Drive
Jim was glad his cooking was better than army rations, but gladder that Sebastian seemed enthusiastic about the food.
“I mostly hate cooking, but I can? A little?” Jim mumbled, plating up before Seb could be tempted to eat headfirst from the pan. It was close to the full moon. “I… normally don’t see the point. Cooking. Eating. S’just… time consuming. Got better things to do. If it’s not quick I won’t bother; I’ve tried slow cooking but I get distracted or forget.”
Jim set out drinks and Sebastian grabbed cutlery. Jim slipped onto a chair and gazed at his food with a distant frown. “I had to do most things when my mam was sick but I don’t really remember learning how beyond experimenting a bit? My grandmother taught me how to feed everyone properly because during the busy periods she was more use in the fields than I was, but I bloody hated the farm so making that stuff after I left wasn’t going to happen. London’s got so many takeaway cuisines and I liked trying them all, when I could be bothered to eat.”
Jim made a face. “And now look at me. I’ve never looked so healthy in my life,” he said dryly. That wasn’t entirely true; he looked exhausted, and stressed. But the dips between his ribs were the least pronounced they’d ever been. Sebastian could probably now run his hand down Jim’s spine without cutting his fingers on the stegosaurus ridges.
For all that they were both prickly-tempered of late, Jim wouldn’t mind the petting. For some reason having Seb touch him was the most soothing thing at his disposal. He was thoroughly glad they hadn’t separated to different residences to wait out the change.
He’d been doing remarkably well not to think of the specifics of his own potential change, focusing instead on damage limitations.
Seb directing a tiger nickname at Jim earlier felt so peculiar he almost felt his ears twitch.
Even being a smaller beast than Seb might be marvellous, if they were both safe. To be such a powerful, beautiful creature after a lifetime of being wiry at best was an odd thought. Perhaps he’d look like a starving thing befitting an animal welfare fundraising advertisement…
Jim sighed and started eating again.
~
Digging in the moment Jim had set the plate down in front of him, Sebastian was sure his eyeballs rolled back in rapture. He knew that lately his table manners had slipped considerably, but not out of malice or lack of respect. He simply couldn't help himself, and Jim was generous enough to overlook it – something that would have been unthinkable only a few weeks ago. He allowed Sebastian another glimpse at Young Jim, and despite the serious distraction by the food, Sebastian vividly pictured it: A slip of a little boy, yet ferocious beyond his size or age waving a ladle at the big farmhands to keep them in line while plating their meals. Probably teasing him, either humorously or not so gently. Most probably they were not really taking him seriously, but maybe, at the same time, intuitively, most of them probably did, with an instinctive inkling that he’d have the power to secretly put unsavoury things into their food. Or, given a few years, to kill them even with just a skimmer or a butter knife.
Even though Jim didn’t display overt thankfulness about Sebastian having managed what neither years of boring but nourishing farm food nor the vast range of London’s multi-ethnic cuisine had achieved, Sebastian chose to take it as a compliment.
“Well, you are a bit more substantial now so that the first gust of wind won’t carry you off,” he pointed out through a mouthful of food, because unlike Jim he didn’t stop eating before he spoke. “Since I can’t float after you, it makes my life as a bodyguard as bit easier.”
~
Jim glanced at his healed fingers and supposed their malady made them inescapably linked. Was that more frightening than what time was currently ticking down to?
Jim picked at his food but seemed to have lost his appetite. That felt like a welcome change, although he should probably be cramming as much calories as he could manage right now.
Sebastian was inhaling his food like Jim had been restricting his meals. Jim looked away from Seb’s mouth every time he talked with it full because that was the sort of thing that made him want to stab Seb even when not supernaturally hormonally charged and anticipating a fucking atrocious experience in his immediate future.
Jim waited out Seb’s eating and pushed his plate towards him, wondering if he’d burst. Jim had been unnerved by how skinny Seb’s face was after last month, but he looked normal again.
Between the small amount of padding on Jim’s bones, and the dark scruff on his face, he didn’t look quite like himself. Jim usually only looked unshaven and haggard when obsessing over a work problem.
This wasn’t exactly work but Jim had been working on it harder than anything for his empire. He was getting fidgety, feeling like he should be using every moment he had left to find a cure or at least something, but he was so fucking drained already.
Jim tugged Sebastian to bed so he could curl up with a laptop and work with a bit of comfort. It’d be better working on the couch so he didn’t fall asleep, but he didn’t fancy another fight about how much Seb hated it and Jim was feeling fucking clingy.
He hadn’t expected that. He thought he’d be ready to murder Seb weeks ago. Jim was snapping and frustrated and the sex had been consistently rough, but he liked knowing they were both under the same roof, and he loved Seb’s reassuring warmth in his bed whenever he finally gave up researching for the night.
Sebastian didn’t really complain about using him as a laptop rest unless the light started to bother him in the small hours, but Jim put it on the mattress side instead. He wasn’t sure if Sebastian was more sensitive to silver nearer the moon, and Jim knew there were plenty of soldered components within the device’s innards. There was usually a duvet between Seb and the laptop anyway, but it didn’t seem to have bothered him any. Jim couldn’t see any suggestion of burns on himself either, but he didn’t seem to be as sensitive as he was by this time last month. He had no idea what that meant, but Jim supposed if he survived the next night he’d have a bigger sample pool of supernaturals to work from.
It was odd and mildly galling and mildly pleasing to think that perhaps even by weretiger standards Sebastian was an excellent specimen.
But then that would make sense: he was a fantastic human vessel despite being so inbred. Strong, healthy, very symmetrical… Steady. Safe.
Except evidently fucking not, or Jim wouldn’t be so twisted up about caring for him at the risk of all good sense.
~
Usually Sebastian didn’t like to see a sudden loss of Jim’s appetite. Now he didn’t fret too much. Not (just) because the left-overs were pushed his way, but because from his own experience he had a hard time imagining this happening when you were infected, and with an impending change ahead of you. Maybe still not a definite sign that Jim was in the clear, but who else but his little madman might defy both the natural and supernatural laws?
Gorged and in a stupor like a python after swallowing an ox, at least for a few hours, Sebastian willingly let himself be herded into bed. They still had a day or so, and the agonizing, aggressive restlessness would return soon enough. For the moment it seemed thoroughly occupied with digesting. Sleepy as he was, it still pained him to to watch Jim return obsessively to his research, but at least it appeared to distract him from pacing grooves into the hardwood floor. The whine of the laptop, that sound Sebastian hadn’t even been aware of six weeks ago, was still annoying, but it had started to recede to the back of his mind, like the noises of the city did a while after you’d moved there. Maybe he was doing what Jim had told him he had to do: adjust. Or maybe the sound started to be a part of all those things that he associated with Jim’s presence, and were therefore not just tolerable but … good. Jim being there, looking for a cure. Sebastian realised that as long as Jim himself would be spared from being infected as well, it didn’t even seem to matter all that much if he found one.
Although it would be interesting. Dozing, letting his imagination run away with all the possibilities - from Jim turning into a divine, sleek, darkly striped beast or into the saucer-eyed, cute little runt of the litter, wrapped into Sebastian’s faded blue jumper – Sebastian finally fell asleep.
He awoke with his stomach growling and the familiar, itchy irritation crawling beneath his skin. He had dreamed of deer and antelopes and buffaloes, the thrill of the chase still pounding in his blood, but had been denied the ending. It seemed he had woken Jim up too, or maybe he had never slept. Dark smouldering eyes were watching him and Sebastian realised he hadn’t just hogged both their blankets but guarded his … prey with his whole body. He tried to be casual about letting one go and nudging it back towards Jim.
“Breakfast?” He deflected, not very skilfully.
~
At this time of the month Jim wasn’t likely to tell Sebastian no, and least of all in relation to food. Still, breakfast meant morning and Jim felt far from rested.
He was fucking exhausted, trying not to waste any time when he might be dealing with an imminent deadline more serious than most.
Which was probably not going to be good for him if he did transform that night, but if he was likely to die then… it made sense to use every moment he had to its best advantage. So he’d spent most of the night trying to come up with a breakthrough in his research, instead of sleeping, not that it had done him much good.
Jim considered sending Seb to eat without him, but he wasn’t going to come up with anything fresh by forcing himself to stare at the same badly scanned texts, was he?
Besides, if this was his last day alive, he should glean every last drop of worth out of it, right?
So it was best to keep Sebastian sweet, and that meant a full belly.
…And not making coffee, despite Jim’s tiredness, because the involved noise made Seb likely to punch something. Fuck’s sake.
Jim stumbled into the kitchen at Seb’s heels and tried not to fall asleep at the table.
~
Sebastian heated two large frying pans on their new stove. Although frying bacon and eggs felt quite anticlimactic after the intoxicating dream of chasing living, running prey, he was upholding a civilized front. Surely the last thing Jim needed right now was the sight of him wolfing down raw meat… He wondered whether Jim had these savage, peculiar urges too, if not, that had to be a good sign? Or maybe Jim the Fastidious just wasn’t as quick to give in to them…
At the moment though, trudging into their new kitchen after Sebastian, he looked pitiful and not like harbouring much of an appetite at all, just eyeing the coffee maker wistfully instead. Sebastian was aware of how untypically accommodating Jim had been towards him for weeks. It was touching, and Sebastian appreciated it. Even Jim’s demands to adjust didn’t feel impatient or spiteful, just pointing out a necessity. This was how it had to be, there simply was no alternative. He had suggested that Sebastian might want to use ear protectors, but Sebastian was reluctant to have his senses cut off, or even just diminished, despite the discomfort they inflicted on him.
And although he was making progress adjusting, the grinding noise of the coffee machine was still driving him to distraction.
While the eggs and meat were sizzling in the pan – not a pleasant noise either, but the delicious smell made it easier to bear – he rummaged through drawers until he found a funnel. Folding a piece of kitchen tissue into it, he created a makeshift coffee filter… Well, good intentions did not guarantee a good outcome, and of course the end result in Jim’s mug couldn’t hold a candle to the usual brew from freshly ground beans.
“Well, I reckon I’ll try the ear protectors next time,” Sebastian sighed, putting the mug in front of Jim. Or simply leave the room while Jim made coffee. He poured tea for himself, then he filled their plates and set them down on the table.
“You know,” Sebastian started cautiously, sitting down, “maybe it’s not doing much good if you keep obsessing about … a cure for the rest of the day.” He started to dig in. “It won’t be our last.” He was convinced of it, but if he was wrong - all the more reason to spend it differently. “Unless you feel it helps you pass the time in better ways than I could.”
~
Jim maybe… had fallen asleep at the table. Because he twitched in surprise when Sebastian set breakfast down before him.
With coffee. Jim hadn’t heard Seb making coffee??
Maybe he was still dreaming. Jim pulled the mug towards himself anyway, holding his face in its fumes until it cooled enough to drink.
Absently he was aware of Sebastian sitting down to eat his own breakfast. With Jim increasingly tired and irate, and Seb increasingly hungry and irritable, there hadn’t been much early morning conversation of late. So Seb’s cautious voice made Jim lift his head attentively, even if the effort did make his poor brain swim with tiredness. Jim stabilised his face in his hands and tried to make sense of the noise coming out of Sebastian’s mouth.
Of course this was going to be their last day together. Today was going to be Jim’s last day ever, probably.
Jim risked lifting his coffee from the table a fraction and blew on the scalding liquid for a long moment. He could just about cope with putting his lips to the rim of the mug, and didn’t really flinch when the first sip burnt his tongue a little.
That helped wake him up a bit. Unscrambled his foggy thoughts.
“I don’t think whether it’s doing good or not comes into it,” Jim said slowly. “I said I’d look after you, and if there is a chance that I won’t be around in future to do so, then I only have so much time to keep trying.”
Jim grimaced into his mug. “And don’t yell at me: I know how you don’t like to consider that possibility, but I have to.”
Jim set his jaw, but carefully reached for Seb under the table and hooked their ankles together.
“When you’re restless, I’ll fuck you; I’m not going to ignore you when you’re antsy today. But I’m terrible company at the best of times, and better use to you working. Even if I’m not achieving much… I’m trying.”
Jim wrinkled his nose, unknowingly looking adorably perplexed. “Besides, I can’t imagine what else you could possibly want to do together?”
It’s not like they could go shooting, not with Seb’s delicate ears and their joint inability to cope with being far from home for long without being tempted to bite someone’s head off.
Jim sighed and finally began picking at his food. “Whatever you need, Treasure. If there’s anything you want, you might as well ask for it today whilst I’m definitely around to provide it.”
~
“Right, what more could I want than a good railing, apart from six meals a day,” Sebastian huffed, sounding slightly piqued. But then it dawned on him, that that was how Jim was seeing the world. Everything, including human interactions, came down to transactions. And so he not only calculated what use any given person could be to him, but also what he might have to offer in return. Which was not wrong, if you viewed affection, entertainment or company as currency too. Which, stripped of all sentimentality, they were? So, that part wasn’t what shocked Sebastian, but rather the thought that apparently Jim didn’t think that in that regard he’d have much to give. Nothing Sebastian would be interested in anyway. Jim Moriarty, for all the world a supercilious maniac with a god complex had a heartbreakingly low opinion of himself in that regard. Christ.
But that was skirting dangerous ground and they were both in no shape to enter it. Not again, so soon after Sebastian’s slip-up the other day. So Sebastian simply hooked his own ankle back around Jim’s. “Although I am now tempted to ask for that Eagle Speedster in metallic blue.” His foot gave Jim’s a little playful tug. “Had we not got one already. Which is, regrettably much too noticeable to drive around in.”
It had appeared in their motor pool one day, shortly after Sebastian had been drooling over it in a glossy car magazine. Jim had feigned ignorance, stating he’d bought it because he liked convertible sports-cars. (Which he did not, he found them vulgar and they messed up his coiffure.)
Sebastian had already cleared half his plate, while Jim more poked at his food than ate it, but after a few sips of coffee at least awake enough to string words together into sentences.
“For what it’s worth,” Sebastian doubled back to what Jim had said earlier, “I do think it very much comes into it – whether it makes sense or not. You’re the last person on earth who does things just for the sake of doing them… even if the chance of success is next to nothing.” Jim’s freakish brain always ran all the possibilities for the most efficient variation of actions. “If you’re going to turn – and I’m not saying I believe you will, but IF, then it’s much more important you’re in any shape to make it through. Rested, fed, and more than a hair’s breadth away from a mental melt-down. If you won’t, well, all the more reason to stop obsessing. I survived the last time, and I will again and then we keep looking…”
As to what to do with the rest of this bloody day – the possibilities were limited, hampered by the circumstances… On the other hand - if they really treated it like their last day…
Sebastian stopped chewing. “Let’s take that car out for a ride. Down to the coast, or wherever.”
~
Jim tilted his head over his coffee, certain that Seb sounded annoyed, but not in the usual way he’d been this past week or so. He sounded… offended? But Jim couldn’t think why? He was also not in the best mental state to discern that either, and was considering the possibility of simply dismissing the issue, when Sebastian pressed his leg closer to Jim’s, changing the topic.
To an embarrassing one. A present Jim had bought Sebastian before all of this happened, and had absolutely not admitted was a present. Jim pursed his lips, but Seb carried on talking. About how Jim ought to be rested for tonight. Well. That was sensible, but hardly likely. Although it would be nice if they both survived and had longer to … sort matters out.
Jim considered Sebastian’s little suggestion carefully. It was mad, this close to the full moon, regardless of how visible the car was, but… if they would never have the opportunity again?
“Do you feel well enough to drive?” Jim asked at last. “Because I certainly don’t. I can arrange to have some roads and coastland cleared to make it easier. Have some of the team follow at a distance so you don’t need to focus too much.”
Jim toyed with his breakfast for a moment then added quietly, “And Seb? I’m richer than god; you can have whatever trinkets or baubles please you. Could have that car in every colour if you wanted to… although you look good in blue. And I’ve got plenty of properties you can take the cars to drive fast on, so you don’t have to worry about visibility there.”
~
By reflex Sebastian almost made a quip about how much he liked being a kept boy, but Jim was so quiet and sincere that he didn’t. Somehow, the fact that Jim could buy six figure ‘trinkets and baubles’ like sports cars, Patek Philippe watches or small aeroplanes from what he considered petty cash didn’t devalue this generosity towards Sebastian. Jim Moriarty was not a generous man by nature, but how much money he spent on things – shirts, shoes, suits, properties, employees, schemes – still reflected quite precisely how much worth he attributed to them. So, shelling out this sort of money on any whims or wishes Sebastian might have, was a sign of appreciation. Apart from maybe also compensation for what Jim was too awkward, too afraid, or… yes, unable to give.
“I know,” Sebastian replied with a quiet smile. Not that he would take Jim up on many of these offers (well, some maybe), because he didn’t desire much his own money couldn’t buy. But wasn’t it exhilarating to be with a man who could not only clear the roads of the Le Mans circuit, but would do it for you of in a heartbeat?
For today, the roads of Surrey and the Sussex coast would suffice, and the prospects of the day had suddenly lit up as much as Sebastian’s smile.
“Of course I’m well enough to drive,” he said, speeding up the process of eating again, almost like a child who couldn’t wait to get up from the table. “I’ll tell the team, and Caruso to pack provisions.”
~
Even exhausted as he was, Jim found Sebastian’s enthusiasm endearing. Fuck, he must be sleep deprived to the point of delusion if he was finding Seb shovelling food into his face charming.
“Of course, provisions,” Jim murmured, meaning to smirk, but his voice was more soft than teasing. Shit. Was he too tired to control himself properly? That didn’t bode well…
Still. One last romp wouldn’t be a terrible way to spend his last day. Jim wasn’t built to be overly expressive with his softer emotions; there was little risk of them spilling out completely if he ignored a little crack or two, right?
Jim slid out of his seat and padded towards Sebastian. He nuzzled him sleepily, careful not to come between Seb and his breakfast, and breathed deeply.
“I’ve been called an animal before,” Jim said, rubbing his forehead against Seb some more, “and I believed them sometimes, but this is something else. I love smelling myself on you.” Jim tugged Seb’s hair a little, fondly. “Mine.”
He ruffled Seb’s hair then pushed away. “I’m going to go make myself fabulous. Do you suppose it will be warm enough for shorts where we’re going?”
~
Yes, Sebastian himself had called Jim ‘kitten’, and although that was probably not what Jim meant, he was behaving exactly like one, sniffing and nuzzling and rubbing against him. Sebastian leaned into the touch, deeply enjoying it, although he found it impossible to stop eating. That Jim could ignore a full plate - usually an unwanted sight – renewed his hope that whatever circulated in his own bloodstream had not gotten into Jim’s.
“Usually I’d be hard pressed to imagine any place in the British isles on any given day of the year warm enough for you to wear shorts, but … maybe give it a try?” Sebastian would simply and covertly dip into Jim’s bottomless wardrobe of disguises and pack a few warmer things, just in case. “I’d love to see you in fabulous summer clothes.” As much as he liked the crisp shirts and sharp suits on Jim.
Summer had been living up to its name these past days and the prospect of getting out of the house, out of the city, of driving a car and be with Jim, with no other aim but to enjoy themselves almost pushed the night that was looming ahead out of Sebastian’s mind, and made him all bubbly and rearing to go. He had finished the food off of Jim’s plate now as well and was fidgeting to get up.
“Right, you make yourselves fabulous, and I’ll prepare the rest, yes?” He was grinning from ear to ear now with joyful anticipation.
~
Jim removed himself from the kitchen and forced himself up the stairs, gripping the bannister like it had personally offended him because he was so fucking tired. Between the researching and adapting to Seb’s new more nocturnal sleeping habits, the prospect of a day trip seemed mad even without the ticking time bombs in their blood streams. They were both out of their fucking minds.
But if this was Jim’s last day alive, wouldn’t it be better to live for a few hours rather than entomb himself before his screens as usual? Certainly it seemed a waste to sleep.
Even if his eyeballs were burning from too few hours of sleep all this week.
Jim kept his shower cooler than usual in an attempt to soothe his eyes and waken his limbs, and just about managed not to drown himself.
He did almost brain himself on the glass door, which was nearly as loud as his cursing afterwards, and Jim staggered over to the sink, smearing away the steam on the mirror to peer irately at his bashed face. The top of his brow was reddened but not split, although it stung like a bastard when he poked at the mark.
Fuck’s sake.
The mirror steamed up again and Jim wiped at that reflexively, hoping Seb wouldn’t come thundering upstairs to enquire if he was trying to murder himself.
Jim was a dead man anyway, right? He glowered at his reflection, and the scruffy beard he had amassed of late.
Jim didn’t have to look at his hands to know that the tired tremors in his fingers meant shaving with a proper blade was out. He’d tolerate the noise of his (once seemingly inoffensively soft-sounding) electric razor if the alternative was going to his death looking vagrant. If Seb had any complaints about the irritating noise he could wait in the fucking garden.
Jim shaved, and brushed and flossed his teeth, but didn’t preen much with anything offensively scented. Seb had really fucked Jim’s skincare routine royally.
Not that there was much point in looking after his skin if he wouldn’t live long enough to suffer consequences. Jim floated through to his bedroom and examined his clothing options: he eventually settled on a dark pair of tailored shorts and a semi-sheer black shirt with flirty lace panels. Even pink from the shower, he still looked pale enough to pass for something otherworldly. A self-harming vampire, intent upon flaunting himself to the sun.
Did vampires exist? Surely that would be an easier existence than this. More time to find someone likeminded for one thing.
Although Jim didn’t feel the same raw need for that anymore. Moran couldn’t match him on a purely intellectual level, but he was… some sort of match. Something inconceivably soothing.
…What a fucking headache. Jim would have to be immortal to have the time to wrap his head around everything of late. He propped a pair of mirrored aviators on his head- careful of his bruising forehead- and picked out some shorts and a marginally tolerable teeshirt of Sebastian’s. Seb seemed so excited for a play date that he’d probably go without dressing if it got him there quicker.
Jim was uncertain why that seemed endearing.
~
With Jim looking tired enough to accidentally self-harm, Sebastian felt conflicted about leaving him on his own, but then again – Jim had somehow made it right up until the day he had met Sebastian. Sebastian had started filling a backpack for their expedition. While Jim clamoured around in the bathroom, Sebastian snuck into the wardrobe, nicking a few comfortable but warm clothes from the back shelves that Jim usually wouldn’t be seen dead in, unless taking on a different persona. He retreated when the annoying hum of the electric razor abated and started to make phonecalls. To Caruso, to their standby close protection team. Yes, they’d start in half an hour. He hoped so anyway, listening to the sounds that came from the wardrobe now and made him think of a displeased racoon rifling through a shed.
He was about to go check on Jim, who in that very moment emerged onto the landing and thrust a bundle of clothes at him. Sebastian was about to insist there was nothing wrong with what he was wearing, but one look at Jim muted him. It was a sight of ethereal if somewhat decadent beauty, and he knew he better made a bit of an effort to not look too shabby beside him – and Jim had even had the grace to let him wear a t-shirt. The Breezy Blue Harbour marina t-shirt, a keepsake from Belize which he hardly ever wore because it was more classy than the ones he enjoyed because Jim claimed they made his eyes bleed.
Sebastian grabbed the clothes and diverted into his room, already stripping. “I told them we’ll leave in twenty minutes,” he called out while changing in a hurry. “Any particular place you want to go? And call ahead a few road closures or biohazard warnings to clear out the crowds?”
~
Jim followed Sebastian into his room, the sight of Seb stripping off making him feel somewhat better. Knowing Sebastian was his alone, and shared that body with only Jim, felt good. Especially when Seb’s version of ‘naked’ these days still included the expensive bit of metal around his lovely neck.
Jim tried not to think about who Seb would share his body with after tonight.
“Twenty’s plenty.”
He picked up a pair of Seb’s sunglasses, and ear plugs. Sebastian might be excited now, but Jim was uncertain how the reality of pushing his senses today might work out.
…There was a first aid kit in all of their cars, should their tempers get the better of them.
Jim let himself into Seb’s bathroom and ferreted through his toiletries, returning with sun lotion and after sun. “Does this smell inoffensive enough for you?” he asked, crinkling his nose. “It’s… blander than mine.”
And not nearly as strong, but if they reapplied it often that should be fine, right?
He sat at the bottom of Seb’s bed. “I think a pebble beach might be… loud? The waves hitting and moving the stones? Sand is probably better?” Jim considered. “West Wittering might be best? Or Cuckmere Haven might not be too bad, shingle-wise?”
Jim lifted Seb’s phone and compared a few routes, then made a decision and a few diversions for other traffic.
“Can your temper cope if some seagulls try to steal your lunch?” Jim glanced up to ask. “I suppose if you shoot any we can claim it’s related to those bird flu outbreaks…”
~
Perish the thought, but weren’t they a bit like an old married couple, Jim mirroring Sebastian by picking up stuff he thought the other might need. Of course, having learned his lesson, Sebastian just quietly enjoyed, but didn’t comment. Instead he obediently sniffed the sun lotion Jim handled with a whiff of displeasure.
“It’s okay,” Sebastian’s gave his verdict, “we don’t want you turning to dust, do we?”
He slipped into the clothes Jim had brought, when Jim’s look reminded him of his necklace. Over a mere few days he’d gotten so used to it, he disliked the thought of being without it. But tonight he’d have to be. He touched it with his fingertips. “Does … it need a key to open it or a bolt cutter?” Just in case something prevented them from being back home in time – it would be annoying to choke, on top of suffering through the turn.
And before Jim could change his mind due to the reckless danger – on this day of all days – that a jaunt through the countryside constituted, Sebastian chipped in on their destination: “Cuckmere Haven is supposed to be beautiful, but you might be right about the shingle. I’d give it a try though, noises bother me much less out in the open than inside. But it's over a mile to walk from the car-park and back…” And honestly, Jim – not the outdoorsy type on his best days - didn’t look too sprightly right now, so it was scenery versus comfort and safety. “So… maybe safe that for another day and go to West Wittering, nice and sandy.” Also better for swimming… “I’ll deal with the seagulls, one way or another,” Sebastian grinned.
~
Jim scoffed at Seb’s vampire joke, but felt dubious about the aftersun. It might be enough to wrinkle Seb’s nose, but its scent was so much weaker than Jim’s usual brand that he strongly doubted its potency. If it barely smelt of aloe vera, how much of its contents could actually soothe?
He better not get burnt then.
Although maybe it wouldn’t matter.
Jim eyed Sebastian as the conversation turned to the collar. He liked the thought that Seb hadn’t tried removing it himself, but didn’t enjoy the thought that it would be tonight. “I love the idea of collaring you in a way that would require bolt cutters to remove it, but I think the change is hard enough on you without choking you during. I’ll show you how to take it off later.” In case I’m not around to do it in the future. Would Seb wear it, after..? Jim didn’t know what to think about that.
It felt nice that Seb was considering Jim’s needs for the beach though. Jim felt tired enough to take a tumble, and if that happened, sand would be kinder than shingle.
Jim floated to Seb and affectionately threw his arms over the blond.
Then almost startled back. He wasn’t sick anymore, and he was definitely irritable. They both were.
So why did it feel so natural to snuggle into Sebastian when they weren’t even in bed?
Jim grimaced and kissed Sebastian’s cheek awkwardly before moving away.
“C’mon, you,” he said gruffly, giving Seb’s backside a motivational swat, “get your pretty arse in the car before I think better of this little outing.”
It occurred to Jim that those next door didn’t know what was happening tonight, so they wouldn’t have any reason for this impromptu adventure. Jim was closing roads for a drive in a car he’d never use by choice, going to a place he’d never choose to visit. Except for Sebastian’s influence. To anyone else, would this look like… a date?
~
Jim’s sudden gesture of affection was so unusual, that for a blink Sebastian froze. Which left him with only a moment or two to slip an arm around Jim as well, before Jim stepped back awkwardly, as though rectifying a mistake. As though he’d slipped, which Sebastian supposed he had – mindlessly and sweetly genuine. Like a stray cat, immediately taken aback by its own impulse and scurrying away again. As regrettable as that was, Sebastian smiled into his T-Shirt while he slipped it over his head, and, after wriggling into his shorts and picking up his backpack, moved his pretty arse out the door.
Next door, outside it had become pretty busy – the car had been brought around, another one was already manned up and waiting in the drive, and Caruso appeared in person to oversee the loading of the provisions, in fact, almost everyone seemed to have a sudden business to take care of outside.
“Now this,” Sebastian observed under his breath, “suddenly has a bit of Downton Abbey hasn’t it?” Or of the Royal Household moving to Balmoral for the summer…
Sebastian briefed the teams in the two escort cars that they’d only be going to West Wittering, before he unceremoniously dropped his backpack behind the front seat of the Speedster, then he opened the passenger door for Jim with a flourish and a big grin.
“Your Highness - “
~
The attention from next door was a bit much. As professionally attentive as the others purported to be, it was obvious that they were all snooping.
Because this did look like a date, didn’t it? Jim could be impulsive, but he didn’t do things like this for fun. Not before Moran anyway.
It made Jim want to incinerate them all with more than his gaze. The attention made his skin itch.
But his chest loosened when Sebastian joked about it. Only to tighten another way entirely from the noticeable undercurrent of warm amusement in that voice. And then Jim’s chest tightened again at the horror of how such a thing managed to soothe him for a split second before he came to his senses.
Jim thought perhaps he might have a heart attack from the confusing twisting of his chest.
He twisted around to bark at the staff instead of responding to Sebastian directly. “If you all don’t piss off, sharpish, I’ll make beheadings look positively benevolent. And if any of you have a brain in your heads I’ll remind you how miserable it is working with a skeleton staff and suggest you educate your peers on not getting on my fucking nerves.”
Jim got into the car and slammed the door before Seb could close it. Then darted up to force a kiss on the larger man, asserting his right to own whoever he damned well wanted.
He released Seb brusquely. “Get in the car,” Jim growled. “Build me some fucking sandcastles.”
~
“So big you can fucking live in them.” Sebastian grinned from ear to ear, feeling almost tipsy from the intoxicating little shock of being kissed in front of all the gawpers. No matter that they already knew that Sebastian’s role had long become… more complex than chief of staff. No matter they’d all speculated and gossiped, until Jim had basically erased all doubts by parading a Moran who could barely walk into headquarters the other day – a blatantly possessive gesture but one of protectiveness as well. Backing up Sebastian’s authority, but not raising any doubts that Sebastian was fully able to retain the respect of the troops all by himself.
Not that it had been necessary, not really. Because no one in the inner circle of The Empire would think a man weak for not only submitting to Jim Moriarty, and surviving it, but improving his overall mood. Well, not always, but apparently pleasing rather than boring him.
Anyway - yes, Jim had publicly acted possessive before, but a kiss… Well, it would probably be safe to assume such a thing had never happened before. A public kiss, no matter its manner or nature, was a statement, always carried some degree of intimacy, and of fuck what people might think.
Sebastian knew he shouldn’t read too much into this little impulsive gesture, but... ‘what people might think' was an integral part of Jim's carefully protected facade.
His scalp still stinging from Jim’s grip, and unable to completely wipe the big smile off his face, Sebastian took the picnic basket from Caruso and loaded it into the trunk, then he slipped into the driver’s seat and started the car. The deep, throaty rumble filled him with almost as much bliss as what had just happened.
When they pulled out of the driveway, the onlookers behind them had already dispersed, not keen on provoking their boss into channelling Henry VIII.
The noises of traffic and city were irksome, but nothing Sebastian couldn’t handle, as he discovered with relief. Most were carried off by the wind without fraying his nerves. It worsened for a bit around Heathrow airport, abated when they passed Windsor and even more on the wide expanse of the South Downs.
God, this was great. Sebastian handled the car with ease, enjoying the leather clad steering wheel under his hands and the hum of the powerful engine. Of course he couldn’t remotely push it to full power, nor was he itching for it, not yet anyway. He’d last left the premises weeks ago, for a measly walk, and after the first change Jim had grounded him entirely. So, he probably would have been in rapture driving a golf buggy around Mayfair. He glanced over to Jim, whose sunglasses didn’t give much of his expression away, but he looked definitely a little less pale than when they’d started at home.
~
Jim’s lips twitched reflexively at Sebastian’s agreement to build sandcastles big enough to live in. It didn’t feel like a dig at Jim’s lesser size, only a glimpse of Seb’s devotion. His affection.
And fuck, did Seb seem happy. How was it possible that he was practically floating towards the driver’s side when there were mere hours between them both and the full moon?
Jim turned and looked at Sebastian as he buckled in and adjusted the rearview mirror. Seb looked practically giddy. And not just because of the car, even though Jim knew Sebastian adored that. And probably also simply the excuse to go anywhere at all after being ‘grounded’ for so long.
No, it was more than that. Sebastian kept casting little sidelong glances at Jim and smiling to himself. Tasting his lips like he was savouring-
The kiss?
Why would Seb be particularly pleased about being kissed? Jim kissed him all the time!
Oh. Jim didn’t usually kiss Moran like that before an audience. No. Mocking little kisses to Seb’s cheek (or temple, if Jim could reach) were one thing, as were possessive swats and squeezes, but however objectifying the kiss Jim had just given was, it was also… very personal. Neither merely teasing or flirty but instead it channeled sex.
Jim sighed and turned his focus to his phone. He tried to occupy himself by hacking into popular GPSs and falsifying reasons for other traffic to find other routes. Sebastian seemed to be coping surprisingly well with the noise of the three cars, but no need to test Seb further than necessary today.
Afterwards Jim laid back against the headrest, exhausted. How fucking tired and stupid must he be to have agreed to any of this, never mind to have kissed Sebastian like he was valued?
Which he was. Jim turned to watch Sebastian drive. Still smiling, Seb seemed so bloody pleased with their little adventure. Jim tried to keep his eyes open. There was little point giving into tiredness when he had so little time left to live.
Although it wasn’t a terrible way to spend it, watching Sebastian grin stupidly at the car Jim had bought him and the kiss Jim had forced upon him.
~
Allegedly west of Chichester the road was blocked by a traffic accident involving an overturned fuel tanker, which would take hours to clear. Of course, there was not trace of any such calamity, but many with a car radio, a Sat Nav or a phone followed the advice to avoid the area. So as they were nearing the coast, the streets were almost empty. Sadly Jim didn’t seem to enjoy this little hacking stunt of his as he deserved. A bit morosely he gazed into the proverbial green English countryside, and awfully tired to boot. Sebastian had hoped the ride would blow the cobwebs away a bit, but there were only so many nights – and days – you could go without proper sleep, even Jim.
Thank god they had chosen this destination over the scenic beauty of Cuckmere, because here you could basically tumble out of your car almost onto the beach without walking for miles. They pulled into a half empty car park, their two escort vehicles taking the spaces on either side.
Sebastian killed the engine. He gave the steering wheel - in lieu of Jim - an affectionate pat and stretched. God he couldn’t remember when he’d been by the sea the last time, for pleasure anyway. And the day was made for it – sun, with a light breeze and a few white clouds. He looked at Jim.
“Try… not to think about tonight for a while?” he suggested softly. Yes, much easier said than done, but they had a good few hours to spare. Without looking, Sebastian knew the tide was out – he could feel it. Just as he would feel it turn, following the pull of the moon.
He got out, shouldering his backpack and retrieving the picnic hamper from the trunk while rounding the car to the passenger side. He opened the door for Jim. “It's only a few steps but I could carry you if you like, I still have one hand free.” He smiled, but it was only half a joke – he probably could. It just mightn’t be a good idea to do so in front of witnesses.
~
Jim reluctantly peeled himself from the backrest of the passenger seat and agreed with Sebastian mildly. “Alright. You tell me if anything feels wrong, but otherwise, we’re simply on a whimsical little jolly.” He couldn’t help the dry tone that drifted into his voice. He’d never done such a thing in his life, and even now, it wasn’t so much ‘on pain of death’ as ‘whim of Sebastian.’ Apparently Jim was now the sort of person to indulge his lover’s whims. A reverse deathbed wish granted.
Jim had always felt a bit… alien, and had identified somewhat with his grandmother’s stories about changelings and fey. He was simply wired differently, bound by different rules, just always identifiably different.
Except he almost felt like an ordinary person, sometimes, around Sebastian. Wasn’t that a story trope too? Displaced supernatural creatures who became human? Seb might be a tiger sometimes, but perhaps, like a Selkie or that queer little mermaid, Jim was malingering from living too long in an ill-adapted human skin.
How ironic, that Jim was trying to find a way to make Sebastian into a human again but living with Seb felt sometimes like Jim was becoming more human than he’d been before. Even though he did share some of Seb’s feline symptoms.
Jim turned as Seb opened the car door for him. The picnic basket Caruso had packed looked like it almost weighed as much as Jim did, so Jim didn’t doubt that Seb could lift him with one arm, but-
“Not in front of the others, you won’t,” Jim said firmly, jerking his chin pointedly at the two cars surrounding them. He nudged Sebastian out of the way and let Seb close the door with his hip.
“That’s an emergency or in the privacy of our own home with no witnesses thing,” Jim said firmly. Honestly, he was letting Moran run wild.
Jim let Seb lock the car then turned him towards the sand with a firm slap to his rump.
Spoilt. His pet was ridiculously spoilt. If Jim wasn’t careful, his tiger would be angling for snuggles on the picnic blanket. In front of people. And why wouldn’t he, after the kiss Jim had forced on him earlier?
Jim rubbed his face tiredly. It was going to be a long day.
Even if Sebastian looked a little charming bounding a bit along the sand.
~
Sebastian didn’t need reminding (or maybe he did), he’d been taken down a peg very recently, about this whole respect and appearances matter thing. “I know, I know,” Sebastian sighed, even rolling his eyes a bit when no one was looking, as he was almost skipping ahead. Excited, elated, like a golden retriever on his favourite stretch of beach. Strangely enough, the itchy nervousness and aggressive tension, which hadn’t been as bad to begin with - not quite as unbearable as four weeks ago – seem to abate further. At least for the moment. As though the wind and the vast sky, the far horizon and the wide open space around them allowed some of the pressure to seep out. As if his animal side was more at ease here than within the city, and the confines of man-made structures. What if, he thought with sudden alarm, what if it didn’t want to leave and go back … in time? Sebastian turned, looking back at Jim, ambling across the sands with the air of an elegant if world-weary bohemian poet, probably wishing himself back into his shaded study already.
Their escort didn’t need instructions. Mike and Gary had stayed with the vehicles, Des and Mwamba trailed after them, giving them space and keeping watch. Of all their reliable staff, they were probably the most reliable when it came to that, and the least likely to fuel any gossip at headquarters upon their return.
“Keep track of the time,” Sebastian told them. “We have to go back around four o’clock. Whatever happens, make sure we do.” No further explanation. Although the grumpy Scot and the stoic Congolese would probably just shrug and accept supernatural reasons as readily as any other.
Sebastian caught up with Jim again, who didn’t ooze much enthusiasm to drag himself across miles of beach. It wasn’t crowded to begin with, and most visitors stayed close to the amenities near the car park – beach huts, stalls selling food and drink and knickknacks, renting out deck chairs, beach toys and beach umbrellas. “Should I get one?” Sebastian pointed, and no, he didn’t mean the inflatable unicorn. He didn’t need any form of sun shade for himself– it defied the purpose of going to the beach – but he couldn’t see Jim lasting more than half an hour without it. Not in a tolerable mood anyway.
~
Jim narrowed his eyes at Seb’s back. He was sure Moran had just rolled his eyes at Jim’s lecture. As if the warning wasn’t for Jim’s benefit too.
Swallowing with a grimace, looking like he was eating a wasp, Jim trailed after his ill-trained pet.
Who frolicked a little in the sand, just like a domestic animal might, before turning back to the team with a brief, sobering order that made Jim’s stomach tight.
He felt an urge to reach for Sebastian’s hand, even in front of the other men, and that was almost as frightening as it was ridiculous. It didn’t matter that Seb had wisely selected team members uninclined to gossip; Jim felt horribly exposed. And he was a jealous enough sod that sometimes he wanted to claw Mwamba’s big, handsome face off even without tiger paws, so a few hours before the full moon Jim was hardly feeling magnanimous.
Sebastian trotted back to him and Jim hung close to his side feeling self-conscious and irritable.
He almost snapped when Sebastian suggested - perfectly reasonably - purchasing some further protection from the sun.
Fighting wasn’t how Jim wanted to spend their last day together. Not that he was enthusiastic about getting sand in his shoes or anywhere worse, but he… took comfort in seeing Seb happy, so he had to at least try not to ruin this by being an explosive prick. Which was a level of restraint Jim found difficult even without the infection.
Jim took a deep breath and tried to steady himself. “Maybe later,” he said in the calmest voice he could manage. He pressed into Sebastian’s side, weakly trying to seem chipper enough to be pleasant company.
In all honesty it felt strange to have so much sunlight on his skin. Jim barely left the house these days, and practically never without a three piece suit. It was no wonder Seb tried sneaking vitamins into Jim’s food really.
Sebastian looked good under the sun. He seemed to enjoy it, and it turned his blond hair very pretty colours. Almost flame-like.
“Alright, Apollo,” Jim sighed in the same tone of voice he usually called Seb ‘pretty boy’, “what do you want to do now? Explore the coast a little? Test the temperature of the sea? Find some rock pools to poke about in?” Jim smiled wryly, picturing Seb as a big, yellow dog. “Dig a rather large hole in the sand?”
~
“I think all of that,” Sebastian chuckled, “and in that order. After of course eating whatever delectable things Caruso has packed for us.”
Jim walked so close to him, that Sebastian almost, almost slipped his hand into Jim’s. Actually – why on earth didn’t he? Because their two bodyguards were following them at a distance and Sebastian really wanted them to keep their eyes and tongue? What was such a small gesture compared to a ferocious public kiss, and didn’t they all know anyway, that in private Jim and Sebastian did a lot more than hand-holding? But contrary to Jim’s claims, Sebastian wasn’t entirely daft nor disobedient, and Jim had made it very clear that any closeness could only be initiated by him and him only. Especially in public. The only exception being… clear and present danger. How about … the possibility of this being their fucking last day on earth?
In Sebastian's book that surely qualified …
“How about over there?” Pointing towards the dunes and a lovely spot amongst the beach grass there, he changed course ever so slightly. When Jim tripped, Sebastian was primed and ready and conveniently close for instant rescue. Slipping an arm around Jim, he prevented a tumble into a rather large hole some other pet had obligingly dug. Right in their path, could you imagine?
“Blasted pets,” he observed, “such a menace.”