Jim Moriarty was angry. Very angry, and that did not bode well. Not for himself, not for anyone. Viciously throwing the sleek black phone at the blonde man on the couch, he snarled,"Fix it. Now." Sebastian flinched as the cell phone clipped his temple.
"That fuckin' hurt, Jim." Sebastian Moran glared at his employer, petulant. A muscle jumped in Jim's jaw, and he closed his eyes briefly.
"Seb, I am going to count to ten, and my phone will no longer sing 'staying alive'." said Jim, his voice calmer than he actually felt. Sebastian smirked, a smirk that spread to a broad grin as he locked his fingers and put his hands behind his head.
"Or what?" challenged Moran. He had locked Jim's phone so that the tone couldn't be changed. A nearly useless skill, perhaps. Useless except for annoying people. Sebastian knew Jim wouldn't kill him. He wouldn't even seriously hurt him, tonight was a big night and Sebastian's presence was necessary. No one else could get away with the things Sebastian pulled, and both Jim and Sebastian knew it.
"Or I will have to do something distasteful." came Jim's crisp answer. Sebastian raised an eyebrow.
"In westwood? Doubt it." he goaded. Suddenly Jim lunged forward, an arm on either side of Sebastian and his face inches from the assassin's. Sebastian tensed, unsure if Jim was really in a mood, or just playing. He could feel the criminal's breath, hot against his face. It was several long minutes before the volatile man spoke. Oh, how Jim loved to watch him squirm.
"And why," whispered Jim, his voice soft and dangerous, "would you ever doubt me?"
Sebastian swallowed, unexpectedly nervous. He never did know when Jim was in the mood for pain or pleasure. Then again, that line was so blurred between the two men, it was hardly worth distinguishing. Jim leaned farther forward, his nose brushing Sebastian's cheekbone. The blonde shuddered involuntarily. Jim's tongue darted out, tasting the pale flesh.
"Jim I-" Sebastian began, but he was cut off by Jim's snarl.
"Shut up." Sebastian fell silent. Not daring to move, he kept his eyes on Jim's tie. Sebastian had bought it for Jim's birthday. It was a joke, the skulls. But Jim actually wore it. Neither of them would ever admit it, but beneath their sadistic relationship, each man actually had quite a soft spot for the other. Sebastian's thoughts were abruptly silenced as Jim reared back, and punched him on the side of the head. Sebastian toppled to the end of the couch, clutching his throbbing skull. Jim stood tall, flexing his fingers and looking down at his boyfriend.
"Fuck- Jim you're wearing a ring for fucks sake!" spluttered Moran as he pulled his hand away from his injury and looked at the blood on his fingertips. Jim lifted his own hand to his face, and in a nearly cat like motion, licked the blood from his ring. The bitter tang of metals was sharp on his tongue. Moran winced as he gingerly prodded the broken skin on his temple again. And just like that, all of the intimidating aura that had surrounded Jim was gone. Instead of standing straight and tense, his eyes narrowed dangerously, his stance was relaxed. He stood on the balls of his feet and looked at Sebastian as if viewing someone vaguely familiar, and was trying to remember their name. A small smile quirked his lips. The irishman's lilting voice returned, no longer snarling, but laughing and mischievous.
"Oh, I am so sorry dear! I must have forgotten I was wearing a ring." He apologized, beaming down at the man on the couch. "Now, if you could please..." he said as he picked up his phone and handed it to Sebastian. Sebastian looked at the sleek black device for a moment, then back up at Jim's pleasantly smiling face. Sebastian grumbled incoherently, but began changing the settings. He handed it back to Jim and muttered,"You didn't have to hit me." Jim grinned, and swooped down, planting a kiss directly on the cut flesh, before turning and walking into the bedroom. Two hours until he went to the pool to play with Sherlock. John Watson had already been apprehended, and was waiting unconscious in the pool locker room. A grin tugged at Jim's lips. Tonight was going to be so much fun.
The tension was palpable in the air. Jim could practically taste it. The fear and adrenaline, anger and regret. This pool was laced with unpleasant memories. This was the pool in which young Carl Powers said the wrong thing at the wrong time. In this water is where Carl Powers took his fateful, water logged last breath. Small red dots danced over the two men in front of him. Jim could feel the tension of his hidden assassins as they viewed Sherlock's gun, pointed straight at Moriarty. He had been waiting for this moment for so long. The moment where he revealed himself as Moriarty, lifted the veil of disguise and mystery to show his face. He was Jim from IT no longer. He was-
He was being called. His phone buzzed in his pocket, blaring the musical beginning to that song. That damned song. He made one drunken confession to his right hand man about his adoration for the beegees, and this is what came of it. Sebastian Moran was going to regret this decision of his. It was one thing to change his ringtone when they were alone at their penthouse. It was quite another to lie, say it was fixed, and then send him into a situation where it would be highly embarrassing to have said song interrupt a deadly situation. Sherlock was looking around at John, perplexed. Sebastian would be punished tonight. Very severely indeed. And then, perhaps, Jim would put his iPod on the speakers, and play this very song as he tormented his friend of many titles.
"Sorry, do you mind if I get that?" asked Jim, exasperation evident in his voice.
"Not at all, you've got the rest of your life."