Authors' notes: This is a collaboration fic of JWM and deliriumbubbles. (please visit tumblr for our respective blogs)
Sequel to Aftermath
Warnings: mental illness, PTSD triggers, homophobic slurs
KURT
"Hey, twinkie. Heard you just lost 180 pounds of unsightly lard and hairgel!"
Kurt continued to set down several plates on the table he was serving as he glanced over his shoulder. "Santana! Hey! How was your summer vacation in Lesbos?"
Santana wrinkled her nose at the joke, then laughed and pumped her fist at her chest. "Oh, babygay. You've learned to shade over the summer. Mama so proud. Did you take a class?"
The customers laughed a little. Kurt was pretty sure this couple remembered Santana.
"I took some classes, but they were mostly micro-skill acting classes and music theory." Kurt turned back to the customers. "How is everything? Do you need anything else?"
He finished up with them and then went to take an 'intermission' with Santana. After all the fighting with Rachel, Santana had elected to spend the summer doing a few acting jobs she'd lined up on the west coast while crashing with Mercedes, and then visiting her family back in Lima. Thus, they hadn't seen one another in months, but Kurt had no doubt that L.A. had as much (if not more) lesbian content as the metaphorical implication of the Grecian island. Kurt thought it a little strange that she'd pop in on him here so soon, but maybe she'd been in town longer than he knew.
As they moved into the window light of the table by the door, Santana's eyes widened and she fixed her gaze on him so completely that Kurt almost started checking his uniform for something wrong. Her lips parted slightly, and she raised one hand up and reached for Kurt. He almost pulled away, until he realized what she was staring at.
In the light of the diner, sometimes his lingering bruises from the attack weren't as noticeable. Their regulars had stopped asking about it, anyway. In daylight, however, one was yellowing on his cheek, another on his chin. Above his eyebrow was a bit of a scar, and there was the ghost of one on his cheek. Santana's soft fingertips brushed over these, proving what Kurt had long suspected. She might joke, and pretend not to care, but Santana had senses as sharp as her wit. She noticed things, and she had noticed these small changes in Kurt, and honed in on them for examination.
When her fingers brushed over the scar above his eyebrow, Kurt smiled. "I'm kind of proud of that. Do you think guys will think it's sexy?"
Santana broke out of her revery and screwed her brows together. "You're crazy. And bad ass." She shook her head, started to say something, then pressed her lips together for a moment, biting whatever it was back. "And did you really kick Blaine to the curb? Dani told me you did. And that it was epic."
"Epic. Nerve-wracking." Kurt shrugged as they sat together and gave a "single ladies" flip of his left hand. "But I'm free of the ring, yes."
Santana took the seat beside him, her body language considerably softer than he would've expected. Then again, she'd been softer to him in general since he'd taken her side in the Great Fanny Debacle of 2013. Maybe this was the inevitable arc of Santana's sympathies, when she marked you as a friend. He remembered her acting as almost a caretaker for Rachel at times, before.
"Good riddance," Santana spat after Kurt had finished the story. "I can't believe we believed him." She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I can't believe you took him back in the first place."
"You came to the proposal!"
"Yeah, but like, I was trying to be supporto-girl there." She spread her hands. "Rachel said she'd help with our Facts of Life musical if I didn't rip the Gelmet Sausage Boy a new one or imply your marriage would have the vigor and endurance of a Britany Spears Vegas affair."
"See, that kind of well-placed eloquence would have really simplified my life." Kurt sighed. "I probably wouldn't have listened anyway. I had this image of us… It felt like us against the world, so often, and I didn't realize that it was just me. Alone. Against the world and my fiancé."
"Grim."
"Accurate. Anyway. I need to get back to work." Kurt rose. "Are you going to be coming back here?"
"Depends."
"On Gunter?"
"Yep!"
"I'm going to check on my tables, but after…" Kurt touched her shoulder. "Do a song with me."
"I haven't sung in a while," Santana breezed.
"Not like our audience is particularly discerning in the area of musical prowess. They just like to see the pretty people sing for them." Kurt pointed at her and circled his finger around in a figure-eight. "Especially when they wear booty-hugging dresses that only come mid-thigh."
"I don't know. I already got booted from Broadway on Queen Diva Rachel's order. I'm not sure I want to tank my rep any further."
Kurt patted her back. "I promise-" He leaned in. "-having a rep would involve anyone knowing who you are. Beyond the Yeast-i-Stat girl."
Santana smiled slightly. She looked over his face, and again, something on her lips remained unsaid. Kurt could see it on her face as she changed topics.
"Does she still work here?"
"Nope. She tried for a while, to keep her 'cred,' but she can't handle the rehearsal schedule and go to NYADA at the same time. They're going to open, soon. Something had to go, and she doesn't really need the money."
Santana made a noise with her tongue and rolled her eyes again as she got up. "Let's do something by P!nk. In celebration of having that greasy, curly-haired growth removed."
It wasn't terribly late when they left the diner, but it was dark. Santana was looking over her rehiring paperwork, and Kurt walked close by her side. Despite spending more time at NYADA's gym since school had restarted, Kurt was still a slim gay man, and Santana was a nearly feral cat who thought she was twice her actual size. Her heels clipped against the sidewalk, and her short, tight dress accentuated a nearly perfect figure that even Kurt had to admire.
At the moment, New York street traffic was thick enough that an outright attack would be unlikely, but that didn't do much to keep Kurt's heart from racing. They were close to the area where Kitt had died, after all.
"What is it?" Santana asked as they neared the alley.
The plan was to go to the subway, of course, but Kurt couldn't help but be aware of its proximity. Kurt shook his head, swallowed, and quickened his pace.
Santana looked around, then back to Kurt with a deep frown in her brow. "Maybe a cab, hm?"
"It's not that far," Kurt murmured. "We can-"
He broke off and grabbed her hand tightly, moving in front of her as a large man came in their direction-
and passed them without slowing down.
Kurt sighed and looked up at the sky. People behind them made noises and walked around with irritation. He started to let Santana's hand go, but she wouldn't release. Instead, she interlocked their arms even more and pulled him close.
"You okay?"
Kurt just shook his head and looked away. His ears burned slightly. It felt like he'd exposed himself, but at the same time, he had to remember that he wasn't supposed to be playing that "I'm fine" game anymore. Even if he actually was feeling steady more and more often now.
"You know-" She squeezed his arm, almost protectively. "-half the reason I was so scared in high school… People were awful to you. I was, too. I may not have been leading the Kurt Hate Parade, but I was at least a bystander. I didn't think I could be that brave, to deal with the death threats and getting shit on every day."
"I'm sure that was the reason no one in Glee tried to get you to come out. It's… It's complicated. You dealt with it in senior year, though."
"Brittany tried to get me to come out. But I wasn't gonna. Not until I was ready, no matter how much I loved her." She looked around and sighed. "You know, I figured, if you felt comfortable in New York, I would. Not that I didn't wanna go, but I figured,everywhere is terrible; might as well get an education! College didn't work out for me, though, and New York was like this gay paradise. You were always the survivor. If you felt safe here, I could give it a go. And I had no problem, before, no matter what happened out here on the street." She rolled her eyes. "Men are dumb. Sometimes they do yell, or try to cop a feel, but it's nothing I can't handle. Nothing worse than Lima, and people here have a greater tolerance for some hollaback, y'know."
"I think you're minimizing your own fire and spit when we were in high school, but as Elliott says, this ain't high school, gurl."
Santana smiled and bowed her head toward him briefly. "Yeah, yeah, Ells. I don't know how you do it. I don't know that I could walk these streets every day and not feel safe.It's not even people who want to grab and sleaze on you, but people who wanna kill youfor something inside that you couldn't change even if you wanted to… The worst threat I ever got was some guy who thought he could turn me, like I didn't try on every guy who offered before I finally admitted who I am… Lucky I won't have to live in this area."
"It's not every day for me, not anymore," Kurt clarified. He slowed his pace and walked to the side of traffic. "It's here. It took me a while to get back to work because this place was so close. I'm not scared that they'll be there in that alley, I just… I remember what happened, how he died, and I can't help but react. It's not even a trick my mind plays on me; it's my mind and body reacting with an instinct I may not be able to put away. I like it at the diner, but… The only reason I haven't gotten another job is that I want to be able to give myself the chance to beat this."
He shrugged. "If it were worse, I'd remove myself from the situation without question. But I'm better than I was. My first day back at Vogue… Did you hear about that one?"
Santana shook her head slowly. Kurt held his hands out to her. Santana frowned and grabbed one, then studied it closely, moving her fingertips over the little scars, like she was reading his palm.
"That happened at Vogue? I might have to reassess my judgmental judgment of your job."
"That happened during a panic attack. Notice my practiced lack of flailing and screaming." He said it with a smile, and that earned him a dubious look from Santana.
"Just now, you grabbed me, and you stood in front of me, like you intended to save me from that pedestrian."
"I'm a walking contradiction."
"You're a superhero without the power." Santana looked around. "Is that the alley where it happened?"
"Yes." Kurt reached for her hand and when she reattached to him, he led her inside.
Nerves prickled in his hands and feet and down his back. He shouldn't test himself like this. Walking past every day after work was bad enough. But sometimes, he just felt drawn to the alley.
He walked them over to the spot where Kitt had been when the police found them. Almost instinctively, he began to tell Santana about laying there with Kitt as he took his last breaths.
Santana let his arm go. It wasn't cold, but she started to shake a little. She made a full turn, then grabbed his arm again and pulled him toward the opening back to the street. "You need to jump in some radioactive junk. You know that, right?"
"I know."
"Stop doing that crap. What would your dad say about this?"
"That I'm weird." Kurt snuggled into her arm and headed back in the direction of the subway. "And I am, I know. But at least I'm treading water now. Not being sucked under."
Santana looked at him seriously for a moment, then shook her head. "I still don't understand. But…" She went quiet for a moment, then said, almost angrily, "I'm glad you're still here, okay?"
"I'm glad you're back. Will you be okay if Dani comes over to Elliott's while we're there?"
"Should be, since I'm crashing at her place until I find an apartment." Santana flipped her hair. "Dani's new girl is hoooooot."
Kurt shook his head.
ADAM
"Adam!" The two girls on Adam's doorstep shouted in unison.
"Hey, girls," Adam replied smiling, opening the door and his arms wide. They both rushed in for a bearhug.
"It's. Been. Ages," Monica stated, clinging to his arm.
"Eternity," Clementine agreed.
"Come on now, I've only been gone for a month. It was hardly all summer," Adam replied, but squeezing them back just so anyway. After his time in the UK, their absolute disregard for his personal space reminded him that he was back in the States alright.
"All summah-" Monica echoed and grinned. "Oh how I missed hearing your cute British accent! You sound like David Beckham…"
"But David's from- Oh, nevermind. Just come in already, will you? I want to hear all about the Apples."
The girls came in and immediately started filling him in on the new relationship status of two couples in Adam's old musical theatre group. Adam listened to their ramblings with a fond smile on his lips. He had asked, after all.
"…and now they keep suggesting we do these love songs, Adam, it's disgusting, they have no respect for singles, you simply have to come back and lead us again!" Clementine finished in one breath.
"Actually, you know, the whole point of graduation is sort of… leaving school," Adam replied. "I was hoping to find a job here soon. I've been sending out applications like crazy, even from England, but I haven't heard back from any of them yet."
"Bummer."
"Quite."
"How will you be able to afford your place then?" Monica asked curiously. "Not much room for subletting…"
"I guess he could always rent out the couch-"
"Tea, anyone?" Adam got up and walked to his small kitchen. As much as he appreciated Monica and Clementine's concern, his mother and sister in Essex had been grilling him about getting a job for weeks, and he didn't really fancy going over it all again. Even though performing arts graduates weren't really sought after, he was confident he'd find something soon, even if it was something temporary. He wanted to stay in New York, even if in Essex he could have saved money by moving in with his mom.
"Hey, where's your frog?"
"Pardon?" Adam turned back to the couch, kettle in hand.
"That huge plush amphibian that lived on your couch. He was a great pillow," Clementine said, squirming a little to make herself comfortable with her short legs dangling far above the ground.
Adam froze for a moment, trying to figure out what she meant, and then knew.
"Oh! You mean Mr Oppy. He was Kurt's. That is, I got him for Kurt, and I finally got to give it to him a few weeks ago."
"Awww…" cooed the girls.
"You were such a cute couple," Monica sighed.
Adam beamed. "Well, I wasn't going to make a big announcement, but actually, Kurt and I have kind of started seeing each other again."
Clementine sat up. "Really? I thought he was with that other guy."
"Yeah, me too," Monica agreed.
"What other guy?" Adam asked. He had been away for a few weeks, and they hadn't really made anything official yet, but he'd assumed from their last conversations that they'd been heading in that direction. Kurt had seemed to want that, in any case.
"With the black hair?" Clementine added, gesturing at her own dark dreads.
"Short, lots of gel?" Adam asked, feeling his stomach sink a little. He didn't really think Kurt would take Blaine back, but then, he had before.
"No, tall. Hugely tall. And with guyliner?" Monica said. "I think he goes to NYU." She sighed. "Seriously, sometimes I think everyone in New York who is hot is either gay, taken, or both. It's just not fair."
The penny dropped. "Oh, you mean Elliott!" Adam let out, feeling relieved. "No, they're just good friends."
"Are you sure? I heard they were living together," Clementine said. "Theodor said so."
"Well, yes, but only until Blaine moved out of the loft," Adam assured them. "They are not a couple."
"Really? Because, I don't know, I only saw them once when Elliott was picking him up after his summer class with Professor Robillard, but they seemed awfully couple-y…"
Monica nodded. "I saw it too, Kurt kissed him on the cheek when he saw him and they shared a bagel and everything." She sighed.
"That's not so bad," Adam mumbled, though he did pull the lid off his cookie tin with a little more force than necessary. They really were just friends, right? He let his eyes wander over the kitchen surface as he tried to remember if Kurt had ever kissed hischeek when they met each other in the halls of NYADA. Then he saw the cream-coloured envelope pinned to his memo board, and smiled, his confidence returning.
"Well, Kurt did invite me to a dinner party he is having to celebrate his callback for the lead in Samael," he said happily. "I'm fairly sure that Elliott will be there amusing everyone with the stories of his summer conquests. The guy has serious groupies."
"So does Kurt," Clementine replied drily, giving Adam a knowing look. Adam smiled. It was true. He was Kurt's number one fan, and he wasn't ashamed of that.
ELLIOTT
"No, no, man. Come on over." Elliott skimmed through the sheet music and bobbed his head to the guitars jamming in the background. "It's echo-y over there now. How am I supposed to live my life without someone from Lima crashing at my place?"
He was joking, but to be perfectly honest with himself, he missed having Kurt there. A lot of guys in New York, well. Club guys. They just wanted to hook up. And that was fine… it just didn't tend to result in having someone to spend your day with. It got lonely. Elliott had never been much of a wallflower back in Jersey, but he was dubious about New York. They had better schools for drama and arts, but he wondered about the people, sometimes.
But having Kurt in his apartment, even for a short time, meant someone to hang with in between NYU and the work thing. It meant Kurt wandering around in a tank top and pajama bottoms, with his lean, sinewy arm muscles exposed, and some green gunk on his face. And then, it meant them eating ice cream together on the couch while talking about old bands or watching movies.
Elliott didn't have much guilt about monopolizing Kurt's time away from Rachel and Santana before, and he had less now. Kurt smiled a lot more around him, after he'd started believing that Elliott, in fact, would not throw him away the moment something better came along, or step on his neck to take opportunity away from him.
"Okay, so how do you feel about Hellraiser?"
"Is this a serious question?" Kurt replied dryly.
Elliott's efforts to get Kurt into horror movies were failing pretty spectacularly. But it was fun to watch Kurt's face at what he saw.
"Or we could watch Twilight," Elliott joked. "They're pretty much the same gross out factor."
"No." Kurt said immediately. He sighed. "Those movies remind me of Blaine."
"Dude, I can so see that. Edward is a major creeper. Possessive, manipulative, controlling-"
"I was always on Team Jacob," Kurt said almost smugly.
"Ummm, Jacob wasn't a prize either. I never read it or anything, but my girl Valerie wrote an English paper on Twilight and I remember large chunks of description where Jacob forces her to kiss him, and then blames her when she gets hurt for fighting back."
Kurt was quiet for a moment.
"Then he's all, 'I know you were into it' and-" Elliott paused. "You okay? I'm sensin' not so good vibes."
"No, I'm just remembering the sheer extent to which my romantic life has been fucked up. I'll tell you about it some time. He wasn't quite like Jacob, but he was kind of furry. Well, he wore a gorilla suit, once, and he did the grabby kiss thing."
Elliott frowned.
"Come to think of it…" Kurt mused. "Blaine was kind of a grabby kisser, too… He never slammed me into anything, though…"
Elliott didn't want to fall into the rebound savior guy role, but he also sometimes kind of wanted to wrap Kurt up in a blanket and loom by his side to protect him. Being around Kurt brought out weird impulses in him. Normally, it was hard to break his calm, but he'd left his yoga class twice in the last few weeks because it was failing to settle his head.
"Anyway, not tonight. I'm preparing for the party tomorrow," Kurt said.
"Yeah? Maybe I could come help. Scrub floors. Hang crepe paper or something."
"Dani's really busy with Fara, isn't she?"
"Why can't you believe that I just wanna spend time with you? I'd rather clean with you than sit around in my apartment alone."
Elliott imagined them dusting and sweating and laughing together. Collapsing exhausted together on the sofa and lying bonelessly against one another.
"I appreciate the offer, but…"
"Oh, c'mon, dude. It's your party. You shouldn't have to put everything together."
"I kind of like putting everything together by myself. You should see me with a last minute, low budget wedding." Kurt paused for a moment. "Okay, give me an hour, distraction free, and then you can come over. But no Hell, with razors or otherwise."
"Yes!" Elliott pumped his fist. "If you need me to bring anything, text me. I can pop by the store."
"Oh, what would I do without you, Starchild."
Elliott set his music selections on the counter with a big dopey grin on his face.
KURT
Kurt looked over the loft one more time and smiled, pleased with what he saw. With Blaine's piano out of the way, there was just enough space to fit in an extra table to seat everyone he had invited. It also made it a lot easier for Artie to navigate his chair around the bookcase without chafing his knuckles on the rough wall. Instead of the peculiar fruity smell that had clung to the couch pillows when Blaine still lived in the loft, the place now smelled of freshly cut herbs and basmati rice. Kurt grinned. He hoped Elliott would be pleased with the Hummelised version of his curry, tweaked to make it a little less heavy on the stomach to leave room for a fabulous cheesecake dessert.
There was knocking at the sliding door, and with one glance at the mirror by the door to make sure the rice fumes hadn't flattened his hair, Kurt went to open it. His stomach fluttered a little. Although he was looking forward to seeing all of his friends, there was one in particular who made his heart beat just a little bit faster.
ADAM
Adam walked up to the door of the loft, glancing at his watch once more before he knocked. He was a little early, but he had found himself sitting at his apartment unable to wait any longer. Monica and Clementine had been right after all— it did feel like he had been away for an eternity. He knocked and waited, his smile growing in anticipation of seeing Kurt. He hoped Kurt liked the souvenirs he had brought from the UK.
Pull yourself together, Crawford, he told himself sternly. You're not sixteen anymore. You're supposed to be the suave older guy here.
The door slid open and despite his internal admonitions, Adam smiled even brighter and started off with a rambling apology.
"Hi Kurt! I know- I'm a little early, but there were only two buses in this direction and the other one would have made me late and I didn't want to upset your dinner plans so I figured I'd better take the first. You can always put me to use in the kitchen or I can just sit somewhere quietly while you get ready-"
"I'm so glad you're here, Adam," Kurt cut him off, smiling and wrapping his arms around him for a tight hug. "And it's okay, Elliott's already here, too. He just helped me set up the finishing touches."
Adam returned the hug, squeezing him back and breathing in his scent. When Kurt started to let go, Adam's arms lingered around Kurt for a moment longer. He knew he had been the one who said they should take it slow, but holding Kurt felt like they had never broken up at all. Then Adam realized what Kurt had said, and that they weren't alone.
"Hey, man, long time no see," Elliott chimed in from the couch, waving at Adam.
"Um. Hello," Adam said, feeling a little awkward. But then Kurt was smiling at him and leading him into the room and asking him questions about his trip and his family, and Adam found himself unable to focus on Elliott and what his presence at the loft might say about his and Kurt's relationship. It wasn't important for now; he just wanted to talk to Kurt and make him smile at him like that some more.
Adam filled his friends in on everything he had been doing, livening up his account by imitating his sisters and their incessant questions about the U.S. ('Can you really get free refills of everything all day long?') and his American friends ('Is it true that they all have guns?') and answering Kurt's questions in return ('Did you see anyone famous while you were in London?', 'What were people wearing? Are beanies really still a thing over there?'). Every now and then Elliott would ask something too, sounding genuinely interested in what Adam had to say, and by the time Adam finished his story and reached into his bag to give Kurt the things he had brought, he had completely forgotten about Monica and Clementine's insinuations. Kurt loved the Prince George commemorative plate and the little solar-powered waving Queen figurine Adam had brought him (Adam had feared they might be a bit on the tacky side, but the gleam in Kurt's eyes told him they were just right). Elliott immediately demanded copies of Pippa's food column from the Waitrose Kitchen magazine Adam had nicked from his mother just before he left.
Soon afterward Santana arrived with Dani, looking like she'd walked out of a fashion magazine. As soon as the door slid open for them, Dani came forward and hopped up to give Adam a hug. Santana wrinkled her nose and looked around.
"Is that curry, or have you three been gettin' your sweat up in great big man-tangle in here? Hm? Hm?"
"Groooss," Dani laughed.
"Think we're gonna be the only ones at this shindig that wouldn't appreciate that image?" Santana put her hands on her hips and strolled over to take a look at the little waving Queen. "Maybe we should up the hotness factor a little. We could get some good cash from this if we swapped out Chubs the Space Vampire over there for Rough Trade Santa." She fanned herself. "Now that guy had abs."
"Hey," Elliott protested, his eyes widening a little as he adjusted his shirt uncomfortably. Then he crossed his arms over himself.
Kurt stepped over to Elliott and wrapped an arm around his back defensively. "I love you, Santana, but I do have duct tape if you keep being mean to my main man."
"Yeah." Dani moved to Elliott's other side. "Don't mess with the OTH, babe."
"Oh, my God," Santana chuckled. "I've riled up The Gang. Okay, whatever. Sorry, Sweet Cheeks."
She reached up to Elliott and pinched the side of his face.
"Wait, did you just say 'Rough Trade' Santa?" Elliott asked as Santana settled into a seat on the couch.
"Oh, oh, yes." Her eyes sparkled wickedly. "Please let me tell this one, Kurt!"
That Santana had asked should've been a clue that this story was further on the side of risque than Adam was prepared to hear in a story about Kurt. Santana's telling waslighthearted, and Kurt was laughing, but it didn't make the reality of Kurt being tied up and robbed in his own home any less lurid. Adam's eyes kept drifting to Kurt. Elliott was now hugging him around the shoulders, clearly sharing similar thoughts to Adam.
Adam might've gone over as well, but the band seemed an impenetrable unit when together. He knew he should be pleased that Kurt had found such good friends while he was out of the picture, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't a little jealous. He didn't have long to ponder that sentiment, though.
When the next buzzer sounded, Kurt went over to the sound of a low male voice asking for help getting someone up the stairs, so Adam found himself recruited to head back down to the entrance. There he met Sam, Artie, and Mercedes, and then took the other side of Artie's wheelchair to heft it up the narrow staircase of the six floor walk-up.
"Dude, you must be ripped under that shirt," Sam said. "Do you ever do modeling?"
Adam laughed. "Oh, no."
"If you're as chiseled under there as your forearms are, you could probably walk onto some shoots now. Oil up. Get some grass, y'know?"
"Grass?" Adam furrowed his brow, assuming Sam meant weed, and shook his head. "I don't know about that."
Sam made a huffing sound and repositioned his hand on the arm of Artie's chair.
"No problem guys, just talk over my head," Artie said.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" Adam said.
"Kidding. Thanks for the lift," Artie joked. "And don't mind Sam, he's always trying to get his friends into modeling. He actually convinced me to join the photoshoot for the Men of McKinley calendar to raise money for Regionals."
"I knew you looked familiar," Adam replied, suddenly connecting the dots. "Kurt still has that up in his part of the loft, you know."
"Which month?" Sam asked eagerly.
"Oh, I suppose it changes," Adam dodged, not sure if Kurt wanted the boys to know, "but I remember he said it was very tastefully done and he appreciated that you all signed it for him."
"I still got mine too," Mercedes said, smiling and glancing at Sam from the side. "Just as a keepsake, of course. And Artie's signature will be worth a lotta cash when his first blockbuster comes out."
"Damn right," Artie agreed.
They reached the top floor and put Artie's chair down. Both Sam and Adam were breathing hard from the effort, and Adam realized how lucky he was to be able to get everywhere on his own. He didn't think it'd be polite to ask Artie directly— not having only just met him— but it couldn't be easy having to navigate around New York in a wheelchair.
Kurt greeted each of his friends when they entered the loft, offering a hug to Mercedes and touching Artie's shoulder lightly. Mercedes took a moment to run her fingers over a lingering bruise on Kurt's face, and give it a kiss. Then Kurt showed off his scars with a little too much glee. Some of Kurt's friends, Adam knew, had more recently moved to New York, and the conversation reflected their settling in, finding things in their neighborhoods, and what restaurants they should try together.
Adam sat back and listened, enjoying the sight of Kurt interacting with his friends in a carefree way. Without his ex-boyfriend (or Rachel) overshadowing him and dominating almost every conversation, Kurt was free to catch up with his friends and share his own experiences of the city without being brushed off in favour of 'bowtie & Broadway' talk.
Then, the conversations were interrupted by the sound of "I'm a diva! I'm a-I'm a diva! N-n-now diva is the female version of a hustler!" coming from Kurt's pocket. "It's Rachel," Kurt explained, and Adam smirked a little. With that ringtone, who else would it have been?
Kurt reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, his shoulders sagging a little when he read the message.
"I guess that means we can get started," he announced. "Rachel will be late. Apparently there's an emergency costume fitting directly after their rehearsal."
Santana snorted. "They probably need to let out her dress to make room for her huge, inflated ego." She mimed her sides growing bigger and bigger with her arms and filling her cheeks with air.
"Santana…" Kurt said sternly, but the corners of his mouth twitched a little. "I'll go and heat the rice."
"I'll help-"
"I can help-" both Elliott and Adam said at once, and then they looked at each other sheepishly.
Kurt smirked. "I think I can manage," he replied.
Adam blushed, purposefully avoiding Santana's knowing look. Seeing as how Elliott decided to take Kurt's word for it and continued his conversation with Dani, Adam got up and followed Kurt to the kitchen.
"Is everything okay?" he asked carefully. "You seemed a little…"
"Disappointed that my so-called best friend can't be bothered to show up on time to celebrate my first professional success since I came to New York?" Kurt finished, and shrugged. "I guess I am, though I really don't know why I am still surprised. We sort of made up after the way she behaved when I had just gotten out of the hospital, but nothing really changed. Fanny comes first."
Adam nodded. He didn't know Rachel very well, but he personally thought she'd been that way even before she got the lead in a Broadway show. Back then, she had just been all about her then-boyfriend Brody. He wondered if there had ever been a time she hadn't put herself above Kurt's needs.
"It doesn't matter. You are all here," Kurt quickly said, brushing it off and smiling. He handed Adam a potholder. "Can you take out the vegetables?"
Adam did as he was told, and the two of them busied themselves with getting the table ready. In the larger living space, he could see people mingling. Mercedes was talking energetically with Santana, who was smiling more brightly than perhaps Adam ever had seen her. She even reached over and gave Artie's hair a muss. (He immediately smoothed it down again, but didn't seem to mind very much). Sam leaned casually against the back of the couch and was nodding along to something Elliott was saying, a very chill interchange with a lot of squinting on both sides.
When everything was on the table, Kurt lifted a glass and tapped on it with a spoon, summoning everyone over.
"I'd like to thank all of you for coming tonight," he said, then hesitated. "I know it's just a callback. I might not get the part. But I feel that it's an honor even to be considered for an important role like this, and it's… really the first concrete bit of success that I've found here in New York when it comes to theatre and performing." He shrugged. "I just wanted to share that with all of my closest friends, and what better way to bring the stray new New Yorkers together than food and wine?"
There was some chuckling around the table, and then Kurt made a motion ushering them to sit down and passed the dish of rice around first, making sure everyone was informed that the recipe was originally Elliott's and that they should be sure to leave some room for cheesecake later.
Although Kurt's friends thoughtfully tried to engage Adam into their conversations at the dinner table, there were a few moments where their jokes and shared memories went over his head. Adam didn't mind. The food was delicious, and he was fine just listening to their stories. Whenever that happened, Adam's eyes were drawn to Kurt. His reactions to what was said, whether they were smiles or pensive looks, told Adam how to interpret to stories (and the credibility of the narrator). But as he watched him, Adam couldn't help but remember what Clementine and Monica had told him about Kurt and Elliott. If he didn't know any better…
Kurt and Elliott were seated next to each other, and as they ate, Kurt's fork and Elliott's chopsticks would occasionally wander, picking something off the other's plate. Kurt made a neat row of olives on the side of his rice and left them there without comment for Elliott to take. In turn, as the salad was handed around, Kurt deftly speared Elliott's tomatoes onto his fork and transferred them to his own plate. Elliott refilled Kurt's glass as soon as it went empty, and Kurt handed Elliott the basket of naan without him having to ask for it. It was like a well-choreographed dance.
Well, they did live together, Adam reminded himself. It doesn't mean anything. Still, he could understand why outsiders would assume they were a couple. But they weren't, were they? Kurt would have told him, wouldn't he?
"So, Artie, how's the Brooklyn Film Academy?" Mercedes asked, rousing Adam from his thoughts.
"It's. Amazing," Artie said with a big grin. "I'm learning so much, and we get to use all of the school's equipment and because everything's digital now, no one cares if you take hours of experimental shots-"
"Yeah, it's not like you're wasting celluloid anymore," Mercedes commented.
"Exactly," Artie agreed, "and becoming a successful director is like becoming a pilot, you know? You gotta put in the flight hours."
"Tower, this is Ghost Rider requesting a flyby. Negative, Ghost Rider, the pattern is full," Sam quoted in two voices, imitating the crackle of radio static and jet fighters whizzing by. "Come on. Top Gun?" He explained to the table of blank looks. "I feel the need…?"
"The need for speed!" Elliott replied, and laughed. "Man, it's been ages since I saw that."
Sam looked a little relieved.
"What about the ladies, Artie?" Mercedes prodded a little, her eyes glinting with a very different need— the need for juicy gossip.
Artie sat up straight. "It's so different from high school. At McKinley, no one wanted anything to do with me because I was a nerd in a wheelchair who tucked my sweaters into my pleated khakis, but here, I do exactly the same thing, and everyone thinks it's cool. In high school I had to beg girls to go out with me. Here, I'm lady bait. I'm actually kind of dating three girls right now…"
"Alright, Artie!" Sam let out, holding up his hand for Artie to high five. But Mercedes was having none of that. She frowned a little.
"Wait, how can you date three girls? Are they down with that?"
"Well, not at the same time," Artie explained, squirming a little under the heavily judgemental look his friend gave him. "I'm just not really really to commit yet. They are all so different. There's this girl Vanessa, who is totally into French new wave and who really liked my short film about about Rags the homeless clown. She's nice and really hot, but I'm never really sure when she's having a good time because everything she says kind of sounds the same… and then there's Jess, she's a bit of a goth with blue and purple hair and she has all these piercings and tattoos-"
Dani made an appreciative sound in the back of her throat.
"-but the third girl, Julie, is the girl I really kind of got my eye on. She has a wonderful voice and she's doing my narration for Bags in the Wind, and she has the most amazing deep brown eyes…"
"So if you like that one best, why would you keep stringing the other two along?" Mercedes asked.
Artie shrugged awkwardly. "I just like all of them. I'm not exactly the most experienced when it comes to dating, you know? Apart from making sure I have enough condoms to get through the week, I don't really know what I'm doing. All I know is that I don't want to settle too soon and end up regretting my choice."
Adam had been following the conversation quietly up until now, but couldn't hold back any longer. "If you don't mind me saying," he started carefully, "I think you should let, ah… Vanessa and Jess? Know where they stand and let them make their own choice. It hardly seems fair if you keep your options open when they think you are exclusive. If you really care about them, I imagine you wouldn't want them to get hurt."
Mercedes nodded approvingly. Adam saw Kurt shift in his seat from the corner of his eye, and immediately felt a little guilty. He hadn't meant it as a covert dig to their previous relationship, even if it had probably come out that way.
"Also," Kurt added hesitantly, after a moment, selecting his words carefully, "you know, be prepared for their reaction. Being rejected hurts, no matter how you do it. Unless they're not invested to begin with. Even if you do tell them that you're being casual, you want to be… honorable about it, and accept that they may not like being your second choice. And… they might have some anger about that. Because you know that you could easily be just as hurt if Julie chooses someone else."
"In other words, be prepared for bitches to get crazy," Santana said.
"That is not what I'm saying!" Kurt protested. "I'm just saying… Fine, whatever."
Santana spread her hands and leaned over slightly. "Just think about the sitch between Quinn, Finn, and Rachel in high school. Any time Finn pulled away from Rachel, she came at us singing angry songs to publicly embarrass him and frenched Puck. After Finn dumped Quinn at Coach Sylvester's sister's funeral, Quinn tried to get Kurt and Rachel suspended-"
"Wait, what?" Kurt said.
"-for frolicking around New York unsupervised on our Nationals trip, and then she chopped all her hair off, got a tattoo, and then she joined a girl gang and dyed her hair pink."
"I'm sorry, but this all sounds incredibly hot," Dani said. "Do that, Artie, and make girls go all punk and cute, okay?"
The group erupted in laughter. Kurt turned his head away from them, sipping his glass of wine slowly. Adam wondered if they needed to talk. Kurt's words hadn't seemed bitter or vindictive, but Adam worried that his warning to Artie seemed to implicate Kurt in less than 'honorable' behavior. They hadn't been exclusive, until they were, and Adam knew that Kurt had been struggling to get over his ex when Adam had decided, perhaps too quickly, that they should go out and start making their own memories. Deciding to cool things down had been, of course, Kurt's decision, but Adam had still been floored when Kurt came back from a trip to visit his father engaged.
And he had been the one to kick Kurt out of the Apples and avoid him afterward. Santana might be right about 'bitches getting crazy.' Granted, the extended silence between them was more Blaine's fault than either Adam or Kurt, since he'd been the one to block Adam's number in Kurt's phone. Kurt clearly had never meant to just throw Adam away. But it still hadn't been a pleasant resolution to their first attempt at dating.
"Okay, I get it," Artie said after the laughter had died down. "But that's exactly the problem. I really like hanging out with them. If I pick one, I'm inevitably going to upset the other two. It's like Santana says, they might go crazy."
"Don't listen to her," Dani said. "Santana and I bumped ladies and we're still friends. She's staying at my place."
"Because your new girlfriend is fucking gorgeous," Santana said with a laugh.
"I do bring in the hot ones." Dani bobbed her head and ground her hips a little. "Seriously, though. Exes can be friends. It doesn't have to be high drama all the time."
"Don't let her fool you, dyke drama can be a fine art," Santana argued. "We're not all hemp, flowers, and sisterhood."
Artie laughed. "I'll keep that in mind. I think Jess does hang with her ex a lot."
Kurt wrinkled his nose. "Sometimes exes can't be friends, though."
The group grew a little quieter and Kurt rolled his eyes.
"I'm talking about he who apparently shall not be named. There was no being friends after our first break up. It wasn't enough for him, and I always felt pressured to get back together with him. It was like a persistently recurring affliction."
"You talk about him like he's a yeast infection," Mercedes said, shaking her head.
"Doesn't Kurt lack the parts for that?" Artie joked.
"Anyone can get a yeast infection. I know more about that than I'd like, thanks to Yeast-A-Stat," Santana commented, and pretended to shudder.
"I think a yeast infection is putting it too mildly. I would go with malignant tumor…" Elliott added with a casual tone.
Sam frowned, but didn't argue with them. Adam wondered if Sam still hung out with Blaine sometimes. They had been best friends after all, and it was Kurt who broke up with Blaine, not Sam; though as far as he understood, the two of them did have a fight when Sam moved out.
"Okay, so, some exes can be friends, like me and Mercedes, and some can't, and be honest with your partners, but be prepared for drama," Sam summarized, clearly wanting to close the topic and move on.
"And always wear a raincoat," Kurt deadpanned. "In case of yeast."
Artie laughed hard and covered his mouth.
"Not all of us wear a raincoat," Santana shot back.
"Well, I've got some saran wrap in the kitchen-" Kurt offered, just before Santana reached over Adam's lap to shove Kurt's shoulder hard.
"Stop!"
KURT
Aside from a few tense moments, everything seemed to be going just fine with the party, and Kurt was pleased that all of his friends seemed able to get along. Really, the outlier had been Rachel and Santana, and since Rachel had never shown up, he didn't have to worry about them fighting again. Santana had promised to be cool, but she had difficulties keeping her temper in check, and truthfully, Kurt knew that Santana was still hurt by how Rachel had been behaving before Santana left for the summer.
It was a lingering wound. Kurt knew from repeated rides on the merry-go-round that was his relationship with Rachel how it felt to be discarded. He also knew by now that she wasn't going to change, any more than Blaine would, and he had to evaluate whether the good things about their relationship were worth saving.
Kurt genuinely hoped that Adam didn't really feel that way. He knew that he'd behaved badly in their relationship. He'd hidden things longer than he should have, he'd been sporadically too cheerful when he was really upset (forcing Adam to pry his feelings out of him), and worst of all, he'd been a poor judge at knowing his own heart. Getting back together with Blaine hadn't been a blip on the radar when he went home, but it had happened anyway, like being carried off by a tidal wave of sentiment shared by all of his family, and friends, and some enemies, too.
Of course, Kurt was getting too broody, because Elliott came over to him, sat right next to him on the couch the way they did during sleepovers, and refilled his wine glass. Kurt drank gratefully and rested his head on Elliott's shoulder. It was a comfort cuddle. Kurt fit perfectly against Elliott, and though he wasn't always interested in being physically comforted, he never minded Elliott's arm around him. He was tempted to purr a little, and make Elliott laugh.
Then his phone rang, and though it was an unfamiliar number, Kurt hoped it would be Rachel calling from somewhere, promising to be there for the tail end of their celebration.
"Hello?"
"Hello, is this Mr. Kurt Hummel? This is Officer Reynolds. I'm calling from the 83rd Precinct station. I'm sorry to disturb your evening."
Kurt went completely still for a moment, but his insides felt fluttery and unsettled. "What can I help you with, Officer?"
Annoyingly, his voice had jumped about an octave in nervousness. Elliott had noticed and began rubbing his shoulders.
"We've collected a few suspects in the case of the Allan murder case."
Kurt listened, bobbing his head as he numbly grabbed a notepad from the coffee table and took in the information given. "Y-yeah, I can do that. When?"
Kurt could hear his friends growing quiet around him. He continued the call with Officer Reynolds, getting the details he needed, and then thanking him for his call.
"Thank you. You're our only witness, Mr. Hummel. We need your help."
"Well, I'm happy to give it. Anything for Kitt. And to get those guys off the street."
When the call was over, Kurt looked up and bit his lower lip.
"What is it?" Adam said gently. "Are you alright, Kurt?"
Kurt gave him a half-hearted smile and took a breath. "They found suspects for Kitt's murder investigation. I need to go in for a line up."
