Title: Faith Comes in Moments
Chapter Five: Working Sentiment
AN: So, I accidentally wrote fluff without meaning to and I'm not really sure if I want to apologize for it or not. Sigh... As always, I don't own anything and all mistakes are my own.
*MMM
Jim Moriarty did not love.
He never loved his mother, the woman had been too busy walking around like a ghost with a bottle in her hand to pay any attention to him. His brothers had been too occupied with petty crime and girls to hang around. And his father was dead. So no, he didn't love anyone.
Certainly not Sebastian.
Jim sat in front of his computer screens, furiously typing lines of code, his eyes flicking over everything and taking the numbers in faster than his hands could actually move.
He had a client he needed to help out. An interesting one who wanted to pay a large sum of money in exchange for Jim blacking out five blocks worth of security cameras for ten minutes. The man wouldn't say why, but Jim knew what kind of damage could be done in ten minutes. He'd done more in less time himself. Plus, he was curious.
Normally, he'd give the job to one of his underlings. Blacking out security cameras was easy enough. Any college student with a semester or two in computer programming could do it given enough will power and Jim hired experts. Normally, it'd be easy.
Unfortunately, security had tightened around cameras ever since Jim thought it would be a laugh to sell a free Black Out app for IPhone. Some of the people who'd downloaded it hadn't even realized what it did; thought it was a joke. They'd all been arrested, though. It'd been brilliant.
Of course now it meant that in order to please his client, he'd have to hack into the system himself since his employees found it too difficult. He didn't mind. Not really, anyway. Numbers, code, and computers were his specialty. He liked them; enjoyed mapping them out with his hands and creating codes that led to false things. He was good at it.
He typed in the last line and entered it, watching as it scrambled the numbers on the screen and the cameras went black. He smirked and cracked his neck. The only thing he'd have to do now was cover his tracks; hide his IP address, his keystrokes, etc. Maybe he'd even leave them someone else's IP just for fun. It'd make the news more interesting anyway.
He set to clicking and typing again, not as furiously as before, though. Disguising everything he did was child's play at this point, second nature. No one ever got to Jim.
Seb mumbled in his sleep from the couch and Jim glanced over at him from the corner of his eye. They'd been fooling around when Jim's cell phone had gone off. It had been his top hacker, saying that the camera job was too much for them to handle and, "what should we do?" He'd told them that he'd handle it personally, then made sure that their coffee for the next morning was poisoned.
He could understand a job being too much to handle, not everyone could be as brilliant as he was, after all, but he hated for a good time to be ruined. Hence the cyanide in the Colombian Dark Roast.
Seb must have tried to wait up for him but fallen asleep in the process. Jim felt his lips quirk into a small, private smile at the thought. The poor little soldier was so sentimental sometimes. It was almost sweet, ridiculous and sickening, but sweet.
Jim finished his work and spun his chair around to look at his sniper. He was sprawled haphazardly on the couch, his hair a mess and his mouth slightly open as he snored gently. He was bare chested and his sweat pants were riding low on his hips. He looked so vulnerable and peaceful compared to how he appeared when he was awake. It was misleading, of course. Jim had seen Seb take out powerful men with his bare hands. He'd been on the receiving end of Seb's strength before. It was thrilling to watch him work.
Jim bit his lip. He wasn't usually one for permanence, especially when it came to the people he hired, but it'd almost been a year. And, if he was being honest with himself, he hadn't expected whatever it was they shared to last this long. Anyone else would either have been fired or dead by now. With Jim the two went hand in hand.
Seb was...different, though. He was deadly; took orders without a second thought, was willing to through his life on the line with an enthusiasm only Jim had seen himself rival. But in the same thread, Seb was good to him. He made sure Jim ate and slept enough. He made sure he didn't hurt himself more than usual. Granted he did it in a way that was subtle and sometimes harsh but he genuinely cared for Jim. It should've been unsettling. He should've hated it. It should have made him want to stick a knife in his jugular and watch him bleed out on the floor, but...it didn't.
He liked being with Seb. He liked knowing that the sniper would always have his back. He'd been alone for the majority of his life and now he had someone. It was disconcerting sure, but when had he ever invited normalcy into his life?
So no, Jim Moriarty did not love. But he did possess, and Sebastian Moran would never be anything but his.
Seb rolled over onto his back with his arm hanging over the side of the couch and Jim had a sudden leaping urge to yank it and watch him fall to the floor. He'd pretend to be angry, but really he'd be happy to be awake so they could pick up where they left off.
A yawn caught Jim off guard, cracking his jaw painfully, and he spared a glance at the clock. It ticked away at half past four and he scowled at it, making a mental note to take it apart later in an act of petty revenge. He had to see a client in five hours. Normally, he'd reschedule, but when your client was the British Government, rescheduling wasn't an option.
He walked over to the couch with a sigh and kicked Seb's legs apart so he could settle his body between them with his head resting just below Seb's chest. It wasn't a particularly comfortable position, what with Seb being mostly hard muscle and Jim being mostly bone, but it was warm and Seb smelled nice. It was a unique mix of soap, sweat, and cigarettes that was just so him.
Jim was half asleep, lulled by the rhythm of Seb's chest rising and falling, when he felt a hand pull through his hair.
"Not a word about this tomorrow, Moran," he mumbled sleepily into Seb's skin, eyes closed, and he felt Seb huff a quiet laugh in response. He probably didn't sound as threatening as he imagined, but it was hard to when he was curled up and so content. Seb tugged at his hair and Jim let out an annoyed grunt in response. He caught Seb's hand in his own and pulled it against his chest.
"Not a word about what?" Jim smiled and let sleep finally claim him.
"Exactly."