This Love: Day 01

Sequel alert! This can probably not be read without having first read Love Story. I mean, you can try, but you might be confused. Will probably be confused.

So a long time ago, my beta demanded to know whether or not Marina died in Love Story, since it was a bit ambiguous. Instead of actually answering her, I stared working on a short tag taking place 10 years later for her. Two and a half years, and 20k+ later, this is the result.

For Rose, I bet you thought I'd forgotten about this.

And before I forget ... title shamelessly stolen from Taylor Swift. All of Sebastian's songs are stolen from Taylor Swift and tweaked. Anything of Blaine's music belong's to Darren Criss.

Day 01: Sunday

After two years away from home, Blaine Anderson did not even remember walking into his house and falling into bed that first night back. Instead, he woke up bleary-eyed and confused the next day, wondering why his alarm had not gone off, and still in the jeans and cardigan he had traveled in. He blinked at the pillows that were smushed against his face, then managed to flip over to stare up at the ceiling. It was white.

"I don't think I got enough sleep," Blaine said aloud, wincing at the rough and ragged sound of his own voice. He groped around until he knocked his phone off the bed and onto the ground, and held in the whine of despair.

When he finally managed to get his phone back from the hardwood floor, he discovered it was mid afternoon on Sunday. He had been asleep for 17 hours. There were also 18 texts and 2 voice mails. Blaine placed his phone on the nightstand without looking at them. He did not have to look at them. After two years of running around like a maniac, he was going to enjoy lying in bed, staring at the (white) ceiling, with nothing to do.

Three minutes into his lie-about, his stomach rumbled. Blaine scrunched up his nose. When it rumbled again, he sighed, crawled out of the down comforter and Egyptian cotton sheets, and made his way into the rest of the house to start the day.

The bedroom he had crashed when he got in from the airport last night was huge, twice as big as the apartment he had rented in New York. Blaine opened up the blackout curtains with a small control panel helpfully labeled 'curtains' and the room was flooded with light from the midafternoon sun. There were a lot of windows, and through them the ocean sprawled out and glittered in the sunshine. He liked it, liked the panoramic view of the coast on three sides, and that he could turn in any direction and look outside. It did mean he had to go down a flight of stairs to wash up and brush his teeth; the entire top floor was an open bedroom and sitting area.

The first floor had another sunny, open floor plan, with tall windows and more white. Blaine wasn't particularly fond of the color, but it did contribute to general air of wholesome cleanliness in the house. Even the kitchen had a full wall of windows and opened up to a patio.

Though he had owned the place for over a year, Blaine had never stepped foot in the house. He had bought it based on pictures and the recommendation of some friends after he had moved out of Sebastian's place. He had been in New York, then, and did not have time to return to L.A. to go house hunting. Riley had organized the move, a decorator, and taken care of the details, while Blaine worked 20 hour days onstage and in the recording studio. If Blaine had been here for all that, he probably would have used lots of overstuffed cushions and warm colors, but that might have been a mistake. The entire house reminded him of fresh cotton sheets and summer.

Sebastian would like it, Blaine thought.

There were groceries in the cupboard. Riley must have stocked the kitchen, knowing he would be coming back home. He made himself breakfast on the stove, managed not to burn the French toast, and kept from overcooking his eggs. When he was done eating, he left the dishes in the sink to soak. Then he walked outside and looked around his property: at the beach that surrounded the place, at the patios and outdoor entertainment areas, at the sunset over the water. It was good that this little peninsula was so far from any neighbors or road, because his bedroom was clearly visible from here.

Blaine went back into his house up into the bedroom so he could unpack, but his phone was ringing, and he answered that, instead.

"Hey Riley," Blaine greeted. "I just got up. It's gorgeous here."

"It is," Riley said back. "It makes me wish Meggie didn't want to live so close to the city center. Do you have everything you need, Kiddo? How are you doing?"

Blaine laughed. "I'm not 15," he told Riley. "I don't need to be checked up on and entertained every minute. I'm good. I had dinner, and walked around. I was just going to put some stuff away and then have ice cream."

"28, 15, I'll always worry about you," Riley dismissed his claims. "If you need anything, you give me a call. It's no trouble."

"I'll be fine," Blaine said. "I'll call you in a few days, after I get settled in. Enjoy your night, Riley."

"Goodnight, Devon," Riley said, voice bright with cheer, and hung up.

Blaine slid his phone into the pocket of his jeans, and started putting away his luggage. There was not a lot; he had left most of his things in L.A. when he went to New York, and the majority of the stuff he had accumulated while there had been shipped back and already put away by someone. All that was left were from his carry-on: a few changes of clothes, his tablet, a couple books of poetry. He found Sebastian's picture wrapped safely in a hoodie, and set it up on his bedside table.

It was a little weird, he finally admitted to himself, to be living in a place without Sebastian. His time in New York had been a job, and he had only gone to the apartment to sleep. The rest of his days had been running around crazy, recording, writing, practicing, performing. Broadway was amazing, and it had been nothing short of a dream come true to open a musical, but it had cost him any semblance of a personal life. He had barely noticed Sebastian's absence. Now that he was planning on slowing down, he already felt off.

Blaine thought that Sebastian was in Tokyo, though he might have been wrong. They did not keep in contact very well. Between Sebastian filming two movies and having a world tour in the last 2 years, and Blaine's own schedule, they had not even spoken since the breakup. It was not because of hurt feelings. Probably was not because of hurt feelings. Blaine had not had time to cry, and he was not sure he would have if he did. The breakup had been for the best. Trying to juggle them with their individual careers had been impossible. Once they had realized the toll it was taking on them, it had been easier to let each other go than to let their love get poisoned by distance, missed phone calls, and failed expectations.

Which was why Blaine had this gorgeous new house on the coast, filled with sunshine and warmth, and a successful run on Broadway, 6 of the top 10 songs in America, and an LP that had already broken his previous records in sales. It had been the right move.

"Maybe I'll give you a call when you're back in town," Blaine told the picture. Sebastian was laughing in the frame, his eyes barely visible and his face shining with joy. That had been a good day. "Maybe we can get dinner, or just hang out."

He finished putting away his clothes, dropping yesterday's crumpled cast offs into the hamper, and arranged his accessories on the dresser. He kicked the now-empty bags behind a sofa, and considered the cleaning done. It was time for ice cream.

Ice cream would have been a lot easier to eat if he had an ice cream scoop. Blaine woefully surveyed his cutlery. He had found the spoons, knives, and forks. He had found the butter dish, the cheese grater, and the baster. He had even found candles for a birthday cake. The ice cream scoop was nowhere.

Blaine had his phone out and was calling before he even knew what was happening. "Do you know if you still have my ice cream scoop?"

There was a startled silence on the phone. Then Sebastian said. "I don't know. Let me check?"

Blaine closed his eyes. "Gosh, sorry Bas, I called without thinking. How's Tokyo? I was just going to celebrate the new house with ice cream and -"

"Slow down, Killer," Sebastian interrupted, voice warming. "You're back in L.A.? Welcome home."

Blaine relaxed once Sebastian started speaking, and sat down at the island. "I just got in yesterday," he confirmed. "I woke up a couple hours ago. When do you come in?"

It was weird that he had caught Sebastian. He had become so used to getting the other man's voicemail; it felt like a luxury to have a conversation.

"I'm back already, actually. I came back last week." There was a shuffling, clattering sound from the phone. "I don't know if I have your ice cream scoop, but I have an ice cream scoop."

"I thought you came back next week?" Blaine asked. "Did you wrap early?"

"Yep," Sebastian said. "Which is shocking, but I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. I'm still terrified that I'll get another phone call, asking me to come back."

Blaine giggled. "I know the feeling," he confessed. "I've been avoiding of going through my messages. I'm so sick of running around."

"Yeah," Sebastian said, softer. "Yeah, me too. Listen, how about I come over with the ice cream scoop? You can tell me if it's yours, and I'll bring some champagne. We can celebrate in style."

That sounded - "Wonderful," Blaine said. "That would be wonderful. Do you know where I am?"

Another sound, this time of rustling papers and the distinct thud of a shin on the crossbar of the table - Blaine had bruised his shin an awful lot on that table, when he had lived there - and a muffled curse precluded Sebastian's affirmative. "Yeah, I've got it. I'll be there in about a half hour."

"Drive safe," Blaine instructed.

"Put the ice cream back in the freezer before it melts," Sebastian returned.

Blaine laughed out loud as he hung up, and, because Sebastian was right about the ice cream, returned the carton to the freezer before it melted all over the counter.

It took Sebastian almost an hour to get arrive, because, as he put it, "You live in the middle of nowhere, Killer."

Blaine grinned up at him, and pulled the other man down into a hug. "It's nice and quiet," he informed his friend, squeezing tight. He could feel Sebastian relax into his arms, and it was good to know that this had not changed. They were still Blaine and Sebastian, Devon and Sebastian. He kissed Sebastian's cheek, and stepped back. "The hope is that no one else will be able to find the place, either. I took a car from the airport yesterday, and the driver took three wrong turns." He took the bottle of champagne from Sebastian, and the ice cream scoop, and walked into the kitchen to set them down. "You look good, Bas."

Sebastian was a little more buff than he remembered, with blond streaks in his hair and a brown leather jacket. He followed after Blaine and shrugged. "Now that filming is done, I can go back to normal exercise and diet. I've been indulging. Anita's going to kill me when she finds out I haven't been to the gym all week."

Blaine giggled. "You can't tell," he assured the man. "Will you get me the ice cream? Since you took the trouble to bring the scoop, I feel immediate ice cream is needed."

Sebastian took the carton from the freezer, and grabbed up the scoop. "Sit down, relax," he advised. "I'll serve. You must be exhausted. When did you get in?"

Blaine took a seat at the island and rested his chin on a fist he propped on the counter. "Yesterday morning," he admitted. "I slept until this afternoon, and I'm still tired. I think I may have overreached myself. I might be too old to do this anymore." 'This' was his work, his side projects, his relentless need to always be working harder. He knew Sebastian knew what he meant.

"You still have the ass of an 18 year old," Sebastian promised, and Blaine laughed again.

It took going through every single cabinet Blaine owned for Sebastian to find the bowls, and Blaine watched with interest. He had already forgotten where they were stored, which he told Sebastian when his friend asked why he was smirking instead of being useful.

"I don't smirk!" Blaine said, indignant. "You smirk. And I just moved here. I have no idea where anything is. There are supposedly three more bedrooms, a library, a music room, and another two bathrooms I haven't found." At Sebastian's raised brow, Blaine defended himself. "I found the library outside. It's in that corner of the house. I just have no idea how to get there."

Sebastian snickered, and crowed triumph as he plunked to bowls down on the counter. "Success," he said. "What is it with your and twisty old buildings you can't find anything in?"

"This place isn't old!" Blaine said. "And there are more windows than walls. It's just going to take some getting used to the layout. I think there's a sunken room on the second floor, and I'm not sure how that's possible." He took the bowl Sebastian offered him, and ate some ice cream.

Sebastian smiled down into the carton of ice cream as he filled the second bowl. "Crazy architecture follows you around," he said. "Tell you what. We'll eat this, get drunk, and then tomorrow we'll figure out what's the deal with your house. Maybe it's haunted."

"My house," Blaine said, eyes narrowed, "is not haunted."

Sebastian put away the ice cream and joined him at the counter with his own bowl. "I bet in the morning we won't be able to find our car keys."

Blaine gestured threateningly at Sebastian with his spoon. "My house," he repeated, "is not haunted."

Sebastian laughed again, and poured the champagne.

A few drinks and a bowl full of ice cream later, Blaine was ready to call it a night. He was drooping over his ice cream, and his eyelids felt like lead. Maybe something heavier. Black holes were really heavy, right?

"Hey there, Killer, let me take that before you end up covered in chocolate," Sebastian said, quiet and sweet while he took away the used bowl and glass.

Blaine watched him, belatedly realizing his first guest was the one doing all the hosting. Then he decided to ignore it, because it was Sebastian. Sebastian was never a guest.

"You aren't my guest," he told the other man, while Sebastian washed the dishes and left them to dry in the rack.

Sebastian looked amused. "Nope," he agreed. "I think you're stuck with me. Come on, let's get you to bed."

"Are you spending the night?" Blaine asked, letting Sebastian help him up and leaning most of his weight against him.

"We have exploring to do tomorrow, right?" Sebastian asked.

Blaine turned into Sebastian's embrace, nodding his agreement against his friend's collarbone, and breathed in the scents of spice and champagne. He tucked himself into Sebastian's arms, and Sebastian cradled him close.

"Is your bedroom at the top of this glass monstrosity?" Sebastian asked.

"Stairs are that way," Blaine said, gesturing vaguely beyond the kitchen, and sighed and cuddled close when Sebastian swept Blaine up into his arms. "This got easier for you. You have been working out."

Sebastian laughed and kissed his forehead. "Are you telling me I struggled to pick you up before? You're about as big as my thumb, Killer."

"Liar," Blaine said. Sebastian took them up the stairs and into the bedroom. Blaine felt safe, and warm, and let himself drift until Sebastian put him on the bed. Then he rolled over, kicked off his shoes and started to fiddle with his jeans.

"Sexy," Sebastian said, but he was toeing off his own shoes and not watching. Blaine knew that. His lips quirked in a smile anyway.

"Are you sleeping here?" Blaine asked. Before they had dated, they had slept in the same bed, and they had shared a bedroom while they were together, but this was a new situation. Things felt like normal, like they were still themselves (Devastation, he thought to himself), but it had been years. They could not just go back.

"Do you have any idea where your clean sheets are?" Sebastian asked, folding his jeans over the back of a chair. He stripped off his shirt and, wow, he had been working out. Sebastian had always been active, but those abs looked sculpted.

Suddenly mute, Blaine shook his head. He kept his own t-shirt on.

Sebastian slid into bed next to him, and got the blankets around them. "Then yes, I'm sleeping here," Sebastian said, and rolled over and went to sleep.

He was not really asleep, of course, but Sebastian liked to put all his energy into everything he did, and that included sleeping. Blaine smiled at his back, and curled closer until he was spooning his friend.

It was the best night's sleep he had in ages.

End Sunday.