This Winged Hour

[ Sky – Master Post ]
Title: This Winged Hour
Fandom: Sky
Characters: Sin, Sebastian
Rating: G-
Warnings: Fluff
Notes: I realised that there was one more transition point missing — the house. This is 1991. The band's gotten popular overseas, and Sebastian's starting to see where 'famous' becomes 'rich'.

Sebastian rolled over and nuzzled Sin's chest. Even after all these years, there was something about mornings that just couldn't quite be crushed by the oppressive weight of the rest of the day.

"I'm going to buy a house," he said, fondly fondling Sin's hip.

"Yeah, one of these years," Sin sighed, draping a leg over Sebastian.

"No, I mean now. Well, probably in a month or two, but really soon."

"Wait, what?" Sin pushed Sebastian back a couple of inches and blinked down at him.

"It took me about eighteen hours and a good night's sleep, but I finally interpreted the number on that check correctly. I don't think I'm just putting a down-payment on a house, either. I think I'm buying a house. It's cheaper, that way, anyway."

"No." Sin rubbed his face on the pillow, trying to get the sleep out of his brain. "No, no. You've got an extra zero, or something. It was a few thousand, wasn't it?"

"No, actually, it was more than I made the entire time I was teaching, full time." Sebastian yawned and pulled the blankets up. "Almost twice that, now that I think about it."

"Reality fault. Try again later." Sin pulled the pillow out from under Sebastian's head and put it over his own. "I know you guys were popular enough to get a couple of bars that weren't shitholes, the last few years, but where the hell did you get enough fans to have your share of the record sales turn into a number like that?"

"I have no idea. I heard a rumour that we caught on in Poland, or one of those imaginary eastern European places." Sebastian groaned and buried his face in Sin's shoulder. "Means we're probably leaving the 'States, this year. You want me to send you something from Prague?"

"No, but you should send me some waffles from Brussels. Mmmm." Sin tossed the pillow down the bed.

"Belgian waffles are not going to survive being airmailed. Do you —" Sebastian sighed. "Do you want to come with us?"

Sin blinked and recoiled, squinting down at Sebastian. "What? No. Well, yes, I'd love to see the world, but no, I'm not going to … No. Besides, if you're going to buy a house, who else is there to make it liveable before you get home?"

"You're crazy. Just in case you'd forgotten that fact." Sebastian looked up. "Who says I'm going to stick you with an uninhabitable house, when I leave town?"

"I know the house you've been eyeing since we moved here — that three-storey monstrosity down by the college? You never would have found it, if you hadn't gotten lost."

Sebastian scowled. "I got lost because you wanted me to run something to the post office from your office. I don't know that part of town. I still don't know that part of town."

"And for some reason, you want to move there…" Sin teased.

"It's a fortress. Yeah, I want to move there. All it needs is a nice wrought-iron fence."

"No, honey. If you buy that house, we're getting an adobe wall."

"But, adobe doesn't go with that house at all," Sebastian protested.

"Fine, we'll do brick. Either way, it's getting a wall, not a fence. That yard is big enough to cause trouble in, and I want to make sure that we're the only ones watching the things I intend to get you up to." Sin squirmed down in the bed, to nibble on the bridge of Sebastian's nose. "You go to Europe; I'll build a wall. When you come home, we'll go out in the yard and make the neighbours very curious."

"In the yard? It'll be November. I get cold in July."

"In the yard. In November. Right next to the bonfire."

"You are not setting a bonfire in the backyard. You'll burn the house down."

Sin pulled back with a faintly offended look. "The property's half a city block! I can miss the house! A little faith, please?"

"After what you did to the kitchen?" Sebastian's eyebrow arced up in disbelief.

"Hey, this time I'm not trying to cook anything."

"You're the only person I've ever met who can set soup on fire."

"It was just that one time!" Sin whined. "I can boil eggs just fine! And packet noodles! I can do packet noodles!"

"I'm going to design a fire-proof kitchen, for our new house. All steel and pyrex. Probably won't be able to afford it until next year, but I want to make sure you don't burn the house down trying to make lunch, while I'm gone."

"So, I'll eat leftover donuts in the department lounge, like I always do." Sin shrugged.

"You'll get fat, one of these years," Sebastian challenged. "And then, I'll be guilty."

"It hasn't happened yet," Sin declared, flipping the blanket down, to display his still-lithe figure.

Sebastian yanked the blanket back up. "Christ! It's cold in here!"

"Clearly, I'm not doing my job, then," Sin purred, snuggling closer.

"Mmmh. You're warm. You're delicious. I am madly in love with you." Sebastian groaned and rolled onto his back. "But, if I'm going to buy a house, I should really get up."

Sin pounced on Sebastian, pinning him to the bed, with a self-satisfied grin. "Wrong! It's Sunday. There is nothing to be done, today. You'll wait until tomorrow, like a sensible person."

"Oh, I will, hm?" Sebastian smiled lazily up at Sin, wondering why he'd thought it was Tuesday. "And what shall I do in the mean time?"

"Make breakfast, obviously, since I'm not allowed to cook, and you're worried I'll get fat."

"That still involves getting up, which I can't do with you on me." Sebastian poked Sin in the shoulder.

"Oh, right. I forgot about the first part." Sin grinned. "The part that involves spending another few hours in bed."

Sebastian snorted. "Satyr."