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There was something weird about Sam Evans. It wasn’t the nerdy obsessions, the constant references Sebastian rarely understood, or the impressions his voice would fall into seemingly at random. It wasn’t the horribly obvious dye job nor was it the unbalanced lip-to-face ratio. It wasn’t even the fact that he used to make big bucks as a stripper, something Blaine had told Sebastian, and yet apparently couldn’t afford an outfit that didn’t look like it had been run through at least five different thrift stores.
No, what was weird about Sam Evans was something nobody else seemed to notice.
The first time he saw it also happened to be the first time they ever hung out. Sebastian had invited Blaine to one of his lacrosse games and, annoyingly, Blaine had dragged his blond friend along with him. After the game (which they won, of course), the two boys found Sebastian to congratulate him.
“You rocked,” Blaine said, that sickly sweet look on his face spreading Sebastian’s lips into a grin. Blaine was no longer with Kurt but for some reason still hadn’t returned Sebastian’s advances, yet he was determined to win his favor. He was even being nice for it.
“Yeah, dude, you’re awesome,” came Sam’s voice. Sebastian turned towards him, as if only just noticing he was there. The guy’s face beamed at him, somehow seeming even less proportionate under the glaring lights of the lacrosse field. “I wish I had a workout buddy like you. I bet you’d kick my ass.”
Sebastian’s eyebrow quirked and he was ready to say ‘damn right I would’ but Blaine spoke first . “Hey, I kick your ass sometimes.” He feigned indignation in an adorable sort of way. Sam gave him a look and Blaine laughed, shaking his head. “Fine, I don’t. Sebastian, you should come to the gym with us sometime, then. Make Sam put up a real fight.”
Never one to say ‘no’ to Blaine Anderson, Sebastian somehow ended up in Lima on a Sunday afternoon, giving Sam Evans a run for his money. He wasn’t expecting much from the guy, especially when he showed up wearing church clothes, but when he slipped out of them to reveal the white tank top and black gym shorts underneath… well, Sebastian was impressed.
Even more impressive was how good he was at everything. At first, they tried making their work out into some sort of competition to see who could lift more, do more crunches, finish a certain number of chin-ups first, and Sebastian did push Sam pretty hard, but he never matched up. It was frustrating at first to lose absolutely every little game they played, but eventually he figured out that Sam was a goddamn machine and there probably wasn’t a teenage soul on this earth who could out-gym him.
Blaine, who had mostly stayed near the punching bags and out of the way, was the first one to suggest they call it a day. “I’ve got some homework to finish,” he said. He was glistening with sweat, so much that his curls were coming undone, and Sebastian realized that he had been so focused on Sam he’d barely looked at Blaine the entire time they were there. That was a new one. He shook it off, preparing to get up and leave as well, but he stopped when Sam spoke.
“You go,” he sad. “I’ve still gotta put more work in.”
More work in? He’d already pushed himself past any sane human limit. But maybe he was bulking up for something, Sebastian figured, as he grabbed his bag and followed Blaine out of the gym. The next week, when he was again invited to join the two boys, he learned he was wrong.
“Are you training for something?” Sebastian actually asked this time, sitting on the bench and taking a sip from his water bottle as he watched Sam at the leg press. Hard concentration was written all over the blonde’s face, his leg muscles visibly straining as he pushed against the weight.
“Nah,” he answered shortly. Sebastian squinted in his direction for a moment, curious. If he didn’t need to train for anything and he was already in the best shape he could possibly be in, why would he push himself so hard? He must’ve been some kind of health nut. He looked over at Blaine with a questioning gaze, but simply got a shake of the head in response.
The same thing happened each week for a month until Sebastian finally decided to stay in the gym after Blaine had left. While he enjoyed striking up conversation with the short object of his affections on the way back to their cars, Sam Evans was suddenly a little more interesting.
“Push up contest?” he offered once they were alone. Sam grinned, a competitive glint in his eye, and positioned himself on the floor next to Sebastian.
He wasn’t kidding himself, Sebastian knew he wasn’t going to win. Sam was a force of fucking nature. So when he’d tired himself out around 100 push ups, he simply conceded by flattening himself on the floor, folding his arms and resting his head on them. He lay there catching his breath and watching Sam, who continued on with the pushups despite the fact that he’d already won.
“Alright, David Beckham,” Sebastian said once his breathing was under control. Sam glanced his way and smiled, looking utterly charming with that sweaty blond hair hanging in his face, and Sebastian could feel his stomach flip. Sam paused his exercise, remaining in position with his chest pressed against the floor.
“Hold my feet while I do some sit-ups?” he asked.
That’s how it was from then on. Sebastian started showing up a couple times a week to work out with Sam, going more for the blond now than Blaine. Sam was oddly intoxicating and Sebastian found that whenever he took a break in the weight room, his eyes were glued to that boy, his perfect body, and the ridiculous way he drilled himself with an inexplicable discipline. He desperately wanted some sort of explanation, because Sam didn’t seem like the tough sort of gym rat, but he never quite knew the question to ask. Fortunately, it didn’t take too long to stumble upon the answer accidentally.
“You seem especially dedicated today,” Sebastian commented conversationally as he held Sam’s feet in place while the boy did his sit-ups.
“Gotta work off lunch,” was Sam’s response, and Sebastian cocked an eyebrow.
“I’m pretty sure your lunch was worked off as soon as you consumed it,” he said. “You have the body of a classic Greek statue.”
Chuckling, Sam stilled his movements and laid on his back, chest moving up and down with his labored breathing. He was silent, but Sebastian kept holding his feet down, knowing how Sam liked to get right back into his workout after resting for a few seconds.
“Wanna see it?”
Sebastian leaned a little over Sam’s knees so he could look at his face. His head tilted, having no idea what was being asked of him. “See what?”
“My body.”
Sam was looking at him innocently, and Sebastian wasn’t sure whether he should smirk and say something dirty, tease him for wanting to be checked out, or what. He’d been informed that Sam was straight, however, and he liked him enough that he didn’t want to cause any trouble, so he settled for something neutral. “I’ve already seen it plenty of times, haven’t I?”
“Not up close.”
Well, he couldn’t argue with that. And it wasn’t like he didn’t want to see Sam’s body. Like he’d said, it was perfection personified. If Captain Heterosexuality wanted to show him the business, who was Sebastian to deny him that privilege? “By all means,” he said, letting go of Sam’s feet and sliding back until he was resting against the bench.
Sitting up, Sam pulled at the top of his t-shirt until he’d slipped it over his head, tossing it to the side. He leaned back, holding himself up on his elbows, and displayed himself in all his glory.
Sebastian’s eyes cascaded down his body like a waterfall, taking in every muscle and droplet of sweat. It wasn’t difficult to believe he’d been a stripper at one point in his life. The brunet would’ve stuffed his entire wallet down those shorts just to see Sam’s body gyrate to a beat. He kept his face passive as he brought his eyes back to Sam’s own.
“Nice,” he said. Sam frowned slightly, though with his lips it looked far too much like a pout.
“Just ‘nice’?”
He regarded Sam carefully. If the guy was gay, he would’ve been all over that by now. But he wasn’t and, despite his reputation, Sebastian didn’t waste time on people who would never be interested in return. Still, there was something about the way Sam was looking at him, fishing for his approval, and Sebastian was finding it hard not to comply.
“I’d fuck you if that’s what you’re asking,” he stated casually. Sam had the mind to look bashful about it, but he was smiling all the same.
“I’ve been trying to slim down,” Sam confessed, holding himself up with one elbow while he brought out a hand to pinch at the skin on his stomach. Sebastian contemplated the action for a second, watching as Sam imagined fat that wasn’t there and probably never had been.
“You have low self-esteem,” he said, the epiphany finally striking him. It made sense. The never-ending workouts, the lack of explanation for his behavior, the need to be better than others, that fake arrogance about how ‘abulous’ he was. Sebastian threw his head back with laughter. “Holy shit,” he said, guffawing even as Sam started to look upset with him. “You used to be a stripper, how is that possible?”
Obviously embarrassed, Sam grabbed his shirt and started to put it back on. “You don’t have to be an asshole.”
Sebastian did his best to kill the laughter that was still bubbling up inside of him at this ludicrous display of irony. “It just doesn’t make sense,” he argued. Sam still looked humiliated and Sebastian sighed heavily. “You’re a dreamboat, Blondie. You’re a walking talking Ken doll.”
Sam tried to hide the smile on his face, but Sebastian knew by then that he wasn’t the type of person who could be angry for too long. And now he also knew that compliments were like his heroin. “You think so?”
The question was adorable, sickeningly sweet in all the ways this guy was, and it had Sebastian wondering why he’d ever tried to hold himself back in the first place. “Mm-hmm,” he answered. “Take your shirt off again.” Sam obliged, whipping his t-shirt off even faster than the last time, and he flexed slightly under Sebastian’s gaze.
“You like it?” he asked. It was a question he already knew the answer to, so he was really only saying it to goad compliments from Sebastian. He supposed it made a bit of sense. There must’ve been some underlying issues there, not to mention that being a stripper at sixteen couldn’t have been good for his mental health. Sebastian wasn’t near being self conscious, but he also wasn’t about to jump up on a stage and cover his naked body in glitter for the local populace.
“Oh, I like it very much.” Sebastian gave Sam a smirk of approval, watching as the delight washed over the blond’s face.
That day became like a breakthrough in their friendship. Now that Sebastian had discovered Sam’s little not-so-secret secret (because it was fucking obvious, wasn’t it? and he wondered how so many people missed it), he became privy to that part of the boy’s mind.
“I can’t believe I ate so much today.”
“Dude, I had a hotdog at lunch and I’ve been itching to get here ever since.”
“I caved this morning at church and ate some donuts. God, I hate myself.”
It was equal parts hilarious and depressing. It was almost like watching a cartoon where a very large dog spoke with a very tiny voice. At the same time, it was a serious problem and Sebastian seemed to be the only person who could actually see it happening. Sam not only pushed himself past the brink of exhaustion, but he often restricted what he ate and beat himself up when he couldn’t stick to the rigorous diet he forced himself into.
Sebastian happened to be awfully fond of Sam. He was dorky in a delightfully goofy way, agonizingly kind, and bright like sunshine. He was everything good in the world wrapped up into one person. Sebastian hated sentimentality, but that was not something anyone could deny. Working out with him had fast become the highlight of Sebastian’s week. So it was troubling to watch this guy slowly destroy himself.
He wasn’t sure what to do about it. It wasn’t his job to fix Sam’s body issues nor would he even know how if it was. But he would shoot the flattery in Sam’s direction and the boy soaked in every word with a smile. He started taking his shirt off more, something that was apparently not uncommon for him because Blaine failed to notice or comment.
“Hey, you in for an ice bath?” Sam asked him one day after they both waved Blaine off. Sebastian opened his mouth to question Sam’s decision to take it easy that afternoon, but he decided it was probably better not to say anything lest he make the guy feel bad for absolutely nothing.
“Ice?” He made a face. He had been convinced by a couple coaches to sit in a tub of ice before, and it wasn’t among his favorite things to do. If he could avoid it, he was going to. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to do it on his own free time.
Sam laughed at Sebastian’s obvious disdain for the practice. “Fine,” he relented easily. “Warm water then.” Sebastian could always go for a nice soak, so he shrugged and followed Sam towards the showers. He usually waited until he was back home in Westerville to wash the day off of him, so he’d rarely been in that area of the locker room before. He looked around as Sam began to fill up a metal tub with steaming water.
“There’s only one,” Sebastian noticed.
“Yeah,” Sam said, waiting for the tub to fill. “Coach Beiste locks most of ‘em away on the weekends, I think. You don’t mind sharing, right?”
Sebastian raised an eyebrow, but the tub seemed big enough to fit both of them, so he just shook his head. Once the tub was mostly full, Sam removed his shirt, socks, and shoes and stepped into it, sinking down. Sebastian did the same, stepping carefully into the tub and sitting at the opposite end so that his legs were on top of Sam’s.
They were both silent for a while. Sebastian leaned back and closed his eyes, his muscles relaxing in the warmth of the water. He could feel those legs underneath him, a comfortable touch, and he only opened his eyes when Sam shifted.
Sam had his arms resting on the sides of the tub, his head leaning against one as his eyes stared unfocused down at the water. The two expressions Sebastian had become used to seeing on Sam’s face were “labrador puppy” and “hardcore gym junkie”, but the one he wore right now was more melancholy and thoughtful than anything else.
“What is it?” Sebastian nudged Sam with his foot. He looked up, expression unchanging.
“They’re doing this Men of McKinley calendar,” he said. “I’m supposed to be July.”
Ah, there was the rub. Sebastian just smirked. “Remind me to buy one then,” he said. Sam smiled appreciatively.
“I’ve just gotta shape up before the photoshoot.”
Sebastian, who had learned it was actually better not to argue, nodded. “You did good today though,” he said. He was becoming damn skilled at knowing how to handle Sam. He’d always been pretty fantastic at manipulation, both subtle and obvious, but he’d never done it for someone else’s favor before. It wasn’t like he gained anything by making Sam feel better, but it felt like a compulsion at that point.
“Yeah,” Sam replied, falling into Sebastian’s words as usual. He lifted his head from his arm and reached into the water to pat his stomach. Reaching out, Sebastian mimicked the action. It was the first time he’d ever really touched Sam. He’d done it without thinking, but there was a thrill to it and he didn’t pull away.
“The ‘Abvengers’ deserve a break,” he said, sarcastically using Sam’s own stupid nickname for his abs. It got him a smile. He let his hand rest against the warm body underneath it for a couple seconds as he gauged Sam’s level of comfort with the touch. He didn’t seem bothered by it at all. In fact, he looked almost like he enjoyed Sebastian’s fingers splayed out against his muscles.
Deciding this was definitely an open invitation, Sebastian maneuvered in the tub, water splashing over the sides, until he was able to crawl over to Sam, his legs straddling the other boy’s waist. He let his hands trail boldly across his bare torso, reveling in the way those firm muscles felt underneath his touch.
“You like this, don’t you?” Sebastian’s voice was simultaneously challenging and unbelieving. Sam was just letting it happen, letting a boy’s hands feel him up. He’d never met a straight guy that didn’t at least put up a fight. Sam hummed in the back of his throat, his eyes drawn to the path Sebastian’s hands were taking. “You like being appreciated.” He stopped his hands so Sam would look up at him.
As much as he wanted to turn this into something sexual, because it was teetering so dangerously on that edge and Sebastian was a damn fool not to grasp the opportunity, he held himself back. It was aggravating and he would kick himself for it later, but something about the way Sam looked at him made him feel… affectionate.
“Can I tell you something?” Sam asked. Sebastian was a little worried he was about to become part of a teen gay coming-of-age movie, but he nodded regardless. “I kinda wish you were around more. So we could do other stuff instead of just working out.”
Sam was earnest, but that was not something Sebastian knew how to be. So he had no choice but to smirk and leer at him, squeezing his sides with purpose. “Other stuff?” he asked in his best sleazy tone. It flew right over Sam’s head.
“Yeah, like we could hang out or something.”
Sebastian scrutinized Sam’s face. “Now why would you want to do that?” He didn’t miss the way the guy’s ears reddened.
“You’re the only dude – the only person – who makes me feel like…” Sam trailed off, searching for the right word. Sebastian stayed quiet, interested in whatever was about to be said. “Like I’m somebody.”
Sebastian drew his hands away from Sam reactively, face suddenly falling serious. He had never heard anything like that before. Truth be told, he was kind of an asshole. He knew that. Everybody knew it. He wasn’t the type of person that made people feel things beyond annoyance and sexual gratification. Frankly, he had never cared, because it wasn’t his problem. But hearing those words come from Sam’s mouth hit him square in the chest.
“I think you have the wrong idea about me.” He attempted to make himself sound irritated by the confession, but those green eyes sparkled at him and his shoulders deflated. Sam took his hands and tugged slightly, pulling Sebastian forward. The brunet wasn’t sure what was happening until their lips met. He didn’t freeze even for a second against those soft lips, immediately returning the kiss like he’d been waiting months for it.
Maybe he had.
“I think you have the wrong idea about you,” Sam told him when they separated. Sebastian wanted to be affronted, but he couldn’t. Sam had just echoed back to him what he’d been trying to tell the guy this entire time.
“We’re both deluded then,” he said. Sam furrowed his eyebrows as an inquiry, but Sebastian didn’t want to ruin whatever they had breeched by bringing up his body dysmorphia. “You said you were straight.”
Sam’s laugh came from his chest, loud and genuine. Sebastian had never met anyone quite like this kid. “I dunno. I guess I’ve got a thing for delusional guys.”
“Yeah,” Sebastian smirked. “I know the feeling.”