The new chapter is here! Today we discover a new side of Jim, and a Sebastian who still lacks basic conservation instinct. Thank you to the great Alexandra for double checking everything and making sure my English isn't broken. Enjoy the chapter, and don't forget to leave a review!
Warnings: physical violence, firearms, brief mention of the war.
oOoOoOo
Chapter 7 – The King sleeps
Sebastian Moran was a very light sleeper. Or rather a selective sleeper: he could sleep in front of the television or with someone singing off-key in the next room; but the slightest abnormal noise, the slightest whisper, the slightest crack of a parquet floor or the squeaking of a hinge immediately pulled him out of Morpheus' arms, and left him not quite awake, but nevertheless alert enough to cause harm to the intruder. It was a necessary quality for survival in a combat zone, and Sebastian had survived many. Those who did not possess it acquired it very quickly, or were robbed, or even killed, in their sleep.
It was the very faint but perfectly recognizable squeaking of the hinges on his bedroom door that woke Sebastian up one night, around two in the morning. Struggling to regain consciousness, he opened his eyes wide in the darkness, his pupils dilating to capture the slightest ray of light - but remained motionless. A silhouette cropped up in the dim glow filtering through the door ajar, then almost disappeared after closing it. Sebastian took advantage of the darkness to silently extend his hand towards the revolver on his bedside table - a precaution normally useless in London but which remained a reflex from his time in the army.
"Jim?" he whispered, uncertain.
"Shhhh..." a voice came in response.
As far as Sebastian could judge, it was his flatmate's voice. He relaxed and set the weapon down. The visitor approached the bed, staggering slightly, and slipped under the duvet under of the veteran's stunned eyes. He was about to ask Jim what the hell he was doing there, to get out of bed or even kick the young man out...
"Is everything all right, Jim?" he asked instead.
"I had a nightmare..." mumbled the little shape wrapped in blankets next to him.
Sebastian stood up on an elbow. Jim had his head turned towards him, his eyes half-closed. He was still half-asleep, while Sebastian was now perfectly awake. Jim shifted around a little, so that he was rolled into a ball against the sniper. Sebastian's expression softened. He hesitated for a moment, before putting one hand on the young man's shoulder.
"Do you want to tell me about it?"
The silence settled for a few seconds, before Jim's answer arrived.
"Nah. Let me sleep."
All right. At least it wasn't the 'let me sleep, asshole' he should have received in any other occasion (James was a very polite and distinguished man most of the time, but didn't hesitate to copiously insult his flatmate when he was in a bad mood).
Sebastian let himself fall back on the mattress, and stopped moving, for fear of disturbing Jim. It was only a few minutes before slight snoring rose from the sleeper, bringing an amused smile to the sniper's lips.
Jim's face was right in a puddle of light provided by a hole in the shutters. Sebastian took this opportunity to observe his face: so pale, his tousled hair forming a halo around his head, dark bags sinking his eyes even more than usual, he looked so fragile compared to daytime Jim. As if the night had taken away his disguise as king of the world, and he was now just a child lost in dreams too dark for him. Seeing him like this, Sebastian felt a surge of paternalism - this man, who was his employer, a dangerous criminal who threatened him with death almost daily, was now a small, delicate thing that he had to protect at all costs. This was the effect Jim often had when he wasn't using his surprising charisma; and although he usually put back in their place all the people foolish enough to think he was fragile, he was now too busy snoring to worry about his sniper's thoughts. A light smile stretched Sebastian's lips as he observed the innocent face on the pillow next to him. What he had in front of him was probably the closest thing he had ever seen to the "real" Jim - however tortuous the criminal's personality may be, Sebastian could not believe that his barriers would stay in place even in his sleep. He could reach out his hand, run his fingers though the young man's messy hair, caress them... the temptation was strong. The sniper held back. There was still the risk that Jim was only pretending to be sleeping, and getting caught in an incongruous attempt at affection by his boss was not a very good idea (even though said boss had just invited himself into his bed). Sighing softly, he slipped under the blanket and put his arms under his neck, trying to fall asleep and forget the presence of the man he loved a few inches away from him. An impossible feat, that the too strong and too fast pounding of his heart reminded him of at every instant.
Sleep didn't come until the small hours of morning.
oOoOoOo
'And I set FI-I-IRE, to the RA-AIN, watch it burn, as I, touch your fa-ace...'
Sebastian began to emerge slowly. It was only when he heard the gunshot and woke up suddenly that he realized that the music had been playing for a while now. Rising up in a jump, he saw Jim, still half asleep, slumped on the bed, who had just fired a gun at the alarm clock without even looking at it.
"What kind of idiot sets his alarm clock on a Sunday?" muttered the criminal, dropping the gun on the nightstand next to the smoking remains of the radio.
"Why do you think breakfast is always ready when you get up, you lazy bastard?" Sebastian replied. "You didn't have to shoot my clock. And by the way, how did you know I have a gun?"
Jim turned to lay on his back and stared resolutely at the ceiling.
"Former soldier. Sniper, never on the front, so hated by infantrymen. Risks of night visits. You've developed some good habits. You still have a dangerous job, where you make a lot of enemies, so again there is a risk of night visits. You care about your life. Besides, it's not the only habit you've kept from Afghanistan. So it wasn't very difficult to guess."
He turned to the sniper, a smug expression on his face.
"Happy?"
Sebastian smiled at him flirtatiously.
"Do you know you're really sexy when you do that?"
"Do what?" Jim asked, suspicious.
"When you show off."
The criminal smiled back.
"I'm sexy all the time."
He was no longer the fragile little boy Sebastian had observed sleeping; the spider was back, as if it had never left. And his venom was seeping deep inside the sniper, paralyzing his survival instincts, annihilating the filter of his reason and awakening impulses that he was finding it increasingly difficult to control in Jim's presence.
In a fluid movement, he stood above the young man; his hands planted down next to his shoulders; their torsos almost touching; their noses a few millimetres apart. A small part of Sebastian's brain was shouting at him, You idiot, what are you doing? But he ignored it and it quickly went quiet. Jim frowned briefly, surprised, and stared into the sniper's ocean blue eyes.
"Yes, all the time..." the blond replied in an admiring voice. "And when you show off, even more so."
The smile had not disappeared from Jim's lips. It became mocking.
"Forget what I said about you wanting to live. I must have made a mistake."
He still had the gun in his hand, the blond recalled - a little too late, when the cold steel of the barrel was pressed against his temple. Sebastian smiled even more broadly.
"You know it only encourages me, Jim."
Neither one of them moved; their gazes seemed to be more firmly riveted than an anchor. The gun hadn't moved a millimetre. Only the regular upheavals of their torsos, a few millimetres apart, testified to the fact that they were not statues.
"Why?" Jim whispered eventually.
The answer rushed to Sebastian's mind, as clear as crystal, dictated by the spark in the criminal's eyes.
Because I have lived through the war, and I am no longer afraid of danger.
Because after the war, life is too boring without a thrill of adrenaline.
Because a thrill of adrenaline is nothing compared to the drug you are to me.
Because I love you, and I can't have you without the danger that goes with you.
Because I don't want to have you without the danger that goes with you, and that is as much a part of you as your shining eyes, your diaphanous skin, your hair that looks like a crown of darkness, everything that makes you who you are and that I love so much.
Because constantly threatening me shows me that you have noticed me, that you are interested in me, that I am not transparent like all the people you work with and that you despise and ignore. Because the danger is you, and it's you I want.
Only a few words crossed the barriers of his reason and his lips.
"No idea... Boss."
There was a moment of silence, before he added in a hushed voice:
"Anyway, there was only one bullet in that gun."
In the quiet silence of the room, only a small click-click resounded. Jim had pulled the trigger of the gun... which was indeed empty. Sebastian's heart missed a beat. Had the young man trusted him without hesitation when he told him that the gun was empty, or was he really ready to coldly murder him without a thought?
He had no time to ask himself any more questions, and slumped heavily on Jim's chest when the man savagely kneed him in the crotch. Then he carelessly pushed the sniper out of bed, got up and left the room without further ado. Sebastian was rolled in a foetal position on the carpet, growling in pain.
"I'll take care of breakfast," James shouted from the hallway.
Sebastian stood up with difficulty, a silly smile on his face despite the pain. He had gotten what he deserved. And yet...
And yet a knee in his manhood was a very small inconvenience compared to the privilege of a night spent with Jim, and the intimacy they had shared for a few moments. The little Irishman could easily have put Sebastian out of harm's way as soon as the sniper had posed a threat, he was now sure of it. Yet he had given him this opportunity, a door that had closed very quickly but that Sebastian was determined to open again. Despite the danger behind it...
Just because that danger was called Jim.