Day One- Holding Hands
Sebastian was the best. That was undeniable. But even the best made mistakes and even the best could get hurt. Anyone with two brain cells to rub together could see that there was something different about the infamous sniper. He was Jim's favourite after all. It made him important and in their line of work being important is dangerous.
Said sniper was stretched out across the sofa, skin pale and washed out in the few places not marred by cuts and bruises or covered by blood stained bandages. His eyes were half shut, exhaustion and stress dragging him down. It was impressive that Rogers and the pitiful gang he called a crime syndicate had managed to kidnap Sebastian, even more so that they had managed to torture him for a full week without the sniper killing any of his men or Jim finding him.
But Rogers had made a fatal mistake. He'd underestimated Jim. He'd aimed to cripple Jim, take his sharpest shooter and his bodyguard. He'd bitten off much, much more than he could chew and paid the price for it. His 'empire' was in ruins and the man himself was at the bottom of them Thames. He stood as proof, as a warning. Don't underestimate James Moriarty and do not touch Sebastian Moran.
Jim would burn England to the ground to get Sebastian back.
The criminal mastermind himself was sat at the end of the sofa, his legs crossed underneath him. Sebastian's head rested in his lap a comfortable silence wrapped around them like a blanket. Jim's fingers combed through blonde hair, mussing it and smoothing it out again in a repetitive motion. It was domestic, tender even, the strained bond between them settling back into place.
They weren't ordinary. It wasn't love. They didn't love each other. God, some days they didn't even like each other. The need each other. Like an addiction. Being apart… the threat of losing each other forever, it upended Jim's carefully concocted chaos. Jim adores chaos, but only when he's detached- safely in the eye of the storm. When Sebastian is gone so is that calm.
He's still on edge, protective and possessive, Sebastian can feel it. It shows through in his posture, in the fingers in his hair, in the way his head is tilted towards the door. It's all there in plain sight if you know what to look for. Sebastian knows Jim better than anyone else. He knows what Jim needs more than Jim knows himself.
Sebastian needs anger, needs danger and adrenaline and thrill. Jim was anger and danger, adrenaline and risk and thrilling, threatening chaos. Jim needs calm, an anchor. Sebastian can be that.
There was a tug to his hair, a little harder than any others, with a weighty meaning behind it. It took a long moment to make his aching muscles comply but eventually Sebastian was able to reach up, catching Jim's hand and lacing their fingers together with a gentle squeeze. The sniper pressed a soft kiss to Jim's knuckles before nipping, teeth grazing Jim's skin lightly, and letting their joined hands fall to rest on his chest. They didn't need words, the message was clear.
I need you.
I'm here.
