"So, what do you think?" Mr. Dixon popped up again at Kurt's side. Kurt wondered if he was beginning to suspect that Rachel was nothing but a ditherer and that he might actually be the better bet for a sale.

"It's exquisite," Kurt said simply. He made to hand the ring back but the old man shook it off.

"Try it on," he insisted. "It'll look wonderful on you."

Kurt shook his head and was surprised to feel himself blushing. "No, it's not . . . it wouldn't be for me." He smiled a little at the jeweler and again tried to hand over the ring.

The man took it reluctantly and set it back in the case on its little velvet pillow. "It would certainly make a very special gift," he smiled knowingly, "for a special man?"

"I don't really think the man in question is quite ready for this kind of gift," Kurt smiled back. And he probably never will be, he added in his head.

The apartment was small but clean, two little bedrooms, a living room, a tiny galley kitchen, and one bathroom, about which Kurt was already making a mental list of rules as he deposited the box that contained his toiletries carefully on the floor.

"What the fuck do you have in here?!" Sebastian gasped, staggering a bit under his load on the way to Kurt's bedroom.

"Why are you carrying my box?" Kurt asked, hurrying after him.

Sebastian dropped the box unceremoniously on Kurt's new four-poster (his graduation present to himself) and, relieved of its weight, reached for the ceiling to stretch the kinks out of his back. "I'm sorry, I didn't know we were being territorial about that. I'll be sure to let your scrawny ass haul all the rest of your heavy stuff up three flights."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Why are you picking a fight with me over who carries whose boxes?"

"Is this long stick thing supposed to bend this way?" Rachel called from the living room.

Sebastian's face went white and he rushed past Kurt to rescue the antique lacrosse stick that had been a graduation present from his grandparents.
For the hundredth time Kurt wondered if this wasn't the worst idea in the history of ideas.

It was all Rachel's fault. Her graduation from NYADA had occurred two months before Kurt's from NYU and since she didn't need to be close to her campus she and Alexander, now engaged for real, wanted a bigger place. They'd found something perfect, but they couldn't afford to move until they sublet their old apartment.

Kurt was still in desperate-studying-for-finals mode; somewhere in the back of his brain he had figured that he'd just go home for summer break and decide what to do from there. It hadn't quite hit him yet that there was no more summer break. That it was all just life from here on out. So when Rachel started pestering him about moving into her apartment Kurt had laughed her off. Yes, it was a pretty little space with some really nice architectural detail, but he couldn't afford it so that was that.

They'd been having dinner out one night near the end of the term; it had been meant to be just the three of them but Sebastian had tagged along, claiming nothing better to do. By that point Kurt had landed an after-graduation job assisting an up-and-coming Off Off Broadway costume designer that would let him keep his own hours and still go on auditions. Sebastian had been accepted to the NYU graduate program in architecture, and Kurt had spent more time than he was willing to admit to himself obsessing over what would happen to their friends-who-fuck arrangement when physical proximity was no longer a factor.

Their entrees had just arrived when Rachel had suddenly squealed and clapped her hands, startling the poor waiter so badly he nearly dropped risotto primavera in her lap. "I've got it!" She'd pointed a finger at Sebastian. "You and Kurt can move in together!"

Kurt and Sebastian had exchanged glances, both panicking just a little bit. They'd been careful to keep their arrangement secret. The last thing Kurt wanted was for his friends to know that he was having (amazing) meaningless sex with anyone, let alone Sebastian Smythe, world's biggest gay player.

But before he could freak out too badly Rachel had continued her monologue, prattling on about how they were friends, almost best friends really, and it made so much sense for them to share the apartment. She had gone on and on, making point after point, never giving Kurt a moment to refute any of them and eventually, to his incalculable surprise, he heard Sebastian's voice chiming in that it wasn't a bad idea, actually.

"You don't have a place to live, I don't want to live on campus, and we know we can get along, right?" His expression was all innocence, except for his eyes which had twinkled at Kurt mischievously as he twirled pasta on his fork.

That had put Kurt in a position where protesting too much would look just as suspicious as appearing too eager.

The thing was, Kurt thought as he plopped down on his bare new bed and listened to the tones of Sebastian's and Rachel's and Alex's voices from the living room, he liked having sex with Sebastian. He loved having sex with Sebastian. And that was not good. Meaningless as he reminded himself over and over that it was, it didn't feel meaningless when Sebastian was stretched out alongside or over or under him, murmuring his name, drawing out the R until it became almost a growl; touching his face with exquisitely gentle hands and looking at him like he was the only person who mattered in the entire world.

Kurt was sure that Sebastian looked that way at everyone he slept with. Sex itself was what was meaningful for Sebastian, so every partner he had, for that couple of hours, was the only person who mattered in the entire world. The problem was that he found himself wanting to look at Sebastian the same way, and they both knew that for him looks like that meant something. So he held back, stayed casual, tried to let himself get lost in the sensations instead of the person creating them. He almost never, when they were naked, called Sebastian by name.

Kurt had insisted right from the beginning that they were both free to see other men. He knew it was inevitable, in Sebastian's case, and he even found, to his surprise, that there were occasions when he himself wanted to take advantage of being able to get off quick and dirty with some stud he'd been grinding with on the dance floor of this or that club. He always told Sebastian when he'd been with someone else - that was another agreement they'd made. Sebastian, unsurprisingly, never bothered to confess his own dalliances but, to his surprise, Kurt found that didn't really bother him. It made them seem insignificant, not worth mentioning, and he made sure they were always scrupulously safe with each other.

So they'd found a kind of equilibrium. And it was good. Perfectly fine, really. And if Kurt sometimes ached with the force of his desire to be more to Sebastian than a best friend and semi-frequent bedmate, well, that was just the price he had to pay. Being with Sebastian was worth it.

But living with Sebastian? Having Sebastian's life and Sebastian's choices staring him in the face every day? Having to listen to what went on behind the closed door of Sebastian's room? God forbid, walking in at the wrong time, unexpected, and seeing . . . It was one thing to know that Sebastian fucked other guys, quite another to find it happening in his own apartment.

And yet, here he was. Hauling boxes up from a rented van. Planning how Sebastian's things and his could coexist in the medicine cabinet. Wondering if Sebastian would be louder when they fucked tonight, since Kurt didn't have to worry any more about setting an example as the R.A.

Kurt sighed and scanned the bare walls of his room. This wasn't an apartment. It was a trap. A trap that he knew there was nothing he could do to avoid. No matter what, it seemed, he was screwed. He was simultaneously too close to Sebastian and not close enough. Eventually he was going to make some big, dramatic mistake and that would be it.

He was still feeling very unsettled and pinched inside when he finally made his appearance back in the living room. Rachel was in one corner yammering on the phone, Alex was in another rummaging through the mini-cooler of beer he'd brought along. Sebastian was just coming in from the stairwell, another huge box in his arms. "Last one!" he huffed as he hip-checked the door closed. The sight of his muscles flexing with effort did nothing to improve Kurt's mood.

"Rachel's ordering pizza," Alex said, popping open a bottle and handing it to Kurt.

"I'll take one of those if you don't mind." Sebastian dropped the box on the kitchen counter and it clattered alarmingly.

"Christ, could you be more careful?" Kurt said sharply.

Sebastian shrugged and neatly caught the bottle of beer Alex tossed at him. "Relax. I'm sure your precious knick-knacks are fine."

"I told you not to carry my boxes!" Kurt rushed to tear the tape off the box and pull it open, but Sebastian shouldered him aside.

"I was kidding, your highness. It's the kitchenware my mom sent." He gave the box an emphatic, rattling shake. "All metal and wood. Perfectly safe."

Kurt glared at him. "So that's funny to you? Pretending you broke my stuff?"

Sebastian's beer bottle hit the counter with a thud. "Okay, would you care to explain what's got your panties in such a twist today, or are we just supposed to guess?"

Rachel had hung up the phone and Kurt glanced at her just in time to catch her exchanging a puzzled look with Alex. Which just pissed him off more. He turned back to Sebastian and he knew he was overreacting, but he couldn't seem to help himself.

"You really want to do this now?" he asked through clenched teeth. "In front of my friends?"

Sebastian looked stunned, like he was utterly clueless, which only seemed to feed the flames of Kurt's indignation. "I'm being perfectly nice to ourfriends. You're the one acting like a prissy bitch. "

"Oh, yes, by all means call me a girl. Because that never gets old."

"Kurt . . ." Rachel began, but Sebastian interrupted her.

"I don't know what bug crawled up your ass, but hey, if you want to act like a bitch don't expect me not to call you on it!"

"So am I just too insignificant for you come up with a more creative insult?" he sneered. "Because I'm pretty sure my dick has been in your mouth enough times that even you must have managed to realize that I'm a boy."

Well that was one way to spring a trap.

"What the fuck, Kurt?!" Sebastian stared at him like he'd never seen him before.

Kurt pulled his face into an exaggerated mask surprise. "Oops, I guess that cat's out of the bag." He turned his back on Sebastian. "Yes," he told Alex and a very stunned-looking Rachel, who both appeared to be trying to disappear into the woodwork, "we fuck. We're friends who fuck. Roommates who fuck, now, I guess, although I wouldn't bet on that being true by this time tomorrow."

"Kurt, for Christ's sake . . ." Sebastian sounded as stunned as he'd looked when Kurt outed them.

"Because, you know, Sebastian doesn't do meaningful," he told Alex, who looked like he'd rather be anywhere but here. "Sebastian can fuck, God knows, he can fuck, but really, he has the emotional depth of a doorknob. This roommate thing has got to be some big fucking joke, right? But I can't figure out the punch line."

"Kurt," Sebastian's voice was quiet this time, strained, unnatural.

"I knew it. I knew this was a mistake." Kurt couldn't turn around, couldn't bear to face Sebastian, so he spoke Rachel instead. "What the hell am I supposed to do now?"

Pressure was breaking in Kurt's chest, and he knew tears wouldn't be far behind. He wanted Sebastian to say something, anything, willed him to at least try to fix this somehow, but the only sound in the room was his own harsh breathing. Finally, Rachel reached out a tentative hand and said his name. That was the final straw. "Don't," he choked and ran for the relative safety of his room, slamming the door emphatically in his wake.

Tears came then, but he didn't make a sound. He'd long ago perfected the art of silent crying. He could hear quiet voices murmuring in the other room but no actual words. Eventually the front door opened and closed and all was still. He had no idea if Sebastian was still in the apartment or not.

Well, at least that settled it. Kurt scrubbed at his face and pulled the tape off the box labeled "Bedding - Kurt." He wrapped himself up in his soft purple throw and snagged a pillow to cuddle up with on the bare mattress. It was better this way, he told himself. Make a clean break and then maybe, after he apologized for being a jerk and after some time passed, at least he and Sebastian could go back to being friends.

That thought made him start crying again.

Faintly, far away, he heard a cabinet door open and shut. It made him feel better to know that he wasn't alone.

He must have slept, because the light had changed dramatically when he opened his eyes. Sun was slanting through his window at a low angle. He was twisted up in the throw and had just started to unwrap himself when the sound he realized had woken him broke the silence again. Three soft, tentative raps on his door.

"What?" he asked. He hoped Sebastian would attribute the hoarseness of his voice to sleep and not his crying jag.

The knob turned and the door cracked open just a bit, then wider. But instead of Sebastian Kurt found himself face-to-face with a huge brown teddy bear.

"Is that supposed to be for me?" he asked when Sebastian didn't speak.

"Absolutely not," Sebastian said from behind the safety of the door. "Aloysius is mine. He volunteered to go first in case you threw something."

It was so unexpected that Kurt smiled. It was a weak smile, but a smile just the same. "Why do you have a teddy bear named Aloysius?"

The bear moved lower and Sebastian's face appeared above it in the doorway. Kurt could see tension in his eyes, but he was smiling too. "My sister gave him to me as a coming out present."

"You told your sister you were gay so she bought you a teddy bear? And named him Aloysius?"

"That's just how she is." Sebastian must have decided the coast was now clear, because the door pushed further open and he leaned against the jamb, carefully casual, but still holding the bear in front of him like a shield.

"I think I'd like her," Kurt said quietly.

"You would. You kind of remind me of her. And that's not a crack about your gender," Sebastian said. "You're a lot alike, that's all. She doesn't take my shit either; and she never lets me charm her into doing anything she doesn't want to do."

Sebastian pushed away from the door and took a few tentative steps into the room. Kurt sat still on the bed, clutching his blanket and waiting.

"Look, Kurt if I . . ."

"You didn't . . ."

"No, let me finish," Sebastian insisted. "It's just, that's what we do, Kurt. I call you a girl and you call me a slut. It's always been like that. But I never meant . . . I mean, obviously you're . . ."

"I'm sorry," Kurt couldn't stand listening to Sebastian try to fumble his way around an apology when he hadn't actually done anything wrong. "It wasn't your fault. I guess I wasn't sure what all this meant. This roommate thing. So I kind of freaked out."

"You definitely freaked Alex out. I don't think he's ever going to get over the imagine of your dick in my mouth." Sebastian moved all the way to the bed but he didn't sit. He wrapped a hand around one post and looked at Kurt with inscrutable green eyes.

Kurt just waited. Waited for the final word, Sebastian's confirmation that this had all gone further than he'd ever intended. That it was all over now.

"So Aloysius has a question . . ."

Kurt's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Aloysius?"

"He wants to know if I'm going to be sleeping with him. Because he hates sleeping with me. I'm apparently an insufferable blanket hog."

Kurt waited, stunned, unsure where this was going.

"And I was kind of wondering too, because I sort of bought the cheapest mattress I could find and it's pretty uncomfortable."

"Why did you buy it if it's uncomfortable?" Kurt asked.

For the first time since he'd come into the room Sebastian looked away from Kurt's face. His eyes drifted across to the window and rested there, and the light from the setting sun illuminated the sharp planes of his face, softened them, made him look more angelic than anyone like Sebastian had a right to look.

"I guess I just thought that I'd be sleeping in here," he looked back and met Kurt's gaze again, "with you. On those 800-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets I got you for your birthday."

Something like hope began to blossom in Kurt's chest. "They are beautiful sheets," was all he dared to say.

Sebastian moved forward just a little and sat on the end of the bed, his back resting against the post he'd been holding, one long leg curling up to rest on the bed so close to Kurt's own. "I guess I thought my room was just for show. And for Rachel to sleep in whenever she and Alex have a knock-down drag-out."

Kurt tried very hard to take a deep breath but he couldn't quite manage it. He wanted to ask a thousand questions, about what this meant, what Sebastian was trying to tell him, if things were changing in the way it sounded like they were changing. But in the last of the dying light Kurt could see a kind of wariness in Sebastian's expression that warned him away from probing too deeply.

And maybe that was how this worked. They'd agreed in the beginning: no declarations, no gestures. He had to ask himself, Kurt thought, whether he wanted Sebastian enough to let things go unsaid, let questions go unanswered. To just accept Sebastian's actions and not ask for words. Was having Sebastian for now enough to live with that kind of uncertainty?

He asked himself, and he found that the answer was yes.

"Well, I'd hate to put Aloysius out," he smiled tentatively, "considering we've just met. God knows it's no picnic sharing a bed with you."

Sebastian grinned and for the first time since he'd come into the room he relaxed, leaning back into the bedpost behind him with his usual studied slouch. "Yeah, but I give such nice blow jobs to make up for it." And he actually preened a little, which made Kurt laugh out loud. "Now where are those sheets? I've been waiting since May to find out what's so special about them."

Kurt pointed out the correct box and Sebastian hopped up and started ripping off tape. He knew he should help but instead he stared, stared at Sebastian, Sebastian who he was apparently going to go to sleep with every night, wake up with every morning.

No declarations. But there was one thing Kurt needed to do. He could accept that their relationship might never have a conventional definition, but he couldn't hide his feelings. He couldn't be on guard all the time.

"Sebastian?"

Sebastian stood up, the package of sheets in his hand. "Yeah?"

He got up then, slowly crossed the room, and for the first time, ever, let his mask down and just looked at Sebastian. Looked the way Sebastian had always looked at him (and everyone else he had sex with, Kurt reminded himself). Like Sebastian was the only person who mattered in the entire world.

And Sebastian looked back.