Chapter Text
“What did you think they were doing? Raping me like when I was eleven?”
Sebastian stood stock-still, rooted to the spot. He felt dazed, as though he’d been struck. As usual, Jim had pulled his safety and security out from under him, and left him staggering not to show weakness and let Jim down.
Jim, on the contrary, looked energised, manic. He was grinning, displaying small white teeth. His eyebrows were raised expectantly. He didn’t look like a kidnap victim who’d been held against his will, because that wasn’t what he was. He looked thrilled with himself. Triumphant.
“Did you think I needed my big strong ‘Bastian to save me? Oh, darling. How adorable. How sickeningly sweet…”
Trying to recover, Sebastian sniffed and swallowed. Get it together, Moran. Don’t snap. That’s what he wants…
“Pathetic,” Jim continued, waving his hand about dismissively. “Worthless.”
Sebastian snarled. He could feel his body reacting to that insult. It took a lot of self control to keep himself in check. He bit down on the inside of his cheek to try and ease the tension.
He’d been made a fool of, just like in the army. Just like when the regiment turned on him.
All those old tensions were rising to the surface, and it was a struggle to keep them contained. Already, Sebastian could feel he was losing the battle.
“Oh, this is new,” Jim crowed, laughing. “Look at you. You want to hit me, don’t you? I can see it in your eyes.”
“Shut the fuck UP.”
Jim didn’t shut up. He grinned and decided to give his sniper another little push.
“This is the point when you’d usually snap, isn’t it? Very good, darling. I’m impressed. But what if I took it further? What if I were to say… daddy issues?”
Sebastian took steady breaths, but it was too much. Overwhelming him. The verbal and emotional onslaught after what he’d dealt with already was pushing him over the edge. He could feel himself slipping…
“You don’t have the guts,” Jim hissed nastily, gaining confidence, baiting him.
Seb growled, fists clenching at his sides, knuckles white.
“Maybe if you hit me I’ll love you again?” Jim simpered theatrically, batting his eyelashes. “Maybe if you weren’t such a FUCKING COWARD I might just give you another chance...”
“I’m warning you-”
Jim threw back his head and laughed spitefully.
“Oh, is that what you’re doing? Looks to me like you’re about to cry.”
Sebastian sniffed swiftly. He tried to clear any and all emotion from his face. Colonel-mode…
But it wasn’t working. Somehow, he wasn’t strong enough. Jim knew how to push his buttons. He knew how to do that too fucking well.
“I don’t cry,” Sebastian grunted.
Well, that wasn’t strictly true, Jim mused. Sebastian didn’t cry while awake, no, he was too well trained for that. But he most certainly shed a few tears in his sleep, when the nightmares claimed him. Jim had grown accustomed to it by now.
“Coward,” Jim hissed.
It was what his Father called him in his dreams. What the regiment yelled at him as he was marched off to his superiors. It was too much.
Sebastian’s arm shot out, and for a moment, Jim closed his eyes, anticipating the blow. But Seb’s fist collided with the wall about an inch to the side of Jim’s left ear with a sickening crunch.
Silence.
Jim tentatively cracked an eye open, then blinked. His body language changed in an instant as he examined the way Sebastian’s chest heaved, the way he bared his teeth with barely suppressed fury. He glanced at Sebastian’s face with mild interest, and then turned his head to examine the wall just behind him and to one side. There was blood on the wallpaper from Sebastian’s knuckles.
“Coward,” Jim repeated, this time singing the insult.
Pushing Sebastian when he was already teetering on the edge of violent rage was a dangerous thing to do, but it seemed the sniper was too loyal to harm him. He wanted to, that was certain. Jim could read that in his blue eyes. But he wouldn’t do it. Not like this. At the moment, Jim could see Sebastian was fighting the urge to run, to flee the scene and calm himself down, to hold the red mist at bay. But Jim’s carefully chosen insult had paralysed him. He couldn’t run without looking like the coward he’d been called.
It was an experiment Jim thought it was high time he gave a trial run. And what better opportunity than this, when Sebastian was emotionally drained, fired up, and needing to release adrenaline all at once?
“Not a coward,” Seb insisted.
“Prove it.”
But Sebastian didn’t prove it. He rubbed his knuckles and sucked on the blood left there. That had been close enough for him. Dangerously close. He’d almost hurt The Boss. Almost wounded Jim. Almost.
But he hadn’t succumbed.
“Didn’t you enjoy my little game?” Jim continued, backing his way down the hall. “I thought you’d like it, getting to be in charge for once. First-in-command. Let’s face it, it’s the only time you’ll ever be the priority. You’re useless on your own, aren’t you? Just a weak little boy. A weak little tin soldier that nobody wants.”
Game? Fucking game? Sebastian had been ready to die in that place. He’d risked it all. All for Jim. Everything.
“You shit,” Sebastian found himself growling, eyes narrowing with aggression. “You fucking piece of shit!”
“Didn’t you enjoy your moment in the spotlight? Leading the charge?”
“Enjoy it? Are you mental? You think I get off on this stuff?”
“You like a touch of danger, sweetheart. It gives you your kicks.”
Sebastian shook his head firmly.
“No. No way, boss. Not like this. Not with you on the line. Never like that.”
“Oh, yes, the hero complex. How could I have forgotten?”
Jim sounded ponderous, like this was all some massive joke to him. Like Sebastian hadn’t been ripped to shreds internally over the past day. Like he hadn’t prepared himself to meet his death in the service of The Boss.
“Shut it.”
“But you were too late when I was a child, weren’t you? You let me get hurt. With old Stanley. Hm? It was your fault, really…”
With his worst fear realised, Sebastian’s resolve finally broke. He felt it snap inside his veins, felt his body lose control. He lunged at Jim, but his boss ducked easily out of the way, apparently anticipating the move. Cackling, he stuck his tongue out, like some goddamn fucking kid throwing a strop, and then ran for it.
Jim rushed down the corridor, giggling, and darted into the living room, disappearing from sight.
And Sebastian found himself following him, yelling as he went, smacking his hands on the walls to try and release some of his fury.
He needed his release. He needed some answers. He needed some fucking respect. He needed… something.
Sebastian caught up with his boss just outside of the study. Jim tried to dodge away from his arms again, but this time Sebastian was ready. He yanked Jim back by his posh tie, leaving Jim coughing and spluttering, and then shoved him roughly against the closed door of the study, banging his head on the wood as he did so.
The air was knocked from Jim’s lungs, and he made a short noise of surprise. His eyes seemed dazed from the blow, and his eyelids fluttered as he focussed on keeping consciousness.
“Oh, darling,” Jim managed to wheeze out, coughing and swallowing to try and force the waver out of his voice. “Did you think lovely baby brother Jim was scared without you?”
“Shut. It,” Sebastian growled, shoving Jim bodily into the door once again. It was easy to do. The Boss didn’t weigh much.
But Jim had no intention of ‘shutting it’. He had to get the last word. No matter what that meant. Nobody silenced Jim Moriarty. Nobody. Not even Colonel Moran in a rage.
“I know all about your meeting, how you plotted away like a proper leader. How you called in our finest. I’ve had Simmons reporting to me from the start. He was quite impressed.”
So old man Simmons knew? All along? All that fucking time he’d been in on it?
“Shut your fucking gob, Jim. I’m warning you!”
“You’re weak. Your emotions make you weak. I bet you couldn’t even-“
What Sebastian couldn’t even have done was unclear, because The Boss was sharply cut off as the air reaching his lungs began to decrease rapidly. Before he could register quite what was happening, Sebastian’s massive, rough hands were wrapped around his throat, and he was squeezing. Hard.
“You. Wouldn’t. D-dare,” Jim managed to breathe out, eyes wild even as they watered. His face was reddening, and he could feel his consciousness starting to slip from him.
“Don’t fucking push me,” Sebastian growled, trying to sound intimidating.
“You. Coward…”
“Shut the FUCK up!”
Jim’s vision was going fuzzy at the edges. He could hardly focus. His chest was burning, and his body was screaming for oxygen. Would Sebastian strangle him to death? It was unlikely. But he’d certainly squeeze his neck until he passed out, and Jim wasn’t going to allow that to happen. He couldn’t. That was defeat.
He forced himself to keep his eyes open, even though tears were streaking down his cheeks against his will. He focussed on Sebastian’s blue eyes, narrowed his own, and using all the strength he could muster, he spat right into Seb’s face.
In the moment of surprise and disgust in which Sebastian loosened his grip, Jim kicked Sebastian in the shin, hard enough to bruise, and then kneed him in the groin.
As Sebastian groaned and fell backwards, Jim gave him an almighty shove and then ran for it once again.
But Jim underestimated Sebastian’s ability to block out pain. His second-in-command pushed himself up off the floor and staggered to his feet. He ran after Jim with another yell of frustration, swearing obscenities as he tried to catch up with his boss.
Giggling with the thrill of their ‘game’, Jim darted up the stairs, using the bannister to propel himself along. He could hear Sebastian gaining on him, those heavy stomping footfalls on the stairs behind him.
When they reached the upstairs level, Jim was forced to admit he was trapped. He realised a second too late that in the moment it would take to open his bedroom door, get inside, and lock it again, Sebastian would have caught up with him.
So instead of attempting to run, he spun on the spot, and was faced with the sight of a furious, aggressive, and absolutely-taken-over-by-the-red-mist, Sebastian Moran, hurtling up the stairs and heading right for him.
Jim thought fast. He reached out for the decorative table on the landing, picked up the designer candlestick he’d purchased because it complimented the elaborate gold picture frames in his bedroom, brandished it like a bat, and swung it right at Sebastian’s head as the man reached him.
It should have broken his skull, but it didn’t. It didn’t, because Sebastian put his arm up at the last minute, and it took the impact for him. Also, because Jim hadn’t swung the item quite as hard as he could have.
Knocking the item out of Jim’s hands, Sebastian grabbed his boss by the jacket, held him up so only the tips of his toes were brushing the carpet, and pushed him bodily against his bedroom door… which swung open unexpectedly.
Jim let out an undignified squeal as he tumbled backwards, and even Sebastian lost his footing and followed suit, although the only noise he let out was a grunt as he collided with the floor.
But instinctively, Sebastian had rolled to one side, so he wouldn’t hurt Jim as they fell. It was the moment Jim knew he’d won this. Sebastian was too well trained to hurt him truly. He didn’t want to cause any permanent harm.
Jim scrambled to his feet. Sebastian did likewise just a second later, but Jim took advantage of that second, and gave his sniper an almighty shove so he stumbled into the wall, cracking his head on the doorframe as he went.
All Jim registered, when Sebastian turned to him again, was that blood was dripping down his face (Jim wasn’t sure exactly where from), that his blue eyes were enraged, and that a fist was flying towards his face…
The moment of contact seemed to happen in slow motion. Jim’s cheek went numb with the impact, and then felt as though it was on fire. His head whipped to one side with the force of the blow.
He brought a hand up to feel the damage, surprised by this turn of events. Well, no bones were broken, his skin was intact, and his teeth remained in place. Sebastian had avoided his nose also, striking him ‘safely’ in the cheek, where he couldn’t do any real damage. Still, this was new…
Sebastian stood opposite him, panting. He’d stopped his assault. He looked both triumphant and devastated by the daring of his action.
In the stillness, the silence broken only by Sebastian’s heavy breathing, Jim blinked at his sniper.
And then he charged.
He tackled Sebastian to the ground. Strength wasn’t on his side, but timing and speed was. He wasn’t the weak child he’d once been. In his years alone he’d been forced to learn how to defend himself. Brute force was something he’d never possess, but there were ways to match such a challenge, and he knew them all.
Sebastian hit the ground with a thump, and suddenly Jim was on top of him. He wasted no time. He scratched at Sebastian’s face, leaving red marks down his cheeks, and bit the hand that came up to attempt to force him away. He tasted blood, then, Sebastian’s, which meant he’d broken the skin.
As Sebastian tried to force his writhing boss off him, Jim grabbed at Sebastian’s hair with both hands, and pulled as hard as he could. A clump of dishwater blond hair was torn painfully from his scalp, and Jim cackled with perverse triumph as he brandished his prize in front of Sebastian’s watering eyes.
“Fuck you,” Sebastian kept growling as he attempted to fend off Jim’s underhand attacks. “Fuck you, Jim! Bastard! You shit!”
Jim could have stopped the whirlwind of pain, but his cheek was swollen now, and it was going to bruise. His tongue was sore too, where he’d bitten it when Sebastian’s fist made contact with his face. He could taste both of their blood in his mouth, mingled and metallic.
He spat it into Sebastian’s face again, but this time Sebastian was ready. He rolled the pair of them over and pinned Jim to the ground, easily using his body weight to keep Jim’s legs from kicking and his hands from pinching and scratching.
In all honesty, Sebastian could have defended himself far better. He could have broken Jim’s neck, could have knocked him unconscious, but Jim had the advantage and he knew it. Because Sebastian didn’t want to wound Jim too seriously. He couldn’t. Unlike Jim, who fought dirty, fought to maim, and fought to win.
“You pathetic, worthless idiot, Moran!” Jim hissed as he wriggled beneath Sebastian, attempting to free himself in vain. “I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!”
Sebastian tried to pin Jim’s arms above his head to prevent him from causing any more damage, but Jim managed to scrabble one arm out of the hold and lashed out to slap Sebastian in the face.
“What the fuck are you playing at?” Sebastian demanded, recapturing Jim’s right hand.
“You struck me, Moran! Do you know what that means?!”
“No,” Sebastian grunted, fending off another attempted kick.
“Death! A painful one! Flaying! Burning!”
Sebastian laughed darkly, flashing his teeth. Because he knew this was the pantomime villain talking. This was front, pure and simple. Flaying and burning. It was mental. Fucking insane. And Jim didn’t mean it. He couldn’t.
“Do your fucking worst,” he spat right back at his boss.
“Don’t tempt me!” Jim screamed.
“Tempt you? Thought it was a rule? Or am I your exception?”
Realising that his attempts to free himself were useless now, Jim tried a new tactic. Knowing that he could no longer hurt Sebastian physically like this, and that the mental insults were simply bouncing off him, he had only one option remaining to him.
It was one he’d resorted to a couple of times before. Harming himself.
He began to smack his own head against the bedroom carpet, until he could see lights dancing in front of his eyes. If he could just manage to knock himself unconscious then he’d still have won, wouldn’t he?
As expected, Sebastian grabbed his head, trying to stop his boss from knocking himself out. Jim noticed that Sebastian’s hands were gentle on his skull.
With arms freed, Jim chopped Sebastian on either side of his neck, leaving him coughing and spluttering for breath. But he still couldn’t shift his weight. He was too heavy, too determined to keep him there.
“Nice fucking try,” Sebastian grunted, cupping Jim’s head with his hands and awkwardly keeping his arms down with his elbows.
“Nice try? Oh, Moran, I haven’t even started. Just you wait and see. You can’t keep me here forever, and when you let me go, I’ll have you slaughtered.”
“Slaughtered by fucking who? I thought I did your fucking ‘slaughtering’?”
“I have other slaughterers!” Jim shrieked. The tendons in his neck bulged out in his fury, and his eyes were wild and fierce.
“I’ve been fucking killing our own fucking people because I thought you’d been taken!” Sebastian shouted back, right into Jim’s face. “Mills and Dawson! Two fucking down!”
Jim made to bite Sebastian’s fingers, turning his head from side to side frantically, but Sebastian moved them at the last second.
“We could have lost our best men!” Sebastian shouted again. “Are you fucking crazy?!”
“It was a test!”
“You staged your own fucking abduction, you nutcase! I thought you were being tortured! You fucking cunt!”
“You joined the army!” Jim screamed back childishly, just as loudly as Sebastian’s own shout, but higher pitched, more painful to listen to. “You left me, you moron! You selfish, idiotic, ordinary, useless, doofus!”
And suddenly he was no longer The Boss. He was Jim. Just Jim. The Jim Sebastian knew inside out all over again. That stroppy eight year old, the traumatised eleven year old, the sixteen year old that used to scream insults at him just for the fun of it so they could make it up with a shag later.
He was the boy Sebastian had been forced to physically restrain at the side of the road on the day Jim had walked right into the path of oncoming traffic for a thrill.
He was still in there. He was. He might be some big criminal boss now. He might be cruel. He might have given up on love entirely.
But he was still Jim. Jim Moriarty. Jim Moriarty, the little boy that talked like a pixie and didn’t like to wear socks and danced around the bedroom and demanded cuddles when he was feeling sad but didn’t want to show it.
He was the little boy neglected by his parents, who was left hungry in Dublin, who was bullied by the bigger children, who thought nobody loved him because he was ‘evil’ and ‘wrong’ and ‘mad’, when really he was just some poor kid that needed someone to take care of him.
Sebastian’s expression seemed to soften. He stopped frowning. His snarl melted away into confusion and concern and guilt.
“Don’t you dare look at me like that,” Jim breathed, eyes scared for the first time as he observed the man on top of him. This wasn’t supposed to have happened. Sebastian wasn’t supposed to feel mercy now. He wasn’t supposed to give in and forgive him…
Sebastian swallowed.
“You’re a pathetic waste of oxygen,” Jim insisted. “I could kill you like that. Like THAT.”
“Jim…”
The way Sebastian said his name scared Jim even more than his expression. It was too tender, too familiar, too pitying…
“You’re not worthy! You’re not worthy of me!” Jim screamed.
“I know.”
“I hate you. I HATE YOU!”
“I know you do, boss. I know.”
Jim was desperate now. He looked like a child. His eyes were wide with thinly veiled horror at what was happening. He was losing. He was losing, even though Sebastian was agreeing with him…
“You’re a snivelling idiot. You’re weak. You’re a liar!”
“Fuck off, Jim. I never-“
And there it was, another fraying thread to pull on. A lifeline. It might stop the affection. Jim had to cling to it, didn’t he? He couldn’t just give up. He had to unravel Sebastian, to leave him bare and broken and ruined. He had to be punished for his insolence…
“At night,” Jim panted quickly, too quickly. “At night, you turn into a petrified little boy that needs me to protect him from his nasty Father in his nightmares. You disgust me. You. Disgust. Me.”
Sebastian tried his best not to be torn apart by those words. But he was, all the same. After all, it was what the Jim in his nightmares always said. That he was a disappointment. Disgusting. Weak. Unworthy.
“Yeah, sure,” Sebastian forced himself to say, sniffing. “I disgust you so much you get me to sleep in your room with you every night. Makes sense, that.”
“It’s my apartment.”
It was a weak argument, and Jim knew it.
“I haven’t slept in my own bedroom for ages. I sleep with you. By your side. Every fucking night.”
“Moran!”
“You ask me to do that, boss. That’s your choice. You decide to have me sleep in your bed with you. You’re the one that shifts over to me in the night. It’s not the other way around.”
“I’m warning you, Moran! If you so much as-“
“So much as what? Shine a light on the goddamn fucking obvious? Why? Truth hurt, does it, boss? You think you’re getting too ordinary? Love not fit the picture for a ‘big bad villain’?”
Jim slapped him once again. Over and over and over until his arms went limp and Sebastian eventually stopped him by taking hold of his wrists, and lightly holding them together.
Sebastian looked down at the man beneath him. Jim was furious, petrified. He looked like he wanted to kill him.
But he looked like he wanted to be held, too. It was his eyes. They betrayed the rest of his face.
“It was a test,” Jim insisted, trying to force dignity into his voice despite his position. “You needed to be able to deal with a situation in which I was in danger. I needed to make sure you could handle it.”
“A test? It was fucking revenge and you know it.”
“It was both,” Jim admitted. “Maybe I wanted you scared? Hm? Maybe you deserved it?!”
“You fucking piece of shit, boss,” Sebastian muttered, although his anger seemed to have evaporated.
“You punched me.”
Sebastian swallowed and didn’t respond.
“What do you do to torture someone the most effectively? Hm? What did I teach you? Answer me that, Moran.”
Sebastian took a breath and felt his stomach lurch.
“Threaten what they love.”
“Pressure points,” Jim agreed. “Therefore, I had to do it.”
“You’ve fucking lost it…”
“You punched me because you were the most scared you’ve ever been in your life. You couldn’t understand it, could you? Those feelings. I almost broke you this time. Almooooost.”
“You’ve got no fucking idea-“
“I know you, Moran,” Jim cut in harshly. “What I did to you earlier. That was torture. The best and most effective torture I could create for you. And it worked like a charm, too.”
“What the hell did you gain from it?”
“I made you hurt. The way you hurt me.”
Those words rang heavily in the air around the two men. Sebastian seemed to come to his senses. Ignoring the blood dribbling down his face, and the way his body seared with pain, he let Jim go. He sat back, released his arms, and allowed Jim’s legs to kick free of his hold.
Jim got to his feet shakily and fixed his suit, brushing it down, trying to recover his dignity.
Sebastian, however, remained crouched on the carpet. Jim could almost smell the shame radiating from his body.
“Do you know what you did today? Well, yesterday, actually. Seeing as we’ve passed midnight,” Jim asked, his voice full of his usual confidence now he was no longer physically vulnerable.
Moran’s head remained bowed. He was in disgrace. It was why, Jim suspected, he didn’t raise himself to his feet, to his full height. He wished to remain at Jim’s feet.
“Of course I fucking do.”
“You could have taken it all,” Jim whispered. He glanced around Sebastian’s darkened bedroom and started tutting, feigning disappointment. “It could have been yours, but you lack the gumption.”
It took a moment for Sebastian to understand what Jim was getting at.
“The business?” he asked, raising his head and gawping at Jim like he was insane. “I don’t fucking want the business!”
“Then you’re a fool.”
“Jim, for fuck’s sake-“
“Anybody else would have jumped at the chance. Anyone with ambition should have…”
“I don’t have ambition.”
“Oh, but you do.”
“You just said I didn’t-“
“Your ambition has /nothing/ to do with business or money or material gain. You walked into that room with explosives on your person. You could have been shot. I heard you talking to him, Moran. I heard,” Jim hissed, eyes narrowed. “You were gambling your own life in the hope of getting me back unharmed. You’re WEAK.”
“You ever heard of loyalty?” he asked lowly.
“Heard of it?” Jim mocked him ruthlessly. “I grew up with the walking, talking, personification of loyalty, Moran. I’m sick of it.”
“I love you,” Sebastian said simply, sniffing and wiping the blood away from his nose with his sleeve.
Jim merely blinked at him.
“I love you,” Sebastian repeated. “Always have done. I fucking love you.”
Jim licked his lips.
“I never want to hear you say that again,” Jim warned him quietly.
“You need to hear it. How long am I going to keep paying for what I did when I was a stupid kid? Eh? I was eighteen, Jim. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was helping you-”
“You were wrong!” Jim screamed, throwing his arms out to his sides. “You. Got. It. Wrong!”
“I love you! I fucking love you! I love you more than life! I love you so much, you stupid, stupid, stubborn prick!”
“Sebastian!” Jim screeched, scandalised by the honesty on show, the frank affection. It was too much for him. It made him want to run, to vomit, to get away from it all.
“I love you more than all of this. All of it. I’d give it up for you. Do anything for you. You know I would. You fucking know it, Jim.”
Sebastian was panting with effort, chest heaving with emotion. And he was still kneeling on the bedroom floor, like a man at the altar of his God. He looked pathetic, Jim thought. He looked weak. He looked tired and wounded and ashamed of himself.
He looked beautiful.
“Tell me what you want done and I’ll do it,” Sebastian breathed out, eyes closed with desperation. Jim imagined that had he offered his hand, Sebastian would have kissed it and held it to him. Like a subject. A peasant being blessed by a king.
Jim licked his lips again and made a decision. The only one that came to mind.
“Shoot yourself.”
Sebastian only hesitated for a second. He shifted so he could pull his gun from its holster, and then resumed his position, on his knees, obedient.
Jim’s eyes darted to the gun slightly nervously, but he didn’t retract his order. He stood still, firm, stubborn. After all, Moriarty never went back on his word. He showed no mercy or weakness.
“I’ll count down for you, boss,” Sebastian said lowly, his voice gruff and void of emotion.
Still, Jim didn’t speak. He found he couldn’t.
“Five.”
Sebastian raised the gun to his head, holding it in his right hand, pressing the barrel against his right temple.
“Four.”
He flicked off the safety. Jim felt his stomach lurch.
“Three.”
Sebastian’s calloused finger found the trigger. He rested it gently against the metal. The tenderness shocked Jim. It reminded him of the tender touches he’d been gifted from Sebastian throughout the years, all unexpected. Such delicacy was so at odds with Sebastian’s appearance after all. Nobody could have expected a man like Colonel Moran to be capable of kindness.
“Two.”
The sniper looked up at Jim, blue eyes meeting brown. He wasn’t pleading for his life, even in expression. That was perhaps the worst part. He looked accepting of his fate, resigned to it. He was determined not to falter in his purpose. He didn’t want to disobey an order and fail Jim, even now.
And then his eyelids fluttered closed, with one final desperate glance at Jim.
“One-“
Jim lunged forward, shrieking a word he hadn’t planned: ‘’Bastian!’
He knocked the gun out of Sebastian’s hand just as Sebastian pressed on the trigger.
The bullet soared through the air, missing Sebastian’s head by a mere inch, and fired through Sebastian’s bedroom wall with an almighty bang.
Sebastian opened his eyes and swore, clicking on the safety.
Jim stood frozen on the spot, panting, heart pounding up in his ears.
There was a new bullet-hole in the wall now, and plaster dust wafted into the room from the point of impact. One of Sebastian’s books had toppled off the shelf, too. Macbeth.
“P-put the gun down, Moran,” Jim commanded quietly, voice wavering with nerves. His skin felt cold. His stomach twisted with unease.
Sebastian did as he was told. He placed the gun on the bedroom floor, facing away from Jim, and kept his head bowed.
Jim took a step toward Sebastian and raised him to his feet with a gentle touch under his chin. To Jim’s surprise, he found his own pale hands were shaking. His entire body was trembling. But Sebastian was still and obedient. Calm. Warm. Standing to his full height, but unthreatening now.
“Jim, it’s alright…” Sebastian soothed him.
His boss blinked up at him, like he was seeing him for the first time. He looked confused and nauseous, uncertain and fearful.
“It’s okay, boss,” Sebastian said quietly. “It’s okay.”
Jim stood on his tiptoes draped his arms around Sebastian’s neck. He pressed their foreheads together and took deep breaths to attempt to stop himself from shaking.
“I’m okay, yeah? I’m fine. We’re both fine. You’re safe, alright? I’ve got you.”
Jim didn’t speak. He found he couldn’t. His body was trembling all over. It was the shock. It had to be.
Sebastian wrapped his arms around Jim’s body, holding him close, stroking his back and then just pressing his large palms against his body, reassuring him he was there, trying to warm him.
They stood in almost total silence. The only noises were Jim’s chattering teeth, and both of their breathing.
“We’re alright,” Sebastian said quietly, pressing their noses together like a big cat. “It’s all over, boss. We can forget it all. No harm done. It’s okay. Promise, Jim. We’re alright.”
“Stop talking,” Jim commanded, voice breaking in the middle. “Just… stop.”
Sebastian stopped, but he held Jim tighter, his arms wrapping around him even more closely, keeping him secure, trying to stop the trembling.
“Tell me you hate me,” Jim whispered.
“Can’t.”
“Please. Tell me you hate me, Sebastian.”
Sebastian paused. He paused because Jim’s voice had wavered again, and now he was crying.
“Love you,” Sebastian breathed out.
“I want you to hate me. Hate me. Please, Sebby. Please.”
Sebastian pressed a kiss to Jim’s forehead.
“Can’t, Jim.”
“You have to.”
“Never.”
Sebastian took a slight step back and brought a hand up to examine Jim’s face. He caressed the swollen part of his cheek, feeling tears on the pad of his thumb as he did so. Jim withdrew his arms from Sebastian’s neck.
“I should never have hit you, boss. Won’t happen again,” Sebastian said quietly, wiping away the other tears softly.
“What about your nose? I hit you too. You’re still bleeding,” Jim said thickly, trying to disguise his tears, even now.
“Nah, it’s fine,” Sebastian insisted, sniffing. “Had far worse. Should clear up in no time.”
Jim swallowed.
“Stay here,” he commanded, stepping away from Sebastian and dusting himself down. He didn’t leave the room. Instead, he went to Sebastian’s bedside drawer and began to root through it. He flicked on the lamp beside Seb’s bed and found what he was looking for.
“Here,” he muttered, returning. He pressed something into Sebastian’s palm and stood back expectantly, waiting.
Sebastian lifted the card up to the light and read the now familiar words printed on it:
‘I, Jim Moriarty, owe the owner of this card, Sebastian Augustus Moran, one kiss at a time of his choosing, as a gift for his fifteenth birthday. Card is valid until my death.’
Jim had put it in Sebastian’s drawer a few weeks back, but Seb hadn’t even considered using it. He thought it was just a bit of memorabilia from the old days. A gift from Jim, something he could keep to remind him of their shared past.
“I think it’s about time, don’t you?” Jim said quietly.
Sebastian’s lips parted with surprise.
“You mean it?”
“Obviously I mean it. I gave you the card, didn’t I?”
Sebastian read the words a few more times, muttering them. He glanced back up at Jim, then down at the text. And then shook his head.
“I can’t take just the one, boss. I can’t.”
“And why not?” Jim demanded, trying to sound irritated instead of wounded.
Sebastian wiped his nose yet again.
“Because I’ll want more after. I can’t deal with it just being a game or a gimmick or something. So cheers, but no. You’d better have it back.”
He handed the card over, expression grave and pained.
Jim plucked it from his fingers, sighed, and then tore it up into four pieces, leaving them to scatter on Sebastian’s bedroom floor.
“Well, that’s the end of that,” Jim said firmly, his usual voice returned to him, the waver in his tone gone. “All gone now.”
Sebastian hung his head as Jim turned and began to walk out of the room.
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and swallowed hard, trying to forget what Jim had felt like clutched in his arms, forehead to forehead, sharing breath. He told himself he’d made the right decision, that he’d been wise, spared himself pain.
But it was hard not to feel like an idiot that had just lost his only chance at one final moment of happiness.
A theatrical cough forced him to open his eyes again. Jim was standing back in front of him, grinning, one eyebrow raised. He had his hands held coyly behind his back, and was wearing his best playful smirk.
“Of course, the card was only ever a card,” Jim drawled.
“Jim?”
“And I’m your employer. Your boss. Your master. Correct?”
“Yeah, boss.”
“So if I should decide I want something, I ought to get it, don’t you think?”
Sebastian nodded, frowning with confusion.
“Yeah, ‘course. Anything.”
Jim smirked again.
“Well, then…” he declared, stepping up to Sebastian and grabbing him by his suit jacket. He stood on his tiptoes and pressed their lips together with possessive hunger, letting his fingers fist in the fabric of Seb’s shirt.
Sebastian’s hands went instantly to Jim’s hips, then wrapped around his back, rubbing his palms up and down everywhere he could reach, protective, faithful.
Jim kissed Sebastian fiercely, nipping at his lips, demanding entrance to his mouth with his tongue, commanding him wordlessly to follow his lead. Sebastian obeyed desperately, groaning into the kiss, trying to fill his senses with as much of Jim as possible. The feel of his lips, the scent of his hair, the taste of his tongue, the heat of his breath. The frantic feel of his body as it pressed against him.
“Tell me you hate me,” Jim breathed out between kisses, as he shoved Sebastian backwards, forcing him to fall back on his bed. His sniper obediently lay on his back as Jim unbuttoned his suit jacket, placed it down beside them, and then crawled on top of him.
Sebastian’s hands returned to Jim’s back instantly. They brushed the nape of his neck, ran through his hair, smoothed over his arse and the tops of his thighs.
“Never,” Sebastian grunted, helping to rid Jim of his white Westwood shirt with the rounded collar while Jim took off his tie and threw it down on the bedroom floor.
“Tell me how much you despise me, Moran,” Jim demanded, yanking Sebastian’s own tie over his head, and then kissing him hard, pulling his hair roughly and scratching behind his ears.
“Love you,” Sebastian insisted as he tore off his shirt. Jim helped him discard the ruined item, and for once, didn’t complain about the state of the designer clothing.
Sebastian sat up, and Jim perched in his lap, straddling him, running his pale hands over Sebastian’s torso, feeling for his scar tissue and his muscles and letting his fingertips graze over his nipples, one of which was ruined by a wound, distorted, although still held some sensation.
As Jim went for Sebastian’s belt and fiddled with the buckle, Sebastian leaned forward and sucked on Jim’s collarbone, kissing beneath his jaw tenderly, leaning up to press his lips behind Jim’s ear.
“I’m going to make you hate me,” Jim sang, throwing his head back with bliss as Sebastian worked on his neck. He chuckled and yanked on Sebastian’s belt, finally parting it from his trousers and discarding it along with all the other unnecessary clothing.
“Never, boss,” Sebastian mumbled defiantly against his pale skin, dipping his head to bite softly at Jim’s left nipple.
“You’re going to want me dead, sweetheart,” Jim breathed out, scratching up and down Sebastian’s back, feeling for the familiar scars, and for the new ones too, the ones from Afghanistan and later on.
“Nah,” Seb muttered back. “Not gonna happen. Not in a million… Christ…”
Jim wrapped his thin, pale fingers around Sebastian’s neck lightly, and forced his sniper to look up at him. His blue eyes were blown with want, his lips were parted with desperation. Jim could feel his cock was hard beneath his trousers, pressing up against his arse.
“You like that, hm?”
“Yeah, boss…”
Jim leaned in to bite Sebastian’s lower lip, upping the pressure until he drew blood. He then lapped it up again, almost tenderly.
“I can’t love you, Sebastian,” Jim sighed, pecking Sebastian on the nose and then squeezing his neck more tightly, so Sebastian’s face began to turn red with a lack of oxygen. “Not officially…”
“Know that… boss… know… that…”
Jim released Sebastian’s neck a mere moment before Sebastian passed out. His sniper’s head fell forward, but he managed to stay mostly upright. His chest heaved as he sucked in precious air. His hands grabbed for Jim as he panted, clutching at him desperately.
“Are you mine?” Jim demanded, shifting back and reaching his hands down into Sebastian’s trousers.
“All yours.”
“For how long?”
“’Till I die, boss. Uh… boss… fuck…”
Jim kissed Sebastian again, hard. His hands were busy, but Sebastian used his own to cup Jim’s cheeks.
“And if I go, what do you do?”
“Kill myself,” Sebastian panted out, trying to kiss Jim, who was toying with him, licking Sebastian’s lips then drawing back again with a smirk.
“Unless?” Jim sang.
“Unless the bastard who did it’s still breathing,” Sebastian managed to say, although his tone was labored now.
Jim laughed and nodded.
“Oh, good boy,” he praised him, bringing one of his hands up now and pressing his thumb against Sebastian’s lips.
Obediently, Sebastian darted out his tongue and licked at it. When Jim smiled, Seb sucked it into his mouth and kept his eyes on Jim. He bit the pad of Jim’s thumb just as things were getting too sweet, making Jim giggle with pure delight. He sounded both childish and delightfully devious at once.
“And if he’s still breathing?”
“Fix the problem,” Sebastian groaned, trying to get at Jim’s lips again. “End ‘em. For you, boss. Always. Always for you…”
Jim paused the motion of his left hand, and pulled it out of Sebastian’s trousers. He raised it to Sebastian’s face, along with his right, and cupped his cheeks, suddenly serious, almost affectionate. He looked right into Sebastian’s eyes, and knew, instantly, that he had Sebastian’s complete and utter attention. He had the obedience of the man’s body, mind, and soul.
“And when you’ve eliminated our little problem?”
“I die,” Sebastian said easily, pressing his forehead against Jim’s. “You and me together.”
Jim nodded his head approvingly and kissed Sebastian’s lips chastely, like a promise.
“I’ll be waiting for you, Tiger. Maybe I might even love you in the next life, hm?”
With that, Jim kissed Sebastian hard, and pushed him back down on the bed, moaning his name, wrapping his arms around him, rocking against his body, and trying to lose himself completely in the love of his life.
“Love you, Jim,” Sebastian groaned out. “So fucking much. Need you…”
“I know, darling. I know,” Jim sighed back, pulling off Sebastian’s trousers.
When his own trousers were discarded as well, Jim paused, on top of Sebastian, staring down at him.
“What is it?” Seb asked, kissing Jim’s neck again, nuzzling his nose against it.
Jim swallowed and said nothing. Instead of explaining, he climbed off Sebastian and lay on his back beside him, humming impatiently.
“Boss?” Sebastian breathed out, leaning up on one arm and looking concerned.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, ‘Bastian,” Jim sighed, rolling his eyes. “Are you going to fuck me, or are you not?”
“You want me to…?”
Jim grabbed Sebastian and pulled him on top of him.
“You’re not eighteen. I’m not sixteen. I’m not made of glass. We’ve both killed people. So stop acting like we haven’t done this before and get to it.”
Sebastian grinned, flashing his teeth.
“That an order, boss?”
Jim raised his eyebrows, and then smirked back, eyes playful and mischievous.
“Oh, absolutely, Colonel. We’re picking up where we left off. Starting with you fucking me until I scream. Is that understood?”
“Understood, boss.”
“And ‘Bastian?”
Sebastian lifted his head from where he’d been kissing Jim’s neck again.
“Doubt truth to be a liar.”
Jim didn’t think he’d ever seen Sebastian smile so broadly.