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“I hate you,” Ominis informed Garreth. He shivered, hugging himself and rubbing his upper arms to coax some warmth into them.
“Oh come on, you know nothing fun would ever happen in your life without me.” Garreth sounded far too cheerful for someone who had decided that 04:26 was the perfect time to attempt homemade jaffa cakes, cranked the oven up fifty degrees hotter than the recipe advised “so they’d cook quicker”—“that’s not how baking works, Garreth”—which had promptly set off the fire alarm and now resulted in the entire block evacuating in dressing gowns, sleepy and irritable.
Except for Ominis, who was sleepy, irritable, and without a dressing gown.
He had only just arrived to stay a few days, to see Garreth’s new flat. They were meant to shop, gossip, and generally catch up. He’d been sleeping on the pull-out sofa, and normally he wore pajamas, but something was wrong with Garreth’s thermostat and his flat was about as warm as the convection oven at the local bakery. So Ominis had opted to sleep in just his pants, thinking, what’s the worst that could happen?
This was the worst that could happen: Ominis, trembling and chattering his teeth in nothing but underwear, surrounded by roughly fifty other people gathered in the tiny courtyard of Garreth’s building. People who had apparently been sensible enough to throw on a dressing gown or jacket before stepping outside barefoot in the middle of the night, while the firefighters checked the building.
“Without you, my body temperature wouldn't be at a medically concerning level,” Ominis said coldly. Or maybe it was just his body that was cold. He wasn’t sure anymore.
Garreth cleared his throat. “I suppose now isn’t the right time to point out that you chose to sleep in the pants I got you as a gag gift two years ago?”
Ominis froze. He knew exactly which pants Garreth meant: the tight, black pants littered with tiny, tiny cutouts of Garreth’s face. On his right buttock, there was a single larger picture of his friend doing a double-chin. He'd brought them mostly to mess with Garreth, not because he actually wore them on a daily basis.
And now he was apparently standing stark naked in a courtyard, barring this obscene scrap of fabric barely clinging on to cover his dignity.
“I’m taking the first train home after this,” Ominis muttered. Garreth made a wounded noise.
“You haven’t even tasted my jaffa cakes!”
“I doubt there’s much left of them to taste, judging by the smell of smoke.”
Instead of snapping back, Garreth suddenly straightened up. He leaned forward and whispered, urgent:
“Snack alert. The fit bloke from the flat below just showed up.”
Ominis straightened before he could stop himself. He’d heard a little about the neighbour below Garreth. Apparently he was the whole package: messy brown hair, sharp jawline, freckles everywhere, tall and muscular. Garreth had clocked him on moving day and practically detonated Ominis’ phone with messages like “WARNING: FIT MAN” and “I MIGHT BE GAY AFTER ALL”.
“And he’s wearing a dressing gown, but he hasn’t even bothered to tie it,” Garreth narrated dramatically in Ominis’ ear. “He’s just leaning against the wall with it hanging open, showing off abs and tight pants like he’s modelling for a Calvin Klein advert. You can basically see his whole package.”
“Thank you for the audio description,” Ominis said dryly, “but the only bollocks I care about right now are my own, because they’re about to freeze off.”
“Don’t be so negative — Ominis! He’s looking over here!”
“What?” Ominis tensed. He was used to people staring, especially now, half-naked in his ridiculous pants, but still… knowing someone as attractive as Garreth’s neighbour was seeing him like this made him self-conscious.
“Hide me!” he hissed, attempting to shuffle behind Garreth, which was fairly pointless because 1) Ominis was blind and had no idea where the neighbour actually was, so there was no guarantee Garreth was shielding him, and 2) Garreth, traitor that he was, immediately stepped aside.
“He’s checking you out, Ominis!” Garreth sounded delighted. “He just looked you up like a lion sizing up its prey. Or its lioness. His eyes definitely dragged over your arse.”
“Stop!” Brilliant, now Ominis’ face was as red as a Christmas bauble as well. “Garreth, I swear, I will kill you. Behave normally. I know that’s difficult for you, but try.”
Garreth did not behave normally.
“Ominis, I’m not joking. He’s definitely ogling your arse. He just licked his lips. He’s — he’s coming over.”
“What?” Ominis squeaked. “Garreth, go. We need to go.” He tugged at his friend’s arm, but Garreth didn’t budge an inch. Footsteps approached. Ominis considered bolting on his own, but his chances weren’t great; he’d left his cane inside Garreth’s flat and wasn’t familiar enough with the area to navigate solo. There was nowhere to run.
“Hey there.” The voice that greeted them was warm and low, slightly husky. Ominis, sensitive to voices by necessity, felt goosebumps rise on his arms. And not from the cold, this time.
“H-hello,” he managed, clearing his throat.
“Evening, mate,” Garreth replied cheerfully.
“Nice pants,” the voice continued, and somehow Ominis felt his cheeks grow even hotter. “Limited edition?”
“I… yes,” he managed at last. “I must’ve packed the wrong ones… I don’t actually live here. I just… I forgot to grab a dressing gown when we evacuated. The building.” Merlin, what had happened to his ability to speak?
The man laughed, warm and amused. “Easy mistake. But that explains why I haven’t seen you before. I would’ve remembered someone like you.”
Ominis’ face was on fire. His whole body, frankly. It was a weird feeling, since his body otherwise felt like it was also minutes away from hypothermia. All he could muster was a pathetic “Oh.” He didn’t need his sight to know Garreth was probably vibrating with delight beside him.
“I mean,” the man went on, “aside from the criminal jawline and the aristocratic-snob aura you’re radiating, I’d definitely have remembered someone wearing pants like those. Though personally, I think they’d look even better on my floor.”
Ominis almost choked. He wasn’t new to dating, but he’d never encountered someone quite so… brazen. And at quarter to five in the morning, no less, while wearing underwear with his best friend’s face printed on them.
“I… yes. Garreth here got them for me,” he said weakly, gesturing vaguely towards Garreth, at a total loss for anything better to say.
“Oh!” The man seemed to step back. “Sorry. I didn’t realise you two were…”
“No!” both Ominis and Garreth blurted at once.
“We’re not—” Ominis began, the same moment Garreth said:
“Absolutely not. There may have been a time when I’d have given it a go, but now Ominis remains solely my loyal, best friend who tolerates my terrible baking in the middle of the night.”
“I see.” The man sounded relieved, and gave a small laugh. “Good to know. So what does it take for me to be the next person on your pants, Ominis? Or perhaps in them?”
Garreth audibly choked, while Ominis’ mouth fell open. For Garreth to be struck speechless was proof enough of just how bold this stranger was; very few pick-up lines or obscene innuendos ever robbed Garreth of breath. Before Ominis could think of a reply, the man continued.
“I also realise this may undermine my previous intentions, but you look freezing. Here.” Something soft and warm settled over Ominis’ shoulders before he could protest, and he relaxed despite himself. The dressing gown smelled good, mostly shampoo and shower gel, with the faintest hint of masculine aftershave. Ominis resisted the urge to bury his nose in the collar like a madman.
While Garreth coughed violently, Ominis tried to salvage what remained of his dignity.
“You can start by telling me your name,” he said, tilting his chin up to give the illusion of haughtiness while he was falling apart inside. “I don’t sleep with anyone whose name I don’t know.”
“Of course. Terribly rude of me, actually. I’m Sebastian. I live in the flat below your friend. Frankly, it’s a wonder I haven’t died yet from all his cooking experiments that end in health hazards or evacuation. Or both.”
“Oi,” Garreth complained, “it wasn’t my fault that pot didn’t work on my type of hob!”
Ominis paused, then slowly turned towards his friend.
“Are you telling me this isn’t the first time you’ve forced your building to evacuate because you’re trying to be Gordon Ramsay in the kitchen?”
“It’s actually the third since he moved in,” Sebastian said brightly. “But it’s the first time he’s managed to save one of his snacks and bring it out with him.”
It took a few seconds before Ominis realised Sebastian meant him, and he wondered if it was possible to implode from equal parts mortification and attraction.
“You’re dangerous,” Ominis said at last, though he couldn’t hide the flattered, flustered smile tugging at his lips. “Has anyone ever told you your charm is a menace to society?”
Sebastian sounded perfectly casual as he replied, “A few times. But nothing worse than your friend’s culinary skills. Might not be safe letting you sleep there tonight; maybe you should sleep at mine.”
“I…” Ominis stammered. In the background, he heard firefighters emerge again, calling out that the building was safe to re-enter and that everyone could return to their flats. “I’m actually here to see my friend — we were going to shop…”
“Nonsense,” Garreth cut in quickly. “You’re here for a week. We can shop another day. I’ll probably need to tidy the kitchen anyway, and it’s hardly good to sleep in the lounge if there’s still smoke lingering in the air.”
Ominis grasped desperately for excuses. He didn’t know why — he liked Sebastian, liked his bold charm and cheeky humour — but it felt absolutely mad to say yes.
“I left my cane in your flat, Garreth…”
“I can fetch it for you and bring it down.”
Ominis attempted to glare in his friend’s direction.
“I don’t have any spare clothes.”
“You won’t need any clothes if you’re staying at mine,” Sebastian offered helpfully.
“I literally live one floor up. You can pop up and grab clothes tomorrow,” said Garreth. “Speaking of where I live… I think the firefighters have realised it was my oven that smoked. I should probably stay and talk to them.”
He hesitated, then muttered, “Bugger. It’s the same woman from last time. She absolutely recognises me. Ominis, this’ll take a while. Off you trot, we’ll catch up tomorrow.”
Rapid footsteps faded, suggesting Garreth had happily abandoned Ominis to his fate. So much for six years of friendship; he’d been left behind like a lamb for sacrifice, a peace offering.
After a few seconds of silence, Sebastian spoke again, more genuinely this time:
“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable with all the comments. You’re genuinely welcome to stay at mine if there’s too much smoke left in your friend’s place. You can take my sofa-bed. I expect nothing in return. But when you see the most gorgeous bloke you’ve ever seen in your life, you’ve got to try, don’t you?”
Ominis licked his lips, pulling the dressing gown tighter around himself. People began moving toward the building, chattering quietly among themselves with a hint of annoyance at the early hour. He heard Garreth argue wildly with the firefighter, who remained unimpressed with Garreth’s explanations of homemade jaffa cakes being both nutritious, cheaper and tastier.
Fuck it.
He was in a strange city, had just stood half-frozen in underwear emblazoned with his best friend’s face, and a man who — according to Garreth — looked as though God had carved him by hand was flirting with him.
Like Sebastian said: you’ve got to try, don’t you?
“And if I said the attempt was successful?” Ominis asked, attempting to mimic Sebastian’s low, sultry tone.
He could practically hear the satisfied grin in Sebastian’s voice as he replied:
“Then I’d say we’d better check and follow up the results of the attempt.”
“For research purposes,” Ominis added, grinning like an idiot now.
“For research purposes,” Sebastian echoed, gently placing a hand on Ominis’ shoulder and guiding him back towards the building.
The last thing Ominis heard before the heavy door swung shut behind him was Garreth saying to the firefighters:
“Oh come on, Margaret — third time’s the charm! You’d be bored stiff if I actually learned to bake properly. Imagine how little work you'd had to do, then.”
“Garreth Weasley, if I see your street address again on a call made at the arsecrack of dawn, I will purposely let you burn.”
“Oh, so if I try to cook at noon, it’s fine?”