A/N: I've been holding on to this for too long now. It will probably turn out to be the angstiest thing I've ever written (which isn't saying much, but oh well) unless Watch The Lights Go Out gets the upperhand. Here's to hoping I can pull it off.

Since I haven't watched "Big Brother" and "Saturday Night Glee-ver" (what is happening to this show, really) yet, this will be AU from "On My Way". Don't worry about spoiling me, though. I couldn't care less about these and the next episodes.

This will turn into a threesome eventually. First Smythofsky, then Kurtofsky and Seblaine, then BANG, OT3.

WARNINGS: Mentions of suicide, Sebastian being a douche, Kurt bashing (it is Sebastian's POV), general gay bashing (to be safe).

Hindsight, Sebastian knows, is a cruel bitch.

Snap the belt in your hands, test it for resistance.

Send an anonymous well-wishing bouquet to an empty hospital room. And to think you took so long in building up the nerve to be a good coward.

Wonder how many hospital beds have been needed because of you, how many belts thrown away to forget what could have happened – to bury what did.

Hindsight leaves you sprawled on cheap motel sheets, alone and cold and so full of regret you might as well kill yourself.

If hindsight was ever to take human form, Sebastian knows they would get along great.

But foresight? Now that is a pro.

Insulting yourself has never been so creative as when know things are about to take a turn for the real fucking worst and you just keep going.

Sebastian knew the moment he spied David Karofsky sitting at the bar on a slow Tuesday night at Scandals. He should have just turned on his heels and foregone the debauching of gullible virgins for the moment.

He didn't, and that is the moment foresight slaps him hard across his poker face and leaves him the bill, knowing that hindsight will eventually make off with his wallet.

He slid into the bench next to Dave and tapped his shoulder.

"You again."

"Wrong tone, cub," drawled Sebastian, tilting his beer bottle slightly in lieu of a greeting. "Say it again as if you just messed your jeans in excitement and you'll get a little closer."

Dave snorted and glared down at the peanut bowl.

"Don't feel like talking to you."

Grumpy bear cub, broody bear cub, bear cub, bear cub, twink.

"Good. I don't really feel like talking to you either."

They fell into tense silent. Sebastian could tell that Dave was doing his utmost to ignore his presence, but he had no intention of making it easier for the other boy.

"Wanna dance?" Sebastian asked his beer. He smirked when he heard Dave choking beside him.

"What?"

"Do you. Want to. Dance," said Sebastian slowly, his eyebrows rising. He turned on the bench until he was leaning back against the bar and facing the crowd.

"Yeah, sure," Dave said finally, rolling his eyes and shaking his head at his bottle.

"What? I'm serious." He took a large gulp, keeping his eyes on the dancers and far away from Dave. "Aside from the fact that this song seriously blows, there's no real reason we shouldn't."

Dave didn't seem to have an answer to that.

"Oh, come on. Your fairy white knight already gave me the guilt trip special. And it was my idea to dedicate this year's Sectionals setlist to you, so there."

"Kurt talked to you about me?" asked Dave quietly, but the hopeful lift in his tone made Sebastian smirk gleefully.

"Oh, this is precious. He is your Princess Charming, isn't he?"

He saw Dave's jaw flexing, his face focused and tight with restraint. His hand closed into a fist and Sebastian had to summon all his composure in order not to move one inch, counter-acting every single self-preservation instinct. Then Dave punched the surface of the bar, heavy enough to rattle their empty bottles and Sebastian's teeth alike.

"Impressive. Very theatrical. Has he been diva coaching you?"

He knew he was pushing, and pushing someone who had already gone to the edge and back, but if this was the only way to get a reaction out of David Karofsky, then so be it.

"Don't talk about him," he honest-to-God growled and Sebastian just knew he had struck gold.

"Believe me, His Royal Gayness is far from being one of my favorite subjects, either." He smirked tilting his head and taking in Dave's contorted profile. "Dance with me."

Dave suddenly jumped out of his bench, his face contorted in an angry mask. Sebastian bit the inside of his cheek, sure that his chance had come and gone.

Redemption was for losers, anyway.

"Will it shut you up?"

He lifted his eyes to Dave's determined expression; then, a slow smile stretched his lips and he nodded.

"Thank fucking God. C'mon."

He ignored the annoyance in Dave's tone and started leading them through the grinding throng. When he turned around, Dave was right there, eyes shifting nervously, his solid body still as a statue, indifferent to the throbbing beat.

Sebastian would have felt sorry for him; however, Dave probably got enough pity-parties from Wonder Gay and his much hotter yet sadly faithful – for the time being – sidekick.

"Hands," he said airily, grabbing Dave's wrists. "Meet Hips." He secured Dave's slightly sweaty palms to his sides, his mouth going a little dry at the sheer size and warmth of them.

Dave licked his lips, his brow furrowing in laughable concentration as he flexed his fingers, his thumbs catching on the hem of Sebastian's shirt and slipping underneath, grazing his bare skin. Sebastian blinked; his jeans felt a lot tighter all of a sudden.

Alright, that was unexpected.

But still. He was a gay guy, having another gay guy in is near proximity with his hands very much on his body. Dave was not that unattractive now that Sebastian had decided to give him a thorough second look, and what was there not to love about a man with big strong hands?

"Yeah, so what now?"

Sebastian rolled his eyes and stepped right into Dave's personal space, resting his hands on Dave's tense biceps, allowing himself the luxury of palming around them, suppressing as shiver when his thumb and forefinger didn't even come close to touching.

"Move," he hissed, bumping their chests together. He felt the roll of Dave's deeply annoyed sigh against him. He could blame it on one too many beers and the hormone-charged atmosphere, but there was something about bigger guys that always made him a little weak, a little lost. Dave's arms felt huge around him; Dave himself felt larger than he really was, but instead of it turning Sebastian off lightning fast, it had the extreme opposite effect. Dave had an aura of protectiveness mixed with possessiveness that made Sebastian want to curl into him like a newborn kitten searching for warmth, and God, this was all going to his head way too fast. He shook his head, determined to soldier on for this one dance and then finding the first curly haired stammering twink to pound against the wall.

When Dave finally moved, starting off awkward but losing some of that stiffness soon enough, Sebastian made his first real mistake of the night. It had all been going according to plan until now: he would give Dave the unimaginable pleasure of a dance-slash-grind with him and they would part ways with Sebastian's guilty load lessened significantly and Dave's own very different load soaking up his underwear.

But he had to look at Dave's face at some point during it, didn't he?

He saw it; the shock and the concentration to not fuck up, not this time, God, don't let him be a failure at this, not now that he'll have to live with it for the rest of his goddamn life. He saw Kurt, and Blaine and himself in Dave's eyes, having it so easy and so good. He saw Dave monkeying around with the older bears, being accepted, being welcomed.

He saw the arrogant asshole ruining Dave's haven with a handful of choice words.

And then, just like that, it was Sebastian who was feeling protective of this boy, just a fucking boy, and he'd kicked the chair away and left himself for dead, but he was standing here so close and warm and alive, and Sebastian hadn't been a murderer for a question of seconds.

His plan was no good. He owed Dave more than sticky underwear, he owed this boy Sebastian's mental health, owed him his fucking conscience.

He hadn't even noticed how he'd just been mechanically swaying to the slowing beat until Dave gave another drawn-out sigh and pulled away, shaking his head. Sebastian was at a loss, his mind unraveling and his body searching for the contact, instinct driving him to hold on to something, anything before he snapped.

"What –"

"Look, let's just not, okay? I now you've been feeling guilty over being an asshole to the poor little closet case, but enough is enough. I've got better things to do tonight than playing nice and easing your conscience. Besides," Dave snorted and turned away, not even looking back as he continued, "in the whole equation of me trying to off myself you didn't really factor in. So don't worry your pretty little head."

Sebastian stared after him, mouth gaping open unattractively and fingers reaching forward into the void. Then he snapped back to himself and scowled, glaring furiously at Dave's broad retreating back. He zigzagged effortlessly through the couples gathering for the slow dance and managed to get a firm hold of Dave's wrist just before he reached the exit.

"Who. The fuck. Said that," he wheezed out, eyes flaring.

Dave's neck tensed.

"Fuck you, Smythe. I'm getting out of here."

"Some other time, cub. Now spill." Sebastian tugged on Dave's hand hard enough to threaten dislocating his shoulder.

Dave finally turned back to him, shaking off his hold and leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

"What's it to you?"

"Spit it out, big boy, or the next time I have the bad luck of running into Girly I'll make sure to let him know of the sad show you make every night describing to perfect strangers with shockingly accurate detail just how you're gonna catch him one day after school and ram his scrawny ass into the ground." Sebastian forced himself to go on, even as Dave blanched sickeningly, his mouth twisting in desperation and disgust. "Whether he wants it or not. I'll tell him all about how you want to hear him screaming so prettily, 'No, Dave, please no, please, stop, please –"

He stopped himself in time to run after Dave who had scrambled outside and was pouring out the whole of his last meal and two and a half beers on the pavement, holding himself against the wall with one violently shaking arm. Sebastian braced himself for the beat down he knew he rightfully deserved. Or maybe Dave would just spit in his face and walk away after kneeing Sebastian in the groin.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall when the sniffling started.

"Please – oh God, please don't, I can't – what if he believes you –" Dave was only dry-heaving now, but it still pulled hard at Sebastian's guts, making him want to follow suit. "He wouldn't, he knows I'd never – knows I've never – he knows, he knows, oh fuck, Sebastian, please, just –"

"I won't. I won't, for fuck's sake, stop that –" Sebastian glanced down at the trembling, hunched over form anxiously. "I was just fucking you over, it's not like he would – he thinks you're the goddamn saint martyr of all gays, and he knows anything that comes out of my mind is worth shit, come on, Dave –"

The boy staggered away from the wall and bent down with his hands on his knees, breathing hard. Sebastian bit his tongue to keep from suggesting that that particular position might not be the most advisable considering just where they stood.

"Are you – God, was that all really necessary?" Sebastian's hand hovered over Dave's bent neck. "Are you okay?"

Dave snorted wetly, straightening back up.

"You're a real bastard, you know that?" His eyes were bright and red-rimmed. "Kurt told me. He told me about Sectionals, and something about Hudson and photoshopped penises – but he was kinda mumbling it all by then, so I might be wrong." He chuckled weakly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "He said you sounded sorry. Said you'd probably come by the hospital to apologize for being, you know, you."

Sebastian watched as Dave winced at the leftover taste in his mouth and spat on the ground.

"Let's go," he said quietly, nodding towards the bar.

Dave shot him an incredulous look.

"I'm not going back there. I'm going home."

Sebastian shook his head, wincing at the pounding in his temples.

"Not in that state you're not." He paused, clearing his throat. "And I'll pass on stinking up my car with stale vomit, if you don't mind."

Dave glared at him.

Fucking stubborn bears.

"You're not taking me home."

"Really? Seems to me you don't have much of a choice in the matter, cub." Sebastian arched one eyebrow and cocked his head to the entrance. "Joey and I go way back. Maybe you pack a stronger punch than me, but he could take three of you on a bad day, with a bust eye, a cast leg and his grandma piggybacking. So there."

Something twisted and melted on Dave's face, and suddenly he was smirking knowingly at Sebastian.

"What?" hissed Sebastian.

"Nothin'" said Dave flippantly, walking back towards the throbbing blast of the club.

Sebastian followed with a permanent frown, grinding his teeth whenever Dave would stop on his way to bump any random fist that happened to materialize from the writhing mass.

The bathroom was as shifty and lovely as Sebastian remembered. The stench of David's vomit had pretty much turned him off of any hook-up plans, but he still sighed wistfully when he spotted a moderately attractive twink with bee-stung lips and tousled hair pulling an older guy into one of the stalls by his tie.

"Think I remember that from porn," whispered Dave from behind him, chuckling immaturely.

Sebastian rolled his eyes to the ceiling and turned to push him in front of the nearest sink, turning on the faucet and all but shoving Dave's head under the cold stream.

He could tell it was going to be a long night.

Fucking bears. Fucking twinks.