Wildest Dreams - STRAP update.
Chapter 3: Peers Potlucks and Proclamations, Oh My
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

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Wildest Dreams - STRAP update.
Chapter 3: Peers Potlucks and Proclamations, Oh My
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

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Visibility needs action to go with it! Learn from trans youth why we need more than visibility this TDOV!
Chapter 9 of Black Roses is up. Weâre closer to the end than the beginning (I think).
Thanks to everyone who has followed along as this mystery takes shape! đđđ
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Strollin' to prepare le me for bloody rehearsals đ±đ±đ± #tyoc #nofilter #PonponSaHapon (at Gifu)
'old bones' (sam/sebastian) pg (7/10)
Title: 'Old Bones', part seven of the 'Ten Years of Christmas' verse. Warnings: some pretty abusive stuff with parents. feels and stuff at the end. im very sorry i did not continue the boy sex Word Count: 5111 Summary: Sebastian and Sam have dinner with Sebastian's parents. Notes: i could have taken this another way, made it happier but what's a story without angst. FOUR DAYS
Theyâre laughing as they spill through Sebastianâs front door, reminiscent of two years ago, Sam remembers, the first time they were alone. Itâs almost hilarious; there had been a lot more of those moments since then, a lot more conjured excuses to slip away from the family. It was a thing now, solidly, who Sam and Sebastian were together.
âSebastian?â
Theyâre startled at the sound of a womanâs voice and Sam looks up at her knowing it had to be Sebastianâs mother. Sebâs father stands right behind her, drinking in the situation at hand, and Sam knows they canât really get in trouble; they werenât children anymore. Sam witnesses the color drain completely from Sebastianâs face. Heâs paler than heâs ever been, even when heâd been sick, and it worries Sam because he knows the kind of relationship Sebastian has with his parents. Had something happened like this as Samâs house, his mother would have busted out the camera. But not the Smythes, apparently. Sam had known, but it was a little bit of an electric shock being in the moment.
Sebastian pulls himself away from Sam, standing by his side still; Sam is at a loss of what to say or do. Awkward moment canât really describe how uncomfortable he feels.
Mrs. Smythe stands, her body long and tall. She wears the kinds of heels girls wear to prom, and the kind of dress ladies wear to weddings. She has strong features, but sheâs almost perfect, like the women Sam sees in those beauty magazines Rachel and his mom read. âSebastian,â she hums, and her voice is smoky, and thereâs a touch of an accent. Sam watches as her long legs carry her over to them, and she leans forward to place a kiss to Sebastianâs cheek. âWhat are you doing home? I was expecting you to stay in New York this season.â The thing about Sebastianâs mother is that sheâs elegant, timeless, as though she were plucked out of the mid-forties and placed in their own era. But in Sebastianâs house, as ostentatious as it was, she fit perfectly. Sam had to think that of course she fit right in; this was their side of town; this was a whole different world. But, so did Sebastianâs dad, tall and looming, well dressed and a sour expression on his face. There was a newspaper tucked underneath his arm and in his hand was a short glass, amber liquid swaying gently.
Looking at Sebastianâs parents, it was easy to see where Sebastian inherited his handsome face.
The tension in the air was so thick, Sam couldnât really dwell on the appearance of the family, but much more what was underneath. It reminded him of Stevie and Staceyâs toys, how some of them were broken beyond repair, but theyâd fixed them with colorful bandaids, scotch tape, and sparkly glue; it was good enough, pretty enough, almost like brand new to them. And Sam could see that with Sebastianâs family, the prettiest wrapping paper hiding a lump of coal.
Literally, all Sam wanted to do was drag Sebastian back outside and just runaway back to Samâs house where he would be welcomed with something other than a question asking why he was home early.
Sebastianâs voice cuts through his voice like a white-hot knife slicing through flesh (because it hurt hearing Sebastianâs voice this way). âI decided to come home for Christmas. Like I do every year. Not that youâve noticed since you usually spend Christmas out of the country.â
Sam watches him closely, noticing the tick of his jaw. Any movement Sam made would probably have been a bad idea, even though, at most, he just wanted to grab Sebastianâs arm and yank him out of the house, restart the day and convince Sebastian to just stay for a couple more hours. Unfortunately, Sam isnât a skilled time-traveler.
It was Mr. Smythe to speak this time, and the sour expression on his face hasnât dispersed; Sam could say it had gotten worse. âYour tone, young man.â
Sebastian sighs, his shoulders squaring though. Itâs almost like heâs preparing for barbed jabs. âWe were just stopping by to pick up a few things, and weâll be on our way. Wouldnât want to delay your flight to wherever the hell youâre going now,â Sebastian mutters, and the expression on Mrs. Smythe face is almost sad enough to breaks Samâs heart. She walks back to Mr. Smythe, resting a hand on his arm; itâs freakishly statuesque.
Sebastianâs nineteen years old; hardly an adult. Heâs a sophomore in college, one of the best colleges in the whole United States. Heâs working on interns and speeches and all kinds of smart things. In a year or two heâll have a great job and maybe a house and heâll be settled into the nice, comfy adult world. But Sam has never seen Sebastian as clearly as he is now. There were snippets Sam can remember; seeing into Sebastian, through Sebastian, was very rare, even with how close they were. It wasnât intentional, Sam knows that, one hundred percent, but even then, there are things that Sebastian hides from Sam, about himself, his family. Sebastian, it seems, is still the kid who hates Christmas.
That devastates Sam more than anything.
Sebastian leaves Sam in the doorway and makes his way to trudge up the stairs. Samâs eyes follow him, but the rest of his body stays put. Sebastianâs stopped by his fatherâs booming voice.
âSebastian.â
Watching it all is painful, but Sam doesnât look anywhere else other that Sebastian, and the way he slinks back down the stairs. He stands in from
âSebastian, dear, I thought we could go to dinner tonight. To celebrate that weâre all home for Christmas!â She says cheerily. âYouâre correct; we do have a flight later tonight to London to meet with you Aunt Elizabeth, but we can spend a little bit of time together for Christmas, right, darling?â Mrs. Smythe speaks with a gentle smile, and for a second, she reminds him of Rachel, acting in one of her musical parts. Mrs. Smythe is dramatic, he notices, overbearing and commanding, though she actually asks a question. Sam isnât scared of much; he can sit through slasher films and scary movies, can go through haunted houses and go back to sleep after a nightmare. This though, this display of familial dissonance scares Sam the most. Thereâs a sharp intensity in Mrs. Smytheâs eyes, reminds him of the girls in high school, of his mother when sheâs pissed, of Rachel when sheâs bloodthirsty for the spotlight. Only for Mrs. Smythe, there isnât anything about her that says sheâs mad, or angry; the look in her eyes gives it away, like sheâs compelling Sebastian to do as she says without another thought.
Even more, itâs the way Sebastian just falls limp, his body language completely submissive. And he wonders why because Sebastian could have said no. Samâs mom was waiting for them for dinner, so his parents could go out and Sebastian and Sam could watch the kids. Could have said he had plans and declined. But Sebastian, for some reason, agrees to the dinner and it was mouth-droppingly shocking. âSure. You can allow us a few moments to get ready, canât you, mother?â The moniker he uses is spat like venom. Sam is sure no one in the house missed that.
Heâs still standing in the doorway and feels slightly out of place, like a weed in a garden full of thorned flowers. The three Smythes turn their attention to him and underneath the spotlight of their vision, Sam gives them a timid smile, taking in a deep breath. They scrutinize him; Sebastianâs eyes are kind, tired, but the expression isnât lost on Sam. Opposite of that, though, Mr. and Mrs. Smytheâs eyes judge him, tear him apart and the second they look away, Sam feels exposed and ripped to shreds. Heâs not one to feel bad about himself, but at that moment, he did.
Mrs. Smythe frowns heavily. âUs? Sebastian, darling, I think itâd be best if it was just the three of us. No offense, of course, to your ⊠friend.â She gives Sam another onceover and her smile doesnât return.
Sebastian rolls his eyes. âThen go alone. Sam and I have plans anyway.â He tries to make his way up the stairs, but Mr. Smythe stops him again, with just his voice. Â
âYouâd better be getting dressed. Your mother asked you to dinner. Any previous plans youâve made are now cancelled, Sebastian. And once youâve finished getting dressed, I would like to speak with you in my office.â Mr. Smythe doesnât wait for an answer, and Sam has to wonder what kind of person you have to be to talk to people like that.
Sam finds that he doesnât like Sebastianâs family much. Not much at all. Â
âFine. Then, Sam is coming, or Iâm not going.â And the murderous look in Sebastianâs eyes finalizes the argument. Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Smythe say a word and they disperse from the living room.
Alone, Sebastian seems to be on auto pilot. He rustles up the stairs and Sam follows diligently behind. When Sebastian closes the door to his bedroom, Sam watches him unravel a little bit. Sam letâs himself thaw out from standing so frozen at the door. He sits on the edge of Sebastianâs bed and just watches as Sebastian paces the room, back and forth, grabbing this, taking that, all the while the glazed over, vacant expression never leaves his face.
Abruptly, Sebastian stops, right in front of him. He looks down at Sam and Sam lifts his head so he can match Sebastianâs gaze. âIâm going to shower. Just pick something from the closet. We donât have time to go to your house,â Sebastian demands, and Sam stays silent, only nodding. âI canât do this by myself.â Sebastian admits. âIf I could, Iâd take you home, and you could stay and play with your brother and sister while your parents went on their date night. But Iâll go insane if I have to be alone with those people.â Sebastian doesnât say anything else after that, and Sam watches Sebastian disappear into the bathroom without as much as a whisper.
Sam can tell immediately that this is going to be the worst situation heâs ever gotten himself in to, and there isnât a reverse, restart, or go back button.
Inside of Sebastianâs closet, he picks something plain, simple, which is hard because Sebastianâs clothes are expensive and special, unlike his own closet. But thereâs a simple black jacket and slacks and he changes and dresses and slides the jacket on over the white button up.
Sam isnât fond of it, has never been the suit and tie type. The clothes are a little tight and Sam finds himself not wanting to go at all. And he knows Sebastian is resenting the control and power his parents hold. He wonders how Sebastian had ever survived with this kind of treatment. He doesnât understand it, understand how this display could actually be normal in the Smythe household.
Sebastian does smile, however, when he steps out of the bathroom, dripping wet, finding Sam lying back on the bed, wearing his clothes.
âYou clean up nicely,â Sebastian teases, and maybe Sam does, but he feels like a penguin, out of place, and would rather go back to his graphic tees and jeans.
Sam grins, thankful that Sebastian has seemed to make light of the situation. âDoesnât really matter if youâre just going to take it off later,â Sam mutters quietly, and Sebastian doesnât hold back his laughter. Itâs a good sound, warms Sam right up, and he thinks that maybe everyone is just on edge. Maybe they can have an okay night, without the addition of stress. Maybe.
Sebastian, though, looks almost edible in what he chooses to wear. Charcoal grey suits him very nicely, even with the black button up underneath. Like Sam, he doesnât wear a tie, and keeps the first button undone. Sam can see the red stain on his skin, right underneath his chin and it amuses him that Sebastian is doing nothing to hide it. Maybe it wonât be obvious that Samâs big lips were sucking on Sebastianâs neck just a couple of hours ago.
Sam stands when Sebastian is ready. Sam still looks a little rough compared to the rest of the family, but itâs only touches that Sebastian needs to make. And he isnât shy; pulling on Samâs collar, straightening his jacket in front of his parents. Itâs odd though, when Mrs. Smythe takes a step towards them, and brushes Samâs hair off of his forehead. Her eyes are still as cold as ice.
The car ride is suffocating. Even though theyâre in separate cars, Sam can still see the tension in Sebastianâs shoulders, feel it in his fingers as they hold hands. Â
âGod, I want to disappear.â
Itâs a statement that Sam doesnât take lightly.
Sebastian and Sam have been doing this Christmas together thing for almost seven years. Itâs a part of who they are, their solid foundation to the relationship theyâre building. Heâd never thought a surprise visit from Sebastianâs parents would ruin that.
âWe could just keep driving, Sam. We could go to the beach again, like we did a couple years ago.  Maybe stay there forever. What do you think?â Sebastian says. His voice is raw; itâs not torn apart or rough, though. Sebastianâs voice is so full of emotion that the words he says hang heavy around Sam, like a dark little cloud.
Sam smiles and nods. Itâs a good idea. Sam loves the beach and he loves Sebastian. What more could he ask for? âI think my mother would kill me,â he ends up saying instead.
And it makes Sebastian laugh because the thought of Mary ever harming her oldest son is laughable. âSheâd let you go,â Sebastian says, with the kind of confidence that makes Sam believe it, too. âShe would, because she knows Iâd take care of you.â
Sam hadnât thought of it that way, and it almost makes him want to frown. Itâs nice, what Sebastian had said. Heartbreakingly-heartwarming. But Sam can hear the underlying connotation that Sebastianâs mother doesnât know anything about them. And thatâs messed up, fucked up, because Sam wishes Sebastianâs parents would want to know all about him and the things he loves.
Sam tightens his fingers around Sebastianâs. âRelax, Sebastian. Itâs just an hour or two that we have to be with them. Weâll go back to my house and watch a movie, until Stevie and Stacey fall asleep and itâs just me and you.
âMe and you.â
Sam nods and Sebastian sighs.
âIâm not even sure they knew I was gay, Sam,â Sebastian said, his eyes on the road in front of them. Sam watches Sebastianâs face, swallowing thickly.
âWell, they handled it a lot better than a lot of other people do.â
The last several minutes of the drive are filled with static silence. The restaurant the Smythes picked was on the outskirts of town, with beautiful fixtures, and people dressed up in evening gowns and tuxedos and Sam still felt out of place, like a wolf wearing sheepskin.
Sebastianâs parents are already at the table when Sebastian and Sam walk up to be seated by the host.Â
The conversation is limited. Mr. Smythe takes control, talks about his business and cases and Mrs. Smythe seems intrigued, and Sam knows Sebastian could care less. Sam watches as everything happens. No one speaks to him, save for Sebastian, but even thatâs sparse, gritted words between clenched teeth. Sam doesnât do anything but pick at his food, confused as to which fork to use, how to hold his napkin. Thereâs this kind of pressure on him that he didnât feel before, which is odd, because ever since he stepped into the Smythe house, it was nothing but stifling, stale heat.
When dinner winds down, Mr. Smythe excuses Sebastian and himself, leaving Mrs. Smythe and Sam alone. Heâs nervous; he has a feeling this is going to be very cat-and-mouse and heâs never felt like a tiny helpless rodent more than he does now. He picks some more at his chicken, drinks his Sprite, prays that she busies herself on her phone with a call. Sam is very unlucky, though.
Mrs. Smythe sets down her fork. Sam watches with disinterest as she takes her napkin, dabbing at the corners of her mouth. She sighs, her eyes looking down before striking Sam with a fiery gaze.
âSam. I apologize for our insensitive display earlier this evening. Youâll do to remember that despite the size of this town, there are appearances to uphold, there are things that must be done to keep the social and financial hierarchy in place. You didnât seem to mention much about yourself, which I can understand. You donât seem to be a very interesting person, much less someone Sebastian will hold onto when his phase evaporates.â
Sam has to remind himself to keep his mouth closed, but every time she says another word, his mouth drops open. Itâs like a stab in his heart, right through his back, and heâs completely speechless. He knows Sebastian deserves better than him. Heâs aware of their financial circles, and just how different their families are. But Sam knows that what sheâs saying about Sebastian isnât the least bit true.
And it isnât a phase.
Mrs. Smythe sighs and smiles gently. Her eyes, though, are solid, vicious. Sam has to look away from her. Thereâs a small chuckle she emits and Sam swallows hard.
The smile Mrs. Smythe wears is ruthless, haunting, malicious. âDear, you canât be serious. What did you think would happen? That Sebastian, my son, would honestly care for you? No, darling, I wouldnât think so. See, Sebastian is smart, intelligent, probably more so than you can understand. You should understand, however, that this isnât a fairytale and social circles donât mix. Sebastian is getting an education at one of the most elite, highly esteemed schools in the country. Heâll go on to graduate,â she drones, waving her hand around like sheâs narrating an interesting story, but Samâs heart is beating so loud heâs afraid heâll pass out before he gets to hear the rest. âHeâll attain some fine degrees and find a position in the line of work heâs set out to do. After that heâll meet a nice young lady, strong and fit, beautiful. Someone almost as smart as he is. A lady who wonât backtalk to her husband, a woman who knows her place. Sheâll be someone that will give him children and keep up the house. Do you think you fit anywhere in that photo, Sam?â She tilts her head, and itâs a ghost of Sebastianâs face and he hates how he can pinpoint the similarities. But this woman isnât anything like her son.
Sam stares at her. He just takes the shots, keeps taking them until heâs sitting in his chair, hoping Sebastian gets back soon. But itâs not like he canât say anything back to her.
âYouâre right,â Sam starts. His voice is honest, gentle, despite the anger that dwells inside of him. âIâm not smart like Sebastian and I donât go to some fancy college in New York, and my parents canât pay for stuff like that. But if you think for a second that Sebastian is going to drop everything heâs worked really hard for just to live up to some dream that you have, then youâre crazy. And youâre also crazy if you think Seb is going to marry a girl, because last time I checked he doesnât swing that way. Not really, anyway. And maybe youâre totally pissed off at that, but it doesnât matter, because itâs his life and he can do whatever he wants with it. And yeah, you can say all of that stuff to me because Iâve heard it a million times before. I know how I look next to Sebastian. I know that weâre completely different. But that doesnât change the fact that he still comes home, every year, to me, while youâre god knows where, doing god knows what, pretty much not caring that Sebastian is even alive. I really care about Sebastian. Like, so much. And maybe we wonât like, last forever or whatever. Thatâs cool. Because heâs still going to be my best friend. And are you really going to take away the one thing that makes him happyââ
Mrs. Smythe laughs and she doesnât seem affected at all at what Sam has said so far. âHappy? Youâre a nineteen year old boy with next to no future. You might think we donât know anything about you, but thatâs far from the truth. We know all about you and your family, Sam. And I donât approve. This isnât Cinderella. You donât get to impose on our family. On my family.â
Sam makes a face, disgruntled. âIâm not imposââ
She smiles again, and it makes Sam feel uncomfortable. âYou are, Sam. With your childhood notions of what family is supposed to be like. What we have is simple. Iâm a wife and mother. I have duties to uphold. They shouldnât include having to tell a clueless boy that he is not welcomed around my son. So I suggest you heed my warning, young man. You are not to see my son again. You are not to call him or text him, or send him letters in a message bottle. I donât care. I donât want you trying to make something of my son, something I know he isnât. Heâs got his future set, and had your parents dreamed larger, so would you. But as it goes, youâre never going to be a perfect match.â She sighs and drinks from her glass of wine, bringing her hands up to touch her index fingers to her temples. After a moment, she fingers the pearls laced around her neck. âEat your vegetables, Sam,â she says, exasperated, as though heâs the one being difficult.
Sam just sits there and Mrs. Smythe smiles at him like the conversation they just had didnât happen at all. The waiter passes by a few times to collect their plates; Sam and Sebastianâs still have most of their meal, sitting cold, while Sebastianâs parents have comfortably eaten. Samâs stomach is churning and he doesnât want to be sitting there, in front of Sebastianâs psychotic mother. Heâs trapped, though, until Sebastian comes back and deems it timely enough that they can leave.
When Sebastian does arrive back to the table, Sam notices the anger on his face, the vicious, murderous gaze in his eyes. âLetâs go.â
Sam doesnât even turn around to say thank you for the dinner, which is bad manners and he almost feels guilty, but after the reaming heâs just had, he wonât allow himself to feel bad about it.
In Sebastianâs car (doors slammed shut, music off, static silence), they drive around, aimlessly, going absolutely nowhere, headed towards nowhere, looking for nothing. Sam checks the time; the sun hasnât even gone down, and Samâs parents are probably waiting from him. He makes quick work of texting Rachel to watch Stacey and Stevie for him. She texts back with loads of questions, but when he sees her answer that she will, Sam ignores the message.
Sebastian ignores any signs of speed limits and road rules; he speeds down the streets until they arrive at a park. There is no one around, and Sam couldnât imagine anyone wanting to take romantic walks in the park with the kind of snowfall theyâre receiving.
The car idles, the engine purring softly. Sam sits in his seat and stares out of the windshield. Sebastian seems froze beside him.
âHe asked me how I was doing in school. He asked me if I was working hard, and staying out of trouble. He asked me all about you and who you were and why were came into the house the way we did. And I couldnât come up with an answer, Sam. I couldnât tell him that I love you or that you mean a lot to me, or that were going to spend the night at your house and I was only picking up clothes for the rest of the weekend. I couldnât say any of it. And he told me to cut it off, like thatâs something I can do. Like I can just tell you I donât want to see you again. Like thatâs a possibility. Itâs not, you know. Because if Iâve learned anything tonight, itâs that I never want you to have to deal with them ever again. God, I canât believe I let youââ
âStop. Just stop.â Sam sighs and takes in a huge breath. âIt doesnât make a difference. You and I both know weâre not going to do what they say. Itâs stupid that they even said all of that.â
Sebastian looks at him. His vision is sharp and Sam is surprised at the intensity. âSaid what? What did she say to you?â
Sam smiles and shrugs. âExactly what anyone looking at us would say. We donât exactly come from the same side of town, Seb.â
âSo? When has that ever bothered me?â
Sam frowns. âIt doesnât, I know that, but it bothers them. And of course theyâre going to say something about it.â
âWhat did she say to you, Sam?â
âShe said I wasnât allowed to talk to you anymore. That I should basically just disappear from your life. She said youâre going to graduate from Columbia, find some pretty housewife, knock her up, and live happily ever after.â
Sebastian says nothing, but the way his face drains again, Sam feels almost nauseous. âAnd you know thatâsââ
âNot true?â Sam smiles. âIâm pretty sure, I know that. I just donât know what to do, Sebastian. Youâve said it a million times; you guys have to keep up some stupid appearance that no one cares about. I really donât understand what the big deal is.â
âYeah, well, me neither, but Iâm stuck with stupid decisions I have to make.â
Sebastian pulls out his phone from his pocket. âWe can just ditch Ohio and go to New York. We can spend Christmas there. Just you and me. You can teach me how to make your favorite pancakes and Iâll show you all my favorite places.â His fingers fly over the screen and he doesnât look at Sam once.
Sam knows heâs not joking, knows that this is actually something Sebastian is thinking about. But Sam snatches Sebastianâs phone, throws it in the back seat and catches Sebastianâs attention. âWe canât just leave.â
Sebastian sighs. âWe could, Sam. You donâtâyou donât get it. And how could you? Your family is perfect. And itâs not a bad thing, Sam. Please donât take it that way. All my life this is what I came home to. My bitch mother and my father who will never let me think for myself. I was planned; every single moment of my life was planned. You werenât though, and that scares the shit out of them. Do I care? No. Do you think Iâm doing this for money? I hope not. The only reason I let it go, why I keep letting them control me is because itâs better than not having any family at all.â He looks up at Sam and his expressive eyes convey every kind of emotion Sam never wants Sebastian to feel.
But Sam has to stop Sebastian, explain what Sebastian has overlooked. âSeb. They arenât your only family and you know that. Just because theyâre your bio parents, it doesnât make them your family. Those people back there are assholes, Sebastian, and they have no right to do what theyâre doing to you. ItâsâIâm really sorry. But you have a family thatâs not them, Seb. You have your friends in college, in New York. You have Rachel and Stevie and Stacey. You have my parents and me. You have me, okay? And family isnât just blood. Itâs the people that care about you no matter what. And Iâm sorry that you donât have the kind of family that you wanted to like, be born into, but you have people that will back you up.â Sam glances down and shakes his head.
âBlood is supposed to mean something,â Sebastian mutters. At least itâs supposed to mean more than just doing what they want so they keep paying my bills. Iâyou know that I appreciate that. Even if I donât say it.â
âI didnât say it because I wasnât sure if you appreciated it or not. I just think you needed to know that you have people that are your family. Kids get adopted like, everyday and they have families. The kids in my econ class treat each other like their family. There is no limit, Seb. I love you, okay? And if youâre not happy, we can just start our own family.â
Thereâs a look of surprise that washes over Sebastianâs face. Sam means it in the most innocent way possible. Itâs always been the two of them, just Sam and Sebastian, and for years, not one particle of their relationship has fallen or chipped away. Itâs only ever gotten stronger. And neither Sebastian, nor Sam, could ever ignore that.
Sebastian takes Samâs hand in his own, laces their fingers together and before Sebastian can say a single word, Sam cuts him off. âIf you want to go to New York, then letâs go. We can spend Christmas all by ourselves, just like you said.â
âYeah?â Sebastian says, eyes bright for the first time that night. Sam can only smile and nod his head.
âYeah.â
 They donât pass go or collect two hundred dollars. They basically ditch the town they resent, without notice, permission, or a phone call.
 Sam thinks they can figure that out later. His parents will be upset and maybe Sebastianâs parents too, but neither of them care, really. Itâs hard to when all what Sam needs is sitting right next to him, speeding down the highway.

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'drunk dial' (sam/sebastian) pg (6/10)
Title: 'Drunk Dial', part six of the 'Ten Years of Christmas' verse. Warnings: Underaged drinking and whatnot. Usual shenanigans. Words: 5164 Summary: Sam and Sebastian just share some pretty stellar feelings. Half of them while Sam is a lil bit drunk. Notes: Just like, lots of fluff. Can't be tamed. Four more days. I'm slowly going insane.
That wasnât to say things hadnât changed at all since last year, because they did.Â
Sebastian, who had never been the dating type, the boyfriend type, the says-I-love-you-before-hanging-up type, seemed to make an exception for Sam (which isnât a surprise, because Sam is starting to notice that heâs pretty much the exception to everything). It wasnât to say they talked much on the phone; the early months of the year were spent doing a million and one things together, as if they didnât spend enough time attached to each other as it was. Sam couldnât help but want to use up every second he has available because he knows come college, heâs going to miss Sebastian like nothing else.
Sam can say it was the sex that makes them this way, because it was, and Sebastian might say otherwise, but Sam knows that the origin of it all started the same day theyâd become friends. Physically, nothing changed. At Samâs house they kept their hands (mostly) to themselves, and the PDA was kept to a minimum, just like it had been before.
Things had changed without really changing.
As a senior in high school, Sam is grateful for the break. Sure, there had been the week off over Thanksgiving, but Christmas was his favorite time of year and there were only four days left until the holiday rolled around. Like always, his mother was in the kitchen, creating some sort of edible masterpiece while his father dozed on the sofa.
With Rachelâs parents out of town on business, sheâd become part of their household, blending in as though she were a brown-haired Evans sibling. She was like an older sister, even to Sam, but Stacey and Rachel have always been closest. Braiding hair and dressing up; sometimes Sam is fascinated at how Rachel fits so seamlessly into his family. The people he loves the most always seem to.
Sam did actually end up joining the football team. Nothing special, he thought, just another teammate, but he made the kind of friends he was sure would be lifelong. Puckerman was one of those people.
He was rude and crass and cussed too much and was probably a little too handsy with Rachel (but she never protested and Sam had offered to talk to him about it, but she let it slide with a shy smile), but he, for some reason, stuck to Sam like glue.
Sam seems to have a knack for making friends with the Jewish.
Unlike Rachel, Puck didnât really care for Christmas. Sure he got presents, and the cheerleaders brought him cupcakes and cookies (and God knows what else) but his Christmas spirit was purely materialistic, only excited for the extra short, Christmas embellished cheerleading uniforms, despite the fact that it was close to freezing outside. Sam still preferred staying home over the holiday, especially today since Sebastian finally had a break between projects and papers to actually sit down and talk to him for a while. And for this, he retreated to his bedroom where it was a little quieter than the rest of the house. He was sure to lock the door behind him.
Sam, sometimes, is a little shocked at the tiniest aspects of their relationship. If it was anyone else, he would probably stick to text messages, maybe a phone call or two. The two of them Skyped mostly, though, just to see each other when they couldnât. Five years of Sebastian being around and it became a little tough for Sam to go without it. Rachel has, on more than one occasion, called him a little bit too dependent, but Sam thinks that she doesnât quite understand the mess he and Sebastian have created and how it works for the two of them.
 Sam hears the familiar Skype-call jingle and answers it, the image of Sebastian popping up on his screen. He looks tired, worn out and Sam doesnât blame him. Thatâs usually all Sebastian says he is when Sam asks, and the way he looks reflects that. Heâs had papers and projects and heâs still doing work even though the schoolâs shut down. Over-achiever.
âTook you long enough to call,â Sam jokes. Sebastian flashes him a tired smile that makes his heart jump in his chest.
âCollege is difficult. I hate college,â Sebastian mutters. He rubs one hand down his face and yawns.
Sam chuckles, drumming his fingers on his legs. âWell, you were the one that applied, like, to all of the hardest schools in the whole country. Could have stuck to OSU and sailed through.â
Sebastian smirks and rolls his eyes. âYouâre just saying that because now you have to deal with me being all the way in New York. Poor Sammy, how do you get by?â
âOh, whatever, Seb.â Except what Sebastian is saying is true. âI bet all the boys love you.â
With raised eyebrows, Sebastianâs eyes glitter. âCanât forget the girls,â Sebastian says, his voice light.
âYeah, Iâm sure they love you, too,â squashing down the jealousy that shouldnât be present at all. Theyâre not in a relationship, not really, even though they sometimes act like it. Theyâre just Sam and Sebastian, and Sam fully accepts that. Most days.
Thereâs a knock on Samâs door and he feels the irritation bubble up before he shouts for whomever it is to go away. Sebastian bursts into laughter and Sam sighs. âItâs like this every day. Canât have a minute to breathe.â
Sebastian shakes his head like heâs disagreeing, because of course he is. âYou love it, Sammy, donât even go there.â Thereâs a hint of disdain that colors Sebastianâs voice because, yeah, instead of spending Christmas with Sebastian in his new apartment, Sam decided to stay home in Ohio, instead. That hadnât been a very good conversation, and Sam doesnât like to think about it, because Sebastian was so mad at him, and Sam was upset with Sebastian, and it had taken them a little while longer to stop fuming than it usually did. But Sebastian promised he would come home.
âI do, I can admit that.â Sam agrees. He smiles gently, sighing. âYouâre still coming home though, right?â
âYeah,â Sebastian murmurs, âIâm coming home.â
The way Sebastian says âhomeâ is not lost on Sam. He knows he doesnât mean the lavish house across town and he knows it doesnât even mean his own house. Sebastian once told him âhome is person, not a place, Sammyâ, and not once has Sam ever forgotten it. (Because home is where the heart is, and all that jazz).
âSam! Unlock the door, right now!â Rachelâs voice flushes through the closed door and Sam looks into the camera of his computer and mutters, âI should have gone to New York.â
He ignores Sebastianâs cackling laughter.
Sam does eventually get up to answer the door, and Rachel is standing there with an annoyed look on her face. She flips her hair over her shoulder and says, âNoah is here.â
Sam raises his eyebrows and gives her a pointed look. Sheâs all dressed up, even though he knows Rachel is staying the night, but sheâs wearing a pretty dress and her hair is down over her shoulders and sheâs wearing makeup. âSince when do you call Puckerman, âNoahâ?â He can almost see Rachelâs eyes turn into little hearts. âAnd why are you all dressed up.â Sam pauses and makes a face, almost horrified. âHeâs not taking you out is he?â
Rachel sighs and shakes her head. âNo, heâs not taking me out. Heâs here to take you out. And Iâm using his name because itâs his name. And âPuckâ is kind of a terrible nickname.â
Sam doesnât even have the chance to tell Sebastian to give him a second so he can get rid of his friends to have a conversation that lasts more than the five minutes heâs usually allotted.
With Rachel standing in the doorway, Puck makes his way over to him, his little sister, Sarah, in tow. Sometimes, Samâs house becomes a daycare. Puck turns to Rachel and smiles at her and Samâs sure he can see him wink, and all of a sudden heâs watching her swoon, and itâs weird how protective he is of Rachel and he really doesnât like watching her like someone (Puck mostly because sheâs gone on dates before and itâs never been a problem, and Puckerman isnât exactly bad new, heâs just not really good news. As cool a dude as he is, he canât exactly see pristine Rachel going out with him. Not that itâs his place to say, so he doesnât say anything. But the look on Rachelâs face should probably be more subtle).
âHey, Berry,â Puck offers, and she smiles, bright like the sun.
âHi, Noah.â
Watching the exchange in the middle of his doorway makes Sam a little unsettled.
âDude, you kinda left me hanging.â Puck says, running his hand over his Mohawk, and before Sam can say hello, Staceyâs already lured Sarah away with Rachelâs huge sack of make-up. Sam has to laugh when Rachel runs after them. (And heâs thankful for it, because heâd rather not watch his best friend get hit on buy his self-proclaimed-badass friend.)
âHanging?â Sam asks eventually, leaning against the doorjamb.Â
Puck looks at Sam with expectation written on his face. âYou, me, the team? Beers, skirts?â
Sam sighs because yes he forgot, and no he doesnât want to go, and how does he put this politely enough so that Puck doesnât hate him for cancelling. Again.
Thereâs an exasperated sigh in the background. âSam, you canât be serious,â Sebastian says, his voice trailing from his computer.
âWhoâs that?â Puck asks, pushing past Sam, waltzing right into his bedroom.
âNo, please, just come on in and make yourself comfortable,â Sam says to him under his breath and Puck doesnât notice as heâs falling onto Samâs bed.
âPuckerman, this is becoming a habit,â Sebastian says seriously and Sam notices the striking annoyance on Sebastianâs face. âAnd itâs getting on my nerves.â
Puck sits up and shrugs. âListen here, dude. Samâs my boy, and because of that, itâs my duty to be a good friend and let him come along to be my wingman. Plain and simple.â
Sam laughs, but the murderous gaze Sebastian sends his ways puts a stop to his amusement. He canât say he doesnât want to go, because a part of him does want to get out of the house, but at the same time, Sam knows Sebastian will be upset for him until they see each other again. Which is just in a couple of days, but Sam hates when people are mad at him.
âLook, dude.â Sebastian rubs at his face and glares at the camera. âIâm up to thirty nine hours of no sleep and I seriously have no patience for this. So why donât you get lost?â
Puck shrugs again, but the smile on his face reveals heâs going to be difficult. âNo. How about you just catch some Zs and Sammyboy and I will catch some skirts? It all works out in the end.â
Sebastian looks between the two of them, and Sam puts his hands up in defeat. Heâs kind of at a loss. âSeb, I can just call you laterââ
Sebastian interrupts him quickly, face void emotion. âWhatever. You go catch some skirts, Sam. Iâll go catch a movie with Blaine.â
And Sam wants to hate Puck so much right now, but Sebastian logs off, and Sam doesnât bother to call him back because he knows Sebastian will ignore him now.
And who knew Sebastian could get so jealous? If he wasnât so irritated at the mention of Blaine, he would have thought it to be attractive.
Sam flops down on the other side of his bed and sighs, staring up at the ceiling. âYou just got me into major trouble, dude.â
âI really donât see what the big deal is. Heâs gonna be here in like two days, you guys can be mushy or whatever when heâs here. Right now, itâs about to be eight oâ clock and the guys are waiting because you promised to be there.â
Sam rubs at his face. âYeah, yeah, I know, but he just told me heâs going to go out with some dude Iâm pretty sure annoys the shit out of me, because you want to get laid. And now I have to think about Sebastian having fun with Blaine.â
Puckerman chuckles. âDude. From what you told me, you guys arenât even together. So itâs not like matters if heâs all up in somebody elseâs shit, you know?â Puck kicks himself off the bed and stands. âThe way I see it, you have free time now, so put on your fancy dress and letâs get going.â Puck pauses. âAnd donât worry; I can be the designated driver. Either that, or Iâll shove your ass into a cab, because it looks like youâre going to need a drink.â
Sam rolls his eyes and does end up getting dressed. He knows Sebastian probably wonât sleep with Blaine because theyâre just friends and if he were going to, Sebastian would have said so because heâs not one to sugar coat situations. And he can understand the aggravation since they can barely talk without someone looking for Samâs attention. He thinks back a couple years, to Marley the Nice Girl. Heâd never really thought anyone would have competition with Sebastian, because Sebastian was just his friend, but now, Sebastian seems to be competing with everyone else.
Sam does go out, and he does talk to some girls while theyâre friends hand out their numbers to Puck like candy, and he does get a little bit buzzed off of lukewarm beer.
After a while, it seems like Puckerman doesnât really need any help at all. Despite the team being present in this bar that doesnât seem to check anyoneâs ID, Sam doesnât go out of his way to talk to any of his team mates. After the initial newness of talking to girls, it dies down, and eventually the night goes on. Sam sits there and dwells on his conversation with Sebastian, and Blaine.
Itâs not that Blaineâs a bad guy; heâs actually really cool sometimes. They havenât met, not in person, but sometimes Sam will catch Sebastian while heâs studying and Blaine just so happens to be there. Blaine, with his charming face, his bowties, and the fact that Blaine is up there in New York and heâs all the way down here.
Sam just wonders for the rest of the night, about Blaine mostly, and the more he does it, the more sour his attitude is. He repeats the action of taking out his phone and checking his messages more times than itâs deemed healthy, and eventually, Puck thinks heâs had enough and does drive home.
He takes the back seat of the cab so the girl that Puckâs taking home sits up front. They look sober, and theyâre smiley, and it makes him even more upset because he was just looking at Rachel like she was a piece of meat.
He says goodnight and the girl, a hot red bombshellâSam does have to admit thatâand she smiles fondly at him.
âCatch you later, dude,â Puck says and they reverse out of the driveway. Sam is left to fumble in the dark to get the door of his house unlocked.
The house is quiet when he walks in. Stumbling, it takes him almost forever to get to his bedroom. Rachel is on his bed, sitting up like sheâs waiting for him. Thereâs a book in her lap and she looks like his mom wearing reading glasses. He wants her to run her fingers through his hair and tell him itâs going to be okay.
âThought you wouldnât mind if I camped out in here. Sarah hijacked my bed,â she whispers and Sam shrugs, strips from his shirt and walks into the bathroom.
He brushes his teeth while heâs in there, checks his reflection more than a few times because he feels like heâs a different person than he was when he woke up this morning.
Heâs in his pajamas when he comes out, running his fingers through his hair.Â
Rachelâs face is disapproving when he moves closer to the bed. âYou smell like a brewery, Sam.â
He falls face down, on Rachelâs right side, and doesnât make any move to make himself comfortable. âTough,â he answers her.
âWhatâs wrong?â she asks. Her voice is strong, certain and very, very concerned. âSebastian didnât hurt you did he?â
Sam shakes his head. âNo, of course not.â He sighs, and wishes the thoughts in his head werenât so jumbled up. âI love him.â
Rachel rolls her eyes. âI know that Sam. Everyone in the entire state of Ohio knows that that, Sam. Whatâs really wrong?â He thinks sheâs ignoring the fact that heâs drunk, and heâs grateful for it. He knows heâs going to feel like shit in the morning, but his emotions are valiant, brave, so strong they suffocate him. He wants to shut himself off, like a light, so he can stop thinking about Blaine and Sebastian. Together. With each other. Not alone.
âThatâs the thing, though,â Sam starts, turning onto his side and looking up at Rachel. Her eyes express for him to go on, and she still looks mildly concerned. âI mean, like, we donât really, likeâI think I, like, want to stop not being together and start actually, like, being together. Together together. You know? With like, commitment and stuff. And trust. And me not canceling talking with him, and people not interruptingâand I just want to be with him. And no Blaine. Nope. Do not want.â
The concern on Rachelâs face melts away and she wears a gentle smile. Her hand reaches forward to run her fingers through Samâs hair, and he practically purrs at the feeling. âOh, honey, youâve got it bad,â she murmurs, all the emphasis on the last word in her sentence. And Sam knows, that, Jesus. He knows heâs got it pretty damn bad.
âSo what do I do? How do I make it so weâre not just best friends who fuck on the regular or whatever? How do I tell him I just want him forever and I never want him to go back to New York? So weâre actually something together?â
Rachel purses her lips and tilts her head to the side. She wears amusement in her features. âDonât know, Sam. Just talk to him. I know heâs upset with you for ditching him and I know youâre upset because you had to leave, but just talk it out. Let him know how you feel. Thatâs the first step.â
Sam laughs and hangs his head. âBut how do I do it without sounding like a girl?â
âSam, feelings are not exclusive to girls. Youâre a very sensitive person, prone to feeling things in ways other people canât. And maybe you arenât so eloquent in the way you express your feelings with words, but I have a feeling Sebastian is the same way. Just tell him you want to be in a full on, completely monogamous relationship. I can almost guarantee you itâs not going to be a problem because itâs basically what youâre doing now.â
Sam pouts and shakes his head. âSebastian doesnât like boyfriends.â
Rolling her eyes, he knows Rachel is holding back from hitting him with the book in her hands. âBut he loves you and that trumps it. If he doesnât want to be with you, heâll tell you. And I doubt heâll say that because Sebastian has loved you since the day he walked into Miss Greyâs classroom and stole your damn heart.â
Sam picks himself off the bed. âIâm going up to the tree house.â
Rachel looks frightened. âSam, youâre drunk. I canât trust you wonât break your neck climbing up the ladder ...â
But Sam ignores her and walks out of the bedroom and closes the door. Thankfully, Rachel doesnât follow him.
He makes it safely up the tree house. Heâs wearing a jacket thick enough that it keeps him warm. He lies on the pile of blankets and pulls his phone from his pocket. He shivers as he dials Sebastianâs phone number by memory.
âHmm, hello?â
Sebastian sounds like heâs been sleeping, which Sam doesnât blame him for; he knows itâs close to one in the morning. âSeb.â
âSammy.â His voice is more alert, but now Sam feels like sleeping, and maybe calling Sebastian was a bad idea. âSammy?â
Sam shucks a breath from his lungs. His body feels heavy and his eyes droop but the words leave his mouth anyway. âI want you.â
Thereâs just the phone static for a while and he can hear Sebastian sigh. âSam, are you drunk?â
âLittle bit,â Sam answers truthfully. âBut itâs not about that. Itâs about us. Like, you and me. Me and you. I think about you day and night, itâs only right, toââ
âSam, stop singing and explain what you mean,â Sebastian says, though itâs soft and he can still hear the sleepiness in Sebastianâs voice.
âI donât like that you were with Blaine. I donât like that Iâm not there with you. I just want to be with you. Like, just me and you. No body else. No one. And like, I just thought that I should tell you that because I love you, dummy. I love you and I know you love me âcause you told me. And when two people love each other, they should be together. Like forever. And ever and everââ
âSam.â
He stops talking then, just stops and he waits for Sebastian to start talking. âSam ...â
âAre you scared? Because, you donât have to be scared. Itâs just me.â
Sebastian laughs and Sam wishes he can see his face. âItâs always you, Sam. Itâs always been you. You should know that by now. And if youâre worried I fucked Blaine, I didnât.â
Relief strikes him, holds him, wraps around him like a second skin.
Sebastian sighs. âIâm actually home right now. I called you earlier on Skype to tell you but I ran out of patience. Iâve barely slept in the last two days, and the fact that you just left with Puckerman really pissed me off because you donât know how much I miss you.â
âMe?â
He can almost hear Sebastian rolling his eyes through the phone. âYeah you.â
Sam grins to himself. âYou said you were coming home. Youâre not home.â
âYou want me to drive a half hour to your house in the middââ
âYes. Yes I do because itâs been like a million, trillion years since I saw you and I want to see you right now. Like right now, right now.â
Thereâs a laugh from Sebastianâs end and Sam warms so much that he doesnât really need his jacket with this kind of feeling. âIf youâre passed out by the time I get there, Iâm going to kill you, you know that right?â
Sam hums, chuckling. âSeb, Iâm not going to pass out. Iâm gonna convince Rachel to make Rachel-food for me and then Iâll save you some and we can eat after I blow you.â
âThat actually sounds really nice.â He can hear Sebastian rustling and Sam thinks that Sebastian is hopping out of bed to come over. âIâll be there in forty five. Justâjust be awake okay? I want to finish this conversation.â
Sam knows heâs not in trouble, because he was just telling Sebastian his feelings like Rachel advised him to. But he agrees and he hangs up and he hopes that forty five minutes pass by quickly.
When heâs inside, he knows heâs delirious for going out there in the first place. In his bedroom, Rachel is still awake, submerged in the pages of her book.
âRachie.â Her head snaps up to look at him and he smiles at her. âCan you make some food? Sebastian is coming over.â
Thereâs a look of surprise on her face and she smiles. âGrilled cheese okay?â She says simply and Sam nods.
âMy favorite.â
Forty five minutes do go by fast. He and Rachel try to be the quietest they can, while theyâre in the kitchen. Sam leaves the door unlocked so Sebastian could just walk in. And when he does, Sebastian walks into the kitchen, finding Rachel and Sam sitting on the kitchen counter, tearing apart a grilled cheese. âThought you said youâd save some.â
Samâs heart flutters in chest and he hops off the counter to walk over to Sebastian. Sam just wraps his arms around Sebastian and holds on, doesnât care about anything else around him. Heâd missed Sebastian more than anything in the world and he was here and all was well.
âSam, let the poor boy breathe, hon.â
Rachelâs voice breaks through and Sam shares a laugh with Sebastian. He lets go just enough so that Rachel can get a hug in and Sebastian picks her up and spins her around until sheâs giggling.
Mary comes out of her bedroom and tells them all to go to bed or theyâre all grounded.
Despite the fact that she can only do so to one of them, the three of them scurry off to Samâs bedroom. With a kiss to each boyâs cheek, Rachel ditches them. âIâll just share with Stacey, no worries. Iâm sure you guys want a bit of time alone. Night, babes.â
She closes the door and Sam falls back against the bed and pulls Sebastian with him. They just lay there, unceremoniously. Comfortable, Sam feels the pull of sleep but he resists. Sebastian gets up to get out of his clothes, and he makes Sam do the same. Conservatively, though; pajamas are worn. They burrow underneath the blankets and itâs definitely late enough to sleep, but Sebastian has other ideas.
âSammy?â
He hums in response.
Sebastian wiggles out of Samâs grasp, though heâs chuckling, and he turns so he can look at Sam, even though itâs dark. âSam, what do you want?â
âSleep is good.â
Maybe Sam has a superpower where he can hear people roll their eyes. âSam, Iâm being serious. Tell me what you want.â
âI want you, Seb. I want you and nobody else. Like, sometimes, I donât think you know how muchâlike, how much I feel about you. Because I feel a lot. And Rachel says itâs âcause Iâm sensitive, which, whatever, itâs true, but I justâlike, I love you, you know? And I donât want there to be other people. I know you have, like, school and stuff, and you can be friends with whoever you want, but I just want you to want to be with me as much as I want to be with you.â Sam finally takes a breath and he yawns, blinking his eyes slowly. Thereâs a whirlwind of emotions heâs feeling, but Sebastian just pulls him close. Under the blankets, their legs tangle together, and the kiss they share is tender and slow.
âI promised you I would give you whatever you wanted. And if itâs monogamy you want ...â Sebastian pauses, resting his forehead against Samâs and Samâs heart is beating harder now than any other time he can remember. âIf thatâs what you want, then cool. We can be in a relationship. No one but you and me, right?â
Sam grins and nods. âI forgot about that promise.â
He knows Sebastian didnât though. Sebastian rarely forgets anything, and Sam wonders if he remembers the little things Sam neglects to notice.
âThought about your freckles and your skin and the way you laugh too loud when you think something is super funny even though the rest of us are looking at you like youâre crazy.â Sebastianâs words fill Sam up and they asphyxiate him. Itâs almost like torture, but itâs so sweet. He doesnât say anything because he wants to know what else Sebastianâs thought of. âKept thinking about you voice and your dumb jokes and how you like to hold hands when I drive. Thought about the way you steal all the blankets. And how you look when you wake up in the morning. About your eyes when youâre studying, the way you bite your pencil when you think too hard.â
âShh, Seb.â Sebastian sucks in a shock breath and Sam huffs a laugh. âI didnât know you thought about me like that.â
Sebastian sighs. âSam, I think about you all the time. Thereâs nobody else. You should know that by now.â
âBecause why?â
Thereâs a long pause, and Sam waits for Sebastian to collect his thoughts. There must be a million of them because it takes a while. âBecause youâre Sam,â Sebastian murmurs. âBecause youâre my best friend. Because Iâve spent every Christmas since the year after we met here at your house. I used to spend most of my nights in your bed. Because at the end of the day, when I go home, I want to see you and talk to you. Because for some reason, out of the six billion people that inhabit this shitty fucking world, itâs just you that I want to be with. Not my parents, or friends, or Blaine, or even Rachel. Itâs just you.â
Thereâs a heartbeatsâ worth of silence, and he takes in a breath.
âYouâre really romantic at three in the morning.â
âOh, shut up.â
Itâs almost weird, but Sam thinks it isnât really all that weird at all that Sebastian has such strong feelings about him. Itâs the fact that theyâre talking about it, in the dark, hugging each other underneath the blankets, thinking nothing else of it. Sam laughs, though, and when his amusement subsides, he kisses Sebastian.
âSammy?â Sebastian murmurs, running his nose along the line of Samâs jaw.Â
âYep?â
âI love you.â
Samâs heart swells and bursts and puts itself back together, only to do it all over again. âYeah?â
Sebastianâs voice is nothing more than a whisper, breathy and light. Itâs a confession Sam already knows, but he doesnât mind hearing it. âYes, Sam. Since I was like fourteen years old and you gave me a cookie and told me to be nice to people. Since then, okay?â
âOkay. Love you, too, you know?â
Sebastian hums and theyâre kissing again. The sleepy kind of kisses they share in the morning when theyâre first waking up. But right now, itâs perfect, too, because Sebastian is home for Christmas.
And for the first time in a while, Sam feels like heâs home, too.
'exchange' (sam/sebastain) nc-17 (5/10)
Title: 'Exchange', part five of the 'Ten Years of Christmas' verse. Warnings: boy sex whats up Words: 5193 Summary: Sam and Sebastian share an early Christmas alone. Notes: FIVE DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS AHA
When Sebastian finally unlocks his front door, they barely make it through without being attached at the mouthâand hips. The warmth is like a slap to the face, almost suffocating as he breathes through his nose. Sebastianâs teeth have a hold on Samâs bottom lip, letting go when Sebastian pulls back too far. Sam shamelessly tugs on Sebastianâs clothes until they fall away, jackets and sweaters, and the layers underneath. Between kisses thereâs laughter, the breathy, desperate kind, spilling from both of their mouths.
Theyâve only been this close once or twice, stolen moments throughout the year whenever they can find them. To be this close, this alone, Samâs almost sad dwelling on the thought that it took a whole year for them to get this far. There are hours left in the day; the sun hasnât even gone down yet. He knows theyâll stay up late, doing whatever they wanted with each other (to each other), and thereâs really no reason to rush.
Sam huffs a laugh, one corner of his mouth tugging up in a smile. âHey. We should slow down, maybe. I think,â he murmurs, and Sebastianâs grin widens. He moves to mouth at the exposed collarbones and Sam lets his eyes fall shut, because itâs good, so good and he retracts his statement, just takes it back and enjoys the way Sebastianâs tongue soothes over his flesh. The hairs on the back of his neck raise and thereâs a delightful tremor that travels slowly down his spine.
In the end, Sam is right. They do slow down, a whole lot, really. To a staggering stop.
Theyâre all over the house, raiding the fridge, sitting on the sofa, playing games in the basement. In between it all, thereâs nothing short of a million kisses shared.
They arenât together, not really. Thereâs some sort of thing between them. Canât label it with a word like boyfriends, or keep it platonic like best friends, but they kiss and touch and talk and kiss and it just is. Like an unwritten law Sam likes to obey.
When the sun finally does go down, itâs Sam who suggests they ditch the living room. Mostly because heâs been inside of Sebastianâs house a dainty handful of times and not once has he ever traveled past the stairs.
Sebastianâs bedroom is different than heâd imagined. It was neat, (almost psychotic, Rachel-type neat), and Sam could swear no one ever came in here. (Of course no one does because Sebastianâs always at his house).
Certificates, plaques, ribbons; they adorn the walls like holiday ornaments on a Christmas tree. Sam picks up various frames and sliding his fingers over the glass awards, reading the inscriptions of Sebastianâs name and assortment of praises heâs received. Photos everywhere, almost carelessly thrown on the top of surfaces like the dresser and the night stand. From the fairs, the movies, the beach, the snow, the time where they got caught in the rain; itâs so personal, Sam almost feels like heâs invading. But Sebastian has extended an invitation and Sam feels like this is the closest heâll ever get to being inside of Sebastianâs mind. Some of the photos have Stevie and Stacey, others with Rachel, with their classmates. It occurs to Sam that heâs just as much a part of Sebastianâs life as Sebastian is for him. Itâs almost like itâs just dawning on him, like itâs a surprise. The breath in Samâs lungs seems to disperse into nothing as he circles around to find Sebastian lying on his bed. Heâs not doing anything but watching Sam, gaze heavy, darkened.
Itâs an intimate moment, the look they share. It makes Sam blush and glance elsewhere. He can hear Sebastianâs laugh chime though itâs quiet, and he can form the smile that matches completely by memory up in his head.
Sebastian stretches out over the navy blue colored comforter. âCome here,â he commands, and Sam canât disobey. His feet take him to the bed and he pulls off his t-shirt, tossing it somewhere to his side. He kneels down, and crawls up the bed until heâs hovering over Sebastianâs body.
âClose enough?â Sam asks with a grin and Sebastian nods.
Sebastianâs hands run over Samâs chest and he expels a deep breath. He doesnât look up at Samâs face and it seems like his mind is worlds away. âWhen I first met you, you were all skin and bones. Gangly and thin.â
Sam canât help but laugh. âThanks,â he mutters unceremoniously. âIâm so flattered.â
Sebastian looks up at him, and Samâs surprised at the amount of lust he finds swimming in Sebastianâs dark green eyes. âItâs completely different now. You filled out and youâre justââ
His heads tilts to one side and his face scrunches up. âWhat? Cute?â He questions, because itâs kind of weird to hear Sebastian talking about him this way.
Sebastian chuckles, nodding. âSuper cute, especially when youâre blushing like an innocent school boy I know youâre not.â Sebastian traces his fingers down Samâs body, reaching his belt. âBut what Iâd meant to say before you rudely interrupted me, was that youâre sexy. Itâs weird, almost, how Iâve seen you everyday and youâve never changed a bit.â Sebastian undoes the buckle and slips the belt out of the loops of Samâs jeans. âNot one change. A new scar here and there. Tanned skin and muscles.â Sebastian lowers the zipper while he speaks and Sam has a hard time concentrating. âI just think of summertime, when itâs just you and your swim trunks, tank tops and freckles. Just ... skin.â
Sam canât help the way his body buckles down and falls to lay on top of Sebastianâs body. Sam didnât know Sebastian could be so observant. Not about him, not about the way heâs grown up.
âI think about you a lot,â he whispers.
Sam kisses him because he can, because the way Sebastian talks about him makes him hard underneath his jeans.
âWhat do you think about?â Sam murmurs with Sebastianâs lips pressed against his. âTell me?â
Sebastian chuckle rumbles through his chest and Sam feels the vibrations in his bones. âI think about this, about you and me.â
Without the eyes of his family, his friends, Sebastianâs so honest. About you and me. Itâs always been them. The two of them. Maybe not tangled the way they are now, maybe not with the kisses and the touching, but since the first time Sam had met Sebastian, it had always been about the two of them. And only them.
They kiss slowly, savoring the moment, the night, the way the shadows that cast over their bodies illuminate their skin. Sebastianâs body is warm, and when clothes start coming off, Sam is a lot less shy about this. Thereâs still a regulatory amount of his bashful demeanor remaining, but it isnât at strong as it had been before.
Thereâs a part of his brain that revisits the tree house two years ago, where all he wanted was a kiss. Now, he wants Sebastian and his body, his mind, his heart. He wants it all and he wonât stop until he has it. Heâs selfish with Sebastian. He wants everything that he can take.
Sebastian is good at kissing him. Heâs good at making him feel like heâs going to break, putting him back together only to unravel him again.
Thereâs a lot of touching, hands on skin that used to be forbidden. Over stomachs and each otherâs backs, necks and chests, thighs and hips. Sebastianâs hand brushes between them, grabs hold of his erection and strokes, slowly, torturously.
Sam watches Sebastianâs face, the reminiscence of a smirk. Sebastian leans forward, though, mouths at his neck to leave marks and Sam allows it, lets him. Thereâs nothing more he wants, he thinks, than to be marked with hickeys, little reminders of what theyâre doing now. When Sam looks in the mirror in the morning, heâll remember every second of this; the way Sebastianâs tongue caresses his skin, lips over the flesh of his throat, the shock that leads down to his cock, the little spike of pain when Sebastian sucks a little bit too hard.
Strangled breath sucked in, Sam chokes on his words. âDonâtâIâll come if you donât stop, Seb.â
Sebastian relents, but not enough to come to a full stop. âThatâs exactly what I want, Sammy,â Sebastian whispers into his ear. Samâs body thrives with the words and he has to calm himself down before he does come.
Thereâs a moment where Sam just lies underneath Sam and breathes, where he lets himself calm down, back away from the fire. Sebastian lies next to him, holding himself up on his elbow.
Sam turns his head to look at him. âWeâre really doing this?â
For years, heâs taken to watching Sebastian move, but now, itâs unraveled into this. This heat that turns Samâs body into ashes and cinder, burning him alive and he enjoys every second of it.
He loves this boy he knows he does. Itâs written all over him, and where ever Sebastian touches him, his fingerprints brand into Samâs skin, permanent tattoos of Sebastian and his adoration for Sam. Itâs the kind of thing Sam gets high off of. Itâs an addiction Sam canât kick.
Sebastian frowns and bites down on his lip. âThereâs a million other things we can be doing. This is only if you want to.â
Sam turns on his side and mirrors Sebastianâs position. âYou want to?â
The way Sebastian nods slowly; itâs like he doesnât want to influence Sam, make him do anything he doesnât want to. And thatâs always been Sebastianâs demeanor.
Sam smiles and leans forward, and plants a sloppy kiss on Sebastianâs mouth. âSo, then, we should.â
Sebastian licks his lips and Sam watches the movement with a starving gaze; there is a load of emotions that course through him, but the most prominent is fear. He knows thereâs nothing to be scared of because Sebastian has been by his side for as long as Sam can remember. He can rustle through the memories of his childhood and see Sebastianâs smile, feel Sebastianâs hand in his own, hear Sebastianâs voice reading the books he loves aloud to him. Itâs all around him, like a second skin and he knows, knows deep inside of him, thereâs nothing he should be scared about. Not with Sebastian.
Swallowing thickly, Sam reaches out his hand to press it against Sebastianâs shoulder. He presses the long body into the bed, his own body sliding right on top of Sebastianâs. They arenât virgins. Far from it, Sam knows. But thereâs a kind of newness that canât be ignored. And maybe itâs just Sam, because for all the kissing and secret-touching theyâve done, nothing can quite compare to this. Sebastianâs body is like art, already created, colors and figures all painted on a smooth, smooth canvas. And Sam analyzes, worships, finds the freckles and scars his mouth longs to brush against, the flesh his fingers crave to own.
There are breaths, heavy and drawn out, quick and shallow, and the whisper of Samâs name into dimly lit bedroom that make the fine hair on the back of his neck stand on edge. As his lips drag long the length of Sebastianâs body, he can feel the shiversânot from cold, Sam is certain. Itâs hot as hell in this bedroom, and Sam feels a sense of pride knowing he can make Sebastian feel like this.
There are some things Sam hasnât ventured towards. There are parts of Sebastianâs body that his mouth hasnât explored, but here, Sam sheds his bashful, shyness like a too-heavy cloak and lets himself feel.
Itâs weird; heâs not sure he likes having Sebastianâs cock in his mouth, but Sebastian seems to like it a lot, so thereâs no way he can stop. Especially not when he looks like this.
Sam knows his emotions have grown gradually over the years. There was acceptance and curiosity that bubbled into yearning and eventually the love he feels for his best friend. He thinks about it all, as he runs his tongue up the side of Sebastianâs cock, like Sebastian has done all too many times to him. Itâs addictive, the motions, and itâs tiring, yes, but he doesnât stop, not until Sebastian writhing and his breaths are uncoordinated and haphazardly inhaled.
Sam wants to save the coming for the big finish. It might be sappy or romantic or girly but whatever. He wants them to be close when he does come. It wonât be the first time, and Sam has a feeling that it probably wonât be the last, but it doesnât deter him. This is what he wants and when he voices that, Sebastian seems to understand. He laughs, but he understands.
âWhatever you want, Sammy,â Sebastian says, and his voice sounds unlike anything Samâs ever heard. Itâs torn apart, ragged, breathy and Sam likes it, wants to hear more of it. Wants to hear Sebastian say his name like that, over and over again.
âAnything I want?â Sam asks, and he climbs up Sebastianâs body so theyâre looking at each other, green eyes staring right back into green eyes. Sam wants to list a million things; all involving the boy underneath him.
Sebastian nods though, and his face is completely serious and Sam has to calm himself down before he has a heart attack because itâs that moment that things snap into clarity. Sebastian has always been his. And as selfish as Sam is with Sebastian, he shouldnât be surprised but he is.
âDonât make promises you canât keep,â Sam murmurs, but heâs smiling and Sebastian is challenging him with an eyebrow raised.
âWhen have I ever done that?â
When Sam says, âNever,â Sebastian turns their bodies over and pins Sam to the bed. In Sebastianâs hands are Samâs wrists, and it isnât as though Sam fights back at all. He doesnât actually.
âWhatever you want, Sammy, I swear Iâll give it to you.â
The kiss they share is voracious, almost, no sense of time or slowing down. Itâs sloppy, dirty, but Sebastian is dragging his hips against Samâs and Sam is reciprocating and it feels too good to stop. They had other plans, for more, for everything, but the way Sebastian kisses him, like the good lover he is, it drains all from his mind. All he can think of is the ways their bodies align like the planets, and his body explodes into flame like the sun. Itâs when Sebastian breaks away, buries his face into Samâs neck that makes Sam dissolve into a mess. Sebastian whimpers, sighs, groans, says his name in the way only Sebastian can and Sam knows heâs doing the same. His fingers press into Sebastianâs back, urging Sebastian harder against him, pushing them as close as the mass of their bodies will allow.
Thereâs not a doubt in Samâs mind that Sebastian would break his promise.
âWe have to slow down,â Sam manages to say, his voice broken down and rawâitâs completely unrecognizable.
Sebastian grunts and heâs disagreeing with Sam, and Sam can understand why considering the way he feels then. But he runs his fingers through Sebastianâs face, pulls him up so he can look at Sebastianâs face.
âBecause when I come, I want to be inside of you,â Sam says. There isnât a hint of humor on Sebastianâs face. Theyâve talked about this before, laughing, blushing, but there really isnât anything funny about what Sam is saying. He can feel Sebastian shuddering on top of him.
âYouâre sure?â Sebastian says, and itâs almost like Sebastian is scared now. And thatâs odd because he knows Sebastian isnât shy about sex. But he looks away, and when that happens, Sam only pulls his attention back.
âYeah, Iâm sure.â
Thereâs a moment where they donât move at all. But then Sebastian is rolling off of his body and falling into the space right next to him. Sam is hardâaching, and he wants to come so badly. But he also wants this almost more than anything in the world.
The bottle of lubricant intimidates him and he almost wants to rescind his decision and save it for later, for another day.
âWe donât have to,â Sebastian mutters when he crawls back into bed. Heâs smiling and thereâs a gentle chuckle, and Sam gives him a look. âYou look scared.â
âIÂ know, and itâs because I am,â Sam admits.
Sebastian frowns. âDonât be scared. I can just blow you, you blow me, and we can do it another day. It doesnât have to be now.â
But Sam thinks it does, because they wonât have a moment as intimate as this one. Every single guard Sam has held up is shut down completely. And Sebastianâwell, Sebastianâs shut his guard down a long time ago around Sam. Sam understands this is a big deal for Sebastian too, because Sebastian never, ever takes the submissive position. Sam knows because you have to trust the person fucking you, and Sebastian doesnât trust anyone. Sam wants to break down and crumble into shreds of nothing, because of all the people in the world, Sebastian trusts him. And itâs a big responsibility, keeping Sebastianâs trust unharmed, but it isnât difficult. Not in the least bit.
âNo, no. I really do what this. You promised to talk me through it, though. Still think you can do it?â
Sebastian bites down on his lip and nods and Sam thinks there shouldnât be any more time wasted in getting things going. Heâs scared out of his mind, of hurting Sebastian, of doing something wrong that makes Sebastian resent him.
âItâs a piece of cake, Sam. Itâll be fine, okay?â It quells Samâs anxiety, but only by a little.
âOkay,â is all he can muster.
Sebastian turns over and Samâs heart is pounding in his chest. Sam thinks of summertime, too, of Sebastian and his freckled skin in the sun, sinewy muscles, modest strength hidden beneath of clean, golden tan.
Sam moves to straddle the back of Sebastianâs thighs. He wants to be as gentle as he can; he knows this hurts when itâs the first time, and maybe the second, and third time too, but he wants to take as much care of Sebastian as he can. Like he always does.
He sets aside the supplies for a moment. Sebastian rests his head over his crossed arms, face to the side. His eyes are closed and his face looks peaceful, almost like heâs sleeping, but Sam knows he isnât, not with the way his body trembles underneath him. Heâs so vulnerable, exposed and Sam adores every moment of it.
His hands splay over Sebastianâs back, creating visible art only he can see. It takes a while for Sam to gather his courage and hold onto it. Itâs a fluctuating process he realizes, but when Sebastian chuckles and opens his eyes Sam feels face blush again.
âAs much I as I love your hands on me,â Sebastian begins, âcould you just get on with it?â
His hands stop and rise from Sebastianâs skin. They feel colder now, and when Sam picks up the bottle from the side of the bed, he stares it for a moment before snapping the lid up and tipping it over so it spills into the palm of his hand. He doesnât notice his heart is pounding, but he can see his hands are trembling. Replacing the cap, Sam places the bottle next to him; he thinks he might need some more, just in case.
âUm ...â
Thereâs a smile on Sebastianâs face, soft, patient, and his voice is almost a whisper when he says, âYou can start with two fingers.â
Underneath Sam, Sebastianâs legs spread wider, just enough for Sam to reach between them. He presses against Sebastianâs entrance, first with one finger tip, ignoring Sebastianâs suggestion and allowing himself to do what he wants to. Because heâs scared of hurting Sebastian, because he wants to be sure that Sebastian is okay underneath him this way. Sebastian doesnât protest when his finger sinks inside of him. He doesnât move or say anything in fact, not until Sam pulls out and pushes back in with two fingers.
Sam watches; his gaze is intense as he takes in the scene before him. His rhythm is slow, almost agonizing, even for him. Sebastianâs hands clutch the pillows underneath him, and his body pushes back against Sam. Itâs quiet aside from distilled, labored breaths.
Itâs easy to want Sebastian so badly when heâs like this. Itâs new, everything is new, yeah, but this is otherworldly. Sebastian, confident, arrogant, icy-insults Sebastian, spayed out on his bed before Sam, just wanting. Sam loves it, loves him and with that, finally, the fear melts and itâs heat, just searing, blazing heat.
When Sam pulls his fingers out completely, Sebastian whines and the ache in Samâs cock intensifies exponentially. Sam only takes a second to lubricate his fingers again, push back inside. This isnât completely foreign to him; heâs been in a position akin to this. But heâs never wanted to drape himself over the body underneath him, whisper the kinds of things heâs sure are pretty damn dirty into ears that ache to listen. Heâs never wanted to hurry this process up so much so he can bury himself inside.
Sebastian is tight and it takes a while for Sam to stretch him open enough to fit Sam. Even then, Sam has to be sure and by then, heâs made a mess of the sheets and Sebastianâs become wrecked and impatient.
âSam, Jesus Christ, hurry up.â
Sebastian chokes out a laugh and Sebastianâs eyes meet his and itâs like it steals the breath right out of Samâs lungs.
âI .. um, okay.â
Sebastian turns on his side for a moment, looks up at Sam. The impatience is there, etched in his face, but his eyes are kind. âYou okay?â
Sam surges forward and they fall flat against the bed in a heap, mouths pressed against each others. Sam is okay, heâs better than okay, and he wants Sebastian to stop asking him if he is, but part of him likes that Sebastian is concerned about him. Because heâs still a little wobbly trying to find out who he is, and he probably wonât find himself in the middle of sex, but heâs with Sebastian so he knows everything, no matter what in the end, heâs always going to be okay.
âIâm going to take that as a yes,â Sebastian mutters against Samâs lips and Sam laughs.
âGood, because I am. So.â
They share a look that last for seconds, before Sebastian turns back over, lying on his front. Sam doesnât want to be stupid, doesnât want to make this more than it is, but he wants Sebastian to turn over, so he can watch his face, so they can kiss, so it doesnât feel as impersonal as it does.
Sam doesnât say anything; the sound of the condom wrapper ripping open is loud, disturbs the quiet in the bedroom. He tosses the wrapper and covers himself with the condom. The bottle of lube doesnât intimidate him anymore; in fact, Sam thinks he should probably invest in his own little bottle.
Sam takes in a deep breath while he strokes himself. He leans forward and holds himself up with one arm. Heâs shaking again. Itâs not the sex that makes him nervous but the person heâs having sex with andâand he doesnât know what to make of that. But he aligns himself against Sebastianâs entrance with the thought in his mind that Sebastian should be the last person making him nervous.
Itâs slow the way Sam presses in, sinks further and further inside Sebastian. Itâs too slow, judging by the way Sebastian hisses and pushes back against him. His knees are on the outside of Sebastianâs thighs and his body lies along Sebastianâs back when heâs completely inside. Sebastian squirms underneath him, puffs out a breath and he doesnât need Sebastian to tell him to move; being pressed in tight heat is enough to drive him crazy and his hips pull back and snap forward.
Awkward in the beginning, it takes Sam a moment to find his rhythm. He keeps it slow, but itâs not necessarily tender, soft; the push of his hips is deliberate, and the noises Sebastian makes fill his ears and wraps around his body, the same way the sweat settles on his skin He barely holds himself up anymore, and thereâs a thought about his weight on Sebastianâs body like this, but Sebastian does nothing to stop him.
Somewhere in the middle of grunts and names being called, Sam reaches his hands forward and he curls his fingers around Sebastianâs. The grip Sebastian holds on him is tight, both around his hands and his cock and itâs stifling but it keeps Sam going. They kiss sometimes, most times, and itâs almost like their breathing is shared. Sam pushes harder when Sebastian asks him to and Sam wants to destroy the flesh of Sebastianâs neck with hickeys and deep, dark red marks. He tries his best, biting and licking and nipping at the skin; he can feel the vibrations when Sebastian expels his groans.
Itâs almost too much for Sam to handle, too much for Sam to keep himself under control. He wants to reach around and take Sebastianâs cock in his hand, stroke him until he comes, but he canât. Sebastian is pressed between the mattress and his body.
Sam pulls out and kneels behind Sebastian. His voice is dark when he says, âTurn over.â
âWhat? Sam, what theâwhat the hell are you doing?â
âJust do it.â
Obeying his command, Sebastian does as he says. Sebastianâs body is just as sweat-slicked as his own and Sam can only fall forward and thrust his hips forward, cock sliding back inside of Sebastian. Itâs different this way, noticeably so, and a part of Sam hates himself for being so traditional, so boring with his positioning, but he can mouth at Sebastianâs throat, his collar bones, the hollow beneath Sebastianâs ear. He can wrap his fingers around Sebastianâs dick, stroking with a rhythm that is completely off of the tempo his hips keep. But itâs better this way, so much better.
The kisses are hotter, deeper, and so is the way Sam is able to fill Sebastian. They arenât loud, not by any means, but the sound of Sebastianâs voice saying his name, over and over again, in that voice he finds he loves to hear, deafens him. Sebastianâs hands hold him close; his fingers wrap around his arms his waist, grab his ass to pull him deeper. Wherever Sebastian does touch him, though, burns in the best way possible.
Itâs when Sebastian comes that Samâs hips push against his body, watching Sebastianâs face contort, unabashed. He chokes on his breath and Sam strokes him through it, feeling the wetness of his come drip over his fingers. Sam doesnât last very long after that, and he buries his face in Sebastianâs neck, grits out what seems like a million expletives before, finally, a whispered, âSebastian.â
He collapses on top of Sebastian and just lays there. Sebastian hisses when his cock slips out and Sam knows he needs to get up and clean himself off, let Sebastian do the same, but Sebastianâs fingers are running through his hair and heâs humming like a contented cat, and he canât bring himself to even roll over.
Somehow, Sam gets his breathing back to normal and his heart slows and, fuck, heâs never been so sleepy after coming. Sebastian pushes him off without any grace at all, but Sam huffs out a laugh, before he stands.
The two of them manage to clean up, find some underwear, all the while pushing each other against walls and taking kisses. It should be out of their system, but itâs worse now and Sam knows it. All Sam can admit to wanting is to curl up with Sebastian and fall asleep so they can wake in the middle of the night and ruin the sheets again.
Instead, they strip the bed and redress the mattress. They stack the pillows at the head, and Sebastian busies himself with ordering pizza.
Sam lies down, stares up at the ceiling. It wasnât what heâd thought itâd be like, in the best way possible. Sam relives it, thinks of every little moment, movementâwhen he looks at Sebastian pacing around the room, picking things up, tossing them in their respective places, Sam catches glimpses of hickeys and scratches and he should feel sorry for not holding back a little bit more, but it just makes him smile, ignites the heat low in his stomach.
Sebastian gathers the sheets and Sam calls for his attention.
âI love you.â
Sebastian flashes a gleaming smile. âLove you, too.â
Everything Sebastian does shouldnât surprise him. Most days he does, and others he doesnât. Like now, Sam knows. Sam knew the whole time, of course. Itâs pretty much evident in everything Sebastian does these days, and all the days before. Sam thinks it took him a long time to catch up, to match the fervor of Sebastianâs emotions. And heâs still working on it, still a little wobbly on who he is with Sebastian. But he knows what he feels, is certain that even though theyâre a couple of seventeen year old kids taking advantage of an empty house, itâs about as real as itâs going to ever get.
âI knew it.â
âNot like I tried to hide it,â Sebastian says walking out of the bedroom.
Sam laughs because itâs just about the truest thing heâs ever heard Sebastian say. Â
Itâs almost midnight when they sit on the couch and eat, settling for Family Guy when there arenât any other cartoons they care to watch. Sebastian complains about his sore ass and Sam canât feel guilty because in between slices of pizza, drinks from his beer, Sebastian tells him it was totally worth it. Sam agrees, of course. He feels stupid for being so scared in the first place, but itâs good, he feels good. He doesnât feel any different, but at the same time, he knows everything is different. He doesnât know what will happen tomorrow, or even in the next five minutes, but heâs hoping when they climb into bed, he gets to be the little spoon.Â
'break and fix' (sam/sebastian) pg-ish? (4/10)
Title: 'Break and Fix', part  four of the 'Ten Years of Christmas' verse. Warnings: Some kissing, some sadness. Words: 2743 Summary: Sam has his girlfriend over for dinner, but it's not as great as he expects it to be. Notes: Seven days to Christmas. My boys are growing up so fast.
Sebastian is sitting on the counter and Mary keeps swatting at his knees to get him down. He jumps down, only to hop back up moments later.
Samâs dated people before, but heâs never had an actual sit down dinner with his parents. Sebastianâs always over, but it makes it a little bit different now.
âWhat time will Marley be over?â Mary asks, checking the oven for what seems like the umpteenth time.
Sam flushes red and he can see Sebastian roll his eyes. âSeven,â he answers, tugging on the sleeves of his sweater.
âGreat,â Mary says. âWhy donât you boys get out of here? Go do your teenager-y things. Iâll finish up.â She gives Sam a warm smile and a kiss on the cheek. She definitely hasnât forgotten last yearâs teenager-y things, so she reminds them to behave, and keep where she can see them.
Falling onto the couch, Sebastian starts. âYouâre going to bore your parents, having Marley over for dinner.â
Sam rolls his eyes. âStop, dude. Sheâs not boring.â
Sebastian laughs. âLike hell she isnât. Sheâs got the personality of a wet dishrag. And if it were between her and the dishrag, Iâm sure the rag would be more riveting conversation.â
Sam is used to this kind of talk. Heâs only been dating Marley for three months or so, and itâs been ... nice. Thatâs about all he can describe it as. In the last year, heâs been tossed back and forth between the girls in his grade. There was Santana, but that lasted only a week before she moved onto some beefy jock, and then a pretty lady cheerleader. There was Mercedes, whose dreams were apparently bigger than him, and so was the quarterback sheâd gone on to date. There was Quinn, who was witty and beautiful, but she was all about power play and she could be a little crazy. Sheâs now dating a member of the football team. Samâs sure this is a message telling him he should probably join the football team.
Sam kicks up legs up and rests them on the coffee table. He turns the television on and tries to find a movie to watch. âSebastian, sheâs not that boring. Seriously.â Flicking through the channels, he stops on âHow the Grinch Stole Christmasâ.
Snatching the remote, Sebastian turns the television off. âShe is, Sam. You need to open your eyes to the bright and shining possibilities of all the girls that are not her. I think maybe, youâre picking in the wrong gender pool, but thatâs just me.â
Sam grins and shakes his head, looking over at Sebastian. âThink I should try dudes now?â
Sebastian hums and doesnât say anything, but his eyes glitter. Sam has a difficult time of looking away.
Hours later, Sam, Sebastian, Marley, Mary, and Dwight sit around the dinner table. Sebastian rolls his eyes so much Sam is concerned theyâll stay in the back of his head.
Thereâs a lot of talking. Marley and his mom bond over cooking and sewing and Marley talks a lot about nature and science, which wins his father over.
âSo, Marley, tell us more about yourself,â Dwight begins. Sam can admit that he hasnât told them much outside of how pretty she is, and how, well, nice she is.
Marleyâs voice is gentle, and Sam thinks her smile can light up a whole city. âThereâs not much about me that you probably donât know. I like reading, I love books actually. Iâm always trying to get Sam to read more. Theyâre amazing little worlds trapped in pagesâI just love it so much.â
Sam glances from Marleyâs face, to his mother, his father and finally Sebastian, and Sebastianâs got an eyebrow raised.
âThatâs lovely, dear,â Mary says. âSamâs always been a TV and movie kind of boy, rather than books.â
Sam laughs because itâs true. Sebastian pipes up, though. âYou should probably try reading out loud. Sam concentrates a little better.â
Sam looks at Marley and her face falls a little. âOh. Well, I guess we should try that sometime.â
Up in his head, Sam thinks that he probably should have told her that. There are probably a lot of things he should have told her, but he doesnât because he can never think of those things when he should.
âWhat about music?â Samâs father offers. âWhat kind of tunes do you listen to?â
Marley looks over at Sam and smiles. âAll kinds of things, really. Iâm kind of an eightyâs power ballad girl at heart. Adele really gets me going, too.â
Sam smiles. âShe has a really great voice. I keep telling her to audition for stuff. Sheâs great.â
âYou should try hooking up with Rachel. Sheâs probably the greatest singer I know. Unrecorded, of course.â Sebastian messes around with the food on his plate and Sam shoots Sebastian a look because sheâs always complaining about Rachelâs high, squeaky register. He doesnât say anything, though. Just nods.
Marleyâs smile is a little colder this time. âI guess I should. Iâm sure Sam can have us meet. I hear a lot about Rachel.â
The conversation calms after that. Whenever Marley says something, Sebastian counters it, and itâs usually the embellished truth, or a straight out lie, or something Sam knows is wrong. Heâs confused what exactly is going on, and itâs like Sebastian really dislikes Marley, rather than actually thinking sheâs boring. Somethingâs really wrong here and heâs probably the only one who sees it.
Sebastian manages to steal the spotlight. Itâs been four years and Sebastian can still charm the pants of his parents. He makes jokes and his intelligence keeps a strong conversation between Samâs father and him. Itâs riveting to watch and somewhere in the middle of finishing dinner and dessert, Marley slinks her hand into Samâs underneath the dinner table, but it doesnât take away his attention to what Sebastian is saying to him.
Sam mostly watches at the interactions that happen around the dinner table. Itâs calm and festive and everyone seems to be having a good time. Except when Sebastian says something off, only noticeable to Sam, and Marleyâs mood seems darker and darker.
By the time dinner ends, Sam is relieved when Marley excuses herself.
âMr. and Mrs. Evans itâs been wonderful. I havenât had a dinner that great in a very long while. Iâm grateful for the invitation,â Marley says, smiling as she takes her coat.
âAww, honey, youâre always welcome here. I hope there are many more dinners you come around to. Youâre a lovely girl.â Sam watches as his mom takes her into an embrace. His father does the same and tells her to take care.
Parents retreat into the kitchen and Sebastian follows, helping with the dishes on the table. Sam takes Marleyâs hand after slipping into his own coat to walk her home.
âReady?â he asks, once theyâre outside.
âSam, dinner was great, so wonderful. Thanks for inviting me over.â Marleyâs face conveys sadness and Sam is confused as to why. Her words are warm, but they make his stomach churn.
Sam frowns and tilts his head to one side. âWhy am I feeling a âbutâ coming along?â
Marley sighs and she crosses her arms over her chest. She looks like sheâs cold and Sam wants to pull her closer to him, warm her up. But instead she takes a step back and Sam doesnât stop her.
âSam, youâre great. Youâre amazingly handsome and I like being alone with you. You make me feel comfortable and itâs almost strange, I think. No oneâs ever made me feel this way. I really, really like you. But I canât be second best.â
Sam is wildly confused; heâs not cheating on her if thatâs what she thinks, but the first thing he blurts is, âSecond best to who?â
Marley looks like sheâs losing her patience, but her voice is still gentle. âWhy did you invite Sebastian here? Tonight? Of all nights? You knew this was my first time meeting your parents and I wanted to make a good impression on them, and I feel like I didnât because Sebastian was just sitting there, making jokes and being charming, and if I didnât know any better, Iâd say he was upstaging me. And I canât feel like Iâm being upstaged in my own relationship Sam.â
The wind is colder now against his skin and he wants to just fall down to sit on the steps, just ignore everything Marley is saying to him.
âYouâre not second best,â Sam says and itâs true, Sam thinks. Itâs the truest thing he could say right now. But Marley doesnât feel that way and her defensive posture unsettles him. âSebastianâs always here. Like, literally.â
âYeah, I know. Believe me, Sam, I know heâs always around, always here, always on your mind. And I get that heâs your very best friend. I understand it completely. But I canât deal with this. Because if I asked, Iâm not sure youâd pick me.â
Itâs a little scary he realizes. He wasnât aware there was an ultimatum, and to be honest, right now, heâs not sure heâd pick her either. âMarley, donât do this. Not right now.â
She licks her lips and inhales deeply. Her grey eyes moisten and he feels like an ass because heâs making her cry.
âTell me you love me, Sam. Because Iâm pretty sure Iâm in love with you.â
And wow, Sam really canât reciprocate that kind of emotion. Heâs never been in love before, heâs only sixteen and thereâs loads of time before he can admit to himself to feel that kind of emotion. And heâs almost certain heâs not in love with Marley now. And it upsets him, how he thinks of Sebastian at that very moment.
âI ... I ...â
Marley rolls her eyes and kicks the wooden planks of the porch. Snow flutters around; Sam watches because he knows that their nice relationship is crumbling.
âDo you think you could?â
Shrugging, Sam looks up at her, at her face where her cheeks are flushed red; from embarrassment or the cold, Sam doesnât know. He reaches for her, touches his hand to her face. âI donât know.â
âSam, do you want to be with me still?â
âWell,â he says and he doesnât mean to be so snarky but it comes out, defensive and upset, âyou kind of kicked our relationship in the balls right now.â He drops his hand from her face.
She pulls away and Sam just stares. She looks out towards the street. Sam stares at her face. âWeâre done here, okay? Iâm going to go home and try to forget about you. Itâs kind of funny, because youâre going to go back inside, back to Sebastian, and youâll probably forget about me the second you close the door behind you. I feel sorry for any girl that tries to be with you because she has some serious competition. Merry Christmas, Sam.â
She almost jumps down the steps and starts down the street. Heâd offer her a ride home if he wasnât so mad at her. Eventually, she disappears and Sam is too numb to pick himself up off the stairs to get himself back inside. Itâs Sebastian that comes looking for him. He should be angry at Sebastian, should want to distance himself, and be alone. But he doesnât. In fact, when Sebastian sits down next to him, Samâs head falls into his hands.
âCome on, kid.â
Sebastian almost picks Sam up from the stoop and takes him inside. In the kitchen, Sebastian stands right beside him, and Sam is almost void of any emotion.
âHey, Mom? Can Seb stay the night, tonight?â He swallows thickly and tries not to act like heâs just had his heart ripped apart.
âBaby, whatâs wrong?â She asks, at the same time his father says, âSure.â
âDwight, canât you see this is serious?â She chides and Dwight looks up from his newspaper and looks at Sam. He feels like heâs being on display and he doesnât like it much.
âSam, whatâs wrong?â his father asks.
Sam sighs and shrugs. âNothing, Iâm just asking if Sebastian can stay tonight. Can I please have an answer?â
Mary knowsâSam is an open book to her and she knows thereâs something wrong. She nods and doesnât ask anymore questions. âOf course. You boys know the rules, though.â
Sam doesnât say anything, just walks outside to the tree house.
He climbs up the rungs of the ladder and Sebastian is quick to follow. Sam falls back onto the pile of blankets and Sebastian falls next to him.
âShe broke up with me. She justâshe left and she told me she loved me, but I couldnât say it back to her.â Staring up at the ceiling, Sam doesnât cry or get angry or anything. He doesnât feel anything and he doesnât know why it hurts to bad, at the same time. Doesnât know why he cares so badly that Marley pretty much crushed him without any thought at all. Itâs very selfish the way he thinks because, maybe, heâs been crushing her the whole time.
Sebastian is quiet for a very long while and Sam sighs. Sebastian turns to look at him, and it captures Sam attention. Sam watches him as he speaks. âWhy? You were just inside raving about her, telling me how nice she is.â Thereâs annoyance in Sebastianâs voice, and Sam laughs but thereâs no humor. âWhat did she do to you?â
âShe told me thatâshe told me she loves me and I couldnât say it back. I just couldnât because ... I ...â
Sam stops and turns to Sebastian and just looks at him. Really looks, sees, observes. Sebastianâs eyes are dark, green around the black of his pupils, eyelashes long and thick. There are freckles that dust his face and his lips are a little bit chapped.
âBecause why?â Sebastian asks, his voice almost a whisper.
He just looks at Sebastian and the words fall out of his mouth. âBecause I think I love you.â
Sebastian doesnât seem surprised. He doesnât move or leave or say something thatâs mean to him. He stays and thatâs all Sam wants from anyone.
âYeah?â Sebastian answers, and Sam laughs.
âYeah. I think for a long time. Maybe. I donât know. Marley just kind ofâyouâre always around you know? Like I canât remember the last time I spent a whole day not talking to you. I can go days without saying anything to Rachel. But you? Yeah, no, thatâs impossible. And last year, when we kissed that first time, my mom kept asking you if I liked you and I couldnât tell her because I didnât know. But I kept thinking about it and I told myself I didnât. I donât know why because I know I did. And you didnât say anything, you just went ahead and kissed other boys and you sleep with them and I have girlfriends and everything is okay, but for some reason, when Marley asked me to tell her I loved her, I couldnât because the only thing I could think about was youââ
Samâs speech is stopped with a kiss and heâs surprised but he doesnât do anything to stop it. In fact, he pulls Sebastian closer to him, so close that he falls on top of Samâs body.
And they just kiss, for a long while, until Sam is out of breath and he feels like he can hear Sebastianâs heart pounding. Itâs easy to get lost in Sebastian. He kisses like heâs fixing Sam, like he cares just as much for Sam as Sam has confessed. And Sam takes everything Sebastian is offering. His lips are fused to Sebastian, and his hands want to find the skin that hides underneath Sebastianâs clothes. But he stops himself from going any further and Sebastian doesnât really move.
âYou love me, huh?â
Sam smiles a little bit and itâs terrible how all thoughts of Marley drain from his mind. âYep.â
Sebastian grins too. He doesnât say it back, but he doesnât have to.
The way Sebastian kisses him a second time is complete proof.




