"Would you call me a hypocrite," Kurt asked, "for ranting against Rachel when she gives me money, but liking it very much when she gives me food?"
They had stopped kissing for the moment, but were still lying on the blanket, close together, legs intertwined. Kurt was nibbling on a slice of sweet pie, laughing as he tried to keep the filling from squishing out. Outside, the day was moving on, but in here, time seemed to stand still. Far too soon, Blaine would have to leave in order to get home in time for dinner, but for now, he was happy where he was.
"It's food," he said, shrugging. "Most people like food."
"Most people also like money," Kurt pointed out. "And don't get me wrong, I do as well. Having money is very convenient."
"Then-"
"Are you aware," Kurt interrupted, "that more than half of London's population lives the way I do, or in far worse circumstances?"
"I...never really thought about it, to be honest." Blaine was slightly ashamed; Kurt, however, looked like he hadn't expected anything else. Few of Blaine's social standing were aware they lived in a protective little bubble in which they met only people of their own class, and the craftsmen, merchants and servants that provided for them but were mostly ignored.
"I am not poor. A lot of my acquaintance consider me quite well-off. I have my own room with a window and a fireplace, I can afford to support my stepmother and still eat, and most of all, I earn my living doing something I love. It's only people like Rachel that consider me a charity case, when there are so many more worthy projects she could set her mind to."
Blaine couldn't help thinking that Kurt was right. Watching him here, in his own space, he didn't seem like he was lacking something.
"I'm not out on the street or sleeping on the rope," Kurt continued, "unlike some other people I know who grew up in quite similar circumstances. There are a lot who'd need Rachel's money much more than I do."
Then he smiled again as he took another bite out of the pie. "Food, on the other hand, especially food like this - is just a gift from a friend."
Blaine sat up and also took a slice of pie. "I happen to know," he said after a little hesitation, "that Sir Jesse and Lady St. James donate a lot of money to a lot of causes. I think, maybe, that for Rachel, the money she gives to you is also just a gift from a friend."
Kurt looked at him. After a while, he nodded. "You may be right. Still, I don't like it, and I have repeatedly told her so. But well, what do I expect—it was never her way to listen to somebody else when she thought she knew better."
After a moment of silence, he shrugged, smiled, and pulled Blaine towards him. Blaine rather hurriedly put his slice of pie aside. A glance at the window showed him they had time for a few more kisses, at the very least.
"Now, what do you do to ask someone to dance?"
"I go to whatever lady I plan to dance with, bow, then ask her to honor me with the next. Then I will try not to look on the floor and count my steps while I step on her toes for a song or two. Afterwards, I escort her back to her parents or friends. But this will never happen. I've been excusing myself from dancing up to now, and I will keep doing that in the future. I don't know how to dance."
"We'll come to that later. But as I told you, you can afford to be known as a bad dancer, but not as someone who doesn't know how to behave. Now, what else have I told you about dancing?"
Blaine was, by now, a little exasperated. Sebastian was not a bad student, but sometimes Blaine wished he would just take him at his word every now and then instead of questioning everything.
"Um—never exert myself to the point of sweating. Men who refuse to dance at all make themselves more unpopular than bad dancers—thank you, I understood that, you know—and—oh, never dance too many dances with the same young lady."
"Right," Blaine said and tried to come up with a way to teach Sebastian to dance without having to actually dance with him.
"But I don't understand that," Sebastian said, causing Blaine to sigh. "Why can't I dance again with a girl I like, if we, say, talked about something interesting the moment the music ended?"
"Because people will think you want to marry her. You will raise hopes in her and her family, because, let's face it, you are a very eligible match."
He remembered all too well the speculative glances and whispers if he happened to be more attentive to one girl than the others. It was one part of being an earl—or heir to one—he really didn't miss.
"What if I want to marry her?"
"You—you want to marry?"
"Well. I thought getting married and producing an heir was part of the whole thing of being an earl."
Blaine couldn't help but nod. It was; there was no denying people would expect and even pressure Sebastian to marry, and soon.
"But—you don't like women." Blaine wasn't quite sure why he was protesting; it was by no means unusual for men like him to get married—be it as camouflage, because they wanted children or for a thousand other reasons. It was even possible that Sebastian did like women as well as men.
But he was shaking his head.
"No, I don't. Not that way. What's your point?"
"I just thought -" It was stupid. He hadn't even made up his own mind about whether or not to marry, back when that was still an important question.
"You thought it'd be the honorable thing not to marry when I won't love my wife."
Blaine nodded, somewhat sheepishly. His parents had not loved one another, and while their open loathing had been seen as somewhat indecent, like hating each other should be done behind closed doors, nobody had seen it as unusual.
"Well," Sebastian continued, "I plan to make sure my wife won't love me either. I want to someone who will take me solely for my money and my title, and who, if possible, will tolerate me looking for entertainment somewhere else, and who will make a decent companion otherwise. I will treat her with respect, the need for discretion will make sure I don't flaunt my affairs, and I'm sure I will be able to give her a child or two. She'll have it better than a lot of other women. At least my wife won't die alone in a little room behind the kitchen while her relatives discuss if she's worth the cost of a doctor."
Blaine could not think of anything to say in the face of Sebastian's bitterness. He guessed that his mother had died like this, and he felt a great deal of shame for his father, the late and unmissed earl, who had let his first wife die in poverty and loneliness.
"You're right," he conceded in a low voice. He still thought it was dishonest somehow, especially since Sebastian's wife probably would not have the freedom to seek her pleasure elsewhere.
But that was the way their society worked, and in the end, there was no big difference if the husband strayed into the bed of another woman or into that of a man.
"Speaking of discretion," he said, both to change the subject and because it was something he had meant to talk to Sebastian about. "You need to be more—well, discreet."
"What?"
"You have been seen in the company of the same young man twice; a young man, I might add, who is—at least in certain circles—known for frequenting molly houses."
"So?"
Again, Blaine was at a loss for words. He remembered his own first meeting with Sebastian, and the reasons he had listed for being able to be so...open in his solicitations. All of these still applied: Sebastian was an earl, and his wealth and title would protect him, if not his partners, from most of the consequences a discovery would have for most men. If he was indeed, as he had said, a good pugilist, this would protect him from most private hostilities.
But still, Blaine worried. He didn't know why he didn't want Sebastian to flaunt his proclivities; he hoped it didn't have anything to do with wanting to protect the reputation of the earldom. Maybe it was just that he didn't want to lose his half brother's company, which, while exasperating, was often a lot of fun and considerably widened his horizon. But should word get out that Sebastian was someone who, as it were, corrupted young men, his grandmother, unaware that he was far beyond corrupting, would certainly forbid Blaine to associate with him.
So he decided on a tactical approach, since he doubted that the desire alone to protect his maybe less affluent and influential prospective partners would be enough to convince Sebastian to be more cautious.
"Imagine one of the young men of our general acquaintance, many of whom are very handsome and might also be...amenable to your suggestions, catching your eye. If you continue like this, you will soon have a reputation, and no young man, how handsome and willing he might be, will be as much as seen with you, no less go anywhere alone, for fear of getting the same reputation."
He could see he had made an impression on Sebastian, who seemed to seriously think about his words.
"Most people don't have the money and influence that allows you to ignore society's restrictions and even the law," he continued. Most people also care what their families think about them, he thought, though he didn't say it. He was well aware that except for the unloved relatives of his mother, he was the only family Sebastian had. And considering, Sebastian could be pretty sure Blaine would not think any worse of him for whom he bedded.
"You make a good point," Sebastian conceded. "I knew I would have to care about more things now than just where my next meal comes from, but I couldn't have foreseen anything like this."
Blaine guessed that all the endless little rules of etiquette could be hard to remember when one hadn't grown up with them, but he thought that especially someone like Sebastian would consider other people's situation in life more than someone who had only ever moved in their own circle.
Then again, Sebastian had never claimed to be anything but selfish, and as an earl, he was at least in good company.
"So you will be more careful?" Blaine asked.
"I can try," Sebastian replied," but sometimes people get over-enthusiastic when they meet me. It's the charm, you know..."
He grinned, and Blaine couldn't help but smile. The charm was undeniably there, and if Sebastian managed to tone it down, he would be very successful in society.
"You must help my though." Sebastian continued. "Maybe point me towards the right men. If I am to be discreet, I don't know how to find someone."
Find someone you admire, Blaine thought, someone who is smart and funny and in whose arms you forget the time and the world around you.
"Someone for the night, I mean. I'm not asking for anything more," Sebastian said. "I don't believe in love—see where it got my mother. And even if I did—men like us can hardly ask for love, can we?"
Blaine thought that maybe they could. Maybe he did.
