Sebastian suffers a bout of PTSD when Isabelle invites Kurt and their family to an upscale egg hunt.

Notes: This isn't a re-write, but I wrote one similar for Klaine.

"Ugh. Can you get PTSD from an Easter egg hunt? I'm asking for a friend," Sebastian says, glancing over his shoulder as he leads his husband, his son, and his son's service dog towards the swankiest gathering of New York's elite that he's seen in a long time. This isn't normally how they spend Easter, and if it were up to him, they would have done what they always do – color eggs and hide them around their house, bake Kurt's mom's special braided Easter bread, sit on the sofa and watch their little boy eat too many jelly beans until he vibrates into another dimension. They'd run him around the yard until he passed out from exhaustion, then lock themselves in their bedroom and have some adult fun with the ears and tail of an old bunny costume Kurt's parents sent them one year. But ever since Kurt got his promotion at Vogue, they've been attending more events like this over the holidays – outlandish affairs that required them to dress in more-expensive-than-usual attire and rub elbows with the upper crust.

It's how Sebastian spent a good portion of his own childhood, so it should be old hat to him by now. But the older he gets, the more he values his quiet life. And things like this, which Kurt handles with the grace and energy of a professional socialite, have begun to wear on him.

He can't blame Kurt for this one. He didn't choose this. He didn't even know egg hunts of this caliber existed.

It was his boss Isabelle's idea.

Sebastian loves Isabelle. Kurt owes her a ton for giving him his big break right after he graduated high school, when he'd moved to New York with no other plan than to survive, which means Sebastian owes her, too.

After this, though, Sebastian might consider declaring them even.

"Having flashbacks?" Kurt teases, taking his hand as they pick their way through the grass over to a roped off area. From what he can see, it's roughly about the size of two football fields end to end, which Kurt finds astounding since half of the children here look barely old enough to walk yet.

How are they going to cover the length of one football field, not to mention two? They'll be huddled in one corner, whining over a dozen plastic eggs, leaving an entire section of grass completely unexplored.

"You can say that," Sebastian says, stopping when Thomas chooses a spot and plops down in the grass. "My parents took me and my brother to one of these stupid hunts every single year. You'd think it would be fun. I mean, it was at the country club, there were other kids, eventual chocolate. But it was never fun."

"Why not?"

"Because it wasn't just getting together with our friends and looking for eggs. It was a competition. Our parents were pitting their kids against each other to see whose family was better. But by the end, the other kids didn't matter. For my parents, it became me against my brother." Sebastian stops the story there, stops short of telling Kurt exactly how far his parents' disappointment in him went. He'll tell Kurt one of these days. But now is not the time. Not in front of Thomas. "It was kind of traumatizing."

Kurt puts a hand on his husband's shoulder. "Oh, Sebastian. I'm sorry. I didn't know. Why didn't you tell me? We could have found a way to bow out."

"Because you always get so excited when Isabelle invites you to these things. I didn't want you to miss it. It's important to you."

"Yeah, but you're more important. One of the most important."

"You can make it up to me later," Sebastian suggests, leaning in close so Thomas won't hear. "You know … nakedly?"

Kurt rolls his eyes, but he didn't expect anything less. "Look, Isabelle hasn't seen us yet. Maybe we can …"

"Kurt! Sebastian! Oh, thank goodness you could make it! I was scared you'd get caught in the holiday traffic!"

Kurt sighs. He had always referred to Isabelle as his 'fairy godmother' in part because of the dreams she'd been able to help him realize, but also because of her impeccable timing.

It was close to occult.

Kurt mouths sorry to his husband for getting his hopes up while his boss is too far away to notice.

"Isabelle! We wouldn't miss it for the world!" Kurt feels his husband grimace as he greets his boss with a hug and a kiss on each cheek. "We actually came up yesterday and rented a room not too far from here to make sure we'd get here on time."

"Fabulous!" she says, kissing Kurt and then moving on to Sebastian. "Make sure you send me the bill!"

"You know I will." Kurt watches Isabelle move on to Thomas and Hepburn. Thomas may not like being kissed, but he loves Isabelle as much as his parents do, so he sits still and lets her fuss over him, coo about how cute and grown up he looks, so much like his fathers in his smart grey slacks and navy blue button down. "So, what are the rules here?" Kurt asks, searching the grounds for a sign, a poster, a handout, something. "Is there a time limit? Are the kids separated by athletic ability? Or age?"

Kurt isn't a huge fan of things like Easter egg hunts or baby races. He doesn't have the patience to handle large congregations of kids and parents. Being a member of the PTA at his son's school is the farthest he'll stretch. And even though he wanted to come today, he was hoping to constrict their revelry to family members only, so if they can find their own section of the park to conduct their Easter biz without having to socialize, even with the elite, that would suit him fine.

"You're making this too complicated!" Isabelle laughs under the assumption that Kurt is joking. "It's just an Easter egg hunt, Kurt!"

"We usually confine our egg hunting to our house, maybe the front porch," Sebastian says.

"Yeah. Besides, tromping through the grass in search of hard boiled eggs isn't the way my father and I spent Easter."

"How did you spend Easter?" Isabelle asks, realizing that after knowing Kurt for over a decade, she has no clue.

"The way many a well-rounded, musical theater inclined child did. I watched Brigadoon on AMC."

Sebastian side-eyes his husband with a scowl that makes Isabelle snicker. "How in the hell did you and I ever get together?"

"You decided to stop being a royal idiot about pretty much everything in your life and do something smart for once."

Isabelle guffaws so loudly at that, Hepburn's ears prick up.

"Wow …" Sebastian says, mouth agape. "I … don't know how to respond to that."

"A simple you're absolutely right, love of my life, I will never doubt your incredible wisdom in all things again will suffice."

"Not the direction I was going to go, but okay. As long as it gets me some ass after this is over with."

Kurt elbows his husband.

Isabelle snorts. "Come on, guys! Let's enjoy ourselves! It's a beautiful day! The sun is shining, the sky is blue, and I think the Easter bunny just arrived!"

"The Easter bunny!?" Thomas pipes up from his seat in the grass. "Where?"

Sebastian, Kurt, and Thomas take a gander at the festivities around them heralding the soon-to-be start of the egg hunt. Indeed, the Easter bunny had arrived. But this was not your average, human-sized, department store cottontail dressed in a pastel vest and straw top hat, carrying a basket of colorful, candy-filled plastic eggs. This Easter bunny is easily seven feet tall, dressed in what could only be described as a vintage suit of aubergine brocade with matching purple top hat; a tall, white plume tucked inside the olive green hat band; a gold monocle over his left eye; carrying a hand-carved mahogany walking stick in one hand, and a Moses basket in the other, filled to bursting with eggs, jelly beans, foil-wrapped chocolates, and trinkets and tidbits that catch the light and twinkle like gemstones. He's surrounded by an entourage of handlers, each wearing an outfit to complement the bunny's own and carrying baskets of the same treats to hand out to the kids. The bunny and his team walk the perimeter of the field, and a parade forms behind him – adorable little boys and girls bedecked in their Sunday best, dresses and suits that Kurt saw advertised in Vogue for close to four figures. But some of them are dressed in honest to God athletic wear.

Those boys and girls look downright intimidating.

"I don't know." Kurt eyes five children dressed in matching track suits and running shoes. "Some of the people here look awfully competitive."

"That's an understatement," Sebastian adds. Back in his day, the kids and parents were competitive as fuck. But this – this is on a whole other level.

"Of course they are! The prizes here are outstanding! Last year, they hid a $10,000 Tiffany engagement ring in one of the eggs!"

Kurt's eyebrows shoot up so far, they disappear somewhere in the vicinity of his hairline. "Really?"

"Sounds about right," Sebastian mutters, shivering with the memory of having his hand stepped on by no less than three pairs of dress shoes in an effort to reach a particularly difficult to get at egg. All the kids knew that the farther the lie, the better the prize. That was something the organizers of the egg hunt used to sing as they released the children, like hounds, to sniff out the treats.

He suddenly feels queasy, stomach acids sloshing left to right as he shoves that little ditty aside. But even with it pushed out of the way, he can't help feeling sick.

Why were they there again?

"They go all out - luxury vacations, spa packages, theater tickets … but don't worry," Isabelle says when she notices how pale Sebastian has become. "The emphasis here is on fun."

"Do they know that?" Kurt asks, motioning with his chin towards a nearby family dressed entirely in Under Armour from The Rock's latest collection – mother, father, and their five-year-old daughter staring down Thomas like a lion stares down an easy meal.

Under Armour – proud sponsor of Easter and good-natured family fun, Kurt thinks spitefully. He wonders if Isabelle has the same thought as she quickly pulls out her iPhone and starts snapping some pics.

Their attentions are directed upward by the sound of a helicopter arriving, circling the area above their heads.

"Okay, why is that here?" Kurt asks. It'd be easy to assume it's paparazzi, but there isn't supposed to be any here. That's part of the appeal. There are guards posted everywhere to ensure the privacy of the families participating. But they can't be everywhere at once. It's possible one or two might get through.

"It's here to drop more eggs from above! Those are the ones people really go for. Some of them are made out of solid gold!" Isabelle explains, nearly drooling after the words solid gold.

"What the-? That's insane! Even my parents' country club never went that far!" Sebastian envisions something the size of a chicken egg made of gold plummeting from the sky and smacking him on the head. That would definitely leave a dent in his skull, at the very least.

Could he survive that impact?

"Ouch!" Kurt kneels beside his son and covers his head protectively while keeping an eye on the sky. "Isn't this a little excessive? I mean, we have the money to go to whatever spa we want. That's one of the perks of being rich."

"That's a lawsuit waiting to happen!" Sebastian says, pointing towards the sky. "I don't know about you, but I don't remember signing a waiver!" He joins his husband, son, and Hepburn, hovering over them in an effort to protect them all when he swears he hears the copter swoop down. "What kid needs a Tiffany engagement ring anyway? This sounds like it's going to turn into a blood bath!" He meets Kurt's gaze, his husband's eyes wide, unsure what to do about this, about this mess he's gotten them into. "Maybe we should go somewhere else."

"No!" Isabelle pleads. "Just … give it a few minutes! Please? An hour at the most? I promise we'll have fun! I've been looking forward to getting you out here for this Easter egg hunt ever since I found out you'd adopted Thomas!"

Kurt shakes his head slowly. He is here for work, but that shouldn't include putting his life, and the lives of his family, in danger! Isabelle is his friend. She won't make him stay if they're uncomfortable, especially considering Thomas's history of anxiety. But there's a look in her eyes he hasn't seen before. Not crazy, per se, but slightly unhinged? But not in a bad way? "I don't know …"

"We're at a big, private park. There's a playground and a lake not too far from here. If you don't like the Easter egg hunt, we can go over there and Thomas can play. But can we give this a try first? Please?"

Kurt looks from a worried Sebastian, awkwardly shielding their heads, to Hepburn, instinctively on alert, back to Isabelle, and sighs. Isabelle means well. She's from a wealthy family in Columbus, so she probably went to egg hunts like this one, same as Sebastian. Perhaps her experiences were better. With no kids of her own, she probably tries to strong arm all the employees with kids to come to this thing so she can relive her childhood.

Looking at the expression on her face, she seems nothing if not sincere.

In the end, for Kurt, it's all about Thomas. And his son - playing in the grass, singing a song about the Easter bunny that he learned in school, without a care in the world - seems to be enjoying himself so far.

They're already here. They drove for hours to get here. And it is a stunning location. They can stick it out for a while, collect a few eggs, dodge the helicopter, grab some punch and cookies over at the refreshment table, and then retire to the playground. They brought Hepburn's toys with them. They can tire Thomas and his dog out in one fell swoop. It'll be fine. It might even be fun.

If anything, the pictures will be precious.

"Alright," Kurt says, feeling the weight of his husband deflating a bit in defeat. He knows that Sebastian was hoping this was their out, and on any given day, falling solid gold projectiles would be. But Kurt is in the unfortunate position of having to juggle the feelings of multiple people that he loves. "We'll give it an hour."

"Yay!" Isabelle says. "That's all I ask."

"But after that …"

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen! Lads and lasses! Step right up to the starting line! The 53rd Annual Hampton Bay Easter Egg Hunt is about to begin!"

"Starting line?" Sebastian repeats, looking left and right. "What starting line?"

Kurt looks around, too, in confusion. Starting line? He doesn't remember seeing anything marked starting line. There was only the rope boundary and …

Uh oh …

While they'd been discussing staying or going, they hadn't noticed that the parade of kids and parents following the Easter bunny had circled round and stopped about a hundred feet away … right where the rope Kurt, Sebastian, Thomas, and Hepburn passed to get in had been set up. There they stood – a mob of adults and children lined up in starting positions, brows furrowed in deep concentration, ready to charge, like a re-enactment of The Hunger Games if the eccentrically dressed inhabitants of the Capitol City were the ones on the attack.

Sebastian, Kurt, Thomas, and Isabelle didn't know.

Nobody told them.

Nobody warned them.

Nobody seemed to care that they were sitting in the grass, dead center, in the way.

"On your marks …"

"Daddy …" Thomas grabs his father's hand in both of his and squeezes tight.

"… get set …"

"No, no, no, no …" Sebastian springs to his feet, gearing up to drag the lot of them off the field before the announcer can get to Go!

But he never does.

And not because he's waiting for them to vacate the field. (Who knows if the man even sees them?) But because the start of the hunt is proclaimed by a gun shot.

The sharp pop hits the air.

After that, the roar of hundreds of feet hitting the ground, along with the frantic screaming of children, is deafening. At the same time, the helicopter above releases its bounty. Plastic eggs rain down around them, exploding on contact, spreading chocolate shrapnel within a foot of where they land. One hits Sebastian on the top of his head.

"Ow! God!" he wails, rubbing an already forming bump with his fingers. He doesn't know what the heck was inside that thing, but his head begins to throb.

No way is he going to stay there if something made of solid gold is headed his way.

"Run!" Sebastian says, pulling his husband to his feet and getting pelted by another plastic egg in the process. He sees this one where it lands, spraying jelly beans left and right, and he starts laughing.

"Sebastian!" Kurt cries. Hepburn barks once in warning and yanks Thomas the shortest distance across the field. Kurt covers the boy's head with his jacket and bolts, leaving Sebastian behind in a mad dash for their car. "Sebastian! For God's sake! Hurry up!"

Sebastian runs to catch up, but three steps in, a featureless gold blur hits the ground hard, and his foot gets caught in the hole it makes. He falls to his knees, laughing hysterically at the absurdity of it all. Spoiled little rich kid with daddy issues. That's what Kurt had called him once back in high school – back when they hated one another. Little did Kurt know how close to the mark that comment hit, or how deeply the already scarred over wounds went. But the reason Kurt didn't know, not for a long time, is because Sebastian had worked so hard to hide them, run away from them. He was going to grow up better than his upbringing. He was going to become a successful person, a successful parent, whether his own parents were proud of him or not. But all the things they did to break him down - Sebastian didn't find a way to get rid of them. He simply carried them with him. And here he was – a husband and a father, scared of an Easter egg hunt! Granted, he was in very real danger of ending up with a concussion, but fuck the rest!

Isabelle was right! It's a beautiful day! And regardless of the greedy horde about to trample him into the dirt, he was going to have the best day ever because he's surrounded by people he loves!

People who will mourn him when he's gone.

"Raise our son well, Kurt!" he chokes out over the howl of the raging onslaught. "And remember, I always loved you! Well, ninety-three percent of the time!"

Kurt turns to see his husband, red-faced with laughter, swallowed by the crowd, and despite being concerned for his safety, he can't help laughing, too. He knows that in a few minutes the crowd will pass, and Sebastian will emerge the way he always does – cocky as hell, obnoxiously triumphant, and probably with a dozen of those golden eggs Isabelle was fiending over. "You're a good man, Sebastian Smythe! You shall be missed!"