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It's always something with them.
Relentless heckling on the press tour - that goes without saying. Trivia, mostly personal facts and old movies. (Seb’s got that one on lock, obviously.) ‘Who wore it better’ contests, on the down low of course, and fan speculation is not the only factor in who wins. They each get a say in the judging, plus Mackie, Scarlett, and RDJ, whose vote counts for double because hey, it's RDJ. Chris wins more of those, but only because if they’re not on tour Seb can't be bothered to give a fuck. Dirty jokes slipped into interviews is an unofficial competition, but they’re both aware of it, and take it quite seriously, which was all fine until it led into the flirting thing, which is what got them here.
It started with the first film: Seb batting his eyelashes, altering his body language only ever so slightly, playing with the flow of energy between them and enjoying the shift it brought to Chris’s personality, the way it made him stand a little taller, breathe more evenly. He pretended it was a game to keep from getting too attached, but he liked being the thing that made Chris stronger. His own source of power.
Eventually, Chris noticed. He’s remarkably perceptive, Seb knows this of course, knew it early on, in the way Chris was always strangely attune to Sebastian’s mood. After half a dozen instances of Chris bringing him coffee on a bad day, Sebastian gave up trying to figure out what gave him away and accepted that Chris is probably psychic. He cares so deeply about people Sebastian’s really not surprised.
They should have talked about the incident, and with anyone, anything else, they would have. Sebastian has always been a genuine if awkward communicator, and Chris insists on talking things out with his friends and family almost relentlessly, but because everything is always a game with them, instead of talking, they played.
Chris had been working something out with his body double, walking through fight choreography to demonstrate his stride and stance, and ended up doing so much of it on his own that the director yelled at him from across set to ‘quit doing risky shit’ and that they didn’t want to have to hire a different Cap on such short notice, and when Chris came bounding over, pink-cheeked and painfully beautiful, Seb couldn’t help it. He rolled his bottom lip between his teeth and bit, harder than he’d intended, but what else could he do in the face of such sheer sensuality and control? - and Chris noticed.
He skidded to a stop much closer than he might have usually, which was really saying something considering his lack of personal space, and his eyes darkened immediately, playful sparkle shifting to a gleam: mischief and something hidden, secret. “What was that about?”
“What?” Seb whispered.
“That thing with your mouth. What was that about?”
“I don’t - It wasn’t - ”
Chris stepped in closer and took Seb’s chin between his fingers. “Was that for me?”
Seb swallowed harshly. Opened his mouth to dig his own grave.
“Hey! Evans! Where the fuck did you put the foam shield?”
They both startled apart, Chris less erratically than Seb and shouted, “Trailer! Sorry!” In the silence that followed, wherein Seb had glanced frantically around the room for an out, Chris stepped back, tucked his hands in his pockets and teased, “You’re cute when you blush.” It was a joke, and it made Seb want to die but it was good too, forgiveness for a sin uncommitted, and he’d shoved Chris in the chest grumbling, “Oh I see how it is.”
“What?” he laughed, throwing hands in the air.
“Oh no,” Seb called as he left. “I’ll get you back!”
It had been fine. He’d shut the door to his trailer and hunched over the sink for as many heartbeats as years in his life he’d been missing a piece of himself without knowing what it was, who it was - not his to keep, and he’d gritted his teeth until the sorrow subsided and gone back out to rehearse with the voice coach.
He kept his word though. A few weeks later, sitting beside Chris where they were sprawled out on the couch, Seb realized he’d left his pen and glasses on Chris’s other side, tossed carelessly on the desk. He could get up, walk around the splayed limbs of his friend, or ask for the pen Chris was chewing on (and the mere thought of watching that sight for a few more minutes had him hesitating), but he thought of the way Chris had teased before, and how badly he wanted to feel that heat and weight on his own skin, and made his decision.
He had to twist slightly to make it work but sat up on his knees and leaned, so deliberately casual that Chris’s eyes flicked up immediately, watching as Seb caught himself with one hand on the arm of the couch and slowly plucked the pen and glasses from the scuffed wood before drawing back. For a moment their chests were touching. Chris’s mouth was mere inches from Sebastian’s and their eyes locked, heart-stopping as Seb shifted in just a centimeter and he’ll be damned if he didn’t see Chris twitch forward to meet him but it was too late to tell because Seb crossed his eyes, stuck out his tongue, and withdrew, folding himself back up into his corner of the couch, chuckling.
“You’re cute when you blush,” he’d said, and Chris had let out a burst of air from between his teeth, full of humor and irritation, and Seb grinned right back.
They go through phases. Between films there are times they don’t see each other for months, though they’ve gotten better at checking in over the years, grabbing dinner when they end up in the same place for a few hours. When they’re working together they vacillate on a spectrum between almost coolly platonic (Seb does it when he’s too tired to lie, and he’s not sure what sets Chris off but it happens to both of them from time to time) all the way to full-on sexual harassment. Consensual, of course.
The second phase is where they’re resting firmly now, and have been for most of filming Civil War. Something about being reunited as Steve and Bucky had warmed them both, and something about knowing where those two characters are at the end of the film has made them uncharacteristically clingy. Maximum appreciation for the other’s company.
“Dude, you good?”
It’s been a long fuckin’ day in a far away country, but Chris looks more tired than usual, leaning against the wall of the elevator on the way to their hotel rooms.
“Yeah, tired.”
“Alright.” He’s a little stung that Chris is obviously not alright and doesn’t feel comfortable telling him, but maybe that’s his own exhaustion making him sensitive. The interviews today had been fun but draining as always, pretending like he and Chris - no, Bucky and Steve, sorry, obviously - were just friends and it makes no sense to interpret them as anything else. It’s part of what makes all this so difficult. For the big game they’d talked pre-release, the powers that be are trying to ‘no homo’ their way out of the Steve and Bucky situation as much as possible, and it pisses Seb right the fuck off. It’s not queer-baiting, or it shouldn’t be, because there’s an authentic connection, valid love and affection between the two characters, but the hiding and disapproval...it just makes him exhausted and ostracized. If Steve and Buck can’t be queer, he sure as shit shouldn’t be.
It must show in his expression, because Chris pushes off the wall to ask, “Are you ok?
“Yeah! Sorry. Fine.” The elevator slides open and he sighs. He knows he won’t be able to sleep, and even though Chris is holding out on him, they’ve known each other too long to do the same. “Feelin’ kinda...restless. I dunno. Tired and wound up at the same time.”
“Exactly,” Chris breathes, looking relieved. “That’s how I’m feeling, too. You wanna come to my room for a bit? Youtube and room service?”
“Fuck yes. Lemme shower and I’ll meet you in a few.”
Seb knocks on Chris’s door exactly twenty minutes later draped in a too large sweatshirt and basketball shorts. “Can we get cake?”
Chris grins as a voice from behind them says, “Cake, and three breakfast platters.” A young guy in a hotel uniform has a stack of boxes balanced neatly on his arm and he holds them out to Seb as Chris hands over a few bills. “Holy shit, you’re Sebastian Stan!”
Seb chuckles. “I think so, yeah.”
“I love your stuff!”
Seb eyes him suspiciously before clarifying, “Yeah, Marvel is a great franchise to work for.”
“Huh? Oh, sorry,” the kid says sheepishly. “I haven’t seen the new Captain America movie yet. I was talking about...well, Winter Soldier, yeah, but Covenant is great, and the Architect, and I fucking loved TJ - fucking heart wrenching, and I know it was small part but Walter in Rachel Getting Married reminded me so much of my brother, he’s a total asshole but you did it perfectly and…” He blinks and Sebastian thinks he looks like he might cry. “I...could you...sign something?”
“Of course,” Seb breathes, surprised and touched. “Of course. What’s your name?”
“Allan.”
“Allan, give me one second.”
He leaps back across the hall and swipes into his room, rummaging frantically through his backpack ‘til he finds what he’s looking for and tears off the cover.
“Turn around,” he instructs as he emerges back into the hall, and uses Allan’s back as a sturdy surface to sign against. “OK, here ya go.”
“What...is this…?” The kids sounds awed.
“It’s not the final copy or anything, it’s just a draft I had in my bag...”
“This is the title page of the Civil War script.”
“And now it’s yours.”
“Thank you so much,” Allan whispers, staring at the paper in his hand. “I always heard ... but I had no idea...Thank you, sir.”
Seb chuckles, flattered and uncomfortable. “Just Sebastian. Have a good night, alright Allan?”
“Yeah. Yes. Thank you. You, too.” He walks dazedly backwards towards the elevator, smiling goofily, and Seb turns back to Chris with what is probably an echoing grin. Chris has one hand over his heart.
“Seb. That was awesome.”
He shrugs. “It’s nothing to me and everything to him. We’re lucky, you know?”
“Yeah,” Chris nods, expression weirdly soft. “We are. Come on in.”
They settle in the center of the bed with the styrofoam containers and Chris’s laptop between them to watch a few clips from the recent hockey game, making bets on the outcomes of certain plays, then slowly spiral down the Youtube black hole, sports injuries, a break for a competition of shooting napkins into the trashcan in the corner, interviews, onto some random blooper reel, which leads then to an Avengers blooper reel and suddenly it’s 2 am in the current country and god-knows-what-time in their circadian clocks and Chris huffs and falls back against a pillow, swiping his finger through some frosting left on the wall of the cake box. “You have the day off tomorrow?”
“I gotta work out, but other than that, yeah.”
“Wanna explore?”
“Fuck yes.” Seb’s eyes are growing heavy and he tosses the empty food containers onto the bedside table. “Somewhere outside. Green. I miss green.”
“Alright,” he hears Chris say.
“You sure you’re ok man? You looked really down in the elevator.”
“I’m fine, Sebastian.”
“If you say so.”
“Fuck off, kid.” It stings a little, but he knows he’s being nosey. Deserves the rebuke.
“I should, actually,” Seb mutters, shifting on the comforter. “I’m about to fall asleep in your bed.”
“‘S fine,” Chris yawns. “Stay.”
He’s half asleep and the words still make his heart sing.
--
He wakes to a sun-bright room and a full bladder, and when he gets back, Chris has rolled from his back on to his stomach, sprawled out over more than half the bed. It’s a sign, Seb thinks. No room for him here, and besides, he wasn’t entirely truthful, he has a ton of emails to answer before the day begins. The note he leaves on the hotel letterhead pad of paper reads: Call me when you’re up.
He doesn’t notice the way Chris’s hand is fisted into the still body-warm blanket that Seb had just vacated, fingers holding tight and yanking it towards him almost desperately, even in sleep.
--
“Where are we going?’’
“It’s a surprise,” Chris mutters. He’s got sunglasses on, Seb can’t quite get a read on him, so he settles back against the seat and watches the buildings disappear into trees outside the traincar window.
“Is it another city? Great restaurant? Hidden temple?” Seb gasps. “Am I going to be slaughtered on a sacrificial altar?”
“Jesus, that escalated quickly,” Chris murmurs, covering his fond amusement by running a hand over his beard.
Seb shrugs. “What can I say? I move fast.”
“That’s what she said.”
“That’s what your mom said. Kidding. Never mind. I love your mom.”
Chris chuckles. “I’ll let her know.”
“Do.”
It’s the first day they’ve had off in a long while, and in spite of himself, Seb falls asleep. He dimly registers sliding sideways and when he wakes again, he’s horizontal, head cushioned on Chris’s thigh. For a moment, he freezes. They’re friends, but surely there’s a limit somewhere. Apparently, this isn’t it though, because Chris’s fingers are dragging lazily through his hair, tracing gentle circles on his scalp, and he sighs and closes his eyes again. “Feels good.”
“I’m glad,” Chris whispers.
Hours later, or maybe seconds, Chris is shaking his shoulder and murmuring, “Seb. We’re here.”
He nuzzles into Chris’s leg for a moment then realizes himself and struggles upright, blinking. “Sorry. What? Cool. Ugh,” and rubs his eyes.
They take a bus to where the small town turns to forest again, with a single brown sign marking a path.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
They walk the trail in silence for a while, completely by accident on Seb’s part because it’s just so fucking beautiful that he’s rendered speechless. It’s hotter here than in the states and the air is moist and warm, sinking into his bones and loosening his muscles. The forest smells incredible, earth and green and occasional flowers, some he’s never seen before. He’s not a super outdoors-y guy, not like Chris, but every once in awhile he gets that itch under his skin - Vitamin D deficiency, probably, and he’s always liked fresh air. It’s better, too, with Chris in front of him, the muscles flexing in his back as they walk.
“This is incredible, Chris,” he murmurs. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” Chris huffs, but Seb can hear the warmth in his voice.
Sebastian waits ten full seconds then says, “Are we there yet?”
“No,” Chris replies dryly.
“Are we there yet?”
“No.”
“Are we there yet?”
“Sebastian -”
He catches up so he and Chris are walking side by side. Chris’s smile is so beautiful it takes Seb’s breath away as he glances sideways. “How ‘bout now?”
“You’re an asshole.”
“I’m adorable,” Seb laughs, taking the lead.
“That, too.” It hurts a little, and he’s not sure why.
“Really, though,” Seb calls, jogging ahead a little in an attempt to escape the ache in his chest. “Where are we - Oh. My. God.”
Chris pulls up behind him, right over his shoulder and murmurs so close to Sebastian’s ear that he gets goosebumps, “Now we’re here.”
“Oh my god,” Sebastian repeats. “This is … fucking…” He whirls around, almost accusatory in his excitement. “What is this place?”
“Spera Falls.”
“And you found this, how?”
Weirdly, Chris blushes and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I...uh...asked around. You said you wanted to be outside. Green. Does this fit the bill?”
They’ve emerged from the forest and onto a grassy, sandy clearing, dipping down before a waterfall that’s pouring down cheerfully over the face of the mountain, feeding a pool of crystal clear water.
“This…” Seb throws his hands wide, giggling with delight, “Is fucking magical!” It's so much, too much to contain and he leaps at Chris, throwing enthusiastic arms around him. “Thank you.”
He feels Chris smile against his neck as strong hands press against his spine, comforting and familiar. “You're welcome.”
They fit, nearly the same height, and Seb tucks his face against Chris’s shoulder for a moment, breathing in the scent of warm fabric and soap for perhaps too long. He does eventually remember himself and straighten up, and Chris let's the backpack he's been carrying slide off one broad shoulder with a thump, turning away for a moment. A query, too much?, flits across Seb’s mind, but then Chris hunches down, retrieving somethings from the largest zippered compartment, something fabric, which then smacks Seb in the face.
“Mulțumesc,” he grumbles against the cloth before pulling the swim trunks away from his forehead. “Oh, thanks,” he repeats, genuinely this time. “We going swimming?”
“It’ll be cold as balls, but I’m in if you are.”
Sebastian grins, delighted. “Uh, duh!” And to prove the point he drops his bag and rips his shirt off. Chris unzips his jeans to reveal he's already wearing trunks, and begins to toe off his shoes and Seb realizes he's about to spend a day in paradise with the man who doesn't love him back, and it's such a complicated sentiment he deflects in the usual way.
“Race ya!” His pants are off and he’s stumbling into trunks as Chris trips out of jeans. Sebastian has a headstart but Chris is faster, or maybe he isn’t, but he trips Sebastian into a small sand dune and springs away laughing. Seb hears a splash, and in the moment of silence while Chris is submerged he jogs to the edge of the pool. He means to jump in, maybe canonball the shit out of Chris as payback, but at the sight that greets him he skids to a halt almost trips again.
Chris resurfaces, breaking the crystal with his hands first, then the rest of his body follows as he trudges back into the shallows, grinning and shoving wet hair off his forehead. “What?”
What is there to say? He’s the most beautiful thing Sebastian’s ever seen on a normal day, but on a crazy day like this, where everything is green and gold and damp and hazy and Chris is dripping with icy mountain water and laughing? He’s literally breathtaking. “I’m gonna kick your ass.”
Seb’s not sure he’s ever seen someone so pleased at that declaration. “Bring in on.”
He does. It devolves quickly into a childish game of shoving and splashing, which turns into exhausted noodling around and exploring.
The wall over which the waterfall spills is tiered into broad levels, with cracks in the stone and Sebastian quickly discovers a way to scale up the ten feet to the lowest shelf. “Careful!” Chris calls, and Seb rolls his eyes.
“Ok mom,” and when he gets situated he beckons to his friend in the water. “Come on, man, this is great!”
Chris hesitates so Seb leaps high in the air, knees to his chest, and lands his cannonball close enough to engulf Chris in the waves. When he emerges, Chris is grinning and wiping water from his eye. “Fine, fine. Punk.”
Seb watches him climb, easy as you please, up one shelf, two, until he comes to a stop almost thirty feet above the water. Seb’s heart legitimately beats a little faster as he watches nervously, though that might also have something to do with the way Chris aligns his body and dives with grace and sleek lines of muscle into the water next to him.
It’s beautiful to behold, and Seb gasps. Can’t help himself, though thankfully Chris is still under so he doesn’t hear it, just glides towards Seb once he reaches air, grinning. “You’re right. That’s fucking great.”
“Told you.” He’s a little breathing a little faster from treading water and Chris doesn’t slow his trajectory, just crashes into him as fast as the pool will allow.
“Oh, really.”
“Well I did.” Sebastian’s gotta stop grinning so hard, he probably looks like an idiot.
“Think you’re soooo smart, huh?”
“I am, thank you.”
“Betcha think you’re pretty cute, too.” He’s holding on to Seb’s hips to keep from floating away, and they keep knocking ankles together in an effort to stay afloat.
“Well…” Seb drawls. “Everyone else seems to…” Chris’s eyes narrow at that, a strange shift in the context of the conversation and Seb tries to ease things along. “What do you think?” He winks roguishly in an effort to help his case, and it might just work because Chris yanks him even closer and grinds out, “You’re much more than that.”
In his wildest dreams, Chris calls him beautiful, tells him he’s brilliant and kind and gorgeous. In those dreams, Chris never hesitates to touch him because they belong to each other. They’re foolish thoughts, Sebastian knows, but it doesn’t stop his hopelessly romantic heart caught in the body of a realist. Precedent has taught him better, and it’s killing him.
He splashes hard enough that Chris has to let go and wipe the water from his eyes, and Seb steals the reprieve, escaping back up the rocks.
The afternoon eases on in the same vein, the two men alternately arguing and floating around, watching the sunlight filter into gilded green on the forest floor, breathing deep when the breeze catches a flowering tree just the right way, until Chris pulls him to shore and, while Seb stands dripping on the sand, unpacks granola bars and apples and sandwiches and a huge bag of chips from his backpack, along with a few beers and a bottle of water.
“Holy shit, it’s like Mary Poppins’ lunch bag.”
“Shut up and eat, Stan.”
He flips Chris the bird, but obeys, flopping down onto a grassy patch of beach and tearing into a sandwich with such fervor that even Chris looks on with open-mouthed shock as Seb drains half a beer to wash it down.
They eat in silence, watching the wildlife ruffle the surrounding foliage until Seb’s mouth gets the better of him, as always, and he says, “Thank you for today. This press tour’s been … weird. Exhausting. Really fun, don’t get me wrong, but I just…” He sighs. “The fucking Chelsea Handler thing kind of summed it all up.”
Chris is watching him carefully. “How do you mean?”
“Are you serious? The fucking...gay jokes. Jesus.”
“It bothers you. Why?” His tone connotes genuine curiosity, not because he doesn’t understand why most people would be bothered by it, but because he wants to know why Seb is.
Sebastian shrugs. Sighs. Hesitates. “Been through enough gay bashing for one lifetime, thanks.”
Ok. So. Coming out to Chris was not on his plans for the day, not that he’d been particularly subtle about it, but nothing had ever been said. Nervously, he glances over, but Chris’s expression isn’t judgemental, guarded and kind and a touch angry but not at Seb, and the rest just kind of spills out.
“Obviously Buck and Steve love each other, ya know? It’s fun dropping innuendoes in interviews and shit, but what if we could just say it? They’ve been through hell and came out the otherside, not...ok, not whole exactly, but alive. And together. How great would it be to have those discussions, to analyze their behavior and interactions and how those things pertain to their emotional lives. I mean...we played them like that on purpose. Or at least...I did.” It occurs to him that maybe he’s alone in that and is suddenly more nervous about that revelation than anything else.
Thankfully, Chris nods gently. “Me, too.”
“Yeah,” he exhales. “Right. Anyway. I dunno man, I kinda just feel like... if there’s no way they could ever be together, if they’re such a fuckin’ joke than maybe,” he manages to change the ‘we are’ into and ‘I am’ at the very last second, “I am, too.”
“You are not a joke, Sebastian.” He sounds furious, really worked up for the first time that whole day, and Seb briefly feels bad. He hadn’t meant to piss him off.
“Thanks.” He pats Chris’s knee soothingly. “It’s ok, man.”
“It’s not ok! That anyone would ever make you feel...you should be able to love whoever you want. And so should Steve and Bucky.”
Seb chuckles dryly. “I think we do. Love who we want, I mean. It just doesn’t always work out so well for us.”
“What’d you mean?” The air in the clearing has gone oddly still.
“You’ve seen the movie, Evans.”
“Smartass.” He’s gazing intently at Sebastian, chin propped on one hand. “I was talking about you.”
No, nope, definitely not. “Eh. You know. Hard to...settle down in this business, right?” It doesn’t flow quite as convincingly as he’d hoped. “Not like I have much experience with success in that arena.”
“How come?”
I'm already in love with someone. “Dunno. Not even sure what I'm looking for.” Liar. “You?”
“What I'm looking for?”
“Sure.”
Chris sighs as he flops back into the sand, folding his arms beneath his head. “Yeah, I know.” Warm stillness settles over them, considering.
Me, Sebastian prays. Look for me.
Finally Chris continues, but softly and without looking at Seb, staring intently off into the tree-cloaked clouds.
“It's this dumb fucking story I told myself. A person who just...understands.” Sebastian's heart sinks. He loves Chris, but he doesn't understand him at all; how he can be so affectionate and trusting and beautifully alive. “Someone kind. Someone who'll go on adventures with me. Someone who'd make me laugh.”
I could make you laugh. “‘S not dumb.” Chris’s eyes burn as he turns to Seb, the smallest smile on his mouth - more vulnerable than if he were standing naked in that clearing. It makes Sebastian's heart sing. “She'll be the luckiest woman in the world.”
A flicker of pain dances across Chris’s face, brief but profound, and Seb flinches as if to take it back, confused, but then it’s gone and Chris is saying to the sky, “Thanks for coming with me today.”
“Thank you for planning it. It’s perfect,” Seb murmurs, lying down next to him. Not too close, Sebastian.
Chris shifts, pressing their arms together. “It is.”
--
They’re not on the same flight. It sucks. Seb pulls out his phone, noodling around aimlessly, opening his messages and scrolling through. Chris’s is the conversation that’s pulled up and Seb scrolls through, smiling. His thumbs move of their own volition. He just wants to hear Chris’s voice, but this is the next best thing.
S: How’s ur flight?
C: fine so far
C: U?
S: fine.
S: I mean I’m dying but...
C: y?
S: My ass is numb.
C: Sounds like a personal problem.
Seb snorts.
S: Fuck you
C: I’m more of a top
He freezes, and the little ellipses bubble grows then disappears three times before -
C: Sorry, too much
C: ?
Seb chews his lip, unsure of how far he should take this. On the one hand, it’s going to be difficult to get through a flight without an embarrassing boner if he’s sexting Chris, even if it is a joke, another ‘friendly’ competition. On the other hand, how can he refuse?
S: If it’s too much then I probably shouldn’t mention that that’d work out just fine.
S: I mean, if you think you can keep up with the world’s bossiest bottom
Just hitting send makes his heart jump, nerves and excitement and he squirms a little.
C: Keep up? Beat your ass is more like it.
Sebastian literally groans at the double entendre and stifles it by coughing into his hand. Thankfully, no one around him seems to have noticed. The seat next to him is empty, and the guy on the aisle is asleep.
S: Sounds great
C: Really
He can’t discern the inflection. It’s frustrating and he changes the subject.
S: I’m excited for tomorrow
C: me 2, i like that interviewer with the goofy hair. nice kid
Seb frowns. He knows exactly who Chris is talking about, one of the primary reporters for a popular Youtube channel. He is extremely nice, and Seb hates that Chris remembers the guy, and even worse that he’d called him “kid.” He deals with his jealously the normal way.
S: up for a challenge?
C: ?
S: most physical contact in an interview
C: hand on knee thing
S: yeah
C: Im in
C: as long as youre ready to lose…
S: Bring it, old man
C: ouch
Seb smirks at the screen, feeling only slightly better, but then Chris adds -
C: Get some sleep, kid. I’ll see ya when we land
--
It may have been his idea, but Sebastian almost doesn’t survive. Chris is in rare form that day, flirtatious and exuberant, and Goofy Hair is just as enamored with him as Sebastian, not that Seb can blame him. He himself is profoundly flustered, what with Chris’s hands dancing just this side of fond over his knee, his shoulder, the nape of his neck. He’s so distracted he loses the bet. Chris touches him a total of eighteen times in an hour to Seb’s sixteen, and they hadn’t agreed on what the winner would get but Seb’s not worried, not until Chris comes swaggering into the green room afterward looking like a kid at Christmas.
“I seem to have beaten you.”
“Seems so.” Sebastian hides his smile in the action of zipping up his bag.
“You owe me.”
“Whatever, Evans. We never agreed on anything.”
“Oh, sore loser, huh?”
“No,” Seb protests. “Fine. What?”
“Next event, you gotta wear whatever I say.”
Seb freezes. There are a million ways Chris could make it embarrassing, weird styles or outrageous patterns, but the real problem is that just the thought of wearing what Chris tells him sends a shiver down his spine.
It takes way more energy than it should for him to add ire to his tone, but it’s necessary or he’ll give himself away. “Fine.”
Chris grins. “Fine.”
--
Black jeans, black boots, and a tee, all Seb’s, folded neatly on the bed. On the very top, a heather-grey sweater. Chris’s. Seb picks it up and presses his nose to the fabric, breathing deeply. It’s clean, but the detergent is familiar, too much so, and he grits his jaw against the ache in his chest, reminding himself It’s just a game, Seb. Quit taking everything so fucking seriously.
--
It’s strangely vulnerable, like at any moment someone might notice, but it also feels like a coat of armor, impenetrable to homophobic comments and asinine remarks. Safe.
The very best part though, is Chris’s face when he sees him on the red carpet. Smugness reads clearly (Seb’s not a sore loser, Chris is just a douchebag of a winner) but falls as his eyes sweep Sebastian’s form, top to bottom twice, and slowly. He covers his mouth with his hand, then seems to realize himself and rubs at his beard nonchalantly, but Sebastian didn’t miss the awe in his face. It makes him feel a million feet tall. He straightens his shoulders and winks, but doesn’t wait for the reaction before turning back to the crowd.
--
The next interview fucking sucks. To be fair, his and Mackie’s goes well, as always, they crack each other up on camera for thirty minutes while the poor girl tries to steer the conversation back on track. Chris, on the other hand, flirts shamelessly with the host from the moment he sits down.
Often, they’ll wait on set to keep each other company between takes, but when the camera cuts so the makeup guy can fix Chris’s hair, he turns immediately back to the host, eyes wide and sweet, and makes her giggle with some quippy, surface remark that Sebastian barely hears and still loathes.
As he sits back on his seat, he catches sight of Sebastian off to the side, and whatever he sees on Seb’s face shifts his expression instantly to worry, even going so far as to shift forward in his chair, but then the girl says something to him and Chris glances over at her to chuckle.
Seb makes sure that by the time Chris turns back, he’s long gone.
--
It’s not like Seb thought they were together or anything, so he can’t really explain why he’s ghosting Chris so fucking hard.
He doesn’t respond to any of the texts Chris sends. Not the night before -
C: DInner?
C: Seb?
C: DUde, u ok?
C: Night
C: wanna grab breakfast?
C: Goddamn it Sebastian, would you answer me?
In fact, Seb manages to avoid him all the way up until he’s leaving his room to head down to their panel. He swings the door open and almost steps on Chris’s shoe.
“Jesus! Fuck, man, you scared me.”
Chris isn’t smiling. “So you are alive.”
Seb shrugs and ducks around him, pulling the door closed behind. “Last I checked.”
He heads towards the elevator but doesn’t realize until Chris speaks again that he’s the only one moving. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Huh?” Chris is standing stock still in the middle of the hall, one hand outstretched, and upon closer inspection, Sebastian realizes Chris looks a little tired, slightly gaunt and strange looking.
“You’re ignoring me. I was...I was really worried, Sebastian.”
He can feel his heart start to thaw. “I’m fine, Chris.”
“Then why -” He looks so sincerely confused and hurt and Sebastian winces.
“I’m sorry. I just….needed to be alone.”
“You couldn’t’ve said that?” He sounds only slightly accusatory, which is well deserved, but Seb doesn’t know what to say. What he could he, without ruining everything? “Whatever it is, you know you can tell me right?”
“Yeah, Chris, I know.” I can’t, not ever. “We should get going man. We’re gonna be late.”
--
Seb’s trying to make up for ditching Chris the previous day, so he’s sprawled on the hotel bed in Chris’s room as the other man packs, but he’s flipping through his phone and has been for the past twenty minutes because Chris is straight-up ignoring him. The bad mood had started about halfway through the panel and continued into dinner, where he’d barely said a word to Seb the whole time, which was particularly irritating considering their conversation earlier.
“What’s your deal?” Sebastian finally mutters, rolling on the bed to face Chris. This one’s not bad. Springy.
“What’re you talking about?” Chris continues packing with what seems like unnecessary aggression.
“You’re grumpy. Antsy. You ok?”
“Fine.”
“Ok…” Seb doesn’t buy it for second. “But you were weird tonight.”
“Fuck off, Seb.”
He doesn’t.
“You weren’t shitty with anyone else.”
“I said fuck off.” His voice carries a warning that Sebastian does not heed.
“You were fucking chatting Robert up. Mackie - fine. You ignored me and - and Scarlett,” he finishes, realizing. “The fuck did we do?”
“You guys were so busy making heart eyes at each other, I didn’t want to interrupt,” Chris growls.
“WHAT? We were talking. You know. Because we’re friends. I’d never be able to joke with her about all that Winter Soldier marrying Black Widow shit otherwise.” Chris stiffens. “What, you don’t want her on the team? You don’t want me to make that joke?”
“Well, it is kind of overused at this point.”
Stung, Seb sits up and rolls to his feet next to the bed. “Who cares? The fans don’t know that. We all say redundant shit. That’s like, one of the main aspects of these fucking press tours, and you don’t get to dictate what I says, Mr. Flirtatious By Nature.”
“I told you, it’s not about her!” He stalks over, carrying anger and tension in a way Seb’s never seen before, heavy in his bones, strung tight in his muscles. “You’ve kissed her before, haven’t you?”
“Sure.” A few times, friendly, drunken, fun.
“She a good kisser, Sebastian?”
“Yeah...” Where the fuck is this going?
“You sure?”
“Yes, yeah, she’s great.”
Chris leans in, eyes glinting in the low light and Seb can’t bring himself to move away.
“Bet I’m better.” What?
Sebastian swallows roughly, and says in a way he hopes doesn’t sound too much like begging, “Prove it.”
A wicked grin crosses Chris’s face as he lunges, reaches around and threads strong fingers into Seb’s hair and holds tight, jerking him back just a little, forcing him to look up. He’s inches away, and his eyes rake over Sebastian’s face so thoroughly and ravenously that Seb’s knees weaken a little. For a split second the predatory leer melts into something fragile, longing or pain, but Seb doesn’t get a chance to ask because Chris finally leans in and kisses him.
Without pause he licks into Sebastian’s mouth, nips at his lips, holds him firm and steady to claim him, and it works. Seb’s knees buckle and a whimper escapes, needy and surprised. The sound spurs Chris to wrap him up in an embrace, holding them flush together, and feeling Chris harden against his hip shifts the balance - kicks him into action. He tugs Chris forward by the belt loops and fits a knee between his legs, rolling his hips forward, making Chris gasp into his mouth, and Seb grins victoriously until his head is yanked back again so Chris can latch onto his neck.
“Fuck,” he groans and much to his dismay the sound seems to pull Chris out of his head and he shifts back, but Sebastian doesn’t let go of his waistband.
He looks deliciously wrecked, mouth red and wet and pupils blown and Sebastian wants him so badly it aches all over. Chris is beautiful like this, letting go, really feeling everything. There’s awe in Chris’s gaze too, and for a whisper of a moment it seems like maybe, just once, he might get to keep this.
“Well?” Chris rasps.
“Well what?”
And then he realizes. Another bet. Prove that he’s a better kisser than Scar, just a game, a game where Sebastian never wins, just loses little pieces of himself along the way, and for once, instead of sadness, he feels rage.
He rips Chris around by the shirtfront and shoves him hard enough that he bounces twice on the surface of the bed. Pouncing, he gets the button undone, zipper down, and looks up only once, only briefly into Chris’s eyes to say, “Is this ok?”
Chris nods decisively, but his answer is breathy. “Yeah.”
Sebastian yanks Chris’s jeans and boxers down to his knees and straddles his legs. He’s gorgeous, of course, every part of him, and if Sebastian’s only going to get one shot at this, he’s going to make it count.
Chris is already hard, flushed, and Seb takes him in hand and lets spit slide from between his lips to drip down over the head, slicking down it with a hand as softly as possible. Chris hisses and falls back against the comforter, misses the way Seb takes a steadying moment, eyes fluttering closed to ground himself, keep himself whole, and then he leans in.
He kisses the head sweetly, eyes sparkling up at Chris as he groans, flicking his tongue at the slit, around the rim, just enough to tease while jacking him slowing. When Chris starts to squirm, he shifts down to suck his balls into his mouth, never looking away from Chris’s face, delighting in each hiss and whimper and slack-jawed silent scream of pleasure.
Sebastian wants to take him apart, to push Chris to the edge and take it back a hundred times. In the end, he settles for waiting until Chris is writhing, clenching and unclenching his fists desperately against the comforter before Sebastian sucks him down sloppily, working the base with his fist.
“Fuck! Seb!”, he shouts sharply and Sebastian feels the power roll across him like water, pleasure and heightened awareness - Chris on his tongue, the air in the room, his own cock aching with need and still less pressing than the mission of getting Chris off, making him come, making him his.
He does. Works Chris over, quick and rough, watching the veins stand out in Chris’s neck and the flush spread down his body until Chris locks his fingers into Seb's hair and pulls hard enough to make him whimper with acute arousal. "Seb I'm gonna –”
Seb pulls off almost all the way, teasing, hand sliding up so he can swipe his thumb through the beads of pre-come dribbling down Chris's cock, then opens his mouth and stares up, unwilling to miss a moment of what is sure to be simultaneously the most erotic and emotionally charged experience of his life.
Sebastian knows Chris grew up dancing and dabbles in drawing, so it's no surprise that with hips lifted off the bed, mindless with pleasure, Chris Evans is a work of art, though Seb doubts that even the most skilled painter could capture the energy and sensuality and sheer beauty of the man before him.
Just as Chris starts to come Sebastian swallows down again, hollowing out his cheeks and sliding his tongue along the underside of Chris's cock. Chris is silent through the orgasm itself but little, hurt breaths spill out as his muscles begin to relax and the vulnerability of it shoves Sebastian right to the edge of his own release.
It's a strange feeling watching Chris relax. On the one hand Sebastian is so hard it hurts, on the other hand he feels weirdly sated at having dissolved Chris's trademark calm. It seems as if Chris is feeling the exact opposite though, because though his breath continues slow and his cheeks are returning to their normal color, the very second Sebastian sits back on his heels Chris is flipping them, tackling him to the bed and manhandling his jeans down around his thighs.
"Wh – What… Chris, you don't have to –”
"I know." His voice sounds fucked out already. "Want to.”
"Oh," Sebastian whispers.
Seb hadn't been sure, honestly wasn't sure of until this very moment, that Chris had ever been with men before. He's not out and, unlike Sebastian, takes only straight rolls, giving nothing away. Seb watches wide-eyed as Chris licks a stripe from base to tip and then with infuriating slowness sinks down over Sebastian's cock until the head is bumping the back of his throat, and then keeps going, deep breaths and tendons standing out on his neck, swallowing until his nose brushes Sebastian's stomach and Seb feels his body go quivery all over.
"Jesus, holy shit.” Seb gasps. “You-”
He can't finish the thought, but he’d challenge anyone to be coherent at the sight of Chris Evans on his knees, red lips stretched wide and wet, long eyelashes softening the obscenity, but only barely. The heat and pressure are overwhelming, all encompassing, and Chris doesn't let up, never pulling off all the way, bobbing easily with Sebastian’s cock all the way down his throat. Seb has a flash of wonder at what it would feel like to fuck him for real, and then the thought of what it would feel like to be fucked by him, that hard length Seb can still taste filling him up, stretching him out, deconstructing speech and thought until Sebastian is left a whimpering mess on the bed.... It's on that thought that he comes with a groan so loud it startles him escaping from his chest.
It's Chris's name, searing as reality returns, settling weighty and indifferent on his shoulders. Chris's name. Chris. Seb will never be rid of him now, won't ever forget. He takes a moment to wonder what it will be like at 40, 50, 75 years old loving a friend, knowing he tastes like heaven, and feels like home, and Seb belongs to him, and still alone.
The edge of a sob creeps up behind that name but Sebastian is a professional, both acting at hiding his feelings about Chris, so instead of breaking down and weeping on a floral hotel comforter, he grins roguishly and says, "Damn, man. You got some skill.”
Chris chuckles, flopping down next to him and wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. "Thanks. Just takes practice.”
Seb glances sideways at him hoping the question will come off as innocent. "You get a lot of practice?”
Chris returns the look suspiciously. “Enough.”
“Right,” Seb says, just air.
His defense to himself had revolved around Chris’s disinterest in men, but apparently he misread that completely. Queer enough to suck cock like a pro and Seb never even knew.
“You never said. That you…”
“That I’m bi?”
“Yeah.”
“Didn’t think it mattered,” he replies shortly.
“Right.” It doesn’t. None of it matters. It’s a game, a joke, he’s a joke with a broken heart who’ll be lucky to get back to his own hotel room without dropping the pieces everywhere. “Well, this was awesome” -and he means that much - “But I should head back to my room.” He rolls off the bed and hikes up his jeans.
“Sure,” Chris says casually, and when Seb glances over he’s wiping beneath one eye with a knuckle coming away shiny and Sebastian leans in, concerned, but then Chris grins up at him, playboy extraordinaire, actor supreme, and maybe a little bit of a liar, and it hits Seb like a punch in the gut: this isn’t for him. People like Chris don’t fall in love with people like Sebastian. And that’s ok. They can still be friends.
Right?
--
Sebastian scans the ballroom frantically until his eyes settle on Mackie, slumped over a bowl of cereal.
"Sexy Seabass, you're looking crazy this morning," Anthony observes with that charming grin, and even though Sebastian's losing his mind he finds himself returning it.
"Anyone sitting here?" he grunts flopping down in the chair without waiting for an answer, and Mackie shakes his head despite the half-drunk to-go coffee right there. "All you, brother. what's up?”
Seb drops his head into his hands. "I think I fucked up.”
Makie is suspiciously silent until - "Care to elaborate?"
Like ripping off his band aid - “I blew Chris yesterday," he mumbles into his hands.
"Oh, thank Christ.”
"What the fuck?" It comes out all one word and Anthony looks amused, not appropriate at all for the dire situation at hand. "It's not funny.”
Mackie throws his hands up. "Look man, we just all been watching you two pine after each other for like three fucking years. I'm just relieved is all.”
Sebastian gazes forlornly at the white tablecloth and mumbles. "Too bad you only got half of it right.”
"The fuck you mean?" Anthony demands.
“Chris isn’t...that’s not…”
“Sebastian use your goddamn words.”
“I’ve been in love with him forever.”
“Duh.”
He grinds out the words at that half-drunk cup of coffee. “But I thought he was straight and I know he’s not interested and the only option was friends, and we were good at that, Mackie. Great, even. And I was a fucking kid pulling pigtails on the playground, always fucking around, trying to get a rise outta him and it fucking worked, and he flirted and it felt so fucking good, so right, and then I ruined everything.”
“You mean fooling around.”
“Yeah.”
“And how, again, just - just run this by me, man - how did that ruin everything?” he asks, and Sebastian is impressed and irritated by the amount of incredulousness Mackie’s managed to pack into one sentence, but the answer is simple and the words spill out, too heavy to hold.
“Because now I know. He’s my best friend,” - and it’s a testament to the seriousness of the situation that Mackie doesn’t give him shit for that - “What it’s like to kiss him. What he smells like, tastes like -”
“Easy there, killer.”
“Sorry. It’s just…now I know he’s home, and how do I go back to the way it was before? I don’t want to go back, but I can’t - I can’t lose him.”
“You won’t.”
“You can’t know that.”
“Well, too bad. I do.”
“Anthony, I’m telling you, he doesn’t want me!”
A different voice.“Are you fucking serious?” Smoother, silk, and Sebastian would know that voice a mile away in his sleep a hundred years from now. Chris.
He whips around in his chair to see Chris standing in the doorway with a lid for a coffee cup in hand, looking unreadable as always. “Shit,” Seb whispers. This is not how this was supposed to go. Mackie was supposed to impart some weirdly effective dude wisdom and patch him up and send him on his merry way to break his own heart repeatedly, indefinitely. Not this. “Sorry,” and he’s out of the chair and out the door in a breath.
From beyond the swimming in his head he hears Mackie yell, “I swear to god, Chris, if you don’t -” but he can’t make out the rest. It doesn’t matter anyway.
“Sebastian!” Chris. Not completely scared off. Not yet.
“What?” It takes Seb too long to convince himself to turn around, to look up into that stormcloud blue, gazing at that face that he’s gotten to know so well, noticing a small mark on Chris’s collarbone from the night before. At least there’s that.
He waits for the ax to drop, but strangely, it’s Chris who appears nervous, fidgeting, and Sebastian eyes him suspiciously as he swells with stress until Chris shouts - “I thought you didn’t want me!” - too loud for the proximity, and Seb grunts, “WHAT.”
“I though...shit Seb, and when you started messing around I thought maybe… but I couldn’t risk it if I was wrong, I’m just so lucky to be your fuckin’ friend, and I’m an idiot and you’re all…”
“Weird? Goofy? A complete fuckin’ dork?’
“No!” Chris looks insulted. “You’re so fuckin’ talented and gorgeous and sure of yourself -” Seb huffs, and Chris eyeballs him. “Except for you’re not sure...are you.”
“Not really.” He watches Chris sort through a library of thoughts and emotions, and Seb’s eyes widen in surprise as Chris steps into his space.
“I’ve wanted you since the moment I met you.”
“Yeah right,” Seb counters, but he knows he’s grinning.
“You were laughing, genuine and sweet and - ” He gets caught in his own words and opts to slide a fingertip down Seb’s jaw to tilt his chin up. “I’m yours,” he manages.
“Convenient,” Seb whispers. “‘Cause I’ve always been yours.”
“I’m scared.”
“Why on earth?”
“You could fuck me up pretty bad, Seb.” He looks worried and Seb understands, knows the weight of giving over a heart. His has been someone else’s property for years now.
He smiles, trying to assuage the nerves, joking, “How ‘bout I take you on a date first?” and Chris cracks a grin, but as Seb pulls their hips together he adds, “I love you, ok? I suck at everything, but I love you.”
Chris beams. “Convenient.”
--
“This means I win.”
“It does not! My pancake clearly went way higher than yours.”
“It had to land back in the pan, Chris.”
“Says who?”
“Logic.”
“Nu-uh, you don’t get to pull that -”
“Well then get the damn thing off the ceiling fan then!”
Chris is giggling so hard he’s gripping his chest and making little wheezing noises as he flips the switch for the fan. They both watch as the blades pick up speed, inching the pancake closer to the edge with each rotation, another, another...It finally flies off the fan and into the air, slapping into the tile lining the back of the stove top and, impossibly, flops back down into the pan.
“Ohhh!” Chris cheers like he’s at a football game, fists in the air, and Seb can’t be mad, it’s too ridiculous, but he’s not done yet, not by a long shot. With a running head start, he takes off across the hardwood, tackling his boyfriend over the arm of the couch and pinning him down. He gets in a few kisses before Chris says, “Pancake flipping contest was a success.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Seb gripes, then leans down, grinning wickedly. “My pick next though.”
Immediately, Chris’s eyes darken and he winds his arms around Sebastian to pull him down tighter. “It’s always something with you.”
“I’m good like that.
“You are.” He kisses Seb slow and dirty for long enough that they have to break apart to breathe. “You think you can hold out?”
“I think…” Sebastian drawls. “That by the end of this, you’ll be begging me.”
Chris gives him a sharp spank, encouragement to get up and go to the bedroom, but he pauses to grab their coffees from the counter, and catches Seb by the waist from behind to nuzzle into his neck.
Sweeter, Seb murmurs, “Hey. What’s up?”
“Nothin’,” Chris sighs happily into his shoulder. “Just so fuckin’ glad to be makin’ breakfast with you.”
Sebastian turns and wraps him up in an embrace, pressing lips to temple and breathing into the moment before he smiles against Chris’s skin and murmurs, “Race ya.”