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Charles is trying to get to his car when Sebastian finds him.
He waits to let Sebastian catch up with him after hearing the shouted greeting, bumps his shoulder against Sebastian’s to say hi back. It’s the closest he can get away with while in public, something easily explainable as friendly.
“You did the filming today too, no?” Charles asks when Sebastian doesn’t nudge back like he usually does. In fact, he’s kind of creeping Charles out with how intensely Sebastian’s staring at him.
“See, I told them,” Sebastian mutters, pressing himself closer against Charles’s side and looking at his forehead for some reason. “We are the same height.”
“We are not!” Charles objects. “They said we were not. Did you get that wrong?”
“No, I got it right,” Sebastian insists. “We are the same height. I am not sure what they did to make that wrong.”
“I am literally looking at your forehead when I stand up straight,” Charles says, doing exactly that to prove his point. Sebastian grumbles.
“I will prove this. I am taller.”
“Of course you are,” Charles says soothingly, rubbing a knuckle over the back of Sebastian’s hand. “Are you coming to the hotel with me?”
“No, I need to stay a bit longer.” Sebastian squeezes Charles’s hand in apology. “But thank you for clearing this up for me. I will see you tonight.”
He walks off again, Charles momentarily missing Sebastian’s warmth against his side before the words register.
“I am still more tall than you!” he yells after the swiftly disappearing figure.
Sebastian doesn’t seem to hear.
*
Charles is trying to rinse the dishes when he feels Sebastian appear behind him.
He’s expecting to feel arms wrap around his waist, but instead Sebastian just presses against his back, a hand stroking the top of his head briefly before disappearing again.
“I knew it,” Sebastian mumbles, finally slips his arms around Charles. “Maybe I’m even taller than you are.”
“Are you still thinking about that?” Charles asks, turning the tap off and turning around so he can wrap his arms around Sebastian too, wiping his wet hands on Sebastian’s shirt while he’s at it. Sebastian hisses at the feeling, pulls a face, and Charles leans down that tiny bit to kiss Sebastian’s nose.
Sebastian immediately starts protesting.
“This is not fair,” he splutters. “You are leaned against the counter. I support your height with my arms. Of course you are bigger now.”
“No, I am always bigger.” Charles is not going to let this go. He’s not losing this, not when he knows Sebastian is wrong.
“You keep telling yourself that,” Sebastian says, tugging a little on Charles’s waist in the familiar attempt to make him lean in for a kiss.
Charles doesn’t, this time. Sebastian rises up on his toes to still press a kiss to his lips and Charles can’t stop his grin.
“Shut up,” Sebastian grumbles, rushing out of the kitchen before Charles can say something.
*
When Charles has changed into more comfortable clothes (from Sebastian’s side of the closet, naturally), he thought he could finally sit down and relax, but before he even gets to the couch Sebastian looks at him with barely disguised glee.
“You fit in my clothes! I told you!”
“You do know you buy my size, right?” Charles gives him a look, but Sebastian is not to be intimidated into finally admitting his defeat.
“I buy the correct size!”
“Oh? Why do you always need a belt for your pants?” Charles sits down on the couch, pulls the clothes Sebastian is wearing tighter around his body, so they fit Sebastian properly for once. “And your clothes always look big on you. Because they are!”
“Just because I like being comfortable,” Sebastian pouts. “I do not know why you wear the tight clothes. And you steal mine when we’re home!”
“They smell like you,” Charles says sweetly, batting his eyelashes at him. It works exactly like he knew it would, Sebastian sighing fondly and pulling him in to cuddle.
“You are little spoon today,” he fake threatens. Charles curls up against Sebastian’s chest, grabs the remote to flip through the channels.
“Fine by me,” Charles mumbles, sighing happily when Sebastian presses a kiss on the top of his head.
*
Charles really thought they were done with this, but Sebastian doesn’t seem to have gotten the memo.
They’re lazily making out, both of them taking their time now that they have a rare day off together, and Charles is trying to get Sebastian to lie on top of him but hasn’t succeeded so far.
Until he finally does, Sebastian letting Charles nestle underneath him, arms wrapped around Sebastian’s neck to keep on kissing him.
“We are for sure the same height,” Sebastian mumbles against Charles’s lips, tries to distract him by burying his hands in Charles’s hair but it’s no use.
“Why are you so insistent,” Charles complains, turning his face so Sebastian’s lips press against his cheeks. “Why is this so important to you.”
“Because I am right and I know it,” Sebastian insists. “This is a matter of honour now.”
“Since when are you a man of honour?” Charles asks. Sebastian responds by grinding his hips down in a way that’s definitely not honourable and Charles catches himself in a moan.
He can accept Sebastian being wrong about this for now, as long as Sebastian didn’t stop kissing him like that.
It’s good enough to feel Sebastian’s feet hooked around his ankles, legs stretched out against his own.
Even if Sebastian was in denial, Charles knows.
*
The next time Sebastian brings it up, Charles is prepared.
He lets Sebastian measure them once, Sebastian putting his hand flat on the top of Charles’s head and moving it to his own, Charles not missing the fact Sebastian counts until the very top of his messy curls. Then, he takes out the measuring tape he’s been carrying around in his back pocket for the last few days.
“Why do we need that,” Sebastian whines.
“To settle this for good,” Charles says. “Stand against the wall with your back. I will measure. I can put a pencil line, if we need future proof.”
Sebastian grumbles some, but obediently stands against the wall. Charles measures him then, does it again when Sebastian won’t put his heels on the ground at first, insisting that is how he naturally stands. Eventually, Sebastian is standing properly, not slouching but not stretching either, and Charles quickly marks the top of his head (pressing the curls down onto Sebastian’s scalp).
“You want to check me measuring this?” Charles asks. Sebastian turns around quickly, peers at the place of the line.
“Yes, that seems correct,” he says. Charles reads off the measuring tape, points at the proper number to make it extra clear.
“176 centimeter. I win.”
“Now you!” Sebastian says indignantly, pushing at Charles’s shoulders to get him against the wall too. Charles actually cooperates and the entire process takes no more than thirty seconds, Sebastian slumping defeated once he realizes Charles’s line actually is a little higher.
“No fair,” he murmurs, pouting for good measure. “I was so sure.”
“This is why we need to check first,” Charles points out. “You could have known sooner.”
“But I knew,” Sebastian whines.
Just to prove his point further, Charles measures his own length.
“179 centimeter,” he reads out.
The last thing he’s expecting is Sebastian cheering behind him, clearly taking his loss well for once.
“You were not 180! I knew it!”
“Not the same length,” Charles feels the need to emphasize.
“No, but I knew it was not right!”
“It is one centimeter,” Charles protests. “I am less far away than you are, you are three wrong.”
“We were both wrong,” Sebastian concludes. “Next time I will be sure, though. Not like now.”
It’s the closest to an admittance of defeat he’s going to get.
Charles resolves to use his height to his advantage later tonight.