AN: Hello, everyone, this is a new story I'm starting, length as of yet undetermined. Just to be clear, this fic isn't Kurtofsky or Sebofsky endgame (it is a Sebofsky friendship, though); that's all I want to say about it for now. I hope you guys enjoy the story, and as always, reviews are greatly appreciated!
Sebastian hated Saturday nights.
He didn't use to. They used to be the sublime, divine rituals he built his entire week around, his chance for release and forgetfulness - there were Saturday nights, and then there was everything else, and the one was hope, and the other was a waiting game. They had been his hidden solace, his temporary escape from the barren purgatory called Allen County, Ohio.
But it wasn't like that anymore. Now, Saturday nights were tainted, vandalized, polluted. Now, Saturday nights were a temptation to break a well-meaning promise. They were a reminder of a mistake. They were a wrong few words said to the wrong, lost person at the exact wrong time.
Sebastian still went out. He sat at the bar in Scandals and he nursed a drink (or four), and he danced with complete strangers, and sometimes he even let himself be convinced to join one of them in a bathroom stall.
But it wasn't the same. He didn't enjoy it like he did before, didn't worship it, didn't live for it. He wasn't exactly sure what it was he currently lived for, actually, except maybe to fulfill that well-meaning promise he'd made.
This Saturday night was no different than all of the other ones. It was the same cardiac strobes, the same bitter tequila, and the same dusty, worn-out people who always stumbled their way back there by the guise of twilight – and God, Sebastian's worst fear in the world was becoming one of them.
But instead of leaving, instead of escaping the smoke and incense and hedonism, Sebastian always forced himself to come back, as if there was something there that he'd lost and he was hoping that one night he'd find it.
"A refill, bar-keep." He pushed his shot glass forward with little enthusiasm toward the bartender, who was a begrimed and bearded bear if he ever saw one. The bartender never spoke to him, just poured him drinks and then waited silently as Sebastian pulled the bills, fine and crisp, from his wallet.
He wasn't that far in yet, not as far down the black hole as he wanted to be, but the night was still young (though no one else in this bar was), and if he had to dance alone to an electronic version of a Cher song, then that was just what he'd have to do.
"So, how do you get a guy to like you?"
Sebastian jumped, nearly spilling his refilled shot just as he was bringing it up to his lips. He lowered it back down to the bar carefully.
"Well, I guess you start by not making him spill his drink."
And against his better judgment, he turned his head, and there was Dave Karofsky standing beside him, looking just like the Ghost of Saturdays Past, dressed in his same-old wrinkled t-shirt, Chevy commercial denim jacket, and a baseball cap.
"I'll keep that in mind," Dave said, taking a swig from the beer that he was holding, giving him a tentative, rueful smile.
Sebastian gave Dave a closer once-over. He was leaning casually against the bar, beer in his hand, looking for all the world like nothing had happened. Looking like he hadn't spent a fateful afternoon experimenting with belts. Sebastian involuntarily swallowed.
"So, what, uhh…what brings you to Scandals?" Sebastian asked. "The electric energy? The ABBA songs?" He was trying to keep his voice light but felt like he was failing completely.
Dave ran his thumb up and down the side of his beer as he stared at it. "I've already been here a few times actually, after…after they released me from the hospital. It's, uhh, a nice place to get a beer and just, you know, hang out."
It was Sebastian's opinion that it would be more fun to hang out in the backroom of a Wendy's, but, seeing as he was here, too, he supposed he didn't have that much ground to stand on.
"Well, let me buy you a drink," he finally said, clapping a hand to Dave's shoulder.
Dave looked momentarily surprised by the offer, but then started shaking his head. "Oh, uhh, no, that's – "
"I insist. It's the least I can do." Sebastian decided that was an awkward place to pause, and hurried to continue talking. "What's that you're drinking – Budweiser?" He turned to the bartender. "Another Budweiser, for my friend."
"Thanks," Dave said, finally sitting down on the bar-seat beside Sebastian. He slid off his cap and started rolling it in his hands. "Actually, you know, I was kind of…hoping to run into you here one of these nights."
Sebastian suddenly felt frozen, unsure what to say or do. It seemed liked he'd just stumbled onto dangerous territory, and he wasn't sure where the landmines were.
"Oh," he said eloquently, and then, after another second, regained the use of his tongue. "Well, you didn't have to wait for me, you know. If you say 'I want a fuck buddy' three times in a row, I immediately appear."
Dave huffed out a laugh. "Yeah, well…it was actually…When you came to see me in the hospital – do you remember?"
Sebastian did remember. He remembered the harsh antiseptic smell, and the overwhelming flood of white, white, white. He remembered the awkwardness of asking where to put a store-bought bouquet of lilies, and his inability to look directly at Dave for the first ten minutes he was there. He remembered the things he always wanted most to forget.
"Yeah, I remember," he said quietly, and finally knocked back his shot.
"Well, when you were there, you said – you said you owed me a favor."
Sebastian remembered that, too. He remembered placing a hand on Dave's arm, not sure if the contact was too much or too little, and telling him he owed Dave one. "Whatever you need, I'm your man," he'd said, and immediately felt a little less guilty.
"Well, I was sort of wondering if I could get that favor now," Dave ended bluntly, finishing off his beer and pushing it to the side to grasp the new bottle the bartender had placed there.
Sebastian wasn't sure what to think. On the one hand, he could finally feel like he was making up for some of the damage he'd caused, earning back some cosmic karma points. But on the other, it all felt a little transactional, like all he had to do was pay a one-time fine for a drunk hit-and-run that had put someone in the hospital.
God, getting a conscience was not one of the things that Sebastian had put on his Christmas list.
"Sure, you can," he said, fingers tracing the rim of his empty shot glass, and, with sudden resolve, deciding to fully commit. "What can I do you for? Some Blake Shelton tickets? A gift card to Levi's?" he said, tilting his head with an eyebrow raise.
"That's not – no," Dave said. "Something else."
Sebastian nodded, sliding his shot glass to the center as the bartender passed by. "Alright, then, Yogi. What is it you want?"
"I – I like someone."
Sebastian's heart dropped like an anchor. If Dave was saying what he thought he was saying – if he was talking about Sebastian – then he knew he was way out of his depth. All of this sincere emotion and gentle rejection business was not Sebastian's strong suit, and the last thing he wanted to do was end up hurting Dave all over again.
"Like someone, huh?" he said slowly, and though it seemed like a bad idea, downed his refilled shot.
"I want your help."
"My help?" Sebastian said, head starting to spin slightly from the night's alcohol intake.
"Yeah," Dave said, expression serious as he placed his cap back on his head. "I want you to help me get him."
Sebastian's heart skipped a beat, and then another, and then suddenly it was back to beating in normal rhythm.
"That's it? You just want me to wingman you?" he asked, grinning with relief despite himself. "Well, that's no problem. I'm like a gay Jason Bourne. Give me a name and a photograph and I'll have him in your bed by the morning."
"It's not – ," Dave hesitated, sucking in a breath. "It's not that simple. I – he has a boyfriend."
"Well, that's not a problem, either," Sebastian said without thinking, and then mentally kicked himself for his words. Again, leasing out a conscience was turning into a rather tricky business. Especially when of late, he kept imagining it with judgmental blue eyes and a 'bitch, please' glare. It would repeat things in his head like 'You give a bad name to the gay community.'
"I mean, boyfriends aren't forever. We can, uhh, we can work around it." There. It wasn't that bad if he was doing it to help Dave, after all, to make up for another one of his mistakes. Two wrongs don't make a right, his conscience haughtily whispered, popping a hip and an eyebrow – and seriously, could he trade this new conscience of his in for a different one, maybe one that was a bit more, well, flexible?
Dave shook his head, as if Sebastian wasn't understanding. "I don't want to just sleep with him, I want to – I want him to be my boyfriend." He stared at Sebastian intently, sincerity and hope lighting up his eyes, and a small smile turned up the corner of his lip. "He's sweet, and he's funny, and he's kind, and beautiful, and I just – " He trailed off, biting his lip and taking another gulp of beer.
Sebastian spent a few seconds frowning at him while he processed. "You want me to, like…Parent-Trap you guys?"
"What, that movie where Lindsay Lohan is two people?"
"That one was a remake of – never mind. Look, Dave, I want to help, I really do, but my specialty is hump-and-dump, not the 'forever diamond' package. If you just wanted to fuck the guy," (How eloquent, his conscience chimed in, uninvited), "then I could help, but if you want something serious, I'm probably, like, the last guy you want help from. Besides, for a long-term thing like that, I wouldn't even be able to help unless I knew the guy, and - "
"You do," Dave said quietly.
"Exactly my point, Dave, and so – sorry, did you just say I do know him?"
"Yeah," he blushed, staring down at his hands.
"Okay," Sebastian dragged the word out. The alcohol wasn't helping his thought process, but he started mentally trying to filter through possible candidates. None of the Dalton boys made sense, because how could Dave know them? And as for a Scandals regular, he couldn't think of anyone that Dave might potentially fall in love with (at least, under the age of forty-five).
"You were here with him, once. Dancing."
Sebastian blinked at him. "Anderson? You're into Jersey Boy?"
"No," Dave exhaled frustratedly. "Not him." He took a deep breath. "Kurt. I – I'm into Kurt."
Sebastian waited for Dave to jump up and start tap dancing to a 42ndStreet number. That, at least, seemed about in keeping with the surrealness of this evening. Picturing Dave and Kurt together was like picturing…was like picturing…he really couldn't come up with a comparable analogy, that was how unthinkable it was.
Finally, he found his voice, hidden somewhere at the back of his throat, along with his sense of logic. "I'm sorry, you're into – you're into Hummel? The frigid ice witch of the Midwest?" he said incredulously. "The twink to end all twinks? The rainbow fairy? That Hummel? That's your type?"
"Don't call him that stuff," Dave snapped defensively, catching Sebastian even more off-guard. "And I don't know if he's my type, but I have feelings for him, okay? He's amazing, and gorgeous, and wonderful, and you just…you just wish you were half the person he is."
Sebastian stared at him. He didn't wish he was half the person Hummel was, because then he would be biologically classified as half-Care Bear. Oh, is that why you keep me in your head to tell you right from wrong? a self-righteous voice whispered in his ear. To be less like me?
The protective, hardening look on Dave's face suddenly reminded him of that fateful night that they spoke in Scandals, and Sebastian cursed himself for fucking everything up again so quickly.
"You're right. I'm sorry. That was – uncalled for. I really – I really don't have anything against the guy, it's just, the idea of you two together is, uhh…it's kind of out there."
"Because I'm ugly and he's pretty?" Dave asked quietly, throwing Sebastian off yet again.
"What? No! You're not…" And Sebastian stopped talking, because Dave wasn't really his type, but then again, neither was Kurt. "You're not ugly, Dave. And I don't actually think he's all that pretty." Thanks, his conscience whispered, and he began to question its agenda. "You two are just…so different. You're like – like Goldilocks and the Bear. And that's more a comment on Hummel's resemblance to a prepubescent girl, just so you know."
At Dave's glare, Sebastian kicked himself – among other things, he needed to work on his self-discipline.
"I mean – you know what I mean, you guys are just – you're a couple that people would stare at if they saw you walking down the street."
Dave shook his head in frustration. "You don't think I know he's out of my league? I do. But I – I would be good to him, and I'd treat him right, and I'd worship the ground he fucking walks on. I'd try to be better – for him."
Sebastian felt pity for the strength of Dave's feelings. He also knew that this was something he couldn't help with, not on any account.
"Look, Dave," he sighed, "I can't, okay? This is Blaine and Kurt we're talking about. I've already fucked with their relationship enough as it is. You're asking me to – to try messing with – "
"I'm asking you to give me advice. And help. That's all. I'm not asking you to try to mess with their relationship. I'm just bad at this kind of romantic gesture stuff."
"What, and I'm not?" Sebastian broke in.
"You're better at it than I am!" Dave said, looking a little desperate. "You can at least fake it enough to get guys."
This was getting out of hand, and Sebastian didn't know how he could have prevented it or how he was supposed to fix it. Sometimes, he'd learned, things went better the less he was involved. He tugged his wallet out and blindly pulled out a handful of bills, thrusting them on the table.
"Here, this should cover your next few drinks. I'm sorry Dave, but I can't help. I have to go." He pushed unsteadily from the bar seat and started walking toward the entrance. When he was almost at the door, he heard his name being called, and as he stumbled into the cool night air, he was stopped by a hand roughly grabbing his arm.
"You promised," Dave said bitterly as they both ended up outside. "You visited me in the hospital, and you sat down beside me, and you promised! People don't go back on their promises, Smythe!"
Sebastian whirled around to face him. "I meant scoring you drugs! Or a quick blowjob in the bathroom! I didn't mean playing gay Cupid for you and Hummel like we're in some Kate Hudson rom-com!"
"You don't get it," Dave said angrily. "He doesn't believe me, he thinks I'm confused – "
"Wait a second, he knows already? You told him how you feel?"
"Yeah, but he doesn't believe me. All I want is to convince him that this is real, that – "
"Dave, if he already said no – "
"I'm in love with him!"
David yelled it into the almost empty parking lot, throwing his baseball cap onto the ground. Sebastian could see tiny tears forming at the corners of his eyes.
"I love him," he repeated, more quietly, "and I at least have to know I tried. I really think I could make him happy, if he just knew how I really felt. Please. I've already tried it, and I messed it up. I need your help."
"And is this whole true-love thing supposed to move me so much that I agree to help you?" Sebastian asked, but he could already feel his resolve weakening. Dave looked one step away from falling onto his knees and begging him for help, and Sebastian had promised him a favor.
He looked into Dave's eyes, and saw an intensity of emotion he'd never seen there before, a longing, a want, a need, a passion that far transcended the lust he had seen in other boy's eyes. Sebastian was fairly certain he had never inspired that kind of emotion in anyone.
Kurt Hummel had, though, in Dave. And if truth be told, it wasn't like Blaine had a life-time warranty out on him – Kurt could choose to be with someone else if he wanted to.
"Jesus, you really have it bad, don't you?" Sebastian asked, breathing in deeply. "Are you – are you sure you want this? Even if it all goes to hell, even if it all gets fucked up and makes everything ten times worse? Because if we're going to do this, we're going to do it properly, and I need to know you're not going to change your mind halfway through."
"I won't, I promise," Dave said firmly. After a second, he gave a tentative smile. "Does that mean you'll do it?"
Sebastian sighed. "Are you sure you don't just want the blowjob?"
"I'm sure," Dave said, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets.
Sebastian had always wondered why people did things they knew they'd regret, but now, he understood – it was because they knew they'd regret not doing it even more.
"Well, in that case... I guess you've got yourself a gay Cupid."