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Sebastian is on his fourth drink at this point. This isn’t stretching it, his tolerance has room for much more than this, but he’s definitely feeling something at this point. It’s nice, feeling something.
“Detective,” the bartender motions to him, “Another? Or do you have to head out?”
He’s a nice guy. Well over six feet, lean, clean-shaven, kind of looks a bit like Joseph. They’re well acquainted at this point, but Sebastian hasn’t bothered to learn the man’s name. Maybe he’s told him, maybe he hasn’t, Sebastian doesn’t care. In his mind, he would much rather continue to speak to this man and refer to him as ‘Not-Jo’.
That’s the thing. He’s not Joseph. He never will be. Sebastian knows the kid is interested in him, has been since he walked through the door of the bar, called ‘Rick’s’ or ‘Ricky’s’ or something he couldn’t bother to remember, for the first time a couple weeks ago (Joseph had figured out his regular haunt, it seemed time for a change), and Seb still hadn’t decided whether he wanted anything to happen. ‘Not-Jo’ was too tall, too tan, too… not Joseph, despite their similarities. It wouldn’t be quite what he needed, but maybe he could settle these feelings once and for all. Sleep with him, decide that it wasn’t anything like he had imagined, shut this whole thing down.
But then there was that thought. That single notion that maybe, just maybe, it would be that good, and he’d be calling out ‘Joseph’ instead of Brad, or Matt, or Charles, or whatever this guy’s name was. Then what would he do?
He would nod, accept the whiskey, and turn away from where ‘Not Jo’ was wiping down the bar. Dark brown eyes bore into the back of his jacket, having shed his trench coat, taking in the tense muscles of his shoulders and neck that training had granted him. Sebastian let him look. Sebastian did not pretend it was Joseph.
He didn’t ever pretend.
That was a lie, actually. Sebastian pretended a lot. He pretended he wasn’t upset when the glint of his ring caught the sun, he pretended he wasn’t in love with his much younger partner, and he pretended like he wasn’t hurting as much as he was.
He sipped his whisky, thinking about all the times he told his underlings to stop pretending. “This isn’t a fairytale,” he’d spout, “Be ready for everything and anything. Life is gonna throw some shit at you, you gotta be prepared to deal with that.”
‘Deal with it’ in Sebastian’s books meant ‘Do not deal with it in any way, shape, or form’.
So that night he had stared down at his ring, pulled it off, set it on the dashboard in front of him. He had a tan line on his finger, blatant against his eternally sun-kissed skin, but he still felt different. The tan line would have to suffice as something for now, but he knew this wasn’t him letting go forever. He took his ring and threw it in the glove compartment.
‘Not-Joseph’ must have noticed, because the way he was sticking around Sebastian a little too much today was obvious. Either he saw the ring was gone, or Sebastian’s sullen face and seemingly endless drinking was giving off that signal.
“Rough day?” Not-Joseph spoke, his voice an octave too high.
“You could say,” the older man replied over his glass, “Seems it always is in this city.”
The bartender chuckles a bit, turning to dry a glass. It’s past last call at this point, and many of the patrons have filed out, but he is still busy cleaning up. Sebastian knows he can brood a bit longer, nobody will complain.
Not-Joseph suddenly turns around, hands catching the ledge of the bar and leaning back on it. He stares right at Sebastian, catches his eye, eyebrow cocked and lip worried between his teeth like he has something to say but he is unsure of the response it’ll get.
“Say, detective,” he begins, “You’re becoming a regular, I assume, so can I get the scoop?”
Sebastian doesn’t really like where this is going, but he’ll play along. “Sure, kid, what you wanna know?”
Not-Joseph’s eye twitches a bit, and he bites down on his lip again. He doesn’t like that Sebastian called him a kid, and he wants to somehow prove he doesn’t deserve the title. Sebastian has seen this a thousand times.
“You know I wanted to be a detective when I was younger, I’m really good at reading people, maybe I can tell you?”
His voice is playful, but there’s an air of mischief to it. He wants to challenge Sebastian. This annoys him, but it also gives him an excuse to make a decision about what he wants from the kid, so he will give him credit. The older man nods, setting down his drink and leaning his head on one hand to get a good look at the bartender.
“You’re new to town,” he looks confident, “You’re too tan to be from here, and your accent is too… East Coast.”
Strike one for Not-Joseph. Nobody ever assumes that maybe he has a bit of Castillian heritage, despite his last name and complexion. This kid is as ignorant as they come, but this might come to his advantage.
He looks hopefully at Seb. “What?” asks the Krimson City native, “You think I’m givin’ anything away? Keep talkin’.”
With a deep inhale, he continues. “You’re recently divorced, requested a transfer because you couldn’t bare the thought of being around your… spouse anymore.” Not-Jo is careful with the wording. He thinks Sebastian is gay. He doesn’t know whether he just gives off that vibe or not, a lot of people have assumed so over the years. Sebastian thinks he’s pretty butch.
“Yeah, pretty bang on,” Sebastian drawls with a slight smirk, “Still findin’ my way around.”
The kid looks like he wants to shoot a fist in the air, celebrate or something, but he keeps himself contained because that would be childish. He hops up from the counter, continuing his drying job with a bit more gusto than before. As Sebastian looks around he sees less patrons than before.
“Maybe I can show you sometime?” the kid is relentless, “I’m a pretty good tour guide.”
Sebastian stares down at the bottom of his glass, still damp with a bit of diluted, room-temperature whiskey. He finishes it, doesn’t taste it one bit, and that’s his first sign that the night is actually coming to a close, and he should buck up or shut up right about now.
“I think the best way of seein’ the city is patrol, but there’s not much to see.”
’That’s how I showed my partner the sights when he first moved here,’ goes unsaid.
“Just the bad parts,” Not-Joseph leans on the counter in front of him, pouring yet another finger of whiskey into his glass, “I assure you there’s more to Krimson than you think.”
He finishes it with a wink. The kid is handsome, by college standards.
“Listen-“
Seb pauses to think about what he’s going to say, how he’ll respond, but the kid must take that as him trying to remember his name because he utters out a –
“Joshua.”
’Oh fuck me,’ Sebastian internally groans, ‘Just fan-fucking-tastic. As if this couldn’t get any worse.’
“Listen,” he doesn’t use his name, “I’m not in college, I’m not about to have a one night-“
“Who says this is a one night thing?” he huffs, “You’re not interested?”
“I-“ Sebastian stammers a bit, “I-I am, I’m just warning you, I’m not as young as I-“
“This isn’t my first rodeo,” the kid grumbles, “I’m twenty-nine.”
Okay, so he is older than Sebastian thought. Still, that’s way too young. Lily had been an idea then, not even a clear or reasonable one. This kid probably doesn’t even have any idea what he’s doing with his life, and frankly Sebastian is sad to say he relates.
The older man sighs, “You just closing up?”
Something sparks behind the kid’s eyes and he nods a little too fast.
“I’m gonna go have a smoke,” he slips on his coat and downs his class, “Let me know when you’re ready to go.”
He doesn’t even bother going home the next day. It’s too early, he’s not hungover completely but he would have been just about there with one more drink. The kid is fast asleep beside him. During the night he tried to move over a few times, shift closer, wrap an arm around Sebastian and sleep on his chest, but the closest Sebastian let him get was a head on the same pillow and an arm across his stomach.
The detective shoots a look at the clock, gently lifts the kid’s arm off him, which earns him an incoherent grumble. He throws his clothes on and hastily exits the building without as much as a look at the doorman. It’s early enough that he can go to the station and probably not see anybody, have a shower, slip on the extra dress shirt he has just in case somebody decides to spit or bleed on him during an arrest, but his crinkled pants will have to stay. That’s alright, nobody will notice, they’re used to his drinking habits.
He sits at his desk and adjusts his tie. It’s wrinkled from where Not-Joseph grabbed it when Sebastian had slammed him against his off-white front door. He refuses to call him Joshua. That’s too personal. He’ll never see the man again, so he is still Not-Jo. Sebastian didn’t pretend he was Joseph, he’s also not going to pretend he wasn’t wishing it was.
His head shoots up when the door opens wide, and his partner steps inside. His appearance obviously startles Joseph, who nearly drops the coffees he’s holding.
“Oh – Hey, Seb, you’re here… early?”
“What’s with the accusatory tone?” Seb takes the coffee he’s handed, “Can’t a guy get a head start on his work?” He takes a big sip. Joseph knows exactly how he likes it, there will be no surprises in his cup today. It’s not like Juli, who has never once got his order of plain black Americano with nothing special correctly, despite it being so mind-numbingly simple.
Jo shrugs, “I guess, but it’s just not like you.” The younger man settles at his desk, shuffling a few papers around, “I’m glad to see you feeling better, I guess.”
But the words are hollow, and Seb’s gut sinks because god, Jo knows he didn’t go home last night and is probably piecing things together right now. Sebastian isn’t even looking up, but he can feel Joseph’s deep brown eyes searing into him, over his greasy hair, and damp shirt collar, and wrinkled tie, and he just knows. There’s an air of awkwardness in the air, and there is something else, but he can’t quite put his finger on it. When he finally manages to rip his eyes from his computer screen, Joseph’s got a sour look on his face, and he is shaking his head and mumbling to himself quietly.
“I was thinking,” Seb looks up at the sound of his partner’s voice, “We have that follow-up with Mrs. Harding today, we should go out after. I feel like I haven’t gotten you to myself in a minute.” There’s a hopeful look on his face, and he’s pushing his glasses up his nose with his thumb and index finger like he does when he’s thinking or anxious. He knows Sebastian has forgiven him about the report, but he is still sometimes weary about asking for Sebastian’s time.
There are three times in Joseph’s short life: Toronto, before Myra, and after Myra. Sebastian supposes these are the same for him.
A small, sad excuse for a smile slips onto his face. “Sure, Joseph, sounds good.”
Joseph smiles too, and he nods, then he nods again, and turns back to his work. Eventually it fades as his mind is enveloped in paperwork. Sebastian commends him there. Joseph flies through paperwork like it’s a race, Sebastian is a minimalist that way.
Their follow-up goes great. Mrs. Harding’s information lines up perfectly, she doesn’t cry when they tell her about what they suspect of her daughter, she just says that’s nothing new, and she’ll assist in any way. She tries to offer them cookies; Joseph stammers, politely declining, then while he’s turned his head Sebastian is slipping one off the plate and shoving it into his mouth with a goofy grin.
Sebastian decides that a bar is probably not the most appropriate place for them to hang out… considering their past. Eventually they both decide to go to the diner they first went to when Joseph first moved to Krimson City. It’s kind of dingy, the artificial lights are harsh and flickering above them, but it’s familiar and the food is good, so they’ll put up with it.
They’re wordless as they slip into the cracked red leather booth. Joseph picks up a menu and begins glossing over it but Sebastian knows what he wants, knows that his regular extra large fries and chocolate milkshake will do.
“So,” starts Joseph, which makes Sebastian startle from his thoughts. His menu is covering half his face, but his glasses are just visible over the edge and he is not looking at Sebastian, which isn’t a good sign. It’s almost comical, but he can’t laugh.
“Who was she?”
He almost has no idea who he’s referring to, but it’s more like he wishes he didn’t. “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sebastian grumbles, but he basically whispers it so obviously he does.
Joseph lets the menu drop to the table with a loud, resounding smack. He looks unimpressed, so unimpressed, with his lips tight in a thin line and his arms folded.
“You meet her at a bar or something? D-Do I know her, or is there a reason I can’t know who she is?”
“Jojo,” he choses the nickname he uses when he wants something, “There’s no girl, really.”
But Joseph isn’t having it. Sebastian will not get mad at him for pushing, he knows this, but he will eventually get frustrated and give in. “Cut the bullshit,” he spits through gritted teeth, “I’ve had enough of this ‘I don’t give a fuck anymore’ attitude. Your self-destructive tendencies are getting out of hand.”
Sebastian is a bit startled; he didn’t expect Joseph to start cursing this early in the conversation. He must be fuming.
“She – I – Fuck, Joseph…” he leans back, groans, and buries his face in his hands. “I was not prepared to have this conversation today…”
“Well you better get prepared pretty quick here, because I’m more than ready.”
Oh no. The glasses are off, and his gloves, and he’s leaning forward. This is full ‘Good Cop/Bad Cop’ Joseph, and right now he’s playing both characters.
He snaps out of the façade as the waitress comes by, writing down their orders and disappearing out of the room. The distraction is welcomed by Seb, but short-lived. When he turns back to Joseph he is back in interrogation mode.
“I know you’re mad-“
“I’m not!” Joseph all but yells, “Sebastian, I’m not mad! Ugh-“ he growls, “I’m not mad, I’m scared! I’m scared for you, your future, your job, why do you-“ he pauses abruptly and whispers in a much quieter tone, “Why do you think I filed the report?”
Sebastian does that thing with his sleeves, pinches the button between his fingers and pulls it a little further up his elbow even though it won’t budge. When Joseph gets upset a bit of his natural inflection slips through, and right now he’s elongating his o’s and raising his voice a bit more, and Sebastian knows he is all out of sorts right now.
“You’re my best friend,” Joseph says, sounding hurt. “If anything happens to you, that’s on me.”
As he finishes, the waitress comes by with their food and drops it on the table in front of them. This time he doesn’t give her a nod or a smile, he just lets her walk away.
“It was… a bartender,” Joseph grimaces, “I wasn’t plastered or anything, things just kinda… happened.”
“Thank you,” his partners features have soften, “Thank you, Sebastian. I saw you took off your ring,” he motions to its spot on his hand, “I hope you know nobody’s asking you to move on, you’re not obligated to, you just need to do things on your own time, and we’ll help you get there.”
Sebastian’s hand flexes instinctively, and he pulls it off the table, but Joseph reaches over and grabs it.
“Look at me,” his grip tightens, “Stop hiding from me, please.”
Sebastian’s stoic gaze falters and he feels tears threatening his eyes, so he closes them, inhales deeply, and stretches his shoulders out.
“I’m sorry, Jo, I really am.”
And he’s sincere, completely sincere, and he slips his hand from Joseph’s and grips a fry in his fingers, dipping it into his milkshake. The mood is shaken when he pops the fries into his mouth and Joseph lets out a noise of disgust.
“You’re gross.”
“Yeah, well, at least some things never change.”
They eat their food. Sebastian is glad they’re both not into rambling, the companionable silence is good, and the mundane bickering is even better. He feels good right now, better than he has in a long time.
He feels so good that he forgets the taste of Joshua’s skin, and mouth. He forgets the way his voice sounded, or how his eyes were too big to be Joseph’s, as were his hands, and his shoulders, and his waist. Sebastian forgets how his hair wasn’t quite as soft, didn’t have as much product, or how he had piercings in one ear and not the other. Seb forgets the way his teeth felt as they sunk into the muscles of Not-Joseph’s shoulder when he knew he would be huffing out a whisper that would definitely not be Myra or Joshua.
By the end of the night, he can’t even remember Joshua’s name, because him and Jo are laughing and snickering to each other as they leave the diner for the first time in months because of an old inside joke that had slipped Sebastian’s mind. It’s asinine and foolish, but Sebastian has been so serious for so long.
The laugh in the ride back to Jo’s apartment, which is in the complete opposite direction of Sebastian’s, but it’s alright. They’ve decided that rather than drive all the way to Sebastian’s apartment and back, they’ll just stay at Jo’s. It’s close, and they’re tired, and it’s been a good night.
Sebastian gets himself situated on Joseph’s couch, as he has down many times before, but Joseph stops him abruptly.
“You… you know you don’t have to. My bed’s a queen.”
Sebastian must pause for a little too long.
“I-I mean if you want, it’s not-“
“Sure, Jo,” he internally curses himself for letting his heart speak for his brain, “Lead the way.”
His brain is on autopilot as he strips off his loosened tie, his shirt, his pants. Joseph hands him a pair of sweats that are no doubt baggy on him, but they just barely fit Sebastian enough to be comfortable. Sebastian has never seen Joseph in sweatpants, since he is always first to fall asleep and last to wake up. Although he’s tempted, he does not make a comment about this. All he will get in retaliation is a comment about how old he’s getting.
He slips under the covers, and suddenly him and Joseph are face to face. He doesn’t know how many countless times he has slept at Joseph’s house, but never has he slept in Joseph’s bed with him. To be quite honest, he doesn’t remember many of the times, he just knows they happened, so maybe he has. These thoughts bring him no comfort, and they do not prepare him for this sobering encounter.
God, it’s actually Joseph. His hair isn’t as neat, and he isn’t wearing his work uniform, but that’s sure as hell Joseph. His eyes are the perfect shade, and he’s perfectly slim, and his skin is just as pale as it’s always been even when it’s summer and they spend the day at the beach, although it’s been a while since they’ve been to the beach. The last time was when Lily was alive, so he would rather not think about it.
It’s his Joseph.
He doesn’t think as he leans down, putting a hand on Joseph’s face and pulling him in so their lips meet. Tries not to think about how soft Joseph’s lips are, or his clean-shaven face, or how his long, dark eyelashes flutter against his cheek because if he thinks too hard he might come to regret this and he can’t afford to.
His brain starts up when he realizes Joseph isn’t responding.
“Joseph…” he whispers, “I am so, so sorry, I didn’t-“
Joseph is just staring up at him. His face is blank, unreadable, and Sebastian starts to panic because that’s not necessarily awful, but it’s not good either.
“Jo,” Seb tries again, “Please, I love you, I can’t do this anymore.” A tear drips down his cheek and he sputters out a breath, “I’m so fucking alone right now, I can’t-“
Just then his partner reaches up, kisses him with fervour but it’s soft and now Sebastian is just confused because none of this makes any sense.
“Tell me this isn’t because Myra’s gone.”
“It’s not,” he reassures the man, “B-Before Myra, even.”
“Tell me this isn’t because you’re alone.”
“Joseph, I swear-“
“Tell me I’m not a rebound. Swear on everything that’s happened, and tell me that you love me and it’s not because you have nothing else.”
Sebastian practically growls, lifting himself up and over Joseph’s lithe form. The older detective seals their mouths together again, knocking teeth and it hurts, but at least Sebastian is feeling something, and god it feels nice to feel something.
They don’t go further than that tonight. They hold each other, tears are shed, but nothing else happens. The next day they go to work, spirits are high, or higher than usual, and Juli doesn’t comment about it when she walks in on them a little too close in the break room.
A week after, they go to Ricky’s, but they don’t sit at the bar. They sit at a table, on the far side of the bar, and Sebastian is wearing his ring again because it’s grounding and feels comfortable and familiar on his finger, and he knows that Joseph understands and won’t pressure him to take it off.
Not-Joseph watches. Sebastian can feel him, but he doesn’t care. He sees him absent-mindedly touch Joseph, laugh with his whole body. He sees Sebastian sip his whiskey to taste it, he’s not chasing anything, he’s just enjoying himself and his company. When Sebastian goes to the bar to grab him and Joseph another drink from the busy bar, he knows Not-Joseph is watching as he deliberately takes the drinks from the female bartender with his ring finger on his right hand showing.
Of course he isn’t at a hundred percent, but he is doing well. Joseph can sense it too, and there’s this relaxed air about them, and there is no strain despite not labeling or talking about whatever it is they have going on right now. It’s comfortable, and that’s what matters.
Christ, it’s so nice to feel something.