This was written for my darling best friend who is, unfortunately, stuck at uni for another week while I bask at home.
Kudos to you if you get the event happening, it isn't very hard to. And no, I do not share Sebastian's thoughts on Bristol, although I do agree it can be ludicrously cold.
Jim wanted to see the fireworks. God knows why, it's not as if he doesn't get his own fill of greater destruction on a daily basis, but apparently there was something about them that excited him. Little controlled explosions, dangerous enough to cause serious damage, and yet still people crowd to see them. And of course if Jim wanted to go, Sebastian had to take him. So there they were, freezing their arses off on some closed off road surrounded by all the other fools flocking together to celebrate the birthday of a goddamned bridge of all things. Fucking Bristol. That they were in Bristol was an irritation for another day. At that moment the more pressing concern was how fucking cold it was. Of course Jim was fine. Jim was always fine. With the aid of that ridiculously expensive wool coat fitted perfectly to him, accentuating that surprisingly lithe figure and basically making him look more than a little delectable. He knew it too, the bastard. Knew it like he knew Sebastian's 'affordable' winter coat did next to nothing about this goddamned chill. He would have been fine, perfectly fine, human furnace that he is, if it weren't for the fact Jim had cut the heating to the bedsit he'd been forced into after some imagined slight. Unable to get properly warm, he was left to freeze in this stupid fucking city. Why the fuck did he have to conduct business in fucking Bristol of all places. And why the bloody fuck were they giving a fucking bridge a birthday. And if he had to listen to that fucking historical bullshit information broadcast one more time he was gonna take that speaker and shove it right up-
"Now now Tiger, whatever is your problem?"
Jaw clenched, he ground out a "Nothin' Boss" in the hopes that he would just stop. He should know better.
"You're scowling again, it does nothing for you pet" he chirped, a blades edge in his voice. One wrong move now and he could end up losing something important. Or just being pitched over the railing they were leaning against. It was a fair drop onto the ground below.
With an inward sigh, Sebastian consciously tried to smooth out the perpetual frown, settled over his brow since the night began. Didn't do to annoy the bossman. The cheery "There you go pet" and condescending pat on the arm meant at least he wasn't going to lose a body part anytime soon.
Joy of joys a reporter came on over the tannoy just as he was starting to lose feeling in his toes. Dozy bitch, harping on about some little runt or another and how fan-fucking-tastic this piece of engineering was. He hoped Jim would blow the shit out of it by the end of the night. Who the hell cares about 150 years of structural integrity? That don't mean shit when you're plummeting from it into the gorge below. I'm sure the bastards drowning in the shit that goes for water really take the time to admire the fucking bridge above them. Dumbass fucking city.
And wouldn't the fireworks just fucking start already so he could get out of this fucking chill back to the arctic fucking cupboard Jim had shoved him in. Fucking Bristol.
A hush fell over the crowd as the first rockets fired, trailing golden sparks in their wake, Jim's unmistakeable giggle muffled in the sleeve of his coat. Apparently he really did just enjoy fireworks. And damn were there fireworks. Now, Sebastian didn't pretend to know the first thing about them. Give him flashbangs, give him IEDs, give him grenades and C4 and chargers and he could tell you what to do with them. Give him fireworks and he'd laugh in your face.
They were…well for want of a better word they were pretty. Reds and golds mostly, showering the sky like the stars the light pollution hid. Always drifting to the right like the wind up there was that much stronger. He could see why Jim liked them so much. They were like him, pretty from afar but you'll burn up if you get too close. Good thing Sebastian didn't mind the scars.
He was half expecting it when Jim crowded into his space after a pretty impressive shower of sparks, leeching what warmth he could provide. What he wasn't anticipating was the hand that crept into his, bony and permanently cold from piss poor circulation. They didn't hold hands. Ever. It was something they didn't even bother to negotiate. It was for the cretins and the dumb fucks he watched through his site, some stupid bloody public declaration "hey look at this fucker! You wanna get to me, go through them!" Fuck sake. They didn't even kiss, not really. It was a play for dominance, too much teeth, biting until they were bloody. Teeth stained pink in a manic smile. It was a play for who would win, who would dominate. It was all fun and games for Jim. He would win. He would always win, and Sebastian would always surrender to him like a tamed beast. His own personal Tiger.
He didn't mention the slip, or how Jim pulled their hands into his coat pocket, a haven of warmth and pricey material. And he wouldn't mention it, not if he didn't want Jim to get all arsey with him. Cardinal rule number one, don't piss him off. He couldn't help looking over though, as the fireworks created a truly impressive waterfall off the side of the bridge, golden stars falling endlessly into the gorge below. A reaction born of barely supressed surprise, and one which Jim paid little heed to in any case. He was staring transfixed at the glimmering shower, the colours reflecting of his black eyes. It was a breath-taking sight to behold, the dangerous play of light shining back to him from something just as deadly. Both so close and yet impossible to touch. It captured his attention, kept him riveted until the familiar burr drew him back to himself.
"See something you like, Sebby?" Jim snickered, eyes swivelling to meet his own and holy shit he'd been caught. Nothing he could do now. Bossman hated sentiment, he would sure as shit send him straight back to whatever hovel he would be living in if he hadn't found him. Saved him. And yet, Jim was the one holding his hand. He gave a slow smile, something vaguely reptilian about it, like he was pleased with what he saw, and turned back to the display. Sebastian followed suit, mind remaining distracted as he took in bursts of greens, reds, blues, purples and whatever fucking else. Watched as bright colours burst and cascaded through the dark of the sky.
All too soon the display finished, ending on a crescendo of explosions bright and bold in the darkness. Jim's giggles joined the rapturous applause, but he still kept a tight hold of Sebastian's hand. He felt cut lose, adrift in a game he thought he knew so well. They stayed put as most of the crowd dispersed, trudging off back to their sad little lives. Jim beside him, humming happily to himself, obviously had no intention of battling the hoard. So they stayed put, Jim looking out still with that mad little twinkle in his eye, the one Sebastian couldn't help but get a thrill from. It meant he was planning something, and hopefully something fun. With nothing better to do Sebastian watched the crowd, distracted by a group of four students, three girls and an exceptionally tall boy, who weaved their way through the crowd like fish swimming upstream to, apparently, get pictures of the lights weaving along the bridge, and then of themselves in front of it. Fucking students.
He wasn't expecting it, yet again, when Jim then turned around and tugged him by the hand still tucked snuggly in his coat pocket, deftly picking his way around the pockets of people still milling around, thankfully not risking his no doubt hand tailored, ludicrously expensive shoes in the mud. So apparently Sebastian had done good, or at least he was going to drive Jim back to his hotel- the one Sebastian should have been staying in too if it wasn't for the apparent fuck up- unsurprising considering Jim had ordered him to pick him up in the first place.
He should really have started expecting the surprises by then, and it should have come as no shock to him when Jim shepherded him up to the fancy room, stripping him of his coat before they'd even left the elevator, and slamming him back into the door the minute they entered the room. It was lucky moodswings never deterred Sebastian as they no doubt would lesser men. Then again, there was no way Jim would consent to bedding lesser men. And besides, Sebastian would never bitch and moan, never even think about leaving. Jim was all there was now, he was everything. Sebastian would happily endure hundreds of nights freezing his nuts off on some bridge somewhere for this man.
Because the truth of the matter is James Moriarty saved his life. Despite everything they do together, everything he puts up with, more than any one man should be able to withstand. Should want to withstand. Jim pulled him from a life destined for the gutters and gave him a purpose the army never could. And as he was pushed firmly down onto the bed, more expensive than any he would be able to afford, with a psychopathic madman crawling up his body leaving claw marks in his wake, he couldn't think of a better life.