Plurk paste

Jim is bored, he's restless, he's tired but he hasn't managed a proper sleep in two days and tonight doesn't seem much more likely, and he's not going to get any customers at two in the morning, even if he felt like going through the procedures for opening.

He's not thinking about his new-found guardian angel when he stalks down the stairs and through the shop, grabbing his jacket from a hook in the back as he passes. He knows Vincent's still awake, spread over the back room as he has been all day, working on something Jim doesn't care to remember the details of -- he'd said he was going to stay around for a while, easier than packing up just to start everything up again when he gets to his flat. It just doesn't matter enough to register as something to care about, as Jim zeroes in on the door.

"Going anywhere in particular?"

Jim's head snaps up towards the voice, towards Vincent standing in the doorway to the back room. He's already got his jacket on, his shoes; he looks like he was expecting something.

Maybe he was. Jim's still learning how it works, and he hasn't bothered to hide his restlessness today.

"Just walking."

Vincent nods shortly and starts forward, still walking even as Jim stops, head quirked to the side and a frown spreading on his lips.

"Alone," he ammends, but Vincent keeps walking.

"Not when you're in this kind of mood, you're not," Vincent answers, and Jim lets out an annoyed huff.

"If you fall behind I'm not waiting for you to catch up," he warns, and turns on his heel. He doesn't bother to wait long enough to lock up. Everyone knows whose shop it is, and Jim has enough connections that people know stealing from him is a very bad idea. Besides, it would give him something to do, if someone tried to break in.

He doesn't wait, circling the neighborhood with quick, long strides, shouldering his way past the scattered crowds, but the streets are fairly empty this late, and there's not enough crowd to get lost in. Vincent's never quite in step with him -- on purpose, most likely -- but he's never far behind, either. Jim considers actively trying to lose him, or at least breaking into a run, making Vincent chase to keep him in his sights. It would get some of the energy out, maybe give him a chance to sleep when he gets back -- except there's no challenge, not really, because even if Vincent gives him a chase he doesn't have any reason to run from him. It's not enough.

Jim lets loose a low, frustrated growl, and then, watching his guardian follow sedately behind him in a shopfront window, decides to follow a sudden train of thought. He stops, turns, ducks into an alley, and waits.

Vincent is only a minute behind, and he doesn't look surprised, when Jim's suddenly there, pushing him against the alley wall, stepping close, nearly pressed against him. Just amused, like maybe he was expecting this, too, and Jim grins at that.

People aren't very good at reading him, in general. Vincent is. And whether that's angelic mojo or just Vincent being himself, it's unexpceted, and that's good.

"Couldn't have come up with this forty minutes ago, inside?" Vincent asks quietly, laughter in his voice.

"You should have been more interesting forty minutes ago," Jim answers, and then leans up and presses his mouth to his guardian angel's.

Six months, and Jim will know Vincent's body as well as the layout of his shop; but right now, it's strange and uncharted territory, and Jim always has been a fan of new experiences. Exploring Vincent's mouth is a more interesting adventure than following the familiar streets, and privately, Jim admits that maybe he should have thought of this before walking out the door. This could help; it's an outlet for the restlessness that won't leave him be, a way to raise adrenaline in the hopes that it will crash later and leave him calm.

(They do get inside, eventually. Even up the stairs. And Jim still can't sleep, but it doesn't seem like as much of a problem by the time he makes his way downstairs for opening.)