Molly leaned her head against Jim's knee. He was busy, sitting in his suit (rule one was that he was always working when he wore his suits), working off his tablet as he lounged in one of his artistically expensive arm chairs. Molly sat on the floor, still in her work clothes and lab coat. She'd gotten a simple text telling her where to come. She'd dropped everything and come running. This was how their relationship worked.

He hadn't spoken to her when she came in, simply focused on his tablet. She'd came to sit on the floor next to him. Today she was just a warm body in the room and that was fine with her. He'd allowed her to lean her head against his knee. She found it sweet. Physical affection had never been Jim's thing. If he needed her for a quick shag that was one thing (not a very common thing either, since he was fairly busy). That he let her touch him at all, that he let her press her hair (and hair oils) against his suit trousers told her exactly how he was feeling that day.

His fingers moved rapidly across his tablet. The only sound was his fingers, their breathings and the occasional sound of him lifting his rapidly condensating iced orange juice (in a scotch glass, of course) to his lips. Molly liked to imagine that he was playing Angry Birds. The idea amused her because she could imagine him getting just as frustrated as normal mortals when trying to get the birds to knock into something the right way. In reality he'd probably played it once, figured out all the physics puzzles on one go and finished the game, never to pick it up again. It was just a nice day dream, though.

She felt sleepy, but not bored. She didn't plan on falling asleep for two very good reasons. The first was that it was very rare that Jim would allow her physical affection by his hand. She didn't want to miss any of it. The other reason was that he wouldn't appreciate her falling asleep when he was demanding her full attention.

If she ever got half his attention she was lucky. He was working now, but he wanted her company and that was what she planned to give him. Still, she felt exhausted from a long shift. She sat still pressed against him, still in her work clothes, still smelling like death. He probably liked it that way, but it was becoming hard to keep her eyes open.

There was the sound of the heavy tumbler lock and Molly's eyes snapped open. "Seb," Jim said, not looking up from his tablet. It was a quick glance, but more than Molly had gotten. "Take Molly to bed."

Molly smiled a bit, shifting a bit closer to Jim's leg. He pushed her off with his knee, but she didn't mind. She lifted her arms as Sebastian Moran got close, and the large sniper bent down and scooped her up. Jim was feeling very kind that day.

"Colonel," Molly said, wrapping her arms around Sebastian Moran's neck and burying her face in his chest.

"Ms. Hooper," Moran said. His voice was much deeper than Jim's. He carried her back to his room and settled her down on his bed before slipping away. She took her shoes off, conscious that both Jim and Moran hated her wearing her shoes in their bed, then she waited. She did just want to lay down and sleep, but that wasn't her place, not yet.

Moran came back shortly and went to his closet. He pulled out one of his tee-shirts and a pair of his pants and tossed them at her. She slipped out of her lab coat and tossed it over a nearby chair bed starting on her buttons, going from the bottom up. Moran came over and started working on the buttons as well, from the top down. They met in the middle. Moran pulled off her shirt. She took off her shirt. He pulled his shirt over her head. It was far too large for her. She would have fit better in Jim's shirt, but he would never let her wear any of his clothes besides his ties.

"Lay down," Moran's voice thrummed through her. She say down, letting him pull off her pants and panty hose. She pulled on his pants. They were also far too big for her, but these had a drawstring on them. She smiled, sure that Jim had picked them, since Moran probably wouldn't wear drawstring pants, and both men knew that Moran's hips were far wider than Molly's.

"Did you have a good day?"

"It was fine," Moran said, stripping down to his pants and getting into bed. He held up the blankets for Molly to crawl under. He wrapped his arms around her and she pressed her body against his.

"Good night, Colonel," Molly said, leaning up to kiss the underside of Moran's chin. She could feel his stubble growing back in already.

"Sleep well, Ms. Hooper," Moran answered.

Jim never shared a bed with her, never spoke kindly to her, barely spoke to her at all. When they were in London she'd get a message from Jim and come running. Colonel Moran was who she slept next to, who she spoke to, and who he spoke to. He kissed her, he cuddled her, and they were incredibly formal. With Jim, all Jim had to do was look at her and she'd know exactly what to do with him. She needed permission from Jim to sleep with the Colonel.

She didn't think of it as being shared. She considered that they probably saw her like the tube of cinnamon toothpaste they stole back and forth from each other. They probably had a different woman in each city… maybe. She didn't feel special, but she didn't need that. Jim trusted her enough to let her into his and the Colonel's temporary homes. That seemed nice to her. She liked that.

A/N:

This exists in part because Sashkash is awesome, and party because I honestly haven't been able to find any MorMorMol on AO3.