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Jim has been rather enjoying spending weeks being moody and depressed in his suite, mainly because Sherlock's up there to make sure he's not actually all that moody and depressed. Bloody boyfriends, and their way of making life better. Jim would grump about that if he weren't pleased by it.

He's only in the bar now because his favourite distraction is asleep and anyway, they need food. Jim puts in a large order and, on a whim, asks for a current newspaper from their world. Bar provides an iPad with various headlines, and he scrolls through until he hits upon the news that NASA has discovered a solar system where life might have evolved.

He forgets about the food, and pretty much everything else for a while. Eventually he wanders over to the Window, still reading, and then just sits looking out at the explosions.

(The ice cream he bought will be melting all over the Bar at some point, so if anyone wants free food he's probably not going to object, or even notice.)

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This feels like a trick question. Like on one hand, Sherlock's giving him the opportunity to say yes, I'd do anything for you. And on other other, if he does say that - which of course he's going to - it leaves it open if Sherlock decides that is what he wants later.

'It's not a hard thing to arrange,' he says, smiling to hide the awful weight of realisation making itself known inside him. That this might actually be a Thing.

'If it was what you wanted, I could make it happen.'

But it's not what you want, right Sherlock?

Sherlock huffs quietly. "It's not what I want, but it's always nice to hear." He kisses Jim's cheek again.

'Okay. Good.'

Right. Crisis averted? Crisis averted. Jim breathes out, and leans their heads together. He's silent for a long few moments, letting that settle. He'll come back to it on his own, just in case.

He does smile against Sherlock's cheek though.

'She asked me if I realised I practically swoon whenever you're mentioned. I didn't have the heart to tell her at least half of that's for show.'

But the rest of the time, he is genuinely unaware he's doing it.

"I make you swoon?" Sherlock asks with a smile. "Even when I'm not around? That's darling."

'Not actually swoon. Just...you know. Giddy, I suppose.'

And he's not a giddy person, unless he's acting it. But he can't deny he enjoys talking about Sherlock, and apparently it shows.

"Darling boy," Sherlock murmurs and stretches back so he can kiss Jim's mouth.

It's adorable. He's charmed.

Adorable, charming; definitely words Jim is okay with having associated with himself. It's just that usually they're covering something else, and this time they're...not.

Whatever. He smiles and kisses Sherlock sweetly.

'If something like that comes up again, I'll explain better.'

"If something like that comes up again--" He just shakes his head.

"You're all I need."

Jim honestly can't think of anything that could come up that would be worse, or even more problematic, than that. Not even the thing with Eurus. To top it, he'd probably have to murder John.

...which admittedly, doesn't sound like a bad plan.

His fingers thread in Sherlock's hair.

'Need, yes. Want, though - that's something else.'

"You're also all I want, aside from the occasional cup of tea.

"And you had better not be jealous of tea."

'i think you underestimate my capacity for jealousy when it comes to you, darling.'

He chuckles quietly, and noses at Sherlock's ear.

'I'll make you tea.'

This may sound trivial but c'mon, how many other people would Jim make tea for? None at all.

"Mm... you keep me very well."

It's significant. He knows this.

'You're worth it.'

A kiss to his cheek, a moment of just holding him, and then Jim sighs.

'You don't have to keep me company down here if you don't want to. I'll be up in a few minutes. I just want to-'

There's a vague gesture towards the Window. Just a bit longer.

"I'd like to stay. We don't even have to talk."

The holding is so nice.

'Okay.'

That's the great thing about them. One of the great things, in amongst all the others. There is no need for words.

Jim lays his head down on his shoulder, and goes back to his contemplation of the stars. It's better when Sherlock's here. So much less bleak. And it doesn't matter what any other life might have been, if he's got this right here.

Sherlock relaxes against him, watching the stars too. He strokes Jim's arm, breathing slowly, one knee rocking slowly from side to side.

He's not bored. Anyone else, this just sitting would be terrible, so boring he could scream, but this is... not boring.

Love, he muses, makes you do the strangest things--including watching the universe end as if it's the finest fireworks show.

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