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They’d fallen into a routine. Well, a new routine. There’d been a lot of routines.
First there was the “I’m going to text you a name, make sure he doesn’t make it to his dinner reservation” routine, which was exactly what Sebastian had signed up for.
Then there was the “pick me up, take me to my meeting, and stand behind me menacingly to make sure no one tries to kill me.” It wasn’t as exciting, but hey, Jim was the boss, and Sebastian liked the pay check too much to argue. He was surprisingly good at looking mean while thinking about nothing in particular while the criminal mastermind made subtle (and sometimes not-so-subtle) threats to whoever he was talking to.
Sebastian’s least favorite routine was when Jim had started ordering him to run errands. Errands. He was a trained killer, Goddammit, he had better things to do than pick up dry cleaning and deliver it to Jim’s house.
Which he then started living in shortly after. “It’s for my protection, obviously,” Jim had scoffed when Sebastian asked him about it. “If someone breaks in, I need you here to defend me.” Sebastian didn’t believe for a second that Jim didn’t know how to protect himself, but again—he was the boss.
After that, things evolved quickly. It became routine for Jim come into Sebastian’s room at odd hours of the night, rumpled and frustrated at not being able to sleep and complaining about various employees who were idiots (Sebastian learned quickly that everyone was an idiot; even he was, even if he did something right. Though later he started to realize that only sometimes was it actually meant to insult him.). Then Jim started crawling in next to him and falling asleep. It didn’t take long for Sebastian to just accept it and scoot over to make room for the other man. It took even less time for him to accept that they both slept better when they were wrapped around each other.
Then came the sex. With Jim being as changeable as he was, Sebastian expected his libido to be the same, but the criminal mastermind was always full of surprises. It was like clockwork—Sebastian would finish a job, come home, clean himself up, fill out a report (you’d think that living with the man, Sebastian would get out of paperwork. You’d think wrong.), and would be dragged into bed. Only later did Sebastian start to think that Jim’s urgency was due more to needing to be reassured he was safe than his actual sex drive, though never in a million years would he actually suggest that; he’d like to keep all his appendages, thank you. But it was routine.
Up until recently, though, that had been the extent of their relationship. Professional fuck buddies, really. Aside from the sleeping together after sex, there was no extra cuddling. There were no sweet kisses exchanged before one of them left the house. There sure as hell weren’t any emotional talks. But one morning, Sebastian had gotten up and made breakfast, and since then Jim had demanded it every morning.
Sebastian sat at the table, his own plate half empty as he watched Jim pile eggs and bacon and toast onto his own. He was shirtless, wearing just a pair of boxers, his hair rather adorably messy, and Sebastian couldn’t help but smile just slightly.
“Hey boss,” he cleared his throat, his smile widening a tad. “Don’t you think we’re getting a bit too domest—“ He didn’t get the full word out before Jim turned to him with a raised eyebrow.
“Finish that sentence and I’ll gouge out your eyeballs and use them as cufflinks.” Sebastian snorted, but just took another bite of his toast and went back to looking over the newspaper.
He didn’t look back up as he held out his hand, and felt a mug of coffee placed in it before Jim sat down across from him; nor did he look up when he felt a foot lightly nudge his own. He didn’t need to, to know that Jim was wearing the closest thing he ever got to a ‘sweet’ smile (which was surprisingly close). It was, after all, their routine.