One More Drop Into the Blue

by define-serenity

[NIGHTFLASH] All this time Sebastian hadn't been hiding his past, but a secret not unlike his own, struggling as hard as him with the reality of what it could mean should someone else discover his true identity. But where's the harm now? Sebastian is The Flash.

disclaimer: Without prejudice. The names of all characters contained here-in are the property of FOX and Ryan Murphy.

characters: Sebastian/Blaine (+Dottie, Sam)

author's notes: long awaited sequel to More than a Trick of the Light! it's the first part's one-year anniversary, so to celebrate have a direct sequel from Blaine's POV! more background, more superheroes, more boys falling helplessly in love! special thanks to Anis for her undying support and once again, my Lauren for the original prompt : )

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ONE MORE DROP INTO THE BLUE

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Sometime during the night Sebastian must've had the foresight to close the curtains, because when he opens his eyes that late morning the room bathes in a soft morning glow rather than the coarse sunlight that tends to hurt his eyes. He hadn't noticed Sebastian move or even leave the bed, but he's grateful he had the prudence to shield him from the early spring sun, which had the tendency to hang low and intrusive and cause more headaches than he cared for.

Sebastian's arm lies loosely wrapped around his waist, their left hands locked together throughout the night, Sebastian's chest rising and falling against his back, breath tickling the shell of his ear. He closes his eyes again, basking in the realness of this precious moment, a moment he never believed would come again, not after everything that happened these past few weeks.

He honestly believed he and Sebastian were over, there was a distance he'd forced on them and a past Sebastian refused to reveal, and he'd tried for so long to make it work. He thought time and patience would show Sebastian he could be trusted with his heart, his pain, his vulnerability, but neither ever paid off, and once they'd been foolish enough to share another kiss, one stupidly crazy kiss, well, he faced the facts: they would never be on the same page. If he couldn't reveal his identity then how could he expect honesty from Sebastian?

So he'd done the only thing that seemed right; he'd let Sebastian go, cut the cord, forced a clean break.

It hadn't been easy, he never fully realized how much he'd come to depend on Sebastian for his emotional well being; the jokes, the flirty banter, the touches that were always a little more than friendly – but that's what break-ups were all about, leaving someone behind, restructuring your life to account for someone that goes missing. He brooded for a long time, or so Sam told him; he attended his classes, worked, fought crime, all part of a stale routine meant to keep his mind off things. He'd avoided The Flash for a while, not only because he'd almost blinded him, but because his snarky attitude would easily pick up on his distractedness and he'd make a joke out of it. And losing his best friend was by no means a joke.

But now, he's not sure what to think, his heart's at ease but his mind races with a truth superimposed over both his lives. All this time Sebastian hadn't been hiding his past, but a secret not unlike his own, struggling as hard as he did with the reality of what it could mean should someone else discover his true identity. He feared the repercussions should any of his enemies find out he was a humble college student with loved ones they could use against him. That's what kept him from telling Sebastian, maybe even what kept him at a distance. But where's the harm now?

Sebastian is The Flash.

He chances a glance at the floor, catching a glimpse of The Flash's red suit tossed haphazardly on top of his cape, and he smiles – of course it had to be red, not anything inconspicuous like black which might leave Sebastian's alter ego unnoticed as he raced from one crime scene to the next. It's remarkable how The Flash's personality fell in line with Sebastian's and he'd never noticed. Maybe he saw what he wanted to see.

He moves to get up, but Sebastian's arm tightens around him as he buries his nose in his unruly curls, his body curling closer around his. God, he's missed this, Sebastian's care, almost worship for the quieter moments in their relationship, however much he loved to coax all kinds of noises from him.

"I didn't want to wake you."

Sebastian's lips rest against his temple. "I don't need much sleep."

He turns in Sebastian's arms, green eyes even more reverent and he turns gooey under their meticulous scrutiny. "This explains so much, you know," he says, caressing Sebastian's cheek as he briefly considers how much it does explain. There'd always been a distinct turning point in their relationship, Sebastian there for him even though he retreated inside himself even more, preoccupied with things he never understood until now. "How you changed after the accident. Always on time. Your humongous appetite."

Sebastian chuckles softly, while something sad settles in his eyes. "I wish I'd known sooner. Things could've–"

He lays a finger across Sebastian's lips. "We can't change the past."

"There's so much I want to tell you."

And he wants to hear it all, what the accident did to Sebastian, how all this came to be, why he chose a life of fighting crime while he already worked at the crime lab, how he'd found out about Fisk and warned him to stay away – there were so many questions, but his body burned with a desire he'd denied it for so long. So he whispers, "Later," and claims Sebastian's lips with his own.

Yesterday had been the most hectic day of his life, but all the torment and pain paled in comparison the moment he recognized Sebastian's kiss, saw with his own two eyes that the superhero standing in front of him had been the boy he loved all along. All the missing pieces that made the distance between them wrought with danger fell into place, it all made sense and right there and then he didn't want to talk, he wanted to take what he could never have, receive what he'd denied himself, share the one thing he and Sebastian had convinced themselves they'd lost so long ago.

"Just one thing–" Sebastian pulls back. "Sam. He knows."

"Yeah." He laughs. "He's kind of my sidekick. He loves it."

Sebastian smiles. "Dottie's the same."

"Wait? Dottie?" He blinks, but all of a sudden so many things become clear, the way Dottie and Sebastian would fall silent whenever he joined them, the phone calls and texts, their fast friendship. "I always wondered how you two got so close."

"Well, she's pretty cute."

"They're gonna freak out."

Sebastian draws his fingertips down his spine, staring into his eyes as if they're wells that go on endlessly; he'll never get tired of this. "Let them," Sebastian whispers, and captures his lips in a kiss again.

And for the time being he drowns in all that Sebastian offers, they make up for lost time, their secrets coded in Sebastian's touches, hands skating down his torso careful not to upset his bruises, groping and digging into his skin where it's safe to, his kisses long and soft and deep, demanding more than he could possibly give. But he tries, meets Sebastian move for move, the morning quietly lapsing into noon.

Sebastian prepares breakfast while he showers, washing away all the sins and regrets of the past few weeks, ready for this new turning point, one he never could've hoped would come around, but here it is, simple and pure, and he won't take it for granted. They both took it for granted once, fell headfirst into a passionate few months without heeding what they'd want in the long run; when it came down to it he wanted Sebastian to open up, learn what lay buried behind that strong and masterfully snarky facade, why he never talked about his father ... all questions Sebastian refused to answer.

Now he hopes enough has changed for Sebastian to see that answering them will be the only way to keep them together.

Sebastian's eyes catch on him the moment he exits the bedroom and he's happy he decided to cover up his bruises with a shirt – he's been battered and bruised often enough to bite through the pain, but the look in Sebastian's eyes is something he has yet to get used to. He pads into the kitchen and pours them both a glass of orange juice, amused that Sebastian keeps any questions to himself; he has so many for Sebastian in return, but after all the revelations the peace and quiet comes as a nice reprieve before they delve into the heavier stuff. So they eat in silence, Sebastian twice the portion he manages.

In the midst of all this domestic bliss it's easy to forget there's still an entire city crying in outrage over a murder he didn't commit. The news reports on the manhunt that had gone on all throughout the night on an endless loop, expert witnesses testifying that if Nightbird had any common sense he'd stay out of the spotlight and return to his civilian life for a while. It all leaves him with a bitter taste in his mouth.

"You were right." He sinks down on the couch. "I should never have gone after Fisk."

"B, this isn't your fault," Sebastian's quick to reply, dressed only in some sweatpants he still had lying around. "Fisk is–" Sebastian shakes his head, that all too familiar anger tensing in his jaw.

He chances the question, "Why did you go after him?" because Sebastian had hinted at something terrible last night, something unthinkable, something that made the sudden gloom that drew over Sebastian's face understandable. The Kingpin killed someone he cared about. Was it someone he knew? And how had Sebastian kept it from him?

But if Sebastian hears his question, he chooses to ignore it.

"They're not going to find any evidence against you," Sebastian says. "Did you see anything?"

"I got there too late."

The rumors about the hit had seeped down the grapevine a few days ago, and he'd made plenty of contacts in the criminal underground to suss out what they were about – the rumor mill was abuzz with this big trial and how the judge was under the protection of the US Marshals. It had taken him a while to find the judge's location, but he'd planned on sitting on the safe house as another layer of protection should The Kingpin try something. He'd been one step behind. The Flash warned him The Kingpin had people everywhere, but he'd refused to believe the corruption in this city ran that deep. Turns out he was wrong.

He can't imagine what it must be like for Sebastian to work inside that same corrupt system; maybe that's why he'd decided to use his powers for good.

"There were two gunmen." He stands up. "They clipped me three times."

"Can your wings be fixed?"

He blinks up at Sebastian and wonders how he'd been able to figure out his wings got damaged in the firefight; he'd been lucky to get them working before leaping off the building or he'd be in police custody and the whole world would know his identity. Unfortunately they'd given out soon after. And he was far too vulnerable on foot.

He draws his fingers down Sebastian's torso. "Sam is an expert at digging bullets out of my gear."

Sebastian's brow sets in a deep frown. "I don't like the thought of people shooting at you."

"They don't shoot at me. They shoot at Nightbird."

Sebastian pulls him closer, locking his hands behind his back. "Blaine, there's no difference."

"Yes, there is." He rises on his toes. "There needs to be. You can't fight alongside me and protect me at the same time."

"Watch me," Sebastian whispers, and pushes their lips together. He winds his arms around Sebastian's neck, gasping at Sebastian's parted lips, basking in a kiss he thinks he's always overcomplicated; he had his reasons, as did Sebastian, but all the complications are gone now, the fear of rejection or dragging Sebastian into something dark and dangerous. It's astounding how easily they slip back into a closer relationship, even if these kisses are a way to overwrite all the memories of missing each other.

"I'll head to the lab," Sebastian says. "See what Santana's found."

Sebastian unearths one of his own old sweatshirts in the bedroom; he keeps it around because of the way Sebastian used to look at him when he wore it in the morning, the hem reaching well below his ass. He still wore it from time to time, when no one else could see.

"You don't mind, do you?"

"Where's your suit?" he asks, his cape neatly folded on top of the bed, but no red fabric in sight.

Sebastian holds up his right hand and taps at his ring. No way.

"It's made from a highly compressible microfiber."

His eyes narrow on Sebastian's face. "Show-off."

"Please." Sebastian draws a step closer. "You love it when I talk dirty."

He giggles. Sebastian kisses him again and he reciprocates greedily, ready to fall headfirst into something passionate all over again. But they should learn from their mistakes, take this one step at a time, and right now clearing Nightbird's name sounds like a top priority.

"I won't be long," Sebastian says softly, presses another kiss to his lips, and another before heading for the front door.

"You're not gonna–" He points at the window, left open after Sebastian snuck into his apartment last night.

"Blaine Anderson, I do not use my powers for my own personal gain." Sebastian winks. "Most of the time."

As soon as Sebastian leaves he calls Sam again, like he'd done last night before The Flash showed up; he wants to reassure Sam that he's in one piece, that he's taking care of himself and not about to go after Wilson Fisk a second time.

"Good, because if you ever do something like that again I'm–" Sam searches for an appropriate response. "I'm telling your mom."

He smiles. "You're really going to show me, huh?"

"And don't you forget it," Sam says, and he can vividly imagine how Sam would dig a finger into his chest if he were here, regardless of the bruises, just to drive his point home. That's what he loves most about Sam; no matter how cool he thinks it is that he's a superhero he'll always give it to him straight when he disagrees with any of his actions. Maybe that's why he hadn't called Sam sooner, he knew all too well that confronting Fisk could be a mistake, but after finding three bodies, getting shot at by the perpetrators, and the full force of the police department trying to smoke him out, he'd lost perspective. He'd briefly considered asking The Flash for help, surely he'd understand he needed someplace to lay low, but he had no means of contacting him anymore. So he'd made a call. The wrong call.

Circumventing the security at Fisk's mansion had been easy enough: a strategically placed EMP device took out the cameras and the lights at the front gate, leaving the guards blind. But not him. Once inside he took out the entire electrical grid, including the back-up generator, and fought his way into the house. He'd gotten overconfident, ran on adrenaline and anger, and he messed up.

A fire burned in the fireplace of Fisk's office, taking away his advantage, and Fisk had aimed straight for his heart. The nanoseconds it took the bullet to reach him were enough to make him reconsider everything – his break-up with Sebastian, his lies and all the excuses amounting to nothing but distance between them but how little it would take to make that disappear. What had all his secrets ever done for him? He helped people in need and got a great satisfaction knowing he made Central City a better place, but what about his own needs? What about the safety of his heart?

The bullet knocked the breath right from his lungs, he'd fallen to the ground and black spots played in front of his eyes as he heard Fisk shuffle closer. That was it, that would be the night he died and it was his regret that threatened to tear him in half rather than the fear to die; Sebastian would find out the truth in the most terrible way and he'd never know how much he truly loved him.

That would've been true if The Flash hadn't shown up, if Sebastian hadn't shown up; he'd have taken a second bullet to the head and he would've been finished. Now a day later his whole world has turned upside down, his mind still reeled at the realization how much of his life lay bound to Sebastian's. But one thing was clear; he wouldn't let another moment go by without telling Sebastian how much he means to him.

An hour later Sebastian calls him with some good news: in light of the physical evidence identifying two shooters the police had called off their search. Tensions still ran high, but the crime lab had tentatively concluded Nightbird had nothing to do with the shooting; what he was doing there was up to the police to determine.

"You should probably lay low for a while," Sebastian says, and every selfish bone in his body suggests they use Nightbird's absence to make up for what they lost; Sebastian moves faster than the speed of sound, surely he could clear some time for their freshly rekindled romance. "But even Santana agreed it wasn't my boy's style."

He recognizes Santana's words but jokes, "Oh, I'm your boy now?" while a smile skips to the corners of his mouth; he could definitely stand to be Sebastian's boy again.

A chuckle resounds over the line. "How about boyfriend?"

His stomach flutters with something he can only describe as butterflies. "I like the sound of that."

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Unsurprisingly, Dottie and Sam freak out when they learn the truth. He invites them over for dinner so they have some privacy, and Sebastian does as much of the talking as he does, finishes his sentences for him and vice versa, their friends' eyes going wider at every new revelation – Sebastian The Flash, he Nightbird, and all the mess that led them to the truth.

When The Flash blinded him several weeks ago he hadn't made it to Sam's place; he couldn't see, vision blurred with black spots and his head throbbing with a migraine – he'd stumbled through alleyways blindly hoping no one would discover him, praying no criminal crossed his path because they'd surely get the upper hand. In the end he had to call Sam to pick him up because The Flash's actions had rendered him useless. Sebastian had apologized for that night over and over, a fact he shares with Sam and Dottie because he doesn't want Sam to get as angry with Sebastian as he'd been with The Flash.

Thankfully Sam reigns in his anger, far too overwhelmed by this brand new situation. He'd forgiven The Flash long before he found out the truth; now that he knows the incident took place right after he and Sebastian talked at the lab, somehow it's even easier. Things got complicated after that kiss and Sebastian's frustration mirrored his own. It was the hardest conversation they'd had in years, and hearing Sebastian silently confirm he still loved him had made it all the harder – with all the secrets now out in the open there's nothing that stood in their way. And he wasn't about to let it either.

He reaches for Sebastian's hand underneath the table and wedges his fingers in between his. Sebastian breathes a smile and quickly tugs his chair closer, so he throws his right leg over Sebastian's left, tucked safe and secure in the crook of Sebastian's arm.

"You guys know what this means, right?" Sam demands their attention, his entire face lighting up, eyes locking expectantly on every face around the table. "We need a name!"

Dottie's enthusiasm equals Sam's. "And a secret lair where we can meet up."

"Codenames!" Dottie and Sam shout in unison.

He laughs, and Sebastian's body shakes too. This went far better than he expected, he thought Sam would have a lot more questions or concerns about mixing his personal life with Nightbird's; Sam worried he'd lose perspective and start taking things personal, like face Fisk on his own after the crime lord seemed determined to set him and The Flash up for crimes they couldn't or wouldn't have committed.

"I'm Chai Ti," Dottie announces proudly, before she and Sam start talking amongst themselves.

He leans into Sebastian's body. "You call her Chai Ti?" he asks, unable to rhyme that with the image he has of his best friend.

Sebastian shrugs, "She likes codenames", without adding further explanation. It's a part of Sebastian he doesn't know but wants to, how Dottie found out his secret, what kind of team they are, if it's anything like the relationship he and Sam built over the years; he's ready to spill all his secrets and learn all of Sebastian's, get rid of any disguises left between them and share everything. They have a shot at something real now, a relationship with truthful communication, and the more he thinks about it the more he burns with fresh questions. Does Sebastian's mom know? His stepdad? Did he make the suit himself? What happened the night The Flash decided to confront The Kingpin?

But whatever questions he has he's quite determined to have Sebastian alone when he asks them. He nuzzles Sebastian's neck and laughs once he tunes into the conversation again, Dottie and Sam rambling excitedly.

Sam bounces in his chair. "We can be– like– team–" if they lived in a cartoon a light bulb would've appeared over Sam's head, "Nightflash!"

Sebastian winces.

"And dude," Sam adds, "you gotta stop getting his name wrong."

Sebastian's body shakes with laughter. "That really bothers you, doesn't it?"

He pulls back, disconcerted. "It's Nightbird," he says, reminded of every other colorful nickname The Flash had found for him that wasn't baby or darling. It's not that he felt bullied by Nightboy or Bird Boy, but it was a matter of principle. They both fought crime and both brought something to the team; The Flash's superpowers gave him a lot of advantages, but his gadgets had saved The Flash from plenty of dire situations, especially when there were guns involved – for some reason The Flash didn't like guns. He checks himself again: Sebastian didn't like guns.

"The Nocturnal Avenger," Sebastian teases. He'll be the first to admit he'd taken a particular liking to that one, that's why he'd used it in one of the articles for the school paper; if he'd known The Flash would be reading it he might've hesitated.

Sebastian pulls closer, "The Dark Feather," he whispers, his breath hot against his ear.

He snorts, unable to keep a straight face.

Sam and Dottie leave before either of them can force them to help with the dishes, but he welcomes the time alone with Sebastian, even if it's over something they both loathe doing.

"You know, you could use your powers for your personal gain just this once," he says, hinting at the sink full of dirty plates; Sebastian could have them done in two minutes flat and they could get on doing more interesting things.

But Sebastian throws him an unimpressed glare. "And have you miss out on all the fun?"

He pouts but gets started all the same, cleaning the plates and handing them over to Sebastian to dry. "You're never tempted? To use your powers?"

"Of course I am." Sebastian smiles. "I try not to when I don't have to. I run fast enough already. I don't want my life to do the same."

"That's very poetic," he says, pleasantly surprised to hear Sebastian talk so unguarded about his life in the fast lane – he can't imagine what it must be like, discovering changes in your body after a horrible accident, finding out you've lost two weeks.

His heart all but stopped when he got the call from Sebastian's mom.

"Blaine, honey, there's been an accident," Sebastian's mom had choked out, her breathing stilted in between terrible sobs, her husband's voice somewhere in the background. "It's Sebastian, he–" and then her crying got so bad she didn't get another word in; Sebastian's stepdad ended up giving him the news– Sebastian, his best friend, the boy he loved, survived getting struck by lightning, but wasn't waking up.

The two weeks that followed were terrifying. At night he got his mind off things by playing protector to the city, while he stumbled into Sebastian's hospital room dead on his feet, often falling asleep holding his hand. Whenever Sebastian's mom wasn't there he made sure to be by Sebastian's side, reading to him, often drawing fingers through his auburn hair because he could. They might not have been boyfriends anymore, but God, he wished they were.

And then, one night, Sebastian's heart had stopped beating. He'd screamed for the doctors, for anyone to help as the high-pitched squeal of the flatline dug daggers into his eardrums, tears blurred his eyesight, the boy he loved dying in front of his eyes. He realized then what had kept them friends after their break-up, why they found their way back to each other, how utterly inescapable it all became. He loved Sebastian, and he had never really stopped.

"How did you get started in all this anyway?" Sebastian asks out of the blue, replacing a plate in an overhead cupboard. "It wasn't just because of your night vision."

"I found out Tony Stark was my father."

Sebastian nearly drops the forks he's holding, his eyes wide. "Excuse me? Stark Industries, Tony Stark?"

He shrugs and continues washing the knives, barely containing a grin. Three years ago, when he played the same joke on Sam his face had first gone blank, then turned a particular shade of red, before he'd attacked with an array of questions – it almost broke his heart to tell Sam he was kidding. Sebastian, however, stays silent for too long for him to believe he bought anything of what he said – Sebastian knows him better than that.

Sebastian takes a step closer and studies his face. "Are you serious?"

"No, you idiot." He flicks some suds at Sebastian. "I don't know who my father is."

As he kid he often dreamed a guy like Tony Stark could be his father, someone who would whisk him and his mom away from the Lower East Side, steer them towards a better or easier life where he'd have more opportunities than his life afforded – he was young and dreamed big and wanted it all, a good family life and the chance at a college degree, recognition in a community he'd fought hard to belong to. It took him a long time to realize that any accomplishment should come from within himself, not anyone else. Once he figured that out he fought for every single achievement; he got a job to help out his mom with the rent, struggled to keep his grades up, and reached his dream.

It wasn't easy, his bullies managed to beat him down time and again and despite his uncle's boxing lessons they weren't deterred. But after six years of excellent high school grades he got a full ride to college and an internship at Stark Industries.

In between the machines and computers, the high-tech gear and gadgets, a new dream soon arose.

"So you started fighting crime–" Sebastian frowns, "because you could?"

"Yeah," he nods, confused by Sebastian's reaction. Did there have to be a reason? "After I realized I could see in the dark I created the suit. Sam gave me wings."

Sebastian's confusion seems to grow and more than ever he wonders what's at the core of Sebastian's convictions, what drove him to don a red suit and step out as The Flash, be a hero to Central City more than he already was with his job at the crime lab. But he suspects it might yet be a while before Sebastian opens up about that. He doesn't mind going first.

He takes a step towards Sebastian, the sink empty and the space between them wide open for any kind of conversation. "I've been fighting bullies my whole life. Criminals are just bigger ones."

Sebastian's hands settle around his hips as he reaches his arms around his neck. "I've known this for a long time. But you're quite something, Blaine Anderson."

He waits for Sebastian to come to him, but soon they sink down on the couch, their lips locked and hands never once losing touch of each other's bodies – he'll lay it all out for Sebastian, everything he's kept hidden from the people he loves, he'll show Sebastian every trick and secret hide-out.

He's in this for the long haul, and he's ready for Sebastian to know that.

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"Don't touch that," Sam calls over his shoulder, just as Sebastian's about to touch the new prototype for his wings at the lab. He and Sam have been messing around with some different alloys for a few weeks now, all in the hopes of making his suit lighter. So far all the results have led to his suit becoming more penetrable, and he's not sure he should be sacrificing invulnerability for greater manoeuvrability. The wings weren't always part of the original design; in his early days he ran everywhere, not quite as fast as The Flash.

It'd been hard, being out there on his own, but the satisfaction he got from putting bullies in their place, from saving people's lives, from cleaning up the streets he'd seen littered with pain and suffering since he was a kid; that can't be poured into words. He never looked for credit, a secret identity worked even better if people doubted his existence, but he loved this part of his life.

Sam had stumbled onto his secret quite unexpectedly; they'd been working together for a few months when Sam and his then-girlfriend, Brittany, got mugged walking home from a movie date – the mugger pulled a gun on them and Brittany screamed, hiding behind Sam, who'd begged the mugger take their money, their jewellery, everything but their lives. The moment he swooped down, even through the darkness, Sam had somehow been able to recognize his designs.

"Don't lie to me, I'd recognize my tech anywhere!" Sam shouted at him at the lab the next day, with an excitement in his voice and features he thought far too dangerous. What if this meant putting Sam in harm's way? There was a reason he hadn't told Sebastian a thing. But Sam proved a great help in steering him from one crime scene to the other over the radio, and an invaluable friend. Without Sam he wouldn't have gotten so much done these past few years, he might've gotten injured, he might've crumpled underneath all the responsibilities piling up on his shoulders.

It's weird having Sebastian here, in this space that's been his and Sam's alone for a few years now, that's been a secret all this time. But he's said goodbye to secrets and determined to show Sebastian every part of his life, not only in the hopes of shedding any distance left between them, but maybe he also harbors the selfish desire that unveiling his secrets means Sebastian has to show him his. Maybe it's selfish, maybe it's foolish. Only time would tell.

"How do you guys get away with all this, anyway?" Sebastian's eyes narrow on Sam's back. "You're interns with your own lab?"

He idly takes hold of one of Sebastian's hands. "Miss Potts doesn't mind."

"Pepper Potts?" Sebastian's eyebrows rise, while his fingers curl long and lazy around his. "As in, the CEO of Stark Industries?"

"Who do you think hired us, dude." Sam turns around, wholly focused on his gadgets, walking towards them as he hands them over. "New headset," Sam says, and presents the object in question to his boyfriend, pulling back momentarily to give Sebastian a stern look. "Don't wreck these," he adds, his anger over Sebastian's previous disregard of his toys still near the surface; Sebastian had tossed his old headset to the ground after almost blinding him, and all that after Sam had been reluctant to share in the first place.

"Let him get his own tech," Sam had argued months ago, even though he'd already decided that if he was going to be fighting crime with The Flash's help, they'd need a way to stay in contact. As far as he'd been able to ascertain The Flash lacked any gadgets or technological support, so Sam's tech could only help him in the long run.

"I thought you said these things were untraceable."

"They are!" Sam pointed a finger at him, before his shoulders slumped and his voice lowered to a whisper. His friend leaned in a little closer, as if the walls themselves had ears. "But what if he's like– psychic, or something?"

"He's not psychic, Sam."

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes; he'd never deny he was fascinated by The Flash the moment he showed up in Central City – the fast legs, the superpowers, the long lean body wrapped in tight polyester left little to the imagination, and the way he flirted and tossed around innuendo like candy had left him flustered and hot in the cheeks on more than one occasion. Something in The Flash's mannerisms even reminded him of Sebastian, the boy he was in love with, his best friend, but who he kept at arm's length to protect. "If he were he wouldn't need to try so hard."

Sam frowned. "Try what so hard?

He cleared his throat. "Never mind."

It's only when Sebastian nods that Sam surrenders his precious toys. He's a great engineer by any standards, but Sam has a vision scarcely matched by Tony Stark himself; not only did Sam possess the passion needed to create machines from their bare scraps, he had the imagination to try out new things, his wings among them.

"And some new shades."

"Red." Sebastian smiles, taking the new pair of glasses gratefully. "I like it."

"If I got my hands on your suit I could build them into the design."

Sebastian laughs. "Not a chance, Evans."

Sam's lips set in an adorable pout, but he doesn't let the rejection affect him for too long. "Last but not least." Sam presents Sebastian with a black bracelet, near identical to the one stitched into the lining of his own suit. "This'll monitor your vitals, so Dot and I know when either of you are in trouble."

"Are you sure it'll work on me?" Sebastian asks, strapping the bracelet to his wrist.

And Sam looks damn near offended.

"I'm just saying," –Sebastian raises his hands in surrender before Sam bursts into a rant about how his tech is superior to any other out there, he has money behind it, his designs are flawless, and Blaine has never complained– "what's normal for Blaine isn't exactly normal for me."

"Don't worry, man." Sam slaps Sebastian's shoulder. "This baby's been Sam-ified."

There's nothing he wants more than for this to work, for Sebastian and Sam to get along, for him and Dottie to grow closer, and for them to form a team stronger than the two separate units they've been up until now. He's tried to imagine what it would be like, to not only fight by The Flash's side but by Sebastian's, by his boyfriend's; it was difficult working with The Flash before, his constant prying into his private life, his insistence on small talk… it was all so typically Sebastian he can't help but smile now.

"You ready?" Sebastian's voice pulls him out of his future fantasies, long lean body drawing closer before careless lips find his; he secrets away a smile against those lips, excitement raising goosebumps on his skin, his heart echoing the past and present and the future. It's all falling in line, Blaine Anderson and Nightbird one and the same person, Sebastian Smythe and The Flash, and now them.

Boyfriends.

"That's it." Sam stomps his foot. "Take it outside. None of that lovey-dovey stuff in my lab."

"Your lab?"

Sam waves a dismissive hand. "You know what I mean."

He laughs and drags Sebastian out of the room. They walk down the hallway hand in hand, silent in the elevator ride down as Sebastian's thumb strokes the back of his hand in tiny circles. He bites at his lip smiling, butterflies pleasantly replacing the blood coursing through his veins. "Sam worries about mixing my personal life with my 'professional' life."

"Well, in that case," Sebastian says, letting go of his hand to draw it over his ass, giving it a small squeeze for good measure. He giggles. "We're screwed."

They come to a halt by his car outside, his cheeks hot, body burning with desire for this man, but an altogether different desire singeing around his nerve endings; they agreed to go out as a team for the first time tonight, Nightbird and The Flash, no more secrets.

"Let's try it out first, shall we?"

Sebastian flashes him a million dollar smile and takes a step back; it takes a total of five seconds for Sebastian to phase to a blur of red and yellow lightning right in front of his eyes, and suddenly his boyfriend has transformed into The Flash, hood down, an amalgam of two people he once thought two separate entities, now inextricably the same. And his head spins at the thought for much longer than five seconds.

Can they make this work? Can this simple revelation of who they pretend to be for the sake of Central City erase all that once broke them apart?

Sebastian winks, "After you, Bird Boy," and throws on the new pair of glasses Sam made him.

"Sebastian," he hisses, but Sebastian zips away while he blinks, a red streak stretching from the parking lot to the city. This is going to be fun, he thinks, fun and crazy and messy. But he wants to make this work.

He drives home and gears up, his hair slicked back with a gratuitous amount of gel to tame his curls, a black mask to cover most of his face, his body armor, his boots, his gloves; he savors the moments before he heads out, the routine of struggling into his suit an incrementally satisfying process, a quiet tradition he keeps to himself because as soon as he's out there the calm will be disturbed, ripped to pieces by low class criminals who can't help but cause pain and misery.

Twenty minutes later he lands by the water tower where Sebastian stands waiting for him, his hood pulled over his face, but all the parts that were The Flash before are now all parts he can't unsee as characteristically Sebastian's; the long legs, the toned arms, the odd freckle peeking out from under red polyester.

"What took you so long, Nocturnal Avenger?"

He practically hears the smug grin in Sebastian's voice.

"Not all of us have superpowers, Speedy."

The air fills with Sebastian's wholesome laughter.

"You had that one coming." He pokes at Sebastian's side, while he stares out over the vast outreaches of the city. Something tells him he'll have to get used to Sebastian contorting his name whenever the whim strikes.

"Guys," Sam's voice sounds in his ear. "Armed robbery at Park and 6th. Police are on their way but they'll never make it in time."

"We're on our way," he tells Sam, and Sebastian's raced off before they can work out a game plane, not that he ever bothered before. Maybe he should explain to Sebastian that he can't assess a situation at the speed of sound and still be on time to catch all the perps; he wonders if The Flash is at all capable of slowing down once he's donned the suit for a night.

He releases his wings and dives off the building, wind wheezing in his ears. When he lands at Park and 6th, four robbers have been tied to a lamp post, their mouths stuffed with white cloth, as if they're second-rate characters in some inaccurately portrayed superhero movie.

"Present for you," a voice calls from the dark, soon revealing a red blackened by the night.

"I thought we were going to do this together." He tracks towards Sebastian, even though the sight is highly amusing. "Like before."

"It's not like before."

He smiles at the soothing thought of how much they've learned about each other this past week alone. "You know what I mean."

Sebastian brushes a gloved thumb along his jaw. "Next one's all yours."

But the next one isn't his at all, or the one after that; Sebastian manages to put himself between him and the biggest danger at every scene and tries to pass it off as a 'present' or 'not worth Nightbird's time', all with the most charming of smiles. He lets Sebastian off the hook; it's their first night out with see-through masks and there's bound to be a little miscommunication at the start. Given enough time, they'll find out where they end as boyfriends and start as superheroes, thread the fine line between two lives they now live together.

.

If he thought his life couldn't change any more he was in for a rude awakening – learning the truth about Sebastian proved the start of a series of changes he never could've anticipated. They never made a whole lot of time for each other before, any movie night or night out still subject to potential cancellation despite his feelings for Sebastian, but he'd chosen to protect this city from all sorts of criminal activities, and that required time away from his personal life.

Now most of his time becomes Sebastian's and The Flash's, two people who turned out to be one and the same, and he hasn't quite figured out how to balance that yet.

He dons the suit and the cape and the mask, yet every time The Flash now looks at him from beneath his red hood, he feels like Blaine, not Nightbird, scrutinized by beautiful green eyes that make him feel loved and protected. Sebastian has this way of seeing him, past every layer of artifice, underneath his skin right down to his bones, where no armor of any kind can protect him.

He goes to school and he works diligently at the lab, every minute now infused with the fresh excitement of a relationship renewed, a bond restored, a love deepened by the stark truth that they were their own worst enemies; they protected each other from harm by keeping the person they loved the most at arm's length, and now that the truth's out it's almost too tragic to think about. But he meant what he said: they can't change the past, they can only live in the here and now and create the foundations for their future, one with a much longer shelf life.

They spend their nights together fighting crime and go home together afterwards, his place, Sebastian's, doesn't really matter, and once they're home Sebastian kisses him, every layer gets peeled away; the cape, the suit and the mask and he's truly Blaine again, Sebastian's Blaine, they're two people who got so desperately out of touch they make up for it like their lives depend on it. Sebastian winds him up until he's begging to be taken and he takes charge before Sebastian gets the chance to – he pushes Sebastian back on the bed and sheds whatever clothing's still in the way, crawling over the sheets on all fours towards his eagerly waiting boyfriend.

They'll tumble circles in the sheets and drive each other crazy, teeth will graze over skin or bite when it's a little rougher, he'll suck a hickey behind Sebastian's ear and ease his tongue over the spot until it starts healing. Sebastian's back will arch off the bed, his thighs clenching tight around his hips.

"This is a whole new side of you, killer," Sebastian will smirk, lathering kisses up his torso, a hand teasing his dick nice and slow and he'll whisper, "I've missed you," while straddling Sebastian's hips, slowly sinking down over him.

It's not new, this side of him, he remembers passionate nights years ago when his hands tore at the sheets, Sebastian breathing hard in his ear and they'd call out each other's names, but he understands what Sebastian means – all his colors show now, the real Blaine, the one he pretends to be to the outside world, even the masked hero he becomes at night, they now form a complete picture whereas only a few days ago their friendship lay fractured beneath lies and excuses they stopped forgiving each other for.

"That's it, killer." Sebastian caresses a hand up his chest that comes to rest over his heart, the other cupped around his thigh for guidance. He circles his hips before he starts moving, coaxing a shiver from the beautiful body beneath him. "That's it," Sebastian whispers. "Nice and slow."

Sebastian tries to sit up but he forces him down, bending over to capture Sebastian's lips while tilting his hips, feeling Sebastian closer and deeper at the same time. "Feel so good. God, Sebastian."

They kiss and nothing at all matters, not the city, not The Kingpin, not the past or the future, not their secrets or the disguises they chose, not masks or schemes or any of the people in their lives. They're together, they have each other, and they can take on the world – but all that truly matters right now is him and Sebastian, the bed, and nothing beyond it. They're two boys crazy about each other, taking their sweet time getting to know each other again.

Yes, his life has changed, one dream has replaced the other, one crushed, the other fulfilled, and now he gets to share all that with Sebastian. His life will continue to change, he has a duty that includes Sebastian and The Flash and there'll be obstacles neither has accounted for. But as long as they're together he won't be facing them alone, and he's pretty sure they'll come out stronger once they're conquered.

"I love you." Sebastian kisses his forehead, his breathing still coming down, body sweaty and sticky beneath him.

He smiles into Sebastian's skin. "I love you too."

.

Sebastian zips circles around him for fun, his fast feet leaving black burn marks in the concrete while his head spins around the cold hard truth: Sebastian isn't showing off, he's not having a fun go at him, no, Sebastian means to shield him from a dark and dangerous world, form a solid barier between Nightbird and any criminal in his path, protect the boy no longer extricable from the masked vigilante.

And there will come a time, soon, where Sebastian –where The Flash– will get them both hurt.

"Wake up, sleepy," –warm breath tickles along the shell of his ear, fingertips trip stepping at the small of his back, down to his hip, carefully outlining where his dream stops and reality begins. Sebastian means well. Always.

"S'not time yet," he complains, wriggling his ass against his boyfriend's groin, all in the hopes of distracting Sebastian and gaining a bit more downtime. They'd had a long night patrolling the city, and some exhausting extra curriculars on the couch when they got home – anyone who walked into the loft now would know who they were simply by looking at the red, black and blue fabric scattered from the door in a disorganized line to the couch.

The radio on the nightstand starts playing; a low chuckle rumbles in his eardrum. "The 7am newsreader begs to differ," Sebastian says, biting playfully at his ear. He turns in Sebastian's arms, cuddling close for warmth, the warm voice of the newsreader easing through the room.

"Breaking news," the broadcast starts, "In the night of February 17th the Central City Police Department was hacked by what sources are referring to as a social blogger."

Sebastian freezes against him.

He opens his eyes and studies his boyfriend closely, his breathing shallow, focused on the newscaster's voice.

"Little is known about the security breach–"

"You don't think–" he swallows half the question out of fear of confirming Sebastian's worst. Would Dottie risk this?

"... the Chief of Police has thus far issued no statement confirming the hack, but sources inside the police department say the documents accuse high-ranking members within the justice system of taking bribes from the crime boss known as The Kingpin."

"God damn it," Sebastian curses and jumps up out of the bed, a bite to his tone that starts a peculiar panic below his sternum. Why would Dottie do this? Why would she take the risk of exposing herself when The Kingpin's influence stretches so far? Sebastian starts picking an outfit together at random, a drawer slams closed, he almost slips on a stray sock, but he moves on autopilot. "I've told her so many times how dangerous this world is. So many goddamn times!"

Sebastian finally struggles into both shoes and grabs his phone and keys off the dresser, breathing hard, and then hesitates; for a second or two Sebastian's fists ball at his sides and anger visibly flares through him, like his skin's about to start vibrating.

"Baby, maybe you should–"

But Sebastian fades into a red streak before he can even attempt to calm him down. He sighs and gets up, quickly grabbing together a somewhat decent outfit from the few items of clothing he keeps around the loft. Sebastian's no doubt raced over to Dottie's, and who knows what he'll do, what he'll say while still blinded by his anger; Sebastian might say something he doesn't mean, something he'll end up regretting.

He's out the door no two minutes after Sebastian, and though he moves at a much slower pace he hopes to exact some damage control before the worst can be done. Dottie's dorm on campus lies in a centre of early morning activity, students up and about to get breakfast, fill up on caffeine, nurse their hangovers, or catch up quickly before class. He pushes through a slew of bodies with practised ease, taking the stairs two steps at a time with little to no effort, arriving at Dottie's door a sloppy ten minutes after leaving Sebastian's apartment.

It's either a testament to the building's architecture or Sebastian's ability to keep his cool that he can't hear any voices through the door. Unfortunately he knows Sebastian too well to expect the latter.

"What were you thinking?" Sebastian shouts at a small frail girl he barely recognizes as Dottie.

He closes the door behind him.

"Sam and I thought–"

He cringes at the sound of Sam's name. What have Dottie and Sam been doing behind their backs? Has he not warned Sam about the dangers of what they do time and time again, all in some twisted effort of alleviating the guilt he felt over pulling Sam into his world in the first place?

"You're taking your cues from Sam now? That's great, Dot." Sebastian takes a step forward, Dottie shrinking ever smaller. "What if Fisk traces the hack? Did you think of that? What if he finds you?"

"Only the police has access to the files," Dottie squeaks, rubbing at her arm, shaking, tears in her eyes, and his chest constricts around a painful thought: Sam may be bigger than Dottie, but is this how he sounds when Sam takes a risk too many, too close to crossing a line they promised they wouldn't?

"And Fisk has access to the police!" Sebastian shouts, too loud for it not to travel outside of the room, startling an already thoroughly distraught Dottie. "How many times do I have to tell you that? How could you be this stupid?!"

He pulls an unconscious step closer. "Sebastian–"

Dottie stares down at the floor. "I was only trying to help."

"Getting yourself caught is no help to me, Dottie."

"I'm sorry," Dottie whimpers, tears now spilling down her face, and she rushes past Sebastian and him in a tiny blue blur.

When Sebastian turns and means to chase after her, he grabs hold of his arm. "Let her go," he says softly, aware now that he should've stopped this the moment he walked through the door. Dottie made a mistake, but there are other, much calmer ways of making that clear to her. Anger still upsets Sebastian's skin, his jaw set firm around all the things he still wants to tell Dottie, but she heard everything she could take already; they should take some time to lick their wounds before there can be any hope of mending the situation.

"She needs to know she can't just–" Sebastian eases his hands into his pockets, takes a quiet step back and shakes his head, doing anything to avoid his eyes; the man and superhero he loves transforms into a scared little boy, shrunk smaller at the mere possibility of losing someone he loves. He understands that feeling all too well, but he's never seen Sebastian like this.

"Hey." He pushes in closer, drawn to that vulnerability like a moth to flame, a drive in him that needs to protect those that can't do it themselves, won't do it themselves, are too afraid to do it themselves – Sebastian's never been one of those people, even though he's seen him retreat behind secrets and ommisions he plays close to the chest. Now this, this fear and anger, this defeat vibrating through his limbs... he's wanted to know where that came from the moment he fell in love with Sebastian.

"Hey, talk to me." He places his hands at Sebastian's waist. "What's wrong?"

Sebastian stares down at his shoes. "She shouldn't put her life on the line like that," he says, voice that of the same scared boy, one that carries the weight of an entire world. "She didn't choose any of this. I forced–"

Tears fill up the space between what Sebastian means to say and everything he never does, while curiosity coils around that all too familiar place inside his own heart like a treacherous snake. What hasn't Sebastian told him? What is Sebastian so afraid of? What terrible secret ends up breaking them every single time?

"How did Dottie find out about you?"

Maybe this time Sebastian will answer, his heart too raw and hesitant to push him away too. Maybe this time what they're building can withstand the whiplash of whatever trauma drives Sebastian in those dark nights behind a disguise of his own choosing; lightning and heat and fire, nature's most destructive forces.

Sebastian finds his eyes, and the ensuing silence speaks volumes. Poets would write such tragic stories about them, two boys hopelessly in love, lost to each other for years, reunited as if fate willed it so, separated by a fateful unbridgeable past. They could be so amazing. They could be each other's forevers.

"Sam and Dottie can't start making these kinds of decisions on their own, Blaine."

"I know." He nods, letting go of Sebastian. "But we don't own them. Dottie makes her own choices."

It's not what he wanted to say; ideally they could form a united front against Dottie and Sam and point out what a huge mistake this could prove to be. Dottie just exposed a lot of powerful people who have a lot to lose and they'll want someone to pay. Both Sam and Dottie need to realize that what they did was reckless; it not only endangered them, Sebastian, and him, but their loved ones too, their families.

He's heard stories about the families The Kingpin's thugs tore apart.

Sebastian's eyes shine with tears. "I can't stand the thought of her getting hurt," he says, but what he hears cuts so much deeper, sounds Sebastian's hidden convictions so much louder: Sebastian means to keep the entire world safe and that world includes him. They're not out there as Nightbird and The Flash anymore, they're Blaine and The Flash, and that simply won't continue to work. If they don't talk about this they'll be shouting at each other too sooner rather than later, making each other miserable, and they've never been particularly stellar at communicating about certain parts of their relationship.

"She won't get hurt," he says softly, afraid to touch Sebastian again. "We'll keep her safe."

Sebastian turns and scratches the back of his head.

And he's not sure if Sebastian simply doesn't believe him, or if he's plotting to keep Dottie safe all on his own.

.

He tries to ignore the feeling that something's really wrong, that there's an inherent disconnect between him and Sebastian that's been there from the moment they met. They broke up over secrets once, he let Sebastian in but was never granted the same courtesy – is he wrong to want Sebastian to open up, delusional to expect there to be no more secrets now that the disguises have come down?

Sebastian still hides, from something in his past that he can't share but can't let go either, the main impetus behind his fast feet. He's afraid Sebastian will never stop running, that one day he's going to run from him, from them, because his own desperation to know is an equally destructive obstacle.

But he concedes that change can't happen over night, it needs to be understood and cultivated and taken care of, or else it might come down like an unstable house of cards. He can try patience; he's loved and lost Sebastian before and he can't go through that again. Their love for each other is real, it always has been, so he decides to count on that to see them through this rough patch. It's one thing to take off a mask, an entirely different one to shed years of growing used to secrecy. Sebastian doesn't even let Sam make improvements to his suit; trust grows with time, in every walk of life, especially two separate ones lived by one and the same person.

He slowly but surely coaxes Sebastian into his world: Dottie gets her own spot at the lab for when she wants to come over, her own computer even, which she quickly secures with her own coding; Sam and Dottie monitor their activities at night, their vitals included, and guide them safely from one crime to the next; The Flash and Nightbird are a crime-fighting team that protects the city from the worst, beacons of hope, even though it's The Flash who gets most of the glory.

And he talks, and talks, and talks, every coded excuse and blatant lie laid bare in the name of this new thing, this fresh relationship that isn't anything like they had before; they were young and foolish and passionate once, and while they might still be all those things, still just two idiots in love, one thing has changed – they are so incredibly serious about each other.

"You're a mutant?" Sebastian's eyebrows rise, seated in Sam's favorite chair at the lab.

"I have an unknown mutation on the photoreceptors in my retinae," he corrects. It's not his favorite word in the world, even though Sam had used it too and still does when he means to offend, but it's an adequate term to explain why his eyes can take in more or less light depending on the environment he's in. He can't say where the mutation comes from or why he's the only person who can see in the dark without the aid of artificial night vision, because that's just as big a mystery to him.

He was more than likely born with this gift. As a kid he never questioned how he could move in the dark so easily, or why it was such a scary place for other kids; surely they could see what he saw, people and objects as clear to him as if the lights were still on. Then, one night as he walked home from one of his uncle's boxing classes, some kids from school cornered him in an alleyway – his mom had regularly warned him about the dangers of walking home at night, but he didn't see the difference.

When his mom had told him, "Not everyone sees the world like you do, baby," he'd never truly understood the implications of what that meant until that night.

The three kids much bigger than him drew closer and closer, backing him up against the wall, and he knew no boxing classes would help him defend against three assailants. He begged, "Please, don't hurt me," and felt every bit the eleven-year old he was; his mom had seen him sport enough bruises to last a lifetime. He was scrawny and short, and he bruised easily. That's why his uncle had agreed to train him.

"Not a chance, Anderson," the tallest of the three said, and punched him in the shoulder. "Didn't your mom ever teach you to stay away from the hood? This is the Pin's territory."

It'd been the first time he heard the name.

Then, as if there was someone up there looking out for him, all the lights went out; the alley, the street, all the buildings around them, the first of many blackouts the Mayor had announced. And the boys panicked. They let him go and he slipped away, halting at the end of the alleyway when he wasn't pursued. Why weren't they trying to catch him? These were older boys, surely they weren't afraid of the dark?

"I can't see shit, man," one of the boys said, stretching his arms out in front of him like his friends, waving around frantically. "This is bullshit."

"He wasn't worth our trouble anyway."

His heart beat faster, adrenaline rushing through his limbs. He was right there, but they couldn't see him. He looked around and saw the entire east side of the city stopped, paused by a black they couldn't blink away, struggling through the dark of night like blind men. It dawned on him that he wasn't like other boys. He wasn't like other people. He saw the world much differently than anyone else.

When he asked his mom she avoided explaining how she'd known, how it was normal for her that he could see in the dark, and much like all the other questions she avoided answering he realized this one involved his father. The man she never talked about, no matter how much he insisted.

"Do you see as well at night as you do in broad daylight?" Sebastian asks, forcing him back into the here and now. Today's been all about revealing his world to Sebastian; not the lab or Sam's toys, but how he does what he does, why he does it, what demons hid in his past that drove him to his calling.

"Better," he says. "I have problems with bright light– as you know."

Sebastian pulls him in between his legs and pouts a little. "Am I ever going to live that down?"

He kisses the top of Sebastian's nose, arms circling his boyfriend's neck. "You know I don't blame you."

"Hmm," Sebastian hums a noncommittal sound, before their lips meet in a succesion of quick kisses, a playful back and forth that has his heart fluttering. How can he not be patient, how can he not give Sebastian time; he loves this boy through and through, has loved him secretly for years and this is one secret he's glad came out. Not being with Sebastian would be greater torture than having to drag his past out of him.

"Come on." He grabs Sebastian's hand and pulls him out of his chair. "I want you to try something."

"Are we talking public indecency?" Sebastian trails behind him. "Because I work for the police. I can't have that kind of thing on my record."

He rolls his eyes, but foregoes his usual reponse. "Couldn't Charles get that expunged? Being the Chief of Police and all?"

Sebastian laughs. "You are getting way too cocky, Anderson."

He winks. "I learned from the best."

They enter a smaller room adjacent the lab, where a spare set of wings dangle from two strong cables suspended from the ceiling. He wouldn't normally consider doing this, Sam would kill him, for one, but if he means for every single disguise to disappear he needs to make an effort too. It wasn't merely Sebastian's secrets that drove them apart; when he became Nightbird he consciously decided to prioritize his crime-fighting over certain aspects of his relationship with Sebastian and that broke them up faster. He's not blameless, not in the least.

"Is that for me?" Sebastian asks.

"Yeah. Thought you might like a firsthand taste."

Sebastian takes up position underneath the harness, which will lower to his shoulders and strap around both arms. It would be trickier if he asked Sebastian to wear his armor; the module clicks into place underneath his cape through an intricate web of straps and hooks, all automated. For the purpose of this exercise it'll suffice to simply strap Sebastian into the single module.

"Did you okay this with Sam?"

"It's my suit." He scowls, watching Sebastian brace under the added weight to his shoulders. "Not Sam's."

Sebastian's green eyes shine with mischief. "But they're his wings."

He pouts. Sebastian's seen him and Sam argue about his suit often enough to know the ins and outs of that relationship, but he's the one who created the body armor, he slaved over designs and schematics for two weeks straight and experimented with dozens of alloys to use; in his mind the suit was more his than Sam's, but that discounted the dozens of improvements Sam made over the years. The suit now regulated his body temperature; the wings replaced his cape whenever he extended them to their full range, not to mention the built-in gadgetry that sends telemetry back to the lab.

"What's the second thing?"

He wanders over and tries a strap around Sebastian's left arm, tugging a little too hard to be comfortable. Sebastian hisses. "What he doesn't know won't hurt him."

"God, you're cute."

"Stop." He laughs, and shakes his head, ducking a kiss. How is he even in love with this doofus? When they met that inevitable day at the coffee shop where Eli worked, he'd been immediately taken with Sebastian's easy smile.

In fact he'd been so taken with the smooth grin and the charm he showed in class that he'd set aside any apprehension and introduced himself to Sebastian a few weeks after the start of college.

"You're Sebastian, right?" he'd asked carefully, his cheeks heated with the fear of rejection. Things between him and Eli were cooling down and he'd never been known to take a relationship halfspeed, friendly or otherwise. "We take maths together?"

Green eyes blinked up at him between two stray strands of auburn hair, before that smile flashed across Sebastian's face, all perfect teeth, the slightest hint of dimples in his cheeks, two lights twinkling in his eyes. He swore to this day it took all the strength in the world not to sink to his knees at the sight of it.

Sebastian leaned back in his chair. "Blaine Anderson. How could one forget?"

Heat sank ever deeper into the deep tissue of his cheeks until it seared into bone, enamored by this cute boy who let him into his life as if it was the simplest thing in the world. And maybe it was, maybe it was meant to be, maybe they were meant to meet, to start talking, to fall in love and lose each other for a while. Maybe the universe had a plan for them.

They were only friends those first few months – Sebastian respected his relationship with Eli, and he had yet to be brave enough to let go of Eli when Sebastian wasn't a certainty. Maybe it was selfish, maybe he wanted his cake and eat it too, but he got to know Sebastian as a friend, nothing more; they had coffee together in between classes and learned all about each other, sat together in class or copied the other's notes, talked for hours about sci-fi movies and their technological inaccuracies.

And somewhere, not too unexpectedly but decidedly after he and Eli broke up, he found he'd fallen for the boy with the easy smile, the unsubtle innuendo, the heart much bigger than he admitted.

If Sebastian's hood hadn't skillfully hid his face, he would have recognized him without question.

He takes a step back to admire his handiwork, his boyfriend fully secured in the harness; it's almost kind of hot, in an almost disturbing kind of way. "Are you ready?"

"To–" Sebastian eyes widen, head snapping towards the ceiling and back to him. "No." He tugs at the strap around his left arm. "No, no, no, you're not going to make me fly."

What exactly did Sebastian think he meant to do?

"It's perfectly safe."

"I have no doubt about that," –Sebastian tries to lift up the harness, but it won't budge, "–but I'm not going up."

"Are you–" he starts, but the question seems too silly to finish. If Sebastian were afraid of heights he'd know, wouldn't he? He quickly runs over, loosening the straps around Sebastian shoulders, when it dawns on him. "Are you afraid to fly?"

"I'm not what you'd call a comfortable flyer." Sebastian rolls his shoulders, and he can't suppress a smile. "What?"

His smile widens. "You're afraid to fly."

Sebastian sighs. "I'm never going to hear the end of this, am I?"

"Not a chance, Smythe."

After erasing all evidence that they were ever at the lab, they head out for pizza, two for Sebastian, barely one half for him, and they walk home hand-in-hand. Part of him wishes this could be enough, to just be with Sebastian, be boyfriends without the pitfalls of what makes a strong relationship reminding him exactly why theirs isn't as strong as it could be. It would only take a few choice questions to tear apart the first seam, which would start a chain reaction until they've come apart. and fall to tatters on the floor. Their obvious love for each other has kept them together all these years, or close enough to remain in each other's lives in any case, but there's been something just as strong plucking at the frayed ends of their relationship.

"Blaine," Sebastian's utterance comes careful and hesitant as he stares down at their locked hands; it stops them both in their tracks, the thickness in Sebastian's voice a first warning sign. "What's this all about? Today's been amazing, but you had a reason for showing me all this stuff."

He draws an equally hesitant step forward, like one boy confessing intent to another boy has never been done before. "I wanted you to see my world." His fingers curl around the end of Sebastian's deep-red shirt, spilling confessions he should have made years ago. "I should've told you about Nightbird right away. But I was afraid you wouldn't understand."

In light of his ability he'd chosen a life in the dark, in secret by extension, no one ever knowing if Nightbird was real, if he was man or creature, or a little bit of both. They were his choices based on convenience; the darkness was no different for him to see through but safer nonetheless, because people tended toward the light, toward an absence of darkness, and so the dark was as good a hiding place as any.

And Sebastian, well, he was nothing but light. Sebastian shone hope and love and devotion, a source of warmth after a long cold night, a smile at the ready to make his own world a little bit brighter, without that light hurting his eyes. Sebastian was his light in the dark, his beacon guiding him back home.

"I might not have," Sebastian answers truthfully, before skating a step closer and cupping his cheek. "But I loved you, Blaine. As much as I do now."

"I was afraid of losing you, so I kept secrets." He grabs around Sebastian's wrist, balancing on the tips of his toes, swaying into Sebastian's body. What he wouldn't give to go back and do it over again; he'd tell Sebastian everything, about Nightbird and his ability and his strong urge to fight the biggest bullies on the street. He tries not to imagine where they might be because he's afraid it might sound too perfect. They're still too out of sync to be much of anything right now, despite their love for each other. "Secrets that broke us up."

Sebastian averts his eyes. "I'm not entirely blameless."

"I was part of the problem," he admits, while the boy he loves retreats behind walls built long ago, long before The Flash, long before they met. He wants to scale those walls, see through them, watch them destroyed before they drive him away. But could he really leave Sebastian after all they've been through? He's not with Sebastian out of obligation or convenience. He's with Sebastian because they've been an inevitability from the moment they met.

"And I'm sorry for that," he continues. "That's what today was for. Laying it all out. There isn't anything you don't know about me, Sebastian."

By the time they find each other's eyes again Sebastian has aged ten years; his eyes beg him not to do this, not to ask again. But he has to. He won't lose Sebastian to this again.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is– I can carry the secrets with you."

Sebastian takes a deep breath, one he doesn't release again, the silence deafening and terrifying.

"You think we can keep going like this?" he asks, paper cuts on his fingers from all the times he's tried holding them together, forcing them over the next hurdle, forgiving Sebastian for the right to be hurt. But he's never forgotten. "One of us completely committed while you have a foot out the door?"

There's a hand on either side of his face before he has a chance to realize what he said. "No, Blaine, I'm completely committed to you. To us. There's never been anyone else."

They both know that's not what he meant, that he's not afraid of losing Sebastian to someone else but to something else, this terrible past he harbors in the darkest recesses of his soul, one he shoulders all alone without needing to. What he wouldn't give for just a taste of it.

"I need time." Sebastian swallows hard, the boy faster than the speed of sound more fragile than glass. If only he could take that boy by the hand, travel back in time and tell him one day everything would be okay, that he'll be strong and he'll be loved and he can leave what happened to him right there; it can't hurt him, not even if he chose to carry it with him.

But that boy might as well be him. Don't ask about your father, you don't need him, you can be strong despite of him, someone would say, and like Sebastian he wouldn't really hear it either. Their past is what defines them, but he refuses to let it dictate their relationship.

He'll give Sebastian his time and love and patience. Nightbird wasn't born in the light either.

Sebastian gnaws at his lip. "Just–"

He nods, "Okay," before Sebastian falls to pieces at his feet, before there are too many pieces than he can hold. The past has a power over Sebastian; it has its claws in him and only time would pry loose the tendrils rooted through his teenage years. Only time would prove that weight spread over two pair of shoulders becomes a whole lot lighter.

"Okay," he repeats, folding arms around Sebastian's torso, holding him close, holding him together in case the past comes back to eat him alive.

.

Change doesn't happen over night. He never expected Sebastian to take him by the hand and sit him down, to tell all simply because he made it clear he needed to know. As straightforward and unsubtle as his boyfriend may be in some areas of their life together, he shuts down whenever he gravitates towards his childhood. So he's patient and forces deep breaths into his lungs, bites his tongue and supresses his own curious nature, but when Sebastian doesn't come to him after three nights, or five, or seven… his patience grows thin. Too thin.

"Bank heist on Fairview," Dottie sounds every bit as excited and out-of-breath as ever over the coms.

"Heist?" Sebastian quips.

"It's a perfectly correct term!" Dottie squeaks, eliciting a laugh from both of them.

"Time to put this new toy to the test," Sebastian says, and pushes a button on his new pair of glasses, a prototype Sam developed this past week to help him catch up to Sebastian before all the action's over.

"After you, Tweetie Bird."

He allows Sebastian yet another nickname and presses a button on his own mask, a visor coming down over his right eye, which will receive images and telemetry from Sebastian's glasses while he's in flight. Diving off the building his wings replace his cape, carrying him swiftly over the city. Below him a red streak lights up the street, Sebastian reaching the crime scene well before him.

"Are you seeing this?" Sebastian asks, a few yellow dots moving across his visor.

"Five man crew."

"They clearly haven't met us."

He lands by Sebastian's side with a smile, the bank's alarm system not howling a peep, more proof that this is one of The Kingpin's crews – they always come well prepared.

"I'll take care of the two inside," Sebastian says, gone in flash.

Things have been easier between them, to some extent; Sebastian's allowed him a bit more leeway as Nightbird, trusts him to make some of his own decisions, and he's been the most perfect boyfriend. They've shared a few mornings with breakfast in bed, or that breakfast disappearing in the sheets when they failed to control themselves; Sebastian's walked him to all his classes and picked him up afterwards, and they had dinner with Sebastian's mom and stepdad. It was nice to be in that living room again, warm with memories and family in a way his mom's apartment never had been, even though there was plenty of love to go around there too.

Sebastian's put every effort into showing how much he loves him, how with the excuses gone Sebastian can make time for him. But their problem was never in the way Sebastian loved him. It was a problem entirely both of theirs again. His curiosity weighed as heavy as Sebastian's mysterious past.

He rises from the ground again and approaches the three bank robbers loading money in the trunk of their car, landing strategically in between all three of them.

"Hurry up," one of the robbers hisses, turning around to come face to face with his black mask. "What the–" he starts, but he punches him in the throat, sending him hurtling to the ground. One down. Two to go.

Then, without warning, the bank's overhead flood lights come on – the lights hit his retinae before he can get the visors in his mask down, and burn, followed by a scream he belatedly recognizes as his own. He takes a blow to his face and staggers a few steps back, quickly trying to find his bearings; he manages to activate the visors in his mask, a precaution Sam installed after getting blinded the last time, and faces the bank robbers again.

One of who has a gun aimed right at his chest.

"Caught ourselves a superhero," the masked man says, gun cocking, index finger straining on the trigger.

"Please." He'd hardly call this caught; he's been in a lot more dire situations. He reaches for the high frequency pulse device on his belt (or banshee as Sam called them), he blinks once...

… and he's on a rooftop overlooking the city.

"Wh–" he huffs, left a little breathless every time Sebastian runs him across the city in a matter of seconds. "What are you doing?" He struggles free from Sebastian's hold and forces some distance on them, an anger beneath his skin that's built stronger night after night after night. He can't keep doing this, he's ignored it for too long already.

"Saving your ass, Doc Brown."

"Why didn't you take him out?!"

Why didn't Sebastian knock out the masked gunman or rush him straight to CCPD lock-up? Better yet, why didn't Sebastian trust that he had the situation under control? He's not so proud that he wouldn't ask for help when needed.

"I was a bit more concerned with my boyfriend."

"Who can take care of himself!"

Sebastian folds back his hood. "Why are you being like this?"

This time he doesn't hold back; if he's destined to be Blaine in Sebastian's mind forever instead of Nightbird, then he'll let it all out, all the anger and frustration, every selfish thought, every hurt Sebastian still puts him through. "I've had enough of this Bird Boy, Tweetie Bird, Doc Brown bullshit. I can take care of myself."

"He had a gun on you."

"You think that was the first time?" he asks. He's been shot at and almost stabbed and beaten to a pulp; he's had three of his fingers broken, a dislocated shoulder and more broken ribs than he could count – he used up a lifetime's worth of excuses explaining it all to Sebastian, but he's told Sebastian everything, absolutely everything. "I've been doing this a lot longer, Sebastian. I'm bulletproof."

Sebastian frowns. "And I can outrun bullets."

"Exactly."

Sebastian's confusion only grows.

"We both do our own thing, but we know it can work. We've proven that. So let me."

"Blaine, you're not invulnerable."

He takes a deep breath, hurting underneath the same fears that rest on Sebastian's shoulders. "I've never been mortally injured."

Sebastian takes a step back. "Dottie told you."

"Why didn't you?" he sighs, voice so frail it barely makes an impact, his lungs hurting in his chest; it's that much harder breathe all over again and he hates this. He hates that he puts them through this and he hates that there's something inside him that needs to know. They're their own worst enemies.

Dottie hadn't meant to tell him and he hadn't pried when she'd realized – they simply got talking and she confided the secrets she'd helped Sebastian carry all this time. Who could blame her? Dottie was to Sebastian what Sam was to him: a liability, but they offered love, support and friendship they couldn't do without. People they shouldn't have involved but people that kept them tethered, people that made them see they're more than their masks. Sebastian is one of those people to him. But everything's gotten so confused.

How could Sebastian not tell him he'd ended up bleeding in the backseat of Dottie's car? How could he not tell him The Kingpin shot him? The same man who killed someone he cared about, who wreaked havoc in this city and beyond it, who tore apart families because of greed or simple whim. Sebastian could've confided in him from the start, The Flash could've confided in Nightbird, but Sebastian chose not to, and for what? There's no impulse he understands better than the one to protect, but he's not that helpless eleven-year old anymore.

His question remains unanswered long enough for the sound of sirens to cut through the dark; they should've been there to secure the bank, make sure the police got the entire crew. They decided on this instead, their relationship rockier than it's ever been, because it's not a matter of how much they love each other. Rather, can they overcome their biggest character flaws to make this work at all?

"You're not invulnerable either, Sebastian. And I'm not as fragile as you think I am."

"You're–" Sebastian draws in a shallow breath, hands at his hips, and shrugs. "Blaine."

"I'm Nightbird too."

The dichotomy wouldn't make sense to a whole lot of people, but in their tale of woe Sebastian's uniquely placed; they wear masks 24/7, if not physically then hidden underneath a layer of lies. Nightbird doesn't show a lot of personality – he gets the job done and moves on to the next, no room for small talk or dawdling. Sebastian knew him as the Blaine Anderson who got three fingers caught in one of Sam's accelerators, who tripped and fell down the stairs and dislocated his shoulder. There's an incongruence between him and Nightbird that's not there between Sebastian and The Flash.

Maybe, in the end, after all is said and done, most of the lies were his.

"I know it's hard to separate the two, but you have to. Or you'll get us both killed."

"Don't say that." Sebastian recoils at his words, eyes wide and terrified. "Don't you ever say that to me."

"It's the truth."

Sebastian breathes hard and shakes his head, tears carrying a shine into his eyes reflected in his own. He wants to punch a big gaping hole through whatever walls Sebastian thought he needed to build, find some way to make The Kingpin pay for doing this to a boy so wonderful yet fragile, for making that boy so goddamn fragile in the first place.

He eases his mask off his face. "I want half, Sebastian."

"What?"

"Half of what you carry. That's all I ask. That's all I'll ever ask. Because this isn't working."

Sebastian turns his back, his shoulders shaking, and for a moment or two, three, four, he's terrified Sebastian might actually run, that he'll make the devastating decision for them because he pushed too much, because Sebastian's pain rusted in place too deep for anyone to pry it loose. It wouldn't take much, he could blink and Sebastian could be gone, disappeared from his life, a piece of him a bloody red streak where Sebastian's feet touch the ground – but even after all this, he thinks he'd chase after Sebastian. The heart wants what the heart wants, he guesses.

If this drives them apart, Sebastian's steeled convictions and his inability to let well enough alone, then maybe they don't deserve this, maybe they're not each other's forevers.

"He had my dad killed," Sebastian chokes out.

Time stops.

It freezes around this singular moment on some random rooftop, their masks down, hearts bleeding.

Oxygen rushes from his lungs, the cold night air stings at his eyes, his chest loathe with the thought that his character flaws got them to this point.

Because how?

Sebastian's dad died when he was twelve years old but he always assumed there'd been an accident, or an illness, something that snatched Sebastian's dad from his life beyond anyone's control. Neither Sebastian nor his mom ever talked about it and he never dared to ask, despite the pictures at the house, the personalized Christmas decorations the Smythes still used, the strained relationship between Sebastian and his stepdad.

But murder? How in God's name had he missed this? How had he never questioned the big chunk missing from Sebastian's life?

He knows why though.

He has a dad-shaped hole in his heart too.

"My father was my hero, and he stood up to Fisk." Sebastian hangs his head, shoulders slumped in defeat. "He refused to sell out and it got him killed."

It all makes sense now, the pictures littered all through Sebastian's old house, pictures of a man ripped from his life at such a young age, somebody missing in ways he couldn't pretend to understand – his own dad never bothered being in his life, but to be loved by a father so violently taken... No wonder this eats at Sebastian every day. No wonder it's left its scars deep in Sebastian's epidermis, still has its claws barb-wired around his heart.

"Is that what you're afraid of?" He dares a step closer. "That you sold out?"

He can see it clear as day, a young boy lingering by his father's grave, silent tears rolling down his cheeks, his mother's hand clinging around his, making a vow that he would never feel this kind of pain again. Of course there are walls around Sebastian's heart he can't let anyone through, of course he runs as fast as he can every single night, of course he went after The Kingpin and warned him away after failing at his own attempt for justice. Sebastian wants revenge he can't get without truly selling out.

"Fisk is still out there," Sebastian laments. "He killed that judge, set you up for murder. I could've–"

"You're not a killer, Sebastian." He shoots forward, a hand around Sebastian's arm, a hold on the man he loves because Sebastian needs to know he'll be here, always and forever. There's nothing that can chase him away. "We'll find a way."

Sebastian faces him again, somewhat smaller than he was a few minutes ago. It would be so easy for them to take justice in their own hands, play judge and jury as long as their legal justice system remains corrupt. But what would that make them? What would it do to them? It would change who they were as people, everything they stood for, and taint everything they've already accomplished.

"You're not alone anymore," he says, while the words travel to the outreaches of every nerve ending in his body, spiral around his heart and his mind and every part of him that loves Sebastian. That never wants to see them parted again, by distance or by circumstance, least of all by secrets.

"There's darkness inside me, Blaine," Sebastian says. "I don't–"

It's not darkness, and maybe it's not light either, maybe they chose a spot where the light meets the dark, an in-between that grants them access to both sides: sometimes the idiots in love, sometimes the crime-fighting team. There is nothing inside Sebastian that could scare him away, or somehow taint his love for him.

He takes a careful step forward. "You forget I can see in the dark."

How could they have gotten it so wrong? Both of them so afraid to lose the other, secrets stacking up to make a wall of their own, keeping each other at a distance, and for what? Sebastian lost something unimaginable, a presence he had missed in his own life since he was old enough to realize his family make-up was different than everyone else's; whatever drives Sebastian isn't darkness, it's not something he has to be afraid to share. If Sebastian truly believed his darkness shouldn't touch him, they wouldn't be boyfriends, so there's hope in Sebastian all the same.

"You're a good man, Sebastian."

Sebastian sniffles, a weak smile painting his lips. "I guess I could be a better boyfriend, huh?"

"You do fine as a boyfriend too." He reaches up and brushes a few stray strands of hair from Sebastian's forehead, his green eyes dimmed to a small pilot light. "We'll bring him down. It might not be tomorrow or next week, or even a year from now. We might hit some setbacks, or we might need help. But we'll get there."

Sebastian reaches his hands for his sides. "Together."

"Yeah," he breathes. "I'd really like for us to do this together."

"Okay." Sebastian lowers his forehead to his. "You have yourself a deal… Nightbird."

He hiccups a laugh and pulls his boyfriend closer. "I love you, Sebastian." He rakes his hand through Sebastian's hair, tightens his arms around his neck, holding all this broken pieces together for the first time ever. No more secrets, no more lies, no more fear of losing each other. He's in this for the long haul. "I love you so much."

"Likewise, Blaine Anderson," Sebastian mutters into his shoulder. "I love you too."

.

.

(three months later)

That night Central City bathes in a thick blanket of fog.

It stretches heavy on the streets, there's zero visibility from above, and provides excellent cover for those who hide in the shadows; odd weather always drew out the crazies. They've been surveying the city for hours; Sebastian's tapped into his final reserves and his gave out two misdemeanors ago, but they push through the worst, for the sake of the city. The police can't see a damn thing and traffic's a nightmare, so it's up to them to cover the spree of crime tearing up their home. It's not every day the Chief of Police openly asks for their help, like he did earlier today – and Sebastian's stepdad or not, it offers validation for both their lives they very much needed.

The past three months have not been easy on The Flash or Nightbird. They both knew it wouldn't be easy, finding a way to clinch The Kingpin once and for all, and the succession of events that unfolded damn near destroyed them; Dottie almost killed, the lab compromised and Sam in the hospital, Sebastian's identity nearly revealed in his desperate attempt to fix everything. They'd barely made it through, they fought for every step forward, but the end result was undeniable.

The Kingpin now sat behind bars in Iron Heights prison.

Sadly his goons now fought over the rights to rule parts of the city, gang wars tore through the south side and people were afraid to leave their homes. For a moment or two he'd been willing to admit they did more harm than good, but along with The Kingpin every corrupt cop and politician either surfaced, got caught, or disappeared, and the city started fixing itself in the strangest possible way. With the hierarchy in the crime world on shaky grounds and a hectic level of organization, it was a whole lot easier to catch them, and with the police force cleaned up, the charges tended to stick. Sebastian's stepdad lauded their involvement in bringing down one of the biggest crime bosses the city had ever known, and Sebastian's mom fell into his arms crying once the news came out.

The impact on Sebastian's mood couldn't be quantified, nor could it be overestimated, but he shed some of the weight that had burdened his shoulders for far too long.

"Babe, I might need some help here," Sebastian sounds in his ear.

"You can't call me babe when we're in disguise," he answers, the visor over his right eye indicating Sebastian's position, and he quickly angles his wings to make a U-turn midflight. He supposes he should be pleased it wasn't Nightboy, or Bird Boy.

"I thought this was a secure line."

"It is," he huffs.

"Then what's the problem?" Sebastian asks, a smile lilting in the question.

"You're my problem." He lands next to Sebastian, only eye for the task at hand; he's nothing if not consistent. The window of the storefront across the street has been smashed in, one guy hauling flat screens out and handing it to his partner. As far as criminals go, these are pretty petty. "Two guys?"

Sebastian sighs. "Perp twenty-four and twenty-five of the night."

And no sooner does he hear the words or his own exhaustian rips through his body; his limbs are heavy and his eyes hurt – neither of them can take much more of this. Judging by the soft yellow hue peeking over the rooftops though, the early morning light will soon chase away the fog, offering them a much needed release from their duties. Even superheroes need their beauty sleep.

"Fair enough."

They set off from the ground together, Sebastian keeping pace with him to spare his metabolism, and they work in tandem; he dives down while Sebastian goes for the body, knocking burglar one to the floor swiftly, the other running at the sight of them. They pursue for half a block before a police car stops the other burglar in his tracks, two guns trained on him as the police officers climb out of the car.

"We got it from here, fellas," the female officer says, winking at Sebastian.

Sebastian salutes, and he knows his boyfriend well enough to expect an answer like 'Sorry, officer, not on your team. As you were', but Sebastian holds back, a sign as clear as any that they need to head home and get some sleep.

"Want a lift?" he teases, the briefest hint of jealousy flashing hot through his cheeks; not that he needs to be, Sebastian's committed to their relationship.

"Not a chance in hell, killer."

Sebastian disappears into a blur.

Shaking his head he takes off with a small jump, grateful his wings do most of the work for him. He'll be happy to shed them soon and fall into the comfort of their king-size bed.

"Well done, Mr Nightbird," Sebastian cheers as soon as he reaches the water tower, quickly sidling his way, "another succesful night of crime-fighting." Sebastian leans in. "And that footwork–"

"No kissing in public."

"Spoilsport."

He sticks out his tongue. Childish as it seems, they have to be careful. What if people figure things out? What if some lucky reporter snatched a picture of them kissing and published it? It would only be a matter of time before one of their friends connected the dots, or their parents. No, spoilsport or not, they had to keep things under wraps in at least one of their lives, and that simple wasn't an option in their real lives. As much as Nightbird needs The Flash, Blaine Anderson has a lot more trouble keeping his hands off Sebastian Smythe than one might think.

Especially since they've moved in together.

"Home?"

Sebastian grimaces. "I might need to walk."

"Here." He grabs for a small pack at the small of his back, and unearths one of the high-calorie protein bars Sebastian cooked up with the aid of Stark Industries – they helped stifle his humongous appetite and replenished his power reserves faster than three big pizzas could. And yes, he carried several on his person at all times.

"What would I do without you?"

"Perish."

Sebastian's laughter is a most welcome sound after such a tough night, and he couldn't be happier to be going home with him. He releases his wings one last time, swooping down fast, fog clearing in his wake. It's been a little over a month since they moved in together, after they spent weeks looking for the perfect apartment; two bedrooms – one for sleeping, one for safe storage and a small command center to fall back on, rooftop access so their alter-egos might come and go as they pleased without being noticed. Now they had a place that was theirs, ready to be warmed by their love and new memories.

By the time he makes it home Sebastian's halfway out of his suit, blue bruises turning pink again before disappearing completely. He unclasps the mechanism that holds his wings and heaves it off his shoulders, deftly peeling off his armor by loosening straps left and right. Before he knows it Sebastian steps in behind him, arms wrapping around his waist, lips at his neck.

"We really need to set up some ground rules for you," he says, but grabs back for his boyfriend nonetheless, feeling up his ass through the thick leather; it took him a long time, but Sebastian let Sam make improvements to his suit after all – it no longer fit into a ring on Sebastian's finger, but Sam made it heat and abrasion resistant, able to handle Sebastian's ever-faster body.

Sebastian bites at his neck, expelling any thoughts of reinforced tri-polymers. "We really need to get naked."

He can't decide if it's his lack of energy or lack of willpower wherever Sebastian's concerned, but he sets all complaints aside; he turns in Sebastian's arms and locks their lips together in a kiss, biting at his bottom lip in turn, fingers blindly connecting the dots from one freckle to the next, until he slides a hand down Sebastian's pants, a sweet sigh escaping his boyfriend's mouth. What follows are kisses that are more teeth and tongue than lips, breathing labored by the time they're completely naked, and falling to the bed.

Sebastian settles between his legs and ruts them together, his fingers wasting no time as they sneak around his hips, opening him up as impatience vibrates through them both. He will never let this go again, won't let it crack under too much strain from outside forces, or their flaws tugging at the threads tying them together; he is Sebastian's as surely as Sebastian is his and nothing anyone ever does or says will separate them again.

His legs wrap around Sebastian's waist soon after, their lovemaking slow and sweet, whispering, "Sebastian," and "Blaine," and "Feels so good," in between kisses and love confessions.

"You could go right to sleep, couldn't you?" Sebastian bites at his neck, behind his ear, at his chin, thrusting into him with his tip only.

He moans, "Stop teasing", before Sebastian's hand starts doing just that, stroking him slowly and measured, their rhythm like small waves on a calm sea, their lips busier than the rest of their bodies, closeness and affection all they really need.

"Come for me, killer," Sebastian whispers inside a kiss, and when he does it's with a moan and a small sigh, sinking liquid into the mattress. Sebastian follows soon after, begging kiss after kiss and kiss, even long after they've cleaned up, long after they're back to chest and he starts leaving kisses on his shoulder.

"About those ground rules," Sebastian murmurs, fingers stroking down his chest, while he has one arm reached behind Sebastian's back, stroking circles at his hip.

"I thought you didn't want any."

"No, you're right," –Sebastian caresses his nose over his shoulder– "We need some boundaries."

"You need some restraint, you mean." He smiles, drifting closer to sleep every second that goes by, spent and loved and completely at peace.

"I can't help how good you look in that suit. My Dark little Feather."

He snorts and slaps at Sebastian's ass. "Stop."

Sebastian nuzzles behind his ear. "My Nocturnal Avenger."

"Call me whatever you want." He closes his eyes, pulling the sheets up over both their bodies, sleep nipping at his conscious mind – there's nowhere else to be but here and now, with the boy he loves, with or without the mask. "I've already got you wrapped around my finger."

The bed creaks briefly as Sebastian slots his knees in behind his, lacing their left hands together, a hot kiss behind his ear. "Too true, baby." Sebastian finally relaxes against his back, the final remnants of energy flitting from his body, sleep whisking them both off... but not before, "I love you," starts him dreaming about the future.

.

.

THE END