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and then such happiness

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Sebastian is already awake when Lewis wakes up. He knows because Sebastian’s side of the bed is empty, but before he noticed that, Lewis could hear muffled, off-pitch singing coming from the en suite. He rolls over into Sebastian’s warm spot, tucks his face into the pillow, and groans.

“Lewis?” Sebastian calls, voice garbled. Strange. Lewis pushes up on his elbows and Sebastian appears at the bathroom doorway, his toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. Mystery solved.

Lewis smiles, but it’s not honest. A ball of nerves sits nestled up behind his ribcage. He wants everything to go perfectly today, and he’s already mentally drafted a list to text Stephanie, their wedding planner.

Sebastian studies him and sees through it, of course. He huffs and disappears back into the bathroom. Lewis hears him spit into the sink and run the water for a few seconds. He comes back out and climbs onto the bed beside Lewis, sitting on his haunches. It’s instinct to curl around him and touch; Lewis’s hand goes to Sebastian’s hairy knee. Sebastian rests one hand on the rose tattoo over Lewis’s ribcage. “What is it?” He asks, an opening for Lewis to complain as much as he wants.

Lewis sighs, all of his attention devoted to pulling on Sebastian's leg hair. “I want everything to go smoothly. This took a lot of time and effort, and if anything ruins it…” He trails off. Sebastian places his hand over Lewis’s to stop him from yanking his leg hairs out. Lewis looks up at him, then. Sebastian’s mouth curls into a teasing smile. Lewis knows what he will say before he says it.

“You know we could just—”

“Yeah, you’d be fine to elope right now, huh?” Lewis wiggles his hand out of Sebastian’s grasp and rests it on his knee again. Traces a swirl in his leg hair.

Sebastian’s smile turns bashful. “Well, yes. But you also know—”

“You’ll do whatever makes me happy? I know that too.” There has never been a doubt.

Sebastian huffs and leans over Lewis, hands on either side of his head. He ducks and presses a kiss to Lewis’s forehead. “Everything will be fine,” he promises. Even though there’s no way he can be certain of that, Lewis wants to believe him. “Either way, I get to marry you today.” He smiles toothily, earnest.

It makes Lewis smile in return and he takes a deep breath. That adds a bit of perspective. Probably nothing will go wrong. He’ll still text Stephanie, but he trusts her to handle what he can’t control. He gets to marry Sebastian today, and in the end, Sebastian’s right—that’s what matters. He leans up to kiss Sebastian, whose mouth is minty and warm as he opens up for Lewis. His hands settle on Sebastian’s face, scratching through his scruffy beard. The kiss settles him even more until he can finally sigh into it. Placated for now.

Sebastian pulls away and asks, “Okay, now?” He looks dopey from this angle, big eyes comically wide, face pink, and scruffy beard hair curling around his open mouth. Lewis has already scheduled a barber to shape-up the scruff before the wedding. The rest, though, Lewis will have to live with the rest of his life. The thought unwinds more of the knotting in his stomach; he smiles and tugs on Sebastian’s right earlobe. “Better than.”

Sebastian hums and, after a long moment of staring, sits back up. “Shall we order breakfast then?”

Lewis looks at the clock on the bedside table. It’s half-past nine. He’s supposed to be at his groom’s suite by eleven to start getting ready. He has time to shower and eat.

“Order me the cashew yogurt with fruit and the fancy granola while I shower?” He asks, squirming out from under the sheet and scooting by Sebastian to the edge of the bed.

“Oh, should I feed it to you too?” Sebastian teases.

“Later,” Lewis says, like a promise. He leers over his shoulder at Sebastian as he heads into the en suite. Sebastian is still laughing when Lewis steps into the shower.


After Lewis showers, does his morning skincare routine, and slides into his fresh robe, the breakfast cart has already been rolled into the room. Sebastian’s sitting at the table, reading his newspaper while he waits.

Lewis settles in across from him and drops a handful of berries and granola over his yogurt, then dips his spoon in. The yogurt is creamy, the granola perfectly crunchy, and when he bites into a blueberry, it’s a burst of flavor across his palate. He hums a little in satisfaction before he takes another bite.

The silence is amiable and welcome. Sebastian has always read the paper before breakfast for as long as Lewis has known him. It doesn’t matter the city or language, Sebastian parses through most of the front page and the Op-eds, scoffing in disdain or chuckling in amusement along the way.

Lewis has eaten most of the berries out of his yogurt by the time Sebastian folds up the newspaper and picks up his fork and knife. “Anything interesting?” Lewis asks, one eyebrow raised. He learns a lot of his news this way and mostly ignores the News app on his phone.

Sebastian shrugs. “There is a horse in a hospital in America,” he says, matter-of-fact. His attention is focused on cutting his spinach and mushroom omelette into triangles.

Lewis snickers. “A horse in a hospital?”

“Apparently that is common there. You know,” he waves his fork in the air dismissively. “Americans.”

That punches a laugh out of Lewis. He snorts elegantly into his yogurt, which causes Sebastian to laugh.

They go on like that for another moment, and—not for the first time in this relationship or even since waking up—Lewis can’t believe he gets to do this for the rest of his life.

“What?” Sebastian says, when they’ve gone quiet again and Lewis has only been able to stare at Sebastian. His eyebrows creep up his forehead at Lewis’s attention.

Lewis’s cheeks warm. “Nothing.”

“It’s a sin to lie on your wedding day.” Sebastian narrows his eyes and points his fork at Lewis across the table, accusatory.

Lewis scoffs. “A lot of things we do could be considered a sin, but we still do them.” He waggles his eyebrows then pops a blackberry into his mouth. Licks the juice off his thumb before it stains.

It punches a snorting laugh out of Sebastian this time, which was Lewis’s intention. “Touché, sweetheart. Touché.”

They share a pot of black coffee before Lewis makes his way to the closet for his outfit. He changes out of his robe and into a silk blouse and matching shorts in a soft cloudy blue color. His initials and their wedding date are embroidered over the left breast in the same color as a sentimental touch.

Sebastian’s showered and changed into his own outfit by the time Lewis is done getting ready. He’s wearing grey joggers and a navy t-shirt that isn’t doing much in terms of fashion, but it does bring out the clear blue of his eyes. He’s fiddling around on his phone at the end of the bed, waiting on Lewis like it’s any other day and they have nowhere important to be.

Lewis’s anxiety spikes a little again. Shouldn’t it feel more frantic? Shouldn’t they be rushing out the door, swept away by the wedding party, holding their breath from now until the night is done? Should it feel so normal?

“You look great,” Sebastian says, his voice cutting through the panic that has stalled Lewis in the doorway.

Lewis forces himself to take one deep breath and then another. Normal is good. The rush will come later, he knows, and he’ll wish for this moment back. The familiarity and comfort of Sebastian waiting around for him in yet another hotel suite.

“Thank you,” he says, smiling and smoothing his hand down the front of his shirt.

Sebastian stands and walks over to Lewis. He grabs his hand and squeezes his fingers. “Are you ready?”

Lewis nods. He’s been waiting a long while for this day.

He follows Sebastian to the hotel door where Sebastian pecks Lewis on the lips. “I’ll see you out there,” he says with a smile, like they’re meeting up later for another race and not the beginning of the rest of their lives.


Once Lewis is the groom’s suite getting ready, the rest of the morning and the afternoon go by in a blur. His family and closest friends come and go, giving him kisses on the cheek—his mum and Linda—making him do a shot—Miles and Nicolas—and telling embarrassing stories about him to the room—his sisters. Roscoe, who spent the night with Angela after the rehearsal dinner the night before, follows Lewis around the suite sitting at Lewis’s feet while Lewis gets his hair done, flopping over onto his back for Lewis to scrub his belly with his foot halfway through.

Lewis’s nerves from earlier don’t necessarily return in full force, but he is anxious about the need to be present in the chaos of the room and the pressing need to text Stephanie to check everything is going well. Surely the reception hall is properly decorated. Stephanie would have remembered to double check the extra security request. She would've called if the violinists cancelled.

He’d text her, but the manicurist has one hand in hers and the polish is drying on the other. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Over the loud tin of music from the bluetooth speaker, he can hear his brother’s laughter and then Roscoe snuffling at his feet. He thinks about this morning sitting in the quiet with Sebastian. He counts to five then opens his eyes.

When he does, he notices his mum is watching him closely, a knowing look on her face. She’s beside him letting her nails dry; she picked nude with a peach undertone. It is a very pretty color, Lewis notes, trying his best not to meet her gaze.

“Sweetie,” she says, her tone kind and concerned. “Are you all right?”

Lewis doesn’t respond immediately because he’s not sure he could tell the truth.

“It’s not—You’re not,” she lowers her voice, “having reservations, are you?”

Lewis would laugh at the look of horror on her face if it were at all funny. She looks right devastated at the thought, though. God, bless her.

“Mum, no,” he promises. Marrying Sebastian is the surest about anything he has ever been.

She leans closer, serious. “I mean it, son. We all love Sebastian, and we’d be heartbroken, but if you’re troubled by something—”

Lewis reaches across and squeezes her forearm affectionately. “Mum,” he cuts her off. “I promise. It’s nothing like that. I have no reservations about marrying Seb.” Saying it aloud, Lewis realizes how true it is and how ridiculous it is that he’s concerned about anything other than that. “Just silly wedding stuff. I want everything to be perfect.”

She exhales heavily. Her relief is written all over her face. “Well, thank God, Lewis. Honestly.”

It is kind of funny now, and Lewis lets out a small chuckle. She really does love Sebastian a lot. Each time she and Lewis speak on the phone, Lewis hands it off to Sebastian after. Sebastian will sit in the sun room nursing an IPA and talk to her for nearly an hour. She would be devastated if things didn’t work out. He has been lost in his head so much he has his mum thinking he has cold feet. He can’t control everything, he reminds himself.

His mum squeezes his hand. “Nothing’s ever perfect, sweetheart. And there’s something special about that, isn’t there?”

He sighs. Just like Sebastian, she’s right. “You’re right,” he says, taking his other hand and placing it in front of the small fan to dry.

She smiles knowingly. “Enjoy this.” She kisses his temple before she walks over to Linda and Samantha, who have a mimosa ready for her.

Mum’s always had some of the best advice even when it’s been horribly simple. He’s going to enjoy this—it’s everything he’s wanted, after all—and he’s going to text Sebastian as soon as the rest of his nails dry.


Mum’s worried I have cold feet he texts Sebastian while sitting in the makeup chair. Marrissa is color matching his concealer.

His phone chimes a few minutes later. Oh? The text says and another comes in right after. It is usually only your toes. Popsicles.

Lewis snorts. Idiot. I reassured her that I cannot wait to marry you <3

Oh, well that's good to hear :-) Today would have been awkward otherwise...

Lewis grins down at his phone like he's the idiot this time. “Look up for me,” Marrissa says, finger on his chin. He locks his phone and looks up as she pats concealer under his eyes then blends it out.

It doesn't take long to finish his makeup; after the concealer under his eyes, Marrissa adds a light coat of mascara and a golden cream highlighter at his brow and cheekbones.

“Thank you,” says Lewis, looking at himself in the mirror.

“You look beautiful,” Marrissa says, squeezing his shoulder.

Lewis blushes. He thinks so too. He's positive Sebastian will agree.

Taking his mum’s advice looks like doing a shot with Miles and Nicolas, posing for stupid pictures for the wedding photographer. He and Nic get their dad started on one of his De Niro impressions and Lewis—he can breathe. This is what he was looking forward to through all the months of planning with Stephanie. He wanted a day he could celebrate with family and friends, commit himself to Sebastian, then celebrate with everyone together. That sounds perfect.


“Lewis,” Angela says a little while later. She squeezes his shoulder, a small smile on her face. “This is for you.” She holds out a cream envelope with his name written on the front in Sebastian’s familiar cursive scrawl. Something wells up in Lewis—gratitude, awe—even though he should've known Seb would do something like this. He loves to write everything down.

“Thanks, Ang,” says Lewis. He gives her a side hug. “I'm gonna—” He nods toward the balcony. It’s warm outside, but not unreasonably so. The sun’s out, but clouds pepper the sky. The chance of rain is supposed to mean good luck, isn’t it? Lewis has never needed luck, though; he’s always had steadfast determination and worked hard for everything—including his relationship with Sebastian. He doesn’t need any luck today, but he’ll take the sunshine.

Lewis leans against the railing overlooking the massive hotel garden and flips the envelope over to open it. He huffs out a laugh when he sees Sebastian went through the trouble of wax sealing it. It’s thoughtful: a metallic purple wax with VH pressed in the middle of it. He tucks his index finger under the flap to break the seal as gingerly as possible.

His breath is uncharacteristically shaky as he opens the letter. Today has already been a lot, and Sebastian. Well, he just always knows. He always knows what to do, just the right amount of sincerity and gentle teasing to offer. Lewis imagines what he must have looked like writing this, when he must have written it. Was it sitting at their breakfast nook at home, glass of pulpy orange juice at his elbow? Or more recently in their suite after Lewis had fallen asleep for the night? Lewis presses his lips together in an effort to contain the smile that threatens to take over his face.

He’s loved Sebastian for an unthinkable amount of time, but if pressed, he’d wager it was before he even knew love like this existed. Before Sebastian, Lewis had been chewed up and spit out by what he thought was love. Then he’d gone back for seconds and thirds. It took a while before Lewis learned love shouldn’t end in a mauling. Instead, it should be a shared feast. The cup always runs over. There’s always ample elbow room at the table. There’s singing and dancing, off key and off beat. And so, so much laughter. It’s thrilling. Comforting. Familiar.

Lewis still has every letter Sebastian has ever written him. Even the sparsely written holiday cards from their first seasons in Formula One. Sebastian’s handwriting hasn’t changed in all these years, but what he’s written has. In a keepsake box at the top of one of Lewis’s closets, the postcards and letters are all crammed together, proof of their love stretched out across the years, ripped out of journals, scribbled on grocery lists, written on postcards from around the world.

His words are always insightful, considerate, and funny. Lewis hasn’t read the letters in a while—he hasn’t needed to, not when he can look around their life and find love in every nook and cranny—but even when there was only a funny, crass joke, there was also love and devotion. Sebastian always makes sure Lewis knows how important he is, and this time it's no different.

I’ve waited my whole life for you, sweetheart. Lewis reads the last line of the letter. And I’d wait another, but I’m glad I won’t have to! His vision swims, but he makes out a scribble, a poorly drawn heart, and Seb at the bottom.

Lewis runs his thumb over Sebastian's scribbled-out attempt at drawing a heart. Nothing’s ever perfect. There is something special about that, after all.

He lets out a shaky breath and looks away, out to where spring’s blossoming around him. He can’t afford to cry because of the mascara, but it’s a near thing. A knot has formed in his chest like a vice around his heart. Not nerves this time, but the intensity of his love. Sebastian’s love makes most everything bearable. It’s overwhelming to know this is the part where he gets what he’s always wanted.

He stands there for a few more moments, the bright sun beating down on him. When he’s certain he won’t cry, he goes back into the suite. Laughter is what greets him once inside; everyone’s gathered around clinking champagne flutes, talking over each other. Lewis joins them, taking the flute that Angela hands him.

“There he is,” Nicolas says loud enough to be heard over everyone else. “A toast.” He raises his glass and smiles at Lewis. “To Lewis—the best man I know. You’ve always been my inspiration and my strength, and I’m so proud to be standing next to you today. You have the kindest, most understanding heart. I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’ve found someone who matches that.” He turns to the group. “To Lewis’s big day.”

“To Lewis!” They all cheer and Lewis, face red and sinuses burning, tips champagne into his mouth.

“I love you, big bro.” Nicolas wraps his arms around Lewis in a tight hug. Lewis has to clear his throat a few times to ward off incoming tears. Throughout his life, Lewis has worried a lot about being enough, but he never experienced that with his brother. Nicolas always looked at Lewis like he hung the moon, and loved him even more when he grew up and realized Lewis didn’t. For all that Lewis is grateful for in his life, Nicolas’s support is near the top.

“I love you, man,” Lewis says into his shoulder, voice watery. They pull away, clearing their throats. “Okay,” he says to the group. “Let’s get ready.” So no one else can take a turn at trying to make him cry.


When it's time to get dressed, everyone makes off to their separate suites and Lewis goes into the master bedroom. His outfit is hanging in a dressing bag on a free standing rack Stephanie brought in earlier this morning. Lewis stands in front of it for a moment before he unzips the bag.

He spent so many months with the designer, Kenneth, creating something that combined his style with a little tradition. He spent hours sending sketches and notes back and forth to Kenneth; trips to London and New York to feel the lace in his hands; three different fittings, the last one a week ago to make sure everything was—if not perfect, close enough to it.

Lewis unzips the bag, pushing it off the shoulders of the blouse. He fingers the delicate material of the lace collar, smoothes his thumb over a button, and sighs softly. It’s so gorgeous. It’s timeless but speaks of modernity, elegant with the intricate lace pattern reminiscent of a wedding gown, and dramatic with an ankle-length lace train. The train flutters when runs his fingers along it. During the design process, it was important to Lewis that there was fluidity. He wanted all the movement and wonder of an elegant wedding gown with an ode to tradition, a black suit like his dad wore all those years ago.

It is exactly as Lewis had imagined it, but somehow better. The moment has finally come for him to wear it down the aisle for everyone—for Sebastian—to see. He’s so proud.

He slips into his dress pants first, then the photographer comes in for shots of him putting on his blouse. He carefully does up each button and the cuffs, tucks the hem, and fluffs the train. As elaborate as all the stitching is, it's soft against Lewis’s bare chest and back. He feels feminine and sexy; the material a gentle caress against all his tattooed skin, then pressed ever closer when he dons the suit jacket.

From his jewelry box he puts on the string of pearls Sebastian bought him for their fifth anniversary. The pearls are off white with a tinge of pink when the light hits them just right. Sebastian had taken Lewis into the jewelry store and shown him what he thought would look nice, but told him to pick what he wanted. When Lewis had picked the pearl necklace and asked, “What do you think?” Sebastian squeezed his hand and said, softly, “Yeah, yes.”

He tucks the necklace under the collar so it rests at the base of his throat; the coolness of the pearls and the intensity of the memory send a shiver down Lewis’s spine. Next he switches out some of his earrings, choosing a danglier one than usual, a tiny heart in the second hole. He keeps his pearl drop earrings in the other ear. The last piece of jewelry is the Cartier bracelet he bought himself years ago. It’s subtle under his cuff, but just flashy enough to be noticeable when it dangles over his wrist. He leaves his fingers bare, which feels a little unusual, but there's only one ring that matters today.

When he’s satisfied, he looks at himself in the mirror again. He stands tall and straightens out his suit jacket. All of the details came together just as he wanted and he looks—he really looks beautiful; he looks like a dream.


It feels like he’s in a dream too when he rounds the corner and sees the hall for the first time. Hundreds of people on either side of the cream-colored aisle, elegant tapestries and ornate ceiling on display, the soft lighting, the opening notes of “La Vie en Rose” from the violinists, and Sebastian waiting for Lewis at the altar, handsome in his tailored suit.

Warmth blooms in Lewis’s chest and he doesn’t feel any nerves. Any worry that was still looming dissipates as he stands at the end of the aisle with Roscoe by his side and sees Sebastian’s bright grin. As he and Roscoe walk toward Sebastian, Lewis can’t keep the matching smile off his face. He couldn’t even if he wanted to.

Sebastian is already close to tears when Lewis reaches him and grabs hold of his hands. His grasp is firm, a steady pressure to ground him. “Hi,” Lewis says softly, still smiling, heart in his throat. It’s then that Sebastian’s big eyes overflow, tears rolling down his cheeks. Lewis uses their tangled hands to reach up and clumsily wipe at his face. It’s endearing and entirely expected.

“Hi,” Sebastian finally responds, voice breaking. “You look—” He stops. He tucks his chin against his chest and shakes his head, unable to finish through his tears. Overwhelming isn’t the correct word for what Lewis already feels; it’s bigger, it’s an all-encompassing feeling to stand before Sebastian like this. All he can do is squeeze Sebastian’s hands and run his thumbs across his knuckles in comfort.

Sebastian looks up after a moment and clears his throat. Abashed, he apologizes to the officiant, a lovely woman called Grace, who smiles appeasingly. He looks at Lewis, eyes red and wet, but determined. “You look so beautiful,” he says quietly, but with conviction.

It’s Lewis’s turn to look down, cheeks going red. He’s warm all over. There are well over a hundred people in attendance, but it feels like it’s just him, Sebastian, and Roscoe who’s sitting unbothered at their feet. Nothing else matters but this—this moment together, teary-eyed and so full of love they can barely speak.

When Sebastian says his vows, he does so softly. The microphone above them amplifies his voice, certainly, but Lewis knows who he’s saying them for. They’re a continuation of the letter he wrote Lewis—a continuation of every letter he’s ever written him, every action, every promise. Lewis has never doubted Sebastian’s love. Lewis used to wonder if he deserved it all, but he’s since learned that there’s no use fighting what is, for Sebastian, inevitable—he’s going to love Lewis forever.

“And I promise,” Sebastian finishes, voice steady in tone, but wobbly in delivery, “to always take Roscoe out on the cold mornings so you don’t have to.” He turns on his megawatt, watery smile. “I promise to love you every second of every day. Forever, no matter what.” It’s a sincere truth that bowls Lewis over. Sebastian means it. He has to resist the urge to lean forward and capture his mouth in a quick kiss to let him know how much he loves him at this moment.

He’ll just tell him for now, though, until Grace and tradition say it’s time. As much as Lewis tries to share positive affirmations with people around him and internalize them himself, he doesn’t have the best track record with using his words with Sebastian. He’s gotten better over the years, but, in the beginning, it was easier to make time for Sebastian than it was to have the much needed conversation about their intentions.

Lewis told Sebastian he loved him for the first time by not saying it at all. He just showed up at his front door in Switzerland over winter break with his bags all those years ago and has barely left since. It’s been difficult to unlearn what he did to survive love in the past. He’s better now, because he knows what Sebastian needs. Sebastian needs an hour of his time for lunch every day and he needs Lewis to tell him what he’s doing right and he needs to hear Lewis say I love you. It’s easier, now, to say it because he means it more than he means most anything else.

Sebastian is generous with his love and attention; He says I love you, but he also makes Lewis laugh, and learns new recipes for him, and challenges Lewis to be better, and supports his crazy ideas, and though he doesn’t understand Lewis’s outfits, he always touches his collar, kisses his cheek, and tells him how good he looks.

“So,” Lewis says, smiling, tears stuck in the back of his throat. “I’ve waited my whole life for you, too. And I’d wait another, if I really had to, but we’re here, right now, and we get to have this forever. I'm going to work every day to give you what you need.”

Sebastian has stopped trying to hold back his tears again; he’s a blubbering mess and he’s—Jesus, he’s all Lewis’s.

“I love you,” he says, squeezing Sebastian’s hand until his knuckles turn stark white.

For as emotional as they are, their hands are steady when they slide the wedding bands they designed onto each other’s finger. Lewis stares at the custom-made gold band with a small amethyst stone in the center. God, it’s so beautiful.

Sebastian’s is a thick handmade band with an artistic mountain range etched into the circumference, a small topaz gemstone in the center. The rings are another project they worked on for many months, making sure their visions came to life. Lewis runs his thumb along the ring on Sebastian’s finger and thinks about the view of the mountains outside their window at home.

He looks at Sebastian's smiling face and can’t wait this time for the officiant’s go-ahead. He tips forward into Sebastian who slides one arm around Lewis’s waist to hold him and cradles his neck with the other. Lewis opens up easily for Sebastian, overcome with what they’ve just done. He wants to crawl inside of him and stay there forever. He scratches his fingers through Sebastian’s newly-trimmed beard and kisses him once, twice before they pull away.

They can’t stop smiling at each other; Lewis can barely see with the way his face has scrunched up in pure joy and excitement. Grace is probably saying something profound while the guests applaud, but Lewis and Sebastian can’t stop looking at each other for a second.

Sebastian kisses him again and again and only stops because they’re laughing, giddy, and their mouths don’t line up anymore. Lewis has never been happier in his life.


They take so many pictures after the ceremony that Lewis’s cheeks hurt. Their wedding party isn't huge, but the wedding photographers want every combination one could imagine. They pose for pictures in the ceremony hall after the guests clear out, then they move outside to the garden for more. The sun is low in the sky, on the verge of providing perfect golden hour light. His cheeks hurt from all the smiling, yes, but not one smile is fake. He's so happy, he could overflow with it.

He knows he's going to love all the shots, but he also knows his favorites will be the ones of him, Sebastian, and Roscoe. The setting sun turns Sebastian golden as he smiles at Lewis, pure happiness in his gaze, while Roscoe leans up against Sebastian’s leg, front teeth sticking out.


After the pictures are over but before they’re needed at the reception, Sebastian and Lewis steal a moment away together. They slip into an empty banquet hall near the reception, hands tangled together, Lewis nearly tripping over Sebastian’s feet in his haste.

Sebastian falls into Lewis as soon as the door shuts behind him, wrapping his arms around him and tucking his face into Lewis’s neck. Lewis wraps his arms around Sebastian in return and holds him. The quiet is a reprieve from an otherwise busy, hectic, incredible day. Lewis would be content to stay like this for a long while with Sebastian snuffling into his neck and running his hands up and down his back.

Sebastian mumbles something into his neck that Lewis can’t decipher. “Hm?” He digs his finger into Sebastian’s side.

He pulls back but keeps his hands on Lewis, squeezing at his sides, absently rubbing his thumbs back and forth over the lace material. He spends long enough staring at Lewis’s chest that Lewis rolls eyes.

“You look so gorgeous,” he says, finally, smirking. His eyes still have a hint of redness from all the crying he did, but his gaze is mostly dark as it hungrily sweeps over Lewis again.

“Jesus,” says Lewis, feigning exasperation. Really, he’s giddy and can barely contain the urge to giggle. He leans forward, resting his forehead on Sebastian’s shoulder.

“I mean it,” Sebastian says against the side of his head. He presses a kiss there.

Lewis giggles this time, turning to kiss Sebastian’s bearded jaw. “I’m so happy,” he confesses, smiling. He’s married. They’re married!

Sebastian nuzzles against the side of Lewis’s face, then kisses his cheek, his jaw, and pulls back enough to kiss him on the mouth, slipping him some tongue. Lewis kisses back readily, the emotional high he’s on making him desperate for more. Sebastian cradles him with one hand at the base of his neck and the other at his jaw, and the pit of Lewis’s stomach burns hot at the direction. He whimpers into the kiss and grabs hold of the closest thing in reach in an attempt to ground himself—Sebastian’s lapels. He bunches the fabric up in his hands when Sebastian nips at his mouth, kisses each corner and the bow.

Sebastian stops kissing him, but Lewis can still taste his spit on his tongue and can feel his hot breath. He still has a firm hold on Lewis.

Lewis opens his eyes to see the equally wanton look on Sebastian’s face. “That was.” He swallows Sebastian’s spit. “Good.”

Sebastian laughs and lets go of Lewis, but before he can respond, the door opposite them opens and Stephanie pokes her head in.

She sighs heavily. “There you are.” She raises a questioning eyebrow but doesn’t say anything about their state. “You were supposed to make your entrance about five minutes ago.”

Oops. Lewis nods at her over Sebastian’s shoulder. “Be right there. Promise.”

The door has barely closed behind Stephanie when Sebastian starts snickering. Lewis swats at him half-heartedly. “We have to get out there.”

“I say we sneak out now. No one will notice, I’m sure.” He swipes his thumb across the arch of Lewis’s right eyebrow.

Lewis sighs softly. “We can’t.” It wasn’t Sebastian’s idea to have a big wedding, but, of course, he went along with it for Lewis. That is not lost on him. He squeezes Sebastian’s hand. “Come on.” He tugs Sebastian back towards the door and the chaos. “Grand entrance and then we party. And later,” he says, smiling coyly at Sebastian over his shoulder. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

Sebastian uses their tangled hands to pull Lewis back toward him. “I already told you—you know I don’t mind about all of this. I just want you.”

Lewis rolls his eyes so he doesn’t tear up again; he’s already done so much of that today. God, but he loves Sebastian so much.

“I know,” he says. Of course he knows. “I’m still going to make it worth your while, though. I have a plan.”

“Oh,” Sebastian smirks. “Well, if you have a plan, by all means.” He waggles his eyebrows obnoxiously, but Lewis clocks the way his eyes darken in anticipation. Giggly and red-faced, he follows Lewis to the reception hall.


The entrance is just as grand as Lewis and Stephanie planned. All eyes are on them as they walk into the hall after the DJ’s announcement. Sebastian, who dislikes being the center of attention, is a good sport about the cheering, holding on to Lewis’s hand no tighter than usual. Lewis figures he’s so happy that not much else matters.

The night is a blur after that. Lewis truly doesn’t know if he’s coming or going, but Sebastian’s by his side the entire time they mingle and accept congratulations. Lewis loses his suit jacket after their first dance which saw his mum crying at the edge of the dancefloor, Lewis tearing up as he held onto Sebastian, and Sebastian nearly tripping over his feet, but only once. It’s a magical moment he'll remember forever.

They spend the rest of the night thanking and visiting with everyone after dinner and before the dance floor opens up. Lewis’s cheeks are sore again from all the laughter and pictures.

The only time they get separated is when Lewis’s great-aunt Margaret corners Sebastian for fifteen minutes to drone on about her knitting projects. Lewis loves Sebastian, but can’t bear the dialogue, so he slips away and ends up chatting with Pierre and Charles instead. Lewis can't tell for certain from so far away, but it looks like Sebastian's eyes are glazing over.

Pierre laughs so hard he snorts. Charles sighs, though. “I can save him,” he says, handing his drink to Pierre. Then he scurries away, presumably to do just that.

“Ah, he’ll regret that, I’m sure.” Lewis says, watching Charles sidle up beside Great Aunt Margaret. Sebastian visibly exhales and, a moment later, backs away when Charles has occupied her.

Pierre watches the exchange, smiling, but there’s an edge to it that Lewis can’t easily decipher. “He has this way with people. Charming.”

Oh. Lewis hums. Pierre’s gaze lingers. Lewis squeezes his shoulder in consolation. “Well. Glad you could make it, man.”

That draws Pierre out of his reverie for a moment at least. “Of course, Lewis. I am so happy for you and Seb.”

As if he were beckoned, Sebastian finally appears beside Lewis. He looks a bit worse for wear. Lewis snickers and hands him a seltzer he’d grabbed before Sebastian was whisked away. “Drink this,” he says. Then to Pierre: “Have fun.”

They leave Pierre to sip his drink and watch Charles across the room. It is Lewis’s night, so he’s not going to inquire about that just yet.

When it’s time for cake, Sebastian gently feeds the vegan raspberry and lemon cake to Lewis. They’d already made a promise not to shove cake into each other’s face. Lewis does miss Sebastian’s mouth, smearing some frosting into his beard. It’s an honest mistake. Lewis even quickly swipes at the spot with his tongue when he goes in for a sweet kiss while the crowd applauds.

There is nothing left to do but dance in the end, so that's what they do. Sebastian has very little rhythm, but what he lacks in skill he makes up for in enthusiasm. He swings Lewis around the dance floor for a bit, then ditches him for Lewis’s niece, and then Nicolas’s girlfriend, Sophie.

With a few drinks in them, everyone is on the dance floor making fools of themselves, singing along to Lewis’s curated wedding playlist. They’re all horribly off key and falling down, but Lewis wouldn't have it any other way.


In the end, the night is—it feels perfect. It is everything Lewis dreamed it would be. He had worried, he realizes now, for no real reason. Sebastian thinks he’s right most of the time, and he was right this time, about this. All that mattered was ending the day married and starting the rest of their lives together. All he wanted was to celebrate with his family and friends; he wanted them to have fun and to share in his and Sebastian’s happiness. Even if something horrible had happened—if it had rained, if the violinists hadn’t shown up, if someone had toppled into the wedding cake like in one of those romantic comedies Lewis loves—everything would have ended up all right in the end.

Nothing has to be perfect, it just has to be good. And Lewis is filled with so much goodness, so much joy, at the end of the night, he almost can’t bear it. He’s happy and he’s married!


When they finally extricate themselves from all the loving embraces, they make their way back to their suite. Angela took Roscoe again, so it's just the two of them tripping over each other’s feet, laughing into each other’s mouth, making far too much noise for two a.m.

Sebastian’s bow tie hangs around his neck and his jacket is in the hand he doesn't have around Lewis’s waist. He's a little sweaty; his hair is mussed and he’s glowy. Lewis wants him desperately. He suspects Sebastian feels the same way by his inability to keep his hands to himself in the elevator and down the hallway.

Once they're in the suite, Sebastian lets go of him long enough for them to kick off their shoes and for Sebastian to toss his expensive suit jacket somewhere. Then he's standing in front of Lewis, toes scrunched up in his black dress socks and top button of his shirt undone, wild-eyed and gorgeous.

Lewis knows unbridled desire when it's in front of him, because he feels it too. He wants—so much. His fingers itch to tuck under Sebastian's collar, pull on his hair, dip into the wet heat of his mouth. He wants to crawl inside him and have Sebastian do the same in return. He wants to get lost in him, in this moment.

With shaky hands, he begins to untuck Sebastian’s shirt while Sebastian unbuttons it. Then he's left in just his white undershirt and dress pants. Lewis fumbles with the belt next. “Off,” he says. Pauses. “Please.” He remembers to smile sweetly.

Sebastian quirks an eyebrow but obliges, stepping out of his pants and pulling off his socks. “Better?” he asks, swallowing visibly. Yes, better.

Lewis kisses him then, hands on Sebastian’s hips. As desperate as he feels, he also doesn’t want to rush this. They have done this hundreds of times, but this one’s different—special. He wants to draw it out and take his precious time. He wants Sebastian inside him for hours, to be taken apart and put back together again. And he really does have a surprise.

“You, now.” Sebastian smiles, touching one of Lewis’s laugh lines. Lewis tries to nip at his thumb because it’s so close and nearly catches it, but Sebastian's reflexes are still too good.

“Undress me?” Lewis asks. He's thought about this before. He has an image of a woman in a long, elegant wedding gown and her husband carefully unzipping her gown with deft fingers. Lewis isn’t wearing a wedding gown, but Sebastian obliges, undoing each of his buttons with focus.

He starts at Lewis’s collar. The backs of his fingers nudge against Lewis’s throat as he unbuttons them, and it makes Lewis’s mouth water, makes him ache for something he won’t ask for tonight.

It’s heady, the care Sebastian takes with each button, pressing a kiss to each bit of bare skin revealed. Lewis tries to watch, but his eyes slip closed, and all he can focus on is the sensations. Sebastian’s mouth against his clavicle. Then over his sternum. His tongue circling Lewis’s nipple. The sound of Sebastian’s knees hitting the carpet. His fingers against Lewis’s stomach and then his mouth in the same spot a second later.

Lewis reaches out and rests his hands on Sebastian’s shoulders for balance as Sebastian untucks the blouse and finishes undoing the last of the buttons, pushing it off his shoulders. Lewis finally opens his eyes, thankful for what he sees. He watches as Sebastian, with his own eyes closed now, peppers kisses across his stomach, nipping at the extra bit of fat that Lewis has learned to love. He looks lost to the world, content to scrub his beard against Lewis’s skin and stick his tongue in Lewis’s navel to make him squirm.

“Seb,” Lewis says, voice catching in his throat. He clenches his abs under Sebastian's ministrations.

Sebastian hums and opens his eyes, takes his tongue out of Lewis's navel. He begins unbuckling Lewis’s belt and with his deft fingers, moves to undo Lewis’s button and zipper.

Lewis stops him with a hand on his face, cupping his jaw. Sebastian looks up at him, eyes shining. Lewis doesn’t say anything, but offers him a small smile before he lets his hand rest back on Sebastian’s shoulder.

Sebastian takes it as his cue to keep going. He pops the button on Lewis’s pants and pulls down the zipper. Lewis watches his face the entire time so he won't forget. His mouth falls open and his eyes widen. Lewis’s heart beats rapidly, threatening to jump into his throat.

Sebastian stares for a moment before he looks up at Lewis. “Sweetheart,” he says, reverent.

Lewis’s eyes fall shut at the endearment. He grows harder under Sebastian's watchful gaze, at the proximity of his hands and his mouth, at the tone of his voice. At what this is.

The thong is made of white lace with floral vines and eyelash scalloping along the waistband. He had searched for so long and found so many options, but ultimately, he chose something simple and sexy. Something to match his outfit. Something to put that blissed out look on Sebastian’s face.

He takes a deep breath and looks down at Sebastian, who’s staring up at him with wide, gleaming eyes. His mouth opens and closes silently, lost for words for the first time in a while.

“I told you I would make it worth your while,” Lewis says, softly. He's so hard already, and he wants Sebastian, but this moment is important. They've talked about this before, but they haven't done it yet.

Lewis has embraced femininity and become more comfortable in his body in recent years, so he hadn’t been surprised at his own revelation. He hadn’t realized how badly he wanted it, though, until he told Sebastian and worried he might not want it in return. After what felt like an eternity, Sebastian had turned sweet on him, then caressed his face, and asked if calling him pretty girl would help. The shame and nerves in his gut had given way suddenly to a delicious burn of desire. He’d preened and whimpered into Sebastian’s mouth as he kissed him again and again.

Now, looking down at the raw emotion on Sebastian’s face, Lewis settles a bit. He did well; it's a good surprise.

“Baby, I—” Sebastian says this time and licks his lips. “You did this for me?” He huffs. It’s like he can't believe it.

Breathless, Lewis answers him. “Yes, for you.” For himself, too. He did it for both of them.

Sebastian shakes his head in wonderment then seems to finally collect himself, focusing on his new task. “Can I?” He asks, looking to Lewis for an answer.

Lewis feels on the verge of tears for at least the fifth time today. Emotionally, it has been a lot, and Lewis wants nothing more than to have his husband take care of him.

He nods and exhales shakily, tightening his grip on Sebastian’s shoulders.

“Okay, okay.” Sebastian says, voice soft and patient. He pulls Lewis’s pants down off his hips. Lewis steadies himself against Sebastian as he steps out of them. Next, Sebastian smooths his hands down Lewis’s legs and taps the back of each calf for Lewis to raise his foot so Sebastian can pull his socks off too.

Then he’s standing there, hard, wearing nothing but his panties, on display for Sebastian. Who dips his fingers under the waistband of the thong, inching close to the tip of Lewis’s dick, but never touching. He rubs the expensive material between his thumb and forefinger like he's studying it. Lewis flushes at the contact, at the press of Sebastian’s bitten nails against his skin, at the attention. At what they're finally doing.

“You look so beautiful, Lewis.” He touches Lewis over the lace, lightly tracing the obscene outline of Lewis’s dick. Lewis gasps involuntarily, bucking up under the touch.

“So gorgeous,” he says, rubbing at him with more fervor. The material is luxurious but still rough enough to make Lewis whine each time. “The prettiest girl in the world.”

Lewis’s heart thrashes around in his chest when Sebastian says that, nowhere to go, but beating in double time. “Please,” he whines. “I need—”

“Yeah,” Sebastian agrees. Lewis doesn't know what he needs, but he trusts Sebastian to understand. He needs more. More of everything.

He gets Sebastian's mouth. He doesn't do anything by halves, Lewis thinks inanely. Sebastian presses his open mouth against Lewis’s cock, getting the lace soaking wet. He sucks along the length of him, and the sensation of Sebastian's hot mouth and the wet fabric against his aching cock have him reaching up and twisting the hair at the back of Sebastian's head.

He groans against Lewis, but keeps sucking him through his panties, his whole face pressed inelegantly against wet cock. After what feels like forever, Sebastian pulls the waistband of the thong down just enough to free the tip of Lewis’s cock so he can tongue at it.

Sebastian sucks cock enthusiastically; he knows exactly how Lewis likes it. He tongues the slit and pulls back, smacking his lips at the precome he collects before he goes back for more. The sound makes something short circuit in Lewis's brain, but he doesn't have time to do anything about it because Sebastian keeps sucking him in earnest and rubbing at his balls through the lace.

Lewis is unstable on his feet, knees ready to buckle the longer Sebastian sucks him off. “Okay,” he breathes heavily. “Seb, please.”

Sebastian pulls off, panting, eyes wet. His mouth is obscene; it’s swollen, red, and wet with spit and precome.

“You're so good for me.” His voice is hoarse and it's all Lewis can do to pull him to his feet and kiss him. He licks the taste of himself from Sebastian's pliant mouth. Sebastian lets him control this moment, running his hands up and down Lewis’s back, smoothing his fingers over the lace of the thong.

Lewis whimpers into his mouth and presses his wet front up against Sebastian who, ridiculously, is still wearing almost all of his clothes.

“Fuck me,” Lewis pants, an inch away from Sebastian's mouth. “Take care of me,” he adds quietly. It's what he wants and what he needs. He needs Sebastian to lay him out and be good to him. It's their wedding night and he wants—

“Sweet girl,” Sebastian says soothingly, caressing the side of his face. He sounds kind, but there's an edge to it.

Lewis runs hot all over. He nods and ducks his head to rest on Sebastian’s shoulder. “Yeah,” he whispers his need, his permission.

Sebastian strips out of his clothes quickly after that and lays Lewis out on the bed. He hovers over him, bracing himself with one hand by Lewis's head, their legs slotted together. Lewis can feel the heat of Sebastian's hard dick against his groin, and he aches for it.

Sebastian kisses him passionately then trails kisses down his neck and across his chest. He dips his head to take one of Lewis’s nipples into his mouth. Lewis sighs into it, used to having his tits played with. There’s the familiar swirl of his tongue, the way he tugs with his teeth until they turn red and puffy, the way he sucks on them like he thinks he could get—

Lewis’s mind goes blank when Sebastian pinches his other nipple roughly. The dual sensations of his mouth and hand go straight to Lewis's dick. He's still so hard and wet, and he needs Sebastian to put his dick in him, to soothe him, to calm him down.

“Please,” he says emphatically, nearly begging.

Sebastian shushes him, petting his side. “I'll take care of you.”

Lewis trusts that he will, so all he can do is nod and lean up for a kiss.

Sebastian obliges. Then sets Lewis’s whole world on fire. “Are you wet for me?” His hand rests at Lewis’s taint and he taps three fingers against him. “Here?”

Lewis flushes and instinctively tries to squeeze his legs closed. He just ends up trapping Sebastian’s hand there.

“Lewis,” Sebastian says calmly, somehow in control of himself in a way Lewis envies.

Heat radiates throughout his body and Lewis doesn't know what to do with the sickeningly hot revelation that, yes, he wishes he were—he wishes he could really get wet for Sebastian.

Fuck. “Fuck,” he whimpers, gnawing on his bottom lip. He looks at Sebastian's calm, open face. Neatly trimmed beard, cherry red mouth, kind eyes. Tries to take a deep breath.

He stops chewing on his lip and gives into the flaming hot pulse of desire in his chest. “Yeah,” he says, voice shaky. He clears his throat. “I'm wet for you, Seb.”

The world doesn't end, but Lewis becomes aware of the silence of the room. Feels the throbbing of his hard dick. Hears the steady hum of the air conditioner. Watches Sebastian's face and the small, pleased smile that appears on it.

He rubs the pads of his fingers over Lewis's taint again and Lewis opens his legs for him, easy.

“Sweetheart,” Sebastian says on an exhalation. He kisses Lewis softly on the mouth. “A little more.”

He doesn't know what Sebastian means at first, but then feels the tips of Sebastian’s fingers bump against his mouth. Oh.

He kisses Sebastian’s fingers, paying special attention to the gold of his wedding band. Then he opens his mouth for two of his fingers. Sebastian presses them flat to Lewis's tongue and he gags a little, his mouth flooding with saliva. He sucks on them, getting them messy. When Sebastian pulls them out, they're soaking wet. Lewis preens at a job well done.

Sebastian reaches down toward Lewis’s hole, nudges the thin string of his thong out of the way, and rubs his wet fingers there.

Lewis gasps. It makes him ache even more, desperate for Sebastian to open him up and finally fuck up into him.

Sebastian spends time gently circling his hole and pressing the tip of his middle finger past the rim, teasing Lewis, but he doesn't pretend it'll be enough to get the job done. He pulls away for a moment to grab the lube off the bedside table and the absence of his warmth is shocking to Lewis.

When he settles on his haunches between Lewis's spread legs, Lewis beckons him up for another kiss. Lewis sighs into it, satisfied for the moment, but only because he knows he's getting what he's been after.

Sebastian kisses him, smiling against his mouth. Then he sits back and gently slides Lewis’s thong off. He rubs the wet material between his fingers and smirks at Lewis, hot and ridiculous. He tosses the thong off the side of the bed and goes about pouring lube onto his fingers to open Lewis up slowly, but diligently. His movements are perfunctory; he starts with one and goes up to three fingers, scissoring them in and out of Lewis. He babbles the entire time: Lewis is so good. He's perfect. He looks beautiful like this.

Lewis can barely hear him over the roaring in his ears, too aware of the the huffy little noises he makes as Sebastian fucks him.

When Sebastian presses his dick in him, something settles in Lewis. Stuffed full, with Sebastian easing into a rhythm, praising him, Lewis feels stupid about how easy it is to take a breath. He aches so much—his dick hard and untouched, his hole stretched and full—but he welcomes it. Sebastian's peppering kisses along the side of his face, mumbling incoherently, and Lewis is content to take it. To let Sebastian take care of him.

“My sweet girl,” Sebastian says over and over as he fucks into Lewis, hitting his prostate every other thrust. He already fucks him so well that Lewis always feels like it can't get any better, but then it does. Sebastian does this; they get to share this. “I love you so much.”

Lewis whimpers and reaches for his dick, desperate to come. He has gone untouched for so long, he knows it won’t take much, not with how Sebastian keeps saying sweet, filthy things as Lewis jerks himself off.

“Yes, touch yourself.” Sebastian pants. “Touch yourself while I fuck your cunt.”

Before Lewis realizes what is happening, his hole pulses around Sebastian’s cock and he comes in long, thick ropes between them, whining at those words. His cunt. He whimpers again, blinking away tears. His cunt—it aches where Sebastian's still fucking into it.

He covers his face with his arm, completely undone, choked up, his resolve from ten minutes ago gone.

“Seb,” he whines, fucked up on his feelings. “Come on. Come. In me,” he manages to say because he can't repeat Sebastian's words, not yet. Fuck.

Sebastian does as he asks. He screws up into Lewis a few more times, and with a low grunt, he empties inside of him.

Lewis sighs and wraps his arms around Sebastian's sweaty back, holding him close. He's fucked out and full, and so emotional. How can someone be so good to him? How can he keep discovering things about himself after all these years? Will it always be this good?

Sebastian seems content to be held, squishing Lewis, still inside him. It'll get uncomfortable shortly, but for now, Lewis needs to hold and be held and breathe.

He tucks his face against the side of Sebastian's neck and exhales deeply.

Sebastian untangles his arm enough to cradle the back of Lewis's head and absently scritch at his scalp. It soothes Lewis and helps him finally come back to himself fully. He's exhausted, physically and mentally, but he's so pleased.

“Okay,” he says, a handful of minutes later, pulling back to stare at Sebastian's red, sweaty face. “This is gross now.”

Sebastian laughs, loud in the otherwise quiet room, hearty and beautiful. Lewis can't help but giggle along with him. He's so in love.

They're both gross and sweaty and covered in come. Sebastian pulls out slowly and pecks Lewis on the lips in apology when he winces.

Sebastian rolls off of him, but doesn't go far, curling around him instead. “I love you,” he says plainly, looking at Lewis.

A tired grin breaks across his face. “I love you, too.”

Sebastian turns bashful, which is very funny to Lewis after everything they just did. “Shower?”

Lewis hums an assent. “Need to take my makeup off first.” It's never a good idea to use steaming hot water to wash your face. Sebastian doesn't care enough, but he knows how Lewis is.

“Okay,” says Sebastian. He pushes himself up off the bed and goes into the en suite. Lewis is confused until he sees his makeup remover and his reusable makeup pads in Sebastian's hand when he comes back. His smile returns and he knows it's a silly one. His heart is fit to burst.

Sebastian settles on the bed beside him. Still covered in come, Lewis internally grimaces. Disgusting. “This is right?” Sebastian asks. He tips some of the cleanser onto one of the makeup pads after Lewis nods.

He closes his eyes as Sebastian swipes the cleanser across his face. He's gentle with it, probably because he's seen Lewis do it enough times over the years. He circles Lewis's eyes and brow bone a few times. Presses another makeup pad to one eye for a few seconds before he wipes away mascara and does the same to his other eye.

Lewis is patient, lets him clean his face until he's satisfied. He enjoys the intimacy of the moment. When he is finished, Sebastian kisses the corner of Lewis’s mouth. “All done.”

Lewis’s mouth ticks up at the corner and he opens his eyes. “Thank you.”

Sebastian blinks slowly, a blush forming on the apples of his cheeks. “My pleasure.”

Lewis believes him.

“Okay, shower now. Before your come starts leaking out of me.” He is surprised it hasn't happened already. He wants to sleep when they're done, not bug hospitality for a change of sheets.

Sebastian snorts. Dreamy. “You say the most romantic things.”

Lewis bats his eyelashes at him on his way to the en suite. “That's why you married me, I bet.”

Sebastian’s smile is goofy, an indication that he is going to say something he thinks is charming. “Oh, yes. Actually, is the only reason. I thought you knew.”

The problem, Lewis realizes, is that he actually does find Sebastian charming.

Sebastian follows him into the en suite and they shower together because the stall is big enough for at least five people. Lewis allows no funny business, though, and steals most of the shower spray.

He does offer to wash Sebastian's hair for him. It's a sweaty, thinning mess, but he ducks his head and lets Lewis lather and massage his scalp. Sebastian leans into his touch, red shoulders slumped, comfortable. Lewis hopes to say thank you, I love you, I can take care of you too.

Sebastian rinses the shampoo out and Lewis pushes his hair off his face for him. It sticks up in stupid spikes. He looks ridiculous and goofy. Happy. Lewis is laughing about it when Sebastian kisses him.