Chapter Text
It's one of Sebastian's talents to fall asleep rather easily, but it has the unfortunate effect of meaning he misses things. The fact of it is, when he falls asleep, Jim is awake and when he wakes, Jim is already up. He can tell by that alone Jim must not get very much sleep, even though he has no idea just how severe that is. The idea Jim is resting more easily now would be a nice one, if he knew of it. But of course, he's fallen asleep too quickly yet again.
And it's considerably shorter lived; it must have only been thirty minutes since he'd dozed off. He doesn't hear the muffled chime of the phones yet again, echoing off at least four different receivers throughout the house, but he certainly does hear the knock that raps on the door a few minutes later.
Sebastian's eyes snap open and he takes in a deep breath, but he doesn't move. He's not really certain he heard anything out loud but if he has, he wills it to simply go away. The unfortunate reality is that they don’t, given by the repeated tap on the door a minute later. Of course it's Nigel. No wild guess there. Blond tilts on the pillow to look at Jim, gauging him.
---
Jim was comfortably asleep, tucked in close against Sebastian and sighing softly with each exhale. He's as peaceful as he's ever been, despite how odd it is for him to just fall back asleep in the middle of the day. But the harsh array of clipped knocks to the solid wood put an end to that. His eyes slowly flutter open and take a moment to focus. The warmth of Sebastian's body is the best thing to wake up to, even if the continued rapping at the door is not.
He burrows himself closer to Sebastian and gives a disgruntled huff at the interruption. It isn't his place to bid whoever is on the other side of that door away, but he doesn't want Sebastian bellowing either, not when he's still a bit groggy.
The hand at Sebastian's chest clutches uselessly and he hums out a whine that translates to 'make that noise go away', if Sebastian is at all versed in various Jim type noises yet. That knock is throwing off his promise of a lazy day. It wasn't at all on the schedule, unless they've hauled the piano upstairs.
---
The two of them would have been in full agreement if they could read one another's thoughts; the noises needed to end and their day to be uninterrupted. Sebastian isn't much more awake than the half hearted stirring against his chest that Jim does, but he can feel frustration sinking in as an automated response. Sebastian doesn't have the energy to yell at the door, neither does he want to startle Jim. The Irish boy has wrapped himself around his larger frame thoroughly, making getting up a challenge and quite frankly, he wants to do that even less.
So he doesn't yell, but he raises his voice enough that his uninterested tone could be heard at the door in the otherwise quiet house.
"Go away."
Two words, very simple, straight to the point. There should be nothing left to question, especially when Nigel already knows Sebastian well enough to gauge his temperament and pick his battles. But apparently, the old man is particularly persistent this afternoon about whatever it is he wants and the Moran heir can venture a less than wild guess about that as well.
"Sebastian, I wouldn't press this if it were not important."
It's a bit like grating the actual nerves in your body with a rough sheet of rock, the way it irritates him. There's a slow, deep breath taken in his effort to shove it back down. He won't let them ruin their plans; not yesterday, not today, not for the rest of the week.
He hasn't noticed his jaw already clenching but he doesn't answer and Nigel picks up on the idea he's being ignored.
"Augustus will come home sooner if you do not speak with him."
Ah yes, there it is; the impending threat. Nigel stops being subtle about it and goes straight for the point. Maybe he should have recognized how the housemaster makes an effort to give him a choice; deal with him on the phone or deal with him in person. But it's hard to see Nigel doing him any favors as the lapdog and not simply trying to incite him into complying.
"Not another word."
That's all he says but it comes out as a cross order. There's silence on the other side of the door and then he can vaguely hear the steps on carpet as he leaves them.
---
As Sebastian growls his threats in reply to the steward's wishes, Jim is wide awake now. He's endlessly curious, though it's a morbid sort of fascination. There is no good that will ever come from it, but Jim wishes to meet this phantom father, to behold him with his own eyes and ears and see just how dreadful he is. Jim has no belief in a loving connection between parent and child. He's never experienced it himself and never will in the future. It does not surprise him that Sebastian's own relationship is strained with his father.
Jim moves over, practically, no, actually climbs on top of the older boy and lays over him like a blanket. He tucks his head up under Sebastian's chin and mouths at the curve of his throat till the tension seeps back out of his body and he's relaxed once again.
He sits back up, and the mess on his lower stomach has dried to a flaking mess. It pulls at his skin and he scratches at it with the edge of a nail and a frown. "Bath."
It's a demand as usual. Sleep is no longer an option.
---
Being woken up unceremoniously with something so irritating makes the renewed tension stubborn, but Jim is right there as if he can read Sebastian through the strain and seeks to ease it. That doesn't happen right away. The older boy doesn't so much as lift a hand when Jim moves on top of him, but when that mouth finds his throat, he shifts and fingers of the healthy limb trace the outline of his body in slow descent from ribs to hips.
He sighs again, slow and heavy, trying to let the other boy pull him back into their private space. It works mostly, but there's a lingering knowledge of the unavoidable because he'd much rather suffer Augustus across a line he can cut than have him anywhere near Jim should Nigel’s threat ring true. The very idea of Augustus eyeing him the way he does, gauging his worth, nose turned up as if he knew a bloody thing at all.
He could brood the rest of the day but it's no good and Jim won't allow it. Sebastian turns his head to look at him as he sits up and a demand is made for their day to continue, so a fistful of duvet pulls the covers off of them.
Bath it is. The blond sits up as well and curls his arms around Jim's small waist before moving to slide them both off the nearest edge of the bed. And he doesn't actually have permission but he has been given a demand, so instead of setting Jim down on the floor at the edge of the mattress, he secures his little star with the good hand and stands right up to carry him into the washroom.
---
Jim hums with a pleased smile as Sebastian moves to obey, and he certainly is testing his limits when he scoops Jim up to be carried. But at the moment, he doesn't feel like violence and hatred, so instead he just reaches up to wrap his arms around Sebastian's neck to steady himself. Though, he gives the boy a warning glance that he just barely tolerates this. But it really is more for Sebastian's benefit, because he is upset, and for some reason he likes to carry Jim as if he is some tiny, delicate thing.
And maybe he is, but that's beyond everything else. He is Jim first, and now he supposes he's become a boyfriend who tolerates being toted about. He leans down and nips at the line of Sebastian's jaw, bidding him further from his thoughts. He has an armful of a rather nude Jim, and the Irish boy won't tolerate being ignored in favor of a mope.
Arching up higher, he refuses to be set down when Sebastian does step into the washroom. He really doesn't care if it’s a shower or bath, especially since both of them know it’s just another excuse for Sebastian to put his hands all over Jim. And if that doesn't manage to cheer him up, then Jim certainly has his work cut out for him this afternoon.
---
He was going to set him down but it appears other plans have been decided in that short trek from the bed. It makes him laugh a little, turning his head to nuzzle cheek, nose and mouth against pale skin for a moment and it all does pretty well to extract his thoughts from brooding space.
Instead of setting him down, he uses his cast arm to manipulate the dials of the bath, turning them with his fingers at an approximate guess of warmth. While it begins to fill, he steps to the cupboard where he fetches something that smells like brown sugar and vanilla. He wedges open the glass on the lip of the countertop, pouring salts at the base of the cascading water where it begins to dissolve and foam up at the surface. It softens the water, filling the room with a delicate scent, bubbles softly popping as they foam up. It must be the most indulgent thing he ever does when he's alone but baths are a thing he only ever gets to enjoy here in this room and indulgence is certainly one of his vices.
Thankfully, neither of them have a scrap of clothing on either, so all he does is step into the rising bath with Jim in his arms and very carefully lowers them down, kneeling in the basin and then flopping back against the edge where his shoulders hit the cold porcelain and make him huff. Gently, he rests that plastered arm off the side, out of danger's way.
---
Jim wriggles as Sebastian nuzzles against him, toes curling and brushing against the backs of the blond's thighs. Baths and showers aren't a luxury he gets often, having cold water that comes from a single sink in his flat. He's had many of them here in Sebastian's home, and has no problem taking advantage of a building with working heat.
However, when Sebastian opens the cabinet and pours some sort of scented salt crystals into the basin, Jim twists away with a questioning stare as the water begins to foam up into an array of bubbles, blooming a sugary scent into the bathroom. He looks up at Sebastian in confusion, but the older boy is already lowering them into the bath. Jim tenses for a moment as they slide through the thick blanket of bubbles growing around them, gasping in surprise when they merely stick to his skin and part as easy as air.
He's seated again on Sebastian's lap, but his attention is immediately focused on the bubbles filling the bath, lifting his arms to inspect the swatches of foam that stick to his pale skin. He twists around to see the bubbles climbing up his back, tickling just the faintest bit. With a quiet giggle, he scoops his hands through the bubbles, collecting them in his palms and lifting them to his face to blow away, sending them floating into the air around them to lazily drift and pop with bursts of scent once they come in contact with something.
It's odd, and nothing he's experienced before, but he decides quickly that he likes it.
---
Sebastian's interest in the salts is far less about the bubbles than the softening water that works to ease tension in his body. A relic of the past... Something he gratuitously uses when bruises flood his skin in patches. It was his mother's favored and so of course, it bubbles graciously. The scent may not be his choosing but it's preferable to overpowering florals, so it's always this one he comes back to.
And it hadn't occurred to him that Jim might be unfamiliar with such a thing until he watches the other boy's curiosity unfold. Quickly, it seems to become amusement and Sebastian can't help but chuckle softly watching him toy with the thick foam.
It's a double sided blade. On one hand, it makes it so easy to forget what irritated him minutes ago and yet on the other side, this sight only brings out fierce protection over Jim. It goes beyond possessiveness and personal greed; he cannot stand the idea of insult. Neither of Jim's brilliance or his seemingly misplaced innocence. This is a secret Jim keeps hidden away from everyone but Sebastian and it makes the older boy all the more vicious a beast wanting to protect him. Maybe it's a futile fight, but he'll gnash his teeth and bare his claws at anyone trying to lower Jim beneath them. Especially Sir Augustus and his lapdog.
"Mein kleines Sternchen." And it's adoring if not weighted by his thoughts. He picks up his free hand from underneath the water and reaches up a handful of bubbles to pat them onto Jim's nose, grinning softly as some of them cling to his skin.
"Do you approve?"
---
As Sebastian smears the bubbles over his nose, Jim goes cross eyed for a moment to watch the white foam cling to his face in some mockery of facial hair. He looks back at Sebastian with a wry smile, then leans forwards to kiss him, coating him in the bubbles. It's a little soapy tasting, and he makes a face as he pulls away. But it hardly ruins the mood so he scoops up another handful of bubbles to paint them up the length of Sebastian's chest.
"I suppose so. You've done good, Moran."
His fingers work at the thick muscles below Sebastian's collar bones, massaging them lightly to release more tension from the tightly woven fibers beneath the skin. The soapy bubbles make it slippery, and his touch glides over the skin, facilitating the movement.
He leans back in and nuzzles against Sebastian's jawline, smearing more of the bubbles up the side of the blond's neck.
"Keep impressing me."
---
Sebastian huffs a soft laugh at the way Jim likes to refer to him as Moran. He isn’t the only one, of course, but it was Jim alone who told him: You are not Augustus. The meaning has changed.
Now he's being coated in bubbles from face to chest and the water continues to creep upward on their bodies slowly, filling the large basin that he took up most of. Fingers slide on skin and they are tiny, soft things that try to knead the tougher flesh and thick muscle. Now he's very certain Jim is trying to sort out the kinks left behind and that is impossibly endearing.
He smiles to himself as Jim leans in again, bubbles crackling quietly between them, popping ever so softly as they circle Jim's body like they're attracted to it as much as he is. Sebastian's unhindered hand slips across fair skin, too wet to grip at his hip so the arm circles his waist loosely, sounding a low hum.
"What happens when you grow tired of my impression?"
---
Jim does get bored. Rather easily. That's when Jim leaves and finds something else to bide his time. However, he does not find Sebastian boring. There is too much there that he finds fascinating. And he's been promised so much, he'd be an idiot to wander away. Jim is brilliant...he doesn't think of himself as an idiot. But surely, he has done idiotic things from time to time.
He lays his cheek against the curve of Sebastian's shoulders, and the water laps around them, forming foamy islands that obscure the lines of their bodies. "Don't let it happen and you'll never have to find out."
Perhaps it’s harsh. But it's truthful. Jim has never focused so much energy on any one person. He'd assumed for a long while that he simply didn't have an interest in people in general, finding the lot of them too disappointing. But Sebastian has yet to disappoint, and gives Jim promises of a better future. So he'll stay, as long as that continues.
---
Maybe it would sound harsh to someone else, but it's blunt just like most of the things Jim says and Sebastian finds it far more appealing than sugary layers and lies. Perhaps it should have worried him too, but it has the opposite effect; it sets him as determined.
"I don't intend to."
There are bubbles between them and circling every part that breaks the water's surface; by now it's risen high on their mismatched bodies, with the water level redistributed by their tangled limbs and combined weight. He leans forward, splaying his good palm against Jim's shoulder blades to support him as they press tightly together and the smaller body is tilted back in his movement. He fondles the faucet handles, cutting off the water one temperature at a time. While he's at it, he doesn't miss the opportunity to press his mouth against skin and leave a kiss before he eases back again, the room falling quiet to the sound of bubbles snapping.
---
Jim sighs into the relaxation Sebastian offers him, he's affectionate without being too handsy, and not that Jim really minds that, but he likes this lazy lull they've found with each other today. It's rare for people to be comfortable around each other in pure silence, but they've managed it. And though they are quiet, it certainly isn't boring.
"Tell me more about our flat."
He says softly, chin resting against Sebastian's clavicle. Jim may be the one in charge, but Sebastian seems very vocal about his choice of living arrangements. Jim doesn't care much as long as he is comfortable and warm with a roof over his head. He doesn't have the heart to make solid, concrete decisions of his own, when a single word from Augustus could dash those hopes to pieces.
But he likes this dream they've created, perhaps because it is so close to being a reality.
---
The bubbles seem to have been forgotten for now but the water still works its magic, aided by one small Irishman who rests against him. Sebastian reaches to lay his hand on the lip of the tub, much like its battered counterpart on the opposite side. He tilts his head back a bit and takes a deep breath of thought, signaled by a small noise.
"Since it needs to be small, I won't be squeezing a piano inside of it."
He muses over the thought while considering the most important things he wanted in a space that was his, but sitting at the top of the list was really just Jim. Jim, interrupting every attempt of thought he had. His dorm at Eton was small and impersonal, just a bedroom with no real decor. He'd lived most of his memorable life here in the house, knowing little else of flats or even considerably smaller homes beyond what he'd seen in movies and telly he rarely watches. His memory before age ten is something of a blur, pictures of events and catalogued occurrences, but he can't recall the places they stayed beyond some of the fantastic hotels and grand palaces they visited. He remembers that when he first arrived in London to stay for good, things felt foreign to him. Eventually, England became normal, whether it was beaten into him or not. So, what could he say of expectations and desires?
"It will have to have a tub." This is the next immediate thing he thinks of, considering they are sitting in one.
"And a balcony... Or just a fire escape, some place to step outside. Maybe we'll be close enough to a park."
To read, smoke or just breathe. London's air wasn't exactly favorable but it was sometimes better than being trapped inside all day.
"We'll get a big bed and a nice couch. I don't care for watching telly but if you get angry with me, you can send me to sleep on it." An aged joke, surely, but he grins and laughs lightly, skimming his eyes across the ceiling. He tries to imagine a little place but it's all glorified pictures of things he's seen before and somehow, he wants more than that. Something theirs.
"I don't know a bloody thing about colors or decorations. I hope you can help with that or it will look ridiculous." Jim certainly seemed to coordinate his suit with ease.
---
Jim chuckled softly at the mention of a piano. Surely that is a luxury they will have to do without. Though he is sure if he insisted, Sebastian would find a way to lug it up stairs and wedge it into a flat.
The mention of a tub is glorious, Jim does so love their time in the warm water basins, soaking, a wonderful excuse to lay naked on top of each other. Sebastian is immensely comfortable and he has no problem spending his time lounging on a handsome bed of muscle. The balcony he knows is more for Sebastian's horrid smoking habit, but that's fine. He'll allowed simple vices, and a balcony means he won't be smoking inside.
He arches an eyebrow at the mention of sending Sebastian to sleep on the sofa, but Jim's denied him his own bed before, and there is no way to be sure he won't do it again. Sebastian is damning himself, because he's basically already admitting he's giving in to any argument by agreeing to just sleep in the living room. Jim smirks and props his chin on his hands, basking in the obvious way he has this boy wrapped around his fingers.
"I've never decorated anything before. But I'd like to put stars on the ceiling...if I could. The things I get are...from thrift stores...handouts." He frowns slightly, disliking admitting to the way he lives, but surely Sebastian already has an idea of it.
---
Sebastian picks up his head again to look at Jim, best he can in close proximity as they are.
Stars on the ceiling is his very first request. Yes, that sounds very much like something Jim would enjoy. Sebastian can only imagine he'd be meticulous enough to map it out proper, as well. It makes him smile to think about the small Irish boy spending hours putting little stars up, mimicking the sky, possibly by memory alone. They'll need a ladder, for surely Sebastian can't hold him up in the air the whole time.
Mentally, he checks these things on the growing list of necessities.
He does have an idea that Jim lives with... very little. There are questions that bubble up in his mind; does he have siblings? And what about the ever illusive parents? They seem missing from every equation and it's not as if it's difficult for Sebastian to understand absentee family. Or even dead ones. But there's a sharp sort of hatred in his chest and he has no plausible cause for it beyond the idea that Jim despises his name and that must come from somewhere. How can anyone not put forward everything they had for Jim? For his brilliant mind and small body, who can deny him the world? Maybe he will never know. Jim only tosses scraps of truth in his direction about what his life is like away from Sebastian and now they've begun to build something together that excludes both of their pasts.
Sebastian is narcissistic enough to honestly believe that Jim is better off because no one can or will ever protect Jim the way he does. The way he wants to.
Lightly, he nods, glancing around the room for a short take. He can count the things that are his and the things that are just part of the space that's been given to him. Probably on a single hand.
"Nearly everything I've got is inherited. Just things that belonged to someone else. It's different... But it isn't. We call it inherited because it's supposed to be worth keeping."
And what happens when you don't want it? Be grateful, Augustus would say. Everything I've given you, be grateful.
"The flat will be ours, everything in it. New, so it is ours first. All the things we want and nothing we don't."
---
Jim smiled as Sebastian declared that they'd have their own belongings, everything theirs. He didn't just say the flat was his, that things would be his. It was theirs. Jim really wasn't materialistic, but truly, that was because he didn't have the means to be. Anymore. He knew luxury, he'd experienced it. But nowadays, poverty has been his companion. And yet not once did he ever regret his decision. There was a name for what he was, an ugly label given out by psychiatrists.
Jim didn't like it, not one bit. But Sebastian was proof that it wasn't true, wasn't he?
He reached up and set his small hands on either side of Sebastian's face. "A place for you to write...A place for me to read." He tilted his head and looked at Sebastian curiously. Would he be much different, if they lived together? Would he change and become controlling, now that he had what he wanted? There really wasn't any way to tell... especially considering Sebastian's temper. Jim would be trapped.
Staring at the blond, looking at him with utter adoration....Jim decided it was worth the risk.
"I want lots of blankets. Thick duvets. If you're sleeping on the sofa all the time, I want to make sure I'm going to be warm." He teased, moving his hands to smear bubbles up along Sebastian's jaw and down his neck.
---
Jim is staring at him, different things making their way across his face but they aren't terribly difficult to read at the moment. Is he getting better at understanding him or is it the walls Jim lowers when he's with Sebastian that allow it? One by one in cautious steps and yet there are still so many. Between Jim's hands, he nods a definite yes; A place for each of them, but together. Crafted by their own hands to be just what they want.
He isn't the handsy one at the moment, with his arms resting on the porcelain ledge. Jim slides fingers cased in bubbles over his skin, a funny feeling as they crackle softly on lightly freckled tan. Those hands are warm for the moment, stealing heat from water and body the way he suggested with the covers.
"Thick bedclothes and a little heater." He grins lightly. "That ought to cover my absence."
He chuckles softly, not mentioning the part where Jim ended up with him anyway. If it happened again, he wouldn't mind; at least a couch would be softer than the floor for both of them. So then, a couch big enough for two.
Sebastian shifts his long legs carefully, making water ripple underneath the layer of thick bubbles. On the matter of staying warm, of things new and owned, he is reminded another time of things forcibly lost. He tilts his head in slight, approaching the matter a bit carefully, considering comments made and Jim's reluctance to speak of his life outside of Sebastian's impeding presence.
"Before the holiday is over, we should replace your things. It's my fault you lost them."
And that's also dangerously close to having a conversation about what happened in that alley, isn't it?
---
When Sebastian moves his legs, it shifts Jim as well, and he rocks against Sebastian's chest in a slow slide that brings him closer against the older boy. A tilt of his head has him pressed against the blond's jaw, and he not only hears, but feels the question murmured beside his ear. No, that's not right. It's not a question. It's a statement. He is telling Jim what they should do. Replacing the rucksack full of clothes- full of Jim's entire wardrobe- that was destroyed, left in the alleyway as they ran from a crime that both of them had repeated twice within this week spent together.
It's not really Sebastian's fault and they both know it. It's Jim, for inducing the ire of the boy to the point he saw the need to strike out. Only Jim hadn't been doing anything offensive, beyond simply existing.
He had thought Sebastian was already replacing his things with his own. Jim didn't expect any more than that. After all, the clothes had already just been someone's clothing from thrift stores.
"You already have. I'll just take your hand me downs. They'll be a bit big, but they are well made and warm. That's all I need. One day I'll grow into them."
Not likely. Sebastian is a tower, Jim only a pedestal.
---
Sebastian would not have agreed. For all the avoiding he had done thus far in thinking about what happened, one thing was for certain in his head; Jim's belongings were lost because of him. Because of his panic. His sudden need to get the small Irish boy as far away as possible from not just the damaging situation but the blind rage that had unraveled out of Sebastian himself. And not because he feared he would turn it on him, but because of the impending consequences of it.
And as much as he would detest the idea of Jim blaming himself, that's not the argument he knows to have. Sebastian instead, laughs lightly at Jim's remark about growing into his things.
"They're three times your size." He sounds incredulous, if not amused by the idea. Jim is so close to him just now, he turns his face closer, maybe to look at him and maybe just to press the side of his mouth against skin he vaguely kisses. And if he was going to say anything else on the matter of convincing, he relinquishes just like that with a smile.
"If that's what you want."
And there is some small idea-- okay it isn't that small at all, he actually finds it rather endearing to think about Jim wearing his things. As too big as they are, as much as he should have proper fitting clothes to make sure he's warm and comfortable and has exactly as he likes, Jim being wrapped up in what used to be his is a bit like Jim having nestled himself right into the center of his very body. Right into his very life.
---
"Then I just have to grow three times as much." Jim says indignantly, though it’s hard when Sebastian is pressing lazy kisses against his face. His nose scrunches a bit at the drag of lips, but he doesn't protest. Like Sebastian doesn't when Jim claims the hand me downs are enough. He supposes the older boy is happy not to waste the extra funds, when already Jim has been steadily dipping into his bank account.
"It’s just clothes. I'm used to nothing fitting. As long as they are functional and warm, that's all that matters. I'd rather spend the money on books and blankets."
Because neither are things he wants to skimp on.
The bubbles crackle as he sits up, a plaster of them smeared up his chest and throat like a makeshift bit of armor. But the armor Jim can summon up is far thicker and strong enough to keep out the most persistent invader.
But such things would rust in the bath, so he left them aside. And this has left him very vulnerable when he asks,
"Do you want to keep it a secret that we are together, at the university?"
----
What Sebastian doesn't say is that it is only a temporary relinquish to the argument. When the time comes for university, he'll insist for both of them, as part of the change in their lives. New attire, new blankets, new home. But for now, Jim has made his point that he does not seem to care. Or rather, he prioritizes in a way Sebastian doesn't because one is used to budget and the other knows the funding has plenty of space to squirm.
Jim sits up and Sebastian follows him with his gaze, smiling a bit at the bubbles clinging like fabric on his pale skin. Before he can move his hand off the edge of the basin to smear them any further, Jim poses a different question and it makes his brow twitch forward.
"No?" It's not really a question but the inflection sounds a bit, well maybe not quite as strong as confusion. It just hadn't occurred to him.
"What would be the point?"
And that's his privilege, isn't it? Getting away with things, not being questioned by most people. It isn't the same for Jim and the absurdity of it to Sebastian just makes him forget. He may need to grow three times the size to fit into Sebastian's clothes, but Jim's presence and his worth, those are already towering above him. And that comes from someone who is quite honestly, very vain.
And maybe, too, Sebastian wants the world to know who they belong to. That he is Jim's and even if he can't say the words aloud, Jim is his.
---
To that inquiry, Jim shrugs. It's not really a point for him, it's a point for Sebastian. He's a popular, handsome rich boy, and agreeing to be Jim's boyfriend while they are tucked away in a private castle is quite different than sharing that fact with the rest of the world. It's been proven that people think very little of Jim with his appearance alone. He will surely wound Sebastian's social standing.
"What's the point of anything?"
He asks in his cool tone, leaning forwards and sealing their mouths together in a lazy kiss. "What's the point of that?" He murmurs against Sebastian's mouth, wrapping his arms around the older boy's neck, bringing them closer together.
"What's the point of you, of me?"
He pecks the corner of Sebastian's mouth, and settles back against Sebastian's chest. "I just don't want to ruin anything."
---
Jim's response sounds almost existential and it's a bit amusing coming from him instead of Sebastian himself. He could make a lot of points about what the point of that kiss was. What the point of Jim was- what the point of them was. 'Us' as an ideal because that meant great things and maybe the points were entirely selfish but they were theirs. Who else did they care for anyway?
As it is when those lips touch his, he doesn't want them to go, but Jim settles on a final statement as he settles against him again.
"Ruin?" He's surprised by the choice of word and maybe he shouldn't be, after some of the statements Jim has made already. It's just absurd. "What could you ruin?"
Maybe to that, he blind. He inclines his face towards Jim and his right hand slides off the basin lip finally, warm when it touches Jim's back and gently caresses up his spine to shoulder blades to the base of his neck, never mind the bubbles and water he meets on the pathway.
Maybe Jim's forgotten or maybe he never really figured it out for truth. Sebastian may not have been an empty shell but before Jim, he certainly had holes. Large voids just took up space inside of him and all those people who should have filled them in occupied only enough room to tolerate. Because when Jim appeared, he didn't care enough to defend them, to mourn them; he didn't care enough to seek vengeance. They held such slim import that he quite did the opposite; he's fa--
...He's chosen the side of the person who was supposed to be the enemy. If he has such lack of concern for the boys who were meant to be his mates, why would he care any for the strangers who stand by watching? He doesn't need them or their approval.
---
Jim sighs and arches up slightly into the caressing hand slipping its way down his spine. He can be so cat like in some ways, how he delves out and accepts affection, how he is finicky and difficult at times, and demands attention at others. But most of all, how deceivingly dangerous he can be.
"Us."
He replies simply on the cusp of another sigh. He stares from beneath heavy eyelids, shifting brown eyes up to Sebastian. Not even the older boy's dark coffee is that rich, a complicated shade that seems black until you are close enough to notice it isn't.
Holding Sebastian in that stare, it only breaks when his eyes blink. Jim is not naive. He knows that Sebastian, despite his temper, is the easy one to get along with. Jim is far more difficult. The chances of him doing something to jeopardize their arrangement are incredibly high, despite how much he benefits from it.
He runs his soapy fingers up the back of Sebastian's neck, rubbing the nape below his line of fair hair.
"You're good for me...'Bastian." And it’s so soft, it might as well be a whisper, echoing faintly across the tiled walls of the bathroom.
---
Us. he says. A single, small word that encompasses much. It shines a light on Jim's thoughts in a way he doesn't terribly often allow.
I don't want to ruin us.
Well. Sebastian could argue till he was blue in the face that he just wouldn't let that happen but it's not entirely his to control. Yes, he is easier to get along with; accommodating, as it were. He's agreeable most of the time and terribly unwillingly to upset Jim, as difficult as it is to predict. Still, a whim could send Jim away for all Sebastian's effort to try and amend whatever he's done. The Irish boy won't be tethered, not the way the older boy is. And that is the truth of them.
Small, soft fingers on the back of his neck are rather soothing and his own respond when they travel back down slender spine, dipping beneath the soapy water. He doesn't expect Jim to say such a thing, and it's so quiet and fragile that it barely lingers in the air before shying away into nothing but memory.
Sebastian's arm curls around Jim's small waist and pulls him in tighter, its busted sister lifting off the porcelain to draw fingers through dark, dry strands as water sloshes and bubbles crackle all around them in the shift of their bodies. His face is tilted towards pale cheek, lips on skin, speaking soft and affectionate so the words could get just as lost against the surface.
"We're good for each other." He kisses; here, there, to find Jim's lips and finishes with a promise pressed to them.
"So don't think I'll make it easy." Because knowing the reality of their dynamic and accepting it powerlessly are very different things. It would be a terrible mistake to think he'd lie down and let them crumble without a fight. After all, he already told Jim: It's you I can't go without.
---
The only reply Sebastian has is to pull Jim in and run fingers through his hair, pressing kisses climbing across his face until he finds lips and mouths words against them. But they are good words, ones that promise Sebastian holds Jim in just as much value.
They offer each other an escape, from different lives and different fates. By giving the other boy a new path to walk, hand in hand they'll change the future the world had set before them before they had one another.
Jim sighs and closes his eyes, bringing his arms around tighter, hugging the thick muscles around Sebastian's neck. "If you think I'm worth it." Because he really isn't, but Sebastian seems to think so. If Jim can convince him of it a bit longer, perhaps they can even be happy together.
---
Arms around his neck make him squeeze tighter for several seconds, his arm slippery against the skin. He tucks his face into the crook of the Irish boy's neck and Jim's words in his ear make his chest tight and his heart ache. How dare the world convince James Moriarty that he isn't worth the sun and moon and stars combined.
"Infinitely." It goes muffled against the curve between small shoulder and he sighs, but he’s content with their closeness and grand ideas. Maybe that's dangerous to rest on with such certainty but for the sake of Jim, in spite of everything that would attempt to stop them, he's determined to make it so with more fervor than anything else.
His fingers draw back to rest plaster safely on the basin edge and even though he loosens the strength of his hold, he doesn't unfurl that arm just yet, his thumb stroking lightly where it lay.
---
Jim lays there, silent now, and just relaxes into the gentle hold Sebastian has on him, touch slipping back and forth on his hip in a lazy pace. Sebastian has his favorite spots, Jim has long learned that the pronounced curve of his pelvic bone is primary.
It's easy to laze about on top of Sebastian like this, drifting in and out of awareness. But eventually his skin begins to wrinkle in the cooling water and nearly all the bubbles have dissipated. Jim drags his body to sit up on Sebastian's lap. He yawns and stretches his arms up over his head, making the already stark torso's ribs stand out prominently.
"If my fingers prune up anymore, I won't be able to play you anything."
---
When Jim moves, his hand does as well, lifting out of the water to drape over the edge of the basin again as he watches Jim arch and stretch his small body.
The water is lukewarm and every muscle has hatched out its tension so the only thing remaining is sluggish comfort. He was dreadfully lazy, as Jim suggested earlier. He could have stayed there for hours but it's impractical and he's made promises.
"I think you've stolen all the heat by now." If the lingering warmth of Jim's skin were any indication. He knew it would be short lived unless he was kept warm by fire and blankets. Sebastian shifts carefully to sit up straighter, waiting for Jim to step out first. And perhaps he likes to watch the way water slides down his skin.
---
Jim dips his hands into the patch of water clear of bubbles, sliding a cupped handful over his dark head and wetting his hair before he pushes up climbs onto his feet. He towers over Sebastian for once, flicking water from his fingertips at the older boy, before stepping out of the tub and dripping across the mat as he reaches for a towel. Wrapping himself tight in the soft cotton, he rubs the moisture from his body.
He tucks the towel around his waist, then heads to the cabinet to search through Sebastian's colognes and aftershaves. He smells several before he finds one he likes, and taps a bit behind his ears and down the hollow of his throat. He finds a comb and smoothes back his damp hair, slicking it into a smooth coif before sitting down on the closed lid of the toilet to watch Sebastian follow in suit.
---
Sebastian leans forward as Jim steps out of the bath tub, a light grin responding to his playful gesture. Droplets drive down his skin in rivulets that collide together, sliding towards the floor beneath his feet. He's so fair skinned, you could miss the water dappled in thick spots if not for the glint of light reflecting on them.
The Irish boy wraps up and Sebastian leans further forward to pull the plug on the drain. He's on his feet in another moment, using his good hand as leverage to stand, a loud cascade of water rivaling the sound of it being sucked down into the pipes. He isn't quite done however, flicking the shower head on in a cold spray that makes him hiss as it hits his warmer skin.
He wets his hair and rubs a palm of soap through it, rinsed and stepping out at last during the time Jim dries himself and rummages through his cabinets. Dabbing off his body limb by limb and wrapping the towel around his hips, he stands in front of the mirror while Jim now sits watching, a hint of cologne in the moist air and dark eyes scrutinizing his procedure. He brushes teeth and rakes fingers through damp hair, pushing it back neatly where a few strands refuse to stay. With a hand running over his already stubbled jaw, he glances at Jim.
---
It's interesting to watch Sebastian's grooming. The boy is so meticulous about his hair, and while it looks good, and Sebastian looks good as a result of it, Jim hardly cares as much about his own. The dark strands are already drying into a near permanent floof.
When Sebastian looks over at Jim, as if silently asking a question, the Irish boy shrugs. He likes the stubble, as long as it doesn't grow into a beard. Well, maybe he'd like it if he tried, but he doesn't care to let it go that far. He shakes his head and stands up, tossing the towel to the side and crossing over to Sebastian to push him out of the way with a bump of his hip. It barely shoves him over, but Jim leans over the counter and takes the toothbrush to start cleaning his teeth.
He spits into the sink as he finishes, and stares at his pale reflection in the mirror. The rings around his eyes have all but vanished, and he's not sure if he recognizes the boy who stares back at him in the mirror anymore. He's not sure if that's a good thing or not.
Jim turns around and looks up at Sebastian. "Keep it."
And then wanders away into Sebastian's room to find something warm to climb into, whether it be a bed or some clothes.