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kennedycatherine · 5 years ago

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it was mine.

I remember the first time I spent a weekend with my new best friend in the third grade.

She had these really kind of sweet, quiet parents. They were a little dull, very settled, very content, very routine. Every aspect of the weekend was scheduled and marked by these little “traditions” where everyone knew their role and exactly what was going to happen.

It was all so simple and kind of muted. Noiseless.

On Sunday my mom picked me up in the late morning and asked me how it was.

“Different.”

My childhood was not noiseless. It was boisterous and full and sometimes a little chaotic. There were always friends coming and going, chatting loudly with my mom at the kitchen table, smoking in the garage with my dad. My sister and I’d adapted to falling asleep on many a family friends couch after being told for the 7th time “just 30 more minutes, babies.” By the age of 8, I could hold a better conversation with most adults than I could kids.

It was charmed, entirely encased with love and because of that, I grew up with a lot of “pseudo parents.” People who were always there, undoubtedly, with a listening ear or open arms. They were my parents friends but they became my people too, in our own unique ways with our individual connections.

It’s how I found myself, on a Friday night, pulling up outside a family friends home for a dinner party. I was 16 years old and going through what felt like a never ending “love isn’t real” phase. My sexuality was a mystery to a lot of people, myself included. All I knew for certain was that the idea of marriage made me deeply uncomfortable and this idea of romance I’d been sold by the novels I tried to read and the movies my friends liked to watch made me nothing but anxious.

I wanted none of it.

I let myself through the door and said hello to my parents, the biological ones, then hugged the other set, Dennis and Andrea. Plopping myself onto the bench at their kitchen table, I mumbled on about 11th grade finals and summer plans and listened intently to whatever other conversation was going on between rum and cokes and drags of cigarettes.

Then Jane walked in.

I wish it didn’t sound cliche. Trust me, I wish it wasn’t fucking cliche. That’s the horror of my memories, it was all deeply, deeply cliche. And painfully obvious.

I’d heard of her but we’d never met because her kids were mostly grown so she and her husband spent most of their time travelling when they weren’t working. I don’t remember being introduced to her or if we exchanged many words at all. What I remember most is that she couldn’t have been less interested in me. She was there to discuss a recent trip to Egypt with the friends she’d missed and I was just some obnoxious teenager she’d never met.

But it was well and truly over for me that night.

The understanding that this was attraction was not clear to me, not immediately. She was just someone I thought was interesting, with a sort of reserved demeanour but wild stories and an incredibly successful career. I wanted to know more, I wanted her to tell me specifically, to look me in the eyes while she talked about whatever thing she’d be doing next.

But she did not see me at all. And it was making me insane.

I talked more loudly, I tried to make jokes, ask pointed questions. None of it mattered. I was annoyed. Being entertaining? Kind of my shtick! I was funny and charming and people noticed. She, however, did not give a shit.

I left that night, drove away in my beat up Jeep Grand Cherokee, very likely listening to some variation of Bonnie Tyler or Bob Marley, wondering who the fuck she thought she was?

Three days later, when I was still thinking about her, I decided it was because she’d injected a newness into a room that had become otherwise stale. And while that’s what I always craved, I was jealous. She was charming and engaging in a way that 16 year old me couldn’t be because I lacked the experiences she had. The ones I wanted. I just kind of wanted to be her.

Right?

Almost a year later, I was headed into my senior year of high school. I had no idea what life was going to look like for me but I had plans and dreams. I was thrilled. After my first week back at school, my dad planned a fishing trip for me, him and Dennis. One final hurrah before the end of summer weather and the real beginning of school and homework and part time jobs.

He was set to pick me up after my last class at 3:25 on Friday so I left that old Jeep, affectionally called Cher, back home for the day. But class ended and he was nowhere. I stood in the entrance of school, kicking rocks, calling and calling to no answer. My mom wasn’t picking up either. So I began what felt like the unreasonably long 45 minute walk home wondering what the fuck had happened to my dad and this supposed fishing trip we’d been talking about for days.

The anger hit me square in the chest when I rounded the street and there, about 10 houses down, was my dads truck parked in our driveway.

When I finally reached the house, I allowed the door to slam behind me and dropped my bag in the entrance, pissed off, huffy and a bit more than a little sweaty. But stepping into the kitchen I saw my dad, a man I’d never seen cry, not even at his own fathers funeral, was trying to compose himself and his tear stained face.

“Dad?”

“He’s dead.”

“What?”

“Dennis. This morning, he died.”

I laughed. “No, he didn’t. He didn’t?”

“He did, babe. He went over to our cabin to get stuff ready and he just - they found him. He collapsed. Heart attack.”

What happened after that is a blur of days, really. Dark and empty and sort of scary. I’d known people who’d died before but this was the first loss that felt like mine too. The first time I hadn’t felt like a bystander to the significant grief of someone else. Because I felt it.

I remember walking into their house, still dressed in my sticky school clothes, so shocked by the people there. He’d been dead all of eight hours and there was already just - people? Milling, fussing, sitting, crying. It was sunny outside and none if it seemed to make any sort of fucking sense.

My dad was immediately gone from my side, busying himself with the inconvenient organization of death. My mom was out of sight, in the bedroom with the widow who’d been given so many pills she was nearly sedated. I didn’t know where to look or sit or how to contain my grief or how not to. Then I saw Jane, a familiar face.

She looked angry.

I felt angry.

So, I sat next to her.

We didn’t say hello because it wasn’t really the kind of occasion for pleasantries. The silence only lasted a few moments before someones sob pierced through the stillness and my own shock began to wear off. Then the tears came. For a moment, I forgot where I was, trying to find a way out of this waking nightmare when a hand grabbed mine.

“He loved you so much, you know?”

I looked to Jane. “What?”

“He always talked about you like one of his own girls. You write, right? He was really proud of you.”

Then I cried harder. She did too.

His death was shattering in ways I never expected. Probably because I never thought to expect it at all. Everyone kept on moving in this sort of fog, raw and changed. Andrea was often a person I didn’t recognize. My dad, a man who only knew strength and strong wit, was suddenly joyless and sort of aimless without his childhood best friend and lifelong companion. My mom was a bit frantic and a lot run down trying to keep the seams together for those who couldn’t really do it for themselves.

Then.

My dad had a heart attack too. Just four months later. He survived and the fog was lifted in favour of fear and we all clung. To each other, to life.

Those next few years, in some ways, became about renewal, reestablishing. We’d always felt like a bit of a rag tag, mish mosh “family” but it became even stronger, more defined. Sunday morning brunch at Andreas was no longer an option. It didn’t matter if I was hungover in a sweat suit, or my dad and the other guys wanted to be out hunting, we all crowded that table and passed our grief around with bacon and fruit salads. Friday nights were always spent on our deck, beers and joints and tequila bottles and stories. God, the stories. Sometimes I wonder if they all lied just to keep us entertained but if I’m being honest, I didn’t really care. We cried a lot in those years too.

As we all navigated this newfound territory of feeling far more bound and at times, obligated to one another, Jane was around more. Death does that. We commune.

At first, there was just too much. Too much pain, too much mandatory functioning that felt unnatural, a heavy burden when you just want to lie down and tell everyone to fuck off with the pleasantries. And for me, too much confusion. The reality that I was interested in and attracted to women was something I often overlooked in favour of believing that love was something that just wasn’t for me. Surely, I was just a lone wolf destined to be the family spinster. That felt much simpler.

But it was becoming hard to deny.

There was a birthday party. I can’t even remember who it was for. I was debating with my mom whether or not I had to go when she started rattling off the names of everyone she knew who’d be there. When I heard Janes name, the answer became clear to me.

I looked forward to that party for weeks. When the night came, I rolled in not so reasonably late as the careless college student I was.

Jane wasn’t there.

Minutes passed, then hours, the night was winding down and she wasn’t there. My heart was in my stomach. The disappointment seeped through every limb. I wanted so badly to ask someone where she was but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I didn’t know what I was feeling only that it wasn’t quite right and I was terrified that if I spoke her name, it would vibrate through my voice and someone would know.

That night, incredibly drunk and a little bit stoned, I cried into my pillow. Because I was disappointed I hadn’t seen her, because I didn’t know when I would again but most of all, because I had no idea what any of it meant.

Months later, by complete accident, we all ended up at the same place. The “family” was all there but I’d come without them, with my best friend. Late in the evening, I found myself at the bar at the same moment as Jane. The words that tumbled from my mouth all felt wrong and I grew more and more uneasy as the conversation went. But in no way did I want to walk away and I certainly didn’t want her to walk away.

When the moment did end and I brought the drinks back to my table, my friend asked who I’d been talking to. I gave a brief explanation, opting to bypass the part about the intense emotional turmoil over whether or not I was in deep, deep lesbian love or lust with this woman.

“Oh, she’s super pretty.”

“She is, right?” I asked, a little too forcefully, a bit too excitedly.

And later that night when we all ended up at a table together, talking for hours, she said it again.

“She’s super pretty and she’s like, super successful and cool? Can I be her when we grow up?”

I was so fucking relieved. Having someone else, someone who was straight and in a loving and committed relationship with a man, reaffirm that Jane was a person worth admiring suddenly absolved me of any anxiety. 16 year old me had been right, I just wanted to be her.

But 16 year old me hadn’t cried in a pillow over not seeing her either, had she?

It was very likely only months from that moment when the grand Coming Out happened. It was a long time coming and despite the emotional turmoil, was rather simple and calming. I was just one of those people who really had to say it out loud before I could fully deal with it. And I did.

At this point, the “Jane Cycle” had been turning for a few years. I’d convince myself it wasn’t love or something like it, I’d see her and I’d crumble. I mean, inconsolably upset for days and sometimes without even realizing why. I’d just be irritable and moody, upset with the world. But it was all because I’d had my hit of norepinephrine and dopamine just to have to walk away from it with no sense of when I’d get it again. It was painful.

In coming out, I allowed the mask to be pulled off these “ambiguous feelings” I had for Jane. It wasn’t confusing. It was just a fact. I loved her. Not entirely, not implicitly, but in my own sort of tragic, puppy dog way, I did.

The first time I saw her after the gay flag had been waved, I almost had to laugh. She was not nearly the terrifying, untouchable thing I’d been holding onto for years. She was just a person I was attracted to. Though a part of me was tempted to tell her, just as a “wink, wink, nudge, nudge silly kid, hey?” moment, I opted not to. Instead, I got drunk off jello shooters and tequila and flirted shamelessly with her.

Until her husband laughed and affectionately called me a tease, lightly putting me in my place. Hold your judgements, okay? I adored her husband, he adored me. They’d been married longer than I’d been alive and ultimately, he was just thrilled to finally get to tell Jane, “I fucking told you so!” Because as it turns out, teenaged me was definitely not pulling off my sapphic yearning as subtly as I thought I was.

Sometimes I become a bit sad for a younger me. The one who struggled through years of feeling very confused and kind of defective. Who wondered why she was incapable of feelings like everyone else. I hear stories and watch movies of teenagers going through these kind of shameless, embarrassing first fumbles in love with prom nights and adolescent movie dates. Then there’s the mandatory coming of age heart break with teenage girls eating ice cream and watching rom coms and trash talking the ex boyfriend of 2 weeks in the girls bathroom. It causes a momentary heartache for the girl who didn’t have that because for her, things felt more heavy and certainly a hell of a lot more complicated.

Then I remind myself, in someways, I did get that. I got the embarrassing first fumbles and the painful, dramatic, crying into the pillow first heartbreak. Just, for me, it looked a little different. It wasn’t Tyler from Trigonometry class, it was Jane from the dinner party.

And it was mine.

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britesparc · 4 years ago

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Weekend Top Ten #473

Top Ten Deleted or Restored Scenes

This week I watched Zack Snyder’s Justice League, which is obviously distinct from Joss Whedon’s Zack Snyder’s Justice League, which I saw in 2017. One of the ways it’s different is that it’s literally twice as long. Another is it’s been much more warmly received by fans and critics, rather than greeted with ferocious opprobrium like the earlier, allegedly studio-mandated version.

The road that led us to this moment, with this expensive re-edit of an earlier, unsuccessful film, is long and tumultuous, as well as tragic on a number of levels. Personally I was one of the few who actually had a good time with what I suppose we might as well call Whedon’s League; it weirdly felt cheap and inconsequential, but after two overwrought, self-important, and joyless exercises in grimness and misery, it was a breath of fresh air. It was like the feature-length pilot of a superhero TV series that, y’know, is starting off on slightly shaky ground, but there’s enough there to enjoy: the banter between the characters, the hints of future plot arcs, the general tone of daffy adventure. To quote Aquaman from that film (but not from the Snyder version): “I can dig it.” The new edit feels a lot more epic, more like a proper movie; the much-slowed pace allows all the characters room to breathe. We get some great moments, such as a heroic introduction to Barry Allen as he rescues his future girlfriend from a car crash, and a cute little scene of Alfred teasplaining to Diana. The plot is detailed a lot more thoroughly (albeit in a scene of incredibly clunky exposition), and we spend more time with Steppenwolf, learning more about his relationship with Darkseid and why Earth is so cosmically special. All told, it’s an improvement, even if the second half resolves into basically the same CG-heavy punch-fests as the theatrical cut; here the action is a little bit more coherent, but it’s a hell of a lot slower and as such (in my opinion) often a bit more boring. Plus I personally found the Cyborg story a bit of a drag; he’s a very dour character, moping over his lost life and bombarded by tragedy, and we get very little of the verve of his comic characterisation, and absolutely none of his animated counterpart’s sense of fun. In fact, the thing that I always butt up against is that for the most part these characters feel utterly divorced from their source inspiration; Superman looks and acts nothing like Superman, Batman is incredibly one-note. Flash and Aquaman are more successful in giving a new spin on those characters, even if Barry Allen is basically just Wally West. Only Wonder Woman looks and feels like what we collectively imagine Wonder Woman to be, and is by a country mile the best thing in the film.

I don’t really want to be too negative about it though, even if that was me just being negative for a very long paragraph. At the end of the day, I just do not get on at all with Zack Snyder’s interpretation of the DC Universe, to the point where I feel aggrieved at missed potential (treating the New Gods as just random conquering aliens!) and do not see anything of characters I love (Superman wearing black is not cool in any way shape or form). However. The existence of the “Snyder Cut” and the fact it ended up as a film that we can watch if fascinating, and it’s gotten me thinking of other films where we know additional material exists. Probably the earliest example of this I can remember is Biggs Darklighter in Star Wars; I remember seeing a grainy low-res version of that scene on the Making Magic behind-the-scenes CD-ROM that came out around the time of the Special Editions. Since then, as my knowledge and interest in film has grown, the existence of deleted or alternate scenes, or even entire cuts of movies, has grown and grown. Some of these have a kind of mythic status; others are curios. I remember reading the “removing the chip” scene in the Terminator 2 comic adaptation, so getting to watch that in the Special Edition DVD years later was fascinating. And, of course, you have The Lord of the Rings, which has spun deleted and alternate scenes into additional material for a whole other set of movies – the Extended Editions, which to my mind are the definitive versions of the films (even if Peter Jackson considers the theatrical cuts to be “official”).

And let’s not even get started on Anchorman: Wake Up, Ron Burgundy, which probably is a Top Ten all of its own.

So what we have here, then, are my ten favourite deleted scenes. Sometimes it’s just that I like the scene; sometimes it’s that I genuinely think it adds a great deal to the film overall. Some of these are now common knowledge, or part of a longer cut or special edition; some retain a sense of mystery. At least one I’d never seen before! But they are all very, very cool in their own right, and testament to the difficulty and organic nature of film production.

The Death of Saruman (The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, 2003): despite the theatrical King already heading well into three hours, it’s a shame Peter Jackson and co couldn’t find room for this scene, tying up Saruman’s story. It gives Christopher Lee one more moment to shine, spitting insults and attempting to divide the assembled heroes with his wizardly words, before he receives his comeuppance via beleaguered servant Wormtounge. It’s a great death, homaging one of his Hammer Horror deaths, and I genuinely feel the film is a poorer without it. It’s an excellent addition to the Extended Edition, and restores Lee’s visage to the beautiful end-credit portrait section where it belongs.

Removing the Chip (Terminator 2: Judgement Day, 1991): another scene now part of an extended Special Edition, this was mythical for a while; it seemed we knew about it even in ’91. In order to learn new things and adapt his programming, Arnie’s T-800 has his brain chip removed, basically; but once Linda Hamilton has taken it out of his head, she wants to destroy it and kill the Terminator while she has a chance. This is great characterisation, but the fact that the T-800’s ability to change and grow is referenced a couple of times in later scenes (“Are we learning yet?”) makes its absence feel all the greater.

Luke and Biggs (Star Wars, 1977): talking about “mythical”, this is one of the doozies. “Did you know there was a scene where Luke met his friend Biggs on Tatooine and they talked about joining the Rebellion?” – it was the stuff of legends. It foreshadows the later scene of Biggs at the Rebel base and gives his death more weight. However, I can understand its removal; it’s rather long and comes at a time when the film needs a lot of momentum to just get the droids to Luke and the adventure to really start. Plus Luke’s teenage friends ripping on him for claiming to have seen a space battle feels a bit atonal with the rest of the film at that point (funny as it is).

The Spider-Walk (The Exorcist, 1973): this one was another widely discussed with my friends (not in 1973, obviously), after its appearance in (I think) Mark Kermode’s documentary about The Exorcist. A supremely creepy scene where the possessed Regan walks on all fours, upside down, down the stairs. William Friedkin said the emotional intensity of it comes at the wrong moment in the film, and he’s probably right, but taken on its own terms it’s a really disturbing visual.

The World Trade Centre (Spider-Man, 2002): I guess this counts as a deleted scene, as it was supposed to form part of a montage in the middle of the film, but most people who saw it at the time will think of it as a banned trailer. Basically, Spider-Man traps a helicopter full of criminals in a giant spider web spun between the towers of the World Trade Centre. I remember watching it, and awing at it, when at university in 2001. Following the terrorist attacks of 9/11, the trailer and scene were understandably shelved. I’m not sure if it’s available officially even twenty years later, which I think is a shame; it’s a fantastic scene (apparently one not directed by Sam Raimi, though) and the final image is actually both moving and powerful.

Pig Headed (Who Framed Roger Rabbit, 1988): something that I’m not sure is quite as prevalent today is film fans discovering deleted scenes by reading officially-licensed adaptations, whether that’s books or comics. This scene I read in the Roger Rabbit comic adaptation. Bob Hoskins’ Eddie Valiant is assailed by the bad guys and dumped in the street with a bag over his head; when he removes the bag, this toon-hating ‘tec discovers to his horror they’ve given him an animated pig’s head. He promptly rushes home and attempts to wash it off in the shower. It’s both funny and a little disturbing, and leads nicely into the scene with Jessica Rabbit in his apartment, but I kinda understand why they cut it. For one thing, I think it raises some disturbing questions about what constitutes a “live” toon and ways to “kill” one other than the film’s Dip.

The Smart Guns (Aliens, 1986): that Jim Cameron really does like his Special Editions; I could have added something from The Abyss here, too. This scene is iconic, and to be honest it’s only recently I discovered it was part of the Special Edition; to me, Smart Guns and Aliens go hand-in-hand, so I must have watched the ol’ Spesh Dish quite early on. These are some awesome automatic gun emplacements, turrets that seek out and shoot anything that comes near. That’s cool in and of itself, but the tension as the crew watches the ammo count drop ever lower, and the Aliens keep coming, is masterful.

Finding the Crew (Alien, 1979): speaking of deleted scenes from an Alien movie, what about this doozy? Now included as part of an extended/director’s cut of the film (Ridley Scott’s another one of those who likes tinkering with his back catalogue), it’s a cool and incredibly creepy scene, but one that doesn’t make a lick of sense given the subsequent direction the franchise took. Ripley, near the end of the film, discovers the crew all gunked up in cocoons, and in the process of being turned into Alien eggs. Obviously this has been retconned, with Cameron concocting the Alien Queen in the sequel, but the scene on its own is very powerful. It’s also, incidentally, the first time we hear a strung-up human say “kill me” in an Alien film, aware that their fate is going to be so much worse than death.

Principal Ford (E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial, 1982): I thought this was more-or-less mythical until I searched for it on YouTube this week. After Elliot frees the frogs in his science class, he’s brought before his principal, who believes the young boy is off his tits. He spouts some cringy commentary about drug use, peers out of his blinds, and is oblivious to E.T. psycho-kinetically raising Elliot’s chair off the ground. The twist is, despite never seeing his face, the principal is in fact played by Harrison Ford (presumably doing a favour not just to Spielberg but his then-wife, screenwriter Melissa Mathison). It’s a funny scene, and I think it could still be added without straining anything (unlike the bath scene that was briefly re-inserted), but as the film is practically perfect in every way, why mess with it? Steve knows what he’s doing.

Sergeant Candy (Terminator 3: The Rise of the Machines, 2003): unlike the deleted scene from T2, this is neither useful character work or important plot-building. Rather, it’s one big gag, and in that sense I guess your mileage may vary on whether it’s worthwhile or not. A bunch of army and intelligence brass watch a video about the development of the cybernetics program, and we are introduced to Sergeant Candy, a soldier who will serve as the template for (essentially) the Terminators. He’s, obviously, Arnie, but the gag is he has an incredibly strong Southern accent, something that one of the assembled brass criticises, and then… well, I’ll save the punchline for if you wanna watch the link. I think it’s funny, and in-keeping with the slightly more frivolous tone of the first two-thirds of T3. It’s probably just as well they removed it, but on the other hand, there’s as much stuff in that film that doesn’t work as stuff that does, so maybe they should shove it back in just for the lols.

There we are; ten fun or important deleted scenes. Surprised/disappointed that I never had room for the famous “Octopus Scene” from The Goonies (which, like T2’s chip scene, is a cut moment that’s actually referenced later on!). maybe in a few years I’ll come back and do a Special Edition of this list, and include, like, fifteen items or something.

#top ten #movies #special edition #directors cut #justice league #zack snyder's justice league #aliens #lord of the rings #terminator

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blaineandsamevanderson · 8 years ago

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Title: Once in A Lifetime Chapter 23B

By: @blaineandsamevanderson (SageK on ff.net, kaitlia777 on LJ and AO3)

Graphics and Assistant Brain Stormer: @lauraperfectinsanity

Pairing: Blaine/Sam, bonus Seblam (in this chapter only)

Rating: NC-17

Summary: Late Spring, 2014 Sam auditions for a role in a TV show and Blaine comes along for moral support…and that’s just the beginning of their adventure!

Authors Note: I don’t know anything about the casting process for a TV show or what the process might be before filming. This is all fiction. I also don’t have any affiliation with Glee, Agents of Shield or any of the men and women who are involved with making the show. Again, this is a work of fiction!

Authors Note #2: This is AU for Glee Season 5, pretty Episode 100 and anything after isn’t applicable to this. Also, the plot for Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. was thought of before I saw CA:TWS, but was easily adapted…but let’s just say AOS is AU as of Turn, Turn, Turn.

Authors Note #3: We named Blaine’s Mom Anna before we knew Glee had named her Pam and hired and actress to play her…so we’re gonna stick with our name and FC!

Authors Note #4: This isn’t really a fic for fans of Kurt and Rachel. They’re the antagonists in this fic and are way over the top (in keeping with Glee’s tradition of being OTT).

Authors Note #5: So, this chapter can be read as a part of the OIAL world or taken as a little diversion, cuz oh, the smut. If you don’t want to read it, it won’t effect the plot in further chapters!

“You guys are the best, seriously,” Sebastian said with a grin. Kitty had just left with the girls, driving their drunk asses over to Sugar’s to sleep it off. That left Sebastian with Blaine and Sam. None of them were very drunk, just a little buzzed and happy and it was a good way to end the night. Though Blaine and Sam had invited him to crash their place the night, Sebastian declined. Really, he wasn't about to sleep on the twin bunk when he had an empty king-size bed awaiting him in his own apartment. Being the awesome friends they were, the guys walked back to his place.

Of course they didn't just dump them at the door know, the three of them soon wound up in a heap on his overstuffed couch.

"I never understood leather sofas," Sam mused, pressing his hand to the cushion. "I mean, don't you stick to it when it's warm?"

Sebastian patted Sam's abs, impressively firm and defined even through the cotton of his shirt. "That my friend is why there is air-conditioning... Plus, if I do something sweaty on it, I can just wipe it down."

"I steam clean our couch weekly," Blaine offered with a playful grin, color high on his cheeks.

Nodding earnestly, Sam agreed, "You'd never know how often that couch is used for stuff other than sitting."

"Oooh, sex couch," Sebastian laughed. "Well, now I'm jealous of an inanimate object. It gets up close and personal during your hot, naked sexy times!"

Blaine gave a chuckle, "I'm sure you can get plenty of sexy time without us nearby."

Sighing, Sebastian shrugged. "Well, sure, but you guys are hot and I actually like you both... Not romantically, but...well, you know....."

Hmmmm.... Maybe he should've skipped that last shot. He was getting all honest about feelings and whatnot.

When he was done mentally slapping himself for being all sentimental, Sebastian realized Blaine and Sam were having one of their silent conversations. It was both adorable and annoying when they did that, especially when he was seated between them.

It didn't take long for his friends to finish their nonverbal chat and when they did....

Well, damn.

As one, they leaned across Sebastian, one of Sam's hands coming up to cup Blaine's jaw, their lips meeting in a warm, open mouthed kiss. His breath caught in his throat as he saw a flash of pink tongues, heard soft, breathy sounds, so much closer than any other kiss he'd witnessed between them.

And wow, the Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. editors must have the jobs cut out for them, making the occasional Billy/Teddy kisses PG if the original footage was anything like this.

Eventually, Blaine broke the kiss, his breathing a little rough and he turned to Sebastian with bright eyes. "Just for tonight, you want to...?"

"Hell yes I want to!" He quickly agreed. Then blinked. "It will be weird, will it? You guys are the best friends I've ever had and I don't want to lose that."

"No," Sam said, a long arm wrapping around Sebastian shoulders in a strong hug. "I don't think so. I mean, like you said, were all hot and like each other, but...."

"Not romantically on my part," Sebastian finished with a nod. "I think I'd like to just watch for a while."

"Okay," Blaine agreed, giving him a smile and squeezing his shoulder. "Whatever you want."

As he spoke, Sam made a noise of agreement, muffled as he dragged his shirt over his head, revealing his stunningly sculpted torso.

"Happy birthday to me," Sebastian murmured to himself with a grin as he settled back to watch his friends kiss again.

“Holy shit….”

Flushed and panting, Blaine offered Sebastian a bright grin, his fingers carding to Sam's blond hair. "I know...Oh. God, Sam!"

A wonderfully lewd popping sound filled the room as Sam sat back, pressing a kiss to Blaine's inner thigh before he did so. His lips were flushed from kissing and...other activities, plumper than usual as he licked clean. He grinned cheekily, clearly pleased with himself.

Sebastian was pretty damn pleased too and he wasn't even the one who just had his dick sucked.

Steam filled the spacious bathroom and Sebastian thank the gods of interior design that he'd sprung for the full remodel. He sat comfortably on the wide side of his soaking tub, eyes fixed on the glass enclosed shower and the occupants therein. Water streamed over smooth, taut skin, highlighting muscles as hands slid easily and gasps echoed off the tiles....

Seriously, any porn he ever watched again was going to be a let down.

Languidly stroking himself, Sebastian watched as the other two young men kissed, Sam backing Blaine against one of the clear walls. Seeing that incredible ass pressed to the glass made him hum in approval. A part of him wanted to get up and go in there to join the fun, but he was just enjoying the show too much.

There was something very intimate about being allowed to witness the couple like this and he felt like physically interacting would almost spoil it.

As he kissed Blaine's neck, making the smaller man groan, Sam's eyes ticked up to meet Sebastian's, which made him toss the blond an approving thumbs up.

He'd learned long before tonight that both Blaine and Sam soaked up praise.

Smiling, Sam whispered something to Blaine's ear, his hand stroking over his boyfriends hip. Slowly, the dark-haired man turned, hands slipping along the shower enclosure as Sam sank to his knees behind him.

That encourage Sebastian top off of the tub and circle to lean against the sink, wanting to get better angle to watch Sam press kisses against Blaine's cheeks, his hands massaging the globes. His moans mixed with Blaine's when Sam parted his boyfriends cheeks, tongue dragging between them slowly.

Blaine's head fell forward, brow hitting the glass with the thud as Sam continued his attentions. "Feels nice, doesn't it?" Sebastian urged, his hand sliding eagerly along his own length.

"Yes!" Blaine gasped, his own cock slapping against the glass, leaving a smear of pre-cun in its wake. "Sam, God, good...uunhg..."

His words trailed off in an unintelligible sound of pleasure as Sam added a finger to the mix, rubbing the callused digit around Blaine's pucker. His free hand groped for and found the bottle of lube he'd set on the shower shelf earlier and was only generous amount between those lovely cheeks.

Sebastian's breath picked up speed as he watched Sam expertly prep Blaine, something it was obvious they both enjoyed. He could see Sam's cock bobbing, jumping each time Blaine made a particularly nice sound or pushed back onto his fingers.

"Sam, please!" Blaine panted, need clear in his voice and fuck that was hot!

Clearly, Sam was in agreement, surging to his feet and plastering himself against his boyfriend’s back. Blaine turned his head and wasted no time in catching Sam in a heated, desperate kiss, one of the blond's hands sliding around Blaine's hips to splay on his abs, pulling him closer.

Three voices moaned in unison when Sam finally began to push into Blaine. His fingers wrapped around the smaller man's hips, one thumbs stroking an iliac crest, his mouth still busy with Blaine's, kissing, licking, nipping....

Warm water rolled over heated skin as they began to move is one, clearly familiar with this intimate dance. Sebastian drank in the side of them, the sounds they made, the smell heavy in the steamy air. It was intense and unrushed, the little things making it all the better.

Blaine taking Sam's hand in his and raising it to his lips, kissing the inner wrist.

Sam nuzzling the soft skin behind Blaine's ear.

I love yous whispered with such devotion.

True the love and caring they displayed made Sebastian a little jealous, but that was overpowered by the fact that he was happy for them.

His sentimental train of thought was derailed as Blaine turned in Sam's arms and gave a little hop, wrapping his legs around his boyfriend's waist. Sam didn't seem fazed at all, one hand coming up to cup Blaine's ass supportively, the other guiding himself back inside.

"Shit," Sebastian muttered, squeezing the base of his cock, trying to hold back just a little longer. He stumbled back to the tub, sitting back down on the side of it to watches his friends movements grew bit choppy, their voices taking on a breathless quality.

He came hard and long, cum spilling over his fist and onto the tile. Stroking himself through the orgasm, he panted as Blaine threw his head back with a cry and Sam's shout was muffled against Blaine's neck. It was several minutes before they stilled, kissing as they rocked against each other, still moving in unison their hands caressing as they murmured words he couldn't hear.

Unwinding his legs from Sam's hips, Blaine's feet hit the floor with a slight splash and he leaned into Sam's chest, movements sleepy and sated.

"Wanna wash up?" Sam asked and it took Sebastian a moment to realize he was addressing him.

"Yeah," Sebastian agreed, rising and stretching slightly before slipping into the shower. It was plenty big enough for all of them to clean up comfortably and they did just that. After a minute, he had to say, "That was better than any porn."

His statement earned chuckles and grins. "Good to know!" Blaine said with a smile and Sam nudged him playfully.

"I already knew I was better than Frat Boy Physicals," he teased, making Blaine roll his eyes.

Sebastian laughed outright. "Aww, does Blaine have a type?"

"Yes," Blaine replied with conviction. "My type is Sam."

Now was Sam's turn to say aww, but he followed it up with the kiss.

Reaching out to turn off the water, Sebastian yawned. "I think I'm going to head to bed now... Brunch with the girls tomorrow, right?"

"Right, Blaine agreed easily, taking the offered towels. "Some nice, cuz...."

"An angry, hung over Santana is never a good thing," Sam finished, making Sebastian nod in agreement.

They had a good point. And he had no desire to spoil his wonderful mood so soon.

Best birthday ever.

TBC….

#Blam #Blamily #Seblam #Fic: OIAL #lauraperfectinsanity #Special one shot

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