to make him focus. Whenever Jim was about to impart a sermon for instance, or when Sebastian’s mind spiralled into chaos when Jim pushed the limits during their most intense … sessions. Or simply demanding attention because that’s what he was due.
Now, it was grounding, and despite everything the muscles in Sebastian’s neck relaxed somewhat and he dipped his head, leaning it just a little bit into Jim’s touch. “I know,” he mumbled, “you’re good at worrying. But you shouldn’t have to. Not while I am around, not about your own safety anyway, and even less about mine.” But he would not be so pathetic to descend into maudlin self-pity and -
Sebastian froze. Was this… a hug? Like you would hug a fretting child, or an agitated pet? It was so simple and yet, coming from Jim, so alien that for a few seconds Sebastian’s mind clicked empty. Not a sexually charged embrace, not playfully threatening, not Jim clinging to him while oblivious and having a nightmare (or treating him as furniture), but simply… holding him. Holding on to him too. Reassuring. Gentle, but unwavering. Sebastian closed his eyes and buried his face in the crook of Jim’s neck. Hesitating for a beat, his arms went around Jim’s waist, careful, and very lightly. Could they please stay like this for… the next few hours?
Luckily, before he could voice that request, he opened his eyes and another primal, irresistible urge came to life again at the sight right in front of him. Just as cautiously as it had settled down on Jim’s hip, Sebastian’s right hand now snaked towards the open family size package of cold pork pies on Jim's desk and stole one. Regrettably he had to lift his head off Jim’s shoulder a bit to eat it.
~
It was only when Jim registered how tentatively Sebastian returned his embrace that Jim remembered he wasn’t much of a cuddler. He wasn’t - but that was how most people liked to be comforted, right? With touch? Even Jim appreciated a tender touch now and again, although he felt uncomfortable ever asking for such; it had taken a lot to make that request for Seb to pet his hair.
Even acknowledging touches that weren’t exactly allowed but that he’d stopped rebuffing after a decade or so were difficult for Jim: Caruso squeezing his shoulder, especially if he was having a trying day, was something he could now tolerate but not acknowledge.
Intimacy with other people was hard. So Jim should probably have felt grateful and not offended when Seb broke the cuddle to stuff his gaping maw yet again.
Jim’s nostrils still flared like he was miffed though.
At this point in the month it wasn’t a good idea to express his displeasure by taking a bite out of Seb’s food.
Jim huffed, but slid onto Sebastian’s comfortable thigh and fiddled with his cuff links.
“I… know you’re my bodyguard, and I pay you to stay around,” Jim said stiffly. “And I know I’m not… loving or romantic either. I’m quite aware that I am incredibly difficult.” Jim sighed. “But for what it’s worth… I do value you, in my own way. I don’t think of you as… on duty… at this time of the month. I don’t expect you to waste time thinking about what I need right now. I just want you to get through this and be well. That’s it. If all of this is just a job to you, that’s fine, but I’m not fussing after you because I think you’ve in any way failed in your duties. I’m trying to look after you as best I can because you’re mine, God help you.”
~
“I’m sure I’m beyond his help,” Sebastian said solemnly, contentedly. Jim telling him he was his never failed to have that effect on him. “Well, I am failing at my duties,” he pointed out the facts. Even though through no fault of his own but a work related accident of the sort not even the elaborate fine print on his unprinted contract listed as something that might come with the job. “I am grateful for all you're doing, for looking after me,” he added simply and honestly. "And I want us both to get through this." Because what would be the point if Jim didn't? Sebastian would rather fling himself off the balcony than to harm Jim, although in his tiger form he might just land daintily on his four paws unscathed…
He shifted to accommodate the seat of Jim’s pointy arse on his knees more comfortably, still using the opportunity to snitch another pie. “And you know this isn’t 'just a job' for me. You almost blew a gasket about it the other day.” He rubbed his jaw against Jim’s shoulder to signal that he knew this wasn’t entirely accurate, and that Jim had been right. It hadn't been about how and what Sebastian felt, but because he had handled it badly, handled himself badly in that regard, and in front of others.
~
Jim’s jaw worked at Sebastian’s insistence that he was failing at his duties. In any other circumstance perhaps Jim would have agreed, but it agitated him no end to have anyone, even Seb, talk down his Sebastian. Jim’s Sebastian was perfect, except for in all of the ways that Jim saw fit to complain about him.
This wasn’t Seb’s fault. And strangely, Jim cared about that.
Felt uniquely and horribly guilty about it, actually.
“I don’t want to leave you,” Jim grumbled. “I’m just trying to be prepared. There is a small possibility that I might eat you, if that’s any fucking comfort.”
Jim appreciated Seb shifting them to get more comfortable, desperate for physical comfort, but felt exasperated as Seb grazed some more. Jim knew the eating wasn’t malicious, but he felt… indignant not to be the centre of attention. Coming in as less important than a cold pie, honestly!!
He also didn’t feel particularly good about being reminded of their previous row either.
Jim stood.
“Kitchen,” he said churlishly, “or we’re going to have to restock the supplies in here again.”
He snatched up the hand not currently stuffing food in Seb’s face and tugged it along. Sebastian didn’t show much resistance; probably because more food was in store.
He did blink in surprise when after both washing their hands, Jim directed him to the table.
Jim gave him a sharp knife, a cutting board, and a colourful array of vegetables. He took out another board and a selection of meat too, but kept that on the counter beside the cooker where it was out of Seb’s immediate reach.
Jim could feel Sebastian staring as he yanked out eggs and a few packets of instant rice. He threw one of the latter into the microwave and started carving up the meat, tossing that into a large pan with some flavoured oil.
“Shut up,” Jim said, although Sebastian wasn’t speaking. Jim swapped out the hot rice with another packet and dumped it in with most of the meat. He focused on efficiently breaking open a lot of eggs and stirring them into the mix before grumbling, “I’m not going to poison you. Or drug you.”
He reached for something that wasn’t there then paused, checking a few cupboards with a mutter of, “Where the fuck’s the..?” Jim found the bottle of squeezy peanut butter Seb hadn’t touched since the kitchen had been restocked, and added a moderate amount to the fried rice concoction. He poured in another bag of rice, then stalked over and handed Seb some meat to chew before snatching up the vegetables.
Those went into the pan too, and Jim stirred for a moment before snapping his fingers at Sebastian to come do that himself.
The food didn’t actually look terrible.
“It’s full of protein, and it tastes better than it looks, promise,” Jim muttered. It smelt great actually.
Jim skittered away instead of returning Sebastian’s stare. He readied a sauce, automatically checking that none of its components had ingredients toxic for felines even though he hadn’t made this meal in the entirety of the time they’d been infected. He’d hardly ever cooked for them both.
At least he had more confidence in this than in mimicking Seb’s grilled cheese sandwiches.
~
That was a new angle on possibilities - Jim might eat him?
"Now that's kinky, Tygger," Sebastian said, not sure whether to be concerned when Jim dragged him to the kitchen after that, but apparently he was not going to be an ingredient today. There was other meat, although he wasn't trusted with that - probably Jim expected him to eat it raw - only with cutting the vegetables.
Sebastian did as he was told. Promptly he almost cut himself because he was so riveted by Jim unfolding an activity that Sebastian wasn't sure he'd ever witnessed Jim apply himself to - cooking. He did it with a flair of both confidence and chaos, frying meat and rice and vegetables and eggs... Sebastian stared, and even knowing about the boy growing up on a farm were several mouths needed to be fed daily, the sight of Jim Moriarty cracking open eggs deftly, one-handedly on the rim of the pan perplexed him as much as Jim would have been by a his bodyguard crocheting. But before his jaw could drop to the floor, Jim literally stuffed his open mouth with a few tasty strips of fried meat.
Jim handed Sebastian the spoon to keep stirring, then added more ingredients in a flurry... Also, apparently he thought it necessary to reassure Sebastian that he didn't intent to slip something unsavoury into the food. Had Sebastian looked concerned? Maybe he had, but not thinking Jim intended to poison him, but something had crept up on him: Maybe Jim did? Fear this to be their last meal?
Jim answering personal questions..., Jim not just cooking but having them do it together ..., was this Jim catching up on things he wished he'd done earlier because suddenly there loomed the possibility of time running out?
There was a small flicker of self-consciousness in Jim's reassurance that the food tasted better than it looked and Sebastian wanted to pull him into his arms and tell him it didn't matter at all how it looked or tasted and that nothing could surpass it, ever, because Jim had made it, in their new kitchen, with Sebastian's dietary requirements in mind and adding eclectic ingredients like peanutbutter and scientific Jim facts about the nutriscore…
Sebastian smiled and kept stirring carefully. "Don't forget for big parts of my adult life I ate meals coming in bags. Most of them looked much less appetizing and none of them smelled as delicious as this."