You Never Listen (Sebastian Stan one shot)

You Never Listen

I rose from the couch, needing a break and a good stretch from the countless numbers of hours my husband and I had been binging Pixar films, crying and laughing all the while.

"Babe, I need a break, I'm going to clean up this mess for a few minutes." Sebastian whimpered in response.

"Noooo," he complained drawing out the word to an almost obnoxious length. "Don't clean. Stay here with me," he attempted to pull me back down but I was able to yank my wrist from him just in time.

"Seb, we have to clean up at some point and honestly, I need some time off the couch for a change. I feel as though I've been bedridden for two months and I'm beginning to get pressure sores." He rolled his eyes quickly and scoffed.

"Fine then. I'm going to stretch out and take up the entire couch then." His slender body quickly stretched the entire length of the couch and he snapped the tiny blue velvet and créme dappled cashmere blanket that barely covered half of him and pulled it up under his chin as if I was going to try and stop him. It was then my turn to roll my eyes and instead of scoffing, I simply grinned and shook my head. I felt my auburn hair begin to fall out of the loose bun Sebastian had tied up for me earlier as I cried within the first scenes of Up and my grown-out curtain bangs kept getting caught in wet from the tears. I pulled the hair tie out and I saw the blonde ends still holding strong, but it wouldn't be long before they were completely grown out and it would be back to its normal burnt sienna shade. I looked forward to it so that I could begin experimenting with something else again.

"Seb, don't you want to go back blonde when I do my hair next?" I asked, picking up the bowls and plates and stacking them to carry a bulk to the kitchen.

"Do I want to because I want to," he asked shiftily, "or do I want to because you want me to?" He grinned mischievously so that just the tips of his teeth showed and I could tell by the way his lips sat, that tongue would soon make its way to the corner of his mouth. Sure enough two seconds of silence passed and my prediction was correct. I simply deadpanned in his direction, halting on the clean-up, holding the look for about five seconds in total before returning to the dirty dished and half-empty take-out containers.

"I surprised myself that I liked it blonde. It isn't my preference, but it's something different. I was just asking."

"Oh, but there was so much behind that asking, wasn't there?" He began to sit up which put him in punching reach and I knew he was doing it just for that purpose. If I gave into his teasing and attempted to lay hands on him, he would pull me back onto the couch with him and I could let go the idea of cleaning up. I held my ground and with arms full, I began retreating to the kitchen but not before I cast the guillotine words over my shoulder: "Do whatever you'd like; as long as you don't grow that fucking Gillooly 'stache back I don't care."

I quickly emptied my arms on the kitchen counter as I heard his feet hit the floor and the shuffling grew to a boisterous level. I knew he would be behind me in a flash. I was right, he quickly grabbed my waist from behind, prodding and caressing my sides causing my body to spasm and erupt with laughter and squeals.

"No! Seb," I said in between laughs and when I had the lung capacity. "Seb, stop. Mercy, please!"

"You can just pretend it's my mustache tickling your sides." I couldn't help but laugh harder at his response. I caught sight of his eyes and saw the shift. They flashed and I could practically see the fire light within as his tickling became less tickle-like and more licentious. He gripped my waist tightly and picked me up. I let him, monkeying my legs around his slim hips. He held me there for a moment as I could feel multiple levels and areas of tension.

Tension seemed almost visible as we scrutinized each others' features. Tension in the air solidified almost synchronously with the throbbing I felt through our sweats. I tightened my grip on his hips as his hands rose quickly to my scalp, long, thin fingers extending into my hair and then scrunching in order to gently tug a handful. He stepped forward abruptly, shocking us both, I believe, and when he did, I felt it before I could react. There were excruciatingly loud crashes as about seven glass and ceramic dishes hit the tile floor with an exquisite amount of force.