Hello and welcome! I realized that the amount of love I have for Huntbastian as compared to how much I have written for Huntbastian just isn't right, so here we are. More chapters are soon to come. Hope you enjoy! :)
"There's nothing I want more than to grow and change with you, you the sunflower, and I the north winds."
Hunter didn't know a whole lot about how he wanted his life to be. He joined the army straight out of high school and, though it had been something that he had always assumed he had wanted (though upon further consideration he may have reached the conclusion that it was more about what his father had wanted for him, the Claringtons being a proud military family), after a few years it had lost its luster. So he found himself back as a civilian at age twenty-one, going to college and trying to figure out what it was that he wanted to do with his life. The crises that his high school friends had had about finding their place in the world when they were starting college, he had just pushed off for four years.
But still, he made it through college and he got a degree in accounting and now at age twenty-five he was questioning every choice he had made up to then. It wasn't that he was hurting for money; no, there was enough of it in the family to go around, and the job he had paid decently well, which is why he hadn't been able to convince himself that leaving it was alright, even though he left every day feeling more and more drained emotionally. And relationships weren't a problem, either. Sure, he had only had a serious girlfriend or two, but that didn't seem to him to be much of an issue, seeing as he wasn't looking for that kind of commitment at this point in his life. Everything was going fine, but he just felt a bit unsettled.
He just knew that he was a good person. Or, at least, he liked to think of himself as a good person. He attended church regularly (not every weekend, but he was a busy person), he held doors open for people, he always donated money to anything involving the Wounded Warrior Project. Hell, for a while his apartment had felt like a hotel for other people's pets when they went out of town or their own apartments were being inspected and their dog or cat wasn't registered because they felt the pet deposits were unfair – and he was allergic to dogs.
(This was also how he had ended up with a couple of cats who found there forever home with him; the unfortunately named Mr. Puss when he was in college, and now called Tesla (named after Nikola Tesla, of course), who was a white and tabby ball of energy.)
Being a good person, as it turned out, wasn't always the great thing that he acted like it was. It wasn't that he got taken advantage of for it; no, he was nice, not overly naive, and that felt like an important distinction to make. No, being nice lead to nights like this one.
The thing is, living in Washington, DC meant a couple of things, like how you had to make sure to steer clear of certain sketchy areas, and the fact that no matter where you were, you were never actually very far from anything else. What that meant to Hunter specifically was that he lived about a block away from a fairly popular club. He had never been to said club but he had heard the music coming from within a number of times, seen drunk people stumble their way out into Ubers waiting on the curb. It had never seemed like his kind of thing.
He liked to sit out on the balcony of his second floor apartment, though (he had picked his apartment specifically for said balcony, and the steep change in price because of it all but demanded regular use to make it worthwhile), and often enough he would hear people on their way to and from the club. Such as that night.
It started with a voice from down below. "Hey asshole!"
Hunter couldn't help himself to look down, only to find that there was someone on the ground below looking up at the apartment building. More specifically, it looked like the man was looking at him.
"Hey asshole," the guy repeated. "Oh. I see you. I see you looking."
Based on the way his words were slurring together and how he could only last a couple of seconds before almost falling and having to quickly move a leg to catch himself, it was fairly obvious that he was drunk.
"What?" Hunter called out, deciding that it couldn't hurt to humor the guy a little bit.
"I don't know you, but I know… I know he's in there," the guy said.
"Who is in where?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Don't fucking play dumb," he called back, glaring up at Hunter.
Hunter chuckled to himself, rolling his eyes. "I really have no idea what you're talking about."
"Like hell you don't," he said, shaking his head. "You're probably the one fucking him now, huh? Well I hope he gives you…" He paused there, clearly trying to decide what was suitably cruel. "Herpes."
"I'm not involved with anyone," he said, leaning against the railing to look down at the guy better. He was clearly tall, even slouched the way he was now against a convenient newspaper dispenser box, with brown hair.
"Not that I have herpes. He's a slut, he probably picked them up somewhere since me," he was going on, as if he hadn't heard Hunter speak.
"Well, that's great," he said. "But I still have no idea who you're talking about. And you shouldn't say slut."
"I don't like slut either," he said, looking momentarily thoughtful. "But what else am I supposed to call it when he's got a dick in his mouth and a dick in his ass and a fucking line waiting."
Hunter had to hold back a laugh at that, though at the same time the words made him feel like he ought to do something. Shouting profanities and other questionable subject matter in the middle of the street didn't seem right.
"I just want to give him a piece of my mind, is all," the guy said, doing his best to make this fact sound entirely casual. "Can you get him out here?"
"No one else is here," Hunter said, shaking his head. "Just me."
"Just you? You promise."
"I promise."
The guy groaned, running his fingers through his hair. "But he lives here."
Hunter had been living in his same apartment since he had left the army, so that claim didn't seem to him like it could be true. But of course, an inebriated mind would never be the best navigator. "I think you're lost."
"I'm not, I'm…" he started, trailing off and looking around him. "This building looks like his. I practically lived with him."
"Sure, but not here," he said. "Maybe a floor up or something. I don't know."
The guy shrugged, shaking his head slowly. He didn't say anything for a moment, just sliding to sit down with his back still leaned up against the newspaper box. "I'm gonna puke," he groaned eventually.
Those words spring Hunter into action. He was a mother hen by nature, and he had done plenty of taking care of his drunk friends in college, so the thought that someone was about to throw up (especially in public) was not only something he was equipped to handle, but it also triggered an almost Pavlovian response in him. He left the balcony (he thought he might have heard the guy say something else, but he wasn't sure and he didn't particularly care at that point) and went around to go out to the sidewalk. He leaned down to help the guy to his feet, leading him over to a trashcan. It wasn't ideal, but it would certainly be better than the sidewalk below, or if he threw up on himself.
Sure enough, he was heaving within a few seconds, leaning on Hunter for support as aiming for the trash can was taking up what focus he might have otherwise used to remain standing.
As Hunter watched him, he realized that he wasn't sure that he trusted him to get home on his own. And though he knew that he should probably know better than to care so much about some random stranger, he couldn't help it.
So when the guy seemed to have recovered a bit, Hunter asked him, "What's your name?"
"Sebastian," he answered, looking at him with an expression of low level confusion on his face.
"Okay, Sebastian, I'm Hunter," he said. "How far away do you live from here? How are you getting home?"
Sebastian's lack of an answer felt like answer enough.
"Okay, come on," he said, looping his arm around Sebastian's waist to keep him steady as he led him up to his apartment. Once they were up there he brought him back to the bathroom, knowing it was likely that he would need to throw up again. He went and got him water, having to all but force it down his throat.
Hunter knew that bringing a random stranger into his home and allowing him to stay there wasn't necessarily the smartest idea; it was always the kind of thing that his mother would have warned him against. But the thing was, Sebastian was clearly a mess and he didn't seem like he would be all too dangerous and Hunter would rather run that risk than hear about the guy's dead body being found in an alley somewhere.
With that in mind, once he seemed to be done throwing up, Hunter brought him some of his clothes to sleep in ("I'm way taller than you, your sweatpants won't fit me." "You're like two inches taller than me, shut up and put them on") and helped him into the living room where he set up the couch for him. He gave him more water before laying him down on his side on the couch and heading off to bed, with instructions that should Sebastian need anything, he need only wake Hunter up.
And sure enough, Sebastian did come knock on his door a short while later.
"Your couch is really shitty," he complained, leaning against the door frame once Hunter opened it.
"So you can't sleep on it?" he asked, a bit surprised by how discerning Sebastian apparently was; the few times that he had gotten drunk, all he needed to get to sleep was a surface that was at least somewhat flat.
"No," he said, not waiting for an invitation before brushing past Hunter to go get into his bed.
"Okay. Sure. Take my bed," he said, letting out an exasperated sigh. "You better not throw up in it."
"I won't," Sebastian said as he flopped down onto the bed.
"So, is that better?"
"Yeah, it'll work," he said, sighing softly and closing his eyes.
"Right. So, I'll be out on the couch, then," he said, turning around to go out into the living room.
"Nonsense," Sebastian mumbled, his eyes opening again. "This is a big bed. C'mere."
Hunter turned around, hesitating for a moment. It wasn't like he was afraid of sleeping in the same bed as another man, no, his masculinity wasn't that fragile, but still… It felt like it would be odd to sleep beside Sebastian, a complete stranger.
"Why are you just standing there? Get in bed."
"Alright, fine," he mumbled with a soft sigh, going over and getting into bed on the other side from Sebastian. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
It took Hunter a while to get to sleep that night, part of him still in caretaker mode in case Sebastian did wake up and needed something but didn't wake him. When he did finally fall asleep, he slept like a rock until morning, opening his eyes with surprise to see light coming in from the window instead of being woken up by the man sleeping beside him.
….Actually, make that the man who had been sleeping beside him. When Hunter rolled over to look at him, he found that he was gone, his place on the bed cold. He got to his feet and went out to see where Sebastian was, if he was still around, finding him in the bathroom going through his medicine cabinet.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
Sebastian startled at the sound of his voice, jerking back and hitting his head on the cabinet door. "Oh god," he mumbled, stopping for a moment and rubbing his head. He looked back at Hunter after a bit, asking, "Ibuprofen? Advil?"
"Right," Hunter said with a small nod, shutting the cabinet and leading Sebastian out to his kitchen where he pulled a pill bottle out of one of his drawers. Giving him two of the pills and a cup of water, he asked, "Need anything else?"
"Do you have powers that enable you to go back in time and make me drink less than I did?" he deadpanned after downing the pills and water.
"Can't do that," he said, shaking his head. "You're sure you don't want any food or anything?"
"Oh god, no, no food," Sebastian said, shaking his head.
Hunter nodded and sat down on a stool at his breakfast counter. "So, you don't drink that much normally, right?"
"No, not anymore," he said, shaking his head. "Used to. Forgot how shitty this part was." He laid his arm down on the counter, dropping his forehead against it.
"Not anymore," he repeated. "How old are you?"
"Yep, not anymore," Sebastian affirmed, turning his head so that he could look up at Hunter with a look that very much said 'not impressed'. "Twenty-four, don't act so surprised. Let's just say I started drinking at the legal age, that's still time enough for me to have burnt out on it after going too hard."
"But you didn't start drinking at the legal age," he said, the words almost a question but not quite there.
"Of course not," he said. "Who does?"
"I did," Hunter said with a small shrug.
"Well good for you," he said, closing his eyes again. He didn't say anything for a moment, then asked, "How did I end up in your apartment? I mean, all things considered, we could've had sex, but…"
"No, god no," Hunter said, shaking his head. "I'm not gay, for starters, but—"
"Are you sure?" he asked, looking up at him with a small smirk. "You seem kind of bi to me. Not even a little?"
"Not at all, and that's not the point," he said, shaking his head. "You were drunk off your ass so I brought you in here."
"So you're a good Samaritan," he said, chuckling. "That's cute."
Hunter doesn't even bother to say something about his word choice of "cute," just shaking his head. "I just do my best," he said.
"Well, I didn't die, so, good," he said. Looking around the room, he added, "And I have definitely done worse as far as places I've woken up hungover. Nice place you've got here. It kind of reminds me of my ex's."
"I know," he said with a soft chuckle.
Sebastian raised an eyebrow at him. "Do you?" he said. After a pause, he added, "Do I want to know?"
"That's how I first became aware of you," he said. "You were shouting at me because you thought this was your ex's apartment."
"Oh," he said, sighing as he pulled himself to sit up. "Well, that's embarrassing. But I guess I could have done worse." He paused for a moment, his face falling into a deep frown. "I could have actually ended up at his apartment."
Hunter frowned slightly at him, recognizing something in that look and deciding it might benefit to steer Sebastian away from that trail of thought. "And you ended up with a bed to sleep in, so I'd go ahead and call it a win," he pointed out with a small shrug.
"That's true," he said. A smirk forming on his lips, he added, "I could have done a lot better, though, too. I mean, look at you. At least I could have gotten you to spoon me, you know, gotten those nice arms around me."
"Again, not gay," he said.
Sebastian shrugged, shaking his head. "Cuddling a bit doesn't make you gay," he said. "And taking a compliment from a guy who just so happens to be gay doesn't make you gay by association. You've clearly put some work into those."
"I guess," he said with a slow nod, looking down at his arms and feeling weirdly caught off guard by the compliment (not that he hadn't heard anything like it before, he worked out often and didn't always wear sleeves so it was bound to happen, but something about the context made him not expect it).
"Anyways," he said, sighing as he slowly got to his feet. "I've been in your way long enough, I ought to get going and get out of your hair."
"It's no big deal, really," he said, shrugging at his words. "I mean, you've been… entertaining."
Sebastian smiled softly at that, shaking his head and disappearing into the bathroom where his clothes from the night before were still waiting. He came back out a few minutes later, giving Hunter a quick wave. "Thank you for taking care of my drunk ass," he said as he headed towards the door. "Your clothes are on the bathroom counter. If I were to leave a review for you on Yelp, you'd get four stars out of five. Or four and a half if you can give halves, I don't know."
"Why not five out of five?" Hunter asked, raising an eyebrow at him. He wasn't sure why he asked; it wasn't like it mattered, and there was no reason that he should care about some random guy's opinion. But still, he felt like he had done a pretty damn good job and he deserved five stars.
"Spooning, Hunter, of course it's the spooning," he said with a small grin as he opened the door. "So, the next time you bring some poor unfortunate soul in from the streets, take pity on him and spoon the guy."
And with that, he stepped out the door and closed it behind him with a click.