Fuck it , he thinks. He'd wear the cologne you liked, the vanilla one with hints of a "woodsy" scent, whatever the fuck that meant. You knew what it meant. If you mentioned it, he'd brush it off, saying it was just something that he picked out, like he hadn't spent the better half of an hour going through his scent collection to find anything he thought that you'd like. You'd compliment him, and the two of you would start talking again. Sebastian couldn't talk his way out of a paper bag, but he was hoping to be just drunk enough to come across as charming. You liked charming guys. He could be that.

Sebastian is fresh out of the shower when the question that had been in the back of his mind for weeks brings itself to the forefront. Did you even want him like that? He moves his hair out of his face, sighing, thinking the plan he had been so eager to enact might be for nothing. You hadn't said much to him since the kiss you'd shared, and he wanted you to have your space after your breakup with Alex, so he hadn't reached out. Or maybe you thought he didn't want you, that maybe the kiss was out of pity, and not something he'd been dreaming about since you stepped foot into the valley. Either way, contact had been scarce.

Pulling on his signature hoodie, he heads out, making his way towards town. He gets to Sam's house later than usual, but he decides that he's waited long enough, and it was already getting pathetic.

The music coming from Sam's house was deafening, loud enough that he was sure even Evelyn and George could hear it without their hearing aids in. The noise complaint from Lewis was inevitable.

Sebastian steps into the house, with a bottle of whatever he thought his mom wouldn't miss, and he sees you for the first time that night. You, skin glowing under all the fluorescent lights, brightening the room even more than he thought possible.

He starts to smile, but it quickly fades once he sees you standing next to Jeric, looking up and smiling while he pours something into a red cup. You shouldn't be there; you should be with him. You'd say the music was a bit too loud, and he'd ask if you wanted to step outside, and you'd agree, and he'd kiss you, under the streetlamp, away from everyone, and you'd kiss him back while the fireflies flew past your face.

It doesn't happen.

Your laugh drags him away from his thoughts, and his stomach turns. Abigail offers him something that she'd mixed up, and he takes it, which is a mistake. The alcohol warms his already sour stomach, and the urge to vomit is all the more present, but he shoves it down. There wouldn't be any embarrassing incidents this time.

Sebastian goes most of the night without speaking to anybody, apart from the occasional 'hey' to those who offer it first. His silence is even more noticeable once the party dies down, and the only people left are you, Sam, his new mortal enemy, and a few stragglers.

Right now, Sebastian should be walking you home, making small talk, and maybe future plans for a potential date. Instead, he's forced to watch you laugh at Jeric's jokes, which cannot be that funny.

He quickly slips into Sam's room, pretending to be on his phone, but you see him. There was a hint of a frown on his face, but you couldn't be sure if it was his normal Sebastian grimace, or something deeper.

Jeric offers to walk you home, and you almost accept, but there's something eating at you. You tell him to wait, and he goes to make conversation with Sam while you sneak into his room.

Sebastian's face down on Sam's bed, head shoved into the pillows, and his whole body jolts when tap him on the shoulder. You can tell he wasn't expecting you, or at the very least only expecting Sam, because when he peers up at you, his face turns a shade of red that you'd only seen on him whenever Robin said something embarrassing about his childhood.

He sits up, watching as you sit towards the edge of the already small bed.

"Is everyone gone already?" He knows the answer; the walls are thin, and he can hear every little thing in Sam's house.

"There's still a few people left, but I just wanted to check on you. You okay?"

Sebastian wants to shake his head no, because sitting by himself all night while he watched his crush be flirted with by at least five people, plus the town flirt, was not how he wanted to spend his Saturday, but he doesn't.

"I'm fine. It's just quieter in here." He can smell the alcohol and the scent of something fruity on your breath. He hopes you like the cologne he wore. He hopes you know he wore it just for you.

You move towards him, close enough that your knees nearly touch, and the body heat coming from your body sends a jolt through his. "I was worried, you haven't said much all night."

"I never say much, do I?" He laughs, running his hand through his bangs.

"Tonight was different. You didn't even say hi to me." You look away, towards the door, biting your lip slightly before turning back to Sebastian. His heart swells, thinking about you waiting the whole night for him to come over and say something, anything.

The night at the Summit flashes in his mind again, the same way it does every day whenever he and his busy mind get a second to just be. You were looking at him like you are now, and he wishes you wouldn't, but also hopes that you never stop, that you keep those eyes on him forever. Every time they land on him, he lights up, and it's like you're a witch, or a wizard, or a necromancer who swears they only use their powers for good, but they only ever curse him, simultaneously bringing him to life and dragging him deeper into the abyss of your spell.

Before you had moved to town, this was about as much conversation as anybody could get out of Sebastian, but now he found himself wanting to find more to say, anything to keep the conversation going. His words fail him, but his body doesn't. Pulling you into him and kissing you was already like muscle memory for him, even though he'd only done it once before.

You gasp, leaning into Sebastian as he pushes the two of you onto Sam's old twin mattress that squeaks with every movement.

Sebastian thinks that he's dreaming, that you lifting up your dress just enough to grant him access is just some mirage, and he's going to wake up any second, only to find out that it was just another wet dream that ended before it got good.

He touches you, hesitantly at first, all over your body, like he's afraid that adding any pressure would cause you to disappear.

He pinches himself, once to make sure he's not dreaming, and then another for luck, before he gives you another kiss, wiping the quizzical look from your face.

His fingers trace along the edges of the panties you wore before sliding them to the side. He blushes, turning a deep shade of scarlet when he sees how wet you are. You shudder when his finger finally touches your cunt, no barrier, just the skin-to-skin contact you'd both been craving.

For the first time in a while, Sebastian is grateful. Grateful that he didn't take that in-office job a few states away so he could be here, with you. Grateful that he had just enough liquid courage swirling around in his belly to light a fire in yours, and even grateful that your grandfather had passed away and had the good sense to leave you the farm in his will. He knew how fucked up that sounded, but he couldn't find much else to care about other than the convulsions of your pussy around his fingers.

He presses on, on a deep sea dive for your g-spot before he hears you make a deep groaning sound that amateur porn had taught him meant that he had found what he was looking for.

"Right there?" He needs confirmation, needs it like he's never needed anything in his life, and when you shakily nod, he brings his other hand over to your clit, hoping to pull that same groan out of you again.

" Fuuuuck, Sebastian don't stop," as if he had to be told. The only thing that could pull his fingers out of you was you pushing him away or Yoba himself coming down and deciding that now was the perfect time for his believers to join him in the afterlife, which he didn't put it past him to do.

His fingers slip, and he has to stop the stupid grin that forms on his face when he feels how wet you get. His mouth grazes your ears, neck, anywhere he can reach, and every time his warm breath greets your skin, it feels like you come to life just a little bit more.

You fumble around, trying to unbuckle his belt, and his insides flutter at the thought of you being just as desperate as he was.

Sebastian knows that he should probably stop, should probably take you back to his place or even your own farmhouse, but the warmth emanating from in between your thighs makes it hard for him to think logically. All the blood's gone to his dick, and he can't help but listen to it.

But it seems that he didn't have to bring himself to stop. Luck still wasn't on his side because as soon as you pull his pants down and get a good look at the equipment, Sam bursts into the room, drunk and slurring about someone vomiting on his mother's couch.

Sweet, lovable Sam, who was now the main source of conflict in your cute little friends-to-lovers tale.

You quickly sit up, pulling down your clothes and nearly knocking Sam over in the process of running out of his house, leaving only a faint, "goodnight, Sebastian!" in your wake.

Sebastian smiles after you. Sam starts to lecture him, his voice jumping an octave when he sees the wet spot you'd left, but his speech is in one ear and out the other. He and Penny were no strangers to Sebastian's basement, and he couldn't care less. He tried his best to drown out Sam's voice and figure out if he'd be calling you later when he jacked off using the same hand he'd had inside you or if he'd be on a solo mission tonight.

He's almost relieved, because this is not how Sebastian imagined his first time with you would be. He'd been dreaming of a candlelit room, with slow R&B in the background, on a king-sized bed, with you being as loud as you could, and not just as loud as the music in the background dictated.

He's halfway home when he gets a text from you.

I had fun tonight. Same time tomorrow?

He types, deletes it, types more, deletes that, and then finally settles on sending sure. see you then. Before he locks his phone and slides it into his pocket.

He unlocks the door to his room, the smell of you still on his fingers, a small reminder of the night's activities left on every doorknob he touches.

Solo mission it is, he decides.