'I'm back from my parents. Can you come over? We need to talk'

'We need to talk?'

'Yes'

'I hope this isn't your way of starting the conversation where you also say things like "it's not you, it's me"'

'God, no. I didn't mean it like that'

'Just come over, you prat'

'I'll be there in twenty'

'Great. xx'

Jim has to take a deep breath as he places his phone on the coffee table. He breathes in, sucking the oxygen and letting it fill his lungs to the brim. He holds it, waits until he feels like his lungs are going to burst and then he slowly let's it out.

He's much calmer now.

Okay. Tell a lie. He's freaking out. Because, yes, he'd grown a pair and decided to talk to Sherlock about this and finally establish what the hell they are but none of that means he is in anyway calm or collected about this.

His emotions are in a crazy storm and on a roller-coaster at the same time. One minute he's glowing with happiness that he's actually doing this and the next he's timidly biting his lip and worried out of his mind.

If he thinks about it, he knows that it's all going to be okay. It's obvious to anyone that Sherlock likes him more than a fish likes water. Still, a small, stupid and irrational part of him thinks that Sherlock's going to laugh, tell him that it means nothing and that the past month or so had been a game to him that was now getting dull.

Jim runs a hand down his face, groaning in pain when the action makes his glasses press painfully into the bridge of his nose. He hadn't bothered switching to contacts again, having texted Sherlock the moment he walked through the door and seeing as his mother hated his contacts he hadn't had a chance to change the glasses for them before his parents saw him off at the station.

Standing, Jim plans on heading for the bathroom to switch to his contacts when there's a knock on the door. Immediately, he frowns, wondering how the hell he sat there and didn't realise twenty minutes had already passed.

Dismissing the thought, Jim heads to the door and yanks it open. He smiles brightly upon seeing his beautiful kinda-sorta-boyfriend.

"Hey," Sherlock smiles, entering the flat and dropping a kiss on Jim's cheek as he passes.

Jim watches with his own smile as Sherlock peels off his coat, hangs it up, kicks his shoes off and then straightens them. When all that's done, Sherlock straightens and raises an eyebrow. He lifts both hands, raising an eyebrow.

When Jim doesn't answer his silent question, Sherlock walks closer to the staring boy and gently takes hold of his chin. Jim happily let's Sherlock raise his chin and allows his eyes to flutter closed as Sherlock leans down to kiss him.

It's slow and sweet and highlights to Jim just how bloody much he's missed Sherlock over this weekend. Even though he technically left yesterday - and he'd seen Sherlock two days ago. Still. Felt like a long time.

"I missed you," Sherlock mumbles the words against Jim's lips, seeming reluctant to stop kissing him.

"It was just.." A few kisses take place before Jim gets to finish his sentence "Two days."

Sherlock doesn't reply, instead he walks forward and gently presses Jim against the front door. Humming in approval, Jim nibbles on Sherlock's lower lip before he confidently slides his tongue out to meet Sherlock's.

That when he remembers. He called - well, texted - Sherlock here for a reason and, sadly, that reason wasn't so they could have snogging session against the door.

Breaking away, Jim puts a decent amount of space between them. Even though he been pushed back, Sherlock smiles at Jim and steals more one chaste kiss before he backs up further.

Laughing a little, Jim walks around Sherlock and heads for the kitchen to put the kettle on.

He'll need tea for this next bit, just to calm his nerves and also so he can fiddle with the cup and look into the liquid to avoid eye contact because he's sure that this whole getting his feelings into the open thing is going to be embarrassing for him and maybe even Sherlock too.

"So..." The detective drawls in a voice that sounded too sexual for it's own good. He was here to talk, not make Jim drop his pants.  "We need to talk?"

Jim nods, picking the just boiled kettle up and filling two cups with steaming water. When that's done, he stirs and then squeezes the life out of the poor teabags before adding the milk and sugar.

Apparently sensing Jim's hesitation to speak, hence the unusual amount of focus he had on making tea (which now came as naturally as breathing), Sherlock moves closer and wraps his arms around Jim's waist, chin settling on his shoulder.

Jim relaxes into Sherlock and covers the man's large hands with his own smaller ones. If Jim were a woman and pregnant they'd look like a couple from some cheesy chick flick.

And there he goes again, comparing his life to a movie.

"You're wearing glasses," Sherlock murmurs, voice showing how he was obviously fond of this new addition to Jim's outfit.

"Mmm... Mum hates my contacts."

"I like the glasses," Sherlock says, smiling. "They're cute."

"Thank you."

It falls quiet. But it's not awkward or weird. They just stand there, gently rocking to and fro with Sherlock holding him from behind and being even more affectionate than he usually is - Jim not sure if that because he wants to talk and Sherlock's comforting him as he worries or because Sherlock's missed him... maybe it was both.

"James," Sherlock says softly. "You said we needed to talk."

"Yeah.. I.." Jim pauses but he doesn't turn to face Sherlock or even look at him. He just tightens his fingers that settled on top of Sherlock's own and stares down at the steam curling up from the tea mugs.

"Whatever you're worried about, don't be," Sherlock says, kissing Jim's temple. "I'll be right here to listen."

Jim smiles at that, eyes closing momentarily when Sherlock's lips brush against his temple.

"It's about us," Jim starts, then stops. Sherlock doesn't breathe a word and Jim assumes that he's sticking to the whole being here to listen thing. "I... It probably seems silly but it's been bothering me, and I feel like if we don't talk about this than all this is pointless..." He lowers his eyes to the tea again and takes one of those breaths that fill his lungs completely. "I don't know what we are, Sherlock. We haven't talked about it. Sure, we kiss and spend stupid amounts of time together but I have no idea if that means anything to you and if it does, I have no idea what it does mean... So, I suppose I want to know what this is to you - what I am to you - and where you see this going..."

Just for the record, Jim felt tons better for getting all that off of his chest.

Sherlock's arms tighten then and Jim can feel the cold tip of Sherlock's nose pressing against his jaw, just under his ear.

"Oh, Jim... Why didn't you say so sooner? I didn't realise... I thought, like me, you had assumed we were in a serious relationship. I.. I want you to be my boyfriend, James. You.. You mean so much to me and I'm not too sure how to word it. I like making you laugh and smile, and yes, I like annoying you too. And I love the way you can do that to me - make me laugh, smile and be unbelievably annoyed. This, to me, Jim, is everything."

Jim feels his eyes water. He'd have been happy with Sherlock just saying he wanted him to be his boyfriend but what he had said was ten times better. It made Jim's heart stutter in the best possible way.

Turning in Sherlock's arms, Jim wraps his own arms around Sherlock's neck and hugs him fiercely. He buries his face in the other's shoulder and inhales deeply, his lips forming a large grin of their own accord.

Jim opens his mouth to tell Sherlock that those words mean a heck of a lot but all that leaves his mouth is a loud yawn.

Sherlock chuckles and pulls back so he can see Jim's face. "Why on Earth couldn't this wait until the morning?" He teases.

Blushing a little, Jim does his best to elbow him from this angle. "Shuddup."

"You should go to bed," Sherlock advises with a soft smile.

Jim gently tugs on his sleeve, even though he's right there. "Come with me."

Sherlock raises his eyebrow, eyes darkening a little. Jim's blush intensifies by one hundred and he shoves Sherlock. "Not like that, you pervert!"

Chuckling, Sherlock kisses the top of Jim's head. "I'd love to come to bed with you."

"Stop it, or I'll make you sleep on the sofa," Jim glares. Sherlock pretends to zip his mouth up, making his boyfriend (hell, yes, Jim was glad to not to think the kinda-sorta) smirk. "That's what I thought."

Jim leans up and pecks Sherlock's lips before picking up their tea and carrying them into the bedroom. Sherlock follows with a smile and before Jim even realises it, they've stripped down to their boxers and have tangled themselves together in a big comfortable mess under Jim's covers.

It felt so much better knowing that they were properly together now and that meant Jim could really allow himself to be with Sherlock and get rid of any barriers they had.

Smiling, Jim snuggles into Sherlock and tightens the arm he had around his waist.

It just felt right. To be laying here, cuddling up to Sherlock.

Jim may not bother getting out of bed tomorrow for work. This was lovely. Absolutely perfect.

"James, can I ask you something?" Sherlock mumbles the question into Jim's hair.

Nodding, Jim leans back so he see Sherlock's face. "'Course."

Sherlock frowns a little before he gives Jim a soft smile. "I'd like you to promise me something. You don't have to agree, but I hope you do. Is that okay?"

"I can't agree unless I know what you want from me, can I?"

A chuckle passes Sherlock's lip "No, I guess not."

They fall silent and Jim shoves at Sherlock's shoulder playfully. "Out with it then, idiot."

"I.. Don't get mad okay?" Jim nods to the question and Sherlock continues "Promise me that you won't let Sebastian or any other friends sleep in your bed any more. Just me and you..."

This time round, Jim doesn't get angry. He doesn't know why. His spirits were too high, maybe, from the fact they're in a proper relationship now and that just makes everything seem perfect for the time being.

"I promise. Just you and me. No one else," Jim seals the promise with a kiss.