‘mmm–coffee.

                        Sebastian had always given Blaine his best casual moves. At first it feeling as though each of them worked, clicked, brought the boy in, and then, after meeting Hummel, it feeling as though no matter what he did, Blaine wouldn’t look at him. He’d given up by now, but they still came naturally. Like the way their bodies brushed softly when he passed by the other, or how his fingers lingered as he let go of his hand. And even as he stretched out, inadvertently showing off, to what he thought were just the walls, but that actually caught Blaine’s eyes behind his back.  And you both think the other is just looking at the ground. It felt weird, clearly, having Blaine follow him inside his house, to his kitchen, to make them breakfast. Almost too familiar, to not really hurt, and yet it felt more peaceful and right than he thought it’d be. It was as though something had HAPPENED the previous night that had shifted things. Something had somehow fixed their step back into the harmonious dance they’d done on that first dance. Where Blaine would lean when he leaned, and breathe when he spoke, and speak as his blood rushed in his lungs. He’d thought for sure that was lost. That even though they still head the easy of people that knew each other well, that that particular feeling had been drained away and yet here they were. It itched his mind with something, some inkling of what he couldn’t quite understand. Those thoughts danced through his mind but they didn’t stick. Not quite yet. It was still floating in the heavy tiredness of his hangover, something a lot more concrete and pressing at the moment. Sebastian grumbled when Blaine teased him, but there was still a shade of a smile on his lips. “That, yeah. Coffee is a matter of survival, killer.” He gave Blaine a curious glance at his sudden rambling, but didn’t think it over too much. As they walked in, he went for the cabinets and opened one, throwing a coffee bag on the kitchen counter, and then picking up some mugs. “Machine’s over there.” He nodded towards it. There was a gourmet as well, but he doubted they were in any shape to appreciate it. Good old black Italian roast would have to do. After he was done setting the mugs and sugar, he grabbed something from the fridge and hopped on the island counter, watching Blaine from under his eyelids. “Pretty much all I know. I’m fairly sure those eggs in the fridge are fresh, but no idea about the pan.” He had a housekeeper that came twice a week, and when she did, she’d make him breakfast, the rare days he didn’t have to pass by a cafe or starbucks. “Jackpot.” He murmured as he opened the white box, grabbing an eclair from it and giving a large bite before offering the box towards Blaine. “The real kitchen treasure of the house of Smythe.” He pointed out.

Blaine settled for staring at the coffee bag tossed on the counter while he rubbed the back of his neck.  Just how much did Sebastian drink last night before the three a.m. call for a ride? Apparently by their conversation?  The answer was–a lot.  He had to wonder why Sebastian decided swallowing down that much alcohol alone was a great idea.  Was he just a call after the other’s hopes for finding someone for the night were given up?  Then again–if Sebastian wanted to find someone?  Sebastian always found someone.  He knew that much about Sebastian.  Being beautiful and reckless was always the perfect combination to filling his bed with company for a night if he needed it. A wish that he could be the same often ran through his thoughts while staring at a dark ceiling watching the night turn to morning when the quiet he was deafening and cold.  Having someone there to make the bed warm and him exhausted enough to sleep would be much better than silence or a radio playing softly until he dozed off. Not that he hasn’t tried.  There were a few horrid attempts at one night stands in the beginning that ended up with him feeling worse for going through with them than the temporary company they provided.  Some people were wired one way, while others different.  Not that one was better than the other.  Sebastian’s way of life was his way of life and other than the heavy drinking that Blaine was gathering up the nerve to question him about was fine if it made the person happy.  Just..for Sebastian?  Blaine had to wonder how happy he was if he chased the bottom of one glass after another.  Maybe they weren’t wired so different.  And that was deeply stomach twisting to consider.   Oh.  Coffee.  Blaine hurried over to the machine, filled the canister with water and–by luck–found a package of filters in the cabinet above the machine and a scoop inside the bag.  Water gurgled, steam puffed and coffee was on it’s way.  He perked up in spite of his train of thought.  Hazel eyes brightly dancing across Sebastian’s sleepy face as he peeked at the box and felt his belly growl.  Inching close–he leaned in and gently plucked up one of the eclairs.  A moan slipped out at the first taste.  Oh now that was delicious.  Lashes fluttered and he swooned–catching himself with his free hand against Sebastian’s bent knee. “You know? Those should be illegal.  Can we skip the eggs and eat that whole box?  I swear I could,” the tip of his tongue slid over his bottom lip before he smiled. “After coffee–I have a question for you.  If you don’t mind?”  Maybe sinful chocolate and caffeine could fuel the nerve to approach the subject of the state Sebastian was in when he found him last night?  No ‘out’ now.  It had to.