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Blaine loves living by the beach and he knows just how much of a Hollywood cliché that is. He remembers his mother’s rant when he decided to buy this place—highly unreasonable, the first floor dining room with a wall of windows and a spiral staircase and beautiful granite countertops. When he goes out onto his deck at just the right time with a glass of wine, he can watch the sun set into the water, pink and orange hues licking away the last of day.
And at just the right time with a cup of coffee, he can relive it all over again just in reverse. Can see the pinks and oranges break through the inky black and blues, color the ocean and kiss the sand. He can breathe in, deep into his lungs, and catch the spray of salt water. Every time.
He’s never loved anything more…despite how impractical it is. It’s worth the money, it’s worth the extra security, it’s worth a monthly phone call from his mother checking up on him and giving him an earful about New York suites and apartments.
Blaine lets out a soft sigh and leans against the kitchen countertop, gazing out those floor-to-ceiling windows, watching people run into the water on the beach. He wishes he could have just one day to actually enjoy himself, this view, but he has to take the sweet with the sour. He has a job to do…and it’s what pays for him to live like this.
People make the mistake in thinking that it’s just the film he has to consider, that he just has to show up, do his best and the rest will come. It’s a lot of long, grueling hours with no sleep and a lot of stress. It’s all that, sure, but it’s a lot of stuff people don’t see either. It’s the constant meetings and rewrites and talk shows and screenings and keeping his body in pristine shape for that one shirtless scene that amounts to ten minutes when all is said and done.
Blaine loves it, that’s why it’s all worth it but…yes this is why he can afford the view, because it’s not just about having the best. It’s about peace of mind.
He sips on an after-workout smoothie, something green and distinctly tasting of grass as he walks to his bedroom to shower and change before he figures out something for dinner. He sends home his itinerary man, Kurt, every day right before five. While he knows Kurt has his best needs in mind he can get a little…
Intense is probably the word he’s looking for and yet it falls on another: aggravating.
He needs peace and quiet every so often, so from five PM until seven AM the next day he gets just that.
His feet softly pad down the stairs, the peach colored carpet hugging the balls of his feet as he towel-dries his hair. He’s managed to pull on a pair of dark grey joggers but not a t-shirt and…of course.
Of course this is when Sebastian sees him.
“Please, don’t dress on my account.” Sebastian smiles; dressed in a crisp charcoal grey suit with a perfectly pressed white shirt and maroon colored tie.
Blaine rolls his eyes and tosses the towel at him. “I suppose I won’t, seeing as how it’s my house.”
He catches the towel easily and sets it down on the counter in the kitchen. Blaine crosses to meet him, purposely not getting a shirt and knows Sebastian’s eyes are trailing down the water that’s dripping from his hair down the planes of his back.
“That part of the contract as my security? Just showing up whenever you want?”
Sebastian smiles, Blaine can feel him as he opens the fridge to look for avocado. He might do breakfast for dinner…some sort of omelette?
“We have a meeting.”
Blaine pauses, head still in the fridge. He can’t see Sebastian and his bodyguard isn’t saying he’s stupid, but he can practically feel the insult roll off his tongue. He looks over his shoulder and stands up straight, his hand pulling avocado from the shelf.
Sebastian stares at him a moment and hums. “Judging from the look on your face I’m guessing your little errand boy forgot to put it on your schedule.”
“Kurt.” Blaine corrects.
“I know what I said.” Sebastian counters, leaning his elbows against the granite countertops.
He sighs, “He doesn’t like you.” He then gives his attention back to the fridge to grab other things he’ll need: cheese, eggs, spinach, orange juice. He really wants coffee but his trainer keeps telling him he need to limit himself to two cups a day.
“Kurt,” Sebastian ticks his tongue off the roof of his mouth on the ‘T’, “Can sense you’re into me, he doesn’t like competition.”
Blaine snorts out a laugh, reaching for his frying pan. “There is no competition, I’m not into you.”
“Which is why your shirt is still off?”
They connect eyes for a moment and Blaine hates the small thrill that reaches into his stomach and squeezes, hard, when Sebastian smiles—slow like a cat catching a bird.
“I’m holding a frying pan.” He says instead.
Sebastian pulls back and smooths out his suit jacket and he can’t help the small flutter of disappointment that whatever banter they’re engaging in is over. But that’s unfortunately how Sebastian is; he comes in hard and fast and it’s over before anything really starts. The electricity they both feel is undeniable, this isn’t the first time it’s happened and it won’t be the last. Sebastian isn’t wrong when he says Kurt can sense that they’re into one another.
But what’s the point? Blaine’s busy, he’s booked beyond belief and it’s not smart to get involved with someone he’s hired. Especially someone to protect him—he can’t distract him like that. While nothing terrible has ever happened (knock on wood) Blaine does have a few stalkers that freak him out. He’s been assured by police that they have locations and restraining orders on lockdown, but, sometimes that isn’t as comforting as it should be.
End of story: Sebastian needs to concentrate…Blaine’s wellbeing depends on it.
“Probably not beneficial to injure your own security.”
Blaine sighs, “Probably.” He mumbles and sets the pan on the stove. “Pretty sure your contract doesn’t say ‘irritate me’ as safety measures either.”
Sebastian looks at the watch on his wrist and smiles, tilting his head at him. It’s almost time for the end of his shift; he doesn’t stay with him throughout the night. Blaine has a top of the line security system and a security booth with a guard, Rickson, down by the gate. Sebastian will be back at eight AM, right on the dot, ready to drive and follow him on his laundry list of things he has to do to promote his upcoming movie.
The sun is going down, slowly but surely, into the ocean and it’s making the room a suffocating gold color. It brings out the freckles on the other’s cheeks, the soft lines of his face, a warmth radiating from within.
Blaine wants to fall in it; he sits on the edge with his legs hanging over the sides. It’s like being on a swing as a child, pushing yourself to go higher and higher but never finding the courage to jump off.
But he can’t.
“One of these nights, Blaine Anderson, you’re going to invite me to stay for wine.”
Blaine licks his lips, the room suddenly hard to breathe in, the walls enclosing in on him regardless of the floor to ceiling glass panels he has a few feet away. He feels more naked than he did before, almost transparent, Sebastian seeing right through him. His fingers twitch; he wishes he had a shirt nearby like that might help.
“Well, it’s not tonight.”
And just like that, with a soft nod of his head, he’s gone—and Blaine’s luxurious, beach-front home with a view has suddenly never felt so empty.
--
CRACK!
Blaine snaps up in bed, disoriented, breathing heavy as he squints into the darkness. He reaches chaotically for his bedside clock that blares 2:30 AM into his retinas in red and he tries to calm the heartbeat in his throat. He frowns, running a hand over his face and reaches for the remote that controls his light switches.
When he hits the appropriate button, a small lamp across his room fades on and rids the room of eerie shadows from the moonlight. He sighs and leans back against the padded headboard, closing his eyes for a moment.
It must have been a nightmare or the house settling; he’s usually a heavy sleeper. Blaine pulls himself from bed and walks into his bathroom, flipping the light on and grabbing a glass from the sink. He fills it with water and takes a sip—
THUMP-THUMP-THUMP—
The sound of someone running, downstairs; the sound so sudden and startling that Blaine drops the glass into the sink. It shatters instantly, “Shit.” He hisses and rushes into his bedroom, pulling a pair of shoes on.
His fingers shakily grab onto his cellphone and he squeezes his eyes shut to take a deep, calming breath into his nose because…
Okay, wait. There…there has to be some sort of logical explanation for this. He put the alarm on before bed, he locked all the doors, checked the windows, lowered the electric blinds in the dining room. He’s safe.
Blaine turns and carefully, slowly, starts to walk out of his bedroom…listening for sounds that aren’t his heartbeat pounding on his eardrums. Sometimes when he uses the hot tub on his deck the pipes have a fit—regardless of his expensive home, he doesn’t have the best pipes for his outdoor pool and hot tub. He was in the hot tub after dinner for a few hours reading the new pages of his script…it could be what caused the thumping noise.
He white knuckles his phone in his hand and makes his way down the spiral staircase, pausing every so often to gauge his surroundings. Everything is quiet, nothing out of the ordinary; the hum of the refrigerator and the crashing of nearby waves.
Except…except when he gets to the bottom of the stairs…
The electric curtains have been raised in his dining room. Something he definitely remembers to close every night like clockwork. Before he has time to make any decisions, before he can run, or make a phone call—
His alarm goes off, blaring sirens that fill up the entire room. Blaine’s heart is hammering so hard in his chest it feels like it might burst through his ribcage, his feet cemented to his bottom step. He can’t move, he can’t breathe—
All the can do is stand there and dumbly look around, wait for someone to come out and attack him—
“Mr. Anderson!” Blaine turns quickly to see his security guard from the front gate running in his front door, gun raised with a flashlight. “Mr. Anderson, are you alright? I heard the alarm go off.”
“I…” He shakes his head, unable to form words. Rickson moves across the room and turns the lights on, his house swimming with artificial light that somehow feels safe. He doesn’t realize he’s shaking so bad until he can’t get the words to come out.
It takes him a few moments, watching Rickson walk around his place, searching for something, someone, anything. Blaine finally moves towards the front door and punches in the code for the alarm, the blaring noise finally stopping.
His ears are ringing and he swallows, getting his voice under control before he speaks. “I don’t know.”
“Your front door was open.” Rickson says, holstering his gun.
Blaine feels his stomach sink into the floor. “My door…” He trails off.
“It was open.” Rickson says. “Wide open.”
--
Blaine pulls the blanket around his shoulders tighter, a headache beginning at the base of his skull as a few police officers talk with Rickson and scan his place. He leans back into the couch in his living room, glancing over his shoulder at the large window panes that overlook the ocean. Usually the sight calms him but…not tonight. All he can imagine is those blinds up because someone wanted to scare him.
There’s commotion by the front door and when he gives his attention to it, Sebastian is walking past officers to him. He’s stunned for a moment because…Sebastian rarely looks like this; Blaine has pulled him from bed. He has a pair of jeans on and a black t-shirt—no suit, no tie, hair mussed and slept on.
He swallows thickly, his throat dry at the sight.
“What are you doing here?” He asks.
Sebastian pauses at the couch, glancing around at the police before sitting on the coffee table that’s across from him. “I get an alert every time your alarm goes off.” He tips his cellphone at him by way of explanation before pocketing the device, “You know, if you wanted to see me all you had to do was call.”
It’s a joke, it’s supposed to be a joke and Blaine knows that but he shakes his head, panic crawling up his throat— “It’s not funny. Someone was here.”
He expects those green eyes to light up with some sort of mischief, for some sort of teasing to leave his lips but…surprisingly, neither of those things happen. Instead, Sebastian gently puts his hand on his knee.
“I know.” He says gently and that’s when Blaine realizes how scared he must look: for Sebastian to show an instant of kindness instead of using it against him.
A police officer along with Rickson approach the couch and Sebastian’s hand disappears from his knee as they both stand.
“Well?” Blaine asks.
The officer glances at Rickson, which he should take as a sign that what she’s about to say isn’t good: “My men checked your entire place and the grounds, there’s nothing.”
Rickson clears his throat, “I had my eyes on the cameras all night, Mr. Anderson, nothing until I heard your alarm go off.”
Suddenly, Blaine’s skin feels like it’s crawling. He doesn’t like the way they’re talking to him…too soft, too gentle, like he’s going to break. Patronizing in a way that feels like they don’t believe him.
“What’s the point of a security system if it doesn’t detect jack shit?” He snaps, his voice a little high. He looks between the two of them but neither speak, they don’t even look at him. “Whoever was here was already in the house,” He stresses and he’s starting to shake again, he can feel it leak into his voice, “The alarm only went off because they opened the front door to leave!”
“Blaine,” Sebastian interrupts, voice calm to the point where it should be soothing but it isn’t. It just makes him feel worse. He tries to touch his arm but Blaine shrugs him off, taking his stairs two at a time to his bedroom.
--
He’s not sure how long he stands in front of his bathroom mirror, blanket off his shoulders and at his feet, staring at the glass in his sink. It’s for at least a half hour, long enough that the commotion downstairs disappears as Rickson and police leave.
And just when he thinks everyone is gone, Sebastian comes into his bathroom, very slowly which is probably a safety measure.
“Wasn’t sure if you’d throw something at me.” He says and Blaine wants to laugh, wants to say it’s probably a smart idea because he’s wound very tight and it’s been one hell of a night but nothing comes out.
Blaine sighs and starts to clean up glass out of the sink, wrapping it in a washcloth to throw it away.
“Why are you still here?”
Sebastian leans against the long counter, facing him, watching him pick up glass before taking ahold of his wrists to stop him. He cleans the rest of it up and washes the residue of any glass away by turning on the sink.
“Because you’re obviously scared.”
Blaine closes his eyes and listens to the water a moment before Sebastian turns the faucet off. “Someone was here. They waited until I was asleep and decided to scare the hell out of me.”
Sebastian picks up the blanket from off the floor and carries it into Blaine’s bedroom, the other slowly following him. “Well, whoever it was won’t be back tonight. It’s too risky and I’m going to stay with you.”
Blaine pauses, watching Sebastian fiddle with a lounge chair in the corner of his bedroom. It’s not going to be the most comfortable thing—his bodyguard is long, a tall drink of water. Is he even going to be able to sleep on that?
He has to admit that he didn’t expect this and that’s probably what he hates about Sebastian the most; he can never predict him, can’t read him like a script, he’s always guessing and usually wrong about his intentions.
“I can pay you.” He offers and that’s…that’s not what he wants to say.
Sebastian looks over his shoulder and lets out a soft laugh, “Right, sure. If you want.”
He swallows and doesn’t know what else to say, takes a seat on the edge of his bed as Sebastian pulls the blinds tightly closed after he looks out the windows.
“Tomorrow I’ll talk with the police about looking into your stalkers, see if we can locate them. Good news is, it’s probably one of the three you’ve encountered before.”
“They’ve never tried to reach me at home before,” Blaine says quietly, looking down at his hands on his lap. “On sets and trailers, that…that I can deal with but…here at home, it just feels…”
“Feels like you’ve been violated.” Sebastian fills in and he hates how that’s exactly it, the one word he was looking for.
Blaine nods softly and as tired as he is, he’s afraid to sleep. He can feel the alarm and its numbers glaring into his back: 4:00 AM, begging him to get some rest. He runs a hand over his face and yawns, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Go to sleep, I’ll be here.” Sebastian assures, moving to tug back the sheets.
Blaine stands and toes his shoes off, crawling under the covers and allowing Sebastian to tuck him in. He feels ridiculous, ashamed, and yet…Sebastian isn’t making him feel that way, it’s the byproduct of the night. If anything, he’s glad his bodyguard is here. He can’t fathom being alone in this house for a while.
“This will be over before you know it.” Sebastian tells him, “We’ll get it taken care of tomorrow; I’ll personally change your locks and redo your security code. Like I said, it’s probably a stalker the police already have in their system. With any luck, maybe it’ll be Kurt.”
The last part catches him off guard and a laugh slips from his lips, which was definitely Sebastian’s intention. He smiles back at him and winks before turning off the light.
--
Someone’s hands are on his throat.
“No,” Blaine whimpers, pushing them away, trying—“Please, stop, don’t.”
Someone’s hands are on his throat, squeezing, so tight—the air in the room slips away—
He struggles, legs thrashing, yanking on the sheets. He tries to fight the hands that are on him but he feels like he’s losing, like he’s slipping into mattress, claustrophobia licking at his nerve endings.
“Please, don’t—”
“Blaine!”
He jerks up in bed, breathing heavily, trying to push someone off of him—there’s a body and those hands are suffocating him, trying to choke him.
“Blaine stop it’s just me! It’s Sebastian, stop.” He grabs his wrists and holds them, tightly so he can’t move. It takes him a moment to register those words, to stop squirming, his eyes adjusting to the small amount of light in the room.
Sebastian’s flipped on the lamp across from him, just as before and…everything comes rushing back, his eyes falling to the clock on his bedside table. 4:30 AM…he’s only been asleep for a half-hour.
“You’re okay.” Sebastian says, voice calm and soothing, his grip loosening on the other’s wrists as he sits on the bed next to his form.
Blaine knows he shouldn’t but he’s so tired, a bone aching tired that fills up his entire chest and he can’t stop shaking. He leans up and presses himself against Sebastian’s chest, his arms wrapping around his body and squeezing.
Sebastian hesitates for a moment before his arms circle around Blaine’s back, a soft shushing noise leaving his lips as his hands work up and down his spine, pausing every so often to stroke through his messy curls.
“You’re alright, was just a nightmare.”
Blaine gets it, really he does, but it takes a while for his body to react to what his mind is telling him: you’re okay, relax, sleep, it’s okay. He takes a few shuddering breaths into his lungs, allows himself to rest against Sebastian’s chest, feel that strong heartbeat against his own, those soft words coming from his mouth brushing against his shoulder, those fingers in his hair.
Sebastian only pulls back when Blaine’s ready but he doesn’t allow him to get up— “Please can you just…”
The question hangs in the air and the taller nods his head before crawling into bed next to Blaine, lying on his side facing the other before Blaine turns the light off again. He’s still for a long time before he turns towards Sebastian, inching closer to him and Sebastian wraps an arm around him, fingers running through his hair again.
Blaine falls asleep quickly and even though it’s only for a few hours, he’s never slept better.
--
The first thing he realizes is that his alarm doesn’t go off—Blaine wakes up to the sounds of birds chirping and light filtering in through his blinds. He blinks and scrunches his nose, running a hand over his face.
That’s when he realizes the second thing: which is Sebastian in his bed.
He’s still sleeping, breathing calm and even, his hand firmly on Blaine’s hip under the covers. He hasn’t moved much since they fell asleep and…and he can trace all the freckles on his cheeks and since they’re so close he can even see a few that dust his nose. He’s unfair and ridiculously beautiful for so early in the morning.
Blaine chews on his lower lip, not sure if he should move or not. The hand on his hip is way more comforting than he thought it would be.
“It’s not polite to stare.”
Sebastian startles him, his eyes unopened as he speaks but that familiar smirk is gracing his lips.
Blaine rolls his eyes, smushing his face into his pillow so his voice is muffled, “Then don’t look like that in the morning.”
“Like what?” Sebastian prods, squeezing his hip for good measure. Blaine feels blush kiss the back of his neck, “Please, do continue.”
By sheer dumb luck, this is the moment Kurt decides to barge into his bedroom. “Sorry, Mr. Anderson but you weren’t answering your phone—”
And Blaine accidently kicks Sebastian out of bed with a loud thump as he lands on the floor.
“Oh.”
“Ow.” Sebastian hisses, sitting up and holding onto his thigh.
Blaine wants the bed to swallow him up like his nightmare but he’s not so lucky. He glances over his shoulder at Kurt and nods his head, “Morning.”
Kurt straightens his back and glances at Sebastian before crinkling his nose in what is definitely disgust. “Like I said, you weren’t answering your phone.”
“Probably a reason, errand boyo.” He winks at him, which doesn’t help.
“My name is Kurt.”
Sebastian blinks, “Why does everyone think I don’t know his name?”
Blaine sits up in bed and runs a hand through his hair, “Sorry Kurt, I know I’m running late. Last night was…”
“I don’t…need details.” Kurt cuts him off, clearly unaware of the stalker situation. “I pushed back all your meetings by an hour but you need to be downstairs and ready to go in thirty. Okay?” He clicks a few things on his iPad, not looking at Blaine for confirmation.
“Aye, Captain Sequin.”
Kurt gives Sebastian a lovely hand gesture before disappearing downstairs. Blaine sighs and puts his hands over his face as Sebastian stands.
“I can’t believe I practically got three hours sleep.”
“You going to make it through today?” Sebastian asks, tugging the blinds open. Blaine groans—and that’s all the answer he can give. The other smirks, “I’m going to go home, change, stop at the police station. I’ll be back for your second meeting.”
Blaine swallows but says nothing, not keen on being alone but…he supposes he will have Kurt with him and he can’t expect Sebastian to stay after keeping him here all night. Sebastian must sense his apprehension because he turns to look at him and waits until they lock eyes.
“I promise.”
He smiles softly before pulling the covers back, “Thank you.”
“Yeah, yeah, go get in the shower before I change my mind,” He winks, “Or worse, Kurt comes back upstairs.”
Blaine lets out a laugh before disappearing into the bathroom.
--
The day goes by relatively quick and Sebastian is back when he promises he will be; dressed in a slick black suit with a navy-blue pin-stripe tie. He follows Blaine to every interview, every fitting for suits for premieres, moves with him from set to trailer and pauses as he signs autographs for fans. His stomach flutters when his hand falls to his hip in public or his lower back, guiding him, making sure he ends up in the car at the right time or just so Blaine knows he’s there.
It makes a big difference and sharing a bed the night before has somehow eliminated some of the distance between them.
Five PM rolls around and Kurt takes his leave, Sebastian pausing as Blaine gets out a wine glass and searches his fridge for a red.
“Your trainer give you the green light?”
Blaine sighs, “Fuck my trainer for tonight. It’s been a long two days.” He mumbles, popping a cork.
Sebastian smirks, “Well, I was waiting for everything to calm down to tell you this, but police got your stalker. A ‘Bob Bradly’, remember him? He sent you the flowers last year.”
He cringes and nods, pouring a hearty glass before taking a sip.
“Police went to his apartment to check on him and he had photos of you from last night. Date and time stamped.”
“I don’t want to know what they were of,” He mumbles, looking into his wine glass as if the wine will somehow tell him.
“They were tasteful.” Sebastian says but there’s something to his voice, a…protectiveness, a controlled anger at the fact that Bradly had these photos of him. Something warm swells up in Blaine’s chest at the sound. “Regardless, it’s taken care of. Changed the locks, redid the alarm, as promised.”
“Sometimes I hate this job.” Blaine admits, leaning against the counter. He pinches the bridge of his nose before he takes another sip of wine, “I love acting, otherwise I wouldn’t do it but…the lack of privacy, the obsession of some fans…” He shakes his head.
“It’s worth it for the ones that are normal,” Sebastian shrugs his shoulder, “I see the way you are when you’re with them. Signing things, taking selfies,” He smirks. “You love it. And you love them.”
Blaine feels a smile tug at the ends of his mouth. “No, you’re right. I do love them. They mean the world to me…acting wouldn’t mean much without them.”
Sebastian’s hand tugs a curl at the base of Blaine’s ear, a playful gesture that makes his stomach swoop, “Don’t let a few bad apples spoil the bunch.”
He chuckles, “That advice is coming from you?”
Pretend offence washes over Sebastian’s features, “Not sure what you mean, I’m as good as they come.” He winks.
A soft laugh leaves his lips as Sebastian straightens his shoulders and looks at the time—he’s about to leave. It’s not that Blaine doesn’t feel safer, he does. He knows he can sleep easier tonight with everything Sebastian has done for him.
He just…he doesn’t want him to leave.
“Until tomorrow, Anderson.”
“Sebastian.” Blaine says, making him pause right before he leaves his kitchen. He reaches into the cupboard above the sink and gets another wine glass, licking his lips, “Do you want to stay? For wine?”
All Sebastian does is smile and take off his suit jacket.
--