A/N: Kurt and Sebastian (not quite) enjoying their son's first concert. This was written for the Kurtbastian Hiatus Project prompt 'concert'. Short, fluffy, warning for language.
"Oh…my…God…" Sebastian groans, raking his fingernails down his face, pulling at the skin, the pads of his fingers catching on his lips, tugging them at the corners.
"Shhh," Kurt hisses from behind his digital camera as he records the group of students, including their son Thomas, gathered on stage. "I don't want your bitching to overshadow our son's genius."
"How can you even hear our son's genius?" Sebastian moans, ignoring the shushing of other parents around them. "This is a train wreck."
"It's a recital," Kurt corrects, holding the camera farther away in the hopes of not picking up his husband's complaining.
"It's an assassination attempt using kazoos," Sebastian mutters under his breath, savvy to the murderous glares he's receiving all around him.
"They're recorders, not kazoos," Kurt says with a forced smile as he silently tries to assuage the faces snapping in his direction. "All first year music students start out with recorders."
"It's a tragedy." Sebastian sighs, sinking down in his seat. "A murder. They're murdering Bach. I didn't even know that someone could die twice."
A particularly sharp sqwak! fills the air, and the entire auditorium of parents wedged into too hard seats reflexively cringes.
"Apparently, you can," Sebastian whispers, and Kurt sputters, unable to control the laughter he'd been holding back since this disastrous rendition of Minuet in G Minor had started.
Seeing a crack forming in Kurt's resolve, Sebastian decides to see how far he can break it.
"Has this piece always been 43 hours long, or does it just feel that way?"
Kurt sniffles, shaking his head, then straightening his back and focusing ahead in his patented I'm ignoring you stance.
Sebastian moves in closer to his husband, refusing to be brushed aside.
"You know what would make this performance better?" he asks. "A handful of dying cats and a tuba."
Kurt bites his lip, his cheeks quivering, but he doesn't otherwise acknowledge Sebastian's remark. Sebastian knows he doesn't have much farther to go though. He can tell when Kurt's about to lose it. He crosses his legs, then he swallows hard, and he shakes his head to clear his thoughts – all three of which he does while Sebastian watches.
"Hey…what if those things are actually alien creatures and not musical instruments?"
Kurt rolls his eyes at the ridiculousness that is his husband and continues taping undeterred.
"And what if…" Sebastian whispers on, "every time a kid messes up and those recorders screech, it's actually the aliens cursing?"
Kurt sighs dramatically, the only concession he gives to Sebastian's adolescent remark.
But just then a recorder squeaks, and Sebastian whispers, "Fuck!"
Kurt's lower lip creeps slowly between his teeth and he bites down hard.
Another recorder squeals and Sebastian whispers, "Shit!"
A laugh gurgles up from Kurt's throat, but it stays trapped inside his mouth.
Several recorders stumble over the same strain and Kurt's mouth trembles before Sebastian even says a word.
"Motherfucker!" Sebastian says, which catches the attention of the woman behind them and she lets fly with a loud, obnoxious, "Shhhhh!"
"Stop!" Kurt mouths, but Sebastian can't. He's running out of time. Unless the group reprises the next coda (which they did once already and Sebastian prays they don't), the piece will be finished in the next few measures. He pulls out all the stops and comes up with the one word that (for some bizarre and unexplained reason) never fails to make Kurt laugh.
Sebastian leans over the arm rest, following Kurt as he tries to lean away, almost resting against the gentleman to his left in an effort to escape his husband. With nowhere to go, Kurt holds his breath, counting out the measures in his head, confident that Sebastian can't do any more damage this close to the end of the piece. The man to his left sits up suddenly, forcing Kurt back in his chair.
"Excuse me," Kurt whispers when the man turns and gives Kurt an awkward look.
Kurt sits upright with Sebastian smack dab next to his ear just as he whispers, "Penis."
The piece of music ends with an off-key flourish and Kurt – red faced and shaking bodily – laughs into the silence so loudly that it echoes around the auditorium. Two hundred and twenty six faces turn in unison in Kurt's direction.
Feeling triumphant but slightly guilty about taking all the attention away from the kids on stage, Sebastian leaps to his feet, clapping loudly.
"Bravo, guys!" he calls at the top of his lungs. "Beautiful! Well, done!"
The room of gawking parents begins to applaud slowly, turning their faces away from Kurt, who is doubled over in his seat, his face hiding between his knees. Soon, more parents are on their feet as the students on stage bow proudly, holding their recorders high in the air. Sebastian whistles and waves to Thomas, who sees his dad and waves enthusiastically back. Then Sebastian sinks back down in his chair beside his husband.
"Thanks for covering for me," Kurt says, his voice muffled since he hasn't lifted his head up yet.
"No problem, babe," Sebastian says, putting an arm around Kurt's huddled shoulders. "Anything I can do to help."
"Good," Kurt says, sitting up finally and collecting his things, "because there's something else you can do for me."
"What's that?" Sebastian stands with Kurt, feeling benevolent after his big victory.
Kurt turns his head over his shoulder and flashes steely eyes his husband's way.
"You can drop dead."