He walked into their room and over to his dresser, digging around for a moment before tucking something into his pocket. "Come here," he said, motioning her closer as he started unbuttoning his shirt.

She walked over, a little uncertain, her brow furrowed just a little. "What's this about?" she asked when she was in front of him, still looking vaguely concerned. She was too cautious to be otherwise.

He reached out to cup her chin, thumb running along her jawline. "You've been too jealous of Jim," he said quietly, leaning in just a little, his voice low. "That isn't good for either of our healths."

Her cheeks flushed, eyes dropping to the floor for a second, just barely keeping herself from pulling out of his grasp so she didn't have to look at him. "What's your point?" she cleared her throat, meeting his eyes again, with some difficulty.

He found her hand, his pressing something cool and metal into it, the other still keeping her chin up. "I don't want you to be jealous," he said, still quiet. "Don't deface his initials. Other than that, yours can go wherever you like." He let her chin drop to see the knife he'd placed in her hand.

The flush spread to her ears, her hand lifting a little so she could see it better, and then she felt overwhelmed, unable to quite process the gift he was giving her. "Are you sure?" she whispered, eyes darting back up to his again. "He'll be furious."

"Yes," he said, responding to both questions with one word. "I'll inform him it was my idea. Don't worry."

She nodded, letting out a shocked breath, running her thumb over the hilt of the knife, her mind now contemplating where she wanted to mark him. It had to be someplace he could reach easily, if not see, that she decided right away. Then, it was about balance. She placed her free hand over the right side of his chest, contemplating. "How about here?"

He smiled a little, pulling his shirt off the rest of the way and starting to unwrap the bandages around his chest. "Seems like a good spot," he agreed.

"Get on the bed, then," she murmured, helping him out of the gauze. "I don't want to fuck up."

He grinned, but obeyed, laying back on the bed and waiting for her to do as she liked.

She followed and moved to straddle his waist, knife in hand. She'd killed a man like this, a long time ago, when she was younger, and fresh in New York. Armetti had watched, she remembered. He'd never gotten off to the blood itself, not like Sebastian did; he was just in love with everything she did. If the idea of having her initials carved into him had ever occurred to him, he would have had her done it ages ago. But it wouldn't have meant anything, not really. She'd never had to fight for Vince's devotion. But Sebastian offering this to her... This meant more than the world. She placed the tip of the knife against the skin of his chest and started carving.

He stayed still, but he couldn't help tensing up and gritting his teeth as the knife dug in. Not from the pain- pain he could deal with in far higher levels. No, it was the trust. She could shove the knife down and wound or kill him in an instant if she wanted to. Yet here he lay, throat bared, belly-up under a woman two times smaller than him. It went against everything in his nature, and his instincts ran deep. He concentrated on the pain, on the sting of it, and on her face. She was worth this.

It was maybe the most intimate thing she'd ever done in her life, though that wasn't really saying much. When she was done, the LH that lay opposite of the JM was more delicate, obviously feminine, and overall just a little more stylistic than its counterpart. Jim didn't use knives in everyday life like they did, it was unrealistic to expect a territorial marking to bear any finesse. But she still took pleasure in the fact that it was the exact opposite of an eyesore. She set the knife to the side and leaned down to kiss his forehead. "I'm done."

He took a slow breath. He hadn't dared to close his eyes, couldn't fight his instincts that far, and now he blinked a few times to re-hydrate his eyes. He relaxed slowly, shifting enough to look down at the blood-smeared marks, and smiled a little. "Certainly looks nicer than his," he said quietly.

"I'm not a terrible artist. And I'm better with a knife," she hummed, getting off him to lie against his side, head cushioned on his shoulder. "I hope he doesn't decide to cut you again in retaliation, though..."

"We'll see what happens," he said quietly, slipping an arm around her waist. He could hardly believe he'd actually done it. He'd been considering it for a while, but actually going so far as to hand her the knife... Jim was going to be livid.

"I'd offer to let you return the favor if I wasn't going to get my scars removed anyway. Thank you for that, again. And for this," she murmured, nestling into him a little more, soaking up his warmth. "I assume you probably don't want me getting all sentimental, either."

"Not particularly," he agreed with a small smile, glancing over at her. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Just, uh," she cleared her throat, giving a tiny shrug. "A little emotional."

"Good emotions or bad ones?" he asked, eyes on the ceiling.

"Why would they be bad? Good ones, of course," she replied, looking up at him.

"Okay, well, that's good," he said, not explaining any further, just holding her a little tighter.

"Why would they be bad?" she repeated again, though not too demanding. Just concerned.

He shrugged. "I don't know. I wasn't sure how you'd take that. If you'd still be jealous."

"I'm still a little jealous, of course I am. But this... I don't know," she shrugged. "This soothes some imagined wounds."

He nodded just a little, turning his head to press his lips to her temple. "I don't let just anyone sit on me with a knife."

"And I don't get jealous over just anybody," she smirked, then sighed. "Do you ever wonder what our lives would have been like if we weren't criminals?"

He shrugged. "I'm not sure I can," he said quietly. "I'm a criminal because of who I am. If I weren't, it would be because I was someone else. It's fundamental."

"Yeah," she sighed, giving a small nod. "I guess the same thing can apply to me."

"We wouldn't have done well in normal society, I don't think. Plus it's fucking boring."

She gave a small chuckle. "I think we might have just become a different sort of class of criminal. The kind that doesn't get paid to kill people."

"Like I said. Fucking boring," he snorted. He glanced over at her after a moment, and smirked a little. "Merry fucking Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," she chuckled, relaxing into him a little more. "Here's to a year with less kidnappings."

"It had better be. You know, I never got kidnapped until you came around and made things complicated," he grumbled.

"Yes you did, don't be ridiculous. There's no way that the first time you were captured was with me," she rolled her eyes, nudging him a little.

"Well, it happened a damn sight less," he defended gruffly, snorting.

"Look, only like, one of those was actually as a direct result of something I did, and that one was DeWitt. The others I take no responsibility for," she retorted defensively, voice going up in pitch just a little. "I can't help it that Jim's plans often throw us into danger. Shit got risky once Mycroft really had wind of us."

"Hey, hey, Jesus," he muttered, chuckling. "I was joking, Harrison. No need to get up in arms."

She groaned, elbowing him a little. "You can't do that to me with your grumpy voice, I can't tell! I'm too used to scary grumpy Sebastian to deal with joking grumpy Sebastian."

He let out a small snort of laughter, shaking his head. "Some grifter you are."

"I don't know what you think I've been doing, but I don't treat you like a mark, believe it or not," she snorted.

"Yes, but shouldn't you have better instincts about when someone you know so well is joking?" he shot back with a grin, reaching out to tickle her side.

She squeaked, rolling away with him with a kick, then glared at him. "Are you saying I know you well? Never thought I'd hear that."

"You've known me for how many years now, Harrison? I'd say you know me better than pretty much anyone. Jim obviously excluded, but he has an unfair advantage." He shrugged, voice matter-of-fact.

She smirked a little. "You know you haven't been close to the same person that whole time. Just as soon as I get used to one version of you, you change again."

"Mmm.. And how much do you expect the average person knows about me?" he pointed out with a grin.

"Okay, okay, Christ, there's no winning with you," she rolled her eyes, exasperated. "Not that that makes any sense - of course the average person doesn't know anything about you. They'd need to be criminals."

He glanced at her, expression smug, but internally there was a rare flicker of doubt. Did... did it actually bother him that she thought she didn't know him?

No. Of course not. She probably didn't anyway.

He stomped out the flicker and moved on.

She shifted back over to curl up against his side, an arm wrapping around his chest, carefully avoiding the cuts. "I don't miss us having to make up excuses to do this, though. Shit got tiring after a while."

He nodded a little in agreement. "True. That was an interesting... Year, I guess."

"During which I half lived with you anyway," she snorted, giving a little shrug. "Or lived across from you. That was during the fights, if I remember right."

"When were we not fighting, precisely?" he asked, stretching slightly before wrapping his arm around her again, thumb playing with the silver band on his ring finger.

"Oh, I meant more along the lines of those were the fights where you'd almost killed me, or something similarly dramatic," she hummed, looking up at the ceiling.

"Always fun," he hummed. It occurred to him that he wasn't sure they'd ever done this- just lay on their bed cuddling- cuddling - and talking, with clothes on and no intention to fuck or sleep. Just spending time together.

The fact that he didn't hate it was surprising at best.

"I was always especially angry with myself, too," she sighed, thinking back to the times she'd sat on the floor of her own shower, hands gripping her head, fighting back the trappedtrappedtrappedfeeling that was building in pressure in her chest. "I think I might have gotten away without feelings if I'd done what I had with my other bosses and slept with you preemptively. A little premeditation on my part used to go a long way for keeping myself detached. And then you turned out to be really good in bed, too."

He grinned. "I'm a venus fly trap. I lure you in and there's no getting out."

"I don't know, I think the pitcher plant is a better representation. The slowly being devoured part, I mean," she smirked, giving a little lift of her shoulders.

"Is that what I'm doing?" he asked with a smirk. "Devouring you slowly? And that is not a euphemism."

"Well, I wouldn't exactly call our relationship static, now, would you?" she laughed, grinning at him. "Though I'll admit that I've probably worn down your defenses more than you've worn down mine."

"Not that you had very many to begin with," he snorted, shaking his head a little.

"Hey, I wasn't prepared for feelings. People fall in love with me all the damn time. I, on the other hand, remain immune," she retorted.

He smirked. "I'm not sure 'falling in love' is the proper phrase for what happened here. Not nearly violent enough."

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, how about 'fell into the pit called love and hit every damn painful stick on the way down.' Better?"

"Add 'and occasionally weaponizing said sticks and hitting each other', and I'm sold," he chuckled.

"Add as many caveats as you wish," she smiled. "Just don't kick me out of bed and I'm happy."

"Yeah, well, that's always an option," he snorted. "But probably unlikely at this point. I'm used to your annoyances."

"Excuse me, I am a fucking delight," she muttered, mock-sullenly.

"You keep telling yourself that," he muttered with a smirk.

"You better watch it - no one else is gonna put up with your shit like I do. Who else is going to fuck you while your sister is in the kitchen?"

He gave a dramatic sigh. "Didn't I just say I'd learned to put up with you? You have your uses."

She rolled her eyes. "Christ, no wonder Keira thought we were married. We certainly bicker like people who are."

"Mmm... let's not bring up that incident, shall we? It was appalling."

"You're such a drama queen," she snorted. "Admit it, it wouldn't be that bad."

What was she saying? Telling Sebastian Moran that being married to him wouldn't be that bad? Was she fucking insane?

He raised an eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure that when Malcolm got his little ring box you told me to just put you down if you ever started thinking that way," he said levelly. What the fuck...

"Ah, fuck, you're right, I don't know what the fuck's gotten into me, I'm not even drunk," she shook her head, sitting up and dragging a hand through her hair, eyes wide. Fuck, don't say shit that's going to get you killed like that. Idiot. "Sorry, sorry."

He watched her tense, saw the muscles in her neck jump as she swallowed. After a few seconds he took mercy on her.

"Relax. I'm not going to shank you for saying something stupid. At least not anymore. Probably."

She rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand, sighing. Stop fucking dreaming, okay? You're getting too into the job. "Sorry," was all she said again.

He sat up next to her, putting his elbows on his knees. "It's fine."

"Yeah, I know, I just..." she sighed again, shook her head. "I should know better. We haven't even been on this job for that long. This isn't the op with Ford, I haven't been here three months. Christ. I'm out of practice. Haven't done a proper grifting job in far too long. I'm losing my touch."

"You're fine," he said calmly. "I'm feeling it too, and usually an emotionless bastard."

"Christ, look at us," she chuckled, voice tired. "We'll be lucky if Jim doesn't make you kill me, or something worse, once he sees the initials. Somehow I don't think he'll lay a hand on me himself."

"That would be far too boring," he agreed quietly. "But we'll take it as it comes.

She shifted to lean against him, a huff of breath leaving her. "Hopefully he won't find out until he wants to fuck us again. Well, fuck you. But I guess with a reader you never know."

He snorted slightly. "My guess is that he'll see it the moment I walk in the door. But that's just my guess."

"Ugh, I don't like how much that sounds right," she muttered, rubbing her eyes. "Still don't regret it though."

"You shouldn't. Like I said, I'll try and shield you from as much of the fallout as I can. It was my choice. I stand by it." He glanced over at her. "Don't worry, alright? I've done worse in Jim's eyes and walked out."

"For once, I'm actually worried about my own skin, believe it or not," she shrugged, chuckling dryly. "It was your idea, sure, but you didn't exactly have to force my hand."

"That's what I'm saying," he said firmly. "I've walked out of worse scrapes, I'll get us both out of this one."

"Okay, alright, I trust you," she relented, sighing a little. "You are a smooth talker when it comes to him."

"Just when it comes to him, huh?" he asked, but he slid an arm around her, pulling her against his side.

She chuckled. "And me, when you really want something. Everyone else is too intimidated by you to be smooth-talked."

"I suppose that's fair," he snorted, looking over at her for a moment before pulling her into his lap and tucking her under his chin, despite the cuts on his chest.

Warmth filled her chest, a comfort to an anxiety she hadn't realized was there, and she relaxed into him, although did her best not to lean too hard into the cuts on his chest. "Only one more job until your sister sends you a sex tape."

"I'm going to fucking relish that, believe me," he hummed, pressing his nose into her hair just a little.

"When Jim doesn't need her anymore, it'll be damn fun to release to the public," she murmured, smirking to herself.

"Oh, good, you and I were thinking along the same lines," he said cheerfully. "I was thinking of adding cartoon sound effects."

She laughed. "Charming. I love it."

"Either that, or vaudeville music. Not sure which," he sneered.

She laughed. "Jesus. You're just evil."

"You didn't know that already?" he asked with a snort of laughter.

"I know, I just like to comment on it occasionally. I could have sworn that you liked hearing it," she teased.

"Awfully sure of ourselves, aren't we?" He bent to kiss the corner of her jaw gently, because it was there.

She grinned, the rest of the cringey feeling left over from her slip of the tongue melting away as she leaned back against his shoulder. "Would you like me if I was any other way?"

"I mean, I don't like you now, but I suppose there's always the possibility," he ribbed.

She elbowed him, though not hard. "Oi, you better watch your step. I know your sleep patterns."

He laughed. "Then you know I'm a very light sleeper," he smirked.

"Mm, I don't know, I think I'm a good enough liar to take you off guard. I do have a black widow moniker from my time in New York," she chuckled, turning to face him, still in his lap.

"Is that so?" he asked with a smirk. "Well, then. I suppose I should be careful about pissing you off." His voice was deeply sarcastic.

She frowned, resting her hands on his shoulders. "Do I detect sarcasm? Oh, I'm quite offended. Deeply hurt."

"Mm... I'm sure. However will you survive?" he snorted.

"Off the food you make me and the sex you give me. Like a succubus," she said cheerfully.

"Oddly fitting," he snorts, grinning just a tiny bit and tightening his grip a little.

"I wouldn't say it's too odd," she chuckled, shrugging. "We did have a conversation about me being one in hell, if I remember correctly."

"Probably," he agreed, laying back on the bed and pulling her with him, on top of his chest.

She huffed and settled down, relaxing into him again, pleased to be in a position to soak up all his considerable warmth. She yawned, closed her eyes. "I should probably get up and brush my teeth, but I'm too comfortable now."

He laughed a little, kicking his feet enough to get the blanket up towards his hands, pulling it up over them both. "Your teeth will survive one night unpolished."

"Mm, you're very wise, I think I'll take your advice," she murmured, sighing into his shoulder.

He grinned, rubbing her back just slightly. "Get some sleep," he said with a grin.

She shifted just a little more, then took his advice and drifted off to sleep, very content.

He woke early the next morning to a beam of sunlight in his eyes. Harrison hadn't moved, still sprawled like a starfish across his chest.

She shifted as he woke, letting out a soft moan into his shoulder. "Mmmm. What time is it?"

"Just before seven," he said, rolling to the side and shifting her gently onto the bed. "I'm going to get Keira up and to headquarters."

"Okay," she sighed, grabbing a blanket and burying her face in the closest pillow. "Tell em' hi and bye for me."

"Mhm," he said, getting up and heading to the bathroom to shower, washing away the dried blood from the night before bandaging his chest carefully with just a few flinches.

She remained half awake as he got ready to go, and rolled over a little as he came back out of the bathroom. "Walk different. Just in case you see him."

"What?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and pulling on his suit jacket.

"You need to throw him off the scent. Otherwise he'll know. Immediately. I rather put that off," she muttered, rolling over again.

"I'll do my best," he said calmly, before he headed out into the hallway, knocking on Keira's door as he passed. "Get up and packed. Time to go."

Keira opened the door, running a hand through her short hair, her eyes squinty with sleep. "Already done. I'm ready."

"Good. Let's go then," he said, heading down the stairs.

She followed hot on his heels, a bag slung over her shoulder with the stuff Lorna had given her packed inside. She'd left the bedroom as she had found it. Somehow, she doubted that he'd have been thrilled if she hadn't.

He headed downstairs and grabbed the keys and his coat. It was snowing. "I'll drive you over. You can get your bike sometime when there's better weather."

"Okay, cool," she replied, ducking her head with a nod. She was a little sad to be leaving so soon. She hadn't expected to like Sebastian, as a person.

He climbed into the car and started it up, waiting for her to get in before pulling out onto the street and heading for headquarters the long way around. He was mostly silent on the way over before finally he said, "Don't be stupid, alright? Don't talk unless someone talks to you first. Watch that fucking sass of yours."

"Yeah, alright," she sighed, rubbing her eyes. "I'll be careful. Not gonna do a repeat of my last network."

"Good. Because this network is a bit less playful. They won't send you to me. They'll just shoot you." He pulled into the garage at headquarters. "Along that note- Here you aren't my kid. People will probably work it out, that's not what I mean. You won't get any special treatment because of me, so don't expect it. Understood?"

She nodded, her face serious, and tired. "Alright. I'll tread carefully. Keep back that urge to walk around like I own the place."

"Good," he said, climbing out and locking the car after she did as well. "Come on. I'll show you where to go."

"Alright. Cool. I was kinda worried you were just going to drop me off at the front door and leave me to fend for myself," she muttered, sounding relieved, following him with her bag over her shoulder.

"Not this door, anyway. Once you get to the recruitment center, that's exactly what will be happening," he snorted. "The only reason I'm taking you that far is I have to pass it on my way to check with my men in the security section."

"Ah, okay," she snorted, smiling just a little. "You guys have a recruitment center?"

"That's the nice term for it, yes," he said, expression calm. "Most people call it the Culling."

"Jesus, you guys dramatic much?" she rolled her eyes, then sighed. "Ugh, sorry."

"No, not dramatic. Accurate," he said with a smirk as they walked up the stairs to the second floor and turned into the hall. He stopped outside a door marked 'Recruitment'. "There's a twenty percent survival rate. Good luck."

"Yeah, thanks," she sighed, standing at the door for a moment before giving him a hesitant half wave. "Okay. Well. See you."

"Yup," he said, heading down the hall. He didn't particularly care if she believed him about the survival rate, it had been hilarious to see her momentary flinch. He didn't glance back, but he thought about it. Then he decided to forget he'd thought about it. Harrison was right, this job was getting to them both.