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“Is that my shirt?”
Blaine freezes at the question, his hand still fixed on the door handle. He turns slowly to gaze at Sebastian like a deer in the headlights, but Sebastian’s lips are quirked up into a smirk. It’s not quite enough to stop the panic stirring inside his chest, but it’s enough to make him let out a shaky breath.
“Uh, pass?”
He’s surprised that Sebastian could even see what he was wearing in the dull glow of the rising sun creeping through his window, not to mention that the taller’s barely cranked his eyes open, still hazy from sleep. From what he’s experienced thus far, Sebastian’s pretty much a zombie before his morning coffee – and early mornings are not his thing. Blaine had been banking on it.
Trust him to be more alert when it’s inconvenient. It’s just like Sebastian to be difficult.
Sebastian raises an eyebrow, but it’s less condescending than it would usually seem due to his sleep-rustled hair and the slightly out-of-it expression on his face.
“You have some nerve, B. There I was happily dreaming about what I was planning on doing to you tonight, and not only are you sneaking out on me, you’re resorting to thievery? You’re not the man I thought you were,” he teases.
With a groan, Blaine leans against the door, head thunking against the wood in exasperation. “I have to work,” he says, sounding far too much like a petulant child for his own good. “You knew that.”
“In my shirt?” Sebastian asks. “Gee, killer. I didn’t realise that Dalton had a new staff uniform. And to think I had such high hopes of you wearing the blazer again.”
Blaine lowers his eyes to the floor, his face folding into a guilty expression.
They haven’t been together long enough for this to be a thing – really, he’s not even sure if they are together. All he knows is that he’s spent the last week or so in Sebastian’s bed, and it’s probably been just about the best week of his life.
“It smells like you,” he mumbles feebly, twisting the thin material with his fingers nervously.
More specifically, it smells like Sebastian’s house. He’s not quite insane enough to go to work in an unwashed shirt yet. But the point still stands - it makes him feel like he has a piece of Sebastian with him.
He’s not sure what he’d been expecting. To be mocked or for Sebastian to freak out from the domesticity of it, maybe. But there’s something in Sebastian’s expression when he finally gets up enough nerve to raise his eyes that makes him melt a little, making his walls crumble enough to get his hopes up.
“Yeah?”
Sebastian shuffles to the edge of the bed, the covers bunching in his wake, but he doesn’t really pay much notice. Before he knows it, Blaine’s being tugged onto his lap, and the soft, lazy kiss he presses onto his lips is enough to make his heart flutter in his chest.
“I have to work,” Blaine repeats, but his tone implies that he wants to do anything but. He rests his palm over Sebastian’s cheek, and Sebastian’s gazing at him like there’s nothing else in the world right now but Blaine.
“Call in sick.”
“Can’t,” Blaine murmurs against his lips, but there’s not much he can do to force himself to leave his spot right now.
“Mmm, you’ll just have to be late, then,” Sebastian replies, and his lips begin trailing a path of delicate red marks over Blaine’s neck, causing him to squirm a little in the other’s lap with a groan that has no business escaping his lips so damn early in the morning.
When he shows up to the staff meeting almost half an hour late, it’s with an extra skip in his step, and the knowledge that the scent he’s wearing is one that he doesn’t plan to be rid of any time soon.
And if he happens to continuously pull the shirt over his nose when no one’s looking and wears a dreamy expression on his face for a little while after, then no one really needs to know why.