[ Sky – Master Post ]
Title: The Colour of Static
Characters: Sin, Severen
Warnings: Implied faggotry, silliness, Severen’s mouth
Notes: I’m trying to work my way up to a PWP in the Sky-verse. Unfortunately, the smut-muse is currently on vacation. In this snippet, Severen cooks dinner, and Singularity acts like a
witless ass man in love.
The first thing that Professor Nilsson was aware of, upon entering the house, was the smell of garlic and scalded milk. He threw the stack of books he carried at the coffeetable, as he rushed past, barely hearing the covers slide across the wood as a few of them slid to the floor. He dropped his satchel across the back of a dining chair, barely glancing to make certain it connected, before he strode into the kitchen and swept the greasy, pale man who stood before the stove into his arms.
"Batty," he breathed, clutching his prize too tight. "Oh, Sebastian, you’re home."
"Yrs. ‘m hrme." Sebastian stepped back, twisting his face out of the professor’s shoulder. "You have a talent for stating the obvious, Sin. Quit pawing at me, or I’ll burn dinner."
"Mmmm," Sin purred, sliding his hands around Sebastian’s waist, as the skinny cook turned back to his sauce. "And who would ever believe that I have the great and famed Severen Bellamorte cooking dinner, in my kitchen? The photographs would be worth a fortune."
"It’s my kitchen. I am cooking dinner for you, in my kitchen. And I haven’t had a shower yet, so I strongly advise against continuing to lick my neck." Sebastian cocked his head, to look awkwardly at where Sin’s face was pressed against his neck. "And for shit’s sake, don’t call me that. The tour is over. I want to eat dinner and go to bed."
Sin knew that what Sebastian meant was ‘I want to be no one in particular‘, but the greasy little love of his life had always been terrible at saying it. Nibbling at Sebastian’s ear, Sin murmured, "To bed, hm? I like that idea."
It earned him an elbow in the chest. "After dinner. I’ve been eating greasy diner food for the last three months. I’ve missed you, Sin. I have. But, I miss a decent meal, more."
Sin stumbled back, dramatically, clutching his chest. "Oh, second to dinner! Gasp! Woe is me, I shall never be the same!"
Sebastian rolled his eyes. "If you’ve got time to fuck around, you’ve got time to drain the linguine. I don’t want it getting all … squishy." He flicked one hand at the other pot on the stove, as the other continued to stir. "Five minutes. You might want to set the table."
Shrugging off his suit jacket, Sin used it to pick up the roiling kettle of linguine, which he poured into the waiting strainer in the sink. "How did you expect to do this yourself, if you can’t stop stirring the sauce?"
Slowly, Sebastian turned to look over his shoulder, still stirring. "I didn’t." He grinned, at last, not an attractive expression, but one that always warmed Sin’s heart. "Do you really think I don’t know exactly what time you get home?"
Sin laughed, pulling plates from the cabinet. He gnawed on the top of Sebastian’s head, for a moment, as he got the silverware out of the drawer beside him.
"Aw, stop. That’s disgusting. For you, not me."
"F’r me?" Sin asked, teeth still on Sebastian’s head but no longer moving.
"You don’t know how long it’s been since I washed my hair or what’s been in it. I do. Trust me."
With a faintly dismayed look, Sin stepped back, wiping his teeth on his shirt sleeve, as he went to set the table. "I love you, Batty, even if you do taste like hairspray."
Dinner passed swiftly, once it was actually on the table. As much as Sebastian complained about lousy diner food, Sin mostly ate ramen and leftovers from meetings in the History department’s lounge. It was only when they were together that they ate well, and some of that was just that Sin couldn’t cook to save himself, so food was Sebastian’s department. It was just as well. Sebastian didn’t like other people’s hands on his cookware, and the cookware was the one place where ‘other people’s hands’ included Sin’s.
Sebastian ate like a starving man, which, to be fair, he likely was, at that point. He held the plate an inch from his face, as he leaned over the table and crammed the noodles into his mouth so fast that Sin was sure he wasn’t chewing. It didn’t matter. The first dinner at home always went down like that, Sin knew. He ate his own food with more grace, but only slightly less alacrity. It had been months, after all, since he had been in a room with Sebastian, and as irrational and unwashed as the man was, Sin wanted to touch him more, to make certain he was real. And if he remembered correctly, Sebastian would want to reassert his claims — first the kitchen, then his bedroom, then Sin. And Sin wanted to get to that last part as quickly as possible.