Sleeping With a Friend

They've spent three weeks preparing for this night.

Three weeks of waiting for that order to ship to them (because neither of them have the balls to pick up the needed items from Pierre's store), three weeks of pooling their limited funds together so that they can book the hotel room (they want a classy place, not some cheap, bed-bug infested motel), three weeks doing extensive research on the web (consisting almost entirely of browsing videos on incognito mode.)

Oh, and Sebastian spends one day removing a virus from Sam's computer (that has absolutely no relation to the videos they definitely did not watch).

The goods are loaded up in Sam's bag, and after Sam's mom's been told that he's staying at Seb's, and Sebastian's mother's been told that he's staying at Sam's, they take off on Sebastian's motorcycle towards Zuzu City.

They park outside the hotel, and hold hands as they walk into the lobby to check into their room. They're pretty sure the lady behind the desk knows what's up (they're both blushing and giggling like two teenage boys in their first sex ed class), but they don't particularly care, because apart from an awkward check-out tomorrow morning, it's not like they're ever going to see her again.

They kiss against the wall of the elevator, pointedly ignoring the poor family stuck inside with them. They keep manage it PG, at least; they're not complete assholes.

(Well, PG except for Sam's hands wedged into the back pockets of Sebastian's black skinny jeans, and Sebastian's tongue in Sam's mouth.)

Sam and Sebastian part when the elevator chimes, and the doors slide open, linking pinky fingers as they walk out of the elevator together. Sam waves at the family before the door slide shut again. They make the short walk to their room, and they only stop three times to kiss one another up against the wall.

Sebastian struggles to get the door unlocked with their key card, and Sam isn't exactly helpful, pressing sloppy kisses down the side of Sebastian's neck, slipping his fingers past the waistband of Seb's boxers, laughing at the way he gasps and almost drops the key card.

"You're such an ass," Sebastian groans, as he finally manages to unlock the door.

"You want to do what to my ass?" Sam asks, loud enough for anyone who happens to be passing through the hall to overhear.

All of their bravado comes crashing down once they're in the hotel room, and staring at the single, double bed. (There's a set of arm chairs, and a flat screen TV, too, but that's not what they've come here for.)

Sam drops his bag next to the bed, and hesitantly, takes a seat on the edge. Sebastian perches next to him, running his hand along the floral bedspread.

"Aren't hotel duvets supposed to be like, really dirty?" Sebastian asks, frowning.

"Dude, shut up," Sam says. "You're killing the mood." He bends down, rummaging through his backpack. "Isn't that what we brought the blanket for?" Sam retrieves said blanket (a fluffy, purple thing they've stolen from Abigail), staring at it as he turns it over in his hands. "So, um..."

"Spread it out," Sebastian demands, impatient. "I'm not fucking on a cover that somebody else could have fucked on."

"Right." Sam and Sebastian both stand up from the bed, taking two corners of the blanket each, and spreading it over the double bed. With that out of the way, they resume staring at the bed, unsure of how to proceed next.

Sam runs a hand through his hair. "Let's... um... can we just make out for a bit?"

"Yeah," Sebastian agrees, "that sounds good."