Can't start a fire, no you can't start a fire without a spark,
This gun's for hire,
Even if we're just dancing in the dark.
If anything could cause a blot on Kurt's page it would be the figure of Sebastian Smythe, tall, mean and achingly arrogant, striding across his line of vision to order a coffee and sending him that trademark smug smirk of his. Kurt frowns and looks down, concentrating on the text that's just lit up his phone rather than the person he'd really like to throw it at. Preferably hitting his head. Unfortunately peace, with Sebastian in the room, never lasts long.
"Busy social life?"
Kurt's frown deepens as he is forced to look back up at him. Standing there, with that condescending tone and patronizing tilt of his head, staring at him with that pitying expression, makes Kurt want to do nothing other than hit him or flounce out but dammit he won't do either because he was here first and Smythe doesn't rule him, not by a long shot. Instead he narrows his eyes to turn the frown into a glare and gives him a cold look.
"You're not wanted here, Sebastian," he mutters, flicking his eyes to the door and hoping he'll get the hint.
Of course, he does, but naturally Sebastian being Sebastian (and the most infuriating, deliberately maddening person in probably the whole state, if not America), he takes this as an invite to sit down opposite him and flash him a winning smile, which is a slight improvement on that sarcastic sneer but doesn't make Kurt feel like he wants him to be sitting there any more than he'd want a sabre toothed tiger to be near him, except perhaps the sabre toothed tiger would be more upfront about its true colours, and possibly have better dentistry. The thought makes him giggle a bit and Sebastian raises an eyebrow, looking bemused.
"Something amusing you, Hummel?"
At these words Kurt's face drops again and he returns to glaring at him.
"Look," he says flatly, "whatever you want, you're not going to get it. So please, go away."
Sebastian laughs, loud and clear, but not real, more mocking and it takes all of Kurt's willpower not to grab his coffee and throw it in his face.
"I don't want anything, nothing from you anyway." He leans forward and winks at him, the laughter still creasing the corners of his eyes, "Believe me, if I wanted it, I'd have it."
Kurt would be shocked by such self-importance and egotism but overexposure to Sebastian means such confidence no longer surprises him. He finds himself wondering just where all this confidence comes from. I wonder, he thinks, if he's ever been nervous in his life. I wonder if he's ever doubted himself.
Clearly he's not going to get an answer so he rolls his eyes instead, composing himself into a haughty stance of disdain and disinterest.
"Well, whatever it is you don't want, can you please go and not want it elsewhere. Whether you're lying and actually do want something, or whether you just get some inane thrill from irritating me because you enjoy winding me up, which might I say tells us something about your fascinating lifestyle not mine, it really doesn't interest me. So please, like I said, go away."
Sebastian grins at him and leans back again. He almost looks ready to stretch his arms out and close his eyes to emphasise his obvious not leaving, and it hits Kurt that he's rather like a cat, lofty and lordly, knowing that he can't be moved unless he wants to. Kurt doesn't like this image so much. He adores cats, unfortunately, and it'd be a shame for Sebastian to spoil that.
"Aren't we in a bad mood today. Did you eat a bowl of bitch for breakfast? Get out of the wrong side of bed?"
Kurt takes in a deep breath and fixes his gaze on Sebastian's stupid, snarky face.
"At least I got out of my bed," he retorts, tapping his fingers on the table and watching Sebastian raise his eyebrows. His smirk stays steady and he even lets out a low chuckle.
"On top form, as usual. Say, Hummel, how about you stop sitting here like the sad little princess you are and actually do something with your life. I may get out of someone else's bed but at least I get out the right side," Sebastian's smirk widens. "I enjoy myself at night. My wet dreams are reality. I don't have to toss off to the sex I'm not having with my indifferent boyfriend."
Kurt's eyes flash.
"As a matter of fact, Blaine and I often-" Kurt stops and breaks off, inhaling sharply and catching himself halfway through the sentence. Sebastian looks as if he's about to burst out laughing. "What is the point of this? Honestly Sebastian, I'm not the only one sitting here doing nothing. If you've got such a full, exciting schedule, why are you still here bugging me?"
"I'm all out for the day, if you know what I mean."
"Regrettably I do."
"Anyway," Sebastian throws him a bright smile, "there's no one else I'd rather annoy."
"I honestly don't know if that's a compliment or not," Kurt says, his fingers tapping harder. Sebastian casts a quick glance down at his hand.
"I tend to take everything as a compliment. Life's too short to worry about insults."
"Good thing, otherwise you'd be permanently terrified." Tap, tap, tap.
"Wow, you're on fire today."
"Could you please just drink your coffee and leave?"
Sebastian shakes his head and Kurt sighs, his drumming becoming more insistent. For a moment he watches Sebastian staring at his hand and the constant rhythm it's making against the table and then the next second Sebastian's launched himself forward and shot a hand out to slam on Kurt's, halting the noise abruptly.
"Ow, what-? What the…what did you do that for?" Kurt gasps angrily, snatching his hand away and pushing his chair back.
"That sound was intensely irritating."
"And you couldn't have just asked me to stop?" Kurt asks, bewildered. Sebastian gives him a pointed look that clearly says he thinks he's stupid.
"Would you have?" he asks and Kurt has to shake his head, no, of course he wouldn't, because if he's being honest any opportunity to piss Sebastian off even half as much as Sebastian pisses him off is, and will always be, gladly taken. He smiles slyly and lifts his hand to tap the table again. Anything to get rid of him. Small victories and all.
"Don't," Sebastian warns, but he still looks entertained, infuriatingly.
"Oh sorry, am I annoying you? Can't imagine what that feels like."
At that precise moment his phone lights up again, blinking an impatient message at him and he remembers that throughout his pointless, exasperating conversation with Sebastian he's forgotten to reply to his correspondent. He quickly types back a reply and realises that this could be his ticket out of here without looking like he's backing down from whatever strange competition they have going on. He looks up to meet Sebastian's curious gaze and gives him what could be construed as an apologetic smile, although it's not hard to see he's really not sorry at all, and stands up.
"I'm needed somewhere. By people who don't make me want to knock their buck teeth down their throats," he says and indicates towards his phone.
"Violence. That's a new one. It's quite becoming on you, Hummel," replies Sebastian, crossing his arms and smiling back at him, just as insincerely.
"Goodbye, Smythe."
Kurt turns and, pocketing his phone, begins to walk away. He can feel Sebastian's eyes on him, burning into his back, and it's only when he gets to the door that he hears him call after him.
"Goodbye, princess," Sebastian yells, and Kurt swears if he hadn't made that comment about violence he'd march right back over there and sock him. Breathe, he thinks to himself, ignore the idiot. As much as you dislike him, violence is never the answer.
He glances back over as he opens the door to leave.
He's not worth it anyway.
France is just like America, except older, softer, stronger, scarier. It holds ancient tales and busy lives and everyone speaks too fast, too melodic, too indirectly, so Sebastian lets it wash over him like the ocean he crossed. The streets are curved not straight, the word is metro not subway, and the government is socialist not capitalist, not that he understands what either of these mean, but it must be quite important because his father's mentioned it a few times, not to him but to various other people and by his tone, it matters. His father's got two voices, the one that changes with the mood and situation and the one that always spells out 'deadly serious', and generally leads to trouble. When he hears the deadly serious one he decides it's best not to say a word. Why is a question that seems to be slipping from his vocabulary, just as silence seems to be a new persona that fits for this new country.
It's best not to say a word. Not when every half an hour or so there's another outburst or another glass or another clenching of his father's fist in a new bout of temper. Sebastian watches this new world and keeps his mouth shut. Look after yourself, his mother said, and that's what he does. Silence is safety.
"Why don't you speak?" his father asks once, when they've somehow acquired a living space made of mould and winding stairways, "For God's sake, it's not the end of the world. It's the fucking centre."
You told me not to, Sebastian thinks, but he doesn't remind him.
"Sorry," he murmurs quietly and his father grunts.
"Go to your room and stay in your room. I've got friends coming over tonight," his father replies, leaning over the edge of the table to reach for a bottle on the side. He doesn't look back at his son so Sebastian drops his head and let's himself be condemned away.
It's not my room, he thinks. They're not your friends.
They haven't been here a month but already he's seen the same sort of men from back home come round, cold and masked in polite laughter and undertones, with that same greed in their eyes that he sees in his father's. There was a glint of it in his mother's once but it was nicer somehow, more joyful. Theirs is harsh and merciless. He doesn't like it. He doesn't like them.
He lies on his bed and looks out the window, at the skyline of the city filled with curved streets and busy lives and socialism and wonders. He reflects and dissects but he cannot find the answer to his question.
It's the fucking centre, his father had said. France is the centre. He thinks and he thinks but he can't find the reasoning behind those words. In the end he comes to a vague conclusion.
My mother's French, he thinks. Maybe he thinks we'll find her here. Maybe we've followed her. The thought makes him smile and he forgives his father a little bit, for the drinking and disinterest, because if he can bring back his mother then he's a hero.
"We'll stick together, you and I, Dad," he whispers to himself, "we'll find her. And then we'll go back home."
This time it's Kurt who enters the Lima Bean second, groaning softly when he sees Sebastian resting on the counter like he owns the place, which he very well could do judging by the amount of time he spends in there, and seriously contemplates turning around and walking out until Sebastian notices him and flashes that contagious smile, waving him over. Damn, he thinks, cursing himself, didn't leave fast enough. He could turn and leave now but he's nothing if not courteous, even to the most impolite, irritating person he knows, so for some unfathomable reason he smiles back, a little strained but what can you expect, and heads over to join him.
"Here for another lonely coffee?" Sebastian asks, taking his order from the person serving him. "Thanks," he says and Kurt watches the girl giggle and reply "no problem", widening her eyes in a way Kurt can only assume is meant to make them look bigger and more beautiful. He laughs incredulously. Sebastian really can charm anyone without any effort at all, just by saying thank you.
"You take hypocrisy to a new level, Sebastian, you really do. I mean, do you ever actually go home?"
Sebastian laughs too, taking a seat at the closest table. Kurt sits down next to him, though he really doesn't mean to stay.
"I don't like being at home," Sebastian says, and for a second his voice drops and goes quiet. Kurt is about to ask about it when Sebastian's face changes again, back to a sardonic smile and taunting light in his eyes. "Anyway, I'm waiting for a date, so sorry to burst your bubble, but some of us have lives. Not that I don't enjoy our fun little conversations while I wait."
Kurt resists the temptation to roll his eyes.
"Geez, should I warn the poor guy what a complete ass you are?"
"Not a good enough ass for you, princess?" Sebastian winks.
"Oh, for Goodness sake," Kurt snaps, red heating his face, which just embarrasses him further and great there's that Sebastian look that says oh yes, I win, and this is why he severely dislikes him, stupid meerkat faced jerk, "and don't call me princess."
"Sorry…princess."
Sighing theatrically, a talent Kurt's perfected, he chooses to ignore the bait and taps his fingers on the table in a quick rhythm. Sebastian winces and nods his head but somehow carries on smiling. Still, one all is the clear message.
"So who's this unlucky boy you've tricked into going out with you?" Kurt asks, changing the topic of conversation. Sebastian's smile broadens.
"Oh just some adoring, sexy thing I met the other day. You're not really in the same league, so I doubt you know him."
"Give him my sincerest apologies before the date starts. He doesn't know exactly how much of a conceited, pretentious idiot he's managed to end up meeting. Only hope he realises that early on."
"Won't matter, he'll sleep with me anyway."
Kurt shakes his head disbelievingly as Sebastian grins and takes a sip of his coffee.
"Wow, you really are something, aren't you? When you contract chlamydia or whatever other nasty thing you're going to get one day, I want you to remember that it's your own fault that you'll be going to the doctors by yourself."
When Sebastian laughs now it rings out 100% genuine and it takes Kurt a second to get accustomed to the sound. He didn't really think Sebastian did anything genuinely, especially laughing of all things.
"Ouch, harsh. You weren't in a good mood yesterday either," Sebastian states, not seeming to mind at all. "Trouble in paradise?"
"No," Kurt replies tersely, "not that's it's any of your business."
"Go on, what's he done?"
"Blaine hasn't done anything. He's just busy, that's all."
Sebastian's eyes light up and he raises his eyebrows like he's just understood the million dollar question.
"So that's why you're sitting here like a reject. Blaine had other more important things in his life." He takes another nonchalant drink and asks offhandedly, "Like what?"
"I don't know," Kurt frowns.
"Hmm, keeping secrets now is he? Well, I won't tell you if I'm one of them."
This time Kurt doesn't bother resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Sebastian's lucky he can resist the urge to hit him too. Being a pacifist seems to only be working in Sebastian's favour, not his, at the moment.
"He's not keeping secrets. That's the thing about an actual, mature relationship Sebastian. You can love someone and be independent. You don't have to know what they're doing every second of the day. You can trust them."
Sebastian's gaze is unimpressed.
"Sounds dull to me."
Opening his mouth to answer with some remark on how you actually need to contain a heart to understand real relationships and a brain to act on rationality and trust and not just on animal instincts, Kurt is interrupted by the arrival of a newcomer, hovering around their table and giving Sebastian an uncertain smile. Sebastian looks up and his whole expression changes into one of happiness, but it's not like his previous emotion has melted away at the sight of this stranger, instead it's more like it's simply been layered on top. Kurt inclines his head in a fascinated sort of awe and wonders how many feelings are hiding under that constant smirk, layered over and over until they're undistinguishable in the face of confidence. Then he wonders if he truly has any feelings at all, if they aren't all painted on like this one seems to be. He honestly can't figure him out. So he stops the line of thought that's bound to make his head ache and turns his attention on the boy standing by them.
"Hey, sexy," Sebastian greets, standing up to put an arm around him. The boy instantly relaxes. "This is Kurt. He has a serious fashion issue and acts like a diva the majority of the time."
The boy looks a little confused but extends his hand to take Kurt's.
"Um, hi," he says, giving him a strange look.
"Hi," Kurt almost wants to say hi Sexy, how are you? It's on the tip of his tongue but he refrains, holding it in, although he can see Sebastian's sensed what he was about to say - if that entertained chuckle is anything to go by. "My fashion sense is ten times better than the indescribable species to your right and at least I've earned my diva rights," Kurt pauses. The poor boy looks like he's just been hit in the face with quantum physics and he can't remember the definition of energy. "Good luck," is all Kurt finishes with, casting a glance at Sebastian who can hardly contain his laughter.
"Er…thanks?" the boy responds, turning to Sebastian for support.
Sebastian smiles and pulls him closer, sliding a hand down to his hips.
"Come on, baby, we've got places to go, things to do." He starts to lead him away. "You can have the rest of my coffee, Kurt. I'm sure you're used to second hand stuff."
The sentence would annoy him if he wasn't quite so amused by the whole situation. He just shrugs and lets him leave, half relieved that he's finally going away and half regretful, because despite how annoying Sebastian is, exasperating, aggravating, and a complete and utter tool, there's an enjoyable element, however tiny, to their games. And the boy is so ridiculous brazen that his excess of unashamed self-assurance is fairly humorous, when it's not Blaine he's after.
A few steps before Sebastian and the boy who Kurt still doesn't know the name of have reached the door, Sebastian looks over his shoulder and runs his tongue over his teeth lightly, slipping his hand into his date's pocket and winking again. Kurt shakes his head and snorts.
When he's sure Sebastian has gone and isn't coming back he picks up the coffee, still half full, and takes a sip. No point wasting it, he thinks.
A/N: Can't start a fire, no you can't start a fire without a spark,
This gun's for hire,
Even if we're just dancing in the dark. - "Dancing in the Dark" by Bruce Springsteen.
Also, thanks to everyone who alerted/favourited, it means a lot, and I hope you enjoy :)
