Hello, Everyone! Welcome Back! Sorry for the slight wait, I have been trying to shape the story.

Also, I have a Beta now, yay! And they are wonderful. Thank you Raynesake for putting up with me :-)

Please when you have time, give their work a read.

*Final edits are done by me, so any mistakes are my own*

Chapter 3: The Fuck-Box

It doesn't take long for Kurt to become uncomfortable with his surroundings. The music was far too loud, and he was attacked with a potent scent of hot sweat, mixed with spilled beer - and vodka – and... he wasn't even sure what else. All he knew was that he didn't like it, and immediately regretted agreeing to come out in the first place.

Music was coming from every angle, with at least four different genres playing all at once. The beat causing his heart to vibrate rapidly in his chest. The low thuds of an undercurrent baseline had his body quivering, keeping him on edge. He couldn't decide which was the worst part, the music or how his body responded to it. Then he heard Katy Perry, and yep that's the worst of it, he thought.

Santana had taken a hold of his hand and managed to squeeze them through the crowd, weaving side to side trying to avoid the bodies gyrating against one another. Kurt found himself gripping tightly: the slippery floor causing him to occasionally lose his balance.

Once they had managed to get through the crowd, Santana pinned him against a wall, looked at him sternly, with a warning in her voice. "Stay put until I come back." she ordered, before hurrying down a narrow hallway.

Kurt's eyes darted everywhere, unable to control the panic rising at the back of his throat. He had never really been to a club before, always opting to go to a bar or Callbacks with Rachel. And so far, he didn't see the appeal.

He took a jagged breath and closed his eyes - trying to block out the flickering lights, trying to become one with the low hum of music beneath his feet. He took another breath. This isn't so bad, he said to himself, I've been through worse.

He inhaled. Exhaled and opened his eyes.

It didn't seem as crowded as it did a moment ago. He realized that he has been standing in a corridor that could only be described as a crossroads, leading to three different sections.

One was clearly the performance area, coated in a dark magenta light, blinking along with the beat of the music. Everyone in there seemed to be blurred, moving too fast, jumping off each other, completely out of sync with the harsh techno beat. It was the most crowded and Kurt made a mental note not to go there.

His eyes scanned to the next area. There was a U-shaped bar right in the center of it and the glittering indigo lights, were jumping off the surfaces. Instead of being over packed and overwhelming, the lights created a calming effect. From Kurt's line of vision, he could see a few tables dispersed around with people laughing, socializing with each other.

But it also happened to be the place he heard Ms Perry Roaring, so he wasn't entirely sure how calming a place it was.

The last section, and where Santana happened to go, looked like a lounge. Unwilling to wait for her (she hadn't even been gone for too long, but already used up all of her waiting time at the start of the night), he decided to go on a search for her.

Once he reached the end of the hallway, he looked around. At first glance it looks like a private theatre with sofa's scattered all over, TVs showing varies different things. But as he walks further into it, the heat of the room consumed him as he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention.

Where before he felt choked, this room got him feeling suffocated. There was a mixture of alcohol, infused with flowery scented perfume, and a musky dampness that attacked, not only his nose but his mouth, too. He subconsciously tried to scrape away the taste from his tongue.

With the dark carmine lights casting opaque shadows across the entire room, he was unsure of what his eyes were seeing. He looked towards the only place in this area that seems to be brightly lit, and spotted Santana talking to someone beside her.

He braved it, and started navigating towards them. With his arms secured tightly to his chest, he walked through the sea of people, apologizing along the way. He was aware of a few hands touching him but before he could react, they vanished.

He recognizes the person Santana is talking to.

"Pretty boy!" the woman squealed, clapping her hands together.

"Pretty boy?" Santana asked laughing, looking up at Kurt through amused eyes. "I suppose he is pretty, but I prefer Lady Hummel."

"Lady Hummel?" the woman - he recognized as Tina – copies, scrunching her nose in disapproval. Kurt can't help but roll his eyes at them parroting each other. They have been talking for what, five minutes? And suddenly they are copying everything the other says?!

"Tanya, is it?" He asked, changing the subject.

"Tina." She corrected, smiling up at him so brightly that he couldn't help but give her a smile back. And damn it, he thinks he might grow to like her.

Tina reached to touch his face and he stilled at the movement- nervous. Santana grasped her hand, just as it was about to touch him. Santana knew many things about Kurt, and one of the biggest things was that he did not do well with any unwelcomed touches, especially from strangers.

Kurt caught Santana's eye and she smiled softly at him. It was a rare thing. Something she doesn't do often, but when she does, he remembers exactly why they're best friends. In moments like these, those little smiles are a declaration of their love for one another without having to say the words. And it's so powerful, that they would cry if they weren't, you know… stone cold bitches.

She schooled her face back and just like that, the moment was gone.

"Now, now," she started, patting Tina's hand and placing it back in her lap. "You can't go around touching people unwarranted now, can you?" Kurt silently thanked the universe for Santana Lopez.

"No," Tina's cheeks turned an off-pink colour, "No you cannot. Absolutely not. No." She giggled uncontrollably, placing her now empty glass on the bar. Kurt looked between the two of them, he had clearly missed the joke.

"She got propositioned walking in here," Santana clarified, handing a glass to both Kurt and Tina. He smelled it and recognised it as Santana's favourite concoction, a Dark and Stormy Cocktail; one part dark rum, one part ginger ale and one part tequila, giving it that extra kick.

Tina nodded, "This woman came up to me and asked me if I've ever eaten out before," she began to explain, between her giggles. "-and I said 'yeah, I eat out every other day'. She then asked if I've eaten out today, I told her no because I had a big day planned and was running late for everything," Tina stopped, covering her face, feeling it heat up in embarrassment.

"She asked me if I wanted to now, and I told her that I would love to, but I didn't know where to get a decent meal at this time of night."

"So, what happened?" Kurt asked, failing miserably at stopping his face from breaking out in a cheeky grin, clearly enjoying the embarrassment.

"Well," Tina starts, downing the last bit of her drink. "Let's just say that if it wasn't for your girlfriend, I would be in the middle of my first lesbian experience right now."

Kurt and Santana looked at each other then, mortified before cackling. Now it was Tina's turn to miss the joke. She eyed them up, waiting for them to stop laughing. Finally, Santana speaks, "I understand thinking I'm hetro, but him?" She points at Kurt, before laughing even harder.

"Oh, fuck off."

"You're right, you're right. It's so hard to tell. Good thing you've dressed the part in case anyone was in doubt." Santana overstated, causing Tina to eye him up curiously.

Kurt huffs out a sigh, looking up at the ceiling. He unbuttoned his vest, allowing Tina to look at his top. She tilted closer, grabbing on to his hip to steady herself. She had to mouth the words as she read them in her inebriated state.

"This is great news!" Tina pulled him towards her, before frantically looking around the club.

"O…kay, Why?" Santana asked. But before Tina could explain, she leapt up off the seat and stumbled off into the club.

"Wait! Why is it great news?" Kurt called, but not game enough to follow her into whatever weird abyss surrounded them.

"As I was explaining to Tina, this place is the Fuck-Box." Santana placed an extra drink in front of him.

Kurt furrowed his eyebrows. "I'm sorry, what?"

"This place," she gestured around them, "Is the place where people only come to have sex."

Kurt looked around then, really taking in the place. What looked like a theatre at first, now looking at it with the help of the light above him, actually resembles something closer to a brothel. A huge oblong, red tinted, sex-crazed, orgy-induced brothel.

There was a woman against the wall with her knickers around her ankles, while a man had spread himself across a black leather sofa, trousers undone getting pleasured by another man. There were half naked bodies glued together against a wall, or scattered around on sofas. Even the people who seem to just be dancing were doing it so erotically that Kurt could not be 100% certain, that he wasn't watching them have sex.

"No, it isn't," the bartender snorts, bringing Kurt's attention back, "This is the Red-Light lounge."

"Which is literally what I just said." Santana reached for the rum bottle on the counter.

"The Red-Light lounge?" Kurt repeated slowly, as if she had just said something in a foreign language.

"Where people come to do whatever they want. No judgement."

"Which is code for fucking, sucking, licking and-" Santana lifted the rum bottle to her lips before the bartender snatched it from her grasp. "-touching." she finished, seeing the look of shock and disgust on his face.

"This is why I told you to stay put. The Fuck-Box is no place for Lady Snobby Snobberson." Kurt folded his arms at yet another ridiculous and completely inaccurate nickname. He wasn't a snob exactly, he just had… standards… that were far higher than the average person.

Santana channeled her inner Kurt then, shimmying her shoulders crowding his personal space.

"With a touch, touch here," she began to sing, nudging his shoulders, "And a touch touch there-" she pinched his cheeks, "here a touch, there a touch-" she reached out and grabbed both his hands, pushing them to her chest, before yelling, "EVERYWHERE A TOUCH TOUCH!"

"God, I hate you," Kurt managed to choke out through his laughter, pulling his hands away, but in the process he knocked over the extra drink that was placed in front of him.

"Shit!" he gasped, jumping back, clothes now covered in the Dark and Stormy cocktail.

Santana looked at him, biting her lip subtly. She didn't want to say anything catty, knowing how serious Kurt was about his clothes.

"That wasn't the kind of cock, I was hoping would leak all over you, but beggars can't be choosers I guess." Well. She tried.

"Excuse me while I go find a restroom that doesn't double as a whorehouse." Kurt hissed, trying to pull his vest away from his skin.

"Good luck." Santana howled as Kurt stormed off.

Bitch, he thought.

Thank you all for reading!

I welcome positive/constructive criticism so if something didn't work for you, please let me know. Feedback of any kind is always appreciated.

Don't be shy :-)