Seblaine Chuck AU, because Chuck is my favourite show, and it deserves all of the love. Okay? Cool. A few things, though.
First – Major warnings for Chuck spoilers. I mean it. If you plan on watching the show and don't want to be spoiled, don't read this fic.
Second, any character defamation is due to my need to use them for a plotline and not to any actual dislike of said character.
Third, I... made Marley Sebastian's sister? I needed a sibling for him, and I nearly used Claret (my OC from another fic) but I ended up using Marley instead, I don't know why but it seemed to work. (Plus, why the hell not have Supergirl be The Flash's sister?).
Last of all, this fic will be in two or three parts, depending on how long it takes me to get to where I need it to go. I'll try to get it finished ASAP and uploaded – I was actually hoping to have it done by now, but I ended up going more into detail than I originally anticipated (pretty much the story of this week for me, tbh) and wasn't able to finish it in time, and I wanted to upload it for Seblaine week, so... here you go.
Quiet days are Sebastian's worst nightmare.
Honestly, most of his co-workers are usually grateful for the break. He doesn't even have a clue where Jeff and Nick are, and Hunter's locked away in his office, probably buried under a mound of paperwork – which is why he hasn't marched in to see where the hell his employees are at, Sebastian figures.
He's so bored, though. So, he passes his time by checking his email, rifling through the junk mail and social media notifications (seriously – he really needs a new email address, it's getting ridiculous) when he freezes at a familiar name. Cooper Anderson.
Now, Sebastian's not an idiot. He hasn't spoken to Coop in years, and in actual fact, he was the very guy who got Sebastian kicked out of college due to accusations of heavy drug abuse which he's still curious as to how the hell the tests came up positive, because he's never injected anything in his fucking life –he wouldn't dream of it, he loves himself way too much for that shit. Sure, he's smoked a few joints in his time – it was college, everyone was high. But that wasn't enough to get him kicked out. So it's curiosity that has him clicking on the email, rather than any sort of desire to reconnect with the jerk.
"Why would Cooper Anderson send you an email?"
Sebastian feels himself jolt at the voice, before whirling around to meet the eyes of one Santana Lopez.
"Fucking hell, San," he groans, "We need to put a bell on you or something."
"Language, Twink. Our customers might overhear you," She gestures to the empty sales floor around the Nerd Herd desk, and Sebastian snorts, crossing his arms.
"You think you're hilarious Shaqueera, but let me tell you, one of these days that snarky attitude of yours is gonna come back and bite you in the ass."
She replies with an eye-roll, and then, "Any payback I get for my attitude, you'll receive a thousand percent worse. Excuse me if I don't lose any sleep at night. Seeing you suffer will be worth it, in my book."
"Whatever," Sebastian replies, because yeah, she has a point.
"Anyway. Cooper Anderson? Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that the dick that ruined your life?"
"Yup," Sebastian replies between gritted teeth.
"Wow. What does he want, exactly?"
"I don't know. I haven't got the chance to read it yet. You're distracting me."
"I do that," Santana smirks, but she takes a step back from the screen anyway. "You're lucky I have to do a stock check, though. Otherwise I'd sit here bothering you all day. It's always a pleasure." She jabs him in the arm with the stock gun, making him flinch a little. "See ya, Twink."
"You know, you really need to find a new nickname for me. Twink is getting stale," Sebastian calls after her as she saunters away, and Santana replies with her middle finger.
That's my girl.
Attention back on the email, he considers it for a second, absently tapping his finger on the mouse, before clicking to open. To his dismay, there's no message – only an attachment.
He's faced with a dilemma. On the one hand, he's way too smart to download something that, knowing Cooper Anderson, is likely to be spyware or some other sort of virus. On the other hand, he is a genius when it comes to that type of thing. Anything that Coop can try to fire at him, he can programme to pretty much blow up in his stupid smug face.
It's why, despite his lack of a degree (thanks, Cooper), he still managed to wrangle a job at the Nerd Herd at their local Buy More, specialising in fixing technical problems. Corny name, he knows, but it's the best he could do – no one was knocking down his door to recruit what they believed to be a drug-addled college reject, but Hunter had seemed quite enthusiastic about taking him on. It's not saying much, to be fair. Nick and Jeff are morons, and Hunter only really cares about raking in the money to worry about quality of staff or customer service. He just happened to luck out.
Santana, unfortunately, isn't part of his team – she's Buy More sales staff, which means that while he gets the pleasure of her company now and again on days like today when the floor is pretty much void of customers, he isn't able to rant to her when it's packed. She's usually far too busy dealing with bratty customers who don't know a television from a flat screen monitor, while Sebastian has to grit his teeth dealing with middle-aged technophobes who don't have the slightest clue what Antivirus software is.
So, yeah. He hates this job. He hates it with a passion. But he's pretty much stuck with it, because he doubts that MIT will ever let him back in to complete his degree thanks to the brutal assassination to his character that Cooper had apparently managed to pull off so effortlessly.
He glares at the blank email, renewed fury boiling in the pit of his stomach, and clicks on the attachment. Might as well get it over with – see what the hell Cooper is trying to do to him now. If anything, it'll pass the time. Yup, this is the kind of shit Sebastian Smythe does for fun – downloads a virus for amusement.
When the file downloads – , yeah, that doesn't sound suspicious at all – he double clicks, and a black dos box appears before him. He blinks, waiting for the inevitable blowout, but nothing happens.
He sighs. "Way to go, Coop. You made the world's most ineffective computer virus. Moron."
A loud crash from the break room distracts him,and he lets out a low growl before minimising the window in favour of going to check it out.
Despite being on the same wage bracket and having the exact same job, Sebastian seems to have inherited some sort of responsibility towards his co-workers. No matter what those idiots manage to get themselves into, he always seems to get the blame if something goes wrong.
"Okay, what the fu-" Sebastian is cut off with a gag as he enters the tiny space, a thick, white cloud of smoke fogging his vision and working its way to the back of his throat.
"Heeeey, Seb." Jeff giggles, his legs pushing back on the break room table, swinging his chair back on the two hind legs. Sebastian's half hoping that he falls back and cracks his skull – he'd most definitely deserve it. Nick smirks at him behind a lit joint still dangling carelessly in his mouth, his feet propped up and crossed over on the surface of the table.
"Are you fucking kidding me right now?" Sebastian snarls, slamming the door behind him. "Do you know what'll happen if Hunter catches you? Ugh, it stinks like a frat house in here."
"It's cool," Nick laughs, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture. His eyes are heavy and bloodshot, and his lips are relaxed into lazy grin. "He'll just blame you for it, and he values you too much. We'll all still keep our jobs."
He marches over, snatching the damn thing out of Nick's hand, nipping it in the ashtray furiously. "Fucking idiots. I'm taking this."
"Hey, that was our last one!" Jeff whines, making grabby-hands towards Sebastian, who rolls his eyes.
"You should have thought about that before you decided to smoke it in plain sight. At least I have the decency to wait until I get home to finish it."
"Hypocrite," Nick grumbles, arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowed in Sebastian's direction – although he can't quite tell if it's because he's glaring, or because he's evidently high as a kite.
"Tidy up in here – open the window, and do whatever you can to get that stink out of here. I swear to god, if I catch a whiff of it when I come back, I will shove my foot so far up both your asses that you won't be able to walk right for days – although, Jeff, that's probably nothing new for you, but I'm sure my foot will cause much more discomfort than that tiny dick that Duval's packing."
"-we're not—"
"Hey! I don't have-"
"Shut the fuck up, both of you," he snaps, thrusting his finger at them warningly before spinning on his feet and closing the door with a slam before they attempt to protest the nature of their relationship, or their dick sizes for that matter, because in all honesty he just doesn't care enough to hear it.
When he returns to the computer, he remembers about the black square box that he'd left sitting there, and clicks on it again out of curiosity. A small white line begins blinking, and Sebastian peers closer, because that's... new.
Suddenly, the screen is filled with images, flashing before him just to be replaced by another within seconds, and he can't for the life of him figure out what the hell is happening – there's faces that Sebastian doesn't recognise, buildings, documents, explosions, and he hears a faint buzzing sound in the back of his head. He lets out a groan, stepping backwards from the screen to get his distance, but he can't bring himself to look away. The images flood his vision before he crashes to the floor in a bout of light-headedness.
The next thing he knows, he's being shaken awake by Santana, who is crouched down next to him, wide-eyed and panicked. "Sebastian," she says urgently. "Fuck, wake up!"
He groans, eyes opening to squint at his friend. His vision blurs, but the bright light of the Buy More is far too strong all the same. He holds his hand in front of his face to shield himself for a few seconds, pushing himself up with shaky arms so that he's sitting upright, meeting Santana's height.
"Ugh, I feel weird," Sebastian says, and it comes out completely wrong – the tremble shouldn't be there, but it is.
"What the hell happened, Seb? You nearly gave me a heart attack," Santana asks shakily.
"I don't know, I- I opened the email from Cooper, and then I- I guess I got a little light-headed? I don't really remember," he lies, because telling Santana that he was clearly hallucinating would only make her worry more, he's certain.
"Fucking hell, Sebastian. You're trembling. You need to go home."
He pushes his hair back from his face with shaky hands, trying to focus on keeping himself upright. "Do you think Hunt will let me?"
"I'll handle him. You go home. Now."
He barely remembers his journey home - mind still pretty hazy from his brief attack of... whatever the hell that was.
He's standing in his shower, palms spread out on the tiles before him, the support keeping him from collapsing all over again. The spray runs over his face, warm droplets trailing down his skin, and he sighs, allowing his bones to relax into the warmth.
He doesn't know how long he soaks for, just trying to gather himself together, but when the water runs cold and his skin wrinkles, he moves his hand to twist the dial, and the water halts abruptly.
A shaky breath escapes him as he removes himself from the blurred glass cubicle. He dries himself off almost mechanically, towelling his hair then wrapping the towel around his waist before opening the bathroom door with a click.
"Seb? You're home?" Marley shouts up to him, and he sighs, because all he wants to do is go lie down, and his sister is going to bombard him with questions.
Might as well get it over with.
The sound of the radio flows through the hallway as he makes his way to to the kitchen – the news. The anchor drones on about the Ukranian prime minister, who is apparently set to be arriving in Burbank today. Sebastian freezes in his tracks, the light-headedness from earlier that day overtaking him again. Like he'd experienced before he passed out, a series of images flash before his eyes – air traffic charts, landing logs, and a plane that he registers as flight 220, and suddenly, he's overcome with the thought – no, the knowledge – that the guy in question had actually arrived the previous night, contrary to what the news anchor is saying.
"He's already here," Sebastian says into the empty hallway.
And then, he groans, running his hands through his hair, because seriously – he must be going crazy. Something is definitely wrong with him – he's not sure what. A stroke? An aneurysm? Mass hallucinations brought on by stress? He has no idea. He decides not to dwell on it, though. He doesn't feel woozy, and the visions have completely dissipated. It can't be that urgent, right?
When he gets downstairs to the kitchen, he stops in his tracks, because - yeah, of course Ryder is here too, his arms wrapped firmly around Marley's waist from behind.
Of course, Sebastian isn't a modest guy - ten minutes in his company and even someone of Jeff-level intelligence could work that out. However, he's a mess - his eyes are heavy and bloodshot, and one glance at his own skin tells him that he's white as a sheet, even after the warm shower.
Ryder barely spares him a glance - he's been with Marley for two years now, he's barely phased by Sebastian walking about half naked anymore, but Marley wrinkles her nose in disgust, holding her hand in front of her face to block the view.
Sebastian rolls his eyes. "Oh, come on. I'm covered."
"Not enough, Seb. How would you like it if either me or Ryder walked about in only a towel?"
He leers at Ryder. "One of those scenarios actually sounds like a dream that I had once. I can tell you all about it if you-"
"-please don't." Ryder cuts in, covering his face - not fast enough for Sebastian to miss the blush creeping across his cheeks, though. He snorts, sending him a wink for good measure.
"Leave him alone, Seb," she scolds, but her tone is light, and she pats Ryder on the arm as she moves to the cupboard, mugs clinking together as she places them on the counter and takes a few generous scoops from the coffee jar. "What are you doing back so early? I thought you were supposed to be working until six o'clock tonight?"
He shrugs, raking through the biscuit tin in favour of finding something with chocolate over it. His fingers close over a small box of cookies, and he pulls it out. This should help with his blood sugar, he figures. That's what helps people after they faint, right? Sebastian wouldn't know - he's never fainted in his fucking life.
"Seb?"
"Oh, uh, I- kind of sort of fainted?" He shrugs casually, trying to play it off. "Santana made me go home. It's not a big deal, I'm fine."
As soon as the words leave him, he feels the regret instantly. Concern is etched on Marley's face, brows pinching her forehead, and Sebastian cannot stand the sympathetic look in her eyes.
He avoids her gaze, his eyes firmly fixed on his toes, and he rubs the back of his neck. "Look, it's fine, it was just a weird... thing that happened. I feel fine," he lies, vaguely aware of the fact that he's used the word fine way too many times now in such a short period of time. "You guys go back to being grossly heterosexual, I'm going to go... read. Or something."
"Are you gonna be okay to go to work tomorrow? I can call Hunter if you-"
"I'm fine, Marley. Butt out," Sebastian snaps, and Marley flinches.
Without another word, she thrusts a warm mug of coffee into his hands with an angry look on her face. "You're lying," she grits out. "But fine, suit yourself. Ryder and I will be in the living room when you're ready to act like an adult."
"Wouldn't hold my breath, little sis. I've made it twenty-five years so far with this attitude, I figure I can just keep going with it."
She rolls her eyes, taking Ryder by the hand. "It's no wonder you're single. I pity the guy that ends up with you for a lifemate."
"Ugh, monogamy. So boring." Sebastian scoffs, taking a sip from the mug. It's still steaming hot, and it scalds his tongue a little, but the caffeine and sugar is exactly what he needs right now.
Marley softens, fixing him with a piercing gaze. "You know, I really wish you'd change your outlook on that. You're twenty-five years old, you've never dated anyone for more than a week, and you're stuck in a dead end job with no way out, and to top it all off, you live with your sister. You're miserable, Seb. You think that no one sees it, but I do. Why won't you let me set you up on a date with Danny?"
It's not the first time she's offered. Danny, apparently, is a guy from Marley's office that she fondly describes as the lovechild of Brad Pitt and Johnny Depp, and while that sounds fascinating, he knows that Marley would be pissed at him if he humped and dumped the guy - which is the only form of dating that Sebastian's remotely interested in.
He doesn't reply - she already knows his stance on her suggestion, anyway, so she can't possibly be expecting a different outcome. When he turns his back and begins making his way out of the kitchen in favour of escaping to the silence of his bedroom, though, he hears her let out a frustrated grumble.
The next day, despite Marley's protests, he returns to work. Hunter rants at him for a little on leaving early without permission, but Sebastian just tunes him out, scanning the sales floor with vague disinterest.
The store is actually pretty busy - he can see Santana working her charm on some blonde chick, and he beams proudly, because she's probably flirting relentlessly, no doubt. Judging by the flushed cheeks on the blonde's face, she certainly seems interested enough. When he catches her eye, he throws her a wink, and she smirks in reply.
When he finally escapes Hunter, he makes his way over to the Nerd Herd counter, and sighs heavily, because the line is stretched all the way back to the door, and the only other person working the counter is Nick. It makes him wonder why the hell Hunter wasted so much time lecturing him when he could have been dealing with the line. He stopped questioning Hunter's managerial skills a long time ago, though.
Nevertheless, the day goes by pretty quickly, and he only snaps at three or four customers - a miracle, really, because the imbeciles are out in spades today. He's had a customer who complained that her WiFi wasn't working on the computer she'd purchased, who turned out not to have an ISP or any concept of how the internet works. A middle-aged guy had come to complain that he couldn't remember his email address or password, and that he needed Sebastian to remember it for him- which, how? And then there was the girl that complained that her phone was faulty - turned out her battery was missing. She had demanded a new one for free, and had to be forcibly removed from the store.
Thankfully, it gets quieter, and there's only a few customers roaming the sales floor towards the end of the day. Nick has disappeared, and Sebastian really doesn't have the patience to check up on whatever shit he's getting himself into now.
That's when he walks in - the most gorgeous guy that Sebastian has clapped his eyes on in his entire life. Hazel eyes dart around the store, before they land on Sebastian, and he flashes him a dazzling smile that makes Sebastian's heart skip a beat.
The world seems to slow in its pace as the man approaches him, all dark curls and long eyelashes, a thin layer of stubble coating his chin and fuck, Sebastian's staring -he needs to stop staring, but he seems to have forgotten how.
"Hi, I'm having a problem with my phone. I was hoping you could help me?"
Sebastian leans on the counter with his hands in an attempt to appear cool and casual, but he can feel the heat spread across his face, and judging by the small amused smile the other man is wearing, he's really not hiding the magnitude of his attraction well at all. Shame, really – he's already been given into trouble for flirting with the customers by Hunter, or he'd be all over this guy.
"Yeah, uh- how can I help you, Mr...?"
"Blaine. Blaine is fine."
"Blaine," He tastes the name on his tongue, deciding that he likes it. "I'm Sebastian. How can I help?"
"My- uh, my phone-"
He bites his bottom lip, holding his hand out. "What's wrong with it?"
"I don't know, it just won't turn on. I'm so sorry, I'm hopeless with technology, and it's probably something really really dumb, but I'm just completely missing it," Blaine tells him, placing the device in his hand with a self-berating expression on his face.
Normally, this kind of thing would infuriate him. One look at the phone tells him that it's a battery issue, and can be fixed within seconds, but the guy seems genuinely apologetic in his ineptitude, and Sebastian can find it in himself to forgive him. He rifles through his breast pocket, fingers closing around the small screwdriver, and gets to work.
The dark-haired man watches him with interest, and Sebastian allows himself to peek up at him once he's finished, shooting him a lazy grin and flipping the phone casually in his hand before holding it out to Blaine. "All done."
"Thanks," Blaine beams, taking the phone from him. "How much do I owe you?"
He shakes his head, hoping that Hunter isn't lurking around in the background. "No charge."
Blaine arches his eyebrows. "Won't you get into trouble for that?"
"Maybe," he shrugs with an amused huff. "Don't worry, though. They can't fire me. I'm the best they've got."
"Modest, too, I see," Blaine quips wryly, leaning over the counter, his hand brushing with Sebastian's.
He smirks down at their hands, ready to come back with some sort of proposal that involves himself and Blaine in a more private setting with far less clothing, consequences be damned, when a loud crash has him drawing back in favour of peering over to the sales floor, where Jeff sits amongst what was once a display of boxed graphics cards. He lets out a low growl of frustration, and the heat of Blaine's hand leaves him.
"Okay, I can see that you're busy, I'm going to just- go."
"No, wait, I-"
"Smythe, stop standing there and go help Sterling out with that display, will you?" Hunter calls over to him from where he's standing surveying their PC monitor displays, clipboard and pen in his hands. "And keep a closer eye on him in future."
He lets out a frustrated groan, but Blaine just huffs in amusement, lowering his voice in a much more seductive manner, a slight twinkle to his eyes. "Tell you what, you go and deal with that, but I have a few more questions about your... services. If I give you my number, would you call me when you get off work? I'd love to continue this conversation over dinner."
Sebastian chuckles. "Smooth."
"That's me," Blaine replies with a wink, sliding a white business card over to him before taking his leave. Sebastian surveys the card with interest - it's completely blank, save for a name and a phone number. Blaine Devon, it reads. What the hell does this guy do, exactly, that warrants such an ambiguous business card?
"Sebastian!" Hunter calls out
He huffs, pushing himself off the counter and pocketing the card with a smile on his face that he can't quite extinguish.
"Look at you getting all dressed up. Hot date?"
He doesn't bother looking away from the mirror, continuing to run his fingers through the strands of hair, trying to get the bristles to sit in a less haphazard manner. Harder than it sounds, really. His hair just doesn't seem to want to co-operate today.
"Yeah, actually," he tells his sister in reply, huffing in frustration as the fringe flops over for the fifth time.
Marley leans against the door frame of the open bathroom door, surveying him with interest. "What's his name? It's not Hunter, is it?"
"I've told you countless times, Marls. Hunter's straight, and even if he wasn't, I'd rather stick my dick in a meat grinder than have it anywhere near that fuckwit."
"Ugh, must you be so colourful?"
It's funny, really, that they share the same absentee father. Marley is sweet, innocent, easily freaked out by any discussion of sex, and it took her a year into her relationship with Ryder to lose her virginity. Sebastian, on the other hand, lost his virginity a long, long time ago, and he can't even remember what the guy looked like, never mind his name. He's promiscuous, sceptical, and - let's face it - a bit of a dick.
Of course, he might get that from his mother's side - he doesn't know. He's never met her. He'd been told that she died during childbirth by his father before he walked out of Sebastian's life without so much as a second glance. He'd been lucky, really, that Mrs Rose had taken him in as her own. The day that lost the battle to stomach cancer ranks right up there on the worst moments of Sebastian's existence.
It's just him and Marley now, and he's struck with a sudden surge of affection towards his sister, who is still staring at him like he's hiding something that is of absolute importance to her.
"Marley, seriously. Go away." There's no heat behind his voice, and he knows Marley picks up on that, because her lips spread out into a wide grin and her face lights up with excitement.
"Holy crap. You really like this guy, don't you? Details! I need them right now.
"His name is Blaine, and our encounters have consisted of one brief conversation over a broken phone, and a few text messages arranging our date." He checks over his hair and sighs. That'll have to do. He turns to Marley, corners of his mouth turning up in a smug manner. "If you want more details, you'll have to wait until I get home tomorrow morning. I don't plan on coming back tonight."
She wrinkles her nose in disgust. "TMI, Seb. TMI."
"Hey, you were the one that said you wanted details," he replies, booping her nose as he passes her to exit the bathroom.
It's going pretty well so far, he figures. Blaine is fascinating and mystifying at the same time. He looks – if it's at all possible – even better than he did when he came to the store earlier that day. His curls are still present in his hair, but a little more carefully styled, and he was donned in a three piece navy suit with scarlet lining, topped off with a red silk tie, and god – Sebastian just wants to devour him right then and there.
Behind his good looks and boyish charm, there's an air of mystery that Sebastian is just dying to delve into. He talks about his childhood – tells him that it was pretty boring, he grew up on a farm in Ohio, parents still live there, blah blah blah, but there's something about his expression that makes Sebastian wonder exactly how much the other man is leaving out.
He doesn't seem to have a lot of hobbies, Sebastian's quick to find out as they make their way through their fancy-ass three course meal that he can barely afford on his wage. Now, Sebastian's not the type to care about that kind of thing – he, himself, has a fondness for computer games, music and his friends and family (the very few people that he holds close to him, at least) and that's about it. Plus, it's not like he's looking for a life-mate, here, and Blaine kinds of gives off the vibe that he's in the same frame of mind. Dinner is merely a formality.
Once they finish, Blaine insists on paying. Sebastian attempts to protest, but he waves him off stubbornly, and Sebastian shrugs it off, because what the hell – free meal. They take a walk hand-in-hand by the river, and Sebastian tells Blaine a little about himself – his job, his sister and his college days, mostly. They're far enough from the road that no cars can be heard passing by, but close enough to civilisation that they're not drenched in complete darkness. All that can be heard is a few crickets chirping in the background, the sound of water rushing down the river, and the gravel crunching below their feet.
"So, you went to MIT, huh? Should I be intimidated?" Blaine asks, quirking a teasing eyebrow at him.
Sebastian huffs a slightly bitter laugh, and shrugs. "Hardly. I never got to graduate."
His date's face falls a little, and he pauses to tug on Sebastian's hand so that he halts in his tracks. He seeks direct eye contact, and Sebastian humours him.
"There's not much to tell. Some guy who I thought was my friend fucked me over. Got me kicked out. I got accused of drug abuse."
Blaine arched his eyebrows. "Were you? Taking drugs?"
He sighs and shakes his head. "No. Well, not- not heavy drugs."
"Then why-"
"Believe me, Blaine, I have no idea. I've spent so much time thinking about it, y'know? What I could have done to make him hate me so much. But I just- I can't for the life of me figure it out. One minute we were buddies, the next minute he was a cold-hearted dick."
He feels a warm hand land on his shoulder, and Blaine squeezes him a little with an empathetic smile. "That sucks. I'm sorry."
He shrugs again. "Used to it."
They clear the path, and find themselves back on the pavement beside the road. It's mostly empty, save for a few cars zooming past them now and again in various directions. However, when a motorcade of black limousines round the corner, Sebastian freezes as the familiar light-headedness takes over him once more.
Shit, not again. Not right now.
It's useless, though. Entirely out of Sebastian's control. There's a bright light, and images envelope his sight again. Apple pie, blueprints, a large assembly hall, and then nothing. Sebastian's breath stutters, and Blaine is watching him with concerned eyes.
"What's wrong? Did I- did I do something wrong?"
He shakes his head, attempting to clear his mind, ignoring his frantic heartbeat and the rising panic in his chest. "Sorry. I zoned out for a second."
Blaine laughs, "God, am I that boring?"
"Not at all." Sebastian replies, flashing him an apologetic smile, but when Blaine shivers a little, his smile dips. "You're cold?"
"A little. I'm fine though."
Without much thought, he shrugs off his own suit jacket, draping it over Blaine's shoulders. He half expects Blaine to insist that he takes it back, or at least complain that Sebastian will get cold now, but he does neither of those things. Instead, he chuckles, and says; "I look ridiculous now."
"Nah – you could be starting a new trend here, Killer. A suit jacket inside a suit jacket?" He grins, drawing his lips close to Blaine's ear. "It's sexy as hell."
Blaine shudders, and this time it's nothing to do with the weather. He turns to Sebastian with a twinkle in his eye. "It's a little early to take this party back to my apartment. Why don't we go somewhere for a while? You said you liked music?"
"And you said you didn't," Sebastian teases with a sly smile. "What are you playing at, Devon?"
Blaine shrugs. "I don't, really. But someone told me about a great bar that hosts local bands – Drumbeat? Have you heard of it?"
"Yeah, I- uh. I've been there a couple of times." He arches his eyebrows, watching Blaine carefully. Something isn't right – he can sense it, but he doesn't want to fuck this up by stepping out of line. If he can just play this right, he'll have Blaine naked and horizontal by the end of the night – a few extra hours of socialising won't kill him.
That's when it all goes pear-shaped, of course. One minute they're dancing together, and Blaine's grinding up against him, which is causing all sorts of reactions in Sebastian's pants, and the next minute Sebastian's eyes dart towards a woman in a dark dress – a brunette, hair pinned back into a tight ponytail, and Blaine is yanking him by the hand and pulling him out into the street in a blind panic.
"Jeez, Killer, one minute you want to go somewhere else, the next minute you're desperate to get me back to your apartment. You really know how to keep a guy on his toes," Sebastian jokes. It's a defensive tactic, really. He's starting to feel like there's something bigger going on here, in all honesty, he's mentally calculating just how badly he wants to get laid tonight against how much he values his safety.
Blaine doesn't say anything, just drags him to a red Corvette that's parked on the sidewalk, pulling out a rather suspicious looking cylinder device from his pocket, and jamming it over the lock, and the car opens with a click.
"Wait, this is your car? Did you park here when you came to meet me at the restaurant?"
"I really don't have time to explain, Sebastian," Blaine says hurriedly, and there's something urgent in his eyes. "Please get in the car. Please. I promise I'll explain-"
A black SUV skids around the corner, and Sebastian's eyes widen as it angles itself to face them.
"Fuck! Sebastian! In the car!" Blaine shouts over the racket of horns and skidding tires.
"What the hell is going on?" Sebastian asks, and if anyone asks him later, he'll swear that his voice didn't momentarily go as high as it just did. Panicked, he complies, hoping that he's not making the wrong move by trusting Blaine.
He barely has time to clip his seat belt in when Blaine revs the engine, and the car goes hurtling out of the space, rounding the SUV by inches, and he's rocketing them through the traffic. Sebastian is fairly certain his heart is racing at a thousand miles-per-hour, and his entire being is filled with dread.
"Blaine?" Sebastian asks shakily. "Now would be a great time to fill me in on what the everloving fuck is going on here?" He knows he's shouting now, but he really can't help himself, and Blaine doesn't say anything about it. They whip past a few panicked-looking pedestrians in the street, who point at them with terror in their eyes.
"Okay, listen to me very carefully," The SUV is right behind them now, and it's making a good go at ramming into them, but Blaine speeds ahead, narrowly avoiding smashing into the side of a truck by mere inches. "The woman in that SUV is an NSA agent named Rachel Berry, and she's after you. I need you to trust me, Sebastian, because if she catches you, she will hurt you."
"You're not really from Ohio, are you?" It's the first thing that escapes his mouth, despite the millions of other glaring questions that he has circling his mind right now – like, for example, why the fuck is this happening and what the hell does she want with him?
Blaine growls low, but doesn't answer him, his eyes firmly on the road as he white-knuckles the steering wheel – which Sebastian is at least thankful for, because the dial tells them that they're traveling at just over 200 miles-per-hour, and he's big enough to admit that he's fucking terrified right now.
Without warning, the SUV crashes into them from behind, and they're being dragged along the road sideways, the car crushing in on itself in the process. Luckily for them, air bags burst open in front of them, and they grind to a halt mostly uninjured, save for the ache in his bones and a few scrapes and cuts on their faces.
"Out," Blaine yells hoarsely, and Sebastian follows the instruction immediately by scrambling from the car – not because he trusts Blaine, but because he doesn't know who to trust here, and Blaine is the one that's kept him alive so far. He hopes he keeps up the tradition as he darts after the other man, following him through narrow gap in the buildings. The SUV, too large to fit through the narrow passage, crashes right into the walls with a deafening clatter. He doesn't look back to see whether the driver survived or not.
"Through here," Blaine shouts, before he slams his foot into the side-door in the middle of the alleyway, and Sebastian follow him through. Once hidden, they stop for breath, Sebastian struggling to inhale, and Blaine panting heavily.
"What- the fuck- is going on?" Sebastian manages to gasp out between panted breaths, clutching onto his chest like it's his only lifeline.
"Cooper Anderson," Blaine replies, as if that answers everything, and- wait, what?
"Excuse me?" Sebastian replies, narrowing a suspicious glare at Blaine.
"Not here," Blaine answers, grasping onto his hand and dragging him up a narrow landing. They traverse up a seemingly endless spiral staircase until they reach an open rooftop – a helipad, by the looks of it. Blaine pulls something out of his pocket – a black cellular-looking device, and presses a button at the side, muttering something into it that he can't quite make out, but it sounds like a request for a pickup.
"What the hell does Cooper Anderson have to do with some NSA agent chasing me? And who are you? Are you even gay, Blaine? That's your name, right? Or did you lie about that, too?"
"That's- irrelevant. How long did you know Cooper Anderson for?" Blaine asks abruptly.
"I- we knew each other in college, he's the asshole that got me kicked out of MIT- how do you know Cooper Anderson?"
"He was my-" Blaine hesitates, and he avoids Sebastian's intense gaze. "We worked together at the CIA. That's all you need to know."
"Wait, hold on a fucking minute! You're telling me that Cooper is a spy?"
"He was a rogue!" Blaine roars, and his eyes are alight with fury, as though he takes it extremely personally. Despite his utter confusion of the entire situation he's managed to get himself into, he finds himself wondering what exactly the nature of the relationship between Blaine and Cooper was. "Has he tried to contact you?"
Sebastian's eyes widen, and he takes an automatic step backwards. "He- he sent me an email. It was just a virus, but it didn't- it didn't do anything."
"Think carefully, Sebastian. Did anything weird happen when you opened it? Did you save the program onto a- a drive, or something?"
"No! I tried to close it, but when I did, I-" That's when it hits him. The virus, or whatever – it must have caused the flashing images, and then the fainting. He lets out a shaky breath. "My mind. It went... hazy? There were pictures. A lot of pictures, and then I- I passed out."
Blaine swears under his breath. "That's not good."
"What do you mean it's not-?"
"Give him up, Anderson."
Both heads turn towards the small door that brought them up to the roof, where the chestnut-haired girl from the club stands. Sebastian is still reeling from the use of the all-too-familiar surname, until his eyes flicker to the gun she's pointing at them, and Sebastian's heart jams in his chest.
"Don't freak out," Blaine tells him.
Which, is he fucking kidding him right now? He's being held at gunpoint by what Blaine tells him is an NSA agent and he's being told not to freak out?
Blaine reaches behind himself, and Sebastian gapes as he pulls out his own rifle, pointing it towards Sebastian. "Take one more step and I shoot, Rachel. Don't test me."
"Blaine?" Sebastian's voice cracks, and he raises his hands in the air in a gesture of surrender.
"Don't be stupid, Blaine. You've spent the entire night tailing him. I know you're not just going to shoot him. He belongs to the NSA. Give him up."
"No," He tells her with a low growl, turning to Sebastian. "Whatever she tells you, don't listen to her. As soon as they're done with you, they'll have you dead within minutes."
"Very much in favor of staying alive," Sebastian says, making a shaky attempt at retaining his wit to preserve a sense of normality. It doesn't work, but at least he can say he tried.
Rachel lets out a heavy sigh, eyes narrowing on them both. "You know what? It's late. I'm tired," and then, she turns to Sebastian. "Where is the Intersect?"
"The- the what?" Sebastian asks, breathless.
"Don't play dumb, Sebastian. The sooner you give up the information, the sooner we can all go home here. If that doesn't work, I'll shoot you both here and now, and I'll find it another way to get what I need."
Sebastian backs away slowly as the two agents focus their gazes on one another, trying to ignore the fact that he has two guns pointed in his direction. His heart hammers in his chest as he surveys the area – the stairwell is behind Rachel, so there's no way that he can get past it, and there doesn't seem to be any other way out. He scans the edge of the rooftop, before his eyes land the large corporate hotel behind Blaine, and he stumbles on his feet.
"Don't move!" Rachel yells, but he's already being consumed by flashing images yet again.
Computer schematics, blueprints for the hotel, a file of a Serbian demolitions expert, and it all settles into place in his mind, as if it should have been obvious from the start. "The Westin," he yelps out, voice panicked. "He's going to kill them."
Something unpleasant stirs in his stomach as Blaine and Rachel share a look that he can't quite decipher.
"What are you talking about, Sebastian?" Blaine asks, approaching him slowly, lowering his gun. Rachel stiffens, finger firmly on the trigger.
"I- the Ukranian Prime Minister. The demolitions expert – he's- he's going to kill him. He's going to blow up the hotel."
"Sebastian?" Blaine asks again, eyes piercing through him.
And fuck, they're looking at him as if he's gone insane, but he knows now- he knows that people are in danger, and he's a dick, but he's not evil – he can't stand by and watch innocent lives being torn away out of fear of his own life.
"Blaine," Sebastian pleads, turning to the other man. He speaks quickly, trying to get it all out before Rachel pulls the trigger on him. At least if he dies here, Blaine will be able to do something about the building. "The email from Cooper. I don't- I don't know what happened, but since I opened it, I've been seeing things. I remember things that I shouldn't know."
"Like what?" Rachel asks, voice wavering a little. Unconsciously, her finger loosens on the trigger, and Sebastian's chest relaxes a little.
He took a deep breath, gathering as much courage as he could. "This thing... whatever it is that's in my brain, it shows me things – tells me things. Like, how the NSA intercepted blueprints for the Westin Hotel, and how the CIA found schematics for a new Serbian bomb in Prague. I don't understand how I know this, I just- I just do! Please believe me!"
"Holy shit," Blaine breathes out, eyes wide with realisation. "It's the Intersect. You downloaded the intersect into your brain."
Rachel takes in a breath, head darting towards Blaine. "That's not possible." Then, she raises her gun again, this time pointing it towards Blaine. "What the hell are you playing at, Anderson?"
Sebastian quirks a brow at Blaine, because he registers it this time – the surname. "Anderson? Your card said your surname was Devon."
Blaine huffs, unamused. "We don't have time for this."
"Wait a minute. Are you related to Cooper? You are, aren't you? That's what you weren't telling me before."
"It doesn't matter, Sebastian. Cooper is dead." Blaine roars in reply, his voice cracking a little at the end. "He died sending the Intersect to you."