wednesday.  02/11.

Sebastian had been talking himself out of this since Sunday, since he’d been sitting on a plane and trying to go over all the potential consequences in his head.  Because there were consequences.  There were a lot of consequences.  For starters, this was his fucking job, and it wasn’t like everything could be exactly the way that it was supposed to be when they had this going on.  Not that it wasn’t already awkward to a certain extent as it was considering their history already – but doing it now? That was an even bigger deal, that was the kind of thing that could likely get him fired if word were to get out.

(Then again, it was technically Rolling Stone’s fault for putting him on the job in the first place when they had to know that something like this could have happened in some form or another – this is Sebastian Smythe we’re talking about here.  More specifically: this is Sebastian Smythe and his ex-boyfriend who has never fully been an ex-anything.  They should have seen this coming from miles away, and that wasn’t his fault.)

There was also the fact that doing this wasn’t going to change anything.  It wasn’t going to suddenly throw them back together, it wasn’t going to make Sebastian start throwing around any sentimental words again.  This wasn’t going to change any of that.  Which meant, you know, that if Starlord wanted to make another spectacle of him and Sam making out on the street for the paparazzi and all the world to see, he would be allowed to do that.  And that meant that Sebastian would have to suck it up and watch it happen.

But whatever. Whatever, he could handle it.  He could handle anything, he could handle everything.  He was an adult, he was a grown-up, and that meant that he could handle sex with no strings attached.  In fact, he was sort of the king of sex with no strings attached.

It just… had never really been that way with Sam.  Other than maybe at the very start of their relationship, Sebastian had always stuck to just one person.  For three years, it had been just one person.  So who the fuck knew how all of this was going to go, right?

He couldn’t shake the thought, though.  He couldn’t shake the desire.  He couldn’t get the thoughts of just how badly he wanted this out of his head.  It wasn’t even a matter of want so much anymore as it was need, as it was that he needed Sam.  After all, they hadn’t fucked since after the VMAs in August.

And I know what you have to be thinking here, really, and it’s something along the lines that Sam and Sebastian have been broken up for over two years – shouldn’t that mean that they haven’t fucked in over two years? It’s cute that you would think that, really.  That you actually think the two of them haven’t spent the last two years hooking up off and on far more than they should be.  Any time they wound up in the same place, they found their way to each other.

Sometimes, even when they were on opposite coasts, if they got into too risqué of a phone call or too deep into a texting session, the night would end with the other taking the last flight on, and waking up in the other’s bed in the morning.  They knew it wasn’t healthy, and they knew it wasn’t the way things were supposed to work – it’s still what happened, though, you can’t even be surprised about it.

So, yeah, after their phone call on Saturday night, Sebastian had been totally and completely set on the fact that he was going to be with Sam by Sunday.  He’d even moved his flight up a few hours once he realized that – hi – Sunday night was The Grammy Awards, and he couldn’t exactly miss the fucking Grammys.  Not just because it could potentially be a huge night for Sam (which it was), but also because that was exactly the sort of thing that could give him plenty of information for the next issue of the article (which it did).

He’d put on one of his best Versace suits, and he’d made sure they had arrangements with a car for the night, and he’d shown up at Sam and Blaine’s door, and… that was when the night had took a turn.  Because Blaine was fussing over Sam’s tie, and Blaine was sticking to him like a leech on the red carpet, speaking up with him in all the interviews while Sebastian stayed in the background like the reporter he was – and nothing more.

Sam shot him looks all through the night, mouthed words about later and gave him those smiles that always made his stomach turn inside out… but he couldn’t shake the images of Blaine from his head.  Not that he expected anything to really happen with Sam and Blaine or anything, but Blaine was more of a symbol for all the time that had passed than he was anything else.  And that was the sort of thing that talked him right out of all the plans he’d had for that night.

Clearly, this brilliant I’m-not-gonna-do-it plan of his didn’t stick for very long, because fast-forward seventy-two fucking hours and Sebastian was waiting in his Los Angeles apartment for Sam to show up.  He’d debated going to Sam and Blaine’s place, but then un-debated it just as quickly.  He didn’t want another awkward hotel scenario with the two of them, and so, the apartment he had for while he was in California was clearly the next (and final) option.

He sat up a little straighter when he heard the buzzer from downstairs, standing up from the couch and taking the last sip out of his tumbler of scotch, sitting it back down on the counter before making his way to the door and trying to ignore the fact that he was very aware of his heart beating in his chest right now.

Pressing down on the button to the intercom, he didn’t say anything more than, “Door’s unlocked,” before buzzing him in and simultaneously twisting the lock on his door to unlock it and making his way back into the living room.  More-so to pace around and wait for Sam to come up than anything else.

Yeah, clearly he was really fucking capable of handling himself, right? Just one time, for old time’s sake.  That was the plan.  Just to get it out of their system.  Nothing more.

The moment he heard the door opening, however, he was already forgetting everything he’d just told himself.  Just like that.

“Well, well,” he said when he saw Sam coming into his apartment.  Not for the first time, but for the first time in a long time.  "Look who made it.“