Happy Thursday! I hope everyone's week is going well. Massive thank you to the one and only Raynesake! Always being wonderful and helping me along.

Chapter 7: British Invasion

After the catastrophic failure at the club, where Kurt failed to 'remove the prudish rod up his ass', he was determined to put it all behind him. Between school and work, he didn't have much time to worry about some random guy at a night club anyway.

It wasn't the first time he turned away an eager guy nor was it a first for his tongue to run away with him. What was a first however, and a surprising one at that, was how he felt because of it. Usually whenever he became catty or outright nasty, the guy would back away, prey on someone else, and he was fine with that, but not Blaine. No, Blaine kept flirting, kept laughing, kept giving as good as he got. And as the night went on Kurt couldn't deny how impressed he was, even if it killed him to admit it.

"You don't have to play this game around me."

At the time, Kurt wasn't exactly sure what he done wrong. Thanks to his alcohol infused mind, knowing when to keep his mouth shut went out the window. If it hadn't been for the rage emanating off of Blaine, he still wouldn't have realised how thoughtless he had been.

A few days later, Santana felt it necessary to lecture him about the entire night over breakfast.

"You basically told him he didn't have to be who he is because there you were, Captain Gay to the rescue, ready to take all his troubles away. If he wants to be Slutty-McWonder-Gay then let him be that. Hell, I'll make him a t-shirt."

"I didn't mean it like that." he mumbled, sipping on his well needed cup of coffee. "I just meant…" Kurt wasn't exactly sure where to take the sentence. "He kept flirting with me, looking at me like I was some grand prize he had to take home and it peeved me off. But then Tina said something that I -"

"Who cares what she said?" Santana interrupted dismissively, "Tina is Tina and not Blaine."

"I know that!" he snapped, irritated by this entire conversation. He buried his head in his now half empty coffee cup and groaned. He really had made an ass of himself if Santana was making sense.

"No need to get the knickers in a twist, Hummel," Santana resumed, placing the baked goods she bought earlier between them on the breakfast counter.

"How are you able to get up this early for cronuts?"

"It's never too early for cronuts." She smiled, pouring herself a mug and tearing the pastry apart like a starved monster.

Kurt grabbed one and munched down hard, while attempting to reason with her. "We were all drunk that night, I'm sure all kinds of things were said."

"You called him a hooker and threw money at him. Even I'm not that much of a bitch. I was impressed."

He groaned harder at that. Surpassing Santana on the bitch scale was a new feat.

Kurt placed the rest of his cronut back on the plate, realising that much sugar was not the way to start his morning. He didn't need breakouts on top of everything else. "Nothing like this would have happened had I stuck to my usual Virgin Shirley temple. I made it clear I wasn't interested, and it just spurred him on, as if I was some sort of challenge. So, I had to let him know just how uninterested I was."

"By paying for his services before humping him on the dancefloor?" Santana was being snarky and that only push his irritation to a new high. Kurt felt the need to defend himself, regardless of who was right at this point.

"He literally just had sex with someone five seconds before he tried to have sex with me! Where were his standards?"

"Where were yours?" She challenged, "When you were dry humping him?" Santana waited for an answer. Kurt didn't have one for her, so she finished with: "Talk about mixed messages." Sucking the icing off her fingertips.

"Oh, whatever." He barked, leaving his empty cup, walking back to his room and away from the conversation. He had already felt bad, he didn't need her to rub it in.

Instead of taking the hint, Santana followed, stopping the door with her foot inches away from her face as Kurt forcefully slammed it.

"Take it from someone who also enjoys a nice spontaneous roll in the hay, you need to accept not all of us are saving ourselves for marriage." With no reaction to that, she walked in the room, plopping herself across his bed watching has he aimlessly fluttered around, trying to ignore her presence.

"I think I know what your problem is: you were interested in him." He didn't stop his movements, but she could tell he was paying attention. "You liked him, and you didn't know how to deal with that. Poor Prince Hummel has a thing for the coquettish stable boy. Talk about rolling in the hay. What ever will you do?" she was mocking him now, and he had had enough.

"Give it a rest." He said finally, turning to face her. "Yes, he caught my eye, okay? And yes, I said horrible things but damn it, I wasn't purposely trying to be a dick. I just…" Kurt sighed frustratedly, rubbing at his temples. "I don't know. He was coming on to me and I hated that I liked it, okay? I don't want guys like him. I don't care for guys like him and no good can come from guys like that."

Kurt walked over to his bed, gesturing for Santana to move over. "But the way he reacted when I mentioned Tina's brother..." He huffed out a breath, laying side by side with Santana. "I've never had anyone look at me with such anger before and it sobered me up. I thought he was an emotionless sex freak but turns out I'm just a patronizing jackass."

"Well duh. How have you gone 21 years not knowing that about yourself?"

"Oh, shut up." He shoved her softly, before the pair of them looked to the ceiling.

"Not that I blame you," Santana said moments later. "With an ass like that, he had me questioning how gay I actually was. Had I met him at 16," She whistled, "He would have been one of the many virginities I would have happily taken."

"Whose virginity did you take?" Came a low groggy voice from the doorway. There stood Rachel rubbing her eyes, hair tied in pig tails and wearing pink pyjamas covered head-to-toe with hearts.

"Whose virginity didn't she take more like." Kurt answered, unsuccessfully dodging Santana's whack as Rachel languidly walked over to the bed, squishing herself on the edge next to him. For a gay man, he did have an awfully large number of girls in his bed.

"Why are you talking about that at-" She lifts her head, squinting at the digital clock on Kurt's side, before dropping back down, "-7:32 in the morning?"

"The same reason why a 21-year-old woman felt the urge to convert back to her pre-teens looking like that." Santana stated with a look of disgust. "Pigtails? Really?"

Rachel shrugged sleepily, "I was trying out my 90's Britney look."

Reaching across, Santana pulled out a scrunchy. "Nobody needs to re-visit that."

"Hey!" moving her head away, Rachel pulled out the other one and shook her hair. "Why are we talking about virginities really?"

"Because Hummel wants to re-grow his by being a complete ass to a perfectly nice and hot guy he met at the club."

Rachel scoffed at that, "Guys in clubs are never nice. Always so sleazy and if you ask me -"

"- Nobody asked you. Besides how would you know, you're never invited."

"Because last time I went out with you I got covered in blue margarita slush trying to weed off the exact type of guy you want Kurt to be with! I had flashbacks of high school for weeks after, thanks to you."

"I'm not trying to marry him off Rachel, all I'm asking for is one night."

"He doesn't want 'one night', he wants forever. Right Kurt?"

Kurt was sandwiched between the bickering. He didn't bother replying, neither of them really cared for his input. Instead, he slumped deeper into the pillow closing his eyes against the sun, waiting for his morning coffee to kick in.

"Kurt hates the fact that what he wanted was to bone this guy. I'm just telling him he should have stopped over thinking it and gone for it."

"No, Kurt's not that sort of person. You can't force him to be someone he isn't."

"Ha! You did not see him that night, believe me Kurt is definitely that sort of person even if he just needs a little push to get there. Or a little rub, right Pretty Boy?"

"Kurt and I are the same, we want a relationship, romance. Not everyone lives by your 'try everything once' motto."

"See," Santana leaned up on her elbows to see over Kurt's unmoving body. "This is what happens when your vagina dries up and closes over, you say things like that."

"Excuse me?! I'm in a very happy and healthy relationship with Jack. My lady bits are very much in use. I mean-"

"-Wanky."

Rachel ignored her. "You wouldn't know commitment, if it hit you in the face."

"The only Jack worth committing to is Jack Dawson and we all know what happened to him. And with your track record, I'm surprised he doesn't belong on some sort of watch list with Brody: The Real Life Ken Doll Gigolo."

"Alright, enough!" Kurt sat up, stopping the fight before Rachel could give her usual shrill cry. "Do you think this is more about the two of you than it is about me? Rach, I'm not going to be whoring around, so you don't have to worry about sharing your bathroom space with strangers every morning." He climbed over her, pulling at her arm to get up.

"And Tana, you don't have to worry either. I'm not going to shrivel up and die if I don't get laid. Maybe your right and I do need to ah… loosen up a little but it will be on my own terms and not yours. Now, can you both get out of my room."

Santana deliberately took her time leaving the bed, fixing the covers and fluffing the pillows until Kurt began clicking his fingers aggressively.

"What about that Adam's Ants guy you were talking about last week?" Rachel offered as he pushed her out the door.

"Oh, the one with the accent? he's cute, you could totally bone him." Santana agreed. Great! The one thing they agree on.

"Out!" Kurt closed the door behind them, with only one person on his mind.

Even if it killed him to admit that, too.

As the following week rolled on, Kurt was well on his way to forgetting all about what happened almost a fortnight ago. With both Santana busy at work, and Rachel split three ways between school, work and her boyfriend, he was grateful to have the apartment to himself more often.

As he settled on the couch with a glass of wine (sometimes you just needed one), the doorbell rang. Thinking it was the pizza he ordered, Kurt hurried to the door, surprised to find someone unexpected there instead.

"Adam?"

"What's cookin', good lookin'?" came the British voice. Adam was the driving force behind NYADA's biggest glee club, Adam's Apples. They had met while Kurt was contemplating whether or not to join, ultimately deciding against it. Nevertheless, they realized they had a few things in common and remained friends, occasionally hanging out. Today, however Kurt had no idea why Adam was standing at his door, music books in arms.

"Err, hi Adam?"

"You have no idea why I'm here, do you?"

Kurt smiled ruefully before shaking his head. "I'm sorry, we didn't have plans, did we?" He was certain that his only plans tonight were drinking cheap white wine while watching trashy TV.

"Apparently not." Adam joked, holding the books to his chest with one hand, while anxiously holding on to his bag strap with the other. There was an awkward beat of silence before Kurt remembered his manners.

"Oh God, sorry. Come in, Come in." Kurt stepped out of the way, motioning him in. With a broad smile, Adam made his way over to the living room area, placing the books on the coffee table giving his arms a well-deserved rest.

Kurt quickly went to the kitchen and grabbed a second glass, filling it up before sitting at the opposite end of the couch. "Et à quoi dois-je ce Plaisir?"

Adam laughed. It was a silly thing they had started when they first met, saying a sentence in French as an excuse to feel fancy. And with cheap wine, you needed an excuse.

"Well, a little birdy told me you were free to rehearse today for the extracurricular class starting this Friday, but I'm going to take a wild guess and say she lied?"

"If this birdy happened to be 5"4, with incredible lungs, a deluded sense of self and has been wearing pigtails all week then yes, yes it would be a safe bet that you were told a lie. I have no idea what class I supposedly joined."

Kurt placed his glass on the table, folding his legs under himself. He noticed Adam's shoulders sag. Realising he had disappointed his friend, he quickly added, ""But I have no doubt that she signed me up anyway. So, what class has taken over my Fridays for the foreseeable future?" He smiled at Adam and reached for the book at the top of the pile.

"Stage Techniques." Adam noted, inching closer to the center of the couch. Kurt looked down at the slightest distance between them, his brow furrowing a little. what else had Rachel told him?

"It's a class they do every year. It focuses on the performance side of things, not just the emotion, and It's a great tool to have when you don't personally relate to a particular song but still need to captivate an audience." Adam explained, opening up one of his textbooks. "There are a few things we could look over together...?"

"Do any of them involve wine and pizza- I have pizza coming."

"Everything is better with wine and pizza." Adam said, before pausing. "I mean if you don't mind. I can always go."

"No, no, stay. It'll be good to have company. The girls are driving me mad."

So, Adam began to lecture through his Stage Technique ideas, talking rapidly in his accent. He made Kurt laugh with his demonstrations, and by the time the pizza arrived they were getting into this whole 'singing with your body' school of thought- and enjoying it too. Besides, any chance to impress Madame Tibideaux was reason enough to forgo an evening of trashy TV.

"Kurtie, are you here?" Rachel shouted, far louder and sweeter than necessary as she walked through the front door, Santana hot on her tail.

"You know he's here. You tried to set him up on a date with Doctor Who."

"Shut up, Santana," Rachel stage whispered. "I simply implied that Kurt signed up to a class on Friday and needed some extra help beforehand. If sparks fly between them, well then I would be glad to take the position of maid-of-honor."

Adam attempted to make his presence known but the bickering had already started, and he felt as though he was at a game of badminton with the back-and-forth.

"I just thought they would have good chemistry, I have a knack for picking up chemistry, as you know." Rachel justified, shrugging her coat off.

"You have a knack for losing things in chemistry, like an eyebrow."

"That's not fair, Puck was my lab partner, what did you expect?"

"Sweet mother of -" Kurt grimaced, letting his face fall into his hands. "I cannot deal with either of them right now."

"You are ridiculous." Santana pushed past Rachel and headed straight to her bedroom, rolling her eyes in exasperation. She was over this conversation ten minutes before it even started. She looked towards the living room area, noticing Kurt and Adam sitting awkwardly on the couch. Chemistry my ass, she thought.

"I see what you mean by driving you mad." Adam chuckled awkwardly: Kurt felt the couch dip again, this time with an arm draped over his shoulders. He tensed immediately at the unexpected touch and knew Adam felt it by how swiftly his arm dropped.

"It's probably best if you go now." Kurt sighed, getting up from his seat. "Best not to have witnesses to a double homicide." Adam nodded, hurriedly collecting the books along with his bag.

Hi, guys." Came the feigned innocent voice from the doorway.

Adam stilled watching as Kurt folded his arms defensively, purposely looking everywhere but at the small but mighty woman standing there. Feeling stuck between two opposing sides, gearing up for battle, he wanted to run for cover.

"So… I'll see you on Friday?"

Using a carefully controlled tone, Kurt simply responded with: "Sure."

Adam stood still for an embarrassing amount of time, expecting Kurt to escort him out, before turning to look at Rachel with sympathy as he headed towards the hallway. Rachel followed him out. When she returned Kurt had gone to the kitchen, no doubt about to take his anger out on the crockery.

"Okay, before you start on me," she said, cautiously stepping closer to him. "You should know that I wasn't trying to set you two up exactly, I was merely pushing an already established friendship into a possible romantic one. I just set the ball in motion, but I had no control over it once it was there. Though of course, I would take the credit, had anything happen between you two. Did…did anything happen?"

When he didn't respond, she carried on.

"I just thought it would be really nice to have another couple around. You haven't dated anyone since Wyatt and that was ages ago!"

Still no response.

"Kurt please." She whined. "I'm concerned about you. You've been spending far too much time with Santana recently and I'm worried she's going to corrupt you with her…ways."

At that, Kurt finally stopped scrubbing the plate he had been focused on for the past five minutes. Wiping his hands on the kitchen towel, facial expression unreadable, he ordered Rachel to follow him. Once he reached Santana's bedroom door, he banged his fist against it.

One, two, three.

When Santana opened the door, she looked at them both in aggravation.

"I know this is hard for the two of you to believe," He launched, nostrils flaring. "But if I want to randomly fuck someone," he eyed up Rachel, "I can. And if I want to wait for a guy I actually have a deep connection with," He turned towards Santana, face reddening, "I can do that too. Both of you need to stop putting me in the middle of whatever stupid rivalry you have going on. I'm tired of it!" And with that, he headed to his room, locking his door behind him.

"Jeez Gayberry, you see what you just did?"

"Shut up, Santana." Rachel hissed, following in Kurt's foots steps, heading to her own room.

Et à quoi dois-je ce Plaisir? = and to what do I owe this pleasure?

Jack Dawson = Leonardo DiCaprio's character in Titanic.

I know there wasn't any Blainey in this one, but fear not, he is coming back next week.

Thank you to everyone reading. It means the world!

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