Psychopaths Can't Love

Adjusting

A/N: For your information, I have the last chapter written. It won't be long until all the chapters are published. I'll have to start something new after this. Sigh. So much work.

-Leah

Trigger warning: Blood.

Seb's eyelids hung over his eyes as he lagged up the flat building's stairs. It was his second late night in a row, and he was completely exhausted. He'd told Jim not to wait up for him, so there wasn't anything to look forward to when he got home except sleeping in the next morning.

The strap to his sniper case was slipping off of his shoulder again, but his exhausted brain was too focused on making it back to the flat to fix it.

Seb fumbled with his keys before opening the door and stepping into the flat. He was met with a surprise.

The lights were out, but there were vanilla-scented candles covering the surface of the kitchen table, bathing the flat in soft, yellow light. Jim was sitting beside the table, wearing one of his best Westwoods and leaning his head on one hand. His eyes were closed.

Seb's tired face burst into a smile at this. He set his sniper down by the door and walked over to Jim.

"You awake, kitten?" Seb whispered, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Jim started, jolting back to consciousness.

"I'm awake!" he shouted, sitting up straight.

"C'mon, Jim, time for bed," Seb said, beginning to blow the candles out. "It's late."

"I'm not... tired..." Jim protested, yawning in between words.

"C'mon, kitten," Seb whispered. "Bedtime."

Seb scooped him easily into his arms.

"Bastian, I can walk by myself," Jim complained weakly.

Seb ignored him and carried him into their room. He set Jim down on their bed and began slipping Jim's suit jacket off over his shoulders.

"Bastian, stop," Jim muttered, his eyes only half open. "I can undress myself for God's sake..." Jim finished with a yawn.

"Alright," Seb sighed, yawning as well. He pecked Jim's lips and went to take his clothes off.

Once he was finished, he helped Jim button up his pajama shirt, both of them struggling to keep their eyes open.

Jim fell backwards onto his pillow, closing his eyes without even putting the blanket over him. Seb tucked him in, falling in love with the peaceful expression decorating Jim's face.

Seb slipped under the comforter with him and put his hand against Jim's cheek, rubbing his thumb up and down his soft skin.

"Bassy, let me sleeeeeep," Jim moaned, weakly batting Seb's hand away.

"Alright," Seb sighed, smiling and kissing Jim's nose.

He pulled Jim close. Jim was clearly too tired to scoff and pull away.

"I was gonna surprise you when you got back and I thought I could stay up until you got here," Jim explained weakly.

"How'd you know I think you look sexy in Westwoods?" Seb asked, rubbing the small of Jim's back.

"I'm pretty sure you were drunk when you told me," Jim said, yawning again.

"Go to sleep, kitten," Seb whispered, kissing his forehead again.

"'M not a kitten," Jim mumbled, his Irish side accidentally coming through.

"Sure. Goodnight, love."