Unsaid Words

The Great Game

Jim laid in bed with Seb, barely tired but not tired enough to sleep. Jim was above Seb, his head on his chest. Seb's hand was in Jim's hair and his other arm was over Jim's back. Jim's arms were tucked underneath him. He was extremely comfortable.

Seb was almost definitely asleep. Jim could feel every one of his slow inhales and exhales as his lungs expanded and retracted.

Jim's phone went off from the nightstand. He'd left it on on purpose because he was waiting for Sherlock to solve the last case Jim had for him. His secretary was supposed to notify him as soon as Sherlock posted on his website about solving it.

Jim pulled one of his arms (the one closer to his phone) out from underneath Seb's body and pulled his phone toward him.

Jim felt one of Seb's legs shift underneath him, stretching out.

"Who the hell's texting you?" Seb sighed, stirring.

"My secretary," Jim answered, looking at the text.

The text said "Pip 5 is go. Midnight." No one except Jim would understand what it meant, not even his secretary.

"Why the hell is she texting you?" Seb asked.

"I need to go out for a few hours," Jim said, pulling away from Seb.

"No," Seb whispered, holding tighter onto Jim. "Don't go now; can't it wait until the morning?"

"Sorry, I have a lot to do before midnight," Jim explained.

"Don't go," Seb whispered. "Stay."

"I can't," Jim protested, sliding out from underneath his arms.

"Please?" Seb asked, opening his eyes and looking pleadingly at Jim.

"I can't," Jim repeated, wishing he could.

He slid away from Seb and opened the closet door to find a good suit to wear. Good to be well-dressed for his first real impression on Sherlock. He quickly dressed, then turned back to Seb. Seb had rolled over onto the side facing away from Jim.

Jim threw his arms around him.

"I promise I'll be back in a few hours," Jim whispered.

"Can you not go at all?" Seb asked.

"I have to," Jim whispered. "I promise I'll text you when I'm headed home."

"Can you please stay in bed?" Seb pleaded, rolling over and hugging Jim back.

"I'm sorry I can't," Jim apologized, rubbing his back.

"Please?" Seb asked, holding him a bit tighter.

"I'll be back soon; go back to sleep, love," Jim whispered, lowering him into his pillows.

"I'll miss you," Seb sighed, letting his eyes close.

"I'll miss you too," Jim replied, brushing his untidy hair out of his face and kissing his forehead softly. "Goodbye."

"Bye."

In that moment, Jim decided that he needed to come back home for Seb. He could very possibly be in harm's way that night. He would have snipers trained on Sherlock and John, and John would be wearing a bombed coat. Sherlock would almost definitely be armed. Jim decided that he wasn't going to be hurt that night.

From the moment he stepped out to face Sherlock to the moment he left, he was wearing a bulletproof vest underneath his suit. It wouldn't protect him from getting blown up, but it was better than nothing.

When John jumped on him from behind and held him in a choke hold, he wondered what Seb would do to John if he knew about it. When Irene Adler called Jim about a new piece of blackmail (one that could bring nations to their knees) at the very moment when Jim was in the most danger of being blown up, he answered the call and left soon after with an apology, leaving Sherlock and John to wonder who he'd been talking to.

Jim arrived back home at a bit past one in the morning. He found Seb fast asleep in the exact same position he'd been in before. Jim kicked his shoes off and climbed back in bed, not bothering to put his pajamas back on. He wrapped his arms around Seb, letting Seb's body heat warm him.

"Missed you," Jim whispered.

"Missed you too," Seb replied, slipping his fingers between Jim's.

Jim fell asleep quickly, even though he'd been staring down the barrel of a gun just a few minutes earlier. Jim didn't even care that his suit was wrinkling. It was worth it, just for his Seb.