thewebspinner:

mistersmoran:

I believe I remember you mentioning it. I told you that if I might die out of sheer bad luck and a terrible track-record with whatever higher power likes keeping me miserable.

[Sebastian readjust, shift until he has one arm tucked under Jim’s head, bent at the elbow, tips of his fingers stroking Jim’s hair, his other hand warm and unyielding against Jim’s sharp hip. He strokes the soft skin just inside of Jim’s pelvis with his thumb, doesn’t move to kiss his quite yet. He’s must too busy taking in Jim’s expression, his eyes, the lines creasing around his lips.

This moment, right here, is probably the most ‘normal’ one they’ve had to date and, as unnatural as it feels, he’d like to keep it.

Something in his gut starts to unwind.]

I thought you were supposed to be “lucky”.

[Jim snorts softly, the air-quotes almost audible in his voice. He tilts his head slightly, Sebastian’s fingers tickling the sensitive skin of his scalp just a little. It’s not unpleasant in the least. He exhales in a long, slow little sigh, and, perhaps uncharacteristically, calms down inside, just lets go of it. Maybe he’s being ridiculous.

He doesn’t feel tired, but there’s a strange sense of calm that washes over him. Jim wouldn’t call it acceptance, and it’s not apathy, but there’s a part of him that seems prepared to accept that moment as it is, and worry about the future when it comes. It doesn’t exactly factor into any kind of planning, but it’ll have to do.

Silent for a moment, he reaches out and taps the tip of Sebastian’s nose.]

Boop.

Not lucky, skilled. Gigantic difference. There is not a thing I have in the world that I did not earn.

[Dishonourable discharge and all. But fuck it. He likes freelance better. Not that this is technically freelance, but he can fuck off for a few days whenever, Jim’s the only boss he needs to please, and every once in a while he gets to hunt some fucking bears in Canada with a bunch of criminals that have no idea what’s coming just because he fucking can.

His face scrunches up at the touch and, like that, the spell has ended. Relief is quickly overshadowed by amusement, the playfulness of a tiger cub. He rolls over onto Jim, sits on his hips and pushes a pillow down over the man’s face. He might just be laughing.]

Psychopath!