Chapter 7: Fun

Kurt walks into the Queen's Legs Tavern. Well, he doesn't walk in, not exactly. He puts every effort into swishing in. Judging by the looks he's getting, his swish is making quite the statement. Just to make sure that his statement is heard loud and clear, Kurt is wearing black PVC sprayed on pants and a turquoise see-through mesh top. The top is too tight and too short, revealing 3 inches of skin above his pants. Kurt takes a seat at the bar and makes a production of crossing his legs. He then proceeds to order the most effeminate sounding drink he can think of.

The bar is dark and dingy. There isn't a woman in the place and the male patrons, most of whom sit glumly staring into their beer, have certainly never heard the term metrosexual. Kurt is quite possibly the only man who has ever entered the bar, not wearing jeans and work boots. Finn would be very happy here, flannel shirts are de rigueur. Drink in hand, Kurt spins on his bar stool, and checks out the crowd. Not many likely looking prospects here tonight; wait….perfect! One man, early 30s, balding, beginnings of a beer belly, is giving Kurt a disgusted look. The diva smiles at him, and waves. The man scowls and looks away. Kurt waits, and the next time the man frowns at him, he blows him a kiss. Mr. Oh-If-Only-Hair-Plugs-Weren't-So-Expensive flushes bright red with embarrassment. Of course, embarrassment turns to anger, and he comes stalking over to Kurt. "Just what the hell do you think you're doing faggot?"

"Why don't you let me buy you a drink?" Kurt touches the other man's arm.

Mr. Beer Belly snarls and pushes Kurt's hand away. "Don't touch me homo."

The diva slips off his stool, and stands too close to the other man. "My name is Kurt, and you are?"

"None of your fucking business! If you don't' get the fuck away from me, I'm going to push your face in."

Kurt leans into the angry man, making sure their bodies graze. "Really? You think you can take me?"

Mr. Beer Belly snorts derisively. "Any day of the week, Nancy."

"Let's see, shall we?" Kurt swishes to the exit, the other man on his heels.

Kurt scans the parking lot; empty. He turns, grabs Mr. Beer Belly by the throat and holds him up against the wall. The man gurgles and kicks his feet in the air. Kurt lowers him slowly, leans into his neck…and feeds.


Oh, Yes! Kurt's definitely a fan of 'snacking 'as opposed to 'ordering in'. He hunts 2 or 3 times a week. He probably doesn't need to, but he's just having so much fun! He doesn't go to the dance clubs, they're way too civilized. He favours seedy bars, the kind where moose heads are the décor of choice. He paints a big gay sign on his back, and then he waits for the inevitable "Hey, Faggot!"

Kurt smiles, and simpers, and generally incites the Neanderthals, until they are just itching to hit him. It usually doesn't take much; apparently Kurt's very existence is enough to make these guys see red. When they get to the violent stage Kurt suggests they step outside… and then, the diva has them for dinner. He's always very careful not to leave a mark on them. Angela taught him well, after all. When he looks into their eyes, he whispers a suggestion that he really hopes will change their lives, or at least, drive them crazy.


Tonight's snack, is a big burly type who, unfortunately, spends too much time on a bar stool and not enough time in the gym. Kurt looks deep into his eyes and whispers, "You Like Cock!" Kurt watches as the man shakes his bleary head, and walks away baffled.

"Having fun?" Angela is suddenly standing next to him.

Kurt laughs. "YES!"

Angela hooks her arm through his and they walk back to her car. "You know, these suggestions you plant will wear off, and they'll be back to their old homophobic selves."

"Yeah, I didn't think it would last forever." Kurt laughs. "But they are going to have some really uncomfortable memories."

Angela stops beside a black Lexus and takes out her car keys. "How are you, Kurt?"

"I'm really very good. Thank you."

"Have you told anyone?"

Kurt nods. "My step-brother knows. He's been pretty good about it."

"Good. You need some people that you can trust with this." Angela hoists herself onto the hood of her car, as comfortable as if she was sitting on the couch in her living room. "I know you're having fun right now, playing mind games with the homophobes but one day you're going to meet someone you like. Someone you're going to want in your life." She taps one of her canines lightly. "I know you think that this will scare everyone away, that you'll never be able to have a relationship or even a lover. But you're wrong. There are people who can love us, love all of us, even the scary bits." She holds her hand up to stop Kurt's certain protest. "When you find that person, there's something you should know. When you feed from one person for a prolonged period of time, their metabolism will sync with yours. They will begin to age more slowly. They will never become one of us. They won't need to feed, but their life-span will parallel our own."

She jumps down from the car, and hugs Kurt. "I won't be around for a while. I'm off to usher in a newbie. If you need me for anything, call the 'order-in' number. They know how to reach me. It was nice meeting you, Kurt. I'm glad you made it through the transition." She walks around her car and opens the door on the driver's side. "Oh, Kurt, one more thing. The sex part is easy; all you have to do is plant a suggestion. It's the caring part that's hard." She waves and drives off.


When Kurt gets home it's late, and the house is quiet. He assumes everyone is asleep so he's surprised to find Finn pacing in his bedroom. "Dude, where were you? I've been waiting forever."

Kurt tosses his keys on his desk, and takes his jacket off. "Were we supposed to do something tonight, Finn?"

"Dude! What are you wearing?"

Kurt looks down at himself, oh, right. "It's a costume for something I'm working on. Forget about it. What's up?"

"I have to talk to you about something."

Kurt sits cross-legged on his bed, his back against the head board. "Talk."

Finn keeps pacing, shooting worried looks at his almost brother, and wringing his hands.

"Finn, sit. You're making me nervous."

"Look, Kurt, don't be mad, O.K.?"

"Oh, this can't be good."

"Puck knows."

"Puck knows?"

Finn taps his canine tooth. "About your teeth, and the blood thing."

"And how does he know about this, Finn?"

"I sort of told him, dude."

"Finn!"

"I couldn't help it. He kept asking me all these questions."

"Like what?"

"He said you were different now. He said you dress different, and you dance different and that Azimo is afraid of you. I'm sorry Kurt, I shouldn't have told him. I don't think he'll tell anyone, though."

Kurt sighs. "Thanks for telling me, Finn. Don't worry about it. Puck isn't going to tell anyone."

As Finn walks up the stairs to his room, he can't help but think that Kurt's voice had sounded a little scary when he said that Puck wasn't going to tell anyone.