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Chapter Text

“What were you hoping I'd say?”

Jim drops his gaze to the floor. Sebastian is utterly livid with him, but something in that familiar vulnerability as Jim fusses with his cuff links holds the big man back from actually hitting Jim just yet.

Jim flinches his shoulders in a tense attempt at a shrug. “I… I knew you wouldn't be happy to see me,” he says quietly. There's more than just a tinge of meekness to the killer's voice. It's unsettling and familiar all at once.

Sebastian stares hard at Jim. “Did you, now?”

The brunet's shoulders fly up defensively. Thirty six years of age and a lifetime of hurting people… yet Jim is scared, scared like an impoverished boy who's broken something priceless.

Sebastian feels a little gratified by the flinch but mostly he feels sickened by it. Yes Arty bloody should feel sorry for the fucking disaster of the past few years, but… Sebastian cannot deny to himself that part of him hates this nervous version of Jim. Jim shouldn't be afraid of him.

Well. Sebastian's bloody livid and Jimmy-boy should be afraid of that rage, but… Sebastian could never do anything to Jim that could put that sort of worry in those dark eyes, surely?

Sebastian runs a hand through his close cropped hair. It's thinner than when they last spoke, but there's more of it than seems reasonable for the blond's age and all the stress he's been put under.

“What were you hoping I'd say?” Sebastian repeats tiredly.

Jim swallows and twitches one foot behind the other as though fighting an instinct to step back. “I...”

Sebastian lets some of his controlled ire bleed into his voice. “Jim,” he bellows.

Thirty six years of age and Jim rises from the floor in apparent fright. He takes that step back, then crosses his arms across himself uneasily. “I… Welcome back, I suppose...” he whispers.

Sebastian laughs. It's a booming, bitter sound that startles him a bit with its rawness. “Welcome back, you little bastard.”

Jim swallows. “I… I can go,” he suggests in a low voice.

“Don't you dare,” Sebastian snarls. His instinct this whole time has been to keep distance between their bodies but now he strides purposely towards Jim. “You're going nowhere. You're going to give me a fucking explanation.”

Jim's dark eyes widen. His body cringes in on itself but he stands his ground. “I… Sebby, I… I can't tell you yet. I'm sorry, I...”

Sebastian freezes, looming over Jim with an icy set to his expression and a chill to his voice. “Are you seriously telling me, husband mine, that after faking your motherfucking death, years later you still have no explanation for me?”

Jim reaches to the back of his own fragile skull to brush one of the bald scars there. It's a tell of his discomfort so vividly familiar to Sebastian still that it quite sickens the blond. “I'm sorry,” Jim whispers. His familiar Irish lilt is barely audible, but the tension in his frame suggests the words are true. “I can't; not yet. I will, when it's… When I can. If… If you like.”

“I'm just supposed to accept you back without an explanation?” Sebastian spits.

Jim's eyes flick upwards in naked surprise. After a moment he tidies the vulnerable expression away again and admits, “I was not quite that optimistic.”

Sebastian presses his lips together. “I am really fucking pissed at you.”

“I'm sorry,” Jim says again. He's never been one to apologise much; it's one of the few things that reassure Sebastian that this isn't a delusion. The blond could not have imagined this. Pain meds or not, he just doesn't have this vivid an imagination.

Sebastian squints at Jim. “Don't you have a bag or something?”

Jim inhales sharply. His little chest looks frail and familiar and Sebastian wonders why just a breath from this slight man can make his own broad chest ache so deeply. “I… was not so presumptive,” Jim admits.

“'Presumptive,'” Sebastian repeats softly, rolling the word over his tongue as though to taste it. “So you are staying then?”

Jim blinks, his mostly blank face leaking emotion through the cracks of his lips and eyes and that wide, expressive brow. “Do… You want me to?”

Sebastian's blue eyes flash then narrow. “You're my husband, aren't you?”

Jim drops his thin arms around his suited frame again. “It's… I mean, legally… I… It's been… Only if you want. I… I don't have to be.”

Sebastian casts the smaller man a disparaging look. “Come inside if you're coming.”

Jim swallows. He wordlessly follows after the tall man.

The tension shifts in the air as the pair step out of the lift. Sebastian seems to relax a fraction at Jim's decision and the brunet seems relieved by the offer.

All the same, Sebastian is not easily mollified. Not over this.

“A fucking note, Jim,” he growls, pacing. “Anything.”

The small man presses his dark eyes closed. “I couldn't risk-”

“You shot yourself in the head then didn't let me recover a body,” Sebastian hollers. “How the fuck was I supposed to process that?”

“I told you not to look,” Jim states meekly.

Sebastian cannot help but spin around and snatch Jim by a bony wrist. The smaller man cringes as Sebastian yells, “Do you think that brought me any fucking comfort?”

Jim bites his lip. Even with the thinner hair and the new lines around his eyes it makes him look so bloody young and vulnerable. “It kept you safe!” the brunet blurts. “It had to seem real.”

“'Safe'?” Sebastian snorts. His voice is mocking but he releases the sharpness of his grip a little. “You think losing you kept me safe? I've been a fucking mess. You know what would have been better? If you told me you were in danger and I would have done every fucking thing in my power to protect you.”

“Why'd you think I left?” Jim mumbles. “I didn't want you there. You'd have gotten hurt.”

“Meanwhile it's been all sunshine and rainbows here,” Sebastian growls.

Jim's gaze flickers. “You shouldn't have done that.”

Sebastian follows the smaller man's gaze to his arm and Sebastian's jaw sets. “Richard insists it was him at the hospital with me the whole time.”

Jim swallows. “I couldn't let you just-”

Sebastian covers his broad arms. “I didn't need to be safe; I just needed to be with you.”

“You're a fucking idiot,” Jim retorts. “And I don't understand you. ...But Jesus Christ, Tiger.”

Sebastian tilts his head away uncomfortably before raising his eyes. “You've been gone a long time.”

Jim presses his lips together. “And I'm afraid you're going to have to wait a little longer for me. But if you want me back I'll do everything in my power to make us safe.”

Sebastian steps closer instinctively. “What do you mean, 'a little longer'?” he asks.

Jim feels his insides twist at the sliver of panic in the muscular man's voice. “I'm still tying things up,” the brunet explains. “But I needed to check that...”

Sebastian shoves his large, calloused hands into the pockets of his jogging bottoms. “I won't… I'll be sensible. As long as… As long as you're coming home.”

Jim sighs. “I'm still the kid who couldn't bear a week without you, okay?”

Sebastian's gaze wavers. “It's been years.”

“Yet still.” Jim turns and unfastens his belt. A little shyly, he drops his clothing to expose scarring on his pale skin. “I'm still yours. If… If you want me.”

Sebastian stares. “Can I touch you?”

Jim looks around quickly, his shoulders nervous. “You're my husband.”

Sebastian crosses the space between them slowly. “Yes, but it's been years. You might not-”

“I'm still yours,” Jim reasserts firmly.

Sebastian brushes his fingertips gingerly along the slight man's bared skin. When Jim abashedly leans hopefully into the contact Sebastian picks up the smaller man and holds him nearer.

Jim instinctively latches closer but gives Sebastian's injuries a doubtful look. “Doesn't this hurt?”

“Hurts more not to touch you,” the blond declares.

“Don't scare me like that again,” Jim whispers.

Sebastian presses his forehead against Jim's and inhales the small man's scent deeply. “Likewise.”

Chapter Text

Even after a few years of careless use Sebastian's chest is still broad and warm and inviting, if a little older. His dog tags dangle on a chain from his thick neck and Jim stares at the ring that is looped alongside them.

Sebastian shifts. “Get some sleep. I'll watch over you.”

Jim wrinkles his nose. “You're healing. You need rest more. And no one knows I'm here.”

Sebastian flops onto his back again. “I'm not sleeping. I might wake up and-” His voice catches. Sebastian laughs off the raw emotion, embarrassed, but stares at the hand Jim instantly drops over his own.

“I wouldn't do that to you,” the brunet says.

Sebastian swallows. “You left me. You didn't even say goodbye.”

Jim sighs and leans closer. He takes Sebastian's head and pulls it carefully against himself. “I was out of my depth. I didn't have much time to formulate a plan and I didn't know how else to keep you safe.”

“I didn't need to be safe; I needed to be with you,” Sebastian grumbles into Jim's thin chest.

“I know,” Jim admits. “I'm truly sorry. I just couldn't risk you.”

Sebastian looks away. “Because I've survived so well on my own.”

One hand wrapped around the back of Sebastian's head, Jim reaches for the big man's hand and squeezes it gently. “I was selfish. Really selfish, I know. I was okay with you being hurt but safe so long as I didn't get you involved. I just couldn't lose you like that.”

Sebastian shifts his sore arms. “This the better option, was it?”

Jim breathes in deeply. “Didn't think you loved me that much,” he admits.

“Obviously,” Sebastian states, a little bitterly.

“It's not like you need me,” Jim mumbles. “You didn't have any reason to-”

“I love you,” Sebastian declares fiercely. “With my whole heart. Which you stomped on, by the way. I had no reason to stay without you, mo chroí.”

“I didn't expect that would be the way you'd move on,” Jim says weakly.

“I waited for you,” Sebastian states in a quietly accusatory voice. “I waited, and this,” he raises his raw arms, “is the only thing which brought you back.”

“You think I haven't been keeping tabs?” Jim snaps. “I know you've been a mess. But-”

“You don't think that's worse?” Sebastian retorts. “You've been watching me fall apart and did nothing?”

“I didn't do nothing,” Jim states. “You think it's a coincidence no pub or club owner has beaten your deserving drunken arse with a pool cue after the sprees you've been on?”

“A beating heals,” Sebastian spits. “Wondering what's happened to you for years… What the fuck do you think that does to a person?”

Jim is quiet for a beat. “I honestly thought you'd get over it eventually.”

“Which is fucking offensive,” Sebastian snarls. “I love you, you twisted fucking idiot.”

Jim sighs and rubs the back of the blond's head. “Can't say I understand why, Tiger.”

“Because you're mine,” the big man huffs.

Jim ghosts a kiss against Sebastian's skin. The blond stiffens before leaning into the touch. “It would have been better for you if you'd just accepted I was dead and found happiness elsewhere,” Jim states mildly.

Sebastian looks up with a glare. “You're my husband.”

“Yes, and 'until death do us part',” Jim reasons.

“You're not dead,” Sebastian says stoutly.

Jim nods and strokes the blond's scalp. “It would probably be easier if I were.”

“You don't go without me,” Sebastian asserts ferociously.

Jim blinks. “I don't think I'll ever understand you, Sebby. Why would I possibly be so important to you?”

Sebastian growls. “You might be smart, Jim, but you're a fucking idiot. Some things just are.”

“But it's not in your best interest to love me,” Jim protests. “I'm a catastrophe.”

“You are my catastrophe,” Sebastian snarls. He looks the smaller man over then drops the fierceness of his voice. “You should get some sleep. You look grey, Kitten.”

“Fine,” Jim replies, “but the same goes for you. You need to heal.”

Sebastian shakes his head. “Seeing you is what I need. Sleep can wait.”

“Sebby, I'm not going anywhere,” Jim sighs.

“Yeah, you said that before,” Sebastian responds with a frown. “You still blew your brains out.”

“I didn't actually blow my brains out-”

“I didn't have any proof of that though, did I?” Sebastian retorts. “All I had was an empty casket, an empty bed, and a fucking impossible business to run.”

“I'm sorry,” Jim states.

“Yeah,” Sebastian says, “but it still fucking hurts.”

“I was trying to keep you safe,” Jim says quietly.

“I didn't need safe, I needed us, together,” Sebastian declares.

“I know,” Jim admits. “Get some sleep. I've watched over you this long; I'm not going anywhere.”

“I don't need sleep,” Sebastian states.

“You bloody do,” Jim states with an arch of his brow. “I slept for days when I got slashed.”

“Yeah, but you got stabbed in the chest and belly,” Sebastian mutters.

“Yes, and you took a hunting knife to yourself,” Jim retorts.

Sebastian shrugs. “Even still, I don't really sleep much.”

Jim sighs and reaches around to grip the bigger man's bottom lightly. “Seb, get some sleep. I'll be here when you wake up.”

Sebastian flinches as though the familiar intimacy of the touch burns him. Jim quickly pulls away.

Sebastian swallows and sits back to prevent a repeat of the awkward interaction. “I'm fine. I'll sleep when I need to.”

Jim starts to edge off of the bed. “I can sleep on the couch if that helps. Or… I can go… If you'd prefer?”

Sebastian snatches Jim's arm. “No. You stay.”

Jim stills. “Tiger, what can I do? What do you need?”

“Just, just stay,” Sebastian mutters. It sounds like a plea to his ears.

“I'm here, Seb,” Jim soothes.

Sebastian nods and drops down onto his side, but does not close his eyes. The brunet crawls closer but keeps a respectful distance between them.

After a beat Sebastian grabs Jim's cold hand and clasps their fingers. Jim squeezes back.

“I can't always tell whether I'm asleep or awake,” the blond tells the room.

Jim squeezes Sebastian's hand again. “I'm here, with you.”

“I know,” Sebastian says slowly. “My nightmares were always about losing you.”

Chapter Text

The bandages wrapped around Sebastian's arms make him look vulnerable and Jim wonders whether the protectiveness it sparks in him is the same emotion the blond felt all those years ago.

Sebastian stirs and looks confused for a moment as his gaze falls upon Jim. Pleasure and fear dart over the big man's face before settling on wary affection. “You stayed.”

“I did,” Jim says. “You slept.”

“I did,” Sebastian agrees.

Jim stretches out. “Richard says you have meds to take.”

Sebastian grimaces.

Despite the wary tension between them, Jim gives a small smile. “Yes, how terrible. You'll do as you're told.”

Sebastian swallows carefully. “I still do as you tell me, do I?”

Jim freezes. “...When it comes to your health, you do,” he declares eventually.

Sebastian presses his lips together as though to swallow an argument. A few moments later he nods.

Jim pretends not to notice the hesitance. “Where are your pills?”

Sebastian rubs his face. “Kitchen, I think.”

“I'll get them,” Jim decides. “Are you coming with me, or staying here?”

Sebastian pushes himself out of their bed. “Think I've had enough watching you leave for the time being.”

Jim's expression flickers. “Don't worry,” he says carefully, “you'll soon get sick of me.”

Sebastian bares his teeth in a parody of a smile. He follows close behind Jim despite evident mistrust and resentment.

Jim does his best not to acknowledge it. “Where?”

Sebastian shrugs. “Mum tidied up whilst I was in hospital. I don't know where anything is.”

Jim turns around. “Alright, but you took your medicine with you from the hospital.”

“Did I?” Sebastian rubs his temples. “I don't really remember. That would make sense.”

“Give me your phone; I'll call Richard,” Jim offers, holding out his hand.

Sebastian wraps his bandaged arms around himself and coolly observes the sting. “Did he take me home?”

Jim stills and stares at Sebastian for a beat. “You should be able to remember.”

Sebastian shrugs. “I don't really sleep any more. And they gave me a lot of morphine. I'm fuzzy on… well… a long time.”

“Oh,” Jim says. “The past few days?”

Sebastian drops his gaze for a moment.

“Weeks? Months,” Jim amends.

Sebastian makes a face and turns away, focusing on looking for the medication. Something unsaid twists Jim's stomach.

“Years?” he whispers.

Sebastian slows and keeps his back turned. He tilts his head. “I guess.”

Jim swallows. “Seb.”

Sebastian's shoulders are tense. “Well, you've been watching, haven't you?”

“When you've been out working or brawling.” Jim fusses with his scalp's scars. “I didn't… I thought I was giving you your privacy by keeping out of your home life.”

Sebastian throws his head back to sneer grimly at the ceiling. “Because it's been my privacy that been my main concern...”

“Seb, I-”

Sebastian raises a hand behind himself to quieten Jim. “Don't. You say you have your reasons. That's… I'm not ready to hear anything more, alright?”

Jim inhales heavily and scuttles around the kitchen until his hands fall upon the searched for tablets. “Whatever you require.”

Sebastian looks around swiftly. His expression is caught between resentment and need.

Jim waits, but Sebastian does not speak. Jim passes the continuing silence by reading the packaging in his hands and setting out Sebastian's medication obediently.

Sebastian grunts as Jim hesitantly places a tumbler of cool water before him. The big man takes his medication then shuffles over to the couch. They'd replaced the quirky metallic leather beast years before with a comfortable fabric thing. No longer able to wipe the couch clean of their bodily fluids, Sebastian would regularly remove the couch cushions and shove them in the washing machine.

It is clear Sebastian has gotten out of that habit. The couch is stained and smells vaguely of spilt alcohol and something less pleasant; sourer. It's also ripped in places and the sight of its abused state makes Jim uneasy.

Sebastian barely registers the couch's ugly existence. He squares his back into an arm of the couch and draws up his knees a little defensively. He does not know what to say.

Jim worries his lower lip slowly. An enormous part of him wants to dive over and plant himself on Sebastian, getting as much skin contact as possible and soothing the chasm between their persons.

And yet Jim gets the feeling pressing confidently against Seb would make the blond less comfortable, not more. It's not a feeling Jim has experienced before.

And dear Christ and Mother Mary, how Jim has missed Sebastian.

Slowly the bigger man begins to notice the tense way Jim hovers. Sebastian swallows. “You can sit if you want,” he mutters.

“Are… Are you comfortable with that?” Jim asks.

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “Been uncomfortable with a lot worse,” he mumbles. “Sit if you like.”

Jim treads closer and seats himself a polite distance from Sebastian, but not so far as the opposite end of the couch. The bigger man seems to relax a fraction. He fidgets quietly with a frayed piece of the couch's covering fabric.

“Been through the wars a bit, this,” Jim comments mildly.

Sebastian shrugs. “'S'Been tough.”

Jim curls his fingers around a gouge in the cushion he is seated on. “I imagine so. Was hard enough just keeping away from you, and I thought you were fine. Or at least, not dead.”

Sebastian looks up alertly at the subdued ache in Jim's soft voice. The muscled blond's reserved expression flickers.

Jim heaves a breathe. “I'm fucking sorry, Sebastian. I should have thought of something else. Something better.”

Sebastian nods slowly. He inhales carefully. “You missed me then?”

Jim looks up immediately. “Of course I-” He cuts himself off and subdues the incredulous tone of his voice. “I missed you,” the brunet states heavily.

Sebastian presses his lips together and pushes his eyelids tightly closed. He focuses on his breathing for a few moments before opening his eyes again. “Good,” he growls.

Jim gives an uncomfortable giggle.

Sebastian crosses his arms defensively and gives a soft glare. “I hope you suffered.”

Jim looks up vulnerably. “Impossible not to. You're my whole world.”

“'Were', maybe,” Sebastian corrects.

Jim sighs and spreads his shoulders. “Whatever you think.”

Sebastian stares at the ring still borne on Jim's left hand. The sight of it feels like a boot to the stomach and yet it spreads an odd comfort along with its nauseating, bittersweet ache.

“You should eat,” Sebastian blurts.

Jim looks up, startled. “Are you hungry?”

Sebastian shrugs. “I don't know. I just… It's morning. You should eat.”

“Is that your way of saying I got skinny again?” Jim asks wryly.

Sebastian rakes his gaze over Jim's form. It's true; Jim has lost a lot of the weight he put on during their marriage. He doesn't…

Now that Sebastian is prepared enough to look properly, he realises that Jim does not look healthy at all. He looks gaunt, stressed, and practically haunted. Starved. It wasn't immediate apparent under the well tailored suit and… well… years and years of memories jumping forward at once.

Still.

Now that Sebastian stares, he can see Jim has not had it easy. The blond stands. “I'll make you breakfast.”

Something flickers across Jim's face. He has not expected to be looked after. He swallows. “You should rest,” he says. “I'll feed us.”

“Let me,” Sebastian says. “I've missed it.” He freezes as he registers the honest comment.

Jim swallows. “Whatever you want.”

Sebastian grunts and wanders around his kitchen with a slow thoughtfulness. It almost feels like relearning the steps of a familiar dance, except caring for Jim always felt a million times more comfortable than those formal dances from Sebastian's childhood.

The blond expects the need to be creative with breakfast, but is surprised instead to find his cupboards filled with unfamiliar purchases. Sebastian wonders whether this is the work of his mother, Jim's brother, or another, but he does not ask.

He cooks and brings over their food. He tries not to acknowledge the sharp pain in his chest as Jim looks up and accepts a plate. The familiarity burns.

Jim's wearing last night's shirt and trousers. The shirt is loosely buttoned and rolled up at the sleeves. It's not an outfit Sebastian has seen before, but the way it sits on the criminal's body is unforgettably familiar.

“Thank you,” Jim murmurs.

Sebastian blinks and breaks his gaze away. “No problem.”

Jim stretches his legs out tentatively as Sebastian sits down. The blond tenses at first, nervous of Jim's touch, but grabs Jim's ankles with one hand as the brunet apologetically pulls away. Sebastian places Jim's feet under his own thigh pointedly.

Jim gives a small smile full of concentrated affection and gratitude. Sebastian looks away. He eats quietly.

A thought flickers across his mind and Sebastian hates himself for it.

Jim notices and his forehead creases in concern. “Tiger?”

The pet name makes Sebastian anxious, but not so much as the realisation that his hand is still resting on Jim's bare ankle.

“Your things are still in the closet,” Sebastian says. “If you want something clean to wear.”

Jim stiffens, but Sebastian does not dare look around to see whether the brunet's expression is approving.

Chapter Text

A smile plays about Sebastian's lips as he eyes his husband. “I can't believe that old thing still fits you.”

Jim's eyes sparkle and he pretends to pout. “Are you saying I look like I've gotten fat?”

Sebastian grins and crosses towards the smaller man. The moment's so comfortable he does not mention Jim's severe weight loss. Instead Sebastian wraps his arms around Jim and the brunet pretends not to notice the nervous tension in Sebastian's arms. “No,” the blond replies, “but I bought you that when you were a teenager. You're long out of your twenties by now.”

Jim arches a brow and grips the zipped front of his threadbare, faded black onesie haughtily. “Says the man well into his forties.”

Sebastian opens his mouth to protest, he's only forty three after all, but the squeal of the intercom makes both men turn around.

Sebastian gives Jim a concerned look. “Get upstairs.”

The brunet shakes his head slowly. “No one knows I'm here.”

Sebastian gives Jim a warning look and walks towards the intercom. “Hello?”

Mrs Moran's sharp tones clip through the speaker. “I hope you're decent, darling. This is your five minute warning that I'm on my way up.”

The muscled blond breathes a sigh of relief. “Yes, mother.” He lets go of the intercom button and jerks his head towards the bedroom. “Upstairs, brat.”

Jim rolls his eyes. “Make up your mind: I'm either decrepit or-”

“You can be both, brat, now up you go,” Sebastian responds, crossing back over and nudging his husband in the direction of the staircase. “We both know it doesn't take my mother five minutes to get to the lift, whatever heels she's wearing.”

Jim rolls his eyes. “Fine. Be nice to her. She's obviously worried about you.”

Sebastian's blue eyes flicker for a moment. “I… Yeah, sure. She's nothing to worry about now, has she?”

Jim pecks his husband's cheek carefully – Sebastian still seems a bit odd about touching- and heads towards the stairs obediently. “Yes, but how are you going to tell her that?”

Sebastian bites his lip, but he doesn't have much time to think of an answer before he hears the elevator rising and its doors pinging open. He runs a large hand through his short hair.

“Mother. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Mrs Moran waves off his question and to Sebastian's immense surprise pulls him into a fierce hug. For such a skeletal frame she is remarkably strong, but it is the lapse in her aversion to physical contact which startles him most.

His mother reaches around to sting the back of Sebastian's thighs then pulls down his skull to kiss his forehead with perplexing tenderness. “You little fool,” Mrs Moran scolds.

Sebastian swallows, the abrupt guilt in his chest smarting worse than his suddenly sore legs. “I'm sorry, Mum,” the blond mumbles, and means it.

Mrs Moran stares Sebastian down, sniffs haughtily, then nods. “Mislaying your senses like that was most unbecoming. Do not do it again.” She pets her son's face before letting him go.

Sebastian straightens his back once released. “I didn't mean...” he breaks off a little helplessly.

Mrs Moran squeezes her son's tough hand firmly. “I know you were heartsore,” she says carefully. “Regardless, you are never alone, do you hear me, young man?”

Sebastian swallows. “Yes, Mum,” he says weakly.

“Are you coping adequately?” the woman continues. “Are you managing with changing your bandages? Cooking?”

Sebastian bites his lower lip. “Yeah… Thanks, Mum.”

Mrs Moran pets her son, presses her lips together as she scrutinises him, then nods sharply. “Very well. Now where is my other errant child?”

Sebastian blinks slowly. “Sev's gone back to the barracks. He-”

Mrs Moran gives her eldest a withering look. “I did not come down with the last shower, Sebastian Moran. Where is James?”

Sebastian chokes. “What?”

Mrs Moran tuts and raises her voice. “James Moran you have until the count of five to get within my sight or you are going to be in even bigger trouble, young man!”

From upstairs in the bedroom, Jim blinks and feels his cheeks heat uncontrollably.

“One!” Mrs Moran declares.

Jim crosses his arms over each other uncomfortably.

“Two!” Mrs Moran booms.

Jim bites his lip. He's a grown man.

“Three!” Mr Moran warns.

Jim shifts his weight. His stomach feels knotted and the colour of his face won't go down. He wriggles out of his onesie.

“Four, James...” Mrs Moran bellows.

Jim swallows his pride and bolts down the stairs.

Sebastian raises his brows at Jim questioningly, but the brunet barely has a chance to meet his gaze before Mrs Moran stares Jim down. The slight Irishman stumbles over to her nervously.

A soft look flickers over Mrs Moran's face before she reaches over and boxes Jim's ear sharply. “What the devil have you been playing at? Where the hell have you been?”

Jim yelps and covers his head. He notices out of the corner of his eye that Sebastian moves towards him protectively, but Mrs Moran jabs a stern finger at the blond. “Go sit yourself right there. You know fine well this little boy needs a good talking to and that's exactly what he's going to get.”

Sebastian swallows, uncertain, then considers how fucking much the past years have pained him. The big blond slinks over to the couch indicated, but keeps a defensive gaze rooted on Jim lest the brunet need rescuing.

Mrs Moran swats the shell of Jim's other ear, careful not to burst his drum despite her evident anger. “I asked you a question, James! Two, to be precise.”

“Ow, I'm sorry, I… I didn't have much choice,” Jim winces.

Mrs Moran snatches his thin wrist and yanks James forwards to heat the seat of his trousers. “That is no excuse. We are a family and whatever trouble you are in we could have dealt with it!”

Jim gasps and squirms against the unexpected and painful smacking, but it is Mrs Moran's words which catch the breath in his throat. He can hear the sincerity in the woman's voice. She would have helped if he had asked her.

His stomach knots tighter as he considers that this woman knows The Crocodile. Perhaps she actually could have helped him.

“Mum, don't,” Sebastian protests.

Mrs Moran keeps her grip on the brunet as she turns to look at her son. “James knows fine well that the least he deserves is a trip over my lap, and that's exactly what he's going to get, isn't is, James?”

Jim bites his lip and looks between Mrs Moran and Sebastian quickly. He could say no. Jim drops his eyes and tries not to think about Sebastian's incredulous look. “Yes, Ma'am.”

Mrs Moran gives him a warning look. “That ring on your finger failing to remind you that you're my son by law still?”

Jim blushes harder. “I… I know what you are to me,” he mumbles. He hopes she can tell how he feels.

“Then you'll understand why I am about to soundly heat your bottom.” Mrs Moran tugs on his wrist and leads him to the other side of the couch.

Jim's throat and face are flaming but he cannot help but follow as Sebastian's mother sits and reaches for his trousers. Jim flinches, but something feels oddly right to him about the horrible way cold air hits his bare legs, and he does not resist as Mrs Moran pulls him commandingly over her thighs.

Mrs Moran's legs are terribly bony, but Jim does not have much time to dwell on that before she brings her palm down sharply over his upturned bottom. “Don't you ever pull a stunt like that ever again,” Mrs Moran warns.

Jim whimpers and cannot help flinching a little as the woman burns swift circuits across his backside and the back of his legs.

“Have you any idea how wretchedly worried Sebastian and I have been about you? Do you?” Mrs Moran demands.

Jim's breath catches. He cannot see her face from this position but looks up and catches Sebastian's conflicted gaze. Jim can tell from the blond's expression that it's true: they've both worried about him. Massively.

It makes tears prick Jim's dark eyes.

“Bastian and I have been beside ourselves,” Mrs Moran continues. As she spanks, she lectures Jim continually about his being a part of their family and his worth to them. How worried sick they'd been. How distressing the news of his faked death had been. How much they love him. How vehemently they would have helped him if only he'd had the bloody sense to ask.

Jim tries to tell himself it's just the emotions of being away from home for so damned long spilling over, but he's not sold on the excuse as his tears well over his eyes and down his cheeks.

“I-I-I'm sorry, Mammy!” Jim sobs.

Mrs Moran's expression flickers softly. In all these years, that's the first time he hasn't stumbled over the word.

Despite the warmth in her chest, Sebastian's mother continues to spank Jim. His misbehaviour has been quite exceptional, and she's certainly going to ensure his punishment leaves a memorable impression.

“Mum..?” Sebastian murmurs.

“He's fine, Bastian,” Mrs Moran reassures. “He's a big, grown boy, and he's only getting a hand spanking. Isn't that right, Jimmy?”

Jim blushes again. “Y-Y-Yes, Mam.”

Mrs Moran paints Jim's thighs an even, stinging red before gently using her other hand to rub the sore flesh soothingly. “There now. You deserved that, did you not, little boy?”

Jim sniffles and nods emphatically.

Mrs Moran tuts but helps him up. “Now, now,” she warns, swinging one of his legs around to straddle her lap. “You can use your words, can you not?”

Jim buries his face into her shoulder as Mrs Moran pulls him tenderly against her chest. “Y-Y-Yes,” he mumbles. “I… I shouldn't have… I shouldn't have tried to do it on my own. I didn't mean to worry either of you.”

Mrs Moran rubs his back. “You won't make this mistake ever again, will you?”

“No, Mammy,” Jim responds quickly. “I'm… I'm really sorry.”

“And what do you have to say to Sebastian?” Mrs Moran asks.

Jim looks up. His eyes are ringed in red; his cheeks blotchy and streaked with tears. He's adorable, full grown or not, and Sebastian's heart skips a little at the sight.

“I… I was doing my best,” Jim sniffles. “I know I really hurt you, but I was trying to keep you safe. I didn't mean to mess everything up. I'm sorry I hurt you, Sebby. I'm really sorry.”

Sebastian flicks his gaze to his mother. “Can I..?” She nods, and he quickly lifts Jim into his own embrace, bandaged arms not making the task an easy one.

Jim clings to the bigger man. “I'm sorry. I missed you awfully.”

Sebastian nods slowly. “I'm sorry I didn't wait longer.”

Jim presses his wet eyes closed painfully. “I'm just glad I wasn't too late.”

Sebastian drops his forehead down against Jim's. “I'm not me without you.”

Jim curls his fingers around the base of the bigger man's broad neck. “It hurts just to breathe when you're not with me.”

Sebastian nods. His skin brushes Jim's and it feels right.

Mrs Moran watches them both together and she smiles. Then she clears her throat.

Chapter Text

Sebastian is embarrassed that his mother saw fit to spank his thighs as though he wasn't at all a grown man or of a sizeable build. For all that Jim is a great many fearsome things, it seems much more acceptable for Jim to be given a smacking: he's vulnerable to terrible ideas, he's small for his age, he's much younger, and undeniably has mummy issues. Sebastian is certain he himself should know better.

It occurs to the blond that all of the most painful or embarrassing physical chastisements his mother ever gave him came about because he had scared her. As a child Sebastian had not seen the link, had not considered provoking his father to come under this umbrella although of course it did, and Sebastian had been very bitter.

It occurs to Sebastian that he is not bitter anymore, although he is embarrassed. He is forty-three years of age and he has just been spanked and sent to his room by his mother.

Jim lies sprawled on his side near Sebastian. They are not snuggling, but they are touching. It's a start.

Jim finds it easier to talk about Mrs Moran than the fragile situation between his husband and himself. “She didn't mention my scars,” the brunet says.

Sebastian understands this to mean not the collection of scars left by Patrick Brook -devil torment his soul- but the large, swooping scar Sebastian had made upon Jim's skin with a drop point knife shortly before they were engaged.

The memory makes Sebastian's stomach hurt.

“Could be worse,” the blond says, “she could have pantsed me and seen my scar.”

Jim snorts, even though he's not sure it's yet okay to find that funny. Sebastian has many scars, but it is obvious the man is referring to the small brand Jim once left on the underside of Sebastian's genitals. Sebastian and Jim might share a surname, but Jim is in no doubt Mam would know the 'M' stood as much for 'mine' as 'Moriarty.'

They hear Mrs Moran's tread on the stairs and Sebastian tries not to feel comforted that Jim unconsciously leans closer to him in wariness. Recently spanked to tears or not, Sebastian is not quite ready to forgive the little brunet his large trespasses so lightly.

“I do hope your time out has given you both some time to think?” Mrs Moran says curtly.

Sebastian frowns in mild embarrassment and has to close his eyes against the sight of his bandaged arms when he lowers his gaze to avoid her's. There is nothing rebellious in Jim's own body language. His big, dark eyes look quite desperate to be accepted into his family again. It's clear Jim is willing to take any punishment in return.

Sebastian feels a tightness in his chest at the sight. Jim has openly missed belonging here but a sickly ache in Sebastian's tummy reminds the big blond that loving Jim has left significant, painful scarring. To let Jim back in at all is to forego all sense.

“Whilst you've been up here I've been on the phone to a friend of mine,” Mrs Moran states. Her voice is businesslike but her gaze has a maternal steeliness about it. Jim looks at her nervously and Sebastian watches him.

Mrs Moran crosses her thin arms. “If I am understanding things properly, it appears, James, that you got yourself into a bit of a corner with someone much cleverer than yourself, and felt the safest option for all concerned was… that vile little stunt you pulled. Is this correct?”

Initially Jim looks a little huffy about the 'much cleverer' comment, but he quickly looks shamefaced as his mother-in-law continues talking. He nods guiltily.

Mrs Moran continues on as though she had not expected any other response. “If you were anything other than a foolish child, you might have imagined I have considerable experience making unpleasant situations go away.”

Jim pales. He very much dislikes any possibility that he has put them all through hell for no good reason.

Mrs Moran gives him a chiding look as though she quite clearly reads his thoughts. “Yes, you should squirm, young man. Now, I have spoken to another competent adult who has agreed to make your reasons for being in hiding no longer an issue.”

Jim looks about to burst into tears. Was the solution so easy? Had he been so stupid and sacrificed so much, so needlessly? Sebastian suddenly cannot look at him.

“Thank you, Mother,” Mrs Moran prompts.

“Thank you, Mam,” Jim responds in shamefaced earnestness. “I'm so sorry-”

“Shh,” she hushes. “This is what mothers are for.”

Jim swallows a lump in his throat. “How did you..?”

“In case it has escaped your notice, young man, I am a rather wealthy and well-connected old woman,” Mrs Moran chides. “I am entirely capable of having a mess cleared up.”

“We were bloody rich,” Sebastian says softly. “Why couldn't we have gone to The Crocodile ourselves?”

Mrs Moran looks exasperated at the men. “Darling, The Crocodile and I might go back a long way, but I am also friends with Euros' mother.”

Jim splutters. “What?”

“Honestly, boys, Mrs Holmes might be terribly middle class but she's also awfully connected with the Government. I did need someone to keep eyes off of Christabelle.”

“Christabelle Moran who deals with undercover operations and prisoner of war escapes? That Christabelle?” Jim queries in a strained voice.

“D'you know many other Christabelles?” Sebastian retorts. He does not sound remotely surprised by Jim knowing what is supposed to be Sebastian's sister's secret occupation. However, the wheels turn behind his eyes and he suddenly looks shocked. “Rawdon,” he says.

Jim is not used to understanding things at a slower rate than his husband. “Rawdon, what?”

Sebastian directs his gaze at his mother. “Rawdon's why you got to know The Crocodile, isn't he?”

Mrs Moran sits on the edge of the bed. “My clever boy. Needless to say, you mustn't tell your father.”

Sebastian feels his heart thud and his pulse sing. Everything around him seems sharper. “You weren't changed by Rawdon's death; getting him out changed you.”

“You are quite correct for once, darling,” Mrs Moran agrees.

Chapter Text

Sebastian and Jim are silent once Mrs Moran leaves. Jim had tried to apologise to his husband, and Sebastian had shot that down rather harshly, and not a word has been spoken between them since.

Jim gets up and pads over to the kitchen. Sebastian opens then closes his mouth crossly; he is tempted to tell Jim off for being in his kitchen where he cooks, but the irked blond does not want to break the silence.

Jim keeps his head lowered and lifts the topmost cardboard packet of Sebastian's strong painkillers. Sebastian shifts guiltily but keeps quiet.

The noise of running water as Jim fetches Sebastian a drink seems deafening amidst their strained lack of conversation.

Jim keeps his gaze dipped as he carried the water and medication over to Sebastian. The blond stares at a water droplet as it travels down the cold glass. He uses the moment of fixation to decide whether to acknowledge Jim at all. Jim's slender fingers flex minutely in discomfort.

Sebastian holds out his palm brusquely for the tablets. He pops two from their packaging and takes the glass from Jim with a little more force than intended. Water slops over the rim and runs down their fingers.

Sebastian does not apologise. Jim steps back as though thoroughly chastised anyway and wipes his wet hands on his clothing. The water on the blond's arms soaks into bandages.

Sebastian swallows the painkillers down and dumps the remaining water on the broken coffee table. He grunts at Jim's feet. The brunet has not sat back down.

Sebastian raises his gaze and Jim jumps back nervously. The smaller man scurries back to the kitchen as Sebastian watches in cool bemusement. Jim pulls a tray of mushrooms from the fridge and gestures to his husband with them warily.

Sebastian grunts.

“You said mushrooms help the body heal,” Jim whispers.

Sebastian squares his arms. They're much less intimidatingly thick, but Sebastian's icy expression flutters Jim's stomach worse than the man's bulk ever did. “Got anything for my heart?” Sebastian asks roughly.

Jim shakes his head. “Just me,” he says meekly.

“C'mere,” Sebastian growls.

Jim obeys and Sebastian reluctantly yanks Jim down beside him. The small brunet gives him a surprised, achingly hopeful look that Sebastian hates. The blond indicates the mushrooms. “Give us one then.”

Jim does so immediately. His small hand trembles.

Sebastian bites into his raw mushroom with a glower. He can feel Jim's anxious gaze on him still.

Sebastian swallows the last of the mushroom and directs his angry gaze at his husband. “You fucked up.”

Jim flinches but immediately bobs his head in a vehement nod. “I did,” he agrees regretfully.

“I am seriously fucking pissed at you,” Sebastian snarls. Jim grips his own elbows as though trying to make himself smaller. “However,” Sebastian continues, “...I think we've lost enough time, don't you?”

Jim looks at Sebastian in open astonishment.

“I'm still mad with you,” Sebastian reiterates. “Like, seriously fucking mad. But… I'm not kicking you out.”

Jim shifts his weight in contrition.

Sebastian gives him another ungovernable look. “I mean it. You'll… You'll have to accept that I'm going to be mad at you for some time. It's not going to just go away.”

Jim nods.

Sebastian stands, takes the mushrooms from the coffee table, and returns them to the fridge. “Get upstairs.”

Jim turns with a confused look. He drops his gaze and flushes. “Are you… um… I mean your mum...”

“I'm not going to spank you,” Sebastian says flatly.

Jim raises a hand anxiously to tug the hair near his tabletop scar. “If you wanted to… I mean, the belt, I...”

Sebastian stares expressionlessly.

“I'd deserve it. If… If it helped,” Jim suggests.

“Not sure I could control myself with you right now,” Sebastian admits. “So drop the issue, and go upstairs.”

A thought passes over Jim's face which makes him grey, but he nods all the same and heads towards the staircase in a quiet act of obeisance.

Sebastian follows. He frowns at Jim's posture, and circles him on long legs at the top of the stairs. “You fucking idiot. Is that… Do you really think I'd do that to you?”

Jim tugs noncommittally at his sleeves. “Don't know what you're talking about,” he lies quietly.

“I can see the look on your fucking face, James,” Sebastian snaps. He runs a large hand through what is left of his hair and strides towards the bed, casting Jim a disgusted look over his shoulder. “Fucking Christ.”

Jim shrugs. “I'd let you,” he says.

Sebastian picks up Jim's oldest onesie and throws it at him. “I wouldn't make you apologise with your body.”

Jim protests, “But then what-?”

“I'm tired, Jim,” Sebastian sighs. “I'm sore, and I'm tired, and I just want you near me when I sleep. Is that-”

Jim strips down to his undershirt and boxers silently and pulls his worn onesie on. He walks towards the bed.

Sebastian deflates a little. “Thank you,” he says gruffly.

Jim climbs onto the bed and shuffles up it as though he's not in his mid thirties. Sebastian takes off his jeans and lies on top of the bed.

“Seb, I'm not going anywhere,” Jim whispers gently. He pulls the covers back.

Sebastian looks at the younger man balefully.

Jim tries not to smile and pointedly clambers under the duvet himself. “I'm not going anywhere, see?”

Sebastian stares at Jim hard. Buckling, the blond climbs in and allows Jim to pull the bedding over them both.

“Do… D'you want a cuddle?” Jim asks.

Sebastian shakes his head but mouths 'yes' anyway.

Jim scoots over with his back to Sebastian and twists around to very carefully place the big man's bandaged arms over his own smaller form. Sebastian seems startled by the touch but does not move away.

They don't say anything else for a long time. When Sebastian breaks the silence it is to hoarsely say, “I told you I didn't like you playing with Sherlock.”

Jim does not immediately reply. “He reminded me of my Ma,” the brunet confesses in a whisper.

“What?” Sebastian is so surprised he forgets to even sound annoyed.

“Addict. I always wanted my brains to have come from her. They didn't come from my Da,” Jim whispers. “But then...”

“Did you ask your Gran?” Sebastian asks.

“Didn't dare,” Jim admits. “If I hadn't...”

Sebastian nods against Jim's shoulder. The brunet is surprised to find Sebastian so close.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Sebastian asks.

“No thanks,” Jim replies. “Not yet. If… If that's okay?”

Sebastian sighs. “I'd like to know, at some point, what… I mean why..? But… not yet.”

“I was stupid, is what it comes down to,” Jim says.

“I should have protected you better from your stupid fucking notions,” Sebastian says. His voice sounds funny.

Jim squeezes Sebastian's nearest hand. “Don't blame yourself. This was all my mess, love.”

The word comes out before Jim can call it back. He freezes, not wishing to cause Sebastian any more pain.

Sebastian merely sniffs and pulls Jim a little closer awkwardly with his savaged arms. “I hope you've got some really good grovelling in you to make up for everything,” the blond tries to joke.

Jim twines their fingers. “Prepare to be amazed.”

Chapter Text

Jim wakes crushed under the weight of another body and with a strange fabric irritating his face. It is disorientating for a while and he thinks he has dreamt of Sebastian, has the blond's scent in his nostrils, but that can't possibly…

The bigger body grunts and stirs, moving large arms from around Jim's shoulders. Bandages move across Jim's line of sight and the memories of the last few days flood back.

“Jesus Christ, Tiger,” Jim whispers. He's full of relief at having Sebastian back, yet equally full of guilt at knowing his faked death was foolish, and laced through all of that is the sheer abject horror that Sebastian had saw fit to… well.

“Your bandages need changed today, dar- Seb,” Jim corrects himself.

The big -but no longer quite so big- blond lifts his head marginally to squint at Jim. The smaller man waits as Sebastian blinks at him in confusion before recognition lights his blue eyes.

“Morning,” Jim says softly.

Sebastian purses his lips gently. “I'm pissed at you,” he whispers.

“Yes,” Jim agrees.

Sebastian pulls him closer, hissing softly but unrepentantly at how the pressure hurts his destroyed forearms. “I'm also glad you're home. You exasperating little bastard, you.”

Jim's lips twitch and he accepts the excuse to burrow closer to the husband he has desperately missed. Sebastian's once broad chest gives off heat and comfort. “Did you miss me?” Jim whispers.

Sebastian gives the slim Irishman an unimpressed look and bites Jim's earlobe firmly. Tugging on it possessively, Sebastian growls before letting go. “Only when I breathed.”

Jim wraps his fingers in the warm chain around Sebastian's neck. The small man strokes the dog tags and the smooth, round metal which once resided on Sebastian's left hand. “Really?” Jim murmurs.

Sebastian hears the vulnerable, hopeful lift to his husband's lowered voice. Sebastian must still be half asleep, because he kisses the shell of Jim's ear and admits, “I missed you even when… you know...” He gestures with his uppermost bound wrist.

Jim abruptly breaks free of Sebastian's grip and bolts for the bathroom. Sebastian watches him in alarm for a moment then climbs out of bed. “Jim?” he asks in concern.

Jim has knelt before the toilet retching. He waves a hand dismissively at his partner.

“Kitten, are you okay?” Sebastian asks unselfconsciously, too distracted to consider the weight of the nickname. He approaches Jim and kneels down before him.

Jim finishes and sits up with tight shoulders. He takes a juddering breath, looking embarrassed. Sebastian rubs Jim's back cautiously.

It occurs to Jim that Sebastian used his pet name. It both comforts Jim and yet makes him feel worse. The nickname is a reminder of how much Sebastian loved him during their marriage and before it. The nickname is a reminder that Jim made a monumental miscalculation that cost him years of time with Sebastian and…

...And that mistake almost cost Jim Sebastian's life.

Sebastian continues to pet his back still.

Jim twitches his face awkwardly at Sebastian and stands to approach the sink. The slight man wipes his mouth and splashes cool water on his face.

“Sorry,” Jim says.

“Are you sick?” Sebastian asks.

Jim looks shamefaced. “No. I...”

At first Sebastian does not understand, but then he feels the weight of Jim's gaze on the stained gauze of his arms. Jim, whose stomach was always steely in the most brutal bouts of paid violence, had just experienced nausea triggered by Sebastian's bandages.

“Hey,” Sebastian says.

Jim looks up quickly.

“I did it because I thought you were gone. You won't lose me whilst I know you're alive,” Sebastian says. He doesn't presume to say 'here' just 'alive'.

“I almost lost everything,” Jim says hoarsely.

Sebastian swallows. “Yeah. But you didn't.” He doesn't know what else to say.

“I don't know how to fix this,” Jim says, sounding lost and overwhelmed.

Sebastian shrugs. “Just stay.”

“Do you really want me to?” Jim asks quietly.

Sebastian stares for only a beat before he walks over and gingerly reaches for Jim's hip. Gently enough to avoid spooking his highly strung brunet, Sebastian lightly strokes the scarring there. “Of course I do, Arty.”

The downy hairs on Jim's pale skin rise as though they prefer Sebastian's company to Jim's own. The brunet does not feel offended: he prefers Sebastian to himself too.

Touching Jim hurts. Sebastian's trauma at losing Jim is not so much healed as it is aggravated by Jim's presence and Jim's smell and Jim's closeness. All the same, the blond dips his chin over Jim's scalp and rests it there. Sebastian keeps a hand on Jim's scarification and coils his other arm loosely over Jim's thin -too thin- frame.

“You're too good for me,” Jim says dully.

“Maybe, but you're mine all the same,” Sebastian responds.

Jim tugs Sebastian's arm tighter around himself, feeling selfish for doing so but unable to deny himself the desperately needed contact.

“Thank you,” Jim says solemnly.

Sebastian grunts but does not let go. Jim remains in his arms seeming reluctant to move or speak.

Eventually Sebastian gives a soft sigh and straightens his back. Jim gives him a startled, worried look at the retraction of close physical contact. Sebastian gives the brunet a small but reassuring smile and pats Jim's bottom forcefully.

Jim stumbles and twists to give Sebastian a surprised look.

“I need more painkillers. Go make my breakfast,” Sebastian commands.

Jim stares at him stupidly for a moment. They both know that is not their usual routine.

Sebastian gives Jim a little push. “You heard me. You're going to stay so you're damn well going to make yourself useful. There's bacon in the fridge; don't let the fat spit at you and don't burn yourself on the stove.”

“I can fry you some bacon,” Jim disparages indignantly.

“My memories of our married life say otherwise,” Sebastian teases. He winks and makes a shooing gesture.

Jim is uncertain how to process Sebastian joking with such sad blue eyes. “I'll be back up soon,” the brunet says. “Get yourself back into bed where it's warm.”

Sebastian shakes his head. “I'm going to go for a shower.”

Jim stares at his husband's bandages and this time his expression is more forceful than guilty. “No you're not. You'll get those wet.”

“You said I need to change them anyway,” Sebastian argues.

“You got mauled by a tiger so I'm going to presume you know that getting your arms unbandaged and put under a strong jet of water is neither a barrel of laughs nor a splendid idea,” Jim drawls.

“I'm a big boy,” Sebastian replies.

“You can tell your mam that if I need to call her,” Jim warns.

Sebastian's ears redden after yesterday's chastisement. He narrows his eyes and retorts, “You're not going to tell on me.”

Jim gives Sebastian a steely look. “I can give one of our brothers a call if you'd rather have their help but you are not dealing with your bandages alone. You're going to get back under the covers and wait for your breakfast.”

Sebastian's stomach knots. “You don't get to come back here and tell me what to do. I-”

“I don't deserve to tell you what to do,” Jim agrees, “but I'm here. So I'm going to look out for you. If you don't like it you'll just have to put crumbs on my side of the bed or something.”

Sebastian's gaze flickers. “Fuck you, Jim.”

“Go back to bed or I'm phoning your mum. You need your meds so I'm not going to drag this out,” Jim warns.

“I'm a fucking grown man!” Sebastian snaps.

“And you're getting breakfast in bed, so shut up and do as you're told, love,” Jim responds.

Chapter Text

Sebastian has reluctantly accepted Jim's assertion that he requires help with his bandages and cannot just shower as he pleases. However, the bathroom is the one place Jim has not followed, so Sebastian has been hiding out in the empty bath for the past fifteen minutes or so. It's nothing personal, except for the fact that it all feels so fucking personal.

Sebastian sighs and shifts his weight uncomfortably. He's going to have to leave his hiding place any minute now, or Jim's going to come asking after his whereabouts, and the big blond feels stupid admitting having the one thing he wants back in his life is more than a tad overwhelming.

Sebastian sniffs and wipes his face on a dry edge of his bandages. The pressure itself doesn't hurt his cuts but twisting his mauled muscles does.

They make him feel stupid, the bandages. They seem proof to Sebastian of how foolish he was to believe all the evidence which insisted Jim was never, ever, ever coming home.

More shameful than that humiliation is the feeling Sebastian cannot shake that his meltdown was worth it: Jim came back – came home - because of these deep gouges.

There's significant tendon damage. Sebastian might never be as talented with a gun again.

The big man does not care. He knows he should – he loves guns- but the only thing which seems important is Jim.

Even Rawdon being alive – and Mum helping fake his death - doesn't really feel so important to Sebastian right now.

All that matters is Jim, and Jim being home.

And yet here Sebastian hides, in their bathtub.

Jim knocks on the door and shatters the silence, which doesn't really matter, because Sebastian's head is far from silent anyway.

“Seb?” Jim says cautiously. “I don't want to interrupt, but your ma just called.”

Sebastian blinks. It's clear from Jim's voice that he knows Sebastian is avoiding him, but the brunet does not sound resentful.

“What? What does she want?” Sebastian asks.

Jim sounds as oblivious to Mrs Moran's reasoning as Sebastian feels. He replies, “She's sending a car around.”

The blond sighs and climbs out of the bath. “I won't be long,” he calls.

Jim stares at the closed door. “Take your time,” he says quietly.

Sebastian washes his face and grimaces at his reflection in the mirror above. “D'you think I've got time to shave?” he asks through the door.

“I think you can milk being ill for a few more days before she expects you to look your best,” Jim answers.

Sebastian opens the door with a sigh. “I'm not ill though, am I?”

Jim looks at him. “No, but you need rest.”

Sebastian rubs his stubble and sighs again. “Tomorrow,” he commands himself.

Jim fetches Sebastian trainers as the big man starts to shrug out of his jogging bottoms. Sebastian looks at Jim's hands dubiously.

“She's not going to scold you overmuch for dressing like that just this once,” Jim says. He gestures with the trainers.

Sebastian concedes and pulls his grey joggers back up blond thighs that are not quite as firm and thick as they used to be. Sebastian takes the trainers and shoves his feet into them. He stares as Jim drops to the floor before him and knots his laces.

“I'm not that much of an invalid,” Sebastian says. It isn't the real reason his stomach is suddenly twisting.

Jim looks like he does not immediately realise the intimacy of the old habit or Sebastian's hypersensitivity to any such familiarities. It's not something Jim did often, only when Seb was hurt from work or sick. When realisation lights the brunet's face he darts away guiltily.

Jim fetches Sebastian a matching oversized hooded zipper (that once struggled to contain all Sebastian's muscles) and helps the blond into the sleeves.

Sebastian follows Jim to the car.

Moran Manor looks as forbidding as ever. “I presume Dad's out?” Sebastian murmurs.

“I guess so. She didn't say,” Jim replies. He looks uncomfortable at the prospect of being near Sir Moran.

It is easy to tell by the gait of the servants that their master is indeed elsewhere. The couple are ushered into Mrs Moran's drawing room and served tea.

Mrs Moran stares at them both hard over the rim of her good china. The boys feel a thrill of trepidation.

“I'll jump right into it since time is of the essence,” Mrs Moran announces.

Sebastian and Jim exchange looks with each other.

“James, darling, what age are you?” she asks.

Jim blinks owlishly. “Thirty six...”

Mrs Moran nods as though she already knows precisely this. She turns to Sebastian. “And what age are you, young man?”

“Forty three...” Sebastian admits warily. He can feel his ears turning pink, thinking of his mother's hands on the back of his thighs earlier.

“Exactly,” Mrs Moran declares. She crosses one leg over her knee. “These are not Oscar Wilde's days. I will not accept you pair living like bachelors.”

Sebastian's hand goes immediately to his chest. His fingers curl tightly around the wedding ring hanging from his chain.

Jim swallows and stares down at his lap.

“We're working on it,” Sebastian says quietly.

“Oh, I'm not talking marital relations, dear, that's your own business,” Mrs Moran responds. She curls her lips, “And in any matter, I have no doubt you'll smooth out your troubles.”

Sebastian's brow wrinkles. “Then..?”

“It's quite simple, Sebastian. You're both getting on a bit. I myself am getting on in years...”

Sebastian and Jim exchange confused looks, automatically turning to each other for help despite their rift.

“You're not old,” Jim murmurs to his mother in law.

Mrs Moran fixes him with a skeptical expression. “I am far too old to be dragging things out much further.”

“Are you getting a divorce?” Sebastian blurts.

Mrs Moran's entire body jerks in a severe flinch and her knuckles turn white around her near empty teacup. She gives her son an utterly scathing look.

Sebastian leans back in his chair feeling suitably chastised. “S'not like he wouldn't have it coming,” the blond mumbles.

Mrs Moran gives her child an arch sideways look and waves her hand dismissively with a fluidity that belies her age or the recentness of her evident disgust.

Jim turns colourless. “You're not sick are you?” he whispers starkly.

Mrs Moran's expression softens. “I am talking about the pair of you, foolish things. I am in perfectly perfunctory health.”

“We're fine,” Sebastian says with a firmness he is uncertain he feels. Jim turns with a swift searching glance but the brunet seems to understand Sebastian's misgivings silently.

“Exactly,” Mrs Moran all but crows.

The men look at her.

She makes them wait as she finishes her tea and stares at the leaves which remain within the bowl of her cup. The woman looks up with sharp eyes. “It's high time I had grandchildren, boys.”

The couple choke. “You… You've got those from Gus,” Sebastian manages to point out.

“I want grandchildren from the pair of you,” Mrs Moran asserts. “My boys.”

“We did explain that we can't have babies,” Jim mutters.

“Which is a smile of Fate's, because they would ruin Sebastian's figure,” Mrs Moran answers. “As much as one can ruin what's left. James, you're going to make sure my silly child feeds himself properly. He's gotten so thin.”

Jim looks torn between agreeing and sending a smirk at Sebastian over whose figure would be ruined. Sebastian looks shocked by his mother's allknowing ability and squares his shoulders unhappily at the 'thin' comment.

“I'm still bigger than most men,” Sebastian grumbles.

“You're still very handsome, darling, but Morans always present themselves as their best,” Mrs Moran responds. Sebastian rolls his eyes petulantly but looks vaguely mollified.

Mrs Moran runs her expensive nails over the gilt rim of her teacup. “So that's settled. You'll make me a grandmother.”

“Nothing is settled and you don't even care for children,” Sebastian protests.

“Do not be ridiculous, Bastian, your children shall be beautiful,” Mrs Moran dismisses.

“Um, I wouldn't be a good parent,” Jim interrupts.

Mrs Moran bats her eyelids at him unsympathetically. “You can afford help, and as you're grounded indefinitely for your wretched misbehaviour you'll have plenty of free time to raise a child.”

Jim flushes, feeling disorientated enough to dig his palms into his hands. “I don't know what you do with a baby. I've never-”

“There's always a first time,” Mrs Moran scoffs. “Any other foolish objections?”

“Where would a baby come from?” Sebastian drawls.

“Really Sebastian, you're forty three, not three,” Mrs Moran says. “Naturally we would take samples of you both to put in some well paid girl.”

“Why both?” Jim asks with his nose wrinkled in incomprehension.

Mrs Moran turns and stares at him unnervingly. “Family is important,” she lectures slowly.

Jim shrinks back, feeling both scolded and loved. “But surely the Moran line-”

“Will be carried on by you both, James,” Mrs Moran says firmly.

“In your dreams, Mum,” Sebastian protests. “We don't need-”

Mrs Moran gives a long suffering sigh and chides him with her gaze. “My child, whatever possibly gives you the notion that either of you have any choice in this?”

Jim's stomach flips. Sebastian merely gives the woman an exasperated look. “In case it's escaped your calculations, Mum, you kind of need more from us than just our consent to move forward.”

“Oh don't be ridiculous, Sebastian, I already have samples of you both,” says Mrs Moran.

Jim splutters. He feels faint as Sebastian casts a quick, regretful look at him and murmurs, “But we haven't… since...”

“Welcome to being married,” Mrs Moran says tartly. “Frozen samples have a shelf life of a dozen years.”

“I don't even want to know how you obtained anything,” Sebastian grimaces.

Mrs Moran sniffs. “You're virile boys.”

Jim is quiet. He pictures the first time he buggered Sebastian under this roof; their wedding night. He and Sebastian couldn't be peeled off of each other for days. The slender Irishman wrinkles his nose wondering whether it was semen left in this very building that his mother in law had obtained. Surely it wouldn't keep at room temperature?

Jim does his best to focus on the science. Remembering his once thoroughly delightful sex life with his husband makes Jim feel sick in a way theft of their ejaculate somehow doesn't. Jim tries not to think about Sebastian's large, warm body against his own, opening trustfully for his own… Fuck. The grimace Jim makes is pained.

Sebastian does not notice his brunet's thoughts. Instead the big man sighs as though half defeated and shows his forearms. “Mum. Do you really think I'm suitable to be a parent?”

“It's about time you grew up, Sebastian, and it's not as if you're ever likely to do that again,” Mrs Moran answers calmly.

“How do you know?” Sebastian asks.

Mrs Moran gives him a patronising look. “I know because Jim won't ever leave his family again. We - he almost lost you.”

She looks exasperated by the sudden prick of tears both men experience. “Oh, give me a cuddle both of you, if you must, but don't either of you dare start snivelling.”

Chapter Text

There's a certain thickness between your ringing ears that you get when you've been exposed to a lot of loud gunshots or an explosion recently. It almost feels like your head is padded with cotton wool, which can be disorientating enough to knock off your balance, if you're unused to it. With your motor functions a bit wavy, your hearing a bit faint and echoey, and your thoughts a bit floaty, it almost feels like you're underwater.

It is how Sebastian feels as he meanders towards the car. Jim has climbed into the back of it ahead of him and is fastening his seatbelt smartly. Sebastian stumbles in and fumbles with his own.

The driver comes around his side and slams the door.

It almost makes Sebastian flinch. He thinks he might be in shock.

Jim is sitting prim and silent beside Sebastian with his small hands stacked upon his lap. The brunet's right hand twitches beneath its partner, nudging Jim's wedding band around and around his ring finger.

“I'm sorry,” Sebastian says thickly. He swallows with a small frown. His mouth feels dry.

Jim snaps around sharply to look at him. The brunet seems to watch Sebastian very carefully whilst asking, “For what?”

Sebastian fusses with a bit of tape on his bandages. It has folded over on itself and is displaying little bits of fluff from the hoody his mother mostly avoided mentioning. Sebastian shrugs his broad shoulders. “For what my mum said.”

Jim faces the back of their driver's neck again. “Why is that?”

Sebastian does not know what to say. “Because obviously you won't want kids with me?”

Jim continues to stare forward. “Because?”

Sebastian feels even more lost for a moment. “Because it's too soon?” he hazards. “Because we don't know anything about having kids? Because in our line of business...”

“Do you want to keep the business now that I'm back?” Jim asks.

“Do I… What?” Sebastian asks stupidly.

“The business,” Jim repeats patiently. “You've been keeping your side ticking over and I've been managing a few things myself, but I have been considering a… semi retirement, of sorts.”

Sebastian blinks. It is the first time Jim has said much about what he's been doing whilst they were apart, other than watching him of course. “You want to retire?”

“Don't you?” Jim counters. “At your heart you're a sniper, and like a footballer, you only have a certain amount of years before your knees go.”

“I can afford knee surgery,” Sebastian says dully. He looks Jim over. “You'd be bored out of your mind with nothing to run.”

Jim tenses his shoulders. “A household?”

Sebastian snorts bitterly. “This isn't funny, Jim.”

“Isn't it?” the brunet responds. “Seems like a cosmic joke to me.”

“Why aren't you saying no?” Sebastian asks.

Jim cocks his head. “Do you want me to say no?”

“How can you say anything else?” Sebastian presses.

Jim is quiet and the big blond thinks no answer will be forthcoming. Eventually Jim says, “If I was to build a family with anyone, it could only be with you.”

“We can't exactly make a baby by ourselves, unless you've been building some pretty nifty labs whilst you've been busy,” Sebastian says.

“I don't mean without a woman,” Jim sneers, pretty certain Sebastian just want him to spell things out, “I mean… I couldn't imagine me with a family. Except… with you. It might not be so bad with you.”

“Are you fucking with me?” Sebastian asks sharply.

“I've got nothing to gain from that, Seb,” Jim reminds the blond.

“Why would you want kids with me?” Sebastian demands.

Jim grimaces. “I didn't say I did, Basher. I said if I was going to have kids with anyone it would have to be with you. Those are not the same thing.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “Whatever, you little prick. Why would you want me?”

“You're my fucking husband,” Jim mutters. “Why'd you think?”

Sebastian fidgets with his chain, his dog tags clattering off of each other and his ring. “I don't know,” he mutters. As grumpy as his face looks, Jim can tell he feels vulnerable.

“Just because I left doesn't mean there was ever anything wrong with you,” Jim says quietly. “You'd be more than adequate: you'd be good.”

“If I was so fucking adequate you wouldn't have left,” Sebastian snarls.

“If you'd been any less utterly perfect I might have been able to justify being selfish enough to stay when I didn't think I had any other options to keep you safe,” Jim replies.

“I wasn't perfect,” Sebastian states harshly, “because you left. You wouldn't have left me if I was.”

“How do you know?” Jim asks.

“Because if our positions were reversed,” Sebastian curls his lip, “there's no way I could have left you.”

“You would if you had to keep me safe,” Jim declares.

Sebastian swallows. The car is drawing up and he suddenly has to get out of it, a lump rising in his throat. Sebastian unclips his seatbelt and is out the vehicle before the car has come to a halt.

Jim sighs and follows afterwards. “Sebby.”

Sebastian sniffs. “Don't.”

“Sebastian. Sebastian I'm here,” Jim soothes, trotting after the blond.

Sebastian slams his key by the lift's reader and spins around with upset, narrowed eyes. “But you weren't.”

Jim drags the bigger man into the lift by an elbow. “Yes, but I'm here now.”

“I can't just get over it!” Sebastian wails in a voice lost between rage and grief.

Jim pinches the bridge of his nose then looks up and snaps his fingers. “Your phone. Personal one. Give me it.”

Sebastian's face softens in confusion. “What?”

“Now, Sebastian,” Jim orders.

Sebastian hands over his phone in automatic response to Jim's familiar stern tone. “Wait, you-”

Jim downloads an app and synchronises their phones before showing the bigger man. “Here, you see? You can track my phone.”

“Someone else could hack this,” Sebastian protests.

“I don't care as long as it makes you feel better,” Jim states.

Sebastian switches off the app but does not delete it from Jim's phone. “I care.”

“Tiger, if you want to get me a shock collar that zaps me every time we're out of range of each other, then I'll let you. All I care about is that you're happy,” Jim says.

Sebastian stares at Jim until the lift doors open. “How serious are you?” he asks.

“Serious enough I'd let you put a tracking chip in me,” Jim says quietly.

Sebastian grunts thoughtfully and steps out into their living room. “Don't tempt me.”

Jim crosses over to the breakfast bar and automatically fetches his husband's painkillers. “I mean it. Any gesture that makes you feel secure in us, I agree to.”

Sebastian accepts the glass Jim fills with water. “Even kids?” the blond asks with a sardonic smile.

Jim pops the tablets from their packaging. “I don't think anyone should have kids to save a relationship, but if you want a kid, Seb, you've got my support.”

Sebastian rubs his bandages. “I might not be healed in nine months.”

“The whole process probably takes years,” Jim says, “and I'm not going anywhere. However long it takes you to heal, I'll be here.”

Sebastian takes his medication. “I don't know how we'd explain a shock collar to a kid.”

Chapter Text

Jim shifts uncomfortably and toys with the frayed material of the tattered couch. “You're staring at me,” he mumbles. His tone is as awkward and unnerved as it used to be when he was just a teen.

Sebastian bares his teeth. “I'm allowed.”

Jim pulls his shirt collar higher and frowns shyly. “There are better ways to punish me.”

“Already considering that, if you think of that shock collar as a punishment,” Sebastian smirks.

Jim rubs his bare neck warily. “You going to collar me?” he mutters.

Sebastian snorts but gives the smaller man a surprised, calculating sweep of his blue eyes. “Like you'd let me?”

Jim shrugs stiffly. “I offered, didn't I?” he grouses.

“Thought it was just words. Not exactly like you, is it, being accountable?”

Jim winces quietly in response and Sebastian adds, “That wasn't meant as a dig.”

Jim raises his gaze to the bigger man for a moment then looks down and fusses with his wedding ring nervously. “I've always relied on you to be the one I'm answerable to...”

Sebastian raises a brow. “So you don't make fucking stupid decisions like leaving me?” he asks dryly.

Jim squirms. “I don't think properly. Like I think, but too much, and I miss things and...” He makes a face. “It helps when you're… When I know you won't let me make stupid choices.”

“Is it not enough to know I'll bust your skull open if you ever fuck up like that again?” Sebastian asks guardedly.

Jim snickers weakly. “That's more a comfort to me.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes and kicks Jim lightly. “You catastrophe.”

The smaller man smirks and returns the action. “Yeah, but you love me.”

They freeze and Sebastian stares hard at the surprise, fright and guilt that flash across his husband's face.

“Yeah, well you're not the only stupid one in this relationship,” Sebastian says carefully.

“Do you want me to stop saying it?” Jim asks quietly. “Until… Until we're okay again?”

Sebastian heaves a deep sigh and covers Jim's hand with his own. “I hate you for the past few years, but… It doesn't mean I don't, you know, love you. I'll always love you.”

Jim's lip wobbles and he grasps Sebastian's hand fiercely. “'M'sorry.”

Sebastian swallows then tries to glower. “You're going to be. When I can bear to touch you long enough to fuck you I am going to tear you apart.”

Jim giggles almost hysterically. “Promise?” he whimpers.

“I'm your husband; of course I promise,” Sebastian grumbles.

“Can… Can we cuddle? Or is that too much?” Jim asks with a trembling voice.

“Are you going to fucking cry on me?” Sebastian asks, trying to mask the ache in his chest with a gruffness in his tone. Jim looks tempted to lie, but the blond pulls him by the arm. “Come here then you exasperating little fucker.”

Jim falls into the embrace gratefully but does not dare relax into Sebastian's body too much. The big man rolls his eyes at Jim's stiff posture. “It's alright,” Sebastian encourages reluctantly. “I won't break.”

Jim pushes closer then freezes and pulls back, feeling selfish. Sebastian sighs and crushes the frustrating little brunet to his chest. Jim feels tears sting his eyes and tries to twist his head away. Sebastian feels the wetness through his clothing and presses a quick kiss onto the back of Jim's scalp.

“You've still got me Arty, we'll be alright,” Sebastian promises.

“I'm so, so sorry, Tiger,” Jim declares.

Sebastian ignores how raw his gauze covered arms feel as he holds Jim tightly. “I know you are sweetheart, I know...”

Jim sniffs wetly. “I-I-I missed you, s-so m-much...”

Sebastian rubs circles in the slender brunet's quivering back. “I'd have been so pissed if you didn't,” the bigger man whispers warmly.

Jim cackles pathetically. “Thank you.”

Sebastian squeezes the brunet a little further into his chest in response.

“I love you,” Jim whispers.

Sebastian swallows and continues to ignore his injuries as he reaches down to adjust Jim's legs. Holding him tightly, Sebastian stands with a neutral expression that hides the strain on his suffering forearms.

“What are you doing?” Jim asks.

“Taking you upstairs,” Sebastian grunts. “You're always tired after a good cry.”

“I'm supposed to be looking after you,” Jim says.

“We look after each other,” Sebastian answers. “Keep sobbing your heart out if it helps; I've got you.”

“I don't deserve this,” Jim states blankly.

Sebastian carries him to the master bedroom. “A relationship isn't about keeping score, mo chroí. I want you to feel better.”

Jim drops his head on Sebastian's shoulder. It isn't as comfortable as it used to be and Jim feels further determination to build the drawn blond back up to a happy weight. “I don't understand why you don't want me to suffer.”

Sebastian grins wryly. “I do want you to suffer, but I can focus on that in the long term. Right now I know you need a cry, a cuddle, and a good nap.”

Jim giggles. “I accept.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes playfully. “Like you get a say in anything anymore, brat?”

Jim gives a small smile. “Still too mad to spank me?”

Sebastian snorts and drops his husband on the bed. “Far, far too livid. Consider yourself lucky.”

Jim stares at him. “I am lucky. I've got… I've got you.”

Sebastian looks away and retreats to their drawer set, from which he pulls a pair of Jim's old pyjamas. The brunet's dark eyes flicker as Sebastian returns holding out the clothing as something between a barrier and a peace offering.

“C'mere,” Sebastian whispers. He puts the sleepwear to the side.

Jim lets the big man help him out of his clothes. “Are you sure this is okay?” the brunet asks quietly.

Sebastian shrugs. “Not entirely, but I'm going to have to get used to it again. Arms up.”

Jim obeys with a pout. “You don't have to.”

Sebastian tugs the brunet's pyama top over dark hair and thin shoulders. Sebastian isn't the only one who has lost weight during their separation, and the cool silk slips down to pool past Jim's hips.

“Up,” Sebastian orders.

Jim allows his husband to undress his bottom half and is uncertain how on earth to feel about it. Sebastian's expression is guarded and he reaches for the silk bottoms. He holds them out for Jim to step into. Jim tries to tell himself he is sexually unmoved by these gestures and it is not remotely motivated by how unpleasant his pyamas feel when wet with arousal.

Sebastian stands and wipes at Jim's wet cheeks. “Get under the covers.”

“That snuggle still on offer?” Jim asks meekly.

“I'm apparently still a sadomasochist,” Sebastian answers dryly. He tucks Jim in and kicks off his joggers before climbing into bed after him.

Jim feels a thrill of joy as Sebastian pulls him close. “I love you,” the brunet repeats.

Sebastian gives him an awkward kiss. “Yes. I know you do.”

“I'll be good,” Jim promises.

Sebastian gets comfortable and tugs Jim's hair lightly. “I don't need you to be good, baby, I just need you to stay.”

“I can do that,” Jim says.

Chapter Text

“Mum? Did you let yourself in?” Sebastian asks groggily.

Mrs Moran arches a thin brow wryly. “Honestly, Bastian, in your line of work you should be more observant.”

Jim wriggles out from beneath Sebastian's big arm. “What are you doing here, Mam?”

“Hello to you too. It is marvellous timing for you both to get reacquainted with each other,” Mrs Moran declares with an intimidating smile, “for I have such splendid news.”

“We're not… Is Dad dead?” Sebastian asks drowsily.

Mrs Moran gives her son a sour look. “Nothing to do with your father, but 'parenthood' would be warm.”

Jim blinks and clambers on top of the duvet in his navy pyjamas. “Did you find a, um, surrogate?” he squeaks.

“Oh we are beyond that, darling,” Mrs Moran smiles. “She's inseminated.”

“What?” Sebastian roars. He throws back his covers.

“She's perfect; there was no need to waste time involving you,” Mrs Moran declares breezily.

“I kind of care whose body my seed goes into,” Sebastian exclaims.

His Mother arches a thin brow pointedly. “You didn’t before, and the sample is half James’ too.”

“That’s different,” Sebastian hisses. “I shouldn’t even have to tell you why that’s different. And I don’t want Jim’s samples being put anywhere without our consent either!”

“Sebastian, you are being a child,” Mrs Moran scolds.

“If I’m being such a child maybe you shouldn’t be in a rush to give us one!” Sebastian retorts.

“Enough. Stop making a scene, young man, and go shower. I expect you both to be ready to sit down for breakfast in an hour, then we are going to meet her,” Mrs Moran says.

Sebastian turns to Jim. “Tell Mum how out of line this is. She’ll listen to you.”

The brunet hesitates. He knows Sebastian is right: Mrs Moran’s behaviour is shockingly forward and unacceptable.

However…

The woman has deliberately included him quite explicitly in her family plans. He knows family does not necessarily equate to any sort of permanence, but he also knows that his mother in law actually does consider family to be so. Her refusal to divorce her husband testifies to that.

She has chosen him, Jim, to be involved in giving her grandchildren. She has chosen to make him a significant member of the family despite his failings.

Jim knows he should be upset and indignant the way Sebastian feels, but although he feels shock, Jim cannot quite bring himself to scold Mrs Moran. Perhaps he shall feel angry later, but right now Jim feels touched.

Although, he hasn’t met the inseminated young woman yet.

Jim presses his lips together and takes a rallying breath. “Seb, go shower. Mam, you should have involved us more in the decision making, but we’ll do as you say.”

Sebastian gives Jim an aghast look. “Are you listening? She put a baby, our baby, in someone we don’t even know!”

“How is that any different from your philandering before you settled down?” Mrs Moran asks tartly.

Sebastian glares at her.

Jim sighs. “Seb, the sooner we’re ready the swifter we can assess what the potential damage is. Alright?”

The blond looks disgruntled.

“Maybe we’ll like her,” Jim prompts.

Sebastian curls his lip sourly but slinks through to the bathroom.

Mrs Moran gives Jim a look. The poor boy looks tired in his dishevelled bed hair and too large pyjamas. The light glistens on the fabric and bounces over his stubble as he breathes.

“I’ll wait for you downstairs, darling,” Mrs Moran announces. “Close your eyes for a bit; Sebastian can surely waken you.”

Jim blinks and gives her a wry look as he smooths his slightly thinning hair. “Are you saying I need more beauty sleep?”

“I am saying you need rest, child,” Mrs Moran states. She swoops over to kiss his rough cheek then glides out of the room.

Jim sighs and flops back onto Sebastian’s pillow.

Sebastian does not immediately wake Jim after striding back into the room in shower flushed skin. The big man’s face softens as he watches the small brunet sleep.

“I bloody love you, you tiny bastard,” Sebastian mutters ruefully. He lets Jim sleep on whilst towelling himself dry, then pads over gently and puts a hand on his brat’s shoulder.

Jim does not immediately wake but mumbles something which sounds affectionate. Sebastian rouses him gently. “Up you get, clever clogs. Shower’s free.”

Jim’s brain is too sleep-fogged to notice the way Sebastian looks at him, but he feels the way his husband holds him. Sebastian’s large hand remains on Jim as the brunet pulls himself, swaying, to his feet.

“Careful, sleepyhead,” the big man cautions.

“Yes, love,” Jim yawns, stumbling towards the en suite. Sebastian watches him go, feeling very much conflicted by the way light swishes over the material covering Jim’s perfect little arse.

Jim returns much more alert after allowing a jet of cold water to smack him in the face for several minutes. He glances critically at Sebastian’s intended outfit choice and begins to correct it out of habit.

He stops as Sebastian purses his lips.

“Sorry,” Jim says. “I only meant that shirt is tighter in the sleeves: the other one will hurt less to put on.”

Sebastian nods carefully. “I’m not mad; I’m just getting used to you being home,” he says uncomfortably.

Jim pauses and crosses the room to stand before Sebastian. “I’m back for good.”

“I hope so,” the blond says quietly. He looks away as Jim reaches out to squeeze his wrist, but gives a small smile at the touch. Jim returns to picking out clothing of his own which won’t hang off his thin frame.

They eat together awkwardly. Sebastian creates an air of evident dissatisfaction which he directs at his mother; she disregards it.

Jim bows his head over his breakfast and hopes they won’t shout at each other.

They manage not to, but the tension carries over into the car. Mrs Moran is nonchalant about it: when is Sebastian ever not sulking about her parenting after all? Sebastian is irked by her indifference but feels a little wounded by Jim’s calm.

Jim rubs the scar on the back of his skull absently. He’s used to being mistreated, Sebastian supposes. That does not make the blond feel better, but he tries not to scowl in Jim’s direction thereafter.

Mrs Moran allows her driver to help her out of the car then calls to the pair, like children, to follow. Sebastian grits his teeth but Jim just goes with the flow. Sebastian marvels how irrational, anxious, volatile, feral, little Jim can accommodate his mother’s whims so easily.

There was a time when Sebastian would have felt comfortable teasing Jim. Mummy issues. Sebastian does not feel so comfortable with Jim now.

Mrs Moran leads them inside and Sebastian realises with a start that he probably ought try to speed up the return of that comfortable feeling. Someone has been inseminated. Someone is pregnant with their child.

Jim looks back at Sebastian and the blond cannot help but take the slight Irishman’s hand. This moment suddenly seems intensely huge and Sebastian’s going to need to be able to trust Jim if they’re going to get through this.

If that’s even possible.

Jim hesitates to follow Mrs Moran through the next doorway. He holds Sebastian tightly and takes a deep breath.

Sebastian squeezes his hand back. “I’m here,” the blond whispers.

Jim turns his head and looks grateful.

“Boys, stop your dawdling,” Mrs Moran calls.

The couple exchange an uncertain glance then straighten their backs and follow her voice.

They hear the young woman with her before they see her. Sebastian startles at the Irish accent. Jim gives him a bewildered look. ‘Derry?’ he mouths.

Sebastian shrugs and pulls Jim into the room.

Mrs Moran turns and beams at them smugly. The petite woman beside her need say nothing to explain Mrs Moran’s look of triumph.

Jim and Sebastian stare at the young Derry woman, then each other. Jim is visibly stunned; Sebastian feels a little breathless.

Their surrogate regards them with intelligent eyes. Her eyes are dark, her forehead wide and expressive. She is small and slight, with boyish hips, pale skin and black hair.

She is blatantly supposed to look like Jim.

“Thin hips, I know, but it’ll be a C-section,” the dark-haired young woman offers.

Sebastian is lost for words. He dips and kisses Jim’s scalp absently.

Jim does not notice until he feels Sebastian’s soothing touch that the inseminated woman’s likeness to him gave him a thrill of fear. Sebastian’s reassurance reminds Jim just how well the bigger man knows him and the brunet feels a surge of love.

“I couldn’t find a nice Churchtown girl with these looks but she’ll certainly do,” Mrs Moran states casually.

Churchtown is the nearest remotely affluent area to the cesspool Jim is from. He feels lightheaded but Sebastian does not let him go.

The girl looks so nonplussed.

“Aren’t you going to tell us her name?” Sebastian asks pointedly.

Chapter Text

Jim's bony knees are drawn up against his ribs as he malingers frowningly on the couch Sebastian has mistreated. The young Irishwoman his mother in law introduced them to plays on his mind.

She could be carrying his child as easily as Sebastian's own, but Jim cannot help but feel the child will be Sebastian's. Jim has never been good at sports and Sebastian has always been so much fitter, stronger, bigger, even now. It seems natural that evolution would take Sebastian's seed. And besides, the Derry woman -for Jim is struggling to think of her by name- is so like Jim that having a child with her might almost be like having a child with Richard. That much concentrated Jim-ness would be unnatural, explosive.

The thought of Sebastian impregnating a woman, however indirectly, is beginning to torment Jim a little. He knows the insemination is a scheme by Mrs Moran to strengthen his union with Sebastian and perhaps even encourage him, Jim, to stay, but…

The Derry woman is young, and pretty, and hasn't ever hurt Sebastian. She is evidently Sebastian's type physically, the blond has little preference for gender, and one short conversation with her has proved to Jim that whilst Derry might be no criminal mastermind, she is cleverer than Sebastian and oh, how Jim knows the big man likes a wicked intellect.

Jim feels like the evil twin in an entirely new way. Standing the Derry girl beside him was like standing Dorian before his portrait, and Jim is the grotesque painting in this painful analogy. He is the mad, bad, broken bits this young woman does not have.

This woman carrying Seb's baby.

Jim feels sick.

Sebastian has taken less time to process events and knows were he and Jim feeling closer right now Jim might have made some quip about Sebastian's simplified view of the world and lacking the grasp of complex emotions.

As it is Sebastian has spent minutes watching unhappiness tighten Arty's face as the aged brat evidently has a bout of insecurity and self-loathing. Sebastian reprehensibly soaks in the sight for wicked moments, feeling some sort of vindication for the hurt Jim has caused him with his long absence.

Feeling guilt and a little irritation at himself for enjoying Jim's suffering (but not too much, because Jim fucking hurt him), Sebastian pushes away from the breakfast bar and sits down beside his brunet.

“Stop it,” Sebastian commands.

Jim looks up at the bigger man quickly and thinks better of denying his actions. The blond would not appreciate the lie.

“It'll be fine,” Jim responds flatly.

“It will be fine,” Sebastian growls. He bumps the smaller man with his shoulder. “I'm not going to run off with some pregnant child my mother obtained from nowhere.”

“Ireland isn't nowhere,” Jim mumbles.

“And I'm loyal to you above all else, so stop worrying about this girl,” Sebastian counters.

Jim chews his lip. “She'd be a cleaner option; less baggage-”

“Because carrying a baby for money is the sort of job you get if you don't have baggage?” Sebastian sneers. “Besides, I don't want an easy, clean little life. I want you. I want you and all the crazy, messy chaos of us.”

The way Jim's shoulders loosen suggests he is somewhat mollified by Sebastian's assertion. Yet his dark eyes remain unhappy. “Maybe you should choose her,” the brunet whispers. “She might be better for you. And I'm sure you'd like her.”

“Fuck off,” Sebastian snaps. “I'd take a bullet for you. Who is she? The mother of our jellybean? You are more to me than she could ever be.”

“'Our jellybean',” Jim repeats in an odd voice.

Sebastian's anger abates a little. He swallows and says gruffly, “Yeah, well that's what it is now, isn't it? About the size of a jellybean? And I'm only interested in it because it's ours.”

Jim's forehead wrinkles but it is a different sort of consternation than before. “We have a jellybean,” he mutters.

Sebastian pokes his partner's thin ribs gently. “I thought I was the slow one?”

Jim swats the big man's shoulder absently. Sebastian catches Jim's small wrist and the brunet looks up into serious blue eyes.

“You are my family,” Sebastian declares. “You are my priority. If you don't want this-”

“No child of ours is growing up unloved,” Jim states quickly.

Sebastian tugs Jim's slim wrist until the brunet finds himself against the big man's chest. “So you want this? You want to have a baby with me?”

“The baby already exists,” Jim mutters into Sebastian's clavicle. His breath on the big man's skin stirs something within Sebastian.

“Yes, but you still get a choice. There are other options. You get to decide whether-”

“I want this baby with you,” Jim blurts. He looks surprised at himself.

Sebastian chuckles. “You're supposed to be the rational one. You're not even going to draw up a pros and cons list?”

“You're my husband,” Jim says shakily. “I want your baby. It's part of you.”

“It's our baby and I want it to bring more of your mess and insanity into our lives,” Sebastian responds. “I want it to be little, and darkhaired, with a cute nose, and correcting my pronunciation when you make me read massive science textbooks to it. And the kid holding up a magnifying glass so I can read all the corrections you've scribbled in the margins.”

Jim chuckles softly. Sebastian looks at him, smiles, and curls his bandaged arms warmly around Jim’s slim frame. “What?” the blond purrs softly, looking amused. “You like the sound of that?”

“Why aren’t you talking me out of this?” Jim asks softly.

Sebastian’s gaze flickers. “I’ve been without you for too long. I want as much of you as I can get. I… I want a family with you.”

“You are my family,” Jim mutters fiercely, eyes downcast guiltily.

Sebastian looks odd. “Don’t you forget it,” he growls before dipping his head down to claim Jim’s chapped lips in a possessive kiss. Jim flinches in surprise but swiftly pulls Sebastian down by the neck, dragging the bigger man closer still.

“Love you,” Jim gasps breathily against Sebastian’s golden stubble.

“Yeah. I know you do,” Sebastian says with something like his old confidence.

Jim grins softly. He digs his short nails into Seb’s shoulders encouragingly.

Sebastian moves to place kisses along Jim’s jaw, ear and neck. “Feeling quite fond of you. All this stuff’s doing things to my head.”

Jim squirms and wraps his fingers in Sebastian’s loose clothing. “I can tell,” he pants. “What’s your point?”

Sebastian gives a guilty, dirty little laugh and bucks his hips gently. “This is my point. Do you want to..?”

Jim stills, expression torn. “I thought you didn’t..?”

Sebastian flushes a bit. “We’re having a baby. I want to feel closer to you…”

Jim wants to take his clothes off instantly in answer to that, but holds off. “are… Are you sure?”

Sebastian lowers his gaze for a moment and focuses on taking a deep breath. He ignores the sick feeling in his gut and reluctantly considers the desperate way his body seems to crave intimacy with Jim. “I want us to be okay,” Sebastian says thickly.

Jim reaches around for Sebastian's hands and squeezes the big man's scarred knuckles. “Me too, but we don't have to rush...” The brunet breaks off and shrugs awkwardly, arousal clear on his face. “I'll wait for you. I can wait. If you're not ready I mean. You waited long enough for me. I...”

“Stop talking,” Sebastian says. “Please.” He meets Jim's wavering gaze. “I miss you. I've REALLY missed you. And I just… We're going to have a baby. I want to feel close to you.”

Jim swallows and kisses one of Seb's huge hands. The skin's a lot rougher and more neglected than it used to be. Jim sighs, “There's things we can do to be close that don't involve sex, Seb...”

Sebastian pulls back a touch. “You… You still want me, right?” he asks bleakly.

Jim leans closer instantly. “Of course I want you!”

Sebastian looks unusually insecure. “Then why-?”

“Sebby, I just don't want to rush you. I've put you through hell,” Jim apologises.

The big blond juts out his lower jaw. “But you're… You're not going to keep doing that, are you? You're… you're staying now.”

“Tiger...” Jim says sadly. He forcefully takes Sebastian's face in his and stares intently at the taller man. “Seb, darling, I am never going anywhere without you ever again if I can help it.”

“Promise?” Sebastian mutters. He feels a bit stupid for asking but he feels more desperate for the reassurance.

“Promise.” Jim pecks Sebastian's temple. “I'm going to get you your medicine and then I'm taking you upstairs, okay? I'm going to give you all the attention you need.”

Sebastian glances at the clock and realises the action is something he stopped doing when Jim was gone. Time did not feel real without him.

Jim rises from the couch slowly, petting Sebastian's face in tender reassurance before stepping over to the kitchen area. The brunet fills a glass with water and carries over Seb's painkillers.

Sebastian revels at the oddly nostalgic feeling of having Jim care for him. The smaller man watches him intently and Sebastian can feel the care in the attention. The blond also expects an ulterior motive: this interlude is a distraction, surely.

“Please,” Sebastian says. He is uncertain exactly what he is asking.

Jim seems to understand regardless, unsurprisingly. He steps forward to move the glass away then leads Sebastian by the hand.

“We don't have to do anything you're not ready for,” Jim says, “but I am taking you to bed and I am going to hold you. You deserve my attention, okay?”

Sebastian feels stupid, but Jim has pinpointed his vulnerability. The big blond nods and allows himself to be guided upstairs.

Jim manoeuvres Sebastian onto the bed and slowly climbs alongside him as unthreateningly as he can. Sebastian puts an awkward hand upon Jim's frame, his arm bent at an uncomfortable angle to keep pressure off of his torn forearm.

“Do you want to snuggle?” Jim asks kindly.

Sebastian shakes his head. “I want...” He sighs, feeling weak, and meets his husband's eyes reluctantly. “I want us to fuck.”

Jim nods slowly. “Do you want me to get a belt?”

Sebastian swallows. He shakes his head. “I don't want… I'm not ready to… No angry sex today, please. I'm… I know I'm mad at you, but I'm not ready to… I'm not ready for that.”

“You don't want to punish me?” Jim asks dubiously.

Sebastian picks at his bandages uneasily. “I do. I'm… I'm so, so mad at you. But I… I've missed you, you cunt. I want… I want to be close to you.”

Jim runs a hand gently over Sebastian's deflated chest. “If… If you want to take me slowly this time, that's fine. I won't… I won't presume it means we're okay.”

“I want us to be okay.” Sebastian chews his lip before meeting Jim's gaze again. “And I also… I want you to take me. Please. Jim.”

Jim sits back. “Do you trust me?” he asks frankly.

Sebastian shrugs. “Mostly,” he says. “I want to. I miss you.”

Jim kisses him. “I missed you too. I will, if you're sure you want me to.”

Seb swallows and looks at his knuckles. “I want you to put me on my back and obliterate any thoughts I have about anything else. I want to feel like yours again for a bit.”

Jim bravely takes Sebastian's chin. “Tiger. You're mine forever if you want to be. I'm not going anywhere.”

Sebastian looks surprisingly close to tears. He kisses Jim's fingers and looks away. “Just… Just lie to me and tell me everything's going to be okay, please? Make me feel okay, just for a little while?”

Jim's heart twists. “Look at me,” he commands ferociously.

Sebastian obeys in startled silence.

“Me and you are going to be just fine,” Jim asserts. “We're going to get past all of this… nightmare, because we love each other, and we're married -whether you're wearing your ring or not- and because we are devoted to each other.”

Sebastian gives a small, unconvinced nod. Jim continues, “We have a jellybean on the way, and we're going to spend the time between then and now working on being a functional couple again. You are NEVER going to be alone again, Seb. I promise. I'm so sorry for everything and you're going to be okay. We're going to be okay.”

Sebastian nods again shakily.

Jim pats the big man's thigh gently. “Get undressed. I'm going to make love to you. It's been far too long.”

“Thanks for coming home,” Sebastian whispers. Jim covers his lips in a loving kiss.

Chapter Text

Sebastian stretches out and regards his surroundings with a soft bewilderment as his sleepy brain tries to remind him that he got laid last night for the first time in a long, long, long time.

Jim gives him a gentle, slightly worried smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Claimed,” Sebastian says quietly. “Good.”

“You're alright?” Jim presses.

The blond nods slowly. “There will be time for angry sex later. In our future.” Sebastian looks playful. “Before the night feeds start.”

Jim rolls his eyes although he feels a shiver of excited foreboding. “I meant are you sore?”

“Mostly just aching muscles,” Sebastian says. Dryly he admits, “I haven't had as much exercise in a while.”

Jim snort. “Yeah, well, evidently.”

His big blond gives him a glower in response but there is no malice in it.

“Anyway,” Jim says, “I was waking you to get you to have this.”

Sebastian sits up straighter and observes the bowl Jim has placed beside him on the bedside table. The blond had disregarded it as a cereal bowl he had left out, but it's not.

Jim has cut up watermelon into small pieces. The length of steel protruding from the bowl is a dessert fork, not a spoon.

Watermelon was one of the first things Sebastian managed to persuade Jim to eat after the darkhaired teen had been repeatedly stabbed all those years ago.

“If you eat I can give you your pain pills,” Jim says with a neutral evenness to his voice that tells Sebastian the former whore absolutely does remember the connection.

Sebastian nods quietly, knowing better than to say anything, but he lets a telling look light his eyes briefly. Jim looks away and fidgets with the medication packaging.

“Eat,” the Irishman scolds.

Sebastian pulls the bowl to his chest and picks up the fork. “Yes, Boss.”

Jim's fussing fingers freeze and instantly desist rustling the blister pack's broken foil. That nickname had made a return last night.

During their intimate moments.

Jim climbs back onto the bed and slips his head under the cool bowl to rest against Sebastian's hip. The brunet is not heavy and the bigger man enjoys the slight, warm weight. Jim does not move away when Sebastian finishes eating the fruit, merely holding up the tablets and listening to Sebastian's chest as water sloshes audibly down the big man's throat.

Sebastian puts the glass aside and drapes an arm gingerly over his husband. “You're being rather clingy,” the blond mentions carefully.

Jim half raises his head. “So were you last night,” he mumbles defensively.

Sebastian shrugs. “I've got you back from the dead. And we're expecting a baby.”

Jim mimics Sebastian's gesture. “I'm back home with my husband, and we're expecting a baby,” the Irishman counters.

Sebastian runs a tender hand over Jim's face and toys with what's left of the aging brat's messy hair. “I like it,” the big man comments.

Jim hugs Sebastian's bare thigh shyly. “I love you.”

Sebastian's gaze flickers. The phrase still makes him feel uneasy, nervous after their long separation, but he gives the small man a kiss. “I love you too, brat.”

Jim looks up and grins. “Are you still going to call me that when the jellybean's here?”

“The jellybean's going to be well-behaved,” Sebastian smirks. “It's only going to be half as naughty as its Daddy.”

Jim snorts and rolls his eyes. “You want to ask your Mam if you're the good one? Because I think she might correct you.”

“You want to go for your shower?” Sebastian warns, “because I thought you were enjoying snuggling in.”

Jim giggles and clings harder to Sebastian. “Okay, okay, I'll be good.”

The big blond wriggles further down the bed and pulls Jim against his chest. “Sooner my arms heal the sooner we can spoon comfortably,” Sebastian mutters.

Jim grins. “Remind me who's clingy?”

“Shut up and let me sleep,” Sebastian counters. “Some of us are old and need time to recover.”

“You need me in your arms to sleep, do you?” Jim teases. He makes no effort to move away.

“Damn right I do,” Sebastian retorts, squeezing Jim tighter although his eyes are already closed. “Wake me when I need my next dose.”

Jim kisses the big man's chest. “Sure, Tiger.”

Seb smiles and soon falls back asleep. Jim curls up against the bigger man contentedly.

Eventually Sebastian shifts and Jim looks at him attentively. “Tiger? It's not time for your medicine; you can still sleep.”

“Just need to pee,” the blond explains. He is uncertain how to process how relaxed he feels back with Jim again.

“Alright, darling,” Jim responds, unaware of Seb's confusion. He gives the bigger man a kiss before allowing Sebastian to wriggle out from underneath him.

Jim waits until Sebastian pushes the bathroom door half-heartedly closed before the brunet leans across the bed to reach for his phone. Jim stabs in a 'C' and scrolls down his contacts list.

'Have a proposition for you,' Jim types.

The Crocodile's response is prompt. 'Propositions from dead men do draw an old woman's attention, Lazarus.'

'I was thinking retirement must be far too boring for a sharp mind such as yours,' Jim continues.

'Goodness, your Mummy must have peppered your bottom much more thoroughly than she alluded to me. Are you grounded, little man?'

Jim flushes blotchily, a sudden knot twisting in his stomach. Mrs Moran had suggested she knew his previous employer, but had not suggested she knew her well enough to discuss Jim's recent trip over his Mammy's knees.

Jim is quite lost for words for a moment. He stares at his now dark phone screen with a soft frown and imagines Mrs Moran gossiping with The Crocodile over high tea about him.

She was probably complaining about his stupidity. Jim's tummy flips some more and he tries not to think about Mrs Moran possibly venting about giving him a 'good talking to' and a sore bottom. If he thinks too hard about it he might have to examine why instead of mere embarrassment Jim also feels oddly pleased and validated.

Mam was talking about him. She was thinking about him when he wasn't there. It feels good, despite the humiliating circumstances.

Jim wishes the woman had reason to be proud of him.

'I'm not grounded,' Jim messages weakly.

'Is your proposition going to get you a paddling from your Mummy's hairbrush?'

Jim squirms and is glad he can hear Sebastian brushing his teeth, a sign the big man is occupied and won't immediately return to question the blush staining Jim's cheeks still.

'I'm a grown man,' the brunet types back a little petulantly, 'and I'm going to want some paternity leave. Can you step in to help manage some things or not?'

'Just because congratulations are in order doesn't mean I won't punish that poor attitude of yours, little man,' The Crocodile warns.

Jim's ears are still red when Sebastian returns. The blond eyes Jim dubiously. “What have you been upto?”

Jim texts back a response quietly before sheepishly rising his gaze to Sebastian. “Work stuff.”

Sebastian's chiselled jaw tenses. “Work can make you blush that colour, can it?”

Jim freezes. “Sebby...” he sighs.

“Don't 'Sebby' me,” replies Sebastian sounding more hurt than angered. “You said you'd be honest with me.”

Jim strides over to Sebastian and holds out his phone, the screen lit with his most recent conversation. “And you've got nothing to be worried about, Sebastian. I was talking to our former employer and discovered she gets on well enough with our mother to discuss… well, you can read it,” Jim trails off in evident embarrassment.

Sebastian frowns and takes Jim's phone. Broad shoulders relax as Seb reads through the exchange. “Oh,” he says.

Jim swallows. “Yes, so that just happened.”

Sebastian puts an arm around Jim. “Hey, at least you still look young. I'm in my forties and I'm still getting it when I upset Mum.”

“Because she loves you,” Jim mumbles.

“And because she's mental,” Sebastian pouts. He uses his free hand to smooth Jim's dark hair. “You know she loves you too, yeah?”

Jim nods. “I like that she… you know, feels like she can, like she's my mam, it's just… S'a bit embarrassing that she talks about it to The bloody Crocodile, you know?”

Sebastian chuckles softly and kisses the top of Jim's warm scalp. “Least it wasn't a taxi driver, eh?”

Jim snorts despite himself and gives Seb's big chest a shove. “Prick.”

“Mm, yours,” Sebastian says calmly. “So… Paternity leave?”

Jim dips his eyes for a moment. “Well, I'm going to be busy, amn't I? We both are.”

“Quite a lot of strings to give to someone else,” Sebastian muses.

“You managed,” Jim says, “and she's-”

“Much cleverer than me?” Sebastian says archly.

“Not grieving me,” Jim says carefully.

“I didn't manage very well,” Sebastian reminds him.

“You managed spectacularly, considering the state of you,” Jim points out.

“Mm, well here's hoping I take to parenthood better,” Sebastian sighs.

Jim snickers. “You don't think you got in enough practise with me?”

Sebastian cannot help but laugh. “Oh God, you could be such a brat. Your teenaged tantrums were truly something, sweetheart.”

Jim leans up on his tiptoes and pulls Sebastian down by the neck. He kisses the tiny scar on the blond's forehead. “You were amazing when I almost blew your brains out for letting me kiss you. No kid's going to be able to get the best of you.”

Sebastian chuckles softly then looks thoughtful. “Jim? I don't think I want to smack our kid. It'd be weird because I smack you. And whenever you smack me it… you know, it leads to the bedroom.”

“I smack you for the fun of it,” Jim agrees, momentarily forgetting it has been years since he was so comfortable with his husband's body. “I don't want to be like that as a parent. My dad...”

“Yeah, I don't want to be anything like mine either,” says Sebastian.

Jim nods. He is quiet for a moment. “Tiger?”

Sebastian looks down. “Yeah, Kitten?”

Jim flushes even harder at the much-missed use of his pet name. “Um, for the record, Seb… I like it when you spank me.”

Sebastian chuckles and takes Jim's wrist almost shyly. “I'm not ready to properly punish you, but if you want me to blush those cheeks, mo chroí, I can do that...”

Jim squirms and presses closer into Sebastian's chest, his consent brushing against the bigger man's body. “Yes please,” the brunet mumbles.

Sebastian gently pulls the smaller man back towards the bed and sits down, placing the phone on the floor. Jim stares at the scarred 'J' peeking out from beneath the soft, golden leg hair of Sebastian's bare thigh.

The big man grasps both of Jim's bony wrists. “I'll give you the sore bottom you asked for on one condition,” Sebastian states.

Jim wonders how he can maintain his arousal when his face feels so hot. “Wh- What's your terms?”

Sebastian trails his fingers teasingly over Jim's naked bum. “Once I've got this little arse hot and pink and sore, sweetheart, I'm going to pin you down, spread these cheeks, and make you mine again. Seem fair?”

“Christ, I've missed you,” Jim blurts as he dives forwards to take a kiss.

Chapter Text

Jim is curled tightly around Sebastian's chest, one leg hooked around the bigger man's middle and the other twined with Sebastian's nearest leg. Jim's thin, little fingers have a death grip on the pieces of metal at the end of Sebastian's chain.

Part of Sebastian feels weak for succumbing to his feelings for the exasperating little Irishman but he also has no regrets about their lovemaking.

He's missed Jim. He loves Jim. It almost feels that simple.

Sebastian tightens the arm slung carefully across Jim's shoulder's. The small man's body is all angles and dips. Jim's shoulderblades protrude sharply and his spine is a path of round nubs which in the morning light cast Stegosaurus shadows down his lower back.

Jim's current physical frailty cements in Sebastian's mind the fact that Jim did not disappear out of mere caprice and did not revel in their time apart. Sebastian's own body had sickened and wasted away over the hard years as though echoing the mere bones he thought Jim must surely be after that hellish stunt with the Beretta.

Sebastian sighs and mouths Jim's ear. “It's time we ate, Kitten. You need fattened up.”

The slight man stirs with a small frown and clenches Sebastian's wedding ring tighter. “I'll bring it to you,” Jim yawns. “You rest.”

“I can manage,” Sebastian responds. He kisses Jim's forehead and eases out from beneath the man.

Jim tugs Sebastian's jewellery lightly. “Lie down. You're still supposed to be recovering. I'll get you your breakfast and your tablets.”

Sebastian gives a soft smile and tries to leer as he reaches out to pat Jim's bare bottom. “Trust me, pet, I'm going to be offended if you can stand after what I did to you last night.”

Jim blushes a little and grins. “I've missed you,” he cannot help but say.

“I've missed you too,” Sebastian replies honestly. He pries Jim's grip from his chain and blows a casual kiss before lumbering downstairs.

'Tiger' is left imprinted in the skin of Jim's palm. The brunet stares at the writing before giving the word a kiss and lying back down. He closes his eyes and inhales the scent of Sebastian's pillow.

Sebastian rubs his bandages as he heads downstairs and into the kitchen area. His arms ache heavily and there is now a frustrating prickle at the edges of his wounds where the scabs are oldest. The deepest gouges are still weeping sores in the middle and have leaked a little through the gauze.

The blond reluctantly acknowledges the bandages will need changed today. He hates getting the wounds wet: the weak tan-red scabs moisten to disgusting blobs of mush which look eager to be wiped away and sting like hell if he tries to.

Food first though. He bloody needs those painkillers.

Sebastian moves around the kitchen feeling blessed despite the pain. Padding around making breakfast is a familiar dance of opening each cupboard and drawer in a particular order which he finds soothing to his soul. The steady repetition of domesticity reinforces the fact that Arty is home and things are approaching something which might one day again feel normal.

Sebastian fills a tray with his pills and the breakfast things. He carries it upstairs and gives a warm, shy smile to Jim. Considering the way Sebastian handled the smaller man last night, his smile is surprisingly coy.

Jim understands Sebastian's wariness. “I'm not going to take it for granted that everything's okay just because you're touching me now,” the brunet says softly.

“I did more than touch you last night,” Sebastian says wryly as he places down the tray.

Jim grins, embarrassed and pleased. He does not look his age at all with that expression. Sebastian is vividly reminded of the bratty street urchin Jim once was.

The Irishman blinks at Sebastian's prolonged gaze. “What?” Jim asks.

“Just love you, is all,” Sebastian answers. He flops down on the bed and pulls crockery from the tray to pass to Jim. “Now let's eat.”

Jim swings a leg over Sebastian's and smiles as he accepts the food. “Thank you.”

Sebastian gives him a sidelong smirk. “You using your manners? You?”

Jim chuckles and nudges the bigger man gently with a bony shoulder. “I'm a grown up now.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “You looked like a grown up with my red hand prints all over your little arse last night.”

Jim pouts. “My fine arse you mean.”

Sebastian grins and pushes Jim's breakfast closer to the Irishman's clever mouth. “It means it needs fattening up like the rest of you, now eat.”

Jim takes a bite and maintains pointed eye contact as he chews. Swallowing, he comments, “I'm not the only one who got skinny. You're on steak and chicken and eggs and dairy until I say otherwise.”

Sebastian wrinkles his nose in amusement. “Like that's a chore,” he scoffs then tucks into his own breakfast.

Jim smiles and wolfs down the rest of his food before cracking open Sebastian's painkillers. “Maybe not, but speaking of things you don't like: those bandages need changed, darling.”

Sebastian groans. Jim's lips twitch as he gets a sudden glimpse of what the blond must surely have been like as a surly teenager.

“Now, now, Tiger, you don't want a reminder of what my red hand prints feel like across your bum, do you?” the brunet teases.

Sebastian's stomach flutters and he grins, pecking Jim's cheek before diving out of bed. “Have to catch me first!”

Jim lets out a brilliant, clear laugh. “Sebastian Moran don't you make me give you an early bedtime...”

Sebastian smirks. “Can't catch me, old man.”

Jim's eyes sparkle. “Sebby, love, you're going to be sorry you said that...”

Sebastian winks. “Only if you don't catch me.”

Jim puts the breakfast dishes aside and throws a pillow at his lover as a distraction before diving after him.

It doesn't take long before Sebastian is wrestled to the ground but Jim is pretty sure the big man is letting him win. Especially since Jim is being so careful with Seb's injured arms.

All the same, they're both panting pretty heavily. Eyes aglow, they stare at each other and grin raggedly beneath flushed cheeks.

Sebastian bucks his hips lightly and raises his brows. “So, you gonna punish me or what?”

Jim runs his short nails lightly down Seb's naval. The big man shudders.

“What did you have in mind?” Jim asks.

Sebastian feigns wide-eyed submission. “We-ell I might let you do anything you want...”

Jim swallows. “Do you really mean that?”

Sebastian's expression flickers at the seriousness in Jim's tone. “What did you have in mind?” the blond asks with a dry mouth.

Jim swallows and ponders soberly the potential fallout of his suggestion. “Would you… Would you wear your ring for a bit?” he asks nervously.

Sebastian blinks quickly. “I… was more expecting to get a spanking and give a blowjob,” he says shakily.

Jim swallows, wondering whether to retract his words, but Sebastian slowly reaches up for his chain. The big man thumbs away his dog tags and considers.

“I… I'm not ready to put it back on properly,” Sebastian admits, “but… I can… Um, I'm willing to wear it at bedtimes. If… if you'd like?”

Jim feels tears prick his eyes. “If you would like to.”

Sebastian nods tightly, suddenly needing to close shining eyes, and pulls Jim close, ignoring how his damaged arms protest. The big man nods against Jim's neck, hot tears marking the Irishman's skin.

“I love you,” Jim declares.

“I love you too, Jim Moran,” Sebastian whispers. Jim kisses his scalp.

The pair are different with each other for the rest of the day, and when Mrs Moran drops in that afternoon she notices it. She says nothing about the delicate tension in the air and instead offers a pair of tablets without preamble.

“I've synchronised a list of appropriate baby names and pulled up some tabs on respectable name forums,” the woman announces.

The boys take the tablets and drop down on the couch. Sebastian gives Jim a sidelong glance. “My vote is for 'Jellybean'.”

Jim chuckles warmly.

Chapter Text

To Sebastian's exasperation his mother has been making constant excuses to let herself into the apartment at Conduit Street. Her obsession with all things baby-related would have one forgiven for thinking the baby was her's.

It's bad enough that she fast-forwarded the natural process of Sebastian and Jim deciding they wanted a baby and going through normal -or perhaps slightly criminal- means to achieve such a thing. Sebastian certainly wants a damned sight more control over preparing for the Jellybean.

And the bint can take her bony arse right to hell if she thinks she's riding roughshod over any plans he and Jim determine over how to raise the baby.

Naturally, Jim is not at all sympathetic to Sebastian's disgruntled state. The little Irishman is of course delighted to be in Mrs Moran's company because he's a goddamned mummy's boy and loves the fussing.

Which Sebastian understands. Honestly he does. And he doesn't really object to Jim having such a good time or such a strong relationship with the infuriating woman. Jim is welcome to all the familial bonding he can get, as far as Sebastian is concerned. It makes the overgrown waif happy.

It is however driving Sebastian entirely barmy.

He's been pacing like a wild animal for days, baring his teeth and trying not to snarl above a mutter. The blond is trying his best not to make a scene, but everything about his mother's overbearing nature grinds on his nerves.

It doesn't stop at the baby preparations either. She's so far scolded him for his appearance; demeanour; eating habits; irregularity of painkiller dosage; his 'ridiculous, childish fussing' over changing his bandages; and what feels like a hundred other unfair slights.

She also refuses to acknowledge that Sebastian is a full grown man, damn it. If she touches her handbag pointedly one more time -alluding to the paddle brush within, naturally- he might just commit matricide, and fuck all the promises Sebastian made to Jim about never going to prison again.

It occurs to Sebastian that he's quite reached as far as he dares to his snapping point. He fetches outer wear and snatches up his painkillers from the coffee table his interfering bitch of a mother has covered with new baby paraphernalia.

Jim gives the blond a vaguely concerned look.

“I'm going out,” Sebastian grumbles. He does his best not to snap, but he can hear the shameful tightness in his voice. He clenches his hands upon hearing it.

Jim understands. “Be safe,” he says. 'I'll text you when your mum's gone,' his eyes say.

Sebastian nods tersely and tries to give his partner a warm look before escaping to the lift. He pointedly ignores what his mother calls after him.

It occurs to Sebastian once he is on the ground floor that he doesn't actually have any plan beyond getting away from his mother. He sighs and pulls out his phone.

“You still on leave?” he opens without preamble.

Severin chuckles sympathetically. “Mum doing your head in?”

Sebastian grunts in agreement.

“Come over,” Severin says. “I'll get you drunk.”

Sebastian's lips press together. He'd quite heavily lapsed back into alcoholism after Jim's 'death'. Since the brunet's return Sebastian hasn't really touched the stuff.

Severin understands without needing an explanation. “Sociably drunk,” he specifies. “I won't let you get up to any nonsense.”

“With you soon,” Sebastian says, and ends the call.

Severin is straight-backed and smiling empathetically when he opens the door. Sebastian feels a wave of relief. He doesn't have to balance his resentments towards his mother with allowances for Jim's mummy issues here. Severin grew up with their brittle dam. He understands.

“Breathe,” says Severin.

Sebastian gives a shaky chuckle and does as his twin says. “She's driving me around the bend, Sev.”

Severin steps aside to allow his brother entry. “Of course she is. That's what she does,” he agrees.

Sebastian waits for Severin to close the heavy door behind him then trots alongside the big man into Severin's lounge. There aren't many hallways which can accommodate both Moran brothers walking astride, but Severin is far from poor and he refuses to live in central London.

Severin bypasses his drinks cabinet and steps through the glass double doors bisecting the living space. He pulls two beers from the fridge as Seb follows. Severin gives his twin a small, reassuring twitch of his facial muscles -no heavy alcohol here, look- and opens the bottles.

Sebastian accepts his gratefully. “I'm sure Jim must think I'm being a drama queen,” he mutters with a frown into the neck of his chilled beer.

Severin clasps him on the arm and does his best not to tense his jaw at how strikingly noticeable it is that Sebastian's weight loss makes them easy to tell apart. There haven't been many times when this has been the case: the time Seb got his facial scars and when they were losing their milk teeth are the only other times that jump to Severin's memory.

“Don't worry about it,” the soldier tells his brother. “He has no idea what she used to be like. She was a terror. And he's her favourite. Can hardly blame him for not seeing her true colours.”

Sebastian sighs and takes a drink. “I don't know if I'm being unfair. Maybe I was just a brat back then and she hasn't mellowed; I've just grown up and she isn't as harsh because she doesn't have to be? I don't know...”

Severin squeezes Sebastian firmly. “Not a chance,” he reassures his brother. “She was a harpy when we were growing up whether we behaved or not. Her claws have dulled in old age, is all.”

As Sebastian chews this over Severin nudges him towards a couch. Sebastian sits and unlaces his boots one-handedly as his brother flops down beside him.

“Do you think it is just old age?” Sebastian asks. “How much do you think the Rawdon thing affected her?”

Severin swigs from his bottle as he considers. At last he says, “I don't know. All that really highlighted for me was how little we knew her.”

“And Rawdon,” adds Sebastian. “I always thought he was so bloody perfect.”

“Same,” snorts Severin. He takes another drink and considers his words carefully. “He came by when… When you were in the hospital.”

“What?”

Severin shifts his weight and explains, “You were too out of it on meds at the time but I got to exchange a few words with him. It was… surreal.”

“Is he happy?” Sebastian asks.

Severin grimaces. “Hard to tell with the nick you were in at the time, but… I think he's happy in his life. Made the right choice getting away from Dad and all that. Said he missed you though. Gave me a hug.”

“You coulda told me this before you know,” Sebastian points out mildly.

Severin chortles. “Fuckin' when? Soon as you were discharged your dead wife turns up then all of a sudden you're having a baby. Congratulations again, by the way.”

Sebastian clinks bottles with his twin fondly. “Us Morans, we don't do anything by halves.”

“Except the size of your tiny Irishman. And your weight. We're gymming it together whilst I'm on leave. You look ill, bruv.”

Sebastian presses his lips together and holds his bandaged arms up grimly. “No lifting, no punching, no curling, no pushups… nothing. Physio's in a few weeks.”

“I did notice the way you're holding that bottle,” Severin says. “Your poor bloody tendons. You really did a number on them.”

Sebastian flexes his free fingers slowly. “Least I've got movement in them, even if it's not like before.”

“You gonna be able to shoot a gun again?” Severin asks. He's already spoken to the hospital about his brother's future fine motor skills but doctors rarely grasp the extent of Sebastian's tenacious spirit.

“Managed to work my hands well enough to slick my husband so I might be alright,” Sebastian says dryly. More seriously he adds, “Might need to get some of the stiffer triggers customised if not all my strength comes back.”

Severin laughs brightly. “Ah Seb, you just tell your missus you need to borrow his wee arse for physio. You'll be able to do the riverdance with your fingers in no time.”

Sebastian grins softly. He says seriously, “Might be pushing it a bit, for now. It's only been a few days since, you know...”

Severin nods wisely. “That's understandable,” he says. “Give yourselves time. You don't have to fix things immediately.”

Sebastian finishes his bottle. “We've got a baby on the way in less than eight months.”

“Most people can't remember anything before they're three: you've got plenty of time to work things out,” Severin reassures.

Sebastian nods then chuckles. “Fuck, I hope it doesn't take three years.”

“Not with those fingers, Mr Lover Lover,” Severin teases.

Sebastian laughs and kicks his brother lightly. “Bugger off.”

Severin rolls his eyes. “Some of us only like buggering girls.”

“Some of us only like being buggered by girls, is what I heard,” Sebastian smirks.

Severin laughs and hits his twin with a cushion their mother picked out. “Shut it, ya prick,” Severin orders. His ears are pink.

“What's the most recent one called? Irene? Or is that just the name of the girl wearing it?” Sebastian mocks playfully.

“I'm not drunk enough for this conversation,” Severin mutters and stands. He takes his brother's empty bottle and fetches fresh ones from the kitchen.

“Is it serious?” Sebastian asks.

Severin gives his big brother a look which clearly says, 'We are not talking about this yet.' “Not as serious as having a wee babby. We should be wetting the baby's head.”

“That accent's fucking racist,” Sebastian points out without much annoyance.

“We hail from Southern Ireland same as your wife: it's not racist,” Severin smirks. His face turns considered. “Not racist like Dad anyhow. Nothing-in-it racist.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “Be nice, kid.”

“My missus wouldn't drug us all and kidnap us, is all I'm saying...”

Sebastian scoffs. “I might have been in some state for the past few months but I've head some talk between you and Richard. I'm not putting anything of the sort past your Irene.”

Severin rolls his eyes. He picked the mannerism up from Sebastian. “My missus might be able to give Mum a run for her money one day. You don't want me to tell her to cross you off our Christmas card list.”

Sebastian snickers and hides his lips behind the glass bottleneck. “Exactly, so I'm not the only Moran lad who gets a sore arse.”

Severin shakes his head as he chuffs out a soft laugh. “Fine,” he says as he clinks bottles with his brother, “but at least my wrists aren't too butchered for a good pair of handcuffs.”

Sebastian almost spills his beer he laughs so hard.

It's late when Sebastian lets himself back into home. Mrs Moran is thankfully gone but Jim purses his lips as he takes in Sebastian's inebriated state.

“You're supposed to be on medication,” the brunet chides.

“I am on m-uh, meditation,” Sebastian slurs with a soft frown, “s'why it's hit me so hard. Sev wouldn't let me drink much.”

“Your brother's not supposed to be the sensible one,” Jim mutters. He doesn't mention the dishonourable discharge. “Have you had all your doses?”

“Yeah; he made me count,” Sebastian says. He fishes the crumbled box clumsily from his pocket and shows Jim the broken foil.

Jim counts the empty spaces and nods. “Alright. A pint of water for you, a pee, and then you're going to bed.”

“I don't have daddy issues,” Sebastian mumbles and fumbles his way towards the sink.

“What are you on about?” Jim humours him.

“Daddy issues.” Sebastian pours a glass of water then looks at Jim. Water drips down his sleeve disregarded. “Sev said I've got daddy issues because I like being bossed about and loved. So I can't tease you about Mum.”

“Your brother's hardly without tastes of his own,” Jim says wryly. “Don't worry about it.”

“Me and Sev are quite similar, I think,” Sebastian muses. He catches Jim's smirk. “Not like that. Like twins: no. But like… as people. Same experiences shaping how we think, you know?”

Jim leans on the breakfast bar. “That's reasonable.”

“Do you think Rawdon likes being bossed about?” Sebastian muses.

“What?”

“Rawdon.” Sebastian peers at his husband. “Did you know he'd come to the hospital to see me?”

“You told me you'd dreamed about him. You were a bit confused at the time,” Jim answers.

Sebastian rubs his face. “I don't remember,” he admits. “But Sev said he came and it got me thinking about it.”

“Your family love you,” Jim says.

Sebastian considers. “Yes. I'm lucky.”

Jim makes a playful face. “We-ell I did meet Augusta. Maybe a slight exaggeration.”

Sebastian laughs. “I'm glad you don't like her.”

Jim's lips twitch. “Why?” he asks.

“Because she's more like what my parents wanted me to be like. And you like my mum. I'm glad you don't want me to be like what she likes.”

“Seb, your mum likes me and I'm nothing like 'Gus,” Jim points out.

“True,” Sebastian says thoughtfully.

“Tiger.”

“Mm?”

“Finish that glass,” Jim prompts with a smile.

“Yes, Boss,” Sebastian says agreeably. Afterwards he puts down the pint glass and wipes his wet mouth on his sleeve.

Jim tries not to roll his eyes. “Alright, you. Up to bed.”

Sebastian smiles mildly. “Okay, baby daddy.”

Jim snorts and herds the bigger man out of the kitchen.

“You know what Sev said?” Sebastian comments as Jim guides him upstairs. Jim hums at him absently. Seb continues, “He said, 'Your little scuffle with death was fruitful in disturbing the dead.' You know, like you and Rawdon?”

“Well take a telling and don't go unsettling the dead again,” Jim says.

Sebastian pauses on the step. “Are you mad at me?”

Jim sighs. “No, baby.”

Sebastian allows the smaller man to lead him up the remaining stairs. “You know I love you, right?” the blond confirms.

Jim curls a hand around as much of Sebastian's neck as he can reach and puts pressure there. Sebastian obediently bows his head for a kiss. “Of course I know,” Jim says. “I love you too.”

Sebastian smiles and adds a sloppy kiss to Jim's face. “Good.”

Jim pats Sebastian's bottom. “Now do as Daddy says and go get ready for bed. Pee, wash your hands, and brush your teeth with your toothbrush.”

“Said I didn't have daddy issues,” Sebastian mutters but he toddles off to obey.

Jim gets into bed and listens to the familiar, domestic noise of Seb cleaning his teeth. It's peculiar the things one can miss.

Sebastian returns and Jim's heart jumps with fondness. “You're mine,” the brunet says abruptly. “Don't forget that. You promised.”

Sebastian is not surprised. “Course I know I'm yours.” He pulls off his clothing and joins Jim on the bed. He kisses the brunet firmly then pulls back to meet dark eyes. “I'm yours no matter what.”

Jim's eyes flit to the hands Sebastian puts at the nape of his own broad neck. “What are you doing?”

Sebastian unfastens the chain of his dog tags and slides his wedding band free. It rings out in the quiet room. “It's bedtime,” Sebastian reminds him.

“Whatever issues you think you've got I love you more than anything,” Jim says firmly.

Sebastian gives a half smile and kisses Jim's cheek before tossing the dog tags aside and pulling the little Irishman down onto the mattress. “I know,” Sebastian says comfortably, “and I don't mind, you know? That you like all this stuff with Mum.”

“I'm going to have a baby with you, Seb, how could I not like it?” Jim murmurs.

Sebastian blinks at him. “Oh,” he says.

“'Oh',” Jim mocks. “I might not have been the best at showing it, Seb, but you're my world.”

Sebastian pulls one of Jim's legs over himself. “Goodnight.”

Jim squints at him. “What do you mean, 'goodnight'?”

Sebastian smiles and closes his eyes, holding Jim close. “How do you like it, motherfucker?”

Jim snorts. “Still love you, cunt.”

Sebastian continues to smile smugly but plants a kiss serenely on Jim's scalp.

Chapter Text

“Sebastian?”

It is the concerned, reedy pitch of Jim's ordinarily melodious voice that draws the blond's attention. Sebastian looks over to where the small Irishman is hunched into the corner of the shabby couch. Jim's lips press together tightly.

Sebastian stands and crosses the short distance to the other side of the couch. He drops down before Jim. “What's wrong, swe- uh… sweetheart?” the blond asks. Sebastian presses his own lips together as he stumbles over the pet name and chooses to use it despite how difficult the word still sometimes feels in his mouth.

Jim looks up quickly then back down at his thin wrists as Sebastian speaks. The brunet seems more stressed by the stutter.

Sebastian rests a large hand softly on Jim's arm and squeezes gently. “Hey. Sweetheart. What's on your mind?”

Jim leans in to the contact and shrugs his shoulders tightly. “What if we're awful parents?” he asks.

Sebastian sighs and sits down properly before pulling the smaller man onto his lap. “Why would you think that?”

“I don't know what a good parent is,” Jim points out. “Minus my Gran, who died when I was small, your Mum is the closest I've ever known to one and you grew up hating her.”

Sebastian clenches his jaw for a moment. “She had a lot of things to live up to that aren't relevant to us,” the blond says at last. “We won't have the same pressures. And we know what bad parenting is like. We know what to avoid.”

“Neither of us grew up with parents who got on,” Jim presses warily. “What if..?”

“We'll be fine,” Sebastian asserts. “I'm going to be mad at you for a while, resent you even, but I'm still going to love you. We have a loving relationship. Our kid will come in to a loving relationship.”

Jim hugs the bigger man tightly in relief but still chews his lip nervously. “What if you never forgive me? What if something else hellish happens? What if… What if we end up not a loving couple?”

Sebastian swallows. “Then we never take it out in the kid and we don't let it poison the atmosphere. We… do whatever's best for the kid. Work out custody. Play nice at Christmas. Get along with each other's new partners if it comes to that. The kid comes first.”

Jim looks momentarily shaken by the possibility of new partners but agrees with a nod against Sebastian's shoulder. Thin fingers hold Seb's upper arms tightly.

Sebastian nuzzles the smaller man. “For the record, Arty, I don't want anyone other than you. Even when you were gone I wasn't interested in anybody but you.”

The blond feels Jim's eyes moisten the fabric of his clothing. Sebastian holds the brunet closer. “Are you okay?”

“It's all so fucked up,” Jim mumbles.

“But we're going to be fine,” Sebastian insists.

“I hope so,” Jim whimpers.

Sebastian sighs and pulls back to see the smaller man better. He lifts Jim's chin. “Love like ours might get all tangled up but I won't ever let it get poisonous. Any problems we ever have we'll work them through.”

“Do you know how much I need you?” Jim whispers.

Sebastian gives a strained, self-deprecating chuckle and raises his bound forearms crookedly. “I need you too. Everyone knows I'm a mess without you.”

Jim swallows and kisses one of Sebastian's hands. “We're not adults, Seb. Not properly. I don't think we can do this.”

“You've ran an international crime syndicate, mo chroí, we can figure out a baby,” Sebastian states.

“Can we?” Jim presses.

Sebastian grips the slender Irishman's chin tenderly and kisses Jim firmly. “I believe in us.”

Jim's lashes flutter. “Just… Just stay with me, yeah?”

Sebastian snorts. “Even if I have to haunt you, Jim, I will always want to be by your side.”

Jim swallows. “What if you die?” he asks in a small voice. He grasps Seb's bandages carefully. “What if I..? Will you..?”

“Maybe it won't be so bad if I have a piece of you left,” Sebastian says quietly.

“What's Richard?” Jim mumbles.

Sebastian frowns and kisses Jim's forehead. “That's not the same.”

“Yeah, well, let's not die, eh?” the brunet mutters. “Either of us.”

Sebastian swallows. “Who gets the kid if something happens to us? Richie or Sev?”

Jim's eyes flicker. Sebastian leans back. “Jellybean is not going to Mum.”

“We-ell, you'd better not die then,” Jim replies.

Sebastian glowers at him but curls a hand back around the nape of Jim's neck and pulls the slim man back against his big chest. Jim does not resist but mumbles, “I don't know what normal kids are like.”

“The opposite of Gus',” Sebastian says uncharitably.

Jim snorts. “Creepy little things.”

Sebastian chuckles warmly against Jim's scalp. “You think you've got the right to call anyone creepy, Mr I-Shot-Myself-In-The-Face-And-Did-You-Miss-Me?”

Jim's eyelashes brush against Sebastian's skin as he blinks in surprise. “We can joke about that now?” he says dubiously.

Sebastian pinches his husband's bottom. “I can joke about it. You still have a few years of sucking up to do.”

Jim squirms. “Your fingers are so bony now.”

“Whose fault is that?” Sebastian retorts without bite. He clutches Jim possessively. “Just be thankful I can still manipulate my tendons enough to grope you.”

Jim grimaces but snuggles closer. “I'm grateful you're here.”

“Likewise Arty,” Sebastian answers.

Jim blinks placidly. “Am I still grounded?”

Sebastian curls his lip. “Why you asking?”

Jim nuzzles in. “Do you want to go on a babymoon?”

“What the heck is a 'babymoon'?” Sebastian asks with a quizzical expression.

“Like a honeymoon, but celebrating the time together before the baby comes and there's no sleeping through the night,” Jim explains.

“That is the gayest thing I've ever heard,” Sebastian snorts.

“So it's right up your street then,” Jim teases.

Sebastian rolls his eyes.

“So… do you want to?” Jim asks.

Sebastian shifts in his seat. “You know… Just because, uh...”

Jim tugs Sebastian's top. “Hey. We don't have to fuck ourselves silly. I know that just because we've started to… you know, fuck again, it… doesn't mean we have to. You know?”

Sebastian brushes Jim's lips with his own then widens his pale eyes at his own daring. “I know. And I do… I do want to fuck you. You're still you. It's just...”

“It still hurts,” Jim finishes.

“Yeah,” Sebastian agrees.

“I'm sorry,” Jim says.

Sebastian kisses the brunet's temple. “You… You don't need to apologise all the time. You did what you thought was right.”

“Still fucked up monumentally,” Jim mutters.

“Yeah, but spend the rest of your life by my side and I'll forgive you,” Sebastian murmurs.

Jim flashes a soft smile. “Deal.”

Sebastian kisses his cheekbone and brushes dark hair from Jim's high brow. “So where did you picture this little holiday?”

“Anywhere with you,” Jim says.

“Not discovered any romantic little spots whilst you were away?” Sebastian asks.

Jim grimaces. “I was rarely far from you.”

Sebastian tenses for a moment before rolling his eyes. “Not sure I need to hear that.”

“Sorry,” Jim says.

Sebastian plays with his husband's hair. “Don't apologise. We'll make new memories.”

“So I should start researching this babymoon thing?” Jim asks.

“I'll pick somewhere,” Sebastian says. He squeezes Jim's buttock. “But you can help me pack. So you can go get a wooden spoon. Or my belt. Your choice.”

Jim blushes. “You're going to spank me on holiday?”

Sebastian gives him a very wicked look. “Would you rather I bought you a nice, customised paddle and put it directly at the top of your suitcase for customs to see?”

Jim's face heats further. “Don't even joke about that.”

“Scary consulting criminal scared of a little trip over my lap?” Sebastian teases.

Jim rolls his eyes. “I like a trip over your lap. Feels like I'm home. I just don't need people to think I'm the bitch in our relationship.”

Sebastian's lips twitch. “What do you mean think?” His blue eyes glitter.

Jim shoves him a little but smiles when Sebastian cackles.

Chapter Text

Jim walks into the hotel suite, does a cursory circuit of the space, then looks back at Sebastian awkwardly. The big blond gives him a crooked, little smile and pulls Jim against his chest.

“Yes; it does feel weird,” Sebastian agrees. He kisses Jim's scalp and continues, “But we'll get used to it. Now go unpack.”

Jim straightens and gives Sebastian a shocked look. “What?”

Sebastian pats the smaller man's bottom. “You heard me. Get on with it.”

Jim approaches their luggage dazedly. “But you always deal with this stuff,” he mumbles.

The blond smirks and holds up his bandaged wrists. “Yes, but I'm an invalid, and you're sucking up to me.”

Jim sniffs sulkily and gracelessly attempts the task. “Yes, but I'm much better at giving blowjobs and buying you things than I am at… chores.”

“You haven't earned the right to offer me a blowie,” Sebastian smirked. “We'll see how I feel about you after your 'chores'.”

Jim chuckles softly. “You're a prick when you're in charge; you know that?”

Sebastian grins at him. “You can start by unpacking the wooden spoon, pet.”

Jim stares at his partner for a moment then curls his lip and bends back over the nearest suitcase's padlock. “Threaten me all you want; I'm not afraid when you're grip's still so frail, invalid.”

Sebastian barks out a dry laugh. “Careful, love, or I'll have to show you what uncomfortable things I can do to your bottom with that spoon without giving you a spanking.”

“Bloody sadist,” Jim mutters fondly. He opens the case and rifles through it. His ears turn pink when his fingers close around the spoon and he hands it to his husband gingerly.

Sebastian pulls the brunet to his chest and kisses Jim teasingly. He takes the wooden spoon and taps Jim's bottom with it. “You best get on with your chores, pet,” Sebastian whispers.

Jim swallows and scowls a little to make it less obvious that his Saville Row underpants are becoming a bit uncomfortable at the front. He stomps off lightly to obey.

Sebastian settles in an armchair. “Don't pout, baby. You're old enough to get wrinkles now.”

Jim flashes his husband a fierce look. Sebastian just smiles and turns the spoon over in his large hands as though admiring the wood grain. Jim huffs and sets about hanging up their belongings.

Sebastian watches Jim fondly. Despite the game, the blond feels ill at ease. Being on this little holiday together makes part of Sebastian hungry for Jim to be stripped and slicked and panting on their bed, but… the hurt part of Sebastian cringes at the mere idea.

They've been sleeping with each other for a few days now, but it's still… fresh. The wounds are still raw.

Possibly rawer than the wounds Jim had cleaned for him before they left home. Sebastian toys with the object in his hands uneasily.

Eventually Jim puts their toiletries in the bathroom and looks at his husband expectantly.

Sebastian stands and approaches Jim. He bends and pulls the brunet into a kiss.

Jim pulls back. He shakes his head. “You're really tense,” he whispers.

Sebastian shrugs awkwardly. “Still a bit rusty. We'll get back in sync.”

Jim fixes him with a cutting look. “There's nothing wrong with our synchrony, darling. You're hurting.”

Sebastian swallows. “I did warn you...”

“I'm not blaming you,” Jim says. “Your hurt and reluctance are perfectly valid. What isn't is you pushing for this if you're not ready.”

Sebastian sighs and sits on the bed. “What would you have me do then?” he asks.

Jim sits on his knee carefully. He touches Sebastian's face and says, “Just be honest. We don't have to have sex or play any of our games.”

“Then what's the point of coming here?” Sebastian sighs.

Jim squeezes his husband's hand. “To spend time with each other. That's all. Anything else is extra not the main course.”

“We could spend time together at home,” says Sebastian. “It's what we have been doing since...”

“Since I came home,” Jim finishes. “And I've enjoyed that, but back home you've got the stress of your mum's babymania. Here it's just us.”

Sebastian's eyes flick to Jim. “But you like fussing with my mum.”

“I do, but you're obviously more important,” Jim says. “You're my husband.”

“And you've missed having a family. Mum,” Sebastian says.

Jim blinks. “Nowhere near as much as I've missed you, you bloody idiot,” he sighs.

Sebastian swallows. “Well yeah, obviously...”

“'Obviously',” Jim repeats mimicking the lump in Sebastian's throat. “Bloody fool. I love you more than breathing, Sebastian Moran.”

“No death jokes please, Jim Moran,” Sebastian replies.

Jim leans up and kisses his husband thoroughly. The blond relaxes a little into the affectionate contact.

“Feel better?” Jim asks.

“Kind of,” Sebastian mumbles.

Jim sighs and peels himself from his lover. As Sebastian watches warily, Jim hops over to where he had set aside some baby books. He carries one over and lifts it aloft.

“Here,” he says. “Get comfortable.”

Sebastian gives him a dubious look but moves up to the headboard and fixes the pillows. Jim goes to him and hands Sebastian the book before sliding off his suit jacket and climbing up beside Seb.

Sebastian settles his arms around Jim as the brunet takes the book back. Cracking open the book's spine, Jim deftly licks his thumb and flicks to the content page. “Where do you want to start? The beginning, or skip past the pregnancy bit?”

Sebastian rests his head on Jim comfortably. “I don't mind, sweetheart. I just want to be near you.”

Jim twists and flashes his teeth towards his husband in an honest smile. “Exactly, love.”

Sebastian squeezes Jim. “I do love you.”

“I love you too,” Jim says firmly, “and you don't ever have to do anything to maintain or prove that. We're a couple. We work together.”

“When did you get so wise all of a sudden?” Sebastian asks wryly.

“I've always been smart, thank you,” Jim rebuffs. “And besides, you're the one who taught me about healthy, loving relationships.”

Sebastian feels comfortable enough to kiss Jim's temple and joke, “I really fucked up by not teaching you that faked deaths are poor taste then, hey?”

“You may have overestimated my intellect,” Jim smiles. He turns and kisses the tiny scar on Sebastian's lip. “If I remember correctly though, Tiger, it was you who first encouraged gun play.”

“Give me that spoon,” Sebastian growls, “my urge to hit you has come back.”

Jim laughs. “Sebby, no. We're reading...”

“Reading later.” Sebastian takes the book from Jim's fingers and puts it on the night table. Jim meets his eyes and the blond reaches for Jim's belt.

“I was just joking about your grip being weak,” Jim says breathily.

Sebastian kisses him. “We'll see.”

Jim swallows and Sebastian kisses his stomach over the shirt before tugging down Jim's suit trousers.

“Should I be feeling scared or lucky that you changed your mind?,” Jim chuckles as Sebastian pulls him closer by the waistband of his soft boxers.

Sebastian winks and fondles his husband teasingly. “Both.”

“Second most dangerous man in London,” Jim gasps.

Sebastian smacks him playfully. “In. The. World.”

Chapter Text

The days pass and in some ways it almost seems like Sebastian and Jim exist in a bubble. They know they will be parents soon; they read together books on parenthood and Jim relays the least exasperating updates from Mrs Moran to Seb.

Otherwise they exist in nothing but each other. Sebastian takes Jim to bed again and again -sometimes tenderly, sometimes fiercely- and sometimes Sebastian cannot bear anything but to be near Jim in chaste contact.

Jim understands.

He understands when Sebastian approaches him with remarkable gentleness and makes love to Jim with soft kisses and loving words. He understands when Sebastian claims him with passionate kisses and pins him to the mattress. He understands when tears fill the blue eyes he has loved all these years.

It's so much to suddenly have everything when for years there has been so little. Of course Jim understands that. He might not have thought Sebastian dead and lost -at least not until the terrible circumstances which brought them back together- but oh, Jim ached for him in the bleak, lonely years.

A glut of food can be nauseating after having starved.

Jim understands, but he cannot help but note how Sebastian holds back, even in the hours where he holds Jim down and makes him feel claimed.

Sebastian goes through the motions of playing their games, but a light spanking is not a good thrashing, and it's certainly not any of their more dangerous games. Sebastian entirely baulks at the memory of Jim's 'death' and so their usual repertoire of hedonism is quite off of the cards. There will be no breathplay, bloodplay, knives to the throat, or heaven forbid, gunplay.

Jim looks at his lover. “Would it help if you marked me?” he asks. “Claimed my skin as your own?”

Sebastian shakes his head quickly. “I'll let you cut me if you want, but I don't...”

He does not have to finish his sentence. Jim understands.

However, it's something new. Sebastian has allowed the odd pink bottom, some teethmarks on his neck, and twice or thrice has let Jim top, but on the whole he has been resistant to feeling owned or submissive.

Jim understands that too: it makes sense Sebastian would fear giving so much of himself after the hurt he has been through.

Jim wonders whether this new offer -to let Jim cut him, mark his skin- is a good thing. Does it mean Sebastian is starting to relax and trust?

Or does it mean something worse?

Jim doubts Sebastian is ready in any case. He declines affectionately and burrows into the blond's lap. “I just want to show you that I belong to you.”

Sebastian stares at him. “Sweetheart, I know that you do.”

Jim is quiet. Sebastian holds his gaze, frowns, and twists around.

Jim sits up as Sebastian tears a strip from the bedding. “What are you doing?” he asks in a clipped voice that betrays his alarm.

Sebastian gives him a dry look. “Hold out your hand.”

Jim does so. His dark eyes are full of confusion.

Sebastian flashes him a brief smile. “You've heard of tying the knot, haven't you?”

Jim cocks his head to the side and wonders whether he understands this time.

Sebastian pulls his ring on and loosely wraps the ripped bedding over Jim's thin wrist and his own bulky bandages. Jim's pale hands shake a little and he watches ever so closely as Sebastian binds their hands together just as slackly.

“You can bond us tighter than that,” Jim whispers.

Sebastian looks at him. “From what I remember of handfasting it's not the knots that should be tight: it's your grip. You're bound by the promises you make with your words and your hearts and uphold with your actions every day.”

“I've never been to a handfasting,” Jim says quietly. He twines his fingers tightly with Sebastian's and asks, “What do we say?”

“It's been a while, so I might be making it up a little, but it's not as if we'd been regular to a priest or used confirmation names or such like before we got married,” Sebastian admits.

Jim holds fast. “It's about us and how we feel for each other.”

Sebastian nods and kisses their knuckles. “These are the hands that will love you. These are the hands that will hold you and comfort you throughout our years. These are the hands that will support you and protect you. These are the hands that will build our life together.”

Jim crooks a smile. He understands. “These are the hands that will always reach for yours and always find you. These are the hands that will tend your wounds and kill to protect you. These are the hands which will wipe your tears and hold your Jellybean.”

He kisses their clasped hands.

Sebastian kisses Jim's lips at length then removes the shredded fabric without undoing the knots.

He is quiet for a beat. Eventually he says, “A handfasting doesn't have to last forever. If you change your mind… I don't know, something about jumping over a bonfire.”

Jim snorts. “I have spent far too long away from my husband already. You won't get rid of me again.”

Sebastian looks at the brunet. Really looks at him. He takes in Jim's features and every microexpression.

“Do you promise, brat?”

Jim chuckles awkwardly. “I would tie us together every morning if it meant you knew I love you.”

Sebastian smiles with his whole being and pulls Jim against his chest. “As long as you know I love you.”

Not 'as long as you stay'. As long as you know I love you.

Jim understand the cost of the words and what Sebastian means. He holds the bigger man tightly and at length.

They may have stayed that way forever had Sebastian's stomach not rumbled its malcontent. Jim reaches over to call for room service without a second thought. For a moment he forgets the instincts borne of being so long in hiding.

Sebastian grumbles softly. “Ignore my gut. I want cuddles.”

Jim's eyes glitter as he regards his spouse. “You'll eat what I tell you when I tell you. I want my big, strong blond back if you're going to cope with night feeds and sleep deprivation and all the rest of it.”

Sebastian regards him suspiciously. “If you make aeroplane noises I'm leaving.”

“Not if you want cuddles you won't,” Jim responds with certainty.

He's right of course. When they finally go back home the brunet makes a point of looking out Tiddles and the stuffed tiger he calls Stupidface and Sebastian insists is called Stripes. He gets them cleaned.

Sebastian finds the raggediest bow he's ever seen twisted around the grey cat's neck. The binding is still knotted.

Chapter Text

It takes a few weeks, but Sebastian slowly starts to regain some of his earlier weight, and so does Jim. However, whilst Sebastian had usually been the caretaker in their relationship, Jim has found himself slipping into the role almost comfortably. He likes the look on Seb's face when he wakes the blond with food, and it's not as if it's that unusual to spend time tending to Sebastian's injuries.

Jim feels wanted and sometimes even needed when he looks after Sebastian. The blond's acceptance of the care feels like a display of trust when Sebastian has always been so capable. He still is capable now, and by letting Jim fuss over him Jim feels like perhaps he is partly forgiven.

It makes Jim feel indescribably grateful. All he wants in this world is Sebastian's wellbeing and love.

And that of their child now. Jim swallows and considers whether Sebastian's generosity in allowing Jim's assistance has merely been a test of Jim's capacity for nurturing a child.

Although Sebastian has never really been one for tests. He would, however, surreptitiously help Jim develop skills Jim believed himself to lack.

Jim wonders whether Sebastian has outmanoeuvred him again.

Not that Jim minds. He rather likes taking care of Sebastian: it's not an irksome chore to tend for someone he cares for. Providing Jim cares for this child, raising it might be perfectly within his capabilities.

Jim rather thinks he does care for the baby, but it is strange trying to feel emotion for a child growing in a stranger. The feelings Jim experiences are abstracted.

He turns and looks at Sebastian, who is napping on the bed. Poor old thing is struggling to acclimatise to regular food, exercise and sex.

Jim watches the rise and fall of Sebastian's breathing under the puffy duvet and wonders what it would feel like for Sebastian to be carrying this child. Derry's child.

No.

Their child.

Christ. Sebastian fat with some wriggling little creature inside of him. A product of their love and an addition to their family. Holy Christ, them, him with a family.

A baby.

Of course, Sebastian's in his forties. Even if he was a woman he would probably struggle to conceive or bear a firstborn now. Mum was right to boss them, Sebastian's going to be run ragged chasing a toddler around in a few years. Jim himself is going to be run ragged doing it.

Jim feels his body rocked with an odd shiver. What if he was carrying Seb's child? Jim closes his eyes and feels strangely embarrassed thinking about it. Proof of Seb's love growing inside of him, stretching out Jim's body and being a constant, kicking reminder that Jim is part of a family unit. Never alone.

Jim swallows. His skin prickles as he imagines Seb's face if he delivered the blond's child. Fucking hell, a giant Sebastian baby in Jim's little frame. Jim feels momentarily sorry for Derry.

He blinks. Giving up Seb's baby. Jim feels entirely sick at the thought.

Jim climbs onto the bed and curls into Sebastian's hulking, warm form. Sebastian smiles and pulls Jim closer without waking up. Jim huffs a small, pleased laugh and twists to kiss Seb's face. Jim feels oddly comforted even though he's not certain whether he felt upset or just overwhelmed with how much things are going to change.

Sebastian must note some tension in Jim's small (but no longer skeletal) frame. The bigger man rouses and shuffles up to lean on an elbow. A disgruntled grimace twists his face and Sebastian quickly shifts his arms to a more comfortable position.

Jim feels a twinge of guilt. Sebastian had spent quite some time in the hospital in casts and splints getting various bits of surgery on his destroyed tendons before he had been allowed home. When he'd gotten out it had been made clear that whilst yes Sebastian must exercise his hands, he should not expect to manage a keyboard or pen for around eight weeks.

Sebastian's enthusiasm for preparing and indeed pleasuring Jim, in addition to the light spankings that Jim had received with such exuberance during their little holiday, had put them in the rather humiliating position of having to return to the damned hospital. After Sebastian was treated, had reluctantly explained how his injuries had been so thoroughly aggravated, and both he and Jim had suffered the indignity of a firm scolding, Sebastian had been put back into casts.

The pair were then warned in no uncertain terms to curb their enthusiasm for at least eight weeks, if not ten. And any 'heavy activities' (the doctor had made a rather undeniable hand gesture at that point) should really be postponed to the ten to twelve week timescale.

“Don't lean on that,” Jim sighs. It's not even the hundredth time Sebastian's done it since the new surgery and Jim has already learned that Seb's slowly returning bulk is already enough that he cannot physically force the blond to move.

Sebastian rolls his eyes. He's stuck in rigid plaster splints for three to six weeks (“probably six,” the doctor had declared with a glower at them both) and has little patience by now for coddling his ruined arms.

“Why'd you wake me?” the blond asks.

“I didn't,” Jim says.

Sebastian barely winces as he raises a hand to stroke his partner's face. “Just wanted a cuddle?”

Jim looks away in embarrassment, which Sebastian has understood for many years to mean 'yes'.

Sebastian gives the smaller man a kiss. “Just as well,” the blond says. “I was having a pretty weird dream.”

Jim looks at him and curls his fingers around Sebastian's. “What about?”

Sebastian grins in wry embarrassment. “I sold my soul to the devil and eh… He gave me it back. Said he needed a favour.”

Jim gives him a dry look. “This devil, did he have dark hair and my accent?”

“Couldn't have been you, sweetheart; you're going grey,” Sebastian deadpans.

Jim gives his husband a deeply unimpressed look. “Might I remind you that the doctor didn't say anything about me giving you the spanking of your life, darling?”

Sebastian chuckles, although his blue eyes light in interest. “Leave me alone; you know I'm an old man.”

“You're not going to be able to tell the sprog that when it wants to play, so you'd better retire that excuse and find some energy,” Jim scoffed.

Sebastian sits up. “I think it's going to be a girl. A sproglette. Do you?”

Jim curls his lip. “I don't care as long as we don't fuck it up.”

“Sev says Chris is taking bets on it. Jellybean, that is, not us screwing it up,” Sebastian says.

“Christabelle your sister who hasn't even met Derry?” Jim sneers.

“My sister who calls Derry by her actual name,” Sebastian teases.

Jim ignores him. “Did you bet Chris it'll be a girl, or that Jellybean'll come out with a pointy tail?”

“Maybe she'll have horns just like her Daddy,” Sebastian mocks.

Jim considers for a moment. He seems to remember Sebastian once telling him (after playfully stroking the tabletop scar on the back of Jim's skull) that if a bit of bone is touched enough it grows back stronger, and could theoretically develop like a horn or such.

Sebastian blinks and clearly understands what Jim is thinking of.

“Don't. You. Dare,” Jim warns.

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “Keep your panties on, Baby Daddy.”

Jim arches a brow. “Do you have to call me that?”

“It's what you are. My baby's Daddy,” Sebastian counters.

“Maybe she'll want to call me something else,” Jim reasons.

“Like what?” Sebastian scoffs. “She is not calling either of us 'father', ever, and 'pops' sounds like you would explode in a microwave so...”

Jim bursts out laughing. “I wouldn't fit in a microwave. I've been eating those horrible protein things you've forced me to.”

“I could chop you up into little pieces,” Sebastian mutters teasingly, nipping Jim's earlobe. “I've definitely not forgiven you for my Mum finding out about my new casts, after all.”

Jim twists his head and kisses him. “You'll be back to full strength in twelve weeks.”

“That's what they told me the first time they put me in casts,” Sebastian says mildly sourly, “and six months for full range of movement.”

“Why are you so grumpy? You'll still have them off in time to hold the baby,” Jim murmurs.

Sebastian's eyes sparkle in a way that sends a jolt to Jim's stomach. “Want to start a bet on whether I can let these heal properly? Because I don't think I'm getting put into plastic splints any time soon...”

Jim wrinkles his nose. “You better be, because once you get out of plaster and into those you then need to wear the plastic at night for a few weeks. You are not getting out of your fair share of the night feeds, motherfucker.”

Sebastian's lips spread in a silly smile.

Jim frowns in confusion. “What?”

“We're already splitting the duties,” Sebastian grins.

Jim sighs. “Oh shut up. And get out of bed, your mum's making us have dinner with Derry in five hours.”

“You think it's going to take five hours to get me out of bed?” Sebastian queries.

“An hour to get there; four of holding you down by the elbows so you don't destroy your arms further,” Jim answers.

Sebastian smirks. “Why Baby Daddy, did you just proposition me for a good seeing to?”

“Not if you call me that in bed,” Jim grumbles.

Sebastian laughs and pulls the smaller man close unrepentantly.

Chapter Text

Jim has never quite gotten used to Sebastian's sisters. Despite the longevity of their marriage (and indeed, their relationship) neither Jim nor Sebastian find themselves in the women's company more than twice a year (and most years it is much less).

It would not be false to suppose Augusta is the least liked of Sebastian's siblings. Seb cannot stand the woman's proximity for more than a couple of (strained) hours and Jim cannot blame him. The eldest of the legitimate Moran offspring, Gus in her fifties and carries all her father's worst traits. She is a preening snob with a perpetual air of disdain; a temperament that knows only icy indifference and haughty rage; and a bored sense of elitist self-entitlement that motivates her downright malicious streak.

As children, Gus and Rawdon had been exemplary examples of 'proper' behaviour to which their siblings had been chided to mimic. Gus had not outgrown the belief of her own superiority to her siblings, but she did outgrow her desire to fashion herself after her parents.

This goes a long way towards explaining her divorce, but she is equally, if not more, absent in her role as a parent as Mrs Moran had been in distant years. Gus is, to the untrained eye, exceptionally like her mother: they have the same whiplike build, sharp eyes, rigidly presentable appearance, and expensive taste in everything.

Gus is unalike her mother in that she detests speaking French or any other foreign language, does not have the mental capacity to understand anyone's inner workings, and is genuinely indifferent to the wellbeing of her kin providing it does not impede on her own life.

Despite being tall, slender and blonde enough to have always needed to pencil in her eyebrows, Gus is not in character her mother's daughter. She is her father's, and the cruel smile she has inherited from the man is the least of the problems she has inherited from him.

Jim finds the woman irksome at best, and Sebastian would be hard pressed indeed to find something positive to say about his eldest sister. In the entirely improbable likelihood that Gus offered Sebastian a needed organ the blond would have been unable to avoid expressing strong distaste about having a bond with such a cold, judgemental, classist racist.

Christabelle is an entirely different creature. She rarely visits, but this is because she is 'married' to a demanding career, and she is as warm as Sebastian had often wished his mother to be whilst growing up. By the ordinary person's standards Chris is far from an exceptionally emotive person, but she has always stuck out from the rest of the Morans for being far more so than the others. What Sebastian and Severin have by way of healthy emotional development is largely through Christabelle's deliberate efforts.

Jim likes Chris. She is not overly tactile or gushy, but the tender enthusiasm of her gaze always makes Jim feel welcome, and makes Sebastian feel at home.

Chris is also an unapologetically womanising bachelorette in her rare free time, and both men appreciate having her quash any of Gus' casually homophobic comments.

Chris is in her late forties but despite her gruelling job could easily have passed for the younger sibling of Sebastian and Severin. There is a childish softness to her face still and a healthier plumpness to her build which radiates vitality. Her curvier body makes her hugs particularly comforting, but it is the cheeky glitter of her pleasant features which makes her most attractive. Women cannot not be blamed for falling for Chris in their droves, and Chris cares not a damn for what Gus and their father have to say on the matter.

In the current moment, Gus is making some acerbic comment about how 'lucky' Chris ought count herself that the murky organisation they are all quite certain that Chris works for began to allow in 'her lot' entry in 1993.

“Ninety-one,” Chris responds nonchalantly. It may or may not be accurate as far as the others know, because she has never specified exactly which of the likeliest government organisations she works for. Jim knows, but he keeps it to himself.

The pretty blonde's gaze remains fixed on her older sister. Chris continues, “And the service has always been positively riddled with us deviants. If it wasn't for the judgement of your lot it wouldn't have become a problem. I'm sure you think the KGB were also being perfectly moral to blackmail such perverts.”

“Language, Christabelle,” Mrs Moran says without ire.

Her daughter looks at her unenthusiastically.

“The Russians might still have some good ideas,” Gus mutters.

Chris shoots her a poisonous look. “Do you have something you want to say to me, Og?”

Mrs Moran rolls her eyes. “Allya, allya, schta tut proiskhodit?”

Chris chuckles but her sister narrows her eyes, not getting the joke.

“Personally I think it makes sense for the gays to work there,” Severin pipes up. “Gets knocked in early enough to be secretive and good at reading signals.”

“If they only had the decency to keep their private lives secret-” Gus begins.

“Said the divorced Catholic,” Chris responds without sympathy.

Gus turns puce. Jim says nothing and instead watches Sebastian, who has been keeping well out of the siblings' bickering all evening. It is rather uncharacteristic of the blond. As patient as Seb is with Jim, it ordinarily takes very little baiting for Sebastian to get drawn into his family's unimportant quarrels.

Sebastian had not seemed to have much problem exchanging witticisms with his family earlier either, which furthers Jim's interest and concern. Mrs Moran had fussed at length about Seb's backstep casts and the blond's siblings had lost no time in teasing Sebastian about that.

There had been some gentle teasing for them both (Sebastian and Jim) for their weight also. Jim is almost back to normal in that regard and Sebastian has certainly lost his gaunt look but it has not stayed the other Morans from piling the couple's plates high with food.

Indeed, the pair had been playfully mocked about their future as well, even Derry joining in on the game. Derry is really beginning to look pregnant.

She has also disappeared off to the restroom yet again, citing the baby's delight at dancing upon her bladder.

Perhaps that is what has Sebastian so distracted. Jim slides up to his husband and slips arms around the bigger man (ignoring the fond teasing from the others this incurs).

“Getting pretty real now, isn't it?” Jim whispers.

Sebastian looks at his brunet and swallows. “So real,” he agrees. A small frown mars the blond's forehead. “The bump's almost as big as she is. Is it wrong that I'm kind of glad it's not you having to carry Jellybean?”

As recently as a month ago Jim would have been made insecure by that statement, but it does not faze him today. “Worried about my figure, darling?”

“Worried about her splitting in half,” Sebastian explains. “I don't want you bursting open.”

Jim curls his lips. “You do know that's not actually how it works, Tiger?”

“I probably couldn't cope with the birth if it was,” Sebastian says wryly. He swallows. “Arty?”

“What, Sebby?” Jim replies softly.

Sebastian hesitates. For such a handsome, well-built man he looks terribly awkward and unsure all of a sudden. “Do… D'you mind if we stay here tonight?” he asks.

Jim feels honest surprise but agrees. Typically he is the one who wants to linger with Sebastian's family. “Are you okay, love?”

“I think so,” Sebastian says. “I'm just… I want to be around everyone tonight. Is that weird?”

“Of course it isn't,” Jim reassures. Sebastian looks unconvinced but grateful nonetheless.

Jim gives his husband a kiss and rubs the bigger man's back soothingly. The brunet looks across the room and makes eyes at Mrs Moran.

The woman approaches intuitively.

“Might we spend the night tonight, please, Mam?” Jim asks. Sebastian keeps tight hold of the little Irishman.

Mrs Moran gives each of them a pat and pecks their cheeks. “Of course, boys. Your family is the best place for you at the moment. You're going to be glad of having us all to babysit soon enough.”

Sebastian gives a crooked smile. “I never pictured you as the babysitting grand-maman type, Mum.”

Mrs Moran shrugs. “I am becoming quite sentimental in my dotage, Sebastian. You shall have to take advantage.”

Sebastian turns as Derry returns from the bathroom. The conversation between his siblings changes to something less risky.

Sebastian hugs Jim to himself and drops his gaze to Derry's stomach. “You might not be as senile as I say,” the blond comments.

Mrs Moran scoffs. “Don't think I won't send you for an early bedtime under my roof, child of mine.”

Chapter Text

To Jim's amusement Sebastian seems more and more inclined to spend time under Moran Manor's large roof, although the blond only chooses to stay when Lord Moran is elsewhere. The pregnancy hasn't changed Seb that much.

It has changed Derry. Most of her remains rather slim but her stomach has grown to bulging enormity. Her bellybutton is visible through much of her outfits and her graceful, quiet steps have been replaced what can only be accurately described as a waddle.

It unnerves Sebastian somewhat. “I wish she'd gotten fat,” he murmurs to Jim.

The brunet looks at his husband without pursing his lips too tightly in amused judgement. “You're still scared she's going to split open like an overripe fruit.”

“She literally has to walk around with her arms under her belly to take the weight. No matter what they all say that worries me,” Sebastian responds.

“Women have been having babies for quite some time, Tiger. She's perfectly normal,” Jim says.

“What would you know about it?” Sebastian replies without malice. “How many babies have you known?”

Jim rolls his eyes without taking umbrage. “I know that your mother managed to bear several children despite being as skinny as Derry. Pregnant women don't have to swell up everywhere to be healthy.”

Sebastian sighs. “Fine then, Mr. Reasonable, if there's no reason at all to worry why have you got that face on?”

“What face?” Jim asks knowing fine well what his husband is referring to.

Sebastian feigns a constipated grimace that makes Jim laugh and swat the larger man's chest. Seb's bicep was closer but only one of the blond's arms is so far healed well enough to leave its cast and Jim is being careful still.

“It's nothing important,” Jim says.

“Like stuff it's not,” Sebastian counters. “What's wrong? Have you been having the same 'baby ripping its way out of its mother's womb' dreams that I have? Because those are scary.”

Jim chuckles. “No, Seb. It...” Jim sighs and reluctantly continues, “I'm just being insecure. I know that I'm being illogical. And unreasonable. I'm not being fair to you.”

The amusement slides from Sebastian's face. “Arty, you need to tell me now.”

Jim swiftly clutches the larger man as he notice's Seb's suddenly chalky pallor. “Nothing that bad, Sebby, Christ. I...” Jim closes his eyes, fingers still wrapped in Sebastian's short-sleeved shirt, and admits, “I'm uncomfortable that Derry's… Carrying Jellybean, you know?”

Sebastian understands immediately. Jim's been fighting this worry for months. Around eight of them in fact.

“Arty, I'm not going to run away with our surrogate.” Sebastian is still pale but he winks at his partner and jokes, “Unless she zips herself into a scruffy little black and white tracksuit of course. Then I'm all hers.”

Jim snorts and indignantly flicks Sebastian in his suprasternal notch. The blond bats him away and rubs the mildly pink dimple of his throat.

“Okay, okay, no tracksuits,” Sebastian scoffs. He pulls Jim into his lap and screws up his face in dry distaste as his least healed arm protests the pressure. He holds Jim tightly anyway only loosening his grip when Jim raises an eyebrow at him archly.

“No running away with anyone else full stop,” Jim warns. He kisses Sebastian's lower jaw.

Sebastian meets dark eyes. “That still made me jumpy earlier. When you said you weren't being fair. I...”

Jim cups the bigger man's face in tender hands. “I am never running away from you, not ever. Do you hear me?”

Sebastian stares at his husband long and hard for a moment. “Yeah, I do, mo chroí.”

Sebastian keeps Jim in his lap but pulls back a bit to awkwardly fumble at his neck. The blond takes his wedding ring and as Jim swallows the big man slides the band back over an only slightly too thin finger.

Jim's heart pounds so hard he might be shaking. He folds his forehead under Sebastian's chin and inhales deeply. “I love you.”

Sebastian's cast feels rough but warm against Jim's back. “I'm still… I get scared sometimes. But I… I do. I do trust you.”

“I love you more than anything,” Jim says.

“Even though I haven't bought you trainers in a while?” Sebastian teases.

Jim chuckles. Sebastian's chest still might not be as broad as before but it feels safe. They stay curled into each other for a long time without needing to say anything else.

Christabelle pops her head around Sebastian's bedroom door in the early evening. The pair are lying in each other's arms in Seb's bed; Jim asleep and Sebastian half-awake.

Sebastian regards his sister curiously. “I didn't expect you to be around again so soon.”

Chris chuckles. “You breeding and getting closer to Mother is driving Og nuts. Why wouldn't I be here?”

Sebastian sits up a little. Jim does not stir. The blond's brow wrinkles a little and asks, “You… You think I'm closer to Mum?”

Christabelle gives him a crooked, knowing smirk. “You did just call her 'Mum'. And haven't ran to sandpaper the word from your tongue.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “That's because I'm not twelve.”

“Even if you still get your legs slapped,” Chris grins.

Sebastian's ears colour. “Shut up.”

“You're still my little brother, and if your hair wasn't getting so thin I'd ruffle it,” says Chris.

“Piss off,” Seb chuckles.

Christabelle tuts playfully. “You need a time out, Muscles?”

Sebastian maturely responds by sticking out his tongue. “You're not my mummy.”

Christabelle leans against the doorframe. “Might as well have been. And now you get to be a mummy.”

Sebastian narrows his eyes at his older sister. “A daddy.”

Chris laughs cheerfully. “Honey, you don't have to pretend. We both know you always wanted someone to look after you and,” she looks pointedly at Jim, “a husband is exactly what you got.”

“Great, now you're telling me I'm the bottom?” Sebastian groans.

“I've seen how much you love it when he bosses you around. He does it a lot less now though. What's up with that?” Christabelle queries.

Sebastian arches a brow. “You heard what happened, right?”

“He got involved in something he shouldn't and disappeared to keep you safe? Yeah. And?”

Sebastian hesitates. He shrugs and looks at his arms. “I didn't cope so good when he left.”

“You're not fragile,” Chris says bluntly. “He doesn't have to be so careful with you.”

Sebastian lifts his arms awkwardly. “You don't think..?”

“Sebastian you're not broken,” Christabelle declares firmly.

Sebastian fidgets with his wedding ring. “I know… I guess?”

“Well I'm telling you,” Chris says, “and I wouldn't lie about it.”

Sebastian regards his sister slowly. “Yeah. I know.”

“Good,” she says pointedly.

Sebastian uses his good arm to run his fingers through his short hair. “So… Did you want something?”

Chris replies, “Your lady friend's here. Mum got her some oils for her stomach. Something to do with the stretching. You want to see her?”

Sebastian stretches. “Yeah, thanks. Let me wake Sleeping Beauty here.” Christabelle waits as Sebastian shakes Jim's shoulder and tries to rouse the brunet with the explanation.

Jim whines and pulls the duvet over his head despite being fully clothed. “Sleepy. Not going anywhere.”

Seb smiles at his partner tolerantly. “You'll tell me off later if I leave you to sleep. Come on sweetheart, time to get up.”

Jim grumbles softly and Sebastian looks at his injured arms with frustration. Christabelle steps over to his side.

“I can carry my little brother,” she says. “He barely weighs more than a kitten anyhow.”

Sebastian is uncertain what to say. He turns slowly and nudges Jim. “You hear that? If you don't get up Chris is gonna carry you.”

Jim blinks and looks at the fair-haired siblings. His immediate reaction is to protest and get up, away from the contact, but…

Jim did not grow up with sisters or a big family. Although it was somewhat alarming at first, Jim rather likes that on the odd occasions Christabelle is around she ruffles his hair affectionately and teases him like he belongs. Well. He love / hates it. The attention produces a pleased, embarrassed, squirming warmth in his chest not dissimilar to how Jim feels after Mrs Moran scolds him. He’s not comfortable with it exactly, but… on the rare occasions he meets Chris, she treats him akin to her brothers: with affection. She’s not particularly known for affection (her many seductions notwithstanding) and… it’s something to feel included in her affections.

Jim bites his lip for a moment then flops down and pulls a pillow over his head. “I weight at least as much as a bobcat.”

Christabelle laughs and Sebastian watches in surprise as she peels Jim's pillow away and worms her fingers underneath the brunet. Jim squirms in an only partly self-conscious display of playfulness, and he squeals aloud when Chris tickles him.

Sebastian cannot help the booming noise of mirth that bursts from his chest. Jim gives him a vaguely sour, rueful look and yelps seconds later when Christabelle uses the distraction to lift him aloft.

Jim suddenly finds it hard to breathe. After all this time he's still unused to casual contact and he's never noticed before how soft Christabelle's body is. She's strong and warm, but her chest isn't firm the way Sebastian's is (even with the blond's decayed muscles) and Chris certainly feels nothing like Mrs Moran's greyhound build.

Christabelle does not notice Jim's fascination with her pillowy body. She plants an unselfconscious, familial kiss on Jim's scalp and jerks her chin at Sebastian to tell her brother to move.

Jim suddenly understands where a lot of Sebastian's affectionate mannerisms developed from.

Christabelle leads them downstairs and Jim feels suddenly uneasy. He's embarrassed to be seen treated so childishly at nearly thirty seven years of age. Chris notices and lets his down at once, but pulls him close to kiss his scalp again and rumple his hair. She walks on ahead as though Jim hasn't just cleared some sort of emotional milestone.

Sebastian takes his hand. They don't have to say anything. Jim gives a grateful squeeze and they follow Christabelle.

Derry looks tired but smiles at them openly. “Evening.”

Sebastian smiles and tugs Jim over before pulling his little husband into his lap. The soft hiss of pain Seb releases makes Jim especially grateful for the reassuring (if mildly embarrassing) handling.

“How are you both today?” Sebastian asks.

Derry makes a wry noise and shifts in her seat. “Feeling like an overexpanded balloon,” she says dryly. “Baby's impatient to leave I think.”

“Consider yourself lucky,” Mrs Moran says wryly. “You could be past your due date with twins.”

Derry makes a face. “Oh, no thank you. One of your giant babies is enough.”

Jim shifts a little uneasily. Sebastian kisses his temple in reassurance.

Christabelle takes a seat beside Derry and reaches for the bag before her. “So have you tried these? Or do you want a hand putting some on?”

“Oh, if you could give me a help that would be grand,” Derry responds. “I barely have the energy for anything at the moment.”

Chris smiles and warms the oil in her palms. “Yeah, I hear that happens. Make sure you let yourself rest once you're free of your little house guest.”

“Depends whether I snap back like elastic,” Derry says dryly. “I miss my old clothes. And make up! I used to have the energy for proper make up.”

“I can do your make up for you if you like,” Chris says, “make it a proper pampering session. In fact, I've got some moisturising body glitter upstairs. I could paint over these stretch marks for you, make you feel pretty.”

Derry smiles. “Silly as that sounds, I think I'd like that. I look like I've been mauled by a wild animal.”

Sebastian presses his lips to Jim's small ear. “I swear if Jellybean claws her way out of there...”

Jim chuckles softly but watches with a peculiar feeling of interest as Christabelle soothingly rubs Derry's swollen stomach. It shines with oil, making any movements of the baby inside more noticeable as it catches the light.

Jim's still not sure how he feels. He's felt the baby kick before and he genuinely is looking forward to Jellybean's arrival, but he feels odd touching or becoming too close to Derry.

He tries not to think at all about Derry changing her mind about handing over Sebastian's baby. With the size of Jellybean Jim has little doubt she's Sebastian's.

Jim finds himself not taking note of the family's conversation. He looks up in surprise when Chris leaps from her seat to fetch the glitter, and finds himself smiling when Seb's lips softly touch his neck.

“I can't wait to raise a baby with you,” Sebastian murmurs.

Jim feels an overwhelming surge of love for the big blond but grins deprecatingly. “I thought you knew sleep deprivation's a type of torture?”

Sebastian chuckles. “I can tolerate your ice cold feet in bed; I can manage anything.”

Jim chuckles and does not feel so threatened as he watches Mrs Moran and Derry talk. Christabelle returns and Derry seems quite at ease having the blonde's hands return to her gleaming stomach. For all the dark purple stretch marks on her belly look extremely painful, they don't seem to be tender at all.

Derry giggles and shifts a little in her seat as Chris paints her with gold glitter. It seems to interest Jellybean, who wriggles and pushes against the attention.

Jim feels an unexpected wave of pure affection. He turns to speak to Sebastian and smiles to find the blond seems similarly affected.

“There,” Chris says when she's done. “Proper tiger stripes.”

Chapter Text

The baby's arrival goes perfectly to plan, which is rather uncharacteristic of babies, and of Moran children in particular. The birth is short and uncomplicated with no harm coming to Jellybean or Derry.

Nonetheless Jim finds himself feeling quite differently towards the surrogate mother as she lies back in exhaustion holding the babe. They hadn't been certain before whether it was a good idea for Derry to hold the child, but it seems so reasonable now.

“She's perfect, Siobhan,” Jim breathes.

Derry looks at him in surprise as though Jim dropping his willful avoidance of her name is more shocking to her than her ability to create such a perfect little wrinkle-faced potato.

In fairness, Jellybean is the least potato-like baby Jim has ever seen, but he is certain he must be biased due to hormones or suchlike. All babies look like melted mandrakes.

It's little surprise to him that Jellybean is a girl though. Sebastian had been so certain.

Derry -Siobhan- beckons Jim over. She gives him a shy smile and the brunet is struck for the first time by how beautiful she is. Jim does not wonder whether he shares her good looks and instead feels grateful the child will carry such good genes. Some of Siobhan's dark hair is stuck to her face and Jim notes her dark freckles as she gives a shy, warm, proud, gap-toothed smile. Up close like this Siobhan seems like her own person.

Jim feels a gratitude he had not felt so profoundly at all during the pregnancy. Siobhan's lips curl at him without malice suggesting she can somehow read his face. But then, perhaps that's no difficult feat for once. Jim feels like wonder and joy are radiating from his pores.

“We're both spry; the bed'll take us,” Siobhan murmurs.

Jim blinks, but he finds himself drawn to obey. The mother guides him carefully with nudges and soft comments then slowly, oh so carefully, but with perfect trust, hands the newborn to Jim.

He finally understands the appeal of what others have blithely referred to as the blessed 'new baby smell'. Jim finds his lips curl upwards as he draws Jellybean tenderly to his chest. Poor Sebastian might have a contender for best smelling Moran.

Jim slowly pulls his gaze away from the warm baby in his arms. His eyes search out Seb and he finds the blond beaming over them with pure love. Jim smiles back and wonders whether he looks so happy.

“Do you have a name for her yet?” Siobhan asks.

Jim's eyelids flutter. It feels so strange to be asked such a question by the birth mother. He cannot wrap his mind around how she can possibly expect to leave without the bundle in his arms. He's been holding Jellybean for mere minutes and he's already smitten.

Sebastian moves away from his other family and towards the bed. He takes a seat in the chair by Jim's side. “Thought we'd established her name is Jellybean?”

Jim rolls his eyes. “I'd hit you if I wasn't holding her.”

“He's getting the dad jokes in early,” Siobhan says sounding amused.

Jim sighs but he's not upset at all. He looks at Sebastian speculatively. “Are we still in agreement?”

Sebastian looks at the baby then Jim before nodding emphatically. “Yeah, she's magnificent. If you're in agreement?”

Jim holds the child a little more possessively. “Of course; she's perfect.”

“Well?” Mrs Moran prompts from the other side of the room. Siobhan merely sits back waiting with a patient smile. She reminds Jim of Sebastian for it.

“Alexdrina,” says Sebastian.

“Alexdrina Moran,” Jim agrees, just to feel it on his tongue.

Severin gives them a crooked grin. “Sticking with the weird Moran names are we?”

“It's got a noble history,” Jim responds. “Your Queen Victoria's name was Alexdrina.”

“And she hated it, I believe,” says Gus. “I cannot understand why though; it's perfectly pretty.”

Jim and Sebastian exchange glances. They are uncertain how they feel about gaining grumpy Auntie Augusta's approval.

“Alex the Great it is,” Severin grins.

“Alex the Magnificent,” Sebastian stresses.

“You bunch of dorks; she's not a wizard,” Christabelle snorts. She approaches the bed and holds out her arms for her niece. “May I?”

Jim feels oddly reluctant to relinquish his baby but hands Alexdrina to Chris anyway. Siobhan touches Jim's shoulder like she understands. Jim swallows.

“With her Daddy's brains she might as well be a wizard,” Sebastian says fondly.

Jim looks at Seb quickly then at Alexdrina. Jim's gaze flickers as he takes another look at the baby girl's dark hair. He had been so certain she would be blond like Sebastian. She's also so much smaller than Jim imagined, a normal baby rather than the monster who seemed ready to split Siobhan's belly.

Alexdrina does not have Siobhan's freckles. It's almost a shame, Jim supposes they would be cute, but he's glad their baby looks more like him than Siobhan.

He's so grateful Alexdrina is alright. He's glad Siobhan is too. Jim's just so happy.

It's strange how normal it feels being surrounded by family and by a large family at that. Richard is on his way and Sebastian's own brother and both sisters are here.

And Mrs Moran. Jim feels absurdly grateful that their Mam had this bloody insane, utterly perfect idea. He gives the woman a meaningful smile before he finds his gaze being pulled back to Alexdrina in Chris' arms. He feels odd already without the little bundle of life in his own.

Jim blinks as he feels a soft weight land on his shoulder. Siobhan has fallen asleep against his shoulder and the smell of her shampoo is in his nostrils. It flusters Jim for a moment although he knows she must be exhausted. He supposed if the woman intends to trust them with her baby she trusts him enough to fall asleep on him. Jim starts to pull away, the least he can do is give Siobhan her whole bed, but she makes a soft noise of protest and Jim stops.

If she finds him comfortable today he will stay. She's faced far more discomfort for them. Jim wonders whether she will stay in touch.

Mrs Moran comes and sits elegantly on the chair opposite Sebastian. “Now darlings. You don't need to stop at one, but if you want more you should start thinking of the age gap you want between them.”

Severin lets out an undignified guffaw. “You don't waste time, Mum.”

“Oh, I don't know, she had you,” Augusta murmurs.

Severin whirls around at his elder sister's teasing, but Christabelle clears her throat lightly and Severin loosens his shoulders.

“Sorry,” he mumbles as though he started anything.

“Anyway, babies,” Mrs Moran says. “For all my children I have so few grandbabies and-”

Sebastian points at Severin and Gus. “Who says Lexie needs a sibling? Maybe we want a peaceful life.”

“Don't be ridiculous, Sebastian,” his mother responds.

Jim eyes his husband. “And who said we were nicknaming her Lexie?”

“Oh I have every intention of calling her Jellybean for most of her life,” Sebastian responds.

And as I said before, you're getting on in age, Sebastian,” Mrs Moran interrupts. “I did not just have s-five children by magic, you know.”

Jim bites his lip. He likes finally having a family, but having a newborn is close enough to overwhelming at the moment. He feels gratitude as Sebastian reaches for his hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze. The blond eyes his terrified husband and tells Mrs Moran, “I think we have enough to be getting on with.”

The woman nods gracefully. “For the moment.”

Sebastian and Jim press their lips together and accept the victory for what it is. They look over at Christabelle who appears to be thoroughly enjoying strolling about with her placid potato.

“What about you, Chris? Aren't you due a baby?” Sebastian asks cheerfully.

“Menopause,” the blonde shoots back quickly.

Severin gives her a skeptical look and teases, “Oh, that's no barrier. Mum can find you a baby momma too.”

Christabelle straightens her back further. “I'm not married,” she says primly and turns her back to show Lexie the Magnificent the window as though the baby even has open, focusing eyes.

“I mean, I think it's just selfish of you, Chris,” Severin teases. “Don't you want Alex to grow up with cousins her age to play with?”

“Aren't you still seeing that girl, Sev?” Sebastian asks playfully. “Irene, was it?”

“She's focused on her career!” Severin says swiftly. “And don't you start, or I won't be babysitting your Wizarding Jellybean so you and Baby Daddy can play Mummy and Daddy on date night.”

“Not in front of the baby,” Chris whispered, playfully shielding Alexdrina with her body.

“What is your fascination with which of us is the mummy?” Sebastian sighs.

“Obviously you,” Jim scoffs. “You're the nurturing one.”

Sebastian leans close and whispers to his husband, “Oh trust me pet, I don't have a problem slapping the side of your legs now that the casts are off.”

“I am totally not comfortable talking dirty to you with our surrogate snoring on my shoulder,” Jim responds. Sebastian has the good grace to look chided, but Jim's eyes glitter like he is tempted to purr dubious offers of his own.

“Speaking of Daddies,” Gus says slowly, “Father said, 'congratulations.'”

The younger Morans look surprised but Mrs Moran nods as though this isn't a surprise. Sebastian sits back in his chair mutely trying to process what must surely be a false platitude. It seems odd that their father would say anything of the like.

He has little time to dwell on the curiosity as Richard drags a number of balloons into the room. Christabelle approaches him smiling. “We have a little niece,” she says.

“Alexdrina,” Jim says.

Richard eyes the baby fondly. “I was kind of expecting twins,” he comments.

“Me too,” Severin agrees.

Mrs Moran gives a snakelike smile. “As I said, the girl needs siblings. And some middle names. Alexdrina Moran is terribly short for a young lady. When she's announced at her debutant ball-”

“Oh, Mum, she's like a day old,” Severin protests.

“These things take planning,” says Gus. “Oh, what will I wear?”

“In over a decade? Likely a shroud,” Severin teases.

“I have a hairbrush in my bag, young man,” Augusta warns.

“Hey, shhh,” Christabelle hushes the pair. “Play quietly around the baby.”

Sebastian looks at his mother and smiles. “Two little whirlwinds under my roof are enough,” he states dryly.

Jim gives him a look. “I am perfectly well behaved, thank you.”

Sebastian arches a brow. “Oh, well then we'd best hope Lexie takes after you.”

“Alex,” Jim responds. His eyes are amused.

Chapter Text

“What the fuck were we thinking?”

Jim kicks at Sebastian and groans, all his recent urges to be extra kind to his lover momentarily forgotten as the noise assaulting his ears reaches an uncomfortable pitch. He pulls a pillow over his head and hisses, “I don't know, it's your turn, go make her stop crying.”

“You're the one with FNSS,” Sebastian mutters, but gets up anyway.

Jim rolls his eyes. The brunet may have a variant of the BHLHE41 gene which makes him genetically resistant to the effects of sleep deprivation (insofar as he only requires six hours, not eight), but Jim is definitely grumpier on less sleep. “You're a good mum,” Jim calls after the blond.

Sebastian flashes his fingers up at his husband and fishes a screaming Jellybean from her crib. She resists, red-faced and angry at the world, and Sebastian sees so much of his husband in her he cannot really resent her for the aching ringing in his ears or how damned tired he is.

“Hey, hey, shhh, your Dad's right here for you Lexie, okay?” Sebastian murmurs, holding her writhing form to the warm skin of his chest. Alexdrina captures his sparse chest hair in her tight little fist and lessens her shrieking marginally as she yanks at the dark blond strands. Sebastian bites his lips and bounces the little sadist softly feeling unable to resist glancing over at Jim, his other petulant brat.

Jim is peering out from under his pillow attentively. If asked, he would blame the attention on his inability to sleep as his child cursed them at an unnatural decibel level, but Sebastian knows differently: Jim is fascinated by every moment of their new family and he did not want to miss even this.

Sebastian checks Alexdrina's comfort and discovers she is still dry. She's a newborn so changing her isn't a terrible chore yet, but one less thing to do means the three of them can go back to sleep more quickly.

Sebastian gives Lexie a kiss. “Time to eat, huh, madame?”

His daughter continues to scream. She has little patience for his prattle, much like her Daddy.

“Come on then, hungry girl,” Sebastian croons. “Let's get you a bottle.”

Jim regards them from his fortress. “Do you want me to make up her milk whilst you rock her?”

Sebastian curls his lips feeling amused despite Lexie's continued caterwauling in his ear. “I thought it was my turn?”

Jim wrinkles his nose and drags himself out from under the warm haven of bedcovers. “It is, but you married an exceptionally generous husband.”

Sebastian grins and heads down to the kitchen. “Lexie and I love you very much, generous husband.”

“Her name's Alex,” Jim grouses.

“Her name's Jellybean, but I don't want her introducing herself that way on the first day of school and getting us called in to a parent – teacher meeting,” Sebastian replies.

“We're rich enough we could probably get away with a ridiculous name,” Jim muses.

Sebastian kisses Alexdrina's tiny little skull again. “You hear that Jellybean? Four ponies for your first birthday.”

“You're the reason she's crying you know,” Jim snarks. He hops down the stairs and sets about heating some of Derry's breast milk. The reminder of the birth mother's presence is not an entirely comfortable one for him, but they agree that if this is best for Alex's health they will each suck up the awkwardness of the situation. Right now (as with all the night feeds) Jim is exceptionally glad of Siobhan's generosity, because stuff having to make up formula at this obscene time in the morning.

Sebastian nuzzles Alexdrina comfortingly, careful of his stubble on her delicate skin. “I know baby, know you're hungry, but Daddy is getting your bottle as soon as he can for you, okay?”

“She's as needy as you are,” Jim scoffs.

Sebastian raises his blue eyes from his daughter to his husband. “She's all you, noisy, demanding little princess that she is, and she's perfect. Aren't you, Lexie?”

Lexie hiccups from crying and grimaces as though in resentment at the sudden stop in her imitation of a particularly insistent air raid siren.

Jim chuckles and tests the temperature of the milk against his inner wrist. Sebastian watches and wonders at how such a mundane thing can fill his chest with so much contentment.

Alexdrina stops whimpering the instant the bottle comes within her grasp and dismissively relinquishes Sebastian's poor chest hair. Jim watches her with a smile. “She stuffs her face like you do.”

Sebastian gives the brunet a mildly indignant look. “She's a bit young to teach table manners to.”

Jim grins. “You mean your mum hadn't started on you by now? That explains a lot.”

“Don't think I won't give you a time out just because I'm holding our baby,” Sebastian warns.

Jim grins stupidly.

“What?” Sebastian questions. “Oh. Yeah, it still feels nice, doesn't it?”

Jim nods. His fingers brush Alex even as he looks up to Seb. “You know you're going to have to stop disciplining me once she's old enough to notice?”

Sebastian scoffs. “Not a chance. I'm going to train her to tattle on you and everything.”

“Funny,” Jim says with an eye roll. “People are going to talk if she says things in nursery like 'Dad gave my Daddy a time out'.”

“Since when do we care what people say?” Sebastian murmurs. Lexie is becoming quite content in his arms at last.

“Since it's not just the two of us against the world anymore,” Jim replies.

“This one's got more personality than the pair of us combined,” Sebastian says.

Jim's eyes glint. “So as much as her granny then?”

Sebastian chuckles but the noise almost sounds like a yelp. He swallows. “Don't give me fears like that. It's bad enough that she's shaping up to be exactly like you.”

Jim gives his husband a look. “That's a bad thing?”

Sebastian shakes his head with a soft smile. “It's my favourite thing.”

Jim swallows hard because he can feel that Seb means it. “I love you,” the brunet says.

“I love you too,” Sebastian says.

They tend to the rest of Alexdrina's needs then get her settled. The rest of the night (technically early morning) passes in a haze of interrupted sleep. As such, Sebastian is not entirely certain he isn't dreaming when something that is not a crying baby wakes him with a start.

He thinks he has heard the lift mechanism.

Jim turns around tiredly as Sebastian sits up. “What's wrong?”

“Did you hear anything?” Sebastian asks quietly.

“After Alex has had my ears ringing for days? I'm lucky I can hear anything at all,” Jim says, matching Sebastian's hushed tones even though he jokes.

The lift doors announce themselves.

Jim and Sebastian exchange looks. There is a small part of both of them which is more concerned with the baby waking than any possible intruder.

“Might be your Mum,” Jim whispers.

Sebastian nods slowly but gets out of bed. He nods at the crib for Jim to ensure Lexie stays quiet (and preferably asleep). Seb takes a gun from down the back of the bed and creeps downstairs.

He is not expecting what he sees. “Rawdon?”

Sebastian's eldest brother holds up a key. “Chrissy gave me, er...”

Sebastian stares at the man. In his mid fifties, Rawdon's previously blond hair is mostly silver now.

“Don't say it,” Rawdon says.

“You don't look like Father,” Sebastian says. “Your smile's different.”

Rawdon's lips spread and he chuckles softly. He starts walking towards Sebastian and there is something different in his tread -a marginal lean to one side and a stiffness in one leg- that makes the younger sibling glance down. Sebastian notes the narrowness where his big brother's ankle should be. Seb has worked with enough soldiers who have used their prosthetics as gun rests to quickly take note of this new development.

“Obviously, I'm not officially here,” Rawdon says, coming to stand before his younger brother.

Sebastian rubs at his scarred wrists self-consciously. “Sev says you visited when I… Thanks.”

Rawdon clasps Sebastian's upper arm and looks him directly in the eyes. “You've nothing to be embarrassed about. I'm sorry you went through that.”

Sebastian swallows. He's having a tough time meshing this accepting version of Rawdon with his seemingly perfect, toxically masculine brother of years ago.

Sebastian bites his lip. “D'you know that I'm… um...”

“Into blokes?” Rawdon suggests helpfully. “Yes. Sev told me at the hosp- well, he told me. And I have also heard that you and your husband have just had a baby girl.”

Sebastian is uncertain what he was expecting, but it wasn't a casual acceptance.

“You look knackered,” Rawdon says. “Have you and your husband fed yourselves today?”

Sebastian considers. “Uh… No?” He feels a surge of guilt for being a bad husband.

Rawdon doesn't shake his head or tisk. He nods instead. “Right. Get back to bed. I'll quietly get something cooking. Off you go.”

Sebastian blinks then nods. “Alright.”

He returns upstairs feeling dazed. He realises halfway up the stairs he still has a pistol redundantly in his hand and shoves it down his waistband. It occurs to him that he hasn't attempted to shoot anything since his… misadventures with his tendons. Sebastian feels a surge of relief that he hasn't had to test his ability.

Jim regards him from the foot of the bed. “If any other ghosts from your past want to get us out of bed I'll make certain that next time they stay dead. Now come back here and spoon me before Alex wakes up.”

Sebastian grins and doesn't have to be told twice. He discards the gun and gladly accepts a share of Jim's body heat.

When Seb is roused later it is not, for once, by Lexie's racket. A mouthwatering scent of soup drifts up from downstairs and he can hear quiet conversation between Jim and Rawdon.

Sebastian glances to Lexie's cot. It's empty, so she must be downstairs with her family. Sebastian stretches and pulls on jogging bottoms before making his way to them.

He is mildly surprised to see Rawdon hugging Lexie with a practised ease and tenderness, but Seb supposes it is not really such a strange thing.

Jim glances around. “Your brother fed me and maybe I married the wrong Moran.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes and his filter has not woken up enough to stop him from calmly retorting, “I'm not worried. He wouldn't bend over for you.”

Rawdon covers Alexdrina's tiny ears carefully. "Not in front of the baby I wouldn't."

Sebastian lets out an astonished laugh. He does not know how else to respond. Jim twists around to stick out his tongue at his husband.

There are two washed bowls beside the sink and one sitting out in anticipation. Sebastian moves to the stove, where a large pot is simmering. Generally speaking, men in Sebastian's family were not encouraged to cook, but Seb can remember Rawdon's soups and stews when the elder boy had taken him camping.

The familiar soup seems better than Sebastian remembered. “Yeah okay,” Sebastian chuckles, “maybe I'd marry him too.”

Rawdon laughs, but quietly, so as not to disturb his niece.

Sebastian settles beside Jim and feels oddly pleased that Rawdon does not bat an eye when Jim moves as close as he can without knocking over the warm bowl. “So is this what you've been doing in the afterlife?” Sebastian asks. “Improving your culinary skills?”

“Why else would one disappear into the night?” Rawdon replies.

Somehow Sebastian and Jim are comfortable enough with each other in the moment that that question does not sting. Perhaps their wound is healing.

“Are you happy?” Sebastian asks.

Rawdon nods slowly. “A lot happier than back then. However I was young, and it was a long time ago; I can hardly imagine what life would have been like if I had stayed.”

“How long are you here for?” Jim asks.

“Just a flying visit, so I'm afraid you'll have to survive on 'Bastian's cooking,” Rawdon smiles.

Sebastian looks at his husband. Jim shrugs. “Your cooking's not bad, it's just not very traditional. I can't remember the last time we had English soup like that.”

“I didn't grow up in England,” Sebastian reminds them. “I learnt from the cooks we had at the time.”

“Oh crikey, Iran,” Rawdon says. “I forgot we lived there.”

Sebastian regards his brother with surprise. With their father being so heavily involved with the politics there, many of his own formative memories are of the land their grandparents had still stubbornly called Persia. It is odd to realise that with Rawdon being older, and leaving so young, he does not carry the same memories.

Rawdon waves away the thoughts. “I'm just here to see this one here and because it's good to see you're in a better place. I'll be giving Chrissy back her key and heading back to my real life soon enough.”

“I'm not sure how I feel about a ghost telling me my life isn't real,” Sebastian jokes.

“Well at least I'm not a malignant one,” says Rawdon. He indicates a parcel on the new coffee table.

Jim picks up the surprisingly heavy box and swaps it for Sebastian's plate. Seb peers inside.

“That one is what I would have gotten Alexdrina if I hadn't left,” Rawdon says as Sebastian pulls out a weighty, traditional, ornate silver moneybox. “And that's what I think she'd prefer,” Rawdon continues as Sebastian handles a brightly coloured sensory toy that crackles softly in enticement.

“Thank you,” the parents smile.

Jim holds up an envelope. Rawdon grins. “That is Chrissy's takings from some pool she ran about the little one. She's put it in a savings account.”

Chapter Text

Sebastian feels odd for the next few days. Whilst growing up Rawdon had always been the sort of young man their parents valued and the thought of Rawdon -so like their father- could possibly have wanted anything other than the life he seemed so fit for is difficult for Sebastian to process. Even so, if Seb supposes that Rawdon was simply much better at faking it and inwardly hated toeing the imaginary line, it still leaves Sebastian unnerved. Homosexuality was not acceptable in their household growing up, however much their mother was willing to turn her eyes from Sebastian's more open indiscretions in his youth providing he obediently followed the other rules (not getting kicked out of Eton, or Oxford, or ...well, the army).

Sebastian has not only flagrantly thrown out all pretences of being an upstanding, heterosexual officer of good breeding, he has married a man. And if all the ribbing is anything to go by, Seb is not only openly in a relationship with a man, but gets taken for the woman in their relationship. Not to mention he has a daughter with his husband.

How the previously perfectly homophobic snob Rawdon could have grown into someone who didn't seem to find a thing wrong with any of this is quite frying Sebastian's mind. Possibly doing so just as much as the lack of sleep that comes with a newborn baby is.

Acceptance from Rawdon would once have meant acceptance as belonging in that world their family belong to. Rawdon got out, so presumably nothing really changed except Rawdon. Their society probably still finds Sebastian an utter disaster (if rumours of his homosexual marriage haven't been the final nail in his reputation's coffin, rumours about his suicide attempt will certainly have been).

None of that would usually bother Sebastian. He's at least twenty years past feeling the need to please his parents. And yet… Maybe it's a mixture of being surrounded by his family and now having a little family of his own but… Sebastian finds there is a part of him now that does care.

Rawdon probably has something to do with it. Despite the warm eyes and missing leg the poor bastard does look strikingly like their sire, the far from honorable Lord Moran (knighted Sir Augustus Moran after some supposed chivalrous bravery overseas, but it has always been birthright that has been stressed as most important).

Gus had said their father had congratulated them about baby Alexdrina.

Sebastian has no idea how to begin processing that. Ordinarily he finds it most prudent to simply ignore any dealings with his father, but this second degree interaction niggles. It is almost something resembling a compliment, and Sebastian certainly cannot remember the last time his father bestowed a genuine one upon him. Not that the man was necessarily being genuine with the message Augusta gave, but it would be far more the old man's style to let his displeasure known via his silent absence.

Why had Lord Moran given such congratulations?

The question agitates Sebastian worse because of Rawdon's acceptance. Rawdon is so like their father that Sebastian cannot help compare the men. If Rawdon can apparently accept Sebastian and Sebastian's life choices, could their father?

It is a ridiculous question and one Sebastian feels embarrassed to wonder. Jim picks up on Sebastian's distraction despite the tiredness of them both and questions the blond on it in a moment when Alexdrina is blessedly quiet.

“I don't think you're stupid for wondering,” Jim says, quite surprising his husband. “I'm still grateful that you encouraged me to reach out to Richie.”

“Yeah, well, family's important to you,” Sebastian says.

Jim arches a brow. “And not to you?”

“Not him.” Sebastian makes a face. “He's never mattered to me.”

Jim makes a face of his own. “Hasn't he?” he says carefully.

Sebastian swallows. “Shut up,” he mutters.

“You brought it up,” Jim reasons.

“Yeah, well… I'm an idiot,” Sebastian grumbles softly.

Jim leans over and kisses the bigger man. “You're not an idiot. You're perfectly reasonable to be curious about a relationship with your father.”

“He beat us bloody growing up,” Sebastian says. “I don't want him near Alexdrina.”

“He's not getting near her,” Jim responds. “We're just talking over… whether he's mellowed any in his old age. Became any less of a prick.”

Sebastian swallows. “I haven't been afraid of him in fucking years, but...”

“But you didn't expect to ever get his approval for anything, and the possibility -however small- is enough to knock you for six,” Jim says. He easily puts into words what Sebastian struggles to, and not for the first time Sebastian wonders how he managed to marry a man who understands him better than he sometimes even knows himself.

Sebastian pulls Jim close and breathes in the comforting scent of him. “I don't know what to think,” he mumbles thickly.

“You don't need to know right away,” Jim says. “Carry it about for a bit, mull it over as and when you want. You'll figure out how you feel. Then we'll talk it over again and take whatever steps you decide are best.”

“How the fuck did you become so smart?” Sebastian asks Jim's bare neck.

“I was always smart,” Jim says archly. His voice softens. “You taught me how to understand feelings. I didn't have a clue about any of them beyond anger and hate and boredom until I met you.”

“Oh, you had confusion down,” Sebastian comments. “You stared at me for the first few years like I was an alien or wild animal or something.”

“You might as well have been both, Tiger,” Jim smiles. “I'd never met anyone like you.”

“And now you've met Sev,” Sebastian smiles.

Jim scoffs. “He's like you but he's not you. Might be the more handsome one, what with your lovely scars and all.”

“Fuck you,” Sebastian retorts fondly.

Jim smiles at him. “He's not enough of a fucking idiot as to follow a tiger down a drain, get gouged open, lose his nipple to septic, and then spend a small fortune getting the whole mess tattooed over in colours that are only now starting to fade. I picked the right Moran.”

“Because you like my tattoos?”

“Because you're a fucking moron, my love, and you probably wouldn't love me right back if you weren't,” Jim teases.

Sebastian huffs good-naturedly and mouths Jim's collarbone. “Thanks, Sasslips.”

Jim curls a hand around the back of Sebastian's scalp. “You're welcome.”

They snuggle close and if they weren't utterly exhausted from the past few days they would probably have gotten amorous. As it was, the couple curled into each other and napped happily until Alexdrina decided it was time for them to get up.

And that is when Mrs Moran decides to arrive. Sebastian and Jim exchange a look as they hear the lift mechanism, but Jim checks his nearby phone and holds it up with a lopsided smile. “Your Mum's on her way up.”

“Great,” Sebastian says.

“Can you hold Alex whilst I go put something on?” Jim asks. “I love your Mum and everything but I'd rather she didn't see me in my pants.”

“Has she ever seen you undressed when you haven't been naughty?” Sebastian asks as he reaches for their daughter.

Jim isn't too sleepy to blush. “Shut up,” he mutters.

“Holding the baby so you can't make me,” Sebastian teases.

Jim holds back a curse and dives upstairs.

Sebastian has been forgoing wearing tops recently as Lexie appears to prefer his bare torso, and it's a lot easier to just step into the shower than to face the growing pile of dirty laundry that they are accumulating. He has shaved his chest to defend against his daughter's grabby little hands but she is too distracted by a warm bottle to complain to her Dad about it. It hasn't bothered Sebastian until now, but he suddenly feels underdressed as his mother waltzes in.

She manages to refrain from opening with an insult as she swans over. She kisses his stubbled cheek then holds out her hands for her granddaughter. “May I?”

There was a point in Sebastian's life where he would never have permitted his mother contact with any children he supposed he may one day have. He doesn't know when things changed. He supposes he trusts her with Lexie. Perhaps it's because the woman has been so protective of Jim.

Sebastian hands his mother Lexie and her bottle. Mrs Moran beams and wanders around the room slowly with her granddaughter.

“You can go shave,” the woman says.

Sebastian rubs his face. “What for? I'm not going out anywhere.”

“Because I am here now and I have standards even if you don't,” his mother says archly.

“Why do you care?”

“Because you are raising my granddaughter and babies are impressionable,” Mrs Moran responds.

Sebastian stares at her. “Lexie doesn't care and she's a baby; she's not going to remember whether or not I shaved daily when she was a newborn.”

“Do as your mother says, dear,” Mrs Moran intones sternly.

Sebastian sighs. He doesn't know why, but he heads off to obey. He meets Jim on the stairs just as his mother calls out, “You realise those stairs aren't safe for a child?”

Jim makes a face at Sebastian and heads down to his mother in law. Reasonably he points out, “She can't walk yet.”

“We'll get a baby gate!” Sebastian calls down.

“I'll look into things and find you some more suitable properties,” Mrs Moran sniffs.

Chapter Text

“We're not moving,” Jim tells Mrs Moran for days on end. Sebastian grunts out agreements each time but Jim cannot shake the feeling Seb's heart isn't in them.

“You going to tell me what's on your mind?” the brunet asks later.

“Mm? I wasn't thinking about my father,” Sebastian says, sitting up and rubbing his face as though to increase his alertness.

“I know that,” says Jim, “but you're definitely obsessing over something.”

The blond gives his husband a sidelong look. His voice is vaguely put out as he responds, “I don't obsess. Except about you. And you're too tired from the night feeds to run away.”

Jim snorts and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, because that's the reason I stay,” the man scoffs. “You know that's not what I'm talking about.”

Sebastian sighs in drawn out frustration. Jim's lips quirk at the youthful reaction and he cannot help but remember Seb's usual teasing about living with a teenaged Jim. “Come on, darling, big boy pants now. You can do it,” Jim teases.

Sebastian gives him a soft glare. “I am not the wife or the child in this relationship, Sasslips.”

Jim grins. “You're trying to change the subject, Tiger.”

Sebastian glowers. He can see his brunet is using his own methods of being reasonable against him, and can tell Jim is thoroughly enjoying doing so. Seb asks, “Was I as annoying as you when we first got together?”

“Much worse,” Jim smirks. “Now out with it.”

Sebastian huffs, glances over his shoulder to check whether Lexie is sleeping deeply, then moves quickly over to his husband and pins Jim against the furniture with a soft growl. Jim grins and rests his hands on the strong arms either side of him without making any attempt to remove them.

“Someone's feeling insecure I see,” Jim says.

Sebastian frowns and pulls back a bit, the predatory smirk on his face splitting into confusion. “What?”

Jim tilts up his chin. “I am not going to help you feel like a man until you tell me what's wrong, Sebby.”

“Have I ever told you that sometimes your brains are a bit annoying, Arty?” Sebastian sighs.

Jim grins. “Yes, Seb. Now do as Daddy says.”

Sebastian huffs and takes a deep breath. “I think Mum might be right,” he admits through clenched teeth.

“Right about what?” Jim asks, arching a brow.

Sebastian frowns. “The apartment,” he says softly.

“What about it?”

Sebastian chews his lip. “Maybe we should move.”

Jim blinks and his husband feels a momentary pleasure at managing to surprise the brunet.

“What makes you think that?” Jim asks. He makes a face and tries to joke, “Don't want to raise Alex in a nursery that was the first place I found one of your guns?”

Sebastian swallows and tries to smile. “I love that all our rooms have memories.”

“Then what's wrong?” Jim asks.

Sebastian looks down. He takes a deep, rallying breath and admits, “I don't… My hands aren't what they were. And I don't know if...” he trails off looking frustrated, guilty and vulnerable. He looks up at the ceiling and continues, “I don't know if I'll ever be as… competent.”

Jim pulls Seb's hands from the wall to his waist then puts his own arms around the blond. “Your brother's visit shook you up, huh?”

“What if something happens and I can't… defend you?” Sebastian mumbles. “This place wasn't built as a safehouse. Maybe we should get something reinforced...”

Jim rests his face against Sebastian's chest. “We're hardly without security measures here.”

“I know,” Sebastian says, “but...”

Jim presses closer to his blond. “We could tighten security. It's not like we can't afford to.”

Sebastian rests his chin on Jim's warm scalp. “But what if that's not enough? What if one day we need my skills as a last resort and… and..?”

“I understand,” says Jim. He lets Sebastian sit with the decision for a few days and then together they start looking at properties and packing boxes.

Mrs Moran 'helps' them find a suitable removal company and Severin helps them move the belongings which cannot be trusted to strangers.

Jim likes Severin. In nature the blond is very like Sebastian, and it is hard to dislike someone so similar to the man Jim loves best in all the world. Sev is warm and funny and has a vaguely endearing enthusiasm for blowing things up that Jim cannot help be amused by.

Severin also openly loves Sebastian a great deal and that matters to Jim even more. The brunet enjoys watching the brothers cheerfully bicker and play around with each other. Severin is not quite house-trained, as Jim notes with a mildly sour expression as the two fools roughhouse playfully with each other mindless of the very expensive belongings in their immediate vicinity. Still, the chastised look Severin gives immediately afterwards puts Jim back in a good humour. Sebastian doesn't take much heed to Jim's scoldings after so many years of marriage, merely grinning and promising to be better behaved (the handsome liar). Severin, meanwhile, seems to never quite have forgotten being abducted by Jim all those years ago for what was by most people's standards a rather unconventional wedding.

It takes days to get the house into some semblance of order, especially with a newborn present. Severin runs interference for the couple whilst Mrs Moran takes on the role of project manager with rather too much zeal (especially as she actually employed a project manager).

Severin laughs himself silly when he sees his twin carting Alexdrina about in a baby carrier. “Never have I truly seen you as wholly gay until this moment,” Severin says when he recovers.

“If I wasn't carrying your niece I'd wipe that smile from your face,” Sebastian responds.

Severin smirks and takes out his phone to snap a quick photograph of his brother and the baby. “Oh trust me, bro, the kid's going to tease you for this look too once she's old enough.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes and uses his free hand to flash two fingers at his brother. “You're just jealous because you couldn't possibly create something as beautiful as my family.”

Severin chuckles. “Have you been getting oestrogen treatments or what?”

“When did you become such a prick?” Sebastian chortles.

Severin winks. “Spent most of my week with you. It's doing terrible things for my behaviour, not having Irene at my side to wash my mouth out. Should I get her to visit? She'd be quite scandalised at the mouth you kiss your beautiful baby with.”

Sebastian glowers at his brother. “Do you want me to remind Mum that you aren't married yet? Because I'll do it.”

Severin scoffs but Sebastian can tell when his twin is somewhat cowed. Severin tilts his chin defiantly. “Maybe I should tell your husband you're swearing in front of the baby. Won't that get your legs slapped?”

A smile spreads across Sebastian's face.

Severin is immediately puzzled. “What?”

“You just called Jim my husband,” Sebastian grins.

“Well that's what he is, isn't he?” Severin responds, although he can clearly understand Sebastian.

Lexie reaches clumsily for her father's hand as he points at his twin. “You never miss a chance to tease us,” says Sebastian.

“Hey, trust me, I'm being charitable only ragging on you for,” Severin looks at Alexdrina and searches for a polite term, “your preferences. You think it's easy looking at how skinny you've gotten and biting my tongue about it? I am a latter day saint, brother.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes again. “Hey, I'm managing to fit workouts around a new baby and a new house. If we compare the effort we're putting in I am running laps around you, 'Rin.”

“Did you get that viewpoint from Pinterest or Mumsnet?” Severin asks with faux innocence.

“You can tell me, once I get Mum to marry you off to Irene,” Sebastian smirks.

Severin points at his twin. “See, it's things like this that make me like your wife more than you.”

“Uh-uh, my husband, and you love me too,” Sebastian says.

Severin scoffs. “Oh, I love you, but I don't have to like you.”

“You're just blessed this way,” Sebastian says.

Severin rolls his eyes (a trait he has certainly picked up from Seb). “Shut up and give me your baby before I report back to Mum. I could do with the protection.”

Sebastian laughs. “You are not using my baby! Fight your own battles.”

“Have you seen our wrinkles? Alexdrina's cuter than we are,” Severin reasons.

They debate the issue some more but come to no resolution as Jim strides up looking tense. He kisses Alex, calms down at little, and says, “Mam's giving me a hard time over the baby's room. Says it can't be blue and has told the decorators to get other paint. She suggested a princess theme.”

“The theme is space! How can she argue with bringing up her granddaughter with the ideal that the universe is in her little grasp?” Sebastian says.

“She says science is masculine, apparently,” Jim complains.

“Tell her if blue is good enough for the Mother Mary it's good enough for her grandbaby,” Severin says.

Sebastian laughs and kisses Jim's head. “I'll talk to her, sweetheart.”

“Thank you. Give me Alex. I need the baby smell to soothe me,” Jim says.

Sebastian scoffs. “Stuff that. If I'm off to wage war on my mother's decisions I'm taking Lexie for protection.”

Severin gives his twin a look. Sebastian winks at him and carries Alexdrina off to battle.

That night Mrs Moran gives them all a distinctly unimpressed look as the boys suggest ordering takeaway. Her twins are astonished when she stays but Jim watches her talk deprecatingly to Alexdrina about the greasy foreign food and knows she's loving every moment. Except for actually eating the meal.

Afterwards when they are alone and Alexdrina has been put down to sleep Sebastian asks Jim, “Do I look stupid when I have Lexie strapped to my chest?”

“Because you're a man mountain?” Jim asks.

Sebastian scoffs. “Hardly anymore.”

Jim tilts his head thoughtfully. “You're not as big as you were before but you're still huge compared to… well, me. A normal man.”

Sebastian's eyes glitter. “Oh, normal are you? That's news to me. Just like you being as tall as a normal man.”

Jim bites Sebastian lightly and smiles when the blond exclaims then laughs. “You'll wake the baby!” Seb scolds.

Jim winces and looks over Sebastian's shoulder to their Jellybean, but the little banshee remains asleep for the moment. He breathes a sigh of relief. Alex does not take kindly to being woken by surprise.

“And no, not because I'm so big,” Sebastian says. “Does it make me..?”

“What?” Jim asks lifting his face curiously from where he had been resting it beside the now damp and throbbing part of Seb's bitten skin.

Sebastian purses his lips, suddenly feeling mildly ridiculous. “Does it… make me look gay?”

“Does your wedding ring?” Jim responds archly.

“Loving a man isn't the same as… looking like I do,” Sebastian mutters, ears pink.

“You've always looked masculine, Tiger,” Jim says.

“Even with a pink baby carrier?”

“You look like a dad,” Jim says. “A loving one.”

Sebastian nods thoughtfully.

“Where did this come from?” Jim asks. “You don't normally care when your brother teases you.”

“It's not just that,” Sebastian sighs.

“Your dad?” Jim asks.

“Stuff him; what would he know about being a parent?” Sebastian sneers.

“What then?” Jim presses. “Are you feeling tetchy because most of the parenthood books we've read have been aimed at new mothers?”

“I'm not a mother,” Sebastian mutters.

“Neither am I,” Jim says. “And you've never cared much about some nonsense toxic masculinity before, so what's new?”

Sebastian sighs and rolls onto his back, pulling Jim onto his chest. “I don't know,” the blond mutters.

Jim considers. He thinks of Derry – Siobhan - Derry and feels a little sick. “Do you think Jellybean's going to miss out without a mother?”

“Of course not,” Sebastian says. He sighs. “But we're going to have to do the mum stuff as well as the dad stuff, especially since we've got a daughter.”

“We can manage that,” says Jim.

“I don't know what a normal mum is like,” Sebastian says. “Things are better now, but growing up… Mum just wasn't there. Chris was for a bit, until I was thirteen or so and went to Eton, but that's all I've got. What if I'm not enough?”

Jim takes his husband's face tenderly. “Of course you're enough,” he says firmly.

“Why are you so sure?” Sebastian asks. “I'm a mess, mo chroí.”

“Firstly, you are not a mess,” Jim says. “You are my husband and Lexie's father and you are perfect. Secondly, I didn't have anyone when I met you. I was hard work. You made my life worth living. All that love and understanding in you… You are exactly the sort of man to be a parent.”

Sebastian takes a deep breath and holds on to the words. They help. “Thanks Arty,” he says.

“And besides,” Jim continues, “those pecs of yours are practically breasts anyway. You're the sort of mum everyone would fancy.”

Sebastian snorts and squeezes Jim close. “I'm not a woman,” the blond responds, sounding rather tetchy.

“Well thank fuck because you're always telling me I have mummy issues,” Jim comments.

Sebastian looks at his husband and purses his lips.

Jim smirks unkindly. “You did wear women's knickers on our wedding night, though, darling girl. And correct me if I'm recollecting incorrectly, but I believe I rode you silly.”

“You'll be lucky if I even let you ride your hand from now on,” Sebastian glowers.

“You mean you're not going to lie back and think of England for me?” Jim teases.

“Certainly not,” Sebastian says. He gives his husband a look and smirks, “I have just given birth after all.”

Jim chuckles and pulls Seb close. “That's fine, Tiger, but you're still going to give me a good, long kiss.”

Chapter Text

“So what’s the plan?” Severin asks.

Sebastian lifts his gaze from Lexie to his brother. “Plan for what?”

Severin smiles, unable to cuff his sibling whilst holding his niece. “You know, your lives?”

Jim swipes a biscuit and takes a seat beside them. “If you’re talking about putting Alex on lists for nurseries and schools we have let your mother handle it.”

“Although she won’t be boarding,” Sebastian says firmly.

Severin chuckles. “A Moran not boarding? Bet Mum took that in her stride.”

“She didn’t shout as much as I expected,” Sebastian muses.

“And she didn’t change it behind our backs,” Jim says. “I checked.”

Sebastian adds, “Twice.”

“Do you think all this softening is normal for someone her age?” Severin questions. “Maybe we should be calling a doctor about it.”

Sebastian snorts. “Do you want her to go back to the way she was when we were Lexie’s age? Let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth here.”

Jim rolls his eyes. “Don’t you feel that your priorities have changed as you’ve gotten older? Your Mum’s allowed to feel that way too.”

“Stop labouring under the wild misapprehension that our mother is capable of human emotions,” Sebastian scoffs.

“You’re biased because you’re her favourite,” Severin agrees.

Jim’s dark eyes sparkle. “Well, you can hardly blame her there. The woman has impeccable taste.”

“And that’s why she’s had the baby’s nursery repainted against your orders three times so far,” Severin counters with a grin.

Jim sighs. “She just needs something to occupy her.”

“Get her to vet your nannies or something,” Severin suggests.

Jim blinks. “Nannies?”

Sebastian shakes his head. “Neither of us are going to work full time any more. We won’t need a ton of nannies.”

“Why would we need any nannies at all?” Jim asks. “Alex has Chris if she needs to talk about girl stuff growing up.”

“We’re capable of talking about girl stuff,” Sebastian interjects.

“Yeah, but she might not want to talk to her dads about periods or snogging boys,” Severin points out.

Sebastian cringes and reaches over to cover Alexdrina’s ears. “My Jellybean’s not going to be kissing any boys!”

“Or girls then,” Severin says.

“No kissing anyone!” Sebastian insists. “My little girl is going to be a nun. She’s not going to be involved in any of that nonsense. In fact maybe we should home school her and she can live with us forever.”

“Glad to see what a reasonable, practical partner I picked for the father of my child,” Jim mutters.

“You didn’t pick me, my mother had to get you to do the right thing,” Sebastian sniffed in playful haughtiness.

“I thought we’d established that you carrying Jim’s babies would have ruined your figure?” Severin teases.

“For the last time I am not the woman in our relationship,” Sebastian retorts.

Jim responds, “To be fair, Seb, it’s patently obvious that I am not in possession of child-bearing hips.”

Sebastian turns a stern look on his husband. “If you’re saying that I am, love, brat, I’m going to put you over my knees whether my brother’s here or not.”

“If you dare spank me in front of your brother I’m not putting out for a month,” Jim asserts.

“Uh, ‘the brother’ would like to point out that your kid’s going to have massive therapy bills once she’s old enough to understand words,” Severin tells them both.

Sebastian grins and pulls Jim towards him. “We can afford it. Now what were you saying about my hips, sweetheart?”

“A month, Sebastian Moran,” Jim warns crisply.

Sebastian grins and nips the pale brunet’s neck with his teeth. “The baby’s keeping us up all night anyway, so I’m not expecting much action this month. Your threat’s empty, Sasslips.”

“Get your hand off of my arse,” Jim grumbles, making no move to shove away Sebastian’s wrist.

Sebastian chuckles, gives Jim a firm squeeze, then lightly slaps his husband’s bottom before wrapping his arms around Jim’s waist. “You’re welcome,” the blond teases.

“I hate you,” Jim says fondly.

Sebastian kisses the side of his brunet’s face. “Now, now, don’t make me wash your mouth out too, pet.”

“So, nannies,” Severin says loudly. He looks down in surprise as Alexdrina pulls at his shirt in protest to the noise. He kisses her nose softly and chuckles when she attaches her little fist to his stubble.

Sebastian rubs his own jaw absently. “What age do babies start to understand twins?”

Severin raises his gaze and an eyebrow, his lower face still in Alexdrina’s clutches. “I’ve got at least a hundred pounds on you, Funsize. She can tell us apart.”

Sebastian purses his lips. “You’re lucky you’re holding my daughter, Chubs.”

“She can tell you apart because I choose Seb’s cologne,” Jim says dryly.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Severin asks.

“It means until Irene lost her senses you wore Brut,” says Jim.

“What’s wrong with Brut?” Severin asks.

“Exactly,” says Jim. “How you and Seb can be your mother’s sons is beyond my understanding.”

“We were mostly raised by nannies,” Severin says.

“Not exactly selling the concept to me,” Jim says.

“If you had nannies you could both be getting more sleep at night, so you would actually have energy for conjugals,” Severin says.

Jim looks sorely tempted for a moment then makes a face and points at Severin. “Nice try. You’re just trying to give your idiot brother more excuses to try to slap my arse.”

“It is a nice arse for a man your age; Seb doesn’t need my help to be encouraged to touch it,” Severin teases.

“Remember when we just had a conversation about what we talk about in front of Jellybean? Yeah, I suddenly get it,” Sebastian says. “Please don’t talk about my husband’s body when holding our baby.”

Severin winks. “Hey, I’ve got a cute sister-in-law.”

“If you ever want to have kids of your own, Severin Moran, you won’t call me that again,” Jim cautions firmly.

Severin rolls his eyes. “He who holds the baby is safe from violence.”

“Sick up on him, Lexie,” Sebastian prompts.

Jim sighs and turns to his husband. “You are not helping.”

“Nannies would help,” Severin says. “I’m going to have at least two dozen.”

“And Irene’s going to have your balls if you look at any of them,” Sebastian scoffs.

Severin smirks. “You’re not the only unconventional couple, you know.”

“We are perfectly conventional,” Sebastian says. “We dress like men and drink hard liquor and shoot...” he trails off with a frown at himself.

“Do you want to come to the range with me at the weekend?” Severin asks gently.

Sebastian nods slowly. He casts his gaze around the new house. “Some more security around the place might be a good idea...”

Severin looks thoughtful. “Vix has been in close protection for a while. I reckon you could afford her.”

Sebastian rubs his face. “You might be onto something.” He turns to Jim. “Vix served with us. She’s good.”

“And she’s got experience with kids. She’s been guarding some little royals in the middle east and I know she’s been thinking about coming back to England,” Severin muses.

Jim nods, his fingers curling around Sebastian’s nearest scarred arm. “If you’re interested in new staff I can think of a couple of people that might be good for Alex too.”

“You know I never said none of our nannies were competent with firearms,” Severin comments.

Sebastian chuckles. “God, do you remember old Mrs Thakur? She put me in my place when I told Chris girls couldn’t shoot.”

“I remember her daughter Supriya,” Severin mutters.

Sebastian laughs. “I thought I was going to die laughing when she punched you that hard. You deserved it.”

“I didn’t know veal was baby cow! I was ten,” Severin protests.

“You never forgot though did you?” Sebastian points out. He pulls Jim onto his lap and says, “We’re going to have to teach Lexie how to throw a punch.”

“We’re going to have to teach her to walk first,” Jim points out.

“Can you take my princess for a bit?” Severin asks. “I want to check Facebook and see what Priya’s up to.”

“Living a full life without you,” Sebastian teases.

Chapter Text

A few emails pass back and forth between the Moran brothers and Vix before Jim hears Sebastian take a call from a woman with a loud and dryly cheerful Leicester accent. Seb is vague about his injuries, feeling somewhat embarrassed, but if Vix picks up on that she doesn't say. Instead she mentions she has leave due and schedules a day in the future to meet.

“Do you want to come up with a story for what happened?” Jim asks his husband softly.

Sebastian thinks it over with a mild frown then shakes his head. “No point lying about it, but I'm not bringing up the details if no one asks.”

“I understand,” Jim says. He climbs onto the blond's lap.

Sebastian cuddles his husband and looks at the red scars of his wrists. They are still tinged with purple in places, and have yet to fade to pink even at the shallowest parts. They are highly noticeable, but as everyone in the family knows how they occurred, Sebastian has not felt much need to hide them. He does not like the feeling of clothing against this skin.

“If anyone is the right fit for us they're not going to judge your scars, Tiger,” Jim says.

Sebastian grunts an acknowledgement and twists his wrists to better examine his scar tissue. “What's Lexie going to think though?”

“They'll have died down in colour by the time she's old enough to notice,” Jim says. He shrugs. “We'll tell her you had an accident.”

“What about when she's older and works it out?” Sebastian sighs.

“When she's older she'll know her Dad is brave and loving and loyal and kind and smart and everything she needs in a parent, and she won't care.”

Sebastian pulls Jim close against his chest and rests his chin on the smaller man's shoulder. “I really love you, d'you know that?”

The brunet smiles and twists to kiss what he can reach of Seb's face. “Yes, darling, I do.”

Sebastian smiles and simply basks in holding his husband for a while. Jellybean is with her grandmother and the quiet is peaceful.

Sebastian gloms a kiss onto the tabletop scar on Jim's scalp. The brunet turns and wryly mutters, “You're gonna make me go bald quicker.”

“I'll still fancy you,” Seb says contentedly.

Jim rolls back his skull like a cat needing petted. “You better.”

Sebastian kisses the side of his husband's head and raises a hand to massage the spoilt pet's scalp. “So,” Seb says calmly, “who were you thinking of for gun-toting nannies?”

Jim chews his lip. “There's an army medic I used to know. She… patched me up a few times. I'd trust her with Alex.” Jim indicates his scar with a lightness of gesture that suggests he isn't entirely comfortable with what else he is about to say. “I got split back open not long after I'd ran away from home. She's good at dealing with feral kids in an emergency, so she can probably manage Jellybean just fine.”

Sebastian nods slowly. He kisses Jim's scar a few times and agrees, “She makes the list. What's her name?”

“Captain Gérard. Er, she was a captain. She's probably been promoted by now,” Jim answers.

“She not have a first name?” Seb queries.

Jim bites his lip for a moment and Sebastian wonders at his husband's suddenly pink ears. “Sebastienne,” Jim says. “Sebastienne Gérard.”

Sebastian chuckles. “Should I be worried that you have a type? Soldiers called Seb?”

“Ew!” Jim protests. “I don't do girls and even if I did, Gérard's probably the closest thing I had to a Chris.”

“You've never said much about your street years,” Sebastian comments.

Jim grimaces. “Because my life didn't really start until I met you.”

“I'll tell Richard that,” Seb teases.

Jim pouts. “He'd agree with me. Now moving swiftly on...”

“Is having her here going to be a problem?” Sebastian asks astutely.

Jim hesitates. “No,” he says. “I'm embarrassed of what she might be able to tell you about my past, but she's good, and if I had to pick someone to look after Alex it'd be her. She can stop someone tiny from bleeding out, and… she gave me some good advice that I eventually started to listen to.”

Sebastian knows when not to push. “So, you agree that you're tiny?”

“You're going to find yourself in a time out, smart arse,” Jim warns, but he isn't annoyed.

“Fine,” Sebastian sighs. “Prefer it when you smack me.”

“Precisely why I'm not using that as a threat,” Jim smiles.

Seb feigns a long-suffering noise. “I'm really hoping I get laid when we hire these nannies, you know.”

“Me too, but I think we'll need to sleep for a week first,” Jim says.

Sebastian chuckles. “Maybe two. So, in the hopes of getting these people quicker, who is your other choice?”

“Morgan,” Jim says. “Have you met her?”

“Does she have a last name?” Sebastian teases.

“I don't think 'Morgan' is even her first name,” Jim says. “She's a clever little con artist I've worked with so she understands reading her surroundings and can play makeup and such with Alex. And she likes MMA and Krav Maga; I think she teaches kids. So she can probably be useful to Alex that way too.”

“We might want to start mixing in other circles,” Sebastian says. “Like genteel ones. Ones with less stabbings.”

Jim makes a face. “You think your mum's not already got plans for that? She's been chewing my ear about Jellybean's coming out ball as if the idea isn't archaic and premature and I never want to see another bit of white fabric ever again.”

“Maybe we can get Morgan to teach Lexie some Krav Maga that she can use to incapacitate her grandmother,” Sebastian suggests.

Jim grimaces. “Confining that woman to a chair would not make our lives any easier, and it would make her arms stronger.”

“So much for 'am Mammy's favourite',” Sebastian teases.

Jim twists around to stare at his husband. “This is not what my accent sounds like, Sebastian Moran.”

“Well maybe not to you, 'cause you're so small your ears probably can't pick up sounds properly, but to the rest of us...”

“Sebastian do not make me call your mother, because she is in fullblown Christening organisational mode right now, and I will get you involved,” Jim warns.

“Hang on, she's what?” Seb asks.

“Oh yes,” Jim says. “Apparently my being a lapsed Catholic and you being a heathen does not excuse us from not Christening our daughter, as it is a social event.”

“But don't we have to be going to church or chapel or whatever regularly in order to..?”

“Oh, you would think, but your mother has connections,” Jim responds.

“Like, I don't want to promise to bring my daughter up under Christ or whatever,” says Sebastian. “I'm not a god-fearing man. Do you want to bring Jellybean up in the church?”

“Do I heck,” says Jim, “but this little project of hers is distracting her from repainting our daughter's bedroom for the fortieth time so if she wants to plan a little party that might protect our child's soul so be it.”

“She's really stressing you out about the STEM thing, isn't she?”

“Sebastian, she told me I should be more preoccupied in making my daughter look pretty and she wants to get Alex's ears pierced. Alex is a baby!” Jim rants.

“I'm pretty sure both needles and being splashed in the face with water are both things that make babies cry,” Sebastian says.

“Yes, yes, you had a tragic childhood, and if you push me, Sebastian, I will make you spend more time with your mother,” Jim says.

Sebastian stares at his husband.

Jim raises an eyebrow back. “What?”

“You're going to be the strict parent aren't you?”

Chapter Text

Richard's only response to Severin's teasing is to hold two fingers up unwaveringly. It is the last thing Jim sees before Sebastian hurries his kitten out of the room to meet Potential Nanny No. 3.

“Are you sure they won't kill each other?” Jim asks in a stage whisper. “We still have time to phone your mum.”

“If they weren't watching Lexie I think they might do other physical things with each other,” Sebastian mutters. He herds Jim out of the building.

“I don't think they know what chemistry is,” Jim muses. He twists and looks at Seb aghast, “What if they figure themselves out whilst they're supposed to be looking after Alex?”

Sebastian gently continues pushing Jim towards the car. “They both think Rinn's straight. They're not going to consider to the contrary in the time it takes us to meet one woman.”

“Richie doesn't think your brother's straight; he thinks your brother's in a committed relationship,” Jim counters.

“Well he's not going to meet Irene's girlfriend in the next hour or two so they'll probably both keep it in their pants,” Seb reasons.

“Richard is perfectly capable of watching himself narrate his own show with Alex until she's old enough to repeat the lines back,” Jim points out. “Sev is bound to get bored and start chatting and there's only so long he can last before the conversation veers off into his untraditional lifestyle choices. In front of my baby.”

“In front of our baby and you're forgetting that my twin thinks flirting is punching someone's arm. He can't do that when yours is holding Lexie, so you can breathe,” says Sebastian.

“What if Richie gets Irene pregnant?” Jim hyperventilates. “Jellybean might not be the favourite grandchild anymore.”

Seb slows his steps and gives his husband a look, but doesn't stop walking. “Well that's fucking stupid,” the blond dismisses.

“You're right,” Jim agrees after a moment of tense consideration. “Our baby's far too perfect not too be the favourite.”

Sebastian finally gets Jim into the car. He's only half taking the brunet's ramblings seriously, but Seb's voice fills with a vague parental pride as he agrees, “Exactly.”

Jim nods slowly and leans back to put on his seatbelt.

He jerks forwards agitatedly. “What if Alex has a first when we're out and we miss it?”

“Then it'll still be a first the first time we see it,” Seb counters. He fastens Jim's seatbelt.

Jim's breath is panicked against Seb's throat as the blond leans over him. “What if Jellybean gets bored of watching 'The Storyteller'? What if Richie and Sev get bored and fall asleep?”

“If our baby feels she isn't the centre of their attention for a second she'll start screaming. They'll keep their attention on her,” Sebastian presses.

Jim finally settles. “Yes, that's true.”

Sebastian kisses his husband's cheek. “Remember when you thought I would be the fussy, ridiculous parent?”

“If you want our child to have siblings you can mind your mouth this second, Bash, darling,” Jim purrs. Insults have a way of changing Jim's mood, but Sebastian is uncertain whether Jim knows when he's trying to distract him and merely allows it. Regardless the blond winks.

“If all you're wanting is a blowjob to get another baby out of me you're pricing yourself too low, Sasslips,” Sebastian teases.

Jim scoffs. “You know fine well that's not what I said. Besides, do you really want to see me this highly strung times two?”

“Fuck no,” Sebastian says with a grin.

Jim kisses Seb's cheek then lightly bites the shell of the blond's ear. “We're going to be late.”

“You're going to get your pants pulled down in the back of this car,” Sebastian warns with a leer, shuddering at the sensation of Jim's hot breath on his wet skin. They haven't had much 'alone time' or energy recently.

Jim has matured quite some from the wary teenager provoking Sebastian into giving him a painful smacking in the back of a taxi all those years ago. The brunet kicks off his shoes and places his feet on the dashboard; he wriggles his toes to draw attention to his action as he knows Sebastian pretends it annoys him.

Sebastian has learned to read Jim's signals and limits much better over the years. He knows his brunet is acting up for attention, and ultimately reassurance. It's evident that Jim is unsettled, but Seb has a suspicion this isn't merely the jitters of a new parent reluctant to leave their baby for long.

Something is off.

Sebastian lightly slaps Jim's feet off of the dash and gives the socked toes an affectionate squeeze before allowing them to drop. “Watch it, brat.”

Jim pouts and Seb is transfixed for a brief, blissful moment by his husband's childish pout. They have both aged, but certain mannerisms always seem to make Jim look just as he did when Sebastian fell in love with the scruffy brat.

Jim widens his eyes at his husband's obvious, warm stare and the mouth of the brunet twitches into a smile. “Developed a thing for my feet now have you, you deviant?” Jim mocks, understanding the look perfectly well.

Seb's expression instantly changes. His lips spread wide in a predatory smile. “If anyone wants teased about their fetishes, Kitten…”

Jim presses his lips together. “Shut up,” he responds in a pitch that does a pretty accurate job of mimicking a child thirty years his junior.

Sebastian's blue eyes sparkle. “If you're a good boy for me I'll give you some good snuggles and indulge the fuck out of your praise kink once we've put Lexie to bed for the night.”

Jim nods slowly. He almost smiles, but then his brow creases and he says, “Sebby, we're going to be late.”

Sebastian scoffs and persuades the car to roar into life. He gets into gear with a grimace of concentration, but smirks at his husband as the car obediently makes its way out of its parking spot. He had been unable to drive for months whilst his wounds were healing, but he has no intention of driving like an invalid.

Jim relaxes into his seat a little as they make their way through the traffic in good time. “Hey, Tiger?”

Sebastian is certain his smile is tellingly goofy with pride at his recovered skill in driving, but he turns to spare a glance at Jim anyway. “Yes, sweetheart?”

Jim's posture is still a little nervous, but he gives his husband a playful smirk. “What if I'm not a good boy?”

Sebastian grins and waits until the next red light to give Jim's nearest thigh a possessive squeeze. “Then I'll teach you the error of your ways,” the blond says cheerfully, “and then I'll put you to bed for some serious spooning.”

Jim chortles. He watches fondly as Sebastian takes his hand away and drives on with a smile that makes Jim love him dearly.

Eventually they make it through London's congested roads to the restaurant where they are to meet their prospective nanny, Morgan.

Who doesn't know the nature of the meeting. Jim knows Seb will probably tell him off afterwards for this, but the little Irishman is unconcerned. He has other things on his mind.

Morgan is sitting at a corner table with a good vantage of the restaurant and access to cover. She stands as the husbands approach. Sebastian notes she is a couple of inches shorter than Jim, not especially short for a female, but muscular enough that she probably weighs more than his brunet does.

“Morgan, this is my husband Sebastian. Seb, Morgan,” Jim introduces.

Morgan fumbles for an instant as she begins to hold out her left hand then recovers. She's young, but there's something about the gesture that makes Sebastian ask her, “Scouts?”

She gives a half smile and nods. “Marylebone. You?”

“Oxford. A few of them,” Sebastian says without mentioning he got kicked out of 'a few' for various bits of naughtiness.

Morgan looks like she understands regardless. “I moved around a lot as a kid. I remember having to unstitch my district.”

She's barely more than a kid now. Sebastian estimates Morgan to be in her early twenties but there's a discrepancy between the confidence in her stance and the insipid openness in her gaze that makes it a little difficult for him to fix her maturity down.

“Me too,” he says. “Grew up in Iran as a Cub.”

“Oh, one of my first Jamborees was there,” Morgan comments, which makes Seb try to work out possible years in his head. She continues, “S'different now though of course. The global climate.”

“Wasn't much better when I was a Beaver,” Sebastian says. “A World Jamboree got cancelled in the seventies and my Akila never stopped going on about it.”

“They had women in the seventies? And there?” Morgan asks curiously.

“Not girl Scouts no.” Seb muses, “I think that came in in the nineties. It was a lot of mums who organised us though.”

“I joined Scouts to get away from women,” Morgan chuckles.

“Ah, bloody Brownies, eh?” Sebastian comments. Morgan makes an exaggerated noise of displeasure as though the femininity of her pastel-hued hair does not stand starkly against her distaste for her own gender.

“I was a tomboy and all the older Guides and Owls were miserable old cows,” Morgan laments, dropping back down onto her chair. “I didn't last.”

“The people in your group can make or break it at that age,” Sebastian agrees wisely. He picks out a seat and continues talking. Jim watches the pair of them interestedly and joins them with a softly amused smile. He is suddenly hearing things he actually didn't know about his husband's past due to the common background Seb and Morgan share.

And there are some things Jim knows about Morgan's youth that he would be amused to see Seb respond to.

The waiter arrives to take their order before they get to those topics. Morgan leans back and smiles. “So what did you want to talk to me about anyway? I presume this isn't a social visit.”

Jim scoffs. “You could make friends anywhere.”

Morgan's eyes glitter. “Yes, but it's satisfying when I'm getting paid for it. What do you need?”

“Work, work, work,” Jim drawls. “Anyone would think you cannot stand to be idle.”

Morgan rolls her eyes. “I'm putting the kids through their Zodiac badge. I don't deserve free time because I clearly don't know how to rest like a normal human.”

Jim looks her over very carefully. “How do you feel about babies?”

A muscle near Morgan's mouth tenses as she swallows hard. “I don't kill babies, Jim.”

Besides him Sebastian has barely stifled a flinch. “Not what I was asking,” Jim says dryly.

Morgan breathes out through her mouth. “Prefer to eat them live, do you?” she teases weakly. “What then- Oh. Oh, no, mate.”

Sebastian watches the interaction dubiously. “What do you think we're asking you?”

“I can't be your surrogate,” Morgan says. “The shop front's there but the building's been a long time closed for business.”

Jim laughs aloud. “If I didn't always have eyebags you might have been able to tell we already have the baby.”

Morgan rests her forehead in her hand. “You stole a baby?”

Jim tries to ignore the look Seb gives him. “No.”

“Oh, you bought one. Wait, you grew one?” Morgan exclaims in a whisper.

“Who do you think I am? Yes, I grew one in a very nice human my husband's mother provided,” Jim says.

Morgan gives him a skeptical look and Sebastian's expression isn't much more impressed. “You've never struck me as the breeding sort. Family oriented sure, but a baby?” Morgan says.

“Fate's little surprises,” Jim begins to say flippantly. “Wait, what do you mean I've always struck you as being family orientated? I-”

“Loyal, likes attention, obsessed with your husband...” Morgan lists quickly before Jim can work himself up.

Sebastian casts his husband an amused look.

Before Jim can formulate a response he is perturbed to find a small child carefully approaching their table. Sebastian notes the way Morgan makes eye contact with the child, smiles, and leans down welcomingly.

The child holds out a pastel-coloured soft animal and waves it shyly at her. Morgan gamely feigns a gasp of excitement and rattles off the name of the character as though familiar with whatever cartoon the merchandise hails from.

Jim purses his lips dubiously as Morgan shows no objection to the child approaching her further and batting her softly with the stuffed animal.

“That thing's probably as germ infested as public transport,” Jim says archly as the child shoves a limb of the toy into its mouth and chews slackly.

“Kids need exposure to germs to develop a tolerance,” Morgan says without looking up from smiling at the toddler.

The toddler's father approaches apologetically and tries to coax his child away. Morgan reassures him calmly and doesn't bat an eye when the child claims her lap or clumsily introduces her face to the damp end of the fluffy toy. She holds her arms carefully around the toddler and allows it to pat the tabletop curiously whilst almost simultaneously moving away the utensils and breakables. She reassures the father that he can sit with his wife nearby without feeling the pressure to hover or remove the baby (young enough that Jim cannot tell its gender).

Sebastian watches the husband instead. He is uncertain how to process seeing an active parent in public with a beard and tie. A tie crooked from the fat little fist of his toddler.

An attentive father is a concept Sebastian is still learning to process. He watches Morgan play with the thrilled child and its semi-drowned toy.

He recollects the joy of independence he learnt in Scouts and the delight at escaping from his father through an accepted pursuit.

It is still difficult for Sebastian to understand his feelings about his father's congratulations, or indeed many things related to his relationship with his father, but something in Seb shifts having seen a normal father in the wild.

He suddenly realises that he believes he can manage to be a good parent.

Two more children approach Morgan once the toddler and her family leave. The older child clutches his sibling's hand confidently and pipes up, “'Scuse me.”

Morgan smiles easily. “Hello, lovelies.”

“My sister thinks your hair's pretty,” the young boy announces. The younger child at his side smiles shyly.

Morgan responds with warmth and enthusiasm. Long before the end of the lunch Sebastian and Jim are in agreement that they want Morgan in Alexdrina's life. There is an easiness with Morgan's affection and attention to children that neither experienced in their own upbringing or quite know yet how to emanate. Jim in particular still has little fondness for children, with Alex being his sole exception, but he is certain it will be best for his daughter's development to have someone in her life who can teach her how to enjoy the company of children. He certainly hated them when he was one. He wants better for Jellybean.

“I've never much subscribed to bad guys always seeming like bad guys, but that Morgan didn't seem like a Crocodile girl to me,” Sebastian comments when he and Jim are back in the car.

“She's a complicated little thing,” Jim says.

Sebastian grins at his husband calling anyone little. “I wonder who she reminds me of...”

Jim rolls his eyes. “She could give you a run for your money, old man. Did you see her hands? She's been training more than you.”

“I tanned my wrists less than a year ago,” Sebastian responds half-exasperatedly. He blinks quickly with the sudden realisation that he can can now joke about the subject without feeling uneasy.

Jim yanks some slack for his seatbelt and leans over quickly to kiss Seb's jaw. He falls back against the seat and notices they are almost home.

Jim's stomach begins to twist.

Sebastian notices his brunet's sudden quiet and observes his husband carefully on the last of the journey. “You need anything, love?” Seb asks.

Jim wrings his hands. “Just a head full of thoughts,” he says.

Sebastian nuzzles him during the lift ride to their home.

There are three adult voices coming from the apartment.

Chapter Text

Richard and Severin take Alexdrina to a window to watch her parents get into the car, although she is young enough that the scene below beyond the glass is meaningless to her.

Severin Moran's first instinct upon hearing the lift mechanism in his brother's Conduit Street apartment after he and Richie are certain their brothers are gone would be of little surprise to Sebastian. Severin fetches a gun and sends Richard towards the stairs, out of harm's way should he be forced to fire the weapon.

Richie curls his lip but stands anyway. “It's probably just your mum.”

“All the more reason to be armed,” Sev jokes. “Bedroom.”

Richard's expression flickers for an instant before he carries Alex towards the stairs.

This is when a woman steps out of the lift with a key to the flat twirling on a ring around her finger. Her brows rise to her hairline as she observes the actor and the child in his arms.

“You were serious about the baby, Jim?” she says in a dazed manner.

Severin clears his throat. “Who are you?”

The woman seems unfazed by the gun. “Hey, you must be the husband, right? Jim wasn't joking when he said he was dating a huge blond. I'm Gérard.”

Severin feels oddly uncomfortable at being mistaken for his brother in this way. “Gérard?” He looks the stranger over. “That medic Jim was talking about?”

“Guilty,” Gérard replies.

“...Can I see some ID please?” Severin asks.

Gérard blinks then laughs lightly, unoffended. “I didn't realise you were quite this protective,” she says wryly. If she notices the way Richard shields Alexdrina with his body as Gérard rustles out her driver's licence she doesn't mention it.

Severin feels less unease at Gérard's presence when she laughs. It is a good sound; dry but warm. Her pink driver's licence shows a younger but accurate likeness of a woman with dark hair twisted into a severe bun barely visible at the base of her neck. Gérard's hairstyle has not changed but there are deep lines around her eyes and vertical creases in her cheeks which stretch out smoothly over her thick cheekbones.

“Satisfied?” Gérard asks.

Severin slowly hands the identification back over. “I suppose. Where did you get that key?”

Gérard raises a brow pockmarked with faint scars from what must once have been an impressive number of eyebrow bars. She indicates Richard. “Who do you think?”

Severin meets Richie's gaze to communicate his dubiety. “D'you mean Jim or..?”

“Well I hardly mean the baby, do I?” Gérard scoffs. She juts her chin at Richard. “Feel free to jump in here.”

The brunet swallows. “I think...”

Gérard catches sight of the television. “Jesus Christ. Is that you?”

Richard and Severin glance over at The Storyteller. “Uh, yeah,” says Richie. He opens his mouth to explain but closes it warily upon seeing the uneasy expression which forms abruptly on Gérard's face.

Richie had turned his head. Gérard stills and stares not at his face when he turns back to her, but at where something significant should have been. And wasn't. “Your scar healed up,” she says in disbelief.

Richard blinks quickly then laughs in relief. “Oh. That, no-”

Gérard approaches with a swiftness not expected for her age and eyes the back of Richie's head intently. Richard twists away before she can push aside his thick hair.

“Have you cloned yourself, you crazy little bastard?” Gérard asks. She sounds more exasperated than disturbed.

Severin laughs aloud. Richard takes a step back and glowers softly. “I'm Jim's brother.”

“Oh,” says Gérard. “Oh.”

No one mentions that it seemed far more likely to her that Jim had cloned himself than possessed a sibling.

“And I'm Jim's husband's brother,” Severin adds.

“But the kid's their's,” Richie says.

Gérard stares down at the babe ruefully. “Alex, right?”

The uncles nod. “So, Jim gave you a key,” Severin says. “That's big.”

Gérard makes a face. “He's a suspicious little shit, isn't he? I suppose if you patch up the brat enough times he starts expecting house visits.”

Severin and Richard purse their lips in unison. All doubt they had that Gérard knew Jim now evaporate.

“So, how's the babysitting lark?” Gérard asks conversationally. She wanders through to the kitchen space and counts the cupboards absently before finding the mugs. “Either of you want a coffee?”

Richie and Severin exchange glances then follow. “Sure,” Richard says.

Severin shakes his head. “I'm alright,” he says. He shoves his gun down the back of his jeans and holds out his arms for Alexdrina. Richard pulls himself onto the counter and sits comfortably as Gérard masterfully navigates the complex controls of Jim's expensive coffee maker.

“So how long have you two been together?” Gérard asks.

Richard has to take the baby back as Severin chokes so hard in discomfort.

The blond has not fully recovered by the time his brother and Jim return home, but Richard withholds his teasing. Gérard eyes the pair knowingly and chooses not to mention that Richie's cheeks have been a fetching shade of pink all that time.

Sebastian's heart races upon seeing a stranger in his home with his baby. The recognition on Jim's face is no comfort when Jim greys.

“Evening,” the former criminal mastermind mumbles.

“Good to see you, Shrimp,” says Gérard.

Sebastian is so startled he doesn't even laugh, although Richard makes up for the lack with the volume of his own sudden burst of mirth. Severin is tempted to snort too, but doesn't quite dare. Jim has never seemed an especially reasonable man to him.

Jim says nothing at first but walks towards where the others are on the couch. He hugs Gérard awkwardly. Neither the embrace nor Jim's woodenness seem to surprise the woman. “How have you been?” she asks.

“Had a baby,” Jim says. He bites his lip, painfully aware of all eyes on them. “I wasn't expecting you so soon.”

“Little Mister No Feelings contacted me to say he's had a baby and you didn't think I'd drop everything to come see you?” Gérard scoffs.

Jim's lips twitch. “You didn't believe me?”

“Might've thought you'd had a few too many knocks to the head,” Gérard teases. “She really looks like you though. She's beautiful.”

Jim smiles and cannot help but glance to Alexdrina. “She's perfect.”

Sebastian joins the others and sits at his brother's side. Gérard interests him. She stitched up Arty's head when he was seventeen or even sixteen, and has kept in touch with the brat right into Jim's adulthood without Sebastian ever meeting her.

She seems to have a genuine, if restrained, affection for Jim. She's older than Sebastian imagined, somewhere between him and Chris. There's something cold about her posture and expression, but it is thawed in the centre. She is reserved but tender as she takes Jellybean and Sebastian gets it. Streetkid Jim wasn't used to affection and he would have ran from a nurturing mummy figure who wanted to stitch up his wounds (physical or otherwise).

Gérard grins softly at Lexie and wordlessly checks the baby's vision and general wellbeing. Sebastian feels momentarily insulted until he sees the proud smile Gérard gives Jim. “She's in really good health,” the woman comments.

A flash of bright pleasure covers Jim's face before he calms his features. “I was hardly going to leave her in a dark cupboard and water her occasionally,” he responds dryly.

“I'm a little surprised you actually knew babies need more than that, Shrimp,” Gérard teases fondly.

Jim sniffs in playful distaste but Sebastian can see his brunet is still glowing from Gérard's praise of Alexdrina's wellbeing. “I can do research,” Jim says. “Besides. I… have a family now. To help me… with Alex.”

Gérard gazes intently at Jim as she nods. “I'm glad.” She winks. “You'd probably have gotten yourself into some disaster or other by now otherwise.”

Jim opens his mouth to respond but stops as he catches sight of Sebastian watching him. “Seb takes good care of me,” Jim tells Gérard.

Sebastian's lips twitch and he gives Jim a loving, loyal look. “Someone's got to, shrimp.”

Jim splutters. Sparing a moment to glare warningly at both Richard and Severin as well as his husband, Jim huffs, “She gets special dispensation because she's known me for most of my life. None of the rest of you get a pass.”

“Um hello, we shared a womb,” Richie points out.

“Yes so you had better be nice to me,” Jim responds.

“I'm your husband, I'll do as I please,” says Sebastian. He swallows as Jim arches one brow in slow warning. The blond continues, “And obviously what pleases me is whatever makes you happy, sweetheart.”

“Whipped,” Severin coughs into his hand.

His brother turns to glare. “Do I need to mention what your partner does for a living?”

“I don't get the joke,” Richard murmurs as Sev blushes hard, not because of Irene's occupation as a pro Domme, but because he feels suddenly very awkward about Richie picturing those skills filtering through into the bedroom.

“What's wrong with being an actor?” Gérard asks the room. She crinkles her nose at Richie. “Did you have a saucy role?”

Everyone is quiet for a moment.

“I'm not actually 'Rin's partner,” Richie squeaks.

“Oh,” says Gérard. “Sorry, my mistake. You just seem so comfortable around each other.”

Severin and Richard smile uneasily and try to chuckle. They will shoot each other glances for the rest of the night.

Jim takes Sebastian aside under the pretence of making more coffee. “What do you think of her? As-”

“I like her,” Sebastian mutters. “Mum's quite full on and Chris isn't home much. Morgan's quite soft. I think Gérard would be a good balance. She seems sensible. Efficient. And look at the colour she's turned my brother.”

“I mean if those two fuck I'm deducting points from Gérard,” Jim says with a shake of his head.

“Depending on the embarrassing things you say she has on you I think I might give her more points as I get to know her,” Sebastian teases lightly.

“Just because she's a medic don't think you're safe if you push me, Tiger,” Jim drawls back.

Despite having company Sebastian pulls Jim close. Dipping his lips to the shorter man's ear, Sebastian whispers, “Oh Kitten, you should have told me if you just wanted to play doctor...”

Chapter Text

Jim is in an odd mood after Gérard departs. As Sebastian wonders how to best broach the subject Richard takes Alexdrina from the blond's healed arms and hands her to Severin.

“The two of you, get up,” Richie orders.

Sebastian and Jim look at him and each other in confusion at the actor's firm tone. Sebastian is the first to obey but Richard's raised brows motivate Jim to uncurl from where he had been stewing on the couch.

“Jackets and go,” Richie says.

Jim raises a brow. “What?”

“You heard. Clearly you two need to talk, or whatever, so I'll watch the baby overnight and you both can sleep over in your new place,” Richard decides.

Sebastian and Jim exchange further looks. Jim seems vulnerable and shrugs his shoulders minutely. “Do you think you can manage overnight?” Seb asks the actor.

Richie nods. “I'll be fine. You two do your thing.”

“Hey, I can call Irene and stay to help,” Severin offers. “It'll be easier with both of us.”

Richie looks at the blond. He still feels awkward about Gérard's assumption about their relationship (both men do) but Sev's help would be appreciated. “If that's okay?”

“S'cool, s'family stuff,” Severin shrugs. “She won't mind.”

Sebastian looks between his brother and Jim's brother cautiously. He is wary to leave the pair alone, but Richie is right: Jim needs one-on-one attention tonight.

“Are you sure you two can manage?” Seb asks akwardly.

“It's one night; it's no problem,” Richie says dismissively. “It's not like you don't have colour-coded diagrams stuck to the cabinets for all baby-related routines.”

Sebastian's lips barely manage to twitch at the teasing as he settles his dubious gaze on Severin. “What about you, jarhead, think you can manage?” By which Seb means, 'Can you behave yourself?'

Sev grimaces. His pink ears above Lexie make it clear he knows precisely what Sebastian means but merely insists, “We'll be just dandy.”

Something in Severin's voice catches the baby girl's attention and she switches her firm grip of Sev's shirt to a sudden fistful of chest chair. Severin barely winces but draws her closer to ease the pressure of her hold, inwardly blaming himself disturbing her with an edge of gruffness to his tone.

Jim's gaze flickers to Alexdrina as the unsettled brunet focuses on the conversation around him. He doesn't typically like leaving Alex overnight -or for very long at all- but Jim concedes to the truth they can all see: he's shaken, and needs Seb to lick his re-opened wounds for a while.

One of Sebastian's large hands closes over Jim's own slim offering. It's warm and comforting, and it grounds Jim's jangling nerves. He's safe. Seb is safety.

Sebastian looks down at his little husband and smiles reassuringly. “You sit here, sweetheart. I'll pack us some stuff.”

Jim's expression flickers before he gives a small nod and curls up on the couch again. “Okay,” he says softly, and follows Seb's ascent upstairs with the nervous attention of a barely domesticated former feral kitten. Severin looks the pale brunet over then exchanges a communicative glance with Richie. The bigger man carefully hands Alexdrina to the actor and moves closer to Jim as Sebastian jogs up to the bedroom.

Severin opens his arms and raises his brows at Jim. “C'mere, then.”

Jim raises his own brows right back and gives the blond a mildly scandalised expression. “I don't need a cuddle, Severin,” the brunet protests.

Sev snorts and keeps his arms spread. “Yeah, yeah, you're the sort of psychopath who drugs people to attend your wedding, but you've also been married to my brother for long enough that I know you. Come here and don't make a big thing of it.”

Jim stares hard at Severin for a moment. Although the blond brothers share a great deal of physical similarities Jim has never really thought of the pair as especially similar. Sebastian is wicked and kind and so knowing and… Jim's soulmate, simply put. Sev has always just been Sebby's brother, familiar and someone Jim trusts by extension of Sebastian's own trust, but not someone Jim has many personal dealings with.

Severin's knowing look is not so very far away from Sebastian's, and Jim lowers his dark gaze as he admits to himself that it has its own power. He has never really thought of Sev as being as emotionally intelligent (or indeed as intelligent) as Seb but perhaps that assessment was somewhat unfair.

Jim has never really looked into Severin's depths.

Sighing, Jim gives a reluctant nod and leans forward a little. Arms easily as strong as Sebastian's used to be pull him close and Jim reluctantly submits to the contact, feeling unnerved and yet strangely at peace. Sev runs his fingers softly up and down Jim's back like the brunet has seen Chris do for Jellybean.

“This help?” Severin murmurs.

“Surprisingly,” Jim mutters.

Sev merely chuckles in response. His thick fingers continue to ease lines up and down Jim's torso and the brunet finds himself settling a little into the contact. Jim glances around for Richie's gaze (and half-expected judgement) with a feeling of embarrassment but finds Richard absorbed in The Storyteller instead. Apparently Richie finds nothing odd or of note in this behaviour.

Sebastian's expression widens with surprise when he returns downstairs to find Jim cuddled a little stiffly into Severin's shoulder. Sev stops rubbing Jim's back and pats it casually. “Seb's packed your stuff, mate.”

Mate. Sebastian knows Jim well enough to understand the flicker of emotion in his husband's gaze before Jim awkwardly pulls away. The brunet was never particularly good at making friends (which didn't matter terribly when he was close to Richard but was later an absence keenly felt in adolescence) and Seb understands the offhand comment has unnerved Jim further.

Sebastian reaches out a hand for his husband. “Come on, mo chroí, let's get you home and into bed.”

“Spare us the details,” Sev teases fondly.

Sebastian snorts and turns to give Lexie a goodbye kiss. Jim moves towards Richie to do the same and Seb makes eye contact with Sev.

'Thanks for soothing him.'

Severin makes a calm, dismissive gesture. He looks past Sebastian to check their silent conversation is unobserved then raises his brows softly. 'We're family.'

Sebastian smiles and wraps his fingers around Jim's, other hand gripping a bag strap. “Ready to go, love?”

Jim gives Alexdrina one more kiss then nods. The slight brunet moves close to Sebastian's hip in that familiar, childish lack of personal space that Sebastian loves from his once so touch-phobic lover.

Jim nuzzles into Sebastian's chest in the lift and keeps his thighs splayed wide in the passenger seat of their car so that Seb's fingers constantly brush his leg when reaching for the handbrake or gearstick. Sebastian gives Jim's right quad an affectionate squeeze when he parks up.

“Welcome home again, sweetheart,” the blond drawls.

Jim gives him a half-embarrassed smile. “Love you.”

Sebastian unclips his seatbelt and leans over to kiss Jim firmly. “I love you too, Kitten,” he tells his brunet firmly.

The former rent boy beams but after a few seconds the smile trembles, weak and watery. Sebastian throws the driver seat back and twists to pull his slight husband close. “Nothing to worry about, baby; I got you.”

Jim buries his nose into Sebastian's shoulder. “I'm not really worried about anything,” the brunet says quietly, “I just… A lot's changed. I was so different back then.”

“You've got us now,” says Sebastian.

“Yes,” Jim agrees. “But I… I never imagined my life would be like this. Especially back when Gérard was the only person looking out for me… It's a big change.”

“Seeing her again a bit much for you?” Seb asks.

“Not exactly,” says Jim. “Obviously we kept in touch, but having her in the same room as all of you… It really brought home to me how far everything's come, you know?”

Sebastian kisses Jim's forehead. “Yeah, I understand, love.”

“I think it might be good for me, having her around,” Jim says softly. “I thought she would bring useful skills with her but I think… Having her see me happy is kind of healing something? Does that make sense?”

“It does, mo chroí,” Sebastian agrees.

Jim gives another weak smile. “But it also… Reminds me how bad things used to be? Seeing Richie was a bit the same at first, but I was so grateful to have him back that it faded pretty fast… for the most part. Seeing Gérard without getting hurt first was… It was just different. Made some things feel fresh.”

“That makes sense,” Sebastian reassures.

Jim runs a hand through his hair. “Do you mind if I'm clingy with you tonight?”

“Arty, when do I ever mind if you're clingy with me?” Seb responds.

Jim smiles shyly. “I know. I do. I'm just… I didn't used to be, you know? Clingy. Until you.”

“That's because you didn't feel safe enough to be. Things are so different now,” says Sebastian. “So many people love you.”

Jim's lips twitch. “Yeah, I'm adjusting to that. I don't hate it.”

“Of course you don't hate it,” Seb says, eyes twinkling. “You've got a little squalling Jellybean, and a handsome, loving husband, and a loving brother, and a doting harpy of a mother, and a sister-in-law that picks you up like you're twelve and jokes with you, and a brother-in-law who'd point a gun at a man of God for you. You're pretty spoiled, sweetheart.”

Jim smiles and nods. “And it all started with you,” he whispers.

Sebastian rolls his eyes with a soft smile. “Like I wasn't smitten from the first time I clapped eyes on you? I had no idea how much you'd make my life worth living, Arty.”

“I had no idea I'd mean anything to you,” says Jim. He squeezes Sebastian's hand and smiles meekly. “Shall we go inside?”

“Yes, baby,” Sebastian agrees. He twists again to kiss Jim at length, then picks up their bag and leads Jim into their new, mostly-decorated home.

It doesn't smell lived-in yet, but it does smell of fresh paint and newness. It's theirs in a way Conduit Street never had been, as most of the aesthetic decisions here they have made for themselves. (Most, of course, not all, because Mrs Moran is a law unto herself.)

Jim takes Sebastian's hand. He likes it here, and knows Sebastian does too. Conduit Street has been home for so many years, but they both know that this place will be home too. It has that feel.

Sebastian picks Jim up. It is becoming less and less difficult as his arms heal and his chest broadens. The brunet curls into Seb as he is carried to their bedroom. The big blond puts Jim down carefully on their new bed and lightly tosses down the bag.

Jim leans up on his knees to unzip it and peers in curiously.

Sebastian pulls out one of Jim's onesies. “I figured you'd want this since you've been feeling out of sorts. We can get cozy and cuddle up.”

Jim purses his lips and roots around in the bag. “Don't get me wrong, Tiger, I love you for that, but… Don't you want to make the most of our being alone together?”

Sebastian shrugs and kisses the top of Jim's head as the brunet pulls out a cylinder of lubricant. “I didn't want to presume,” the blond says.

Jim leans back and strips off. “Please, Sebby, please presume.”

Sebastian bites his lip as under his gaze Jim's cock swells and twitches. The blond lets out a breath he barely noticed he was holding and says, “It's been a while.”

“I know,” Jim says. He moves the bag onto the floor and shrugs his permanently thin shoulders. “I might not last long… but I just want to be close to you, you know?”

Sebastian dips and presses a strong kiss into Jim's jaw. “Of course.” He helps the brunet out of his outer clothing tenderly and dabs his lips gently over Jim's neck and shoulder. “I'm probably going to be quick off of the mark on the first round too. I've missed being with you like this.”

Jim relaxes into the affectionate contact. He reaches up to curl a slim arm over his husband's broad neck and holds Seb close. “I love you so much.”

Sebastian nuzzles what he can reach of Jim's arm and curls one of his own around the slight dip under the slim brunet's ribs. “I love you too, Arty. How do you want this? On your back facing each other?”

Jim grins wryly. “Am I that predictable?”

“Never, I just figured you'd want to see me and feel close,” Sebastian responds with another soft kiss. “A bit of comfort as well as some release, you know?”

“And you let me call you the girl in our relationship?” Jim says ruefully.

“I like it when you tease me,” Sebastian admits candidly. “And besides, if I was being really macho I'd push for us to do that thing where I cross my legs and you bounce in my lap, but that gives you way too much control over my orgasm and I wanna defend my masculine ego, alright?”

Jim laughs lightly. “Oh, Tiger. Don't worry, you might not be in your twenties anymore but I'm sure you've still got more than one in the tank after this wait.”

“Yeah, after thirty minutes of sleep,” Sebastian murmurs.

“You can have twenty,” Jim says, reaching up to mouth Seb's earlobe.

“Mm. Um, I'll try,” Sebastian mutters, suddenly embarrassingly close to panting. The heat and the wetness and just the touch of Jim's mouth on his skin is thrilling after so long without 'alone time' together.

“Besides, you are the woman in the bedroom,” Jim purrs tauntingly.

“H-Urgh… How do you figure that?” Seb gasps.

“Girls like to talk about feelings afterwards and don't just go to damned sleep,” Jim replies. He nibbles the shell of Sebastian's ear playfully.

Seb pushes Jim a little out of reach. “If I didn't make you talk about your feelings you'd throw a wobbly from bottling things up, so who is the irrational woman?”

“Who just stopped himself getting kissed and sucked to prove a point?” Jim asks with an arch grin.

Sebastian sighs. “Fair point. Let me get my bottoms off and we can get right back to the ear kissing.”

Jim leans backwards on his elbows as Seb undresses. “I'm thinking we skip more kissing and get to the petting. We've got time for plenty kissing afterwards.”

Sebastian smirks. “Eager, pet?”

Jim rolls his eyes. “It's been forever and I miss your big cock. But you've been warned about calling me that, moron.”

Sebastian frees himself from the rest of his clothing and throws himself down on top of the brunet, managing just fine to bear his weight on his scarred arms. A glistening trail of precum curves over both of their thighs. “Is that so, sweetheart?” the blond says with glittering eyes. “I thought it was twink you objected to...”

Jim stiffens and glares, pursed lips giving away his wry amusement. “Sebastian Moran, I am not going to put out if you call me that.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes playfully. “I reckon if I lick this neglected little hole here you'll let me call you whatever I like. You're as desperate as I am.”

Jim gasps and opens his legs as Seb's fingers probe him gently. “I might be desperate, but I'm stubborn. You know this.”

Sebastian bows and kisses Jim's opening. “You are, baby, but you also don't usually have to go this long without sex.”

Jim sighs, squirms, and grabs Seb's skull to hold him there. “Less talking.”

Sebastian laps Jim in broad, regular licks that make the smaller man's toes clench. “No, there'll be talking. I'm not letting you get what you want too easily.”

Jim grasps Seb harder and pushes in pointed insistence. “No teasing; neither of us can cope with it tonight. Just do what we know you are very good at.”

“Ohhh, are you sure you don't want me to drag this out?” Sebastian teases, pulling back from the smaller man's grip easily.

“If you don't eat me, stretch me and fuck. Me. Into. The. Mattress. I'll cut off your tongue and keep it in my bedside drawer,” Jim grumbles.

Seb laughs and spanks Jim's thigh affectionately. “Greedy little brat. Fine.” Before Jim can think of anything clever to say in response Sebastian returns to the quivering man's wet hole and laves it more possessively with his tongue. Jim moans and curls his legs around Seb's broad shoulders.

Sebastian adds a first finger slowly, paying close attention to Jim's whimpering. “This okay, mo chroí?”

“You're not going to be okay if you don't push that past the next knuckle,” Jim retorts.

“Kitten, if you don't want me to gag you, don't sass me right now,” Sebastian scolds without harshness. “You're really tight after so long and I'm not going to hurt you.”

“I like it when you hurt me,” growls Jim impatiently.

“I like it when you're not too sore to stick my dick in,” Seb answers unsympathetically. He adds lubricant to his saliva-slick fingers and finally does as Jim asks.

The little brunet groans and arches his hips. Sebastian kisses an expanse of pale thigh with just enough teeth to make Jim squeak, then sets about preparing him properly. By the time Seb can crook four fingers in and out of Jim's stretched hole satisfactorily the little consulting criminal has returned to a string of threats, not all of them lucid.

“Missed this?” Sebastian purrs in playful question. His composure is dwindling as Jim writhes and gasps from his touch, but Jim is already too close to the edge to notice.

“You better get inside me soon, Sebby, or I'm going to spill all over your face before you've even dicked me,” Jim finds the presence of mind to state.

Sebastian doesn't need told that twice. He tugs Jim's balls just enough to persuade the brunet to hold back then slicks up and lines up. Jim makes an ecstatic noise as Sebastian enters that makes the head of Seb's cock throb so much that he slips right back out. Sebastian groans and repositions himself before Jim can exclaim any creative chastisement, quite silencing the brunet by burying himself to the hilt.

“Fuck… I love you,” Jim mutters at last.

Sebastian moves in and out slowly. He breathes through his nose knowing that he's not going to last long at all after the wait and then all that teasing. “You want my hand, Kit, or are you gonna cum on my cock?” the blond asks.

An already mewling Jim shifts position wantonly. “I'm already close...” he whispers. “Lean down and kiss me?”

“Gladly, baby,” Sebastian replies. He has to bite his lip at the sensation of shifting closer, but quickly moves his mouth to Jim's. Jim devours him in desperate, messy, exuberant hunger, and Sebastian loves the little man a bit more for it.

“Fucking… love you,” Jim whispers between kisses.

Sebastian rocks his hips into Jim faithful to the way the brunet bucks in need. “I love you… too… sweeth...eart. So… much...” the blond promises.

Slowly Jim's kisses become sloppy bites and short nips. His nails scrabble against Sebastian's thick arms and Seb is unsurprised when the brunet's hips flail with further enthusiasm. “Sebby, Sebby, Tiger, I… ah… Fuck, I… You, ah...”

Sebastian chuckles although he doesn't feel in much of a position to feel superior. Jim's quivering, frantic, babbling, gasping, grasping, squealing little self is impossible not to respond to.

“I'm close too, Arty...” Sebastian whispers. “Cum for me, baby. I'll follow you...”

And for perhaps the first time in his life, Seb's dark-eyed little brat does exactly as he is told. Being the loyal husband he is, Sebastian is true to his word and heats Jim's chest not long afterwards.

“Love. You,” the little brunet declares, then blacks out. Sebastian chuckles weakly and snuggles in.

Chapter Text

Sebastian startles awake a number of times throughout the night. His subconsciousness seems unable to accept that Jellybean is not a few steps away demanding to be fed or otherwise attended to. After each uncomfortable, disorientating moment of remembering that his daughter is being cared for elsewhere, Seb slumps back uneasily on the mattress. It is nice to be able to lie back down and just rest for once, but his limbs stay tense. They are poised to leap out of bed the instant Lexie stirs and the distance between this bedroom and Conduit Street does not seem to have any impact on Sebastian's body.

It is a strange experience, this waking, unwakeful, restless restfulness. Sebastian stares out into the murky grey of the dark bedroom and wonders whether he will always feel like this. He has heard that parents stay awake all night no matter their child's age.

Sebastian wonders what the future will be like. He pictures he will have an even more sleepless night the first time Lexie has a sleepover outwith her family. He blinks and chews his lip in the dark as he ponders Alexdrina being away for a week or so on some school trip.

Sebastian squints at his husband's torso and drags Jim close. The warmth and the familiar bundle of bones brings Seb comfort and the blond breathes deeply from the back of Jim's neck. The soft smell of sweat and shampoo is comfortingly Arty but Sebastian still feels somewhat adrift.

Jim grumbles softly and uncoils in reluctant wakefulness. He blinks repeatedly before leaning up on his narrow elbows and observing Seb. “Are you okay?” the brunet asks.

Sebastian huddles close and nods. His chin is against Jim's hot shoulder as the big blond responds, “Kind of… S'just weird without Jellybean.”

Jim doesn't mock his husband. Instead the smaller man stretches out then reaches for his phone. He glances at the screen then puts it aside. “Everything's fine.”

“They texted you?” Sebastian asks.

The corners of Jim's lips twitch wryly. “I texted Richie earlier. He said everything was fine, and that he'd call me if anything was wrong.”

“Before we went to bed?” Sebastian murmurs. He shifts into a more comfortable position.

Jim shakes his head briefly. “I texted before her last feed.”

Sebastian stares at his husband for a beat. Seb does not tease, but instead kisses Jim's head and snuggles close. “Thank you.”

Jim nuzzles back but his face crinkles in question. “For what?”

Sebastian glances sidelong at the brunet. “I've been wanting to check in for hours but didn't want to be that parent.”

Jim smirks softly. “Oh, I am definitely that parent. Good luck reigning me in if anyone's less than perfect in their assessment of our Jellybean during the parent / nursery teacher conference in a few years.”

Sebastian leans back and plays with Jim's hair. “This is for our whole lives,” he says with wonder.

“We are actual parents,” Jim agrees. He sounds how Seb feels.

“I… don't think I'm scared,” says the blond.

“Me either,” Jim muses.

Sebastian grins softly. “Since we can't wake the baby… Do you want to try making another?”

“That joke is going to get so old,” Jim mutters. He reaches for his husband anyway.

They wake in the morning no more or less tired than they usually would be after a night spent with their daughter. For all of Seb's difficulty in sleeping it is the sound of Jim crooning to a vaguely pixelated, live video of their squirming daughter that rouses him.

“That Lexie?” Sebastian asks. He pulls the phone towards himself before hearing a response.

“Alex,” Jim corrects calmly.

Sebastian kisses the screen. “We'll see you in a couple of hours, baby girl.”

Jim arches a brow when he finally pries the phone from his husband's large hand. “We could be there in like forty minutes tops?”

Sebastian makes some more baby talk over Jim's shoulder then ends the call. He gives his husband a very serious expression. “We've barely had sex in forever. We can have an hour more of us time.”

Jim rises his brows. “Aren't you sore?”

Sebastian pulls his small husband closer and grins. “Yes, pretty much everywhere. So you'll just have to go on top.”

Jim rolls his eyes, but it is clear from his body that he does not mind. He climbs onto Seb's lap and kisses his husband at length.

Sebastian grabs Jim's bottom and grins. “We're going to have to take down the charts in the kitchen.”

Jim's eyes heat at the touch but glaze over in confusion at the statement. “Alex's routine? Why?”

Sebastian rubs his stubble against his husband's stomach. “We didn't schedule nearly enough date nights.”

Jim groans contentedly at the feeling of Seb's breath on his skin. “Brains and brawn; aren't you a catch?”

Sebastian grins and fishes around in their sheets until he finds the lubricant. “Oh I've got another impressive talent too,” the blond confides.

Jim lightly caresses the pale hair which extends from his husband's tattooed chest. “Oh?”

Sebastian's strong hands encircle Jim's hips to bring the smaller man closer, then Seb teasingly strokes his husband's opening. “I can make you cum without letting you touch that pretty cock,” Sebastian declares confidently. When he finishes prepping Jim Sebastian takes the Irishman's thin wrists in one hand.

The brunet squirms playfully but makes no genuine effort to free himself. “I'm not sure I believe you,” Jim lies. His accent is thick with lust and pleasure. “You'd best show me, Tiger...”

So Sebastian does.

He returns Jim to their Conduit Street apartment a few hours later in a far greater humour than the brunet was in after the arrival of Gérard.

The building is still standing, and if Severin and Richard did anything untoward it does not show on their faces or their surroundings. Jim latches himself onto Alexdrina and fires questions to the pair about her routine and wellbeing. Sebastian wants to roll his eyes at Jim's fuss but honestly he feels the same way and is grateful to share their overbearing attentiveness of their daughter. Poor Lexie will probably sicken of it, but the zealous attention seems so much better than the neglect and outright abuse both Sebastian and Jim (and indeed, Severin and Richard) grew up with.

This family will be a very different one, and Sebastian reflects on these contrasts when he and Jim take Alexdrina out for a stroll in Green Park (via Saville Row of course, because Jim likes to eye up the clothes and prattle on to their girlchild about the merits of London Fashion Week, various fashionable cities in Europe and America, and various other things that Sebastian believes light Jim's dark eyes beautifully.) Green Park itself is not a particularly green place, particularly after a blistering summer. The grass is dead from global warming and the footfall of thousands of tourists but Seb and Jim like to make a game of heading towards the nearby palace and reciting the contents of each window in turn, or simply amusing themselves people watching. Sebastian pulls the cover up on Lexie's pram when the wind starts to blow up specks of dirt that make his eyes water.

“Hungry?” Jim, asks.

Seb considers. Previously if they were out this way a late lunch at The Ritz was somewhat habitual, but things are different with a young baby. Most local restaurants are awkward to navigate a stroller around, and even spacious department stores do not have especially generously spaced tables.

Sebastian hates Harrods at the best of times, but he has recently been stuck in an elevator to the fourth floor with his mother thanks to the utter delight of navigating that store with a pram. Jim ordinarily enjoys lunch with Mrs Moran, but even he was getting tense hoping Alexdrina would stay quiet for the duration of the meal. Sebastian doesn't know why they had to meet there in the first place: his mother insisted on looking at invitations then went and got ones specially made elsewhere anyway.

Selfridges wasn't much better when Jim suggested taking their daughter for some pretty new clothes, as though newborns don't spit up on everything. Sebastian had known the endeavour would not be especially fun, and he was not exactly wrong, but the sweet little outfits Jim picked out almost made up for Lexie bawling when they accidentally took her through the overstimulating, noisy, bright toy section. Sebastian had almost punched a staff member whose attempts to fly a tiny helicopter got much too close for his liking.

Seb makes a face. “Maybe we should eat at home?” he says. “Leave restaurants until she's a bit older?”

Jim agrees without much fuss, so he must understand the frazzled feeling the experience gives Sebastian. They meander home and Sebastian takes in the sights of the streets around him.

Conduit Street has gotten grim and darker than he remembers it. It lacks the bustle of more populated streets, which had been one of the reasons he and Jim liked it. Sebastian cannot imagine Lexie playing hopscotch on these pavements, despite the relative lack of traffic. Kids are rarely seen playing around here, and the local ones probably only set their gadgets down long enough to hunt urban foxes.

Sebastian helps Jim inside with their daughter and inwardly considers their new home. He supposes Lexie could play outside. She has her own toyroom within, already filled with things she is far too young to play with. Mrs Moran had been rather put out when Seb got Jim to veto a rocking horse entirely covered in Swarovski crystals, fearing the child would graze her delicate, baby skin on it. Christabelle managed to circumvent a row by bringing in a sweet, fuzzy rocking horse whose skin could be removed for regular washing.

Jim tends to their daughter and Sebastian breaks himself from his thoughts long enough to make lunch for his husband and himself. Walking around this kitchen is such a practised routine. It feels like home.

Sebastian remembers sneaking out to get Jim fruit and vegetables years ago when Jim first came to stay. He has scouted out the local shops near their new home but they don't have the memories of around here.

He knows they'll make more though. He eyes Lexie and wonders what age she will be when she discovers the ginormous international sweet shops that sting tourists who have no idea what sweets usually cost. Sebastian wonders whether he or Jim will be the one most likely to give in to her sweet tooth and doe eyes. Or perhaps their daughter won't have a sweet tooth at all. Perhaps she'll drag him around every Asian restaurant in turn mimicking Jim in her ability to fondly deride Sebastian's distaste for chopstick splinters in his food.

Jim doesn't cook often. Given the Irishman's gift for chemistry that might be surprising, but Sebastian supposes it might be because he likes cooking for Jim and Jim likes being cooked for. Seb likes doing anything for Jim that makes his husband feel looked after. The brunet settles Alexdrina in her adorably tiny walker and half watches her totter about, too tired after her adventure in the park to bounce enthusiastically, and Jim watches Sebastian cook.

“We need to set up the new kitchen soon,” says Jim.

Sebastian looks over his shoulder and smiles in soft indulgence. “Oh?”

“With staff to help us with Alex you'll have time to cook the way you used to,” the brunet smiles.

Sebastian grins and nods. He cocks his head at Alexdrina. “What do you think, Lexie? Are you going to love your Da's curries when you're older?”

Jim smiles and steals something from the chopping board. “She'll probably be vegan and gluten free and eating out of test tubes or something.”

Sebastian cocks his head again. “As long as she's happy and healthy she can do what she wants.”

Jim's expression turns playful. “What if she's a pacifist? Anti-guns and pro-animal rights?”

Sebastian stops chopping. He shrugs. “Still our baby girl.”

Jim feels a happy little flutter at that, but he smirks and leans in. “What's your benchmark then? A girly girl? A preening, giggling, debutante?”

Seb rolls his eyes. “Knowing my luck she'll have your taste for musical theatre and blowing up things she shouldn't; mum's knack for getting her own way; and be a wild, awful teenager like me.”

Jim rests against Seb's arm and watches their baby. “You think you were a worse teenager than me?”

“I suppose her being a rebellious, hard-partying little brat is better than a teen runaway,” Sebastian muses.

Jim presses his lips together. “She'll want to stay, right? With us? We'll be good parents.”

Sebastian puts down the vegetable knife and tries to give Jim a hug that does not get any wet food on his husband's suit. Alexdrina may get away with messing up Jim's clothes but Seb knows he is rarely so privileged. “She might get upset with us sometimes, but we love her and she'll love us. We'll be a happy family.”

“You promise?” Jim asks, although he doesn't really doubt it as much as he used to.

Sebastian kisses his husband firmly. “I promise.”

Chapter Text

The new kitchen is less of a priority to Sebastian and Jim than the security plans of the new house, but once both are settled they find themselves spending less and less time at Conduit Street. Piece by piece their new house becomes just so and with every tweak begins to feel more like home.

The gradual process of giving up one for the other goes as smoothly as can reasonably be expected, much like Alexdrina's own weaning. Meetings with Siobhan are less and less; the break from her and the old apartment make the new house feel like a fresh start.

The oddest bit about that is the other people. The little family are used to the coming and going of Richard, Severin, Chris and Mrs Moran, but these relationships in no way prepare Seb and Jim for the experience of sharing their new house with staff.

It's strange because for a start Seb and Jim aren't used to sharing their time or space beyond their usual circle, and it's even more perturbing having people around who never leave. Sebastian grew up with plenty of staff and alone time was in short supply in the army, and school, but he does not find the change much easier than Jim does. Sebastian has not lived with anyone other than his baby and his husband in quite some time, and he lived alone for years before Lexie came along.

It makes sense to have protection and childcare staff (all thoroughly vetted of course) but sharing one's space with people paid to be in your company is an odd way to live. It helps that some of said staff are friends. Sebastian does not like other people messing up his kitchen but hearing Vix sing familiar songs to Lexie as she fixes his daughter's meal makes it easier to relax.

The thought of nannies had seemed absurd at first, but Sebastian feels relief at having them around. His own disasterous childhood was buoyed by compassionate staff and Seb hopes that any failings he may have as a father can be counteracted by the presence of better qualified professionals. Jim tells Seb the idea is foolish but seems as relieved by the nannies' unflappable natures as Sebastian feels.

There is another reason of course why the couple put up with their strange new living arrangement: each other. Naturally, once Jim and Sebastian are reminded how very fucking much they enjoy their sex life, it becomes apparent to them that more effort must be made to find the time and energy to regularly fuck each other senseless.

So they tend to have at least one nanny for the night shift. Vix is more inclined towards close protection than pampering children, and Gérard prefers playing peekaboo to waiting games with assailants who never show up, but together they make up a good team. Morgan seems to get on well with anyone, although her personality seems to change with the company she is in. Gérard finds Morgan pleasingly self-contained and dryly witty whilst Vix finds the younger woman to be bubbly and casually tactile. Sebastian has noticed Morgan is often quiet around Jim, but when she does speak to the Irishman it is with sound insight or playful sarcasm that Jim seems to appreciate. Seb also notices that when he is alone in the nursery with Lexie and Morgan the young woman's mannerisms often mirror Christabelle's.

Sebastian is uncertain how he feels about this. He definitely approves of how Morgan is with his daughter; Lexie obviously feels safe with Morgan and tends to babble baby secrets happily to her. Sebastian wonders how Morgan knows to act in a manner that reminds him of Chris; he does not believe the two woman have spent enough time together for it to be a direct transference.

Which makes Seb wonder how much of Chris is in his own behaviour. The thought should not concern him; Christabelle is one of his most favourite relatives and people of all time ever. Chris certainly had a hand in nurturing many of the qualities Sebastian likes about himself, so the potential similarities are not surprising in themselves.

The thing that bothers Sebastian is… What else has he picked up from his family?

Seb knows that he can be cynical and unregenerate like his mother, and doesn't much mind this. Jim is stubborn too so Sebastian has had plenty of practice over the years compromising over equally bullheaded stalemates. However, his mother was neglectful and short-tempered when her children were young. Sebastian worries he has inherited these traits.

More frighteningly, there is the ugly possibility that there is more of his father in Sebastian than broad shoulders and clipped English vowels.

Augustus Moran has never in Seb's memory been a good man. Outwardly upstanding but morally bankrupt, Sebastian's driven, successful, assertive father is truly a cutthroat, crushing, aggressive sort. Augustus was born to excessive privilege and amassed even more, and as such has a high regard for himself whilst maintaining a low one for everyone else. He does not suffer fools lightly, unless it is financially or politically prosperous to do so.

Sebastian hopes he is not alike the father he so despises but he knows there are traits within him -both innate and cultivated- that others might consider his father's influence. Seb's diligence is his father's cold perseverance; his recklessness is an unchecked echo of his father's passion; Sebastian is strong and virile and loud and broad and educated and handsome and good with a gun and can price whiskey by nose and rubs his eyes with his knuckles when he's tired… just like his father.

The fear lingers in the back of Sebastian's mind, but due to the new living arrangements he thankfully has the welcome distraction of once more being able to sleep through the nights. Or at least, he gets to relax by burying himself in his enthusiastic husband during the nights and not think of these stressful thoughts.

It is an awkward thing at first trying to reacquaint themselves with each other's bodies. They are used to having Lexie in their bedroom, close at hand, and even with her crib in an adjoining room Sebastian and Jim find it difficult to talk above whispers in fear of waking her.

At first.

Gérard is the first of the staff to have the misfortune of overhearing the husbands together during the night. She thoroughly surprises the pair by cooking breakfast that morning and dryly teasing, “You'll be needing this after all of that… exercise.”

Sebastian expects Jim to be mildly embarrassed in the way that the brunet is when Severin or Chris make similar jokes, but Jim is not. The Irishman snorts and leans back in his seat.

“You can see who I'm married to,” Jim says over a dark coffee. “Of course I want to keep fit.”

Gérard smirks and taps the younger man's dark scalp with her fingertips so lightly that they almost do not touch. “As long as your remember adequate stretching. I'm not risking waking Alexdrina overnight to come to your aid if you tear something.”

Sebastian winces but Jim's teeth bare in a wide, comfortable grin. The brunet glances at Seb, his gaze comfortable, and tells Gérard, “He looks after me.”

“Of course he does; I haven't poisoned him,” Gérard tells Jim as she gazes Seb's way.

Sebastian sighs at them both at continues eating anyway. “This is what I put up with, Lexie.”

“Oh, like you can talk about 'putting up' with anything,” Gérard scoffs. “This little lady is supposed to be the one keeping me awake 'til three in the merry morning.”

Seb has the grace to look shamefaced. Whatever negative associations Jim held about Gérard seem to have eased this morning. Sebastian watches the pair quip comfortably at each other over breakfast and cannot help but think about the time they shared together before he met Jim.

Already a runaway, Jim has admitted he was selling himself by the time he met Gérard. A reserved, cynical teen with a sharp tongue, Jim must have been difficult to befriend or treat. Sebastian certainly had a hard time of that and he had sexual chemistry on his side.

It's strange to think that Gérard had her fingers on Jim's scarred scalp before Sebastian did. Perhaps never with casual affection, but she stitched him up.

Jim reaches for Lexie's spoon as she considers dropping it over the edge of her high chair. His eyes are crinkled with love and his mouth is still curled in a smile from Gérard's teasing.

Sebastian is glad that Jim had moments of not being alone before he moved into Conduit Street. He is also glad that Jim seems to be drawing all those he is fond of closer and closer together. Seb feels like Jim has accepted that this is home. With him. With Lexie. Heck, with Gérard even. Sebastian thinks Jim really will stay now.

That makes this feel like home to Sebastian.

Lexie wriggles in her chair and Jim abandons his own breakfast to unbuckle her and bring his daughter close. She gazes interestedly at her surroundings but settles. Jim has forgotten to button down his shirt collar and it finds its way unceremoniously into Alexdrina's mouth. Jim doesn't bat an eyelid. He takes the dummy that Gérard offers but when Lexie shows no interest Jim accepts the soggy fate of his clothing.

Sebastian wonders how long it will take before this does not feel normal and natural for his husband. Jim has never been good at accepting positive life changes and this is certainly a big one. Still, Seb is not scared by the prospect. He trusts that if Jim does have another wobble it won't be difficult to smooth over.

The scars on Sebastian's arms have not yet faded much, but the wound between himself and Jim feels healed.

Some emotional scars lessen better than others, no matter their age. Sebastian cannot help but consider this truth as his mother 'pops by' later that day, ostensibly on a whim but doubtlessly to scrutinise Gérard. And Morgan, who takes over the next shift and puts far more effort into tummy time and baby yoga than Mrs Moran ever did, even when Jasper was young. Or whatever it was that babies were supposed to do back then.

Sebastian hasn't seen Jasper in some time. Between Cambridge and the RAF Jasper may well be the most rebellious of all the Moran boys, but the age difference between Seb and his legitimised-yet-suspected-half-brother has always been a bit of a hindrance to their relationship. Jasper visits Moran Manor briefly at Christmas if he isn't working and otherwise keeps well out of Moran life. Sebastian certainly understands that.

Sebastian is uncertain how he feels about his mother looking at baby Alexdrina with so much more love than he ever remembers her looking at Jasper. Severin and himself were always in scrapes growing up so Sebastian understands why most of his memories of his mother are of her ire and disdain. Poor Chris probably had an even worse time of it, as none of her discomfort in conforming to the examples set by Gus and Rawdon could be written off as an example of 'boys being boys.'

Sebastian wonders not for the first time how much of his miserable childhood was his own fault and how much of his mother's perceived distaste for him was genuine. He doesn't doubt that his mother would easily attempt to emotionally manipulate him into thinking the fault was all his… Or at least, he once would have. More and more his mother surprises him by admitting faults of her own.

Do parents truly mellow with age or do they just become more self-aware?

Sebastian is painfully conscious of his complicated relationship with his mother, for all it seems to slowly be soothed by time and effort on both sides. He increasingly reflects upon the examples of childrearing his mother gave him and weighs their impact for good or bad. He thinks his mother may not have been as loathe to have him as he once thought, but she certainly failed him in a number of respects.

That does not stop him loving her.

Sebastian cannot say he feels this way for his father. For all his mother's faults, she did clean up his messes (however coldly) and Seb can remember plenty of times when the brittle woman actively protected him growing up. She did the same for his siblings, to varying extents. Even for Jasper.

Sebastian's father generally seemed to be the main thing Seb and the others needed protection from. There are a few uncomfortable memories Sebastian has of his father's pride in him, but the majority of their shared past was not a pleasant experience for Sebastian. Many were downright painful experiences.

Seb cannot shake thoughts of his father as Mrs Moran prattles on about little Alexdrina's Christening. Augustus has not met his granddaughter yet, and Sebastian doesn't fucking want him to.

“Mum,” Sebastian says.

She gives him a half-exasperated look as though he has interrupted her mid-conversation. He probably has. She asks, “Something to share, young man?”

Sebastian takes a deep breath. “Mum, you know me and Jim… we're not… we're not religious.”

“It's never too soon to start hedging,” Mrs Moran says. “Besides, it's not just about God. This is a social thing. We are welcoming Alexdrina to the family and the world. This legitimises her.”

“She doesn't need legitimising,” Sebastian growls.

Mrs Moran sniffs disdainfully. “I'm hardly invalidating her worth,” she says, “but to be part of society-”

“Mum, I don't care about society,” Seb says.

“Well she might, Sebastian,” Mrs Moran counters. “James, don't you think-”

Jim places a hand on his husband in silent comfort. “Perhaps the real issue might be the exclusivity of the occasion.”

Mrs Moran makes a face. “You want a select gathering? We can do that… I suppose… But don't you think that a proper party-”

“Mum, I don't care about strangers,” Sebastian says quickly.

“It's not about 'strangers',” Mrs Moran says dryly. “It is a chance to make connections early-”

Seb argues, “She doesn't need connections-”

Jim interrupts, “Financially, he means. Even given the state of our businesses recently Alex will still never need to work a day in her life if she doesn't want to.”

“And what if she wants to?” Mrs Moran counters.

“And that's ladylike, is it?” Sebastian retorts.

“When did that suddenly become a concern of yours?” Mrs Moran disparages.

Jim squeezes his husband's thigh. “It's not about that, Mam.”

Mrs Moran raises her brows softly and inhales. On her exhale she asks, “And what is this about, pray tell?”

Jim squeezes Seb's leg again. Sebastian juts his jaw, takes a deep breath through his nose, and blurts, “I don't want Dad there!”

“People will think he doesn't accept her, or you… both… if he's not there,” Mrs Moran points out.

“Let them!” says Sebastian. “I don't accept him. I don't want him near our daughter!”

Mrs Moran swallows. She begins, “Your father-”

“No,” Sebastian says, shaking his head. “He doesn't… He doesn't get to be a part of this. Of her. She's ours. He's not mine. I don't want anything for my daughter that involves him.”

“'Bastian...” Mrs Moran sighs. “You cannot be a child about this.”

“Oh like everything he did to us?” Sebastian snaps. “That man is a monster and he doesn't-”

“That man is your father and you are hardly the first little boy with a strict Daddy, 'Bastian,” Mrs Moran says. “You are plenty old enough now to make nice and smile in the occasional family photo.”

“He beat us,” Sebastian says bluntly. “Me, and Severin, and Chris, and little Jasp, and sometimes even your perfect Og and Rawdon. He beat us fucking bloody Mum, you know he did.”

“That's how things were,” says Mrs Moran, “and you know it often wasn't without good reason. You were hardly a timid-”

“'Often wasn't without good reason' isn't enough for every time he did it, is it, and other kids' dads did not treat their kids the way ours treated us. Not decent ones.”

“He raised you, 'Bastian. He might not have been perfect at it… I know he wasn't perfect at it… But he was there and he fed you and clothed you and paid for your schooling-”

“Mum,” says Sebastian. “That's a bare minimum. It's not enough. He was horrible to us. And he was horrible to you! He slept-”

“That's what men do, Sebastian,” Mrs Moran says tiredly. “Maybe not your and James' type, but men like your father… That's what they do. I was under no illusions that he would love me forever or be a faithful husband. He was loyal enough in his own way to provide for all of you-”

“That's not an example I want my daughter exposed to,” Sebastian says. “I want her to grow up with love and compassion and understanding and patience and safety!”

“Times are different; he wouldn't take a hand to Alexdrina,” Mrs Moran says.

“You're damn right he wouldn't, because I'd have his hand and then I'd kill him,” Jim says. Sebastian squeezes his husband's knee in solidarity.

“All I'm trying to do is have my granddaughter baptised,” Mrs Moran says. “I think you're both blowing things entirely out of proportion.”

“'Out of proportion' like every little imagined misdemeanour that that's left scars on me still twenty, even thirty years later? More, probably?” Sebastian says.

“You were a spirited boy, 'Bastian; what was he supposed to do?” Mrs Moran asks.

“He could have not beaten me bloody, black and blue for a minimum,” Seb snarls.

“He hasn't hit you in years,” Mrs Moran says. “Probably a decade. I still blister your bottom when you're naughty. Why is he the bad one?”

Sebastian is quiet for a beat. He knows that his mother loves him now but he didn't exactly back then. “You didn't enjoy it,” he says slowly. “I don't think you ever left scars. You were predictable; I knew what would set you off and how far I could push.”

“'Bastian, I whipped your bare bottom with a thick belt when you were exceptionally naughty. When you were a bullheaded teenager I bent you over and caned some obedience into you,” Mrs Moran points out. “I dare say you still remember when you and Severin decided to stay out all night together when you were small and I thought that you'd been kidnapped or murdered; I paddled both of you with my hairbrush until you bawled your eyes out.”

“But I can still trust you!” Sebastian exclaims. “I… You were strict and you were angry a lot… but… I always knew where I was with you. I knew what would get me smacked, and how much, and it was never… even when I made you really mad… or… or worried… You never hit like Dad hit. You'd give me three with the belt most times. Six if I was a brat. I don't remember you ever giving me even a dozen.”

“I gave you ten the first time you snuck out after… after you… that moronic stunt with a maneating beast,” Mrs Moran says.

“Mum, I got myself mauled by a tiger,” Sebastian says gently. “I'd understand if you gave me ten dozen licks after that. Maybe not at the time, but… I know that I worried you.”

“I'd have given you worse than ten dozen,” Jim says quietly to his husband. Sebastian gives a lopsided smile and kisses his husband's cheek before continuing.

“I was a brat and I get that,” Sebastian says to his mother. “I was angry and upset and scared and acted out. If it had just been you and me, Mum, us and the others, no Dad, well… it would have been different. I'm not saying things would have been perfect; I still wouldn't have been perfect like Rawd- well, like I was supposed to be… but… it wouldn't have been like it was. I wouldn't have fought so much. I wouldn't have been so angry. I'd have felt like things had consequences that I could understand and were something like fair. It would have been different.”

“Maybe so,” Mrs Moran says quietly, “but your father is still alive and he treated you no differently than his father treated him, or his father. We need to live in reality-”

“Mum, he doesn't have to be dead,” Sebastian says, “you could divorce him.”

Mrs Moran looks the whitest she has been all conversation. “I most certainly could not,” she says. “Now enough of this foolishness. Are we seriously calling off my granddaughter's Christening?”

“No,” says Jim.

They look at him.

“Augustus isn't coming,” says Jim, “but we are a family and we should be doing something to commemorate that.”

“We can't hold an event and not invite him,” Mrs Moran says.

“Then we get rid of him,” Jim says. Sebastian looks at him with such swiftness that Mrs Moran almost drops her cup.

“Firstly, don't you dare,” she hisses. “Secondly, not in front of the staff.”

Sebastian lifts his head in Morgan's direction. She has been keeping well away from the conversation by helping Alexdrina play with a mildly noisy toy across the large room and does not seem to notice their sudden attention.

“I'm not allowed to do what he deserves,” Jim says sourly, his ire not addressed at Sebastian. “I am talking about sending him away somewhere that lets him feel important and saves face when he's not here for Alex's party.”

“Fine,” Mrs Moran says carefully.

Chapter Text

It does not immediately occur to Jim that he has never before been so deeply involved in an event that involves Sebastian's extended family. The brunet has a young baby and a virile husband and a mother-in-law whose thoughts race with such singlemindedness that even he sometimes struggles to keep pace. His life is full of perfectly wonderful ways to occupy himself and Jim has no opportunity to be distracted by things other than his immediate present.

It is a 'debate' between Mrs Moran and Sebastian over the capacity in which 'the help' will attend the Christening which jars Jim from his contented fog.

“Vix is one of my oldest friends,” Sebastian says stoutly. His voice has taken on that tone that brooks dire warning in his previous workplace.

His mother makes a face. She has never found this particular retired murderer to be remotely fearsome, even when teething. “Hardly surprising, darling, but we do not fraternise-”

“I don't entrust my child to just anyone!” Seb snarls. He has a way of blowing up his chest to an impressive size when he is irritated, and beside him Jim marvels slightly at the feat. Few things can irk Seb like the blond's mother.

The whiplike woman is entirely unthreatened by Sebastian's bulk, scowl, or indignance. “That as may be, but we don't need to 'befriend' the people we employ,” she lectures. “It's uncomfortable for them. They know their place-”

“Vix served with me for years!” Sebastian interrupts. A muscle in his jaw twitches in time with the pulse of a vein near a faded but once darkly-inked army tattoo, which glares out at her from beneath a folded shirt sleeve. Seb lists off a number of middle eastern countries with increasing volume and aggressive annoyance. Sebastian does not get aggressive at much these days, but his mother still need only look at him askew to revert him back to a screaming teenager.

“Let Vix attend as a guest; Morgan won't mind working,” Jim says carefully.

Mrs Moran purses her lips. Sebastian does his best to soften the way his eyes flash with agitation and focuses on breathing slowly through his nose. Jim's warm relationship with Seb's mother confuses the big blond's lifelong instinct to fight long and hard about anything she disagrees with. Sebastian tries to calm down.

Mrs Moran opens her mouth. “That's not quite-”

Sebastian interrupts his mother again. “And what about the Captain?” he asks Jim briskly.

Jim breathes slowly. Carefully. “What do you think?”

Seb juts his jaw obstinately. “I think she's someone who matters to you and should. Be. A. Guest.”

“These might be modern times, boys, but we're not communists,” Mrs Moran says drolly.

Jim breathes through his nose with the precise focus of one who is troubled. “What about Der- Siobhan?” he asks. “Is she a guest? Do you intend to tell people you bought her?”

“James Moran, that is not the same,” Mrs Moran scolds softly. Sebastian glances at his husband askew.

The brunet tilts his chin upwards. “What about me then? Am I a special case guest?”

“James, you're a host,” Mrs Moran warns slowly.

“But he bought me!” Jim says shakily. “You thought yourself when we first met that I was just another of 'Bastian's little whores. I'm obviously not Old Money. Everyone you invite is going to know your son married someone from the gutter!”

Mrs Moran flinches. Sebastian reaches swiftly for his husband and opens his mouth to speak reassurances, but his mother gestures for silence.

“I don't give a damn where anyone thinks you were plucked from, Jimmy, they'll all treat you with the respect owed to a son-in-law of mine or I will obliterate their social standing and you should know that,” Mrs Moran says in a slow, cool voice that has an air of finality.

“I just said Seb bought me,” Jim says dully. Sebastian lifts the smaller man without a further thought and pulls Jim against his broad chest. The brunet feels mildly soothed by the contact.

Mrs Moran wrinkles her nose. “You think you're the first little strumpet to marry into respectability? Please,” she scoffs.

“What would you know about it?” Jim asks petulantly. He bravely leans forward (away from the safety of Seb's chest) to toss his chin at his mother-in-law in challenge. Jim is wise enough to keep his ears out of the woman's reach.

Sebastian eyes his mother with wary speculation too and pins her with a look before she can respond. He notes, “You never invite your side to anything we do.”

“My parents are dead, and I wish I could say are both buried as per their wishes,” Mrs Moran says crisply.

“You've got sisters,” Sebastian pushes. “Younger than you. I can barely remember what they looked like.”

Mrs Moran tenses as though surprised and irritable that he brought this up but responds, “I have four half-siblings, and step-sisters, and I hate them, and they're in France, and if I could pluck their eyes and cut out their forked tongues, I would.”

“So why do you care about family appearances?” Seb asks. The high, stubbornly querulous tone that colours his voice when he is feeling particularly resentful of his upbringing is making itself known. He hears it as he speaks; it both embarrasses and further provokes him.

“Because preserving something problematic feels better than showing failure to those who made you miserable,” Jim says. He is uncomfortably reminded of how his hatred and fear of his father stopped him ever going home as a runaway, no matter how cold, dangerous, or unpalatable life was.

Mrs Moran nods carefully. “Precisely put. As far as anyone else is concerned, we are the best damned family in the world, and I will not have one bad word said or thought about it at my granddaughter's christening. Which is why we can't have people thinking we put the help above their station, lowering the rest of us. There would be scandal. The world is not so progressive as you young ones might think.”

“At least the help work in a legitimate professional capacity,” Jim objects. “All three of us married rich men.”

“Oh stop your cavilling you foolish child,” Mrs Moran sighs.

“Hark, is that the bleating of the lower class you hear?” Jim mutters. “Why yes, and a dirty little Irishman to boot.”

Mrs Moran arches a brow and leans back in her chair imperiously. “You could buy and sell half this guest list, minor royalty included, and you've never cared a jot about our class difference before, so what are you really grousing about?”

Jim swallows. He doesn't normally pick arguments with his surrogate mother, even after all these years, and her calm clarity makes him feel regretful of his truculence. Still, his hands are tensed and his palms are sweating, so an apology hangs heavy on his tongue.

Jim flinches forward briefly then slowly relaxes as Seb's lips drop unexpectedly down atop the scar tissue at the back of his dark scalp. Jim twists around and gives his husband a grateful look.

“He gets like this when things are going too well,” Sebastian says. He meets his husband's eyes warmly. “Less and less.” He kisses Jim briefly then raises a brow at his mother. “My point about Lexie's nannies still stands.”

“Spoiled children, I should be sending the pair of you off to the nursery with nannies,” Mrs Moran derides, not unkindly. She massages her lined temples in a way that seems to accentuate the smoothness of her powdered cheekbones. “Let's come back to these deliberations later, shall we?”

Sebastian leans back in his chair. “Whilst we're on the topic of who we're not inviting, let's veto everyone on my dad's side.”

His mother gives him a sour look. “'Bastian, darling, your attempts at humour are really starting to test my patience. Augusta is your sister and her delightful spawn are-”

“I wasn't talking about Og,” Seb says. “I can tolerate them, although we are not inviting her knob of a husband. Ex husband. He's awful.”

“I wasn't intending to,” Mrs Moran drawls.

Sebastian raises his blond brows briefly.

Jim smooths down his clothing. The pause in conversation gives him a moment to self-soothe. He gathers his fragile mood and murmurs with faux composure, “Remind us again why we can't just have my brother, Seb's siblings, you, and a few close friends at this thing?”

“Because wasted privilege is a reprehensible sign of ill-breeding,” Mrs Moran says crisply. “My granddaughter shall have everything we can reasonably bestow on her.”

“And a few things we reasonably cannot,” Sebastian mutters with that characteristic roll of his eyes that he happened to pick up around the time he met Jim.

“What if they don't accept her?” Jim asks. It is far from an anodyne question and he feels Seb tense.

“Then they're fools and I'm certain someone will ensure they make terrible investments,” says Mrs Moran stoutly.

“More likely, Lexie won't accept them, and will resent us for forcing her to attend all of these stupid, pompous circus shows,” Seb says. He breathes out his tension as he takes comfort in the certainty that their Jellybean will inherit an abundance of arrogance, wit and talent given her gene pool.

Jim looks at his mother-in-law's face and sighs. “But perhaps that's something Alex needs to have the opportunity to decide for herself?”

Mrs Moran lifts her face regally but Sebastian ignores her. He looks at his husband instead and says, “Fine, but good luck talking to my extended family.”

Jim groans theatrically and tugs at the already thinning tufts of mostly dark hair by his temples. “This is what I came back for?”

Seb squeezes the smaller man's thigh firmly. “I've warned you about that, poppet. Still not funny.”

“Pop- Sorry,” Jim sighs. He does hate that nickname, but he knows now is not the time to be irascible about it. He needs to remember to be careful talking about… what happened… but at the same point, it's no good pretending he never left.

Sebastian pulls Jim back onto his lap properly and cages the brunet in loosely with his strong arms. “Still love you.”

Jim rests back against the bigger man. He's missed Seb's huge, warm, safe chest. They haven't done this much since their daughter was born. Despite all their childcare arrangements, Alexdrina can normally be found nestled against one or the other of their torsos at any given moment.

“I don't mean to fuss,” Jim says quietly.

“Families are a complicated matter,” Mrs Moran says.

Sebastian looks at his mother in surprise. She merely shrugs at him in that way his father always calls 'obstinately French'.

“Speaking of meeting extended family, 'Bastian, James is going to have to take you suit shopping,” says Mrs Moran, tactfully steering the subject to something Jim can hyperfixate on.

Sebastian rolls his eyes before begrudgingly giving her a thankful look. “Oh ruddy marvellous, what does that mean I'm wearing then?”

Jim's dark eyes flash in a way that shows he knows exactly what they are both doing but is willing to go along with it for now. “Well I have had a few ideas about that actually.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Seb says dryly.

“When did you become the one who can't be pried from his tracksuits?” Jim teases back softly.

Sebastian smiles. “Many moons ago, but you can steal as many of my outfits as you like so long as I'm still in possession of my ring.”

Jim curls his hand over Seb's larger one, the wedding band as warm as Sebastian's skin. “You haven't lost that much weight, and I haven't lost my good taste, thank you very much.”

“Frivolous decadence,” Sebastian counters. He kisses Jim's temple fondly.

The brunet nuzzles into his husband for a moment then glances up at his mother-in-law mildly. She's giving him a peculiarly wistful smile, but when his lips begin to form the question of it she merely reaches for her phone.

Sebastian bites his lip, feeling far calmer, fonder and more tolerant of his mother than earlier. “Really, now is the time for a photo, is it?”

“All I do these days is brag about my grandchild; I should mix things up a tad by reminding people what handsome boys I have,” Mrs Moran responds.

“I am technically still declared dead, so maybe we should hold back on showing my picture to all your friends,” Jim says dryly, but he smooths his hair and sits up to accommodate the woman's will.

“People are stupid; they see what they are directed to,” Mrs Moran murmurs.

Sebastian makes a face. “Can you not make me see similarities between my husband and my mother, please?”

“James is not nearly quick enough at putting you over his knees when you've been naughty,” Mrs Moran scoffs.

Seb's ears turn pink. Jim smiles. “That's because you're both so tall. Sebby gets exactly what he deserves; I just have to bend him over to do it.”

“Can you both not, please?!” Sebastian protests.

The pair chuckle at him. “I'm sorry, Tiger, do you want to go back to talking about what I'm going to make you wear?” Jim asks.

Seb rolls his eyes. “Fine.”

Mrs Moran clucks her tongue. “Come now, James, we can do better than that. You can make yourself useful setting up the projector so I can show you both the Pinterest boards I've been making.”

Sebastian groans. “Can't you both just spank me? I think it would be less painful.”

Both his lover and his mother give him a bright, frighteningly playful look.

“Never mind,” Seb says quickly.

“I've never seen him so obedient,” Mrs Moran confides to her son-in-law blithely as Jim goes rummaging for some cables.

“He's not without some sense,” Jim muses fondly.

“And muscles, and good looks, and charm, and wit,” Sebastian adds.

“And in his forties,” Jim teases. He takes the phone and sets it up quickly. He notes as he does so that his body is poised in hope of praise for the simple task. He's still hungry for Mrs Moran's approval and affection, despite how readily she gives it to him.

“Are you really teasing 'Bastian about his age after that little tantrum, Jimmy?” the woman asks, amused.

Jim feels his cheeks go hot. “I'm working on my ...moods.”

“I'm sure you are,” she says. She gestures. “Come sit, or do you need a lollypop?”

Jim looks up at his mother-in-law and the corners of his lips curl shyly even as Seb guffaws softly into his fist. At least the blond has the sense not to laugh entirely openly at that. “You're mocking me now, Mam?”

“I care for you, don't I, little strumpet?” Mrs Moran smiles archly.

“Guttersnipe,” corrects Jim, taking a seat beside his mother-in-law, “and I'm only allowing this because you're my Mam and I love you.”

“And you wonder why I want to show you off?” she comments. Mrs Moran taps the free space on her other side. “Can hardly have you feeling left out, 'Bastian.”

Sebastian presses his lips together but obeys after a beat. “Love you too, Mum,” he says quietly. She squeezes his knee in response.

Jim reluctantly interrupts. “Mam… there's a lot of boards here.” He swallows. There's a ridiculous number of ones obviously intended for Alexdrina, but he is surprised to see not only a board each of possible outfit choices for himself and Sebastian, but also a collection of images of coordinating couples' outfits she has evidently mused over. Jim feels a surge of warmth at being so included.

“Mother, you know this is overkill, right? Downright obsessive?” Sebastian says.

“Do you want to be invited to this event or not?” Mrs Moran asks dryly.

Chapter Text

Alexdrina's Christening is a relatively sedate and intimate affair, insofar as Mrs Moran wanted to invite a few hundred people and her boys managed to squash the numbers down to a mere hundred.

The ceremony goes smoothly, with the only moment of friction being Severin's falsely innocuous comment about what a shame it was that the priest who married Sebastian and Jim could not also have performed this special moment. Once he was foolish enough to step out of sight of the other guests behind a marble pillar Mrs Moran slapped him upside the head.

Seb notices his brother's plus one sitting rather closely to Jim's own brother, and wonders whether this is information Jim for once may just miss... Today the little Irishman wanders around holding Alexdrina with a mildly dazed expression. There are an awful lot of people purporting delight at the daughter they have barely shared with the outside world before now.

Sebastian rescues Jim from making small talk with people their mother insisted on inviting and curls fondly, protectively, around the smaller frame. Jim's arms have entirely disappeared beneath a froth of embellished white fabric, but the brunet's face is all big, dark eyes when he twists to look up at Sebastian.

“Strange, huh?” Seb murmurs.

Jim clucks softly in agreement. “Not just all the people...” He raises Alex in his arms a little. “We have an actual family, Sebby. I have a family. I have a baby.”

“My scrappy little chav did good, hmm?” Sebastian smiles. He kisses Jim's scalp and looks down at Lexie in his husband's arms, feeling a strong wave of love for both of them.

“I did,” Jim declares. He leans back a little into Seb's touch, for once not protesting that all the scalp-kissing will turn him bald early. “Did you ever expect your life would be this way, Tiger?”

“I thought I might get someone – or maybe a few someones- pregnant by accident, but I never thought I'd really have a family - beloved spouse and child. I was surprised enough at my luck in finding you; having a kid with you is beyond anything I could have hoped for,” Sebastian says honestly.

“Not really the sort of thing you plan for in the lifestyle we led,” Jim says.

“Plan for, no, but I can't say I never imagined something like this. Not all the fuss, granted, you're probably the only partner I ever had that my mum had any inkling of affection for, but… imagining what it would be like having a small you around too? I maybe did that once or twice.”

Jim scoffs, not displeased. “Told you that you're the wife.”

Sebastian rubs his chin into the shorter man's scalp, which is less effective than usual given he has shaved for the occasion. “You're going to have to stop saying all that sexist, probably homophobic stuff before the kid's old enough to pick up on it. Young people don't talk like that anymore.”

Jim chuckles. “Same to you. The language that came out of your mouth last night.”

Sebastian's lips curl. “It doesn't count if we say it in places where she's never going to hear.”

“Lucky for you she's not old enough to ask 'the help' what a 'pillow princess' is yet,” Jim says dryly.

“Unlucky for you, she's too young to notice when I threaten you with a well-slapped bum,” Sebastian murmurs.

“I think we'll need to take up horseriding,” Jim muses. “We're going to need a cover for why you often have difficulty walking.”

“Keep giving me that chat, Sasslips, and you'll be the one with trouble walking,” Sebastian purrs.

Jim checks Alexdrina is asleep, as though that makes any difference, then cheerfully walks away from his husband. “What are you going to do?” the Irishman lilts, “put a baby in me?”

Sebastian's mouth suddenly feels dry. “I'll damn well try,” he says hopefully, striding after his family.

Jim's gaze sparkles. “You're going to have to wait until after the party.”

“I certainly won't,” Seb retorts. “My mother will be perfectly delighted to take Lexie around all her old crones and we shall use that time to our advantage. What do you think, sweetheart, shall we try for a boy this time?”

“You are entirely unfunny,” Jim says, but he's smiling, and his tone of voice sounds very far from a no.

“What's entirely unfunny is that you've had that fine arse covered in that new suit all morning and it's about time I took your trousers down and gave you your Basher's Special,” Seb insists.

Jim tries not to smile as he feigns covering his daughter's ears. “Will you stop saying things like that around this one? If she's inherited my brains she'll be an early talker and I'd rather the first phrase she utters isn't 'Basher Special'.”

Not for the first time, Sebastian gives their daughter a mildly abashed look, but there is still heat in his gaze as he looks at his husband. “We'll buy her silence with ponies and diamonds and video games or whatever else little girls like. We'll just have to be careful to always keep on top of our schedules so that I can still continue bonking her Daddy on every surface in our house.”

Jim wrinkles his nose. “Your brother's right, isn't he? This child is going to have astronomical therapy bills.”

“You're clever; we'll make certain she never walks in on us,” Sebastian says. “And if we have more kids she'll have someone to commiserate with.”

“You are joking about the other kids thing, aren't you?” Jim murmurs.

The big blond shrugs. “I don't know, mo chroí. Let's see how we get on with raising Jellybean. I'm fully serious about getting cracking on practising making a little brother or sister for her though.”

Mrs Moran sweeps in out of nowhere. She gives them a tight smile and reaches for her grandchild. “By all means make some more babies but please be gracious hosts and at least greet everyone on arrival to my little granddaughter's party before you-”

“-Bugger off to bugger each other senseless?” Seb supplies.

She gives him a dry look. “I'm aware you are resenting being presentable in public as is your usual wont, but don't think I won't drag you out by your ear if you show me up, young man.”

“Mother, it's my daughter's Christening,” Sebastian protests.

She taps his cheek pointedly. “Exactly, 'Bastian; this is not about you.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “Don't we know it. Why must you have so many friends?”

Mrs Moran gives a sharp little smile and reaches for Alexdrina. “Sebastian, I am surprised at you; surely you know that your Mummy doesn't have friends – she has people who owe her favours.”

Suddenly smiling crookedly, Jim gives Alex a cuddle then passes her carefully over to his mother-in-law. The brunet catches Sebastian's eyes and wrinkles his nose. “I suddenly see the resemblance. Remind me again which of us has mummy issues, darling?”

Mrs Moran makes a chesty noise of approval and sweeps Alexdrina away in an elegant swirl of hand-embroidered cloth. “Call it our family resemblance, James,” she says. “Now come along and don't dawdle; you have people to greet.”

Jim's lips twitch and he follows with a soft, pleased look in his eyes. Sebastian gives his husband a wry look, the young Arty showing through the bespoke suit of a man with more money, connections and gumption than that soppy look would otherwise suggest.

“I'd tell you off, but making nice with the other billionaires is going to be punishment enough,” Jim tells the blond in a sing-song voice.

Seb narrows his eyes at his husband.

“Honestly, anyone would think you're thirteen still, not forty-three,” Mrs Moran chides as she catches her son's grimace in the reflection of the door's ornate glass panels.

Sebastian makes another face, carefully takes back his daughter and all the ridiculous white fabric she is ensconced in, and strides on ahead. “It still hasn't gotten anymore fun,” he says.

His mother watches his back with amusement and offers Jim her arm. “Speak for yourself,” she says.

Jim smiles. Mrs Moran's arm feels like fresh candyfloss on a stick, all sweet smell and softness but dissolve all that and you have nothing but sharpness underneath. He feels akin to her: all sharp elbows, sharp hipbones, sharp cheekbones, sharp teeth, sharp eyes…

He feels safe around her. He walks into the sweeping mass of her home, into a swarm of people, and feels like some part of himself belongs.

The closer they get to those other people the more Sebastian hangs back until they are all walking in line again. The blond's polite smile twitches between that of a pacing or sedated tiger. Jim sweeps close and puts on his charming face as his mother-in-law makes introductions.

The longer this goes on the longer Seb gets visibly restless and uncomfortable. Part of Jim marvels at how this man can be the same one who could stand stoney-faced for hours at business meetings, or perfectly still in the freezing cold and pissing rain patiently waiting for a mark to walk into his range.

Jim looks around for a distraction. His attention falls momentarily on a woman in a dress split to the thigh and a leg in plaster; something about her makes him wonder who she is. She walks up to one of the only colourful individuals in the place and it becomes immediately apparent that she must be one of the sorts Christabelle invited along. Chris only ever seems to be seen in the company of oddly charming, oddly forgettable women, or the unapologetically flamboyant.

Jim gives his mother-in-law a faux innocent look. “They look like they're getting along,” he says, drawing her attention to one of her posh friends who seems to be too stunned by one of Chris' friend's appearance to even be scandalised.

Mrs Moran narrows her eyes at him in an expression uncannily similar to that of Sebastian's, which seems to mean on either face: I know exactly what you are doing, brat, but I'll bite anyway.

She fusses with Alexdrina's hair and Christening gown before sweeping off to 'mingle'.

“Should we be guilty about letting her take Lexie?” Seb asks, sounding thoroughly relieved.

“Probably, but she's too young to remember and we'll surely make it up to her,” Jim says. He pushes Sebastian through quiet areas of the ballroom avoiding as many people as possible.

“Should we say 'hi' to your brother before we sneak off?” Sebastian asks.

“He won't hold it against us,” Jim says.

Seb smiles, sharklike and fond all at once. It makes Jim's stomach flip as though he's not a grown man. “Good,” the blond says. He wraps his arm in Jim's suit and suddenly their pace through the opulent halls of Moran Manor is promptly increased.

Jim gasps as his husband thrusts him firmly against the door of Seb's childhood bedroom. “If you're going to beg a headache you better do it now,” the big blond says thickly, his frustration bleeding into something that deepens his voice and makes Jim swallow hard.

Jim pulls Seb down for a kiss. Sebastian is insistent, dominating the contact before snatching Jim's arms from around his neck and pinning them instead to the door. Jim groans, kicks a leg between his husband's, and hooks it around to drag Sebastian closer still.

“That a no?” the blond asks in a soft growl into his husband's throat.

“It's a 'feckin' open the door or you're takin' me arse right here,'” Jim responds, deliberately drawing out his accent for the way it makes Seb grunt and press firmly against him.

In seconds the door is open and Jim finds himself thrown onto the single bed. Sebastian has clearly forgotten his strength a little, and Jim's breath catches as he bounces, but however taken aback that forcefulness makes Jim feel, the brunet cannot deny that he very much likes it.

Sebastian is already yanking at his trousers and throwing a packet of lube from his pocket.

“Knew this was how yer day was goin' ta go, did yeh?” Jim grins.

Seb glances up briefly even as he bends to rummage through a drawer. “Might've, but underestimated how… worked up… you know.”

“I know,” Jim smirks. He reaches for his fly. “Shall I..?”

Seb retrieves more lube from his drawer and throws it onto the bed too before snatching Jim's slim wrists. “No; me,” the blond demands.

“Yes sir,” Jim grins as his husband strips him and lifts him enthusiastically atop an equally enthusiastic lap. Sebastian cannot seem to decide whether to thoroughly kiss Jim's neck or massage the Irishman's arse, so he does both with clumsy but pleasing eagerness.

“I'm going to make you start wearing a plug to these things,” Seb pants. “Get in you quicker.”

Jim chortles and leans back on his husband's slick fingers. “Plannin' many more of these events, are yeh?”

“My only plan right now is to fuck you until you can't walk after,” Sebastian growls.

Jim groans and wriggles, trying to persuade entry of another finger or two. “No complaints here, Sebby.”

“Fuck,” Seb mutters appreciatively. He pulls Jim close, admiring the pert little arse now slippery with hastily applied lube, and does his best to work in as many digits as quickly as he reasonably can whilst still ensuring the experience is pleasurable for said tight little milky Irish arse.

Jim's dark eyes are blown and his cheeks are flushed. “Mmm, fuck… Fuck me, Tiger, now, please..?”

Sebastian makes a rumbling noise of agreement and arousal. A wet sound announces the use of more lube as he withdraws his hand, and then suddenly he is lining himself up with more care than his shallow breathing suggests and Jim is biting down on his muscular shoulder.

Sebastian is trying very hard to be slow and careful upon entering, he really is, but Jim is having none of that and Seb loves him the more for it. Jim slides down on him roughly, all teeth and short nails digging harshly into Sebastian's back through his remaining clothing, and Seb takes the hint and grabs Jim tightly by those sharp little hips, thrusting up into him fast and fiercely.

“Fuck yes,” Jim whispers somewhere against Sebastian's neck.

The blond growls fondly and slams himself up deep within his husband. Jim makes a keening noise and scrabbles at Sebastian's suit jacket, trying to get closer to skin, and Sebastian takes one hand away to try and help shake off his sleeve, but it takes too much concentration away from slamming into the hot heat of his Irishman's arse. Jim gives up and settles for snatching at Seb's shirt buttons instead, trying to keep them intact for later but not caring enough to be truly careful.

Sebastian solves the problem but curling an arm tight around Jim's back and rolling them over. Jim wraps his legs tightly around him at once and Seb throws off his jacket and shirt. His tie won't snatch off so he leaves it there around his throat, and Jim grabs at it to pull Seb down against him, catching the broad, tattooed chest in kisses and bites.

Sebastian pins Jim to the bed and slams his hips with a sharp repetitiveness that catches the breath in Jim's throat. The brunet drags his fingers down Sebastian's back again, finally breaking skin, and Sebastian hisses. He bows down and captures Jim's clever mouth in another kiss that is all bared teeth and furious need.

“Don't you dare cum,” Sebastian snarls, breaking the kiss abruptly.

Jim's eyes widen in momentary, genuine surprise. “What? But I've been good!”

Sebastian slaps Jim's arse hard enough to sting. “I didn't ask you to comment!”

Jim swallows and leans back a little, nostrils flaring. If he wasn't close before, he is now. “No, sir,” he mumbles.

Sebastian snaps his hips into the smaller man harder still. It's harsh and it's quick; Seb recognises the look in Jim's eyes and snatches for the base of Jim's cock firmly before the little brunet can disobey. Jim groans, pleading.

Sebastian spanks Jim with his free hand, shifting the angle even more torturously. “Oh no you don't,” Sebastian whispers. “This, and you, belong to me and I tell you when you can cum.”

“Y-yes, Tiger,” Jim mumbles. He's sweating and desperate, bucking his hips unconsciously.

Sebastian bites his lower lip then leans down and bites Jim's. “You're mine,” the bigger man rumbles around Jim's mouth.

Jim merely grins into the contact and rolls his hips needfully.

Sebastian nips and kisses his way along Jim's jaw, neck and collarbone. All the while he is slamming into the brunet with frenetic speed. The heavy wooden frame of the single bed shunts closer to the wall with every thrust, leaving audible scratches on the floor and small tears in the wallpaper. Neither man notices. Seb's breath is becoming ragged and Jim mewls as the bigger man sucks a bruise that is going to damned well show. Jim doesn't care, not in that second, and Sebastian sure isn't in the frame of mind to worry about it, his nostrils full of the scent of Jim and Jim about to be full of him.

“C-C'mon then… Seb...” the brunet pants.

Sebastian isn't certain he's capable of words. Too far gone. Too close.

“Wife comes first,” Jim whispers, chuckling.

Sebastian cums with a roar of, “Little bastard!” because of course anything like permission, however emasculating, is enough to send him over the edge. Jim hangs on for dear life and when it's over merely chortles some more.

“Sorry, hubs,” Jim says tenderly.

Sebastian narrows his blue eyes and pulls out, feeling vindicated by the mess he leaves between his husband's legs. “I should just leave you like this,” he admonishes.

“You wouldn't dare,” Jim says with certainty and a sliver of warning.

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “I would, but soon I'm going to conk out, and I'm sure as hell not being unconscious near you after denying you. Come here.” With that the broad blond shifts down the bed and takes hold of Jim's dripping arousal.

Jim has no patience after being so teased. He cups a hand around Sebastian's scalp and raises his hips up eagerly into the hot, wet mouth that opens to accept him through swollen, parted lips.

Sebastian does his best to swirl his tongue around the sensitive tip with each bob of his head, but he's tiring fast and it's a clumsier affair than usual. Jim doesn't mind a jot, grabbing both of the big man's ears and fucking Seb's face rapidly.

Jim's hips and then his balls twitch tellingly and suddenly Sebastian's mouth and throat are filled with further wet heat. Jim slams his head and shoulders back against the sheets. “Fuck, yes.”

Sebastian grins sleepily and rolls over onto his back on the bed. “Couldn't let you cum on your suit,” he explains.

“Oh,” Jim says. “Then you are quite forgiven. For that part. Don't think I didn't notice you leaving a mark on me today for fuck's sake.”

Sebastian glances over. “Did I?”

Jim indicates the fresh love bite with exasperated fondness. “Dick.”

Seb stares at the reddish purple smudge for a moment then shrugs his shoulders with a sheepishness that is entirely negated by the smug sparkle in his eyes.

Jim slaps his husband's bicep then wriggles over to rest his head on the bigger man's shoulder. They lie there for a while in content quietness.

Eventually Sebastian eases out from under his lover and sits up reluctantly. He reaches for a pillowslip. “Come here,” Seb says gently. “I better clean you up.”

Jim wrinkles his nose. “We should have used a condom, you overeager bastard.”

“I didn't hear you telling me to slow it down,” Sebastian points out good-humouredly. He wipes up the mess of lube and spent fluids comfortably.

Jim swings a leg over Seb's arm. “It's been a while since you got bossy.”

Sebastian eyes his husband interestedly. “You missed it?”

Jim arches a socked foot and grins. “It's fun being reminded that my Tiger is a ferocious beast.”

Seb laughs. “If you want a weekend of whips and chains love you're going to have to wait until Jellybean's a bit older so she can have a sleepover.”

“But not so old that she questions the marks,” Jim muses, dropping his legs.

Sebastian nods and reaches for their clothing. “I'm sure you'll figure something out.”

Jim arches a brow suggestively. “If I don't, shall you spank me?”

“Enthusiastically,” Sebastian promises. He hands over Jim's trousers then pulls on his own shirt.

Jim smooths down his hair and dresses. “Feel ready to face the masses now?”

Seb grimaces. “Not really, but you calmed me down.”

Jim stops rubbing at his lovebite momentarily. “You can always drag me back up here for another go if it gets too much.”

Sebastian grins and brushes down his husband's suit. “Might hold you to that.”

Jim reaches up and fixes Seb's tie. “See that you do.”

The blond kisses Jim's temple. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” the brunet says.

“Shall we go downstairs and rescue our baby daughter?” Sebastian sighs.

Jim nods. “If we don't, she might end up one of you.”

Sebastian grimaces and pushes his husband out of the bedroom. “Don't say that. And I'm not one of them.”

“You know how precise your vowels get when they stress you out, don't you?” Jim comments with devilish glee.

Sebastian cracks his large hand off of Jim's bottom harshly enough to make the brunet cry out. “You know better,” Sebastian warns.

Jim pouts. “You're a mean one, posh boy.”

“You want a trip over my lap before I take you downstairs?” Sebastian asks.

Jim grins brightly. “I certainly do, but we had best get back down there before too many people get talking about us. Save it for tonight.”

Sebastian winks. “Looking forward to bedtime already.”

When they get downstairs there seem to be people everywhere. In little groups throughout the space well-dressed people make smalltalk and share plastic smiles. Sebastian's gait stiffens. He tells himself to focus on locating Lexie.

“Relax your shoulders,” Jim murmurs without moving his lips. “It's bad enough that I'm walkin' funny.”

Seb's lips twitch briefly. He rests a hand on Jim's shoulder. “Thanks, Arty.”

“Love you too,” Jim says. He listens out for his mother-in-law's charmingly false laughter and leads Sebastian through the blond's childhood home.

Jim catches sight of a dusky pink watersilk moving through the crowd. Morgan. She had insisted on performing her usual duties today but had dressed in a muted but pretty cropped leg suit. The young woman is indistinct as anyone of importance, but not so plainly uniformed that guests may mistake her for someone who might pander to them, so it's really a clever sort of invisible visibility. The fabric isn't the most practical for tending to a baby, but she always seems to have an uncanny sort of luck with not getting spit up on. Morgan moves surprisingly quickly, and not just because she is unhindered by heels...

Jim starts to worry.

Morgan stops in front of Severin. Jim can tell from her shoulders something is terribly wrong and he feels ice in his gut. Sebastian's hand on his shoulder is suddenly so tight Jim can feel the wedding band through his suit. He understands something is off too.

Morgan spins Severin around and directs the man's gaze. He flinches, curses, and leans down to Morgan's height to mutter in her ear. Sev's reputation of being flirty might make onlookers suppose he's attempting something frivolous, but Sebastian and Jim both know the man's posture better than that.

Morgan retreats gracefully. Her movements suggests she has not a problem in the world, but Seb and Jim know her better than that too. Something's wrong. Something is terribly wrong, but even with Sebastian's height neither man can see what Morgan had Severin look at.

They move closer, and that is when Sebastian freezes.

Lord and Knight Augustus Moran. Couldn't just stay abroad for this one day, of course not, the predictable bloody bastard.

Sebastian can feel his heart rate surging in anger and hate. Then concern- where the fuck is-?

His mother has his baby. She is handing Lexie over to Og, of all people, but there must be something more mistrustful about Seb's mother's relationship with his father than the woman admits to, because Og starts moving through the crowd away from their parents. Catching sight of Sebastian and Jim, Og carries Alexdrina over.

“Shall we take a turn through the gardens?” she suggests. She even pretends not to see the bruise on Jim's otherwise white neck.

Sebastian quickly reaches for his daughter and checks her over protectively before handing her to Jim. “Take her outside.”

Jim holds their baby close but searches Seb's face. “Do you need me?”

Sebastian's expression flutters. “Just take her away from here and keep her safe, alright?”

“We love you,” Jim says firmly.

Sebastian trails his fingers over them both. “I love you.”

Og is already disappearing back into the crowd. Typical. Sebastian watches his husband carry Lexie safely towards the nearest exit before turning to face the man he hates more than anyone else in the world.

Loathe as he is to admit it, Sebastian does not even know what to say. He's not afraid of his father anymore, he's not, but the bastard was supposed to be safely tied up with business far across the globe and seeing him here… near the people who matter… it makes Seb feel vulnerable. That makes him even angrier than than his father's typical contrariness. Or the memories of a childhood lived under cruel brutality.

For a beat Sebastian wonders whether his mother orchestrated this. Surely she would not; she would dread their making a scene…

Yet here is the man she refuses to divorce.

Seb thinks the betrayal might break something in the honestly vastly improved relationship he has developed with his once estranged mother. He swallows and doesn't want to look at her in case he sees an unpleasant truth in her, but he's so angry, and that always used to make him so self-destructive.

Sebastian looks to his mother and for a brief moment his knees seem to swim with his vision, but he straightens his back and holds himself high. The woman looks regretful, but she did not do this. Sebastian feels like he can breathe again and hadn't noticed before that he wasn't. His chest floods with relief, but he keeps all weakness from his face.

It's been far too long and he hasn't said anything.

His father takes the initiative to talk and Seb hates the man for taking the opportunity almost as much as he suddenly hates himself for creating it.

“My boy,” Lord Moran says carefully. “I couldn't miss such an important occasion entirely.”

Sebastian swallows hard and tilts his chin upwards defensively. He raises his brows in condescension. “Important to whom?”

Mrs Moran's lips press together.

Lord Moran looks old, but his shoulders are no less rigid than usual. “To this family of course. Your first child.”

“What does that matter to you?” Sebastian asks with tired bluntness. “She's a girl. I'm not your heir.”

His father's lined face twitches. His previously silver-streaked moustache is entirely steely now but there is no stiffness to it. Lord Moran licks dry lips and blusters. “Of course it -she- matters. You matter. My eldest son-”

“Don't,” Sebastian says firmly. “All I will ever be to you is a disappointment and I have no desire to pretend to be anything else; now or ever.”

Lord Moran takes a deep breath. He has the audacity to sound tired himself. “Do not fuss, Sebastian. You always were a dramatic child.”

Sebastian takes a menacing step closer. He knows know what he has known for years; he is big and strong enough that if he takes a really well aimed swing at his father the old man won't get up anytime soon, if at all. The moustached man's jaw tenses and it seems like perhaps Seb's father finally knows this now too.

“If you want to have words, Sebastian, we can take this away from the party,” Lord Moran says steadily.

“What, you aren't going to try marching me out of here by my ear?” Sebastian scoffs sharply.

“I am under the impression you are now a grown man, despite your propensity still to throw tantrums,” his father states. “Today is not about us: it is about your daughter and I would rather we did not mar that with public unpleasantness.”

“Don't talk about my daughter,” Sebastian snarls. His mother gives him a pleading look – people can hear- so Seb sighs and takes another step towards his father so that he can quietly ask, “Does private unpleasantness suit you then?”

“Honestly, it is no wonder your mother still takes you across her knees,” Lord Moran admonishes. “Can you not see I am trying to get along with you, you spoilt brat?”

“Can you not see I wish you dead, old man?” Sebastian surges closer still to hiss.

Lord Moran gives the dismissive laugh of the rich. “You just told me you had no interest in being my heir.”

Sebastian takes a step back to bark out a harsh laugh of his own. “What, you suddenly want to leave me this place? I would burn it.”

“'Bastian...” Mrs Moran says quietly.

Sebastian grits his teeth. She looks unusually disappointed and he doesn't like it. She knows exactly how much he hated growing up in this big house.

“I continually wonder where you got your overly dramatic streak,” Lord Moran scolds Sebastian. “I might think you weren't mine if not for you being every bit the spit of me and full of your mother's stubbornness.”

Mrs Moran says nothing.

“I'm glad of the marks on my face,” Sebastian says. “And that I got my mother's hair. I'd hate to see you when I look in the mirror.”

“You cannot hide the fact that you are mine, Sebastian, no matter how you run from it,” Lord Moran states. “Why can you not simply grow up and accept this?”

Sebastian feels a surge of resentment so fierce it sickens him. “I suppose you ought blame the parents,” he says with all the restraint he can muster. The blond forces himself to remember prison and what that did to his relationship with Jim. Sebastian cannot, must not, take hold of his father this instant and snap the devil's neck. Jim and Jellybean are by far more important than that, however tempting.

Mrs Moran puts a careful hand on each Moran man's arm. “Boys,” she says carefully, “today is not about this. 'Bastian, why don't you go circulate, and Gus, let me take you for some refreshments. I've barely seen you and you must be so hungry having come all this way...”

Sebastian swallows hard. He's so hungry himself right now – for his father's blood- but he nods and steps back. “I want him gone,” he warns.

That moustache ruffles. “This is my house-”

Mrs Moran snatches a glass from a nearby server's tray and raises her voice to cover the unseemly noise. “A toast!” she declares, “to my darling husband for making it all the way to this celebration of my most perfect granddaughter, and of Alexdrina Moran herself, may she have a prosperous, long and happy life in the bosom of her loving family!”

“Drink, my Lord?”

Sebastian blinks as he watches his father accept a drink from Morgan. She's wearing a white shirt and black trousers, which isn't the uniform of the female wait staff, but no one else seems to notice.

Lord Moran accepts the only full champagne flute on Morgan's tray with barely an acknowledging grunt, no thank you and not a glance at all towards her. She disappears back into the crowd with a tray of empty glasses.

Sebastian feels his heart race. He watches his father drink, and experiences an emotion he cannot identify. Mrs Moran gives her son a perplexed look at his sudden change in demeanour.

She suddenly glances over his shoulder. Sebastian doesn't know why but he is certain he feels Jim approach and feels a spark of alarm at Lexie being near his father.

Seb spins around and he's right, here is Jim, but thankfully Lexie isn't-

“Where's Lexie?” Sebastian blurts.

“Og brought Richie; he's got her,” Jim explains quickly. He fixes his dark eyes on Sebastian and silently asks whether his husband is okay.

Sebastian has no idea how to say he thinks their nanny just poisoned his abusive father. Jim gives him a confused look at Seb's peculiar expression and that's when Lord Moran thrusts out his hand.

“I do not believe we have ever been formally introduced,” the old man states. “What a happy day...”

Jim's eyes snap back to his husband questioningly. Seb shakes his head marginally but with feeling. Jim ignores the proffered hand and tries to ignore the scolding look his beloved mother-in-law gives him for it.

The Lord Moran has mere seconds to process this before he has to pull back and try to stifle a cough.

Sebastian watches the man splutter with increasing force. Seb's expression is different enough from anyone else's as Lord Moran coughs that Jim gets the feeling the noise they hear is not a mere rattle of old age.

Mrs Moran starts to look alarmed as her husband's sudden cough begins to become a panicked, hacking noise. She orders a waiter to fetch water and tries to guide Lord Moran to sit down.

Sebastian's hands are shaking. He doesn't notice until Jim squeezes one in his own tightly. Seb feels a small burst of reassurance but gives his husband a perplexed frown. How does he tell-

Sebastian suddenly wonders whether Jim orchestrated this. Morgan knew Jim first and she's a loyal little thing. And protective of Lexie.

Jim promised he wouldn't interfere in regards to whether Seb's dad lives or not.

The blond tunes out the sound of his father's racking cough and stares directly at Jim.

Arty hasn't done this. Sebastian knows just from looking at Jim that his husband is not involved, but seems to be swiftly picking up on the situation as Lord Moran's coughs begin to sound wet.

Sebastian turns and watches the man who he had feared for so long claw at his own throat. Lord Moran's face is purpling and bloody spittle bubbles over his fat, dry lips.

Seb's mother should feel ecstatic relief but she doesn't – Sebastian can see the agony in her gait as she snatches the glass of water from her staff and tries in vain to ease her abusive husband's deathly wheezing.

Sebastian takes a step back and almost shakes his head. He doesn't… His mother is trying to hide her expression, but he can tell she is downright terrified, and madly, a little heartbroken.

“Don't you dare,” she orders her husband. “Desist this at once. You are not an old man.”

Lord Moran does something Sebastian cannot ever remember seeing him do. He takes his wife's hand tenderly.

Seb swallows hard and turns helplessly to his husband. Jim takes one look at the wide, blue eyes before turning and yelling into the crowd, “GÉRARD!”

Chapter Text

Augustus Moran's lips are blue. The ordinarily threatening bulge of the purple vein at his red temple is downright alarming. His wife is chalk white as he wheezes and snatches his hand back from her as he retches.

“Can't… my breath...” he mutters into his knees on the chair.

Jim watches his mother-in-law kneel over the bastard. He feels Sebastian's presence at his side.

“Gérard!” Jim yells again.

Already cutting her way through the guests, the woman's response to Jim's cry is to part the remaining crowd between them with surgical efficiency. “What's happening?” she asks briskly. “Choking? ...No...”

The former army medic glances at Jim and Sebastian oddly, analytically, then focuses on ignoring them. She reaches for the fat of Lord Moran's wrist and checks the pulse just beneath the tan line created by a lifetime of wearing farcically expensive watches in hot climates.

“Is there a history of heart problems?” Gérard asks clinically.

Augustus cannot answer. His eyes are rolling in between bouts of gasping and spluttering.

Mrs Moran keeps her considerably larger husband upright. “No. He has high blood pressure but-”

“It's – not a heart attack!” Augustus snaps, then his eyes bulge and he covers his mouth as he splutters some more.

“We're going to need more than air,” Gérard says calmly. “Where's the most accessible sink?”

“This way,” Mrs Moran indicates. She tries to guide her husband, but he sways on his feet and wheezes horribly.

Sebastian watches for a moment. He so wants to enjoy watching his father suffer, feel relief in the lines on the man's face and the rattle in each hard-won breath, but it's impossible not to look at the crumpling man and not also see his mother.

Mrs Moran's back is straight and her lips are set. Her gaze is steely determination. She looks like something within herself has shattered into a million pieces.

Sebastian flicks a glance at his brother. Sev's lips are guiltily pursed, his eyes on their mother, but his gait is full of Moran stubbornness. Those eyes which watch Mrs Moran so regretfully relay resolute refusal to help in this situation.

Gus-the-younger is nowhere to be seen, which is likely just as well because Sebastian cannot take her snivelling about what a perfect daddy they have right now. Like Og, Chris appears to be missing too, but it's the norm for her to disappear off with a woman or two (or three) at parties.

Sebastian swallows disgust and steps forward. Mrs Moran gives him a momentarily raw look before she blinks away her emotion.

Sebastian reaches for his father's shaking bulk and heaves the rasping man to his feet.

It's peculiar, touching his father. Seb cannot remember the last time they touched. The surreal experience is further exaggerated by how odd it is for Lord Moran to be doubled over, weak and threatening to vomit, while Sebastian guides the man to a restroom.

Gérard approaches Augustus again as soon as they are out of earshot of the guests. “I am going to need you to spit out anything that is still in your mouth,” she says carefully.

Mrs Moran gives the doctor a hyperfocused look, but Lord Moran notes nothing as he leans forward and is finally sick. Sebastian moves away at once, feeling dirty.

“Can one of you go phone an ambulance somewhere with signal, and wait for it to arrive to direct the paramedics?” Gérard says.

Augustus grips the sink with both hands and begins to vomit violently enough to give himself a concussion were his wife's fingers not already curling protectively over the taps and his skull. No one moves to call an ambulance.

“Has he eaten or drank anything unusual?” Gérard asks.

Mrs Moran's gaze flickers. “Not that I noticed,” she says, sounding tense and not entirely convincing.

“Is your husband on any medications? Does he have any existing medical conditions?” Gérard asks.

Mrs Moran indicates the pink in the frothy vomit. “Nothing that should be causing that,” she says crisply.

She turns to her boys. “Will one of you please-” her voice breaks.

Severin opens his mouth but his vocal chords stay impotent.

Jim and Sebastian exchange glances. Jim gives a tiny, terse nod and pulls out his mobile. “I'll call, Mam.”

“They'll want his age and weight,” Gérard says.

Mrs Moran rattles off the numbers, and the address too as if Jim hadn't seen it on a hundred invitations recently.

He squeezes Seb's arm and backs away from the restroom door, putting his phone to his ear.

“If you can manage, try sloshing some tap water around your mouth and spitting it out,” Gérard says to Augustus. She starts rifling through the cupboards.

“What are you doing?” Mrs Moran asks with less bite than one might expect.

“Looking for anything with charcoal in it,” Gérard says. “Toothpaste, an edible face mask, something of that ilk.”

“To bind any toxins to it,” Mrs Moran says with surprising understanding.

Gérard nods. “Let's stop any more of this entering his system. The control centre will probably advise against giving him anything, because it's hard to judge dosage when we don't know what we're dealing with but...” she trails off and looks at Augustus pointedly. He is vomiting loudly, and the deathgrip he has on the sink is what is keeping him upright.

“Will this constipate him?” Mrs Moran says, pulling out a black tub and breaking its seal. “It's probably not advisable to have the poison sitting in his stomach.”

Gérard looks at the other woman for a fraction of a beat. “We can give him laxatives if it seems like he doesn't throw up enough of whatever this is.”

Jim comes rushing back. Mrs Moran gives him a questioning look at the lack of a phone in his hand or paramedics at his heels.

He looks at Sebastian wordlessly for a moment then visibly makes a decision. Jim holds something out, ignoring his mother-in-law's silent question. “Prussian Blue,” he says.

Severin puts a hand on the Irishman's shoulder. Sebastian pushes it off at once, but does not let go. He doesn't want to hit his brother, he wants to say he understands, but… he's not sure he does. Not today. Not now.

They've had their whole lives to… not do this.

Before the boys can discuss their troubled emotions, Gérard takes the paint pigment Jim has obtained from the drawing room. “I hope none of the rest of you have inhaled any,” she says.

“I don't understand?” Mrs Moran says. Sebastian isn't certain whether she catches the way Sev turns momentarily green as she looks between Jim and Gérard to say, “The paint?”

“Is the antidote,” Gérard responds, waiting until Lord Moran surfaces for air before administering the substance. Augustus is barely lucid by this point. Gérard's gaze lingers on his nails before stating, “What ails him is rather nasty and a gram of the stuff would be enough to do the job.”

“You know the poison?” Mrs Moran asks quietly.

Jim feels horribly exposed.

“If someone was responsible for this man's culinary misadventure I do hope they wore gloves,” Gérard says tartly. “Thallium is absorbed through the skin.”

“Not guilty,” Sebastian says quietly and puts an arm around Jim.

Severin is quiet. He looks worried.

“It's a slow-acting poison,” Gérard says. “It hits the bloodstream quickly, and immediately attacks the gastrointestines, but it can take a night, even four whole days, to fully take hold. It's not pleasant. Painful.”

Augustus makes no objection to being spoken of thus. He is focused on being able to breathe in between bouts of painful vomiting.

“The blood… it's from his stomach?” Mrs Moran asks.

“And intestines,” Gérard says. “It goes for the lungs as well. But we've been quick at catching this.”

Mrs Moran strokes her husband with unpractised affection. “So he'll be well?”

“There could already be irreversible neurological, cardiac, liver or kidney damage,” answers Gérard gently, “but we've caught it.”

“If it's slow acting why is it acting so fast?” Sebastian asks.

“You saw it administered?” Mrs Moran asks in a very careful, quiet voice.

Seb flinches. “I don't know. No,” he says.

“Could be prolonged exposure, more than one dose,” Gérard suggests. Her gaze is on Augustus, whose lips are now a dark, foamy blue from the unappetising paint.

“It'll show in blood and urine,” Jim says. “If they specifically check for it.”

“Is there an ambulance on its way?” Mrs Moran asks jaggedly.

“Yes,” Jim says. “I got someone to call and someone to wait. I came right here with the antidote.”

“How did you know we had any?” she says in a tired voice.

“I didn't, until I asked questions,” Jim says honestly.

Mrs Moran nods. “Sebastienne, dear, could you stay and mind my husband for a moment?”

Gérard looks around the others then nods warily. “Yes, Ma'am.”

“The three of you, out,” Mrs Moran hisses.

Severin, Sebastian and Jim tumble out into the corridor (blessedly empty of curious guests) and Mrs Moran closes the door behind herself. She checks that no one is yet approaching then snarls, “What the fuck?!”

The three men are quiet.

“Sebastian!” she snaps. “You saw your father poisoned and said nothing?”

Seb's heart pounds. He wants to question why she would be surprised, but he's not sure if she is, and he's uncertain why he's not been more instrumental in his father's demise.

Mrs Moran does not wait for a response. “James, you knew what poison my husband is in there being corroded by?”

“Not before it happened!” Jim says quickly. “I asked around, I… I would never poison someone with a traceable poison.”

The woman silences him with a look.

She turns to Severin. “And you,” Mrs Moran says in a voice of cold fury, “you had better have a fucking good explanation, Severin Moran.”

Sev cows, and the other men shrink back just as much.

“You actually did this,” Mrs Moran whispers, staring at her son's telling body language.

“Mum...” Severin begins.

His mother slaps him so hard across the cheek his teeth clack. “None of your brothers would ever do something like this,” she hisses lividly. “I have never come anywhere close to being as disappointed in you as I am right now, Severin Moran.”

Sev blinks quickly and slowly reaches up to cup his aching face. “Mum...” he whispers.

“Don't even speak to me!” Mrs Moran snaps. “I am so disgusted-”

“You weren't this disgusted when he beat us, Mum,” Sebastian interrupts.

“Trust me, if he ever tried to kill either of you I wouldn't just slap your father's face,” Mrs Moran says.

“He beat us half to death all the time growing up,” Sev says in a hurt voice.

“And you think that I never had ugly, violent arguments with him about that?” Mrs Moran retorts. “You think that I just looked the other way every time and so now that neither of you get hit any more it's time to kill him? Can you see how insane that is?”

Both Severin and Sebastian look at their mother then away again. They want to argue that she never defended them adequately, but neither can say they never saw or heard her attempt to defend them from the most unreasonable beatings. They can't say that they don't remember the aftermath of those instances either.

“So what are we going to do?” Jim asks. “The paramedics will be here any minute, and if they are… then the authorities are going to be involved eventually.”

“Obviously this stays between us,” Mrs Moran says. “Gérard said there was a neurological element to the poisoning; we say Gus was confused and shouting before he took unwell. We simply need to determine how he stumbled upon the poison. Preferably abroad, and before any of us saw him.”

“And what is he going to say about it?” Sebastian says skeptically.

“He'll go along with any story I tell him if he knows what's good for him,” Mrs Moran says.

“Yeah, right,” Severin says.

His mother gives him a warning look that snaps Sev's mouth shut instantly. She whips around and stalks back into the bathroom with a determined set to her lips that suggests she may well be capable of keeping her husband's mouth shut too.

Before anyone can say much else the sound of hurriedly approaching footsteps announces the arrival of the paramedic team. Jim and Sebastian step back as Augusta Moran leads the uniformed strangers into the large restroom.

Severin swings around and thumps the back of his head against the wallpaper softly.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Sebastian demands through bared, gritted teeth. The urgent chatter of the others inside suggests that they are not actively listening.

Severin massages his face. “It wasn't deliberate. He wasn't supposed to come home.”

Seb lowers his voice to a barely audible hiss. “So you tried to fucking murder him? Today? At our fucking baby girl's Christening? Your niece! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I-” Severin swallows his protest as the paramedics barrel out of the room with Lord Moran. Gérard is striding along with them at speed rattling off pertinent information. Mrs Moran keeps pace, her fingers around her husband's swollen wrist, but twists to fire instructions over her shoulder at her daughter.

“Keep the party going as long as appropriate and be vague about your father. Find your sister if you can and fill her in on what's happened. Make sure your idiot little brothers stay put and feel free to give Severin a hairbrush spanking if he has a single word to say about it.”

Augusta swallows and raises her brows primly. “Yes, Mother. Go. We can manage.”

Sebastian follows a few steps behind. He asks, “Mum, are you sure you don't need - want- one of us to come with you?”

Mrs Moran's gaze flickers. “I will call you later. Mummy's rather livid right now, my darling.”

Seb chews his lip and nods slowly. He pauses and watches the small group around his father leave then slowly returns to the others.

Gus pinches the bridge of her nose. “I'll thank you all not to incriminate me with the details, but is there a reason you utter morons saw fit to do this so publicly? Surely an accident during pheasant season, or tampering with his blood pressure tablets, or having something happen to him whilst he's away, maybe orchestrating a car crash, but this? Don't you boys ever think?”

The fully-grown boys blink at her.

“You're not even remotely upset that your darling Daddy's on his way to the hospital right now?” Sev asks flatly.

“He's old,” Gus shrugs. “And… problematic… but… I have no words, Severin Moran. Your grasp of timing...”

“Og,” Sebastian says carefully, “you do appreciate that our father is probably going to die?”

“Yes, Sebastian,” Gus replies slowly, “and do you realise that if this comes out the scandal will be the worst thing you have ever done?”

“He didn't do it,” Severin says.

“You would cover for him regardless, and he covered for your fiasco on tour, so you are hardly a reliable source,” says Augusta.

“How do you even know about that?” Sebastian exclaims.

She raises her perfect brows. “Oh please, like you wouldn't always take the blame for Severin. I don't know why you all seem to think I am stupid.”

“It's not like Stepford wives are known for their wit,” Sev retorts.

“Firstly, I got a divorce! I've never been bloody perfect!” Gus snaps. “I'm just not foolhardy enough to attempt-” she drops her voice, “murder in the stupidest possible way!”

“We've been poisoning him for months! It's slow-acting; he wasn't supposed to keel over here! He wasn't even supposed to be here – and I don't know why he started to cough – it's supposed to attack his guts and...” Severin trails off. “It was just me that was poisoning him, right?”

“Well, we weren't,” Jim says dryly.

“I'd have shot him. In the stomach,” Sebastian says. “Probably.”

Augusta massages her temples. “I'm going to call my lawyer and then I am going to pack Father an overnight bag. Will one of you please go find our sister before I hear anything else incriminating?”

“Fine,” Severin says. He sighs and looks to Seb and Jim. “I guess you guys should circulate and do the host thing so Mum doesn't have anything else to go mental about. I'll go find Chris.”

“Thank you,” Gus snaps. She stalks off, pulling out her phone. It has full coverage.

Sebastian pushes his brother into the wall. “Oh, no you don't. What the fuck?”

“I didn't mean for anything to happen today!” Sev protests.

“How long have you been poisoning him? You could have told me!” Seb exclaims.

“I would also like to explore why the fuck our nanny is poisoning people for you,” Jim hisses.

“Relax, I'm not banging her; we used to go to the same gym,” says Sev.

“I don't care if you're banging her alongside Richie, Irene, and your entire fucking squadron! What the fuck are you doing getting our nanny involved in this bullshit?” Jim snarls.

“She's protective of you guys,” Severin shrugs.

“She's fucking fired, is what she is,” Jim says darkly. “She's been handling thallium and handling my kid!”

“Oh Jesus, she's not fucking stupid,” Severin says.

“I don't think you're one to judge!” Jim bellows.

Sev tries not to think about Jim's marriage method and rolls his eyes. “Will you keep your voice down? Mum's mad about the guests already.”

“Fuck the guests,” Jim says. “I'm going to get Alex and -”

“No,” Sebastian says softly. “Mum's really upset. I don't want her upset about the party too.”

Jim turns and looks at his husband. “Okay,” he says gently.

“You can get Chris,” Sebastian tells his brother. He sighs and drops an arm around Jim's slim shoulders. “Let's go get our kid.”

Jim leans into Seb's collarbone. “You're going to want to see your mum at the hospital right?”

“Do you think that's weird?” Sebastian asks. “She looked really-”

“You should check she's okay,” Jim says. “I'll come with you if you want but I don't… I don't want to leave Alex with anyone, is that okay?”

Sebastian kisses his husband's forehead. “It is very okay,” Seb answers. “Let's just get Lexie, get through the next few hours of this fucking party, and then we'll go, alright?”

“Yes,” Jim says. “Wait. Do you think it's safe to have her near him? If he's been exposed-?”

“I don't know,” Sebastian says. He is suddenly white. “She's been around Morgan, and Sev, and Richie, who's been 'around' Sev'. Do you think..?”

“Fuck the party; Mam'll understand,” Jim says. He pulls out his phone to determine his brother's location.

Chapter Text

Richard joins the couple in their journey to the hospital. He insists Severin also gets checked out, which leaves a disgruntled Chris playing hostess. Augusta has already gone on ahead to the hospital with Lord Moran's things.

No one knows where Morgan is, but Severin knows better than to make the others wait for her.

Tensions run high as Alexdrina is examined for exposure to thallium, but she and her uncles display negative results for poisoning. In the relief that follows Richie tries to make the case that patricide is not necessarily the worse of sins, but Jim and Sebastian are not yet in the humour to forgive.

Gérard is still with Mrs Moran when the boys arrive at Lord Moran's hospital room. Augusta takes Alexdrina whilst Severin and Richie wait outside.

Gérard sidles up to Jim and Seb quickly. She says without moving her lips, “Mee's lines across his nails. That takes about a month after being poisoned. This isn't a one-off.”

“Could hardly happen to a nicer person,” Sebastian mutters.

“So, the doctors will monitor your father's blood and urine for the time being,” Gérard announces more audibly. “They will continue to administer Prussian blue until the thallium concentration in his urine has returned to practically nothing for twentyfour hours.”

“I've told the staff Gus has been at a number of jewellery auctions overseas. They are rife with fakes recently, and you know how dangerous fake diamonds can be,” Mrs Moran announces. She has not stood to greet them, and the lack of her usual mannerisms makes the couple uneasy.

“Are the police interested?” Sebastian asks.

“Good luck to them,” his mother responds without meeting Seb or Jim's gazes. “With symptoms like hair loss, tiredness, and poor vision, in a man my husband's age, it hardly narrows down a timeline.”

“Is there going to be an investigation?” Seb asks.

“No,” Mrs Moran says coolly. “Not of anyone important. They'll look into what they can as far as auctions are concerned but the police won't be able to track much jewellery abroad. This will fizzle out.”

Sebastian glances at his father. The man is unconscious, but stable, if the readings displayed by the many machines surrounding the hospital bed are to be believed.

Jim's presence at Sebastian's side is vastly appreciated.

“What's dad got to say about that when he wakes up?” Seb asks.

Mrs Moran raises her brows. “What can he say about it? His symptoms include hallucinations and dementia. No jury is interested in anything he might say.”

“And that's that?” Jim asks skeptically.

The woman's lips purse but her steely eyes betray none of her inner workings. “He won't be a problem in regards to this particular misadventure.”

“Is he dying?” Sebastian blurts. He's uncertain how he feels about the words, once they are out of his mouth.

“Not especially swifter than usual,” Mrs Moran says. She gazes quietly at her husband. At last she says, “Thank you for helping to save him.”

Sebastian doesn't know what to say, or what to feel. He turns helplessly to Jim, who for once seems equally uncertain.

“You're my mum,” Sebastian says at last.

“And he's your father,” the woman says.

“You'd have missed him,” Seb says. “Not that I understand why.”

Mrs Moran gives a soft, sad smile. “Of course you wouldn't, darling. Your position in life has been rather different than mine, and your father wasn't always ill-suited to my needs.”

“How was it different?” Sebastian says. “You're from a rich, important family, with a cold, rich daddy. Sound familiar.”

“I had two step-sisters and four half-siblings, all of whom despised me,” Mrs Moran says. “My mother died and my step-mother did her best to ensure I wished I had too. You think you had it bad growing up as you did? All the warmth I had I put into this family.”

Sebastian bites his tongue, conflicted by the risks of speaking truth in regards to his experiences and emotions.

“I know you suffered,” Mrs Moran says baldly. “I didn't know things could be different, and I admit for a long time I made no effort to try.”

Sebastian's blue eyes widen softly. He reaches for Jim's wrist, finding comfort in touching the smaller man during tense moments, and considers. “I understand why you married him, but I don't understand why you stay.”

“Why am I 'Mrs Moran' when by rights I am a Lady?” his mother responds. “I was barely an adult when I married your father, and everything I am is because I am his wife. He might be a vile scoundrel, 'Bastian, and I cannot say I have many tender feelings for him, but I have been married to your father for nearly sixty years. I am more his wife than I am anything else, except your mother, and that fool boy outside's mother, and that of the others.”

“You're not at all interested in who you could be if you weren't trying to please him every second?” Seb says.

“Darling, come here,” says Mrs Moran. She beckons to Sebastian and then Jim, who had hung back silently. “You too, Jim Moran.”

Sebastian's gaze flickers towards his father before he obeys. Seb leans in slowly for a once rare, but now increasingly familiar, affectionate embrace from his mother. She then bids him to sit closely beside her and she pulls Jim near. The brunet stumbles as though she would perch him on her knee like a child, except for Jim being fearful of crushing her. Which is ridiculous, given that they are both as thin as blades of grass and Sebastian's mother's thighs are akin to iron girders.

Sebastian pulls Jim onto his own lap, from which his mother can pet his currently quiet husband. Jim squeezes his mother-in-law's bony hand and nuzzles his husband's cheek. Sebastian's shoulders are stiff from their nearness to his father but he presses his skull flush against Jim's firmly.

“This may be difficult to hear, but I have rarely ever not pleased my husband purely to please myself,” Mrs Moran confides. “Being the woman I am is what I aspired to as a child, and I have never developed any further aspirations beyond wanting my children and their children to be happy.”

“We'd be happier if we thought you were safe,” Sebastian says.

Mrs Moran scoffs. “I am not afraid of that geriatric windbag, thank you all the same.”

“But-”

“He's all bluster and little bite in his old age,” Mrs Moran says. “Not all of your parents age like a fine wine, you know.”

Sebastian smiles weakly.

“Speaking of wine,” Mrs Moran says, indicating her son-in-law's neck, and the burgundy mark there, “I do wish you would not insist on behaving like hormonal young men. Our name is a respectable one.”

Jim blushes prettily and glares mildly at his husband.

“Our name would be a lot less respectable if Jim didn't let me take him upstairs,” Sebastian says.

His mother rolls her eyes. “Heavens preserve us from my child at any event that requires clean hands and polished shoes.”

“He brushed up just fine,” Jim comments with a soft smirk.

Mrs Moran purses her lips. “You're a good influence on him that way. And upon his ill manners, for the most part.”

“I hardly went out of my way to ruin the party!” Sebastian protests.

Mrs Moran looks disdainful. “I have never held an event like it.”

“Trust dad to ruin everything,” Seb says dryly.

“Mind your tongue, Sebastian,” his mother cautions with a sharp cluck of her tongue.

Seb glances back at his father sleeping in the hospital bed beyond them. “You can't blame any of this on me!”

“Oh, poor 'Bastian, forever miscast and eternally bullied,” Mrs Moran says with dry amusement.

He answers with a narrow-eyed expression that would be called a pout on a teenager's face.

Mrs Moran raises her chin towards Jim. “You saw fit to marry this little lout, James.”

Jim looks amused but Sebastian interrupts to protest,“Shall we discuss your choice of spouse again, Mother?”

“Lower your voice before you wake your father,” Mrs Moran sighs.

Seb grimaces and begins to slouch down on the uncomfortable hospital chair. Jim wobbles and tightens his grip on his husband warningly. It almost makes Sebastian laugh, which suggests to the blond that this situation is unpalatably tense and he is glad to have Jim with him.

Mrs Moran gives them a wry look for a beat, then drops her attention to her shoes. She adjusts the evidently uncomfortable back of her heel in an eerily human gesture.

“Are you okay?” Sebastian asks.

His mother raises her fine brows. She is no less made up than usual, but somehow she looks tired. “I am getting far too old for all of this nonsense,” his mother replies in a voice that suggests she might still manage to get a tad older and handle a bit more. It is reassuring.

“Old enough to have a granddaughter,” Sebastian teases.

The woman gives him a disgruntled look. “Don't think Mummy shan't put you in the corner for your avarice, child of mine.”

Seb gives Jim a brief hug. “Would you really do your darling James out of a comfortable seat?”

Jim scoffs softly. Mrs Moran looks about to respond with softly cutting cleverness, but stirring from the occupied hospital bed makes her snap back to her husband attentively.

Jim feels Seb's uneasiness all through his husband's frame.

“Gus? Augustus?” Mrs Moran presses.

Lord Moran shifts uneasily. His pyjama jacket is twisted to reveal marks (and bald patches) from a hasty electrocardiogram. Jim supposes Sebastian's chest might look similar at such an age, but without Seb's tattoos the two are hard to connect. Jim imagines that is deliberate on Sebastian's part, intentionally or not.

“Do… you want me to stay?” Sebastian asks his mother bravely.

She gives him a tight smile. “You're dismissed, darlings. The last thing we need is a row that puts your father back on his back before he's even managed to sit upright.”

“I can try,” Sebastian says. “To, um, behave...”

His mother looks him over with something that is not quite surprise. Pride, perhaps. “It's quite alright darling. Your father's rarely in the best of humours when he is in pain and his arrival earlier was… hardly copacetic, was it now?”

“If you need me...” Seb says firmly.

“Sebastian?” his father slurs (or something approximating the name).

Jim feels his husband flinch then roll tense shoulders. The blond stares into space broodingly then reluctantly spares his father a glance.

Lord Moran tries to pull himself upright and fails. He bats away his wife's offer of help. “Come to check on your inheritance?” the old man asks weakly.

Mrs Moran sighs.

Jim moves to slide off of his husband's lap. Sebastian curls his strong arm around Jim in a move of defiant affection. “Hardly. I've got a rich husband to look after me,” Seb says dryly.

Augustus splutters. His wife presses his lips together, considering the appropriateness of scolding her child, but Augustus catches his breath.

“I… suppose you find yourself amusing,” the man says faintly.

Sebastian squares his jaw. “Not really. I'd rather not be-”

“'Bastian!” Mrs Moran rebukes.

“Well it's hardly a secret!” Seb protests.

“Play nice. All of you,” the woman says, casting a look at her husband.

The man gives her a droll look. “I am hardly going to manhandle your precious boy from my sickbed, am I?” He grimaces and tries to shift himself into a less uncomfortable position.

“You can just keep your hands off of me. For the rest of your life,” Sebastian snaps.

His father gives a barking laugh that turns into a choking fit. Once he has that under control the man says, “Are you so worried I am going to reach for you from here? Trust me, my current grip on mortality is feeble enough as things stand.”

“That's hardly my fault!” Sebastian retorts.

“'Bastian...” Mrs Moran warns.

“Boy, I am not blaming you,” Augustus says. “Why are you here if you care so little?”

“Because my mum-”

“Is upset when we don't get along, yes?” the Lord interrupts. “So let's get along. I have little energy for fighting, if you had not noticed.”

Seb grits his teeth. “I don't want to get along-”

“Humour an old man,” his father says.

Sebastian clenches his fists, but takes a deep breath when Jim rubs his arm reassuringly.

“Fine,” Sebastian spits out.

Augustus is quiet for a moment. “What are your plans for the future?”

Seb presses his lips closed against the urge to describe in detail standing over his father's tomb. He shrugs stiffly.

“No son of mine is living off of his… spouse,” Augustus says. “You ruined the army for yourself and you've got a criminal record, so tell me, how are you going to support your family?”

“We're well off enough not to have to work,” Jim says carefully.

The aged man looks Jim over carefully. “That's all well and good, young man, but bone idleness is not good for a person. Especially not someone as spirited as my son.”

“I'm going to be an armourer,” Sebastian blurts. “When our daughter begins nursery.”

Mrs Moran looks momentarily and uncharacteristically surprised. Jim squeezes his husband's large hand.

“The army are taking you back?” Lord Moran questions.

“No,” Sebastian says. “An armourer for the film industry. I'll manage the weapons used, firearms and edge weapons, making sure they are accurate and the actors are properly, safely trained in their use. The pay might not be quite as good as that of an MP, but I reckon Hollywood has less snakes than Parliament.”

“Sebastian,” says Mrs Moran.

“Oh, never mind him, Celeste,” Augustus says. “He has a point.”

Mrs Moran blinks in rare, naked confusion. She is uncertain which she is least familiar with – her husband being in any agreement with their son, or Gus calling her by his nickname for her. She has not heard it in years.

Jim can surmise from the way Sebastian stills that the exchange is irregular.

“Very well,” Mrs Moran says carefully.

“And what about you?” Lord Moran asks Jim in a scratchy voice. “I suppose I ought to know what my son in law does for a living.”

Jim is still. He can feel from Sebastian's tension that being referred to as kin by the weakened man was not anticipated. “I'm… a consultant,” Jim says.

“Oh yes?”

Jim swallows. “A security consultant,” he says. “That's how I met Seb...astian. He took a bodyguard position after the army.”

“I remember seeing you at my boy's trial,” Augustus says abruptly.

Jim feels his stomach tighten at the memory. “I… yes. Yes, I was there.”

“Always been a brat,” Augustus comments. “You tell his mother if he's not good to you.”

Jim blinks. He exchanges a quick glance with Sebastian, who seems stunned, then nods. “He's grown into a good man,” Jim says.

Augustus' grey eyebrows rise. “Well, good,” he says. “One less thing to worry about.”

“Perhaps we should leave things here,” suggests Mrs Moran. “You're looking tired, dear,” she tells her husband.

Sebastian nods slowly. It has been a peculiar interaction and he is perfectly willing to quit whilst he is ahead. He thinks he might be.

Augustus nods himself. He doesn't move his head the same way his son does – the movement is tighter and less natural. “Glad to make your acquaintance,” Gus tells Jim. “Do contact us should you need anything.”

Jim nods politely as he gets down from his large husband's lap. “I can think of something you can do,” Seb says as he stands.

“Oh?” his father responds. He does not look a well man.

“Find me my Webly,” Sebastian says. He nods at his mother and guides Jim towards the door.

His mother gives Seb a chiding look and follows. “Trust my children to never stop getting into the sort of trouble which gives me heart palpitations,” she says with her usual frown. “Speaking of which, you should probably let your brother in after you. Not that he cares whether his father lives.”

Sebastian kisses his mother's head. “Call us later.”

She sniffs haughtily. “I suppose I shall.”

“Mum,” Seb says, “call us if you need anything.”

“Anything at all,” Jim adds.

Mrs Moran sighs. “You're not bad boys, are you? Fine, I will. Send in Severin.”

Chapter Text

“Your mum's name's Celeste,” Jim says.

Sebastian glances at his husband. With crinkled brows the blond responds, “Celestine Emilienne. I'm surprised you didn't know already; you usually know everything about everyone.”

“Didn't seem right to know,” Jim muses, as if that was ever a consideration he had for anyone else. “She never introduces herself by it.”

Seb is quiet for a moment. “People used to call her Emilie, when I was little. My father would call her Celeste. Then she just… Wasn't anymore.”

“For a woman so fond of making introductions it's remarkably strange knowing her name,” Jim says. He steps closer into his husband's personal space. “Do you suppose she misses it?”

Sebastian shrugs and curls a strong arm around his brunet. “She's our mother. She won't thank you for using it.”

“I wouldn't dare,” Jim snorts. He is close enough that the smell of his husband almost cancels out the chemical smells of the hospital, but not quite. Jim tugs Seb along. “Still, there's power in names. Or at least, there always was in fairy stories.”

“Like Moriarty?” Sebastian comments. He is a comfortable weight over Jim's shoulders, which is strange because the odd conversation with Lord Moran has Seb's senses all knocked out: the blond's footsteps feel too light and his hearing feels peculiar.

“My grandmother's name,” Jim says. The precise way he speaks says he is very deliberately not allowing his breath to catch or sound too bitter, but Seb hears the bite as Jim continues, “When she died, my father insisted that if he had to take us we had to take his name.”

“And look at you now,” Sebastian says. One conversation with his father post poisoning does not make him forget how distasteful it can be to bear your sire's name. The blond squeezes Jim's slim shoulders and lets humour swell his voice as he bows his head to tease, “A security consultant.”

Jim snorts, unrepentant and amused and very much in love with his (former sniper) husband. “What else could I say?”

“Oh I don't know, that bit about how fetching a bodyguard I used to be was my favourite part,” Seb grins.

Jim rolls his eyes. Sebby did used to be a very fine piece of meat, and the blond has only grown more perfect to Jim with age. He is the perfect mate in every way, and that muscular, strong, protective bulk of his is certainly still appetising. Still, Jim can't go spoiling the man with too many compliments when Seb pouts so prettily at being teased.

Jim playfully tilts up his chin at his husband. “Well you're big and tough and stupid, aren't you? It was a believable lie.”

Sebastian effortlessly pulls Jim close. The blond smiles at Jim's attempt not to smile and Seb bows his head possessively to the vulnerable, sensitive skin Jim exposes. Gentle lips graze the fading bruise on the Irishman's pale throat. “Anyone would think you were being cheeky on purpose.”

“Big words for a man who knows we are not leaving our kid alone with a nanny ever again,” Jim sniffs. He sounds awfully cocky for such a small man whose husband's large hands are sweeping down to grip his bottom firmly.

“Speaking of which, let's get her out of her before she catches something,” Sebastian sighs.

“Like your sister's way of speaking,” Jim deadpans as his husband steps to his side again.

Sebastian snorts and squeezes one of Jim's cheeks affectionately. “You said you like when my posh shows.”

“You sound nothing near as refined as your eldest sister, darling,” Jim says. Sebastian smiles as though complimented.

Taking Alexdrina from Augusta is an odd experience. Handing her over in the heat of an emergency was one thing, but seeing her hold Lexie reminds Seb how little he remembers her with her own children. He was uninterested in them and not fond of their mother, so that did not feel strange at the time.

Gus was a good little heir-maker and produced sons. Her niece is too dark-haired to be mistaken for her daughter, but there is enough similarity in their bone structures to look like kin. Gus is looking down at Alexdrina with a perplexed expression and Jim notices the way she tries to hold her nostrils away from Alex's scalp.

That baby-head smell can be a killer. Sebastian wonders whether his sister will remarry, or have more children. It's unlikely she'd bear any more at her age, but adoption is likely easy enough when one has the sort of money they do.

Then again, Gus might not have inherited her mother's loyalty to an unkind husband, but she did inherit icy veins and an impeccable veneer of perfection. Perhaps marrying and having more children still would not provide Gus with the utter joy of having a family that Sebastian experiences with Jim and Lexie.

Gus coaxes her necklace from Alexdrina's curious mouth and hands the baby over to Jim, who looks calmer the nearer he gets to her. Lexie bats the wet string of pearls contentedly and coos as her Aunt Gus tries to extract herself.

“Thank you,” Sebastian says. The words are heartfelt, but they feel strange.

Gus' face suggests they feel strange to her also. “You're welcome,” she says, because you can avoid all sorts of difficult conversations simply by being polite.

Sebastian and Jim take their daughter home.

It has been a strange day, a difficult one, and the couple are glad just to take time to be with their baby. She tolerates their presence with reasonably good humour, but it has been a very long day for her and she is tired.

Sebastian and Jim settle into her bedtime routine without staff help and are both a little relieved to find they can manage just fine. They stand over her for a while just watching her sleep.

Seb wraps an arm around Jim and leads his husband away lest they wake her. The brunet curls his head towards Sebastian fondly.

“So, I believe you had an attitude with me earlier,” the blond whispers with a smirk.

Jim's dark eyes sparkle and suddenly his pretentious suit may as well have been a onesie paired with trainers because that look has not aged a day. “What do you think you can do about it, baby daddy?”

“She's fed, changed, and sleeping. I think I'll manage to put you in your place without waking her,” Seb says.

Jim makes an amused, derisive sound and sprawls out on the couch. “You think I can cum quietly? How many years have you known me?”

“Who says I'm going to let you cum?” Sebastian asks with bared teeth. “You said you miss me being forceful. I'm going to gag you and use you.”

Jim swallows. It's especially gratifying wiping the arrogant look from his handsome, little face when he's dressed so smartly. “Oh yeah?” the brunet lilts.

“Oh yeah,” Seb agrees in that deep, slightly plummy purr that Jim loves so much. “And seeing as it might make too much noise to give your scrawny arse the tanning it deserves, I think I shall cut you. Would you like that, pet?”

Jim feels a tingle below his stomach. “How many times do I have to warn you about calling me that?” he asks.

“At least another thousand,” Sebastian answers. He pins his husband to the couch. “Do you want to pick the blade?”

“Will you lick it afterwards?” Jim asks.

Seb grins. “I'm planning to lick you afterwards.”

Jim makes a soft noise in his throat. “You bloody better,” he whispers, his own accent thickening unconsciously.

Sebastian flashes a predatory smile and pulls back. Jim feels a pang of indignation but it soothes as Seb swaggers on quiet feet to the kitchen.

“Pick a knife then,” the blond says. “And be quiet about it.”

Jim pours himself off of the couch and slinks towards the wide collection of knives. He fervently hopes Alexdrina is deep in sweet dreams right now. Those insistent burner phones from so many years ago have been throroughly replaced by high-tech baby monitors.

Sebastian bends over the glass hob and wills the contraption to bleep quietly as he sets a high temperature.

He washes his hands and smiles at the rapt expression his little brunet wears whilst comparing their sharps.

Jim selects a paring knife and hands it to his husband. Seb wraps the handle in a dishtowel and holds the blade to the heat source.

Jim ducks under his husband's free arm and nibbles as close to Sebastian's collarbone as he can reach without going on tiptoe. Seb's arm tightens possessively around Jim's torso.

“If you want anything in particular you had best tell me now,” Sebastian purrs. “I meant what I said about gagging you.”

Jim cups Seb's groin pointedly. “Lady's choice, darling.”

The hand around Jim's waist drops to spank the overgrown brat's butt quietly. “Do you really want to test my masculinity right now?” Sebastian asks.

Jim grins widely as he tilts up his pointed, little chin defiantly. “What can you do about it? We need to be quiet.”

Seb arches a brow, turns down the heat and leaves the sharp end of the blade over the hob. He shoves Jim a few paces back, destabilising him, and starts to drag off Jim's clothing. Jim wriggles out eagerly.

Sebastian snatches Jim's underwear as the brunet moves to kick them away.

Jim arches his brow. “What're you- mmph!”

“Open wide,” Seb says, parting Jim's lips with his thumb. He brings up his other hand and pops the wadded fabric within.

Jim snorts with his mouth full. He makes no effort to spit his boxers out.

“Go lie down,” Seb says. “Blade should be sterile enough by now.”

“Given the amount of antiseptic cream you always put on me afterwards, you could spit on the blade and I'd be fine,” Jim mutters into the now damp cotton.

“Are you bratting, little boy? Do you want me to cut you or not?” Sebastian asks archly.

Jim makes a show of rolling his eyes and flops down on his stomach.

“Your back?” Seb asks.

Jim pulls his underwear out of his mouth. “My chest or arms might get in the way of holding Alex. Don't want to drop her.”

“Fair,” Sebastian says, “but no speaking.” He takes the ball of fabric and gently pushes it back into Jim's mouth.

The smirk Jim gives is obscured by the damp cloth but Seb does not miss the way his husband's dark eyes sparkle. The big blond pads back over to the hob, switches it off, and switches out the hot dishcloth with another one.

“Pity I can't burn you right now,” Sebastian muses as he returns with the knife. “The thin shape of this blade would make some pretty marks.”

Jim pulls out his gag. “Next time,” he says. He quickly replaces the fabric as his husband raises a pale brow at him pointedly.

Feeling more excited than cowed, Jim reaches under the coffee table and pulls out one of hundreds of small first aid kits. Now that they have a small child together the presence of such items is almost reasonable.

Jim retrieves some single-use alcohol wipes and rips the packaging open before eagerly passing one over his slim shoulder to his large husband.

Sebastian wipes down Jim's bare back and then his fingers again just to be sure. Jim shivers both at the chill of the alcohol wipe and the anticipation. Seb's thighs are pressed up against his sides making Jim feel both safe and somewhat helpless all at once.

More often than not, the things they carve into each other are possessive. Sebastian has silver and red and purple and pink 'J' scars in more places upon his body than he can recount at any one time. When Jim is feeling generous / secure enough to let Sebastian return the favour Seb is sure to make the marks count.

The autonomy and agency of names is still playing on the big blond's mind however.

He kisses Jim's scarred scalp. “I love you, sweetheart.”

The brunet twists to shoot a look over his narrow shoulder that says both, 'I love you too,' and, 'get on with it,' at precisely the same moment with entirely different inflections of expression.

Sebastian grins softly, bites his husband's nearest ear, and wriggles into an optimum cutting position. The blade has cooled by now, so Seb knows the flinch that travels down his husband's spine when the knife meets skin is simply Jim grinding into the floor in anticipation.

“Little slut,” Seb says fondly.

Jim huffs into his gag with soft amusement.

“You're lucky I'm not carving that into you,” Sebastian drawls.

Jim side-eyes him loudly.

Seb grins and draws the knife slowly over Jim's shoulder with just enough force to drag on the skin. “No? If you're not in the mood to be grateful, mo chroí, I could deeply carve 'KITTEN' in some very pretty cursive.”

Jim spits his underwear onto the floor. “If you don't want me to flip us over and have me shave a few inches from your Adam's apple, my darling, I suggest that you don't-”

Sebastian drives the knife through Jim's skin. Jim makes a cut-off noise and swiftly bites his small fist. His hips buck fiercely.

“You are in no position to be making threats, sweetheart,” Sebastian says cheerfully.

Jim curses him softly. His hips gyrate firmly.

Seb curls deft, red letters into the former rent boy's skin. “I know you love this...”

Jim hisses and arches his spine a little. “I've missed it,” he whispers in a voice dripping with arousal. It makes Sebastian's mouth water even more than the free-flowing tracks of blood dripping down between his husband's ribs.

Sebastian spells out ARTY in vivid scarlet. He teases Jim all the while, but every cut is tender.

Seb surveys his handiwork and lets Jim have a moment to breathe. He then pins Jim down again and continues carving.

The brunet squawks a little in surprise and false protest, but it's not enough to wake the baby and Seb can tell by the way Jim breathes raggedly that his husband is having a rather grand time.

“Y-You better not be d-drawing a kitten or something,” Jim spits shakily. His eyes are blown enough with pleasure right now that if Seb told the little criminal to roll over and let his husband carve a tiger mounting a kitten on Jim's stomach the brunet might actually thank him.

Still, Seb is not that stupid. Jim won't be high on endorphins forever.

Sebastian licks the cut and moves aside. The smeared blood obscures MORIARTY carved in careful letters.

Jim groans wantonly. “S-su-”

“Wouldn't you rather I suck you?” Sebastian smirks.

Jim makes to flip over, but Seb pins him down by his uncut shoulder. “Ah, ah, ah, naughty boy,” the blond says with amusement. “You know the rules.”

Jim pouts and protests in harsh, needy whispers, but Sebastian opens another alcohol wipe and presses it against Jim's skin. The brunet releases a short breath sharply, but looks with interest at the wipe when Seb places it before him. The fresh bleeding once again spells out the letters that had been unclear moments before.

“In case I forget my name, or are you writing my signature now?” Jim asks.

Sebastian takes the wipe back and washes the wound properly. “What do you think?”

“I think my name is Jim Moran,” his husband says breathily. He seems quite pleased with his most recent scars regardless, but there is another red and dripping part of him that is demanding attention from them both.

Seb swallows. “I think it's time I gave Jim Moran a blow job, don't you?”

Jim flashes his teeth as though he is perfectly in control and not blatantly bucking his hips in an involuntary begging action. “We-ell… if you simply must,” he drawls.

“I could always deny you,” Sebastian warns playfully. He brushes his callused fingers over the oversensitive skin of his husband's stomach.

“It's in your best interest not to,” Jim growls softly. He knocks the knife out of their way and pulls Seb closer.

Seb lifts Jim's legs and wraps them around himself out of the way. “Didn't I gag you?” the blond teases.

“You wouldn't d-” Jim catches himself and pointedly presses his lips together in a show of being a 'very good boy.' He leans back on his elbows and begins to chew his lip frustratedly as Seb drags his fingertips lower.

Blood drips to the floor.

Much more of Jim's bodily fluids pools on his stomach. Sebastian bows his head and licks a line through it.

Jim swallows a whimper.

Sebastian purses his fuckable lips and blows on the wet skin, making his husband shiver. “Want something, sweetheart?” the blond asks with cruel faux innocence.

“Want me to twist out of your grip, snatch that knife, and skewer your liver?” Jim grimaces.

Seb spanks Jim's balls gently, then tries to look stern and not grin as he says, “You know better than to speak to me like that, don't you?”

Jim cries out more in surprise than discomfort but flinches beautifully. “Oh, you bastard,” he pants.

Sebastian grips his husband harshly. “James?”

Jim gasps and pants loudly. He rolls back his head and reluctantly hisses, “Fine, I'll be good...”

“As you should,” Sebastian responds. He finally puts his hand where his husband wants it but makes no effort to move it. “What do you say?”

Jim groans softly in frustration. He is tempted to hold out for longer, but the thought of being abruptly interrupted by a crying baby whilst being edged and therefore getting nothing at all is too torturous to currently contemplate. “Please,” Jim says through gritted teeth.

Seb raises his eyebrows in amusement. “Being a father has broken you,” he says cheerfully.

“Shut up,” Jim whines.

“What did I say about how you speak to me?” Sebastian drawls. He is clearly enjoying himself.

Jim swallows a curse and glares softly at his handsome, infuriatingly unfair husband. “I want to cum. Please.”

Seb rewards his overgrown brat with a sensual stroke. “Are you going to be good?”

Jim whines with need and exasperation. “Yes, yes, okay!”

Sebastian chuckles unkindly and gives his husband a warm look before bowing his head to Jim's prominent need.

Jim makes a strangled noise. Seb warns him with a firm squeeze that the noise level needs to stay much less.

Jim makes a soft noise close to a sob and nods. He rocks his hips desperately.

Sebastian kisses and sucks attentively.

Jim bites his lip, then with all his moral strength shakes his head and taps his husband's shoulder sharply.

Sebastian looks up with an endearingly crinkled brow and swollen, red, wet lips that make Jim twitch just looking at them.

“We need to change position,” Jim says urgently. “If she wakes up we need to stop and… it's been too long.”

“It's been less than a day,” Seb mutters, but he doesn't protest as he suddenly gets a faceful of Jim's arse as his husband yanks at his clothing.

Sebastian lifts his hips and helps free himself (not as swiftly as he could did he not happen to have a delectable little Irish arse in his face). He drops onto his back and pulls Jim on top, trying to avoid touching the raw, scabbing skin of Jim's shoulder.

“Sebby?” Jim mutters.

“Mm?”

“Dig your fingers in?” the brunet asks huskily.

Sebastian reaches out blindly for one of the wipes and drags it over his fingers before dragging them over Jim's cut back.

Jim shudders and groans. He captures his husband in his mouth.

Seb gasps. “You use too much teeth and I stop,” he warns, then scratches at the congealed blood carefully.

“You like a bit of teeth at times,” Jim says. He bites and licks his husband pointedly.

Sebastian grunts softly. “Fair point,” he whispers. He grips his husband firmly and kisses blindly up and down as much skin as he can reach.

Jim groans and squirms. It's been a while since they've done this, and it's overwhelming to try to concentrate on pleasing whilst also being pleased. It feels so good. It hurts and it doesn't and he needs and fuck Seb does that thing with his tongue on Jim's foreskin…

Sebastian would devour Jim if he could, and being so expertly sucked on when it is difficult to decide which part of Jim to put his lips on and which to grip is simply exquisite. They have so many years of practice with each others' bodies, but this is hurried, and clumsy, and passionate, and and and oh FUCK they did not think this through as Jim starts to judder violently.

Jim's warm mouth is suddenly gone and then his teeth are back, and sharply, as he attempts to drown out a scream in Sebastian's hip. Seb pushes his mouth up hard against his husband's own hips and tries to block out the unexpected but rather exciting pain by almost choking himself, then Jim is pulling back a little bit, and the warm, thick taste in Seb's mouth is… almost entirely forgotten as Jim reattaches himself with renewed vigour to Seb's thrilled cock.

Sebastian had a cheek to care whether Jim could cum quietly. The big blond brings a fist to his mouth and scrunches his eyes closed as he fucks Jim's warm, willing, wonderful mouth.

Seb finds something pushed at his face. He opens his eyes in bewilderment and then almost laughs. He nods and parts his lips to allow Jim to push those boxers into his mouth, and then he gives into letting his brunet swallow him whole.

They manage not to wake the baby, somehow.

Afterwards Jim rests his head on Sebastian's broad chest. Some of the blond hair has turned silver, making the faded tiger tattoo seem to have grown older along with them. Jim toys with the furred image lovingly.

Seb stirs, fighting sleep. He came hard. “Now I know where our daughter gets it from.”

Jim smiles against his husband's skin. Sebastian feels the action more than he sees it.

“It was because you always protect me,” Jim says absently.

Seb runs his fingers through his husband's hair. It's still mostly dark, but here and there it is streaked through with silver like stars across a winter night's sky. “What was?”

“When I said you were a bodyguard,” Jim elaborates. “Because you make me feel safe.”

Chapter Text

Chris does have a beautiful, large property in Cheltenham with a pond, and paddocks and sprawling, green views, but other than a few parties Sebastian has never known her to stay there. The building has six bedrooms and he's certain that she's never actually slept in any of them for more than a few hours after drinking or womanising.

As such, he is not at all surprised when someone who is not Christabelle answers the door to his sister's townhouse. Seb's just dumbfounded that the woman standing before himself, Jim and Lexie in a state of disarray seems to be someone he recognises.

The woman's lips make a little 'oh' of surprise, so seemingly she recognises him too. Seb cannot figure out where he knows her from.

She steps backwards to allow entry and says in a peculiar tone, “Come on in; I'm just leaving. Chris is dressing.”

Jim gives her a very odd look indeed and glances around to Sebastian like the blond should understand any of this.

The woman walks on into the house and pulls her wavy hair up into a ponytail. Sebastian chokes.

Christabelle pads downstairs. “Sorry, we lost track of time,” she says.

Her girlfriend pulls on shoes. “I am so late.”

Chris smirks at her. “Was it not worth it?”

The woman with the ponytail casts an amused look over Sebastian and Jim before reaching for a smart jacket. “Oh, it was. I'll call you later.” She smirks as she steps past the visitors. “Nice to see you again, boys. Cute baby.”

Chris waves the woman off with an air kiss and leans over her intricately wrought bannister. “I don't remember introducing you before.”

“You didn't,” Jim says.

“What does she do?” Sebastian asks.

“She's a hotel manager,” Chris says. “Please tell me she's not part of your underground dealings. I have to fill in a form at work every time I sleep with a criminal.”

“Make a habit of that, do you?” Seb teases.

“Like you're one to talk, Second Most Dangerous Man In London,” Chris scoffs. “Speaking of which, you're always welcome to take a 'consultant' role for the country, should you get bored, Jim-boy. I know a man in Five who would wet himself.”

“Side of the angels,” Sebastian mocked in an amusing parody of his husband's accent. Jim gives him a sour look.

Chris interrupts, “Oh don't start that again, dreadful game. Tell me instead why my good lady was staring at your wedding bands and your waistlines before she left? Your expressions suggest she wasn't merely implying a bit of middle aged spread.”

Jim looks ready to protest his admittedly soft middle. He does not exercise with the regularity which his husband does.

“She was checking our belts,” Seb says grimly.

Jim cackles, his mood instantly turned with the memory of tying Sebastian up for the first time. Seb's ears turn pink. “Oh, to be young,” Jim tells Alex, scrunching his face and rubbing noses with his child. All those years ago he had no idea that he would one day have a daughter with the handsome, bewildering, blond beside them.

Chris gives a bemused grin. “Do I want to know?”

“Probably not,” Jim says.

“Definitely not,” Sebastian says.

Chris shrugged. “Hopefully she'll forget to tell me later then. Now, I have no intention of putting the kettle on myself, but one of you is going to have to if you want me to impart the good gossip. My arms are exhausted for the day.”

“Well I'm holding our baby,” Jim says pointedly to his husband. Sebastian rolls his eyes and tromps through to the sizable kitchen.

“Well,” Chris says once her brother joins them, “For a start, Richie for some reason got dragged into the sire's hospital room. And Father only went and recognised him as 'that criminal' from the television, despite the fact that you know, he had you in there first.”

Jim grimaces. “Maybe he hadn't fully come around yet. What happened next?”

“Richie and Mother imparted the clean edit of the story, and Sev was oblivious as always, and apparently he spoke to Irene about it later and it was A Whole Thing, but Mum's still mad at him about everything at the Christening and it was just A Mess. Poor Rich being in the middle of all of that.”

Jim snorts. “He'll manage. How's Severin?”

“He's been told in no uncertain terms to Be A Good Boy for the foreseeable future,” Christabelle says. She grimaces. “Unfortunately, to the Dam this tends to mean Get Married And Make Babies, and I was really hoping that she would solely obsess over this little lady for a while longer.”

Sebastian snickers. “Don't be foolish, Christabelle, darling,” he says in an approximation of their mother's voice. “Clearly my perfect granddaughter needs cousins of her own age to play with, and are you quite certain your childbearing years are behind you? You and Severin always were such mercurial children; nothing at all like your perfect brother Sebastian...”

Chris chuckles darkly into her tea. “Projecting much? Now don't repeat that ever please. The last thing I need is for Mother Dearest to take her attention off of Sev and the Sire only to put it anywhere need me.”

“But you'd make such beautiful children,” Seb teases in faux-blithe tones.

“Don't make me swear in front of your beautiful child,” Christabelle glowers. “Jim-boy, put a leash on your husband, would you?”

Jim laughs at Sebastian's mildly betrayed expression, and laughs even harder when Alexdrina mimics the sound.

“Not you as well, Lexie!” Seb protests. He reaches for the baby. “I'm not ready for you to start picking favourites.”

“She's advanced for her age,” Jim drawls, but he hands his husband their daughter.

Sebastian pouts down at the baby. “You're on your dear ole Da's side really, aren't you?” he mumbles to her.

Lexie giggles unconvincingly.

“Rotten little traitor,” Seb says, kissing his daughter's forehead. “You're as fickle as your daddy, and even more pretty.”

Jim raises a brow at his husband.

Christabelle watches the men make faces at each other for a while then sets aside her teacup when they make no indication of stopping. “Did Gérard text you, by the way?” she asks loudly. “I know she's been checking in on Mother Dearest.”

“Yes,” says Jim. He looks up intelligently. Sebastian swallows the spit bubble he was making for Lexie's amusement (and Jim's disgust).

“Yeah, so, apparently the Sire wasn't just being poisoned with thallium. Everyone and their nana's cat seems to be at it, and the old bastard seems to have been surviving on sheer spite for years,” Christabelle says.

Seb purses his lips. “Can hardly blame them,” he mutters.

Jim gives his husband a soft look.

Christabelle leans back in her chair. “Quite. So you'll have no issues hearing about Morgan then?”

Jim stiffens and Sebastian's grip on his daughter shifts protectively. “What about her?” Jim asks in a clipped voice.

Chris eyes the men speculatively. She says, “Mum caught up with Morgan and somehow she gave her a recommendation to work for someone else, but then there was some old lady with eye tattoos and from what I heard I get the feeling I don't want to know any more...”

Jim blinks, and doesn't seem to know quite how to arrange his face. Sebastian doesn't either.

“Ah, so you do know what I'm talking about,” Chris says. She reaches for her tea and stirs it not so idly. “Severin didn't.”

“I want to remind you that I'm holding your niece when I tell you – lovingly – that everything you're doing right now makes you resemble our mother,” Sebastian says.

Chris shoots her younger brother a withering look and makes a point of reaching for something to bite into.

“Can we go back to what you know about Morgan and the Crocodile?” Jim asks.

Christabelle stares at Jim for a beat, then turns her gaze to Seb and pointedly does not point out that Jim's manner and tone very often shares similarities with Madame Moran's. Sebastian bites his lip.

“No, I cannot,” says Chris in a voice which suggests she knows more than she is letting on and is quite comfortable with the men knowing that.

Jim presses his lips together. Sebastian wonders for the first time what a verbal sparring between his husband and his favourite sister would look like. He discretely measures the distance between his current seat and a passable route should he 'need to change Lexie.'

Jim leans back in his chair. He can do his own research on his own time.

Chris takes another bite of the wafer between her fingers and gives a soft noise of contentment. “The less involvement I have the better, and the streets they are a-talkin',” she murmurs.

Sebastian wonders how long Jim can realistically last without listening to his 'retired' web, much less start pulling or weaving threads.

Jim takes a biscuit. He eyes Alexdrina pensively.

Christabelle pushes the rest of the wafer into her mouth and waves at the air as she tries to inhale it. “Anyway, enough shop talk. Guess what else has happened in our perfect, upstanding family?”

Sebastian realises he can't rub the bridge of his nose to soothe himself because his arms are full of baby. He supposes that's soothing too. Even if she is drooling on his shirt. “Let's see… Jasper's parentage came out?”

Chris snorts. “Oh, I'm sure that circus is to come. But it's not that. You won't believe it!”

“What then? Don't tell me Derry was poisoning Dad too,” says Sebastian.

“Siobhan,” Jim corrects absently. He examines Christabelle's expression for clues. She can be quite an actress when she wants to be.

“Probably. That man was like pickled in poison,” Chris says. “But no! It was Misery Gus! Guess. What. Og. Did!”

“That woman is not a lesbian,” Seb says at once, because what else could Augusta do to really scupper the status quo?

“No, but that would have been even better,” Chris muses.

“So what did she do?” Jim asks.

“She picked a fight with The Sire! About her divorce. It was a sight to behold,” Chris says.

There is silence for a beat. There have been a lot of things happening recently, but that may be the most unexpected. The only 'good' Moran child left… arguing with her namesake?

“Maybe she is perfect after all,” Sebastian jokes.

Chris chortles gleefully. “I have been waiting my whole life for it. It was glorious. And Mum's told The Sire that she'll divorce him if he complains about Severin poisoning him, so he's actually not being a dick for once. It's like all my Christmases came together - I could die happy right now.”

“Please don't; we need someone we can trust to babysit,” her brother says.

“I might not live long enough,” Chris says, making a face. “I hear you haven't let Alexdrina out of your sight since the hospital.”

“We're rich; she can be one of those eccentric children who has an unhealthy relationship with her parents,” Seb shrugs.

His sister makes another face. “Speaking of unhealthy relationships, I should probably give you the reason why you are here,” Chris says. “Why I haven't been sacked yet is beyond me.”

“It's empty, right?” Sebastian says.

“Like the gesture, probably,” she mutters. She gets up and comes back with a container.

“Look at you getting domestic in your spinsterdom,” Seb teases affectionately.

“I'll have you know I want this Tupperware back with cookies in it,” Chris snorts. Jim takes Alex so that his husband can take the container.

Sebastian prises open the tub allowing a smell of baked goods to escape. His hands and chest feel funny. Seb looks over his grandfather's gun carefully then seals it away. “Thank- tell him thank you.”

“Pfft, you tell him,” Chris says. “I've done my turn at the hospital.”

Sebastian reaches over to cover Lexie's nearest ear. “Fuck that,” he mutters.

Christabelle grins. “Now now, I'm trying to keep my place as the family disappointment. You're the one who makes babies and makes nice with the parental units.”

Seb snorts. “Christ. No, I don't want to be the good child, thank you.”

“I don't know about 'good' but you're more than in the running to be Mum's favourite,” Chris says. “How does that feel?”

Sebastian doesn't know how to respond. He turns to Lexie and jokes, “D'you hear that? This is because you were born so perfect.”

Jim leans down to kiss their baby's forehead. “Don't you listen to your Da. It's not your fault you're wonderful like your Daddy.”

Seb puts the Webley aside. “Excuse you – you're absolutely right: it IS entirely your fault that Mum speaks to me now.”

Jim gives Sebastian a steady look. “You're welcome,” he scoffs.

Christabelle clears her throat. “Seeing as you're the favourite, Jim Moran, how about you work your magic and persuade my mother I don't need any babies?”

Sebastian bites his lip, grinning. “You have always been a fixer, Jim,” he says. “How about bigging me up a bit more whilst you're at it?”

Jim glowers at the siblings over his daughter's sweet-smelling head. “Why am I the only one here who ever texts your mother?”

Chapter Text

By the time Sebastian, Jim and Alexdrina leave Christabelle Moran's townhouse the baby is already inclined towards sleep. She grumpily tolerates being buckled into the car, then being roused and carried inside.

Sebastian and Jim exchange glances as between them they manage to bathe their tiny daughter and put the child to bed in her expensive little pyjamas. Every normal moment with Alexdrina still seems strange and special in its newness, and especially so after the visit to Chris'.

Jim stares hard at Sebastian. Beautiful, brilliant, funny, kind, charming, fucking sexy Sebastian. Jim had thought that having a family made couples less into each other from the exhaustion and strain of all their new responsibilities, but…

Having a child with Seb just seems to make Jim love the blond more. Those big, strong, careful, gentle hands handling Alex with love and dexterity. Those attentive blue eyes positively shining with love and the skin at the corners crinkling in genuine happiness. That big, strong, broad chest with such defined muscles they ripple visibly under Seb's clothing as he moves to lower their daughter into her crib before standing again.

This gorgeous grown man who shares a family – a baby- with Jim is the same Basher Moran from so many years ago, who'd been sexy and compassionate and harsh and funny and protective and an utter mindfucking miracle.

That young ponytailed woman from their first hotel had grown into a smart-looking professional – a hotel manageress. She'd seen the pair of them young and lustful and simmering with chemistry that would take genuine emotional exchanges to really set alight.

Jim can still remember the chill of the street that first night: how his arse was cold and his fingers were so frozen that wrapping his arms around himself to bury the digits in the feeble heat of his armpits sent a further iciness through his thin body.

Sebastian had been so warm. The man is always warm in both body and personality.

Jim loves Seb so fucking much.

Sebastian is conscious of the way his husband is staring. The big man's ears turn pink as he responds with an almost shy smile. “What?” he mumbles.

Jim grabs for Sebastian's clothing and pulls the bigger man closer, careful of not nudging the crib. “I just love you, Tiger.”

Seb's lips twitch and he wraps his strong arms around his husband's frame. He is mindful of the scabbing letters on Jim's shoulder. “Love you too, you soppy git.”

Jim growls softly into Sebastian's broad chest. The blond can feel Jim's smile through the fabric.

“Chris' latest bird,” Sebastian says. “D'you think she's changed her mind about which of us is the top?”

Jim snorts softly and lifts his face to Seb's with lips pursed in amusement. “The obsession over who buggers whom is a ridiculous heteronormative construct… And even your family know I'm the daddy in this relationship.”

Sebastian presses flush against his small husband. “Sounds like you want me to show you that I'm the bloke, kitten.”

Jim makes a face but does not pull away. “Must you really make me admit that we're a pair of dirty switches? I am well-versed in being verse.”

Sebastian chuckles softly and kisses his husband's scalp. “You always use that indignant tone when you want pinned down and pounded.”

Jim rolls his eyes. “If I let you know how much I loved that you'd never let me return the favour. Now, can we stop this conversation near Alex before we wake her?”

Sebastian musses Jim's hair (with a smirk because he knows Jim is unable to squawk about it) and sets up the baby monitors. He offers Jim his hand, “Lead the way, sweetheart.”

Jim does his best to look down his nose at the taller man before accepting the grip. Jim relishes the warmth of Sebastian's calloused hand and swings it lightly as Seb tugs him out of the room and closes the door softly.

Jim dances before his husband and smirks. “You're wearing too many clothes, old man.”

Sebastian chortles, yanks the small brunet close against his hip, and spanks Jim's deserving little bottom as hard as they can get away with without making too much noise. Jim pushes against him, moaning softly, and Sebastian fumbles one-handed with the openings of his clothing.

Jim snatches at the clothes and pulls with more enthusiasm than skill. Sebastian undresses his husband with haste, being careful only with Jim's tender shoulder and being perfectly rough and ungentlemanly with everything else.

The glitter of Jim's dark eyes happily announces that he loved it.

“Give me your belt,” the brunet says huskily. “I can't stop thinking about how I tied you up with one that first time.”

Sebastian grins raggedly. “Oh if you want it, you can have it, but I fully intend to crack it against your bratty little arse first.”

“I haven't done anything wrongggg,” Jim protested, but his tone is gleeful.

Sebastian barks out a laugh, then covers his mouth and looks towards Lexie's bedroom door. Both men wait in silence for a moment.

There is no audible suggestion that the abrupt loudness has caused Alexdrina to stir.

Sebastian presses his lips together and lowers his hand. He pushes Jim further from the bedroom, but no so far that they won't hear if Lexie wakes and cries.

“Brat,” Sebastian scolds.

“I didn't make any noise,” Jim protests. His dark eyes glint.

“No, but you certainly made me,” Seb replies. He pushes Jim into nearby furniture.

Jim grunts softly and grins up at the bigger man. “I can't believe that you're blaming me for something which you did.”

His husband grins possessively down at him in a way that makes Jim shiver deliciously. “Oh, I'm not just blaming you,” Seb says, “I'm going to punish you too.”

Jim grinds softly against the big blond and pretends to complain. “That's so unfair...”

“I'm very unfair,” Sebastian says, lowering his hands to unloop his already unfastened belt. It makes a thrilling noise as he draws it, and Jim cannot decide whether to focus on Seb's intense gaze or the big hands holding said belt.

Seb cracks the belt audibly as he folds it, the theatrics only slightly ruined by the way his ear cocks towards Lexie's door just in case.

Jim swallows.

“It's been a while since I striped you,” Sebastian muses, pretending the thought has only just occurred to him. He lifts Jim's chin with the folded belt. “Do you think you're still man enough to take it?”

“What do you think?” Jim purrs.

Seb flips his husband around and runs a palm over the smooth expanse of naked skin. “I think I'm going to enjoy finding out,” Sebastian says.

Jim tries to say something clever in response, but it catches in his throat as Seb surprises him with the first strike. It's light; both gauging Jim's current threshold and trying to stay relatively quiet, but the sudden, bright sting takes Jim's breath away.

Jim shifts his stance, spreading out his legs more comfortably. “You brute,” he says haughtily, and pushes up his bottom in anticipation.

Sebastian snorts and lifts Jim bodily by the hips, raising him against the side table until Jim's feet dangle. “Brute, am I?” Sebastian asks, amused. He holds Jim in place with one hand flat against Jim's back, and swings back the belt in his fist.

It cracks sharply against the brunet's rump with enough force to make Jim gasp prettily.

“Did that hurt?” Sebastian asks fondly.

“No...” Jim huffs. He is very conscious that he is pressed firmly down by his husband's large hand, and with his toes not quite able to graze the flooring.

“Oh dear,” Seb says dryly. He spanks Jim sharply twice in swift succession over the same stripe of stinging skin. “Did that?” Seb asks blithely.

Jim bites down on an exclamation and tries to wriggle his hips to inch his ribs forwards.

“Comfortable?” Sebastian asks softly.

Jim feels a soft moment of affection for his husband then scoffs pointedly and pouts over his bare shoulder. “Have you started yet?”

Sebastian laughs and takes a loud swipe at the top of Jim's thighs. The naked brunet grunts then hisses, his thighs quivering and his fingers scrabbling for purchase.

“Felt that one, did you, kitten?” Seb asks with a wide grin.

Jim groans softly. “Again.”

Seb's fingers on Jim's back wiggle playfully. “Is that how good boys ask, sweetheart?”

Jim attempts a growl. “You know I'm not a good boy...”

“Oh, you might be, by the time I'm finished with you,” Sebastian taunted. “Ask nicely...”

Jim rolls his hips as best he can given his lack of balance. “Make me.”

Seb withdraws his hand from the smaller man's spine with a chuckle. “That attitude won't get you anywhere, pet.”

Jim slips down from the table and gives his husband a flustered, flushed look. “Don't you dare stop!” Jim scolds, doing his best to hold back a rebuke about the 'pet' comment.

Sebastian pushes down between the brunet's shoulder blades returning Jim to a bent position over the sidetable. At Jim's acquiescence Seb walks his fingers possessively over the skin to skirt the tender area where Jim's name is carved.

“You only get what you want if you submit, mo chroí,” Sebastian murmurs.

Jim swallows, scowls, then pillows his face in his folded arms. “Fine.”

Sebastian taps Jim's bottom lightly with the belt. “No,” he warns. “Ask nicely...”

Jim sighs then whines deep in his throat – a noise of exasperation and need. “Fine,” he mutters into the crook of his bent arm. “More, please. Harder?”

“Clever boy,” Seb praises, and he dips close to kiss Jim's shoulder then neck. He lifts Jim up, shifting the slight man further onto the table to create a more favourable angle, then stands. Sebastian strokes the folded leather teasingly across Jim's cheeks. As his husband makes a soft little noise of anticipation, Sebastian pulls back his arm and crashes the belt off of Jim's skin.

Jim's exclamation cuts short as he tries to stifle the noise in his arm. “More...” he whines.

Sebastian spanks him again.

“More.”

Again.

“More!”

Again.

Jim's carefully low voice raises to a timbre which sets off a bout of screaming and confused crying from Alexdrina's bedroom.

The men curse, flushed, embarrassed and guilty.

Sebastian presses a kiss into the back of Jim's skull then ruffles the hair there. “I'll get her,” he says.

Jim grunts awkwardly in return, sliding down from the table and trying to stifle his frustration as he wills away his remaining erection.

Sebastian wriggles his hips a little, trying to calm himself before retreating. It doesn't take long, with his baby screaming blue murder in the next room.

“I'm coming, Lexie, I'm coming,” he tries to coo. His flustered voice does not sound reassuringly convincing even to himself.

“Hey, hey, no need to cry,” Seb says as he approaches the crib. “Your Da's here.” He bends and -feeling somewhat guilty - lifts his red-faced little girl. “Did your terrible parents wake you from a good sleep?”

Jim approaches the doorway, wincing as he tries to pull his tight underpants over his bruising cheeks. “She okay?”

Sebastian bounces their daughter softly, her tears wetting his chest. He feels a bit awful now, but Lexie's tears are already sputtering to a stop at the attention.

Seb nods over the baby's head. “She's fine. We just need to be a bit quieter in future.”

Jim's concerned look softens, but he approaches anyway. “We're sorry Alex. Did you think your bad old Da was picking on your perfect Daddy?”

“Less of the old,” Sebastian scolds. He barely needs to raise his voice over a normal pitch now to be heard over the baby. “I'm sure she was just startled by a loud noise.”

“I guess we should savour this whilst it lasts; she's not going to be bothered by loud noises for long around us, is she?” Jim says.

Seb's nose wrinkles. “What do you mean?”

Jim rolls his eyes, allowing Alex to curl her hand around his forefinger. “You like to make things go 'boom' and are hardly the shy, retiring sort.”

Seb looks down at their daughter. “She's a bit small for a pair of ear protectors yet, never mind her own gun.” He looks at his husband. “Christ, or her own chemistry set.”

Jim laughs and meets his lover's gaze. How bizarre – pleasantly so- to think of such things.

Sebastian smiles back. Lexie has quietened to a mild gurgling, but seems intent on being awake for the time being. He carries her over to the small couch and lets her rest flat on his bare chest as Jim follows. The brunet curls into his side and strokes Alexdrina's dark hair lovingly.

They lie together for some time, and it doesn't feel like waiting at all. The men bask in the company of their little family, and are happy.

They remain in the same position even after Alexdrina falls back asleep. It is only when Seb finds himself feeling sleepy that he stands and returns their baby to her cot. After tucking her in he stands and watches her fondly for a while, then reaches out and offers his hand to his husband. “Bedtime?” he asks.

Jim smiles, stretches, and makes his way to Seb's side. “Yes, Tiger.”

Sebastian raises his brows with a wry half-grin as Jim swipes up the belt on their way to their own bedroom.

“What? It's my turn now,” Jim announces. “I better teach you a lesson about taking more care not to wake our baby girl.”

“Me?” Seb laughs. “It was you who kept begging for more! I was only giving you what you asked for!”

“Don't be foolish, Sebastian; you know I'd never beg,” Jim says haughtily.

Sebastian snorts and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, sure, sweetheart.”

“You can agree without the attitude or I'll spank you before I tie you up,” Jim warns playfully.

Seb rolled his eyes. “You leave my undeserving arse out of this.” Nonetheless, he pushes down his underwear and approaches their bed.

“You look awfully smug for somebody who's supposedly undeserving,” Jim comments.

“Oh I deserve the orgasm that's coming afterwards,” Sebastian says in a self satisfied way. He takes a seat side-on upon the bed and waits to be told what to do.

“I haven't decided that yet,” Jim drawls, amused. He approaches, draws the folded belt up his husband's throat, then pats Seb's cheek. “Face me, knees apart, wrists out.”

Sebastian meets the Irishman's gaze and swings his feet around at once.

“Wrists, I said,” Jim repeats with faux sternness.

Seb leans back on his palms and smirks up at the shorter man. “Make me.”

Jim arches one brow. “Don't argue. You'll do as you're told or I'll stop, and I won't let you touch yourself either.”

Sebastian frowns softly feeling the approach of nerves. “You can't make decisions like that,” he tried to scoff.

Jim taps the big blond's face with the folded belt. “Is that what you really think, darling?”

Seb considers. A masturbation ban isn't something Jim has instigated often, and not since they'd become parents. Quite a bit before that, actually.

The torturous game had been fun at the time, but that was back when they could rut whenever they wanted, and be as loud as they pleased.

Sebastian did not want denied when it was difficult enough to align energy levels, a sleeping daughter, and their chaotic lives. He dropped his eyes. “No, sir.”

Jim grinned. “There's my clever hubby. Are you forgetting something?”

Seb makes a point of rolling his eyes and sighing, but hurriedly thrusts out his wrists when Jim gives him a stern little head tilt.

“I should think so,” Jim scolds, and takes hold of his husband's arms tightly. Sebastian gives a wry smile as Jim methodically twists and fastens the belt around him. The binding hides most of the scar tissue borne by his wrists and for a moment Seb is vividly transported to the first time Jim did this to him. When Arty did this to him.

Jim's face splits in a sharp smile, and his eyes are so full of love that Sebastian temporarily forgets the captivating, feral teen the Irishman had been.

“What?” Jim asks.

“Just love you,” Sebastian says contently.

Jim's lips twitch. He turns away to fetch a condom and to recompose his masterful expression. “Well that's handy,” he murmurs. “This wouldn't be nearly so much fun if you didn't.”

Sebastian flexes his restrained hands and grins. “Why, what are you going to do to me?”

Jim throws the condom down on the bed and reaches for lubricant. “Use you entirely for my own pleasure of course.”

Seb snorts. “You didn't need to tie me up for that.”

“Of course I didn't,” Jim agrees, “but I intend to make you watch me finger my own arse before I push you down on your back and ride you stupid, and I know you don't have the self-control not to try to help.”

Sebastian swallows. “You're going to give me a show?”

“You're a very lucky man,” Jim says. “Now close your eyes.”

“You said you were going to give me a show!” Seb protests.

“Yes, and do you want full performance value or not?” Jim asks archly.

Sebastian swallows feeling torn between impatience and curiosity. He juts his lower lip pointedly but closes his eyes.

He senses more than hears Jim retreat. Jim has a soft tread when he wants to, and Sebastian does his utmost to make out and orientate himself by the faint sound of Jim's breathing.

The closet door opens quietly. There is a shiiiiinkkk as Jim noisily swipes a number of hangers aside.

“You better still be keeping your eyes closed, tiger,” the Irishman warns.

Seb snorts. He's deeply tempted to open them, but he doesn't. It's not that he's afraid of the chastisement he might receive (that seems like a tempting game) but he doesn't want to ruin the surprise just yet.

He frowns with frustrated curiosity as he hears muffled noises – shifting fabric. “I'm being good,” Sebastian whines softly. “What are you planning?”

Jim chuckles. “Impatient already? I know you don't want to spoil the surprise...”

Seb huffs and twists his wrists slowly in an attempt to distract himself with the fact a leather belt is currently binding him. “You know I don't, but hurry up...” he moans.

Jim chuckles, but it doesn't quite cover the sound of a zipper being pulled. Distinct noise; quick; a thin zipper. Noise lasts too long to be a fly fastening… Seb thinks.

Jim hums to himself and the noise travels; he moves to the mirror and Sebastian can tell his husband is preening.

“What are you wearing?” Seb asks thickly.

“Wouldn't you like to know?” Jim scoffs. “There's nothing at all stopping you from opening your eyes, you know.”

“Yes there is,” Sebastian complains. “You told me not to.”

There's a smile in Jim's voice. “I promise not to smack your beautiful bottom if you disobey me… this time...”

Seb snorts. “I notice you didn't say you wouldn't punish me.”

“Quite so,” Jim says. He suddenly sounds much nearer.

Sebastian swallows. He keeps his eyes closed.

There's a soft swish-swish-swish of fabric. Realisation half begins to dawn on Sebastian, but then he startles from feeling Jim reach out to brush his face. “My tamed tiger has to be obedient, doesn't he, darling?” Jim purrs.

Sebastian presses his head against the hand which pets him. “I'm yours. We know that.”

“We do. I own you,” Jim agrees. He takes back his hand, and pushes Sebastian firmly in the chest.

Seb topples backwards onto the mattress and gives a gasp, winded. Before he can protest he has a familiar weight drop itself on his thighs.

Seb reaches to steady Jim and is physically reminded that his hands are restrained. Jim laughs warmly and snatches them to his mouth to kiss one.

“Can I open my eyes?” Sebastian asks hopefully.

“Hmm.” Jim grinds a slow, firm circle in his husband's lap. “Alright...” he whispers.

Sebastian blinks quickly and processes the dark fabric covering Jim's pale skin.

The former consulting criminal smirks and plays with the zip halving his torso. “Missed this?”

Seb swallows and loops his bound arms swiftly over his husband's head and narrow shoulders. “Oh, fuck yes...”

Jim makes an indignant noise at being suddenly pinned. “And just how do you expect me to play with my arse like this, clever dick?”

Sebastian snickers and tugs at the collar of Jim's old tracksuit with his teeth. “You'll just have to untie me.”

“I'll do no such thing,” Jim says derisively. He wrestles himself out from his husband's embrace (Seb allows this reluctantly) and gives the big blond a stern look. “I'm going to stretch my hole, slick it up, and put you in me. If you do anything other than lie there like a good boy and let me ride you, I won't let you cum.”

“Arty...” Seb whines. “You know I can't have you on my lap without grabbing you and-”

“If you move, tiger, I'll stop, and if you touch me, I'll dismount,” Jim warns.

“That so unf-” Sebastian swallows his protest as Jim arches a brow in challenge. “You were never this bossy at the start,” the blond huffs quietly.

“I didn't know you wanted my babies back then,” Jim says dryly. “You're whipped now.”

“I'm pretty sure I was whipped then too,” Seb mutters, but he settles back down against the bed.

Jim twirls the lube over his fingers then opens it loudly. “Best thing that ever happened to you.”

“I've got everything I want in the world, mo chroí,” Sebastian says contentedly.

Chapter Text

Jim's dark eyes sparkle with humour as he observes his husband. “You're doing it again,” he tells the blond.

Sebastian looks up from his crouch with a little girl's hairclip between his lips. “Doing what?” he mumbles around the accessory awkwardly.

Jim reaches for the sparkly clasp. “You started the story in Farsi in the kitchen, then you sat her down to fix her hair and told her in French how pretty she'd be. How is she going to learn English like that?”

Sebastian rolls his eyes to hide the bashful part of him that hadn't noticed the language slip. “Firstly, it makes perfect sense because the cook used to tell me stories in the kitchen, and Mum took my sisters to Paris for a lot of their pretty dresses and stuff, so little Moran girls get told they're pretty in French. Secondly, I got a degree in English so I managed growing up multilingual just fine. Thirdly, languages are good for a child's development. Fourthly, you've been teaching Lexie Makaton for weeks, so who is really the one confusing her?”

“Makaton will help her learn English,” Jim says.

“So there's nothing wrong with her widening her widdle synapses,” Seb counters, although his argument is weakened by his descent into baby talk as he 'includes' their daughter in the conversation. Jim blinks. He knows neither of them particularly like infantalising children, both having found adults who spoke to them thus patronising or deluded, but… the sight of his burly former sniper turning to goo over Alex is rather endearing.

Seb sweeps out a little tuft of black hair and reaches for the clip back. Jim hands it over comfortably and find himself melting at the proud look of personal achievement and parental love in his tiger's baby blue eyes as Alex's downy fluff is held by a shiny contraption never before used by either man.

Jim realises Sebastian is emotionally blackmailing himself into a win using their daughter's cuteness, the sneaky bastard.

Seb looks up at his husband's snort. “What?”

“Nothing, you sneaky… sneak!” Jim responds. He finds himself quite unable to find a particularly astute and cutting response, and the near-unique situation horrifies him. This baby talk nonsense is already corroding his grey matter!

Sebastian scoffs and his blasted blue eyes crinkle deeper at the corners. “I'm a sneaky sneak, am I, Mister Criminal Genius?”

“And a cheat!” Jim pouts, because he supposes he shouldn't revert to cursing out his husband in front of their baby. Or stamping his foot, as much as that might draw attention to how elegant his shoes are.

Sebastian tries very hard for the sake of his marriage not to laugh directly in his murderous little husband's adorably kissable face. “Kitten, I was holding back for the sake of your poor little ego. Fact five: I don't only speak to our daughter in Farsi in the kitchen, because I lived in India when I was small too.”

“You're not going to live much longer,” Jim sniffs, but his pursed lips are twitching at the corners.

“You're going to get a nap time before our baby daughter if you stay cranky,” Sebastian warns playfully, and picks up the aforementioned child to protect himself from any physical retribution from his feisty little husband.

“You're going to find yourself poisoned with something much less traceable than thallium if you're foolish enough to try,” Jim retorts.

Sebastian chuckles. “That's not funny. Don't think I won't put this little one down to come over there and slap your lovely little bottom until it's red.”

Jim rolls his eyes and crosses his arms with a defiant smirk. “What are you going to use to threaten me with once she's old enough to know what you're saying?”

“Being sent to your room,” Seb responds with an arch of his brow. He'd stolen that effective expression from Jim years ago. “If she asks what I mean when I warn you you'll be sleeping on your tummy I'll explain to her that it's like tummy time for adults.”

Jim cackles. “Oh tiger, you've been giving this some thought, haven't you?”

“The only reason karma has been so kind in gifting us this precious princess is because I've spent most of my life with the world's biggest brat,” Sebastian asserts. “This little lady's teenage years will be nothing after raising you.”

Jim chokes. “Excuse you, you didn't raise me!”

Seb grinned. “Okay fine; we raised each other. My point still stands.”

Jim feigns a sour expression. “Daddy's going to give you a sore bottom come bedtime.”

“Firstly, promises promises. Secondly, I thought we were going to try to stop saying things like that in front of the baby in case her first words are something we will never live down,” Seb says.

“Firstly,” Jim says putting on an impersonation of his husband's clipped vowels that may be slightly exaggerated for comic effect, “I fully intend to lie to your mother about what Alex's first words are if they're anything embarrassing. Secondly, I fully endorse our darling girl's first words being critical of her silly Da for not fully appreciating her wonderful Daddy.”

“Oh, you are getting such a sore arse tonight, you overgrown twink,” Sebastian scolds.

Jim chokes again. “You are so lucky you are holding her! You're a dead man. Not to mention if Alex says 'arse' to your mother-”

Sebastian stands very still, but not from fear. There's a dropping feeling in his gut that Lexie's solid weight almost counteracts. “Oh, we can joke about death now, can we?”

Jim goes a little paler than usual. “Oh. Sorry.”

“S'okay,” Sebastian says slowly. He takes a deep breath and looks at his husband seriously. “I think it's starting to… feel normal again.”

Jim nods seriously then gives a small smile. “Firstly, good,” he says in a muted but still playful caricature of his husband's accent. “Secondly, that was at least the second time I threatened to kill you in this conversation.”

“Firstly, it depends on the wording,” Seb says. “Secondly, I'm not going to say it back just now, but you are going to find out just how hard my hand can be against your behind later tonight.”

“Got it, boss,” Jim says, then wonders how the heck Seb tricked him again.

Sebastian looks quietly delighted at being called 'boss' but has the good grace not to crow about it. Even if the corners of his mouth twitch tellingly.

Seb hefts their child over to the couch and sits down before he says anything that will concede the win. “So come on then,” he prompts. “Tell me more about this Makaton thing you've been trying to get me to learn with Lexie.”

“One of you picking it up faster than the other,” Jim mutters uncharitably, because he's a little embarrassed about his last comment. He wonders if it's a good thing that he's not churning with as much guilt over their separate brushes with death as usual. Is he healing, or just a callous bastard?

Sebastian carefully tugs his husband down to join them. “Hey. Earth to genius Jim.”

Jim blinks and curls into his family. Alex instantly claims his shirt front with her fierce little fingers. “So,” the Irishman says, “as I've told you before, Makaton is based off of British Sign Language and-”

“I've been thinking about that actually,” Seb says. “So, the languages I learnt first were from the locals where I grew up, plus Latin and stuff from school. And the languages my parents spoke obviously. I know you picked up a few Eastern European languages because we were working closely with a lot gangsters before, but… You mentioned before that you already knew BSL. How did that come about?”

Jim shrugs. “I knew it as a kid.”

“Did they teach it at your school?” Seb asks.

“No,” Jim says slowly. “I don't think we'd started much languages at school then. My gran had taught me Gaelic and some Gaelige by then though, so it wasn't my second language.”

“How did you learn then?” Sebastian asks. “Did you have a deaf friend, or..?”

Jim snorts and gives his husband a dry look. “As you know, I didn't have many friends as a boy. No, Richie, he… Got injured. Crushed windpipe or something I suppose; I don't really remember.”

“Crushed?” Sebastian says quietly.

Jim meets his husband's gaze over Alexdrina's head and makes a face. “Crushed,” he repeats in a way that says plenty about living with his father without needing to actually say any of it. Jim puffs out his cheeks then blows out the air. “So Richie was essentially mute whilst his throat or vocal chords or whatever were damaged and he had to relearn speech via therapy. But Ireland obviously didn't have an NHS and a lot of healthcare facilities got closed in the eighties… and we were poor… and neglected… So either the course was insufficient or wasn't properly completed. And Richie… was getting a hard time, you know? From other boys, and our dad obviously, and even teachers, so he wouldn't really even try speaking in front of people.”

“And now he's an actor,” Seb says.

Jim nods. “There was free acting lessons that let Richie practice speaking again. Helped a lot, with his confidence and stutter and making friends. He loved it, and when that course got closed down we found him another and he just… kept at it. It's his thing.”

Sebastian's eyes glitter. “So which of you is the best actor?”

Jim makes a soft scandalised noise that made Alexdrina grizzle. “Sorry, my darling,” he tells her at once. He pats her dark hair and narrows his eyes at Seb. “Like you even have to ask.”

“I dunno, babe,” Seb teases. “He gets paid for it...”

“And what do you call how I got paid?” demands Jim.

“Scheming,” Sebastian says brightly. “Like a sneaky sneak.”

Jim laughs despite himself. “Shut up.”

“You shut up,” Seb replies. He bows down to Lexie. “But not you, cub. We want you to talk. Just not any of the bad things your Daddy and I -actually, and your Auntie Chris and Uncle Sev- say, okay?”

“'Cub'?” Jim says with an arched brow and questioning lilt in his dry voice.

“Well baby tigers are cubs,” Sebastian reasons. “And kittens are already babies. Do you really want me to call our Jellybean KitKat?”

Jim does not deign to answer that. “How many tigers have you seen with black hair?”

Seb juts his chin. “Fine, she's a panther cub. A little Bagheera. Bagh is 'tiger' in Hindi, so that's like… 'Tiger-like'. I like it,” he muses fondly.

Jim pinches the bridge of his nose to hide his smile. “Great, so now our daughter's name is Jaguar, are you hoping to give her a little sister called Mercedes?” he says in playfully acerbic tones.

“You know, if Chris ever had a kid I think she'd call him something incredibly gauche like 'Bentley' just to be obnoxious,” Sebastian says.

“It does sound like a Moran name,” Jim says with glinting eyes.

Sebastian looks ready to quip back when he feels his phone vibrate. He sighs and lifts Lexie a little higher. Her hairclips catch the light and sparkle. “Can you get that for me, sweetheart?”

Jim retrieves the phone from one of Seb's pockets. “Another Moran,” he says, and answers the phone.

Chapter Text

Sebastian Moran had spent a lot of his youth being disparagingly compared to his elder brother and found lacking. Rawdon was once considered respectable and even-tempered and a fine specimen of an Englishman. He was equally capable of getting along with his rich fellows at Oxford, his commanding officers in the British Army, and could even sit in their father's drawing room smoking cigars and sharing jokes over expensive drinks. When Rawdon faked his death, he did it with superb skill and no one but their sister Christabelle and their mother knew anything at all about it for many, many years.

Sebastian as a child was by comparison a wild, reckless, dirty brat who much preferred the company of the staff over anyone with breeding and whose incompatibility with following the commands of authority figures was a constant bone of contention. Seb could be charming, but not for social standing. He could be patient, but not for long, dull parties or the poorly thought out plans of his superiors. He was puffed up with an air of superiority, but had no interest in political climbing or advantageous marriage or grinding the underprivileged under his heel for being poor. When Sebastian Moran tried to kill himself he failed, and his whole family heard about it.

Sebastian was expected when growing up to model himself after Rawdon and their father, and he could accurately mimic neither.

Lord Augustus Moran had a very particular idea of what the cut of his sons' cloths ought be, and it had damned well best be as like him as possible. Sebastian was stubborn and loud and vindictive and calculating and prone to explosions of temper. He liked drinking, smoking, fucking and shooting. Exactly like Gus.

Neither of them were pleased by the similarities.

Mrs Moran was a quick-witted and observant socialite who disliked the company of most of her peers and found fluency in any language she turned her efforts to. She found battling Sebastian for the sake of directing his talents at those they both despised to be her variety of Sisyphus' boulder. It took Sebastian most of his adult life to get along with her.

Augusta was a perfect Moran child (give or take the divorce in her adulthood, but a single crime compared to Sebastian's many was hardly anything at all). She at all times focused on keeping her appearance and reputation proper (Seb was liberally littered in scars and tattoos to the point of always looking like a new money thug rather than a legitimate young Lord in a suit). She cultivated only the correct friend groups and conversations and cut out at once anyone with the wrong ideas, fortunes or other known scandals (Sebastian fraternised with both the staff and the common locals, to the point of forsaking key calendar events in favour of a game of cricket or hide-the-sausage).

Augusta measured every word, bite, and accessory. She knew the worth of everything and treated it as costly if it could bring her scandal, and as throwaway if it was expensive enough to highlight her refinement. Sebastian measured his time in moments that he had to spend fettered as a Proper Young Man of Breeding, and those when entirely free. He threw about his words and fists as he pleased; his table manners were only as constant as his moods; he preferred a scuffed leather jacket and ripped jeans to an expensive suit. Seb was quite content to marinate himself in multiple scandals at once and he had no interest at all in money or position. Sebastian has still never heard Og raise her voice against their parents whilst he struggles to recollect many moments where he was not in heated argument with one or both of them.

Christabelle, admittedly, was typically held in as poor esteem as Sebastian (especially when she refused to play pretty at functions or was found being inappropriate with other young ladies). She too, preferred dirtying denims to debutante balls and was all scuffed elbows and scabbed knees. She did, however, take pleasure in attending Oxford (not Balliol, admittedly, but it was not a generations old tradition for Moran daughters) and got herself a powerful job defending the nation, which she did not ever get kicked out of (even if she did get disciplined more than once for reckless behaviour).

Even Severin, who is Sebastian's twin and ought by right be equally as useless at being a perfect Moran, has at least a small dose of sense that kept him out of trouble sometimes (unless explosions were involved) and when Seb had been laid up after being mauled by an irate tiger Severin had went off to Eton and done reasonably well. He had also joined the rowing team at Oxford, which was a prestigious thing, whilst Sebastian had instead enjoyed assaulting during rugby young men who were from families far too well esteemed (sic, filthy rich) to reasonably flatten into the mud without creating political enemies. Sev's little poisoning stint may have been spectacular, but it was a long time coming in the contest between himself and Seb as to who could be the least promising Moran heir.

Sebastian may have developed a stronger relationship with his mother in his middle age, and a better command of his temper, and a wardrobe full of stylish things (thanks almost entirely to his husband Jim), but he has not left behind the person he was in his youth.

He still hates pompous events and rolls his eyes at other rich people (unless networking, when Jim would scold him for the latter). Sebastian much prefers lying on his belly in the dirt peering through foliage and an expensive scope than traipsing through parliament squinting through scrolls of legalese. He point blank refuses to do small talk, and the only reason Seb hasn't killed every tailor in London and all of France is because of his genuine fear of Jim's wrath. Such retaliation might involve wiping every weapon off of the face of the earth, and Seb knows the consulting criminal would not be interested in world peace when doing so.

Sebastian Moran is not a typical Old Boys Club sort of man. He has a loving, faithful marriage and shares all parenting responsibilities with his husband. Seb cares nothing for his own reputation, but everything for his spouse and his immediate family and their happiness. Money means little to him, and he could pack up and move onto an anonymous farm tomorrow with no reservations other than that Jim would fucking kill him from spite before the boredom even had a chance to kick in.

As such, when Jim passes over Sebastian's lit mobile phone, the blond sees his mother's name and anticipates a minor bollocking about something or other as he answers. He is blissfully unaware that Mrs Moran might have any plans for him beyond scolding him for some lack of propriety, asking after Lexie's welfare, updating him on her husband's health, or perhaps, if he was feeling suspicious, there may be some scheming on his mother's part about his having a further child or two with Jim via whatever means (which in all honesty he probably would not mind, even if that child was called Mercedes).

Sebastian sighs and begins to tune out when his mother starts a tirade about the next important event in the social calendar. He is vaguely regretting answering the call, but reluctantly concedes that he somewhat enjoys hearing her voice. It also does something odd to his chest that his mother is concerning herself again with her usual interests and not her poisoned husband. His poisoned father.

“Are you sure you wouldn't rather discuss these things with Jim?” Sebastian asks. “We all know he's got a better understanding of these sort of things than me.”

Over Alexdrina's head, Jim flashes Seb a look that isn't even annoyed. He likes plotting with subtle brilliance the symbology of a colour scheme and the casual cruelty of a cleverly crafted seating plan. Give that crazy genius carte blanche on couple outfits co ordination and Seb's kitten is on cloud fucking nine.

How the fuck did they end up married again?

Jim raised his brows smugly and reaches for the phone and Sebastian loves the man that little bit more.

Seb is entirely blindsided when his mother says, “No, dear. I am going to be much too busy with your father to be involved this year. You are going to need to be host.”

Sebastian thinks he must have misheard the woman. Or this is an odd nightmare or a bump on the head. He cannot even fathom that his mother could be capable about joking of such a thing. Seb meets his husband's eyes and is not soothed by the open shock there.

“Mum… I must have misheard you there,” Sebastian says slowly. He pokes a finger in his ear with a frown as he brings the mobile closer and asks, “What did you just say?”

Mrs Moran hisses a sulky breath through her perfect teeth. “Pay attention, 'Bastian, this is very important to me. You are the Moran heir, and as such it stands to you to be responsible for this whilst your father and I are indisposed.”

Chapter Text

Sebastian's phone falls through his fingers. His normally adept reflexes make no move to catch it and the device falls to the floor with a clatter.

Lexie gives a small yowl of surprise and curiosity at the sudden noise.

Sebastian looks at his daughter and blinks. She partially manages to ground him from his abrupt feeling of disassociation, but the world seems to spin around the couch he shares with his small family.

Seb looks at Jim. “You heard that, right?”

His husband looks at Seb intently and nods above their daughter's head. Jim says carefully, “I did.” He looks at the still alight mobile on the floor near the arm of the couch. “I also hear her still talking to you, darling.”

“Did she sound like she was joking to you?” Sebastian asks. He peers over the edge of the couch at the phone as though wary it would suddenly grow limbs and teeth and scuttle up his trouser leg. Mrs Moran's increasingly exasperated voice can be faintly hear from the floor, but not audibly enough to be understood.

Jim considers the merits of telling his husband the truth that Mrs Moran did not sound to be remotely jovial. He doesn't think that will soothe Seb any.

“Do you think she's losing it?” Sebastian asks, still looking warily at the mobile phone. “Poisoned as well, maybe? That can make someone loopy.”

“We all got tested, remember?” Jim says in a measured voice.

“The results could be wrong,” Seb says instantly. He gingerly shifts the foot nearest his phone. “Maybe she's… you know… getting old. Senile.”

“Tiger, if you don't answer her, she might come over,” Jim points out mildly. Alexdrina makes an effort to sign the Makaton word for grandmother and Jim bows his face to kiss her head in fond, somewhat proud amusement. He makes eyes at Seb over her scalp.

Sebastian looks wildly alarmed, and bends to retrieve his phone, but cannot quite bring himself to pick it up.

Jim bites his lower lip and wonders how disloyal it is to consider Sebastian's sudden anxiety to be somewhere in the region of cute. They've faced down a number of genuinely scary things together over the years and Seb even has scars on his belly from upsetting a maneating tiger when he was much younger… but the soft brute looks far more horrified by his mother's words than anything that would strike fear into other men. Not that Mrs Moran isn't worthy of a respectful wariness of course. “Do you want me to talk to her?” Jim asks.

Seb gives his husband adorably helpless look. “She'll get you to agree.”

Jim arches his brow and supposes he can risk sounding a tiny bit disloyal when he is safely behind the human shield of their daughter Alex. “I'm perfectly capable of helping you throw a party that not even your mam can fault.”

“You know fine well that's not the worst of it,” Sebastian snaps softly.

His husband's lips twitch as Jim fails to completely stifle a small grin. “Maybe if you spoke to each other it might clear things up,” Jim says a little dryly.

Sebastian gives the Irishman a cutting look. “This is not the time to mock my communication skills, clever prick. She said-”

“Tiger,” Jim says in a warm, unreasonably reasonable voice. “Darling. Breathe. Pick up the phone, talk to your mother, and then we can try to process things, yes?”

“No,” Seb whines, but he reaches down and unhappily picks up the phone. The screen is cracked but not fully shattered, and the plastic screen protector prevents Sebastian from cutting his fingers on the damaged device.

Mrs Moran's voice is peeved. “Sebastian? I can hear you breathing, young man.”

Sebastian reluctantly makes a noise of assent. “I'm here.”

“Quite done with your childish theatrics?” she asks.

“Excuse me for hyperventilating when you call me… that. What you said,” Sebastian whispers through gritted teeth. He casts Jim a surly look, as though this is somehow his unrepentant husband's fault. Jim feigns innocence most unconvincingly.

“Ought your birthright really be such a surprise to you?” Mrs Moran asks her son dryly. An element of her tones suggests she knows exactly why, and how much, but she always has been one for striding right through cracks in the family's many facades with a finesse Sebastian had never managed.

Seb takes a deep intake of breath and holds onto it. He knows his silence could be answer enough, but he cannot repress himself for long before blurting, “What the fuck, Mum?”

So much for a sniper's patience.

Mrs Moran purses her painted lips and makes a disparaging noise down the phone line, as though she isn't perfectly aware what an unreasonable task she is asking of him, nor the dizzying significance of that small, heavy, word: heir. Jim also casts him a mildly scolding look for using bad language in front of their small daughter.

Sebastian feels hysterical.

“It is about time – no, it is long past time, Sebastian, that you took more to do with what is important to our family,” Mrs Moran says. “Your father and I are advancing in age and-”

“Parties are not important to our family; they are important to you for a litany of reasons that hold no sway over me and you know fine well all the accursed pomp and ceremony will die out with the pair of you if it's left to me,” Seb hisses into his broken phone. Jim makes faces at Alex to distract her from her other father's tone.

“They most certainly shall not, if you don't want to be haunted by your furious mother for the rest of your sorry life, Sebastian Moran,” Mrs Moran retorts in a regal, displeased tone.

Sebastian snorts. “Am I supposed to be fearful of your ghostly hairbrush? This is ridiculous; if you want to maintain traditions I am not the child to nominate for it!”

“You are not a child, Sebastian, despite all of your insufferable insistence on having a propensity to throwing tantrums at every little-”

“Naming me your heir at the drop of a hat is not a 'little thing', Mother!” Sebastian shouts. Lexie tests her vocal chords in enthusiastic bemusement in response to the noise. Seb feels a twinge of awkwardness, but Jim presses a swift kiss into his husband's cheekbone then stands and carries Alexdrina in a soothing circuit of the room.

“Lower your tone at once, young man,” Mrs Moran says firmly. “This is a bit of nonsense: you've known for some time that you would inherit your share from myself, and now that your father-”

“Mum, I shouldn't be named the heir just because I didn't poison my father,” Sebastian says.

“It has been my understanding that people who made no effort to do so are in such small numbers a commemoration of your upstanding restraint wouldn't be beyond the scope of reason… But that is not what shaped your father's decision, 'Bastian,” Mrs Moran says quietly.

Sebastian looks at Jim and Lexie strolling around the room in an effort to tamper down his rising agitation. He turns back to his phone.

“Ex-communicating Severin for one singular, admittedly spectacular, scandal is hardly fair considering all the shit I've pulled over the years. And anyone with any sense would choose Og to protect your way of life; she's the only one who cares for it,” Seb protests.

“Oh, your brother is hardly ex-communicated; the silly boy had tea with us the other day,” Mrs Moran says. “The fact remains that you are our oldest remaining son and you become head of the family when we are gone.”

Sebastian feels dizzy again and has to seek out the sight of Jim holding Lexie to ground himself. “I don't want to be head of the family,” Seb says mildly. Jim quirks a brow at him. Sebastian snorts softly and adds, “Jim says I'm not even the head of our family.”

Mrs Moran titters. “And he has no competition for being my favourite in-law.” Jim sticks out his tongue at Seb, and chuckles in soft, fond, amusement when Alex delights at it. Sebastian feels a fierce rush of love swell in his chest at them.

“Nonetheless, 'Bastian,” Mrs Moran continues, “You are the future of the Moran line. You need to start taking a more active role in your responsibilities. It's not all about making children of your own, darling.”

Sebastian blinks, realising that Augusta's children do not carry the Moran surname, and that whatever family Rawdon may have do not either. Christabelle is unlikely to procreate. If Severin does, his children will now be behind Lexie in the line of succession, should all those decades of disinheritance threats truly come to nothing.

Sebastian is the Moran heir, after everything he has done his entire life to repel the fact.

“I don't understand,” Seb whispers.

His mother takes a deep breath, the noise soft but weighted with significance. “You've no less reason than your brother to want Gus dead, but you stepped in to save your father for the good of the family.”

“I didn't do it for the family; Og is the only one who can stand him and she'd be perfectly fine if he croaked,” Sebastian counters.

“You did it for me,” his mother says starkly.

“You'd be better off without him,” Sebastian says stiffly.

“Not entirely,” Mrs Moran says after a beat. “Thus, you preserved your father's life to protect that of your mother; your father has ensured your inheritance to bolster your future in return.”

“I don't want or need this, Mum,” Sebastian says quietly. Something uncurling within his chest questions whether that is as true as he has always told himself; he tries to ignore the disturbing thing. He certainly doesn't need the fortune, but the acceptance after all these years..?

“When have your parents ever pretended to care what you want or think you need, young man?” Mrs Moran responds. “You don't get a say in our decisions, and now that they are made, you need to learn to carry the associated responsibilities.”

“Mum-”

“No negotiations. Do as you are told.”

“Why can't Og do it?” Sebastian presses.

“Because I am telling you and I am your mother, Sebastian Moran.”

Sebastian takes another deep breath, then clenches and unclenches his fists slowly. “Mum?” he says quietly, “I'll fuck this up.”

“Don't be foolish, 'Bastian. You are perfectly capable.”

“In case you've somehow forgotten, I actively fucked up as much of your society events as I could, and still caused scandals even when I tried to be good!” Seb protests. Jim steps closer, his gaze soft and concerned.

“Child, when was the last time you fucked up anything, societal or otherwise?” his mother asks in a low voice.

Sebastian is silent for a beat. He runs his fingers over the healing scars on his arms.

“That wasn't your fuck-up,” Jim says. “You'd better not ever, ever, ever try that again, but it brought me back home.”

Seb stares at his husband for a beat.

Jim shifts his grip on Alex and covers the baby girl's ears. “Failing to top yourself is so far opposite of a fuck up I don't even have the words for it in all my considerable vocabulary.”

Sebastian is uncertain what to say himself. He and his husband are silently communicating their love to each other through intense looks when Mrs Moran interrupts. She has not heard Jim's input into the conversation.

“'Bastian,” the woman says softly. “Are you listening to me?”

“I… can't remember,” Seb says, his muted tone mirroring her's. “I can't remember the last time I f-”

“Superb, so you have no argument then,” his mother says.

“M-mum, that's not what I said,” Sebastian blusters. Jim shifts Alex in his arms with a pensive expression.

“Well it is what I heard, Sebastian,” Mrs Moran says primly, a whisper of steel underneath her tone.

Seb shoots his husband a frantic look and feels mildly betrayed when Jim's lips twitch in unkind amusement.

“Jim's still better qualified,” Sebastian tells his mother, “for your events planning. And all of your other schemes, probably.”

Jim cocks his head at Seb, not even trying to hide the curl of his smile now.

“Of course he is, that boy's a diamond,” Mrs Moran sniffs.

“Then what sort of cruel and unusual punishment is this?!” Sebastian exclaims.

“Of course you would think I was punishing you,” Mrs Moran says archly. “Are you really too selfish to do this one thing for your mother?”

“It's never just one thing, yes I am, and if you weren't punishing me you'd let Jim at least help me,” Seb responds.

“If James were to help you then how would I know that you can do this by yourself?” Mrs Moran asks.

“I'll never have to!” Sebastian says.

“Evidently untrue,” his mother counters. “I am making you.”

“Mother, I am a grown man and I do not have to do anything you tell me to,” Seb says, knowing as he says it that he's going to be ridden roughshod over regardless. Jim makes eye contact and beams, implying in a most unsupportive manner that Sebastian just might be a mummy's boy deep down. Seb makes a mental note to deride Jim thoroughly the next time the brunet is being overly compliant to his mother-in-law's will, the little traitor.

“I am not taking no for an answer Sebastian,” Mrs Moran says imperiously. “It is high time you showed me what you can do. You're a grown man now, allegedly.”

She hangs up.

Seb stares at his cracked phone for a beat then turns inward towards the couch and groans at length into the cushions. Jim laughs fondly and approaches with Alexdrina. “Is it safe to come over?” the Irishman drawls.

“Don't you start ganging up on me,” Sebastian grouses. “I've had enough from her.”

“Your poor Da is having a hard day,” Jim tells Alex. She coos and claps her hands, clearly not appreciating Sebastian's feelings. Seb sits up slowly, feeling slightly reassured by her soothing little presence even though his life is clearly going to hell in a handbasket.

“I am having a very hard day,” Sebastian agrees, and holds out his arms for his daughter.

Jim gives a wry, mostly commiserating but still slightly unfairly amused smile, and hands her over carefully. Seb envelops Lexie in a hug and inhales deeply. The smell of her head helps, sort of. He wonders if he is too old to run away. Probably, since he has a small daughter and a husband who'd probably protest being uprooted.

“Are you alright, tiger?” Jim asks in his best and entirely unconvincing attempt at compassion.

Sebastian doesn't feel much like a tiger right now. “No,” he pouts, and clutches their daughter like a teddy bear.

Jim doesn't bother to hide his grin. “Would you hit me if I took a picture of you? Because you are very sweet right this second.”

“You know I can't hit you when my hands are full of our baby, but I'm feeling very cranky and you do not want to face my vengeance later when I am not holding our daughter,” Sebastian grumbles.

Jim smirks, shrugs, and whips out his phone to snap a quick photo anyway. His husband glowers at him. “I hate you,” Sebastian say.

“You don't,” Jim says confidently. He pockets his phone and risks circling the couch to kiss his husband's neck. Sebastian sighs and after a moment turns his head to allow his husband better access.

“Okay, as much as I want to throw a tantrum just now, I suppose I better figure out what I'm going to do,” Seb says reluctantly. Jim presses his nose into Sebastian's neck.

“You think we can pull off a soiree fancy enough to please your Mam without it being obvious I've helped you? Because I don't want another sore arse,” Jim says.

Sebastian laughs softly. He covers Lexie's ears and turns to meet Jim's gaze with a small grin. “When do you ever not want a sore arse?”

Jim giggles and reaches over the couch to take their daughter. “For that I'm not going to help you.”

“She'd probably take us both over her knees if you did,” Seb says ruefully. He rests his arms on the back of the couch and pouts as he considers his situation.

“So what's your clever plan then, genius?” Jim asks.

Sebastian snorts. “You're not funny, but I do have a plan, actually.”

Jim raises his brows over the top of their daughter's head. “Oh really?”

Seb nods and reaches for his poor phone once more. Jim watches him interestedly as Sebastian scrolls through his contacts then lifts the broken screen to his ear as it rings.

“Auntie?”

Chapter Text

There is a click of a tongue in lieu of a hello. “Arre yaar, Bas, your mother has already warned me I cannot help you.”

Well there went that fine plan in a swift hail of smoke.

“Why you only call auntie Dipti when you want something, hmm? I hear nothing from you since the Christening.”

Aaaand there was a shiny new problem Sebastian had brought upon himself in seconds. Excellent.

“Maaf karana, Auntie, you know things have been difficult recently…” he says awkwardly. Jim is looking at him with interest. Of course he is. He’s fascinated by the people from Sebastian’s past who still manage to push his buttons. Jealousy, possibly. Dipti has been a Moran family friend since before Iran, so she has known Sebastian a very long time indeed.

Not that Jim would outright say his fascination blooms from jealousy, but Seb manages to find that cute little crinkle between his husband's brows almost comforting.

That small comfort diminishes as his aunt Dipti clucks her tongue loudly in what is to her a discrete form of disapproval. Simply pressing her lips together would be altogether too discreet an admonishment from her even if Augustus had died.

“Besharam, flattery-wala,” Auntie Dipti says with a professed lack of patience for Sebastian’s wheedling tone. “Thik hai, ho gaya. Put your case to me, beta.”

“Oh, auntiji, you know what she’s asking from me,” Sebastian sighs. He casts his exasperated and quite despondent gaze around the room a little helplessly. Lexie gurgles at him curiously, and although Jim is visibly tempted to tease Seb about this stressful favour his mother has called in, the brunet kindly abstains. Jim instead inches his nose closer to Seb as though he will glean more of Dipti’s secret knowledge of Seb’s childhood that way, then raises his eyes in that mockery of innocence he performs whenever he knows he has been caught in the act by someone who knows precisely what he is upto. Sebastian smiles crookedly at his husband, his mood rallying but not enough to laugh and gently push Jim away from the phone. Seb brushes his thigh against his husband affectionately as he waits for Dipti’s response; the knot in Seb’s gut is undeniable, but the company he is in prevents it growing unbearably bigger. For now.

Auntie Dipti sniffs after a judgemental pause. She’s good at those judgemental pauses: they are much more effective than Mrs Moran’s because Sebastian had a higher regard for Auntie Dipti’s esteem as a boy. The woman says, “Achha, lekar kya khandaan karogey? All to pot, if you fail your mummyji, laadla.”

Sebastian pulls back his mobile to stare at its cracked screen indignantly. “This isn’t funny, auntieji!”

“Aray main tho mazaak kari thii,” Dipti says in a soothing voice. “Humara ladka, jho bhee baat hone lagee hai?”

“She’ll never forgive me if I get this wrong,” Sebastian says unhappily.

Jim curls his lip argumentatively at the same time that Dipti says, “Nonsense, beta. Have you ever behaved perfectly at one of her fancy parties? No. And does she love you still? Yes. You know this. You are a man now.”

That settles something in Sebastian’s chest. Jim raises his brows pointedly at him as though in fond rebuke of Seb’s anxiety and firm agreement with Dipti’s point.

Sebastian squirms in his seat. “But-”

“Nahi toh kuch bhi nahi,” Auntie Dipti says in her usual tone of no-nonsense. “Lecture hi sunni padegi.”

“But Auntieji it’s important; you know it is!” Sebastian protests a little desperately. “If I get this wrong-”

Dipti tisks loudly over Seb’s arguments and her jewellery clatters audibly as she shakes one hand in disagreement. “Did I not just say your maan will forgive you?”

“What about everyone else?!” Sebastian cries. Lexie gives a small wail of alarm that Jim automatically soothes; as he does so he nudges Seb reassuringly with his free shoulder. Seb takes a deep breath. “Everyone knows I’m terrible at this sort of thing. However I mess up will reflect badly on-”

Auntie Dipti makes another noise of derision that manages to be both curt and reassuring. She clicks her tongue, jewellery jangling, and Seb can almost hear her dark eyes rolling as she says with mocking acerbity, “Log kya kahenge?”

Sebastian hears her tone. He does. He cannot, however, resist saying, “Exactly, though, auntie! What will they say?”

“Sebastian,” Dipt says sternly. Seb tenses: he rarely gets full name treatment from her. A childhood misunderstanding of his about ‘bas’ – a Hindi word often heard when he or local boys he played with were naughty – meant that Auntie Dipti referred to him as ‘Bas’.

“What does it matter what people say?” Dipti demands. “Acha, when has that ever mattered to you?”

Jim gives Sebastian A Look. If the Irishman was not holding their small daughter Seb would surely have been tempted to poke the overgrown brat in the side. Instead, Sebastian shuffles his weight and huffs at his broken phone screen. “That’s different,” he whines. He can hear the ridiculousness in his voice and continues regardless. “I don’t care what people like that think of me, but if I make Mum look bad…”

“No ice cream for dinner?” Jim mutters teasingly. Seb narrows his eyes at his husband, silently promising much worse than that. The eejit brunet merely grins.

“Foolish boy, ye kya bakavaas hai?” Auntie Dipti says. “Do you think your mother would ask you to do this if she thought you would thoroughly embarrass her? Arre yaar?”

Sebastian swallows. He feels small at the question, but maintains his assessment of the situation: he will only do terribly.

“I don’t know why Mum wants me to do it,” Seb says quietly.

Jim presses into his side. His warm, solid weight is grounding, and the smell of Lexie’s head equally so.

Sebastian drops his face into them both for a moment, sighs, then inhales deeply. He keeps his broken phone out of reach of the pair lest he cut them, then twists to continue his conversation into it. “I told her she should ask Og…”

“Achha, thik hai, and have you asked her?” Dipti says in a horribly all-knowing voice.

“What?” Sebastian blurts.

“Your sister, beta, have you asked her?” the woman asks.

Seb freezes. He blinks at his phone for a moment. “Do… you think she’d help me?”

Auntie Dipti scoffs. “She is your sister, Bas. Now, we are resolved, yes? You have time to speak to your poor, neglected auntie?”

Sebastian chuckles shakily. He can hear the scolding in the woman’s tone, but he feels much lighter. “Yes, yes, anything for my favourite auntieji.”

“I didn’t get the chance to say at the Christening, betay, but you are getting so skinny. Are you eating? Does that husband of yours not feed you? Tumhe khana banana nahi aata? Did I not teach you-”

Sebastian laughs fondly. “Auntieji, auntieji, relax. I’m eating. I was… poorly. Before the baby. I’m eating well now. Jim minds me, you know this.”

“You are much too skinny still,” Jim says uncharitably. “How can I trust your cooking when you are so thin?”

“I’m not thin!” Sebastian protests. “Just thinner. The weight’s going back on.”

Jim clicks his tongue and readjusts Alexdrina to sit on his soft middle. “It had better. I don’t want you to disappear.”

“See, this is why I don’t let the two of you in the same room often,” Seb huffs. He turns back to his phone. “Now look what you’ve started, he’s going to cluck over me all through dinner.”

“Chalega, khao,” Dipti says unsympathetically.

Chapter Text

By the time that Sebastian is able to end the call with Dipti he has had to plug his phone in to charge and Jim has fed, burped, changed, and rechanged, Alexdrina. Sebastian feels fond as he watches his husband and their baby. Jim is using both hands to hold the girl, so cannot sign to her; he murmurs to Alex in soft Gaelige as he pads softly around the room.

Sebastian had been thirteen when he left India for Eton; a whole year behind Severin. After the near-disembowelling by the tiger, Seb had been bedridden for a long time. Christabelle had been his main companion, having been sent back from England in disgrace following a fire at her all girls’ school in Cheltenham. The sons of lords and diplomats of an equal age to Sebastian were either at Eton with Severin already or stuck indoors with their private tutors awaiting being old enough to be sent away. Sebastian’s parents rarely approved of his playing with the local children at the best of times, and certainly not when he was ‘in far too fragile a state’ for rambunctious play.

It was lonely. Sebastian had bonded closely with Chris that year, but then he’d been sent to school and Chris got sent to St Hilda’s, Oxford. She summered elsewhere, studying languages and cultures for her degree, and Seb couldn’t blame her for leaving as soon as she could, but he did feel abandoned. By the time he was starting Oxford himself Chris was undertaking her doctorate; when Sebastian graduated Christabelle was working for a secretive government branch and barely more than a memory.

Sebastian had always taken an interest in the family servants, but there had been little opportunity for that the year he was almost killed by a wild cat. The daughter of his former nanny (Mrs Thakur now looking after another, younger, little British boy) lived nearby and was happy enough to play with Chris; on occasion she could also tolerate Seb and even Sev when he was home.

Priya was also friends with Kashvi and they were often chaperoned by Kashvi’s older brother Jerrin when playing with Christabelle (which was sensible, insofar as the three girls were little terrors and needed supervision, but less so in that for all Jerrin was a likeable boy he hadn’t a hope of corralling the trio). Kashvi and Jerrin were the children of a powerful Muslim man in the Indian government who had married a well-liked and wealthy Hindu woman.

That woman was Dipti, and by some inexplicable reason Sebastian’s usually misogynistic mother had taken strongly to her. Seb had nonetheless expected his mother to drop her association with Dipti when they moved from India, given that Mrs Moran had dropped so many of her social circle from Iran once they were no longer of use to her.

That had not happened with Dipti. Her son, the agreeable, chatty, playful Jerrin, had become increasingly withdrawn and quiet. His dark skin got paler, but none of the colourism Seb had grown up with until that point (Priya and Kashvi often being scolded for spending too much time in the sun, and being slathered with creams he later learned contained bleaching products) lended itself to compliments on it. The adults seemed very funny with Jerrin indeed. He got thin despite all of Dipti’s and Kashvi’s and even Chris’ cooking.

Jerrin got sick, and he died. Sebastian didn’t understand it at the time, but later when his father was berating him for some homosexually suggestive impropriety or other Seb eventually understood why the adults were so tight-lipped and harsh.

And Mrs Moran stayed friends with Dipti. It infuriated Augustus, and made no sense to Sebastian except that his mother did so love a charity ball for the sick and inflicted and unfortunate, and of course she would monetise other people’s dead children, even when she knew them once. Severin had suggested that their mother had been worried sick at Seb’s near death experience and wanted to protect other mothers from that feeling, and then the boys had laughed themselves silly at the absurdity.

Sebastian got in trouble on more than one occasion for improper behaviour with other lads at school. However, there was one memorable incident where instead of the usual homophobic disgust and violence, his father asked him (in a bellow of course) if he wanted to die like Jerrin and all the other poor devils in the papers. It initiated a terrible row between Seb’s parents that lasted in the air until Sebastian and Severin were shipped back to school.

Dipti had always been good to Sebastian. Her husband had sensed in Seb (even before the rumours) the traits that the man believed had killed Jerrin and treated the English boy with poorly disguised disgust (which would likely have been open disgust had Sebastian’s father not been such a powerful man). Dipti had seemingly found Sebastian’s company a comfort after her son’s death even though he was not nearly so amenable nor good-spirited. Seb had in fact been rather a sulky, spoiled, volatile brat for much of his childhood given that he could afford anything he pleased but could never win his violent father’s favour. Sebastian had also struggled to find affection or even at times attention from his own mother growing up; Dipti gifted him both in abundance.

Talking to Dipti as an adult since marrying Jim often highlights to Sebastian how his relationship to his mother has changed, becoming closer to the one he had formed with Auntie Dipti and considered an ideal. Now Sebastian is reminded of how far things have changed in other ways. In the eighties and nineties older boys died in their hoards and it was treated like a judgement from a vengeful god more than the tragedy it was. Now here Sebastian is with a husband and a baby and none of his family have reacted negatively to the fact.

Jim is younger, and didn’t attend an all boys’ school, so his memories of the AIDS epidemic are different, although he did grow up in a Catholic country amidst many people who had a lot of fire and brimstone comments to make akin to those made by Seb’s father. Sebastian remembers the whispers in dorm rooms at night.

He also remembers Augusta -on their mother’s say so- holding an AIDS charity fundraiser in the late eighties when she had two young children and a crumbling marriage to contend with. It was one of the socially acceptable types – aid for little AIDS baby orphans in Africa or some such – rather than the more politically precarious possibilities, like funding funerals for boys disowned by their families.

Whether Gus simply didn’t care, or had other things to be worrying about, she made a mistake with the invitations to her mother’s French-speaking friends. Mrs Moran would have sent out each individually in the dialect of its intended recipient. Augusta hadn’t even differentiated Occitan, Corsican and Arpitan; she had sent everything out in generic French.

Sebastian can still remember the sound of his mother slapping Gus hard across the face for the crime. Augusta had looked up and tried to act like the blow didn’t smart, whilst Chris and the twins muttered behind their hands how nice it was to see perfect Og get taken down a peg for once.

Sebastian does not enjoy the memory like he once did. It also returns a coiling discomfort to his gut at the thought of messing up his mother’s latest event.

At the time, his father had given his namesake a look of deep disappointment – a woman unable to pull off a society party, pathetic – but he had stood up for the young woman (and young she was, Augusta had married in her late teens). As French had evolved from the Latin of merchants and soldiers, Lord Moran had always been a little disparaging of it – considering it the ‘gutter-tongue’ of any well-bred Englishman- and he dismissed his eldest daughter’s mistake as an oversight of a woefully common and vulgar language. A true Englishman, he was always at war with the French.

“Fragilis male ego,” Mrs Moran said when certain there was neither company nor servants within earshot. Her lips had pursed to hold back the tirade in her chest at the latest belittling of what was to her something of genuine importance.

Her husband had raised his bristly brows in challenge. “Do you disagree, Lady Moran?”

Mrs Moran then bared her teeth, batted her eyes and said, “Never with my dear husband, Honey.” ‘H’ of course being a letter the French famously cannot pronounce.

The grown Moran children had wisely stayed quiet, lest they draw their parents’ ire upon themselves. Augusta had seemingly stayed quiet her whole life.

She had certainly also learned to better mimic their mother’s exacting standards in regards to soirees and grand galas and charity balls. Seb’s ability to throw ‘a Basher bash’ was entirely another creature from such revelries.

He wonders briefly how much trouble he’d get in if he simply played to his old strengths and provided a truly Bacchanalian affair. Grown man or not, he probably wouldn’t be able to sit comfortably for a month, if he lived to tell the tale. Rawdon would probably be able to hear the reprimanding from wherever he had secreted himself to.

Sebastian sighs to himself, checks his phone battery, then calls his oldest sibling.

Chapter Text

“Sebastian?” Augusta sounds utterly surprised and a little perturbed, as though she does not quite believe her caller ID. “Has something happened? Is Father-?”

Sebastian feels a little bit of guilt and wonders at its existence as it uncurls. Gus is fourteen years his senior and was sent to Roedean the year of his birth; he’s never made much effort to know her, and she hasn’t with him either.

“Relax, I’m not calling about his health. Or not directly, anyway,” Seb says.

Og audibly shifts her weight, not that there’s ever been much of her. “Go on,” she says, accent crisp and tone almost robotic.

“Mum says she’s too busy caring for Father this year to arrange a party.” Sebastian takes a deep breath and then adds in a rush, “She wants me to do it but Og I can’t I’m no good at it I need you. Um, please?”

There is silence down the phone line and Sebastian can almost see his elder sister’s perplexed, rapid blinking as she processes. “She wants you to arrange something? The next event in her social calendar is the children’s hospital fundraiser. The big one. She wants you to arrange that?”

Seb swallows. “Yeah,” he says, feeling emasculated by the overwhelmed tone of his voice but being unable to bring himself to care.

Augusta tisks. “Is she now expecting miracles from her prodigal son, or is she setting you up for failure for some reason? What have you done now?”

“I haven’t done anything!” Sebastian protests. He begins to wonder if his mother is mad at him for not already ensuring a blond sibling for Lexie is gestating, but surely she appreciates that he’s still quite busy with the small baby he already has?

“Of course you haven’t, you manage to be the favourite child simply by not poisoning our father,” Gus mutters, sounding a little put out.

“Well the bar for favourite son is low when Sev’s in the dog house and Rawdon’s gone,” Sebastian says. “I’ve hardly won on merit.”

“Oh please, like Christabelle or I ever got a look in even before you produced your perfect, charming, husband and utterly adorable baby for Mother to admire,” Augusta scoffed. She doesn’t sound overly bitter, but she sounds more genuine than teasing.

Sebastian blinks. “You were the first one to get married – the only one of us to get married, for almost forever – and you have two children.”

Gus makes a dismissive sound that is remarkably like their mother’s. “That was expected, there was hardly any pride in that. And obviously it all imploded. But you? The Bacchanalian rake turned proper family man with his beautiful, witty, well-dressed husband capable of enchanting our mother of all people, and then you cemented it all with a baby and not one of you had to worry about your figure or your body… Of course you’re the golden boy. Why she’s doing this to you, however, I have no idea. She is blatantly setting you up to fail.”

“As it her wont,” Sebastian mutters automatically. His sister’s words worm their way into his brain. “Is that really how you feel?”

“About what?” Og asks dryly. “That you’re a spoiled brat applauded for deigning to bother with the standards Rawdon and I had to? Or that you cannot do this by yourself?”

Seb bites his lip, and Augusta laughs. It’s an odd sound: not so much biting as resignedly self-deprecating. “That’s not your fault, Sebastian,” she says.

Sebastian unplugs his phone to allow himself to pace awkwardly. “That’ll be a first.”

Augusta titters. “Did the spouse and the infant not clue you in that you were growing up?”

“I think that was all the lines appearing at the corner of my eyes,” Seb mutters.

Gus sniffs in amusement, sounding like their mother again. “I can give you a number of an excellent specialist for that.”

“Thanks, but I was rather planning to grow old disgracefully,” Sebastian says.

“Oh, we all anticipated that,” Gus says. She lowers her voice. “You do have a husband though, and he is younger, so if you want a recommendation in future…”

“Og, are you trying to give me marriage advice?” Sebastian asks tactlessly.

Augusta intakes a breath sharply. “You think a man like that doesn’t care about appearances?”

Sebastian slows his step and glances over at Jim. “Christ, as if I don’t have enough problems,” the blond sighs. “Yes, he’s vain and dramatic, but given how scarred my poor face is, I rather think that horse has already long bolted.”

“There’s a difference in a man looking dashing and adventurous, or looking old. It wouldn’t matter if you had a wife, but…”

“Being bisexual doesn’t mean I have to be pretty, Og,” Sebastian says.

“It’s not about being… like that,” Augusta says. “It’s about being married to a younger man who cares about appearances.”

“Well if he cares that much about it he can ask for the number to book me in himself,” Seb says, regretting the phone call immensely.

“I’m only saying,” Og says.

“Yeah, well, maybe one problem at a time,” Sebastian says.

“Fine,” Augusta says lightly. “Do you have any idea what to do about the fundraiser? Ticket numbers, guest list, venue, menu, entertainment, colour schemes..?”

“Fuck,” Sebastian says. “Sorry.” He clears his throat. “Um…”

“Do you want me to gather the details from last year, cross-reference them with other relevant events from this year, and research suitable themes?” Augusta asks.

Seb stops breathing for a moment. “You’d do that for me?” he asks.

“Wouldn’t want you to lose that favoured spot of yours,” his sister says wryly. After an uncomfortable beat she says, “Yes, of course I’ll help you. When is clear in your diary for planning?”

“Um, any time is good?” Sebastian says warily.

“Alright,” says Augusta. “Let me get my organiser, I hate the calendar on my phone.”

“Sure,” Seb says weakly.

“Now do you want to come to me, or shall I come to you?” Gus asks.

Sebastian blinks and realises he has only the barest idea of where his sister lives. He doesn’t even know her address from before the divorce.

“I can text you the address, if you like,” Og says lightly.

“Yeah, alright,” Seb says. “Thanks.”

“How about Sunday?” Augusta suggests. “After church?”

Sebastian hesitates.

“Service finishes around eleven,” Gus says kindly. “We could have lunch?”

“Um, sure,” Seb says almost shyly. “Do you want me to bring anything?”

“Just yourself. And any input I imagine your husband might have.” Augusta is quiet for a moment, breathing softly down the line. “Bring your family, if you like. Or not, if it’s easier to concentrate without a baby. Whatever you like.”

“Not the only one who’s mellowed in old age, am I?” Sebastian comments mildly.

Gus snorts softly. “Brat. It’s a marvel what independence has done for my blood pressure.”

Jesus, blood pressure. He’s going to have to start being mindful of stuff like that as well, isn’t he?

“So,” Augusta says in an efficient voice, “I’ll text you my address, and see you on Sunday at what? Half eleven? Noon?”

“Does half eleven give you time to get sorted without rushing?” Sebastian asks. “Twelve is fine.”

“Alright, twelve then,” his sister says. He hears her scratching the date down in her diary.

“Thank you,” Sebastian says. “Seriously.”

Og pauses awkwardly then clucks her tongue. “I’m your elder sister,” she says in a tight attempt at a bright, airy voice.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Seb says.

She makes a softly amused noise at that. “Alright. Well I’ll see you then? Unless there’s anything else?”

“No, you’ve done plenty,” Sebastian says. “Thanks again.”

There is another mildly uncomfortable beat. “You are welcome Sebastian,” Augusta says, and then she disconnects the call.

Seb stands with the phone still raised for a few moments. He breathes and considers the unfamiliar situation which has occurred. He does not know how to feel about it.

And there was that other thing.

“Jim?” Sebastian asks.

The brunet looks over from his position on his stomach on the floor, where he is gamboling a toy around on a playmat for the amusement of their daughter. “Yes, darling?”

“Do you think I look old?” Seb asks.

Jim curls his lip and sits up higher on his elbows, lowering the toy. “What?”

“My crows’ feet… laughter lines… whatever… Do they bother you?” Sebastian asks seriously.

Jim sits up and covers Alex’s ears. “What the fuck has your sister been filling your head with?”

“Well funnily enough she’s got it into her head that you’re vain and think that my looks are a reflection on you,” Seb says. “And given that you don’t allow me to own any clothing I bought myself, maybe I just didn’t think of this and you would like me to get some work done to ensure I look less haggard.”

“You don’t look ‘haggard’, you look like my husband,” Jim says stoutly.

“Your aging, older husband, apparently,” Seb grumbles.

Jim’s lips twitch. “Dear, we are both getting older. That’s what happens when your enemies don’t best you.”

“She didn’t say anything about you needing work done,” Sebastian sniffs. “Just my wrinkles that are a marriage-risking eyesore.”

“What?” Jim says flatly.

“If I want to keep my young, handsome husband I need to stay pretty,” Seb says.

Jim turns, grabs another toy, then lobs it directly at his husband with force, not that it has any hard or heavy or pointy bits to make it much of an intimidating projectile. Sebastian does not bother to dodge, but looks down at the toy as it bounces off of himself.

“That’s fucking moronic!” Jim exclaims. Alexdrina, interested in the odd behaviour, shakes one of her toys at Sebastian enthusiastically.

Sebastian looks mildly reassured, but says, “Oh great, and now I need to avoid saying anything my husband doesn’t like else he’ll launch things at me.”

Jim glowers. “Damn right, say that crap again and I’ll give you a proper slap, on the arse, for being so incredibly stupid.”

Seb’s lips twitch. “You probably shouldn’t speak like that in front of our baby.”

“Well don’t go spouting that nonsense about changing yourself for a man!” Jim scolds. “I don’t know if it’s misogynistic or homophobic, but it’s not an appropriate thing to expose her to.”

Sebastian stares at them for a beat. “So does that mean I can wear any old thing I like now?”

“It abso-fucking-lutely does not,” Jim scoffs. “You’ll wear what you’re told, tiger.”

Seb’s lips twitch. “Got it, boss.” He picks up the toy and walks towards his family.

Jim cuffs the big man lightly as Seb comes and sits beside them. “That’s for still worrying about it.”

Sebastian opens his mouth to lie, then closes it. “Fine, but the way she said it made sense.”

“You’re my best friend,” Jim says with grim insistence. “Not just my husband. Half your body could be melted off and I’d still love you. I’d love you if you were castrated, or paraplegic, or senile, or all of those. I am deeply insulted that you think I’d love you less for aging.”

“Really?” Sebastian murmurs.

“Yes, fucking really!” Jim snaps, taking the toy back and batting his husband around the head with it.

Sebastian shields his vulnerable bits half-heartedly. “Our kid is going to end up hitting other kids at nursery.”

“It’s worth it,” Jim retorts, not slowing his assault. “I left you before to keep your brainless self safe. Do you really think I’d put us through that because of a few tiny fucking lines on your face?”

“Nothing about me is tiny,” Seb mumbles.

“Except your brain and self-worth, evidently,” Jim grumbles. He pulls his husband lower in order to squash Sebastian a little with the solid presence of his body weight. “You are mine and I love you. And I still fancy you rotten, for the record, because clearly it’s not your mind I stay for.”

Sebastian carefully rolls onto his back, mindful of their daughter nearby, as he pulls Jim against his chest. “I might get a complex if you keep calling me stupid, you know.”

Jim scoffs. “It’s never made you behave before, so why would it ever have any other impact? Did you even listen to the rest?”

Seb smiles. “I’m yours and I’m handsome?”

“And I love you,” Jim adds sternly. “Honestly, if I’d love you castrated maybe I’d also love you with no tongue. At least then I wouldn’t have to listen to your idiocy.”

“You’re right,” Sebastian says with a roll of his eyes. “What was I thinking, talking to you about putting scalpels near my eyes?”

“My bloody handsome fool,” Jim grumbles, climbing over his husband to kiss Seb’s face.

Chapter Text

“Do you think she meant what she said on the phone?” Sebastian asks on the way to his car. “She thinks I’m mum’s favourite?”

“Oh please,” Jim says. “We both know I was your mother’s favourite until this one was born.” So saying, he holds Alexdrina aloft. He looks uncharacteristically smug about having lost his top ranking spot of favour.

Sebastian grins and rolls his eyes before opening the door for the pair. “You know what I mean.”

Jim’s expression turns more serious, and he considers the question whilst he fastens their happily burbling daughter into her car seat. “Do I think that your perfect sister meant it about your mother loving you more? Yes, of course.”

“What do you mean, ‘of course’?” Sebastian demands.

“I mean that in all the time that I’ve known you, your mother has always shown more warmth to you to your sister,” Jim says. “You say that Augusta was ‘perfect’, but I don’t think that came without effort or cost – even asides from her divorce – and yet you were by your own admission far from the perfect son – but your mother adores you.”

“My mother mellowed in her old age,” Seb insists. “I was not the favourite growing up.”

“Maybe you weren’t,” Jim says, smoothing Alex’s hair as he straightens and meets his husband's gaze, “but that doesn’t mean your sister had no reason to envy you.”

Sebastian shakes his head. “In no world can I picture that.”

Jim leans up and kisses Seb’s cheek. “I’m just answering your question.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes and turns Jim’s face to give his husband a proper kiss. Jim smiles into it, and Seb feels better.

He still has the odd thought in the back of his mind for the entire drive though. He’s never thought of Augusta feeling jealous of him ever. She seemed so perfect in her role that he never questioned how she felt about it.

Sebastian has picked up few skills befitting his privileged upbringing, but he does know how to select a good bottle of wine. He thrusts it helplessly at his older sister in lieu of a greeting, and she chuckles -in surprise but ever so daintily – before accepting it and kissing Seb’s cheek.

“I told you that you need bring only yourself,” Augusta says mildly.

Sebastian shrugs. “Mum would’ve had the back of my legs for that, and I don’t much fancy being reacquainted with the back of your hairbrush.”

Gus snorts and immediately covers her face primly. “Yes, well, perhaps you’re getting a bit old for that,” she says. “Besides, I heard your husband has you well in hand.”

Sebastian feels his face grow hot.

Augusta nudges her younger brother gently. “Speaking of which, how about you stop blocking the doorway and let your family into the warmth?”

Seb nods quickly and sidesteps. His sister says, “Valorie – this is my housekeeper, Valorie – will take your coats.”

Gus moves to Jim, who has Alexdrina in his arms along with a star-shaped plush. “Good to see you, Augusta,” Jim says.

“Welcome to my home,” she says graciously. “You are perfectly welcome to call me ‘Gus’.” She cast her brother a dry look. “Or ‘Og’, as you likely call me at your home.”

Alexdrina waves her chubby little hands then slowly brings an index and middle finger to her chin. She taps twice and gurgles merrily. Hello, auntie.

Augusta blinks for a moment. She gives a small wave back then shifts the bottle in her grip awkwardly to bring two thumbs up to her own face. Hello. How are you?

Alex gives a pleased squeal and claps her hands in a clumsy sign for Happy.

Gus gives an exaggerated grin and another thumbs up: Good.

Jim looks at her. The British Sign Language gestures for the phrases Augusta uses are similar to the Makaton Alexdrina has been taught.

“She’s bright for her age, isn’t she?” Gus says, and stands aside to encourage Jim to enter.

“She gets that from me,” Jim says sagely.

Sebastian snorts and reaches for Lexie so Jim can remove his coat. “I think you’ll find all of us were smart kids.”

“Oh please, you went to Oxford, not Cambridge, how smart can you really be?” Gus teases.

Before Sebastian can protest the rumour that smart boys went to Cambridge and rich boys went to Oxford did not apply to him, his sister’s housekeeper takes their outer clothing and ushers them into a comfortably decorated room. That would not have happened had the housekeeper been one from their childhood – their being interrupted and bustled in almost like children – and it throws Seb a little. He was certain everything of Og’s would be traditional.

He’s thrown by how his sister settles them in too. She clearly feels awkward, but if she wasn’t family it probably wouldn’t be very noticeable. She doesn’t seem like she’s trying to be welcoming to win points – she seems to be really trying for some mysterious reason.

Then again, so is Sebastian.

The coats long since hung up, Valerie interrupts again. This time more politely, and she seems wary. “Your father is here,” she says. “Should I… Let him in?”

Sebastian stiffens visibly.

“What is he doing here?” Augusta murmurs. “He’s supposed to be in his sickbed.”

Valorie makes a face like she has zero intention of asking the man any more questions than necessary.

“Excuse me,” Gus tells her guests and follows Valorie into the waiting hall, where Lord Augustus sits, looking exhausted. One of his manservants – even older than Augustus, but far more spry – hovers at the man’s side.

“Daddy?” Augusta says. “What are you doing here?”

“What sort of welcome is that?” her father derides. The woman kisses her father’s cheek and he says, “I told your mother you were going to keep an eye on me, it was the only way to get her out of the house, and you know she checks that blasted thing on my mobile phone.”

Augusta looks at him. “And you did that because..?”

“She hasn’t met an engagement since I went into the hospital,” Lord Augustus says. “It’s not good for her. She lives for those wretched things.”

“And you presumed I wouldn’t have plans?” Augusta asks dryly.

Augustus scoffs, which takes quite a lot of effort by the sound of his laboured breathing. “Have you entertained a man in the past fifteen years, my darling girl?” He gave her a serious look. “You might as well tell me at this point, princess. You’re one of those qu- one of those gays like your other two siblings aren’t you? It hardly matters now; you did what was required of you.”

Augusta looks at her father for a beat. “I don’t particularly appreciate the appeal of women either,” she says slowly. She lightly swats her father’s meaty arm. “I’d also thank you never to put me in the same category as Christabelle or young Sebastian! Can you imagine?”

“Sebastian’s not so young now, and neither are we,” Augustus wheezes cheerfully. “You can’t go blaming Christabelle for who she is either. It’s not her fault she was born a girl; she’d have been a perfect Moran heir if not for her sex.”

“I hardly had much choice in my gender either,” Augusta complains.

“Of course not, but you’re good at it. A good girl – good woman. Your little sister’s a rake; with this modern age I keep expecting my phone to ring and hear that she’s gotten some young typist pregnant.”

“At least you’d get some grandbabies out of her that way,” Augusta says.

“A whole string of little bastards,” Augustus agrees. “Always surprised me that Bastian and Severin didn’t leave a trail of pregnant little tarts in their wake, especially the way they carried on with the maids. Now look at Sebastian! A child in wedlock!”

“Another two babes, both boys, and he’ll be the perfect heir after all,” Augusta says.

Her father chuckles softly. “Have you heard what the Windsors have done in their latest quest to stay relevant and modernise? They’ve updated the rules of succession. In a few generations an elder daughter could inherit before her younger brother.”

“So everything goes to Alexdrina?” Augusta says.

“What gives you that notion?” Lord Moran asks. “When I go everything will be split equally between yourself, Christabelle and your naughty brothers. Plus enough for your mother to always live comfortably of course.”

“Severin tried to kill you and he still gets an equal share?” Augusta says dryly.

“Would you rather I disowned him?” her father asks. “I threatened ’Bastian with that often enough and it never made a whit of difference. I told him I’d went through with it and it still made no difference!”

“Sebastian finds his own way,” says Augusta tiredly.

“And so do you,” Lord Moran says. “You just had the sense not to need thrashed over my desk every other day to get here.”

“I’d rather have taken a spanking like that every day than live with my marriage,” Augusta mutters.

“And that, my precious girl, is part of what makes you a Moran,” her father says. “We’re hardy and willful and know our own minds and never let anyone control us.”

Augusta laughs. “Are you ever going to tell Sebastian that being a spoilt, headstrong brat is hereditary?”

“Like that boy ever wants to hear that he’s at all like his old dad,” Lord Augustus says wryly.

Augusta glances back to where she has left her brother and his family, but if he’d been able to hear anything there would likely have been a risk of fisticuffs by now. “You can’t blame him totally; he grew up in a very different world than we did.”

Her father gazes at her seriously then chuckles wheezily. “Your mother spoiled him.”

“Hardly surprising, given the circumstances,” Augusta says archly.

“No of course not, but none of you came with a manual, much less guidance on how to best respond in the wake of… all that. It wasn’t like nowadays where people feel the need to share their feelings and every inane minutiae of their life to the whole world,” Augustus grouses.

“You don’t need to tell me about stiff upper lips and appearances,” Augusta says. She adds dryly, “And Mother did give me a manual on how to be a proper wife and mother, for all the good it did my marriage or childrearing.”

“You were barely more than a slip of a girl,” her father says.

“I was the same age as mother!” Augusta states.

“And she and I were far too green for the realities of married life then,” Lord Moran says. “Especially everything after Rawdon. We should have had the sense to make you wait.”

“Yes, well,” Augusta says uncomfortably, “I don’t rightly know whether that would have made a difference. It had been years since… everything… and I was still terrified. I made such a terrible mother, so afraid to care for the boys.”

“You should all have been born boys,” Augustus says. “We could have called you ‘Junior’ and you’d never have had to feel… all that. And there would have been so much less pressure on your mother and I to ‘keep trying’.”

“We all carry our scars,” Augusta says mildly.

Augustus laughs. “I’m older than my father ever was and yet when I’m rotting in my crypt I’ll still have scars he put on my arsecheeks. Who would choose to have a family, what?”

Augusta titters wryly. “Perhaps you can show the young twins on your deathbed. Lessen their resentments somewhat.”

Lord Moran barks out a laugh. “They’d never have survived under my father! He fair mellowed in his old age.”

Augusta purses her lips. “I don’t suppose you see fit to follow that example? I have guests I ought get back to.”

Lord Moran gives her a very interested look. “Guests you can’t introduce to your father? Who the devil are they? Communists?”

Augusta smirks. “Of course, because only the Reds would be adverse to meeting my racist, misogynistic father.”

“The Empire was built with men like me,” her father retorts, making no effort to deny his considerable flaws.

Augusta rose primly. “It crumbled too.”

“Bitch,” her father says with dry fondness.

Augusta kisses his cheek. “Go make yourself comfortable, Daddy. I shall come find you in a few hours if you’re still hiding from Mother by then.”

Lord Moran pulls himself to his feet. “I’m not hiding from your mother,” he grumbles. “She’s a Goddamned saint. I’m just nudging her towards her other priorities for her own good.”

“Because you’re all about the greater good,” Augusta teases, moving to support the frail old man.

Lord Moran laughs. “Don’t you take that tone with me, little chit. If your mother thinks Sebastian isn’t too old to have his legs slapped perhaps you’re not too old either.”

“I am much, much older than Sebastian,” Augusta grins. “And you are in no fit state to be raising your hands to anyone.”

“Ah, that may be so,” Augustus sighs. He blindly puts out an arm for his manservant’s assistance and Augusta lets him go. Frederick is old school, barely seen and never heard unless asked for his opinion, and he’ll be loyal to Lord Moran until the end. Valerie doesn’t like him much. Augusta doesn’t either – he has a low opinion of women – but she knows her father is safe in his care.

Augusta returns to Sebastian and his family. “Sorry about that,” she murmurs.

“Everything alright?” Sebastian asks flatly.

“Fine. He decided to tell our mother I was babysitting him so that she’d go socialise,” Augusta says with a roll of her eyes. “Shall I get us some tea and we can get started?”

Sebastian seems unsettled but agrees politely. Jim smiles and takes his husband’s lead, brushing his arm against Seb. Still held by Jim, Alexdrina reaches comfortably for Sebastian. His strained expression disappears as he presses his nose fondly to her face.

Augusta doesn’t know how to feel about that. Every time she sees her brother with his child he seems genuinely delighted with the baby girl’s existence. Augusta finds it peculiar that Sebastian is bonding so much with his daughter, and that he is building a better relationship with their mother too. Gus deliberately didn't bond with her own children; she was old enough to remember a thousand reasons not to. She had always thought Sebastian had been scarred in his own way by their upbringings, so much so that he would never willingly carry on their family name, but perhaps he is actually the mature one. The one to find peace.

It’s an entirely disconcerting thought.

Augusta throws herself into being a proper hostess, and when they finally set to work on their mother’s errand Gus is glad of the distraction. Sebastian may have taken more easily to parenthood than she, but Augusta notes that he has not overtaken her in event planning; she had started to wonder, because why on earth would their mother risk such an important occasion?

Sebastian’s husband is as expected an enormous help. He understands everything Gus says and regularly translates to his husband – which feels odd since Gus grew up with ’Bastian, and it only highlights to her just how alienated the siblings are. Not that they ever really had many opportunities to grow close: on top of their polar opposite personalities, Gus was fourteen when Sebastian and Severin were born. That was the year when she left Roedean, and a few short years after that she was married; not long after that she was pregnant with her firstborn. The Morans lived in Iran until Augusta was twenty-five, then the family moved to India. Gus was educated in England, having been sent away as a result of tragic circumstances in her girlhood for which she was given zero support, where there she stayed for further education until she got married, and officially moved there to live under her husband’s roof after. She barely knew Sebastian even before he became estranged from the family.

Rawdon was the only sibling Gus felt close to. He had predominantly grown up in England too. They’d been close in age.

There was an eight year age difference between herself and Christabelle, and by the time Chris was five Gus was sent to England. She had left school by the time Christabelle was sent to England, and Chris was sent to St Paul’s (before the fire anyway) over Roedean, so it wasn’t as if Chris ever had reason to call Gus up for school advice. Not to mention the fact that Augusta knew the appropriate amount of cleverness required in a wife, and took a perfectly non-threatening art history degree, whilst Chris insisted on pursuing politics of all things.

Jasper was closer in age to Augusta’s own sons than herself. She saw him more than the others for that reason, but she also remembered perfectly well the circumstances of his birth and never quite got beyond that disconnect.

The least said about the rest the better.

Hours pass and Augusta finds herself thinking of the past less and less. She likes her brother’s husband – he’s charming and well-dressed and intelligent and doesn’t ever seem to look down upon her the way ’Bastian always did – and Sebastian himself is so… different. Gus is not so certain that she likes him per se, but she is enjoying his company for once. He slowly seems to be showing her more of a side of himself that she had seen glimpses of but never had directed her way before; Sebastian is funny and warm and insightful and hardworking, genuinely seeming to want to do well at the impossible task set by their even more impossible-to-please mother.

And God, how both men blatantly adore their daughter. It’s actually painful to watch, the way the husbands simply glow with love and pleasure at the baby’s very existence. It hurts like hell actually, but Gus cannot stop herself watching. It’s so awfully beautiful.

It’s possible that Gus even likes Alexdrina herself, although the woman has never been much of one for children so it is hard for her to tell. The baby inexplicably seems taken with her aunt, and it is unclear whether that surprises Augusta or Sebastian more. Gus communicates patiently in hand gestures with the child, who is happily talkative and quite delighted when the woman allows her to play with fabric swatches.

Jim waits until everyone seems comfortable before lightly asking about Augusta’s familiarity with British Sign Language. Sebastian looks up interestedly from seating plans.

“It never leaves you I suppose,” Gus murmurs. She looks wistful, but shakes herself from her thoughts before either man dares press further. Her tone suggests it was not a language she learned like any other.

Sebastian never considered his elder sister particularly adept with languages, unlike himself, Chris and Severin. She’d lived apart from the family in England – as Rawdon had – and had seemingly only known French and Latin, perhaps a bit of Greek. Having lived in Iran and India at formative ages, amongst so many local languages and dialects, the remaining three Moran children (for Jasper was not yet born) had become instinctive polyglots. Sebastian had always dismissed Og for not being that way, but he realises now that was likely a misassumption of youth and not particularly fair; a command of three languages – perhaps even five – was hardly uneducated.

Gus had received an education. She had excelled in artistic studies and home economics and Sebastian had been taught not to value those things at all; those were subjects for a girl, for a refined young wife in waiting, and he had hated so much the thought of taking a society wife of his own that he’d never much bothered to look beyond the stereotype of one which his eldest sister had seemed to embody so completely. It was uncomfortable to wonder how much of his youthful hatred for Og was for things entirely outside of her control or even the realm of facts.

Augusta glances at the time and seems surprised. “Would you like to stay for dinner, or we could break and continue later?”

Sebastian actually would like to stay, but, “Father…”

“Is probably asleep in the library, but I understand,” Gus says without heat. She indicates her niece. “Is she due a feed? I can show you where the kitchen is if she needs something heated.”

“I can do that,” Jim offers.

The spectre of his father has wormed its way back into Sebastian’s head. “Nah, you’re of much more use here,” he says and kisses Jim’s scalp fondly. “This is your sort of thing.”

Jim gives a smirk that communicates that comment is entirely true. He bends back over the arrangements with a buzz of interest.

Sebastian takes Alexdrina and her bag. He follows his sister through her house taking note of how it is decorated. He will ask Jim afterwards about it. Seb is certain that Jim will have much to say about what Augusta’s taste in paintings actually says about her beyond Sebastian’s usual assumption of ‘rich and pretentious’.

Gus murmurs politely as she walks, making light suggestions about refreshments and nibbles which makes her sound like her mother’s daughter for once, if a much milder incarnation.

Sebastian freezes in his tracks at the sight of his father and old Frederick eating sandwiches at Augusta’s breakfast bar. The men blink back at him with even more astonishment that Seb feels.

“You never said your guest was ’Bastian!” Lord Moran yelps at his daughter. “I didn’t even know you associated with the boy!”

Sebastian wants to leave immediately, but he is also aware that his baby daughter is due a feed soon.

“We’re all grown ups,” Augusta says in an oddly firm voice, which even more oddly their father seems to react calmly to. He nods and gives Sebastian a wary glance.

Sebastian does not know how to feel about that beyond uncomfortable.

“Microwave is there,” Gus says helpfully. She steps into the middle of the room effectively creating a barrier between her relatives.

Sebastian gives his father a wary look, but prioritises his daughter’s need and stalks towards the microwave. He dumps the baby bag on the counter, Lexie on his hip, and reaches for what he needs. His baby grouses mildly, perturbed and confused by the change in atmosphere.

“Do you want me to take her?” Gus finds herself asking. She can feel her father and Frederick staring at her. Whilst looking after children is in their minds entirely women’s work, it is no secret that she never really took to it. She did what was socially required, but couldn’t say that she enjoyed much of it.

Unaware of his sister’s self-consciousness, Sebastian shakes his head. He does not want to relinquish his hold of Lexie anywhere near Lord Moran. “Um, actually do you know how to..?”

“Sort of, I think things have moved on a bit from my time,” Gus says mildly. She prepares Lexie’s next meal under Sebastian’s oddly patient instruction. She doesn’t think her brother has ever had reason to talk her through a task before.

It is awkward as they wait for the milk to heat. Augustus and Frederick have stopped eating. Holding his daughter it is difficult for Sebastian to gesture to her, but Gus amuses the baby with a BSL rendition of an old nursery rhyme. Lexie gurgles and mimics her aunt attentively.

“She’s Deaf too?” Augustus asks abruptly. “Your mother never said that you struggled to conceive too.”

Sebastian is so thrown by the question that he responds without attitude, “We didn’t.” The interaction catches up with his rather thrown brain and he blurts, “Wait, what?”

Augustus does not look like he knows how to respond to being asked a conversational question by his son. He decides to simply focus on the topic over everything more unsettling and says, “That’s what happened with our one. Francis. Placenta around the throat. Didn’t think that could be passed on through you.”

Lord Moran jerks his head shortly at his own daughter and mutters, “Her I was worried about. Twiggy little thing like her mother.”

Seb looks at Augusta, who not only seems to fully follow the conversation but to be focused on the comment that their father had worried about her bearing children, despite the enormous pressure for her to do so. It does not seem like Augustus’ concern is a surprise either, she merely looks exasperated.

“What?” Sebastian repeats. “What ‘one’? Are you talking about Jasper? He’s not deaf he’s just… a little cuckoo. I don’t..?”

“Jasper? Boy, what are you talking about, ’Jasper’? He can hear perfectly fine, studied music for damned sake – Mozart aside of course – he’s not Deaf. Had him to replace – well, you. Lord knows your mother couldn’t take losing another one of you, much less another blasted twin. She was beside herself.”

Sebastian strongly wishes Jim was in the room with him. Or that he and Lexie were not in the room at all.

“What?” Sebastian repeats weakly.

“Daddy, he won’t remember,” Gus says. “They’d have been five before ’Bastian was even born. And obviously… everything in between.”

“Um, obviously nothing?” Seb says. “What are you talking about?”

“Mother kept trying for another boy,” Gus says.

“We both did,” Augustus says dryly.

“You know what I am saying,” his daughter says dismissively. He doesn’t seem to mind her tone and Sebastian has no idea how to interpret that.

Gus looks at her brother. “There’s such an age difference between us because it was a struggle for our parents to… not so much conceive, but to bring a child to term.”

“We had a miscarriage,” Lord Moran says abruptly. “Before Christabelle. Your mother was too young and small probably; Rawdon was such a strapping big lad and she struggled after him. And then we had Christabelle and that was hard, but we needed another boy, so we kept trying. We were blessed with two - Francis and Lucienne - and thought we were so lucky and then… Well, and then...”

“They died,” Augusta says gently. “One at birth, and one-”

“When he was two,” Augustus says. “He was two.”

“And Deaf,” Gus says.

Their father nods. “Your mother was inconsolable. Quite, quite inconsolable.”

“That’s when I went to Roedean,” Gus says a little shakily. “And… Mother just did not get better.”

“And I was working in Persia – in Iran – and couldn’t see her enough,” Augustus continues.

“So we moved to Iran,” Gus says. “Although I was only there for the longer school holidays of course.”

“Eventually we had you and your brother,” Augustus tells Sebastian.

“I finished school and stayed in England; Rawdon went to Eton not long after,” Augusta says. “I don’t know what things were like then for the most part. I didn’t speak much with Chris.”

“Your mother was much the same,” Augustus tells his daughter dully. “Was terrified something would happen to the boys.”

“Something did happen to that one – he got himself mauled. By a tiger. I heard that all the way in England,” Gus says with a flash of her childhood manner.

“I’d have fu- I’d have killed you myself if it wasn’t for your mother,” Lord Moran tells his son, controlling his swearing for the baby’s sake. “She was worried sick.”

“I didn’t nearly die intentionally,” Seb points out, feeling victimised but trying not to tense his body or tone lest he upset Alexdrina. “I was twelve and an idiot.”

“Oh we know,” Gus says shortly. She glances unconsciously at her brother’s scarred wrists and says, “You’ve barely outgrown being an idiot.”

Sebastian cannot help but quickly move his scars from her glance and sets Lexie squawking. Lord Moran makes a soothing noise and begins the signed nursery rhyme the baby had enjoyed earlier.

Sebastian gives his father an utterly lost but defensive look.

“Oh honestly, boy, I am hardly going to cook her for supper,” Augustus complains.

Sebastian bristles.

“Grow up, Sebastian,” Lord Moran sighs. “I gave you a number of sound thrashings you sorely deserved as a boy in an attempt to guide you down the best path. Staying bitter about it doesn’t do you or anyone else any good.”

“I DIDN’T-” Seb quickly lowers his voice and jostles Lexie reassuringly. He hisses over the top of her head, “I didn’t fecking deserve to be beaten like that and you have no idea what the best thing for me was.”

Augustus snorts. “Attentive spouse. Financial security. Beautiful child. Excellent grades and career before you buggered them up. You might think you paved your own way, young man, but you ticked all the boxes you were told to.”

Sebastian stills.

“Oh, the heir apparent is suddenly enough?” Augusta cannot help but say.

Her father looks at her. “You were always enough. We were just too young and stupid to recognise that when you were a girl.”

Gus presses her lips together and nods. She looks away quickly and Seb is not sure he’s ever seen her cry but he thinks she is close to it. It’s beyond odd thinking of his perfect sibling having her own parental hang ups.

Augustus clears his throat awkwardly. “I’m not sorry we kept trying for you either,” he tells his son.

Sebastian has no idea how to process that, but is rescued from any attempt to find words by Jim’s appearance. “I heard raised voices,” the brunet says. “And you’ve been ages.”

Gus looks at the microwave timer. Wordlessly she hits the activation button.

Chapter Text

Once Lexie is fed, Sebastian retreats home with his daughter and his husband. And with a great deal of progress completed insofar as planning the charity event for his mother, but he can hardly think about that right then. He can barely even think on the revelations from Og’s kitchen, given that he has that shellshocked ringing in his ears still from having his worldview shifted in ways he had never anticipated and that is rather too loud for thoughts.

Jim gets them home safely, even though he’s not much of a driver usually. Sebastian is on autopilot as he tries to leave the car, only to find himself jerked back against his seat. Jim unfastens Seb’s seatbelt and doesn’t even cast Sebastian a teasing look, just hands him the planning stuff and the baby bag. Jim mildly helps their daughter out of her carseat then leads a dazed Seb into the house.

“You want tea?” Jim asks as he deposits Sebastian onto a seat.

Sebastian scratches at his scarred forearms absently. “Think I want something stronger.”

Jim nods easily. “Can you mind her whilst I get it?”

“Yeah. Course. I’m not so out of it I’d drop her or anything,” Sebastian says, knuckling his face as Jim wrangles Lexie into her bouncer.

“I know,” Jim says, standing and ruffling Sebastian’s blond hair affectionately. Seb snorts at that, grounded in the form of affection Jim picked up from him. Sebastian supposes he learnt from Chris, but his mind runs into a wall when he wonders where she got the habit from.

Surely not from either of their parents, so perhaps their staff? Or… perhaps Rawdon? Sebastian barely remembers how his older siblings interacted, other than vague recollections of his sisters bickering. Did Rawdon have a soft spot for Chris? She helped him get out, so presumably there was some affection there at some point? Or perhaps she simply understood, always having wanted out herself. Like Sebastian had. Like even Augusta had, apparently, and wasn’t that a fucking wild revelation? The thought uncomfortably reminds him that before today there was so much of his family's life that he was entirely ignorant of. Actual full siblings, not halves, gone and buried before he was even born. Some childhood mysteries now slot into place in his skull so firmly he feels his synapses firing, but other questions crop up and multiply too.

It’s not that he didn’t think his family had secrets, or that they’d all been cleared up after Rawdon’s big reveal. There’s still a bit of a bloody question mark over why his mother hates her family enough to latch herself to Lord Moran forever, refusing to accept her own title even as she foists the bloodline’s expectations on her children.

It’s not… entirely surprising that his mother has lost children. There had always been something unnaturally cold and distant about her in Sebastian’s childhood memories. He’d thought it was growing up in that museum of a manor house that had made it feel like there was a pane of glass between himself and his mother, and it’s not like that wasn’t truly a factor, but Sebastian does understand the stoniness of grief. After he thought he’d lost Jim forever, Sebastian hadn’t been able to find it in himself to care about much of anything at all. He cannot imagine raising a child feeling like that. Never mind multitudes of them, and being in fear of losing more.

Not that Sebastian can imagine raising Lexie in the misery of his own childhood and all of its constrictions, not at all. It’s no surprise to him that his parents are damaged by their own tragedies and pressurised upbringings, but it is odd to think of them as ever having been young. It’s difficult enough imagining Augusta ever having been young!

It had been funny, her divorce. It seems less funny now, that she hadn’t liked the man she married young and that she’d been too afraid of her children to ever love them. The boys are of an age with Jasper and Sebastian has never particularly liked anything at all about them, but he feels pity for them now. At least his mother loved him in her own distant way. He’d always thought it would have been miserable to have Og for a mother, but the thought feels different now. He’d just thought she was a sour old cow, not that she’d been as miserable in their familial expectations as he had been. How bizarre, for Og to know she was trapped. And instead of rebelling, as he and Chris and Sev (and even Rawdon!) had, Augusta had doubled down into her prison, the poor bitch. The cool detachment she displays for her sons makes a sick sort of sense now.

Sebastian would never have let himself starve Lexie of parental love if he’d had her and not Jim, but he is not Augusta and he is not his mother. He is shaped by them and their experiences, but they are different. Still, it shakes him.

He had already promised himself that Lexie wouldn’t grow up the way his sisters did, but Sebastian is even more determined about that now. How lonely Og must have been, shipped off to England away from everyone, only to be hated by her younger siblings during holiday visits, and swiftly married off to an unfeeling snob who put strapping heirs into her tiny frame.

And Chris! Sebastian had always grown up in awe of his big sister’s rebellious streak, thinking it a perfectly reasonable reaction to growing up in a suffocating and sexist environment. She certainly hadn’t had any emotional support from her parents after losing a sibling, and the wild wickedness of setting fire to her school seems different now. No wonder she wouldn’t stray from his side after he got his stupid self almost disembowelled by a tiger. Sebastian feels much guiltier about his mother through that too, although he can’t quite bring himself to feel sorry for his father then.

And Jasper. Christ. It had always seemed fucked up to force Mother to raise one of Father’s bastards as her own, but what Augustus had said? About giving baby Jasp to her to help ‘fix’ her after Sebastian and Severin were away at school and her empty nest gave her too much time to think on her dead children? What the actual fuck?

Sebastian holds his head in his hands and watches Lexie bounce sleepily. She’d dozed lightly in the car, not quite able to sleep through the tension in the air, and she’s still awake with the uncertainty now, but her little legs are slowing. She’ll likely sleep properly soon, happily ignorant of her complex family tree.

Watching Father soothe Lexie with a signed nursery rhyme was bizarre as fuck. Sebastian wants to call Severin and tell him about it, but not right now.

He hears Jim’s soft tread and offers his husband a tired smile. “How are you feeling?” Jim asks as he brings the promised alcohol over.

Sebastian puffs his cheeks and blows his breath through his lips until they curl. “I don’t think I know,” he says.

“Unsurprising,” Jim says evenly. The glass is cold when he hands it over. It’s grounding. Sebastian drinks, slowly, trying to make himself taste the generous measure instead of knocking it back. He can smell the alcohol, and hear Lexie’s quiet burbling; she’s barely bouncing at all now. Sebastian can see her, and Jim’s thighs, and he looks up at his husband weakly.

“Want anything else?” Jim asks. “Food?”

Sebastian flexes his hand on the cool glass. “No thanks,” he says. “But eat if you’re hungry,” he adds.

Jim shakes his head, eyeing Seb intently but without pressure. “I can wait.”

Sebastian nods and puts his drink aside. “Come here?” he says, and he’s not sure why that sounds like a question. Jim doesn’t seem to mind, because he melds himself to Sebastian’s side immediately. It feels good, but Seb pulls Jim onto his lap and hugs his husband around the middle like a teddybear. Jim doesn’t seem to mind that either. He squeezes Sebastian’s grip closer to him and tilts up his head to rub it affectionately against Sebastian. Jim really is such a kitten, the way he nuzzles and butts his head against you to show love. Sebastian kisses the top of Jim’s dark little scalp.

“Love you too,” Jim says.

“Love you so much,” Sebastian says. He squeezes himself around Jim, greedily breathing in the reassuring scent of him. There’s a whisper of Jim’s shampoo and conditioner underneath the smell of the product he slicks his hair back with, and the collar of his shirt still smells freshly laundered except for the lingering expensive aftershave rubbed off from Jim’s neck, and when Sebastian follows his nose towards Jim’s skin that smells good too. There’s a precise combination of skincare products in the scent of Jim’s cheek, but the back of his neck is just Jim and Seb loosens the front of Jim’s shirt to get a better sniff at it.

Jim laughs a little awkwardly, self-conscious of the attention despite what an egomaniac he is most of the time. Although he understands perfectly well what Sebastian is doing. It’s not unusual for Seb to ground himself in a great huff of Jim’s hair, and Jim finds breathing in the scent of Seb’s chest comforting himself. The rare shyness possibly comes from how difficult it is to hide in a persona when all you’re being used for is the current smell of your neck. Still, Jim loosens his tie and flips it over the back of the couch.

“Want more skin to skin contact?” Jim asks.

“Yes,” Sebastian says at once. “Not- not for sex, just…”

“Yes, I know,” Jim says, twisting to kiss Seb’s cheek even as he unfastens his shirt cuffs. He has his shirt and undershirt off quickly, and Sebastian’s top follows. The press of their warm flesh is comforting, and Sebastian buries his nose against the join between Jim’s neck and shoulder. Jim reaches up and tussles Sebastian’s hair. He has half an eye on Alex, but she’s almost asleep and perfectly content. “Better?” Jim asks Sebastian.

Seb huffs in enough Jim smell to fill his lungs with it. “Yeah,” he agrees.

“Soppy git,” Jim says mildly. He continues playing with Seb’s hair.

“Your soppy git,” Sebastian tells Jim’s shoulder. His arms have curled around Jim’s middle again and he squeezes Jim with grateful possessiveness.

“Always and forever,” Jim says with certainty. The soppy git.

“An’ ever ’n’ ever, mo chroí,” Seb mumbles. He sighs deeply and adds, “What a fuckin’ weird day.”

Half of Sebastian’s syllables are muffled by Jim’s flesh, but Jim understands well enough. “You want to talk about it?” Jim asks.

Lifting his lips marginally off of Jim’s skin, Sebastian says, “Think I’m still taking it in.”

“Understandable,” Jim says. He keeps petting at his husband soothingly.

“It’s not even weird that I had siblings they didn’t bother to make sure I knew about,” Sebastian says. “Between Father’s carrying on with his bastards, and the way none of them talk about anything that might incur feelings, that makes total fucking sense. But- but him saying he worried, about Og’s pregnancies, what sort of bizarro world bollocks is that? He’s never cared about anyone’s wellbeing in his life!”

“Insane,” Jim agrees.

“But of course he wouldn’t mention that before!” Sebastian says. “Of course we can’t admit to having any fucking feelings! Morans have stiff upper lips and do exactly what is expected of them, even if that means having babies their body isn’t ready for! Christ.” Seb breathes in Jim’s shoulder. “I keep picturing Siobhan,” he adds quietly. “She was thin and looked ready to pop the last few months, but Og was way skinnier than her. She really could have died. Not that I’d even have minded at the time? Christ.”

“Families are complicated,” Jim says quietly.

Sebastian snorts weakly. “Fucking A.” He can’t seem to shift the memory of his father claiming to be worried about Gus’ pregnancies; he seemed so much like he was telling the truth. Sebastian doesn’t know what to do with a version of his father who could care about anyone’s wellbeing, even the perfectly behaved oldest daughter who bears his name. Seb wouldn’t quite say Gus is his father’s favourite – she’s not a boy – but she did command his esteem more readily than her younger siblings. Even so, it still doesn’t feel quite believable that their father gave a damn whether she lived or died. Her children aren’t Morans, so in the grand scheme of family dynamics, she and they don’t really matter.

Except apparently Augusta does and did matter to their father. Enough to worry him. What the fuck is that? What does it mean? Why wasn’t there even a sliver of a hint that Lord Augustus Moran was capable of giving a damn back then?

‘I’m not sorry we kept trying for you either.’

Sebastian knows even less how to process that record-scratching revelation. How the fuck can his father say that, and look and sound like he fucking means it, after… after everything?? What the fuck is Sebastian supposed to do with that information?

And does it even fucking matter? Whether his father professes any minute fondness or not, that doesn’t change the fact that he withheld necessary affection whilst Sebastian was growing up. For his whole life, until now, really. Does it even matter if the man actually gives a fuck about him, if he never bloody showed it when it counted? Sebastian needed love and approval back then, when he was a child and Augustus was his daddy, but quite honestly… Sebastian has found love and everything else he needs elsewhere, and has done for decades. He might have craved anything from his father once, but isn’t it all redundant now?

Although if it doesn’t matter anymore, why can’t Seb stop thinking about it?

The next few days pass oddly, with that question bouncing around uncomfortably in Sebastian’s skull. He meets more with Gus, and thankfully their father is absent then, but it takes a few visits before he lets Jim bring Lexie along again.

Watching Gus teach Lexie signs for different types of fabric swatches is fucking bizarre. Jim checks in with Seb, but actually seems to be enjoying it. Sebastian is reminded again that Jim is probably a more natural Moran than he is, seemingly having a ball deliberating over different colours that even Sebastian’s sniper’s eyes cannot seem to tell apart. Jim has opinions on fonts and types of paper for place settings for fuck’s sake. He can hold lengthy conversations with Gus about flowers and even has opinions on the types of leaves and twigs to mix in about those flowers.

It’s fucking perplexing how Sebastian rebelled against every value of his upbringing, only to marry a man who’s good at fucking all of it. Perversely good. Jim would have made a fantastic society wife, and honestly he’d probably have made a tolerable Moran heir, even though he’s a bit small and camp and showy. Sebastian might still sound a bit posh if he’s tired or out of sorts, but Jim is posh, somehow. He’s built for all of this frivolity. And the little control freak fucking lives for event management and any excuse to dazzle with his organisational skills.

Disturbingly, Sebastian is beginning to think that his sister likes Jim. He can picture Jim and Gus going out for cocktails together after this is all over. Probably sharing mild complaints together about what an uncultured boor Sebastian is.

However.

It’s… not exactly a surprise that the more Sebastian involves himself in the planning, the more he realises he’s also somewhat knowledgable about what’s required. He’s been to so many of his mother’s events, and society and charity events more generally, that he knows what is expected and required and considered tasteful (or not). He picks out dove grey (somber) and a pale, bluey-green (sort of optimistic, sky-like, close enough to Tiffany blue to subconsciously encourage the spending of money) for the core colour scheme. He hesitates between gold and silver foil lettering, then decides upon silver for the main event literature and alternating rainbow foil letters for the name cards – gold and red and blue and green, like a rainbow breaking through dark clouds. And a little bit queer, because well. Perhaps he is still a little obnoxious.

Picking food and drink isn’t difficult. He could do that in his sleep. He knows what posh twats like, and taking Jim to restaurants isn’t terribly different from what Sebastian had been used to before. Jim’s likes a bit of nouveau riche showiness now and again, but he likes the classics too, and Seb was raised on those. It’s so fucking simple to know what to order, and who from, that taster sessions aren’t really necessary, although he and Jim go anyway. It’s actually fun, eating tiny bits of veal and fancy little salmon entrees. They didn’t do this sort of thing before their wedding and it’s… it feels a bit like that. It’s kind of the perfect date, because Sebastian can enjoy eating and Jim can enjoy being picky and prattling about arrangements and they both get to spend time together. It’s not exactly Jim spotting for him in the early days of working together, but they make a good team.

Their working past has been helpful for other reasons. As much as Sebastian once tried to leave the people of his old life behind, he knows exactly who the old guard are and who writes cheques for his mother’s whims. With the political sphere never far away from work, Seb hasn’t been able to escape knowing who’s on top and who needs to splash the cash to pretend they’re still important. So the guest list and the sponsors are kind of easy too, especially when cross-referenced with all of the previous years’ spreadsheets.

Except.

Except some of the people who show up every year aren’t bored socialites and politicians trying to buy good publicity. Some of the names…

Sebastian takes up a laptop the next time Jim falls asleep with Lexie and goes over the lists himself again. He doesn’t tend to do much research himself, that’s Jim’s area, but he needs a chance to confirm his growing suspicions before he voices them.

It occurs to Sebastian that there’s always some of Chris’ colleagues floating about at any Moran events. He usually dismisses them as her carousel of meaningless fucks, but… Not even Chris can shag her way through the amount of people on these spreadsheets that are well-bred enough to be there, but still don’t belong. Not really.

Sebastian has made spreadsheets of his own by the time Jim wakes and wanders through the house to find him, a bottle held to Lexie’s insistent mouth. Jim squints Sebastian with sleepy curiosity, which quickly becomes suspicion.

“Are you voluntarily working on your chores without being strong-armed into it?” Jim asks.

“Not exactly,” Sebastian says. He filters some of his research and takes Lexie onto his knee to let Jim peruse the pertinent names. “What do you think?”

Jim reads, and Sebastian watches his expression intently as the cogs whir away behind Jim’s forehead.

“They’re all…”

“Yeah,” Sebastian says.

Jim considers how Mrs Moran tidied things up with the Holmes’. And how she and Chris had worked with The Crocodile to help Rawdon disappear. He scrutinises the spreadsheets some more.

“Would they take my mum, do you think?” Sebastian says. “She’s French. And Chris… she’s a girl but she has qualifications for what she does. She worked hard for it. My mum’s… a society wife.”

“And your mother doesn’t work hard at being the best connected lady in Britain?” Jim says dryly.

“I don’t mean that,” Sebastian says. “I just… I always thought her parties were frivolous. But maybe…” He thinks back, to connections and introductions he has seen her make. He remembers significant political agreements following those connections. But… isn’t that just what a good hostess does? Especially the wife of a foreign ambassador?

“Your mother’s never struck me as the frothy trophy wife type,” Jim says.

“Well no, not ‘frothy’ exactly…” Sebastian admits. His mother has always been incredibly driven and assertive, even when it’s not immediately obvious that she’s bending you to her will. Although she rarely bothers to hide her efforts with him these days. He’s not sure if that is because she is beginning to see him as an adult, or if she herself feels too old to bother playing nice with her subterfuge.

Is it subterfuge?

Jim pats Sebastian on the head almost unsympathetically. “If your mother wanted me to nose this out, she’d have gotten me to run the project for you. But she hasn’t.”

Sebastian widens his eyes at Jim. “So you’re just going to abandon me-?”

Jim snorts and he regards his husband with eyes that twinkle with amusement. “Of course not, my love.” He stands and swans off with Lexie anyway, the little sodding traitor. “Ask Chris!” Jim announces cheerfully from the doorframe.

Sebastian watches with narrowed eyes, and he’s not sure whether it’s the sight of their child in his husband’s arms, or Jim’s fine arse in his sleepwear, but Seb cannot find it in himself to feel truly annoyed. He follows Jim anyway, and settles Lexie, and then fucks Jim up against the hallway wallpaper with a hand over the mouthy little brunet’s gaping maw so he can’t startle their baby with any loud noises.

Jim complains that his nipples are chafed afterwards, and the combination of that, the watersilk patterns indented into his body, and the come Sebastian leaves dripping down Jim’s thighs, has Seb in a far better mood when he leaves to shower and attempt to contact his sister. Jim’s a little indignant about being left to mind the baby in such a state, but also gazes after Sebastian with a reluctant smugness at being so masterfully manhandled. He’s quite cute for a criminal mastermind.

Sebastian is not convinced that he likes being the clever one, and when Chris is surprisingly available without much of a wait, he suspects that’s due to the novelty she finds in him bringing his research to her.

The impression that he’s at all clever doesn’t last. Soon Chris is staring at Sebastian with the sort of exasperated condescension only an aged bull dyke is capable of. Bluntly but not without affection, she says, “You’re really going to have to critically examine your feelings towards women if you’re going to successfully parent a daughter.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Seb yelps. If anything, any respect for women he learnt from admiring her, although his sister is in no way a good role model for feminism, if her bedroom’s revolving door is any indication. Chris probably wouldn’t hit another woman without making her beg for it first, but other than that she’s not exactly a woman’s woman.

Christabelle is capable of liking women individually, but has always been adverse to women as a group (unless said group are in bed with her, and fawning over her). Chris grew up hating her mother and sister and all of the socialites and heiresses and debutantes she was lumped in with, as though by hating them she could better separate herself. If Chris had been born a ‘Christopher’ instead of a ‘Christabelle’, she might have been her father’s favourite. Rawdon had been an exemplary young man, but he wasn’t exactly laddish, whilst Chris has always been a womaniser fond of a cigar and an expensive whiskey.

Sebastian’s not exactly sure if Chris’ problems with her weight when they were younger were an overcompensation, trying to be more like their rod-thin mother and oldest sister, or if… Chris being painfully thin at times was her grasping at a boyish build, trying to pass for the type of Moran she’d have done a better job at being (or at least would’ve felt less suffocated trying to be). Maybe it’s both, or something else entirely. Sebastian was a bit too young at the time to really comprehend what was happening with Christabelle back then, and even as adults that sort of talk would be far too real. Chris rebels, but she’d rather die than talk about her more difficult feelings.

Sebastian always kind of thought… that Chris couldn’t let herself be close to anyone, couldn’t ever settle down with a steady girlfriend or eventually take a wife… because deep down Chris just didn’t like women outside of fucking them. She is attracted to them, certainly, but Seb suspects Chris had taken the rejection of herself and Augusta as insufficient heirs due to their sex as a wider indication of the inferiority of women in general, and has just… never quite been able to see past that. Of course Sebastian has met plenty of blokes in the army who simply didn’t seem to have romantic feelings, but Seb doesn’t feel like Chris is incapable – only that (consciously or not) she keeps herself separate from that sort of thing.

Christabelle of all people thinking she can call Sebastian some sort of misogynist is frankly quite insulting, and more than a little concerning. Sebastian knows that he was a bit of a fuckboy before he met Jim, but he’s also certain he was always much nicer to his girlfriends that Chris ever was to her’s, but perhaps his bar is too low? Is he more of a cunt than he realises?

Surely not. He is friends with women. Vix for one! Although she is quite laddish, and he has employed her to to care for his daughter. All Lexie’s nannies are girls. Is that sexist?

But Vix is trained in close protection! That’s not girly.

Sebastian thinks perhaps he is too sober for this sort of dizzying confrontation.

His sister gives a long, strange look. Mostly when Sebastian looks at his sister he still sees the girl who stood up for him and Sev against their parents, and who was a constant at his bedside in the year he got mauled by a tiger. She’s… an adult now, obviously, significantly bustier and lined around the eyes and mouth, but… Chris looks surprisingly grown up, all of a sudden. Which is mad, because she certainly isn’t the one married and raising a baby, like proper grown-ups do.

Of course, a tiny voice at the back of Sebastian’s head is now piping up that of course he always hated the thought of having an heiress wife – or even some common bird - because he didn’t want to be tied to a woman – who he could not imagine respecting enough to ever be happy with. Sebastian is attracted to women, but he’s never wanted to keep one.

That’s just because no woman could be as bright and wild and sweet as Jim though, right? If Jim had been a girl – that wouldn’t have made much difference surely? Jim’s got a lovely cock, but Sebastian would still love him with or without that precious part.

It might have been nice, to make Lexie themselves.

Wait – is that sexist too? To reduce a woman – a wife’s role – down to that of babymaker?

Sebastian’s head hurts.

“I’m not taking our Dam’s side – I doubt that I ever could – but at some point you do need to realise that she’s not just a wife and mother,” Chris says slowly.

“I- I know that,” Sebastian argues.

“No,” Chris says slowly. “I think… that your idea of respect for our mother is – understandably - a mixture of love and fear, but you don’t share her values... so you don’t think anything she does can be valuable…”

Sebastian blinks. “Well, that’s not true?” he says. “I wouldn’t have Lexie without our Mother’s meddling-”

“But you’re surprised that you can like something she picked for you,” Chris points out.

Well, yes. Massively. “But that’s not because she’s a woman!” Sebastian insists. “That’s because she’s my Mum, and historically, we didn’t exactly get along!”

“I didn’t get along with Rawd, but I still respect him,” Chris says, surprising Sebastian.

“He’s our brother though – can you say the same of O- of Gus?” Seb counters.

“Augusta?” Chris’ nose crinkles. “That’s different.”

“Is it? Because she ticked all the boxes she was supposed to, even though she evidently hated marriage and parenthood, and she’s the only one of us who managed-”

“Oh please, you got there eventually, and you’re going to surpass her because you’ll never get a divorce,” Chris says.

Sebastian’s chest feels funny with that, but he perseveres. “We’re talking about our sister.”

“No, we’re talking about our mother,” Chris retorts. “And… womanhood?”

Sebastian sits back in his seat. “It’s not like you were close to Mum either,” he says. “You hated her at least as much as I did.”

“I didn’t get the benefit of ‘boys will be boys’,” Christabelle says. “And – and I know we both got a hard time for being queer, but there was that extra layer of protection for you – that boys have urges, and can’t control themselves. I had all that bollocks about how young ladies are supposed to be pure, and – and how being married off to a man would fix me, or at least control me, it… It was different.”

“Sorry,” Sebastian says.

Chris chuckles weakly. “It’s not you I want an apology from, sweetheart.” She sighs and introspectively takes apart a layered biscuit.

“Mostly I think I’m like our father,” Chris admits very quietly. “Except I don’t use my fists. Not on women or children.” She peels away the red innard of a Jammy Dodger and toys with it.

“I do see bits of the Dam in me though? In all of us?” Chris says. Sebastian waits, and his sister continues, “I separated myself from my family just like our mother did with her’s. And funnily enough just like we all did – Rawdon and Og and you and Sev and even the first twins if you want to count them – we all grew up unhappy and we all fucked off over it. Our father didn’t. His father allegedly knocked him about worse than he did us, but he stayed and tried to be an exemplary Moran. The independent spine it takes to run – we all got that from the same place and it wasn’t him. That… that’s our mother.”

“Fuck off,” Sebastian says, even though he does value their mother nowadays. “I left on my own, because I had to. Don’t tell me you got help; especially not from her. Surely that was only good enough for precious Rawdon!”

Chris shakes her head. “Raw’s like our father. He didn’t know how to leave without help, and being a Moran was killing him.”

“How did that even happen?” Sebastian asks. “You’d fucked off with your career and even me and Sev barely heard from you. I doubt you and Raw were in contact, and you’d be fielding all of Mum’s calls, so how-”

“It just happened,” Chris says. “I don’t know, it just- He wasn’t coping, and there was an opportunity to get him out- I don’t know. I think I was a bit in shock that even perfect Raw hated all the expectations foisted on us, and Mother actually recognising that and trying to help – I kind of thought she was having another breakdown but I was ready to go along with it if it could get Rawdon out. I’d wanted out myself for so long that it just seemed like the right thing to do.”

“Do you think Father still misses him?” Sebastian asks.

“I don’t fucking care,” Chris says. She chews her lip. “Think it affected Og a lot. Don’t think she had anyone else to talk to. She seems happier after the divorce obviously, but even with all her bitchy little friends I think… She must have been quite lonely.”

Sebastian plays with his dog tags. “I think maybe… I’ve misjudged her a bit? Or at least, the person she is now doesn’t seem as awful as she did back then?”

Christabelle grunts awkwardly. “We all grow up a bit,” she says, although her tone suggests she has no intentions of mending fences with Augusta any time soon (or perhaps ever).

“I didn’t think growing up would be like this,” Sebastian admits.

Chris snorts. “Me neither,” she mutters, and breaks another biscuit. “We both made it through alive though.”

Sebastian grimaces a little but manages not to touch his scarred wrists. That’s getting easier. “We did,” he says evenly.

“So well done us,” Chris says. She eats the stretched out bit of stiff red jam decisively.

“So… womanhood?” Sebastian says awkwardly.

Chris swallows and grimaces back just as awkwardly. “I am hardly the person to ask about that. But I expect… every generation has to unpick and reexamine and rewrite whatever they’ve learned about… life. Not just parenthood and childhood but… all facets of life? I think the Sire genuinely believes he was soft on us compared to what his childhood was like, but that didn’t make him not an utter cunt. I think… if you want to do better, you really have to look at your blind spots and the whole picture. Maybe?”

“And you think I’m sexist?” Sebastian says.

“Given how we grew up, I think it might have been impossible not to be,” Christabelle says slowly. “I’m not saying you’re a prick, or a bad parent or person or anything, just that… kids internalise stuff. And you and Jim are both intelligent men. Kind of neurotic men. If you’re going to raise an intelligent daughter, maybe you need to think about what she’s absorbing when she’s soaking up everything around her. And I’m not bringing this up to be a prick myself, it’s only that… being a girl is hard enough. Not bringing her up like her birthright is all that matters isn’t magically going to give her an easy life, you know?”

Sebastian absorbs this, trying not to feel slighted or concerned that childrearing suddenly seems more intimidating. It’s not that he doesn’t anticipate difficulties with raising a daughter or possibly genius child, but what the fuck will he do if Lexy’s mentally ill when she’s older?

He fidgets nervously with his ring, and supposes he’d try his best, like he would for any other loved one, except harder probably? And it’s not like he’s never gotten Jim through plenty of mental wobbles, or tried to support Chris or Sev when they were younger, or experienced such himself.

He is much more in control of his anger than he used to be, and he only really feels empty when he’s missing Jim, and Jim promised to stay. Sure Sebastian gets stressed and anxious at times – especially over his mother’s fucking event – but he’s fine, deep down. Sebastian feels secure, and has faith that with the exception of a significant crisis, he’ll be fine, and be able to ensure his loved ones are too.

So he’s not going to panic. If Lexie’s ever depressed, he’ll support her; of course he will. And if she struggles with eating like Jim or Chris have, Sebastian will help her with that too. No one’s ever happy all of the time, but his child will be loved and supported and she’ll be fine.

Everything will be fine.

“So… how long have I had a blindspot about Mum’s career?” Sebastian says.

Chris curls her lip. “Forever? Don’t get me wrong; it surprised me too when I realised. But I was still a teenager, just a more observant one than you in this instance.”

“Wait, so you knew before Rawdon… left?”

Chris hums in affirmative. “It wasn’t something we spoke much about until then. Well, obviously I avoided conversing with our Dam as much as possible.”

“Like you do now?” Sebastian scoffs.

“I don’t have to like her just to hate her less,” Christabelle says.

“You still hate her?” Sebastian says. His gut feels tight; he used to too, but he doesn’t anymore. Is that disloyal? Chris took more active care of him in his childhood than their mother seemed to.

“I don’t know? Sometimes?” Christabelle says. “I’m not as bitter about it, and I don’t think about it normally. If I wasn’t spending time with you and the others recently, maybe I wouldn’t think of it at all.”

“So you’d still have your own blindspots?” Sebastian says.

“I’m only introspective when I’m being cruel to myself,” Chris says dismissively. “I’m no one’s blueprint, I just… don’t want your kid to ever feel like I did? Or… like Og or even our Mother? If she’d felt valued growing up, maybe she wouldn’t have married our Father and none of us would even exist.”

“Well that’s not something I want to feel thankful for,” Sebastian grimaces. He chews on a biscuit for a moment then swallows and asks, “Did you not get closer with Mum? When you helped her get Raw out? Didn’t that… I don’t know… let you see behind the curtain a bit?”

“Briefly, a little?” Chris admits softly. “But we’re such different people. We’ll probably never really like each other… It’s just easier to be around her now I’m not so angry anymore. Not that I’ve forgiven anything, it just… doesn’t mean much to me anymore.”

“Thanks for being around more,” Seb says quietly. “Even if it’s weird or whatever, it… I’ve missed you. It’s nice having you around. And I want my kid to know you, you know?”

“Don’t be soft,” Christabelle says, but she gives Sebastian a warm smile that makes him feel seen and loved and safe. Sort of like it did as a kid, except he’s not stressed and sore and scared the way he was back then. This is nicer.

Still, Sebastian teases, “Thought we’re supposed to be more feminist, doesn’t that mean talking about our feelings?”

“Fuck off,” Chris says easily. “That’s a you problem – I’m not carrying any lines so I have no need to grow up or do better.”

Sebastian tilts his head. “Don’t you think it’s kind of the point? Of staying alive, to be better and feel better?”

Christabelle laughs at him. “Stop trying to parent me. It’s cute with Jim, but I’m far too set in my ways.”

“Mum’s mellowed,” Sebastian says.

Chris grimaces. “I’ve never been her.” She sits forwards. “Besides, I am having far too much fun being a stick in the mud. I wouldn’t know who I was, if I wasn’t surviving out of spite.”

“Doesn’t that get old?” Sebastian says.

“Of course it does,” Christabelle says, “but I’m not built for anything else.”

“You were always soft with me. And Sev,” Sebastian says.

“Someone had to be,” Chris shrugs.

“Maybe it’s about time you let someone be soft with you too,” Sebastian says.

“Oh, shut up,” Chris says. “I’m all for you getting your life together, but keep me out of it. I’m not built for monogamy or raising babies or all the rest of it.”

“Maybe-”

“Sebastian. Stop. I don’t need you to fix me. I just wanted to say my piece in the hopes that my niece won’t need much fixing in the future, alright? I’m fine as I am,” Chris sighs.

“I wasn’t, when I was shagging around like you did,” Sebastian says mildly.

“We’re not the same person. And you’ve been smitten with Jim for forever, so you haven’t had quite as much practice,” Chris says.

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “I’m not measuring dicks with you.”

“Because you’d lose,” Chris says easily. “Now, can we talk about something else?”

“Like Mum?” Sebastian says.

“Oh, shut up,” Christabelle says, throwing a piece of biscuit at him.

“Well, you’re smart! Do you think she wanted me to figure out that-”

“That she’s got a more influential job than father, and that she’s fucking good at it, as much as it pains me to acknowledge it?” Chris says, dry as dust. “Maybe she’s asking you to see her. Or perhaps she’s trying to tell you that women really can have a family and career, despite what our upbringing suggests. She might simply want you to know that your baby has options… a legacy that’s not entirely shit. Mother’s been responsible for keeping this country together more times than I like to consider.”

“You think?” Sebastian says.

“No, kiddo, I know – because my bosses were quite aware of how damned talented she is, and despite all the hard graft I did to get in, being a legacy went a long way to overcoming my gender. And my queerness. And… my mental health… whatever. It’s not like there was a world war on when I was applying to get in,” Christabelle says.

“Oh,” Sebastian says.

“Yeah, and you thought being compared to Rawdon when you were going through basic training was bad,” Chris scoffs.

“It was,” Sebastian mutters.

Christabelle laughs. “Shame we’re not orphans, isn’t it?” she says. She nudges him. “Now you should probably stop wasting time and get back to party-planning.”

Sebastian looks at his half-drunk tea. “Are you kicking me out?”

“Yes,” Chris says shamelessly. “I have a fanny appointment to keep, and even with a strap I’m not going to be able to keep it up if you make me keep talking about Mother.”

“You’re definitely where I get my charm from,” Sebastian deadpans, and Chris snorts.

“I love you, now get out. And make sure your stupid soiree is an environment that can facilitate craftwork. Because Mummy Dearest has told muggins here in no uncertain terms that I need to carry the slack there,” Chris grumbles lightly. “As if Og isn’t perfectly happy to care for her precious Daddy and let our Dam get on with things.”

“Maybe she’s grooming you to take over too,” Sebastian suggests.

Christabelle looks horrified. “Fuck that. I’ll move to Canada.”

Sebastian grins as he gets his coat. “She’d probably find you.”

Chris scowls. “I’ll knock on Raw’s door and demand to sleep on his couch. He can keep her off my back; he owes me one.”

“Do you keep in touch with him?” Sebastian asks. “I know he heard about… you know. Life.”

“Sometimes,” Chris says mildly. “We’re not close or anything… but we talk sometimes. I think it was hard for him to leave everything behind even though he hated it.”

“You think you’d have done a better job? At fucking off and leaving us all to it?” Sebastian asks.

Chris looks at him. “I know we’ve lived quite separate lives, but do you really think I’d stay anywhere I couldn’t come to you immediately if you needed me? Or Sev?”

Sebastian’s eyes burn. “No, I don’t think so,” he says honestly.

“Good, now fuck off out of my house and stop all this wet chat,” Christabelle says affectionately.

Seb tilts up his chin. “Are you this soft with Jasp too?”

“Oh fuck right off before I throw you out,” Chris says. “I’m phoning your husband and telling him you were so badly behaved he shouldn’t spank you for a week.”

Sebastian splutters, and Chris grins unrepentantly at him.

“Christ, don’t,” Seb says. “I promise to be good.”

“I’ve heard that before,” Chris derides, but she ruffles his hair before pushing his skull down to kiss his temple.

“Love you,” Sebastian says.

Chris’ nose crinkles. “Love you too, you soppy git.”

Sebastian does leave, and once he’s back in London he has to go for a walk first so he can think things over before he goes home. There’s a lot to think about. There always is, recently.

It’s approaching dark when Jim texts Sebastian, just checking up, but Seb heads home then. He’s not quite ready to talk his thoughts over, but it’s nice to have his family to come home to.

Jim’s soft and domestic and he can tell both that Sebastian has thoughts and that he’s not worked them over enough to share yet. Jim simply kisses Seb hello, and lets Seb kiss their baby, and then he continues on with what he’s doing: attempting to feed their little daughter.

As Seb watches fondly, he realises all the fussing Jim does about what their baby consumes (organic and whatnot) probably comes from Sebastian himself teaching Jim about nutrients in food when Jim came to live with him all those years ago. Having been so neglected, fussing after is kind of Seb’s love language, and somewhere along the way Jim picked that up and replicated it.

Seb’s mother fusses too though. Even when Seb was young and she was mostly distant, she did fuss, and try to make him the best she could.

Mostly Sebastian thinks of Chris as the only older Moran who gave a fuck about his feelings and wellbeing when he was young. Like Seb, she hated being fussed over. It hadn’t felt like care – it had felt constraining. It… doesn’t now. It doesn’t feel okay that she did it, exactly, but it feels harder to be bitter about being constantly henpecked now Sebastian understands his mother had been young and scared and hurting.

Chris’ suggestion that their father was any sort of victim was bollocks though. Seb does believe the man was weak, but not soft, no matter how he might be with Og. So what if he’d been abused by his own father or lost some kids? He’d still been a monster. Seb doesn’t want his own kid anywhere near anything to do with that-

Oh. Sebastian suddenly thinks of his grandfather’s Webley, and how he’d thought his father stealing it had been some sort of petty spite or greed. But Sebastian had heard he was ‘lucky’ to have been whipped with his father’s belt so often, because apparently his grandfather thought nothing of lifting a fire poker to give a beating. Maybe Augustus just hadn’t wanted Sebastian to have anything from a man he’d hated? That made living in the family seat all the more fucked up, with mementos of fathers and fathers’ fathers going back generations upon generations.

Although Augustus hadn’t lived in Moran Manor as a young man, had he? So Chris was wrong, about running away only being in their mother’s genes. The Sire had gotten a job that let him fuck off to Iran, and then India, and he hadn’t moved back to England until Sebastian’s grandfather was ready to be interned in the family crypt.

Was old Gus’ career really about politics, or was he running away? And was he running away from the death of some kids, or from the place he’d been abused in, and all the expectations that waited for him there? Does it matter at all?

Christ, growing up is horrible. Sebastian doesn’t want to have this level of understanding for his abusive arsehole father. It certainly doesn’t change anything.

But presumably Augustus didn’t grow up dreaming of beating his future kids… And he was allegedly less harsh than his own father when delivering violence in the name of discipline. Sebastian is certain he will never raise his hand to his daughter (or any other possible future children) but it’s not like he’s never had a temper. Every fucking one of the Moran kids have a temper, and so do both his parents.

But Jim’s annoying plenty of the time, and whilst Sebastian has misjudged handling that now and again, it’s not like Jim is remotely afraid of him or that temper.

He’s… maybe not one hundred percent at peace since he came back from the dead, but they’re definitely comfortable with each other generally. Sebastian doesn’t doubt Jim feels safe with him, and given their equally shitty childhoods, Seb trusts that Jim wouldn’t tolerate Lexie growing up in a family that wasn’t safe.

Although, given how low that bar has been… perhaps that shouldn’t be much of a comfort. Sebastian’s father seems content that he fucked Sebastian up less than his father did him, and Sebastian by no means grew up feeling safe, supported or happy. He does not want that experience for his own daughter.

Given these thoughts, Sebastian is not in a particularly good mood when his mother deigns to check in with him. It is uncomfortable to hear positive health updates for his father when he asks after his mother’s own health. But that’s who she is; of course caring for her rotten husband is more important to her than anything of herself, and reporting that improvement is a report on her own tolerable existence really.

It feels strange for Sebastian to report that he is doing quite well with managing her charitable event. Jim and Og have probably already informed her of that anyway.

Still, Mrs Moran notes Sebastian’s discomfort, and asks after it bluntly. Mostly he likes how straightforward his mother has become in her old age, but sometimes it is unwelcome.

Sebastian doesn’t even know what to say. “Do you think I take after you?” he asks at last.

His mother regards him thoughtfully. “More than the others, I suspect,” she says eventually.

Sebastian has no idea what that even means. He used to think Augusta was like their mother, but he is beginning to realise their resemblance is largely skin-deep; Mrs Moran would never have divorced her husband no matter what he did.

“I always thought I was most like Chris,” Sebastian says.

Mrs Moran shakes her head. “I know you always looked up to her, but she’s your father’s child through and through.”

Sebastian makes a face. Other than the womanising, and the smoking, and the girthiness… Okay fine, but growing up she’d been the polyglot lesbian with an eating disorder and a propensity to arson. She certainly hadn’t been like their father as a child! She… had perhaps tried to be, unless she’d been mimicking Rawdon, with how she’d been so good at everything a young Lord ought to be, except for well-behaved.

But quite honestly their parents weren’t even that, so why would she or Sebastian be?

“You don’t think she gets her brains from you?” Sebastian says, skirting what he’d meant to ask in the first place.

He can hear his mother notice; it’s in the intake of her breath. Just barely, most people would never notice, but Sebastian has been attuned to the tiny expressions of someone’s moods all his life. It’s a survival instinct, even if these days he often turns his ability towards caretaking and tenderness.

He has no idea how to take care of his mother though. For all she sticks to her husband, Seb’s unconvinced anyone ever has looked after her. He’s never considered her that sort of person.

It’s strange to consider that perhaps everyone is the sort of person to need and crave care at least occasionally. Given that he’s married to an urban legend (and is one in his own right) perhaps it shouldn’t be such a revelation that all people are actually people, even the scarily competent ones.

“Your father’s not stupid you know; he didn’t get his job purely because of his last name,” Mrs Moran says stiffly.

“Dumb animals don’t know any better; it’s worse if you think he has any brain at all,” Sebastian sighs.

To his surprise, his mother sighs as well. “Perhaps you’re right,” she says, and that’s even more startling.

“Are you alright?” Sebastian asks.

Mrs Moran chuckles. “Yes, darling. But thank you for asking.” Her voice is dry and fond and somewhat tired, but not alarmingly so.

Sebastian wants to ask why she’s stuck him with the event-planning. Why not Chris, if she’ll be working then anyway?

But that’s it’s own answer. Not only are both jobs too involved for a mere mortal to accomplish both, Christabelle wouldn’t take charge of planning an event. She fucking hates the society stuff, and she doesn’t have enough loyalty to their mother to get guilted into doing so.

For all Jim gets teased for his mommy issues, Sebastian is somehow his mother’s son. Even Sev couldn’t pull this off; he’s a mix of Sev and Chris (especially the pyrotechnics) and his own self, and he wouldn’t be able to pull off an important event to their mother’s standards.

But Sebastian pays attention. He’s had a lifetimes of paying attention, and he knows what matters, even some of the how and the why.

“I won’t fuck it up, Mum,” Sebastian says. “I’ll get it right.”

“I know, Sebastian,” his mother says. For a moment he thinks she’ll (not entirely jokingly) threaten to redden the back of his legs if he fucks up, but she doesn’t. “You’re a big boy,” she teases gently instead.

Sebastian swallows. The thought that she might be grooming him to take over anything important to her when she’s frailer in the future is an unwelcome thing. It’s bewildering and awful to thing of his mother as one day being frail, or worse, not being there. Even if she’s been a mean bitch for most of his life.

“I love you,” Sebastian says, and it’s not such a strange thing to say, but it seems to startle her.

“I love you too,” his mother says, and her words are in English but her accent’s suddenly very French, and it’s bloody strange to hear her voice raw with unfiltered affection.

She ends the call not much later, for once not even babbling about her granddaughter. Sebastian gets it: it’s a fucking weird and emotional conversation for him too. He’s glad to be able to walk away from it quickly.

It’s a relief to be able to go to Jim and Lexie afterwards. Jim’s put some collection of educational songs on for Lexie, utter drivel in Mandarin about a panda bear’s bum or something, and he seems glad of an excuse to turn it off as if he hadn’t forced the choice on himself. Perhaps it’s a good thing that Sebastian has so much on his mind right now, because usually he finds himself with stupid kids’ songs stuck in his head.

Lexie’s got her little plush star toy with her, which seems to be becoming a favourite. It crinkles and gently light up in places, but it’s not as obnoxious as a lot of her other, noisier toys. She bashes Sebastian with the star as he picks her up and he inwardly marvels that she’s getting heavier already.

He’s not worried that she’ll ever be too big to lift, even if she takes her size from his gene pool, but it’s bizarre recognising that his little baby is constantly growing. There’s no fucking way he’s sending her to boarding school; he’s homeschooling her forever. Like a sane and healthy person, obviously.

Jim buries his toes under Seb’s thigh when he sits down on the couch. He hasn’t even got a waistcoat or tie on, just a (for him) casual shirt not quite buttoned all the way. He looks ridiculously domestic, and soft, and content, and Sebastian sort of wants to ask him for another baby.

Although maybe that’s Lexie’s cute smell making Sebastian broody again.

“No,” Jim says like he can read Seb’s mind.

“I didn’t say anything!” Sebastian protests.

“I am not dealing with night feeds for two babies at the same time,” Jim says firmly. “If you want more kids you have to wait until the one you’ve got is a little more self-sufficient.”

“I come from a big family...” Sebastian says.

“I don’t,” Jim says shortly. “You can have two kids. Three, max. That’s it. And not all at once!”

“You know technically, you’re a Moran, so you do belong to a big family already,” Seb says.

Jim leans forward and covers Alex’s ears, then stares his husband pointedly in the eyes as he says quite firmly, “Fuck right off. If we have an entire litter we will never find time to have sex.”

“Don’t touch her when you say that word!” Sebastian yelps.

Jim raises a brow at him.

“Okay, maybe you’re right about not having a dozen, but one or two more couldn’t hurt,” Sebastian mutters.

“Ask again once Alex is teething,” Jim says.

Sebastian pales. “Maybe we could get the others ready-grown. Clone them or something.”

Jim snickers. “Clone, not adopt?”

“I’ve already gotten myself a very nice stray; I doubt I’d be that lucky again,” Sebastian says.

Jim gives him an unimpressed look. “You call me Daddy. If anything, I adopted you.”

“Oh please, you were feral before I took you home and gave you love and a regularly sore bum,” Sebastian grins.

“Don’t think I won’t take our child and put her in her bouncer so I can give you a very sore bottom,” Jim warns.

“Do you promise?” Sebastian says.

Jim rolls his eyes, but once Alex is down for the night he sets about putting Sebastian in his place. It’s rather excellent, and saves Seb from having to think about anything else for a while.

Sebastian sleeps afterwards, but when he wakes up it’s still dark, and Jim is lit by the glow of his phone screen.

“She slept through her feed time,” Jim says softly.

Sebastian blinks. “Really?”

“She’s growing up,” Jim says.

“That’s horrible, but also my fucking god, more sleep,” Sebastian says.

Jim flashes a grin at him.

“Why are you still awake?” Sebastian asks.

Jim shrugs. “Looking for projects. I don’t want to be one of those parents who doesn’t know what to do with themselves when their kid goes to school. Or nursery. The web’s going to take some time to retire without imploding and leaving a power vacuum, but I’d like to find something interesting by the time we’re sitting down to our first parent-teacher meetings.”

“We don’t need to go to the meetings if we don’t let her go to school,” Sebastian says.

Jim scoffs. “You can’t lock our daughter up just because you don’t want to share her. Alex is far too smart not to keep mentally stimulated, and god help you if she turns her brains to foiling you and your rules.”

“Fuck, my rebelliousness and your genius,” Sebastian says with a horrified crinkle of his nose.

“Still want a dozen kids?” Jim asks dryly.

“Maybe we could have some stupid ones?” Sebastian muses.

“Not with our gene pool,” Jim says. “Might be nice to have a blonde kid as well though.”

Sebastian grins. “You love me.”

Jim’s expression twitches, caught between exasperated and amused. “Of course I do.”

“I’m your beloved husband and we have a baby together,” Seb grins, crawling closer.

Jim puts his phone aside. “That’s true. I thought you valued sleep though?”

“That’s tomorrow Seb’s problem,” Sebastian says blithely.

Jim scoffs. “Fine. But you won’t be able to have middle-of-the-night sex on a worknight if you get a civilian job, you know. Serious stuff, working with weapons.”

Sebastian scoffs. “Got a weapon for you right here.”

“That’s all the romance I need, darling,” Jim says, then rolls on top of his husband and starts kissing a path down his thick neck.

Things continue to go well, both in Sebastian’s married life and with the event planning. Things are coming together, and Jim keeps flicking Seb proud smirks like this might actually all go to plan.

He and Jim are both surprised what Sebastian has achieved, but it’s a pleasant surprise.

Augusta seems surprised as well, but she’s nice about it. She’s been coming to them recently, so there’s no chance of their father showing up, and it’s strange getting to know her. It’s also fucking weird watching her bond quietly with Lexie, more so than Sebastian ever remembers her doing with her own children. But they’re grown men now, and have been for some time. There’s been years for Gus to discover that perhaps she’s not terrified of babies. If that’s bittersweet for her, she doesn’t mention it.

The fucking strangest thing is that Jim and Gus get along. Jim’s flashy new money, and Gus is restrained old money, but they both enjoy fine things and only dress in the finest couture. Gus recognises and compliments Jim’s smallest accessories and flourishes in a way Sebastian is unable to emanate, and Jim thoroughly enjoys being noticed and appreciated. Watching them together, gossiping about clothes and who’s worn them and how, drinking the same expensive wines, and built with the same sharp angles, it’s uncanny. They look more like siblings than Sebastian reckons he and Gus do.

He doesn’t expect that to feel comfortable. It’s not really something Sebastian can articulate, especially not to Chris, although he thinks if she ignored her dislike of their sister she would see it. But then, she likes Jim, and it would be uncomfortable to realise there’s anything about Og she might not wholly dislike.

It’s a bit easier to talk to Severin about it. It’s not that it’s not strange for Sev to hear that Sebastian is getting used to their sister, nor even more odd to find her in Sebastian and Jim’s home when he has leave, but he has less of a bitter feud with Augusta than Chris does. He doesn’t really care if Gus is participating in whatever Sebastian has going on.

Of course, Sev has been spending a lot of time with not only Irene but Richie, so he’s not in much position to talk. It’s a little weird that he’s spending a lot of time with Jim’s brother, but also… not. Seb and Sev are different people, and so are Jim and Richie, but they are not so different that Sev and Rich aren’t finding themselves complimentary to each other’s personhood than their brothers do with each other. Which is fine: ‘weird’ is almost normal for them all of late.

Actually no: it doesn’t exactly feel ‘normal’ watching Richie and Severin fawn over Lexie together, because it’s quite obvious that Richie wants kids. A whole litter of them.

And it’s not that Sebastian thinks Severin couldn’t handle being a dad, even of a litter. He was always capable of getting scores of cubs and scouts and cadets and squaddies to follow his lead, even if that direction was into hijinks of the highest order. Which is fine, because there’s just enough of Jim’s bite in Richie that Sebastian thinks Rich could wrangle Sev’s messier instincts, and given that Irene punishes people for a living, she’d probably be able to keep Severin out of too much trouble too.

It’s just… Severin has always been like Sebastian and not. As the younger twin, Sev emanated Seb growing up, until Sebastian got mauled and Sev developed some independence the year he went to Eton alone; then being on the Oxford rowing team when Seb wasn’t. Seeing Severin casually dandle Lexie on his knee is both like looking into a mirror and not: Sebastian can no longer imagine not being a father, whilst Severin… he looks oddly grown up holding his niece, but he’s not a father.

It’s strange seeing that one day Sev might be. It’s not that no one ever thought the Moran twins would knock anyone up: that seemed likely for a pair of mad shaggers. But actually being a daddy is an entirely different beast. Sev has dated around like Seb and Chris have, but these days it’s but not as casually as Chris (or as seriously as Seb now he’s married). He might actually form serious, settled relationships, and start a family, and somehow that makes Sebastian feel old.

A lot of things make Sebastian feel old these days, but it’s not necessarily a bad feeling. It’s just different.

Except when his knees ache a little from spending too much time on the floor playing with Lexie. That’s a bastard. Especially because Jim, despite his much worse diet and lack of a proper exercise regime, is just ever so slightly younger but much sprier, the smug little prick. He’s been teasing, but also increasing the fish in Seb’s diet and that’s been helping with the stiff joints, but it doesn’t quite comfort when Jim jokes his mighty tiger is becoming an arthritic old housecat.

Sebastian mostly thinks Jim’s saying such things because he loves when Seb pounces and punishes him, but it still bruises his ego. It was hard enough not spanking Jim’s cute and deserving little arse whilst Seb’s tendons were healing; the prospect of ever being too arthritic to give Jim the sound spankings he deserves is an appalling thought. For both of them.

Sebastian hated being forced to take codliver oil as a child, but he’ll swallow it every day if the alternative is struggling to put Jim in his place. Although that’s never likely to be a real concern; Sebastian will always outweigh Jim.

And if Seb ever got truly infirm, having Jim ride him daily wouldn’t truly be a hardship.

So things are strange, but not terrible. And that’s how it feels when the date of the event looms near. Sebastian is a little nervous, but things run like clockwork that morning, and strangest of all, a little of the bubbling in his gut might be excitement.

He might actually get this right. And even if he does fuck up some little things, he’s sure he’s done well enough that his mother won’t devolve into histrionics and disowning him.

Although honestly, maybe she never would. She hasn’t disowned Sev for poisoning his father. Perhaps the Moran boys can run amok now, if they want to.

Sebastian finds he doesn’t actually want to. He’s pleased, seeing the venue kitted out exactly as he planned, and finding all the little details are exactly as he intended.

There’s usually always little things that go wrong with an event, but very little happens by way of small mishaps, and Sebastian is prepared for those minor things that do crop up. Everything seems to run smoothly. Everything is in place. The venue and the catering and the auction events and the guest list and the speakers… it’s a fucking breeze.

The most awkward thing seems to be having Lexie in attendance, given that it’s a fundraising event for a charity that works with maternity and children’s hospitals, and the families who have lost young children and babies, but there’s no fucking way she’s being out of the sight of her parents given the catastrophe that was her christening. Of course she’s not likely to be exposed to poisons, but Jim has her in his arms the whole time, and loads of people come to coo over her, and compliment her perfect features and pretty outfit, and normally crowds are annoying but Jim doesn’t seem to mind preening on behalf of his daughter.

And carrying their baby all the time has been giving Jim a bit more muscle in his arms than he used to have, which Sebastian finds rather nice. He doesn’t have much time to think that over whilst he’s overseeing things, but he has it in mind to mention to his husband later, when he can do something about what a ridiculously sexy little prat he is bound to for all of eternity.

There’s a great bustle of people, and whilst no one’s using cash there’s a heavy smell of money in the air, and Sebastian tries to not bare his teeth like a circus animal during the opening speech which he quickly passes on to his mother.

His father is in attendance of course, and that’s aggravating, but Sebastian forces himself to feign serenity and focus on his job: making everything go perfectly. It’s rather tiring, being perfect.

It almost catches him by surprise when his mother stands on stage and praises him. It’s a normal thing to do of course, hosts and organisers thanking and praising, but her tone is abnormally sincere. It’s been doing that more and more recently. Sebastian doesn’t know how to feel about it. He might let himself feel a tiny bit pleased, later when Jim’s asleep on his chest, but right now he doesn’t have time for emotions. He’s prowling, on the hunt for anything not going ahead according to his plans nor his mother’s whims.

There’s a lot of people around that Sebastian doesn’t particularly like, but that’s to be expected: they’re where the money comes from. Or where tradecraft happens, presumably, as Chris’ large bosom is pressing against some rich man’s young wife and they’re whispering very intently. Then again, Chris might simply be about to get laid, although she’s always been game for multitasking.

After the reception greeting, there’s mingling and drinking and bodies flow around the venue, getting drunk and donating swathes of money during the silent auction. There’s a sea of people, and they’re all so fucking rich and mostly very boring, but Sebastian tries to be polite and it’s actually very useful, being able to beg off mind-numbing conversations with the valid excuse that he is rather busy.

Occasionally Seb sees a friendly face, like Richard or Auntie Diptie. He makes a bit of time to chat with them individually, and it’s quite pleasant. They’re all to be seated at the same table later, and Sebastian is actually looking forward to that. He’ll still have to pay attention to what’s going on, but he’s not his mother and he’s certainly going to sit down to eat. He better not be interrupted either, because he’s fucking pleased with the menu.

Strangely, he feels a bit like a soldier again, being alert and constantly on his feet and thinking about his belly whilst he sniffs out danger. It’s not… fun exactly, but it is enrichment after so long doing things that he doesn’t really care for.

He’s quite pleased with a lot of the small details though. The colour scheme is nice, and when they finally sit down to dinner he’s proud of the foil lettering on the table settings. He’s heard the term ‘rainbow baby’ by now, so he thinks the literature balances somberness and hope quite well, but it’s also a little bit queer and he likes that bit of ‘fuck you’ to everyone in attendance who’d have a problem with that. His mother might say something withering later, but he’s allowed to have one thing that’s just to please himself.

Well. The menu’s not dreadful either, but she can’t have any complaints about that. She’s not much of an eater, but the meal’s not for her, it’s for the guests putting their hands in their pockets. It’s just the right amount of rich, without soaking up too much alcohol. And the dessert is wonderfully boozy. Sebastian would love to have a hearty portion of that, but sadly he’s going to have to stay professional until the guests are gone. Then, when he has a donation tally that his mother can accept, he’s going to have a great big dessert in the small hours of the morning once most of the clean-up is done, and then he’s going to go home to his family (Jim is going to take Lexie home near her bedtime) and he is going to collapse into bed and rest and never do anything like this again. Until his mother insists of course.

And she might, if he honestly doesn’t fuck anything up.

Which he doesn’t, technically. Except that when Jasper bought a ticket for himself and a guest, Sebastian didn’t pay much attention to the plus one. Why would he? Jasper had never done anything interesting in his life; somehow he’d managed to make even going to Cambridge instead of Oxford, and joining the RAF instead of the army, a total non-event.

So he was probably due for some spectacular misjudgement really. Which is the politest term Seb can think of to describe seeing fucking Euros Holmes hanging off his half-brother’s bony arm.

“What the actual fuck,” Sebastian says aloud, and his mother isn’t within hearing distance, so he escapes a clip around the ear for swearing in public.

Fuck the event. Sebastian goes to find Jim.

Jim has Alex, and a bunch of admirers that Sebastian cuts through by the force of his urgency alone. Jim recognises that something is wrong, and he quickly but politely excuses them both.

“What’s the matter?” Jim asks in a low voice, holding their daughter with renewed protectiveness.

“Jasper’s date. Do you see her?” Sebastian mutters, directing his husband’s view but shielding Jim’s body with his own as he does so.

The meagre colour in Jim’s already pale face drains. “The fuck is she doing here?”

“I don’t know yet, but will you take Jellybean home?” Sebastian murmurs. “I don’t want-”

“I don’t want her anywhere near here either,” Jim says firmly. He still looks grey, but he also looks focused now.

Sebastian kisses the top of Jim’s head firmly, and kisses Lexie too. “Get home safe. Sev’s around somewhere if you need someone watching your back.”

Jim nods with rare obedience and moves to go, but then hesitates. “Don’t… let her mess with your head, or confront her or anything. Just keep an eye on her and on every-fucking-else around you. Maybe she’s a distraction-”

“I’ll be careful,” Sebastian says.

Jim chews his lip. “And maybe get your Mam to find an excuse for Jasp to go do something anywhere that isn’t right next to that bitch.”

Sebastian nods, and notices Sev in the crowd over Jim’s head. He signals discretely to his twin and Severin comes, looking confused but alert.

“Get them home safe,” Seb says without preamble. “Jim’ll fill you in.”

Severin looks briefly surprised to be trusted after the bawling out he’d gotten for Alexdrina being potentially near poison, but he falls into the role quickly.

“Take Richie with you,” Sebastian adds with a frown. “His face…”

Sev obviously wants to ask, but he evidently appreciates the urgency and does as he’s told instead. Sebastian feels a little relief, and a little more when he eventually gets a photo message proving everyone’s home safe, but mostly his blood is up and he’s simply waiting for things to go wrong.

But he keeps managing his mother’s event smoothly, because even Euros Holmes showing up probably isn’t a good enough excuse to fuck this up.

Euros finds Sebastian’s tense gaze and she smiles. She leans into Jasper, who’s so much younger than her, the stupid little prick, and she pets at his shiny, brown hair. Those curls look not dissimilar to Sherlock Holmes’.

Privately, Sebastian has been grateful that Jim teases it’s Rawdon and his home cooking he finds the most attractive of Seb’s siblings. Not Severin, who’s so alike Sebastian but not quite, and has less significant scarring. Not Jasper, who’s lanky and curly-haired and looks like fucking Sherlock Holmes.

Sebastian wants to charge at Euros and tear her limb from limb. Rip her fingers from Jasp’s hair and right off her fucking hand.

But he doesn’t. He has a goal, and it’s got fuck all to do with that bitch.

Everyone gets seated for dinner, and no one gets poisoned.

His mother notices Euros’ presence though. She goes to Sebastian and he explains Jim’s empty seat and she looks like she’s contemplating a little murder herself.

Sebastian does love his mother.

“It’s fine,” he says. “Just leave it. We have the event to focus on right now.”

“Fuck the event,” says Mrs Moran. “I’ll tear that ugly cunt’s hair right out.”

Sebastian guffaws, surprised and pleased. “Please don’t,” he says fondly. “I’ve got everything in hand. Besides, aren’t you friends with her mother?”

“If her mother didn’t want her little bitch daughter harmed, she should have kept her better in line. I didn’t just smooth over Jim’s missteps previously; I make it thoroughly clear that if she or anyone else messed with my family again I’d wreak fiery vengeance upon them,” his mother says darkly.

Sebastian flashes her a smile. “So you’re where Chris and Sev get the arson bug.”

His mother looks startled, then rueful. “Don’t you dare tell them,” she warns, and she pats Seb’s cheek like he’s the naughty one.

“We’re both going to behave,” Sebastian says. “Go tend to your husband.”

She raises a brow at him for that, but she does as she is told.

His mother. His actual mother. Being obedient. Listening to him, of all people. It’s the weirdest thing Sebastian’s seen in his entire fucking life.

If he can handle his mother, Euros Holmes is nothing.

Seb goes to Euros and Jasper after dinner, and fuck them both for making him unable to enjoy the dinner he’s been salivating over for days.

Euros has that eerie, intelligent and predatory look Jim has, but it’s also nothing like Jim’s. Jim is Sebastian’s lover, and this is the woman who took that lover from Sebastian. For two fucking years.

Sebastian wants to tear her throat out with his bare hands. In front of everyone. And she knows it.

Sebastian’s heart is pounding. If she’s smarter than Jim, she could outsmart him, but he’s bigger, and stronger. He should kill her, now, before she can fuck up anything else. Two years of life with Jim she stole from him!

His mother won’t be impressed if Sebastian murders a guest in front of everyone at her event, even if she offered to do it herself. Jim could probably deal with even this number of witnesses, but that’s an amount of work they don’t need right now. Not if they’re trying to quietly retire.

Jasper looks puzzled, but he’s not stupid. He looks between his date and his brother and he has no way of guessing why Sebastian wants to rip Euros’ nails off and feed them to her.

Eurus knows how Sebastian feels about her. There’s no way she doesn’t know that he wants to destroy her viscerally.

She kisses Jasper’s high cheekbone. “Excuse us for a moment,” she says.

Jasper still has no idea what’s going on, except that it’s intense and probably bad.

“Maybe go find Mum,” Sebastian tells him. He’s probably never said that to Jasp before, and Jasper gives him a searching look, but he does as he’s told. In other circumstances, Sebastian might enjoy having this amount of control over other Morans, but he’s a bit preoccupied.

If he follows Euros, it’s probably a trap. If he kills her, she probably has all sorts of dead man’s switches.

If he doesn’t kill her, she could harm his family again.

Jim will be furious if Sebastian goes to prison again. Sebastian had promised. And Seb doesn’t ever want to be away from him or Lexie. Not ever.

But he doesn’t ever want them hurt either. And hurting them by being separated might be much better than Euros being alive to hurt them herself. Jim disappearing before finally makes a sort of real sense.

So Sebastian does it. He follows Euros but he doesn’t let her get to him. He doesn’t listen to anything she says, because it doesn’t matter. He finds himself alone with Euros, away from surveillance as far as he can tell, and he crushes her into a dark corner, taking her voice and then her life.

It’s what he’s good at. He gets Euros alone and he kills her, and he makes it quick only because he won’t let her outsmart him, and then he hides the body and tidies up.

The potential consequences are frightening, but it still feels right. Sebastian is a natural born killer, and what else is he for if not to kill the biggest threat to his family and their wellbeing?

They deserve to be safe.

Sebastian goes back to the event and acts like nothing has happened. He doesn’t want this to fuck things up for his mother.

He doesn’t want to fuck things up for anyone.

He asks his mother where Jasper is, and she says he stormed off in a sulk after she tried to give him a watered down explanation. That’s fine. His date aside, Jasper is relatively sensible, and he’s resilient. He’ll be fine; someone can check on him later.

Dessert is long over and there’s entertainment Sebastian hasn’t been paying much attention to. It’s progressing like clockwork as far as he can tell.

Sebastian’s really not in the mood for dancing, and he’d wanted to catch up a little more with Auntie Dipti, but it makes sense to guide his mother around the dancefloor for a while. It gives him an opportunity to walk off some of his tension, and to talk to his mother without his father cropping up.

“Are you alright?” his mother asks.

“I hope so,” Sebastian says honestly. Then he gives her a gentle smile. “Let’s tie today up before we look at any potential problems.”

Mrs Moran gives a dry smile. “It’s not an event unless there’s been at least one catastrophe,” she says, then she tugs him into a livelier dance. The movement’s calming, moving into familiar steps in a way that briefly clears Sebastian’s mind, and he’s grateful of it. Grateful of his mother.

He locks his worry and panic in a box and continues with the day’s itinerary. The count is done for the auctions’ intake, and there are speeches made. Sebastian makes it through his own with a professionalism he didn’t know he had, but it’s a fond speech from his mother that most makes his stomach flip. She doesn’t mention his buried siblings – and why would she? raw honesty has never been her brand – but she does draw attention to Sebastian again, voicing his merits and praising his efforts for this event and the cause it benefits, and Sebastian’s so unused to getting and deserving praise like this that he feels his neck getting hot.

Euros’ body and its consequences whisper at the back of his mind, and Seb thoroughly hopes he hasn’t fucked up everything. The last thing his mother needs right now is another scandal.

Sebastian’s attention is brought back to the present by the beginnings of applause. It’s not the end of the speech that makes the noise draw his attention, but the fact that Sebastian can recognise the sound of his father’s clapping amidst everyone else’s. It’s rare for Augustus to clap first; he’s slow and reluctant to praise no matter the occasion.

Sebastian looks at the man, and he’s surprised to see his father looking back at him. Augustus nods slowly, and keeps clapping, his large, heavy hands loud even amongst everyone else in the gathered crowd, and what the actual fuck?

Sebastian feels his mother’s hand at the small of his back, and she guides him off of the stage. “Well done again, darling,” she says, and it’s just as fucking well that she’s guiding him down the steps because the praise makes Seb feel dizzy.

Augustus meets them at the bottom of the stage steps. His movements are slow, his recovery unable to improve his advanced age, but there’s a hesitance in his movements.

“Good job, son,” Gus says awkwardly, and there’s not a bit of spite in the comment, even if his posture’s still plenty patronising.

Sebastian nods dumbly. He supposes he’s supposed to say ‘thank you’ or ‘no problem’ or something like that but the words don’t feel right in his mouth for this moment.

His mother’s ruffling his hair like Chris does. Like he’s just a boy, practising at being a grown up. That’s probably exactly what she thinks that he is, despite his actual age.

Sebastian can’t remember this ever happening as a teenager, having both of his parents stand around him offering praise. It’s fucking weird. It’s good and it’s bad and it’s too much and he doesn’t have time for this anyway.

“Excuse me,” he blurts. “Still on the clock,” he adds breathlessly, and he flees like a coward. Or someone with common sense.

Sebastian does a circuit of the room, and it’s much harder with sloshed, old rich people all wanting to shake his hand and tell him what a good boy he’s been. It’s like a really weird nightmare, and Sebastian has to find a pillar to hide behind before he can catch his breath and gather his thoughts.

Euros is dead.

Jim and Lexie are safe at home.

The guests will be leaving soon.

Euros is smarter than him. Smarter than Jim. She must have expected some sort of retaliation, or what would be the point in her game? What did she want other than to fuck with them?

What are the consequences of what he’s done?

Sebastian recognises Chris’ blonde hair in the distance. It looks like she’s heading towards the bar.

Sebastian hurries after her, although he tries to look casual about it.

He might not be doing a great job of that, because Christabelle can instantly tell something’s wrong. Or she might just be good at telling that sort of thing, especially with him.

Sebastian guides her away wordlessly and she follows without protest.

“You’re clever, right?” Seb murmurs out of hearing of any guests.

Chris’ nose crinkles. “Rather,” she says with a questioning look.

“And… you’ve worked with Mycroft Holmes, right? You know how he thinks?” Sebastian mutters.

Christabelle yanks him out of view of any security surveillance. “What have you done?”

“Euros showed up on Jasper’s arm,” Sebastian says. “Do you know-”

“Shit, she’s much worse,” Chris says. “What happened?”

Sebastian can’t help but touch his scars. “You know she’s the reason Jim went into hiding before?”

Seb can see various facts falling into place right in his sister’s eyes. “Go on,” she says.

“I… Well, I didn’t lose my temper,” Sebastian says. “She showed up, and Jim was – scared – and I know she must have been planning something, but…”

Christabelle scans the crowd. “I know she’s good at changing her appearance, but I don’t think I see-”

“She’s dead,” Sebastian says without moving his lips.

“Of course she is,” Christabelle says. “And you need me to make it go away?”

“Can you do that?” Seb says.

Chris tilts her head, her expression somewhere between strained and cocky. “Course I can, kiddo.”

Sebastian touches her wrist. “I don’t want to get you in trouble-”

Christabelle snorts. “Myc wasn’t in charge when I started; his uncle was. I learnt a lot from Rudy, and he was a lot smarter than Mycroft and Euros put together.”

“Really?” Seb says.

“Where do you think I learned to make people disappear?” Chris says with a crooked little smile. “Now where is our dearly departed?”

Sebastian tells her, and Chris nods calmly.

Then she kisses his cheek. “You can forget this now. Get back to the party.”

“I can help,” Sebastian says.

“You can help by solidifying your alibi,” Chris says firmly. “Go. I’ve got enough friends here to take care of it myself.”

Sebastian hesitates, but Chris walks off, seemingly cheerfully taking two glasses from a server as she slips into the crowd. Sebastian walks slowly in the opposite direction, but can’t quite stop watching his sister.

She hooks arms with a woman Seb vaguely recognises, and they look almost like friends or lovers as they clink glasses and whisper together.

They disappear in the direction Sebastian left Euros.

He remembers where he’d seen Chris’ friend before: she’s the woman who’d seemingly had a broken leg at a previous event. Of course his mother wouldn’t be the only one with agents floating about the rich and powerful.

Sebastian returns to his event duties but can’t help scanning the guests, separating them in his mind between civilians and spies and criminals and escorts.

There’s a few people in the crowd with Moran features and other last names. There’s always been plenty of those floating around, and Sebastian had always suspected them to be bastards. He wonders now if any of them are Rawdon’s family, slipping around unnoticed. Certainly everyone else seems able to hide in plain sight.

No one stays dead in this family. Here’s fucking hoping that’s not the case with the Holmes’.

At least the event is winding down. Sebastian is exhausted, and just wants the day to be over. He wants to stand under a spray of hot water, kiss his baby daughter, and then crawl into bed with his husband. Perhaps to sleep for a week.

Still, at least going through the motions of keeping the event on track keeps Seb occupied. It’s a relief to say goodbye to guests and help the staff tidy things away and pack up.

It’s then that Sebastian’s mother finally finds him. “Everything alright?”

“I think so,” Sebastian says, and he thinks he means it.

His mother nods, and takes pity on him. “Go home to your family. I can oversee things from here?”

Sebastian thoroughly wants to, but he hesitates. “Don’t you need to take your husband home?”

“I sent your father to rest hours ago,” Mrs Moran says dryly.

Sebastian eyes her speculatively, then chews his lip. “I’m uncertain of the politest way to ask if you’re still young enough to be up much later than this?”

His mother laughs. “You horrible little boy,” she says with a fondness Sebastian is beginning to think he trusts. “Go home and get some well-deserved rest before I decide to tell your husband how rude you are.”

“Jim’s not the boss of me,” Sebastian says.

“Do you want to test whether he’d wash your mouth out for a lie that big if I tell him you said that?” Mrs Moran asks with dry amusement.

“No,” Sebastian mutters. “You’re not funny, you know.”

“You very much are,” his mother says. “And…” The woman hesitates, her grin shrinking. It makes Seb thoroughly nervous. “I’m proud of you, you know,” his mother says. “For tonight, and… generally.”

Even after hearing it earlier, Sebastian still has no fucking idea how to respond to that. Especially given that he killed someone during the one day he was supposed to be a good son. He stares and awkwardly tries to find words.

“Now it’s definitely bedtime for you,” his mother says firmly. “Go home.”

Seb hesitates. “Mum-”

“Go home, darling,” his mother insists with a pat on his bum. “You did a wonderful job, really.”

Sebastian chooses to be sensible for once and retreats like he’s told.

It still feels fucking weird as he walks through the venue though. He’s not supposed to be his mother’s favourite, never mind be able to pull off something as important as this well enough for her to praise him.

Other than a murder, everything did go astonishingly perfectly.

The night air is cold when Sebastian gets outside and he looks up at the stars, grounding himself in them the way Jim does sometimes. The way Sebastian used to do when he was a little boy camping with other Cubs or Scouts. That feels like a lifetime ago.

Severin’s waiting up in the living room. “Everyone here’s fine, and in bed,” he says.

Sebastian presses his forehead against his brother’s. “Thanks.”

“We’re family,” Sev says casually, like that’s not a complicated thing at all. He looks tired though.

“Get some sleep. We can catch up over breakfast tomorrow.”

“Make that brunch,” Sev says wryly, but he yawns and retreats to a guest bedroom.

Sebastian checks and double-checks everything is locked up safely, and then he heads to his daughter’s bedroom.

Jim’s there and still awake when Sebastian enters quietly; just barely. Their baby is out like a light, but her starry nightlight is still circling the ceiling with soft, pastel shapes. Seb strongly suspects Jim finds the object comforting.

“You alright?” he asks.

Jim rubs the back of his head tiredly. “Yeah,” he says. “Was… hard, tonight, seeing… her. But if I hadn’t left, we wouldn’t have Alex, so…”

“Yeah,” Sebastian says, and he does relate. He walks into the room and peeks down at Lexie and checks the window-locks before holding out an arm to his quiet husband. “Come on, mo chroí. Bed.”

Jim smiles sleepily and stands, pressing gently into Sebastian’s side. “I love you.”

“Love you too, kitten,” Sebastian says easily, despite everything. He dips, scooping Jim into his arms, and carries his dark-haired little terror of a husband through to their bedroom.

They’re both too tired to fuck, but that seems alright. Jim curls over Sebastian and falls asleep quickly. Seb enjoys the warm weight of him and lies for a while simply basking in their closeness before he falls asleep himself.

He’s fucking knackered when Lexie wakes for her next feed though. Jim slips out of bed like it’s not a hardship and Seb mumbles, “I really fucking love you.”

Jim says something snarky in reply, but Seb’s already falling back asleep and pays it no attention. That’s what Sass Lips gets for being too witty so early in the morning.

When Sebastian actually wakes properly, it’s late. Or it’s almost eleven, which by young parent standards feels like Jim let him sleep until evening. “You do love me,” Seb comments as he pads through to Jim’s office, where Jim is doing god knows what online whilst their baby plays with his shiny tie bar.

“Like there’s any doubt,” Jim says casually.

Sebastian puts his hands in his pockets so he doesn’t reflexively touch his scarred wrists.

Jim adds softly, “Our brothers left after breakfast, but there’s a plate ready to get warmed when you’re hungry.”

A wrinkle mars Seb’s brow. “I thought Sev’d want a debrief.”

“We both do, but he figured we might want some decompression time first,” Jim says.

Sebastian doesn’t really want to talk about Euros yet, so maybe that’s for the best. “That our only plans for today?” he asks instead.

“I’d love to F-U-C-K once Alex is inclined to be entertained by her nanny,” Jim says.

Sebastian grins for a couple of reasons. “She clingy this morning?”

“I swear she can tell when I’m in a weird mood,” Jim remarks.

“Lexie’s a clever baby girl,” Seb says in the awful baby voice he’d never understood parents using until he found himself so regularly resorting to it.

Lexie burble contentedly, but Jim narrows his eyes at his husband. “Alex is a very clever girl,” he counters without much fire.

“Sure, babe,” Sebastian grins, because the easiest way to bug his husband is to ignore his arguments.

“If you can’t get our daughter’s name right I don’t see why I should play nicely with you later,” Jim says.

Sebastian feels his insides flutter. “Oh yeah?”

Jim flashes him a look that’s positively wicked.

“N-no,” Sebastian stammers in warning. “You’re not allowed to use the smoulder when you’re holding the baby. There’s rules.”

Jim smirks wider but tones down the sparkling in his dark eyes to a less filthy amount. “Don’t bother showering; I intend to make a mess of you,” he says, then gets up calmly like he hasn’t just said something that makes Seb feel dizzy.

“Alright,” Sebastian says breathily. “Um, yes, sir.”

Jim grins at him then swans off to try to persuade their daughter that her nanny is super fun and wonderful and easily captivating enough for an hour or two.

Sebastian grabs a bit of toast then brushes his teeth. He’s too impatient to bother heating or eating the large breakfast left for him yet, but it’s usually best not to completely forego sustenance when Jim’s got plans.

Which evidently Jim does, tying a very willing Sebastian down and paying an extravagant amount of attention to Seb’s scarred skin. It’s been a while since they’ve made time for foreplay.

Sebastian’s a panting, begging wreck in an amount of time that would be mortifying if Jim didn’t also seem exceptionally riled up. He fucks Seb hard only to pull out when he’s close and spill over Seb in the promised amount of possessive mess. It’s rather lovely, except for when Jim growls at Seb not to come yet. He torments Seb a bit longer, until he’s tortured and quivering, and then gives the order. Sebastian comes untouched and isn’t mad about it.

Jim unties Seb only to plaster himself over Sebastian’s painted skin.

“Someone’s clingy today,” Sebastian croaks fondly.

“Shut up,” Jim grumbles without fire.

Sebastian presses his mouth to Jim’s skin so his husband can feel him grin. Jim huffs in response, but then simply stretches out a bit more comfortably on Sebastian and stays there.

Sebastian pets Jim’s hair fondly and begins to close his eyes contentedly.

“Can I have a spanking later?” Jim asks.

Sebastian cracks his eyes open. “Course you can. How’d you want it?”

Jim chews his lip before answering. “With one of my belts, so I can wear it afterwards?”

Sebastian looks at him. “Is the lack of sleep and sex getting to you?”

“Not exactly… just feeling a bit needy today,” Jim admits.

That’s fucking understandable. But it doesn’t feel right to speak Euros back into existence yet.

Sebastian ruffles Jim’s hair instead. “I’ll always fulfil any needs you’ve got, sweetheart. Especially the sexy ones.”

Jim pulls away slightly. He looks inexplicably guilty and awkward.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” Sebastian asks with sudden concern. If Euros showed up for a reason...

Jim sits up and squirms. Seb grabs a skinny hip to keep his husband close, and Jim stays, but looks aside, shamefaced.

“Arty? Should I be concerned?” Seb asks nervously.

“No!” Jim insists. “I just… I… I’m horny, that’s all.”

Oh?

“...Right?” Seb says dubiously.

Jim doesn’t say anything.

“For something in particular?” Sebastian prompts. “Other than the belt spanking?”

Jim fidgets nervously with his wedding ring like he does when he’s uneasy. “Kind of?” he mumbles.

“You’ve never been shy in your life,” Seb frowns. “What’s the matter? You want a threesome or something? Please tell me you don’t want to fuck any of my brothers. I know Jasp’s got hair like a Holmes but I’m telling you now you prick he’s too young for you- and- and I think he’s straight-”

Jim bursts out laughing. “Tiger, I don’t want to fuck your family members. Not even your twin. Or Rawdon, and he’s got a very straight spine and broad shoulders and a lovely, deep voice…”

“Hoi!” Seb interrupts. “You married me, remember?”

“I did,” Jim agrees. “I did marry you. And it’s still one of the best things I ever did, my love.”

Sebastian calms a little, but still glowers. “You are not allowed to fuck anyone other than me, especially if they’re related to me.”

Jim flashes him a small smirk. “You’re not allowed to fuck Richie either.”

“I’d never – Severin would punch me,” Sebastian says playfully.

Jim gives him a disgusted look.

Sebastian’s lips twitch but he touches Jim’s face gently. “So, you don’t want to fuck someone else. What could possibly have you shy then? I’ll fuck you any which way you like. I-”

Sebastian’s hand falls from Jim’s face and guilt flashes over that.

Sebastian knows what his husband is thinking. What he wants.

“Oh no. No, James, you are not serious,” Sebastian says shakily. He feels sick.

Jim cringes back. “Never mind – I’m sorry – I…”

Sebastian pushes Jim further aside for a second because he has to go sit on the edge of the bed as he reels, feeling sick and dizzy and no-

Jim crawls closer but doesn’t dare touch Sebastian. “I’m sorry,” he says with quiet urgency. “I’m so sorry – ignore me – we don’t have to – we never have to-”

“You want to bring guns back into the bedroom, James?” Sebastian says hoarsely. “Already? Really??”

Jim flounders. “No- I-”

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Sebastian says, and then he’s on his feet and into their en suit and dropping to his knees on the cold tiles as he gags.

Jim doesn’t seem to know whether to follow or not. “I’m sorry,” he says again.

“Don’t talk to me right now,” Seb snaps, and Jim flinches like he’s just taken a bullet to the chest. Sebastian growls. “Just- Just give me a minute, yeah? I’m- I’m really fucking upset with you, but- it’s fine.” It is not fucking fine. “Just give me a minute to get my head straight.”

“Sorry,” Jim whispers. He pads out of the bathroom dejectedly and that makes Sebastian feel worse. He groans aloud in frustration.

Then he tries to take stock despite his lightheadedness.

This is awful. It is. Sebastian never wants to think about the rooftop incident ever, ever, a-fucking-gain. Facing Euros herself was unwelcome enough.

But he reminds himself that Jim is alive, and safe and well and happy apart from a fucking awful perversion… but it’s not like they didn’t both have a gun kink before.

Sebastian presses himself against the bath, grounding himself in how hard and cold it is, and tries to marry up how it is utterly fair and reasonable to be horrified, whilst still… wanting to fulfil Jim’s needs, whatever they are. But not this!

Eventually Sebastian finds it in himself to leave the bathroom, but only because – despite this being entirely James’ fault – he misses the little fucker already.

“I’m upset with you,” Seb announces bluntly. Jim opens his mouth to apologise again, but Sebastian holds up a palm to halt him. “I know it was fun before, and I know you’re not upsetting me deliberately, but it’s fucked up. It is. It’s fucked up.”

Sebastian crosses the room and pulls Jim to his chest so he can be closer but not look him in the eyes. “I also love you very fucking much, and I always want to make you happy and give you what you need, but you’re going to have to give me more time on this one. It- You’re gonna need to give me time.”

“We don’t need to,” Jim says, tilting his head up. “Not ever.”

“Damn right we fucking don’t,” Sebastian growls. He sighs and kisses the top of Jim’s skull. “But you’re a spoilt little prince, and I always give you whatever you want.”

“You do,” Jim says. “So I don’t need it. I can live without this one stupid fucking thing.”

“You’re my husband. I’d never let you go without,” Sebastian says stiffly. “A lesson in patience though, might even do you some good.”

Jim rubs his face against Seb’s neck. “You could tie me up and edge me, if you like? For my own good?”

Sebastian manages a weak laugh. “Brat,” he says fondly.

“You want to give me a good spanking?” Jim asks quietly. “Make me cry, for being such a fucked up little pervert?”

Sebastian scoffs. “You’re the biggest pervert I’ve ever met,” he tells Jim sternly, “and I wouldn’t swap you for the world.”

“I love you,” Jim says.

Sebastian plays with Jim’s hair, then leans in to nip sharply at Jim’s earlobe. Jim squeals a little, his fingers reflexively digging into Sebastian. Letting go reluctantly, Seb grumbles, “I love you too, you infuriating, impossible little fucker.”

“Even when I’m the worst?” Jim mumbles.

“I think that’s when I most know that I love you, because I want to punch your pretty teeth down your throat but cuddle you anyway,” Sebastian says dryly.

“Want to take it out on my arse?” Jim suggests.

Sebastian reaches down and roughly takes a handful. “I want to beat you stupid, but I’m too upset with you to take a belt to you right now.”

Jim swallows and drops back down onto his heels. “That’s fair.”

Sebastian pinches him. “I didn’t say you’re not about to get a spanking.”

“Oh?” Jim says.

Sebastian hums in agreement, not quite growling. “You’re my brat, Arty, and I’m going to give you a well-deserved sore backside. And later, when I’m calmer, your already red arse is going to get heated back up with one of your belts.”

Jim blushes. “Thanks,” he mumbles.

Seb plants a firm kiss in the side of Jim’s pointy little face then swats his husband’s soft arse. “Let’s get cleaned up first. Gives me a bit longer to gather myself, and I believe a spanking hurts more on a wet bum, doesn’t it?”

“Maybe,” Jim mumbles, but he lets himself be led agreeably enough back into the bathroom, and he nuzzles Seb affectionately whilst waiting for the water to heat.

“Sorry for being a prick,” Jim adds mildly.

Sebastian looks at him. “It’s not like you even came out and asked for it. And… I guess after yesterday, it being brought back like that… Maybe it’s normal that it’s on your mind? Better you’re playing with me than without me.”

“I think I’ve learnt my lesson about doing anything without your involvement,” Jim says seriously. He doesn’t ask about Euros yet.

Sebastian gives his husband a squeeze and pushes him under the water. “I bloody hope so for your sake. I’m still more than big enough to flatten you if you dare consider otherwise.”

Jim splutters a little, but Sebastian’s arms keep him from slipping. “You’ve been bulking up quickly,” Jim says, surprising his husband, and runs an appreciative hand over Sebastian’s chest. Sebastian ungenerously doesn’t point out Jim’s improved arm muscles.

“Can’t have your eyes wandering. Especially since you think Rawdon is broad enough for you,” Seb grumbles.

Jim chuckles. “He’s not a patch on you, Tiger.”

“I should fucking hope not,” Seb glowers. He pulls Jim close and soaps him up, soothing them both with the closeness and the tender touching. They’re both quite a mess, so Sebastian can linger, massaging dried come out from Jim’s sparse bodyhair.

Despite the earlier tension, Jim all but melts into the contact.

“Who’s my clingy little kitten?” Sebastian whispers.

Jim’s nose puckers adorably in feigned offence, but he doesn’t voice any protest, just rolls his eyes and snuggles against Seb’s front like he’s considering taking a nap. Sebastian massages soap along Jim’s narrow back for longer than is really necessary.

It’s become second nature not to look at the scars on his wrists or think too closely about how he’d been so low, only to be bombasted up so high by having Jim back, and by having a daughter with him. Actually remembering how bad things were to get to that point, how Jim was just gone, seemingly dead with no body to recover… Sebastian never wants to think of that again. So he grabs onto the excuse to hold Jim to himself, and to touch him for as long as possible.

Seb’s fingers are pruning by the time he turns off the water, and Jim’s in that floaty, snuggly mood that seems so incongruent with the brutal criminal mastermind that he is, yet not quite so far from the skittish, affection-starved teenaged brat Sebastian fell in love with so many years ago.

Spoilt boy prince that Jim is, he takes some convincing to stand on his own two feet for Sebastian to bundle into a fluffy towel and rub dry. He’s clingy and pliant as long as he’s held close, and it’s almost difficult to believe this needy little kitten could want to be spanked or edged, never mind to play sex games with loaded guns. Jim seems deceptively domesticated like this, the scars on his body indicating his other facets seemingly misplaced.

The softness used to be a rare, intimate thing, but Jim’s normal is increasingly a sweet and attentive one. Not that parenthood has defanged him; he’d gladly tear the throat of anyone who bothered their baby, and Seb would too. This softness is a bit deeper than usual however, as though Jim is trying to only be sweet and appealing, as if Sebastian would love him less in any iteration. It’s not really a performance though; Jim sinks into it, as though he takes comfort in being this version of himself, the one Sebastian is most protective of, and most likely to coddle.

Jim blinks his dark eyes sleepily and wakes up a bit when Sebastian leads him back into the bedroom. He climbs onto their bed and sits there mildly, like he’d happily curl up in a nap or be bent into any origami shapes Seb pleases. It’s funny how he’s projecting mindless obedience in an effort to be non-threatening and agreeable, as if Jim ever behaving himself isn’t enough to get the hairs rising on the back of Sebastian’s neck most of the time.

Seb gives Jim’s damp skull a great big kiss, then leaves the fickle little monster on their bed. Jim’s big, dark eyes communicate a great big question mark, but he’s trying to project ‘very good boy’ and so doesn’t even ask. Sebastian pokes through his belongings until he finds a bowie knife, and he unsheathes it as he brings it back to Jim.

Jim’s expression of snuggly, contented innocence sharpens into interest. “What are you planning to do with that?” he asks.

“Paddle your cute little arse with it,” Sebastian says matter-of-factly. “And you better hold your bum up and accept every whack very nicely, because if you’re a squirmy, theatrical little brat you’ll nick yourself.”

“You like when I squirm,” Jim says.

“And you like when I make you bleed,” Sebastian counters dryly, “but I do suggest you try not to get yourself too cut up that you can’t comfortably sit to do the night feeds.”

A strange expression flickers over Jim’s face at that. They’ve been very careful about injuring each other’s bodies since they obtained their daughter, both for the practical reason of wanting to be well enough to attend to her, and also because her curious little fingers don’t differentiate between ordinary or injured flesh. Jim has missed having physical reminders of Seb’s ownership of his body, just as Sebastian has himself.

Sebastian sits down on their bed beside his husband, and faux-sternly swats Jim’s hand away when Jim reflexively tries to touch his stirring cock.

“You come when I tell you to,” Sebastian declares, then he yanks Jim to him. “Get over my knee.”

“Nooo,” Jim whines, but he pushes his bottom up invitingly.

Seb pats his husband’s little bottom with the knife and Jim gasps, arching away at the chill of the metal. Seb manhandles him back into place with a soft smile. And then he spanks Jim.

Jim gasps prettily. He also tries to both hold up his bottom obediently and grind against Seb’s lap, which almost has him overbalancing with a rare lack of poise.

“Stay still,” Sebastian warns, and spanks him again, like Jim is being naughty and trying to avoid a well-deserved smacking instead of being so turned on he can’t think straight.

Sebastian spanks Jim some more, quickly heating up the knife’s cold metal. Jim’s pale bum doesn’t need much to turn pink, and despite his high pain threshold, Jim is soon moaning and whining, and huffing despondently when Sebastian cheerfully prevents him from humping against his thigh.

“Tiger…” Jim squeals frustratedly.

“Absolutely not, Kitten,” Sebastian responds. “Naughty, dirty little husbands with filthy, dreadful fantasies don’t get to come whenever they want. They get bent over their husband’s knee for a good, hard, well-deserved whacking, and maybe they don’t even get to come at all!”

Sebastian intersperses this mostly playful lecture with firm, possessive spanks, and Jim protests in a voice thick with arousal, “But you have to get me off! I’m your husband- it’s your job to make me come hard- you have to!”

Sebastian grins and spanks Jim until the brunet starts to really squirm, gasping and hissing when the edges of the blade slightly nick his damp skin. Jim’s so turned on he’s making Seb’s lap slippery.

“Only good little husbands get to have orgasms, Arty,” Sebastian says in the blithely unsympathetic bedroom voice he learnt from Jim himself.

“If you wanted a well-behaved man you’d have married somebody else!” Jim gasps. The feel of his hot blood dripping in thin lines down his hot bottom makes him spread his thighs and arch his back desperately. “Sebby, please!”

Sebastian merely spanks the exposed flesh. “Now, now, mo chroí, have a little dignity…” he teases.

Jim twists around and glares incredulously at his husband. “Fuck you! Fuck me!” he demands.

Sebastian laughs, but puts a finger in his mouth and pulls it out wet. “Even if I fuck you, I don’t see any reason to let you come,” he mocks.

Jim starts to snap at him, but then Sebastian pushes his finger inside of him. Jim cuts off raggedly.

“You monster,” Jim breathes.

Sebastian hums indifferently and fingerfucks his husband just enough to put Jim further on edge but not over it.

Jim sobs wretchedly, pushing back greedily on Seb’s thick finger. “You’re the worst.”

“You’re stuck with me,” Sebastian says, and he alternates between stroking Jim’s prostate and spanking Jim’s sensitive little bottom a pretty colour.

“You’re gonna let me come, right?” Jim whines uncertainly.

“Of course not,” Sebastian says.

“You’re my husband! You have to!” Jim wails.

“I really don’t,” Sebastian taunts.

“Sebastian!” Jim exclaims.

Sebastian laughs and tosses the bloodied bowie knife aside. He then drags his little husband close and growls against Jim’s ear, “You don’t get to come, except on my cock.”

“Oh Tiger, oh please,” Jim pants desperately.

Sebastian spits on his fingers again and works Jim open quickly. It’s tight, and it would be much easier with lube, but Jim’s going to feel this all day and also tomorrow.

Jim scrambles down onto Sebastian’s hard cock with a desperation that makes Sebastian throb and ache. Seb grips Jim’s sharp hips tightly and it’s all he can do not to impale Jim the rest of the way.

Jim barely notices his husband’s consideration. He fucks himself hard and fast on Seb’s cock and this might have started as a play punishment but there’s no way Sebastian is going to deny Jim from coming when he’s this urgent and delicious.

“Pleasepleaseplease,” Jim whimpers, “Seb, can I..?”

“Not yet,” Sebastian growls, although he’s painfully close now himself with Arty’s theatrics. Seb flips them both over and matches Jim’s pace, fucking his husband fast and deep whilst Jim keens and screams encouragement. One of these days Sebastian is going to go deaf, and it’s not going to be from the artillery; it’s going to be because Jim’s the loudest fuck Sebastian has ever had.

Sebastian covers Jim’s mouth as Jim comes, and it’s not even really about protecting his own eardrums. They’ve gotten so used to having to be quiet to not wake their baby that just covering Jim’s mouth is enough to have them both aroused, and right then it gives Jim an extra push; he yowls and bites around Sebastian’s hand as he comes all up Seb’s chest.

Sebastian pushes up Jim’s legs impatiently, watching himself disappear inside Jim’s perfect, red hole again and again. The skinny cuts on Jim’s arse evidently sting, and Jim winces as Sebastian fucks up hard against them, small amounts of blood smearing against Seb’s strong thighs.

Jim’s sobbing softly, oversensitive now and needy and more handsome than sin.

“Tell me you need me,” Sebastian blurts.

Blown, dark eyes blink wetly and focus on Sebastian’s face. “Course I need you,” Jim says raggedly. A tear slides down his face and he doesn’t bother to wipe it away. “Always bloody need you.”

Sebastian shudders, panting now as he slams into Jim. His husband winces, they’re both chafing, but he pulls Seb in with his wiry little legs and growls, “Don’t you dare slow down.”

“You won’t go anywhere – ever – will you,” Sebastian mumbles.

“Never,” Jim insists. “Never, ever, ever going anywhere without you. I’m yours – I’m always yours – and no matter what I do you’ll always be mine too-”

Sebastian buries his face in Jim’s neck and mutters a string of ‘yours’ and ‘mine’ as he hammers out his own urgent orgasm. He collapses on top of Jim afterwards, and Jim lets him.

Jim’s unusually patient about letting Sebastian lie there too. Seb thinks maybe he blacks out, because he blinks awake to Jim nuzzling what he can reach of his cheek.

“You alright?” Sebastian asks.

“You’re crushing me and my arse is on fire,” Jim mutters, then flashes a smile, “I’m dandy.”

“Sorry,” Sebastian grins softly. He pushes up back onto his elbows but Jim keeps his limbs wrapped around him, impeding any effort to properly pull away. “Someone’s clingy,” Seb comments.

“Don’t think I won’t spank you,” Jim warns with playfully narrowed eyes.

“Think we both need a rest first,” Sebastian scoffs. He eases out of Jim slowly and winces, cupping his shrinking dick wryly. “I’m actually sore, you little incubus.”

Jim sets his legs down weakly and gingerly cups himself where he’s sorest. “How’d you think I feel?” he asks dryly.

“You deserve a sore arse,” Sebastian retorts without much fire.

“I’m going to be limping for a week,” Jim says with feigned indignation.

Sebastian bravely gives Jim’s thigh a fond slap. “Let me have a nap first, and then we can try to make it a fortnight.”

Fuck you,” Jim says, but he doesn’t stop Sebastian from lying down beside him, nor dragging him out of the wet patch into the position of little spoon.

Sebastian kisses Jim’s sweaty neck. “Happy?”

“I would be, except I keep picturing your smug face whenever your family notice me walking like a cowboy for the next few days,” Jim grumbles mildly.

Sebastian laughs. “Don’t worry,” he says fondly, “I’ll let you get your own back.”

“That’s not the same,” Jim complains. “Everybody already knows you’re my bitch.”

Seb snorts and pinches his husband’s sore bum, making Jim wince. “It’s mutual, sweetheart.”

“But they don’t know that,” Jim huffs. “You’ve got to let me have a little dignity.”

“I need let you have no such thing,” Sebastian says. To prove it, he pushes his husband onto his stomach and kisses his way down Jim’s spine, licking the smeared blood from his hot little cheeks, then noses between those to soothe Jim’s raw hole and lick it thoroughly clean. Predictably, all Jim’s pretences of being fully in charge soon shatter and he mewls, humping Seb’s tongue and the mattress like the most pathetically needy little kitten in existence.

“I’m too old to come again already,” Jim squeaks, and Sebastian can’t help but spit on his calloused fingers in response. He can damn well try!

Sebastian keeps Jim soundly fucked and beautifully sore for the next few days. It’s their way of staying close when they have problems.

Sebastian’s not sure whether Euros is a problem anymore or not, but he confesses everything to Jim, and Jim goes pale, but he contacts Chris and she meets them later to discretely reassure that everything’s taken care of. Jim checks his web obsessively for days and days, but nothing of concern happens.

“I am really good at my job,” Chris points out indignantly when Sebastian mentions it. He supposes she is. She’d have to be, to get more tail than James Bond and not get disciplined by the state for all her openly debauched behaviour.

“What about – your team?” Seb says awkwardly. “Can you trust them?”

“Just because I can’t maintain a romantic relationship doesn’t mean I can’t make real friends,” Chris scoffs. “That’s kind of a survival skill you know.”

Sebastian supposes that’s true too.

He throws his arms around her and thanks Chris again for being his older sister and helping him and his family out of trouble. She’s a bit embarrassed by his enthusiasm, but she pets his head and reminds him firmly that she loves him. And Jim. And little Jellybean, who’s not so little anymore.

Sebastian starts to feel safer. And so does Jim, eventually.

Jim knows he’s starting to be forgiven too when he’s no longer plastered against every available surface and pounded to dust a thousand times a day by an anxious and possessive husband. Jim’s fine with that, because anything upwards of ten times a day is for flexible young things in their teens and twenties.

Sebastian’s been folding him into positions Jim didn’t even try during his time as a sex worker, and it’s great fun, but it’s also fucking knackering when they also have a small, needy creature who still doesn’t sleep through the nights. Alex is wonderful, but it’s embarrassing trying to feed her a bottle when his bum and thighs and hips and ribs and elbows and knees are all on fucking fire. Jim actually has to see a doctor about his excessive rug burn, and that’s humiliating, especially because Seb’s a smug prick every time he helps rub the medicated lotion into Jim’s sore skin.

“I’m going to get you one of those electric cock cages, and zap you every time you try to bugger me anywhere that’s not a nice, soft bed,” Jim grumbles.

“Oh no, how terrible,” Sebastian says with an infuriating lack of fear. But he distracts Jim by riding his cock very obediently, so Jim’s sour mood doesn’t last long.

Sebastian’s aversion to using guns in a sexual context does last a very long time however. Jim has already accepted his fuck up has removed gun play from their repertoire permanently, only for Seb to arrange a date night that involves an overnight stay at a hotel so posh Sebastian surely hates it.

The amount of marble in the entryway alone has Jim half-hard already. He does enjoy fine things.

He also enjoys being taken to his room and stripped and bound and restrained in cuffs. Seb takes something metal out of his duffle bag and screws it up and it almost sounds like he’s putting a rifle together but then he forces Jim’s limbs apart and positions him with a very cold spreader bar.

Jim has no idea what Sebastian has planned, but the heartbeat in his dick is fluttering.

Sebastian lubes him up thoroughly. He takes so long Jim almost thinks Seb’s nervous? Whatever for?

That’s when Seb pulls out a new toy.

It is very much a toy, and cannot be mistaken for a real weapon. But it’s handgun-shaped, and there’s a silencer-shaped cylinder that… Sebastian begins to slick up.

“This is as close to the real thing as I can manage,” Seb says, and Jim looks at his husband, and it’s all very intense and romantic and erotic and then Seb drags Jim closer by the spreader bar and pushes the tip of the silencer inside. Fuck.

Jim widens his thighs as much as he can and tries to take as much as his husband sees fit to push into him. He’s hard, but Sebastian isn’t yet, and Jim doesn’t know whether to feel guilty or suggest that they don’t have to do this-

But then Seb pulls the toy’s trigger, and the silencer starts to move, pumping itself in and out of Jim with brutal, mechanical indifference.

Jim’s head hits the mattress. “Oh Christ!”

Sebastian spanks him, although he doesn’t care a jot about the blasphemy. He fucks Jim with the toy until Jim is squirming and panting and pulling at his restraints and begging. “This close enough to gunplay for you, Arty?”

Jim whimpers. The mechanical pistoning of the faux-silencer is unlike any of their many other sex toys, and it’s fucking difficult to parse words when he’s being pounded so deeply and so well, never mind fucking reply.

“James,” Sebastian says firmly, and he spanks Jim’s cheeks good and hard.

Jim whines. “So good, Sebby, fuck…”

Seb grins and spanks his husband some more, turning the pale skin red even as he squeezes the trigger hard to keep Jim keening on the toy.

“Shall we take this gun home and keep it in our toybox?” Sebastian asks with feigned sweetness. Jim nods feverishly.

Sebastian keeps Jim on the edge for as long as possible, and resolves that he does still enjoy seeing Jim like this. Real guns might still be too real for him, at least for now, but Sebastian can’t deny he’s hard and desperately aroused watching Jim arch and gasp and take both the toy and Seb’s possessive swats.

“You want to come just like this, mo chroí, or you want my dick?” Sebastian asks, pausing spanking Jim to urgently give himself a few needy strokes.

“You!” Jim blurts, lust-foggy eyes searching blindly until they find Sebastian. “Want you,” Jim demands.

“Oh thank fuck, might have come in my hand otherwise,” Sebastian mutters. He eases the toy out of Jim carefully, and it stills as he releases the trigger.

“Fuckmefuckmefuckme,” Jim breathes.

So Sebastian does. And he rather thinks, no matter what, he and Jim will always be alright. Probably more than alright.

And they’ll damned well always be well-fucked, whether they have a litter in future or not.