.
WE'RE ALIVE ALIVE
part three
On Friday night, Sebastian stumbles in with a new guy at nine, and he thinks it's too early in the evening for Sebastian to already be done partying. They're both in their work suits, ties loosened around their necks, and they're decidedly not touching. So he assumes this is one of Sebastian's colleagues.
He's settled down on the couch with a bowl of popcorn, enjoying the peace and quiet of an empty apartment for once, watching some cheesy Howard Hawks movie on TCM.
"Hey, killer." Sebastian stalks over to him, leaning down on the back of the couch, his breath hot against his temple. He shivers involuntarily, Sebastian too close to ignore. "We just won our first case," Sebastian says. "And you're coming out with us to celebrate."
"Oh–no," he stutters, head jerking. "I'm fine here. I mean–"
"You start work again on Monday," Sebastian interrupts, rounding the couch, and plops down at his feet.
"I don't drink," he says, pulling his legs up to his chest. "And Coop would worry."
Sebastian sighs, and he wonders what has him all riled up. "Tell me," Sebastian says, leaning closer to him, paying no attention to the third man in the room. "This douche rocket who dumped you, did he ever mention you are an epic bore?" Sebastian asks. "I mean, don't get me wrong, you are one fine piece of real estate, but live a little, Blaine. There's a whole world of guys out there, and you're hung up on one?"
His face falls; why is Sebastian acting so mean?
"You're drunk," he says.
"I'm high," Sebastian corrects, and his colleague's chuckle resounds behind them. "I do, however, plan on getting absolutely wasted tonight." Sebastian grins, the smile disarming. "Come on, killer."
But Sebastian's mood changes like the wind. "Actually screw this," he says, standing up in one smooth move, hovering over him. "I'm not giving you a choice." He snatches his loafers out from under the couch and tosses them over to him. "Get up," Sebastian orders.
His cheeks flush hot, Sebastian's eyes fixed tight on his face. He doesn't feel like going out, he doubts Sebastian's scene is his thing and he doesn't want to spend the night huddled in some corner somewhere watching Sebastian have fun. But he doubts Sebastian will take no for an answer.
"I can't go out like this," he tries, his voice lacking conviction.
"Your clothes are fine," Sebastian says, sitting down next to him again, legs touching his feet. He swallows hard. "Your hair's fine," Sebastian adds. "You look amazing, squirt."
"Don't call me that."
Sebastian straightens and he reels back, hit by Sebastian's body heat and his cologne and suddenly he's picturing his brother's roommate half-naked again. "Get. Up," Sebastian insists, a clear challenge playing inside the green of his eyes.
He takes a deep breath, but Sebastian holds his ground; he doesn't budge, doesn't move a muscle. He does start work again on Monday, he'll fall back into an old routine while he starts hunting for a new apartment. Things would get harder again.
"Fine," he caves. He gets up alongside Sebastian. "But I'm changing first."
Sebastian's eyes narrow on his face, but he keeps silent. "Five minutes," he says, and a pleasant quiver twists in his stomach. Sebastian makes it really easy to be friends with him, but he is also utterly impossible to say no to.
He changes into a purple t-shirt–it's not his usual style, but a button-down would be too difficult to tug into his pants with only one hand. He brushes his teeth and puts on some cologne, a strange semblance of normality settling over him.
By the time he makes it outside, close to ten minutes later, Sebastian's colleague stands alone in the living room, leaning back against the couch–he's lost his jacket and tie, white shirt unbuttoned to reveal his collarbone.
"I'm Hunter, by the way," he says, taking a few steps towards him to offer his hand. "Hunter Clarington."
"Blaine." He shakes the man's hand just as the door to Sebastian's room opens; apparently his insistence on changing wasn't a bad notion, because Sebastian has ditched his suit in favor of a white V-neck shirt and washed-out jeans. The suit made him look like a lawyer, this outfit almost makes him look like a boy.
"You guys ready to party?" Sebastian asks, shrugging a jacket around his shoulders.
"Where are we going?" he asks, finally releasing Hunter's hand, but he fails to tear his eyes away from Sebastian.
"Skinnies right around the corner for some drinks," Sebastian answers, coming a few steps closer. "Then we're hitting Noxx."
"The nightclub?" he asks. He'd heard Adam and Cooper talk about it a few times, it was only two blocks away. He and Eli had never been there because Eli was either working or he needed the sleep to function at work the day after. He'd never been clubbing either, college had consisted of some frat parties where he got far too drunk, or cozy conversations at bars with his peers.
"Problem, killer?" Sebastian asks. His lips form around an argument but Sebastian's speaking again before he can answer. "If you don't like it, you can slink back up here after the bar," he concedes. "For now," – he slings an arm around his shoulder and puts his lips close to his ear – "your ass is mine," Sebastian whispers.
A shiver courses up his spine, Sebastian's sudden familiarity both exciting and terrifying–exciting because he's gorgeous and nice and he's grown to like him, terrifying because he's gorgeous and hot and he's not sure he'll be able to resist should Sebastian try to seduce him. At this point he's not sure he wants to resist at all.
He's also terrified that Sebastian's only being cool around him because deep down he believes what Cooper still believes, that he tried to kill himself, that he came that close to the edge and only his clumsiness had saved him. He doesn't want to be that guy.
The three of them make their way down to the bar, already packed by the time they get there, but the corner table Hunter manages to secure them grants them privacy the rest of the room lacks.
"What are you having, killer?" Sebastian asks, sitting opposite him at the table, Hunter standing to go get their drinks. "Please remember that you're here to have a good time, and we don't need a designated driver."
Sebastian knows very well that he's no longer on any pain medication, otherwise he might not have suggested alcohol, and he can't argue against it other than with his usual 'I don't drink'. But there's a reason he doesn't drink, a reason he wants to put out of his mind, if not just for tonight.
"How about we start you off with a beer?" Sebastian says, and holds up two fingers to Hunter.
He shrugs, figuring he might as well go with whatever Sebastian has planned tonight.
"Where's Nick tonight?" he asks, watching Hunter make his way over to the bar and shout their orders at the bartender.
"Family obligations," Sebastian says, but he doesn't seem particularly torn up about it. He understands the concept of a casual relationship as well as the next person, but it seemed like a strange way to go through life, having sex with someone without that becoming more. It's not something he thinks he's cut out for.
"He's not that big on drinking anyway," Sebastian adds. "Hunter, on the other hand–"
He glances over his shoulder; Hunter's talking to a cute brunette girl whose laugh can be heard through the entire bar after Hunter leans in and whispers something in her ear.
"Yes, I am capable of having straight friends," Sebastian says unprompted.
He looks back at Sebastian and huffs a laugh. He had no intention of judging Sebastian's friends on the grounds of their sexuality, that would be hypocritical or downright mean. But he thinks Sebastian's mostly joking.
Hunter returns with their drinks a few minutes later, and they fall into a conversation about life and work. It's almost surreal how normal it all feels, like they've all been friends forever and are just talking about their days.
He finds out Nick works as a paralegal at the law firm Sebastian and Hunter work, that Hunter and Sebastian actually work for rivalling bosses but they get along fine, and they're often the only reason why the two most senior partners don't rip each other's throats out. He doesn't understand how their bosses' hatred of one another keeps a company running, but Hunter shrugs it off by answering "Lawyers" as if that explains everything.
It isn't long before Hunter sneaks off to flirt with the brunette again, leaving him alone with Sebastian and his as yet half finished beer. Sebastian's already on his second.
"I'm sorry about the comment about your ex," Sebastian says, the sincerity in his voice unmistakable.
"No, you were right." He sighs, forming a fist around his beer bottle. "Who cares that I threw around my entire life to make room for his? Who cares that he walked away after four years?" he asks, talking to himself more than Sebastian. He's never said this out loud, only heard it as accusations from others, but it's freeing, saying it to a semi-stranger who doesn't know him or Eli or his life, so he can't judge.
Cooper can say he understands all he wants, but his brother has an image of Eli set in his mind and it's hard for him to hear anything else. He appreciates his brother trying, loves that they've found some way to communicate about it, that Cooper chose to comfort and hold him rather than point out all the cracks in his previous relationship. But he doesn't understand. Sometimes he gets the feeling that Sebastian does.
He takes a deep breath, eyes unfocused. "Who cares that I have no fucking idea what any of it means anymore?"
Sebastian takes a sip from his beer. "I guess douche rocket wasn't the right term," he says, casting no verdict, he simply sits lounged back against the wall, eyes never leaving him, relaxing after a busy day at work. It's refreshing to sit with someone without obligation, he thinks that if he chooses to talk about Eli Sebastian would let him, wouldn't tell him to move on or forget, but realize that sometimes he has to conjure Eli's memory, make sure the pain's still there and hasn't disappeared because other people expect it to.
A waitress places another beer in front of him. He blinks at the one-and-a-half beers he's now presented with, barely remembering the last time he had any.
"And you know what?" he blurts out. "He's the reason I don't drink," he says, looking up at Sebastian. "He says it makes me too unpredictable." And maybe that's exactly what he needs, a little chaos to the method, a few surprises to break through the rut of routine.
"Well, fuck that." He sits up straighter and downs half a beer within seconds. "Fuck Eli C and the day I laid eyes on him," he says, even though he knows that's his anger talking. "Just–fuck everything."
He grabs the second beer.
"Alright, slow down, killer." Sebastian's hand forms a circle around his wrist. "We've got all night."
.
He has a total of three beers before they leave the bar, Hunter's brunette tagging along with them to the club. He's already a little light on his feet, but for now the alcohol has provided a warm tingly feeling, taking away some of the tight control he keeps on himself.
"How often do you guys go out like this?" he asks.
"Whenever our bosses are kind enough to give us the weekend off," Hunter answers, the girl by his side giggling.
"Meaning not nearly enough," Sebastian adds.
The temperature takes him by surprise, and he wishes he'd brought a jacket, only his cast wouldn't fit in any of his jackets' sleeves.
"You cold, killer?" Sebastian asks out of the blue. "Here."
"You don't have to–" he says, but then Sebastian's shrugging out of his jacket and it's around his shoulders, Sebastian's body heat sunk into the fabric, and he can't find it in him to protest any further.
"It's okay," Sebastian whispers, voice a low tease in his ear as he squeezes his shoulders. "I like doing it."
Sebastian throws an arm around him and pulls him close to his side, so close he's forced to slide his own arm around Sebastian's waist to keep them both from keeling over–it's nice, this closeness, though he isn't drunk enough to eliminate all the awkwardness, but he gets the sense that Sebastian only means for this to be an amicable gesture, nothing more.
There's a line outside the club when they arrive, a red carpet filled with people all the way up to the entrance, but Sebastian navigates them to the front, ignoring the dirty looks and complaints thrown their way.
"Puckermaaan," Sebastian drawls out when they reach the front of the row, held back by a red velvet rope he honestly thought was only used in movies, and a bouncer whose muscles hide behind a neatly tailored black and white suit.
"'Sup, Smythe," the bouncer nods, and bumps fists with Sebastian. "Boss let you off the leash again, did he?"
Sebastian smiles. "Do you mind?" He points at the rope. "It's just the four of us."
"Mi casa es su casa, bro," the bouncer answers and pulls aside the rope to a soliloquy of grunts and boos. Sebastian pulls him inside with him, arm still secure around his shoulder.
"Girlfriend working tonight, Puckerman?" he hears Hunter ask the bouncer behind him.
"Behind the bar," Puckerman answers.
They weave through the crowd, the heat inside hitting him like a torrent. Sebastian pulls his arm away and removes his jacket, but takes him by the hand so they don't lose each other in the flow of bodies. It's hot inside and he feels the ground thump along with the beat of the music underneath the heels of his shoes.
The bar stretches the whole right side of the room, about a dozen scarcely clad women and men working the line of thirsty patrons. Sebastian takes them all the way to the other end of the room, waving at a petite blonde serving there, who jumps up and down in excitement when she sees him.
"Mr Smythe!" she calls, raising herself up on the bar and leaning over.
"Miss Kitty." Sebastian kisses her on the cheek. "This is Blaine." He waves awkwardly, but Kitty's smile puts him at ease. "You know Hunter, and–"
"Marley," Hunter's date squeaks, and smiles wide.
Kitty fixes her eyes on him. "You're cute." She winks, and he would've found the time to blush if she didn't return her attention to Sebastian in a flash. "What are you having?" she asks, lowering herself behind the bar again.
"Shots," Sebastian says, sliding his credit card over the bar. "And keep 'em coming."
"Sure thing, sugar." Kitty smiles. "I'll send Santana."
He realizes then that Sebastian still hasn't let go of his hand, and he doesn't until they find themselves in a more secluded area, the music close enough to enjoy, but far enough to hear each other speak. He's never met anyone like Sebastian before, who moves about with such ease, adapts to new environments like a chameleon–he wonders if Sebastian uses it as a defense mechanism as well.
Sebastian lets go of his hand, cold and clammy all of a sudden, and sits down in the half circle couch. He sits down as well, forced to scoot closer to Sebastian once Hunter and Marley join them. This isn't his scene at all, and he's not entirely comfortable, but he's here to let go, to experience something new, so he'll ride it out and see where it takes him.
A Latina waitress makes her way into their booth, two platters with about a dozen shots on them balancing on one arm. "Sebastian Smythe," she says. "What brings a no-good lowlife like you back to my corner of the universe?"
He looks at Sebastian carefully, but Sebastian's grinning. "Santana Lopez." He shakes his head. "You know I lose my bite when I go without your insults for too long."
Santana laughs and puts their drinks down on the table, then walks over and sits down next to Sebastian, settling her body pliant against Sebastian's.
"How's that long-legged girlfriend of yours?" Sebastian asks, and at the mention of a girlfriend his heart leaps up for some reason. It's a ridiculous thing to feel, not only does he have female friends like Santana, he has no right to be jealous. He has no need to be jealous, because he doesn't have feelings for Sebastian.
"Still dancing." Santana smiles, then focuses on him. "You must be Cooper's brother."
He frowns, thrown off by the sudden change in pace. "How can you tell?" he asks.
"Family resemblance." Santana shrugs, one of her hands settling on Sebastian's chest, right over his heart. "Be careful with this one, okay?" she says, eyes keeping him pinned in his seat. "No one gets to this gingerbread heart without earning it first."
He's so overwhelmed by everything that's happening that he doesn't immediately realize what Santana's implying. "Oh, we're not–" he stutters. "This isn't–"
"I'm just showing Blaine a good time," Sebastian comes to his aid.
Santana smiles at him surreptitiously, then glances at Sebastian. "Then I'll caution you not to overstep your boundaries." She stabs a finger at his chest.
Sebastian chuckles, a lovely low sound. "I've missed you, lady."
"Later, twink." Santana kisses Sebastian on the cheek, before disappearing as quickly as she'd materialized.
Everything moves fast here, faster than he's used to, and it should make his head spin, it should drive him crazy that this world doesn't make sense to him, but the steady music beat his heartbeat's been replaced with, Sebastian's careful attention, and the subtle injection of alcohol in his system somehow keeps him sane.
"Do you know everyone in here?" he asks.
Sebastian grins. "Impressed, are you?"
.
The first shot he gulps down leaves a burn so hot he's afraid it might've ruined his taste buds for life. His throat and nose burn, eyes watering, but once he has it down a warmth spreads through him, one that matches the heat making him sweat. He shakes his head, drops of sweat knitting in his hairline, but he likes this feeling, somehow making him feel present while he loses grip on his immediate surroundings. Hunter's the first to get through all six, all shots divided among them evenly. Marley gets through two before she's pulling Hunter on the dance floor with her, and he doesn't think they'll be seeing the two of them any time soon.
He clinks his fourth shot against Sebastian's fifth, the burn less bright this time, and he can actually start to appreciate the taste. He tries his fifth shot handsfree, but he loses grasp of the shot glass with his lips and the glass tumbles to the ground, drink spilling on the ground; he throws his head back and laughs, the most freeing feeling he's had in a long while.
"I think–" Sebastian's laughing along with him, and it's a boyish laugh more than anything. "I think that's enough for you, killer."
"I thought you wanted me wasted," he says, pulling his legs up on the couch, sitting close inside Sebastian's personal space.
Sebastian swallows down his last shot. "You are wasted," he corrects, still in possession of most of his faculties as far as he can tell. "I want you clear enough to remember tonight."
He tilts his head to the right, licking his lips. He feels outside of himself. "And why's that?"
"So you can remember this too," Sebastian answers, but before he tells him what he's supposed to remember, Sebastian steals one of his shots and gulps it down; he shakes his head and clears his throat, then gets up and holds out his hand. "Let's dance, killer," he says, and flashes him a smile that's entirely irresistible.
He understands what Sebastian wants him to remember, what he avoids saying for the sake of his mending heart: so you can remember there's life without Eli, that such a thing is possible in the first place, there's fun and friends and family in spite of Eli. He's glad Sebastian doesn't say it, but even more grateful that Sebastian's willing to show him this.
He holds out his hand for Sebastian and before he knows it he's being pulled out of the booth and onto the dance floor, somehow managing to avoid running into anyone. It's almost as if the crowd parts for the two of them, Sebastian leading, him following behind a guy who's setting him free, showing him it's not all about wallowing in the past, they're alive right here and now and they should enjoy every single moment of that.
Sebastian turns before they've reached their unspecified location, shuffling backwards now, hips swaying as if to beckon him closer. There's a grace to everything Sebastian does, his movements and speech come with an ease he hasn't found in many people. And yet he thinks Sebastian lives with his two feet firmly on the ground, well aware what heartache feels like, it's how he recognized it in him, how he reads Cooper so well.
The strobe lighting outlines Sebastian's body in greens and blues, his broad chest and slim waist, long legs and impressive arms. Sebastian comes to a halt, lifting his injured arm up on his shoulder, never stilling, moving his body to the sounds and the beat of the music.
"Alright, killer?" he thinks Sebastian asks, the music drowning out his words.
"Yes," he breathes, and nods, not even trying to sound over the music. He reaches his other arm up too, both now resting loosely on Sebastian's shoulders. Sebastian puts their foreheads together, bending slightly at the knees, hands digging around his hips to pull him closer.
A new feeling washes over him, a familiar but distant one, one of belonging, of being here and now, exactly where he needs to be, his head and heart and body syncing with Sebastian's. He hasn't felt this in so long, like somehow his hopes and dreams and desires are within reach, right here for the taking. Right there with him.
The club booms around them, bodies and music and the beat, and maybe it's the alcohol, but he feels that if he lets Sebastian go he might take off flying. Their hips move together and electricity sparks between them, a shroud of seduction that's comforting and tempting. Sebastian only has eyes for him. And he only has eyes for Sebastian.
They dance like that for what feels like hours, blurring into days and weeks to infinity, the whole world keeps on turning around them, faster, slower, he's not sure. It's just him and Sebastian at the center of their own little universe.
Alive.
He's overwhelmed by the urge to kiss Sebastian, to crash their mouths together, to fuck it all and have one crazy night with him, to stop questioning everything over and over again without ever finding a way out of the maze.
But he doesn't kiss Sebastian, he just lets his hands explore down Sebastian's arms, down his chest, while Sebastian's do the same, hands roaming up and down his back, his chest, his hips, the sweat on their foreheads mingling, Sebastian as close as he'll allow. He doesn't want to do anything that might chase him away.
He wants to live in this moment. He wants to be in this moment forever.
But even perfect nights have to end, and soon they're both stumbling backwards onto the street, laughing, giggling, Puckerman offering a steadying hand. They reach the corner of the street without too much difficulty and strut their way through one block unscathed, but as he turns to make a right towards the apartment, Sebastian pulls him the other way.
"We're not going home yet," Sebastian says, and tugs at his arm. "Come on."
"Where are we going?" he asks, but follows Sebastian unchallenged.
"One of my favorite places in the city." Sebastian throws his arm around him again and they walk much like they did earlier, albeit a little less steady on their feet.
The night air acts sobering, a cool breeze bringing him back to his senses, enough to realize that what he felt with Sebastian at the club is something they'll never lose, but they shouldn't make it into more than it was–a connection between two people that can't be denied, but it doesn't have to go beyond that.
And that's okay because the moment was perfect and they were infinite.
Sebastian was just trying to get him to let go.
"Is this it?" he asks, and he halts in his tracks, recognizing the location immediately. It's a small peninsula park not too far from Cooper's apartment he used to pass on his way to school. He'd met up with Eli here once.
"What's the matter?" Sebastian asks, lets go of him and tracks a few steps back. "Oh, come on," he exasperates. "Don't tell me this spot has been sullied by a douche rocket memory."
He laughs beyond his control, Sebastian's drunken state endearing, and decides not to answer Sebastian's question. He doesn't want to let Eli destroy tonight. "Does it matter?" he asks instead, because it doesn't, none of it matters anymore, all these places where he and Eli existed together are all just memories now.
Sebastian jumps up on one of the benches lining the park, balancing along its length precariously, even though he could walk across blindly if he'd been sober. "You can't live in the past, Blaine. You'll lose track of the here and now," he says, looking down at him, hands in his pockets. "And right here, right now, you're hot and we're young and that's all that matters."
Sebastian jumps down and waits for him to join him at his side.
"I'm hot and we're young?" he asks, wondering if that was supposed to be a song quote.
"Not my best line," Sebastian says, clearly not working with all his brain cells. "But true nonetheless."
Sebastian sits down and he joins him, sitting closer than he has to. The park isn't that big, insulated between two tall buildings with colorful murals painted on the sides. But he can understand why it's one of Sebastian's favorite places.
"Do you think I'm fun?" he asks, the words out before he's decided it's something he wants an answer to.
"Is that even a question?"
"I don't mean like this," he says. "I know I'm a fun drunk."
Though 'fun' had never been a term Eli used, it usually resulted in 'I don't like you like this, B' or 'Go sleep it off, babe', as if somehow his drunkenness made his boyfriend feel cheap or his lust unwarranted. Eventually Eli had asked him to stop drinking altogether. And he had, because there was little he didn't grant Eli, and in the grander scheme of things giving up drinking hadn't been a great sacrifice.
But it was one sacrifice in a long line of others and they'd culminated in his complete surrender–maybe not his submission, but he'd put Eli's everything before his everything, and that wasn't healthy.
"I mean in general," he adds. "Do I lack–spirit?"
Sebastian keeps his eyes locked in his for a few seconds, gauging his determination. "You want to hear it straight?" he asks, and he gets the distinct feeling Sebastian asks because he might not like what he has to say.
"Yes," he answers. He's tired of people letting him down easy, walking around like he's made of glass or might actually kill himself. Sebastian has treated him like a man with a broken heart, not excessively so, but he's tiptoed around the most painful parts. "For once I need someone to stop treating me like I'll break at the first sign of trouble."
Sebastian takes a deep breath and stretches his arm out on the back of the bench, so that he's now sitting in the crook of Sebastian's body.
"I think you pretend to be what other people want you to be," Sebastian says. It doesn't drop like a bomb, no explosion or resulting shockwave. It's the truth, for once. And he's known it for a long time. "To your parents. To your brother. To your boyfriend."
He hasn't pretended with Sebastian, not once since they met, he hadn't had the strength to carry around a broken heart and uphold this image his brother had of him. Even if he had pretended, he thinks Sebastian would've seen right through it.
"Do you even like your job?"
He draws in a deep breath. He doesn't need to think about it. "No," he answers. "Eli–"
He sighs.
"Exactly," Sebastian says. "Eli."
It's easier to hear it from Sebastian, an outsider's perspective on him and Eli and their relationship. If Sebastian can see their relationship was unhealthy after knowing him only two weeks, well, it's all the proof he needs to see how blind he's been. At least Sebastian didn't judge.
"When's the last time you did something for yourself?" Sebastian asks.
"Everything after my first beer," he jokes, but he knows it's more than that. He came to live with Cooper so he could heal, so he didn't have to be alone even though he felt alone most days. He doesn't want to think where he would be if he hadn't tripped and hit his head, if he'd still be cooped up in his own apartment, surrounded by his past.
"And you had fun, right?"
He nods and smiles, staring down at his hands. "This might've been the most fun I've had in years."
"You're better than them, killer," Sebastian says.
He blinks up at Sebastian, unable to speak. Sebastian's body makes a half turn towards him and he leans closer, as if sharing a secret he wants no one else to hear.
"And they know it too," Sebastian adds. "So they try to hold you down, try to fit you into a box. But you're better."
He's not sure what to make of this, if Sebastian's drunken state makes him more earnest without him realizing or if it's something Sebastian needs him to hear. He wonders if anyone's ever tried holding Sebastian down.
"You're good-looking, a great cook, you're generous," Sebastian sums up. A blush creeps up the back of his neck, right up to his cheeks. "Maybe a little too trusting, but there's nothing wrong with that."
He's never thought himself better than anyone, safe maybe for his bullies in high school, but he doesn't want to think of himself like that. He's come to realize that maybe he deserves better than Eli, that he deserves someone who forces him to take a step back from time to time or appreciates the things he does. But he's not better than Eli, nor was Eli better than him. He doesn't know how to think of people in those terms.
"You're flawless," Sebastian says, voice a low rumble, and he doesn't think it's a line, he thinks Sebastian needs him to hear it, understand it, accept his own flaws as part of who he is.
He raises his gaze to Sebastian's slowly, his heart beating fast with a new truth, breathing growing heavier.
"I don't know what this Eli guy was on, but he should never have let you go," Sebastian says, and finally, finally someone says it, what his worth is, what he could achieve, that maybe he had his flaws and made his mistakes, but he wasn't worthless as a boyfriend.
He can't release Sebastian's eyes, right here, right now, what else matters?
He leans forward and presses his lips to Sebastian's, drawing in a sharp breath, the small spark of anxiety immediately extinguished when he feels Sebastian's hand on his cheek, puckering his lips against his. It's not like him to act so impulsive, but he's drunk and he's hot and he's young, and so is Sebastian. He pulls at Sebastian's shirt, working their lips together in a quick succession of kisses, gentle but urgent, dizzying.
He pulls back and braces his forehead against Sebastian's, both of them breathing heavy, a tension in their limbs longing for more, a tension they keep under control because neither of them know exactly what this is. But he wants Sebastian, tonight, only if it's one time, he's single and free for the first time in a long time. He digs a hand in Sebastian's hair, tugging gently.
"Blaine, you don't want to do this," Sebastian says, but he doesn't move his hand and doesn't pull back, in fact Sebastian kisses him again, presses a hot kiss to his lips while his body vibrates with heat.
"Yes, I do," he breathes, lost in a confusion of lips and hands. Maybe it's a mistake, but he has a warrant to do something stupid, throw caution to the wind, let loose for a change. "Fuck everything."
At the sound of his words Sebastian draws him closer, licks at his bottom lip before pulling his tongue back, nudging his lips apart with his own. His fingers tighten in Sebastian's hair while his tongue darts out, meeting Sebastian's halfway. He tilts his head, tongue melting into Sebastian's mouth. He could get lost in this, the tentative dynamic of his mouth and Sebastian's, their tongues and hands and bodies, there's no obligation and few expectations, uncomplicated fun.
"Let's get out of here," Sebastian whispers against his lips, pressing one last kiss to his lips before he pulls away.
He gets up on shaky legs, but he doesn't hesitate for a second. Sebastian takes him by the hand, lacing their fingers together, and they're walking again, on their way home this time. They don't speak, laugh at each other when first he and then Sebastian trip over holes in the pavement. They're stumbling up the stairs and shushing each other at three in the morning, and part of him fears it's going to disappear, that once they make it into the apartment their regular lives will come crashing back, alcohol or not, and that he'll think about it too much.
Sebastian fumbles with his keys for a few seconds, but soon they're tiptoeing inside, careful not to wake Cooper. But when he sets foot inside the living room he notices Cooper's bedroom door is open, the rest of the apartment dead silent. Cooper isn't home. He hears the door close behind him, Sebastian coming closer, hovering at his back. He doesn't want Sebastian to ask if he wants to do this, afraid the words might strengthen his fear.
But Sebastian doesn't say a word, he simply reaches around his shoulders and removes his jacket, tossing it on the couch. Sebastian's chest connects with his back, lips settling at his temple, the tips of his fingers a soft caress down his arms. He shivers and closes his eyes, leaning back against the expanse of Sebastian's chest.
Sebastian brushes his lips down his neck once he exposes his throat, but it's not enough. He wants it all.
He whirls around and grabs Sebastian by the neck, pulling him down in a kiss, tongues melting together in a long stroke. Sebastian grabs down around his ass, fingers digging in hard, pushing their groins together. He moans into Sebastian's mouth, his body solid and unwavering. What follows is haphazard and clumsy, Sebastian treading them backwards towards the bedroom, hands gripping his ass while his arms are thrown around Sebastian's shoulders, lips locked together.
He isn't sure how they reach the bedroom without falling, but then Sebastian kicks the door shut behind him and he's seized by lust. He releases Sebastian and forces him back against the door roughly, only to crash their mouths together again moments later while his hands reach under Sebastian's shirt, fingers nipping at flawless skin.
Sebastian's shirt comes off and he laps at his skin with his tongue, down his neck, licking and kissing further down, paying special attention to Sebastian's beauty spots, thumbs tracing circles around his nipples. He hasn't done this in months, taken his time with his own or someone else's body–his last few times with Eli had been rushed quickies between his shifts at the hospital, and even though he'd cherished those moments he'd missed the real physicality, the connection that happened between two bodies surrendering to each other.
His shirt joins Sebastian's on the floor and next they're grappling for each other's belts, clasps coming undone, buttons popping and flies unzipping, both of them kicking off their shoes. Sebastian reaches a hand inside his pants, and he gasps, giving Sebastian leave to capture his lips in another kiss.
His legs hit the bed.
"Lie back," Sebastian says, thumbing over his cheekbone.
There's no hesitation: he sits down and takes off his pants while Sebastian heads for the bedside table, grabbing a bottle of lube and a condom. Sebastian takes off his own pants and crawls onto the bed with him, sitting down between his legs, both only wearing their boxers. He lies down on his back, dragging Sebastian with him; he raises his knees when Sebastian settles between them, rolling his hips to look for more friction, their hard-ons pressed together.
Whatever doubt was left disappears completely, he's too drunk to care and he's too far gone to deny himself this. He doesn't owe anyone anything, except for himself.
Sebastian's lips latch onto his skin, nipping and biting and he's sure there'll be marks in the morning. Sebastian's tongue draws circles around his nipples, fingers coloring lines down his sides.
He feels Sebastian's fingers hook into the waistband of his boxers, lips low at his hipbone as he bunches the fabric together and pulls them down and the thought of Eli doesn't even come into the equation, because next thing Sebastian's mouth's on him, licking a line up the length of his cock, setting his skin on fire. He shivers and fists the sheets, Sebastian's lips sucking at his tip, teasing his slit, before taking his cock inch by inch.
He whimpers a long moan, throwing his head back in the mattress, Sebastian working up and down his cock, sucking almost painfully hard, but his mouth's hot, hand palming his balls.
"Oh f-fuck–" he stutters and tangles his fingers in Sebastian's hair, his abdomen tensing with every breath.
He breaks out in a sweat, thoughts scattered and losing coherence, slowly going out of his mind. It's been too long since he's lost control like this, let go of the tight reins of his life, his lust. He knows this isn't love, that they're both beyond making rational decisions. But that doesn't mean it was a bad decision.
Sebastian's hands form in a tight hold around his hips, head bobbing up and down and he's breathing heavy through his nose; his toes curl and the pool of heat in his stomach draws down, his cock twitching in Sebastian mouth and he's close, so incredibly close–
But Sebastian stills his hips, releasing his cock with an audible pop.
His eyes shoot open. "What–" he manages to protest, his hips trying to move but locked under Sebastian's hand, his cock hard and painfully unattended. He whimpers. "Sebastian."
"I'm not done with you, killer," Sebastian says, voice hoarse, trailing butterfly kisses up his chest, until he's hovering over him. Sebastian sinks down for another kiss and he can taste himself, a salty mess on Sebastian's tongue. His cock twitches between them.
"Can I–" Sebastian asks, reaching for the lube, an unspoken request to lay himself bare.
"Yes," he breathes, nodding frantically–he and Eli were always versatile, but he prefers this, he prefers to bottom, be left at someone's mercy, trust that the other person has his desires at heart as well.
Sebastian pulls his boxers off and tosses them aside, skimming his own down his hips, Sebastian's erection leaking with precome.
"Give me–" He licks his lips, his mouth dry. "Fuck, give me your cock."
Sebastian teases a finger over his hole, the lube cold against his skin. "You're not ready, Blaine, not–" Sebastian pushes a finger inside, breath hitching at the pleasant stretch. "Fuck," he breathes, working one finger in and out of his ass, not hesitating long before adding a second, the slick slide of his fingers creating filthy noises.
"Sebastian, please," he begs, beyond any reason. "I'm so hot, please."
His chest heaves. He's lost in the steady rhythm of Sebastian's fingers, teasing against his prostate; he writhes on the mattress, going insane with want, his body taut with desire, cock begging for release. He reaches up around Sebastian's neck, the pull down rough and unforgiving. "Just fuck me," he says. "I can take it."
Sebastian's pupils are blown, his eyes dark and brimming with lust. "Turn over," he growls.
He does as he's told without apprehension, he needs Sebastian's cock and he'll take it anyway he can; he turns over, grateful for the level of friction the sheets allow and waits for Sebastian to roll on the condom. It's not long before Sebastian skims a hot palm down his back, kneading at his ass, cock teasing over his hole.
"Sebastian," he whines, and he's no sooner called his name or Sebastian's tip is at his hole, pushing at his entrance, pushing inside, easing his cock into his ass inch by painstaking inch.
He cries out along with Sebastian's "Fuck yes", the stretch of his ass a slow burn but it hurts better than anything, Sebastian's cock filling him up, a sardonic pleasure surface-racing with the pain. Sebastian stills and kisses his shoulder, his body covering his head to toe. He's trapped, Sebastian a heavy mass on top of him, but it's comforting. It's intimate.
Sebastian raises himself on his arms, making it easier for him to move; he pulls out almost completely, then thrusts back in hard, the shock of it severing any tie he still had with reality. Everything becomes the friction of their bodies, Sebastian's steady and hard thrusts up his ass, fingers leaving bruises on his hips, the maddening feel and slap of Sebastian's skin meeting his.
And he can't stop himself moaning with every thrust, pleasure ripping his body apart, Sebastian losing control over his reactions as well, audible gasps and breathy sighs sinking low in his ear.
"Sebastian, I'm so close," – he fists the sheets hard, clenching his fists, pulling, scratching, crawling – "Touch me," he pleads. "I need you to touch me."
Sebastian doesn't give it a second thought, he leans down over him again and winds a hand around his cock, losing his own rhythm, a sure sign that he's close too.
"Blaine," Sebastian almost wails, fist stroking his cock hard.
"Yes," he whimpers, fucking himself into Sebastian's fist and back on his cock, and he falls apart, coming all over the sheets, his body a withering mess beneath Sebastian's.
Sebastian orgasms moments later, hips bucking hard, riding through his release with a few more thrusts, slumping over on top of him. He stretches a hand back and turns his neck, straining to get to Sebastian's lips again. They meet in a wet sloppy kiss, more tongues and teeth than anything else, but they're both too strung out for it to last long.
Sebastian pulls out and melts down next to him, struggling for air and they just lie there, catching their breath, until they both slowly drift off into sleep.
.
.
He wakes up to something moving to his right, shaking him from a restless slumber, his head pounding, eyes hurting behind his eyelids. It takes him long moments to realize that he's not on the couch in the living room, but still butt-naked in Sebastian's bed. He forces his eyes open with great difficulty, the light filtering inside the room needling at his eyes.
Sebastian's sitting upright, a hand covering his eyes, no doubt feeling the consequences of last night's outing as well as him.
He stretches his legs and runs a hand down his chest, only to find his skin rough with dried come, knotted into the hairs on his chest. It's not as uncomfortable as he thought it would be, it'll wash out and right now it brings back memories of his night with Sebastian, the hard touches staving off the heartbreak and hurt, buffering a lifetime of pretending, erasing everything and everyone and overloading his senses.
Last night had been everything he needed it to be.
"Hey, Sebastian!" Cooper's voice echoes too loudly from the living room, and the doorknob shakes when Cooper tries the door. "You'll never believe what just happened."
"Coop," Sebastian calls, but his voice barely audible. It suddenly strikes him that he has no idea whether or not they locked the door and his brother's about to walk in on them. And he's naked. In Sebastian's bed.
Cooper pushes through the door, speaking excitedly. "The meter maid dropped the–Oh shit, I'm sorry," Cooper rambles all in the same breath. He's already halfway out of the room again when he notices who's splayed out in Sebastian's bed.
"Blaine?!"
He groans, feeling around for the covers but not finding them. He sincerely hopes the rest of his body is covered up, because he can't actually feel much beyond his hangover.
"Did you guys have sex?" Cooper asks, as if the answer to that question wasn't blatantly obvious already.
Sebastian sighs, but keeps any answer to himself.
Cooper points at him and smiles, smiles of all things. He's never thought his brother more ridiculous than right in this moment. "Atta boy," Cooper winks, shakes his head with pride, and leaves the room again lacking any subtlety.
"Please, tell me I'm hallucinating," he says.
"I guess we forgot to lock the door."
He pulls himself up in a sitting position, the room spinning circles around him. Sebastian still has a hand covering one of his eyes. "Are you okay?" he asks.
"I'm trying to figure out whether it's the room or me that's spinning," Sebastian answers.
He tries to narrow his eyes on a specific point in the room as well, but nothing will settle. "It's both," he decides. He stares around the room for his boxers, but he can't distinguish them from the heaps of clothing on the floor.
The front door opens and closes.
"Was that–?"
"That was your brother fleeing the apartment to give us space for a repeat performance," Sebastian deadpans, and turns his head to look at him. "Which sounds lovely, killer, but I'm sort of–" He searches for the word. "–dying."
He chuckles, agreeing that a repeat of last night would do more damage than good right now. His body feels utterly wrecked, his head and his stomach, and not to mention his ass, but it's all strangely welcome. At least he feels like he lived.
"You okay?" Sebastian asks, reaching around his back, fingers drawing circles down his spine. "If memory serves, and it usually does, things got pretty rough last night."
He nods. "Just a little sore."
"Go shower," Sebastian commands. "I'll make us my famous hangover remedy."
He waits until Sebastian's somewhat dressed and out of the room before he snatches his boxers off the ground and makes his way into the living room, hastily picking an outfit together from his suitcase. He pads into the bathroom and swallows down a few aspirins, hoping it'll clear away the sharpest pain. He looks at himself in the mirror: his hair's a complete mess, and he can't tell if that happened at the club or in bed later; he has a hickey on his neck and a few on his chest, red marks on his back.
There's one clear bruise on his left hipbone, painful to the touch, but he smiles to himself: it's nothing he didn't want, nothing he didn't ask for last night, and it's nice to have proof that it all happened. Sebastian had told him what he needed to hear, a wake up call that it was time to move on, maybe not let go, but he had to start finding his own way, without Eli, without his brother. He had to learn to make it on his own.
.
After his shower he finds Sebastian half-naked in the kitchen, mixing together an amalgam of things that have turned into a dark green goo. Unlike him, Sebastian doesn't have a mark on him, his skin seemingly untouched, no marks or bruises, not so much as a scratch. He suddenly wonders if Sebastian had as good a time as he had, but he hadn't given him any indication he hadn't, and he's not about to ask either.
He decides it doesn't matter, they had one fun crazy night and there didn't have to be any strings attached. He's much more interested in what Sebastian told him at the park, whether he was speaking from experience or if he really reads people that well. He thinks that kind of insight can only come from people who've lived a life like that, who've pretended for someone else's sake.
"What you said last night," he says, deciding against sitting down. "About pretending to be someone else."
Sebastian turns to face him.
"You weren't just talking about me."
Sebastian grins, managing a surprisingly calm demeanor. "Don't get me wrong, killer, I love my job," he answers, grabbing two glasses from an overhead cupboard. "But I followed in my father's footsteps, and his father's before him."
He's not sure this is what he had in mind when he broached the subject, but it's nice to hear Sebastian opening up to him.
"What do you really want to do?"
"What did you want to do?" Sebastian shoots back, avoiding an immediate answer.
"Teach," he answers lightning-fast, because he's always known that, he wanted to inspire children the way a handful of his own teachers had inspired him, had saved him even, a long time ago. And despite his hangover, despite the distance last night already seems to have taken, that dream still feels closer now.
Sebastian seems surprised at his quick answer because he's smiling, thinking through his own answer. "I like the law," he says. "But the intrigue and the backstabbing–" He shakes his head. "I've always wanted to work in the public defender's office."
He blinks, eyes going wider.
Sebastian eyes him suspiciously. "Does this surprise you?"
"No, it–" He smiles to himself and blushes, though he's not sure why. "It suits you."
Sebastian smiles. "Thanks."
#
if you can, please let me know what you think!
