Finn was snoring lightly, his face pressed against the window glass, and Kurt could spot a little trail of drool drooping out of the corner of his mouth. He rolled his eyes in mild disgust. Long rides made Kurt impatient, and this one was becoming a little too long. Granted, the scenery outside was absolutely stunning – a cross between green and golden fields, with scattered oak trees and some cattle every now and then. But it's hard to appreciate that after the longest flight ever. No, like, seriously! Hours on end! He felt like he'd lost all the muscles in his legs from spending so much time sitting down.
"Are we there, yet?" Kurt was perfectly aware of how much like a five year old he sounded, but he didn't have the energy to care.
His father looked at the GPS attached to windshield of the rental car and mumbled "Almost… Half an hour."
Kurt nodded and returned his earphone to his ear, while Burt and Carole resumed to talking about the days ahead.
Oh… the days ahead. Right. Those. The reason they'd flown to a different continent and were currently on a two hour drive. Family holidays! On the freaking beach!
It was bad enough that Kurt couldn't stay and enjoy his last summer with his friends, especially after winning Nationals, before he left for NYU – but he had to come to a different continent, and worst of all, it wasn't even something glamorous like Paris, Rome, Venice or… well, even London would do! NO! They had to come to Portugal – because it was sunny and had beautiful beaches. Sunny! Seriously? Kurt's skin was like ten shades lighter than a ghost's and they decided it was a good idea to spend two weeks' worth of family holidays on the freaking sunniest country in the whole of Europe!
He was going to spend two whole weeks under the blazing sun. No matter how many things you could think of that might help make it bearable Kurt was sure it wouldn't be worth it. Nothing, nothing, would be worth two weeks of cancerous Sun.
He was so getting skin cancer.
And it was their fault.
Well, to be exact it was Sheila's fault. Carole's best friend from work, had been to the place they were going to just the Summer before, and she had kept on gushing about beautiful beaches and beautiful landscapes and beautiful weather, and beautiful everythings! And of course Carole had just practically campaigned the whole year as if she was running for President of the USA.
Kurt woke up with a start as the car climbed on a sidewalk with a little thump as Burt parked it.
He looked around lazily. In front of them – like literally in front of them – was the ocean. Between the car and the deep blue sea sat only a freakily narrow sidewalk with a thick cord going through a series of wooden poles which Kurt supposed was their idea of some kind of fence to stop people from falling off the cliff. Ok, so no safety measures…
The sky was bright blue and the sun was high and blazing hot. Skin cancer, skin cancer, skin cancer.
They were in a small parking lot, and opposite the ocean spread the town, made of small houses, which were all, and this is literally all, painted white with blue trimmings around the doors and windows, red clay tiles adorning the balconies. Kurt had to give it to this place, it was sort of cute, and endearing. But it was still not worth getting skin cancer for.
They hopped off the car, everyone indulging in a little stretching out before grabbing their luggage and heading towards the houses, as they searched for the right door number. It was the first door on the street, for which Kurt was very grateful (his bag was crazy heavy – but it was totally necessary). They knocked and a short, tanned girl with warm brown eyes and wavy bleached hair opened the door. She wore a crazy amount of necklaces and bracelets with sea shells and beads, and her clothes were light and flowy.
She smiled as she showed them around the house, which was… nice. It had two bedrooms (Finn and Kurt would have to share, which no one was sure how it would turn out), two bathrooms (one really small with just a toilet and a sink, so fights over showers were to be expected) and a small kitchen (which, thankfully, was equipped with every domestic appliance you might need, except a drier – for that purpose, the girl explained, they could use the balcony, and by balcony she meant terrace because, really, that was all that there was upstairs, save for a small room stacked with cleaning products). The living room had a dining table big enough for at least six people, a couch in front of a medium sized TV (the girl smiled as she told them it had cable channels and that in Portugal only the kids' shows were dubbed over, so they should be able to watch TV just fine) , and there was (Oh my God, the relief!) a small desk with a modem on top of it, which she told them was wireless and gave them the password.
The decoration was… well… lovely enough – it wasn't fabulous, but it wasn't tacky either. Well, there was the fact that it was terribly clichéd. I mean, all the decoration revolved around beach and sea elements – sea shells scattered around the furniture, pictures of sunsets o the beach, paintings of seagulls and little fishing boats – a little originality wouldn't have hurt. But, overall, Kurt wouldn't complain. He actually really enjoyed the color scheme of light blues, with a few details in bright red or lime green.
Still not worth skin cancer.