No author's notes this time, I don't have much to say about this chapter. Except maybe one thing: enjoy the break, because from now on it's gonna be feels festival.
Warnings: I'm letting you take a break for once.
oOoOoOo
Chapter 11 – Leaving
Until he arrived home, Sebastian was considering his day a good one. A mission carried out quickly, a target eliminated with a minimum of collateral damage, and his work completed early. And Jim wasn't working and had planned to stay home for the day, which greatly limited his risks of getting killed.
He noticed that something was wrong when he arrived in front of his building. A removal van was parked in the street, wide open, with a man standing in front to watch it. Sebastian assumed that one of the neighbours was moving - which was strange, as the various tenants in the building were usually informed in advance of the changes.
As he walked up the stairs to his apartment, he had to stand against the wall to let two movers who were carrying a coffee table... his coffee table! Astonished, the young man chased after them towards the ground floor and hailed them:
"Hey! What the hell are you doing? That's my table!"
One of the two men turned to him.
"We're just moving the furniture, sir, as we were asked. You should talk to your roommate about it."
What the hell had Jim done now? As his anger grew, Sebastian turned to the landing, before climbing the steps four by four.
When he entered the apartment, Jim was lying on the couch, his legs crossed, staring emptily at the living room window. The television, the coffee table and a carpet had already disappeared.
Jim turned to Sebastian when he heard him come in.
"What does this mean?" the sniper exclaimed, pointing to the half-empty room with a wide arm gesture.
"You can read, can't you?" his boyfriend replied in an annoyed tone. "It's written on the truck."
"Moving, yes, I understood that! But why? You could have told me about it! Are you aware that I paid for this furniture?"
The little Irishman sighed, then got up off the couch.
"Richard Brook is going to the United States for a while. I don't need this cover right now, and I'm not going to stay in this rat hole you call your home all my life. "
"You're going to the United States?" Sebastian choked.
"Sebastian, I'm no more Richard Brook than you are a supermarket security guard. No, I'm going back to my old apartment. There's not enough room for two here."
Jim leaned against the window ledge, turning his back to the street.
Sebastian remained silent as he began to fully grasp the situation. Jim had decided to leave, and it was understandable - he should have known a long time ago. He had been wrong to believe that he had any chance with the criminal. It was only by chance that Moriarty had chosen him as his companion for his alter ego, there was no reason for the young man to find him worthy enough of interest to remain at his side.
Jim must have noticed the sniper's expression, because he asked him with a worried look:
"Are you all right?"
"What do you think?" Sebastian grunted back.
"Maybe I should have told you beforehand", admitted the little man after a hesitation. "I wanted to surprise you, I thought you'd be happy."
"Happy? Are you kidding me? Do you have any idea how it feels to see you leave?"
Jim gave him an intrigued look, before his face broke down under an air of extreme fatigue.
"Oh no. You didn't understand, did you? Do you know how stupid you are sometimes? Why do you think I'm taking your furniture away?"
"Probably because you..."
He stopped and looked at Jim with wide eyes.
"Oh. OH!"
"Did you seriously think I was leaving you?" the little Irishman asked with a smile.
"It seemed more credible to me than inviting me to your place."
"We've been living together for almost two years, Sebby. I'd have a hard time living by myself now."
Sebastian smiled. He knew it was Jim's way of saying 'I love you'. The criminal had difficulty expressing his feelings - probably the after-effects of years of wearing these masks, in the sniper's opinion. But these feelings did exist, Sebastian knew it.
"I should probably pack my things," he announced before making his way to his room.
"Already done," Jim shouted from the living room. "Everything you own is in the truck. The rest of the furniture belongs to the landlady, we'll have to leave it here."
He took a look at his watch.
"Our car should be here. Are you coming?"
Sebastian approached his boyfriend, and the latter stood on tiptoes to kiss him.
"I'm not going to let you go anytime soon, Tiger", he murmured as they were leaving the apartment.
oOoOoOo
It took them almost a half hour's drive through London to reach a large modern building in Conduit Street, Mayfair. The moving van was already parked on the street. The two men got out of the car and Jim waved the taxi off, which disappeared at the end of the street. The young man approached the high wooden doors of the building and typed a rather long code on the keyboard. A click resounded, and he opened the door, letting the sniper - who was carrying the bags for both of them - in.
The interior was quite luxurious but discreet. The hall looked like a hotel lobby, with sofas, a red carpet and a counter behind which a man was sitting. Jim nodded at him, and the man did not question Sebastian's presence - either Jim had already notified the concierge of the arrival of a new inhabitant, or the locals simply did not ask questions.
"You live in a palace..." Sebastian, appreciative, looked up at the ceiling from which lights were hanging.
"I don't live in the lobby, thank God," Jim replied with his usual sarcasm.
The sniper headed for the stairs at the back of the hall, but his boyfriend grabbed him by the sleeve to pull him towards the elevator.
"It's on the top floor, don't bother."
"You're just worried I'll get there before you," the blond replied with malice. Jim gave an exasperated pout in response.
They eventually stepped out of the elevator to arrive in front of a large bay window overlooking the rooftops of the city. A few other towers stood in the vicinity, and the London Eye faced them in the distance. All this, illuminated by the iridescent light of the setting sun diffused through London's smog, gave a vision of king of the world.
Sebastian stopped, dumbstruck.
"I can see all of London from here!"
"Glad you like it," Jim replied with a smile. "But it's only part of London. You can truly see the whole city from the apartment."
The blond turned to Jim, who was holding the front door open for him.
"Welcome home, Tiger."
The sniper stopped to kiss the criminal, before walking through the door.
The apartment was a duplex. The first floor was occupied by a large living room with a modern but warm decoration. The kitchen, worthy of a restaurant, was separated by a wooden counter from the living-dining room, in which stood a large table of polished wood. A sofa and several armchairs were arranged in a square around a glass coffee table that the movers were still installing, in front of a giant screen television. Speakers were standing on either side, next to an impressive collection of CDs - which Sebastian guessed were mostly disco. A piano was facing one of the walls, and a new bay window, overlooking a balcony, lit up the room. The decoration was sober but reflected Jim's eccentric tastes quite well, with paintings and posters hanging on the walls (Sebastian recognized with amusement a poster of RuPaul's Drag Race), trinkets and gadgets arranged on a few shelves, and several plants. A few men were busy installing the pieces of furniture from their old apartment, but it was mostly already furnished and did not seem to need any new additions.
"How long have you not lived here?" asked Sebastian.
"Two years now. But I come back regularly to work, and I have someone who makes sure it doesn't turn into a hotel for spiders. Come with me, I'll show you around."
On the ground floor was a large workroom with a library, a pantry with a door to the kitchen, and a small bathroom. The second floor consisted of Jim's office, with a large dual-screen computer, and a huge bedroom with dressing room and bathroom.
"There is only one bed", Jim pointed out, standing in the doorway while Sebastian was looking around with wide eyes. "I would have asked you if you didn't mind, but you don't really have a choice. I mean, if you don't like it, there's always the couch."
"I've gotten used to you inviting yourself into my bed, now it's my turn to squat, I guess."
Jim answered only with a stifled laugh, before walking out of the room, Sebastian on his heels.
He stood in the middle of the living room and turned towards Sebastian.
"That's it. Make yourself comfortable, make yourself at home... Well, except for smoking. Smoking is banned here."
The sniper approached him, looking worried.
"Are you all right?"
The little Irishman frowned.
"Me? Of course."
"You look nervous."
"Absolutely not."
"Since the cab, you look agitated, you spend your time licking your lips, playing with your fingernails... You can't fool me."
Jim sighed. The ease with which Sebastian could now read through his masks surprised him. It hadn't taken long for the blond to learn how to decipher the walking riddle that was his roommate. Jim had unintentionally let him walk past his barriers, and get closer to the things that constituted his weaknesses. But on the other hand, maybe it was for the best. There was something good about having someone who understood him even when he was trying to hide his emotions.
"I should be the nervous one, silly," Sebastian said gently as he hugged him. "England's greatest criminal invites me into his house, shows me around and tells me to make myself at home. Not to mention the fact that the said criminal is also my employer and my boyfriend. I'm still wondering how I got here, and where I find this situation in the handbook... and you're the one who's nervous?"
Jim frowned.
"Stop making fun of me. I just hope you like it," he added after a moment's hesitation.
"It's perfect. And it's all the more perfect because I'm with you."
Jim looked up at him, repressing a large smile, and put his hands behind the sniper's neck to draw him to his lips. Sebastian let himself be guided, responding with a shiver to each of his lover's requests. The young man seemed to need reassurance, and Sebastian could only try to resolve the doubts that persisted in Jim's heart.
"I love you," the youngest whispered in a barely perceptible breath.
"I noticed."
Falsely upset, Jim playfully punched the sniper in the stomach.
"At least," continued the blond, "I didn't have to go through one of your dramatic tests before getting this promotion."
"Do you see this as another promotion?"
Sebastian pretended to think.
"Actually, no. We're still flatmates, technically."
"I own this place, moron!"
"Demotion, then. I went from being a tenant to being a squatter."
"I hate you."
"You're a real weather vane!"
Jim stopped answering, knowing that Sebastian would always manage to have the last word. He couldn't help but smile as he walked away from the sniper's arms to get downstairs to the suitcases in the middle of the living room.
"Stop admiring the view and make yourself a little useful," he said to the blond. "I'm not the one who's going to take all this stuff upstairs!"
"I'm your bodyguard, not your sherpa, Jim", replied Sebastian, but he set about the task.
"You wanted a promotion, there it is. Besides, it's your stuff, not mine."
"Says the one who wears my dog tags and sweaters when I'm away... Not that it bothers me, I actually think it's pretty cute."
Jim stubbornly turned to the window, avoiding Sebastian's gaze. There was no way the sniper could see him blush. Sebastian, not fooled, just smiled widely, before taking their suitcases upstairs. The cohabitation with Moriarty promised to be more eventful than with Brook... and for nothing in the world would he go back.
