Matt should have known better than to go to a bachelor party at a bar in Poplar. First he comes back, then he tries to have dinner at Sebastian freaking Anders’ place, and now this. He’s tempting fate. He’s really, genuinely going around, trying to convince the universe to punch him in the face.

He shouldn’t have been surprised that he finally did get hit.

And in a way, he wasn’t. The bachelor party was going okay, Drew and Peter on opposite sides of the room, both of Matt’s brothers there for moral support that he didn’t ask for but definitely needed. He was drinking just enough to not be petrified the whole time and everyone seemed to be having such a genuinely good time that for a second, just a second, Matt let himself slip.

The conversation turned to dating, like it was bound to do at a party like this in a town like theirs, and when Nick, who Matt kind of remembered from high school now that Peter’s dropped a few stories with him in them, asked about his life, Matt forgot to drop the pronouns.

You seeing anyone? No, not right now. Then, Peter, What about from the last time we talked? The one who owned a pet snake? Oh, right. He didn’t work out.

He didn’t work out.

Just a slip of a word, barely relevant, barely needed; but it was enough. No one in their circle noticed or said anything; between Peter, Drew, Nick, and Matt, their little group of six surrounding the pool table had more gay men in it than straight. For that reason, Matt hadn’t thought to hold himself in defense or prepare for a fight because, sure, it was just a slip of a word.

Maybe Matt should have anticipated someone hearing him and getting upset; somehow, even in a bar full of gay men celebrating a gay relationship, someone had a problem with Matt in particular.

He didn’t even hear what Bishop said. He remembers him, of course. Matt went to high school with him, and he was never shy about letting Matt know how he felt about him. Matt was surprised to see him at the bar that night but not surprised to see his face twist in that same mocking snarl that he had a decade earlier.

He was okay with it. He’s used to it in this town, always anticipating it even when he doesn’t realize he does. But his brothers—

The tightening of Mike’s face, the way it pinched in the same way it did when he was just a kid and wanted to cry or lash out or do anything—the way Mike pushed away from the bar’s counter, stomping to Bishop with his fist already raised—well, that was surprising.

He wanted to be a bit disappointed that his brother was twenty-one and getting in fights, but mostly he was just glad that his brother had his back.

It warms him enough that he doesn’t even mind being squeezed into Deputy Anders’ patrol truck with his brothers, trying hard to ignore the way Mark looks between them.

They make it to the station in record time, though, and soon enough Matt’s climbing out of the truck with his brothers falling in beside him. Mike looks a little rough for wear and Mark’s face is polite, but underneath he can see the way its hard with anger. He doesn’t really know what Mark did when Matt slipped outside to call Deputy Anders or when they went outside all together, but from the way his cheeks are still red and his jaw looks like it could cut glass, Matt assumes he was giving someone a hard time.

He almost doesn’t want to know.

“After you,” Deputy Anders says, gesturing towards the door. His hat is askew on his head and as the adrenaline in Matt’s body starts to wane, he’s vividly remembering the gossamer feeling of the deputy’s hands against him and the feel of his breath on his tongue.

He’s got a thousand reasons to not be thinking about that right now—not the least of which should be a bruised ego, a ruined party, and a bleeding brother—but then Deputy Anders catches his eye when he turns back to sneak a glance and his whole body twitches, just a little, at the tangible feel of his gaze.

When they make it into the station, there’s a girl standing against the welcome desk. She’s in the same uniform that Deputy Anders wears, without the hat, and startles when they walk in.

“May I help—Oh! Deputy Anders. Hi!” She relaxes when he comes into view, walking in front of them now that Matt and his brothers have just awkwardly stopped a few feet in front of the other deputy.

“Hey, Sandra,” he says, smiling. “What’re you—”

He cuts himself off when a man walks in from around the corner. He’s tall and smiling, holding a steaming mug of coffee in his hand. Deputy Anders’ reaction has Matt taking a half step away, looking at him suspiciously.

Deputy Anders grins, though, and Matt’s shoulders droop with relief. He hadn’t realized he trusted Deputy Anders quite this much, but his body responds instantly to the deputy’s.

He decides to blame it on a respect for authority.

“Vic,” Deputy Anders says, going over to the guy. They clasp hands and do a half hug. “What are you doing here?”

“I called and Sandy here,” he nods towards the other deputy, “picked up and said you were working late. Thought I’d stop by and bring coffee.”

“A hero,” Deputy Anders points at him, grinning. When he turns back to them, he looks looser, shoulders less tautly pulled. He looks more like the guy that Matt saw in the kitchen and less like the headstrong deputy with a foot in his mouth.

“Okay,” Deputy Anders clears his throat. “Statement time. Who first?”

They all glance at Mike until Sandra lets out a little squeak that has them looking to her. Once their gazes land, she flushes. “I could take statements. It’d go faster,” she says quickly.

Deputy Anders shrugs. “If you want. Mike, you first?”

“Yeah, sure.” Mike nods. Mark gives him a quick pat on the shoulder and an encouraging nod.

Sandra waves Mike over and they head back through the station over to a little corner desk where she sits him down. Matt strains to hear what they're saying but he can basically only hear the soft murmuring of a female voice and the louder booming voices of Deputy Anders and Vic’s.

Then, Deputy Anders clicking his tongue and turning to them, claps his hands together. “One of you like to come with me?”

Mark looks at him and Matt lifts one shoulder in response. Mark raises an eyebrow and then shakes his head, turning to Deputy Anders. “Sure, I’ll go first.”

“Come with me, then. Mark, was it?” Deputy Anders starts walking away towards what Matt assumes is his own desk, Mark trailing after him.

Matt rocks back on his heels, trying to look less awkward than he feels. He also tries not to blatantly stare at Deputy Anders, but the broad expanse of his back and shoulders in his uniform is really a sight and it’s not his fault that Matt regrets deeply not taking the time to rake his nails down them when he had his chance.

Vic is watching, too, until he shrugs and pivots, turning to look directly at Matt. Matt considers which option is the worst of the two, finally landing on turning to Vic and letting his gaze be met by raised eyebrows and an expectant line of his mouth.

A few seconds pass; then, close to a minute goes by.

“Hello,” Matt finally says when Vic seems too unbothered to say anything.

Vic nods back. “Hey.”

“You’re friends with Deputy Anders?” Matt doesn’t know what else to say to the guy. He faintly recognizes him now that his name is attached to his round face.

Vic nods. “Yeah, forever basically. You’re Matt Collins?”

Matt blinks. “Yes.”

“Right, figured.” Vic says. He crosses the small space between them and then a little farther, putting his elbows on the welcome desk behind him and leaning against its tall front. Matt turns so he’s facing him, the bullpen of the station at his back now. It makes the hairs on his neck stand up, not being able to see the others.

“You’re not a deputy, too, are you?” Matt folds his arms across his chest, drumming his right fingers against his ribcage. He wants his brothers to hurry—he hopes that Mark finishes first.

Vic shakes his head. “Nope. Just the coffee guy.”

Matt raises an eyebrow. Vic cracks a grin.

“I work at the coffee shop next door. That, plus being Sebastian’s friend, has given me the unofficial role of Caffeine Provider to the local Sheriff’s Station. Didn’t ask for it, but with great power and all that.”

Matt’s surprised to hear a peal of laughter and even more surprised to realize it came from him. Vic’s grin widens in approval and he tilts his head. “Why are you back in town?”

“Oh. Well, Peter’s wedding.”

“Right!” Vic snaps his fingers. “Forgot you were friends with him.”

“Oh, well, yes.”

“In town long?”

Matt shakes his head. “The wedding is in a few days. Won’t be here for more than a week.”

“How’d you get the time off work?”’

“The term hasn't started yet. I’m a teacher.”

“Oh, no, shit?” Vic says. “What age?”

“Undergraduates,” Matt explains. “I’m working on my PhD.”

“Damn,” Vic lets out a small whistle. “Not messing around, then.”

Matt’s cheeks burn a little. He’s not sure how to reply or what to say. Luckily, Vic starts in again before he has to.

“Hey, so.” He stops, frowning, before starting again. “Seb and I were talking about you the other day.”

In a half split second, Matt goes from being a little awkward to sweating nervous. His body flinches, hot blood rushing to the surface to tinge his skin pink. His heart pounds in his chest, and he has no idea what this guy is about to say, but he really, really doesn’t want to know.

He uncrosses his arms, shoving his hands into his pockets, before pulling them back out again and squeaking out, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Vic says. He pushes off of the desk and straightens his back, looking over towards where the deputies are taking Matt’s brothers statements and swipes his bottom lip with his thumb. After clearing his throat, he talks twice as quickly. “He was just asking if I remembered you and shit and, well, I don’t know, it got us talking about how people treated you in high school.”

He’s not sure it’s better, but instead of his heart slamming angrily in his chest, for a minute, it just stops beating completely.

“Oh. I—I don’t really know—” Matt stutters until Vic lifts a hand and Matt shuts up.

Vic’s whole face looks different, though it still looks as nice as it had. He has a sort of kindness that Matt doesn’t remember from high school but that endears him to the big barista, even if it is a show. He doesn’t know him well enough to know either way. But now, it’s also a bit guilty. Matt is surprised to see the shame there.

“We were dicks, and we shouldn’t have been. We—I was just a jerk because I was eighteen and a freaking idiot. Other people were being dicks to you and I just, I don’t know. I didn’t have enough brain cells to consider not being one, too.”

Matt’s cheeks hurt a little from the burning blush but he tries to shrug it off and ignore the heat anyway. He’ll blame it on the alcohol. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not, really,” Vic says, grimacing. “I had no right to be such a prick to you and neither did anyone else.”

“It was a long time ago.”

“Which is what makes this long overdue apology so pathetic,” Vic starts grinning again, winking at Matt. “Anyway, yeah. Just figured, since we were both standing here anyway, might as well wrap up that childhood trauma.”

Matt’s eyes widen, and he laughs.

Vic changes the subject after that, asking if Matt has been to the coffee shop he works at since he got back and telling him about the renovations they did the last few years. Vic is good at talking, making a boring story sound worth listening to, and Matt likes sitting under the thrum of it. It fits against him well.

Matt hadn’t expected anyone—especially not someone like Vic, who he barely remembers so probably wasn’t that big of a dick to him, to apologize. It makes him feel surprisingly lighter. Especially after the night he had, where it was obvious some people still gave a shit that he in particular was a gay man, it felt good to have someone else vocalize their part in everything. Matt spent a lot of years wondering if he was being too sensitive, if he should just accept the way some people felt and move on. He spent a lot of years hating himself for hating other people. It felt good to hear that how he was treated did matter, and not just to him.

He’s so lost in both his own thoughts and Vic’s story that he doesn’t even notice Mark and Sebastian come back to them. Mark’s laughing at something Deputy Anders must’ve said and it brightens something in Matt’s chest that he really thinks he shouldn’t analyze too closely.

“Your turn,” Deputy Anders says, turning his still-grinning expression over to Matt. It makes something flutter in his chest that he decidedly wants to ignore.

“Oh, right.” Matt nods to Vic who turns his attention to Mark instantly. The two seem to already know each other and besides a clap to his shoulder as he passes, his brother doesn’t pay Matt any mind.

He follows after Deputy Anders, sitting in the chair across from the desk. His desk is clean except for a huge stack of files, a half empty coffee mug, and a few picture frames. They’re facing away from him, but Matt bets that at least one of them has the deputy’s little sister in it.

“So,” Deputy Anders starts, leaning forward with his hands clasped on his desk. “What did you and Vic talk about?”

Matt cocks his head and interrupts him immediately. “Deputy Anders, shouldn’t we be talking about Bishop?”

“Sebastian,” he corrects, though he looks down, losing his nerve. “And, right, yeah.”

“Right.” Matt’s throat feels like there are butterfly wings flapping on the inside.

Deputy Anders fidgets, sitting straighter in his chair, and running a hand through his short hair. “Talk about anything—interesting?”

“Bishop and I?” Matt asks, biting the inside of his cheek. The deputy’s eyes widen, and he jerkily nods. Matt’s just being mean, now—he knows that the deputy is wondering if he said anything about the kiss, and he really shouldn’t be so unforgiving. The deputy is squirming in his seat though, and the little anxious pinch of his face is a bit more endearing than he thought it would be.

“Vic seems nice,” Matt says, just to give the guy a little room to breathe. “He told me about the coffee shop he works at.”

As predicted, the deputy relaxes immediately. He practically melts into his chair and lets out a sigh that is too relieved to be on purpose. “Yeah, we’ve been friends for a long time, and that’s still all he really talks about.”

Matt quirks a smile. “How long have you known each other?”

“Jesus,” he says, leaning back in the chair, folding his hands behind his head so his elbows point out. “Since middle school, practically.”

“I can’t believe someone actually likes you.”

“Don’t be an asshole,” he grins.

“I’m just surprised you managed not to be one long enough to get him as a friend.” Matt doesn’t mean to keep teasing him, but then he grins even brighter, eyes lighting up, and Matt is wracking his brain for another quip to throw out.

“You should come over again,” Deputy Anders blurts out. The remark Matt had been queuing up dries up in his mouth and doesn’t fall out even when his jaw drops.

“Excuse me?”

“Well, you never got to actually try the burgers. We’ll watch a movie or something. Be—friendly, or whatever. Can’t hang out with your brothers every night.” The deputy’s face is bright red and it’s so—God, it’s so endearing that Matt has to take a second to control himself. He blames the alcohol coursing through his body.

It’s annoying, this constant attraction to the guy. His heart beats a bit faster and he agrees quicker than he’d like to admit. “All right.”

“Good!” And he does look happy about it, screw him. “Tomorrow?”

“Sounds good, Deputy.” Matt thinks he probably looks happy about it, too.

“Sebastian,” he corrects again. “All right. Let’s get this statement out of the way. I’ve got to get up early to start a chili, now.”

He winks, and Matt spends a good thirty seconds marinating in regret and happiness so strong that his head starts to pound. He’s so screwed.

The next day comes fast and furious. Before Matt can even blink, he’s showered, dressed and it’s seven o’clock at night. Next thing he knew, he’s knocking on the deputy’s front door, and then he’s sitting on a couch. The whole thing happens so fast that Matt’s nerves haven’t had the chance to settle down since he was in the sheriff’s station the night before.

Matt can’t stop looking towards the kitchen, his attention drawn by how simple the room looks. He can still remember the gossamer feeling of Sebastian’s mouth against his, too soft but way too present all at the same time.

Now that he’s not full of adrenaline and booze, he’s not feeling half as confident as he had when he’d accepted the date—or hang out, or whatever—in the sheriff’s station. Now that he’s here, a sweating soda pop can in his hand and Deputy Anders or Sebastian or whatever the hell he’s supposed to call him, sitting next to him, he wants to run.

Running seems like both the best and most embarrassing answer, though, so he tucks it away for now and tears his eyes from the kitchen, sipping his pop.

“So, what do you want to watch?” Sebastian’s leg is fidgeting, bobbing up and down, as if he’s as nervous as Matt is. It’s comforting in a way.

The problem isn’t so much that Sebastian is still a jerk. The guy’s a bit of a knob but it seems to be mostly accidental dick moments, like the way he was at the bar that first night when he ran into Matt. Even his panic the other night, after that kiss, makes sense to Matt—it’s annoying, sure, but the guy is straight and Matt supposes he’d freak out if he’d kissed a girl. It was weird, and it warrants a bit of freaking out. He can forgive the guy for that. He clearly seems different than he was in high school and if Vic’s conversation last night had an ounce of truth, it seemed fair to say that Sebastian was actively trying to make up for being such a jerk back then.

The problem is that Sebastian smells like vanilla and blushes if Matt looks at him long enough, and it’s hard to keep reminding himself that this is not, in any way, a date.

It’s hard to remind himself that he doesn’t want it to be a date.

“Whatever you want to watch,” Matt says, a few beats too late. Sebastian seems just as distracted and doesn’t notice the pregnant pause that passed between them before Matt answered.

Sebastian just nods, jerking forward to grab the remote. It’s only a half hour after seven and Matt can’t believe his stomach is in such knots already, so early in the evening.

Sebastian scrolls through the channels for a few seconds before he sees something that has him perking up. He clicks the remote before tossing it aside.

“Have you seen this?” he asks, gesturing towards the T.V. The opening credits to some science fiction movie is playing, one that Matt thinks is probably about aliens and spaceships, but he’s not super confident with that assumption.

He shakes his head. “No, sorry. Is it any good?”

“No,” Sebastian says, grinning at him. “But that makes it twice as amazing.”

“It’s a great bad movie?” Matt guesses.

Sebastian nods. “Yeah, exactly.”

Sebastian jumps up to turn the lights off and grab another pop can for each of them, setting them in the middle of the coffee table. He then settles into his side of the couch, one arm thrown over the top.

The movie passes in normal time, but Matt feels that time is crawling. It scrapes against his skin, not because it’s a bad film—well, it is a bad movie, but that’s half the appeal, just like Sebastian said—but because he can feel Sebastian’s body heat from across the couch. He jumps every time the man fidgets, his heart rate spiking every time he laughs or sighs or says anything in that low, quiet way that people do when movies are playing.

He knows this is Sebastian’s attempt to apologize for the other night and he really does like that concept; he just didn’t expect it not to work. He didn’t anticipate being so acutely aware of Sebastian’s presence to the point of distraction.

He’s confused, mostly. He ricochets constantly between hating him, trying to generate a sort of ambivalence, and being so attracted to the man that he’s nearly in pain. It’s starting to mess with his head, the back and forth of emotions that he’s too tired to even try to identify.

It’s less of an emotion anyways and more of just—awareness. Heady, heavy, constant awareness.

Matt doesn’t know what that means. He’s not sure how to handle it.

When the credits start to roll an hour and a half later, Matt lets out a breath of relief. Watching that movie was one of the hardest things he’s ever done and he doesn’t even know why. For a minute, he longs for his Wichita apartment, where things made sense.

His fingers hurt from being clenched around his first pop can for so long. When Sebastian reaches to turn the T.V. off, he jumps so hard that a bit of the pop flies out and splashes on his hand.

He groans a little and sits up, setting the can on the coffee table. There are tissues there and he grabs one, using it to wipe his hand clean.

Once clean, he turns to Sebastian. He’s on the edge of his seat, eyes narrowed in concentration.

“Um, sorry,” Matt says, clearing his throat. He sits back in the corner of his end of the couch, back pressed to the edge of the arm. “I don’t think it spilled on the couch.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Sebastian mutters. His face looks distracted, as if spacing out, but his gaze is sharp and focused on Matt’s face.

Heat prickles underneath his skin where Sebastian’s gaze touches.

“It was a good movie,” Matt says, clearing his throat. It doesn’t distract Sebastian from his focus. Matt tries hard not to preen under the attention. “I liked it.”

“Good,” Sebastian says. His eyes finally flicker up to make eye contact with Matt.

Matt’s breath catches in his throat when he sees the dark brim of his eyes.

He really doesn’t understand what is between them, but right now he really doesn’t care.

“Sebastian,” his name tastes good in his mouth. Matt likes the way the syllables curl around his tongue and brush against his lips when he says them. Sebastian shudders, like a shiver went down his spine, and Matt thinks maybe he likes the way it sounds, too. “Are you all right?”

Matt thinks he knows what’s going on, but also, on a much realer level, he does not, even a little bit.

Each interaction he has with Sebastian has to fall somewhere on the spectrum of Sebastian From Past and Sebastian The Deputy. Matt is good with that; he likes the fact that each interaction will sit on that line, somewhere, making sense.

This though—the dark look on his face, the curve of his lips, the way his body sits tight and poised, ready for attack—this doesn’t make sense with either version of the man Matt knows.

His skin itches. He wants with a vague certainty that builds and builds in his gut until his palms sweat and his tongue feels heavy and dry in his mouth.

They don’t say anything else.

Matt looks at Sebastian and Sebastian looks at him. Matt has never felt farther away from a person sitting right next to him. He knows that throwing himself against the man won’t actually help, but with his head swimming and his nerves tingling, he thinks it’s definitely worth a shot.

He locks his muscles into place, ignoring the stream of angry disappointment his thoughts let out when he refuses to let himself pounce on the deputy.

His thoughts and body stop warring with each other when Sebastian’s hands clench into fists and Matt’s entirety is distracted by the movement, the bulge of knuckles, the pull of his tendons. The calloused, big hands stretch and relax, bend and ease, again and again and Matt can’t care about his own warring because he’s watching Sebastian’s and it’s taking his breath away.

Matt’s body is thrumming with electricity shaped like hope and his blood is louder than his thoughts and he’s half a second from pouncing or running when—

Sebastian flies across the couch, knocking into Matt so fast he can’t do anything but slide down, letting his head fall against the arm of the couch.

Sebastian’s arms prop him up but their hips meet and Matt’s lips fall open, a groan building in his lungs and about to be thrown out of his mouth. Sebastian is there then, his lips pressed against Matt’s, wide and desperate, and he swallows the groan with an encompassing greedy tilt of his chin.

Matt kisses back, hard and slow, letting the desperation that had been building in his fingertips, chest and muscles press out through his lips. His hands wind in Sebastian’s hair, tugging him left and then right and then down, trying to kiss him thoroughly until they’re both so breathless they’ll fall apart, gasping for air.

Matt kisses him and everything floats away with one final thought:

Finally.