So, the rehearsal dinner is the day after tomorrow?” Sebastian folds his arms across his chest, squinting at him.

They’re standing next to the little alley between the coffee shop and the sheriff’s station and the Kansas sun is warm and bright on top of them. Matt likes the way Sebastian’s hair looks nearly blond in the sunlight, the way his freckles are more pronounced.

He looks away and clears his throat. “Yes,” he answers. “At six.”

“Great,” he says. He scratches behind his ear, a little nervous tick that Matt likes seeing him pull out. It softens the image he tries to project. “Should we—see each other before then?”

Matt’s chest feels too tight, and he can feel his stomach turning over and over, flipping as soft wings brush against his ribcage and fly up his throat. His whole body feels drugged on adrenaline, nerves vibrating just beneath the skin. Sebastian has always made him nervous, ever since they were kids, but this—this is different. Nicer.

What the hell is he doing?

“We could,” he answers, trying to stay diplomatic and in the middle. Even with Sebastian being the one to suggest this, being the one to kiss him first, it’s hard for Matt to read the situation. He doesn’t know where he stands, let alone where Sebastian stands, and he just wants to get out of this as unscathed as possible.

“We could have dinner? Actually, this time.” Sebastian looks away, smiling ruefully.

Matt agrees to himself instantly but tries to slow down his response to Sebastian. He’s trying to keep himself from looking too eager, from being too much. But then, to give himself a little reward, he says. “Sure, Seb. Should we meet at your place again?”

Sebastian preens when he uses the nickname, and Matt swallows his smile so as not to give away that he’d said the nickname on purpose. He had a feeling, from Sebastian’s reaction the other night, that he enjoyed hearing it.

“Yeah,” Sebastian says, nodding. His voice is just shy of breathless and a red blush is crawling up his neck and to his cheeks. “Say, seven?”

“Sounds good.” Matt smiles.

Sebastian smiles back.

They stand there for a second, a couple of smiling idiots, before Sebastian’s eyes widen and his face falls. “Wait. I can’t. I have dinner with my mom tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Matt hates the way his stomach drops. He shouldn’t be this disappointed. They had the plans for two seconds. “That’s okay.”

Sebastian’s frown is borderline devastated, and Matt hardly blames himself for stumbling closer and letting his hand fall between them. Sebastian’s hand moves, inching slowly, to meet him in the middle. Their fingers brush and he’s shocked, an electric current running through his fingers to his chest.

“I’d cancel but—”

“It’s fine,” Matt insists. “We’ll see each other the next day.”

Sebastian glances down at their slightly touching hands. He mutters something but Matt doesn’t hear it. He almost asks him to repeat it but his heart is already slamming and he’s afraid he doesn’t want to hear it.

“Or,” Sebastian looks up, brightening. “What if you came with me?”

Matt’s mouth falls open. “What?”

“It can be our no pressure trial run,” he says.

Matt blinks. This is a colossally bad idea. A horrible, huge, catastrophically bad idea.

“Okay.”

“I’ll pick you up at five thirty.” Sebastian grins and then he’s throwing his arms around Matt, tugging him into a hug.

After a shocked second, Matt raises his own arms and hugs him back. He expects Sebastian to pull away quickly or clap his shoulder or at least try to kiss him, but instead, he just holds him still. Matt’s head falls to Sebastian’s shoulder, arms wound around him. It’s soft and Sebastian smells like vanilla, and he wonders if all his hugs are this nice.

When he finally pulls away, he has a soft smile on his face that sends Matt’s whole chest into overdrive.

“I’ll see you, then.” Sebastian grabs his shoulder and gives it a quick squeeze before going back to the sheriff’s station.

Matt waits until he sees him disappear into the station. Then he lets out a loud, unsure laugh. Good lord, what the hell is he doing?

Matt carries the doggy bag with his cake and a to-go cup full of his smoothie. His heart hammers in his chest, a thousand tiny currents of electricity pounding through him again and again.

He has no idea what he’s doing. He agreed to the movie when he was intoxicated and then the—the kissing, the whatever it is they did, that was—

Matt’s whole body twitches just at the memory of it. It was a thousand things but bad is not one of them. He couldn't believe it, really—the way that Sebastian melted underneath him, leaning into him, begging for more.

He focuses on keeping his breathing even and tries to stop thinking about that. He’s walking through town on his way to his mother’s house, for god’s sake, he doesn’t need to be thinking about Sebastian rutting up against him until he came in his pants.

How was Matt supposed to say no to a lunch date with a guy who came so prettily and looked at him so openly?

And how was he supposed to say no to—fake boyfriends, or whatever it is they’re doing now—when the guy looks earnest and nervous and honestly so handsome in his uniform? Matt’s a smart guy but he’s not a particularly strong one.

Sebastian Anders has always been his weak spot. He just hadn’t anticipated, no matter what his high school fantasies used to suggest, that this would ever be an option. He hadn’t tried to guard himself against Sebastian wanting him.

He felt himself falling down a hill, spiraling down and down and it was exhilarating but he had no idea what was at the bottom. He hoped it was soft grass but he knew, he knew, it just as easily could be rocks.

His lungs hurt.

He thinks he might really like Sebastian.

The new one—the one who is a deputy, but not a jerk, just awkward. The one who likes really bad science fiction movies and who talks about his sister a lot, even when unprompted, because he thinks she’s the best. And the one who kisses him like he’s never been kissed before and doesn’t know if he’ll be kissed again. He really likes that part of him.

He also really likes the way his bag is heavy with a second piece of cake because Sebastian thought Matt’s mom might want a slice, and he liked it when Sebastian left a ten dollar tip, even though it was his best friend who served them.

He thinks he might really, actually like Sebastian and the thought sends chills of excitement and fear down his spine.

Matt changes his outfit three times the next day.

Sebastian is not his real boyfriend or, well, in a lot of ways, not even his friend—which, all right, they’ve probably graduated to actual friends at this point, but he’s not sure—so meeting his mother and sister isn’t the biggest deal in the world. He doesn’t need to impress them because even if they don’t like him, he’s not actually dating Sebastian and he’s leaving for Wichita in a few days.

So it really doesn’t matter.

Matt looks in the mirror and frowns. The red shirt looks too conspicuous, as if he’s got something to hide. He rips it off.

Make that four times.

He digs around in the motel closet, flipping through his shirts.

He could wear a t-shirt. That’s casual and says, yeah, I don’t care if you like me, which is kind of the mood that he needs to be going for. But it seems almost rude to show up to a family dinner in a faded Guns and Roses t-shirt, and Matt doesn’t want to be rude.

His stomach clenches. He grabs the blue button down hanging in the corner and puts it on, fingers shaking a little as he works the buttons.

He tries it with the sleeves buttoned, the sleeves rolled up, tucked in, pulled out, a few buttons at the top undone.

He pivots in front of the mirror. Then he groans and shakes his head.

“I’m being dramatic,” he says to himself. He feels jittery and nervous, which is ridiculous. This dinner does not matter. And even if it did, Matt is great with parents. He’s smart and polite and has a good head of hair—he’s parent approved, even if he’s never met the parent in question.

He lays on the bed and stares into the closet, contemplating the black button down instead, when there’s four little knocks on the door, one right after another.

Matt freezes. He hears the shuffling of feet outside the motel room door.

He jumps up and gives himself one last worried glance in the mirror. His shirt is a little wrinkled, tucked in but loosely, and the sleeves are still shoved up to his elbows. It’s fine. A little messy but nice enough.

He takes a deep breath and throws open the door.

Sebastian’s got one arm above the doorframe, leaning, his legs crossed. He’s lounging and grinning and the image briefly stops Matt’s heart.

He panics and struggles to collect himself.

“How did you find my room?” He blurts out.

Sebastian raises his eyebrows, quirking one side of his lips into a smirk. “I asked Martha.”

“She just—gave it to you?” It doesn’t really matter, he supposes. He’d have to figure it out one way or another.

Sebastian shrugs. “She’s my neighbor. She’s seen you coming and going.”

Matt’s face burns. He forgot about that. “Oh.”

Sebastian laughs a little. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He grabs his wallet and keys and shoves them in his pants pocket, leaving the room. He hears the door click and tries the handle to make sure the lock catches.

“Ready,” he says, offering Sebastian a small smile. Sebastian responds with a bright grin.

“Good,” he throws an arm around Matt’s shoulder and starts walking, leading them through the parking lot until they get to Sebastian’s truck. It’s a monstrosity of a thing, now that Matt is looking at it in the sober daylight. He imagines Sebastian going mudding or fishing, throwing his poles and boots in the bed of the truck. It’s a simple image that should have helped Matt calm down; he doesn’t like that kind of guy.

However, the idea of Sebastian flying through with his truck, head thrown back laughing, a smile permanently etched on his face after a good day—well, maybe he needs to reevaluate what his kind of guy is.

“Mom lives just on the other side of town,” he says once they’re both in the truck. He buckles with one hand before turning the engine over. “You can pick the music.”

“Whatever you have on is all right,” Matt says, fiddling with his own seat belt.

“Okay,” Sebastian puts one arm around the top of Matt’s seat, peering behind him through the window as he backs out. Matt likes the way he looks from that angle, his profile sharp and handsome with just a bit of the evening sun bleeding in through the window. It makes him look like the lead in a romantic movie, and the fact that Matt is the one in the front seat with him is almost hysterical enough for him to break into laughter.

“So, I called and let them know that you’re coming.” Sebastian says once they’re on the main road. He drives fluidly, effortlessly, and Matt can’t help but be jealous at the ease at which he holds the steering wheel, glancing in the mirrors and at Matt’s face as if he has all the time in the world to react. Which, maybe he does. He’s in control of a monster-sized truck and has the confidence to boot. He’s guaranteed to be a better driver than Matt is.

“Oh,” he says, swallowing hard. “Is—is it okay that I’m coming?”

“Of course!” He says, dropping one hand to slap it lightly on Matt’s knees. He flexes his fingers before grabbing the steering wheel again, as if the nerves were shocked by the touch. Matt blushes and resists the urge to rub at the spot. “They’re excited to meet you.”

“Did you—what did you say?”

Sebastian’s face turns a little pink and he dutifully keeps his attention on the road. “Nothing,” he says. “Just that you were around and I wanted to know if it was okay to bring you. No one minds. Vic’s come before.”

“Oh,” he says. “Well, okay.”

He’s not disappointed. He doesn’t care that Sebastian didn’t tell his mom that they’re dating because first of all, they’re grown adults and don’t need to do that, and second of all, they’re not actually dating, so Matt doesn’t care.

His stomach cares a little bit, but that’s easy enough to ignore.

They drive in relative silence for the rest of the way, just their breathing and the radio and the sound the tires make on the gravel roads. It’s peaceful in a kind of way that Matt can’t describe. It’s the kind of peace that reminds him of home and happiness and childhood, but he doesn’t actually remember feeling any of this when he was at home and in his childhood. It exists within nostalgia but not because of it, and Matt thinks he could really learn to love driving down the road with Sebastian.

Too soon, Sebastian’s pulling the truck into a little driveway next to an old jeep. The house is small but well-kept up, with a large porch and nice little shutters. It looks homey and nice and Matt feels a little better, a little less afraid, at the prospect of going inside this house.

The curtains move, and Sebastian lifts a hand before turning his head slightly to talk to Matt, eyes still on the window. “That’s Clarissa. Don’t let her bother you. I’ll try to keep her from pulling too much shit.”

“I have a younger sibling, too, you know,” Matt reminds him.

Sebastian turns fully now and raises an eyebrow. “Okay, but Mike is not a sixteen year old girl so, I’m just saying. Watch your back.” He lowers his voice when he gives the warning, and Matt laughs.

“All right. Let’s go.” He lets his hand briefly fall between them on the seat and Sebastian covers it with his own, fingers wrapping around the palm and squeezing, just once, briefly, before he pulls away and climbs out of the truck. Matt takes a deep breath and follows.

They kick off their shoes on the porch and then Sebastian offers him a wide, supportive smile before pushing the door open and leading them through.

A girl with long blonde hair darts in front of them. “Seb!” She throws her arms around her brother’s shoulders and he lifts her a little for a hug. From behind his shoulder, though, she looks at Matt.

Matt offers her a tentative smile.

“I’m Clarissa,” she says and Sebastian sets her down. She turns to Matt and raises her eyebrows, a perfect little replication of Sebastian’s own incredulous looks.

“Matt,” he offers her a hand and smiles when she accepts, shaking his.

“So,” she says, crossing her arms. “I hear you’re a really bad driver.”

“Clarissa,” Sebastian says in a warning tone.

Matt blushes. “It’s all right,” he says to Sebastian, turning to Clarissa. “Yes. I am, unfortunately, a truly atrocious driver.”

A corner of Clarissa’s lips twitch up. “How bad?”

She bounces over to the couch, sitting in the corner with her feet tucked up under her. She pats the cushion next to her, and Matt follows her, sitting on the other end of the couch. Sebastian disappears into the kitchen.

“Very bad,” Matt answers, shaking his head. “Bad enough that your poor brother pulled me over and accused me of drunk driving.”

A peal of delighted laughter spills from her. “That’s hilarious.”

“It was embarrassing,” Matt admits. She grins at him, toothy and wide and uncaring. “I’ve yet to drive again since I got to town.”

“Where do you live?” She asks, staring at him. She gives him her full attention, and it’s similar to the way that Sebastian looks, all wide and attentive and interested. It fills him with a happy, familial warmth.

“Wichita.”

She frowns. “Oh. I thought you’d moved here.”

“Oh, no. I’m here for a wedding.”

Matt doesn’t know what he did wrong or how to describe the way Clarissa looks other than pouting so he just kind of sits there awkwardly, trying to think about something he could say that would entertain a sixteen year old girl. He’s a bit of a boring man to begin with, let alone when around rambunctious teenagers. He’s a teacher, for god’s sake. Her brother is a deputy and that is a hundred times more interesting than his job.

He can’t think of anything to say.

He’s about to panic rant about god only knows what when Sebastian comes into the room, a short blonde woman at his heels.

She’s covered in flour, her hair is up in the messiest bun he’s ever seen, and she looks positively delightful. His own mother is sweet and kind but everything about this woman radiates loving, fifties housewife mother. It’s a particular brand that looks sad on some women, but there’s humor in her eyes and she’s bouncing up and down on her heels, head whipping between Sebastian and Matt.

Matt is already a little enthralled with Sebastian’s family.

“Little Matty Collins,” she says, crossing the living room between them. He stands up just when she gets to the couch and she has his cheeks in her hands within a second. “It’s been years since I’ve seen you!”

“Mom, get off of him,” Sebastian’s voice can’t be considered anything other than a whine, and it’s so funny that even with his face trapped between two hands, Matt laughs.

“Oh, shush,” she says, though she does let go of his face and step back.

“It’s nice to see you again, Mrs. Anders,” Matt says, nodding to her.

“Oh, Mrs. Anders. I am not my mother-in-law, you know,” she waves him off. “Call me Paula.”

“Paula,” Matt repeats, smiling.

Clarissa whistles, long and low, drawing all their attention. She grins once she has it. “First name basis already, huh? Wow, Matt. Watch out.”

Sebastian huffs out a breath. “Don’t be a brat,” he grumbles.

Clarissa shoots him a look, frowning at him as if he’s being weird. Matt notices that Sebastian seems more fidgety than usual. He’s nervous, and if his sister’s glare is anything to go by, he isn’t handling it well.

“Matt,” Paula draws his attention away from Sebastian, sitting on the couch next to Clarissa. He sits on the other side, politely waiting for her to talk. “Tell me all about you.”

His face heats up instantly and he looks between all the Anders, nervously. Paula stares at him expectantly while Clarissa twists her hands in her mother’s hair, dropping the hair from the bun and curling the strands into a braid. Sebastian looks like he might be sick any second and half a minute away from pacing.

“Well,” he clears his throat, turning back to Paula. “I live and work up in Wichita now. I have for the past—seven years, yes, it’s been about seven years now, since I graduated with my undergraduate degree.”

“Wichita’s not too far,” Paula points out. “How come we never see you around these parts?”

Sebastian comes over and sits on the edge of the couch, his knee only just brushing Matt’s back. The contact is light, barely there, but it relaxes Matt enough to not feel quite as anxious. “He’s busy, Mom.”

“Well, we all are, aren’t we?” Paula says pointedly to Sebastian.

Matt doesn’t know exactly what they’re trying to convey.

“I am,” Clarissa mutters.

“I’m working on my PhD ,and I also teach the undergraduates. It’s quite time-consuming, as you can imagine.”

“It’s really cool,” Sebastian butts in, putting one hand on Matt’s shoulder. “Matt’s working on this study thing for his dissertation about airplane efficiency or something.”

He continues to explain Matt’s project, albeit in slightly incorrect terms, his face lighting up and hands gesturing as he talks about the various things Matt has done. His mom makes little humming noises in all the right spots, and Clarissa interrupts every few minutes with a question that Sebastian has Matt answer, but in general, the Anders look fairly interested. Matt looks between their faces anxiously for signs of disapproval. Sebastian rants about his work for a good twenty minutes though, Matt piping in every so often to expand on a particular aspect, and both the women seem fully invested in the conversation.

When he’s finally explained it all, Clarissa’s leaning back and watching him, contemplatively. “You’re, like, really smart.”

Matt’s face blushes instantly. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“I would,” Sebastian murmurs. The echo from the night of their first kiss plays, and Matt focuses very, very hard on not spinning around to kiss him again.

Clarissa tilts her head to the side, eyes narrowing. “Does this mean you can help me with my math homework?”

“Clarissa,” Paula and Sebastian chide at the same time.

Matt laughs. “I’d be happy to.”

She grins, clapping. “Great! See, he doesn’t mind.”

“You don’t have to help her,” Sebastian tells him, shooting his sister a soft glare.

Matt shrugs, smiling. “It doesn’t bother me. I’d be happy to help if she’d like me to.”

“You are a godsend,” Paula says, putting her hand to her chest. “I’ve been trying to figure out infinite numbers for a week and let’s just say, I am no closer than I was before.”

“I think you might actually be farther away,” Clarissa says.

Sebastian’s lips twitch. “Still.”

Matt turns just a little and places a hand on Sebastian’s knee. “I’d be happy to,” he repeats.

Sebastian relaxes a little and he smiles.

“Well, okay then. I guess I can’t stop you from being a nerd.”

The tease has no bite or sting and instead, it washes over Matt affectionately.

There’s something about being here, in Sebastian’s family home, with these women sitting around them, that feels like it exists outside of time. It’s not the loopy happiness that he sometimes feels when he’s alone with Sebastian or the anxious quickening of life when he’s worried, like at the bar. Instead, it’s like Matt has no reason to be loopy happy or anxious worried because this isn’t something that is brief or about to be taken away. It feels to Matt like time doesn’t exist because it doesn’t need to. He could be having this moment with these people when he’s seventeen or twenty-two or now or when he’s thirty-five or forty. He feels like this moment exists entirely between them, as people, instead of the circumstances that led him there.

He feels like the gentle curve of Sebastian’s face, and the way his smile is tentative but honest and open as he stares down at him, truly happy in the same way that Matt is truly happy means that this could happen anywhere and anytime, too. It’s as if gravity was pulling them together, unquestionable forces making sure they were side by side.

They stare at each other for a bit too long, a bit too happily, before Paula clears her throat. Her eyebrows are raised, and Clarissa looks between them as if trying to figure out her math problems right then and there.

Blushing and pretending like he’s not, Matt tries to focus on Paula.

“Matt,” she says slowly, reaching over and placing a hand on top of his. “Do you like apple pie?”

He says a confused, tentative yes over the outcries of no and run now from the Anders children. Paula smiles widely and pats his hands with hers.

“Oh, Matt. I think you’re going to just fit right in.”