Actions

Work Header

Half Agony, Half Hope

Summary:

Explore Sebastian and Damien’s married life in this collection of one-shots that take place between Burning Bright and You Cannot Put a Fire Out.

This work is an installment of the Like Moths to a Flame series, but it can be read as a standalone.

***

Sebastian forced himself to look away—again—to conceal a self-satisfied smirk. He was tempted to place his hand on Damien’s thigh and give it a playful squeeze but decided against it. Instead, he nudged Damien’s foot with his shoe. Damien’s eyes widened slightly at the touch, but that was the only sign of acknowledgment, which was probably for the best, what with the Muggles and all.

Notes:

Enjoy a smattering of married Sebastian and Damien one-shots I’ve pre-written, and some I’m still noodling on. Unlike my usual set schedule, I’ll update this collection periodically. I’m also not entirely sure how many chapters there will be, so I guess we’ll just play it by ear. :)

All one-shots occur during the years between Burning Bright and You Cannot Put a Fire Out.

The title comes from Jane Austen’s Persuasion: "You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope…I have loved none but you."

Chapter 1: In Which There’s a Family Gathering

Chapter Text

“Lovely to see you again, Damien,” proclaimed a tall, willowy woman with perfectly coiffed auburn hair and deep-set green eyes.

Damien and Sebastian had barely set foot in the dining room at the Evans estate in London, its ostentatious, yellowing wallpaper still etched vividly in Sebastian's memory. There was a slight crack on the ceiling which Sebastian didn't remember being there before, but no matter. The room had never been particularly welcoming, but it wasn't a catacomb. Or the Waters of Lethe. So why was he so nervous?  

Sebastian stood a few paces behind Damien, his hands in his trouser pockets, trying to look as unassuming as possible. Damien’s relatives were everywhere. In fact, the atmosphere in the room was quite suffocating. If Sebastian threw a stone, he'd hit someone; not that he'd ever do that. Of course he wouldn't. The crowd ranged from elderly aunts and uncles to tiny tots, most likely second cousins, since Damien didn’t have any siblings. 

Sebastian fiddled with his wedding ring, discreetly stowed in his pocket before they arrived. Damien had removed his too. Even though they’d never done so before when surrounded by Muggles, being around so many—most of which Damien knew from his childhood—and in such close proximity, they figured it was better to be safe than sorry. Wedding rings, of course, were not commonly worn by men, especially in the Muggle community, and, to make matters worse, their rings were matching; in other words, they didn’t need any of Damien’s relatives asking questions.

Before they had arrived in London, Damien said something about his hand feeling so bare it was distracting. Sebastian understood what he meant. He didn’t like it one bit. 

“It’s been some time since I've last seen you,” the woman continued, standing beside a chair. She glanced down at it, an unspoken request in her eyes. Sebastian hadn’t the foggiest idea why until Damien drew the chair out for her. 

Ah. That explained that then. Damien, ever the gentleman. 

“It’s nice to see you too, Aunt Violet,” Damien said. 

As Aunt Violet took her seat, smiling graciously, she offered a welcoming wave to the other Evanses already gathered around the table.

She raised a thin but perfectly contoured eyebrow at Damien and inquired, “What’s been keeping you busy?” 

Merlin, this woman was nosey, Sebastian thought as he took a cautious step forward, following Damien’s lead in pulling a chair out from the table and sitting down beside him.

“Same old, same old, I’m afraid,” Damien replied. He paused, cast a brief glance at Sebastian, then swept his arm out in Sebastian’s general direction.

“My oldest friend here can attest to that. Aunt Violet, meet Sebastian. Sebastian, Aunt Violet.”

Sebastian attempted a half-hearted smile, hoping that his nerves weren’t horribly apparent. He really needed a drink. Preferably something strong.

At this very moment, he deeply regretted agreeing to come with Damien to this rare Evans family gathering, especially since the first time he’d been here so many unfortunate events had occurred—to put it mildly. The events of the summer of 1891 never left his mind, which was understandable, he supposed, but still unwelcome. 

Damien’s aunt pinched her lips and scrutinized Sebastian up and down. Her gaze pierced through him. Sebastian swallowed nervously. Deciding something, she frowned, nodded, then said, “Not married, hm?” 

Merlin’s arse! Why would she assume such a thing? Did he really come across as a bachelor? 

“Alas, I have not met the right woman yet,” Sebastian replied, feigning deep sorrow in an attempt to mask his irritation. Damien's head whipped to the side, but not before Sebastian caught a glimpse of his lips curling up slightly. Damien stifled a laugh with his hand, which transformed into a sudden coughing fit.

“Oh my,” Aunt Violet said, reaching over to pat Damien on the back. “Not coming down with something, are you?”

Tears welled in Damien’s eyes as he shook his head. “I swallowed wrong. That’s all.”

Naturally, Sebastian then had to stifle his own laugh. He managed better than Damien but couldn’t shake the feeling that coming today had been a terrible idea. A terrible idea, indeed.

“But Damien, dear, I’ve heard you’re married. Is that correct?”

Damien, who had finally composed himself, nodded. “Yes, for some time now.” He busied himself with his silk napkin, draping it over his lap. 

“Marriage suits you,” she said. “And your wife must be a good cook. You’ve filled out quite a lot since I last saw you. You were such a wiry boy.” 

“Why yes, indeed, she is a fabulous cook. I’m very blessed,” Damien replied, patting the bulge of his belly and chuckling. 

Sebastian forced himself to look away—again—to conceal a self-satisfied smirk. He was tempted to place his hand on Damien’s thigh and give it a playful squeeze but decided against it. Instead, he nudged Damien’s foot with his shoe. Damien’s eyes widened slightly at the touch, but that was the only sign of acknowledgment, which was probably for the best, what with the Muggles and all.

Introductions amongst the rest of the family carried on until the first course was served. In startling similarity to Damien's habitual tardiness, his father arrived fashionably late to the table.

Unfortunately, Mr. Evans chose the empty seat beside Sebastian. 

"Oh. And who might you be?" the typically reserved man greeted, his forehead creased with what Sebastian assumed was curiosity. 

Damien and his father didn’t bear much of a resemblance to each other. Mr. Evans’s eyes were green, and his hair was a dull red, although with white peppered throughout. He appeared more aged around the eyes, though his overall appearance hadn't changed much since they last saw each other. There had been a health scare a few years back, which Damien had mentioned very casually over breakfast one dreary winter morning. Given Damien's distant relationship with his father, the laid-back manner of his delivery hadn't come as a shock.

Sebastian mused that unlike Mr. Evans, he definitely did look different, what with his now fully gray hair and glasses, but Sebastian had hoped Damien’s father would at least remember something about him. He'd rather not have to lay out the whole spiel Damien had conjured up about Sebastian’s connection to him. Not that he didn't appreciate the clever tale Damien had woven, but Sebastian preferred to avoid repeating it. 

Alas, it seemed necessary tonight.

“Sebastian Young, sir,” he began. “Damien’s old friend from school. And one of his suppliers. For his sporting goods shop, that is.”

“Damien had friends?” Mr. Evans said, ending with a guffaw that left Sebastian entirely unamused. Luckily, Damien was still in conversation with his chatty aunt and didn’t seem to overhear the slight. 

Sebastian couldn’t let Damien’s father’s rude remark stand. “Yes, sir, ” he spat out. “In fact, Damien was well-regarded at Eton. I’m very lucky to have remained friends with him over the years.”

Yes, Eton. Sebastian was proud of himself for remembering that. And yes, he and Damien were friends. Quite. 

Mr. Evans hummed noncommittally before changing the subject. “Why are you here?”

Sebastian was about to reply when Damien swooped in—always the dashing hero—cutting him off mid-squeak. 

“Hello, Father,” Damien said, leaning forward to look him in the eye. “I see you’ve been reintroduced to my old school friend. Did he mention he’s one of my suppliers too? For the shop?”

Blast! Sebastian hoped they hadn’t repeated their made-up story for Damien’s father too often already. Although, come to think of it, Mr. Evans had never been overly observant. At least they had that going for them.

Something flitted across Mr. Evans’s face—Sebastian couldn’t place the emotion—but whatever it was, he quickly tempered it. “Ah yes, Mr. Young. Damien, I was just asking your friend why he was at our family affair.”

Damien shrugged. “I hadn't seen him in a while and he lives nearby, so why not?” 

Sebastian fiddled with a button on his shirt. “If I’m intruding, do let me know. I can easily return to my flat. It’s not far.” 

Damien kicked him under the table. Hard. Sebastian managed to keep a straight face, but he made a mental note to give Damien a piece of his mind later tonight. A rather loud one. And mayhaps it would end in…something else. 

No! No, he couldn’t think about that right now. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair to hide his growing erection. Why did this always happen in the worst possible time and place? 

“Ignore him,” Damien said through clenched teeth. “He’s far too polite.” He gave Sebastian another wallop under the table. Sebastian coughed into his hand to hide the fact that he nearly jolted out of his seat. 

Mr. Evans waved Damien’s words away. “I see you didn’t bring your wife and daughter.” 

Sebastian abruptly stilled. Well, at least he was no longer feeling aroused. 

“That’s correct,” Damien replied, his mouth set in a straight line. Sebastian admired Damien's composure. They had practiced their backstory several times, but it was an entirely different challenge to say it aloud at the actual event they’d prepared for, in front of his father.

“Too busy to meet me, hm?” Mr. Evans’s expression remained disturbingly stoic, as if he couldn't be bothered either way. Sebastian felt a subtle pang of sorrow for Damien, knowing how much it pained him to be ignored by his own father, even though he always said he was accustomed to it. 

Damien sighed. “It's difficult to travel with a toddler, and, to make matters more complicated, my wife is heavily pregnant.”

Sebastian squirmed at this part of their fabricated story. He despised thinking of Damien being with anyone else, even an imaginary woman. The mere thought of having children terrified him as well. He hoped his cheeks didn’t flush and betray his inner turmoil. They felt warm. Damn! 

“Oh? I do hope it’s a son this time around,” the terrible man drawled. 

Damien clenched his fists in his lap. Sebastian, too, found himself tensing up, his jaw tightening involuntarily. He rubbed at it and heard it crack under his firm grip.

As if sensing he needed to respond, Damien nodded. Once. Very curtly. Luckily for them both, the second course arrived, eliciting a chorus of excited murmurs from around the long table, drowning out all other thoughts and effectively ending the uncomfortable turn the conversation had taken. 

Damien snatched a dinner roll from a serving plate one of the servants hadn’t yet set down, and promptly stuffed the entire thing into his mouth.

Sebastian struggled to contain a nervous laugh. He was, thankfully, successful. 

It seemed an interesting dinner awaited them. Not that Sebastian expected anything less.