They've spent three weeks preparing for this night.

Three weeks of waiting for that order to ship to them (because neither of them have the balls to pick up the needed items from Pierre's store), three weeks of pooling their limited funds together so that they can book the hotel room (they want a classy place, not some cheap, bed-bug infested motel), three weeks doing extensive research on the web (consisting almost entirely of browsing videos on incognito mode.)

Oh, and Sebastian spends one day removing a virus from Sam's computer (that has absolutely no relation to the videos they definitely did not watch).

The goods are loaded up in Sam's bag, and after Sam's mom's been told that he's staying at Seb's, and Sebastian's mother's been told that he's staying at Sam's, they take off on Sebastian's motorcycle towards Zuzu City.

They park outside the hotel, and hold hands as they walk into the lobby to check into their room. They're pretty sure the lady behind the desk knows what's up (they're both blushing and giggling like two teenage boys in their first sex ed class), but they don't particularly care, because apart from an awkward check-out tomorrow morning, it's not like they're ever going to see her again.

They kiss against the wall of the elevator, pointedly ignoring the poor family stuck inside with them. They keep manage it PG, at least; they're not complete assholes.

(Well, PG except for Sam's hands wedged into the back pockets of Sebastian's black skinny jeans, and Sebastian's tongue in Sam's mouth.)

Sam and Sebastian part when the elevator chimes, and the doors slide open, linking pinky fingers as they walk out of the elevator together. Sam waves at the family before the door slide shut again. They make the short walk to their room, and they only stop three times to kiss one another up against the wall.

Sebastian struggles to get the door unlocked with their key card, and Sam isn't exactly helpful, pressing sloppy kisses down the side of Sebastian's neck, slipping his fingers past the waistband of Seb's boxers, laughing at the way he gasps and almost drops the key card.

"You're such an ass," Sebastian groans, as he finally manages to unlock the door.

"You want to do what to my ass?" Sam asks, loud enough for anyone who happens to be passing through the hall to overhear.

All of their bravado comes crashing down once they're in the hotel room, and staring at the single, double bed. (There's a set of arm chairs, and a flat screen TV, too, but that's not what they've come here for.)

Sam drops his bag next to the bed, and hesitantly, takes a seat on the edge. Sebastian perches next to him, running his hand along the floral bedspread.

"Aren't hotel duvets supposed to be like, really dirty?" Sebastian asks, frowning.

"Dude, shut up," Sam says. "You're killing the mood." He bends down, rummaging through his backpack. "Isn't that what we brought the blanket for?" Sam retrieves said blanket (a fluffy, purple thing they've stolen from Abigail), staring at it as he turns it over in his hands. "So, um…"

"Spread it out," Sebastian demands, impatient. "I'm not fucking on a cover that somebody else could have fucked on."

"Right." Sam and Sebastian both stand up from the bed, taking two corners of the blanket each, and spreading it over the double bed. With that out of the way, they resume staring at the bed, unsure of how to proceed next.

Sam runs a hand through his hair. "Let's… um… can we just make out for a bit?"

"Yeah," Sebastian agrees, "that sounds good."

They climb back onto the bed, Sebastian on top of Sam, legs tangling together. Sebastian paws at Sam's denim jacket as their mouths come together, pushing it off his shoulders. Sam breaks the kiss to tear the jacket off completely, tossing it across the room. It hits a stack of plastic cups on a nearby counter top, knocking them over.

Sebastian's too busy tugging his own hoodie off to make a sarcastic remark. He tosses it in the opposite direction, knocking over a directory of nearby restaurants.

Having removed their outermost layer of clothes, the two boys are content to slip hands under shirts, exploring each other with their fingertips as they lock lips once again.

Sebastian trails his hands downwards, sliding his fingers past the waistband of Sam's jeans. He sits up, leaving Sam to chase after his lips, and starts to work at getting Sam's belt unbuckled. Sam decides to help, unbuttoning his jeans and unzipping his fly as Sebastian rids him of his belt. Sebastian shifts backwards, so that Sam can lift his hips off the mattress, shoving his jeans down a couple inches.

Sebastian stares.

"Sam, are those… are you wearing pizza print boxers?"

"Um…"

"What the fuck, man."

"They came in the mail at the same time as the rest of the stuff," Sam protests. "I thought it was, you know, a sign!" He blushes, locking eyes with Sebastian. "You don't like them?"

Sebastian studies the boxers. The print is ridiculous, yes, but he has to admit; they look pretty fucking fantastic on Sam. They're tight, hugging his hips, and he blocks out the dumb print entirely when he shifts his focus to the bulge between Sam's legs.

"They're fine," he decides, his voice coming out a little uneven. Sam grins in response.

Sebastian hesitates; breathing heavily as he contemplates his next move, then reaches for Sam, palming him through the soft fabric of his stupid boxers.

Sam gasps, his hips shifting upwards in a quick, almost involuntary movement. He's already hard underneath Sebastian's fingers, and Sebastian himself is starting to strain against his jeans, so he pauses again, climbing off Sam to unzip his own pants.

"Really?" Sam scoffs, as Sebastian shoves his jeans down to his knees, revealing a plain pair of black boxers. Sebastian only owns black boxers; he buys them in bulk. "Black? You're so fucking boring, Seb."

"Fuck off," Sebastian retorts, then decides to divest himself of his jeans entirely. He strips off his t-shirt, while he's at it, and that seems to shut Sam up. "Your turn," he says, smirking at Sam.

Sam complies without protest; ridding himself of his jeans entirely, and then his shirt, pulling Sebastian back onto lap once he's down to only his boxers. (His stupid, cheesy boxers. Literally.) He presses their foreheads together, grinning at Sebastian as he rubs circles into his lower back with his thumbs. "You're really fucking hot," Sam murmurs, and Sebastian's face goes red.

Of all the bachelors in Pelican Town, Sebastian's sure he's got to be the least attractive; too skinny, too pale, too short. He's amazed anyone at all finds him attractive, let alone Sam, who's a little more tanned, a little more filled out, with actual muscle definition that Sebastian lacks.

"Shut up," he says, and Sam laughs. His hands slide even lower, and he smirks as he squeezes Sebastian.

"You're supposed to tell me that I'm hot, too," Sam teases. Sebastian doesn't get a chance to though, because Sam moves his mouth to the side of his neck, kissing and licking his way down, and all Sebastian can manage is a low moan. He rolls his hips against Sam, desperate for friction, and Sam nips at his neck.

"Fuck, Sam," he breathes out, once he's capable of forming words.

Sam seems to be a little more in control of himself, and Sebastian can't have that, so he pushes Sam down into the mattress, one hand reaching out to grip a pillow, while he threads the other into Sam's hair. Sebastian presses their mouths back together as he begins to rocks himself against Sam, and Sam copies his movements, bucking up against Sebastian.

Sebastian's not sure how long they spend grinding against one another, but it's evidently too long, because he comes before either of them even lose their boxers, and Sam finishes a few seconds later.

"Love you," Sam murmurs, running his hands up Sebastian's back, and then through his hair. He's giving Sebastian this soft, fond look, and Sebastian repeats it back, pressing kisses to Sam's face between words.

They forget the existence of Sam's backpack entirely, still sitting next to the bed, containing the unopened package of condoms and lube they'd ordered online. It's not a complete waste of money, though.

They've still got the rest of the night to go for a second round.