Title: The Proposal

Author: vastlimitless

Pairing: Kurtbastian

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: None

Disclaimer: Glee belongs to a bald, yellow-hatted man-troll named Ryan Murphy and The Proposal belongs to Anne Fletcher and Pete Chiarelli, the movie's director and writer.

Summary: A young, demanding boss forces his naïve assistant to marry him in order to keep his Visa status in the U.S. and avoid deportation back to France, his home country.

A/N: A few days ago I was watching The Proposal with my mom, and with my Kurtbastian goggles snugly on over my eyes, this AU popped into my head and I just thought: How hilarious would that be – but with Kurt and Sebastian? So alas, here is my hand at writing it.

"Shit, shit, shit." Kurt hissed to himself as he silenced his alarm clock and leaped out of bed. He sprinted to the bathroom in record time, and after answering nature's calls and swiftly showering, Kurt returned to the bedroom. He (carefully) threw on the new Marc Jacobs suit he had treated himself to after his last paycheck from the esteemed publishing company he worked for – Smythe Publishing. It was a great job with good pay and benefits that no other company had offered him when he first went job searching, but it was the same job that his father, Burt, and his stepmother, Carole, urged him to quit whenever they had the chance to.

Unfortunately, on his way into work was one of those chances.

"This is your Aunt Anne's fortieth birthday, kiddo, and you're telling me you can't spare just one weekend for the occasion? I'm really disappointed in you, son. You know how Anne is about birthdays. Turning the big four-oh, and on top of that, her favorite nephew isn't even planning on attending? She's going to go catatonic, Kurt," Burt said into the phone currently balanced between Kurt's chin and shoulder, his arm occupied by a drinks carrier full of four of the same cups of coffee all tucked snugly in the mold. The other arm clutched at his Michael Kors briefcase tightly as he left the café that was a mere block away from Smythe Publishing.

Kurt heaved a noisy, exasperated sigh. "Dad, it's not that I don't want to be there, you know that, but –"

"But what, Kurt? Last time I checked you had a backbone and a sharp tongue, just like your mom's, that you knew how to use. Did the devil tell you to leave those at home too? This isn't you, Kurt. The son I know would have stopped taking his shit a long time ago – he would have quit! Now I understand you're worried –"

"Dad, I can't do this right now!" Kurt interrupted before his dad went off on another tangent. "I'm walking into the lobby as we speak. I already told you, something came up at the last minute and Sebastian needs me to attend a weekend-long meeting with him for this deal he's making. It's not like I want to be missing Aunt Anne's birthday, but I'm sure she'll understand. It's work, Dad. Besides, I'm an adult who can make his own decisions and who has off this entire next week for Thanksgiving break," Kurt explained, maneuvering himself around so that he could poke his elbow into the 'Up' button on the elevator pad.

"All next week?" Burt asked suspiciously.

"Yes, Dad. All next week. I'll catch a flight to Ohio on Sunday, okay? I promise. Now can you please hang up? Both of my hands are currently occupied and I'm barely pressing the right buttons on the elevator."

"I'll call and ask Anne to invite the rest of the family – what's that? – oh, Carole just said she'd call up some of your friends and see if they'd be up for staying at the Hummel-Hudsons' for a few days –"

"Dad! Don't you think you're getting a little ahead of yourselves? Honestly," Kurt huffed, tapping his foot against the floor of the elevator impatiently. "Tell Carole not to do that. Finn and Rachel are already going to be there by default, and I don't think I could handle the entire former New Directions hyped up on pumpkin pie and Aunt Anne freaking out about turning forty. This is a disaster waiting to – oomph!"

The first thing Kurt registered was the warmth seeping through the fabric of his clothes. His expensive designer clothes.

The second thing Kurt registered was his iPhone clattering to the ground, a beeping sound indicating the call between him and his father had been ended. He made no move to retrieve it however, still staring dumbfounded at his ruined suit in a mixture of awe and disbelief.

The third thing Kurt registered was the time. While the man he had slammed into was dabbing at his shirt and tie with his handkerchief, his wrist simultaneously flashed the time. It was already ten past nine? Why hadn't anyone warned him? He waved off the man's frantic apologies and made a mad dash for his boss' pristine office.

Towards the start of his job, Sebastian had told Kurt he would be at work at nine twenty sharp, every morning. Once in a blue moon, his boss would show up at the allotted time, but most days it wasn't unusual for him to arrive five minutes early. He hurried to the set of doors at the other end of the office, hoping upon hope that this was one of those days where Sebastian Smythe actually arrived at work on time – or at least, when he said he would.

Unfortunately, fate was not on his side that day.

When Kurt pushed open the door with his shoulder and stumbled into the spacious office, Sebastian was seated behind his finished wood desk, furiously typing away on his laptop. Kurt swallowed thickly and moved forward to set down one of the two coffees left unharmed by the earlier collision, feeling a bit too much for his comfort like he was playing the Andy Sachs to Sebastian's Miranda Priestly. Sebastian cleared his throat, subsequently startling Kurt out of his thoughts and forcing him to meet his relentless gaze.

"Did you spill my coffee on yourself just now?" Sebastian asked coolly, his eyebrows raised.

"No, of course not." Kurt half-lied. One of those coffees in the carrier was his; he bought four of Sebastian's coffee order in case an incident like this ever occurred. It was probably one of the brightest ideas he'd had after accidentally spilling Sebastian's morning coffee when he'd first began at Smythe Publishing. Since then he'd acquired a taste for Sebastian's coffee order, having no choice but to do so in case all of Sebastian's cups spilled and Kurt was left with only his order. If he gave his boss the wrong coffee order, he might as well turn in a resignation letter by the end of the day. Sebastian only let slip a handful of mistakes, and Kurt was fiercely determined not to use them all up in case of an emergency.

"Then why do you smell of my morning latte with its shot of Courvoisier?"

"I spilled my coffee," Kurt blurted out, much to his dismay. It wasn't a complete lie; in fact, it was the truth – but he had been warned by his coworkers against letting slip this piece of information if he wanted to maintain a shred of his dignity. Kurt's old coffee order had been a grande nonfat mocha, and as far as Sebastian knew (or cared to know), that was what it continued to be.

If Sebastian knew just how much Kurt had adjusted his life to his boss' schedule, what else would he make Kurt do for him? What other moments with his family and friends would he miss?

"Interesting." Sebastian said finally, accepting the cup of coffee and focusing on his laptop screen again. Kurt breathed a sigh of relief and turned around to leave, glad that for now he was able to avoid a confrontation of sorts concerning his incompetence, when Sebastian coughed once more to gain his attention.

"Yes, sir?"

"Who is Chandler? And why does he want me to call him?"

Oh god, Kurt thought, his cheeks heating up and coloring. He squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment in order to somewhat compose himself, before he reopened them and turned back around with shaky hands. Chandler was the kind, helpful, and occasionally flirtatious barista, whom Kurt had set up an arrangement with to have Sebastian's coffee order (and the backup cups) ready by the time he swept into the café and out again. Every now and then, Chandler would pen a sweet message and include his number on one of the coffees, and apparently it was one of those days in which he had felt the need to compliment Kurt's two oceans for eyes – as far as he could see from where he was standing.

"A friend?" Kurt said, his answer coming out as more of a question. What was an appropriate answer?

"Well, tell your friend he needs to find better, more successful ways to charm his way into the pants of men he's interested in, as the object of his affections just handed off his number to his boss because said object is clumsy. No surprise there though, seeing as said object –" Sebastian dropped the untouched coffee cup into the trash bin and motioned for the other in Kurt's hand, "– doesn't have a backbone to begin with," He finished as Kurt placed the cup on his desk. Sebastian proceeded to wave him away with a withering stare, and Kurt obeyed the silent order almost immediately.

Not only was the man he had collided with earlier waving his ringing phone in his face (the screen flashed with his dad's photo yet again, and boy was he in for it) as he stepped out of the office, but his suit was sticking to him uncomfortably, his briefcase was stained, he had no coffee, and his boss had taken what was left of his pride and smashed it into pieces.

Today was definitely not his day.