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In So Many Words

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Ways to say I love you:

  1. As a hello




It's the ass-crack of dawn, and Sebastian Stan is maybe-kind-of-a-tiny-bit miserable.

It's been raining for hours, finally tapering off into chilly, damp drizzle, and he's currently huddled under a canvas-topped tent, waiting for further direction while trying not to let his hair get too wet and frizzy, lest it ruin the artfully disheveled work of his stylist.

He closes his eyes, leans his head back a little and tries not to long too much for the dark quiet of his hotel room. He's enormously grateful to be here - don't get him wrong - but still he can't keep his mind from wandering back to yearning thoughts of sleep. The way his mattress dips just enough to cradle him in perfect fluffy, blanket-filled warmth. Cushy and soft and covered in enough over-stuffed pillows to possibly suffocate him, but what a way to go. It's a little slice of slumber-filled heaven and right now, he misses it desperately. Bed Separation Sadness. Is that a thing? He should Google it. 

"Hey Seb."

That voice, somehow managing to stay so fucking warm and cheerful considering it’s barely 5 a.m., makes his eyes snap back open and for a second he almost loses his balance as the full force of Chris' grin hits him like a punch of pure, blinding sunshine.

The tops of his cheeks are stained pink from the brisk air and his hair's sticking up in all directions, like he's just pulled off the Cap helmet and hasn't bothered trying to flatten everything out. He looks good. Really, painfully good, and that's made even better by the fact that one arm's extending a paper take-out cup in Seb's direction.

"Oh my god, I love you," he moans in greeting, making grabby hands for the drink.

Both of Chris' eyebrows raise as he passes it over. "Are you talking to me or the coffee?"

Seb pauses to take a sip, feeling the hot liquid spread in a slow, blooming warmth from throat to stomach before answering, "Yes."

That evokes a laugh, one of those trademark Chris Evans guffaws complete with closed eyes and head thrown back and an arm automatically shooting out to squeeze Seb's shoulder. Despite all the layers of the Winter Soldier tac suit, Sebastian thinks that he can still feel the hot touch of each individual fingertip pressing into his skin.

Jesus, it's too early for this.

He takes another drink, less out of the need for caffeine and more for the fact that it gives his hands and mouth something to do. Something that isn't as stupid as reaching out to touch the charmingly endearing goofball standing in front of him with thoughtful blue eyes and a smile that's almost dizzying in it's sincerity. Because yeah, hot beverages have nothing on the warming abilities of that look.

He is so, so fucked.

"You have any plans tonight?" Chris asks just as a harried-looking PA darts by and he immediately moves to dodge out of her path, putting himself a step closer to Sebastian. In true responsively tactile fashion, one of his hands has unconsciously lifted to cup Seb's elbow as he turns and leans, watching the woman go, making sure she's fine.

He doesn't know if it's the touch, the current lack of space between them, Chris' genuine display of concern for a total stranger, or some tangled combination of all three, but there suddenly seems to be an abrupt lack of oxygen in the air surrounding Sebastian.

Pulling in a shaking breath, he manages to get out what he hopes is a normal-sounding reply. "Besides trashy television and sinking into my bed until it literally absorbs me, no."

Chris chuckles, quiet and brief before his face sobers back up and he asks, a little more cautiously now as clear blue eyes lift to meet Sebastian's, "Want some company?"

Chris. In his hotel room. Sharing his bed and laughing over bad sitcoms and maybe probably falling asleep with their shoulders touching. Oh god. He should say no, he should -

"Yes. Yeah, that...that sounds great actually."

Damn it.

Chris blinks and that brilliant sun-punched smile is back, lighting up his whole face like Seb's awkward response is the best damn news he's heard all year.

"Cool," he says, nodding to himself and looking just this side of alarmingly, adorably dorky. "I'll text you when I'm done here? Shouldn't be too late."

Seb swallows. Nods back. Tries not to notice how Chris' hand is still curved under the bend of his elbow. "Yeah."

Chris opens his mouth to say something else, but then he's being called over to the cameras so he settles for an apologetic 'what can you do' half-smile as he trots back onto set, leaving Sebastian staring after him, absently rubbing his tingling elbow and wondering what the hell he's just gotten himself into.