Edit (3-18-12): I noticed I had quite a few typos in here, so I removed those! I also fixed the backslashes I had put in, in place of italics. It bothered me and it didn't sit right with me to just leave them like that. Thank you for bearing with me!

It wasn't a particularly eventful day. Just the usual; get up, go downstairs and greet Sebastian who is always there in the morning to greet him with an overview of yesterday's and today's work. Except, today, he's decided to cook breakfast? This is surprising. Jim looks over his shoulder and raises an eyebrow.

"What are you doing?" He asks softly, still encumbered by sleep. He knows exactly what he's doing, but he still asks the question.

"Makin' food. Want some?" He replies back with no particular enthusiasm. Jim waits a moment before nodding slowly. He's not used to eating in the morning, so this is new to him. Sebastian turns to face him, probably about to hand him the usual notebook with the overview on it.

And suddenly, Jim feels self conscious. For the first time ever, probably, he's worried about what another person thinks about him. While Sebastian is going through his pockets to get his small notebook, Jim tries smoothing out his hair. It's still unruly as he just woke up, and he suppresses a yawn as the notebook is passed to him. He looks over it half-heartedly and nods.

"Sounds good." He's actually avoiding eye contact at this point, something he's normally enthusiastic about returning. Sebastian takes the notebook back and goes back to cooking. Jim goes back to smoothing his hair, but it stays looking messy and unruly and he gets frustrated. Whatever, who cares about hair right now anyway? It's just Sebastian.

Yes.

Just. Sebastian.

Just Sebastian who is his partner in crime, his gunman, his planner, his... Well... Jim wouldn't be Jim without him. And it's coming to that conclusion that scares him - he's accustomed to working alone, and Sebastian's just... there sometimes. That's how he normally views it. But lately, it's been more than that. Sebastian's more to him than just a presence in the room. Jim feels himself becoming attached. That's not good.

No, that's very, very bad. VERY bad. Jim Moriarty doesn't get attached to people; no, Jim Moriarty uses people and then throws them away. As far as Sherlock Holmes is concerned, Jim just wants to outwit him. He wants to crush him, because he wants to prove he's smarter than him. It's nothing more than that. Jim couldn't care less if Sherlock lived or died, so long as he was the one killing him.

But it's different with Sebastian. He's using him because he's a good asset, yes, but he treats Jim like a person. He does his work for free, unlike all of the other "tools." He does the work because he wants to, not because he has to.

Yes.

The second most dangerous man in London is on Jim Moriarty's side. That's the way it's supposed to be. It still doesn't take away from the fact that Jim's looking Sebastian up and down at the moment, which is completely irrational and he should not be doing it but he can't stop himself. Sebastian's just... Well, he's pretty attractive, though that's not all Jim sees in him. He sees a man who had a bright future ahead of him and... he threw it all away. Just for him. Just so that he could stand side by side with the most dangerous criminal in the world, not as an equal, but as a subordinate. He never compares himself to Jim, and he almost always talks with respect and reverence, although it may seem like casual conversation to a normal person.

And he's probably not going to ever admit this, but he actually wants Sebastian to think of him as his equal - two men working towards the same goal, together.

Now that Jim thinks about it, he's putting Sebastian right into the line of fire every single day. And he's scared, now. He's scared he's going to lose the one person in the world who might actually care about him.

"Food's done." Sebastian's voice snaps Jim out of his daze. He looks up immediately as he notices that he was almost undeniably checking Sebastian out. He sets the food down on the table and waits for Jim to take his seat before taking his own seat. Okay, how in the world does Sebastian know that, above all else, Jim loves pancakes? He may not eat breakfast often, but when he does, pancakes are what he eats. And these are homemade, not those cruddy ones that come in the red Aunt Jemima box. Well, Jim has heard the saying before that a sure way to a man's heart is through his stomach.

Oh, God, what is he thinking? What kind of thought was THAT? No, Jim, no, you are not falling for your second in command. You are NOT.

But you are.

You are absolutely falling in love with Sebastian Moran.

And it has never felt more right.

"Okay, something's up," Sebastian remarks. Jim raises an eyebrow.

"Huh?"

"You're acting all reserved and stuff and it's creeping me out. If you have something to say, then just say it." Okay, there's no way he didn't notice Jim checking him out. Color threatens to brighten up Jim's face as he averts his eyes to the plate in front of him. He picks up his fork and moves the pancakes around after dampening them lightly with syrup.

"Don't make assumptions, Sebastian. It's rude." Well why would Jim of all people ever care about rudeness? Sebastian can't help but laugh at this.

"Oh, please. Cut it out, Jim. You're being rude yourself by not making eye contact. Lift your head up and look me in the eyes if you've got something to say to me." Jim's eyebrows furrow and he glances up quickly at Sebastian.

"I don't have anything to say to you."

"How about a 'thank you' for the food?" Oh. Right. There's that. Now Jim quirks an eyebrow and grins.

"Thank you? What kind of man do you think I am, Moran? I only say 'thank you' when I'm sure I've one-upped someone. I say 'thank you' when I'm right, and there's no way I could be proven wrong. When I'm sure that I've won, and there's no possible way I could lose." He was holding onto his fork too tightly while saying that, and his knuckles turn very red from the grip. He releases the utensil and lets it clatter to the plate, still grinning.

"Soon, huh?" Is all Sebastian says as he looks at Jim from across the table. He knows exactly what that statement meant; Jim's going to make a mockery out of Holmes, and he's going to laugh as he does it. Jim waits a second before nodding, his grin starting to look dangerous.

"Soon." Sebastian pours glasses of orange juice for both of them and slides Jim's across the table.

"Drink. You look parched," he says. Jim nods and picks it up, but it slips out of his hand as he brings it to his mouth. It shatters on the ground and one of the glass pieces cuts Jim's finger. His eyes radiate intense anger as he stares at the mess on the floor. "Don't worry, I've got it." Sebastian gets up to go and get a towel from the bathroom to clean it up. Jim looks up to watch Sebastian leave the room, and then he observes the cut on his finger. The blooding is oozing out of the wound quickly, and Jim stares at it for a long time. When he finally looks up, the mess on the floor is gone and Sebastian is kneeling down in front of him, asking for permission to touch his hand and clean the wound. Jim looks on dazedly.

"Look, Seb." He squeezes the skin around the wound with the thumb and forefinger of his opposite hand and watches it ooze out of the wound. "I bleed." And in that moment, Sebastian sees the anguish and torment in Jim's eyes. "I'm human afterall."

The statement hits Sebastian like a thousand knives to the heart. The way he said it, with such longing, makes him want to envelope him in a hug. But he doesn't, because Jim's his boss and there's nothing romantic between them.

Absolutely nothing.

So instead, he wipes the blood away and cleans the wound with small pads of cleansing alcohol and wraps a small bandage around Jim's finger. When he rises to his feet, he feels a hand coil around his wrist anxiously. He turns his head to look back curiously, but the look on Jim's face makes him wish he hadn't.

"Sebastian," he starts. "What does it mean to be... normal? What is normal to people? What would it take to make me... normal?" This question surprises Sebastian and, honestly, he really wishes Jim hadn't asked it. But he did, and now Sebastian's turning around and looking down at his boss, who's anger fades immediately and is replaced by a look not too dissimilar to that of a lost puppy.

He thinks long and hard about the question before answering. "Being normal means being predictable, average, typical. You're vulnerable, what comes out of you is expected, and you're no fun at all." He pauses. "I don't like normal, Jim." This makes both of them smile.

"But you're normal, aren't you?"

"Never said I liked myself." Sebastian replies.

"I like you." Jim says. Sebastian is taken aback by his straightforwardness, and he blinks before doing a double take.

"Huh?"

"You're my gunman, my sniper, my tele buddy (though it feels so weird hearing himself say that). My cook, my cleaner, my therapist, my flatmate, my..." His breath hitches in his throat as he realizes what he's saying, and then what's about to fall out of his mouth. Sebastian's eyes widen and he raises an eyebrow.

"Go on." Jim shakes his head.

"Don't order me around, Sebastian. Don't get our positions mixed up."

"Well, just for the record, I like you as well." Whether he means that in a platonic or romantic sense, Jim isn't quite sure and so he stands up and walks to the archway of the kitchen, his plate on the table still full. He turns his head to look at Sebastian.

"Thank you," he says. Sebastian's mouth opens and then turns into a smirk.

"Thought you didn't say 'thank you,'" he replies, and Jim smirks back.

"I've won something today, and there's no possible way I could lose it."

"Yeah? And what's that?" Jim pauses.

"A bit of normalcy."