Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Wanted: Roommate. Rent: 350. 3rd floor flat/shared bathroom. Sebastian scanned what had to be the shortest craigslist ad he’d ever seen. There weren’t even pictures. Still, he had one week to find housing before school started, and not only was the address close to the college, but the rent was startlingly cheap to boot. He picked up the phone.

“This about the room?” there was no hello, who is this?, just a perfunctory question spoken in a thready, accented voice.

Sebastian stutters, caught off-guard. “Uh, yeah--is that still up for grabs? I can swing by tonight after work to check it out if that works--”

“I get home after six. See you then.” The line goes dead. Oo-kayyy then. Little bit of a weirdo, but Seb and his recently decimated bank account are willing to put up with that. He makes a mental note to see if student services had any employment assistance.

He finishes out his last day of work at the Red Bull Pub, just after the lunch rush, promising to come back and visit during the break. He hugs Christian and Hanna and the rest of the guys, before hopping into his Volkswagen van. It’s a boring four hour drive from his small hometown to the city, and as he watches the odometer roll, he hopes that this roommate deal will work out.

He’d had an arrangement to live with his cousin, but that had fallen through at the last moment, and he was quickly running out of time. His van was spacious, but he didn’t fancy living in it. Once he hits the city limits, it’s only a matter of finding which of the closely set houses-weird, old historic buildings that had been converted to apartments long ago--is the right one. It turns out to be a looming brick house, the door of which is painted a bright, flaking red. He presses the button marked #3, and steps back to wait, looking around. A potted plant sits on the railing, the brown remains of some type of grassy plant poking up through the dry soil. In the driveway, an old ford escort sits on blocks, hood propped up with a length of 2x4, clearly in the process of being worked on. After a considerable wait, the door in front of him opens, revealing a tired-looking guy. He scrapes his fingers through his longish blond hair. “Mm, you’re here about the room, yeah?” At Sebastian’s nod, the guy opens the door wider, stepping back to let Sebastian enter. He steps into the dim hallway, and follows the blond upstairs.

Kimi has many reservations about letting his extra room out. One, namely, was that he valued his privacy. What if his roommate was nosey? Or uptight? Not uptight enough? Or liked annoying music? Where would he put his toothbrush? Did roommates share a toothbrush mug? The lanky kid on his doorstep looked innocuous enough, and the extra 350 a month would mean the escort got done this year, but was it worth the trouble? He exchanges names with the kid, points out the apartment’s main features, tells a few white lies about the quality of the building’s landlord, and asks to see proof of employment. The kid’s face falls.

“I can pay a few months’ rent in advance,” he says hopefully, wincing. “But I left my job back home--my last day was today. I promise I'll find something soon, though.”

Without his brain’s permission, Kimi finds himself agreeing to that. Something about hangdog blue eyes and disarming smile. He grumbles out an acquiesce, and finds himself the recipient of a very enthusiastic hug.

“Thank you so much!” Sebastian gushes, pulling back to give Kimi a blinding smile. “I promise you won't regret this!”

They work out a lease agreement that night, and Seb shows up three days later, van filled to the windows with boxes.

It’s going to be an exercise in personal growth for the both of them.

Chapter Text

The Home Invasion, as he’s come to think of it, begins on a wednesday morning, just before Kimi leaves for work. He’s enjoyed his last breakfast as a single occupant by eating cereal on the couch in his boxers after a loud and uncharacteristically aggressive wank, when he hears Sebastian’s beater van coming up the road. Sighing heavily, Kimi puts his dishes away and goes to find clothes, and by the time he’s done that, Sebastian’s coming up the stairs with the first round of boxes.

“Your key is on the counter. There is still coffee, I think,” he tells Sebastian, pointing toward the kitchen. Satisfied that he has provided a good first impression as a roommate, Kimi grabs his things and heads to work.

It is an uneventful day at the garage--only a few oil changes and a puzzling noise coming from someone’s car which turned out to be a family of mice living under the backseat. It is boring, and Kimi is disappointed.He likes puzzling noises, challenging problems, things that require finesse and technique to solve. His mind empties out when he’s in the zone, just him and the problem at hand. It’s second only to the feeling of a good drive.
He eats his lunch in the back room, his mind still in that perfect, empty space as he contemplates the green lettuce in his sandwich.
“Find a roommate yet?” Jenson, another mechanic, flops on the breakroom couch, shattering Kimi’s sandwich-zen. Kimi grunts out an affirmation. “College kid. Seems alright. There shouldn’t be any problems.”
Kaj, their bodywork guy, smirks.
“No problems, huh? Are you trying to convince Jense or you?”
Kimi scowls, and tosses a balled up napkin his fellow Finn. So much for solidarity among countrymen.
“So you finally found one you couldn’t scare off,” Kaj continues, without reacting to the assault.
“Suksia vittuun, asshole,” he mutters, actually a little bit hurt. Just because he's not willing to put up with bullshit does not make him a ’scary little man’ as Jenson sometimes calls him.

When he comes home, Kimi feels a little unsettled by the addition of a bike in the shared garage, by the chucks next to his sneakers, the unfamiliar sweatshirt hanging on the back of the door. Little signs where Sebastian had filled in the spaces that used to be empty. He toes off his work boots, shuffling into the kitchen where he finds his new roommate at the kitchen table, scrolling through job ads.
“Hi!” His roommate turns and smiles, so ridiculously wide and bright Kimi finds the corner of his own mouth turning up.
“Hi.You eat yet?” Kimi inquires, looking in the fridge. He grabs some leftovers and set them in the microwave.
Sebastian rubs the back of his neck. “If that was an offer, I might have to take you up on it. I haven't had a chance to go shopping yet.”
Kimi nods, getting out plates and flatware, setting it on the small kitchen table. It was really only meant for one person, but the kitchen was small enough that a bigger table wouldn’t easily fit. Their knees bump awkwardly before they managed to arrange their legs.
----
They eat their dinners in an uneasy silence--at least on Seb’s part. He feels a little guilty, eating his housemate’s food. He just wants to make a decent first impression, and here he is, fucking it up already. Deep in thought, he jumps a little when Kimi speaks.
“Move-in go okay?” Seb gets the feeling that small talk isn't really the guy's strong suit, so it's sweet that he’s trying.
“Yeah, I got all the boxes in my room, anyway. Still need to unpack a lot of it, though.” He's not looking forward to that. He tried not to bring a ton of stuff, knowing that he'd be packing it up in nine months when he goes back home for the summer, but somehow a bunch of this-and-that found its way into his boxes. Seb is a big believer in homey touches and throw blankets.

The conversation flows easily after that. Kimi is from Finland, he learns, and moved here a few years ago to work for a friend of his. He's a mechanic, and the ford in the driveway is his current personal project.

Sebastian tells him about growing up in Germany, and how he moved with his family here when he was a teenager. He’s enrolled in the athletic training program at the college.

Kimi is easy to talk to, and has a surprising blink-and-you'll-miss-it jag of humor.
“Thanks for letting me freeload dinner, man,” Sebastian says as he puts away the dishes. “And seriously just let me know if I'm being a pain or anything. I've never lived away from home, so I'll probably fuck up at some point.” He laughs nervously.
Kimi shrugs one shoulder. “I've never been a roommate either. Guess we’ll just have to figure it out as we go.”

Chapter Text

All things considered, things go alright.

Neither of them is above leaving a strongly worded (or occasionally passive aggressive) sticky note on the door, and gradually, they reach a near-perfect harmony. Sebastian keeps the sticky note of a tiny stick figure Seb being crushed in a landslide of dishes, because it's honestly hilarious, and keeps it next to the one where he’s drawn Kimi drowning in one of the puddles he frequently leaves in the bathroom after his showers.

Of course, neither of them are perfect people. Kimi is grumpy between the hours of midnight and 10am, if he’s low on caffeine, has had too much caffeine, is hungover, hungry, or needs to do laundry. Sebastian reacts to stress (and boy has his first three weeks of school brought him stress) by loudly complaining about any less-than-ideal circumstances. Take now, for instance.

“HONESTLY! How the fuck does this happen?” Sebastian holds up his poor dress shirt, one sleeve partially detached.
Kimi pokes his head out of his bedroom, looking sleepy.
“Ah, yeah, the washer does that sometimes. Don't put nice things in there.” He yawns.
“I have an interview today! What the fuck am I supposed to wear?” His voice is borderline shrieky, which he knows is unflattering at best, but this is a disaster and he feels fairly justified in a little yelling.
“Don't shout there, fucker,” Kimi snaps. It's too early for this much noise. “You can borrow one of mine.” Kimi disappears back into his room, returning with a dark red dress shirt.
Pacified, he gratefully takes the shirt and runs off to get ready, and Kimi presumably goes back to bed.

The shirt smells distractingly good, something woodsy and fresh, which gives Seb a weird breathless feeling. He’s pretty sure that makes him a creep and a bad roommate.

The interview goes well, at least. He'd applied to work at a gym near campus as part of the night shift staff. They liked that he was interested in becoming a trainer, even if for now all he'd be in charge of was re-racking weights. They work out a schedule, he signs some papers, and exits the building as an Employed Man.
--
Kimi is watching a race on television when the door flies open, rebounding into the wall. His roommate is wearing a manic smile, looking almost impossibly happy. It makes his own mouth hurt just looking at it.
“Good news, then?”
“I got the job!” Seb takes off his pointy dress shoes, and collapses onto the couch, hugging a pillow to his chest.

Kimi nods. “Congratulations. Beer?” He’d been working through a twelve pack while watching tv when Seb had burst in, and it seemed appropriate to offer him a drink in light of his continued ability to pay rent.
The brunet makes grabby hands, and Kimi tosses a can his way.
“What's on tv?” He said after taking a lengthy sip.
“Rally coverage. They're in Australia. We can watch something else if you want.”
“No, this is fine. I like motorsport-- I don't know much about rally, though, so I might annoy you with questions,” he laughs.
The rest of the beers disappear one by one, Kimi making fun of the red flush that gradually shows up on the height of Seb’s cheeks.

All in all it's a good night. His favorite teams do well, his least favorite team crashes out, and his roommate gets hilariously tipsy and trash talks with Kimi. Maybe it's because he got lucky with Seb, but having a roommate is actually nicer than he thought it would be.
--
Now that Seb is working, the way their schedules are right now, it's a little bit like living with a ghost. Food alternately disappears and is replaced in the cupboards, doors slam and the shower runs while he's trying to get to sleep. So he's a little surprised to see Seb in the flesh when he gets home one night. It's literally been weeks since he's seen him.

“Uhh…” He's honestly a little short on words right now. Sebastian is curled up on the couch, still wearing his winter coat, and looking distinctly ill. He looks up pitifully at Kimi, who physically recoils.
“You look like shit.” It's probably not the most comforting statement, but it's the first thing that came to mind when he makes eye contact with his pale, sweating roommate.
“I called off work. I think I'm sick. I guess between finals and work I've been pushing too hard,” he mumbles, shivering.
Kimi can only raise his eyebrows.
A hand to his sweaty forehead tells him that he definitely has a temperature, but probably not enough of one to take him to the hospital.
“Cmon. Bed.”
“Ooh, how romantic,” Sebastian slurs sarcastically, rolling off the couch and swaying into a standing position.
Kimi raises an eyebrow. “Didn't know you swung that way.”
“I swing all kinds of ways. Mostly towards cute blondes”, he says thoughtfully, eyes most of the way closed.
Well, that's a thought for later. Much, much later. He helps Sebastian towards his room, trying and ignoring the way he’s plastered against him, all pliant and clingy and pretty.

He's never been inside Sebastian’s room before, and he takes a look around. There's a desk set up at one end, a tall pile of books and papers stacked neatly next to a desktop computer. A chair is tucked in the corner, holding his backpack. There's a few ferns lined up on the windowsill, posters of art prints on the walls, and in the middle of the room---
“What the fuck is this?”
“Can't understand you, mate.”
He switches back to English.
“You're sleeping on the floor, idiot. What the fuck. No shit, you're sick.” He wants to shake his idiot roommate.
“My bed at home’s a queen. Wouldn't fit in here.”
Kimi looks at the foam mattress pad on the floor, with a duvet folded at one end and swears again, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Okay, back to the couch, then.”
“Y’know, a real gentleman would offer his bed.”
Against his better judgment, and really, this is getting to be a pattern when it comes to Sebastian, he opens the door to his room.
“If you fucking puke in my bed for sure I'm going to kick you out.”
“You're a shining star,” Seb says earnestly, patting Kimi smartly on the cheek. “I take back all the things I ever complained about.”
He just grumbles in reply, helping him out of his coat and setting him up with a trashcan and a glass of water like some kind of mother hen--honestly he didn't sign up for this.

Kimi crawls into the king size bed next to him, because weird as it is to hop into bed with your roommate, especially when you're maybe realizing that you find that roommate attractive, he's not about to sleep on the couch in his own home. Also, deep down, he's kind of worried that Seb's going to die or something if he leaves him on his own.
---
“I can't accept this!”
“Just pick one. Hurry up, I want to get lunch.” Kimi says impassively.
“I can't!”
“Pretend you're helping me invest in my apartment. So that when you die of whatever stupid thing you do next, my new roommate will have somewhere to sleep.”
Sebastian shoulder-checks Kimi, who shoves him back.
The saleswoman clears her throat nervously. “We have a special on our dreamscape brand mattresses?” She offers.
Kimi’s icy look brooks no arguments, and he trots obediently behind the saleswoman.

Sebastian feels a bit like goldilocks--too hard, too soft. Ah, just right. He points to the one he’d chosen, and with a swipe of Kimi’s card, and several meters of rope cord, his new bed is on its way back to their apartment.

Chapter Text

--
The rest of the semester flies by for Seb; it feels like in no time at all he’s on a plane with his family, to visit his relatives in Germany.

It's the middle of the night, and he’s still wide awake, jet lagged to hell. It didn't help that he was trying to sleep on his aunt’s lumpy floral couch. He finds himself really missing the bed that Kimi had bought him.

He kind of misses Kimi, too. He can't really put words it into words, but he's comfortable, comforting to be around. Probably something about the fact that for the most part, the dude is just on a whole other level of chill. The other part probably came from how he took such good care of him when he was sick during finals. Seb doesn’t remember much from that night-- he went to sleep on the couch after taking a gulp of cold&flu medicine, and then woke up the next day in Kimi’s bed. With Kimi in it, sleeping next to him, mouth wide open and limbs splayed. It was really hilarious and deeply confusing until he could wake Kimi up and make him explain.

Apparently, he’d seen where Seb usually slept, and offered to let him share the king size bed in his room. And he’d even warmed up some canned soup for him the next morning and let him choose what channels to watch on the tv. Approximately when Kimi made him a second cup of hot tea, Seb’s shallow, purely-physical attraction to his roommate changed into something else. Something way more complicated.
---

It’s day five of his holiday break, and yeah, he loves his family more than anything, but compared to Kimi’s quiet presence, they can be overwhelming at times. He’s perched on the edge of the tub in the upstairs bathroom the next day, hiding out, when he decides to text Kimi. They had exchanged numbers early on for logistics reasons (as well as another venue for lodging complaints).
SV: Holding down the fort alright without me?
It goes to ‘seen’ right away, so he must already be on his phone.
KR: I'm on break at work? Germany treating you well?
SV: Ahh, oops. Time zones, my bad. It's great though! Feels like it's been ages since I've seen everyone. I kind of feel smothered though, so I'm hiding in the bathroom. I can only talk about my “future plans” so much, you know?
KR: Hah
KR: But, is a bit quieter here without you stomping around every morning
SV: Aww, you miss me! I'll make sure to stomp around extra loud when I get back to make up for lost time don't worry
He figures Kimi doesn't know what to make of that, because even after showing “...”, the conversation is ultimately left at ‘read’. Bored of waiting, he wanders back out into the fray, choosing an unoccupied spot on the couch. There's some sort of card game going, and he’s trying to figure out the rules when his pocket buzzes.
It's Kimi. I do not miss your lead feet. I do miss your willingness to clean the bathroom. It’s getting mildew. Pls come back soon.
Seb taps out a reply, feeling a mix of touched, amused, and disgusted.
“You look awfully cheerful.” One of his sisters, Melanie, says. “Text from a special someone?”
Sebastian snaps his head up, face burning. “Uh, nothing like that, just my roommate.”
“Mm, sure. I know that look. Sebi has a crush, how cute! You have to tell me about it! Don't worry, I won't say anything to die geier.” She nods towards the gossip-hungry, elderly relatives clustered around the kitchen table.
Sebastian shakes his head. “Not much to say. He’s my roommate, so I can’t go making things weird by putting the moves on him. But...”
“But?” She leans in, eager.
“He’s got the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen, and when he smiles I feel a little bit like I’m dying, maybe.” He slumps, and she plants a kiss on his temple, comfortingly.
“Just tell him how you feel right before you move back with mom and dad for the summer. That way, if things get weird, you’ve got an escape plan. College is supposed to be about taking a few chances now and then, expanding your horizons, that sort of thing.” It looks like the card game is ending, and she stands up. “C’mon, I think we’re going to go down to the christmas markets soon.”

---
The thing is, is Kimi is not looking for a relationship. His last relationship had basically destroyed his ability to trust someone on that level pretty much ever again. This whole missing-his-roommate thing had raised some troubling questions. He was attracted to Sebastian, that was true. But he had figured it was in a harmless, shallow, purely-physical attraction only sort of way. Y’know, something he could work through by having sex with someone else. Anyone else. The distressing thing is--he doesn’t feel like finding someone else. He wants sex with Sebastian, and dinners with Sebastian, and sticky note wars with Sebastian. Sebastian in the mornings making breakfast, and Sebastian chewing on his pencil while he studies in the living room. And that sounds just the tiniest bit like a relationship, which is exactly what he is bent on avoiding. Furthermore, Sebastian is a college student, and is moving out at the end of May. Getting attached would be monumentally stupid.

It's ruining his work mojo too; he lets out a strangled noise of frustration as another shower of rust and dirt falls on his face from the underside of the car.
“Stop fucking rattling the car.” He hurls a bolt at the pair of shoes that he can see from his place under the audi he’s working on.
The shoes step away from the front of the car.
“You're moody.” Jenson, then.
“Whatever. Isn't there something you've supposed to be doing?”
“I'm on break. Anyway, moody. Like more than usual.”
Kimi rolls out from underneath the car to aim his best icy stare at Jenson, who merely lifts an eyebrow, taking a prim sip from his thermos. “I’m worried about you. Is it because Jenni’s back in town?”
“I don’t care about that.” He says flatly. And to his surprise, it isn’t a lie. This time last year it probably would have driven him into an epic bender. Revision: Last time she was around, it did drive him into an epic bender. There's a whole week of January missing from his memory. Now, though, all he feels is a vague sense of irritation.
“Trouble at home, then, perhaps?”
“Everything is just like normal. The roommate and I get along fine.” He slides back under the car to continue working. Jenson is going to keep talking regardless so he might as well keep working.
“If you say so. You’ve been weird ever since you had to take the morning off to drop him off at the airport...” He makes a sudden gasping noise.
Kimi closes his eyes, quietly enduring Jenson’s theatrics.
“You miss your roommate! You’re lonely. This is precious, oh my god.” There’s some shuffling, and Jenson is under the car too now, even though there's not enough room.
“I’m right, aren’t I?”
In the smallest possible voice, Kimi mumbles, “...maybe a little….it was nice having someone around again.” As much as Jenson is really annoying, he’s also a great friend, so admitting that isn’t such a huge thing. Jenson’s seen him at his absolute worst, admitting that his empty house is a little depressing is small compared to all the things he's probably said while blackout drunk.
“You poor bastard. You’ve gone and gotten attached to your little stray college student, have you?”
It's an awkward angle, but Jenson gives him a consoling pat on the shoulder, before rolling away.

Chapter Text

Winter passes uneventfully, and Kimi welcomes the chance to start working on the car again. At the rate he's going, it should be done by the beginning of summer. It’s come a long way from the literal wreck it started as, but there’s still a ways to go.

Thanks to Seb’s contributions via rent, he's been able to buy some really nice replacement parts. He’s got the roll cage in, has stripped out the interior, gutted the engine, and is currently working on getting the busted door off so that he can put its replacement on. One of the bolts is stuck fast though, and he’s about to take a sledgehammer to it when his phone rings. He sits in the lawnchair he keeps in the garage to take the call, kicking up his feet on a spare tire. His back is on fire--an old injury that’s never quite healed--and his voice comes out a little strained when he answers.

“What is it?”

“Raikkonen, man. Good news--first half of your parts are in. Rest should be in by the end of the week.” It’s the parts supply guy--he’s using the same one his shop uses, so they’re on fairly familiar terms.

“Thanks for the heads up. I can be over there tomorrow to pick up.”

“I’d bring a friend if I were you. Some of this shit is really heavy. What are you building, anyway?”

“I’m rebuilding the ford.”

His supply guy whistles. “Didn’t learn your lesson the first time, huh?” he laughs. “Guys like us though, we just don’t know when to stop. Feel free to use the lot for testing, if you need to, man.”

Kimi thanks him, and hangs up, looking speculatively at Seb’s beast of a van, which is parked behind his much smaller, pristine-condition Abarth. Before Seb, he would’ve just rented a truck, but from what he understood, one of the unspoken advantages of having a roommate was borrowing stuff.

Apparently, Seb is also taking advantage of this benefit, too, because when he comes back from school that night, he’s wearing Kimi’s favorite oversized sweatshirt, which had gone missing earlier in the previous week.

“That’s mine.” He points woundedly at the commandeered item.

“I couldn’t find mine, and yours was on the couch...I was running late last week so I uh, borrowed it. And then I continued borrowing it.”  Seb looks appropriately guilty(and very very cute in his sweatshirt), though, so Kimi doesn’t rib him further. Plus, he still needs to borrow the van, and Seb himself.

“Mah, No big deal.”

“Thanks, man, you're the best.” Seb says from halfway inside the fridge. “Have you seen my leftovers?” Ahh, the joys of borrowing. Kimi cracks a tiny smile.

“I ate them. I’ll pay for delivery tonight.”

“Jerk. I get to choose, then,” Seb shuts the fridge and makes and exaggerated thinking face. “I want pizza. From the good place.”

Kimi nods agreeably.

--

He waits until after the pizza has arrived to ask the favor. They’re sitting on the couch, with Sebastian’s feet tucked under the cushion that Kimi is sitting on. He does this every time they share the couch. It’s kind of annoying, since it makes a lump under Kimi’s ass, but asking him to find another way to keep his feet warm doesn’t seem to work.

“Hey, you free tomorrow? I need a favor.”

“Yeah! What’s up?”

“Some parts for my car came in. It’s not going to fit in the Abarth, so I was hoping that you might be able to help.”

“Oh! Sure!” Seb smiles his megawatt smile. “What time do I need to be ready by?”

“Not before noon. It's my day off, I want to sleep in.” Plus his back is going to need a lot of rest if he intends to lift more than a side mirror tomorrow.

---

They get going around one, it's a long drive--just enough to justify not paying for delivery, but enough to be a bit of a drag. Kimi isn't used to being a passenger, and Seb's driving stresses him out a little. It's a rusty passenger van, but he drives it like a performance car, weaving delicately through traffic with a precision that should have been impossible in such an unwieldy vehicle. If he wasn't afraid for his safety, it would be devastatingly hot. Seb behind the wheel was...intense.

Seb had this tenacity, underneath his friendly exterior, something ferocious and unyielding. It showed when he came home after four hours of classes and eight hours of work only to study an additional two hours, and then went for a run. It showed when he scraped together rent every month, on time, even when his job sometimes shorted him hours and he had to do odd jobs. Apparently, it also showed here. It was almost a shame he was going into sports medicine, Kimi thought. The guy can really drive.

Kimi braces his feet in the footwell, pressing invisible brakes when they round a corner at speed, letting out a strangled breath when all four tires remain on the pavement. Seb hums nonchalantly along with the radio, eyes on the road ahead, completely unaware of Kimi’s white knuckled grip on the door handle.

They make it to the place in one piece, Sebastian cheerfully turning the key off, patting the dashboard.

“Thanks for flying Air Gretchen.” He gives a cheeky grin to Kimi.

“You named your car Gretchen?”

“All cars should have names!”

Kimi shook his head. “What happens when it finally goes? You'll be too attached if you name it.”

“Nah, I recovered just fine from the loss of Little Banana. Little yellow dodge neon. Caught fire right in my driveway.”

Kimi lets out a genuine laugh. “From what I've seen, that's kind of the expected death from a neon.”

Seb nods, seriously, getting out of the van. “It was kind of a wretched car, really.”

--

Kimi sorts out the money end of things with the shop, while Sebastian drives around back to the pickup area, waiting for Kimi to finish up.

“What's in this one?” He points to one of the largest crates, which they actually had to use a portable hoist to get into the van.

“Transmission,” Kimi grunts, sweat beading at his temples as they use their combined strength to push it all the way to the back. From the sheer number and variety of boxes, it looks like he's pretty much going to build a car from scratch. Kimi hasn't talked much about his little side project, just that he's been working on it since just before Seb moved in, and that it was "a stubborn piece of shit." Profanity aside, Kimi seemed fond of it nonetheless.

Everything packed in and strapped down, they're soon back on the highway home.

“You too warm? I can turn down the heat if you want?” Seb asks. His companion is looking a little sweaty, still--he'd been acting a bit off ever since they hit the halfway point of their return journey.

“Heat is fine.” Kimi turns and gives him the most unconvincing approximation of a human smile he's ever seen. It raises the hairs on his neck.

Uhh okay. Weird. Maybe he's feeling sick from drinking that iffy milk this morning? I warned him... Seb shrugs it off for the moment. If it was a real problem, or he’d accidentally done something to offend Kimi, he knew that it’d come up eventually. No need to waste energy on it. Oh god, I’ve been spending too much time with Kimi, I’m starting to think like him, Seb thinks, amused.

--

Sebastian backs neatly into the driveway an hour later, taking a moment to stretch obscenely before hopping out of the driver’s seat. His back may be killing him, but Kimi can still find it in himself to admire the way Seb arches against the seat, shirt riding up a little.

Unload goes much slower, and includes much more swearing and grunting and sweating from all involved parties.

After the last of the boxes are in the garage, both go inside and collapse on the couch. Kimi closes his eyes, catching his breath. He loves his couch right now. It’s his favorite thing in the whole word. The pleather is cool on his back, and the dent he’s worn in the cushion hugs his body like an old friend.

“Ugh, I’m starving, ” Sebastian groans. “I think I’m gonna eat dinner. You want me to grab something for you too?”

“Mm, I’ll be up in a minute.” He braces himself mentally, and tries to stand up. Instant regret--aah, seems he’s really done it this time. He swears a blue streak in all the languages he knows. It helps a little, but unfortunately the noise draws unwanted attention--his roommate bursts out of the kitchen.

“Are you okay?!”

“I'm...experiencing some...mild pain. In my back.”

“On a scale of 1-10?”

“Two.” He lies, straight-faced.

“If it was a 2 you could get off of the couch.” Seb says skeptically, suspicion-narrowed eyes focused on him.

Kimi bangs his head against the headrest, part frustration, part response to the discomfort. “Okay! it's an 8. Strong 8.” He grinds the words out.

“Is there someone I should call?”

“Don't bother. I've had it like this before--just gotta sleep it off. If you want to be helpful get my vicodin off my dresser.”

Seb returns with a canvas satchel, as well as the painkillers and a glass of water. Kimi dry swallows the pills, knowing from prior experience that water would just come back up.

“I've got a little bit of training for this sort of thing, if you want me to try?”

Well, things can't really get much worse , Kimi thinks.

“Have at it,” he mumbles.

--

Seb is maintaining his professional facade facing the bare expanse of Kimi’s back, but it’s an exercise in willpower. He’s all pale skin and functional muscle, little barely-there scars here and there, probably from work, he thinks. Kimi isn’t the ideal patient--when asked where it hurts, he just says “the whole fucking thing!” and waves his hand, and when asked what caused the pain, deadpanned and said “an injury.” He’s facedown on the couch, but his fledgling Kimi-senses tell him that he is probably doing that microscopic smirk he does when being frustrating on purpose.

Kimi’s got the usual knots and tightness you’d find on someone who has a physically demanding job, but whatever the injury had done had created some lasting damage. It’s way above anything Seb’s learned in class, but after stretching, massaging, applying heat, applying cold, and applying 3 different kinds of creams, Kimi drowsily hums and says that he feels a lot better.

“Thanks, Sebastian.” His voice is warm and a little gravelly, and the way he says his name sends a shiver down his spine.

“Yeah, any time, just ask! It’s good practice for me too.” He tries to sound natural, but he still comes off a little breathless to his own ears, the memory of warm skin still on his palms.

Chapter Text

Kimi knows by the amount of papers accumulated on the kitchen table and the shade of purple under Seb’s eyes that it must be finals. He also noticed that he'd been eating nothing but cup noodles and diet coke, instead of real food.

Kimi isn’t sure when it became his responsibility to keep his roommate alive, but it seems to be becoming a theme. Unwilling to have a repeat of the previous semester, he stops on the way home from work the next day and buys a rotisserie chicken, a bag of salad, and some orange juice from the corner store. Toeing off his shoes, he sets the bag on the kitchen counter. The resulting thump draws Seb's attention away from his essay.
“I brought dinner.” Kimi informs him, gesturing to the bag.
“Thanks, man, but I already ate.” Sebastian’s glazed eyes are already back on his laptop. Kimi skeptically eyes the bowl in the sink, a few bloated strands of ramen floating in the remains of broth. Making a decision, he comes up behind the brunette, and pulls the chair away from the table so that he can’t reach his laptop. Sebastian makes an incomprehensible noise of rage, and glares up at Kimi, hands up in the universal gesture for ‘what the fuck.” Kimi just regards him, face impassive.
“It's Friday night, molopää. Study tomorrow. You need rest and to eat nutrition or you will end up sick like last time.”
He can see the wheels turning in Seb's head, see him consider fighting him on it, before his eyes flutter shut and he sighs, giving in.
“Yeah, you're right. Thanks.”
They eat in the living room while watching a hockey game on television. Kimi watches carefully, making sure that he does more than just pick at his food. His posture gets more and more slumped, and by the third quarter, his eyes are glassy and half lidded, the whole left side of his body is pressed against him, radiating warmth.
When the game ends, he pokes the German in the side.
“It is time for bed for you, I think.”
Seb stirs and turns his head to blink sleepily up at him. For a split second, their faces are brought close together. Kimi feels an uneasy swoop in his chest. He can feel his breath on his mouth--it would be so easy to just lean in and--he forces himself to stand, instead.
“Thanks. You're always takin’ care of me”, he mumbles to Kimi, who shoos him into his bed, where hopefully he will get real sleep, not naps taken slumped on the kitchen table.
“You're too much an idiot to do it yourself, dummkopf.” Kimi says matter-of-fact.
“Your German accent is terrible,” yawns Sebastian.
“Shut your mouth,” he meant it to come out gruff, but it somehow ends up tinged with unmistakable warmth. Seb's sleepy laughter follows him out of the room. He wants to stay, wants to climb into the bed, press Seb into the mattress, and kiss him until he stops laughing, wants to fuck him, to fall asleep next to him. He wants for once to wake up and not be alone.
Kimi shuts the door behind him, and runs a hand through his messy hair. The end of Seb’s lease is coming soon, and he can’t decide if it’s the worst or best thing in the world.

--
Sebastian is in a fantastic mood. His last exam was this morning, and he was reasonably sure he aced it. He’d just been officially rehired at The Red Bull back home, and had only a few days left at the gym where he worked. The only damper on his mood was the text he’d gotten from his sister: You’re gonna tell him, right? He hasn’t answered yet, but he keeps habitually checking his phone, typing out a variety of excuses, deleting each one and then putting it back in his pocket.

He wanders outside, taking in the view. The way the soft afternoon light filters through the trees, which are finally green again, seems especially beautiful without the stress of exams hanging over his head. Wandering down to the garage, he pokes his head in to see if Kimi was working on the car. It seems like that's where he’s been spending all of his time the last few weeks--like he’s thrown all of his energy into fixing it. Constantly pulling late nights, working to the point of exhaustion to get it done. He considers pointing out how hypocritical it is, considering how Kimi got after him for exhausting himself over school, but keeps his thoughts to himself. The Finn is terrifically stubborn; he’d likely just work even harder to spite him.

True to form, he’s in the garage, music blasting from his earbuds, unaware that he’s being observed. He’s adjusting something with a wrench under the hood, and Seb takes a moment for himself to appreciate the flex and roll of muscle, the look of intense concentration on his face, before fully stepping into the garage.

The car’s got a new paint job since he’s seen it last, jet black and shiny, unrecognisable from the junker he’d seen that day so long ago in august. The way the body panels have been modified, there’s been the addition of a spoiler--
Oh.
“You built a rally car. Practically from scratch.” He hadn’t ever asked what the purpose of the car would be. He figured it was just a way to make some cash on the side, that he was going to fix it and sell it.
Kimi pulled his headphones off. “Hä?”
“Kimi, she looks incredible!”
Kimi, for his part, looks kind of like a proud, if grease-smudged, father. “I think it’s ready for a real test drive. Still needs adjustments, but I won’t know what until I take it out. You want to come along?”
“Of course!” He’s flattered to even be asked. Kimi’s always been kind of private, secretive, even, about the car.
“I used your rent money to build it. Seems fair that I take you on the maiden voyage.”
The reason for why Kimi needed to rent out a room had never come up--Seb figured it was the usual-- credit card debt, paying off college loans, beer money, that kind of thing. It turns out it was so that he could casually build an actual fucking racecar in the garage. No big deal.
--
They're standing in the middle of a racetrack, which apparently is owned by same guy they picked up some of the car’s parts from. It’s mostly just a grassy field, with an asphalt circuit, with a diverted dirt track section that goes through a stand of pine trees. It’s pretty low rent- no bleachers, and only the bare minimum in the safety department. They’re the only ones here right now-- It's a Monday afternoon, a perfect day, really--the sun’s out, and there's a bit of a breeze. Kimi sets the tools and spare parts he brought by their ‘camp’ (two lawn chairs and a cooler.) He does one last check on the fluid levels, then grabs the two helmets he’d brought--a flashy one with his last name on the dome, and a slightly older, but still completely functional plain white one which had ‘guest’ written on it in sharpie.
He hands the nicer one to Seb. “Aa, for insurance purposes, I'd feel better if you were wearing this one.”
That's reassuring, Sebastian thinks, pulling the helmet on. It's snug, like his whole head is getting a cushiony hug. To his surprise, Kimi's voice sounds in his left ear. Apparently they're the kind with built in microphones. Fancy.
“---can hear me, yes?”
“Ahh, yeah, can you hear me?”
“Good for now. It's about to get loud, though, so you have to speak up when we’re driving.”
They clamber in, securing their harnesses. Kimi double checks Seb's, giving him a friendly double pat on the head, before he sticks the key into the ignition.
---
The car roars to life, and Kimi feels his heart race. Something about this always feels too good, like he's exactly where he's supposed to be, like he's a part of the machine too, the piece that makes the whole thing work. He shifts into drive, and it gets better.
He does a cautious first lap around the course, mostly to check for unexpected obstacles, then a second and third where he pushes the engine harder, feeling the car out. It’s all restrained, untapped power and it’s everything he needs right now, and his smile stretches raw across his lips.
After the fourth lap, he checks on Seb.
“Good?”
“Yes. Fuck.” He sounds a little dazed; Kimi can see Seb gets it, that he can feel it too. His eyes are shining with excitement. Kimi laughs, riding the good mood, as he hits the gas. Three more laps pass, each consecutively faster, as Kimi notes the way the car responds. A few easy tweaks and it’d be close to perfect. He drifts around the corner, almost into the grass, and Seb raises his voice over the shriek of the engine.
“This is amazing! You’re amazing! Where the hell’d you learn to drive like that?”
Kimi shrugs, concentrating on the road ahead.
“Not a lot to do in my town when I was a kid. Fishing and driving. Started doing jokamiesluokka--ah, folk rally--when I was tall enough see over the wheel.”
“You win many races?”
“I won my first when I was twelve.” He smiles a little at the memory. It was a good one, he remembers the smiles of his parents, the admiration from his friends. The car had died just after the finish line and had to be pushed onto the trailer, and there was no trophy, just a small cash prize. Even so, if asked, that would have been his favorite race.
“What about...after that?” His roommate is a nosy fucker, for sure. He sighs, pulling into the spot near their stuff. Pulling the handbrake, he motions Seb to get out of the car.
“I won a few more. People noticed, sponsors noticed. By the time I was twenty two, I had signed with a pro team competing in the world rally championship.” People react one of two ways when they find out that he’d been a professional athlete--they either get really weird about it and try to see if he’s secretly rich (no such luck), or they don’t make a big deal at all. The first reaction seems to be more the more common one, but luckily, his roommate seems to be in the latter category. He relaxes, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.
Taking his helmet off, he gets out and grabs a few tools out of the box he brought and shimmies under the car. Seb flops down next to him on the grass, close enough that they can continue their conversation.
“How'd you do?”
“Alright for a rookie year. I almost made it a whole season. My tenth race, last stage--I misjudged a corner, crashed out into a tree. The impact was mostly on my side. Co-driver was fine--I fractured my ribs, broke my wrist, wrecked my back to hell. I spent a month in the hospital.” It's just facts now, just a timeline that he can recite from memory--the rawness of coming so close to what would have been a legendary rookie year has since healed over. He continues, matter-of-fact.
“A lot of things...fell apart after that. They bought out my contract so that they could replace me with someone in shape to actually drive….Hey, I need a wrench.” He sticks his hand out, and Seb passes it over.
“And you decided to come here?” There's no pity in his tone, which Kimi is grateful for. He'd never learned how to deal with people feeling bad for him.
“A mechanic on my old crew said if I got my certs, I had a guaranteed spot at the garage his brother owned. Maurizio is a really good guy. Even let me work as a receptionist until I'd healed up. I've worked there ever since.” Admittedly, a large part of why he'd stayed was the added benefit of anonymity--almost nobody’d heard of him here. He'd been eager to escape the all the sports journalists hungry to document the “young up-and-coming driver’s tragic fall.” Four years had passed since then, and most everyone had forgotten about him--he probably could have moved elsewhere, if he ever got the urge, but he’d gotten comfortable with the little college town, with his little apartment and the job he mostly enjoyed.

He finishes up underneath the car, and they take a short lunch break, enjoying the clear weather, some fuzzy rock music playing on the portable radio. Things feel...oddly normal, which, again, was surprising. Even when Jenson found out, it had still been a little awkward. (Mostly for Kimi, who wasn't really big on talking about his feelings unless he'd been drinking.)

“Ready to give it another go?” Seb asks, balling up his sandwich bag and tossing it back into the cooler. Kimi nods, dusting off his jeans. “Let’s give it a try.”
This time it’s perfect; he shifts into each consecutive gear, and it feels crisp, the tires bite the ground and the back end slides out as they hit the first corner, and it feels right. It’s all muscle memory at this point, he’s been around the circuit enough times that it’s just reflex and visceral feel as the car responds flawlessly to his demands.
---
They might be barrelling down a dirt track at speeds in excess of 50 miles an hour, but Sebastian feels surprisingly safe in the passenger seat. Kimi’s utterly captivating, the tendons in his thin wrists strain as he makes lightning quick steering adjustments, just as calm behind the wheel as he is the rest of the time. Actually, he’s pretty sure that underneath the helmet, Kimi is smiling, going by the happy crease of his eyes. They slide through another corner, and he can feel the adrenaline dump into his system as small branches scrape his side of the car. He can see why Kimi loves this, it’s thrill and precision, the element of danger. He feels a little high with the rush of it, almost, and when Kimi finally brings the car to a halt again, he’s burning with reckless energy. His hands are shaking as he fumbles with the restraints, as he’s pulling off his helmet. He’s not really sure what he’s planning to do until he does it, he half comes out of his seat, grabbing Kimi by the shoulder, “sorry sorry sorry--” he mutters, right before he crashes their mouths together in a frantic kiss. Kimi makes a little shocked noise, before he closes his eyes and kisses back, running his knuckles softly, shakily, along Seb’s jaw. He takes control, slowing them down until they're barely more than holding their lips against each other. At last, he pulls back, resting his forehead against Seb's.
“We really shouldn't be doing this,” Kimi murmurs, but he doesn't move away, just tugs fondly on a lock of Seb's messy hair.
“No?” He's kind of devastated, because he feels like Kimi could totally be his soulmate or something. He's never met someone as stubborn, brilliant, or quietly hilarious--someone whose presence alone is comforting, like coming home.
“You're young, and you'll get tired of me.” Kimi says with a bitter smile.
“No I won't,” Seb insists, because if Kimi is stubborn, he's nearly twice as much so. (Being ‘so young’ means he has more energy to spend on stubbornness, after all.)
“You're moving back home tomorrow.”
“I can visit!”
“Seb…” The way he says his name, he knows he's lost, that Kimi has made up his mind. He sits back into his seat, summons up a smile from somewhere.
“Sorry.”
“Bah, don't be sorry. Was a very nice kiss.” Kimi smiles back, a little.
“But not nice enough to do it again?” He can't help but ask, even if the answer might hurt.
“Perhaps...too nice to do it again.” He claps Seb gently on the shoulder. “Let's get going. We can pick up pizza on the way home. The good place. My treat.” As offers of post-rejection goodwill go, it's kind of sweet, even though pizza can't really take the sting out. (Even if it is made with three kinds of meat.)

Chapter Text

The five stages of grief as experienced by Sebastian Vettel:

Denial:

Pretending he’s fine has become an art form. His parents are overjoyed to have him back around again, and being back home is a good distraction from his frankly confusing feelings.

Anger:

He spends the second day post rejection alternately mad at Kimi, then mad at himself for leaving without trying again, all the while pretending to be totally fine, because he really, really doesn't wanna talk about it. He kissed me back, and then turned around and rejected me. What the hell is his problem, honestly? Seb thinks, putting his boxed up belongings back into their original places. He uses a little more force than necessary to close his drawer.

Bargaining:

He’s not really a praying kind of guy, but he sends a wish out to the universe to make Kimi change his mind. The universe isn’t listening. Kimi’s name in his phone message inbox slides further and further down in the list as there are no new texts.

Depression:

The first weekend back home he spends in bed, pretending to be sick, watching depressing foreign-language films and eating comfort-food, which causes him to actually become ill. This time, there is no one to bring him soup or watch TV with, as his family is taking a trip. His mom offers to stay, but Sebastian insists that he’ll be fine. Also, he’s almost twenty, and doesn’t really need his mother to make him soup.

Acceptance:

Kimi didn’t--or for whatever reason was choosing not to--want Seb. Simple as that. He'd just have to accept it. Whatever he saw in Kimi’s eyes when they were saying goodbye was probably just a trick of the light, Seb choosing to see what he wanted to see. Just need to brush myself off and get on with it.

---

Seb knows he needs to start working on finding a place to live for his second year, but all the rentals he's looked at are flawed in some way, and he's rejected four prospects in total, one by one. He knows he's just making a bunch of excuses and that in reality, he can't afford to be picky. It doesn't stop him from doing it, though. It also doesn't stop him from occasionally indulging in a few of the bad habits he'd picked from his old roommate.

It's too hot to sleep tonight--has been, for the last week; a punishing heat wave had rolled across the country, setting records and giving the local news something to actually talk about. His parents don't like air conditioning, and his bedroom is upstairs, with a window that offers a weak breeze at best. It's miserable. Seb rolls onto the unoccupied, cool side of his bed for the third time in a row, and waits for sleep to overtake him. Too soon, though, the sheets are damp with sweat again. In a fit of frustration he sneaks downstairs, and helps himself to his parent’s liquor cabinet.

Kimi was, well, a bit of a drunk (and surprisingly, quite the party animal as well). In testament to this, the one of the very few Finnish words he'd picked up from the guy was kalsarikännit, which basically meant drinking at home in your underwear. Seb didn't think he had a problem per se, Kimi was a really friendly, considerate drunk, and besides asking (okay, whining) for Seb to be quiet if he was hungover, and occasionally losing his pants, it had never caused any problems between them.

Kimi had also once imparted some wisdom: alcohol in “certain quantities” will make you sleep. Actually, the night he'd gotten that advice was the only time he'd seen Kimi sad-drinking. All Seb had been able to get out of him was that his brother had just gotten engaged. He'd tried to pry a little to find out why this news was so upsetting for Kimi, but had ran up against one of Kimi's classic stonewalls; it was the one where he ran off and took a really long shower. It was more annoying than the one where he'd talk for a long time without really saying anything at all because it did bad things to their water bill.

So, in search of a night’s rest, he’s somewhere into his third swig of vodka from the dusty half full bottle he'd found in the back. Things are looking better; he swears he can feel sleep just around the corner….

...and that's their neighbor’s terrier, howling at max volume. He turns over, holding his pillow over his face. Small animals rustle in the bushes below the window. Ugh, god, stop it.  A bead of sweat runs ticklish down his temple. The clock on his dresser politely informs him that another hour has passed.  Fuck.

Okay, so clearly, sleep isn't in the cards. Might as well be productive. Getting out his laptop, he browses more rental listings, watches some porn, and then, his fingers slip and he kind of totally ends up internet-stalking his ex roommate.

He considers himself to be a decently rational person, and he knows it's not going to help him get over his little crush, but his ability to make healthy choices has been seriously impaired at this point. There's not much to find though--a few Finnish websites with lots of lists, probably race results. He finds a few grainy pictures of a younger Kimi, all sunburned cheeks and shy grins, some magazine scans, and fan videos. Something of a cult favorite, it seemed, hailed as future championship material up until the accident.

The last thing he finds is a picture of the career-ending crash--it makes him sick to see the twisted metal, and he closes the browser, feeling guiltily like he's looking at something terribly private. He clears his browser and turns his computer off. Mercifully, Kimi was right about the alcohol, and finally he falls asleep. He drifts off, trying not to think about the crunch of steel and plastic compressing. He dreams about pale gray-blue-green eyes smiling at him over the rim of a helmet, and wakes up hugging his pillow, feeling utterly wretched.

---

Kimi knows he doesn’t get to be sad that his roommate is gone, because he is the one who did the rejecting. His working theory is that a little pain now is better than the theoretical pain he’d feel after Seb inevitably left him later. This is the smart thing to do, the right thing to do , he reminds himself. I needed money for the car, not to fall for a pretty college boy, or get into a, a relationship! For fuck’s sake, I was fine being alone before. It was great.

Still...he keeps getting reminded of Sebastian at the stupidest times. One morning, for instance, he’d been making his morning coffee, and grabbed a cup at random, frowning when he saw it. There was this set of green coffee mugs he had found when he moved in, cheaply made, ugly, and chipped. The problem was, it reminded him of the weekend that their building’s heat had gone out in the throes of a snowy November. The landlord had been on vacation in Aruba and refused to answer his phone, or respond to any of the increasingly angry voicemails he’d left. They’d had to camp out in the living room with a single space heater, which had led to one of those weird, soul-baring late night conversations. He had fixed them hot drinks, and they’d stayed up late, talking, and watching shitty tv. He’d said something that had made Seb laugh, inhaling his drink, which had set off a chain reaction of tired laughter between them. He hides the set of green mugs at the back of the cupboard, so that he doesn’t have to look at them.

He'd almost called or texted him a few times, gotten as far as holding his thumb over the call button, but something always convinces him not to. He doesn't know what he'd say, anyway. It’s probably better to just let it go. Eventually, mugs stop making him sad. Days pass. It’s alright.

Chapter Text

Seb is fast asleep when the phone rings. He pulls the covers off, groggily looking for his phone. He ends up having to shake his blankets out entirely, finding it when it falls to the floor.

“Hello?”

“I need you.” Seb almost drops his phone. It’s been over two months since he’s heard that voice.

“ Kimi ? Why are you--? It's one in the morning, what the hell?” ‘ I need you’? how dare he, my god! A tiny part of him is hopeful. He squashes it. Nothing good lies down that path. Kimi answers after a long pause.

“My back hurts, Sebastian. I need you to come make it better.” Kimi sounds a little...odd. Not drunk --drunk Kimi is even mumblier, and very Finnish--so the fact that he's coming in loud and clear, if a little slow, and speaking in English means something else is afoot.

“Kimi. Are--” Seb pinches the bridge of his nose ”--are you stoned?”

“ Noooooo!” Kimi giggles, the phone rustles a little bit. Okay, well, he’s definitely not sober.

“Where are you? Are you somewhere safe?”

“I'm in St Mary's. The nurses are bad here. They have mean hands. Bet you’d make a good nurse. You have the nicest hands,” Kimi tells him candidly. There's someone talking in the background, tinny and faraway.

“The hospital? What happened?” But he doesn’t answer, there’s just more rustling noises, and giggling, then the line goes dead.

Sebastian, naturally, is panicked. He grabs yesterday's clothes off the floor, quickly dressing, gathers up his keys and phone and sneaks out of his house. It wasn't even a question that he was going to find Kimi--even with the way things had gone, even though he’d sworn off Kimi and all Kimi-related things for good. Kimi said he needed him, so he would go. It was as simple as that. The possibility that he was hurt or sick makes Seb's stomach heavy with anxiety.

St Mary's is only about an hour’s drive if he speeds a little on the highway. It's a state of the art hospital, people fly in to see the doctors there. It’s reassuring, because he knows that means Kimi is in good hands, but he also knows that it means that the reason he was there could be really serious. Various scenarios play out in his head, each more terrifying than the last.

He calls ahead to find out where he is.

“Hey, uh, I'm looking for the room Kimi Raikkonen is in?”

“Please hold.” He listens to a few loops of really generic piano music before the nurse comes back on.

“Room 509. For your information, please keep in mind visiting hours are over until 7am.”

“Thanks,” he says, merging onto the highway, tossing his phone onto the passenger seat when the nurse hangs up. The radio plays sad songs no matter what station he turns to, and while he doesn't really believe in omens, he still feels like it might be trying to say something.

He manages to sneak in to Kimi's room without much trouble, waiting until one of the nighttime desk nurses sneaks out for a smoke, and slipping into the small, single-occupancy room. He feels like he can finally breathe as soon as he catches sight of Kimi. He scans him for any visible damage, but for the most part, he looks okay--there's no casts or stitches or bruises that Seb can see, just iv tubes going into his arm, heart monitors stuck to the skin of his chest. He doesn’t look ill, either, but Seb knows that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Paler than usual, maybe, not that fluorescent lighting ever did anyone's skin any favors, and he's grimacing deeply in his sleep. He steps trepidatiously closer to the bed.

“Er, hello?”

Seb whips his head toward the speaker--he’d been so preoccupied with making sure Kimi was okay, he hadn't even noticed the guy in the corner, sitting in the visitor’s chair. He’s tall and good-looking, with a British accent and really great hair.

“Ahh--Kimi called me--is he okay?” Sebastian looks back to Kimi, still unable to take his eyes off of him for more than a minute.

“He had to have back surgery--it went really well though, should be a fast recovery.”

Seb feels a wave of relief crash through him. “Thank god. I thought---well, never mind.” The other guy looks at him appraisingly, like he’s sizing him up, before speaking.

“Sorry for worrying you. I turned my back for one second and when I came back he was on the phone. He's on some pretty heavy duty painkillers, so he's a little high.” He tilts his head. “I'm Jenson. And you are?”

“Sebastian. Uh, we were roommates.” It seemed like upon mention of his name, the Brit warmed up considerably, giving him a wide smile, motioning him to sit down.

“Ahh, Seb the Roommate, we finally meet! I've heard so much about you!”

“Kimi mentioned me?” He's not sure he hit his goal of not sounding pathetic, but it's been a roller coaster of a night so he cuts himself a break. He sits on one of the green plastic chairs next to Jenson.

“Yeah,” he grins. ”You must be something special if the ice queen here took a shine to you.”

Sebastian has no idea what to say to that, or even really process all this new information, so he just kind of shrugs, fiddling with his car keys.

“Hey, since you’re here, maybe you can do me a favor?” The charming smile Jenson gives him feels a bit predatory, and Seb gets the distinct feeling that he is about to be manipulated.

“Aa, maybe?” he says hesitantly.

“Look, I’m supposed to be here because I’m Kimi’s health care proxy, but it’d be nice if I could step out briefly, get some real food and a nap. I know Kimi will be in good hands if you're here, so if you'd be so kind as to take over for just a bit?” He tilts his head, waiting.

Sorry, I can't, I really need to go back home, and possibly see a therapist about my inability to make good life choices. “Yeah, go ahead,” his mouth says instead, betraying him. Jenson gives him a grateful smile, clapping him on the shoulder, hurriedly grabbing his things, like he’s afraid Seb is going to change his mind.

“Great, thanks man! My number’s on Kimi’s phone in case something important happens, but I don’t expect anything will come up. One more thing--” his expression turned serious--”he hates hospitals, so try not to leave him alone, yeah? I'll be back around 8, can you stay until then?” Seb nods,”Yeah, I'll make sure to do that.”

And with that, he's alone with a very unconscious Kimi. The chair is about as comfortable as it looks, which is not very , and the hospital is freezing cold. He figures Kimi won't mind if he rests his head on the edge of the bed, at least as long as he stays unconscious, anyway, so he does and it's hell on his neck but he's been up since one in the morning, and the adrenaline rush he’d been riding since getting that phone call is gone and he's falling falling falling and Kimi's not sick or hurt or fucking dying, or anything; he's okay and right there next to him, breathing and warm and just as heartbreakingly gorgeous as ever--

He wakes up to someone petting his hair--which was definitely new , but also really really nice. He lets it go on for a while, letting himself wake up gradually, before his body checks in with him to let him know that he needs to un-crick his neck before it sticks that way.

He sits up, orienting himself. Kimi. Hospital. Right. The room is mostly dark, besides the fluorescent tube lighting above the bed, and the barely-there light from the early morning sky.

“Hey.” He says quietly, meeting Kimi's eyes. Kimi was watching him intently, and instead of feeling awkward under this intense scrutiny, he mostly just feels laid bare.

Kimi finally speaks, voice low and gravelly from sleep, a little slow from the drugs. “You came to see me.”

“You called.”

Kimi nods. “Don't remember what I said.”

Seb laughs, a little. “I'll tell you about it sometime. How're you feeling?”

“Meds are wearing off. Hurts.” Seb can see the tightness in his jaw, the way his fingers are clenched in the sheets. Instinctively, he reaches out to touch his hand, to offer comfort, maybe, and his fist relaxes at his touch. Seb curls his fingers around Kimi’s clammy palm, giving his hand a little squeeze. He does it cautiously, keeps his grip loose enough that Kimi could pull away, if he wanted. But he doesn't. The air between them feels fragile, charged.

“Should I call a nurse?” he asks.

“Won’t do any good. Painkillers are on a timer. Won't give me any more until” he looks at the wall clock. It’s barely 6:30 in the morning. “Shit. At least another forty minutes.”

Seb chews his lip,“Is there anything I can do?”

Kimi shrugs. “Distractions help. TV?” The room is equipped with one of those ancient tube televisions hanging from the ceiling. It has a tiny dusty screen, and the colors are perceptibly off.

They flip through the channels. The only good thing on is some kind of Spanish-language drama that neither of them can really follow. Currently, a swarthy lawyer is proposing to his secret girlfriend, apparently going for that ring-in-the-champange glass shtick.

“Do people actually do stuff like that?”

“Unfortunately. I opted for ‘during gondola ride in Venice.’ Whole city smells like shit. Probably was an omen.”

Seb whips his head around to look at him, shocked.

“You...you were married? What happened?”

“No, no. Just...engaged, for a short time. It was back when I was still racing. She was beautiful...captivating, and I was young and stupid. I met her at a sponsor’s party, and it was like...I couldn't escape her orbit.” Kimi looks forlorn, but very relaxed. He must've gotten another dose, then. Something stabs in Seb's gut at the soft-sad look in Kimi's eyes. It's a mix of feelings; envy for someone who had been lucky enough to have Kimi that way, and fierce, protective anger for making him look back with such a miserable expression.

Without further prompting, he continues.

“It ended slowly, for me, anyway. For her, I guess it ended right after the accident. She grew more and more distant--I thought it might have been stress, y’know, that things would eventually get better.” He laughs, but it's devoid of any kind of warmth. ”I found out later she was screwing a neurosurgeon she met while I was recovering. She broke it off with me when I signed the buy-out. I was still in the hospital.”

There's a bitter twist to his lips, and Seb absolutely seethes .

“She left you because you lost your contract? Because you couldn’t race?”

“Something like that. You've got to admit, a doctor can provide a better future than a washed-up high school dropout.”

“A doctor who fucks engaged women? Sounds like a real solid future, there. Money, that's nothing. Anyone would be lucky to have you!” Seb says hotly, leaning forward to point his finger in Kimi's face.

“Mah, I'm a bitter old man. Not sure lucky is the word.”

“You're like what, 25? You're hardly ancient.”

“Almost 28. Also, I've managed to successfully sabotage every potential relationship I've had since her . ”

“So? Quit doing that, then!” Seb throws up his free hand, exasperated.

“Sebastian...You, you expect too much from me. You deserve someone who can give you all the things you need.”

And he realizes suddenly they're not talking about just Kimi anymore, they're talking about Seb & Kimi , the them that was never a them. Kimi tries to take his hand back, but Seb stubbornly hangs on--it doesn’t take much, Kimi’s pathetically weak right now. This time, Seb isn’t going down without a fight. In his chest, his heart is working overtime.

“I don't expect anything I know you can't provide. Take a chance on me. One more time.” Seb whispers, jaw set.

Kimi's head falls back against the pillows; he remains silent, seemingly thinking. Seconds pass, the faint noises of the busy hospital become a dull roar, swallowing him up. He jumps when

his phone chimes, reminding him that Jenson’s coming back and he's got to leave now if he's going to make it to work on time.

“Fuck, okay--look, I gotta get going. Just, give it some thought, alright? Please,” he says softly, hating to leave in the middle of this conversation. He gets to his feet.

“Stay.” Kimi says, looking serious.

“I can't, I've got work in a few--” Kimi cuts him off.

“No, sorry. I mean. Move back in with me. In the fall.”

Seb freezes, sitting weakly back into the chair. “You better not be asking me that just because you've got hospital bills,” he jokes shakily. There's something like hope filling him up from the inside, crushing his lungs.

“I’m not--this isn't--” Kimi shakes his head in frustration, trying again. “ I can't promise you anything,” he says quietly. “But I'll try. Just, give me some time.”

---

Jense comes back just after Sebastian steps out. Kimi greets him with a rude gesture, the effect of which is ruined by the tiny smile he’s clearly struggling to hide.

“You set me up,” The Finn accuses him. It’s true, but he wouldn't've had to if his best friend wasn’t such a bloody idiot. It had taken a really enlightening post-anesthesia conversation to figure out why Kimi was so morose after his roommate moved out. He’d been mistaken before when he assumed that Kimi just liked having someone around. No, Kimi liked having Sebastian, specifically , around. Kimi thought that “Sebastian is my moon and stars, the burning sun of me.” (He hopes, for Kimi’s dignity’s sake, that the Finn doesn’t remember saying that. It seems pretty likely; he was still quite out of it at the time. Jense kind of wishes he couldn’t remember either. That was some pretty embarrassing prose.)

Jenson kicks his feet up obnoxiously on Kimi’s bed, feeling smug. “I’d like to think that I took advantage of the situation you created. You’re the one who called him.”  

“I was off my face. You left me alone with my cell phone.”

“Your lack of self control is not, and never will be my problem,” he says arily.

“Worst medical proxy ever.”

“Mm, next time I shall tell them that you are allergic to the nice painkillers.”

They bicker comfortably for a bit, before Jenson asks slyly, “Well, did it work or do I have to think of something else?”

Kimi sighs. “I told him I needed time. He’s, uh, he's moving back in with me, in the fall.”

Eh, it’s not the result he was hoping for when he left the two of them together, but it’s better than nothing. God, Kimi really needs to get out of his own way.

Then, Kimi says, a little wonderingly, “He came to see me.” Like someone had offered him the world. Jenson rubs his temples, exasperated.

“Yeah, well, seems like he cares a lot about you. You need to get your shit together before you lose that.”

“It'll end in disaster.” Kimi says.

“I'll pick up the tab if it does.”

And they leave it at that.

--

Kimi Raikkonen has no idea what he's doing. He's not going to admit that to anyone but himself, but there it is--he's entirely out of his depth. Looking at the facts, he knows the following:

He knows he likes, okay , is probably somewhat in love with --Sebastian Vettel, his roommate of nine months. These feelings are reciprocated at least on some level, he’s reasonably sure. Minor depression of the last two months aside, deep down, he was so sure he was okay with being alone. Now, he wasn’t so sure that was true. When he'd woken up to Seb sleeping in the chair next to him, the way she never had, the way he had tried his best to distract him from the pain, the way she never tried--something in him finally just gave in to the inevitable. It was going to be Seb.

Chapter Text

Kimi stares at the television, back home for the first night since his surgery. He can barely concentrate on the sitcom that was on, he keeps replaying the morning in his head.
“So what happens now?” Seb had asked, just before he left the hospital. Sitting rigidly on the edge of the seat, he looked vulnerable and worn down.
“Maybe things stay same for a while. Take it slow, see how things go,” he'd hedged.
It was a non-answer, and he could see Seb wasn't satisfied, even though he had the kindness to not protest. It made him feel guilty; he owed Seb an explanation at least, so he gritted his teeth and gave him a real admission. “I want to be careful. For both of us. This is...important, I don't want to fuck it up.” Seb had nodded. He'd hesitated before leaving, biting his lip, and in that moment they were both thinking about the kiss they'd had in the car, but all he did was squeeze Kimi's shoulder, a too brief touch accompanied by a shaky smile. “I've gotta go. Text me sometime, okay?”
Determined to at least be productive if he couldn't relax properly, Kimi flipped off the television, stiffly getting up and shuffling into the kitchen. Getting out ingredients, he sets about making dinner for himself. While waiting for the oven, he calls his mom and lets her know that he's back home, and it takes his mind off of things for the moment. She learned a long time ago not to ask about his love life, for which he's very grateful, especially after this morning. Jenson had given him enough grief, he doesn't need his mother doing it as well.
When she hangs up, he's left alone with his thoughts again. He knew he'd end up giving in to this thing between them pretty much the moment he'd woken up and saw Seb sleeping there. It was just that he didn't trust himself not to ruin it; his tendency to bail out of a relationship as soon as things got serious was something of a running joke among his friends. He didn't want to do the same thing to Seb, who was young and kind and fiercely loyal and deserved so much better than that. He just hopes that at some point, it will click and he'll no longer feel like running away.
--
Sebastian barely remembers the drive to work; his hindbrain gets him there safely on autopilot, while his thoughts fly around at a million miles an hour. When he parks his car, he sits for a minute, head resting on the steering wheel. It seems like the last few hours had actually been days. Feeling utterly wrung out, he actually considers calling in sick right there in the parking lot, but his desire to actually get paid wins out in the end.

Today he's on kitchen duty, which today means mostly chewing on the inside of his cheek, staring blankly into the fryer, mesmerized by the oil bubbles, deep in thought.
I'm moving in with Kimi. He maybe wants to be my boyfriend. He also might break my heart because he’s got commitment issues.
He's terrified and excited and so, so hopeful, and every time he thinks about it, he can't help but smile, fighting a giddy rush in his chest.
He remembers Kimi's words from earlier, about falling into someone’s orbit. He kind of knows exactly what Kimi meant by that. Like gravity, or fate or something will always keep him in Kimi's atmosphere. He’ll keep making the choices that keep him around him, even if it's harder than just staying away.
“Earth to Seb!” Dan waves an order ticket in front
of his eyes. Sebastian jumps guiltily.
“Sorry!” He grabs the slip and starts assembling the order at top speed, feeling a blush creep up his neck.
“Hmm, yesterday's clothes, I see.” Dan’s giving him a critical eye, slouched on the order window. “Someone was out all night. Finally get laid?”
“Your mom sends her regards.” Seb says sarcastically, handing him the first tray.
“Hmm, I don't think you're getting any. You'd be in a better mood.”
“Pay attention to your own sex life,” Seb advises him tartly, handing him a second tray.
“You making an offer? You know I'd treat you right,” Dan winks salaciously, taking the trays to their tables with a deliberate swing to his hips.
He's clearly projecting. His casual, on again off again fling with Dany is currently off, and he's back to flirting with anyone who'll stand still. Seb laughs to himself and gets back to work.
--
It's two days later that Kimi decides to text Seb. He decides to keep it simple, after staring at the blinking cursor for so long that the screen goes off. Seb seemed to like him the way he was, anyway, no need to try and be smooth.
KR: hey
SV: How're you holding up?
KR: bored to death. Being home is good but I'm not allowed to do anything fun. Mostly just sleep and do my physical therapy exercises. One of the guys from work gave me his xbox and some racing games, but they're no fun after a while
SV: too difficult for you, old man? ;)
KR: too easy I mean, molopää
SV: I looked up the translation for that. You're a bigger molopaa!
Kimi snorts. He'd like to hear Seb say other things in Finnish; less derogatory namecalling, perhaps. Seb was good with languages; besides English, he also spoke German, obviously, and said that he knew some phrases in Russian, which he'd picked up from a friend, and claims he can swear in several more. He'd also once flirted in Italian with their downstairs neighbor, feisty little miss Lombardi, while they fixed her sink, because Bernie, their landlord, had been MIA once again. She had called Sebastian a charmer, and Kimi had mentally agreed, unaware that that agreement was one of the first steps he'd been taking toward developing very un-roommately feelings for his roommate.
His phone chimes again.
SV: I bet I could beat you ;)
SV: what games do you have? I'm going to buy them, and beat you, and call you names
KR: that a challenge, vettel? What are the stakes?
(He sends a photo of the three games laid out on the coffee table)
SV: new stakes every round. Keeps it interesting.
KR: sounds good
---
As soon as the games come in the mail, Seb texts Kimi. It's ridiculous, but it almost feels like a date; he feels nervous and excited.
SV: name a time and the stakes. I'm ready to give you hell
KR: tonight, 6:30. We're playing forza 3, silverstone international. Best lap time of the race gets 20 dollars.
SV: Deal.

At six fifteen, Seb commandeers control of the living room television, does a few practice runs, and then enters online mode. A little popup informs him that iceman7 is online, which makes him laugh a little because that's totally dorky and really adorable.
They're both pretty average players, despite all the bragging and shit talking from both sides. Sebastian comes three places in front of Kimi, but Kimi puts down the best lap time, winning the prize.
KR:You can just mail me a check, then
SV:Yeah, yeah, big shot. Hey, I don't suppose you have a mic?
KR: Nah, mine didn't come with one, sorry. Another round? Friendly match
SV: you're on
--
Seb stops by the mall after work the next day and buys Kimi a mic set. He mails it to him, along with the check. On the box he writes, round two, f1 2013, singapore, spa, and monaco. Most points wins. Loser owes the winner dinner at petruccio’s
This time, he wins dinner, and the bets only escalate after that. They're both insanely competitive people, and by mid-August, the highlights include the following:
Kimi has to get a nipple piercing and leave it in for a whole month, had to get one of his legs waxed (sans pain relief), and must display truck nuts on his little Abarth for a whole year.
Seb owes Kimi a week of chores, has to dye his hair blonde (oh god), and now must address Kimi as ‘King of Spa’ in all written communications.
--
It's kind of tricky For him at times, hanging in the limbo of their undefined relationship. Seb has to run everything he says to him through a mental filter before he says it out loud, or hits send--he knows he can be kind of a natural flirt, and the last thing he wants to do is put too much pressure on Kimi. (He knows from roommate-related scenarios that pressure or ultimatums don't work on him. And sometimes, it backfires entirely. So.) Despite the intrinsic pains though, this is the most fun he's had in a long time.
Since he can't really hang out with Kimi at all in person because of the long drive, their gaming nights are a nice substitute. Besides taunting each other, sometimes they just chat instead. Kimi is ridiculously smart, and hilarious, and charming in kind of a scampish sort of way--which, of course, he already knew, but he feels like he has permission, now, to really appreciate those traits. It's easy to lose track of time when they're talking.
Usually it's just an hour or two on weekends and nights when Seb doesn't have work, which usually works out to three-ish times a week.
This week, however, Kimi is back to work, and both of their social lives have suddenly picked up. Their schedules don't match up anywhere, so they haven't been able to play at all, managing only a few texts here and there. It makes him feel ridiculously needy to admit, even just to himself, but he really misses Kimi.
It's Saturday night, and he's out with his friends. They went out to see a band, and then went on to dance at consecutively grungier venues, using Britta's fake ID and Checo’s cleverly hidden flask to get everyone comfortably tipsy. He's sandwiched between The Dans, dancing to hypnotic music with bass so deep he can feel it in his sternum. There's two guys next to their group, and they're staring into each other's eyes, smiling and kissing and clinging, which normally would make him smile too; he's a sucker for cute couples. Right now though, it just makes him feel melancholic. He wants to see Kimi, in person, not just a tinny voice in his ear, miles away on the other side of the state. He wants to kiss him again--he wonders if Kimi would let him, if he would kiss him back, or push him away. That afternoon in the car seems so long ago, the details have faded to vague impressions, which makes him even more sad.
“Why the frown?” shouts one Dan, taking Seb's hips and spinning him around so that he's facing the other.
“I'm in love, I think, and it's not as great as the movies make it look,” Seb yells above the music. It's the first time he's said that out loud, and it gives him a little surge of adrenaline, one hand coming to cover his mouth, as though he could catch the words before anyone could hear them. In love. Oh fuck me, when did that happen? Somehow, at some point, he'd crossed that blurry line between ’really, really incredibly fond of’ and ‘love’. He'd had girlfriends and boyfriends before, but nothing had really gotten to that point, before. And now he was in love with a self-confirmed commitaphobe who may or may not even be emotionally ready to love someone back.
Daniel makes a shocked face, grabs him and Daniil both by the arms, dragging them to the bathroom, motioning to the remainder of their group to follow. They pile into the tiny, graffitied bathroom, where it's quiet enough that they can talk. It's empty besides the guy at the urinal who gives them all a weird look when Britta perches on the counter.
“Did I hear that right? Our Sebastian is in love!” Checo announces, beaming.
“He looks upset about it, though,” Dany points out.
“Did you fall in love with a straight guy? A lesbian? It's okay, happens to everyone once,” Dan says, patting him sympathetically.
Always the logical one, Britta suggests that maybe they should let Seb talk, first.
“Uh, I guess it kind of started when I kissed my roommate?” There are audible gasps, Britta just rolls her eyes and motions him to continue. “I mean, I liked him before that, but that's when all the trouble started. Anyway, he kissed me back, but then, he turns around and lets me down easy--said it was a bad idea. Then we end up meeting by chance again a few weeks ago. We talk, he invites me to move in again, says he needs some time to think about a relationship, though, wants to take it slow. Which, like, I get why, he's had some really bad luck. It's just, we've been talking all the time, lately since then, and I just really, really like this guy, you know? And I'm sort of afraid he's going to decide that he can't do this after all, and I’m going to have to get over him a second time, which honestly, was hard enough the first time.” He says it all in one breath, feels lightheaded by the end, as his audience stares at him with varying expressions.
“Wow. When you do it, you really do it, mate,” Dan says, shaking his head.
“Yeah, I know,” Seb laughs. “I know I just gotta stick it out while he works through the, seriously, mountain of baggage he's got. It just sucks in the meantime, you know?” It is difficult; Seb is a take-action kind of guy, likes to seize opportunities, not sit around waiting. In this case though, he's going to have to let Kimi set the pace.
“Man, he must be really gorgeous if you're willing to put up with all this!” Checo wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. Seb can feel his cheeks heat up, and then he's fending off mounting demands to see pictures.
“Look, I only have one, and he's kind of frowning because he hates pictures.” Seb had won that one during one of their challenges. Kimi had said it was a weird request, and why would anyone want a picture of my face, Sebastian?
He grudgingly shows them the picture though, and they crowd around his phone.
“Oh my god, an older man, Seb, you madman, you!” Dan is delighted.
“I checked, It passes the age rule!” Seb defends.
“Is true.” Dany agrees. “Plus, look at him. Dreamy, if you are into that rugged bro-slob thing.”
Seb doesn't defend that one. In the picture, Kimi was wearing a shirt so worn out it had holes near the neckline, and it looks like his hair underneath his beanie kind of needs a wash. Being housebound had apparently lowered Kimi's hygiene standards a bit. (Sebastian still finds him ridiculously attractive, if that says anything.) Fortunately, a sense of fashion wasn't high up on Seb's needs list, because Kimi’s taste was pretty much limited to really roomy cuts and easy to wash fabrics, and oversized sweatshirts that he could hide in, like a blond turtle.
“As long as he treats you right, that's what really matters,” Britta says. “I want to meet him. I need to make sure he's good enough for you.” She's got her I-mean-business face on. “I think I have an idea. I have to text my...someone first, though.”
“Idea?”
“Shhhh.” Britta pats him smartly on the back, ignoring his worried face and dismounting the counter. “Now c’mon, I didn't pay a ten dollar cover charge to gossip in the men's bathroom. Let's get back out there!”
--
Seb gets home just after 2AM, still full of leftover energy. He takes a long shower, then goes on his phone while eating a late-night snack. It's the weekend, so there's a strong possibility Kimi is awake.
SV: hey, you still up by any chance?
KR: still up. If yr looking for someone to play games with, unfortunately, I had to give back the xbox. Ps bring yours when you move back??
SV: can't sleep, just looking to talk. Will def bring xbox.
KR: ok if I call then? I'm multitasking
SV: yeah go ahead:)
Almost immediately, his phone buzzes, showing the grumpy Kimi picture next to the caller ID. He picks up.
“Hey,” he says.
“Mah, Sebastian, I didn't think I'd be hearing from you tonight.” The sound of Kimi's voice, scratchy and familiar in his ears, makes him smile involuntarily.
“I came home a little earlier than I thought. My single friends found people to go home with and my taken friends went home early to, uh, well, I try not to ever think about that...”
Kimi snickers, amused, and he can hear his television in the background, indistinct white noise. Seb settles into bed, curling up under the covers. “So, multitasking?” he asks, curiously.
“Mandatory back stretches. Your night out was good?”
Seb tells him about the band, and the dancing, and then moves on to the weird customer who'd hit on him the other day, and Kimi tells him about his first week back to work, and how glad he is to not be laying around all the time.
“Sebastian…”
“Mm?”
“I wanted to thank you--” he can pick up on the subtle nervousness in Kimi's tone, “For sure I think without you I would have gone crazy, laying around all day for weeks alone.”
“I had fun too, Kimi,” Seb says, smiling. It makes him feel warm, knowing that Kimi needed those nights just as much as he did.
“Yeah? Ah. That's. That's good,” he grinds out lamely, wishing he could be charming and smooth, like Jense. He lets his head thump back against the floor in frustration, watching his exercise ball roll out of reach.  
“Hey, so, I got a favor to ask,” Seb announces, blithely unaware of Kimi's despair.
“Hm?”
“My high school best friend, Britta--her older sister is getting married this next weekend, and I'm going as her plus-one. Ah, just as friends, yeah?” Hastily, he adds the qualifier, not wanting Kimi to get the wrong impression. “It's at the Crowne Plaza hotel right downtown by you, so I was hoping I could crash at your place after. Hotel rooms are kind of expensive, and she asked me tonight, last minute.”
“Of course that won't be a problem.” Sebastian lets out a sigh of relief. He half feels bad, though, because he's pretty sure Britta's going to use this to meet and grill Kimi. On the other hand, he gets to see Kimi a whole week sooner than he thought.
“Great! It'll be nice to hang out, y'know, in person,” Seb yawns, and Kimi briefly imagines him, hours away, all pliant, graceful limbs and sleep-soft eyes. It makes something in his chest twist, tender and wanting.
They talk about other things, for a while, the pauses getting longer and longer between them until finally, Sebastian doesn't answer back at all. Kimi smiles to himself, “Night, Seb,” he says quietly. The only answer he gets is a soft snore, which confirms his theory, and he hangs up.

Chapter Text

Seb checks his phone for what feels like the millionth time that day, sighing when he sees the screen. He's been getting the feeling that Kimi's suddenly trying to avoid him. Which was really weird, because he couldn't remember anything particularly bad happening during their last phone call. In fact, it had seemed like things were going really well, Kimi had even flirted with him a bit, which was groundbreaking, really. He'd been griping about how Britta was going to make him shave for the wedding, and that he was going to look like a fucking teenager , honestly, and Kimi had said he wasn't usually into twinks, but he'd try and make an exception. And Seb had laughed, and thanked him sardonically, saying Kimi was just jealous of his beard-growing abilities. The conversation had gone on from there, easy.

That was Monday. And since then, Kimi hasn't called him, or answered his calls, or the 2 text messages he (with great strength of will) limits himself to so as not to sound desperate. It's Thursday when he finally hears back from him; Seb gets a series of texts late at night, but it's just misspelled Fin-glish, too mangled for the online translator to decipher anything meaningful out of. You okay, man? He had typed back, and got more nonsense in response, and nothing more since then.

So.

Despite all the reasonable explanations for all this he comes up with in his head, Seb has been growing more hurt and confused and angry by the day, which by friday leaves him just about at the limit of his patience. His biggest character flaw/coping mechanism was his tendency to express his displeasure with his circumstances to anyone who will listen. Loudly. Effusively. With lots of emphatic hand gestures and profanity.

Bitching to Dan gets him a booty call offer and advice to ‘keep a positive attitude.’ Bitching to his sister--’just tell him how you are feeling,’ as well as a bunch of nosy questions. And bitching to Britta was just such a mistake--because now she really has it out for Kimi.

...

It's Saturday morning, and he's half considering just telling Kimi that he's going to room with Britta and her cousin instead, when Kimi calls him.

The ringer cycles four times before he finally comes to a decision on how he's going to answer the phone. Because even if the petty part of him says to let it go to voicemail, the other part of him is always going to pick up, can't help himself. Like moths, or Icarus, or some other unhelpful metaphor about fools and vices, and getting burned , he thinks, shaking his head. He breathes in deep and hits the answer button.

“Kimi, hey,” he says, aiming for casual.

“Moah, wanted to ask what time you were going to be here?” Normal Kimi. Flat voiced, perpetually-bored sounding Kimi . Not nervous, not angry, nothing that explains why he'd been so weird.

The one good thing about Seb’s temper, is that once he's done with his ‘complaining and carrying on’ as Britta calls it, is that he cools off really fast, and after the initial fireworks, quickly regains a more sensible perspective. So it's actually pretty easy to just roll his eyes and let it go.

You knew this wouldn't be easy, he literally warned you, so you can't say you didn't know what you were getting into, he thinks, a little ruefully, before speaking.

“Ahhh--Right, okay, so, I'm riding with Britta and her parents to the wedding, so I'll take a taxi back from the hotel to yours, and then Britta can probably pick me up the next day. I'll text you before I head over, it'll probably be pretty late, so if you just wanna leave the door unlocked, I can just let myself in.” Seb resumes packing, holding his phone between his shoulder and ear while he shoves things into his bag, eyeing the clock on his dresser. Britta is picking him up in an hour and he is seriously running late. He holds up his good luck date night pants, debating whether to bring them; they're a pair of gray slim fit jeans that make his ass look amazing, according to both Britta and Dan. More importantly, he's always had strangely good luck whenever he wears them.

“I could drive you. It would not be any trouble,” Kimi offers. “I'm cheaper than a taxi.”

“Thanks, think I'll take you up on that.” He's smiling genuinely, now. Still a little confused, but now that he knows that it wasn't something he had said, at least, and that things were apparently okay between them, he felt like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. Maybe he had just been overthinking things?

In the end, he decides to bring the jeans, and an extra shirt--he doesn't want to wear his suit all weekend, and couldn't hurt to look good; maybe the jeans will work their magic on Kimi. Tossing them in with the rest of his stuff, he zips up his bag.

Things were looking up.

--

Seb is having a pretty good time at the wedding. He's dancing with Britta to some romantic drivel pop song, trying not to think about the previously convoluted but slowly improving state of his love life.

“It's just like junior prom all over again,” she snarks as the song finishes, letting Sebastian dip her jokingly.

“A lot less bad haircuts and braces, this time, thankfully.”

“And repressed lesbian urges,” She adds. “And screw you, my hair was fine.”

They'd gone together as friends that year, Seb coming off of a relationship, and Britta unable to figure out why none of the guys who asked her to go with them were remotely appealing. It had been a pretty great night; they'd gotten invited to an after party at the rich kid's house, gotten drunk on horrible cheap beer, and ended up skinny dipping in the fountain out front, making school history (for the next year, anyway.) They both laugh at the memory, thinking of the same thing.

“Wait here, I'm going to get us more drinks,” Britta says. She returns quickly, and they go out the back of the hotel ballroom to the gardens outside. There's a huge fountain/water feature in the center, and they start sniggering again, knocking shoulders and cracking jokes.

“So, think you'll get married next?” Seb asks cheekily, taking a cautious sip of his drink. Deceptively fruity, with a telltale afterburn that makes his cheeks warm.

Britta laughs. “Probably not for a while. Law school isn't a good place to meet people who don't want to argue all the time. But speaking of that, your little mechanic, we barely got a chance before, tell me all about him!”

She smirks and shakes her head at the way Sebastian instantly lights up. “Okay, well, I guess I should start with the Craigslist ad…”

---

Summoned by a garbled, emoji laden message at nearly half past midnight, Kimi heads out to pick up Seb. When he gets to the hotel, he parks out front to wait. Apparently Sebastian isn't out yet, so he decides to get out, leaning against the car and lighting a nervous cigarette while he waits. He only smokes occasionally, mostly when he's drinking, or stressed out. He feels like this occasion definitely calls for one. Eyes closed, he tries to negotiate with the solidified guilt that is living in his chest. He's not really sure how to explain his recent avoidance to Seb--he doesn't really understand it himself. One of the various therapists that had been recommended to him over the years (but never actually saw) probably could. He grinds the embers of his cigarette out on the ground with a little more force than strictly necessary.

It’s cool for a summer night; he can hear the faint sounds of music and voices, the ticking of his cooling car. He hears footsteps and looks toward the hotel--it's not Seb though; it's a woman, hair in a sleek style, wearing a champagne colored evening gown that billows out behind her as she approaches. Confused, he looks to the left and right for another person, but apparently she wants to speak to him. She stops, cocks a hip, and peers down at him, her heels giving her a significant height advantage.

“You're Kimi, Seb's roommate, right?”

“Uh, yeah. Everything ok?”

“Sebastian's just freshening up. He'll be out in a second. I'm Britta,” she introduces herself. “Let's get straight to the point. You're serious about him, right?”

In no way does Kimi feel like answering that, especially to someone who was essentially a stranger. From what he understands though, Britta is Sebastian's Jenson, so strategically speaking, he's better off answering. That doesn't mean he's going to be gracious about it.

“Yeah,” he states, putting on his blandest face. “I am.”

She leans aggressively into his personal space, eyes like lasers; it takes a great deal of will not to flinch. “Seb is the best person I know. D’you even know how lucky you are that he wants you?” She glares at him.

“Maybe have some idea.” He grins a little. It was probably not the wisest choice, but being frustrating on purpose is part of his nature, especially when dealing with nosy people. Like Sebastian though, she seems to understand and only rolls her eyes.

“Well then, tell him that, not me. He deserves to hear it from you. And stop stringing him along. Either cut him loose or give him some kind of real commitment. You told me, a stranger, that you're serious. You're just being a coward.” She points a shiny French-tipped nail at him. In all of Sebastian's stories, Britta was much less hostile. Kimi remains silent and shrugs into the high collar of his jacket, uncomfortable with the current topic.

“It's really not that hard. Here, I'll help you. ‘Seb, be my boyfriend.’ ‘Seb, don't date other people, date me.’ Hell, just kiss the guy, he'll get the idea. Seriously, just get it over with .”

“You think this is such a good idea?” He's honestly curious to see what she thinks.

“I wouldn't be standing here if I didn't. Look, me and a whole bunch of other people will come and fuck you up if you hurt him on purpose, but I think you are the kind of guy he needs. God knows why, but you make him happier than anyone else he's ever been with.” She glances back, alerted by the mechanical sound of the hotel doors as they roll open. It's Seb, finally, looking a bit worse for wear, but strikingly handsome, even at this distance. Britta claps her hands together, turning back to Kimi.

“Right, well, threats, blessings, I've said all I meant to. I've got to get back, hopefully some of that made it through your thick skull.” Suddenly she seems cheerful; he's not sure if she's putting on a show now that Seb is within earshot, or if they're actually on good terms now, having passed some sort of test, but she's waving at Kimi like they're best friends as she walks away. She stops to give Seb a hug and kiss on the cheek before heading back inside the hotel.

“Byyye Britta!” Seb waves, smiling dazzlingly at her retreating back, before catching sight of the Finn, and his smile gets impossibly wider. It’s a smile just for him, he realizes, a little overwhelmed. He really was lucky, and it was shitty of him to keep Seb waiting around just because he was scared. Tonight , he promises himself. Oor, maybe tomorrow, when Sebastian isn't so...drunk.

“Kimi!” He shouts excitedly. He trips a little on the downstep from the sidewalk to the pavement, and Kimi catches him, bearing the brunt of his weight. Apparently unaffected by his near miss with the pavement, Seb wraps his arms around Kimi, giggling into his neck.

“Hello,” Kimi says wryly. Seb smells like fancy cologne and something sugary and alcoholic, and is pressed against him from chest to knee. It makes Kimi feel suddenly warm, heart lurching as he sets Seb back on his feet, opening the door for him.

“Up you go, into the car, now.” Suppressing a grin, Kimi closes the door once all of his limbs are safely inside, going round to his own side of the car.

“Have fun?” He asks mildly, watching Seb struggle with his seatbelt. Drunk Sebastian is always amusing, like watching an especially clumsy puppy.

“Yeah!” He giggles. “I had a lot to drink, Kimi,” he confesses, like this is some kind of huge secret. “Tequila makes my clothes fall off,” he sings in a bad country accent. Finally, he gets the seatbelt fastened, and Kimi pulls away from the curb.

“Please keep your clothes on, Sebastian.” Kimi looks worriedly away from the road, but so far, he's only taken off his tie, and by the smell of it, possibly his shoes as well. “Tell me all about your night,” he suggests, in hopes of distracting him from any further stripping. It works great, and soon he's being treated to an enthusiastic play-by-play of the evening.

“--and then someone got pushed into the fountain! It wasn't me, not this time,” Seb giggles.

He's having a little bit of trouble following the thread of Seb’s narrative, but he supposes that it doesn't really matter-the main thing is keeping him entertained and out of trouble. Apparently, it was Britta's fault Sebastian was so drunk; she'd been plying him with a steady flow of alcohol from the open bar since around 6PM. He wonders to himself how much of an ulterior motive was involved there, from what little experience he had with her, he gathered it seemed kind of like something she'd do--he'd pretty quickly put together that she'd basically arranged their ‘chance meeting’ tonight. Loosening Seb up and then unleashing him on him was probably part of the plan as well, he mused.

“Glad you had a good time,” he smirks.

Seb is still and quiet for a while after that, and Kimi had assumed he'd passed out, until he pipes up again as they pull up to a red light.

“Kimiiiiii….” he draws out his name obnoxiously, “I really want some tacos. I will give you twenty,” he holds up two fingers right in Kimi's face, “of my hard earned dollars to take me to Señor Spicee’s.”

“If I do, are you going to barf in my car?” Kimi asks, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Will not, promise ,” Seb says gravely, holding a hand over his heart.

So they get late night tacos. Seb makes grabby hands at the grease-flecked paper bag the drive thru guy hands him, digging in enthusiastically.

At one point, Kimi is startled by something hot and coarse scratching at the corner of his mouth--Sebastian is thoughtfully sharing his churros with him. Amused, he lets Seb feed him as he drives. The food keeps Sebastian busy, at least until Seb's “favorite song” comes on the radio. Then there's some really enthusiastic singing, which Kimi joins in with, because fuck it, he kind of likes this song too. They're still singing (off key in Seb’s case and semi-monotone in Kimi’s) selections from the top forty chart when they make it back up to the apartment. It's the kind of silly, stupid fun he hasn't had with anyone he's ever been with, he realizes. But he has that with Seb.

Inside the apartment, Kimi sits on the couch, intending to find something for them to watch while Sebastian goes to find something to wash his meal down with. Instead of returning with water, or soda, though, he's brought a fifth of Absolut and two glasses. Kimi raises his eyebrows. Reading his expression, Sebastian grins disarmingly.

“Okay, but hear me out: I think I might be sobering up and it's only 2 in the morning. Plus, it'll be more fun if we're both hungover tomorrow,” Sebastian reasons. “C’mon, Camaraderie. Comradeship!” Jazz hands. Pouting.

Kimi sighs, rather put-upon, but grabs a glass despite his reservations.

---

They're, well, he's lost track, but many shots in, and Kimi keeps catching himself staring. He's supposed to be watching the movie, some kind of military action flick, but he's barely paying attention to it, because god, Seb.

Something about the breadth of his shoulders in that navy suit jacket, the long graceful lines of his legs, he looks less like a normal college dude (which Kimi still likes very much, don't get him wrong, but this...) and more like someone you'd see in an ad or a magazine cover; his normal slouch has translated into a comfortable elegance.

Seb passes him the bottle when he holds out his hand--and in that moment he is unconscious, dead easy seduction; all slow smiles and long fingers, wide palms that Kimi wants to feel against his skin, pressing and holding. Their fingers brush when he takes the bottle. He tries to speak and can't. He drinks instead.

--

The movie is done, tv has long since gone to the screen saver, but neither of them has noticed, both too wrapped up in the conversation. They're both comfortably drunk at this point; Seb is bright eyed and flushed, and Kimi feels loose limbed and heavy-weightless, sinking further into the couch  cushions, listening to Seb talk. He's telling a story about one of his friends from work, and Kimi can't remember the last time he's laughed this hard. He wipes a tear from the corner of his eye, grinning.

“I like your smile. ‘S cute.” Seb beams, and then, lightning quick, reaches out and tucks a stray strand of Kimi's hair back behind his ear. “That was bothering me, sorry.”

“Ah, thanks.” He mutters stoically, just now noticing how their proximity had gradually increased as the night went on. Seb had always been a tactile person, always slinging an arm around his shoulders, or stealing his hats, touching his shoulders and arms when they talked. It feels different now though, there's a kind of tension to it, anticipation, something electric.

“Thanks for letting me stay here, Kimi. I...almost thought maybe you'd changed your mind.” He notices something when Seb turns to speak to him--a smear of lipstick high on his cheekbone where Britta had kissed him earlier. Kimi knows that they're just friends, it's not jealousy, per se, that he feels, but he can't stop staring at that pink mark, biting the inside of his cheek and realizing that eventually, Seb will move on if he doesn't act soon.

“Changed my mind?” Kimi echoes, lost in his thoughts. Do something, idiootti. Fuck’s sake.

“Ah, this week, you seemed kind of...you know what--never mind.” Seb waves and shakes his head. “It's nothing.”

“Actually, Seb, I wanted to talk about--” Kimi starts, but the lipstick catches his eye again, derailing his thought process entirely. Without really thinking, he reaches out and thumbs the smudge of color away, fingers bracing carefully against the underside of his jaw. Seb looks wide-eyed back at him, startled at the sudden touch, letting out a shaky breath that Kimi can feel ghost against the skin of his palm, along his wrist.

“--Kimi?”

“You had something on your cheek,” he explains awkwardly.

“Oh.” He blinks. “Thanks.”

Kimi realizes then that he is still is holding his hand against Seb’s face, has been for a while, now, and he belatedly snatches his hand back.

“I'm going out for a smoke!” Kimi blurts out, standing up unsteadily and practically fleeing the apartment.

Confused and abandoned, Seb falls over onto his side, hugging a pillow to his chest, immediately tossing it to the floor when he realizes it smells like Kimi.

What was going on now? Every time they seemed to get closer, it seemed like he'd run away. Literally or metaphorically. And despite everything, he was just as gone on Kimi as he'd ever been; it had taken all his concentration not to blurt out some kind of sappy confession tonight. He'd forgotten that the problem with alcohol was that it made him feel like all his private thoughts were dangerously close to the surface.

Twenty minutes pass; eventually Seb decides to go find what was taking Kimi so long. With a groan, he heaves himself into a standing position and goes to track down the Finn.

The apartment has a roof access, and besides the front steps, it's the only place the landlord allows smoking. The roof was the more likely option, being closer, so he checks there first, climbing up the flight of metal stairs. The single lightbulb is burned out, and he bangs his shins twice. “ Better be up here ,” Seb grumbles under his breath.

He hesitates before opening the door, steeling himself before stepping out into the cooler night air. Shivering slightly in his thin dress shirt, he vaguely regrets not grabbing his jacket off the floor where he'd tossed it earlier; the late summer night feels more like fall. On the upside, though, it seems he's found Kimi.

Standing at the far end of the roof, he's a slouched silhouette, haloed pinkish-gold by the streetlights below. His back is to Seb, forearms braced on the steel railing, and they're the only ones up there this time of night. All the alcohol has given Seb a bit of the spins, but it's really nice, just a little floaty, all the lights tracking on his retinas in pretty arcs when he approaches Kimi. He looks at the Finn, suddenly caught up in the way his lips close around the lit cigarette, the lazy, almost indecent pleasure on his face when he exhales a thin stream of smoke. The bitter-burn smell fills his lungs when he takes a steadying breath, a little nervous.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

“Just..needed a minute.” Kimi takes a final drag  before putting the cigarette out, turning towards him. Seb finds himself once again the subject of Kimi’s intense focus.

“I'm sorry, Seb,” he starts. Kimi places a hand on his bicep; it's barely enough that he can feel it through his clothes, but the light pressure is easily keeping him rooted to the spot. Sebastian gives him a questioning look, but remains silent otherwise, and Kimi rakes his free hand through his hair, looking a little frustrated with himself, mumbling something in Finnish under his breath.

What's going on? Seb thinks, now more and more worried about where all this is going. Was this the part where Kimi told him he couldn't do this after all?

As much as he tries, Kimi can't stop the hand on Seb’s arm from shaking a little as he meets his gaze. Seb is all worried eyes and flushed skin and unconcealed confusion-concern- hurt and suddenly, finally, it's all so easy to say. He's knows that he's been unfair to Seb, who is fiercely loyal and makes him laugh and who is maybe not perfect, but perfect for him. Sebastian would give him fidelity and patience and care . He loves Seb, and he doesn't want to miss out on that just because he's afraid that it won't be enough. His words run together, accent getting heavier as the words spill out.

“ I'm a fucking idiot-coward, okay, and I'm sorry I turned you down in May-I wanted to take it back, but I was too afraid to try, and I could've called, said something, but I didn't. I'm sorry I keep running away. And I'm sorry I waited so long to tell you that somewhere along the way, I fell for you, and, and, I'm sorry I waited so long to do this --”

Then, Kimi cups his jaw and leans in, closing the gap between them. Kimi's mouth is warm and a little smoky against his, and he kisses Seb soft and too-brief, pulling back, words still coming pell-mell from his mouth.

“--because I've wanted to do that for months. So I am hoping you will forgive me. I want you, Seb, and I am yours, if you'll have me, if you still want...this,” he finishes, gritting his teeth through the nausea he suddenly feels, with everything laid out in the open. He frantically searches Sebastian's shocked face, hoping he understands, worried that he’s mangled the words somehow. Seb makes an odd noise, then, and buries his face in his neck, fisting his hands in Kimi's sweatshirt. Nonplussed, Kimi stands rigidly, waiting nervously for whatever was going to happen next, feeling Sebastian's shaky breath on his neck. It feels like centuries before he finally he speaks.

“Kimi Raikkonen, you are the hugest idiot,” he agrees, muffled, but then he finally looks back up and he's smiling, so Kimi figures he's forgiven.

“You're the hugest, dumbest, most frustrating mölopaa and of course I'm still sure about this.” Seb says, jaw set insistently, thumping one of his fists lightly against Kimi's chest, shoving him a little.

Kimi grins, capturing Sebastian's hand in his own, partly to defend himself from any more light battery, partly because he likes the way it feels, a simple innocent touch.

“Good. And I promise to be...lot less of all those things in the future.” He means that, and for the first time in a long time isn't scared of promising someone that they would have a future together.

“I'll hold you to that.”

They're both smiling now, just looking into each other's eyes, all soft touches, like neither of them can believe it. It's not clear who leans in first, but their lips meet again. With a little happy noise, Seb lets Kimi press him up against the railing, and kisses him back fervently, tangling his hands in his messy hair.

They make out, obscene and heated and juvenile , losing track of time, until he notices that Sebastian is shivering, and he pulls away, frowning.

He chases after Kimi's mouth a little, but Kimi ducks to kiss him on the cheek instead, placating.

“Patient, just a second,” he chides, fumbling with the zipper on his sweatshirt; Sebastian arches up against him and whines in his ear and oh, fuck me, that is definitely his dick on my thigh.

“Kimi, I've been so , so patient,” Seb complains, breathless and desperate. Of their own volition, his hands skate up Kimi’s sides, trying to pull him back in. This was not the time for drunk Kimi's considerate tendencies.

“You're shivering.” Frowning with concern, he finally gets his sweatshirt off, and drapes it over Seb's shoulders. There, he thinks, pleased.

“Okay, great, you can kiss me again now, right?” he asks coyly, trailing a finger down Kimi's chest playfully, looking up at him through his eyelashes.

“You're drunk,” Kimi observes, amused at Sebastian's over the top flirting.

“So’re you!”

“little bit,” Kimi agrees, but complies happily,  kissing him again, short and sweet, a little off center. “I think perhaps we should escort ourselves inside, now, yes?”

Chapter Text

Sebastian wakes up with a pounding headache, finding himself shirtless and in a strange bed, pinned down by a heavy leg hooked over his own; he’s disoriented and panics for a second before memories from the night before gradually filter in, the way they do when one has just woken up from a wild night and are devastatingly hungover. Taking inventory: the leg belongs to Kimi, it's Kimi's bed, and he's still wearing pants, which is good news, because he'd rather not be quite so drunk for his first time with the person he quite romantically thinks might be the one .

Rolling over, he finds his boyfriend of all of six hours passed out beside him, completely out cold. He gently touches Kimi's shoulder. “Kimi.” He whispers, gradually increasing force and volume until, finally, he gets a response.

“Moah, stop that. Is still early,” Kimi mumbles in a raspy morning voice, and without ever opening his eyes, goes immediately back to sleep, breathing slow and even. Seb looks from him to the window, where it is clearly midday, and then to the clock, full of regret. His gaze lingers longest on Kimi, taking in his sleeping features, the mess of dark gold hair that partially obscures his face, the pale expanse of his chest marked by bruises he vaguely remembers sucking into his skin. Longing, shot through with fondness fills his chest; he wants to stay here, wants the morning to last just a little longer so that he has something to get him through the next few weeks. It's not fair--he finally, finally gets to hold him, and now there's no time .

“Kimi,” he says again, in his least hangover-offending whisper. “I need to get back to the hotel. Britta will leave without me.”

Kimi frowns, grunting, and his eyes blink open for the first time. “Mm, s’ going on?” His pale gaze trains on Sebastian, and he looks faintly surprised for a moment, probably putting together his memories from the night before. He gives him a second to catch up, watching the gears turn rustily in the Finn’s head. Surprise fades to a sort of languid contentedness, the slightest hint of a smile curls at the corner of his lips, and the tiny part of Sebastian that was worried about this somehow going badly is relieved.

“Moah, good morning, Sebastian,” he rumbles, snaking an arm around his waist, pulling him close against his chest, clearly intent on resuming his slumber. It was really sweet, if unexpectedly so, Kimi not usually being the most pleasant in the mornings in his experience, which made what he was about to say monumentally more difficult.

“Kimi….I've got to leave in like twenty minutes, it's almost noon.” Sebastian repeats, pleadingly, freeing himself from Kimi’s warm grasp and coming up onto his elbows so that he's hovering half over the Finn. Giving gentle touches to his cheek and jaw until he's satisfied that Kimi is finally awake enough to appreciate what was to follow, he leans down and takes Kimi in a series of lazy, open-mouthed kisses. He doesn't want Kimi to think he's having regrets and trying to bail, or some other absurd Kimi-ish thing. So he tries to put that concept of reassurance into actions, since that's always been the way they've best understood each other.

---

“So, see you in two weeks, then?” Kimi asks, leaning in the doorway, one hand curled protectively around his coffee mug, the other stuffed in his jeans pocket, so that he doesn't use it to pull Seb back into the apartment, back into his bed the way he really wants.

Seb quirks a little grin, bouncing on his heels, outwardly looking just as twitchy as Kimi feels.

“Yeah. Two weeks,” he echoes. A horn sounds outside and they both startle. “Ah, that'll be the Britta.” He shoulders his bag with a grunt, giving Kimi a last smile, and walks away. But this time, it's not for good.

---

Sebastian is nursing his hangover in the passenger seat of Britta’s car as they drive back. She had a Gatorade and a nicked hotel breakfast bagel waiting for him, along with many questions and a general air of smugness, because it's pretty obvious things went well. He can't suppress the smile that keeps creeping up his lips.

“Soooo what happened after you left?” She asks as soon as they're both settled in their seats.

He thinks about how to best summarize the night, leaning back against the leather headrest, eyes closed and grinning.

“We went home and watched some tv, and it was kind of just normal, not romantic, you know, just us hanging out like always. At some point, more alcohol was involved, and things almost got tense because we both weren't talking about the elephant in the room. But then he just kind of out of nowhere tells me he's sorry and he wants to be together and the next thing I know he's kissing me.”

“Ahh, modern male romance. Booze and tv.” She shakes her head, but she's smiling, too.

“It was pretty romantic, at least by our standards,” he defends. Kimi's little speech on the rooftop had hit him like a punch in the chest, left him almost shaken. He won't forget that feeling for a long time.

“So’d you guys fuck, or were you too hungover?” She glances away from the road to grin crassly at him.

“Oh my god! Britta!”

“I've been single for so long that I've started living vicariously through you, give me some details !”

“No, we just kept things kind of low key.” (Way, way too hungover.) He can feel his face heat up. And last night had only just been kissing, really really intense kissing and maybe a little over-the-pants groping. He'd have probably been on board with any kind of sex, he'd been so out of his mind with sheer want, but Kimi had been the one to slow things down.

“Don't get me wrong, you're-- you don't know what you do to me, you're so fucking hot, and this is very hard to say, but I don't want your first impression of me as your,” and he half grinned, now a little shy, “-- boyfriend to be sloppy drunk sex that we will barely remember tomorrow.”

“Straight from moving-in to the first date. It sounds crazy when I put it like that, but I don't feel worried at all, though, is that strange?”

“If you squint, the first round of being roommates is pretty similar to the first year of dating. I think you'll be fine. I know best friends that couldn't make it as roommates. It's like the ultimate compatibility test.”

Seb nods thoughtfully, nibbling on his bagel.

“Plus, when I met him last night, I liked what I saw, figuratively. He seems like he cared what I thought, which is definitely a smart move.” She smirks, continuing. “And for a guy who barely made any facial expressions the whole time we talked, he really seemed happy to see you. Also, he kept you from falling on your face in the parking lot. That’s basic decency, always good. All in all, no red flags from me.”

“Aww Britta, you were creeping on us?” He shakes his head, laughing.

“I was compiling evidence. I needed to see how he acted around you.”

“Save it for the courtroom, Nosey. But, thanks for, y’know.” (Caring, setting this whole thing up, talking to Kimi...) She looks at him, and he knows she gets it.

“Gross, don't get all sappy on me. But...you're welcome.”

---

He's exhausted by the time he gets home, and is vaguely still kind of hungover. All he wants to do is take a hot shower, then go to bed and sleep. If he could be so lucky.

“Sebastian Vettel! What on earth happened to your neck?”

He knows he's in trouble because his mother is speaking Deutsche.

Oh shit . He claps his hands protectively around his neck. Kimi, you fucker. That was a little unfair; he'd given as good as he'd got, and enjoyed every second.

“Ummmm. So I guess now would be a good time to tell you I'm seeing someone.” He wasn't planning on having this conversation right now, or even in the near future; everything was too new and fragile still.

“Britta? I thought she was--” and his mom makes that sort of eyebrows raised/head tilt gesture that older people make when they don't want to say the word lesbian.

“No, not Britta. Kimi.”

“Kimmy? Her eyes widen. Kimi? Your roommate?”

Yeah, that's the one. He says weakly, leaning against the front door, feeling trapped.

“Didn't you say he's quite a bit older? Did you sleep with him?” Each sentence is progressively louder, and higher-pitched; she looks a little pale, lips thinned a bit. Why is everyone so interested in where he's putting his dick, honestly?

“No, I didn't sleep with him.” He can't believe he's having this conversation right now. “And not by a lot, just a few years.” (It's actually 7 years and eight months, but Seb feels like she needs to be gently eased into this one)

She softens a bit, but asks in a pointed voice, “and this is the same guy you'll be living with for school?” Her arms cross.

He can see where the whole this looks kind of skeevy, but it's not like that , really.

“Honestly, I'm the one who made the first move, okay?” He says, trying not to sound defensive. “I'm not sleeping with him for cheap rent or whatever crazy thing you're thinking.”

“Well I read this article about this girl who--”

“Yeah, but you know me. I have good judgement.” He rolls his eyes.

“Well when your father gets home we're going to have a talk. Now go upstairs and shower, you look…” she wrinkles her nose at him “…like the morning after.”

He retreats to the bathroom, dumping his bag in the hall. In the mirror, he sees himself wince. His mom was right.

They hadn't been very careful last night, and he's got a string of blotchy red lovebites descending from the edge of his jaw to halfway down his neck, his hair is half wild, and he's got circles under his eyes from staying up so late. When he pulls his shirt off, he catches the faint scent of Kimi's cigarettes and the stronger, more unpleasant smell of post-drinking sweat.

He texts Kimi, could've warned me I looked like Dracula’s latest victim, along with a carefully posed but still artfully casual bathroom mirror pic. If he's going to get the third degree later from his parents over this, he's at least going to have some fun first.

On the other end of the phone Kimi feels a wave of heat wash over him when he opens the message. He was just minding his own business when Seb texted him, and...wow. He's not sure if Seb knows what he's doing to him right now, but either way he makes a pretty picture.

He's got a slight pout, and his lean musculature is painted in stark relief in the harsh light of the bathroom; he looks like a walking wet dream. His jeans are dangerously low on his hips, and the admittedly outrageous hickey on his neck stands out against his summer tan. Imagining him walking around like that all day looking all marked up and used is making him rock hard.

KR: You're killing me, Seb

SV: ;) In a good way?

So he does know what he's doing, that little shit.

KR: I'm not entirely sorry about the bruising, but I will apologize for not warning you

SV: I can't say I minded either.

KR: Two weeks

SV: Yeah. Fuck.

--

“We can't stop you from seeing this...man. You're an adult and we trust you to make good decisions.” His father stated, stiffly. “But you come home smelling like a liquor store, with bite marks everywhere and we worry !” His mother picked up where he left off, running a hand through her hair.

They're sitting across him at the dining table, and it feels a bit like a job interview (or a police interrogation) because the table is only really used for family meetings like this one. The Vettel family is constantly busy, everyone has activities and committees and jobs so it's rare that they're all home at the same time to eat.

Seb widens his eyes, projecting his best innocent face. “Like I said. There's nothing weird going on. We became really good friends when I lived with him last year, it turns out we're both at least somewhat into guys, and now we are together.”

“How long have you been dating him? Why didn’t you say anything? It isn’t trustworthy to hide such things…” his mom sounds a little hurt and angry.

“There was nothing to tell!” Seb can’t help but raise his voice a little, they’re making it all sound so sinister . “Honestly! Not everything is an after school special! We’d been talking back and forth a lot after I moved back home, we met up this weekend while I was with Britta at the wedding, we were talking, one thing led to another, we’re together now. Voila.” He waves a bit sarcastically at the end.

His mom sighs, looking a little relieved. “Sorry. It’s just, it looked a little suspicious from the outside. You go away to college and we hardly hear from you any more, we worry that maybe you had fallen in with a bad crowd!” His mom always sounds like she’s just finished watching a news special on how to tell if your kid is going to join a gang or get involved with drugs. He loves her, but he’s had too many conversations along these lines. A few years ago he’d bought a couple of red shirts, and his mom asked him if he was a “blood.” His high school wasn’t even urban enough to have gangs; the most dangerous thing that had happened was the time that one of the kids got busted with a shotgun in his car that he’d forgotten to take out after a hunting trip. They didn’t even call the police--it’d just been an afternoon detention.

“I called once a week! My friends all thought I was a mama’s boy!” Seb laughs. “I’ll call you so much next semester that you will get tired of me! Okay? Are we good now?”

“I’d feel much better if we met this guy, but yes. We just want you to be careful, son.” His father stands up, the interrogation is over for now, it seems. Sebastian sighs in relief. He knows that the meeting-Kimi will be a sticking point for them, but he can find ways to put that off for now.

--

It’s like a never ending gauntlet; as soon as he escapes his parents, he’s at work the next day, and getting more questions. The Dans are happy for him, his boss sighs and makes him work away from the public eye in the kitchen, where he gets mercilessly teased by his coworkers. He takes the harassment gracefully, having dished his own fair share in the past. Then, somehow. his siblings find out and he gets even more questions. It was a fucking long day.

Chapter Text

The sound of Kimi’s alarm cuts through the stillness of his bedroom, an angry chorus of gradually louder bells, and instead of greeting it with cusswords and grumbles and gratuitous use of the snooze button, Kimi quickly shuts it off and gets out of bed. He’s in a fantastic mood, which is rare in and of itself this early, not to mention the fact that he'd gotten out of bed before his third alarm went off. Today is the day that Seb comes back, though, and he's got a lot to do. With judicious use of febreeze and an entire pot of coffee, he brings the apartment back to its baseline state--less than perfect, but not a grungy bachelor pad, either.

He’s put half of the sodas on the pantry shelf the way Seb likes, room temperature because Sebastian’s sensitive teeth hurt if he drinks them too cold. It’s a bunch of stupid silly changes like that; he makes them with a weird mix of alternating earnestness and grudgingness, half hoping that Seb notices and appreciates the effort, but doesn’t say anything to him because then it would be embarrassing. He’s put a freshly bought potted plant in the kitchen, a stupid yellow cheerful thing that he’d bought on impulse, and it sits next to the cannister of the brand of coffee that Seb likes (even though Kimi thinks it tastes the same as the store-brand version.)

He also decides to change out the sheets on his bed, using the extra set from the hall closet. They look pretty new still--his sheets usually go straight from the dryer to right back onto his bed, and these ones have only ever been used a couple of times. He has no idea how this is gonna look, how dating Seb will actually work in practice. He doesn’t know if Seb is going to sleep with him in the bed, or in his own room, but he wants things to be nice for him in case he does. Last week, he almost bought a set of matching nightstands that he saw in an antique store window, but he wondered if that’s too ambitious or set expectations that would make Seb uncomfortable.

But on the other hand, shouldn’t Sebastian have a place to keep his things at night, if he did sleep in his bed? Or wouldn’t it be their bed then, if he did sleep there (and do it for long enough)….The whole changing etymology thing was much too thought provoking and Kimi decided that if Seb wanted to keep shit next to the bed (if he did sleep in Kimi’s room, or their room (if he did it enough)) he could keep it in a pile next to the bed like Kimi did. Or buy his own fucking nightstand. With a last glance around the apartment, Kimi grabs his lunch and heads to work.

Kimi had texted him the day before to let him know that he’d be working when Seb was due to arrive, and to just swing by the shop to pick up his housekey.

It was kind of nice to have that to look forward to; he can see why Jenson is always inviting his various romantic prospects to have lunch with him, or visit him during their breaks, or pick him up after work...Jenson gets a lot of visitors. Maurizio would have made a bigger deal about how much time Jenson spent flirting on the job, but it turns out that it was good for business. The wide network of women hoping to get Jenson in an exclusive relationship would bring their cars by for repairs, hoping to see him.

At the moment, Kimi is working on his second project of the day, a blissfully mystifying grinding noise that only happens sometimes, when their receptionist calls and says that someone’s here to see him. Pulling the car back in from where he’d been trying to get it to make the noise by doing circles in the back parking lot, he tries to look casual as he walks into the shop front.

Seb is having polite small talk with their receptionist, leaning against the counter, all lanky frame and gesticulating hands, and they both look up when he enters the room. Romain winks and makes himself scarce, and Seb gives him a sunny smile and greets him with a little wave. Kimi hands him the key, remembering how uneasy he was just a year ago, handing over the literal and symbolic representation of his personal space. But now it’s just a key, and not some heavy metaphor, it just means that someone will be waiting up when he gets home, and that’s something to look forward to.

God, he’s gorgeous; Sebastian can feel his pulse speed up when Kimi comes in from the garage, green-gray eyes sparkling above a smudge of engine grease high on his cheekbone. He’s so gone on this guy, it’s not even funny—the rush he gets from the slight brush of their fingertips when he hands the key over is ridiculously disproportionate. He should not be getting turned on from brushing a guy’s hand, even if it had been two weeks since they’d last seen each other.

“Thanks,” Seb smiles softly, carefully clipping the key onto his keyring, pocketing the lot. Then, a little hesitant, he reaches out and grabs Kimi’s hand discreetly, raising an eyebrow in silent question. He doesn't want to out Kimi if he's not already out to his coworkers. There are stereotypes at play here, for sure, but it's always good to be cautious. Kimi gives him a warm look, utterly charmed and so, so fond, and leans in and kisses him, sweet and chaste.
“Anything else I can help you with?” he asks, looking softly amused.
“Nope,” Seb beams, feeling happiness suffuse his entirety. “That's everything. See you tonight.”

Kimi acknowledges that with a nod, and it might be a trick of the light, but it almost looks as though he’s blushing a little too. The faint grin pulling at the corner of his mouth is more obvious.

Seb exits the shop, feeling very cheerful indeed. He only just misses Jenson's very British catcalling, but that's for the best, really.
--
Kimi spends the rest of his shift feeling like he’s carrying a little ember of warmth in his chest. Something had lit inside him when he’d kissed his boyfriend, standing there in the sunlit lobby of the auto shop. It had been fleeting, just a gentle press of lips. There shouldn’t have been anything revolutionary about it at all, but despite that, he feels struck, found.

Sebastian sees him, really sees him, in all his blue collar glory— not famous, not wealthy, with his grease-smudged skin and sweat dampened coveralls. And he still looks at him like that, like he can’t believe his luck.

—

Later, when he gets home that day, Seb is curled in his usual spot on the couch, watching tv. All the empty spaces in the room are filled up with Seb’s things, from the small collection of music records on the shelf to the throw blanket draped over the couch. Kimi smiles, can’t help himself. Deep within him, something settles.
“Hey, I'm home.”

Chapter Text

Their first night back together is spent like this: After a thorough post-work shower, Kimi shuffles into the kitchen to find Sebastian making them dinner, chicken and pasta, by the looks of it, sleeves rolled up and phone playing in the background, something instrumental and light. Kimi perches on a barstool at the counter, and watches Seb’s efficient, assured movements. He had worked at a restaurant before, so the skilled ease as he tossed sautéed vegetables in a pan of sauce made sense; what was surprising was that he was actually doing it here, in his kitchen. 

Sebastian never cooked. He lived almost exclusively off sandwiches, food that could be made in a microwave, or frozen dinners that you only needed to throw in the oven for a bit. Last year, it was guaranteed that if they were eating something that took more than two steps to make, it was either takeout or Kimi’s cooking.

Therefore, Kimi is extremely charmed by the scene before him, not to mention perhaps a little aroused, thanks to the combination of low slung sweatpants and the confident way he moved around the kitchen. So naturally, instead of being sincere, he decides to harass his little German.

“Look at you, being so cute and domestic. I think I could become used to this,” he smirks at Sebastian, who scowls and blushes prettily, stirring at the boiling water with vigor.

“You had better not! This is a treat,” he says emphatically, using his spatula to point, swordlike, at Kimi. “Starting next week, I’ll be much too busy to do this anytime soon so you had better savor the moment, Kimi Raikkonen.”

“Oh, I am savoring,” Kimi assures him in a mild tone, openly admiring the little jiggle his ass in his sweatpants makes when he tosses the vegetables in the pan, impressively flipping the chopped greens into the air and catching them back into the pan.

---

They eat dinner at the same little table they had a year ago, and their legs touch in the cramped space, but neither of them flinch away anymore. The food is so good— Kimi is forced to break his moratorium on being sincere, and thank Seb for making them such a nice meal.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. I wanted to um, do something nice for us tonight, yknow?” His cheeks flush, not meeting Kimi’s eyes.

For us. That was a thing now. They were together, and were supposed to do nice things for each other now. It’s been so long since he’s done this, and the utter rustiness of his dating skills is looming in the forefront in his mind right now. You can freak out about that later , he tells himself forcefully, and gets up to clear away their plates, dropping a kiss to the corner of Seb’s mouth, lingering long enough to murmur a quiet ‘thank you, Sebastian’ against his jaw. 

Kimi insists on doing the cleanup, since it was only fair, and this time Sebastian takes a turn sitting on the barstool while Kimi works. He listens to a recap of Seb’s day, starting with the awful construction traffic driving over, to the weird guy in the next apartment over who kept peeking out his front window to watch Sebastian haul boxes up to their apartment, to the trip to the store to buy groceries. 

Flipping on their electric kettle (Seb’s kettle really, but who’s really counting?) Kimi lets the water boil while he finishes up dishes. It clicks off just as he puts the last pan in the dishwasher, nudging the door shut with a foot. He automatically makes up two coffees, not even thinking to ask Seb what he wanted, making each cup to their individual preferences, and nods his head toward the living room.

“Tv?”

“Sure!” Seb takes the cup from him, giving Kimi a secret little smile over the rim as he takes a sip before spinning on his socked heel and ducking into the front room. 

There’s a hockey game on; neither of the teams were ones they particularly cared about, so it was perfect to zone out to for a while and relax. They settle into their usual tv watching positions, Sebastian taking up two cushions of space, lying on his side, leaving Kimi the remaining cushion to sit on. Sure enough, by the first commercial break, Sebastian had already wormed his feet under the cushion that Kimi is occupying. It’s just like old times--if you can forget the fact that two weeks ago, they’d been in Kimi’s bed, kissing like they’d die if they stopped. The sounds Seb had made in the dark of his bedroom were still vivid in his memories; they’d fueled at least half a dozen desperate jerk-off sessions in the two weeks following that night, and showed no signs of losing their efficacy yet.

Sitting this close to the source of his desires, Kimi is caught between wanting to take things slowly, and desperately wanting to climb on top of him right now and see if he still moans like that when he’s sober. 

But knowing that internally freaking out over a small gesture like a home cooked meal , meant that he probably has a ways to go before he’s ready for a sexual component to their relationship and all the complexities that would entail. There’s also the fact that Kimi’s last few relationships--if you could even call them that, because really, it was more like being fuck buddies for two weeks and then mutually ghosting one another other--consisted entirely of sex and nothing else of substance.

He doesn’t want it to be like that with Seb--he wants this to work, wants so desperately for this to be the end of lonely nights alone and mornings hungover in a near stranger's bed. He wants more of this, listening to Seb talk about his day, dinners shared together, and fuck, he really wants cuddling , which was something that shocked him when he realized it. He wants things he hasn’t wanted at all since Jenni. He’s in too deep already; it’s too soon to feel the way he does and it’s terrifying.

So it’s with a sense of mild regret at his sudden bout of responsible behavior that he opts instead for a compromise. Running his hand down from his knee, along the gentle slope of his calf, he encircles the narrowest part of Seb’s leg in his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze to get his attention. The expression on his face at his touch is warm and open, and it helps Kimi to find something to say.

“That was the longest two weeks of my life, yeah?”

“Miss me?” Seb chirps, looking pleased when Kimi jerks an uncertain nod. “I missed you too, Kimi,” he offers softly, thoughtfully sparing Kimi from having to ask.

“Hmm... c’mere,” he grabs Seb by the hand and tugs, smiling a little. Sitting up, he reconfigures his limbs so that he is sitting with an arm slung around Kimi’s shoulders, body pressed up warm along his side. Most importantly, it brings him close enough to kiss. 

“Hey there,” he murmurs, placing a hand on Kimi’s jaw, leading him in with gentle insistence, and Kimi lets him. They meet in the middle. It’s nothing like the way they’d made out before, and also nothing like the public-appropriate kiss they’d shared at the shop today. It’s just two people learning each other, sometimes light, sometimes deep, an experimental hint of teeth or pressure here and there, but neither of them pushing for anything further than this. Just luxuriating in the fact that they can have this, that after all they’d been through, (and in Kimi’s case, put himself through), they got to have this one, perfect moment.

When they finally pull back, Kimi feels shaky with it, not used to the tenderness Seb kissed with, so unlike anyone else he’d been with. Kimi (entirely by chance or by unconscious choice, he wasn’t sure) usually had partners who were smaller than him. Seb was exactly as tall as he was, maybe even taller, and he had big hands, and he’d cradled the curve of his jaw with them, gently carded though his hair, touched him so protectively that it left him shaken.

“I—-like I said, I have not done this in forever. I was— okay at it when I actually tried, but it’s been years since I’ve even wanted to. But... I want to try, now, with you—want to make you happy, want to be a good partner. Please just tell me if I’m not—if I’m not doing the right things, tell me—tell me if you need something, anything, from me.” 

Kimi hadn’t intended to deliver this particular burst of stark honesty, but once he’d started talking, it seemed impossible to stop. Despite being slightly excruciating to expose himself like this, it was probably good that he said something—it was a good idea to warn him again, at least, and he knows that it’s important to communicate in relationships if you want them to work. Which he does want, kind of more than anything else. 

“I promise, okay? And you’ll do the same to me. It’ll be good. We’re gonna be great, I know for sure,” Sebastian assures him, with an easy confidence, undeterred by Kimi’s impromptu disclaimer. He initiates another kiss, and they get lost again for a little while, until Seb has to break away to yawn, eyes heavy with sleep this time, rather than desire. It’s nearly midnight, according to the time on the cable box.

“Ahh...can I sleep with you?” Seb asks, looking up at him with puppy eyes, as if that’s even necessary. “Just for tonight, at least. I’m not sure if it’ll be a good idea to do that all the time, especially if I’m staying up late with homework and stuff, but I really did miss you when I went back home,” he looks a little sheepish, his earlier confidence giving way to rambling and a slight flush.

“You can sleep with me whenever you like,” Kimi assures him, amused. “You don’t need to ask, anymore, either.”

“Sounds good,” Sebastian agrees, sounding quietly contented.

(They both sleep well that night.)

Chapter Text

Some Good News: I have a 20k (so far) fic almost done for the next chunk of their relationship that I’ve been working on instead of this so you’re in luck if you want a very soft, very horny, very touch starved, Simi: boyfriends to husbands experience that was written during the worst of the pandemic and subsequent separation from my own partner irl, that is already in the works.

Intermission: Power Outage 2: >No< Electric Boogaloo 

In the dead of a winter night, Kimi groans, coming awake gradually. generally, he’s a sound sleeper, maybe to the point of being dead to the world, so this doesn’t happen very often, unless Seb is being really loud, usually because he’s tripping over something or using the hairdryer at fuckoff AM. 

There’s no quiet swearing, or hair dryer-ing, though, so what was it that had woken him up? It’s actually really quiet—too quiet—and with a shiver, he realizes—the power has gone out, and therefore the furnace as well. Sleepy confusion breaks for a flash of anger. If it turns out that it’s just their building, with its faulty electrical system, instead of the whole block or the city, he’s going to be so annoyed.

Dressing himself in the closest available warm clothing—sweatshirt from the end of the bed, and sweatpants, which were laying on the floor next to his bed, he stuffs his feet into a pair of sneakers, and has to blindly feel around for his phone on the floor, then search for it again when he smacks it further out of reach on accident. Already off to a great start.

Once he’s got it securely in hand, and using the camera flash to navigate the darkness of the apartment, he first goes to find Seb, to make sure he’s not frozen to death. 

Letting himself into Seb’s room, he cups the flash so as not to shine the light right into his roommates face like a police officer doing an interrogation. Sebastian is curled into a sad little ball, blankets wrapped tightly around him in his unconscious efforts to stay warm. Even asleep, there’s a little furrow between his brows, which, Kimi isn’t sure whether that’s a normal Seb Thing, or because of the cold, but he looks particularly sad and cold either way. 

His shoulder, though, is still strikingly warm when Kimi gently shakes it, and the urge to linger is there—either because Seb’s shoulder fits perfectly in his hand, or because right now his body heat is currently very stealable, he isn’t sure. 

“Mhhh??” The blurry little half-asleep question makes Kimi’s gut flip, and he firmly scolds himself for being such a softie.

“Power’s out.” Kimi informs him, voice sleep-gravelly, but completely flat, thankfully, revealing none of his internal struggle to keep from using his fucking roommate like a handwarmer. Not that Seb didn’t owe him that, after using him like a foot warmer every time they watched tv. But Kimi’s not about to give into any of his deeply non-platonic desires to snuggle Seb, who, although admittedly bi too, and due to the offhand, cold&flu medicine-inspired ramblings he’d made that same night Kimi had learned that Seb was into “blondes, mostly,” could also possibly be into Kimi, as well. That way lies danger, and potential heartbreak and—best to just sweep it under the rug, with the dusty, unexplored rest of his romantic prospects. 

“Power?” Seb’s eyebrows furrow even more, like two scrunched caterpillars. Kimi kind of wants to poke at them, kind of wants to smooth at them with a thumb. 

He does neither, and instead waits for Seb to finish waking up. “‘S cold . Oh, power, thas’s what you meant,” he slurs through a yawn, sitting up, rubbing at his eyes. 

Sebastian is apparently shirtless, and god only knows if he’s wearing anything on his bottom half, either, and Kimi quickly averts his eyes. It’s too late though, he’s already caught an eyeful of lithe, sculpted muscle and what looked to be an exceptionally cute, well manicured trail of hair going from his navel to regions uncharted. 

Well, that’s burned into his brain forever, now. 

He’s half-disappointed, half-relieved he didn’t see actual dick, thanks to the blanket pooled very, excruciatingly low on his roommate’s hips. 

“—going to check on Ms Lombardi,” Kimi quickly mutters, glad the darkness is hiding the way his face is going red. “Need you to come help me with the generator, meet me in the garage.” He flees to the safety of the hallway, grabbing his coat and keys to the storage cage for their unit.

Ms Lombardi is already up, answering his quiet knock in seconds. She’s bundled up already, and her partner is sitting at their kitchen table, putting fresh batteries in a couple camping lamps. She offers one to Kimi so that he can use that instead of his rapidly depleting phone.

“Thanks for checking in on us, caro. I’ve already hung the power cord out the window, but if you could perhaps get the fridge away from the wall so that we can plug it in to the power strip?” 

The last few times this had happened, they’d been out of power for nearly a week before Bernie had arranged for an electrician to come get their power back on. 

Together, Kimi and Ms Lombardi had rigged a little backup power system by running extension cords out the kitchen window of each of their respective apartments, down the outer wall and down to the gas powered generator Kimi had bought after the fourth such power outage. At this point they had the drill down to a science.

After moving the fridge, he heads down to the garage, where Seb is already waiting, bouncing on his heels, looking colder than before, apparently having not opted for a coat.

“They good?” Seb asks about their neighbors, and smiles when Kimi nods. He gives Seb the lamp to hold while he goes to their locker, which is just a fenced in area divided into six sections for each apartment. Unlocking theirs, he shoves a couple tool chests out of the way, and rolls out their generator, already accepting that his back is going to pay for this tomorrow, but too stubborn to make Seb do the heavy lifting despite knowing with all those muscles (fuck his life), it would probably be easy for him. Kimi’s no slouch, he works for a living, and rides his bike a few times a week, but he doesn’t have abs you can bounce a fucking coin off, either. 

They get the generator fueled and started up, drop the lantern back off with Ms Lombardi, who fusses over Sebastian’s lack of a coat, and also promises them breakfast tomorrow. Just whatever she can “manage to put together“—which despite the modest phrasing, would likely be amazing. She always acted like she didn’t own and operate an award winning restaurant (at the age of 85, no less.)

Next, they take care of the essentials in their own apartment, plugging in their fridge and Kimi’s portable heater. Then, the slightly-less-than-essentials. Kimi hooks up the tv and cable box, while Seb piles every blanket and pillow in the house on top of the couch cushions they’d laid on the floor for beds. 

While Sebastian tries to get ahold of Bernie to let him know about the outage, which was according to the power company, just their building, as usual, Kimi makes them each a cup of cocoa, generously furnished with kahlua and Irish cream, with only enough chocolate to slightly temper the taste. 

Seb is already swaddled up in his pile of blankets, looking cozily at odds with his angry scowl as he leaves a faux polite voicemail for their errant landlord. At the offered mug, though, his expression eases, and he mouths something to the effect of a thanks, before signing off his voicemail with a curt request for a call back as soon as possible. 

Kimi arranges his own blanket nest, rolling his eyes as on cue, Sebastian’s feet travel from his side of the cushion-bed to his own, butting up against Kimi’s thigh. Sebastian, either on purpose or unconsciously, Kimi really couldn’t ever figure out, had since day one been slowly but surely encroaching on Kimi’s personal space—and Kimi, to his own dry amusement, or possibly for reasons he kept out of mind, had not only allowed this, but had automatically started reciprocating. 

Maybe he was just touch starved, after all this time, or maybe Seb’s goofy, exceedingly physical form of friendliness had just rubbed off on him, but it’s nothing at all to lift up his leg so that Seb can shove his god, really fucking cold feet, under his thigh. Usually, there’d be a cushion between his ass and Seb’s foot as a social and physical barrier, but this time it’s just Seb wiggling his toes against the back of his thigh, and giggling into his mug like the obnoxious little scamp he is.

They argue about which horrible, late night television show they were going to watch, ending up with a court tv show where the judge is a stern, no nonsense woman. According to the rules , as Seb had explained them, they should each pick a plaintiff, based entirely on how sympathetic they appear to be in the pre-episode ads, and then root for them unapologetically until the judgement has been rendered, no matter how awful each plot twist reveals them to be. 

Kimi argues that he should be able to switch sides if he feels like it, but Sebastian insists that they remain loyal. He wins, mostly because Kimi doesn’t really care that much. 

Well, at first. By the second ad break, he was invested .

“She was sitting the dog! Of course she should pay for the vet bills! Maria is a bitch! Who buys a thousand dollar rug, anyway?”

Seb counters hotly, “if it’s your dog, it’s your problem! Besides, if she was watching the dog properly, surely it wouldn’t have eaten all that guacamole! Vera got what was coming to her!”

After several dramatic reveals that paint Kimi’s plaintiff in a very unsympathetic light, the verdict ends up in favor of Sebastian’s candidate, who cheers, and wriggles like a blankety caterpillar in celebration.

“Bwoah, such bullshit.” Kimi goes to take a sip of his drink, but the mug is empty. 

“...I want a refill.” He wiggles his mug at Seb. “Your turn to get up.”

“My guy won. It should be you,” Seb counters, looking very scampish indeed, now.

“Your guy was a dog hating, rich snob!”

“Ah, she definitely was,” Seb admits. “But I still won, so…” meaningfully, he holds his own empty mug up to Kimi’s hand, and when he doesn’t immediately take it, starts furiously poking him in the thigh with his toes, until Kimi finally relents, hooking the handle with a finger and taking it from him. Sebastian gives him a sunny little smile. “I‘ll take mine with marshmallows, thanks!” 

Kimi grumbles and very regretfully leaves the little bubble of warmth provided by the space heater. 

The kitchen linoleum is icy on his bare feet, and he shifts from side to side as he waits for the kettle to heat, scouring the cupboards for snacks and the requested marshmallows, finding a bag of them behind a box of cereal, which appears to be the only viable snack food they had on hand. Maybe tomorrow, if the power was still out, they could go shopping. If this is going to be another weeklong thing, he’s going to want a trip to the gym to shower, too. 

Crouching like some kind of cave dwelling gremlin over the kettle, which was currently on the floor because its power cord wasn’t long enough to reach the countertop when plugged into their sole power strip, he makes up their drinks. Objective finished, he quickly shoves the box of cereal under one arm, and after grabbing the mugs and the bag of marshmallows, high tails it back to the living room in time to still catch the last dregs of body heat still trapped under his blankets. 

The next episode of Judge Little, which Kimi feels is a poor last name for someone who actually judges quite a lot, starts airing just as he gets comfortable. Seb makes a long, very appreciative noise into his hot drink, while Kimi suppresses a shiver that’s composed of more than just a bodily reaction to the cold. Unfortunately, his roommate is both a genuinely nice person as well as completely unaware of Kimi’s current, very conflicted feelings.

“C’mon.” He holds up the side of his blanket pile, looking all kind and considerate and cute. “If we get under the same blankets, we can share body heat, and have more layers.”

Feeling that he has little choice in the matter, not without offering some further explanation at least, Kimi obediently scoots under Sebastian’s blankets, and clumsily pulls his own quilt, comforter and one small knit throw over them both. 

They’re now a lot closer, and, just as Seb had suggested, a lot warmer. Kimi can feel the press of Seb’s body from shoulder to knee, and it’s about as devastating as he remembered from the first time they’d had this much contact, and Seb had been sick then. Now he was much less gross, a lot more coherent, and just as life ruiningly pretty as he’d been that day months ago. Seb is resting his hand on his lap, on the same leg that’s up against Kimi’s own. In that moment, Kimi suddenly has more awareness in that square inch of skin where Sebastian’s pinky is just barely touching Kimi’s thigh than he has in his whole body.

“Thanks,” he manages, and then busies himself with his drink, steadfastly looking straight ahead at the tv, where for the life of him he can’t figure out what’s supposed to be happening. Something about a neighbor feud, over...vehicle damage? Maybe. He selects his contender at Seb’s prodding, based solely on the fact that the guy he picked was driving a cooler car than the other plaintiff, who had scratched his own car and was now trying to sue Kimi’s guy for some reason. Any of the narrative so far had completely escaped him.

They sit through the first few minutes, getting a feel for things, before they begin to ridicule the other’s team. 

“—and this guy would be kinda cute, if he would just stop talking, fucks sake,” Kimi snarks, before reviewing exactly what he’d just said. 

He realizes that that’s the first time he’d really come out to Seb, as such. There’s a long silence where Seb is silent, gears turning in his head, before he giggles. “Wait, you think so too?” He nudges Kimi. “Wouldn’t have taken him for your type.”

“He- has a neat face.” Kimi’s a little drunk now, but what the hell. It’s not like it isn’t true. 

Seb giggles, and tilts his head, consideringly. “He kinda looks like the first guy I ever had a crush on. Guess that’s why I’ll always be a sucker for long hair.” Either that is a direct hit on Kimi, or Sebastian is a little drunk too. Kimi really can’t tell which, and it’s actually killing him. 

“Aw, baby Sebastian’s first crush, how precious, Kimi mocks nonsensically, trying to find firmer ground. Oh fuck oh fuck.

“First guy crush. I’m bi, I also had this huge thing for the girl in my desk pod, and she ignored me completely.” He grinned. “Life was hard in seventh grade.”

“Mmhm. Try being bisexual, dyslexic, spotty, and as well, the quietest kid in class. In Finland, where everyone is already bit quiet. Ah, unless someone brought up motorsport, and then they can’t get me to shut up, Kimi snorts. His early teens had been kind of a disaster. 

“Your poor parents,” Seb laughs. On tv, the judgement is being decided, but he really can’t bring his focus back to that at the moment. 

“My mom to this day has all my school papers in a box somewhere. She said I managed to make every project about cars, or mechanical things, or racing, somehow. Even the history projects.”

“So... you obviously have a favorite formula one driver, right?” Seb asks, with a grin that spells trouble, and subsequently the next hour is lost to a very involved argument about Mika vs Schumi, in which there is no clear winner, only a lot of shouting. 

It’s nearly sunrise when they finally fall asleep, having slowly but surely become more and more horizontal as the hours passed and they slouched further Dow into the pillows. Kimi’s last thought is that Seb’s pinky is still ever so slightly touching his leg, and it has to be on purpose at this point, there’s no way it isn’t—and then—he’s asleep. 

By the time he thinks about it again, they’re sitting at Ms Lombardi’s table, eating fresh pancakes, and he can’t think of a way to politely ask if Seb wants to bend him in half, take him to dinner sometime, or both.

fun fact! Lella Lombardi is the only female f1 driver to have recorded championship points! I also made her gay, because that gives me 🌈 serotonin.