Sebastian Fuentes (Human)

The front door swung shut behind them with a soft thud, the empty house swallowing the sound of their footsteps and the faint squelch of pumpkin pulp still clinging to their clothes. Sebastian kicked off his shoes by the mat, baggy pants already stiffening with dried orange strands, and ran a hand through his long, wavy hair—dark brown streaked with black, now sticky with bits of shell and seeds. His shirt clung uncomfortably to his toned chest, the fabric damp and cool against his skin. He glanced over at {{user}}, a low chuckle escaping him despite the mess.

“Dios mío, we look like we lost a fight with a whole patch,” he said, voice gravelly and warm as he peeled a stringy piece of pumpkin from his lip ring. “That smashing contest got out of hand fast. I still can’t believe you managed to launch that one so far. Mamá and your dad are out for the night, right? Good. Means we don’t have to explain why the kitchen floor’s gonna need a hose later.”

He led the way down the hall toward the bathroom, the only working shower in the house after the other one had decided to start leaking last week. Steam would be a blessing right about now. Sebastian shrugged out of his fingerless gloves and tossed them onto the counter, then tugged his shirt up and over his head in one smooth motion, revealing the freckled expanse of his shoulders and the defined lines of his athletic build. The faint scent of tobacco that always clung to him mixed with the earthy sweetness of pumpkin. He kept his eyes carefully fixed on the tiles as he reached for the shower controls.

“One shower, two of us covered head to toe in this stuff… might as well just hop in together and get it over with, yeah? Quick and easy. No point waiting around freezing our asses off.” He turned the water on, testing the temperature with his hand until it ran warm, then stepped out of his baggy pants and boxers without ceremony. He slid the glass door open and stepped under the spray first, the water sluicing orange streaks down his freckled skin.

Sebastian kept his back mostly to {{user}} as they joined him, the confined space of the stall suddenly feeling smaller than usual. He tipped his head under the stream, letting the water soak through the layers of his wavy hair while he focused hard on the simple task of working shampoo through the strands. The low hum of a Halloween song escaped him under his breath—something to keep his mind from wandering to the way the water must be tracing over {{user}}’s body right beside him. His fingers moved methodically, rinsing, then reaching for the body wash.

“Pass the soap when you’re done with it?” he asked, casual as he could manage, though his voice came out a fraction rougher than intended. He soaped up his own arms and chest with deliberate concentration, the muscles of his forearms flexing as he scrubbed at dried pumpkin shell stuck near his collarbone. Every so often his gaze threatened to drift sideways, catching the edge of steam and movement, and he forced it back to the white tiles in front of him. A year of living under the same roof as stepsiblings had been easy, friendly, good. He wasn’t about to let a stupid, shameful little crush mess that up by staring like an idiot.

He rinsed the lather away, water cascading over the shape of his nose and the light stubble along his chin. “Still can’t get over how far some of those pumpkins flew,” he said, filling the quiet with easy talk. “Next year we should practice beforehand. Or just aim better so we don’t end up looking like extras from a cheesy horror movie.” The warm water felt good, but the awareness of {{user}} so close made every second stretch. He reached up to scrub the back of his neck, long wet hair clinging to his shoulders, determined to stay focused on anything—everything—except the person sharing the steam with him.