Hi everyone! Assignments have been handed in for the semester so hopefully I can update more frequently. I'm also recovering from some minor surgery- I binge watched Glee during my hospital stay and ate ice-cream (the best recovery food). A huge shout out to KeegSlytherine who is responsible for the French translation in this chapter and inspiring me to add a French twist to the chapter. The English translation is in brackets so we don't all have to open google translate in a new window.

Kurt tested Elliot, oh he texted Elliot alright. As soon as he got home, he snatched Elliot's belt from the kitchen table and a pair of scissors from the draw. He went to his room, butchered Elliot's belt and took a snap of the haphazardly chopped up remains scattered on his bed.

He stared at the leather, smiling, satisfied. As soon as he pressed the 'sent button' his hands dropped his phone. His hands began to shake. His stomach felt queasy and his chest felt hollow. His eyes began to glaze with tears.

What had he done?

The fragments of belt lay before him like fragments of a broken heart. Kurt snuffled, then snuffles became sobs, the chokes that he tried to stifle, but he couldn't hide back. His chest felt like it was caving in hand he fell to his knees beside the bed.

What the hell was wrong with him? Why the hell was he crying?

He didn't even hear his door open.

"Lady Hummel, some of us are trying to sleep- oh, Kurt!" Kurt turned to find Santana busting through his doorway. Before he could say anything, before he could push her away, she had slammed the door behind her and hauled Kurt up into his bed.

"Come to Aunty Tana, come here." Kurt didn't have a choice, Santana squashed his face into his chest and crushed him there. Kurt hadn't been this close to mammary tissue since he was a baby, well, if you don't could the awkward make out sesh with Brittany.

"You might want to cry your theatrical heart out a little quieter unless you want Berry to wake up." Santana was rubbing his back up and down, and stroked his hair back from his soggy temple.

"I'm fine, San, I'm fine." Kurt tried to put away but Santana shoved him back into her bosom. He must have looked like a right mess for her to be this kind to him. "You know, when you take away the sexualisation of breast, they are pretty comfortable." Kurt hoped that a light-hearted comment would be enough to convince Santana that he was fine but inside Kurt felt like he was breaking up with Blaine all over again. He couldn't breath- and it wasn't because Santana's boobs were in his face.

"Yesterday you called boobs glorified crumb catchers. Something is seriously wrong. You're not hurt, are you?"

"No, no, no." Kurt wiped his eyes a little and turned his head out of the crux of Santana's boobs so he could breath. Beside their feet were the remains of Elliot's belt.

"My Mexican third eye is telling me this has something to do with Blaine then? You were texting him the other day, but then Rachel said something about a guy called Adam?"

"I lied to Rachel." Kurt admitted.

"I would to. I would avoid a Berry lecture."

"I lied to you as well."

"Now, that is inexcusable." Santana sat Kurt up but Kurt slumped himself back into Santana's chest like a pillow. He stared at the fragments of belt, his stomach twisting at the memory of what he had just done.

"I'm going to take a wild guess then and say this has something to do with Elliot." Santana had noticed the belt too and nudged the pieces with her toes.

"You Mexican third eye is on fire tonight."

"Oh, I don't need a Mexican third eye to see that one… Did he hurt you?"

"No, no, not at all. He was actually kind of… sweet." Oh, god, if Elliot ever heard him say that, he would never hear the end of it. Kurt smiled to himself, the warm fuzzy feeling in his chest filling the guilty emptiness.

"Then what's the problem?" Santana asked softly, god Santana was so sweet when no one was looking, she was stroking his hair back, was she rocking him too, or was Kurt moving as he sobbed.

"It was the first time since… since…Blaine and it's just hitting me now that…."

"Ah, you did the nasty and you regret it."

"I don't regret it." Kurt said quickly. He did not regret it one bit, he just didn't expect to be feeling like this, "It's just a weird feeling, that's all, being with someone else and not Blaine. I didn't think I would feel like this, it just feels like the end of it all, like, the final nail in the coffin, sorta."

"Danny's in my bedroom." Santana said.

"Santana, if you are about to dive into details about your lady sex then I'm going to suffocate myself in your boobs and that's not the way I want to die."

"No, listen to what I'm saying Kurt, I said; Danny is in my bed. Why do you think we didn't care that you ran away to meet mystery man? We were having a little after party back here. It's not Brittany and I'm ok with that."

"It feels like I'm breaking up with him all over again."

"You're not. Your moving forward with your life, and this is part of moving forward. So, I can't believe I'm saying this Hummel, but I'm proud of you. If you need permission to not feel guilty about this, you have my permission."

"It's not about permission, I know I shouldn't feel guilty, but I can't help it, it's not even guilt Santana, I don't even know what it is." Kurt could still feel Elliot on his skin, he could feel Elliot biting his lips, he could feel his breath, and he didn't want that feeling to stop.

"You're finally moving on."

"And it's like a feel guilty because I'm not feeling guilty. I'm worried that new….experiences will push all the old memories away."

"I understand that. You feel like a bridge has been burnt." Santana said. "But you need to give yourself permission to move on."

"Yeah?"

"Hummel, if we're going to run with this bridge analogy, you are building some weird kinky-ass bridge with Elliot. That's got to count for something, right?"

"Yeah." Kurt curled himself a little tighter like some teenage school girl, the thought of getting closer to Elliot sounded really sweet.

"You liiikee him." Santana sung and teased, "You like him. I thought there was something going on between you two, although I couldn't quite pick what it was, it's like you were either about to jump each other's bones or commit homicide."

"L'amour vache." Kurt said.

"What did you just call me?"

"It's French. Sort of like a love-hate relationship."

"I bet the sex was hot."

"So hot." Kurt blurted before he could stop himself, "He has a nipple ring and when I twist it he- Why am I telling you this?"

"Because you want to fuck his brains out again. Kurt you're not crying 'cos your sad, this is freakin' withdraws."

"Why did I even come back here?"

"Agreed, now I have to tell Danny to be quiet tomorrow morning."

"I'll put in ear plugs."

"This is all new to you Kurt, it's ok to give yourself a break, don't beat yourself up about feeling things you didn't expect to feel. You know what might help?"

"If you say hiding all of Rachel's expensive lemons, I've already baked them into lemon short-break cookies."

"So that's why they tasted to good. No, I think you should talk to Elliot about it."

"I don't think this is the talking sort of relationship."

"Yeah, I can see that." Santana said in a strange tone. Kurt looked up from her chest to find that she had his phone in her hand, eyes wide.

"What are you doing?"

"You sent him a photo of his massacred belt? Well, it seems to be doing something for him, he sent you a dick pick."

"Stop looking at that!" Kurt tried to snatch his phone back before Santana could keep scrolling.

"I'm already seeing one band member naked, I don't see them all." Santana sung. Kurt grinned at his phone, there Elliot was, clearly in his bed, pants down below his hips with a caption that read:

E: This is what happens when I don't wear a belt.

"Lady Hummel is blushing." Santana pinched those already rosy cheeks before jumping off the bed. "Take my advice; don't bring old ghosts into new relationships. Elliot's amazing and you would be lucky to have him in whatever homicidal relationship you've got, don't fuck it up- I'm not sitting through another round of auditions to find his replacement."

"Thankyou, San." Kurt said as he wiped his tears. No more were flowing, in fact, a smile was creeping to his face. Where that hollowness was in his chest there was a brand new rush of adventure. "I know you won't ever admit it, buy you really are the mother-hen of the group."

"You take that back right now Hummel." Santana pointed a finger at him.

"I wouldn't say it if it wasn't true, now get out of here, I've got some photos to send."

"Ohh Hummel's sending dick picks."

"No, I was going to send a picture of his belt pieces in a blender." Kurt rolled his eyes before shoving Santana towards the door, "Don't you dare tell anyone about me and Elliot or I'll tell them all about how nice you were."

"Ah relationship a little bit spicier when it's secret, I get it."

"Oh, just get out." Kurt closed the door and made sure it was locked. He stared down at his phone that was buzzing with more photos and unzipped his pants.

Then Kurt did something else, he sent, amongst numerous dick pics and flirtations, one question:

K: Do you want to go out?

Then silence, dead silence. God that silence felt like forever. Kurt had fucked it all up, why the hell did he listen to Santana? Crying over a chopped-up belt was better than this. Kurt was pacing in his underwear, around and around his room, his photogenic erection shrivelling miserably. He could have at least waited for one more dick pic before he stuck his foot in it.

E: Like go out for 'round two?'

Great, of course Elliot would think it was a sex thing, although round two sounded like just what Kurt needed right now. So, Kurt played it cool.

K: Yeah, sure, whatever.

E: You are not very articulate when you are distracted by dick pics.

K: You're very distracting.

Kurt was hoping to jump back into banter, banter was safe, it wasn't real, it was this ego, a persona that came naturally to him- it was the guard up he had all through high school, the guard up that he needed to present himself, now this time it was a guard to stop him from getting his heart broken.

E: So, there's this café around the corner from rehearsals. Maybe we could stop by there before 'round two'.

Kurt felt like he was about to be knighted by Lady Gaga herself. He grinned stupidly at his phone and fell back into his bed. Maybe this could work, maybe he didn't need to be so afraid.

K: Hmm, I think I need more convincing, send me another pic and I might consider it.

Well, he supposed playing a little hard to get wouldn't do any harm.

Kurt was at the coffee shop first- not by choice- he was hoping to make some grand exciting entrance. Instead he ended up being there first because it would look suspicious if they had left rehearsals together, and Kurt had enough of Santana's thinly veiled innuendos. So, he had raced out of rehearsal and ordered himself a cinnamon-non-fat latte. He didn't get Elliot anything, he couldn't seem too keen or, god forbid, kind. Besides, he enjoyed watching Elliot wait in line, sliding glances across at where Kurt sat, trying to be suave, ignoring him. Eventually, Elliot sat down opposite Kurt in a booth beside the window.

"I saw you checking me out while I was waiting in line." Elliot said. Kurt didn't reply, instead he was fiddling with something underneath the table. It sounded like the clink of a belt loop.

"Kurt you can't take your pants off-"

"Consider it a peace offering." Kurt dumped his belt on the table between them. "It's the one from the mall, never really was my style, you would be doing me a favour my taking it."

Elliot stared at the studded belt and raised an eyebrow.

"Thankyou. Kurt is there something wrong, you seem nervous."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Kurt sipped his latte and burnt his tongue. he tried not to stare at Elliot too much.

"Are things weird because we had sex, because-"

"No." Kurt interrupted before Elliot could get that stupid idea out of his head, "No, the sex…" Kurt whistled through his lips. Elliot stared at him then, waiting for an explanation when Kurt didn't speak Elliot changed topic,

"Thanks for the belt." Elliot took it from the table and threaded it through his pants. Was this all a mistake? Had Kurt been so naïve to think there would ever be anything other than raw sexual attraction between them? Should Kurt abort mission now before things got too weird?

"You know, my grandmother once had sex in this store." Elliot said as a matter of fact. Kurt sputtered and choked on his drink.

"What?"

"Not really, I lied, but worth to see that happen." Elliot took the napkin from under his drink and handed it to Kurt to clean his milky face. Kurt used the napkin to hide his grin, it did nothing to hide the blushing.

"Trou du cul." (Asshole)

"Is that French?"

"Oui." (Yes)

"Now, I know that is French."

"Waou t'es un vrai génie toi!" (Well done genius)

"Are you going to stop talking French now?"

"Non... Je ne crois pas, non. En fait, je crois que je vais continuer, juste pour le plaisir de te faire chier." (I don't think so, I'm quite enjoying it)

Kurt said with a smile, watching Elliot squirm with confusion. He could say whatever the hell he wanted, and Elliot wouldn't have a clue. Oh! He could say whatever the hell he wanted!

"Elliot, tu portes plus de paillettes qu'une gamine de treize ans à sa première boom!" (Elliot, you wear more glitter than a thirteen-year-old girl at her junior prom)

"Kurt, I have no clue what you're saying but I know you're insulting me." Elliot leant forward with narrow eyes. "I can tell because you get this dumb smirk on your face."

"t'as juste une tête de con." (Your face is just dumb)

"Insults only work if the other person understands them." Elliot flicked his phone around between his fingers as he spoke. He looked bored and flicked the screen on his phone. "Let me know when you want to speak English again."

Kurt didn't like being ignored, not one bit. They were silent for a while, then Kurt tried a different tactic. He leant close across the table and whispered.

"Sais-tu à quel point c'était satisfaisant de niquer ta ceinture à la con? Si seulement j'avais pu voir ta tête!" (Do you know how satisfying it was to cut up your stupid belt? I wish I could have seen your face)

Nothing, Elliot didn't even look up from his phone.

"je pensais me raser les sourcils et me teindre les cheveux en bleu. T'en penses quoi?" (I was thinking of shaving my eyebrows and dying my hair blue, what do you think?)

Elliot let out a sigh and a sideways smirk, he was being stubborn.

"je pourrais te faire tellement de choses sous cette table." (I could do all sorts of dirty things to you under this table)

Elliot raised an eyebrow, that was it.

"st-ce que tu sais à quel point c'est dur de se concentrer quand tu chantes? Je pense à tes lèvres ailleurs que devant un micro." (Do you know how hard it is to concentrate when every time I watch you sing; I think of your mouth somewhere else?)

Kurt had never done dirty talk, well, at least not so openly in public like this. It was kind of exciting, not having anyone understand him, well, he hoped no one in the booth behind him could speak French.

"Est-tu chatouilleux Elliot? Je voudrais vraiment t'attacher pour le savoir." (Are you ticklish, Elliot? I want to tie you up and find out.)

Elliot was grinning now, grinning at his stupid phone, and ignoring Kurt completely, god this was frustrating! Why wasn't Elliot bothered by this? Instead he took a swig of his coffee and waited.

"Nous pourrions le faire dans ma chambre, sur le sol, si personne n'est à la maison, nous pourrions le faire dans le salon. Et le sexe sous la douche ? J'aime quand tu ne peux pas me comprendre, cela signifie que tu ne peux pas répondre." (We could do it in my bedroom, on the floor, if no one is home we could do it in the living room. How about shower sex? I like it when you can't understand me, it means you can't talk back)

Elliot looked up then and said,

"Shower sex sounds perfect."

"What? Are you…" Kurt snatched Elliot's phone from him? "You were translating me." There in Elliot's phone was a freaking translation app.

"Ah, duh, of course I was. And for the record, don't shave your eyebrows, you would look ridiculous, but the blue hair, that could work."

"Blue hair die will never come near this hair, thank you very much." Kurt preened his hair back, disgusted at the very thought.

"Your sexy when you speak French." Elliot didn't try and grab his phone back; Kurt was left to toss it between his fingers.

"If your lucky I could do it all night."

"You're not going to run away this time?"

"Run out of my own apartment? I don't think so. Kicking you out would be far easier." Kurt stood and pocketed Elliot's phone. "Well, come on."

"Can I have my phone back?" Elliot followed.

"Only once you've earnt it." Kurt hummed, liking the feeling of Elliot following at his heels. He just hoped that no one would be home when they arrived.

fyi, choc-chip cookie dough is the best ice-cream.