Apr 162010
 

[ Sky – Master Post ]
Title: ‘Scuse Me While I…
Fandom: Sky
Characters: Singularity, Sebastian
Rating: T
Warnings: Kissing, expletives.
Notes: So, I realised there’s like this fifteen year gap in which we have NO IDEA how Sin and Sebastian got from sleeping in the same bed to … not-sleeping in the same bed. This is some part of that. IT’S NOT ABOUT FAGGOTRY, IT’S ABOUT LITERATURE. … Sebastian said so. :P


It was Sebastian’s twenty-first birthday, and Singularity had taken him to the bar up the street. Sin kept ordering random mixed drinks for both of them, and they’d pass the glasses back and forth, as Sebastian tried to decide what he actually liked. Sin was there to make sure he didn’t drink himself into a coma. Sebastian was, however, rapidly approaching smashed, when the barmaid set a strawberry daiquiri in front of Sin and a very dirty vodka martini in front of him.

"So, you know, it’s my birthday," Sebastian rambled, "and I’d never have mentioned it, but it was one of those culturally important ones, and it took me by surprise. Shut up; it did. I forgot it was my birthday. And I will probably never forgive myself for letting my mouth move faster than my brain."

Sin eyed him suspiciously, and Sebastian cautiously tested the martini. "Fuck, what is this? Eighty percent vodka?"

"Probably closer to ninety," Sin corrected, with one thumb jammed into the sinus pressure point next to his nose. He had to remember not to drink frozen things that quickly. "Ninety percent vodka, nine percent olive juice and one percent vermouth, give or take, if I’m not mistaken."

"Jesus." Sebastian squinted through the glass, watching the olive particles swirl. "So, since this seems to be a day for doing stupid things, and I’m probably going to get too drunk to remember anything, anyway, I’m going to tell you what I actually want for my birthday, and you’re going to tell me how entirely pathetic it is."

Sin raised an eyebrow. "If that’s what you want me to do, I can do that."

"No, I want an honest opinion." Sebastian rubbed his face and drank more. "You know how I always say you’re the only person who can touch me, without starting a fight? Well, it’s true. Obviously. No… I want to take temporary advantage of that. Not like that. I mean, like that, but not. I’m not making sense. I should either have started this two drinks ago, or finished this one before I tried, and I’m not sure which."

"I have no idea where you’re going with this." Looking entirely confused, Sin held up his hand. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Two. I don’t think I’m that drunk, yet," Sebastian muttered, still trying to wrap his brain around something.

"Okay, yeah. One more test, and I’ll let you be. You know I’m just looking out for you." Sin reached out and ruffled Sebastian’s hair. "Spell ‘syntactic’."

Sebastian did. "You done? What I’m trying to say is that I’ve never been kissed. I’ve never said that before. It wasn’t relevant. But, it’s one of those things that everyone does, and I really feel like I’m missing some huge part of the human experience. Like I’ll understand entire periods of literature better, if I just understand what the hell the big deal is.

"And, for the record, it sounds like an utterly repulsive thing to do.

"So, I guess what I’m really asking here… I mean, this is the best birthday I can remember since I was probably eight, but would you just do this one thing for me?"

Sin finally put a hand over Sebastian’s mouth. "Stop talking for just a minute. Are you asking me to kiss you?"

Sebastian moved the hand, before trying to speak. "You’re my best and only friend. Who else would I ask?"

"I didn’t think you’d ask anyone, Batty. It just never crossed my mind as something you’d do." Sin shrugged. "But, yes. I’ll kiss you. Just not here. I’m trying to keep you alive, remember? It’s just not that kind of bar. Finish your drink, and we’ll go."

"Yeah." Sebastian nodded, slightly vacant, distracted and somewhat disturbed by what he’d just done.

Sin got up to pay their tab at the bar, leaving Sebastian to wonder about his own sanity and the sociocultural implications of what he was about to do. He was going to kiss (a disgusting proposition) some guy (not that girls were more or less appealing). He didn’t figure that made him a homosexual. It wasn’t about sex. It was about literature. And more than that, it wasn’t really just some guy, it was Sin. He lived with Sin. He slept in the same bed with Sin. Sin was the closest thing to family he had left.

Sebastian was sitting next to an empty glass, chewing on an olive, by the time Sin got back. Sin finished the daiquiri, punched himself in the side of the head, and offered both hands to Sebastian.

"Careful standing up. However drunk you think you are, you’ll be twice as drunk the first minute or two you’re on your feet. If you need me to hold you up, I can do that."

Looking doubtful as he grabbed Sin’s wrist, Sebastian hauled himself out of the chair and promptly sat back down. "Stunning. You’re right. Are we headed home once I get up?"

"If that’s what you want to do, yeah."

"You sound like you have a better idea. Don’t worry about me. I can stay up. I just have to understand the nature of being drunk," Sebastian answered, standing again. This time, he stayed up, eyes closed for a long few seconds. "I think I know it. I’ll probably fall over a few times, but it’s icy out there. It’s not like I’d have a much better chance sober, I think."

"As you like it. If you change your mind, let me know." Sin let Sebastian lead him toward the door, walking slowly and determinedly, but not too badly for a man who’d never been completely trashed, before. "I was thinking about heading over the few blocks to the old harbour. The view’s great, even on a day like this, and if you want to know it for the literary value, you’ve gotta have ambience."

"Sun’s going down. We’ll be headed back in the dark." Sebastian stopped to think, when they reached the sidewalk. "How drunk are you? If I sprain my ankle, are we going to be able to get home?"

"You’re not that heavy."

"Let’s do it."

The thing about the oceanside is that as frosty as it gets, the shore itself never freezes. The water in February is a good deal warmer than the land, and as the waves lap against the shore — however small those waves may be — the snow melts away, under them. And after a great deal of slipping on the glassy iced sidewalks for three blocks, Sin and Sebastian reached the sliver of beach, where the city curved around the water.

"You sober enough to really be here, right now? I mean, really be here — in the moment." Sin glanced down at Sebastian, who was still clinging to him for balance.

"I’m here. It’s just cold." Sebastian sniffed and spit into the snow.

"Look up. I want you to really see this place. You never leave the inside of the city. I’ve seen the way you never look up, this close to the water. Watch the sunset. Watch the night roll in. I want you to see the sky." The words were low, smooth, and passionate, and as Sebastian looked up, the golden light of early evening turned Sin into the glowing god he always swore he wasn’t.

Sebastian was dumbstruck at that first image, and even after he’d taken in the sunset over the city and the settling spread of night crawling in across the water, his eyes wandered back to the far more compelling sight, beside him. As Sin finally stopped soaking in the meagre warmth of the light and glanced back down to Sebastian, he saw the way his friend watched him, and his heart sank, thinking he’d finally broken the years of undented truth and certainty, between them. He’d seen that look before, usually just after someone slipped under his spell. Maybe he was just seeing things. Maybe it wasn’t true, and Sebastian was just staring like a fool because he was drunk.

"Now, hold that image. Be this place. All of it." Sin waited while Sebastian tried to absorb that idea. He watched as Sebastian relaxed, seeming to fold open like origami, without ever moving. "Now, close your eyes, keep the image, and trust me for the next forty seconds or so."

As Sebastian’s eyes slid closed, Sin caught his face with one knuckle under the chin, gently tracing the thin curve of Sebastian’s lower lip with one cold thumb. There was a split-second’s hesitation in which Sin prayed he was doing the right thing, before he lowered his lips the few centimetres to Sebastian’s. Kissing was a reflex action, for Sin. He responded to cues and resistances, without ever engaging his brain, which was far too concerned with the aftermath of this madness. As Sebastian’s chin lifted just a little further, Sin’s hand opened, sliding back along his neck, fingers slipping into Sebastian’s hair, fingertips coming to rest against the base of the skull. Sin caught Sebastian’s lower lip between his own, intending just that brief hint of more, before he backed off, but Sebastian’s hands tightened, pulling Sin closer.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing. Sin reminded himself. You can’t let this go too far.

But, he was already sucking at Sebastian’s lower lip, and when his tongue began to trace along the curve, Sebastian gasped and wobbled, but didn’t let go. Sin backed down, though, letting his lips rest against Sebastian’s for just a few moments more, before he lifted his head.

"You good? I don’t want to drop you in the snow, or anything." Sin tried to sound standardly concerned, but he was mostly certain the best thing in his life had come to an end, that day.

"What the hell did you do?" Sebastian asked, patting at his lips with the fingertips of one hand, as he continued to hold tight to Sin’s coat with the other hand. "I think I felt that in my toes. I think I just discovered internal organs."

"Do you get it, now? That’s why the books make such a fuss," Sin laughed, still uneasy.

"Would you do that again, when I’m in my proper senses? I’m not sure how much of that was vodka, and how much was kissing, and how much was just stark terror. Nothing personal." Sebastian was starting to look crabby and cynical, again, even if he still sounded dazed.

"I’ll do that anytime you like. Just ask." Sin shivered and stuck his hands in Sebastian’s coat pockets. Sebastian was probably okay. The glassy-eyed stare was likely just the last drink or two catching up. "And you’re supposed to be nervous the first time you do that."

"I think I’m also supposed to be about six or eight years younger, too," Sebastian snarked. "And get your hands out of my pockets. You have pockets of your own."

Sin laughed — really laughed, this time — as he put his hands in his own pockets. Sebastian, startlingly, closed the small space between them and hugged Sin.

"Thanks. Best birthday ever." Letting go, Sebastian stepped back. "Can we go home now? I think I can hear the ice crawling up the inside of my leg."

"Let’s blow this joint, Batty. Red tea, tonight."

Clinging to each other like a couple of stumbling drunks, they left the shore behind.