Nov 132009
 

[ Sky – Master Post ]
Title: Cloudy
Fandom: Sky
Characters: Sin, Severen, some girl
Rating: T
Warnings: Nudity, bizarre relationship dynamics, Severen’s mouth
Notes: I’m a dork and forgot to post this last night. So, the date on the entry’s correct, but it didn’t actually go up until a day later. Woo, not paying enough attention to hit the Submit button… This one’s a different kind of present. There are no birthdays, here — quite the opposite, in fact.


The girl woke up with a hand over her mouth. She blinked herself awake and looked up, in terror, to find … the singer of Viridian Doll staring impatiently down at her, from beside the bed. This was not at all how this was supposed to go. Clearly she was having weird dreams. As she closed her eyes, hoping it would all go away, he reached out and flicked her in the forehead, with his other hand. She made a muffled sound of protest, but he raised an eyebrow and put a finger to his lips. Finally, he took his hand away from her mouth and cocked his head toward the door of the room. He bent and picked up the pile of her clothes beside the bed, dropping them on her chest, before he turned his back and stood, waiting.

She stood and dressed swiftly, no longer certain she was having a dream, and completely confused by this turn of events. She’d gone home with Professor Nilsson, the night before, and while he’d been perfectly clear this was a one-night stand, he hadn’t mentioned anything about his personal life. But, here was someone who looked a whole lot like Severen Bellamorte, impatiently waiting for her to get dressed and step into the hall. Perhaps the professor had some sort of cleanup for his affairs, so they’d never become public, she thought, bitterly.

She swept past the slim man in black, and stepped into the hall. He followed, closing the door behind himself.

"What do you want?" She cut to the chase.

"I want you to leave," he answered, plainly. "May I call a cab for you?"

"Who exactly do you think you are, and why do you think you have any say in this?"

"I’m Sebastian Lindstrom, and this is my house. That bed is my bed. That man is my —" He looked away and smiled, thinly. "That man is my fiancee."

"And I’m supposed to take that at face value," she snorted.

"Yes, actually. I’m trying to be polite about this, but I haven’t slept in thirty hours, and my bags are still in the living room." He grimaced at her, dully. "I know that he does this, and I know I’m two days early. You’re still in my bed with my fiancee, and I would like to get some sleep. Let me call a cab for you."

"Fine. You do that. I’ll just go tell Professor Nilsson I’m leaving." She stepped back toward the bedroom, but he stopped her.

"No. Go downstairs. Sit on the couch." His voice was coarser and more irritated. "And he hates being called ‘Professor Nilsson’, when he’s off campus. Didn’t he tell you that? Just like I hate being called ‘Severen’, when I’m not on tour. We are not our public faces. Go. Down. Stairs."

She moved, stiffly stalking down the stairs like an irate cat. His words didn’t sink all the way in, until she saw the trunk in the living room with the Viridian Doll logo stencilled on the top, two smaller bags leaning against it. Severen… This man really was Severen Bellamorte. She wasn’t a fan, but she still felt the disconcerting rush of vanity and confusion, as she realised she was standing in the home of a famous person, who apparently lived with one of the most infamous professors in the History department.

She was still standing awkwardly beside the coffee table, when Severen returned, talking on a cordless phone.

"Yes," he said, "On Cornell. Twenty minutes? Thanks."

He hung up the phone and set it on the coffee table. "Sit down. It’ll be twenty minutes."

"You’re …" She gestured at the luggage. "That Severen."

"No," he replied, "but, I was, yesterday. Now, I’m just this Sebastian who really wants to go to bed."

They spoke sporadically, until the taxi arrived. As the girl left, she turned back to Severen. "You’re really very nice. Thank you."

"No, I’m not. Being angry takes more energy than I have, right now. Good night."

He closed the door, and as he walked up the stairs, he realised he’d never asked her name. It probably didn’t matter. Still covered in tour-filth, he stripped off his clothes, and slid into the already-warm bed, beside Sin. His Sin. Before he drifted off, he remembered the note in his pocket, and reached out, blindly, to retrieve it from the pocket of his pants, on the floor. With a mischeivous smile, he pinned it to Sin’s pillow, and dropped off into sleep.


Singularity woke in stages. First, the light coming in the window annoyed him. Then his hair tangled in something on the pillow. Finally the smells of the night before began to drift back, except the warm body didn’t smell like any girl he knew. That smelled like … He sat bolt upright, in shock, taking the pillow with him. Severen — and that was unquestionably Severen — groaned irritatedly, in his sleep, and pulled the blanket back over his head.

Sin sat, staring, for long moments, the pillow still dangling painfully from his hair. He began to question the illusion of objective reality even more than he usually did. When one particular hair came excruciatingly detached from his head, Sin finally untangled his hair from the note pinned to the pillow. He unfolded it, revealing the words, ‘A very merry unbirthday, to you! Don’t you dare let me sleep in. -Sebastian’ Laughing, Sin pulled the blankets back, and pulled on Severen until he lay face up and whining.

"What?" Severen groaned, pulling the pillow out from under his head and dropping it onto his face. "I’m tired. Go away."

"You said I shouldn’t let you sleep in. I have it in writing," Sin pointed out, kneeling over Severen’s legs and nuzzling his chest. "I’d have let you sleep until you woke up on you own, but you said…"

Severen cursed and threw the pillow off the bed. Squinting up to where Sin was smugly perched above him, he reached up and grabbed Sin’s bright blue hair in both hands, pulling him down for a quick kiss. "Get off me. Waffles. I was going to make waffles, which I can’t do with you sitting on me."

"A very merry unbirthday, indeed!" Sin laughed, sliding awkwardly off the bed. "You’re still the only one who can surprise me."

"I know. It’s why I do it when you least expect it."