Notes: Written for a Kurtbastian Hummelsmythe brothers AU prompt on GKM, found here: http : / / glee-kink-meme .livejournal. com / 26585. html? thread = 28669913 # t28669913 (remove spaces).

Rating: Eventual NC-17

Summary: He'd only introduced Carole to his father so that he could get closer to Sebastian - it was just a simple crush at first. He didn't expect to become his stepbrother. And he certainly didn't expect to actually fall in love. Kurt/Sebastian and Kurt/Blaine. AU.


The first day back from summer vacation is always daunting. In addition to the regular concerns - is he going to pass his classes? Did his classmates drastically change over the summer? - he worries about exactly what kind of special treatment he'll get as McKinley's token gay kid. The good news is that the first day back is usually the only day they go all-out. The bad news is, he hasn't been caught yet - who knows what the jocks have got planned this year.

On the first day of his freshman year, some of those varsity idiots thought it would be funny to shove his face down a toilet. He can still remember it - the cold, disgusting water rushing all around him, muddling his senses, the harsh echoing laughter the only thing he could make out. He remembers the sensation of drifting, drowning, someone reeling him in and out of that wretched toilet bowl like a pet in a cage.

His sophomore year was worse. First day, right before the late bell for fifth period - he'd rounded the corner just outside of the Foraker building - and a barrage of balloons pelted down on him, bursting open with warm, foul-smelling liquid. He'd shut his eyes and covered his mouth as soon as he recognized the odor - but there were too many of those guys and they'd hit everywhere - his hair, face, clothes, shoes. After a while they stopped, exchanged high-fives and taunted him with enjoy your year, fag, and he was left drenched and miserable. He remembers how humiliated he'd felt then, how he'd gone straight to the locker room, put the shower on full blast and stood under the spray fully clothed, determinedly convincing himself that the water running down his cheeks was not from his tear ducts.

So far he's been lucky today. Three periods have passed and nothing so far - then again, most of the guys who'd pulled that stunt last year were seniors. Kurt only hopes that the guys from the class above him are slightly more forgiving, though he's not foolish enough to think that he's completely off the hook. Instinctively, every time he hears particularly boisterous laughter or spots a letterman down the hall, he ducks within the crowd or hides behind a locker row until the goon passes.

And every single time, he laments the situation a little bit more - this kind of behavior shouldn't have to come naturally to him, yet here he is, biting his lip and waiting for the day to be over. By the time lunch rolls around, he's let his guard down considerably - but unfortunately that just leaves room to be followed around and heckled by the insufferable little Jewish fro creep with the disturbing Rachel Berry fixation.

He's not the only victim either - Jacob's been interviewing several of Kurt's fellow glee clubbers with inappropriate questions and being completely obnoxious about the anti-glee club comments on his blog - and Kurt's patience is wearing thinner and thinner and he cannot deal with with this on top of dreading what the jocks will do today - and he just snaps.

"You know what? It doesn't take much courage for people to park their cottage cheese behinds at a computer and log onto the internet to start tearing people down," he all but snarls into the microphone, the camera zoomed in on his face, "But you know what does take courage? Standing up and singing about something. So I have one thing to say to the readers of your heinous blog: instead of leaving anonymous comments like a coward, next time say what you have to say to my face - "

Then there it is, an instant response thrown - quite literally - in his face.

The freezing, painful sting of ice and syrup hits him, pricking at his pores like sharp, interspersed needles of cold and colder and numbing until his face is almost hot.

"Welcome back, lady!" Azimio jeers, and Karofsky follows up with booming laughter.

Kurt stands there for a minute, somehow both shocked and not at all shocked, his frustration and anger thoroughly dampened by the red mess dripping down his face.

"I don't suppose you could just cut out that last part?" he asks wryly when he's finally able to find his voice, and when Jacob responds in the negative, his remaining dignity instantly melts away, and he gives a final glare to the camera before stalking off to his locker to fetch his spare change of clothes.

He spends a good twenty minutes in the bathroom slipping into a clean outfit and running his stained shirt under the cold water. Is this it? Does this conclude the day's torment? Or is it just the beginning - god, he hopes not. In fact, he's tempted to just up and leave now while everyone's at lunch. There are only two periods left anyway, trig and English, and he can afford to skip the first day of those.

He shuts off the water and leans over the sink, deep in thought. He could leave now...

No - he won't run. Not today.

He sighs heavily, letting the tension escape his shoulders, and turns the water back on.

He won't run today. But god, he's tired of this. Three months of summer vacation per year isn't enough to take the sting off of the insults, the slushies, the constant threat of being beaten up just because of who he is. He wonders what it would be like if he were elsewhere.

Sebastian always says Dalton is like another culture. He's out and accepted there - and actually popular, unless he's lying.

The thought makes Kurt a little envious.

Must be nice.


Surprisingly, he makes it through the rest of the day unscathed, and when he rushes to his car after school and finds no harm done to her either, he collapses against the driver's side and sighs in relief.

Of course, there's no guarantee that the meatheads aren't out here somewhere waiting to give him a dumpster toss, so he doesn't linger and immediately sets off to get as far away from the school as possible.

He stops by the drug store and the grocery to stock up on some essentials and run other miscellaneous errands, and it's close to five o'clock by the time he gets home. Sebastian's car is already parked against the curb.

His future stepbrother - god, that still sounds strange - sits at the island, a thick textbook cracked open in front of him and a notebook on his right side.

"I thought you'd still be at Dalton doing your training or whatever," Kurt says, setting the bags down on the counter.

Sebastian laughs. "You mean pre-season conditioning?"

"Yes, that," he answers defensively, stowing away various items in the fridge. "God, does it really matter what it's called?"

"Not really, it's just funny how un-sportsmanly you are." Sebastian looks up and frowns when he takes in Kurt's oatmeal-colored sweater. "Weren't you wearing a shirt and tie this morning?"

Kurt casts a glance down at the bag containing this morning's clothes, or what he was able to salvage at least. The shirt might need to be bleached. "I'd rather not talk about it."

"Kurt," Sebastian starts, and Kurt hates that tone. It's the 'I know you're not telling me the whole story so just 'fess up before I pry it out of you' tone he uses in some of the Mars group meetings.

It's a double-edged sword. Sebastian definitely has a leader's capabilities and charisma, but he's often far too pushy. It's all with good intention - better out than in, Sebastian always says, but sometimes, like when the drop-ins to the meetings are brought nearly to tears because of what Sebastian's had them admit... Kurt's not too sure if that's the best way to look at it. Right now it's not, at least.

He raises an eyebrow, returning Sebastian's piercing stare with equal fervor. Definitely not now.

"Don't you have studying to do?" He finally breaks the silence, gesturing to Sebastian's book. "You should be focusing on that, not my public school troubles."

"So you did have troubles today. Explain."

Kurt groans and finishes putting the last of the groceries away before taking his stained clothing to the laundry room. The footsteps behind him indicate that Sebastian's following him, and god why isn't he letting this go?

"I don't want to talk about it because it's not a big deal," he insists, loading up the washer with the whites. He throws his shirt in there too. "Really, it's okay."

That's about half-true. It definitely could have been worse. Today was a cakewalk in comparison to freshman and sophomore years as far as first days go.

He just honest to god doesn't feel like discussing this, not after being on edge all day. He's tired.

But Sebastian leans against the doorway, stubborn as ever.

And Kurt sighs. "Really, let's not make this more dramatic than it needs to be. I've been getting slushied since freshman year. I'm used to it."

"That's the point," Sebastian narrows his eyes. "No one should have to get used to that."

"It's a different culture over there," Kurt says after a moment, echoing Sebastian's oft-spoken words back to him. "It's less quid pro quo and more survival of the fittest."

"Hm," Sebastian responds. "So where does that put you on the food chain? Are you the predator or the prey?"

He looks up to meet Sebastian's eyes. They're firm, bold, bright. Almost bossy. The day's tension slowly dissipates at that look, and - oh, that's right.

If being pushy is Sebastian's method for catharsis, then challenging people is his way of cheering them up. It doesn't always work - for most people it's in fact a gateway to more anger - but Kurt Hummel isn't like most people.

He actually finds the effort sweet, in a way.

"None of the above," Kurt answers after a long pause. He laughs a bit, smiling. "I suppose that makes me the sun."


"How's the planning going?"

Kurt looks up to see Sebastian approaching from the foot of the stairs. The coffee table's littered with checklists, spreadsheets of price comparisons, and flyers from various businesses ranging from florists and caterers to photographers and limo services. His laptop browser's open to about eight tabs of invitation designers.

"You look... busy," Sebastian adds, raising an eyebrow, and Kurt laughs.

"Well, I've booked the venue for November 20th. That's always the hardest part, so I like to think of that as progress."

"I still don't know why we all can't just head down to Kewpee for a post-civil ceremony burgerthon and call it a day."

Kurt shoots him a dirty look. "First off, that's disgusting. Second off, that's nowhere near good enough for our parents. Besides, I thought you liked big parties."

"House parties, not weddings," Sebastian answers pointedly, sinking down onto the couch next to Kurt. "I can get smashed and hook up with randoms at house parties."

"Who says you can't do that at weddings too?" He regrets the words as soon as they escape his mouth, and he abruptly turns to stare at the windows on his computer, valiantly fighting off the heat rising to his face.

"Saucy," Sebastian grins lewdly. "You have a confession you'd like to share with the class?"

"Of course not," Kurt mutters, scrolling over several sample photographs on his laptop. He'll have to take a better look at them later - right now he's only feigning distraction to avoid looking Sebastian in the eye, and he probably knows it. "You know I've never - "

"Never messed around with a guy before? Yeah, I know. And I'm not sure why, it's not like you're short on selection at your school. That freakishly tall football player I saw once was kinda cute."

"That's Finn Hudson. Pretty house, but no one's home. And he plays for team straight." Kurt pauses, wondering if he's gone too far with that last bit. He did use that in a previous argument with Sebastian, after all. "Was there a reason you came down here?"

"Yeah, actually. Mom said to get ready. When your dad gets home from work, we're gonna go check out the new house."

"They picked one out already?"

Sebastian shrugs. "They're looking at a place near St. Rita's. It's closer to the tire shop, too. But I don't know if they've signed anything yet."

"Still in McKinley's district?" he asks a bit warily.

"I dunno. Probably."

Oh," Kurt frowns, debating if a change of district would have been a good thing or not. A new school wouldn't have Mercedes or Rachel or any of the glee clubbers, but it also wouldn't have Karofsky.

On the other hand, it could potentially have someone ten times worse than Karofsky, and well - better to be stuck in the hell he's familiar with than the one he isn't.

Then they both hear the creak of the garage door opening upstairs. Kurt stands slowly, ignoring the sudden rush of anxiety fluttering in his stomach. "I guess that's my cue."


The house is like a blank canvas - it's spacious and clean and open to all sorts of possibilities. There are some minor issues - that linoleum in the upstairs bathroom has got to go, same thing with the hideous chartreuse wall paint in the bedrooms, but other than that, it's definitely doable.

It's a little... cold, empty because there's no furniture, no photographs. It's still impersonal.

There are no memories attached here like there are at the old house. He didn't learn how to ride a bike on this street. There were no tea parties with his dad in this yard. He can't hear his six-year-old self practicing Für Elise on the piano in the formal living room. There are no red stains on the wall from when he drew a flower with his mother's lipstick.

No, this house doesn't have any of that. It's nice and it's in a good neighborhood - but he didn't grow up here. It's not home.

The real estate agent steps back into the foyer to take a phone call, and Burt claps Kurt on the shoulder. "So what'ya think, kid?"

His dad looks so thoroughly sold on this house, and Kurt feels a little guilty for dismissing the place for a little nostalgia. "It's nice, Dad. I think... this would be a good fresh start for us."

Burt grins. "Great. Carole's talking to Sebastian, too - and if we're all on the same page, then we're gonna go ahead and put an offer in."

He probably shouldn't be as startled as he is by the mention of Carole and Sebastian. They're part of the family too now - they're equally involved with the decision-making.

And... honestly he hasn't really thought it like that. He's been so preoccupied with the whole wedding aspect of things that he hasn't really let himself think about the marriage of it all. He's thought about the titles and labels that are going to change rather than what those titles and labels entail.

It sinks in as he walks back upstairs to his potential bedroom, pointedly not listening to the mother-son conversation going on down the hall.

They've all tried the living together thing, and that worked out fine - but how will things change once marriage gets thrown in the mix? Carole isn't just his dad's girlfriend anymore - she'll be the closest thing he has to a mother. Will he cook and talk and bond with her just as he did with his birth mother? Will she have just as much power as Burt does for the whole parenting thing?

And Sebastian - he's not just his friend and roommate anymore, he'll be his stepbrother. Will he be obligated to go to his lacrosse games and Warblers performances now? What exactly does it mean to be a brother to someone?

What does it mean to change his family definition from two to four?

He thinks about it, thinks about his dad and what he'd said earlier - we're all on the same page - and hell, maybe these changes have been slipping by without Kurt even noticing.

Like last week, when he'd asked Burt if they could invest in a stand mixer - Burt had paused and asked if it was something Carole could find use for as well.

Kurt didn't think much of it at the time and replied that of course she would use it (it's a baker's best friend after all) - but it's only now that he understands what Burt meant.

Would she find a way to use it - because it would be her investment too, not just Burt's.

The weight of this realization makes Kurt a little dizzy.

What else has he been missing - better yet, what other signs is he supposed to look for? Or what difficulties can he expect?

As it is, there are too many questions, too many uncertainties. He's told himself over and over - this is a good thing. As long as Burt and Carole are happy, nothing else matters. Everything will work itself out no problem.

At least, until he remembers the spring. His confidence quakes when he recalls how jealous he'd been of Sebastian spending time with his father. If something as minimal as that had caused friction, he can only imagine what else might happen - willhappen, knowing his luck.

"You look like you're hurting yourself by doing all that thinking."

A teasing voice jars him out of his thoughts, and he turns to see Sebastian leaning against the doorway. "Don't project your shortcomings onto me," he quips back with an eye roll, turning back around.

"What's up?" Sebastian joins him at the window, fingers swiping up a faint trail of dust from the sill. "I mean, I'm sure that your view of the neighbor's tree here is great, but to stare at it for like, ten minutes? Kinda creepy."

"No creepier than you watching me for those ten minutes," Kurt says dryly. "And I can't help it. The parents getting hitched, moving into a new house - it's a lot to take in."

"I thought you were happy about it."

"I was. I am," he amends quickly.

"There's a 'but' in there somewhere..."

Kurt pauses for a long moment before speaking. "But nothing."

"If it's nothing, then you shouldn't have a problem telling me."

Something about speaking about his hesitations - at least when it comes to this - sets him on edge. As comfortable as he with Sebastian, Kurt's just not quite there with him yet. Maybe in another year or so, when they're all settled in the new house and calling each other by those shiny new labels. Perhaps he'll be more comfortable - and hopefully by then, all of these worries will vanish, and there'll be nothing to discuss in the first place. "It's stupid."

"That's what you say about everything you don't feel like telling me," Sebastian says, and Kurt takes a moment to lament how convenient it is that of all things, Sebastian remembers that particular detail about him. "Try another excuse."

Kurt knows he's being a little ridiculous - Sebastian's going through the exact same situation, so it's not like he's the only one facing these issues. That thought makes him feel marginally better. "I don't know what it's like to have a sibling," he says eventually. "And I've almost forgotten what it's like to have a mother. I just don't know what to expect, that's all."

Sebastian frowns, giving this some thought. "Does it have to be that complicated? Who says things are gonna change?"

"Just think about it - two adults from completely different walks of life get married, each bringing a teenage boy. It's sort of a recipe for conflict, if you ask me."

"Yeah, but how weird can things get? We've all been living together already - the only thing I can see changing around here is the labels we use."

"That's what I thought too, but - " Kurt cuts himself off with a frown, wondering how to word this properly. "My dad's already taken on this... 'we' and 'us' attitude."

Sebastian looks skeptical. "Sorry, you lost me with that one."

Kurt gives a dry laugh, turning to lean back against the wall. "It's hard to explain. Let's see - in the past, when I would talk to my dad about certain things, he'd only take the two of us into consideration. But now he thinks about all four of us."

"Doesn't that come with the territory of living together?"

Kurt shakes his head. "It's different. My dad and your mom were independent of each other even when we were living together in the summer. It's a different type of independence now - as in, they operate as a unit rather than two separate people. And they talk about you and me like we're part of that unit, like - "

"Like an 'us' attitude," Sebastian finishes, and Kurt nods. "Well, is that bad?"

"I don't know," Kurt admits with a resigned sigh. "I wish I did."


"Don't forget - Friday night dinner is six instead of seven tonight. Carole's gotta work the night shift."

Six...? Kurt grimaces. "Sorry, I can't do tonight. Singalong Sound of Music at the Old Royal Theater - it's a once a year event."

"Kurt, those Friday night dinners are like a ritual - we've been doing this for, what? Going on four months? And we did it all the time when your mom was still around. You can't just stop now," Burt turns to face him, a stern expression crossing his features.

As it turns out, that 'we/us' attitude tends to surface at the most inconvenient times. Truthfully, Kurt still struggles to accept the 'us' reality - he'd like to hold on to Burt and Kurt for just a little while longer. "Why are you making me feel guilty about this? I'm a teenager, Friday nights are kind of important to me. And besides, there'll be plenty more opportunities for Friday night dinners."

"This is more than important Kurt, it's sacred," Burt responds, his face softening a bit. "And the point of having something sacred is that it takes priority over anything else you've got going on."

Kurt frowns. "But Singalong Sound of Music is sacred to me."

"You think I don't know that? Wasn't I the one who bought you that Maria bonnet when you were six?" His dad's tone raises a fraction, and Kurt sighs, trying not to let his irritation seep through. It's a futile effort. "Look, if we don't keep doing our Friday night dinners, our lives'll just pass right by each other, and that ain't exactly the best start for a mixed family."

There's that attitude again - ours and we and us - and while it's great that Burt's embracing this situation right away, Kurt's still having a bit of a time just accepting it. Friday night dinners had been Kurt's and Dad's and Mom's thing, and that was sacred. Friday night dinners with Carole and Sebastian - he hadn't realized that there was already a ritual attached to those.

And now they aren't just Friday night dinners with Carole and Sebastian anymore, they're dinners with his new family - and is it a crime for Kurt to want to preserve the memory of his old family's Friday nights? He just can't think of those nights in the context of the four of them when he's spent his life thinking it about in terms of the three of them - and then stopped treating it as a tradition once his mom died. It doesn't seem right to remember her like this.

"Sorry Dad, but I just don't see why I should have to miss out on something I've been looking forward to for just another dinner." It sounds harsh and callous, and Kurt starts to leave before he can say anything he might regret. "Maybe we can do it Thursday or something."

"I gotta tell you Kurt," Burt says, stopping Kurt in his tracks, "I'm real disappointed in you."

The words settle in Kurt's stomach like a two-ton weight, because it's his dad's disappointment - not his sadness, not his anger - that makes Kurt feel like the absolute lowest. But he stands by what he said. Friday nights don't belong to Carole and Sebastian. Not yet.

As he heads off to school, something that feels like remorse blooms just beneath the weight of that disappointment, and Kurt doesn't understand what it means. Vaguely he thinks it might just be unease at how their conversation had ended with the words Kurt hated hearing most - but then he figures, he'll be able to somehow make it up to his dad later.

But he can't.

Not when he's sitting in French class insulting Azimio and Mr. Schue comes to the door to tell him that Burt collapsed at the garage.

Not when he's on the road to the hospital, the back of his eyes burning, his nerves frozen.

Not when he's in that cold room waiting for what seems like hours for any news.

Not now. And - his throat goes arid at the thought - maybe not ever.