Re: The Apartment: Jamie/Seven
That was sort of the whole point of privilege, yeah? That it was so insidious, you only noticed it when you didn’t have it. Having it was like breathing, or blinking, unless it was something you weren’t born with and even then it wasn’t always a guarantee that you’d stay conscious of it. Having money and power for so long, Seven at this point had certainly had moments of catching himself taking the shit that privilege awarded as a given. His wealth was a layer of his armour and he’d never doubted in its longevity. He’d never doubted the power that money, success, and influence granted him.
Seven felt his weight shift where it was leaned up against Jamie’s side as the guy rearranged himself on the couch after the tiny bundle of teeth and claws had made her exit. He let it shift, rolled with it onto his hip just a little, dragging his knuckles down the length of Jamie’s forearm and past his too-knobby wrist to slide their fingers together, entwined again. It was easy to do that, unthinking, and it felt really fucking good. “It matters,” he countered, without any ire behind the words. “Because the only reason she flipped out was because I told her off for not leaving you the fuck alone. I get that it doesn’t bother you or whatever, but it bothers me, yeah?” He squeezed the guy’s hand once. “Thanks, though. I know it’s a lot of baggage that you shouldn’t have to deal with in the first place, but - I appreciate it.”
Conversely to Jamie’s adjustment, Seven had his own ratcheting into place - being allowed the time to look at Jamie. To see him, without the moment getting shrugged to the side in favour of shedding clothes and bruises nipped into his skin. So he looked, up close, shifting his weight again just slightly so that he could prop his head up with his free hand planted against behind his ear, elbow digging into the cushions. This way he could look at Jamie straight on without going cross-eyed. “I definitely want,” he murmured, voice a low rumble as his gaze dragged over the lines of Jamie’s face, the smirking slant of his mouth. “I wanna spend time with you, sleeping in your tiny bed until my back gives out. Go to a party where I don’t know anyone else except Marta, and not give a shit because you’re there.” His smile winched higher on one side. “Say yes whenever you aren’t too chicken-shit to ask me out. What do you want, Jamie?”