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i've never seen anything quite like you

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"Sebastian is the sweetest guy on the planet! It was really nice to have such a good guy on the set."


It's 2013 and Chris is still in costume and fucking around with Sebastian after endless hours of filming in the middle of fucking hot Cleveland, and they're both tired and ridiculous and without any prompting, Sebastian is on his knees. Ostensibly figuring out some of Chris' problems with the Captain America costume and the benefits of knee pads in his own Marvel-paid-for get-up and, all at once, Chris' dick is in Sebastian's mouth and everything gets quiet and intense and then amazing.

Which is all to say: Sebastian's wanted this since he first set eyes on Chris and Chris is pretty sure he's straight and yet everyone is getting something they wanted out of this moment in time.


It ends up not being exactly "a moment in time."


Chris' ma taught him well about treating a lady nicely. About buying flowers on the regular, good apology gifts, what sort of opinions to offer on outfits. She taught him that there was an order to wooing, that even in a one night stand there's a minimum level of effort that needs to go into all the stuff before the birds and the bees, and he liked the safety of that routine.

Sebastian doesn't really stick to the plan. The fourth time he goes down on Chris, Chris thinks he should probably be kissing Sebastian by now. Not right now. Not while his mouth is busy. But, you know, as a general rule.

Chris always makes these embarrassing low, long grunts when he comes with Sebastian's lips hot and all-encompassing around his dick. He wishes it were a more complementary noise. He's having--such a nice time.

Sebastian zips him up, pats the front of his jeans, fondly patronising, as if to say, good job, Chris' dick. Good job on all that jizz. He grins up, gleaming, and Chris helps him to his feet. He wants to follow the motion through into a hug. Into a kiss. So he sort of tries.

Sebastian jerks back. "Oh, naw, it's cool man," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "My mouth's kinda come-y right now."

Once when he was about sixteen, Chris experimentally licked two of his fingers after he jerked off. He's always been terrified this was not something every teenage boy did. But suffice to say, he knows what he tastes like.

Sebastian doesn't want to kiss him because Chris might think it's gross; or Sebastian is making it sound gross because he doesn't want to kiss Chris. Friends don't let friends make inappropriate romantic connections. Or something like that.

They stay off-plan and Chris feels uneasy about it but the feeling ends up getting lost in a whole hell of a lot of emotions whenever Sebastian goes on his knees in front of him, so. So--


They go for a drive, the two of them. Chris had called, lonesome but feeling tender and anti-social. He doesn't want to spend time with friends. Just wants to spend time with Sebastian.

So they drive out on a drizzly afternoon, nowhere in particular - "To the hills, I guess," Chris shrugs - picking up Big Gulps on the way. He found out about Sebastian's contract with Marvel like three days ago and has been worrying over it ever since. What if Sebastian wants to, you know, live his life? Take cooler roles? He went to acting school, right?

"Sorry they're gonna kill me off, I guess," Chris says, guilty. He doesn't know, really, but he can only guess. Nine films. How can Bucky Barnes be in nine films.

"Hey, I can't knock the sense of security," Sebastian shrugs, sipping his drink, one hand on the wheel.

Neither of them talk about how shitty it's gonna be if and when Chris' time in the superhero sun is up. He's not the greatest at keeping in touch. Still has Dakota's number on his phone, though. Makes him smile when she snapchats him.

Is that what it'll be like with Sebastian? A tipsy 3am text every month or so? remember all those times i sucked your dick? that was a blast

It's raining proper now. They pull over at the side of the road. "Hey," Sebastian starts.

He says that a lot, like a placeholder, like other people say "um".

"Um," says Chris, feeling unoriginal.

They both clamber in the backseat of the car, and Sebastian fits somehow between Chris' thighs to blow him. Chris feels like the size of a giant in a VW Beetle. The car's not that small. Sebastian just makes him feel--like he can't fit everything within the confines of his own skin.

It's so good. It's so good and he wants this all the time and is getting it nearly that often regardless, so why does he feel so--

Sebastian doesn't take a swig of his drink for ages after they finish. Licks his bottom lip a few times while they trundle back. His mouth must taste of--

His mouth must taste weird for miles and miles.


Sebastian has been on set all day with Mr. Redford, and Chris knows this because he gets in from an evening jog to a voicemail that says, "Come over. We're having a movie marathon. He's amazing. Jesus, Chris, he's amazing. Bring some takeout and like, at least four bottles of wine."

Chris doesn't know anything about wine, and ends up bringing beer as a consolation prize, in case his wine is terrible.

(His wine is terrible. Sebastian makes a face at bottles 1, 2, and 3, and opens the vinho verde because it's better than water, at least.)

His apartment in Cleveland is ridiculously small, so instead of curled up on a couch like normal people, they're on Sebastian's bed, inches apart, watching The Sting first. Sebastian is out of his mind thrilled; Chris can feel him thrumming with excitement. "We're in a movie with this guy. With this guy."

Sebastian's pouring Chris' glass full with some proper malbec from his own collection when Gondorff shoots Hooker in the back and he makes this little grunt like they're watching porn together or something.

Chris has no idea what to do with any of this.

"I think they boned," Sebastian says out of nowhere, leaning back, his lips a little stained with red. "I think they boned.”

"Uh huh," Chris says because what are you supposed to say when a fellow actor who blows you on the regular has clearly put some time into theorizing that Paul Newman and Robert Redford fucked. What are you supposed to say in this situation? His ma never prepared him for any of this shit.

“You could’ve been his brother or something,” Sebastian says, looking at Chris distinctly for maybe the first time since they started drinking, and then he launches into a ramble that lasts several scenes about how so few old-school-Hollywood-handsome people there are in the business now. If there’s an inference in his rant, Chris can’t deal with picking up on it right now.

Butch Cassidy is next and Sebastian is over the moon. Chris has seen it a couple times, naturally, but it is weird to see it after having shot scenes with the guy and to watch it with someone who is this excited about it. Also increasingly drunk.

Sebastian really is drunk. He almost tripped over his socks when he changed the DVD earlier, and he laughs through his nose and mouth. By the time Butch and Sundance are in Bolivia, Sebastian is quiet and still and looking goofy and endearing at the screen as if they're watching a home movie of his favorite nephews or something.

And Chris suddenly wants to kiss him so badly it hurts. He wants to roll over on top of Sebastian's body and find out where it's soft and eager for his touch. God, he wants to get his hands down Sebastian's pants and find out what's under there, see what happens when he gets Sebastian off. Wants to suck on his lips and feel his tongue in his mouth. God, he wants it so badly.

It's not about what you want, his ma had told him. It's never about what you want.

This is a casual thing. They're a casual thing.

He keeps still. "Yeah," he says finally, some two hours too late. "They probably boned."

Sebastian is fast asleep by the time the credits roll and it's weird how relaxed he is (Chris has seen him drink far more than this and party for hours, so this is, this is weird that he's so chill).

He's overthinking it. He is overthinking everything. He should go. Sebastian is asleep, he should go home.

Chris cleans up a little, puts the bottles in the recycling bin, calls his car service to pick him up, breaks the seal in Sebastian's tiny bathroom and looks at himself in the mirror. "Fuck," he says.

On his way to the door, he hears a rustle and then finds himself enveloped in a very intense hug. "Thanks," Sebastian murmurs, sleepy and strange and content-sounding. "Sorry I never got around to it, I'm sorry, man, I'm sorry. Thanks." And he kisses Chris on the lips, like, briefly, like it's nothing, like it's a cheerful sleepy drunk goodbye and not everything Chris has wanted for the past two hours, if not before.

He breathes through his nose and tries to smile.


The next day, Sebastian is all business, pushing him against the wall and falling so quickly to his knees, like he was born for this.

"Hush," he says when Chris tries to say something and then his mouth is otherwise occupied.

Chris stares all the while at Sebastian this time, doesn't close his eyes once, not even when he comes.


@chrisevans just gotta breathe
January 30, 2014, 6:45 PM


Sebastian's been sucking Chris' dick on the regular for a while now, and Chris is so sure, he's so sure that it's just a casual thing for Sebastian, and it's a thing because they're both single and they get on and Sebastian obviously likes doing it, so okay. It really is okay, it's not like a big statement or a big thing, they're fucking quiet about it and no one knows and it's amazing, of course, but it's not like a big deal or anything –

(It's not like a big deal or anything) –

Only, more and more Chris' been worrying that he's dragging this out longer than Sebastian wants, because sometimes it looks like he wants to say something when he's on his knees, but he just shrugs and smiles it off. Brushes down his jeans. Scrubs his teeth clean with a fingertip and his tongue.

And Chris isn't one to stick his dick in someone's mouth and not talk about it but Sebastian is so cool about it, laughs about it, acts like they just hugged really hard or something, not, you know –

It rolls all the way round to 2014, and they're prepping for a press conference in LA. It's like the third one on their second day of doing this and people keep asking Scarlet awful questions and Chris keeps stepping in to deflect them and she's kind of annoyed about it and he's getting stressed out and sweaty and he's said the same thing so many times and he just wants to go home now, just wants to get out of here –

And Sebastian touches his arm and says, "Hey, smoke break?"

Chris doesn't even smoke, really, but Sebastian isn't looking for a real answer; he just pulls him aside, down a few corridors, looks in a couple rooms, finds an empty one, and pulls Chris inside –

"You okay? You doing okay?" he asks.

"I'm--I'm fucking tired," Chris admits.

Sebastian smiles wryly because he's tired, they're all tired, and then he gets on his knees –

And he might be sucking Chris off through a vague panic attack. Maybe. That might be what's happening here.

Chris doesn't know how the hell to process this.

When Chris finally, finally gets home that night, Sebastian calls him. "Go to sleep," he says.

"You called me, asshole," Chris mutters.

"To tell you to sleep," Sebastian says, and hangs up.

Chris doesn't know what this is anymore. And that's terrifying.


Chris calls his mom the next morning. (It's not unusual, he and his mom are close.) They talk for a while about stuff, random stuff, press tour stuff and politics, and Boston, and how much he misses his dog. And finally she says: "something's up," and he says, "I'm in over my head," and she says, "baby, I know fame is hard for you," and he says, "no, ma, I really feel like I'm fucking something up—"

And she says: "Well, Christopher, don't fuck it up."

"Ma, that's the worst thing to say."

She says, "Ask her out on a real date."

And he says, "I'm hanging up now." And he cuts her off in the middle of an amused "I love you, Chr-"

He texts his brother. do guys go on dates with guys

Scott texts back: you are the dumbest shit alive

Three seconds pass before his phone beeps again. who is he

Chris doesn't respond, rolls over, thinks about breakfast. Tries to ignore how hard his dick is.


(By evening, he has two voicemails from his mom in variations of: "Baby, I'm so sorry, I didn't know. Whatever you do, I'm here for you. I support you," and a billion texts from his brother that are just listings of his different friends and coworkers.

It's Bob Downey. I always knew

Gruffudd? Impossible

its robert redford isn't it. SUNDANCE.

If it's Chris Pratt, I will never forgive you.

oh god, is it me. you're in love with me. oh chris. what will we tell mom. CHRIS.



He's not a coward by any means, but it takes him a lot of courage to finally pick up the phone and ask Sebastian out to dinner and Sebastian's just so easy, like, "Sure, what time? You drive, I'll drink."

Chris is terrified that Sebastian didn't pick up at all on the significance of his question (he didn't) and he's so terrified about what to wear and if he's supposed to buy the meal or whatever you're supposed to do when you go on a Date with a Guy and with a Guy who Blows You on the Regular.

His mom taught him a lot, but this is entirely new.

(Sebastian's in a white shirt, button up, and black slacks, with some ridiculous punk ass shoes and his hair is all styled and pretty and Chris just wants to mess it up. He's gorgeous, and it's like he didn't even try or didn't even know what rolling out of bed into casual dress would do to Chris' dick. Or maybe he did. Sebastian's eternally a mystery.)

They order a lot of food; protein heavy, and Sebastian's half through a bottle of a pricey Bordeaux when he says: "Dude. Hey. Something's up. Are you moving out of Boston or something? Did Uncle Feige change your contract? Are you pregnant, Chris?"

It's adorable and it's frankly amazing that Sebastian can pick up on his moods like a savant or something. "You're so fucking dumb," Chris shoots back.

And Sebastian says, "Yup. That's why you love me." And he smiles so dazzling and wide and perfect. It's a lot of teeth, but it's beautiful, the smile, and it climbs up into his eyes and he's smiling with his whole face; every inch of him, charming.

It's a trendy as fuck hipster trash restaurant in the middle of Los Angeles and Chris Evans kisses Sebastian Stan straight up on the mouth. And he doesn't think about anything else for a blissful handful of seconds.

There's tongue and there's lips and there is gasping to swallow down and there's the taste of red wine and everything that is Sebastian and Chris just wants to drown in it forever.

But when he pulls away, there's the ice cold bucket of water of Sebastian's face in full terror mode. Sebastian doesn't look blissed out or happy to have been kissed, or even mildly pleased with this turn of events.

He looks like he's gonna be sick.

In the deepest and most serious Sebastian Stan voice, he murmurs: "You know at least four people took a photo of us just now. How do you want to play this off. I'll do whatever you want."

Chris is fucking dumb, he's a fucking meatball and he is just so fucking dumb. And if this is the moment to say it, he's going to take it.

"Yeah," Chris says, "I do love you."

There's something dark and awful in Sebastian's eyes and this moment is the most terrified Chris has ever been.

"We should go," Sebastian says, finally looking away and immediately flagging their waiter for the check. ("Yeah, sorry doll, something came up, put it all on this card," he says casually as if nothing happened--)

All Chris can hear is the thud of his heart in his mouth because Sebastian is mad, or upset, or this is all wrong. He's so stupid, he should never have done any of this.

He excuses himself to the bathroom real quick before they go, texts his brother: i hate everything

Five seconds later, the reply: what did everything ever do to you?

Chris' brother is included in the everything he hates, and they joke when important things like emotions are on the line, but his fingers are still shaking. He goes back out and smiles that small corner-of-his-mouth smile at Sebastian, and they go out to Chris' car (Sebastian had, indeed, drunk--)

And they sit in the car and Sebastian says, "Okay."

And Chris says, "What."

And Sebastian says, "Okay. I thought like. You always looked so, like, chagrined about it. When I went down on you. So I figured you were kind of grossed out by it but too polite to say anything about it."

"Oh my god," says Chris. "What. What."

"What?" Sebastian shoots back.

Chris leans over and kisses him again. It's the same kiss as in the middle of the restaurant; mostly one sided, and meaning everything he can possibly not put into words.

"Oh my god," Chris mutters again, against Sebastian's lips.

"Was this a date?" Sebastian asks, after a moment.

"Is that okay?" Chris replies, terrified out of his mind because nothing makes any sense now. Like, how could he possibly have thought anything of what they had done was …was… was anything other than amazing and strange.

Sebastian makes a face. "Start the car."


It's a tense drive to Sebastian's one bedroom condo in Santa Monica and so Chris just turns up the music and concentrates on the road.

Sebastian stares at him for most of it, and his hand is so close to Chris' thigh the entire time.

Chris' phone buzzes in his pocket.

do you still hate everything

He doesn't answer.


Chris parks the car and Sebastian's condo is the worst because in his reserved spot, passengers can't get out through the passenger door, he has to get out through the driver's door (keeps everyone flexible) and so they're just sitting there. And for once, Chris isn't fleeing.

"So, you love me." Sebastian says. Still mulling it all over. "That's a thing. It's a thing."

Chris cannot even bear to put words together. But he tries. "I get--easily attached to people who repeatedly put my dick in their mouths," he says, half frantically.

Sebastian flinches, slightly.

"But also you," Chris says quickly. "I also got attached to you, really, really easily." He pauses. "I am really attached to you. Like. Honestly. God, I'm a disaster."

"You're a fucking disaster. I can't believe I got into this car with you." Sebastian says back, his mouth in a semi smile but his shoulders are rock hard tense.

Chris opens his mouth and then shuts it, and reaches for the door handle.

Sebastian grabs his wrist. "I didn't say you could leave."

There's a really sad little sound that comes out of Chris' mouth.

"Your mixed signals are fucking me over hard right now," Sebastian manages. He holds onto Chris' thigh, where his hand's been hovering the last half hour. "Look, I really like--this thing we've got going."

Oh, Chris thinks. Oh. This thing that I ruined just now.

"And I guess that thing includes you saying you love me sometimes."

Every inch of Chris' skin is on fire; panic is an old friend that slides like ice in the blood stream and pierces him with needle pricks in his feet and hands and along his neck and face.

He's breathing so hard.

"You know what's good for a panic attack," Sebastian says, gripping his wrist and bringing it up to his mouth. He doesn't quite kiss Chris' skin.

"Someone showed me a trick once." Chris breathes out.

"Let's go inside?" Sebastian says quietly, his thumb stroking over Chris' pulse point. It's definitely phrased as a question.

Does that make it official or something? Does it mean they're married if they cross the threshold? Chris is being ridiculous but he can barely think straight. Sebastian has blown him like at least twenty three times by this point and he feels like a first-timer.

Someone's sending pictures of them kissing in a restaurant to TMZ right now.

"You want me to call your Ma, ask if you can stay out late?" Sebastian asks, smiling with his whole face.


It doesn't take long.

"Stop," Chris pants, "Stop, stop, oh my god."

"You can't go kissing people in public places and then expect them to not blow you," Sebastian chides, even though his hands are slowing on Chris' fly. He stops unzipping, and rubs there slowly with his palm instead, as if to say, okay, I'm thinking about your dick, but we're talking about it this time.

They're talking about it. After all this time.

"Uhh," Chris says.

"You don't need to prove anything to me," Sebastian says mildly. He mouths at Chris for a moment through his jeans. It's like sitting over the heating vent in a swimming pool. That pleasantly molten heat. And then he laughs at Chris' crotch. "Look, I love your dick. I love it. I can't get enough of it, in case you didn't notice."

Chris had thought a lot, up until today, about whether Sebastian was blowing anyone else. Because sure, he loved dick, but was it Chris' dick in specific terms or just, you know, that heavy weight against his tongue and the taste of come?

He feels pretty terrible about this.

For his part, since this all started, Chris had watched a couple gay pornos to try and plan for all eventualities. He'd jerked off half-heartedly, and then given up, because none of the guys on his laptop screen were Sebastian.

He's in fucking deep, man.

"I want to do this," he manages, pulling Sebastian to his feet. He kisses him, presses their lips together, and his toes almost curl in his sneakers with it. Just the fact that he can. Sebastian hums, a nice vibration against his lips. "I want to—Jesus, I'm not trying to repay a favor here. It's kinda late for that, don't you think?"

Sebastian's condo is stuffy where he's barely around to keep windows open. They watched Robert Redford movies one time on a bed in Cleveland once, and then Sebastian had kissed Chris goodnight after. Chris pushes him towards the bed. Kisses him. "You wanna watch Spy Game?" he asks, a little frantically.

"No," Sebastian replies, smiling and scooting back on the bed. "You?"

"Nope," Chris tells him. "I wanna blow you."

"So, blow me already," Sebastian replies. He's not mean about it. He's grinning. He's got the sort of grin that any average Joe might consider shit-eating, but that's never how he means it. He's—so good. He's such a good guy.

Chris is going to suck at this, and not in a sexy way.

He's got basically no ability to suppress his gag reflex. He can't keep a rhythm without timing it to the beat of pop songs in his head. Sebastian is charmingly cynical about how he's like—an inch smaller than Chris (barely). Blowjobs are insanely different from this end of the shaft.

Sebastian's hand is tangled up in his hair, pulling hesitantly against his scalp where he's trying not to just grab it. Chris is doing that. Chris is making that happen. The weird sense of pride rising in him gives him a lot of context for why Sebastian loves doing this to him so much.

"I'm gonna come," Sebastian says, so low. "Chris, I'm gonna—"

Chris tries to think fast.

He's gonna swallow. He can do that. Sebastian does it approximately ninety percent of the time.

Sebastian comes with almost exactly the same sort of embarrassing grunt as Chris does, and gets come on Chris' bottom lip and his chin. He pants and pants and pants while Chris wipes it off, and then he flops back against the bed, covering his eyes with his arm. He's laughing.

"That was terrible," he says.

"You're welcome," Chris shoots back, the laughter a little infectious. He just blew Sebastian for the first time and they're giggling about it. This is—he should be half drowning in anxiety hell, and instead they're giggling.

Sebastian lifts his arm just a little, peering out from under it. His eyes are dark-rimmed, and he always looks like he needs an extra hour's sleep, and he looks so soft. "Tell me you love me again," he says.

Chris makes a face. "Not gonna."

"You asshole. You said it in public, where anyone could hear."

"Fuck. I'm so sorry that, I don't—"

"No. You're still a disaster. I want you to say it for just me."

Chris breathes out. "I sold the rights to all future declarations of love to People."

"This one's current," Sebastian says fondly.

Chris climbs up the bed next to him, lying on his stomach with his elbows trapped under him, kid-like. From this angle he can mainly only see Sebastian's messed up hair, the tip of his nose, a few hills and valleys that make his body strange and abstract.

That deep urge to just press his body up against Sebastian's hits him again like a punch to the gut.

"You have lube, right?" he manages. "You're the kind of guy who has lube."

Sebastian snorts. "I'm the kind of guy who has multiple kinds of lube."

Chris is quiet, collecting his thoughts, steeling himself. He's never actually asked for Sebastian to do anything to him, never directly. It's hard to open his mouth, and he feels a weird anxiety tremor in his shoulders and arms.

"Hey," Sebastian says, crowding in, pulling him into a really aggressive cuddle all at once. "We don’t have to do anything you don't wanna do. I'm good, this is good."

Breathing in, Chris kisses Sebastian slowly, closed mouth, and keeps his eyes open. What he sees: Sebastian's eyes, fluttered shut; Sebastian's face with a very specific expression on it.

Sebastian is a fucking good actor and he telegraphs emotion like a champ. If Chris didn't know any better, Sebastian might be as fucking deep into this as he is.

"Look," Chris starts. "Look, I'm not ready for. Okay, I'm not ready, I'm not exactly ready, but I really want your fingers in my ass when I come."

The last bit comes out so fast and desperate that Chris blushes more than he wanted to, and it's one of the strangest things he's ever said, and he's pretty fucking sure some fucking angel or something is gonna show up and throw him into hell for saying something so filthy.

Sebastian makes a show of thinking about it before grinning so wide that it makes Chris nervous.

"Sounds like fun, sounds like—" Sebastian says, kissing Chris all at once with more tongue than lips and it's messy and perfect.

God, he thinks, how did we do this for so long without kissing. I could have been kissing him all this time, he thinks.

When Chris makes a quiet desperate growl, Sebastian smiles against his mouth. Like someone seasoned at this, Sebastian somehow keeps up the making out while fumbling with his bedside drawer, his fingers rummaging through the various and sundry he finds until he grasps what he was looking for.

Chris has literally never done this before; and he's never done it to someone. He's shared a lot of firsts with Sebastian, and this is gonna be one of the crazier ones.

When Sebastian tries to move down towards Chris' dick, Chris grips his shoulder. "No," he says, "I want your mouth up here." He probably looks as crazy as he sounds.

"Works for me," Sebastian laughs, and spreads the lube to his left hand.

There's warm, lubed up fingers gripping his dick and warm, lubed up fingers circling his ass, and Chris starts to breathe hard through a brief spell of panic. He's past the point of no return, he can't walk away from this.

What's mostly terrifying: he doesn't want to.

Sebastian shushes him, slows his movements, and presses kisses along Chris' neck. "I've got you," he says into the shell of Chris' ear and his finger pushes in, slick and deep. Chris bites hard on his lip, focuses in on the sound of Sebastian's breathing and the steady rhythm of his hands. He voids the noise in his head, quiets his brain, and falls into it.

The ache that's been building up in him all this time seems to lessen.

It's a first time, so Sebastian only goes up to two fingers, but he says more than a few things to make Chris' toes curl against the sheets. "You like this," Sebastian tells him. "You'll like it more when it's my dick."

Chris' own dick, thick and full in Sebastian's other hand, tightens. Blue eyes stare into his own, watching him as he shudders desperately through an orgasm that renders him lost and destroyed all at once. Sebastian's mouth is infinitely better than his hand, but this is something more than just a good time, just a casual thing. And he hopes that the shattered mumble in his mouth is mostly some form of Sebastian's name; he hopes Sebastian knows, he hopes Sebastian understands.

(And if he doesn't, he will. Chris is no quitter.)

Sebastian is slow and careful as he pulls his hands away, his fingers wet. And with a fondness that is almost crushing, he says: "I guess I love you a little too. I guess."


Chris wakes up and Sebastian's face is pressed against his chest, not asleep at all, just breathing warm breath on his skin and smiling softly. There's a slight glow bouncing off his phone screen and onto the bottom of his jaw, just about catching his stubble.

"So this is a thing."

Sebastian holds up his phone and pushes it into Chris' face. "This is totally a thing," he says, dryly. There's a photo of them kissing in the restaurant and having what looks like a terse conversation in Chris' car. Just Jared, he thinks. Maybe TMZ.

"I'll do whatever you want to do," Sebastian says, his lips on Chris' skin now. He sounds like he's trying to be adult but it's tempered by the little smooching noises he makes on Chris' shoulder. "Seriously. Whatever you want."

"Whatever I want?" Chris laughs. "Suck my dick?"


That laugh rises from his knees, all the way up through his belly, and out his mouth. Chris is shaking with laughter, or maybe something that isn't laughter at all, and Sebastian clings to him through it.

"This is a thing. Gonna tweet it."

"Oh my god," Sebastian says, helplessly. Smiling. When Chris first met him, his teeth were a little crooked. Chris smiles back.

When Chris grabs his phone, he sees a text from his brother.

SEBASTIAN STAN oh my god I'm so jealous I could kill you

Scott's such a jerk. Chris should be freaking out about this. He really should.

It's just. He knows someone who's got a good trick for calming him down these days.