Author's note: Hi, guys! To my regular readers, you all are probably wondering what I'm doing by posting a new story! This isn't an entirely new story... you guys know these characters really well! A couple of days ago, I had the really oddest urge to write some Keverett (I'm still working out their ship name :P ) so I came up with a couple of chapters for them! I was only going to do maybe one or two, but I always get super excited when I start a new couple, and all of this just came out! I'll probably write one more chapter of this before I switch back to Courage, and then I think I'll flip flop between stories after that so I can keep things interesting and have time to work out ideas for each chapter of each story before I write them :) So, to completely new readers wondering what this story is, this is an OC couple that plays a pretty significant role in the other two stories I've written. For those of you wondering, this story will only feature Kurt as a minor character, and Blaine will not appear, because this is the love story of a different couple! This couple is still pretty new to me because I haven't written probably more than ten lines for Everett, and it's a totally different storyline than the one I gave Kurt and Blaine. If you can't tell, I am really looking forward to this couple, especially Everett because I absolutely love writing sarcastic, hardheaded characters! So, I'm sorry to new readers who aren't interested in an OC couple with little mention of Glee characters, but I got so many suggestions from my regular readers to write their love story, and I personally loved the idea of doing it, so here it is! Oh, and, I am picking up my puppy tomorrow! We decided officially on the name Buttons, which I really like!

P.S. Here's Brody's last hoorah that I warned everyone about, like, thirty chapters ago :P

Just because this is a new story, I will add that I own nothing but my OC characters. Not even my precious, bunny Kurt who is the greatest pre-teen in the history of pre-teens :)

Oh, and, I don't expect this story to be as long as the ones centered on Kurt and Blaine... probably no more than three hundred pages, which will put me at about thirty chapters :)

I love and appreciate all of the readers that have been there with me through my last book and a half, and I welcome new ones, and I hope all of you like this story as much as you do Out and Courage! Let me know what you think of Keverett and pre-teen Kurt :P

Everett was alone. He'd been with too many men to count, but when he really considered where he spent his time, he was alone. There was no family for him to turn to when he was at his worst, and there was no best friend for him to laugh with when he just needed a laugh, and there was no boyfriend there to hold him when he needed to cry. Everett had never had anyone when he was running around the streets, except for those two hours each night when a man would yank his hair so his head was level with his groin. And he didn't have anyone now that he'd bargained himself away for long term so he could have an assured place to rest his head. It still wasn't on the man he'd made the deal with, but it was on a pillow, which was more than he had when he was homeless. He didn't know why he let himself think like that, what had him expecting that when he offered the proposition to the billion dollar whore that he'd also get a cozy spot on his lap along with the money he was getting every time he let him fuck him.

He wanted to be like every other prostitute he encountered as he walked from street to street, just vacantly emotionless, waiting for the next man to approach them and shove his dick into their faces, then throw money into their hands. But instead of being a normal prostitute, Everett simply had to be different from even his own kind, and he longingly watched from deep in the alleys at the people hurrying down the sidewalk. They were all richer than he was, carelessly stumbling over pebbles as they noisily yelled into their phones. They paid no mind to the poor people waiting for their next meal just a few feet away from them. But especially in their own world, without a clue of the people around them, were the couples that Everett watched with unblinking eyes. They held each other so tightly, snickering at each other's jokes and pressing light kisses when one pleased the other.

And then Everett wondered what went so wrong that he couldn't have someone to hold him. At best, he was offered a blanket by a kind woman who passed by in the coldest night of winter, but he often gave away any extra cloth he received to the shivering whore who desperately clutched a babe to her breast. From the time that he could first remember, all Everett could think of was the cold shouldered orphanage where he'd had not even one friend, so he didn't understand his insatiable desire to have someone to love, when he didn't even know what love was. He saw that it was a beautiful thing, but he was lost in getting there.

As he thought of the man he was staying with now, he smiled to himself because he wondered if this was the one. Brody wasn't a terrible man to be with. He wasn't nearly as bad as some of the others, who often stunk of sour and bitter odors, and had the greasiest fingers that they stuck in places Everett never wanted fingers to be. He gave Everett his space when he didn't want him for a romp, and he let him do as he liked when he left the house, which was many hours of the day. He didn't know much about his career because they didn't speak enough to have actual conversations, but he knew that he was a famous dancer on the stage. To Everett's luck, he'd been going to the store with that night's money to get something to eat when a group of men had burst from a bar, heaving with laughter and slapping each other's backs as if they were all congratulating their drunkenness.

The tallest one, a tan brunette with playful eyes, had staggered his way over to him and reached out to mess with his hair. He'd told him that he was gorgeous, if only he wasn't so chubby or short, and that red was his favorite color, and then, before Everett had the chance to snap at him for insulting his weight, he'd pulled him in and kissed his mouth. Within minutes, he'd set up an agreement with Everett that he could stay at his place, and that he would pay him every time they fucked. Everett, of course, had agreed without hesitation, but was startled to realize that the silly man on the sidewalk had quickly changed into the men Everett got away from after the first week when he'd placed him in bed and slapped him across the face, demanding things that Everett certainly couldn't give.

But Everett had stayed because Brody wasn't there the majority of the time, and only tried to be with him once or twice during the day, which gave Everett a pleasant apartment all to himself. During the day, Everett kept himself occupied with the TV, and when there was nothing on, he dusted and wiped down the same counters ten times each. Brody kept his place tidy because he was never there, but Everett still cleaned because it was what he'd been doing since he was young. He was good at it. And as evening neared, Everett cooked dinner, which was what he was doing when Brody twisted the doorknob that night. He tried to time his cooking with Brody's schedule, and he usually got it right, which he was relieved about because he never liked reheating food. He didn't really like making it the first time, either. Everett had put together something simple, as he always did, by making a vegetable soup. The broth was slowly coming to a bubble just as he sliced the onions, and that was when he heard Brody's heavy shoes on the floor.

Lifting his head with a small grin, Everett looked around the corner for him, and the grin dropped to a frown when he saw Brody clinging to the wall, walking as if he didn't know which way was forward. "Brody?" Everett called, watching him shove his jacket down his shoulders and unceremoniously let it fall to the floor. "Brody, please pick up your jacket. I just straightened up the place."

A rude chuckle escaped his turned up lips, and he bent down to grab it, but he almost fell onto his face because he couldn't keep his balance. "Bitch, you're always nagging me! Brody, do this… Brody, do that… Let Brody do what he wants!" Brody threw the jacket onto the coat hanger, but after a moment of swinging back and forth, it slid off and plopped to the floor again. He wobbled over to where he must have heard Everett's voice because he hadn't opened his eyes yet, and he swung his hand out and grabbed a handful of his hair. "Give me a kiss." He muttered, but because his words were all jumbled, Everett didn't understand him. When he was rejected as Everett bent his head back down to the onions, he released him with a grumble, "Whatever… bitch. I've got to take a shit."

As Brody turned away, Everett noticed the spicy whiff he left in the air, a smell like barbecue sauce and whiskey. Shaking his head, Everett set his knife down with a clang, and he murmured, "I made dinner."

Just as he expected, Brody waved him off and hollered much louder than was necessary, "Me and the guys had dinner at the bar. Your cooking's shit, anyway."

Whether he wanted it to or not, Everett let that jab hurt him, and he helplessly turned his head as if he'd been slapped. He'd give Brody that. No other man was better at giving insults. Even though he hadn't eaten yet, Everett whipped around to the steaming pot on the stove, and he carelessly picked it up by the handles. Carrying it to the sink, Everett dumped all of the juice, then he grabbed the bowl of vegetables and pitched those in the trash. "Whatever, Brody." He said before he was all the way out of the room, even though he wasn't sure if he heard him. "It doesn't matter now. It's gone. You won't have to eat my horrible food anymore."

Brody glanced over his shoulder at that, and he furrowed his brows as Everett wiped at his face, drifting around the room like he didn't know where he was. "Damn, babe… why are you so emotional? You know I eat with the guys sometimes—"

"It's not just the guys, Brody!" Everett tossed his hands apart, still looking around for things he couldn't find, and then he realized how very little he had. He darted back to the bedroom, pushing by Brody. "It's all of your shit! You don't spend any time with me—" As soon as the words were out, Everett knew how irrational he sounded. He was Brody's whore, someone who was paid to have sex with him. He wasn't any different than the other whores he probably had outside of the apartment. But months of living with the same man had gone to his head, and even though he was always kicked out of his bed after he finished with him and was sent to the couch, Everett had started to look forward to those moments, as a neglected boyfriend would. He decided then that it was time to get out, before things—feelings—really started to get bad. Everett would miss the home that he'd been more than comfortable in, but he wouldn't miss Brody.

Before he could rummage through the drawer that had his few sweatshirts in it, an arm came around his chest, halfway clamped around his neck and blocking his air. "What the fuck are you doing?" Brody demanded, using his other hand to grab Everett's arm when he tried to yank away. "Are you packing? Where else will you go? No one wants a dirty slut!" He nearly ripped Everett's shoulder out of place when he turned him around, and he gave him a harsh glower.

"Stop it! You're hurting me!" Everett shrugged off the crushing hand that had coiled around his arm like a python, slowly squeezing the blood out of his lower arm. His hand went numb when the strong grip tightened, and he quickly shook it. Letting out such a heavy sigh that he almost knocked himself breathless, he jerked his head away and narrowed his own eyes so he didn't have to look at Brody, "I'm leaving you while I still can! I don't want to see what comes after this… and you probably don't, either."

Everett took a shaky breath to fill his empty lungs, and from the corner of his eye he watched Brody screw his face up, "What are you talking about?" When Everett refused an answer, he continued with a sharp tone, "I would let you go, bitch! I don't want your whining around. But I paid you extra so I wouldn't have to keep digging in my wallet for you… You still owe me."

He rolled his eyes at him, ignoring the way Brody's hand became so firm that he cut off circulation, "What are you going to do, rape me? I'll pay you back your damned money if that's what you want."

Brody finally let go of him, and he crossed his arms over his chest, "Where is it?"

Everett, who knew that enraged men could come after him for their money if they suddenly decided that they weren't satisfied with the dick sucking they got, never let money sit idly, and always spent it as soon as he got it. Flustered because he meant that he would pay Brody back later—but never really would, because what he didn't know now wouldn't hurt him later since he had enough money to sleep on—Everett gave a weak response. "I-I don't have it. When I get the money back, I'll give it to you."

"I don't believe you." Brody said clearly, the first sentence that wasn't slurred, and he suddenly held out one arm to the side, and then swiftly brought it back in, his hand thudding against Everett's cheek. The force of the hit was so strong that he instantly tumbled to the floor, and then he screamed as Brody patted the zipper and button on his crotch. Backing away from Brody, Everett bumped into the dresser, and he discovered that he was trapped between that and Brody's legs. He watched with huge eyes as Brody shoved his pants down to the middle of his thighs, his underwear caught on them and sliding down so quickly that Everett couldn't have blinked before he got a face full of penis.

As soon as Brody knelt to the floor, Everett let out a shriek when he was dragged closer, one large hand closing around a fistful of his ass. "Brody! No!" He whacked wherever he could find skin, but Brody secured an arm around him, making it impossible to struggle because he easily overpowered him. "Stop! I don't want you!" Brody pushed him flat to the floor, and he held himself above him, his hand lowering to where neither of them could see and working on making Everett as bare as he was. He took deep breaths when he felt Brody's warm hand brush his cock, trying not to pass out, even though he was sure blackness would have been better than seeing Brody. Suddenly, his lungs let out a sharp hiss of air when Brody's sex bumped his tight hole, and Everett's eyes widened. He'd never done it without a condom, for fear that he would contract a disease. And worse, he wanted his first time with skin on skin to be with someone he loved, if he ever found that man. With where he was now, he doubted it would ever happen, that perfect moment when he realized that it was okay to surrender his entire life to one man.

To his relief, Brody recognized, even in his drunken state of mind, what a mistake that could have been, and he fished through his pocket for a condom. He rolled it onto himself with a moment of flinching and lip biting because he hadn't bothered to slick himself with lube, and Everett winced at the loud snap when he got the condom into place. Before he got a moment to breathe in and out to prepare himself for the pain that he still felt, even though he'd been stretched many times before, Brody slammed his cock inside, and Everett screamed at the ceiling. In a perfect world, someone would have heard his cries and come to rescue him, but it was like the hotel was completely empty because there wasn't a shuffle of feet hitting the floor as his potential rescuer tried to figure out what was yelping.

He didn't know how long had passed until Brody gave up with a short and uneventful orgasm, but Everett stayed still as Brody pulled out of him and peeled the soaked condom off of his white cock. His ass was sore from being rubbed the wrong way, and his legs had gone stiff from being spread too far, but Everett just laid there mostly because he had nowhere else to go. He could have curled up on the couch, but he feared going by Brody on the way there, in case he was slammed into a wall so he would collapse to the floor so Brody could do this again. If it was going to happen, he just wanted to get it over with.

But Brody must have been too exhausted after a long day to keep going because after he cleaned himself, he climbed onto his bed, leaving Everett lying limply on the floor. And, even then, Everett stayed exactly like that. It wasn't until hours later when Brody's snores filled the air that he was sure that he had fallen into a deep sleep, and he finally lifted himself, feeling his muscles seize up after he hadn't moved them in so long. He got to his feet and stared at Brody for a moment, noting what a handsome man he was. And then he turned away, mindlessly grabbing whatever was in the top drawer that was still hanging open.

He returned to the living room, where he started to head for the door, but paused when his stomach gurgled. Sneaking over to the kitchen, he soundlessly gathered a few canned foods and stuffed them in the hood of one of the sweatshirts. On his way out, he noticed Brody's wallet, which must have fallen from his jacket pocket, and he glimpsed back at the silent hallway before picking it up. Considering its weight, Everett figured that he could buy a few weeks' worth of food and even have extra for a couple of articles of clothing. He'd just have to spend it all before Brody closed all of his credit cards. Without a look back, Everett kept going out the door and ended up on the streets again, wondering if he'd made the wrong decision when he immediately got the chills.

A month later, with the remaining money he stole from Brody, Everett dared to walk into a nicer coffee shop that sold nothing like the weak coffee at the gas station, and he ordered the most expensive item on the menu. As he enjoyed the best tasting food he'd ever had, he was startled by a blond man approaching him. He was like every other man who walked up to him, at least until he tripped over his own feet and awkwardly flung himself down in the chair across from him. At the red flush to his pale cheeks, Everett couldn't help but snigger. As if reassured by the light giggle, the blond man had lifted his head, revealing a pair of the warmest eyes that were the most beautiful color, shining like the bluish green oceans. There was humor in them, but it wasn't a sarcastic funniness like that in Brody's.

Everett had never shared a laugh with someone he didn't know, but he couldn't hold it in as the man bit his lip, clearly embarrassed by his clumsiness. But Everett found it endearing because every other man he'd been around had forced out this ridiculous swagger that Everett thought made them look like buffoons. But, for some reason, Everett immediately knew this man was sweet. There was nothing threatening about him, and that was confirmed when he'd mumbled a quiet greeting instead of grabbing for Everett and dragging him closer. As he tilted his head in confusion as to why this kind man wanted to be around the likes of him, the man had asked his name, instead of commanding him to suck him off under the table, and then he'd told him that his name was Keegan. And Everett had smiled even wider because he thought that was such a beautiful name that it should have been for a flower.