So... this is awkward. For the record, this is not why I'm at a stand still on Entropy and Strip Tease. This was just supposed to be a quick drabble but it kind of... grew (obviously). Anyway, based on the song 'Up All Night' by Alex Clare. Be happy that I'm writing again! I am.
"God, where the hell are we?" a rough, scratchy, early-morning voice came from next to my ear. I rolled over, barely awake.
"What do you mean?" I asked and, wow, okay, my voice was nearly gone. That explained the taste in my mouth. Which meant…
"Morning, Princess," Sebastian said, propping himself up on an elbow. I rolled my eyes. He looked so fucking satisfied.
"What do you mean where the hell are we?" I demanded again, clearing my throat and grimacing at the taste. God, last night must have been good if I fell asleep without brushing. Sebastian chuckled and pushed back the bed sheets.
"Well, it's not my place. And it's sure as hell not your place. So how much do you remember from last night?" he asked, digging around for his underwear. I eyed his ass speculatively while categorizing how my own body felt.
"Not sure about remembering, but I can tell you what I've figured out," I muttered, looking around for my own clothing. Sebastian snorted.
"Thanks, Princess, but I'm pretty sure I could figure out enough for myself." I shrugged.
My pants required a good ironing though my vest was, fortunately, hung over the back of a chair. I tugged my undershirt over my head and tried to press some of the wrinkles out of my pants with my hands. My shirt hit me in the head. I glared at Sebastian over my shoulder where he stood across the room looking mockingly innocent. I pulled it over my shoulders, inspecting the buttons. None were missing, thankfully. I kept spares around anyway; it wouldn't have been the first time I was missing a few.
"God damn, Sebastian!" I cried as I pulled up my pants. The zipper had been torn apart. I glared again as I buttoned the pants. Zippers weren't easy to fix. Sebastian grinned.
"Serves you right, look what you did," he replied, turning around to me. His own button down was hanging from his shoulders, only about two buttons still attached. I snorted.
"I would never treat a Dolce & Gabbana like that," I sniffed. "You probably embarrassed yourself trying to give me a strip tease again." Sebastian rolled his eyes.
"You cannot tell it's a Dolce from that far away," he muttered.
"Yes I can. Do you know where we are?" He sighed.
"We were at a party last night," he began, folding the shirt over his arms, leaving him in only an undershirt. I wasn't going to even pretend that my mouth wasn't watering. Damn.
"I remember that. And… not much else." Sebastian chuckled.
"We must have been smashed." I tried desperately not to laugh.
"That seems to be the case," I chuckled. This was kind of becoming a bad habit.
"Shit, Kurt, this is bad," he huffed out, still grinning.
"Let's just get out of here before the owner of this bedroom gets back," I suggested. Sebastian looked around the room. Thankfully, we'd apparently been polite enough to only trash the bed. But… man, we must have really trashed it given the soreness in my thighs. I bit back another smile. Sebastian nudged me a grinned. I was fairly certain we were both thinking the same thing.
"Let's," he agreed.
It had to be some sort of dorm room. I could have assumed as much, because I was pretty sure the party had been thrown by one of Sebastian's friend's frat boy friend. There was a standard issue desk and dresser set. There were papers strewn across the desktop and overflowing out of the trash pail in the corner. The laundry basket was vomiting tee-shirts and jeans to the floor, so many that I was willing to bet the dresser was nearly empty. Given the number of Sigma Phi Epsilon sweatshirts I would make a bet that we were in the frat house. An alarm clock on the night stand said it was 10:30 in the morning. Shit it was late.
"C'mon, Princess, whoever it is will be waking up soon," Sebastian urged, peeking out into the hallway.
"Hold on, I'm leaving a note," I hissed. Sebastian scoffed.
"Don't you even think about it, Princess. I don't want him to know who it was who used his room. All he'll do is come back and wash his sheets and we don't have to tell him exactly what we did on them. Come on." I sighed. "Come on, Kurt, before he comes back and catches us!"
"Okay, okay, I'm coming," I muttered, crumpling the piece of paper I had begun to write on. I grabbed Sebastian's forgotten watch from the nightstand, slipping it in my pocket, and followed him out of the room.
We made for the stairs as the sounds of people waking in the living room started floating up. Christ, leave it to Sebastian to drag me to the definition of a cliché frat party. We came out in the foyer of the house. Other people were stumbling to the door, giving us sleepy smiles as we came down. We exchanged greetings with someone who started up the stairs as we reached the bottom. Just as the front door was closing behind us, we heard a shout of 'What the fuck?!' from the top of the stairs. We stumbled down the street laughing.
"But seriously, Seb, we have to stop doing this," I wheezed as we reached his end of the campus. He pulled his keys from his pocket and headed for his res hall.
"What, sleeping together? Because I'm not okay with that. We're fantastic together."
"No," I said, rolling my eyes, "getting hammered and ending up in other people's beds." He just shrugged.
"He deserved it. The Sigma Phis are little shits," he replied breezily, keying us in and heading for the elevators. "Besides, we only do it on weekends. And you don't let me stay at your place. And Dad hasn't actually given me full reign of the apartment he allegedly bought me. So, unless you want to tell your little pals that I'm your fuck buddy, this seems to be the only option." I tried to tell myself that the bitterness I heard in his tone was my imagination. He didn't care about anything except the sex. We'd been through this. I sighed.
"Okay, well, let's at least agree to cut back on the alcohol," I muttered. Sebastian shot me a wry grin and opened the door to his room.
"Sure, Princess. Let's just keep in mind that you're the one who orders shots every time we go out," he hissed. I would have retorted, but he pressed a finger to his lips. His roommate, Tim, was still asleep.
I skinned out of my pants and started riffling through Sebastian's drawers, looking for the jeans I had left here a few weeks ago. He tossed me a pale teal shirt that was also mine and pointed silently to a drawer of his desk where I assumed the accessories I had also left here over time were. I grabbed one of his belts, though, from the hook on his closet door. I tossed last night's clothes into his hamper, knowing he'd get them washed properly for me.
"Hey, do you have my black jeans?" he whispered from the dresser he was digging through.
"Yeah, I'm doing laundry tomorrow, I can bring them back over," I murmured back. He shrugged as he surfaced from the drawers holding a plain grey tee-shirt.
"Don't bother, Lauren and I have a presentation to work on this weekend. In fact, I've got to go or I'll be late meeting up with her. I'll pick them up when Blaine drags me over for those stupid dinners you lot have."
"Fine. See you then," I grabbed my wallet, phone, and keys and followed him into the hallway again. He waved as I headed for the subway.
"Coffee tomorrow?" I shouted.
"You're buying," he called back before starting for his friend's dorm. I shook my head. Rich asshole.
"Hey, Kurt, where you been?" Blaine's chipper morning voice greeted me as I stepped into the loft. After Funny Girl, Rachel had gone into full diva mode and gently explained that she needed her own space and was very sorry to have to move out like this, but we didn't understand the life of a Broadway star and therefore could not fully appreciate how horrible this loft was for her. Translation: I'm upgrading and you can't afford it. With no other options, I had hesitantly allowed Blaine to move back in on a strict we're-just-friends-don't-try-to-win-me-back-again basis.
"Out," I croaked, my voice still not fully recovered from last night. "A friend of a friend of a friend had a party. I got roped in." Blaine shrugged.
"Sounds like you had fun," he grinned. "Omelet?"
"Coffee," I muttered.
"So, that's where you were last night, but you didn't leave in that outfit. Did you come back here to change or something?" he called as I went into my sleeping area to charge my phone.
"Yeah, I came back really late. But you know me, if the sun's up, I'm up. I went for a quick run before you woke up," I shouted back. I plopped down on my floor and pulled out my laundry basket and started sorting.
"I didn't hear you come in. I was up waiting for you. I kind of was hoping we could watch a movie or something. I hardly ever see you anymore. And I didn't heard the shower this morning. And that still doesn't explain why you left again after your run," he continued, the suspicion obvious. I sighed.
"Fine, you got me. I was out with someone and I stayed over their place," I grumbled, throwing three of Sebastian's shirts into the colors pile.
"You know, all these one-night stands really isn't like you," he said, pushing back the curtain holding my coffee. I quickly tossed one of my shirts over Sebastian's though I doubted Blaine would notice not all of the clothes were mine. "It's like Sebastian is rubbing off on you. It's weird." I shrugged and made grabby hands for the mug. He handed it over and I sipped it, smiling contentedly.
"You know I'm always here to talk, right?" he started, eyes beginning to round out into what I knew would be the wounded puppy look he gave whenever the topic of my sex life came up.
"I know," I assured him before quickly saying, "Look, I have to go meet Elliot and Dani, we've got rehearsals. I'll see you for dinner, though." He nodded, looking a little forlorn as I ushered him out of my 'room' and made for the shoe mat beside the door. Putting a little exasperation in my voice I said, "Should I plan on having Sebastian for dinner on Monday?" He shuffled his feet a little guiltily.
"I thought you guys were friends now," he mumbled.
"We are," I confirmed quickly, "I just don't like having to deal with Rachel all night." Blaine sighed.
"Me either. I'll make him promise to play nice. You talk to her," he swore.
"Like that'll help," I muttered. He snorted.
"See you later, then," he called as I pulled the door shut behind me.
I stuffed my hands in my pockets, wandering down the street a little aimlessly. I didn't actually have rehearsals today. I had completely cleared my schedule for today, in fact; no Vogue, no diner, no homework. I was stressed and exhausted. Which, no doubt, had contributed to the ease with which Sebastian had dragged me to that stupid party last night. At the very least, if I had only learned one thing from going out drinking with him, I was one of those rare few who didn't get hangovers. Something that Sebastian was endlessly jealous of.
Speaking of which, how was he so lucid this morning?
"So, wait, you're not in love with Kurt?"
"Lauren, we actually so need to get this done," I muttered. "We didn't come here to drink coffee and gossip."
"Actually, I did," Penny said, returning from the coffee cart with our drinks and perching on Lauren's lap.
"Penny, Bassie won't admit he's in love with his Kurtie," Lauren pouted. Penny cooed.
"Awwwww, Bassie, are you in denial?" she simpered.
"What exactly are you doing here, Penelope?" I retorted, "Weren't you guys done with the honeymoon phase, I don't know, five months ago?"
"It's our second honeymoon," Penny sniffed after grimacing at her name. "Besides, I like seeing what ridiculous social experiments you little sociology majors come up with in your spare time." I rolled my eyes.
"And any way, Tim texted both of us when you didn't come home last night. Apparently he waited up for another three hours after he left the party and you didn't show," Lauren continued, ignoring the jab at our major.
"And then Kurt's clothes end up in your hamper again this morning," Penny finished off, "So clearly, you were with him last night." I shrugged.
"Looks like you got all the facts. Can we conduct our experiment now?" I asked. Lauren sighed and nudged her girlfriend off her lap.
"We are so talking about this later." I rolled my eyes again and turned to look out at the foot traffic.
The sickest thing was that Lauren, Penny, and Tim were right. I may have had a tiny (read: huge) crush on Kurt. But it wasn't like I was going to do anything about it. Kurt was only in it for the sex. That's what we'd said when we'd laid down the ground rules. Just sex. I mean, sure, I was pretty surprised when Kurt propositioned me (who knew the Ice Queen had a dirty streak), but that whole 'no strings attached' thing was kind of my shtick so sue me for agreeing to have lots of sex. It's not like I meant to fall for him.
I'd be lying, though, if I said I had no idea when it started happening. (I'm a very self-aware person; I tend to notice my own reactions to people around me.)
It was about the third time we'd had sex. I'd rented a hotel room (without telling him how much it really cost because I always assumed he'd hate being reminded of how much money I had access to; I found out later that having someone spend exorbitant amounts of money on him was a bit of an aphrodisiac for Kurt) because neither of our places were free. We'd stayed in the bed all night, only getting up for the bathroom and pick up the room service we'd had dropped off outside the door. It was a Friday night so we stayed in again on Saturday, ordering more food and just generally not bothering with clothing. Sometime around midmorning we'd finally called it quits and simply lain out on the sheets, catching our breath and relaxing our gloriously sore muscles (damn did Hummel have stamina, I mean really).
We'd made small talk: weather, work, classes, the usual. By then we'd been some-what friends for a couple months. Blaine had contacted me when he'd first moved out of the loft when he was looking for a place to stay. I obligatorily explained that anyone wishing to stay with me had to be sleeping with me and that had shut that down nice a quickly. (He'd quickly stumbled over some explanation about wanting to win Kurt back and regain his trust and how sleeping with me would ruin everything he was trying to rebuild blah, blah, blah; I hadn't really paid attention.) Either way, once he found out I was at NYU, he kept up with me. I could tell by his jitters and hints that he was looking for action, but since he never asked outright, I didn't feel it necessary to so much as offer. Truthfully, I'd only sought him out in high school because every other gay kid in Dalton had wanted him but his legs were apparently locked more tightly than Davy Jones' chest.
Once, though, he'd demanded I find out what I could about a student named Elliot Something-or-other. Blaine explained that he went by 'Starchild' (stupid name) and he'd been hanging out with Kurt way too much (allegedly). I'd actually known who he was talking to since one of our introduction to sociology classes had us pairing up with drama geeks for a project and Elliot had been in that class. When Kurt found out about Blaine going behind his back to dig up dirt on his friend, he's apparently been irate and he'd shown up at my dorm (it still baffles me how he even figured out which res hall I was in) demanding an explanation. We'd tolerated each other ever since.
Anyway, as we were lying in bed that Saturday, I finally thought to ask why Kurt had propositioned me. He had huffed out a sigh and checked his phone, pretending he had messages to respond to until I'd commandeered the thing and demanded an answer. He'd simply rolled his eyes to the ceiling and claimed boredom. Being me, though, I pushed it. I knew he was lying.
"Kurt, tell me the truth."
"That is the truth."
"No, that's bullshit." Another long-suffering sigh.
"Because I can't trust Blaine anymore and I'm a teenage boy. I'm not ready to get back into a relationship, especially not until I make sure Blaine understands the meaning of boundaries, but I'm also not good at picking up guys. I know you and I can pretty much stand you now and this is your kind of thing, so I decided to give it a shot. The worst that would happen would be you shutting me down, insulting me a couple times for old-times' sake and suggesting I get some toys." He shrugged.
"You weren't afraid I would judge you or tell Blaine?"
"You're really good at keeping secrets. And you don't judge people. You just pretend to."
"That's bullshit," I had mumbled again. But he had been right. I wasn't the judgmental type. I didn't care for how people judged me because of my choices or my sexuality so I liked to fancy myself above all those people by not judging them back. That, and my parents were the two least judgmental people on the planet (they're very fair lawyers, always ready to hear both sides of a story before passing judgment) so it was kind of just how I was raised.
Knowing that Kurt Hummel had been able to see that, well, that pretty much sealed the deal. Nobody else in my life had ever bothered to try to look past the face I put on. So excuse me for getting attached to the one person who did.
"Sebastian Smythe are you even listening to me?" Penny snapped.
"No, I'm working on my Goddamned project," I snapped back. She and Lauren dissolved into giggles and I regretted for about the twelfth time just that day ever letting them turn me into their 'little pet gay boy'.
"So, what did you and Sebastian get up to last weekend?" Dani asked playfully at Wednesday's rehearsal.
"The usual," I said breezily. Elliot rolled his eyes.
"Meaning you had copious amounts of sex possibly while drunk," he added. I shrugged.
"Something like that."
"Boy, make us jealous why don't you?" Elliot snapped playfully. Dani laughed.
"Are you ever going to tell him how much you looooooooove him?" she taunted. I threw a pillow at her head.
"Shut up, I do not 'loooooove' Sebastian," I grumbled. This time they both laughed. It didn't stop for a good three minutes. At least.
"Fuck both of you," I muttered as they quieted, "you know Sebastian isn't the 'love' type. Besides, I really don't love him. I just…"
"Feel a strong and deeply rooted connection to him that allows you to spill all of your secrets to him and makes you want to hold him while he cries?" Elliot offered. I stood and walked to the kitchen.
"You can suck my dick, Elliot," I sniffed. He snorted.
"Sebastian might get jealous."
"Oh, come off it, Sebastian isn't in love with me either. We're just two consenting adults having sex because it's easier and cheaper than going to bars every week," I explained, ignoring the tightening in my gut that told me I was lying to myself.
"Yeah, alright. You just keep clothes at his place and help yourself to his wardrobe whenever you feel like it. Nothing major. Just something two guy friends do," Dani muttered sarcastically.
"Do you want tea or not?" I asked them both.
To be honest, I was getting tired of this discussion. We'd been having it for weeks, going on two months. They would ask about Sebastian. I would give a coolly casual answer that belied the way my heart beat when I was around him. They would accuse me of having feelings for him. I would brush it off convincingly (I hoped). Really it was just a sick little game we were all playing because we all knew the truth.
That was probably the reason I had propositioned him in the first place. Some part of me had wanted Sebastian from the first moment I'd seen him. God he was so fucking good looking. After Blaine cheated I went celibate for a couple months. I couldn't have sex without thinking about how he'd betrayed me. But, boy I got over that quickly. I was a 19-year-old, after all. But Blaine had been right when he said one-night stands weren't like me; I couldn't do that.
Not like I could really do no-strings-attached sex, either. I mean, look where that had put me. A huge crush on the most emotionally unreachable guy I'd ever met. But damn it, when I had heard that Sebastian was at NYU, I had gone straight over to him. That is, after getting Elliot to find out where his room was because I was underhanded like that and I wanted to have the upper hand for once in our twisted little relationship. And the prick just had to go and be just as attractive as the first time we'd met. Only more so now because someone must have finally told him a popped collar and hiking boots was an absolutely unacceptable way to dress.
So even as I was demanding why he thought it was okay to be sniffing around my friends, I could feel myself being drawn to him. Back when I had Blaine it was so much easier to resist. But now, free and frustrated and strung up, there wasn't really anything holding me back. So I steeled myself and bit back my pride and asked him, flat out, if he would be my friend-with-benefits. He didn't exactly make it easy; I think he just wanted to get a rise out of me. Because that's how we were.
"Don't you need to be friends first to be friends-with-benefits?" he had asked, amused and smug as fuck.
"Fine, booty call, fuck buddy, whatever you want to call it. I'm offering you no strings attached sex with me, does it matter what we call it?"
"Who says I want to have sex with you?" he had pressed again, leaning back and smirking. I pursed my lips. Fuck I needed this.
"Take me for a ride and if you can't bare it, tell me and I'll figure something else out," I had purred, leaning toward him. I had seen his eyes flash.
"Alright, Princess, let's see what you've got."
I knew after the third time. When he'd asked me why I'd propositioned him, I lied. Twice. The first he'd called me out on, but the second he seemed to swallow. Whether it was just to humor me or because he did believe me, I wasn't sure. He was annoyingly difficult to read when he wanted to be. The truth was I had propositioned him because I knew it was the only way I would get close to him. He was so emotionally unavailable, I knew sex was the only language he knew. So I took what I could.
And God, it hurt. That was probably the reason for all the alcohol. A little piece of me was broken off and left with him every time we slept together. So I tried to forget as much of it as I could, hoping it would damped my pain (it didn't). I always told him it was because I had to deal with Rachel and Blaine every day. That was the partial truth, of course, but he always seemed doubtful and it made me wonder if he was the one person who could actually see through whatever lie I had decided to tell that day. Maybe, just maybe, he could see whatever mask I put on. And maybe (probably not) he cared a (very) little bit.
"Hey, Kurt! Elliot, Dani," Blaine called as he stepped into the loft. Elliot and Dani gave varying degrees of enthusiastic greetings and were essentially ignored.
"Tea?" I asked him, even though the water that was just enough for Elliot, Dani, and me had just finished boiling.
"Sure, that would be great. You have no idea the kind of day I've had," Blaine breathed out, throwing his coat on the couch, half on top of Elliot, and tossing his shoes in the general direction of the shoe mat. I bit down the compulsion to put them in their place. I had to stop picking up after him. I poured out the tea.
Elliot and Dani were fidgeting, still not comfortable with being in the apartment when Blaine was around. He tended to make them feel unwelcome, despite my continued lectures that they were my friends and Blaine had absolutely no business trying to decide who my friends were. As I passed them their mugs, I gave them each a pleading look. I didn't want to be left alone with Blaine. He would immediately ask me about this Monday's dinner if they left, I just knew it.
I could strangle Rachel for ever agreeing to allow Sebastian to come to our Monday night dinners. When Blaine had first suggested it, I had been the first to speak out again the idea. I mean, sure, Sebastian and I had met a couple times for drinks, but no one knew that was just a prelude to sex for us. They assumed I had forgiven him and we had become something like friends. I reminded everyone of how rotten he'd been in high school and Artie and Sam were quick to agree. Santana, damn her, was off on some extended vacation with Brittany otherwise she would have easily shut down Blaine's idea. She hated Sebastian. But for some reason, Rachel had gone along with it and apparently she was the judge and jury in the apartment and no one else's opinion mattered.
She had privately admitted to me later that, as my best friend, she was just trying to help me. I really appreciated the sentiment, I did. But she was completely backwards. She had allowed him to come because she thought Blaine would move on to him and stop trying to get me back. I had told her how annoying it was and she agreed that cheating was completely unacceptable and he didn't deserve a second chance. However, I wasn't too fond of the idea of Blaine chasing Sebastian around. It would bring up old insecurities and just when I was getting to something good with Sebastian. But of course I couldn't tell her that without admitting to sleeping with him and I knew she would completely disapprove of that. So I had sighed out a genuine sounding 'thank you' and sucked it up.
In the end, I had nothing to worry about. Sebastian treated Blaine with an almost dismissive form of friendship. He had been polite enough with Artie and Sam and had at least attempted (for the first five minutes anyway) to tolerate Rachel. By the end of the night the two were at each other's throats. To me, though, he'd been attentive. I worried the others would think it was weird how much attention he was giving me seeing as we all remembered how he'd gone after Blaine in high school. We did talk about it after he'd left and Artie said that, to him (the perceptive director type, he'd actually said), it had just seemed like Sebastian was trying to make it up to me and show me that he had changed. So even though he and Rachel still kind of despised each other, Sebastian became a fairly regular Monday Night Potluck attendee.
This week, though. Damn this week. We always divvied up dish duty so it was fair. Each week, it would be two people's job to wash and dry the dishes before everyone went home. It was my week and Blaine had been about to offer help like he usually did on my week (I always said yes because I still had so much trouble saying no to him) when Sebastian, completely without being asked or saying a word himself, had gotten to his feet and started gathering the dishes and carrying them over to me where I had started warming the water. The table fell silent. And still, Sebastian just carried the dishes back and forth like it was the most normal thing in the world. Every other week he would find a convincing reason to excuse himself immediately after the food had been consumed. He would grab whatever serving plate he'd brought and assure everyone that it was fine, he had a dishwasher in his (sometimes) apartment and it wasn't a big deal for him to clean it himself and 'thanksforinvitingmeI'llseeyoulater' and he'd be gone. Sam, ever my savior, had been the first to suggest they retire to the living room like we did every other week and the others had slowly followed.
"What the hell is this?" I had asked lowly, "Sebastian Smythe being domestic?" He had snorted quietly and hip checked me gently to get under the sink where we stored the dish towels.
"I know how to do dishes, Princess, I'm not completely helpless."
"Of course you're not, I just assumed everything was done for you," I has hissed. He had leered at me – leered! With my friends literally feet away! – and grabbed the plate out of my hand.
"Just because you feel like you always do all the work doesn't mean that I can't do a little work myself," he had whispered in my ear.
Acting on impulse, I had flicked water at him and replied, "Oh yeah? Then let's see it next time. I want to see stars." If he had been surprised by the comment, he didn't show it. He only reached unnecessarily high to put the plate away very slowly and carefully on the shelf knowing that his shirt was riding up and showing that horribly tantalizing strip of skin between the hem of his shirt and the top of his pants. When he came down and saw me staring (like the fucker hadn't known all along) he winked. And if the others had noticed how close we stood that night as we did dishes, none of them said anything.
But if Elliot and Dani left, Blaine would. Because I knew he had noticed.
"Isn't that awful?" Blaine asked suddenly and I belated realized he had been talking this whole time. I shook myself slightly and ignored Elliot's and Dani's looks. I made a noncommittal sound of agreement that Blaine took as a cue to keep talking. I took a calming sip of my tea and set another kettle of water on the stove, taking down Blaine's favorite mug for his drink.
It wasn't unlike when we were dating, I realized, where he would talk and I would input my little noises and 'mhm's and 'that's terrible's whenever he paused for breath. Only I had listened then. I could hardly be bothered now.
"Hey, Blaine, you can make your own tea, right?" I asked suddenly. "I'm sure Elliot and Dani have things to do and I'm going to get to work on some page layouts for Isabelle." He paused, looking bewildered at being stopped and not listened to.
"Uh, sure," he said hesitantly. Elliot and Dani, on their feet almost as soon as I interrupted him, shot me grateful looks and bid us goodbye before hustling out.
"I got down your mug," was all I said before pulling the curtain to my 'bedroom' shut.
So what really was up with you helping with dishes this week? –K
I tossed my phone aside while I waited for his answer and pulled up the pictures and article Isabelle wanted me to work on. My phone buzzed a few minutes later.
What, Blaine interrogate you already? –S
No, just wondering. –K
Figured you need my help. Emphasis on my. –S
Huh? –K
It wouldn't kill you to say no to Blaine is all I'm saying. –S
Whatever. You could have at least pretended we were just friends. You were kind of touchy-feely. –K
My bad, Princess, I'll keep that in mind next time. –S
What do you mean? –K
I waited for four hours before I turned in for the night, but he never replied.
"Are you pissed at me?" Kurt demanded hotly as I approached the bar.
"Why would you say that?" I returned mildly, pretending I had no idea what he was talking about.
"You've been monosyllabic since Wednesday. I wasn't even sure you'd show up tonight," he snapped, clearly not liking my little act. I shrugged.
"And turn down easy sex? No way. Disregarding whatever I said before; you're a damn good lay, Kurt Hummel," I told him, waving over the bartender and ordering a whiskey. I might have seen a flash of hurt in his eyes, but it was gone in seconds. I could still see through his little mask, though; I'd hurt him.
"What did I say?" he asked meekly, sipping his martini. I sighed, deflating at that damn voice. He played the vulnerable and apologetic card like a pro.
"Nothing, I was just being a dick," I huffed, taking a fierce and ill-advised gulp of my drink. I stifled a cough as Kurt went from angry and hurt to smug.
"I could have told you that, asshole," he shot, sounding almost fond.
"Sorry for being all touchy on Monday," I continued, the apology tasting strange but sincere in my mouth. He looked surprised and if I didn't remember how I had treated him just a couple years ago I would feel a bit offended.
"It's okay. I mean, I guess it was kind of on both of us. I didn't tell you to stop. And it is a little bit hard to remember that we're just fuck buddies," he admitted quietly. I had to lean closer to hear him over the music in the club. Something bubbled just under the surface of his words and I would have felt hurt if I didn't think he had just admitted something huge.
"It is," I murmured after a long pause. He glanced up at me and quickly away, taking another sip of his drink. We stood side by side in silence for a while, finishing off the drinks before speaking again.
"Do you want to dance?" I asked at the same time he said, "Do you want to get out of here?" We each paused, both of us looking unsure of what exactly we wanted to do.
"Let's get out of here," I agreed. He gave me a flickering and almost shy smile. I tossed a twenty on the bar and grabbed his wrist.
"Where to?" he asked as we hit the street. The subway station was in the opposite direction I would have to walk to get back to campus.
"Can we just go to my apartment? I get it for the weekend. I'm pretty beat and I'm not in the mood to make up a reason Blaine shouldn't be in your loft for a couple hours," I offered. His shoulders sagged in what looked like relief.
"Yeah, yeah, that sounds good," he huffed out and I was totally right. He didn't want to see Blaine either.
"So, did Blaine get on you about Monday night?" I asked as I hailed a cab. I didn't even feel like dealing with the subway tonight.
"Yeah. He was really pushy about it too. And I mean more pushy than usual," Kurt muttered tightly as we crawled in. I gave the cabbie the address of my apartment in the Village.
"What did he say?" I asked. Kurt's face went blank and cold like it did when he got angry.
"I'll tell you when we get there," he bit out. I shrugged and patted his knee.
The apartment in the Village was really only mine in writing. It was my father's name on the lease, but he'd given me a little certificate saying it was mine to use when I wanted. That was for Maman's benefit, though. I didn't know why he bothered. It wasn't like Maman didn't know he used the place to see his mistress whenever he went on 'business trip'. She had her own place out in France where she met her liaisons on her own trips. They danced around each other, politely pretending they were in a monogamous relationship because if their reputations were ruined, we'd have nothing. I was pretty sure Dad had met one of Maman's boyfriends last year. They might have pretended when I was a kid to keep me from knowing, but when I'd found Dad with another woman, I'd demanded to know.
They had both sat me down and explained gently that even though they loved each other very much (this I knew to be true, I'd never seen two people so in love) they needed their own personal sexual freedom. I had taken it in stride once I was sure they would remain married. And they, in turn, had taken my own big reveal in stride. Maman moved me to France for a while and taught me to pick up boys and took me to gay clubs and basically encouraged me to explore my sexuality. When I was ready, we moved back to the states and we fell back into routine. Dad going to see his girlfriends every first and fourth weekend of the month and Maman travelling to France to see her boyfriends every three months. And me, going to the crappy Lima and Westerville clubs every couple weekends myself and bringing boys home.
Everyone assumed I lashed out and slept around because my home life was shitty. I knew Kurt thought that. But my parents were the best people I'd met. I was an asshole because that's just how I was. And I appreciated my sexuality and was open and experimental. It's just how it was; nothing dark and torrid and hurtful. I'd made a point of telling Kurt that once and he'd given me a long searching look before nodding and telling me about how he had tried to be straight for his dad once. He didn't tell anyone else, though. I liked to think it was because he didn't want other people to look at me judgmentally.
"So what did he say?" I asked again as we crossed the threshold. Kurt let out an exasperated breath and threw his coat on to a hanger. Her made for the couch and flopped down on it, reclining across it and letting his feet hang off the edge so his shoes didn't touch the fabric.
"He accused me of cheating on him! Can you believe that?! We're not even together!" he cried, slamming his fists into the cushion beneath him. I bent and took off his shoes, resting his feet across my lap as I sat.
"So, wait. He can sleep with some guy while you guys are still together, but you can't have me getting close to you when you're not together?" I prompted. I knew this was something Kurt had to get out. I was good at listening to people vent, it was a little bit fun. And if I ever told Lauren or Penny that they would probably launch into a joint lecture about sadism and preying on victims.
"God, yes! That's exactly how it is!" he pulled himself into a sitting position with his feet still splayed across my lap as he spoke. "I told him when he moved in that we were going to remain just friends. He wasn't allowed to try to get me back because he had betrayed me and I can forgive a lot of things but cheating is completely unforgivable. So he took those words and fucking threw them back in my face being all 'you said cheating is unforgivable, but I'm willing to forgive you because I just love you so much'. I mean, is he just delusional or stupid? I can't tell sometimes!" He flopped down with a put-upon huff. I absently started kneading his feet as I listened.
"What'd you tell him?"
"I told him I was allowed to have friends. I mean, he sent you to stalk Elliot when I became friends with him and I think he almost burst a blood vessel in his forehead before he found out Dani was a girl. God, it's so unfair. He and Sam can be all buddy-buddy but the minute I get a friend or two that he's not also friends with he gets possessive and jealous. And I might be able to understand if we were still together, but we're not! We're so un-together it's not even funny! God, that feels good; your fucking hands are magical," he trailed off into a positively pornographic moan.
"Are you trying to distract me because you know how much I love your moans?" I asked playfully, pressing my thumbs into his arches.
"Maybe," he groaned, "I just don't want to talk about Blaine right now. I want to fuck you and order Chinese and binge watch a season of SVU. In that order." I grinned.
"Sounds good to me."
"I think you should talk to him about it. And I mean really talk, man, not just say hi and then get to the bed," Tim told me with a superior air about him. I rolled my eyes.
"What are you, the relationship guru?" I muttered.
"Seriously, Seb, one of you has to say it. Otherwise you'll do this weird little dance for another couple years before Kurt finds someone he wants to try dating again and you'll have lost your chance. You said so yourself: Kurt's not the no-strings-attached type. He's the white picket fence type."
"Just because you've had the same girlfriend since middle school does not mean the rest of us will find true love while we're still young," I snapped. Tim grinned and held up his cup in a mock toast.
"Six years and still going strong. Even with six hundred miles between us," he proclaimed smugly. I rolled my eyes again.
"Anyway, Kurt's not the white-picket-fence-with-Sebastian-Smythe type of guy. He wants his Disney prince. I'm more of," I paused for a second.
"Disney villain," Time offered quickly. I scowled.
"I was going to go with anti-hero. I help him out when he's in a rut, but I'm neither malicious nor benign." Tim snorted.
"Whatever, man. It's just, you've got keys to his place. You get coffee and drinks at least once a week. And I'm pretty sure half the clothes in your drawers are his and I'm willing to bet more than half of your clothes end up at his place," he pointed out.
"More like end up in the trash because Kurt Hummel is an animal," I mumbled. Tim laughed. A gust of early spring air rushed into the café, bringing one Kurt Hummel in with it.
"Speak of the Ice King and he shall appear," Tim said, raising a hand to get his attention. Kurt strolled over, pulling off his gloves and stuffing them into his pockets.
"Why thank you," he sniffed primly. "Did you get my coffee?"
"You said you'd be late," I reminded him. "I didn't want it to go cold." Kurt huffed and I pulled out my wallet with false exasperation.
"Alright, Princess, alright. Don't get your panties in a bunch, I said I'd buy." I pulled out my platinum and passed it to him, taking his coat in exchange and laying on top of mine on the inside of our booth.
"You damn rich people," Kurt sniffed, taking the card and stalking to the counter. Tim raised an eyebrow at me.
"Give me a fucking cavity, why don't you?" he taunted mercilessly.
"Fuck off, Timothy," I snapped, watching as Kurt danced from foot to foot impatiently as the customer in front of him help up the line with his indecision. Tim snapped his fingers in front of my face.
"I swear to fucking God, Sebastian Evrette Smythe, if you don't tell him in the next month, I will murder you to get my 4.0," he hissed. I glared at him.
"I regret ever telling you my middle name, Timothy James Whitten," I growled. He chuckled, totally unaffected by my glare. Kurt returned moments later holding two cups. He passed me one along with my receipt and card.
"Well, hate to sip and split, but I've got lab report," Tim said suddenly, getting up and pulling on his coat. "I'll catch you 'round, Kurt."
"Dear God, people still say 'sip and split'?" Kurt questioned.
"Not people, just Tim," I corrected him. Tim flipped us both off and gave me one more significant look before strolling out. Kurt snorted out a laugh.
"What a weirdo," he muttered. I chuckled.
"Do you know what would be the perfect time to tell him?" Dani asked slyly as we packed up the equipment.
"Tell who what?" I asked innocently.
"That whole innocent act doesn't work on you, you know," Elliot told me, pushing me gently. I shrugged.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You should tell him after our gig tomorrow. He's coming, right?" Dani continued.
"Of course he is," I muttered.
"Or, better yet, you tell him during the set," Elliot suggested.
"Those are both horrible ideas. Let's get out of here," I informed them. They exchanged an infuriating smirk.
"Seriously, Kurt, you guys are pretty much living together already. You're basically dating. So one of you has to man up and face the facts," Dani put in, grabbing her guitar case and putting a hand on the amp box I was helping the stage crew put away.
"She's right," Elliot agreed, "and if you try to say that he doesn't feel the same about you, you're insane and I'll beat you over the head with my microphone stand."
"And I'd sue the pants off you because Sebastian's parents are lawyers," I sniped, "And he doesn't."
"That is bull. It's so obvious," Dani muttered. I rolled my eyes.
"Would you please just tell him? He'll move on sooner or later," Elliot pointed out unhelpfully. "Besides, you're kind of breaking my heart with how much you hurt not getting to be with him. You shouldn't have to settle Kurt."
"And what if he rejects me? Huh? What then?" I demanded hotly.
"Then you can break off this toxic little arrangement you have and find some other beautiful boy to actually date," Elliot sniffed.
"I hope you don't mean you," I muttered. Dani made a gagging noise and Elliot mimed hanging himself.
"Oh, gee, thanks, Elliot," I snapped. He laughed and gave me a quick side hug.
"Man up, Kurt Hummel," Dani crowed encouragingly.
"Yeah! Man up!" Elliot said, shaking me a bit. I sighed.
"I will. On my own terms, okay? Just let me do this on my own, guys," I pleaded. They both nodded.
"Just make sure it's soon," Elliot told me seriously.
"Hi, guys! Looks like you finished a little earlier than I thought you would," Blaine's voice called as he walked in. He looked like he was positively glowing. I wondered if he'd found a boy and he'd maybe back off me for a while.
"Hey, Blaine," I greeted. The others waved, but said nothing. We were pretty much cleared out so Dani hugged me and pecked me on the cheek and Elliot slapped me on the back and they left together.
"I wanted to surprise you by coming to the end of your rehearsal, but I guess I missed it," Blaine pouted.
"It's okay. It's not all that great. Mostly just sound check stuff. It'll be way better tomorrow when you hear it," I assured him. He grabbed my hand.
"Ready to get back?" he asked eagerly. I nodded and let him hold my hand down to the subway station where I managed to extract myself by needing to get out my Metrocard.
He seemed way more happy than normal as we reached the loft. Even when I pleaded exhaustion to get out of watching a couple episodes of Greek with him, he seemed all too happy to let me go sleep. I was immediately suspicious. I had never seen him turn his attitude around that quickly. Even after we'd fought in high school and I apologized, he would pout for another few days before returning to his peppy little self. I shook my head, deciding I would deal with it later. I really was tired and I didn't want to look tired for our gig tomorrow.
Do you have the gray shirt I wore to your gig last week? –S
Yeah, you can come by and grab it now. I'm just heading back from class. –K
Be there in ten. –S
I hit the elevator button, juggling my key ring to find the one to Kurt's loft. I didn't really have to use it much, but after I'd left my good black slacks in his room when I had an urgent presentation, he'd just made a copy of his key so he wouldn't have to rush home on his break from the diner to let me in. I had, of course, made good use of it once or twice when I knew Blaine would be out so I could surprise him when he came home. He was very appreciative. Today, though, I just needed to grab my shirt and head out. My parents were going to be in town later tonight for dinner and I wanted to wear something nice for them. They'd probably take me out to some fancy pl—What the hell?
"The fuck?" I asked, pushing open the door to the loft and staring around in bewilderment. There were rose petals and flowers everywhere. Blaine popped out of Kurt's bedroom area looking as confused as I felt.
"Sebastian? How did you get in?" he asked.
"Um… y-you left the door unlocked," I stammered, still trying to figure out what was happening. I didn't want to jump to any conclusions, but my stomach was sinking rapidly.
"Oh, huh. Must have left it open in my excitement. What are you doing here?" he asked cheerily.
"Uh… I think I left my pie plate here from last Monday. What's going on?" I lied. I still hadn't stepped over the threshold.
"Oh, this?" Blaine laughed nervously, "Kurt's taking me back. This is my forgiveness plan. I have my guitar ready in his room to serenade him." I had to choke back a hysterical laugh that threatened to bubble up. Kurt hated Blaine serenading him. He said it was immature and silly and he always chose the wrong songs.
"Oh," was all I managed. "I'll just…"
"I heard him talking about it after his band practice the other day. Last week, I think it was. I had been hoping he'd approach me earlier, but alas… Anyway, he and Elliot and Dani were talking about how he felt about me and needing to tell me. They thought I would move on, as if. Kurt is my true love. I would never move on from him. Anyway, he'll be back soon. Do you want to see the engagement ring I got him? He's going to say yes," Blaine looked up at me with sincere and eager eyes.
"I-I'll just grab my plate another time," I mumbled, an unfamiliar stinging sensation was assaulting my eyes. Oh, hell, who was I kidding? I was going to fucking cry.
I had just been thinking Kurt and I had made headway. I had gone to his gig. He'd only had to mention it in passing and I had promised to be there. I was turning into a fucking sap. I had been thinking about introducing him to my parents. But go fucking figure I had gotten his signals mixed up or something. I was so incredibly self-aware but I couldn't read another person to save my life. It really just had been no strings attached for him; he was just using me for sex while he tried to get over when Blaine had done to him. Joke's on me for thinking he'd actually stay broken up with him. I stumbled a little as I stepped back, looking anywhere but at Blaine.
"Bastian! Hey!" Kurt called. I couldn't even looked at him. He sounded fucking happy to see me. I pushed past him and made for the stairs. The elevator wasn't fast enough and I just had to get out of there. I beat my way down to the streets and started running.
I couldn't stop running. My blood was rushing in my ears. My despair turned to anger with each crash of my feet on the pavement. Kurt Fucking Hummel. Fuck him. Fuck him for making me care. For stringing me along. For being so fucking fantastic in bed that after the second time I slept with him I didn't even think about going out to get another guy. I mean, Jesus Christ, we had been dating. The coffee that we traded off paying. The drinks and dancing. The clothes. The key. The fucking key!
And it meant nothing to him. He was just getting back together with Blaine. Like we really were just acquaintances who sometimes had heart-stoppingly amazing sex. Like I hadn't told him about my family which I never told anyone about. Like he hadn't cried in front of me when he got news about his father and he was worried. Like he didn't vent to me. Nope, that was just nothing. Well, fuck you, Kurt Hummel.
"Sebastian! Fuck!" A hand grasped my wrist and pulled me to a stop. I turned around, gulping for air to find Kurt Fucking Hummel resting his hand on his knees as he tried to get his breath back.
"You run really fucking fast," he gasped out. "I must have shouted your name twenty times."
"What the hell do you want, Princess? Say goodbye to me before your perfect fiancé cuts me out of your life?" I spat out, panting still.
"What? What the hell are you talking about?" Kurt asked, looking genuinely baffled.
"You and Blaine. Klaine," I growled disdainfully, "you're back together again, huh?" His face fell from baffled to what I might call affectionately amused. He laughed. Fucking laughed.
"No," he said gently between his giggles. He stepped into me and grabbed my face. "No, you fucking moron."
"What?"
Do you have the gray shirt I wore to your gig last week? –S
Yeah, you can come by and grab it now. I'm just heading back from class. –K
Be there in ten. –S
I grabbed the rail of the subway car as it lurched into motion. Sebastian's parents were coming to town and I was pretty sure he was going to invite me to dinner with them or something. He'd been dropping hints all week and if I wasn't more polite I would have invited myself to get him to shut up about it. I was pretty sure we were actually getting somewhere. It was unspoken, but after he'd promised to come to the gig even though I hadn't asked him I was pretty sure I could pluck up the courage to ask him what we actually were.
We hadn't been just fuck buddies for a long time. Not with all the things I told him and all the venting he let me do. He talked to me about his family which I could guess was a pretty sensitive topic just based on their lifestyle choices. I didn't judge him and he knew it. Hell, he didn't judge me either. I had cried when I heard about my father's health and he had just run a hand up and down my back and let me get snot all over his pillow. It really was like we were practically dating. I had given him a key to my apartment and everything. Granted, that had been to avoid emergency situations like me having to rush home from the diner on my break to let him in to get his good slacks which I had fortunately washed a few days before. Still, though.
I jogged up the sidewalk to my building and tapped my toe impatiently while I waited for the elevator. Once I had admitted it to myself, it was really hard to pretend that I wasn't excited to see Sebastian. I couldn't stay still on the entire ride up. My fingers drummed on the wall, tugged at the strap of my back. I almost played with my hair, but that was out of the question. The only person who was allowed to mess up my hair really was Sebastian. I didn't like to screw with it before he got his hands into it, though. Maybe I could coax him into staying for a lit—
He looked like he tripped. Sebastian never tripped.
"Bastian! Hey!" I called. I didn't look up me, didn't say a word, just pushed past and went for the stairs.
"Kurt!" Blaine almost shouted. I stared at our apartment. It was like a flower shop had vomited.
"What the hell is all of this?" I demanded.
"Oh, I just was telling Sebastian. This is our Getting Back Together Celebration!" he explained excitedly. He was going on, but my head was stuck on the 'just telling Sebastian' part. Fuck, this would look so bad to him.
"Fuck," I swore out loud for good measure before taking off down the hall after him.
No wonder he'd stumbled. He had been shocked. Hell, I was shocked. Whatever gave Blaine the idea that we were getting together. I hit the street and prayed Sebastian was running still. I wouldn't catch him if he got on a train and I doubted he would take my calls after this. Well, if this didn't solidify what everyone had been telling me then I didn't know what did. Sebastian liked me!
There! That jacket. I knew it was his because I had helped him pick it out. He was also running and not many New Yorkers (okay, none of them) ran in double breasted pea coats. Besides his signature one-navy-one-green Converse were pounding the pavement faster than my sensible but stylish boots.
"Sebastian!" I shouted. He didn't look back. I felt like my lungs were being shredded. "SEBASTIAN!" I chased him for at least another half a block, yelling all the while, before I finally gave a burst of speed and caught his wrist.
"Sebastian! Fuck!" I gasped out, falling forward and catching myself on my knees to keep myself upright. My bag swung limply from my shoulder and I was pretty surprised I had managed to keep it the whole way. "You run really fucking fast. I must have shouted your name twenty times."
"What the hell do you want, Princess?" he growled out, gasping as much as me, his chest heaving like I'd only seen after a round of particularly amazing sex. "Say goodbye to me before your perfect fiancé cuts me out of your life?"
"What?" I asked, looking up at him. I had no idea what he was talking about so I told him as much, "What the hell are you talking about?"
"You and Blaine. Klaine," he spat harshly, "you're back together again, huh?" Oh. Oh.
I started to smile slowly, shaking my head. Relief washed over me, along with a sudden sense of contentment and peace. I couldn't help it, I laughed.
"No," I chuckled, stepping closer to him and grabbing his face in my hands, "No, you fucking moron."
"What?" he asked, hope filling his voice.
I didn't even explain. I kissed him. Right there in the middle of the street with people bumping around us and muttering their annoyance at having us in the way. I kissed him in the early spring evening, still panting a little and sweating. I kissed him with my hair a wreck and my crazy ex probably coming up behind me. I kissed him with every silent promise and wish on the tip of my tongue. I kissed the boy I loved on the sidewalk in the city I loved and didn't care who saw or what was going to happen tomorrow, or next week, or next year.
And he kissed me back.
He didn't say a word. He just dragged my mouth to his and kissed me firmly and squarely on the mouth. He didn't react when one of my hands grabbed at his hair like I was drowning. He held my head in an iron grip with cold fingers and his nose bumping against mine. He kissed me while we were both still trying to get our breath back and assholes were shoulder checking us and complaining about us being in the way. He kissed me even though I was pretty sure there was sweat pooling along my upper lip and dotting his hairline. He kissed me like he didn't give a shit that Blaine was standing right over his shoulder looking on with a despairing, hurt, angry look on his face. He kissed me like he didn't know what would happen tomorrow, or next week, or next year.
And I kissed him back.