A/N: At frickin' last! I'm so sorry this took forever, but this story has a long, sordid tale behind it. When I first posted this story, I got bullied by some anonymous jerk with too much time on their hands, which put me off uploading the rest. The story is written in its entirety in a spiral notebook which I shoved away out of anger. Then when I decided to let it go and put the story up, the notebook disappeared. I found out later that my son had accidentally taken it to school with him (he was in the fifth grade). Luckily, no one used it, and no therapy was necessary. So, I will get this updated more regularly from now on, and I hope you guys like it because I think it's really touching toward the end ;)

Thank you all for your patience.

Kurt hates the free clinic. Actually, loathes with every fiber of his being is a much better description of his overall feelings on the place. It's cramped and crowded no matter what time of the day you go, and they don't take appointments unless you're pregnant, so for him it's a matter of first come, first served. He had actually managed to get there nearly forty-five minutes before it opened and there was already a line down the side of the building. Going to the free clinic is also full of pitfalls – some plain annoying and some downright life threatening. Kurt had heard on the news that several times this year alone the clinic had a number of bomb threats – none of them real, thank goodness, but a fake bomb threat will stop business for most of the afternoon. On the average day, if the fates are against your need for last minute STD tests or contraception, protestors from the local Baptist church stop by to do their Christian duty by blocking the entrance with their chants of 'Abortion is Murder' and their lovely protest signs covered in colorfully grotesque pictures.

They're not out there today, though. Thank goodness for small favors.

Kurt can be optimistic and take this as a sign that what he's planning on doing isn't actually as reckless and crazy as he thinks.

Besides the overcrowding and the Bible thumpers, the free clinic reminds Kurt way too much of high school, of TMI pamphlets and awkward conversations with his dad over toast. In reality, he can do with a few more awkward conversations with his dad. Kurt misses him – God, does Kurt miss him. He misses hanging around his dad's shop after school, talking together about everything and nothing; he even misses getting his hands dirty every once in a while. His dad has always been home to him, and Kurt misses home. He doesn't miss Lima, Ohio, in any way, shape, or form, but he misses his dad. More and more as he pretends to be a grown-up and picks his way through the world on his own, he realizes just how much he relied on his dad's constant comforting presence. Though this situation in particular is probably not something he would discuss with him. Kurt remembers how his dad reacted when he first found Blaine asleep in Kurt's bed, and on a night when they hadn't even done anything for his dad to get pissed about.

Kurt's mad dash to his neighborhood Planned Parenthood couldn't be helped. His regular doctor didn't have any open appointments for the next two weeks and Kurt has a deadline. It's not that Kurt is desperate for sex (he tells himself as he waits in line behind a teenage girl who barely looks older than thirteen) though admittedly it would be nice to have sex with someone other than Blaine. No, Kurt is more curious than anything. He's curious about what kind of man would proposition a stranger for sex without any strings attached. Correction, he's curious why a handsome, sophisticated, obviously well-off man like Sebastian would watch Kurt vomit for 5 minutes, listen to the details of his pathetic love life, and then decide this is the man he wants to have a 'fuck buddy' sort of relationship with.

Kurt grimaces. He still hates that term, but he's failing at finding a better one.

And what was that remark about Kurt developing feelings for him? Yeah, the guy is hotter than necessary, but he shouldn't flatter himself. Kurt is an adult, and he knows how to separate a casual relationship from his deeper, more complex feelings involving love and commitment. This is sex – just sex. That's all he signed up for, and not because that's what Sebastian said he wants, but because Kurt has a life of his own that, at the moment, has no room for romantic entanglements. He's going to make something of himself - something worthwhile - and he needs the space to focus on himself and his goals. He can't do that tethered to someone else.

Actually, this is a genius idea. A fabulous idea. Kurt cannot find a single fault in this plan whatsoever.

He repeats this to himself to keep his mind occupied as he waits in an aging, uncomfortable chair for over an hour. He repeats it as a distraction when a younger-than-him male nurse sticks a Q-tip with an end the size of a golf ball into his penis and then scolds him to hold still. He continues to repeat this as he leaves the clinic with a little less dignity but carrying a paper baggy full of updated TMI pamphlets and a complimentary variety pack of condoms – colored and ribbed. He repeats it while he rides three subways back to the offices at Vogue, when he blows past reception, and as he speed-walks down the hall, avoiding the questioning eyes and amused smirks that follow him all the way to his desk, wondering idly why he became so interesting all of a sudden. He isn't that late to work.

He knows why when he gets to his modified broom closet of an office and sees the enormous gaudy display of red and yellow roses bursting from a glass vase, waiting for him on his desk - another unglamorous display by Blaine Anderson.

Kurt sighs and groans and quells the urge to scream. He hems and he haws as he looks the flowers over, picking out the card and tossing it straight into the trash without reading it. Kurt would think that by now Blaine might pick different colors than yellow and red. He knows they're meant to bring back memories of their long lost high school days, but really. At least he can move on to a different flower…like lilies, or daisies.

Or he can get the fuck out of Kurt's life.

That works, too.

Kurt drops into his chair and glares murderously at the roses that occupy a good 40% of his usable desk space. Just their presence drains all of his energy. Normally he would keep them, mostly out of guilt, and work around them until they wilted and died…but not today. Today is about starting over, taking chances, living life for himself, stepping outside of his boundaries and experiencing something new.

He stands up forcefully and grabs the vase. He picks it up, deliberately not cradling it in his arms, but carrying it arm's length between both hands like he's strangling the poor thing. He rushes back down the hallway with the same nosy people watching him, and heads straight for the receptionist.

Emily Larter, receptionist extraordinaire - the beating heart of Vogue. She transfers calls, gets everyone's coffee, remembers each employees' birthdays, even the temps. She also happens to be six months pregnant, and her husband left her a few weeks ago for her ex-best friend. She worked hard to keep the information private, so of course, everyone knows. Emily looks down quickly to wipe her eyes the moment she sees Kurt approach, startled by the wild look in his vibrant blue eyes. Kurt steps up to her desk and sets the vase down gently. Emily looks at Kurt, then at the flowers, then back at Kurt.

"Emily, my darling, has anyone told you that you look fantastic today?" Kurt asks with a flirty wink. She looks at the flowers, beaming from ear to ear, pulling one flower down to her nose to give it a sniff.

"Not in the last few hours," she says with a giggle.

"Well, you do," Kurt says. "You look fantastic, and don't let anyone tell you any different."

Kurt drums his fingers quickly on the corner of the desk, blows her an impromptu kiss, and then takes off back for his own knothole of a workspace. In his wake, he hears a gaggle of women gather around Emily's desk, tittering ridiculously and gossiping about something other than Emily's loser ex-husband for the first time in days.

Carlos peeks his head out of his office as Kurt approaches.

"Classy, Hummel," he says. "Very classy."

"Thank you," Kurt mouths, mocking a stunted bow.

Back in the semi-solitude of his office, Kurt sits in his chair, gazes over the expanse of his empty desk, and smiles. He leans back in his chair with a content sigh.

Yup, today is going to be the start of a new Kurt Hummel.

After the buzz of his euphoria wears off, Kurt finds himself retreating back to square one.

Over the course of the next week, Kurt thinks of a thousand reasons not to go through with this arrangement with Sebastian. Being the highly methodical person he is, he writes some of them down in a pro/con list format and carries them with him so he can refer to them on the bus or the train, or at work, or at home, trying to convince himself that calling Sebastian up and putting an end to this before it starts is ultimately in his best interests.

But every time he picks up his phone, the one 'pro' on the list keeps coming back with a vengeance.

Kurt wants to. He really wants to have sex with this man.

The confliction is there, but it doesn't keep him from going back to the bar on Tuesday night.

Kurt's doubts scratch and crawl uncomfortably beneath his skin while he sits at the bar waiting for Sebastian to arrive. Symptoms of stage fright, of all things, creep into his system. His throat burns, his stomach flips, and his entire body starts to sweat – not only in the usual places a human would expect to sweat, either. His scalp, his elbows, the curve right below his ass - all become clammy with perspiration.

This is wrong, he thinks, fidgeting with a small ball of peanuts – pulling it close, sifting through the shelled nuts, and then pushing it back away until the irate bartender swoops by and collects it with a scowl. This is crazy and it's wrong. This is never going to work. This is akin to prostitution. Who am I right now? Pretty Woman? I should listen to my instincts and call this off right now before it's too late.

After all of his inner monologue is over, Kurt realizes humbly that it doesn't matter what decision he makes anyway. Sebastian's already twenty minutes late.

Kurt is convinced he's not going to show.

He was probably never planning on showing, Kurt tells himself. It was all a joke from the very beginning. The whole 'overly attentive, sincere listener' thing was all just an act. Men like that don't exist anymore, not outside of love songs and romance novels.

Kurt's eyes shift to the door with more and more frequency, and as every new person enters who is not Sebastian, Kurt feels bitter, and worst of all, played.

A shot of tequila starts to sound really good for drowning Kurt's sorrows in, but the shard of optimism left in Kurt's brain begs him to wait a little while longer.

After a half-an-hour late, Kurt decides to forego ordering a shot for the road and decides to leave with his head held high.

Kurt leaves a tip even though he didn't really order anything, hoping to pacify the bartender for molesting his bowl of nuts. He had originally considered getting a drink when he first got there, but the positives of liquid courage usually end up turning into negatives later, so he had passed. Kurt pushes his way through the influx of new patrons and heads for the exit.

Sebastian catches him just as he opens the door. Kurt's eyes fire when he sees him, but that fire fades in the face of those soothing green eyes and that sexy half-smile.

"Leaving so soon, gorgeous?"

Kurt's jaw drops. He had counted Sebastian out completely, but here he is, and he still wants Kurt.

Kurt doesn't know what to say.

He can start off with something like, "Do you know how to use a phone, asshole?" but then Kurt remembers that Kurt never gave Sebastian his number. How was he supposed to call?

In reality, Kurt could have called him.

Oops.

"Sorry I'm late," Sebastian apologizes, taking Kurt's hand and leading him out of the bar and away from the stream of foot traffic, "but I got tied up with work. I have a car waiting for us, but first…" Sebastian extends his arm toward Kurt, making an expectant motion with his hand. Kurt looks at the hand open in front of him, waiting, bewildered as to what Sebastian can possibly want. Sebastian waits a breath longer, then takes the initiative and reaches into his own jacket, into his inside front pocket, and pulls out a folded piece of paper.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours, princess," he says, waving the folded paper in Kurt's face.

Kurt suddenly remembers the doctor's report. He blushes high on his cheekbones but bites his tongue. He reaches into his back pocket and grabs out his report.

Sebastian plucks Kurt's report from his grasp and replaces it with his own.

Kurt opens up the folded paper, looking it over from top edge to bottom edge. He spots Sebastian's name up top, alongside the name and address of a swanky celebrity doctor from uptown that Kurt had heard of before on Oprah. Other than those two things, he understands blessed little of what is written on the page in front of him. His eyes flick up to watch Sebastian skim his report, blushing deeper when he remembers that beside his own name on the page is the name and address of Planned Parenthood and not his regular doctor. Sebastian obviously knows the finer points of reading one of these things. His eyes fly over the words on the page, and then his gaze peers past the page to meet Kurt's.

"Here," he says, positioning himself behind Kurt and pointing to the columns and rows. "See all these parts marked 'NEG'? That stands for 'negative'."

Kurt rolls his eyes at his own stupidity. In retrospect, it sounds kind of obvious. Kurt looks back down the page and all he sees is 'NEG' everywhere. Everything is negative...that is to say, Sebastian is disease free.

"Satisfied?" Sebastian asks, switching the reports back.

It seems so clinical, but it is necessary, and Kurt appreciates Sebastian being such a 'safety boy'. The question hangs in the tense air between them, and Kurt doesn't know what comes over him in that second. He smirks, shoving the report back into his pocket and leans closer to his soon-to-be-lover.

"Not yet, I'm not."

Sebastian's expression goes blank, but then he picks up Kurt's innuendo, and his smile returns.

"Well then," he says, taking Kurt's elbow and leading him to a black town car parked at the curb with its motor running, "let's get out of here and get this horse and pony show started, shall we?"