Wow. Hello there. (Very very) long time no see. Do people even write fan-fiction any more? Do people still read it? I bloody hope so.
I was trying to Marie Kondo my laptop a little and came across about 800 words of this, unfinished and unpolished. Reading it made me happy, which is exactly what I need in these odd unprecedented times, but I couldn't remember what on Earth was going on. So I've spent this morning reading back on all twenty (TWENTY!) chapters that I penned seven-to-eight years ago, and losing myself in the lovely reviews people left.
My life looks vastly different than it did when I started this story, but having dug this out and started to tweak it around and finish off this chapter, I have found the same sense of solace I remember feeling all those years ago. This story gave me something to focus on after a particularly painful break up and while that is now looooong behind me, it's nice to have a new distraction from a new kind of (global) pain which has changed the shape of all of our lives maybe as much as that break up changed the shape of mine.
Maybe no one will read this. Maybe no one will care any more. But for now, this has made me feel better and really, that's all it was ever about.
If you do care, even a tiny bit, it would be nice to get your feedback as it always was.
Stay safe, stay clean, stay distracted xoxox
Jim headed straight back to the flat to change after his meeting. He normally preferred Sebastian to do the dirtier work but today he'd decided to treat himself. If only he hadn't been wearing a new shirt – he chewed his lip in annoyance and rubbed the bloodstained cuff with a saliva-dampened finger. More dry-cleaning. He sighed and leaned back against the leather interior of the car. It was amazing what a bit of mindless violence could do to brighten his mood, but the effects had been somewhat short-lived. It was frustrating, really – he found himself taking…not less pleasure in his usual pursuits, but certainly a different kind. Even as he had held his favourite blade to the man's neck and listened to him whimper and beg for mercy as the first bright blossoms of blood dripped onto the collar of his shirt, it hadn't been the total distraction it used to be. His mind had wandered its way into Molly's flat, making its way through to the bedroom and seeing her stretched out on the bed in that dress and with that look in her eyes. It had been this thought which had caused him to get careless and was the reason his new shirt was stained. Very irritating.
Inside the flat, Sebastian had boiled the kettle while Jim discarded the soiled shirt and selected a fresh clean one from his extensive collection. As soon as his boss appeared in the kitchen, shirt tails hanging loose and top button undone, the sniper held out a mug of black coffee to him which Jim accepted gratefully. It was still a little early for whisky, so caffeine would have to suffice. Not that it would do much to keep him distracted, and a distraction was what he needed tonight. He had already decided that he would not allow himself to see Molly this evening. It was what he wanted and, although it had taken many many years, he was now old enough to recognise that what he wanted should not necessarily always be what he got. In some circumstances. In these circumstances particularly. He needed to prove to himself that he had at least some impulse control.
As he sipped his coffee, his attention was caught by Sebastian's clothes – not something that often happened, unless it was to mock the man for his insistence that jeans were allowed to have holes in them and that a leather jacket was acceptable outerwear for every occasion. But tonight, his sniper seemed almost…dressed up. He was wearing proper shoes rather than his battered motorcycle boots and – was he? He was, he was wearing aftershave.
"Hot date, Moran?" Jim's eyebrow quirked upwards, almost daring the man to have plans he hadn't informed his boss of. The blonde man merely shrugged casually and sipped from his own mug.
"Something like that, boss." His voice was smooth and steady, giving nothing away. "Not a problem, is it? I thought you were on for a quiet one tonight. Paperwork and that."
It was true. Jim had made a point of telling Sebastian that he was going to catch up some admin this evening; a way of stopping himself from going to see Molly. He didn't want Moran to think he was overlooking their business interests for the sake of a woman and unfortunately he found that maintaining his professional image was the only thing that could keep him in the flat. But he had hoped that the sniper would be around to watch him not leaving the flat.
"No, no, no problem at all. Just…not used to seeing you all tarted up. She must be very special. Or he."
Sebastian shrugged again. He pulled out his phone as a distraction and for something to do with his hands. He couldn't risk raising too much suspicion and he knew that the best way for him to fly under the radar was by not speaking. Anything he said could and would be used against him as Jim tried to unpick what was happening, so silence was his best defence against any probing questions.
There was a pause as the sniper looked at his phone and Jim contemplated the man. No. Change of plan. He couldn't be left alone tonight. It wasn't that he didn't trust himself – although, of course, that was exactly what it was, even if he wasn't ready to admit it to himself – it was that he'd be more…productive with company. That was it. If Moran left, he'd be tempted to get distracted. Whether that involved turning up at Molly's flat or just losing himself in a bottle of whiskey, he wouldn't get the work done that he needed. He slid his own phone from his pocket for a moment, the two of them stood in the companionable silence which had become their usual state, and then he spoke.
"Your night off is cancelled." He said it simply, and didn't glance away from the screen of his phone when Sebastian's head jerked up to look in his direction.
"Sorry, what?" The sniper's voice was even and he was trying hard not to sound too confrontational. The last thing he needed right now was to be threatened with a shard of broken mug or something equally as dramatic and messy.
"Your night off. Your date, or whatever. Cancel it. We have work to do." Jim slid his phone into his pocket and levelled a steady gaze at the taller man.
Sebastian paused, deliberately biting back his immediate response. The pause lasted a little longer than he'd intended, verging on insolent silence as the two men maintained eye contact. Neither of them wanted to be the first to look away. And then he nodded, swallowing, knowing his place. He would never win. That wasn't his job.
"Of course, sir. Just let me…reschedule." His voice was heavy with resignation.
Jim nodded briskly and turned on his heel, taking the coffee through into his office and leaving Sebastian stood in the kitchen.
The sniper cursed under his breath and turned his attention back to his phone, setting his own mug down so he could use both hands to text. Fucking Jim, fucking everything up. Could he know? No, if that were the case, he'd have done a damn sight more than just tell him to cancel.
. . . . . .
Molly was curled up under a blanket on his sofa, sipping a mug of hot chocolate and watching some stupid rom-com on television. She'd seen it before and it normally gave her a lot of comfort, knowing exactly what was coming and how the leading man would finally sweep the leading lady off her feet. But tonight she couldn't focus and she was finding its predictability annoying. A nagging feeling at the back of her mind told her that she'd made another mistake. That Jim must know. Why else would he suddenly demand Sebastian's presence at home this evening? Why else hadn't he been to see her in days?
She needed to shake herself out of this funk. He couldn't actually be suspicious because if he was, she suspected he'd already have a bullet in her head. He'd probably make Sebastian do it, unless he wanted the satisfaction of ending her himself. She had to do something, to try and rid herself of the feeling that she was just waiting for the next time she'd fuck up. Surely that wasn't healthy, to be so constantly on edge that the littlest thing could bring all of this crashing down.
…Now she was truly being silly. That was the way it was and the way it always would be, with Jim. That wasn't news to her.
And maybe, said a sly little voice in the back of her mind. You should stop doing things that might upset him, if you're so worried.
She winced, and shook her head. No. Jim wouldn't be upset, if she and Sebastian could just finish what they started. She hoped. Sebastian had been sceptical at first, and it had taken quite a lot of convincing for her to coax him into a) believing it was a good idea, and b) agreeing to help her. Now they just had to get everything perfect and she was sure that Jim would be impressed.
But if he caught onto them before everything was ready…that was where the possibility for disaster came in.
She pulled herself upright and stretched her arms above her head. Her muscles were aching less, now that she'd had some practise. Sebastian had actually laughed at how weak her arms were when they first started, how little stamina she had. She was getting better though, and he'd even managed to look impressed with her last night. She was yet to get a real compliment out of him, anything more that vaguest of nods as encouragement. That was her secret aim, the point at which she'd know she was ready. But she might have to accept that she wasn't going to achieve that, if she wanted to have the weight of the sneaking around taken off her shoulders any time soon. She wasn't sure her nerves could take it any more.
She checked her phone, even though she knew it was pointless. The text from Sebastian was the last one she'd received, and would probably stay that way for the evening. Jim didn't text, she had to remind herself. He wasn't going to text her.
She needed to distract herself if she was going to get through tonight. Having her plans suddenly ripped away had left her adrift and feeling antsy.
