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SAY, CAN I TEMPT YOU?

chapter nine

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32

INT. CLARINGTON TOWNHOUSE HUNTER'S BEDROOM day

He purposely allows his fingers to brush Jesse's when he hands him the drink, the touch featherlight but present nonetheless, a gentle nudge in a very interesting direction. He's noticed Jesse's wandering eyes, not just checking out Rachel's curves but other girls, and more notably, other guys.

Jesse's nervous and fidgety, avoiding his eyes as best as he can. He decided a while ago that Jesse was a little naive, how else had he convinced him he kept the alcohol in his bedroom, but the quality is strangely endearing to him. All this time on the big stage, Hollywood, and somehow Jesse had managed to retain an almost schoolboy naivety about the world at large.

There must be more to Jesse than meets the eye.

"I really appreciate what you're doing for me and Rachel," Jesse says, palming a glass of scotch.

He raises an eyebrow. "But?"

Jesse chuckles. "No but."

But he knows what Jesse's implying. It's flattering that he should choose to spare his feelings.

"Cassie or Brody used some choice words."

"They were wrong," Jesse jumps to his defense. "You're a good—"

His eyes narrow on Jesse's face. Why the hesitation?

He draws a step closer, close enough to make Jesse even more uncomfortable, but this time Jesse looks up at him, and doesn't release his eyes.

"Friend?"

Jesse's eyes draw down to his lips. "Rachel said—"

He's not used to other people making the first move, usually he's the one to make an insinuation or flirt, but Jesse's putting himself out there for him—no, Jesse St. James isn't nearly as saintly as his name suggests.

He puts his glass down on the dresser, takes a deep breath. "That was said in confidence."

Jesse blinks, sad over the accusation. "I won't tell anyone."

He shouldn't have trusted Rachel with one of his secrets, he realized that too late, but somehow it's tempted Jesse closer so he'll allow her the transgression. Jesse isn't unattractive, a little too close to home maybe, but the thought of sneaking around under his father's nose, under Cassie's nose, now that's exciting.

"Are you two getting serious?" he asks, tries to throw Jesse off to gauge his response. He doesn't want to be the guy who jumps to conclusions or appear paranoid, but he has to make sure Jesse isn't trying to get him to compromise himself. He keeps his secrets and he keeps them well, and he has very good reasons for it.

Jesse shrugs. "I really like her," he says, placing his drink untouched next to his, hand flat on the dresser.

"But?"

Jesse hesitates at first, determined but cautious as his eyes zoom in on his lips again and he leans in. He shoots forward, impatience drawing him closer, mouth crashing against Jesse's, his hands on Jesse's face. That same impatience seems to inform Jesse because there's no more hesitation, just Jesse opening his mouth for him, tongue settling against his, sucking at his lips. He takes complete control of the kiss, exactly the way he likes it, and Jesse lets him.

He pushes Jesse back against the dresser, foot kicking his legs apart so he can settle one of his between them. Jesse moans into his mouth, clutching at his back, pulling his shirt from his pants to feel his skin. His hands roam under Jesse's shirt, skin smooth underneath his fingertips, and a deeper instinct takes over. He pushes his groin up against Jesse's. This part of him doesn't care if he's discovered, this part wants to be like Sebastian and fuck whoever the hell he wants to, something that's dangerous for him to give power to, but sometimes he lets it.

Unfortunately before he's able to let it there's a subtle knock at the door, so subtle that he knows Sebastian's gloating without needing to see him. Frustration rips through him, breathing heavy and part of him wants to say 'fuck it' and get on with what he's doing.

But he tries to get a grip; he's never been caught by anyone before and he doesn't want to grant Sebastian the satisfaction.

Jesse pulls back. "What—"

"It's just Sebastian," he says, tugging his shirt back in place. "Come in!"

The door swings open and in walks Sebastian, a happy trip to his step, but even he can't hide the look of surprise in his face when he lays eyes on Jesse.

Sebastian grins. "Mr St James."

Jesse looks at him, eyes wide, guilt and confusion riddled all over his face. "I—should go," Jesse stutters, and he's so incredibly tempted to call out "Call me", but for Jesse's sake he holds it back. Jesse's entirely too close to home, but he likes the challenge it could pose. He's too horny to think straight.

"Jesse, brother?" Sebastian asks when Jesse's well out of earshot and probably on his way downstairs.

"You don't get to have all the fun," he answers playfully, and a happy smile crosses Sebastian's lips. His lip curls in disgust once he's reminded that Sebastian's fun had been plucking Blaine's cherry. "You're in a good mood."

A slow grin spreads across Sebastian's features. "I am."

"You didn't."

Sebastian doesn't answer, he doesn't really need to. He'd seen enough of their goodbye this morning to deduce what happened last night. It seems he'd underestimated his brother after all, he never thought he'd get Blaine to break his vow. It's both exciting and scary, the thought that he'll be at Sebastian's mercy sometime soon. Why had he made this bet? He's a strange mixture of proud and defeated and this sense of not being in control makes him very uneasy.

He takes a step toward Sebastian. "And did the blushing virgin rock your world, brother?"

"He— Yeah," Sebastian says, scratching the back of his head. "It was a whole new experience for us both."

Sebastian turns pensive, dreamy almost, and he doesn't like it one bit; he's losing Sebastian, has been for a while now, but he'll be damned if he lets him get away easily.

He draws another step closer, eyes Sebastian's crotch, pushes tight into his personal space. "I assume you've come to make arrangements."

He wouldn't mind if Sebastian decided to fuck him right here and now, his make-out session with Jesse had made him horny and it'd been far too long since he'd been intimate with someone. Sebastian would only take something physical, it's never about feelings for Sebastian—that's exactly what he needs, a good fuck, Sebastian's cock up his ass making him shiver, the sound of skin slapping against skin, teeth and mouths and tongues. Something completely uncomplicated.

"Some other time," Sebastian says still miles away.

He blinks. "Excuse me?"

Sebastian looks up, brings his face into focus. "I'm not in the mood."

This can't be happening, he thinks, he's too horny for any of Sebastian's usual jokes, but this seems worse: Sebastian has actually developed feelings for Blaine and it comes at the most inconvenient time. No one rejects Hunter Clarington, especially not someone who's been fantasizing about this for years.

He closes the distance between their bodies, easing Sebastian back against his bedroom door, hand reaching down to palm at his cock.

"I. want. to. fuck," he enunciates, hoping he makes it clear that he won't take no for an answer. This was his idea, yes, but only because he knew Sebastian would be unable to resist. Now that Sebastian's won their bet he'll be damned if he's passed up for a boy who was a virgin up until last night.

But Sebastian raises an eyebrow as if he's surprised by his sudden insistence, and eases him back by pushing at his shoulders.

"And. I. don't," Sebastian says.

His hand leaves Sebastian's crotch, having achieved little to nothing except turn himself on more. He doesn't move an inch, balls his hands into fists by his sides, not relinquishing an inch of space between them.

And then Sebastian huffs a laugh.

Sebastian laughs, right to his face and anger races through him like lightning, all but eviscerating his lust.

He will not be passed up for another goody-two-shoes like Brody Weston, someone who got things easy while he worked his ass off every single day to please a world that would jettison him without another thought should anyone find out he's gay.

"Good afternoon, brother," Sebastian says with that same dumbass smile on his face, and leaves the room.

His blood runs cold. Rejected for Blaine Anderson, rejected by a brother who toyed with the world at large and somehow always landed safely back on his feet. He won't let Sebastian have this, love, with little to no effort. Sebastian never deserved Blaine, and Blaine sure as hell won't be keeping him.

No, this is war.

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33

INT. CLARINGTON ESTATE – SEBASTIAN'S OFFICE – day

He's still high on it, his time with Blaine, the kissing and touching and the loving whispers. It's like Blaine's seeded himself everywhere in his skin, crawling and tingling, it's new and exciting and he can't wait to learn it all: all the ways to love Blaine, make him smile and giggle, tell him how disarming he really is, get him to make those noises he made last night all over again in different ways.

And for the first time ever, he's curious what Blaine could do to him, what could happen if Blaine was in control, if he topped, if Blaine was the one fingering his ass and making him beg.

"I thought we could head to Callbacks?" he asks Blaine over the phone.

"Sounds great," Blaine says; his voice sounds equally giddy and excited to spend more time together.

He's being a sap; they haven't known each other for that long and anyone who ever told him 'you'll know when it's right' in relation to his love life had always been met with a pointed laugh and a snide comment. He never had a love life, he had a sex life, and while there was definitely always a moment where he knew he'd met his latest conquest, he doubts that's what people had in mind.

Now he thinks maybe those people knew exactly what they were talking about.

"Text me the address, I'll pick you up at six."

"Perfect," Blaine says. "I love you."

He smiles, but he's decided that when he says it back it'll be face-to-face.

"See you soon, killer," he says, and ends the call.

"My God," Hunter's voice sounds from the doorway. "You're completely whipped."

He scoffs. "No, I'm not."

He hasn't forgotten Hunter's little tryst with Jesse this morning, nor has he been able to put Hunter coming on to him from his mind. In any other situation he would have, he'd have taken Hunter up on his offer, stripped him naked and kissed him senseless, he'd have licked every part of his body until it pulsed with anger and frustration, only to keep at that until Hunter begged for it.

If it weren't for Blaine he would've fucked Hunter over his desk and enjoyed every single second of it. He wasn't whipped, but Blaine had become the sole object of his affection. His mood had nothing to do with it; he hadn't wanted Hunter because he only wanted Blaine.

Hunter shakes his head, not a hint of humor in his face. "What happened to us?"

"Nothing's changed," he says, but realizes all too well everything's changed. He's opened himself up to something new, something he'd always stubbornly ignored because of the people in his life: his dad divorced and hopelessly alone; his mother divorced three times, now caught in one adulterous affair after the other; his stepfather heartbroken after losing his first wife, but now loses himself in other women and alcohol whenever he takes a break from work.

Why would he give love a chance when all it seemed to cause was misery?

Yet now here he is, very much in love with Blaine, or something close to it, and everything's different. The past doesn't matter anymore, other people even less, and all that truly matters is the beautiful senator's son who'd somehow slipped his way inside his heart without him noticing.

"You're in love with him," Hunter's voice sounds eerily resentful. "Everything's changed."

"It was just a bet."

Hunter walks over to him again and reaches for his face this time. Before he knows what's happening Hunter's mouth is claiming his and he hates how his first instinct is to give in, settle against the hot body throwing itself at him, kiss back with the same verve. He surrenders just a little, Hunter's tongue sliding slowly against his, lips sucking at his, the kiss wet and sloppy and slowing down for some reason, and his head spins; Hunter's not usually one to take things slow.

But Hunter's mouth isn't Blaine's, Hunter's body isn't Blaine's, they don't feel or smell or move the same. There's an edge to Hunter's kiss that's angry, possessive, distrusting.

He pushes Hunter back.

"This is ridiculous," he breathes and tries to laugh, but this whole thing weighs heavy on his chest—he's never been in love, he's not sure if this is what it's supposed to feel like, dizzying in a good way but slightly nauseating too.

"What's ridiculous, dear brother, is you," Hunter says, like he's the little devil that's been whispering in his ear all along. He's not without his insecurities about this. "Look at yourself. Look at what you've been reduced to."

Hunter got hurt once, long before they became brothers. He never talks about it, but sometimes he'll catch Hunter in these small private moments and the hurt shows through, the actual person in Hunter shows. He'd always been convinced that if someone like Hunter could get hurt, someone so unlikely to open up to another person, he would be best to stay away from it too.

But he won't get hurt, that won't happen to him. Blaine loves him too.

"Have you given any thought to what would happen if this goes public?" Hunter asks, and it touches a nerve more sensitive than he thought. He hadn't thought about it, there hadn't been any time yet, but now that the question is out there he can't help but wonder: would he care what the world thought about him should he start a real relationship with Blaine?

"Don't tell me it hasn't crossed your mind," Hunter continues, keeps his distance for good reason; he's about ready to punch his brother's lights out. He doesn't want to hear any of this. But the more Hunter's words sink in the more questions rise.

What would people think? What would people say once they found out a senator's son was dating someone who's only ever been attached to scandal?

"Blaine introduces you to daddy, which you know he will, and all your dirty laundry comes out," Hunter says. "How long do you think it would take his security staff to find the twins? Cooper? Dr. Del Monico? It's a pretty extensive list."

Hunter digs around in his pocket and pulls out his cell phone. "Actually, why don't I give the senator a call to save him the trouble."

"Put the phone down," he says, even though he suspects Hunter's bluffing.

But he can't take that chance.

What if Blaine's father finds out about his reputation? Or worse, what if Blaine found out about all the people he's been with, everyone he's ever manipulated into bed with him, including one of his closest friends, Rachel? Would Blaine ever look at him the same way?

Hunter raises a finger to shut him up. "Shh, this'll only take a second."

He shoots forward and rips Hunter's cell phone from his hands. His body shakes with anger, but even more so with doubt. Blaine already felt insecure about his past, didn't want to be one in a long line of sexual conquests. But surely Blaine will realize that he can only change his here and now, their future, but not his past.

Hunter doesn't bother reclaiming his phone. "Quite the predicament you're in."

Hunter's words settle in his skin. Why is he doing this? All because he rejected him?

"Doesn't matter." He shrugs, aware that he's losing his footing; bluffing right now would be a mistake. "I'm going to tell him everything."

"Oh, that's right. I forgot." Hunter smiles. "You're in love now."

He is in love. And Blaine's in love. Should his past matter?

"Do you honestly believe you've done a complete 180 in the week and a half you've known him?" Hunter asks, leaning back against his desk. "People don't change overnight, Sebastian. You and I are two of a kind."

Hunter chooses a curious time to remember that, now that their relationship threatens to fall apart. If this conversation's achieving one thing it's making sure he never lets Blaine anywhere near Hunter. But he knows deep down it's achieving a lot more, because Hunter's right, he's only known Blaine for a short time and Blaine knows nothing about him.

"At least I don't lie to myself about it."

He doesn't know what to say, so he lets Hunter talk, lets his own brother tear him down to the ground and stomp all over him.

"You were right last week: he could've been your greatest victory," Hunter says. "Now all people will see is a senator's son, shamed, because the little gay boy couldn't keep his dick in check. He'll be a laughing stock."

"You don't know that."

"I know it'll never work," Hunter says. "Deep down you know that too. We're not cut out for love, Sebastian."

His eyes lock on Hunter's face tightly. Hunter's gone too far this time.

Hunter strikes his final blow: "You'll only end up breaking his heart."

He turns on his heels and heads for his room, slamming the door shut behind him. He's breathing hard, his heart beating a million miles an hour.

Hunter's right. He's no good for Blaine. He doesn't know what love is, but Hunter does, he knows what love can do to a person—it only gets them hurt.

And how is that fair to Blaine? How can he pretend to be someone he's not because he thinks he's in love? Maybe he's not in love at all, maybe he feels this way because Blaine really had been his greatest challenge and his greatest victory.

Maybe he'll get bored of him to.

He can't do that to Blaine.

Blaine deserves someone who's sure, someone with a clean past and a clear idea of what he wants, someone who knows intimacy and isn't insecure about giving it, someone who has his life together. Not him, someone who's been playing at life, poking at it for fun.

He can't ruin Blaine's reputation, potentially uproot his relationship with his parents, just because he thinks he's in love.

No, he has to let Blaine go before he can ruin him.

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34

INT. COHEN-CHANG APARTMENT – day

His skin tingles all over, the memories of Sebastian's touches still palpable, the kisses and new sensations. He needs to feel that again, he needs to know if it feels that way for Sebastian too. His stomach's crawling with butterflies and part of him feels silly, because he's acting like a schoolboy with a crush, only his crush has the same feelings and it's more than he can handle.

Tina keeps sneaking him glances and giggles every time she catches him lost in thought; she told him it was the same for her when she started dating Mike and it only puts his relationship with Kurt in stark contrast with what he has now. Everything feels exciting now, the thought of seeing Sebastian, talking to him, going out with him on a real date.

He all but runs for the door when he hears the doorbell ring, tries to compose himself before opening the door. He takes a deep breath, opens the door, immediately searching for Sebastian's eyes, his stomach doing backflips.

"Hi," Sebastian says, a little lackluster, but he's too preoccupied taking in the sight in front of him to notice. Sebastian's wearing a brown suede jacket over a simple white V-neck tee combined with dark jeans. It's mostly his heart feeling rather than his eyes seeing, but Sebastian looks breathtaking.

"Hey, you're early," he says in a rush, too eager to be close to Sebastian again. He takes a step closer and reaches for Sebastian's face, Sebastian already leaning down to meet him halfway. Their lips touch, his arms reaching up around Sebastian's neck, Sebastian pulling him into a tight embrace that turns almost desperate. He melts into the kiss, moans into Sebastian's mouth, forgetting where he is again.

Until someone clears their throat down the hallway. Tina.

He releases Sebastian's lips, breathing hard, a desire pulling at him he recognizes from last night; it settles tight in his stomach and makes his toes curl.

"Come in," he says, pulling at Sebastian's hand. "I'll give you the tour."

Of course the tour doesn't take that long at all. Mike's father had money, but he'd never accepted much of that money outside his college tuition. Both Mike and Tina worked jobs to pay for life in the city and the rent they split three ways. So there's the living room with adjacent kitchen, a bathroom that despite everything is pretty big for an apartment this size, and Mike and Tina's bedroom.

"And this is my room," he concludes as he closes the door behind him. It's not really his room, it's Matt's room, but he wants a private moment alone with Sebastian where Mike or Tina can't spy on them. He reaches both hands around Sebastian's wrists, lacing their fingers together palm to palm.

"Do you think we can be quiet?" he whispers, wondering if they would get away with some fooling around on the bed. He'd gone out earlier today and bought a box of condoms, in case they decided to come back here later. He'd been scared out of his mind that he'd run into someone he knew, a friend from school or a teacher, but he'd felt strangely excited too. In the end it turned out there was very little to worry about- the cashier swooped the box past the scanner and he paid, and that was that.

He raises himself on his toes, reaching for Sebastian's lips.

Sebastian pulls back. "This isn't working for me anymore," he says, his voice lacking conviction.

He chuckles. "Yeah, me neither," he teases back and presses a kiss to Sebastian's lips.

Sebastian doesn't reciprocate, his body goes tense and he takes a deep breath. He pulls back and looks at Sebastian, ready to flirt his way through whatever silly game Sebastian is playing, but when he meets Sebastian's eyes he can tell he's not joking.

"What's wrong?"

"It's not you, it's me," Sebastian says solemnly, avoiding his eyes. "I'm completely fucked up."

Panic shoots through his entire body. What is this?

"Sebastian, you're—" He pulls back his hands. "You're not being funny."

Sebastian draws in another deep breath.

"I'm not trying to be," he says, takes a few steps back. His lips move, but there's no sound at first, until he turns his back on him.

"I thought I was in love with you. But it was just a lie. I wanted it to work, but I don't feel anything. I wanted to know what you were like in bed."

Every word is an ice-cold stab to his heart, an avalanche hitting every doubt and insecurity along the way. Why is Sebastian doing this? They're—they're in love. He knows that. Sebastian knows that.

"You don't mean that," he says, locked in place right where he stands. He can't feel his own body, only his heart, beating faster and faster, caving in at the center of him.

"You don't know me, Blaine."

Sebastian pokes at his biggest insecurity. He's right, he doesn't know anything about Sebastian because he didn't like talking about himself. But he has wondered about so many things, Sebastian's family, his past... his past lovers. But he was different, they were different, he wasn't just another guy in a long string of conquests before him.

"You don't know anything," Sebastian says, turns around and faces him again, visibly shaking. "You're a scared little boy who played—who played hard to get."

Sebastian swallows hard, eyes filling up with tears.

He can't take his eyes off Sebastian, his breathing stunted.

"Truth is there is someone I love," Sebastian says. "You don't even compare to him."

"I don't believe you," he speaks through gritted teeth, holding back tears, shaking too, body queasy with hurt.

"I don't know how to make this any clearer to you."

Sebastian looks him straight in the eyes.

"You mean nothing to me," he insists, while tears roll down his cheeks. "You were just—just a conquest."

"How can you even say that to me?!" he says, heart jackhammering in his chest, his stomach knotting like someone punched him in the gut.

Sebastian can't be serious, he can't mean this, he's shaking where he stands right there in front of him, tears streaming down his face. He knows what it's like to cry silent tears, to be powerless against your own grief, it's when you can't stop because it's too much to handle. Why is Sebastian cutting him down like this? What happened between this morning and now to cause this? Who talked all this nonsense into his head?

The sight of Sebastian breaks his heart.

"You're a coward," he spits. "Look at yourself, you're shaking!"

"I'm sorry," Sebastian breathes. "I'm completely..."

"Yeah, you're completely fucked up!" he shouts, heartbreak hitting him hard, tears escaping his eyes and a crushing weight down on his chest. Sebastian was right about so many things, he's a hypocrite in so many ways, but for good reason. He didn't see love standing right in front of him because he didn't want to get hurt.

"You knew this was important to me," he says breathlessly.

"What, your virginity?" Sebastian asks, takes a deep breath. "Not really an issue anymore."

The indifference is what does it, the clear calm in Sebastian's voice despite the tears that stream down his face, the insignificance Sebastian chooses to treat his virginity with, that perfect moment of intimacy they shared, that loving moment. Shelby had been wrong about Sebastian, but Sebastian's doing everything in his power to prove her right.

And he lets him.

"Get out," he chokes out.

He can't stand to look at Sebastian another second longer, can't stand the memories the sight of him brings back, the thought of what his hands did to him last night, such amazing things. All destroyed now. And why?

Sebastian takes a step closer and reaches out a hand, and he wants to take it, he wants Sebastian to break down alongside him and tell him that someone made him do this, that this is his biggest insecurity getting to best of him again like that night Sebastian rejected him. Maybe it was all a mistake, maybe Sebastian just needed to see his own worth.

But he can't, even though Sebastian looks as heartbroken as he feels, he can't let Sebastian get away with this. There are other ways to deal with insecurities.

He won't stand for this.

"Don't—"

He bats at Sebastian's hand, but Sebastian reaches around one of his wrists.

"Don't touch me!"

He tries to pull free but Sebastian grabs an even tighter hold.

"Don't fucking touch me, Sebastian!"

He pulls one last time, his other hand thrusting out on autopilot. He pushes at Sebastian's shoulder and Sebastian loses his balance, staggering a step back before tripping and falling to the ground.

The fall eviscerates any sound in the room, safe for Sebastian's labored breathing. Sebastian looks utterly broken, lost, everything he's feeling and more, and he doesn't get it. Why would Sebastian do this to them?

"I'm s—" Sebastian breathes, but the word doesn't quite make it out.

He draws in a shaky breath. "Just leave."

Sebastian staggers up from the ground with some difficulty, struggling to find his balance again once he's standing. He looks at Sebastian, but Sebastian doesn't look at him—he balls his hands into fists, fingernails digging into the palms of his hands, but he refuses to break down in front of him. Sebastian lingers for another few seconds, breathing in short stunted breaths, but leaves the room eventually.

He holds his breath, listens, until he hears the front door closing.

And then it explodes inside him.

He reaches a hand back for the bed, but his knees give out sooner than he thought and he tumbles to the ground, landing on his hip hard. A crushing weight presses down on his chest and he has trouble breathing, choking on his sobs, tears running down his face.

"Blaine?" Tina's voice, a knock on the door.

He buries his face in his hands and cries out, lets it all go, pulls his knees up to his chest and tries to make himself as small as possible, hoping the ground will open up beneath him and swallow him whole—it would be a mercy.

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35

INT. CLARINGTON TOWNHOUSE HUNTER'S BEDROOM day

He struggles the entire car drive home, lines of tears running down his cheeks beyond his control, his heart working overtime, something sitting heavy on his chest making it hard for him to breathe. He tries to breathe around it, through it, but it's nestled itself cozily around his heart, pulling him down.

He runs a hand over his face, wiping at his tears, but it's no use: they keep falling. He's a despicable human being, he just devastated one of the kindest people he's ever met, someone who'd given him the benefit of the doubt and saw something in him worth loving. He'd devastated himself.

But Hunter was right. He's not cut out for love.

Then why does it hurt so much?

"Mr Smythe," the doorman addresses him once he's managed to stumble out of his car and into the lobby. "A letter was delivered for your brother."

The doorman hands him a letter, Hunter's name scribbled on it in handwriting he recognizes immediately: Jesse's.

"The gentleman was adamant that Mr Clarington read it."

He swallows hard. "I'll take care of it," he says, legs shaky and weak, but he somehow makes it into the elevator. He turns the letter over in his hands a few times, but he's fairly certain what it'll say; he puts it in his back pocket, making a mental note to be in the room with Hunter when he reads it.

Hunter appears to be out, which is most unfortunate, because he'd really hoped to talk to his brother. He needs something to do to get his mind off things, to erase the image of Blaine standing in front of him, shaking, crying, breaking down.

A fresh wave of tears rolls down his cheeks and he lets it. It's the least he deserves after what he did.

He doesn't know how the words made it past his lips, how he found the exact right words to strike at Blaine's heart, his own heart, because this side shouldn't come so easily as well—he knew how to build someone up, make them feel better about themselves, but he's never left someone broken. Not this directly. Not while leaving his own heart in pieces too.

Maybe he was wrong.

Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe Blaine was that boy of his dreams, the right boy, someone he could change for, in time.

But there's no point in dwelling on the past.

He looks out his bedroom window and sees Hunter arrive in the town car. He sneaks into his office and unearths a bottle of champagne he'd bought right after he made his bet with Hunter—he'd planned on drinking it with Hunter after winning the bet. It's a mild comfort, but he did win the bet and a deal's a deal.

He makes his way inside Hunter's bedroom, the closed curtains bathing the room in darkness; he doesn't turn on the lights, but sits down in a chair in the corner of the room, waiting.

Hunter enters the room minutes later, unaware of him, opens the curtains, and startles once he turns around.

"Jesus," Hunter says. "A little melodramatic, don't you think?"

"I thought you'd want to know what happened with Blaine," he cuts right to the chase. "It's over."

"Really."

"You're right," he says. "I can't change."

And this way no one will have to know, Blaine can lie about his virginity and he won't be there to contradict him—he plans to make sure Hunter keeps his mouth shut too.

"You and I are two of a kind," he says, and holds up the bottle of champagne. "I thought we should celebrate."

"I'd love to. But unfortunately I'm expecting some company."

"Let me guess."

He manages a small smile. This is one thing he won't allow Hunter, not after everything; he'd already forced his own brother on an innocent girl, though the semantics of that could be argued, but he won't let him destroy Rachel any further.

"Jesse?"

Jesse seemed like such a strange choice for his brother; not only was he a public figure and well within his father's reach, Jesse didn't seem Hunter's type.

"Not that it's any of your business," Hunter says. "But yes."

He pulls the letter from his back pocket.

"From Jesse."

He gets up from his chair and throws the letter on the dresser, where two champagne glasses are set up next to each other. "I haven't had the chance to read it, but I'm pretty sure it goes something like 'yahdah yahdah yahdah, it was all a mistake. I hope we can still be friends etc... etc...'"

He uncorks the bottle and fills the two glasses, acutely aware that Hunter's eyes are burning holes in the back of his head.

"I suspected that after everything you'd already put Rachel through you'd never let her keep Jesse. So I took the liberty of arranging a little get together for them."

He feels a smile pull at the corner of his mouth, the satisfaction of blindsiding Hunter this one time only a temporary patch for the pain inching across his chest.

"You were right," he says, walks over to Hunter with both their drinks in hand. "You do get passed up for people who try less hard than you."

Hunter's jaw clenches, but somehow he contains his anger. "Well played."

"Thank you." He hands Hunter his drink and holds up his glass. "Now, what shall we toast to?"

A proud smile crosses Hunter's lips; it unsettles him instantly. "To my triumph."

He grits his teeth together to control himself, tries to keep himself breathing, but it's getting harder by the second. He doesn't want to be reminded of Blaine.

"It's your call," he says, clinking their glasses together. "To your triumph over Blaine."

He swallows the glass back in one gulp, not nearly enough to chase away the memories, Blaine growing smaller and smaller in front of him.

And Hunter laughs, that low mocking laugh he recognizes all too well. He's never been at the receiving end of it. He knows what's coming, Hunter will tear Blaine down all over again, he'll drive home how they're two of a kind and shouldn't try to love, because it can only lead to heartbreak.

"My triumph isn't over him." Hunter smiles. "It's over you."

If at all still possible, his heart drops. "Excuse me?"

What is Hunter talking about? He's not—

"You were very much in love with him," Hunter says, his eyes alight with satisfaction. "You're still in love with him."

No.

He thought that after everything that happened Hunter might offer some words of wisdom, some trick to make this pain go away and avoid getting hurt in the future. But that's not what Hunter's saying, he's mocking him. Only, no, it's not mocking either, he's doing a complete 180 on what he said hours before—he thought Hunter wanted to spare him heartbreak.

But in truth he wanted to hurt him.

Hunter wanted him to hurt himself.

"But it amused me to make you ashamed of it," Hunter says, backing up toward the settee in front of the window. Hunter sits down, crosses his legs, rolling the glass of champagne between his fingers. "You gave up on the first person you've ever loved because I threatened your reputation."

What has he done?

He trusted Hunter, trusted his brother to know him better than he knows himself and Hunter does, he just never thought Hunter would abuse that knowledge like this. Hunter knew exactly what to say to get him to listen, to make him doubt himself and like always he took that to heart.

And he took it too far.

"Don't you get it?" Hunter asks, eyes darkening. "You're just a toy to me, Sebastian."

He broke Blaine's heart in the hopes it would keep Blaine away.

Hunter knew that.

"And now you've completely blown it with Blaine."

What has he done?

Hunter takes a sip from his champagne, to his triumph. "I think it's the saddest thing I've ever seen."

That's when he sees it in Hunter's eyes, how he's not just angry at the Brody Westons or Rachel Berrys for their talent and the opportunities afforded them, but the Blaine Andersons and the Quinn Fabrays, the Santanas and at the end of the day, even his own brother. Hunter's at war with the entire world for forcing him to be one way and he's been acting out since he's been old enough to understand the meaning of all the injustice laid down at his feet.

It's taken him far too long to see it.

Hunter's nothing like him.

Hunter thinks himself better than him.

He stumbles a step closer.

"I still won the bet," he says, grasping at straws now, anything to make sense of this revenge plot his brother's set up against him. What had he ever done to Hunter besides take life the way it threw itself at him? He took life the way it came, messy and disorganized and even after all his fuck ups he'd been granted someone as wonderful as Blaine. Destroyed now.

"Yeah." Hunter sighs. "Unfortunately I don't fuck losers."

He stills and narrows his eyes on Hunter, anger taking over. "We had a deal."

Hunter's expression is completely humorless. "You have my answer."

"This is war, Hunter," he says, pointing a finger.

"Then war it is."

.

Adrenaline courses through his veins as he watches Sebastian stagger a few steps back, eyes fixed on him, before he turns around and leaves the room. He smiles to himself, takes another sip from his champagne and contemplates all his options. If it's war Sebastian wants, well, he knows how to play this game. He grabs his cell phone and dials a number he'd been sure to steal from Rachel's phone. The line dials five times before he finally gets an answer.

"Hello?"

The boy's voice sounds weak.

"Blaine?" he says. "It's Hunter Clarington."

"If this is about Sebastian—" Blaine starts, and it's clear that he's been crying, his voice thick with pain.

"It's about your sister, actually."

There's a sniffle and a beat over the line, Blaine processing the information. "Rachel?"

Hunter smiles, but tries his best to sound sympathetic. "Something happened with her and Sebastian that I don't think I can tell her mother. Now I know you and Sebastian are friends, but—"

"But what?" Blaine asks, sounding eager to hear what happened.

"They had sex, Blaine. I warned her about him so many times, but I can't protect her 24/7."

He pauses for effect, but the line has already gone dead silent.

"Blaine?" he asks. "Are you there?"

When Blaine doesn't answer he knows his first move was successful, however aggressive it might be. This will be more fun than any bet or little game he's played before, he'll enjoy destroying his brother and he knows there won't be anyone to come to Sebastian's aid. Their parents will be home tomorrow, but Sebastian's mother will shop until she drops before batting an eye for her son, and his father has never cared about his stepson.

Sebastian will be all alone, no one to turn to, save maybe that Santana girl, but he doesn't think she cares much for Sebastian's sentimental side. No, he was going to lose Sebastian to college anyway and he knows his brother well enough to know he wouldn't be back if he could help it.

This was their final game, their last dance.

And he's going to win.

.

.

tbc

.