Summary: Kurt is having a problem finding jeans that fit, and Sebastian is being his usual helpful self.
Notes: So, yeah - skater's ass is a huge problem when trying to buy jeans XD Also, I named this one-shot after the song since it plays all the time now at the rink ;)
"Babe? Oh, ba-abe?" Sebastian sings, raising his voice so he can be heard over his boyfriend's groaning. "Why do you insist on torturing yourself like this?"
"I'm not torturing myself... urgh! I'm... grrr... on a mission!"
"Be that as it may, if it hasn't happened by now, it's not gonna."
"Way... to stay... positive," Kurt growls.
"Exactly. I'm positive this is not gonna happen."
Kurt huffs, shoving aside his boyfriend's unnecessary negativity and bracing himself for the exertion to come. He blows out three times through teeth clenched behind a Chanel logo mask, then sucks in and tugs hard. He holds his breath, tenses his abs, and squeezes his tush, pulling with all his might until his biceps bulge and his elbows shake with fatigue.
It doesn't work. Not an inch. But he's far from giving up.
He refuses to admit Sebastian might be right.
He can't be. Not here. Not in Kurt's sanctuary.
"You've gotta stop this, Kurt! You're going to hurt yourself!"
"Passion... is... pain!"
"I don't need you dislocating your knee three weeks before your next qualifier!"
"It's not like I'm... nnn... attempting to parkour up the Empire States Building! I'm just... mmph... trying on a pair of jeans!"
"We've talked about this a hundred times though! You're not going to find anything off the rack. Not with that cake you're packing."
Kurt grunts, snuffling like a pig, then his obscene noises skid to a halt. "Nice."
"Skater's ass is a thing, babe. It exists. And Goddamn... " Sebastian whistles low, picturing Kurt in his latest costume - blood-red and completely blinged out Spandex clinging to his perfectly round rear tighter than his own friggin' skin, and those delightful, flesh-colored mesh cut-outs, strategically placed... Sebastian usually cringes at the sexualized costumes some skaters wear. But when it comes to Kurt, his ass gets a pass. "You have definitely got one."
"You've bought jeans off the rack before," Kurt laments, steering the conversation away from graphic discussion about his butt. Sebastian has no filter, and there are children in the other dressing room stalls. "And... ngh... Blaine has, too!"
"That was dumb luck."
"I want to get lucky!"
An uptight mom glares in their direction. She covers her precious boy's ears and stomps away in disgust, but Sebastian's knees buckle.
"Keep making those noises," he mumbles, sucking in his lower lip like he's kissing Kurt, "and you will."
"What?"
"Uh... " Sebastian clears his throat. "It helps when you have a personal shopper and a tailor on call. There's no shame in having your shit altered, by the way."
"I guess. It just seems so... mmph... high-maintenance for a pair of jeans."
Sebastian raises both eyebrows. "And that's not you how?"
Kurt sighs. A moment of silence follows, then the pair of jeans he's been wrestling cartwheels over the top of the dressing room door. Sebastian catches them. He slides them onto an empty hanger and returns them to the rolling rack with Kurt's other rejects.
"Are you going to help me? Or did you come just to insult me?"
"I'm not here to insult you," Sebastian says in a tone far from reassuring.
"I'm finding that difficult to believe."
"I'm not!" Sebastian swallows to keep from chuckling. He shouldn't pick on Kurt. But he can't help it. Kurt makes it too easy. Sometimes Sebastian can be the worst. He can admit it. He's not proud. "You said we could get a soft pretzel after."
"Ha-ha," Kurt says dryly.
"God, I miss soft pretzels."
"Good to know." Another pair of jeans fly over the door and nails Sebastian in the face.
"Oomph!" Sebastian tosses the jeans aside with a comeback on deck but shelves it when he hears Kurt deflate. Sebastian leans against the door, squinting through the narrow slats. He spots Kurt slumped against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, staring at the floor. He looks so sad, Sebastian's snarky remark evaporates. "I'm sorry, Kurt. Believe it or not, I'm trying to lighten the mood."
"Buy some bleach and a 30 volume developer."
Sebastian smirks. "Very funny."
"No," Kurt grumbles. "Seriously. You're in desperate need of highlights. And you should consider doing something about those bangs. They're getting out of hand."
"No need to get personal."
"Sorry, not sorry. It's truth time."
"It's heartbreaking to see you finally get out to do something you love and ending up depressed. Especially when I can make a phone call and order you three pairs of Gucci jeans that'll fit you like a glove and show up on your doorstep in less than a day."
"Trying the clothes on in the store is part of the fun." Kurt opens the door slowly. He sees Sebastian standing there, arm draped over the door frame, and maneuvers underneath. "It bums me out that I can find all the shirts I want, but I can't buy a single pair of pants to go with them. So if I want to wear a new outfit home, I either have to settle for the pants I wore here or go pantsless."
"And pantsless is a problem?"
"Yes. Pantsless is a problem."
"Pity," Sebastian says, hugging Kurt tight.
The pants aren't the problem.
Well, maybe they are a little.
The problem is society's rush to return to normal that scares the hell out of Kurt.
The residents of Ohio have not handled the pandemic well, to say the least. Lima, in particular, is filled with anti-maskers and anti-vaxxers. Kurt is a germaphobe, and he's not fond of crowds - two of the worst things for a figure skater. Except for the occasional bout of boredom and not seeing his mom as often as he wanted, Kurt embraced quarantine. The mask mandate may have denied the world his alabaster skin and chiseled cheekbones, but he made the best of it, using his exquisite sewing skills to create masks that became the envy of every rink from there to London. He opened an Etsy shop, advertised on social media, and had orders up the whazoo from day one. Even with mask mandates relaxing, he still gets new requests every day.
Kurt reveled in his forced hermitage.
He enjoyed being locked away with Sebastian.
Staying at Sebastian's house for the past year plus was like living in their own private paradise. There was no stress, no pressure. They had everything they needed and dealt with no one outside their bubble.
Even though Kurt launched right back into his routine as a figure skater and a coach the second the rinks opened again, Sebastian knows that going back terrifies him. But Kurt is resilient, one of the strongest guys Sebastian has ever met. He'll get back into the swing.
He just needs time.
"Is there anywhere else you'd like to try?"
Kurt leans into Sebastian's side, happy to have an inkling of his supportive boyfriend back. "No. If Nordies doesn't have what I want, no one will. I guess you were right."
"Oh no! Don't say that!" Sebastian says, giving Kurt a squeeze. "Nothing good comes from thinking I'm right."
"Don't worry. I don't really," Kurt jokes but with a smidge of defeat in his voice.
Sebastian kisses Kurt on the top of the head. "You're a smart man."
"I don't think I could stuff my legs into another pair of pants if I tried. I feel like I've landed thirty triples in the past half hour."
"Are you, maybe, willing to try one more pair? For me?" Sebastian grins. "I know a pair of pants you can get off the rack that will fit. I promise."
"Yeah?" Kurt asks, skeptical but optimistic. "And what's that?"
Sebastian snorts, so from the start, Kurt knows his answer won't be good. "Jeggings."
Sebastian snuffles. Then he guffaws. Kurt shakes his head. He slips out from under Sebastian's arm and starts speed walking away. "You're sleeping alone tonight."
"Aw! Kurt! Don't be like that! I bet Adam Rippon wears jeggings! He's got cake, too!"
"I'm leaving now... "