Chapter 10: Sharing
Kurt stepped back from the easel, tilting his head slightly, trying to decide… his cell phone vibrated and he wiped the paint off his fingers before pulling it out of his pocket. "Hey."
Just hearing Kurt's voice made David feel better. Fucking meetings! Some assholes just love to hear themselves talk. "One of the guys here was telling me that there is a burger joint hidden away in Le Parker Meridien hotel. You want to grab a probably ridiculously over-priced hamburger tonight?"
"Wining and dining me, Karofsky?"
"Just trying to get you into my pants."
"And you think a burger is going to do it?"
"No." David looked around the open-concept office space with its maze of partitioned cubicles and lowered his voice. "No, I think saying, 'please' is going to do it. The hamburger is just to make sure you have the energy."
Kurt laughed. "Throw in some fries and you have a deal. What time?"
David groaned. "I'm just going into another set of meetings and then I want to go home and change. 7:30?"
"See you there." Kurt swiped the call closed, slipped his phone away and went back to work.
He'd never done this before, maintained a relationship with two men at the same time. It wasn't exactly his modus operandi, his preference was serial monogamy. He never would have gone looking for something like this but fate had practically stepped in and arranged it for him. He wasn't lying to either man. They both knew he was seeing the other. David avoided the whole topic and Kurt was more than happy to avoid it with him. Jason, being Jason, was a touch more vocal…
Kurt rolled onto his side, and Jason curled into him, his fingers tracing Kurt's chest. "You're going to keep seeing him, aren't you?"
One hand on Jason's hip, Kurt froze. He had been hoping they could continue to skip this conversation. "Yes." Jason said nothing, but his hand curled into a fist against Kurt's heart. "Are you okay with that?"
Jason exhaled; a long defeated sigh that hurt Kurt. "No, but I can deal with it."
Kurt stroked his fingers through the younger man's hair, ruffling the waves at the back of his neck, just the way he knew Jason liked him to. "If it makes you feel any better, it's just David and you."
Three months in and it was working, which is what he should be doing, not standing here smiling to himself thinking about the men in his bed. Picking up his brush, he swirled it through the vermilion on his palette and snarled when his phone vibrated against his ass for the second time. With a distinct lack of patience, he went through the same routine again; put palette and brush down, wipe off fingers, dig out phone, swipe it open. "Hi, Charlie, what can I do for you?"
"Charles, it's Charles!"
Kurt snickered. "Don't you mean, Master Charles?"
"Shut-the fuck-up, Hummel." There was no heat in Charlie/Charles' voice, the protest was pure form. Kurt was the only one who called him Charlie anymore and he actually appreciated the nostalgia inherent in the name, not that he was ever going to admit that. "I need a favour. There's a guy in town for a few months from our sister club in L.A. I know you're not taking any new clients but this isn't a long-term thing. A session, maybe two, tops." He chuckled into the phone at the unintended pun.
Eric Stedler's email had not been a mistake. After checking out KolourbyKurt on a recommendation from one of Kurt's former professors, he had stopped by the loft to see Kurt's work in person and now, Kurt was just weeks away from his first gallery showing. If the exhibition increased his name recognition, if he acquired the interest of a few collectors, if Stedler's marketing worked and Kurt's paintings actually sold, if the universe smiled on him, then Kurt had every intention of retiring from the Pro Dom business. He had already started to phase himself out of the leather work, referring new clients elsewhere, but Charlie was a friend and he'd been a big help to Kurt over the years. "He doesn't want to go to the club?" Of course he didn't, or Charlie wouldn't be calling him.
"Nah, he doesn't want to get into the scene here, he just needs a little help while he's in town."
Kurt swiped his calendar open and checked his schedule. "I've got an opening next week, eight o'clock. That work?"
"Yeah, I'll send you his profile. Pretty standard stuff, you shouldn't have any trouble. So, I hear you're going to be the next Matisse. Which gallery is it, again, some place in Brooklyn?"
Kurt rolled his eyes. "Yes, Brooklyn, you've heard of it, right?"
Charlie laughed. "Yeah, but the last time I checked it was all pizzerias and yeshivas. Thanks, Kurt. See you at the opening."
The following week, David being in Chicago for a few days and Jason lost in a pile of undergraduate term papers working his teaching assistant gig, Kurt decided to head up to the Upper West side and play uncle.
Puck opened the front door and grinned at Kurt as he stepped out of the private elevator. "Well, if it isn't New York's latest two-timing slut."
"Oh, yeah, that's the kind of talk that will get you the father of the year award. Where're the boys?"
With a nod indicating the family room and its TV, Puck said, "Sid the Science Kid."
"You haven't got them watching Monster Truck Racing, yet?" Teasing Puck, Kurt fell into step beside his friend, as they crossed the black and white tiled foyer and started down the hallway. "And, just for the record, I'm not two-timing anyone."
Puck nodded. Yeah, he knew that. "Want to tell me how you managed that?" He was curious and, okay, just a tad impressed.
Kurt's eyes laughed, as he grinned at Puck. "I'm just that fucking awesome."
Puck gave him the shove that remark deserved, and they spilled into the family room laughing. "Guys, Kurt's here."
After they got the kids in bed, Kurt made himself a coffee and Puck grabbed a beer. They got comfortable in front of some game on the flat screen that neither one of them was watching. "So this should be interesting, both your boys are going to be at the opening?"
Kurt cradled his coffee mug between his hands. "Yeah." He shook his head, thinking about that. "What was I supposed to do, tell one of them not to come? I couldn't hurt either one of them like that." He put his coffee down and shrugged. "I want them there."
Puck snorted and took a swig from his bottle.
"What?" Kurt knew that snort meant something.
Puck snapped his beer down on the coffee table next to the crayons and colouring books. "Here's me," Puck pointed to himself, "the sex-shark of Lima and here's you," he pointed to Kurt, "Mr. I believe in love!" Puck threw his arms in the air indicating the room, them, the kids sleeping down the hall. "And I'm the one babysitting while you're sex-on-a-stick. What the fuck, dude! When did you start living my life?"
Kurt laughed at the disgruntled expression on Puck's face. "You love those kids."
"Yeah, I do. I even like my wife, total psycho that she is." Leaning back on the couch and stretching his legs out, Puck plopped his feet on the coffee table. "Hummel, since we're being all best girlfriends tonight, there's something I've been wondering about." He sent Kurt a considering look. "This website of yours, PaintbyNumber?"
Kurt grinned, Puck knew the name of the website as well as he did, he was the one who helped him set it up. "KolourbyKurt."
Puck waved the correction aside. "You sell, what, one or two paintings every other month or so?" Kurt nodded, wondering at Puck's sudden interest. Puck nodded at one of Kurt's pieces hanging on the wall opposite a family portrait of him and Rachel and the boys. "I like your stuff but they're not exactly fighting over it at Christie's are they? There is no way the proceeds from that website cover your condo fees." Puck crossed his arms over his chest and raised his eyebrows at Kurt. "So, what are you doing, Princess, painting your own money?"
Kurt couldn't remember the last time Puck had called him Princess, and that, added to the concern lurking in the hazel eyes told Kurt that the ex-bad boy was really worried. "Chill. I'm not doing anything illegal." Puck just looked at him and ironically enough, now that Kurt was on the verge of quitting, he found that he wanted to tell someone about his little sideline.
"No fucking way!" Puck didn't do shocked very well; the expression seemed to actually hurt his face. If his eyes got any wider, they would pop right out of his head. "Flogger for Hire, are you freaking kidding me?"
Picking up his coffee cup, Kurt sat back in his chair. "Nope. You can Google me, I'm there."
A grin spread across Puck's face and he leaned forward, his arm raised in a High-Five. "Dude… Respect!" Smacking his hand against Kurt's, he settled back on the couch. "So, uh, do you have any openings? Rachel can't really hit hard enough."
Kurt almost dropped his coffee, and Puck cracked up, rolling on the couch as he shook with laughter. "Oh, man, you should see your face!"