New Years || Sebastian Stan x Reader

2018

It's nice. No, it's not. It's the opposite actually. You're being polite and nodding as he talks, wishing the waiter would make eye contact with you so you could ask for a refill. Or for something a little stronger.

Then he excuses himself and you blow a sigh of relief, checking your phone to find texts from Sebastian.

Seb
Don't forget I'm your number one

You
Nothing to worry about here S
I might die of boredom though

Seb
That bad?

You
Can I make myself
deaf with chopsticks?

Seb
Oh wow
That's bad

You
Save me?

Seb
Really?

You
Really really

And Tom is back at the table, legs accidentally hitting the wood as he sits, spilling his drink you wish you'd stolen.

You're getting tired even though it's still early, trying to look a little interested in what he's saying. Wishing you were somewhere else. Anywhere else actually. Tom wasn't a David or a Mike, and that was great. He was nice and seemed gentle. Had a way with words that was almost poetic.

You know what the problem is.

And then he calls. It had taken him about ten minutes but you thought it still seemed obvious.

"Uh, sorry, I have to get this." You say and Tom flashes you a smile where you almost pity him. Sorry for what's to come. "Hello?"

"Hello. It's me."

"I know that, everything okay?"

"Well, it might be. Or maybe I need your help with something. But that depends."

"Okay..."

"Come out with me? Tonight. And I'll save you." He tries to bargain as if he had to do something for you to agree and you bring your hand to your mouth to hide the involuntary curling at the edges of your lips.

"Seb." It's a half-assed plea at best, at least trying to pretend it's not an immediate agreement.

"It's your choice, Y/N."

"What's happened?"

"Is that a yes?" Sebastian's voice is almost perky now and there's a noise around him that you can't quite make out.

"Yes." You sigh, finger curled over your nose as you breathe into your palm.

"Someone broke into your place."

"What?"

"Yep, it's completely ransacked. The TV's gone. They've taken Jeff's pot. He won't stop crying and I don't know what to do. And, well we didn't check your secret drawer." He scoffs a laugh.

"I don't have a secret drawer."

"Well, if you did, they've probably been in there too. So, yeah. I suppose you better come and speak to the police or something."

"The police?" And Tom's eyes widen at that as if he cares what's going on.

"They're going to need some information, yeah. Look, I don't know how these things work. Is that enough? Do you need more?"

"No, okay, thank you. I'll, uh, I'll be there now."

"Okay, good. Because I'm outside and it's cold."