AN: Thanks to everyone who's been reading this, and for the lovely reviews that have been left. I'm not sure yet how long this story will be, but I have plenty of plot points in my head so far, so I'll see. Hope you enjoy the second chapter, and as always, reviews are greatly appreciated.

Chapter 2: Now I'm the King of the Swingers, the Jungle V.I.P

"Alright, let's start with the basics," Sebastian said, settling down. "How did you tell him?"

They were sitting in Sebastian's dorm room, where they had relocated to talk more privately and without Gloria Gaynor music. Sebastian was reclined comfortably on his bed, and Dave was sitting in his desk chair. Sebastian had snuck boys into his dorm at three in the morning before, but it had never been to just talk; it certainly hadn't been to start working on a beta OkCupid app.

"So, uh, it was the week around Valentine's Day – "

"Original."

Dave paused to glare at him, but Sebastian had become immune to the effect of glares at around the age of five. "I – knew he was into all these romance movies, you know? Like, uh, what's that one about Harry meeting Sally?"

Sebastian gave himself credit for pausing a second to ascertain if he was joking or not. "You mean, When Harry Met Sally?"

"Yeah, that one. Well, anyways, I know he's into stuff like that, with, you know, the big, romantic gestures at the end – "

Sebastian resisted the urge to cringe slightly – he had a feeling this was going to be a painful story.

"So, uh, I thought, I'd send him gifts, you know? Anonym– anomyn– without telling him who I was, because, you know, I figured it'd be all romantic, him trying to guess his secret admirer."

Sebastian took a rubber band that was lying on his bedside table and began playing with it, knotting and unknotting it. "And did he?"

"Well, no, he, uh, he actually thought it was Blaine. That was the week that he was out of school – he was, uh, in bed rest after his eye surgery from the…" Dave trailed off, and Sebastian snapped the rubber band as an uncomfortable swirl of guilt pervaded his stomach.

Forgot about that, did we? his conscience murmured primly, crossing its legs. Maybe we should get a list going, so you can actually keep track of all the shitty things you've done.

God, Sebastian missed the time when he could convince himself that his actions didn't have consequences. And when he didn't have a bitchy morality GPS in his head.

"Right, Dave, from when I threw the slushy at him," Sebastian finished for him, snapping the rubber band against his own wrist, where his skin reddened slightly. "And then what?"

"Well, I thought on V-Day itself –

"No one calls it that, Dave."

"- on Valentine's Day, I thought I'd finish with like, a grand finale, so I left him a note telling him to meet me at Breadstixx - "

Sebastian had never understood the magnetic pull that that place had on the youth of Lima. It was as close to Italian food as Kung Fu Panda was to Chinese cinema. Much like Scandals, there was too much grease, noise, and bodily fluids everywhere, and yet everyone seemed to congregate there as if it was Studio 54.

" - and he came, and I gave him chocolates, and then I … I told him how I felt."

Sebastian, twirling the rubber band around his finger, frowned. "Why do I feel like you haven't told me the worst part yet?"

Dave blushed, glancing down at his shoes. "Well, uh, I wanted it to be a big surprise, so, uh, I thought I'd rent out a costume. I thought I'd do something cute, you know, like a giant teddy bear or, or a knight, or something, but, when I got to the store, all the good ones had been rented out and the only one left was a – a…"

Sebastian didn't want to know, he really didn't, but his mouth seemed to have other plans. "What was it, Dave?"

"A gorilla costume," Dave said. "But it was better than nothing, and you know, some people think gorillas are cute, so – "

Sebastian burst out laughing. He couldn't help himself. The image of Karofsky squeezing into the suit was nowhere near as funny as the image of Hummel – 'romance-is-an-art, un-casual elegance' Hummel – spending his Valentine's Day with a gift-bearing gorilla.

"It wasn't – he didn't laugh, or anything," Dave said defensively.

"Yeah, he was probably too busy recovering from his stroke." Sebastian wiped a tear that had started forming in the corner of his eye and took a deep breath to steady himself. Don't ask for pictures, don't ask for pictures…

Ask for a picture, his conscience interrupted mischievously.

"Please tell me you didn't confess your feelings to him in the gorilla costume."

"Well, I got out of it when we sat down to talk."

"And he said?"

"He said – he said he didn't really think I was in love with him, and that he liked me, but not that way, and that he wanted to be with Blaine."

The deep note of hurt in Dave's voice pulled Sebastian abruptly back on task – he wasn't supposed to be using him for entertainment; he was supposed to be helping.

"Right, well, how about since then?"

Dave stared at his hands for a few seconds before speaking. "He came to see me at the hospital. He said we – he told me that I was – he said all these – "

Sebastian could hear the emotion cracking Dave's voice, could hear the tears bubbling at the back of his throat. Fuck. Sebastian was shit at this kind of stuff. He could probably outtalk Roger Rabbit if he needed to, but if someone was crying, he was about as useful as a lamppost.

To Sebastian's immense relief, Dave seemed to pull himself back on track, clearing his throat and swiping at his eyes.

"- he said all these really beautiful things, you know. About how it would get better. And he told me to picture the future, outside of Lima, being a successful sports agent, with a partner, but I," Dave's voice trailed off, and his words became a whisper, "I pictured him. I pictured myself with him. That's what made me so happy."

Sebastian closed his eyes, leaning his head back against his headboard and taking a few seconds to gather his thoughts into something constructive.

Finally, he opened them and snapped the rubber band again.

"Alright. Here's how we start. No more grand romantic gestures – not for a while. You start with little stuff – hanging out, him getting to know you. The key to all of this is exposure. The more he sees you, the more he thinks about you, and the more he thinks about you, the more likely he is to want to see you again."

Dave straightened slightly. "How do I do that without Blaine?"

"You don't need to, not at the start. Step one is cementing your friendship, letting him be comfortable around you. The Lima Bean is a good place, he's there practically all the time." Sebastian paused, bringing his knee up to his chest as he thought. "I know from the Warblers that New Directions is performing at the Lima Senior Center next week. You know what a show choir performance is a good excuse for?"

Dave stared at him with a nonplussed expression. "Singing?"

"No. Flowers, Dave. You can go out to support him and bring him some flowers. You'll say it's for the whole club, but give it just to him. What type of flowers does he like?"

"Uhh…how many types are there?"

Sebastian couldn't help but sigh. "He likes the color purple, Dave. Get him some lilacs or hydrangeas."

"Right, lilacs or … what was the other one?"

"Inviting him and Blaine out to Scandals might be a good idea, too – get him to relax a bit more."

"But you'll come with me, right?"

Sebastian stopped mid-thought. "Sorry, what?"

"I don't – I mean, you see how bad I am at all this. I need you there, to keep me from saying stupid stuff."

Sebastian started shaking his head. "No, that wasn't the deal, Dave. The deal was that I – "

"The deal was that you'd help me," Dave said stubbornly, scrunching his baseball cap in his hands. "If 'Buy purple flowers' and 'go to the Lima Bean' is all you have, you're not really holding up your end."

"Dave, me being there is not going to help your cause. Blaine might be coming around to me, but Hummel would gladly push me into oncoming traffic if he could. If anything – "

"You said you'd help!" Dave burst out, and then gutturally low, "You. Owe. Me."

And there it was. The brutal honesty Sebastian had been desperately avoiding all night, the giant suicide elephant in the room. He waited for his conscience to give him what-for, but instead it gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. You seem like you hate yourself enough already, it whispered. Not much for me to do here.

And he did. He hated the weaponized words he used to throw around like they were confetti. He hated the way he'd been digging himself further and further down a hole he wouldn't have been able to get out of. He hated the little arrogant shit he used to be.

But mostly, he hated how he basically hadn't changed at all.

Sebastian rested his chin on his knee, letting the rubber band fall onto his sheets. "Okay, here's the deal. I will be at the New Directions performance. I will invite Kurt and Blaine to go to Scandals with us. I will go with you guys to Scandals. I will help you through all the building blocks and basic foundation that I can." Sebastian took a breath. "But after that, Dave, aside from some over-the-phone Dear Abby stuff, I'm out. I think – I think that's more than fair. And besides, if you actually want to be with Kurt, you can't keep relying on me, anyways."

Dave seemed to be thinking it over, mouth tightly pursed in concentration, eyes squinting slightly. Finally, he relaxed. "Fine. It's a deal."

Sebastian, with a shot of relief, scooted forward and held out his hand, waiting until Dave held out his and gave it a firm shake.

"In the meantime," Sebastian said, pulling back from the handshake, "you might want to start looking up some major musicals and fashion brands, so that you at least get some of his references. Also, while you're at it, you need to get some new clothes. People say you dress for the job you want. Well, you look like you're dressing for middle-age. Get some t-shirts and jackets that don't say truck driver-in-training."

Dave stared at him, and for a second Sebastian thought he might have crossed a line, but then a small grin tugged at the corner of Dave's mouth. "Yeah, and you might want to stop dressing like Waldo."

Sebastian looked down at his striped, long-sleeved shirt. "That's neither here nor there, Dave," he smirked. "I'm not the one trying to seduce the Fashion Police."

Dave stood up, fitting his cap back on his head. "So, I guess … I guess I'll see you around, then."

Sebastian pushed off of his bed. "I guess so," he said, opening his dorm room door.

"Oh, and Dave," Sebastian said when he was already in the hallway, waiting for Dave to turn back and face him. He put on his most punch-me smirk. "No gorilla suit this time."

Hummel had once asked Sebastian if he lived in the Lima Bean (and that was rich, coming from the guy that was single-handedly responsible for luring the Warbler congregation out there from Westerville).

But, despite the Lima Queen's suspicions, Sebastian wasn't there so often because he had a mattress in the backroom.

He went to the Lima Bean because he genuinely liked it. He liked being where the action was. It was the place where both New Directions and Warblers came to sip overpriced coffee, and therefore, to quote any Love and Hip Hop episode, the place where shit was most likely to go down.

But it wasn't just that. He'd frequented what were supposed to be the cream of cafés in Paris, and some dinky Ohio coffee shop should have seemed like a cheap imitation, but instead, something in it felt cozy, quaint, like it was perfectly content with what it was. Sebastian never thought he'd appreciate subtlety, but the faint trace of pine scent, the woodwork finish, the oldies music, had all settled somewhere in his blood and made it feel like instant comfort when he walked inside.

Dear Lord, the Midwestern air was making him go soft.

Maybe that's a good thing, his conscience whispered to him as he swung open the Lima Bean's door, and he couldn't tell whether or not it was with a sense of irony.

As he entered, the first thing he saw was Hummel, sitting at a table to the right of the door and writing furiously on a pad of paper.

It had been nearly a week since Dave had enlisted Sebastian as Wingman Extraordinaire. That time had been spent in lengthy text exchanges about who Patti LuPone was and whether or not Dave should think she was better than Barbra Streisand, as well as exactly what type of article of clothing a neckerchief was.

At one point, after a barrage of photos of nearly identical shirts, Dave had called him frantically from the Lima Mall and begged him to drive down and help. Sebastian was ashamed to say that they'd pretty much reenacted the shopping scene from Pretty Woman (at least he'd been Richard Gere).

Now, though, the New Directions performance was in a few days, and on top of it, Sebastian owed Dave a Scandals fantastique experience. Pausing briefly in the doorway to consider Hummel, who was dressed in something that vaguely resembled a dark green poncho and plaid trousers, Sebastian decided there was no time like the present.

"Finally writing your memoir, Confessions of a Gay Virgin?"

He waited for Hummel to look up, and it wasn't until he finally did, eyes sparking like blue fire, mouth twisted into a dramatic half-scowl, that Sebastian realized how much he was looking forward to this. Making an effort to play nice meant not being able to verbally tear apart innocents, and Sebastian found himself dearly missing the ability to unleash the cut of his tongue without the added weight of guilt.

With Hummel, he didn't have to feel guilty – he was swinging a sword at someone who was fully armed. He hadn't talked to Hummel since his semi-apology to all of them here in the Lima Bean, and he was itching to release his claws.

"Worried about competition for yours, Confessions of a French Call Boy?"

The corner of Sebastian's mouth tugged into a half-smile. "Is this seat taken?" Sebastian asked, indicating the chair across from Hummel.

"Single, I think, but I'd still buy it dinner first if I were you."

Sebastian gave him an insincere grin, and then, sitting down, draped an elbow over the seat back, putting his full smirk on display. "So, how's life been?" he asked. "Still building that poncho collection, I see."

Hummel pursed his lips and angled an eyebrow of disdain. "Shouldn't you be in a forest, gnawing down a tree for a dam?"

Sebastian automatically closed his open-lipped smile, surreptitiously licking over his teeth. If there was one thing that he was slightly sensitive about, it was his teeth, and Hummel seemed to have a strange obsession with insulting them. Fuck, he smelled weakness like some kind of attack Pomeranian.

"I don't know about you, Hummel, but I was just trying to be civil." Sebastian tilted his head in mock innocence, and then promptly dissolved back into his smirk. "But if you want to trade insults, we can start with that poncho sweater. Ugly Betty called, and she doesn't want it back."

Hummel leaned forward slightly – just slightly, but the power move wasn't lost on Sebastian. "That's interesting, coming from someone whose hair looks like it's trying to start its own reality show."

"Your outfit has slightly less sex appeal than Miss Marple."

"Your teeth deserve their own postal code," Hummel said sweetly, leaning his elbow on the table and tilting up his chin.

"Speaking of different postal codes, where's Wonder Boy? Finally making a run for it?"

It seemed to be the wrong thing to say, because suddenly, to Sebastian's disappointment, the rhythm was broken, and Hummel's war face turned into mild impatience.

"What do you want, Smythe?"

Sebastian made sure to lean forward onto the table as well (two could play at the territory game). "Well, now that you ask, I was going to invite you and your dwarf Dreamy out to Scandals next week."

"And why would we agree to that?"

"Well, for one, it would be a good way to start fresh. Water under the bridge, and all that."

Hummel looked like he was almost about to snort, if he would ever permit himself to do something so inelegant.

"Despite the fact that you've never actually apologized to me and Blaine?"

"I apologized to you here in the Lima Bean," Sebastian said, feeling slightly defensive for the first time in the conversation. "I apologized to all of you."

I must have forgotten that apologies come in one-size-fits-all, his conscience said with mocking blue eyes, and Jesus, the last thing he needed was to deal with two of them at once.

"Oh, I see. Well, in that case, I disrespectfully decline."

"I said that was the first reason you should come to Scandals."

"And the second one is?"

"Because Dave wants you to."

Within a second, a multitude of emotions crossed Kurt's face, like a flipping Rolodex. Sebastian felt like he only got to glimpse a few of them, but they ranged everywhere from hope to frustration to sadness. At the end of that second, Hummel was back to the haughty expression he seemed to default to as often as Sebastian defaulted to his smirk.

"David is going to be there?" he asked, hand brought up to grasp his coffee, though he didn't raise it.

"Yeah," Sebastian said, still slightly thrown by what he'd just seen. "He wanted to have a little fun next Friday night. I thought I'd take him out, but I also thought, you know, he'd probably like it if you guys came."

"And you're – you're sure he wants me to come?" Suddenly, Hummel's voice was soft and tentative and unsure.

Now Sebastian was really thrown. Was Hummel really that oblivious to Dave's feelings? And that kaleidoscope of emotions – Sebastian hadn't expected that. For the first time, much to his surprise, he wondered if maybe Dave's case wasn't as hopeless as he'd thought.

"I think if you came, it would make his night," Sebastian said sincerely. Maybe he was giving too much away, but Kurt strangely looked like he needed the reassurance.

There still seemed to be a little doubt left in his eyes, but he pulled back to leaning against his seat, seemingly reaching a decision.

"Well, in that case, Blaine and I will be there. Assuming," he paused meaningfully, "you're actually doing this for David, and not with some ulterior motive."

"You wound me, Princess," Sebastian said. "I'm turning over a new leaf, remember? No more motives of ulterior nature."

The irony, his conscience snorted.

Hummel held his gaze steadfastly, and Sebastian refused to break the stare first.

Finally, Hummel looked away. "I suppose it's a plan, then," he said primly, picking up his pencil again and focusing back on the paper he'd been writing. Not looking up, he said, "In case you weren't aware, this is your cue to return to the flying monkeys."

To his sudden surprise, Sebastian realized he didn't quite want to leave (and since when had he become dependent on people's company?). But there was something stress-relieving and almost cathartic in the bickering he did with Hummel, and he wanted to keep the cannons firing. For a brief moment, he considered saying something to set Hummel off, something that would reignite the battle.

But the moment passed, and instead he stood, sliding the chair back into the table. "Till we meet again, Glinda."

Original, his conscience snickered.

"Original," Hummel murmured.