Jun 092010
 

[ Sky – Master Post ]
Title: A Song of Bells
Fandom: Sky
Characters: Sin, Sebastian, Betty
Rating: T
Warnings: Implications, expletives
Notes: This isn’t the fic that was supposed to get posted, today, but I need to wind back into that one, since I managed to LOSE ALL OF IT, like a dumbass. Instead, you get some nice, quiet, domestic fic, with Sin and Sebastian. The History Department’s Christmas party is sneaking up, and Sin doesn’t want to go alone. Of course, Sebastian doesn’t want to get him fired, so…


"Department Christmas party’s next week." Sin dropped his bag on a chair and a stack of papers on the coffee table. "You want to come talk shit to Dr. Valdez, again? I’d do it myself, but he’d fire me."

"If I go, you’ll actually let me run my mouth? I’m only going if you promise not to stop me from saying what I mean." Sebastian put his book on his chest and grabbed another tart from the plate on the coffee table. "And I will have something to say about the state of academia."

"You always have something to say about the state of academia, and I usually agree with you. Unfortunately, despite all the things I can convince these dicks of, that is not among them." Sin dropped his jacket onto his bag and hopped over the back of the other couch, to sit.

"I really think you should take Betty, instead. I will probably get you fired — especially after that thing, last year, with Lorraine." Stuffing the tart into his mouth, Sebastian rolled over, dropping his book and resting his chin on the arm of the couch. "You know how the department feels about us. Until you have tenure, I’m really not something you want to be showing off."

"I’m teaching ancient Greek history, next semester. Lorraine and Henry can wash it down with a nice hot cup of irony." Sin inspected the tarts. "You only want me to go with Betty, because she bribed you."

"No, I just hate everyone you work with. I have no idea how you deal with them, every day." Sebastian smiled, thinly. "I can’t be bought with tarts. I can, however, believe that one good deed deserves another. She didn’t ask for anything. She just came over, handed me a plate of tarts, gave me a kiss, and ran off muttering something about bailing Baron out of county, again."

"That kid needs to take a pill."

"That kid needs to take less pills," Sebastian countered. "Still, you should take her. She cleans up better than I do, and she’s pure politics in a bottle."

Sin grinned. "But, I love that you’re impolitic. It’s one of my favourite things…"

"After dinner, Sin. Not now. Now, I’m lazy." Draped across the couch, Sebastian’s pose proved his point.

"If you’re lazy, where’s dinner coming from? Does that mean I’m cooking?" Batting his eyes, Sin grabbed a tart.

"Hell no. You’re not allowed to cook." Sebastian snorted and stuck out his hand. "Gimmie the phone. I’ll call for Chinese."

"Hey, I can make pasta!" Sin protested around a mouthful of fruit filling. "I only set the kitchen on fire that one time, and it was because the oven was broken." He paused. "Mmh. Tell Betty these are really good."

"You tell her. You’re taking her to Christmas." Sebastian flexed his fingers. "Chinese, tonight. I want lo mein."

Reaching out, Sin wiped his thumb off on Sebastian’s forehead and then stood up, to get the phone. "You are lazy. If you wanted Chinese, you should’ve called before I left the rat-maze. I could’ve stopped off on the way home."

"Yeah. That’s accurate." Sebastian crossed his eyes, trying to see the mark on his forehead. "You seriously just wiped jam on my face, didn’t you."

Sin bent down and licked it off, before he handed Sebastian the phone. "Of course I did. There’s only one thing that could make Betty’s tarts better."

"I can’t believe those words just — No, I’m lying. I believe it. Forgot who I was talking to, for a sec." Sebastian dialled the phone. "What do you want?"

"Orange chicken."

Sebastian ordered food, and then spent a long moment staring at the phone. "I’m calling Betty. I’m going to tell her you want to take her to the Christmas party."

"Nonsense. Come now, don’t lie on my behalf. I want to take you, but you don’t want to go, so if she does, I will take her."

"Details," Sebastian insisted. "She wants to go. She’s crazy about you."

"I thought she had a boyfriend, again," Sin pointed out around another tart. "That Vic guy."

"And you have me. I don’t think you have a point." Sebastian’s face froze, and he pointed the phone at Sin, threateningly, but not quickly enough.

"You said I didn’t get to prove my point until after dinner." A smug smile settled onto Sin’s face.

"Your mouth. I swear to god."

"I’m sure you could find a way to shut me up."

"Chinese food. It’s on the way."

Sin pretended to sulk. "Weren’t you going to call Betty?"

"Too lazy. I’m getting there." Languidly jabbing at the phone, Sebastian eventually managed to call Betty.

"Betty, hey, it’s Sebastian. … Yeah, the tarts are great. Sin’s stuffing his face. …" Sebastian snorted and looked over at Sin. "She says not to choke on them."

"I told you she wasn’t into me."

"Yeah, so, Sin’s got this Christmas party. … No, no. No baking. He just wants you to — er, you should go with him. … Yeah, that’s a horrible idea. You didn’t see what I did, last year. … … … Yes, ma’am. I know that. My mouth, I know. … Jesus shit, Betty, just go to the damn party with Sin. You can do whatever he’ll let you get away with. … Consider it a bribe. I’ll look the other way, if you make it so I don’t have to go ream the chair, again. … Yes, Valdez. Yes, I did. I think my exact words were something regarding the ‘masturbatory pretension at value’ of the current system of education. … I assure you, I do not jest. I may or may not also have said something about conferences and baboons’ asses. … … Yes, ma’am. I am aware of that fact. … Thanks, Betty. — Oh, hey, wait. How’s Barry holding up? … Oh, my. … Good god. … Please don’t kill him, Betty. We’d need to find a new bassist who could put up with me and Evan, and I assure you, those are in short supply. … Yeah, if you need me to, I can do that. … Sure. I’ll trade you, for the night. … Yeah, I’ll see you next week. Call me if you need anything."

"You’re easier to tolerate than Evan," Sin insisted.

"You’re biased. Evan’s not blowing you," Sebastian argued, dropping the phone on the floor. "She’ll go. I just have to look after Barry for the night."

"Does that mean I have to help you drink all the whiskey before he gets here?" The sparkle in Sin’s eyes belied exactly how displeased he was, at the proposition.

"Yes. And we’re locking up the brandy and the Chartreuse. I hope you remember the combination for the safe, because I spaced it." Sebastian stared intently at the carpet. "Maybe that’s it. Maybe I just need to get drunk."

"Possibly. Or, you know, you could start sleeping."

"I’m very bad at sleeping… I’m also very bad at being very drunk." Sebastian glared at the arm of the couch upon which Sin sat. "This is really a lose-lose situation, isn’t it?"

"After dinner, I’ll remind you what both winning and sleeping look like. How’s that sound?"

"Ask me that after I’ve had some lo mein."