Title: Abandon
Warnings: Language, sexual innuendo
Pairing: Mormor
Summary: Sebastian learns of Jim's plans leading up to Reichenbach.
I don't like your plan; it's fucking stupid,"
He knew he could have said it minus the belligerence that had resulted in a violent row, but sometimes when they locked horns they got like this, all their pent up aggression burning a hole in their heads, and they could only hear each other's points once they'd trashed the place with wild abandon and sat to drink in the aftermath of bullet holes and broken things.
He drained his glass and didn't think twice about pouring himself another.
Jim was sprawled with his back against the opposite wall, not looking at Seb but rather at the line of bullet holes now littered along the wall just above his head.
"Sebastian, you knew the crack from day one, so spare me the Mills and Boon crap about it now,"
"I didn't think you were serious," He spat in return, stretching out his legs and resting his feet on the upturned table.
It was true. The day they had met, Jim had been in one of his moods, and had told him that he'd end his own life eventually during the course of a rather grim conversation, but Sebastian had thought it a dry remark.
"I thought it was a joke…" He admitted lamely.
"I'm a very serious man, Seb; I'm the most serious man in London!" Jim told him, mocking shock, but it was all lies, as his eyes were playful and his smile mischievous and God damn it Seb hated that face.
But he didn't ever want it gone. He didn't ever want to wake up and find it not there in front of his nose. He didn't ever want to see those eyes soulless.
They sat in silence again for a while, amongst the rubble of their own little hurricane, until Jim spoke again.
"It's a pity we can't have a dress rehearsal,"
"Fuck you!" Seb threw his glass, where it landed straight next to Jim's head; if Jim had been in his Westwood and a single drop had fallen upon it, he was sure he'd have received a bullet to the skull right then and there.
"Fuck you, and fuck this!" He dropped his head and ran both hands through his hair, feeling his own pulse beat low in his throat, "And fuck Sherlock Holmes too!"
He wanted to smack the amused smile straight from Jim's face.
"You haven't thought one damn bit about what happens after, have you, eh, about what happens once I've laid your cold, dead body to rest!"
"I don't need to; I'll be in the ground!"
They argued again then, yelled and cursed and threatened. When they ran out of things to destroy, they decided to destroy each other, tearing clothes and biting skin, pinning too hard and pushing too deep, Sebastian drawing such a harsh cry from Jim's lips it sent him over the edge.
They lay in broken glass, spilled alcohol and silence, Jim drinking the last of the booze from the broken bottle neck. Sebastian exhaled a plume of smoke and left the cigarette in his mouth as he finally spoke.
"You'll get a piece of glass in a minute and choke to death,"
"I'll send you a postcard in hell…" Jim quipped.
They stayed where they were, eventually drifting off, Seb making a vow to talk Jim out of it in the morning.
Jim Moriarty's plans?
They never failed.
Sebastian Moran's on the other hand, were always too late.