AN: So, thank you first of all to the people who have been reading and reviewing (to ElphieYo, thanks for all the kind words). This is part one to their night at Scandals, and the second half should be following shortly. Thanks for reading and, as always, reviews are greatly appreciated! :)
Chapter 4: I'm Not as Think as You Drunk I Am
Most nights were filler – they were the in-betweens, the beige and gray and haze, the half-remembered bars in Parisian, half-lit streets, with boys who didn't have names and music that didn't have words.
But some nights, some nights were different. Some nights had the promise of being either completely spectacular or a spectacular disaster, and nothing in between. Some of those nights in Paris had been Elysiums and seventh heavens and unnamable Holy Grails; some of them they had also been his deepest rock bottoms and fuck-all fuck-ups and memories in a box marked Forget.
Sebastian was fairly certain this was one of the nights that wouldn't be anything in between – it would either be perfect, or it would be fucked.
For starters, he wanted to wear something flashy, and that was unlike him.
Usually, he let his looks attract the attention – wearing something showy ruined the illusion; it made it look like he cared. It was true, what the adage said: sometimes less was more. He'd found that the more casually his collar was popped and the more sloppily his shirt was chosen, the more his looks stood out (and besides, guys liked someone whose vibe was a single, double-underlined 'easy').
Someone on the opposite side of the dictionary from 'easy' was Kurt Hummel. In Sebastian's opinion, everything he'd ever worn screamed 'Look! Look at how hard I'm trying!' Sebastian often wondered how many hours per day Hummel spent in front of a mirror (he'd considered himself vain, but that was before he'd learned about Hummel's daily facial routine).
At first Sebastian had thought that Hummel dressed the way he did out of a complete disconnect with reality, that he wore iridescent jackets and strap-on shirts because that was what the sparkly gays on TV wore, and he just didn't have the self-awareness to know any better.
But the more he got to know him, the more he began to suspect that Hummel was, in fact, entirely aware of how ridiculous he looked wearing a bedazzled coat in the middle of small-town Ohio – but that he decided to wear it anyway.
The ironic thing to Sebastian was that if Hummel toned down the Lady Gay look, went for something a little more casual, he actually stood a chance of being attractive. Not passing – not with that voice, or with the face of a pixie Peter Pan – but he'd probably be able to pull a few interested (experimental) parties each night.
Sebastian figured he'd never understand Hummel's compulsive need to play dress-up, and yet…
And yet tonight, he wanted something flashy. He wanted to turn heads and people. He didn't know if it was the makeover takeover he'd been playing at with Dave, or just the general dread of going back to a too-familiar Scandals, but he wanted to wear something that would make people eye-fuck him, something that said SEXY in capital letters and neon lights.
So instead of going with the usual denim and polo with popped collar (it did not make him look like a nineties frat boy villain, thank you very much), Sebastian found himself slipping into take-me-now tight skinny jeans, a white oxford shirt that strained against his chest in just the right way, and a bomber leather jacket that followed the shape of his hips and his shoulders. The jacket had been one of his mother's many apology presents, and he'd never worn it before, but tonight seemed like the night. He slipped it over his oxford for a cursory once-over in the mirror (and then popped the collar, thank you very much).
Dave's almost literal jaw drop when Sebastian stopped by to pick him up did wonders for his soul.
"You're – wow."
"Thanks, Dave, not so bad yourself."
He was trying to ignore the additional presence of Dave's father at the door. His expression was one of mild shock, and Sebastian wasn't sure if the surprise was Dave being picked up by gay gentlemen in general, or just being impressed that his son could pull so high.
"So, you boys are going to…"
"The movies, Dad, I said already," Dave muttered, cheeks reddening.
"Right," his father nodded, giving Sebastian a careful once-over, and…was he seriously gracing Sebastian with the 'Father Approval Scan?'
"Which we'll be late for, if we don't leave soon," Sebastian said, leaning against the doorframe with a level of comfort he probably wasn't entitled to, seeing as he'd never visited Dave's home before.
"So, Sebastian, you go to Dalton?"
"Yes." He'd be damned if he was going to start with the 'sir' or 'Mr. Karofsky' nonsense, particularly since he wasn't actually trying to sleep with his son.
"And you two met…"
"At the mall, Dad. Can we go now?"
Dave's father stood rooted in place, still considering Sebastian carefully, almost as if he had 'Bad Influence' written on his forehead in black marker.
"Just…be safe, Dave. Be a good kid."
"And on that lovely note…" Sebastian pushed himself off the doorframe, making to turn toward the car.
"Bye, Dad," Dave said without much preamble, and pushed out of the doorway to follow Sebastian.
"Sorry about that," Dave said once they were in the car and pulling out of his cul-de-sac. "He's still getting used to…stuff, I guess."
"Stuff, Dave? You know it's okay to say you're gay, right?"
Sebastian glanced over at Dave to see him staring thoughtfully at his hands.
"Yeah, I know," he finally said, a little too quietly.
After a moment's deliberation, Sebastian decided that that was a battle for another day. "Well, at least it was over with pretty quickly. At one point, I thought your mother was going to join us and start taking Prom photos."
Another bout of silence, and then, "My mom doesn't live with us anymore. She wasn't really okay with…stuff."
"Oh," was all Sebastian could think to say, his grip tightening on the wheel in equal parts empathy and discomfort. He'd thought his mother was bad. "That…sucks."
Eloquent, his conscience sighed. Is that really the best you can do?
"Yeah, it does," was all Dave said, and then, because he was a fucking coward, Sebastian turned on the radio, and they spent the rest of the way listening to an Alanis Morrissette marathon, whose music he was pretty sure neither of them liked.
When he finally pulled into the bar's parking lot, Dave suddenly exhaled in a short laugh. "I remember the first time I saw him here. With you. The first thing I thought, was God, he's got two guys after him now."
As Sebastian put the car into park and shut it off, he thought over his words and then frowned. "You thought I was into Hummel?"
"I don't know. I guess, it just seemed like he could do anything, you know? And then you were dancing with Blaine, and he was sitting at the bar – it just seemed like he wouldn't have left you two alone, if he'd been jealous."
Sebastian hadn't really thought about that. He'd vaguely remembered seeing Hummel talking to someone at the bar, but he'd been more focused on working in a way to naturally grind up against Blaine than on wondering why Hummel was letting him.
Not that it really mattered either way, not anymore. Sebastian pushed it to the back of his mind as they flashed their fake IDs at the bouncer.
Scandals inside was at its usual peak form, which meant it was full of half-done drag queens, lonely old men, and (semi)virile virgins.
He pushed their way to the bar, getting them a couple of seats and figuring he'd cajole his way into a few more when it came down to it.
"A beer?"
"Yeah, sounds good."
Sebastian ordered two beers from the bartender and looked over to see a look of surprise on Dave's face.
"What? I can go slow some nights."
"Is twenty minutes the fast or the slow night?" a soft voice broke through the din.
Sebastian had expected that some kind of disturbance would have alerted them to Hummel's and Blaine's entrance – an explosion of confetti, maybe, or just the sound of his high-pitched voice carrying in from the parking lot – but here they were, standing behind them as unexpectedly as an immaculate conception.
He swiveled in his chair to fully face them. "Well, if it isn't Anderson and Hummel, good cop and good cop."
"This place is packed tonight," Blaine said, with excitement sparking in his eyes. "We haven't been here in forever."
Yeah, if you had you would have seen me wasting away on the barstool every weekend.
"Yeah, us neither," Sebastian said, not entirely sure why he'd felt the need to lie. It definitely wasn't because of the way Hummel's nose crinkled slightly in distaste as he surveyed the surrounding crowd.
Whatever helps you sleep at night, his conscience whispered slyly.
Meanwhile, Dave had stood up hastily from his bar stool, smoothing down imaginary wrinkles from his shirt.
"Hey, Kurt…Blaine." The pause between the two names was audible, with the second one sounding like it was tacked on as an afterthought. Dave stepped away from his stool and beckoned to Kurt. "Here, take my seat."
"Oh, no, that's –"
"No, really, I'll get the next one that opens up," Dave said assuredly, and Kurt gave him a final, hesitant smile before accepting, sliding into the seat next to Sebastian. Blaine was still looking around at the rainbow crowd, seemingly in awe of the tawdry strobes and heavy-set drag queens.
"So, looks like we've finally got all of Dorothy's friends together," Sebastian said lazily. He slid off his chair like Dave had, except his reasoning was less chivalry and more as a chance to finally put his outfit on full, effective display.
He'd started to think that maybe there was something to be said for putting in a little effort to his wardrobe. He'd already had a couple of murmured 'fuck's as he'd passed by the dancers on the way to the bar, and as close to a man's eyes literally popping out of his head as he figured he'd ever see. Even the surly bartender had given him a double-take (though that may have been because he'd finally ordered something other than tequila).
Blaine turned back to face him just as he was straightening his jacket, and his reaction was perfectly gratifying. He immediately colored, and his eyes lingered a few seconds too long on the cling of Sebastian's jeans.
And then Sebastian looked over to see Hummel's reaction, which was… nothing.
Not a flicker of surprise, not a quick once-over, not even a questioning eyebrow raise. Out of everyone, Hummel, honorary clothes Nazi, should've had the biggest reaction to a style rebrand. Sebastian had even looked forward to rendering him speechless for a few seconds, watching smugly as he searched for an elusive insult.
"All of Dorothy's friends? Are you planning on asking the Wizard for a heart, then?" Hummel asked, elbow leaned against the bar, his mouth twisted in typical haughtiness.
Alright, so maybe speechless had been a stretch. Had the boy spent so long staring into bleach-white compact powders that he didn't know the definition of 'hot' anymore?
Sebastian swallowed the aftertaste of irritation along with his instinctive urge to snap back. After all, this night wasn't about him, not really, and he'd gotten enough gratification from the surrounding Ohioan gay community as it was.
"Hey, Dave, been a while," Blaine said, giving his hand a firm shake with an open, easy smile, no hint of discomfort evident on his face. Sebastian would have probably been a touch less friendly with a guy who'd tried to proposition his boyfriend in a gorilla costume, but he supposed that whole Warbler 'nice above vice' motto ran pretty deep.
"Hey," Dave said, coloring slightly. Sebastian was baffled how he'd managed to stay in the closet for so long, because his emotions showed on his face as clear as flare signals.
"I like your shirt. Is it new?" Kurt said, just barely brushing his hand across the sleeve of the polka-dot polo Dave was wearing.
"Oh, uh, yeah. I don't know, is it too…?" Dave trailed off, blushing even harder than before.
"I think it looks great, David," Hummel said, with a reassuring smile, and Dave's face lit up like a megawatt bulb. It almost made Sebastian feel rewarded – almost.
Blaine was busy fiddling with his jacket zipper, and Hummel had turned to look at the other people sitting along the bar.
'Tell him he looks good,' Sebastian mouthed at Dave, who frowned at him in confusion.
Sebastian sighed, and then tried again, overenunciating the words with his mouth. 'Tell. Him. He. Looks -
He shut his mouth abruptly as Hummel turned back. "So, what's the plan for tonight?" he asked, leaning slightly toward Sebastian, away from the tipsy, balding man that had begun leering on the other side of his seat. At least Sebastian could feel good about winning that mental comparison.
"You look really good, too, by the way," Dave said, finally catching on to what Sebastian had been mouthing.
Oh, well. He supposed late was better than never.
Hummel stretched his arms out with a sly grin, shaking his sleeves. "What, are velvet and sequins your thing now?" He was dressed in a green velvet turtleneck and crescent-patterned pants, where small metal sequins dotted the tips of the moons.
Anything you wear is his thing, Hummel, Sebastian thought, mentally rolling his eyes.
"Not usually. But I guess they just look good on you," Dave said, and Sebastian almost took a double-take, because that was actually bordering on the edge of natural-flirty.
Wanting to end on a strong note, Sebastian figured he'd get the night moving along. "Well, Dave and I ordered some beers, but how about we start with a round of shots for the four of us?"
Hummel tilted his head skeptically. "Four of us? I thought I was designated driver? Like, always?"
Damn him for having the memory of a brightly-colored circus elephant.
"Actually," Sebastian said, "I thought tonight we could mix things up a little."
"You mean you'll try being a decent person?"
Fucking hilarious. Sebastian was laughing on the inside.
"I meant," Sebastian said, suspecting that a little irritation was creeping into his voice, "I thought that this time Blaine and I could be the designated drivers, and you and Dave can be the ones to let loose tonight."
Sebastian hadn't exactly run this plan by Dave, for various reasons, but Dave would just have to trust him on this one.
Hummel's expression was one of suspicious surprise, and he seemed to be scanning Sebastian's face for potential ulterior motives. Either he found one or decided he wasn't taking chances anyway, because he finally leaned back with a frown.
"Maybe a little later. I think I'll stick to a soda for now."
"Oh, come on, Hummel, have a little fun," Sebastian cajoled, even though he instinctively felt it was useless. Hummel was as stubborn as a sweater-wearing pit-bull when he made up his mind on something. "You know, fun, that thing where you enjoy yourself? Blaine doesn't mind sticking to Shirley Temples for a night, do you, Blaine?"
He looked over at the shorter brunette, whose face had fallen slightly from the excitement it had held earlier.
"I mean…" Blaine glanced over at Hummel, who simply raised his eyebrows at him. "…of course, I don't mind, Kurt, if you want to switch tonight." Sebastian wasn't even touching the innuendo that could be read from that sentence.
Evidently, Hummel wasn't either, though Sebastian could have sworn a touch of amusement graced his lips for a second as he turned to the bartender who was passing.
"Three shots, please," he said primly. "And a soda." The bartender nodded, giving Hummel a small smile as he turned to the next order. Sebastian had been going there for almost a year now, and he hadn't seen the guy smile once.
"I was wondering, uh," Dave said, "if you guys wanted to choose a song? It's Jukebox Night."
Blaine's face immediately perked back up again. "I'll come with you," he said, handing his jacket to Kurt, who began neatly folding it on his lap. "Oh, I hope they have Mariah. Which song do you want me to put on for you, Kurt?"
"Surprise me," Hummel said drily as he smoothed the top layer of the fold.
Blaine only nodded and looked at Dave expectantly, and Sebastian could tell Dave had been intending for Hummel to come with him.
"Right, yeah, uh, this way."
And then Sebastian and Hummel were alone, and he hadn't been aware that such a thing as awkward silence could exist while Cotton-Eye Joe was loudly playing in the background.
Hummel's face was down, focused on smoothing imaginary lines from Blaine's perfectly folded jacket.
"Alright," Sebastian finally said. "Get it out of your system."
Hummel looked up at him, eyes swimming with defensiveness and confusion. Sebastian made a scanning motion over his own outfit with a free hand.
"You have thirty seconds. What's the best you've got?"
Hummel blinked at him. For a moment, Sebastian thought he'd entirely lost him, but then…
"Which Gossip Girl character are you dressed as?"
"Not bad for a start, but I think you can do better."
"Every time you put on that jacket, a hedge fund manager gets his wings."
"Points for originality."
"Your outfit is decent overall, but I think you're missing a belt that says 'Open 24/7.'"
"Do you have one that says 'Closed until further notice?'"
"Your jeans are pretty much –
"Ooh, sorry, your thirty seconds are up," Sebastian said, just as the bartender slid their drinks on the table in front of them. "I have to say, I think you're losing your touch, Hummel. At your peak, you could have fit at least five insults in there."
Hummel stared at him defiantly, mouth pursed. "That was ten seconds at most."
Sebastian smirked, and then slid one of the shot glasses towards him. "Go on. Blaine will live."
"As I already said: no, thanks."
Sebastian made a show of looking over at Dave, who was hunched over a jukebox, laughing beside a clearly frustrated Blaine, who was scrolling through the screen.
"You're right. This night isn't about Dave having fun, or getting to hang out with you. It's about you, sitting sullenly in a corner, holding our jackets." Sebastian turned back toward him, hoping the challenge came across in his eyes. He'd known getting Hummel to relax would be the hardest part of the evening, but if he could just get a foot in the door, just a bit of leeway…
"You're assuming that I'm more fun to be around when I'm drunk," Hummel said, though his eyes were on the shot glass.
"Well, you can hardly get less fun, now, can you?" Sebastian said, nudging the glass the tiniest bit forward.
"Come on," he said. "Just one drink."
And then Sebastian made his first mistake that night, because his next words were famous last words, and a challenge to a fickle universe if there ever was one.
"What's the worst that could happen?"
They were four rounds in, and the night was finally getting interesting.
True to his word, Sebastian had opted out after the first round of shots and nursed his bottle of beer instead. He also (not so) gently had to remind Blaine that as designated driver, he should probably do the same.
Blaine's face had sunk, but then the Mariah song he'd chosen came on, and…okay, apparently Blaine didn't need to be drunk to dance like that.
Meanwhile, Sebastian had made sure that Hummel and Dave were still taking shots, and it was probably waiting for the third round that the alcohol really hit Hummel's system, because he started chattering excitedly at Dave about Real Housewife Swap or Keeping Up with the Bachelors or some reality show shit like that, gesturing effusively and regularly placing a hand on Dave's shoulder to emphasize a certain point.
Sebastian could tell Dave wasn't even close to following whatever Hummel was saying, but he also looked like he was in seventh heaven, and Sebastian couldn't help but feel a little bit proud, because he was the reason this was all happening.
Meanwhile, Blaine had danced back over to them, somehow in possession of a shot glass that Sebastian had not seen him take.
"This is fun, guys!" he said, grinning widely as he set the shot glass down. "I'm going to dance again."
Hummel just waved him off and turned back to Dave, and well, that was a hands-off boyfriend-ing approach. It reminded Sebastian again of that night in Scandals when he'd let Sebastian dance alone with Blaine. And then of how relaxed Blaine was around Dave. It was an odd dynamic to Sebastian, and it felt less like trust and a little more like indifference.
Hummel suddenly turned back to Sebastian. "You are such a Charlie, too!" he said emphatically, eyebrows raised expectantly, and Sebastian didn't know what the fuck he was talking about, but he nodded indulgently anyway.
Another pair of shots was placed on the table in front of him, and Sebastian pushed one toward Dave and the other toward Hummel.
"I don't think I should," Hummel said in an unsure voice, and then looked up at Sebastian expectantly.
With a start, Sebastian realized Hummel was waiting to be convinced. By him.
Well, that was new.
"Are you having fun?" he asked, leaning in slightly to be heard above the music.
Hummel's eyes were glimmering with contentment and enthusiasm, and for once, the haughtiness was all but gone from his face, replaced with a carefree smile. Sebastian hadn't considered how closed off his face usually was, how composed, until just now, when he was beginning to see the barriers come off, layer by layer.
Now that he thought about it, he didn't think he'd ever really seen him actually smile before.
"Fun? You mean that thing where you enjoy yourself?" Hummel said, and for once, his tone with Sebastian was actually friendly and teasing instead of guarded.
"Exactly that thing," Sebastian said. He was beginning to think that getting him a little buzzed was actually doing Hummel some good, Dave's cause aside. Clearly, the guy had some stress and tension to get off his shoulders.
Hummel turned abruptly to Dave. "Are you having another one, David?"
"I will if you will," he replied, his cheeks rosy with alcohol and emotions.
Hummel smiled cheekily and raised his shot glass. "Make a wish."
Gee, I wonder what he'll wish for, Sebastian thought, finishing off his beer with a final swig as they downed their shots.
Dave pulled out his wallet, taking a few bills from inside. "I'll cover the next round," he said, louder than he needed to, and placed them on the table. Hummel's eyes didn't follow the bills, remaining on the open wallet instead.
"What's that?" he asked, head tilted slightly in confusion.
Dave looked to where he was pointing and didn't respond, so Hummel reached over and pulled out a piece of paper.
He began reading what Sebastian assumed were the words on the paper. " 'Therapy specializing in curing troubling tendencies or inclinations for – ' Dave, what the fuck is this?" Hummel was staring at him with an open mouth, and Sebastian leaned over his shoulder to read the rest of the paper.
Dave's lips pursed into a thin white line, and his body somehow managed to slightly sag into itself. "My…mother gave that to me. Before she left. In case I wanted – in case I wanted help."
Sebastian felt the same rush of discomfort and pity that he had had in the car, and just like in the car, his immediate reaction was retreat. He resisted the urge to stand up abruptly, not sure what to do or say, but Dave was busy staring at his hands, and Hummel had just gone back to gaping at the paper.
Sebastian was trying to think of an excuse to leave (fucking coward, fucking coward), when Dave beat him to the punch.
"You know," he cleared his throat, "I think I'm going to choose another song, so that, uh…" He trailed off as he stood from his seat, but Hummel stood with him.
For a moment, Sebastian thought all three of them were trying to make a run for it, but instead, Hummel placed his hand on Dave's shoulder.
"Fuck her," he said in an unexpectedly clear and steady voice.
Dave's eyes widened to the size of saucers. Sebastian wasn't sure his were any different. "Wh-what?" Dave asked.
"I said, fuck her," Hummel repeated calmly. "I know it's hard for you to hear, David, because she's your mother, and you still love her – probably always will – but she is a villainous, poisonous cow who does not deserve – does not deserve, do you understand me? – to even breathe the same air as you. Fuck her, okay? This trash – " Hummel waved the paper in the air, "why do you carry this around with you? Why do you look at it every time you have to pay for something, or show your ID, or get change? As some sort of punishment? Because you do not deserve punishment, David," Hummel's voice was hot with angry tears now, "she deserves punishment, for giving you this filth."
Hummel took a step back, pulling his hand from Dave's shoulder and reaching down to take his hand instead. Dave's brows were drawn together tightly, his mouth puckered, and Sebastian had seen the exact same expression on him when he'd been trying to hold back tears.
"Listen to me, David. You don't need this," he held forward the paper again, "you don't need to be fixed, because you're not broken. Look around you, David," Hummel waved his hand, his voice raising in both volume and pitch, "look at all these people, David, these people, living their lives, look at me, look at Sebastian, none of us – none of us – need to be fixed, do you understand?" He fell silent abruptly, his breath slightly ragged. Dave just stared at him with the same strained expression.
"Do you understand, David?" he repeated after another beat of silence, and finally, after what seemed like forever to Sebastian, Dave slowly nodded.
Hummel pulled up Dave's hand, uncurled it, and placed the piece of paper inside. "Throw it away, David," he said softly, and suddenly Dave's fingers were curling in on themselves, crumpling the paper inside, and then he was taking Sebastian's empty beer bottle and stuffing it in, letting it fall to the bottom.
And there it was. Sebastian would have been on the other side of town right now, but Hummel had stayed. Hummel had made Dave listen, had said all the things that Sebastian would have wanted to say if he had the ability to dream them up in the first place, had taken the first step to patching the gaping hole where Sebastian had tried to paint over instead.
And for some reason, that hurt Sebastian.
It hurt him, that Kurt could do that, could just face feelings and emotions and tears head-on, head-first, could so easily do something that Sebastian couldn't figure out how to do for the life of him. Didn't Sebastian get points for trying? Didn't he get any credit for the progress he'd made, as far from perfect as he might still be?
Didn't it ever get easier?
It was unfair. It was shitty, and it was unfair, and he suddenly felt angry with Kurt, for being able to do that, because what class had Sebastian skipped where they'd taught lessons on how to fix people and heal emotional scars?
And he knew it was irrational, but he felt the anger coursing through him anyways, felt the sudden desire to push Kurt down, anything to not feel so small and useless and – well, shitty anymore.
He didn't know how he managed to keep his mouth shut in that moment, but he focused on taking the four shot glasses that were still out, and neatly stacking them. One in the other in the other in the –
"Let's dance!" Kurt burst out unexpectedly, and Sebastian looked up to see him tugging at a smiling Dave's hand, pulling him gently toward the dancefloor, and obviously ignoring Sebastian, because what was he except the asshole that Kurt had to put up with to see Dave – what was he except inconsequential scenery?
Dave looked back at Sebastian with a giant, liberated grin, evidently oblivious to the dark thoughts in Sebastian's head, and gave him a loose wave goodbye. And then he and Kurt disappeared somewhere into the crowd, probably to find Blaine, and Sebastian was alone.