A/N: This takes place immediately after the battle in chapter 7 of Seeing the Light. I wanted to explore Seb and Jim's relationship a little.
Sebastian fully expected that James would transport them to the throne room – James preferred to berate his men in public. When the two of them appeared in James' bedroom instead, the demon sniper simply raised an eyebrow at his prince.
"I don't know what's gotten into you, Seb," James muttered, turning to the open wardrobe against one wall. He took off his jacket then hung it up and started undoing his tie. "Whose side are you on?"
"After four thousand years together, do you really have to ask me that?" Sebastian asked quietly. His voice was still rough from coughing. At least the smell of the smoke just blends in here.
James pulled off his loosened tie and hung it on the bar built into the wardrobe, his back still to Sebastian. "We're not 'together,'" he said, making air quotes with his fingers. "You can leave any time you like." He started to unbutton his shirt. "After that little display in the parking lot, I'm sure Heaven will welcome you back with open arms."
Sebastian rolled his eyes then slowly approached James. "I'm not going back without you, you know that," he murmured. He could see their reflections in the mirror built into the inside of the right door – the tall, ginger-haired soldier and the short, raven-haired strategist.
"Maybe you should reconsider," James muttered as he hung up his shirt. "I'm never going back. You don't want to be stuck down here for the rest of eternity."
"There are certainly worse places to be," Sebastian murmured as he put his hands on James' bare shoulders.
James raised his eyes until they met Sebastian's in the mirror. "You were wrong, you know," he said quietly, his eyes unreadable.
"Oh?" Sebastian asked. "About what?"
"What matters to me." He looked away, lightly shrugging off Sebastian's hands. "Now, go figure out where the guards' training went wrong. We should have won today."
"Yes, sir." Sebastian gave him a crisp salute then left the bedroom, smiling to himself. Maybe in another thousand years…