#ignore that the playlist title makes no sense i couldn't think of anything clever

[detective4blog]

I made them a playlist and listened to it while writing this, accidentally made it angsty. Time frame wise I'd say it's post season 4.

Tw for unhealthy coping mechanisms, mention of alcoholism and smoking, feel free to ask for more.

Sebastian laid his head on Mycroft's shoulder. He said nothing, looking tired. Mycroft knew why but talking about it seemed wrong. Talking bad about the dead and his own kin didn't appear to be an option that would help the retired assassin's mood.

"How do you cope?" Sebastian suddenly spoke. His voice was unnaturally quiet, just above a whisper. Mycroft furrowed his brow at the question, but thought of how to answer.

"I put more time into work. I suppose I don't give myself any time to think about what's bothering me." He answered quietly, staring at his clasped hands for a moment.

Sebastian laughed next to him; a bitter and angry laugh that was soaked with years of cynicism. "Somehow more healthy than me."

That wasn't reassuring.

"What about you?" Mycroft didn't mean to ask the question. It blurt out in a moment of concern. The silence that followed his question was painful. He swore he couldn't hear Sebastian's breathing during it.

"Drinking, I suppose. Whiskey's been my liver's nightmare for some years now. Sometimes just a cigarette while freezing my ass off outside. Or multiple, depending on how bad." Now the other man was whispering. Ashamed of what he was admitting or not used to saying these things aloud? Likely the latter. Mycroft doubted Jim cared much about these things as long as he got results.

He placed a hand on Sebastian's knee, leaving it there. The man's jeans were damp and uncomfortable to touch. "You're going to catch a cold in those clothes."

Another laugh, less bitter and angry. More of actual amusement. "I bloody tell you I drink like a sailor and you're worried about a cold?"

"Yes."

Another moment of silence. The disbelief from Sebastian came off in waves, but Mycroft tried to ignore it and not analyze it. It was hard not to think of not many people showing such care to him though.

Sebastian stood, running a hand over his face. "You got any clothes you're willing to pass along to me, then? I didn't quite bring a spare." He put his hands in his pockets, which dripped more violently now.

"Take whatever you need. I'll get a towel." Mycroft stood as well, giving a weak smile to the other man.

His friend? Lover? Whatever. This was confusing. His head still hurt from recent events and stomach still sick from the sight of- A violent shake of his head stopped that thought.

He grabbed a spare towel and returned to the same sitting room, waiting for Sebastian to return. Eventually he did, dressed in a mismatched pajama set with his old clothes bundled awkwardly in his arms. At least he put the less soaked clothes between himself and the rest.

Mycroft took the clothes and replaced them with the towel. He didn't say anything, though Sebastian seemed to want to protest. There wasn't a chance, the man leaving to toss the clothes in the washer.

He came back to see the towel wrapped around Sebastian's neck, his gaze fixated on his hands. Mycroft watched him for a moment. The man made no movement besides breathing, seeming to be thinking.

Whatever Sebastian was thinking of didn't need sharing or he didn't want to. He looked up, attempting to give a classic crooked smile but just ended up giving a wobbly one.

"I can leave if you want to be alone. I have a basic idea of the shit you saw and heard in there."

"I'd rather have you here, actually. If you don't mind."

Sebastian blinked, now able to give a more stable smile. A sympathetic one. "'Course. I'm a good listener too. Dunno how much work can repress all that."

Mycroft thought about the offer. There were things he wanted to tell someone about. The obvious solution would be to go to Sherlock or John since they saw and heard the same things. But they were too used to things like this. Sebastian was too; he likely never batted an eye at a corpse. But he didn't view him with distaste, so talking to him wouldn't be horrible.

"Maybe later. You look like you need sleep." He gave a small smile of his own, offering a hand to Sebastian. It was taken; those warm large hands were unnaturally cold. He didn't let it show how unnerving that was.

Sebastian was warm. He always was. His touch, his smile, his voice, his eyes. But now he was cold, the fire that fueled him dwindling out. Mycroft hoped he could help refuel it somehow.

He opened the door to his room, letting Sebastian claim whichever side of the bed he wanted while he changed. But the bed was untouched, the blonde seeming to be waiting.

Mycroft raised a brow, choosing the left side of the bed for himself. He expected Sebastian to take the right side of it, but was pleasantly surprised when the man just...laid on top of him.

He was still so cold. There was a hurry to wrap blankets around him, pulling forward the heavier ones just for him. Sebastian seemed half asleep already, his breath warming Mycroft's neck.

"I forget you enjoy physical contact when sleeping."

"It's called cuddling, Myc. And yeah, you're comfy and warm."

"Obviously I'd be warm, you're cold. As for being comfortable, it's likely sentiment held towards me that makes you think that. I doubt laying on top of someone can be comfortable."

He expected a sleepy interruption to his ramble but Sebastian was silent. Not asleep, seeming to be thinking.

Then he rolled over, making a mess of the blankets just to have Mycroft now laying on him. It was disorienting to be moved like that, his mind still processing the situation.

His head rested on half Sebastian's shoulder, half on the pillows. He could feel the rise and fall of his breathing underneath him. Gentle enough not to be a disruption but just notable enough to bring comfort. He could even feel the man's heartbeat if he pressed his hand down harder.

"...I stand corrected."

There was that crooked grin. It made Mycroft feel warmer underneath the layers of blankets and the arms around him.