#lcightonmeester

Living in downtown Bayview, Sebastian had done his fair share of exploring since he had moved in three months ago. Although he was still working in vain to get his dog, Ludwig, motivated to join him on his longer walks, or God forbid a run, around their new city, he hadn’t been a slouch. He’d investigated and window shopped along the East side, especially while waiting for take away from his favorite Indian restaurant, and had a few late nights bar hopping down the main streets along the South side of the park. However, a route that he’d found himself walking more often than the rest the past few weeks had taken him from his home on the North side, through the park, to a very specific destination he’d discovered to the West of Central Park, about a fifteen minute walk from his home.

The newly restored, three-story brownstone Sebastian had purchased on Lorraine Terrace had set him back a surprising amount, more than he’d expected, even coming from nearly twenty years of managing Manhattan real estate prices. However, the retained character of the interior, in addition to the location and the finished sound-proofed basement for his record collection, had been more than worth it. He’d been glad, in the end, that he hadn’t taken much more than Ludwig, his clothes, and the most important of his sentimental keepsakes from his apartment in the city when he’d broken up with his last girlfriend. Being forced to furnish his new home, the first place he’d actually bought all on his own, with items he picked out, touches that he felt brought the place together, without dragging along memories of the past with them was more cathartic than he ever anticipated. He felt settled there.

Sebastian had never focused on material possessions, spending so much of his early life not having many of his own to speak of, but he could admit that one thing had changed for him: he loved his house. From the industrial style kitchen with its exposed brick, brushed steel appliances, and floor to ceiling accent wall sporting a new coat of chalkboard paint; to the master bedroom, obviously Sebastian’s favorite of the three bedrooms in the house, walls the color of a the ocean at night and the king-sized cloud masquerading as his bed. He had put the time he’d been away to good use, having hired a decorator to orchestrate the transformation from a beautiful, if eggshell white walled, home into something that spoke to, and of, Sebastian. His favorite room though was the living room, the soothing sage green walls with original early 19th century dark wood crown molding, the large flat-screen mounted on the wall opposite the scattering of black and white framed  pictures illustrating the story of his life. Him, all skinny elbows and collarbones, and his mother smiling in Romania, a often thought of chocolate cake between them; a picture of him and his parents on the day his mother married Tony; graduations, college friends, friends he’d met throughout his burgeoning career, places he’d traveled. Sebastian found himself more times than not ensconced on the over-stuffed, buttery soft leather L-shaped sofa staring up at those images instead of the television. But not tonight.

The afternoon had been a blissful one, another in a line of what Sebastian was just starting to accept could very well be his new - and improved - life. After he’d had the luxury of a lazy late start to the day, he’d hit the gym for a few hours of cardio and arm work, knowing the next day he and Zach would be meeting to have “leg day”. As if by magic, his phone had buzzed as he left the gym, his friend informing him he hand landed and was on his way home, news met with a relieved sigh from Sebastian. He rushed through his post-gym shower, eager to meet Leighton on the East side of town. She’d been game to try The Oasis, the hookah bar Sebastian had eyed up more than once on his wanderings. He’d been pleasantly surprised when they’d arrived to find the interior of the cafe to be decked out in rich jewel tones, silken cushions littering the seating area and, of course, quality hookah. He’d made silly faces at Leighton when she’d picked an expectedly sweet flavor of tobacco, settling for a more sedate mixture of grape and mint for his own pipe. They’d spent a few luxuriously shared hours happily chatting, flirting, and puffing away as the attendants surreptitiously swapped out their burning coals for fresh ones as needed. Sampling some of the Arabic sweets and beverages on offer, he fondly reflected on Leighton trying the different sticky treats, unable to not smile at the memory of her eyes lighting as the complex flavors burst across her tongue.

From there, they had wandered along the store fronts, most of them already shut as Sunday hours tended leaned more towards “early” than “late” in town. It was still somewhat of a surprise to Sebastian, who realized only then exactly how accustomed to Manhattan life he’d become before leaving it behind, with stores and restaurants staying open well into the night regardless of the day. They’d picked up take out from Sebastian’s go-to Indian place, giving Leighton a sheepish look as the small, matronly woman at the front counter greeted Sebastian by name and with a welcoming hug. He may have been a more frequent customer than he’d realized, and they chatted easily with Rima as they waited for their order. Knowing he had a multitude of plans for the evening that would be much more entertaining, and agreed to, with a few drinks in them, a quick stop at the store to get some beer and wine had been needed before headed back to Sebastian’s brownstone - which is where they found themselves now. Sated, both from dinner and the few rounds of slow, leisurely sex they’d had afterwards - a change from the frantic and nearly wild way they had gone at each other the first time a few days previous. Both had gotten a little more than tipsy as they had gossiped about their mutual friends before settling in to watch The Big Lebowski, one of Sebastian’s favorite films, on the couch.

Sebastian smiled at the movie, turning into an audible chuckle at Leighton’s bubbly, somewhat drunken laughter. Burying his nose further into her hair, he smoothed his hand around her shoulder and down the slope of her back where she was curled into his chest. His thoughts wandered slightly as The Dude began to plot the replacement of his beloved rug. It hadn’t been a stressful week, per se, but he was frustrated at the amount of attention The Bayview Beat had paid to both his dust up with Jen and the implication that Leighton wasn’t good enough for him - the latter of which made him see red. Who the fuck did those people think they were? How dare they judge him, or Leighton, when they didn’t understand the first thing about their relationship? Though the woman pressed against him said she wasn’t bothered, Sebastian knew there had to be a level of upset at her friend, and besides - he was bothered. Scowling above Leighton’s head, he pushed away thoughts of those those people (a generous term in his opinion) they could take more away from him enjoying feeling the gentle rise and fall of Leighton’s body as she breathed, the giggles erupting from them both as they watched the film. Pressing a kiss to the crown of her head, he focused on the film again, the pair continuing to make a significant dent in the alcohol they’d purchased for the evening.

As the movie came to a close, Sebastian leaned back, encouraging Leighton to sit up on the couch next to him. “So,” he intoned in a conspiratorially, “I asked if you were up for being a little bit bad?” Tucking some of her hair behind her ear; trailing his fingers through the end of the silky strands, he looked her up and down, smirking, “I think you’re going to like this.” With a decided smack of his hands against his denim clad thighs, he stood, “okay, you,” he looked pointedly at Leighton as held his hand out for her, “unfortunately are gonna need to put some pants on, and I’m gonna to need…” he trailed off, glancing at the clothing strewn around his living room, “…the hell is my shirt?”

Clothes, jackets, and cold weather attire donned, Sebastian let Ludwig out into the backyard for a quick pit stop before tossing him a treat as he locked the backdoor of the house behind them. Winking when his companion spied the black plastic bag tucked under his arm, he held the other arm out to her, crooked in invitation to entwine her arm with his as they made their way down Sebastian’s block. As they cut diagonally across the Northwest corner of the park, a handful of blocks away from their destination, Sebastian pulled a flask from the inside pocket of his jacket, “you want some? It’ll warm you up.” He asked, offering Leighton the first sip. Taking the flask back, he took a pull, letting the whiskey burn radiating out from his throat and stomach warm him as they continued on their way. He was glad they’d bundled up as their every exhale clouded in front of them in the cold night air. Fuck the cold, this is going to be so worth it, Sebastian thought as they walked.

Sebastian had had enough sleepless nights and self imposed drunken pity parties his first few weeks in town that he knew well enough that at nearly midnight on a Sunday night, the streets would be relatively empty, residents mostly at home preparing themselves for the upcoming work week; watching television. Glad there wasn’t anyone around, the two of them giggled as they stagger-walked their way out of the park towards a series of office buildings on the other side. Between them they had finished nearly half of the flask and were once again rather impressively past “tipsy”, rounding the bend to “very drunk”. Bringing Leighton to a stop in front of a rather ordinary looking office building, he twirled her around ballerina style, bringing her to a stop facing him, beaming in satisfaction with what was about to go down.

“People can be just total assholes,” he started, slurring slightly and holding up a wavering finger to her to allow him to get this out. To articulate the frustration and upset he’d been feeling all weekend on behalf of them both, considering the amount he’d had to drink, would be no easy task. “Whether they’re ignorin’ boundaries,” he started with an unimpressed raise of an eyebrow, knowing they both knew what he was referring to, “or they’re tryin’ to say they think they know what’s best for either of us,” he shook his head in disgust. “I said it before, but I wanna say it again. You, us, is my priority. Fuckin’,” he hiccuped softly, “numero uno, okay? Not playin’ nice or thinkin’ about ‘what ifs’ or any of that shit.” He met her eyes and held her gaze imparting with the vehemence and sincerity only afforded to the very drunk, “spent the last five years kickin’ m’self for lettin’ you go. Chasin’ absolute fucking dead ends,” he heaved a breath, “if anyone thinks they know what’s best for me, or that they can get between-” Sebastian cut himself off with another shake of his head, “then they don’t know us at all, 'cause we may've dropped the ball the first time,” he cupped her cheek, stroking his thumb over her chilled skin, “but we’re damn well gonna do it right this time, hey?”

Glancing up and down the street, he leaned in and kissed her soundly as a coda to his small speech, forcing himself to come up for air after a few heated moments. Chasing the taste of whiskey and the sweetness that was so thoroughly Leighton off his bottom lip with his tongue, Sebastian swept an arm out towards the building. “Do you know what this is?” He asked, knowing the answer, but unable to stop himself from indulging in a bit of pageantry. “This, Bonnie,” he winked, pointing to himself and mouthing Clyde, “is Bayview’s bullshit headquarters - the Bayview Beat’s office,” he grinned shark-like at his words. Pulling the plastic bag tucked under his arm between them, he undid the loose knot in the handles to reveal four cartons of a dozen eggs. Shrugging one shoulder and ducking in to press another quick kiss to her mouth, “I think we both deserve to give these little dickshits some payback, eh?”

As the two of them started hurling eggs at the brick and glass front of The Beat’s offices, Sebastian couldn’t help but laugh uproariously along with Leighton, quickly making their way through the first half of their respective cartons, nearly breathless from the cold and uncontrollable giddiness of watching - and hearing - the shells smack against the building, dripping slowly down the exterior. As they shouted their grievances with The Beat with the hurling of each egg, Sebastian shouted his frustration at them knowing everything, that they had the balls to speculate about his relationship with Leighton, that they had eyes on him seemingly since he arrived in Bayview and had - what he considered not even a major tiff - with Joe. Reveling in the catharsis of the entire ridiculous act.

Pausing to take another swig from the flask and holding it out for Leighton, he screwed the cap back on, watching her toss her hair back from her face. The cold and the alcohol had mixed together to give her face a rosy flush, the tip of her nose redder than usual from the combination. As she turned at him, beaming, he felt his breath freeze in his lungs. “God,” he exhaled in wonder, “you are so beautiful,” he explained simply, blindly slinging the final egg from his first dozen toward the building as he swooped in, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his mouth to hers. “Sorry, sorry,” he joked, pulling away, “don’t interrupt the mission,” he winked, carefully extracting and distributing their second cartons. Taking a moment to check the street once again, he was pleased to find them still left to their own devices. Knowing they were both a little more than drunk at this point, and wanting to remember this night for as long as he could, Sebastian pulled his iPhone from his back pocket and filmed Leighton hurling a few eggs at the building. His stomach flipped happily as he caught her turning towards the camera, laughter illuminating her features as her breath haloed around her in the dim light of the street lamps. He pulled her close to him to take a few selfies of the two of them, and handed over the camera for her to film him throwing a few eggs at the building, shouting a few select opinions he held about the gossip paper.

He asked Leighton to start a new video recording as he shouted into the camera, ignoring her look when he told her his plan. “Theeese fuckin’ assholes,” he spat, waving a wild arm towards the building, “this one’s from Zach, for all the shit these dicks gotta say about him!” He threw an egg as hard as he could, nodding in satisfaction when it gave a muted crack against the building. Grabbing another egg quickly, he shouted, “and this one’s from me, because fuck you,” he threw another egg in defense of his friend watching, mutinous, as the shell and slimy insides dripped toward the ground. He accepted his phone back from Leighton, clumsily texting his friend SECRET OPS! despite the obscenely late hour, followed by three emojis: a smiling pile of poop, a hand displaying the middle finger, and a fried shrimp - he liked to keep Zach guessing after all. He shoved the phone into his back pocket just in time to watch Leighton to throw an egg wildly, missing the building completely and hitting the bushes along the front walkway instead. Meeting her gaze for a split second, he doubled over in helpless laughter, eyes watering and spilling over as he tried to pull himself together, “you - you,” he started between gasps, “you missed an entire building!” He crowed, pulling her into his embrace again, “oh my God, that was fuckin’ incredible,” laughing into her cold hair.

Watching Leighton throw her last egg, his own finished a few minutes previously, he rushed towards her, growling playfully and lifting her from under her butt to twirl her in the air, cheering victoriously. Lowering her to the ground quickly as he realized how drunk they both still were, he grabbed her gloved hand and pressed it to his mouth before wrapping her in a hug and chaffing his hands over her shoulders and back to warm her. “Well, Bonnie,” he half slurred half drawled, “I think our work is done here, don’tcha reckon?” He winked as he once again looped her arm through his and started to guide her home. Pulling the flask out once more, he tiled it toward her, “s’almost done, might as well,” he shrugged. Tipping his head backwards to chase the last of the whiskey from the polished metal container, he screwed the cap back on, storing it in the inner pocket of his jacket once more.

As they exited the park, now back on the North side of town and nearing Sebastian’s home, he turned and ducked smoothly despite his inebriated state, lifting Leighton into a caveman carry over his shoulder, laughing loudly as he playfully smacked her ass. “God, this thing should always be at my eye level,” he teased playfully, nuzzling his head into her hip on his shoulder. The work he’d done at the gym for months and years previously enabling him to shoulder her easily, her slight weight comfortable and steadily pinned down with his arm around her middle. Gently biting at her thigh, he warned, “don’t wake the neighbors,” as they trudged through the gate in the tall privacy fence of Sebastian’s narrow backyard. “All this vandalism, I gotta tell ya,” he rubbed his hand over her ass again, squeezing gently at the thighs draped over his chest, “it’s giving me the fever,” he growled playfully, “and I think the only cure is to throw you down on the bed,” he slid his hand up Leighton’s left thigh towards the swell where it met her butt, “and boink your ever-livin’ brains out!”