A/N: Warning for anxiety, some talk about religion (non-descript), a little more background information on Kurt's life as a slave (general, no all too specific), and Sebastian grieving his husband. Mention of masturbation.
Kurt wakes with his forehead resting against the strong line of Sebastian's chest, Sebastian's arms wrapped around him, the blanket tucked tight around both of them, and Sebastian's fingers running up and down his spine. Kurt feels drained, as if he had run the length of the trail from the village to their campsite instead of riding it on Sebastian's buckboard, but he knows his exhaustion has nothing to do with traveling.
Kurt doesn't remember the specific details of his nightmare. When he's caught in the middle of it, everything seems so clear - every sound, every smell, every hurt imprinted in his skull - but the further he wakes, slivers and cracks form in the memory until everything disappears.
Except the feel. His body remembers the feel – the pain, the anxiety, the sorrow, the helplessness. It's an experience he can't put into words, but he knows what the dream's about. Back at the regent's house, he would wake up scared and alone with no way of explaining why and only tears to console himself with until he fell back to sleep.
But this time, Sebastian had been with him. In his sleep, Kurt heard Sebastian soothe him, talk to him. He heard Sebastian promise that he wouldn't let anyone hurt him again.
Those words, spoken as Kurt gave in to unconsciousness, made all the difference.
But Sebastian can't have done it because he cares for him. Pity maybe, but not care. There must be another reason. Did his son suffer from nightmares? Did his husband?
Exactly how much does Kurt resemble Sebastian's husband Aaron? Is it just the way he looks? Is that enough to inspire the kind of affection Sebastian has shown him after only a few days?
"Good morning, little one," Kurt hears Sebastian murmur. Kurt peeks up into Sebastian's tired face.
"How did you know I was awake?" Kurt asks.
"Your breathing changes when you wake up," Sebastian says with a long, heavy sigh. "And you hold it when you're thinking."
"Oh," Kurt says, feeling oddly vulnerable that Sebastian can read him so easily.
"Would you do me a favor?" Sebastian asks.
"Anything," Kurt says, and at this moment he finds himself meaning anything.
"Put your arm around me?"
Kurt doesn't hesitate, winding an arm around Sebastian's waist and snuggling close, pressing his cheek to the man's chest, above his heart. When Sebastian sighs again, it's less heavy, not quite as burdened.
"How long have you been awake?" Kurt asks.
"A while," Sebastian says, a yawn escaping his mouth as he speaks. Kurt accepts that as an answer, though he suspects Sebastian didn't go back to sleep after his ordeal.
"Thank you, by the way," Kurt says.
"For what?" Sebastian takes a deep breath as he waits for Kurt to answer, already preparing to argue. Suddenly Kurt doesn't feel right thanking Sebastian for what he did last night – especially since Kurt woke the worn-out man from a sound sleep with one of his stupid nightmares.
"For bringing me with you," Kurt says instead. "For inviting me along when you didn't need to."
For saving my life.
The words are there, but Kurt doesn't say them. He doesn't want them excused away.
"You're welcome," Sebastian replies, a small smile in his voice, "but like I said, I had reasons for bringing you along. Selfish reasons."
"Mmm-hmm," Kurt hums in response. He doesn't want to buy into Sebastian's self-serving routine that crops up from time to time, though he's also not willing to create the fantasy that Sebastian is some kind of white knight that rode along and rescued him in his hour of need.
Kurt would rather believe that Sebastian is an honest, good man, because it would be nice to know that they exist in the world.
"Anyway," Sebastian continues, giving Kurt a final squeeze before preparing to get up, "we should get started with breakfast and whatnot. We have a long day ahead of us till we reach our next camp."
"Let me?" Kurt begs, wiggling his way out from underneath the blanket. "You look exhausted."
"It's alright, Kurt," Sebastian says, reaching for Kurt, trying to catch him back, "I…"
"Please?" Kurt bats his eyelashes playfully like a child begging for another piece of candy, but Kurt doesn't understand. Sebastian welcomes Kurt's help, but he doesn't want to see this boy do anything that resembles serving him. He doesn't want Kurt to think this is something he needs to do to pay him back.
Kurt feeling the need to repay Sebastian might cross into dangerous territory.
Kurt's boyish smile fades, but not into sadness – into sincerity.
Kurt isn't the only one who doesn't understand.
"Please," Kurt says, taking Sebastian's hand and kissing it - not like a supplicant or like a slave, but like a boy…one who might be developing a bit of a crush, "let me do this. Let me do this for you."
Sebastian looks at Kurt, his eyes not downcast but gazing back at Sebastian through long lashes, pleading for Sebastian to say yes. Kurt is trying to find his place in the world now that he has no one but himself to serve, but he's still lost. This he feels comfortable with. It could cause more harm than good for Sebastian to refuse him.
"Alright," Sebastian concedes, wrapping up in the blanket and turning on his side to face away from Kurt's beaming face, not at all comfortable with this idea. "Just don't set the campsite on fire."
Restarting the fire isn't hard, which Kurt is thankful for, since he has no experience whatsoever making a campfire from scratch. When he had offered to make breakfast, he figured he would simply follow in Sebastian's footsteps from the night before, but as he gathers kindling he discovers he hasn't a clue how the actual fire had been created. He puts a hand over the ashes and finds that they're warm. He prods at them with a stick, mixing the warm with the cool, and sees cinders turn red and crackle with hidden heat. He creates a small tent of dried twigs and leaves, and gets a decent fire burning, hot enough to boil water for coffee. Breakfast proves to be a simple thing to throw together, thanks to Carole's generosity. So Kurt's only real contribution to the meal is the presentation.
Even with the meal prepared quickly, Kurt takes his time, cleaning up the supplies that he can, getting them ready to load into the buckboard, then giving Sebastian's horse breakfast and a brush down, allowing Sebastian extra time to sleep. They should really get back on the trail and put miles beneath their feet before the sun climbs too high in the sky, but there's a fair amount of cloud cover overhead this morning. With any luck, it'll take its time burning off and give them shade for their journey.
When Sebastian's horse becomes restless and the fire dies back down, Kurt brings Sebastian his meal. He lays down a clean red cloth he found among Sebastian's collection of clothes. He sets their two plates on it, side by side, each one holding a slice of bread smothered with jam, dried meat, and a pickled egg a piece. He sets a mug of coffee down in front of Sebastian's nose to lure the man awake.
Kurt had considered waking Sebastian with a kiss, but he left that notion behind. He does, however, pick a handful of wildflowers and sets them in an empty glass jar for looks – a piece of sunshine until the real one makes an appearance.
Sebastian opens one eye at the smell of the coffee. He sees the mug first, then the plates, then Kurt, kneeling, sitting on his heels and waiting patiently for Sebastian to rise.
"It's late," Sebastian says, his eye flicking up at the sky, taking in the muted light.
"I wanted you to rest," Kurt answers quietly.
Sebastian nods. He would not have chosen to sleep in this late, but he needed it. He's grateful that decision was taken out of his hands this once.
It's the same thing Aaron would have done.
Sebastian notices the two breakfast plates and frowns.
"You…you didn't eat yet?" he asks, wiping a hand across his face and opening both eyes.
"I wanted to wait for you," Kurt says, folding his hands in front of him. Sebastian looks at Kurt and raises a challenging eyebrow.
"You can eat, Kurt," Sebastian says, pushing the plate his way.
Kurt shifts on his knees, inching away from the temptation to do just that.
"I'm okay to wait," Kurt says, smiling politely.
Sebastian sits up, crosses his legs, and stares Kurt in the eyes.
"I'm not taking a single bite until you take one first."
Kurt gasps, but he doesn't argue, his eyes dropping along with his smile.
"Yes, sir," he says.
"Kurt…don't call me sir."
"I'm…I'm sorry…"
Kurt shrinks in on himself, which is the opposite outcome Sebastian had originally intended. Sebastian wants Kurt to relish in his new freedom and independence, but the binds that held him for so long are embedded deep. They're heavy as well – Sebastian can tell by the way Kurt sits, waiting for the next harsh words out of Sebastian's mouth. Sebastian needs to curb his tongue. It occurs to him that this time he should apologize, but then he'd have to admit to Kurt how badly it hurts watching Kurt obey, that it stings Sebastian to see him act like this, even though Kurt can't help it.
"Look," Sebastian says, running a hand through his messy hair, "I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable. I'm doing this for your own good. There's some rough country we're heading into, and it's best if folks don't know you're a…that you were a slave." Kurt nods slightly, but doesn't lift his gaze, embarrassment coloring his cheeks. "So it'd be best if you learned how to act disrespectful like the rest of us slobs so no one gets suspicious."
"Yes, sir…uh…Sebastian," Kurt replies, looking at the food on his plate, not making a move to eat.
Sebastian sighs and shakes his head. He leans over the plates until their foreheads meet, coming up with an idea he's sure will bring back Kurt's smile and his appetite.
"If you take the first bite," Sebastian whispers, "I'll give you another kiss."
Kurt's eyes snap up to meet Sebastian's.
"I thought that might bring you back," Sebastian says with a smirk. "And I'll tell you what – if you finish your meal, I'll give you another."
Kurt licks his lips, his gaze innocent but his eyes as full of want and need as any Sebastian has ever seen. Sebastian thought giving away a kiss or two would be a minor thing, but the heat in Kurt's eyes strikes him straight through the heart, making it beat off rhythm.
Kurt wants a kiss from Sebastian – he wants it badly.
Kurt's hand hovers over his slice of bread, but he still looks unsure.
"Go on," Sebastian dares him. "Take a bite…I want my kiss." He looks at Kurt's lips and licks his own to get his point across.
Kurt breaks off a piece of the bread and jam, and lifts it to his lips with shaking fingers. Kurt keeps his eyes locked on Sebastian's as he brings the bread to his mouth, drops it on his tongue, then starts to chew. Sebastian smiles seductively, even if that wasn't his goal. He doesn't wait for Kurt to swallow before he moves in for his kiss, pressing his lips against Kurt's and sucking Kurt's lower lip gently into his mouth. Kurt stops chewing, stunned by Sebastian's sudden kiss, whimpering when his lip enters Sebastian's mouth. When Sebastian pulls away, Kurt swallows his bite of bread hard, and Sebastian licks his lips again.
"Mmm," he says. "Blueberry."
Kurt chuckles as if that's the most ludicrous comment Sebastian could have made when Kurt's whole body is ready to explode.
"Did you like that?" Sebastian asks. He wasn't going to at first. He was going to start in on his meal and not even mention it, but he had to know.
"Y-yes," Kurt stammers. "Bl-blueberry is one of my favorites."
"Not that," Sebastian laughs, breaking off a piece of bread for himself.
"I know," Kurt admits, the blank expression of shock remaining on his face but his cheeks flooding with color, "but we were not permitted to talk about such things at the regent's house. We were not expected to…to like the things we did."
"You're not at the regent's house," Sebastian says, keeping his voice soft but dialing down the flirting. "But forgive me. I was just curious."
Sebastian chews his bread, keeping his eyes on the egg and meat on his plate, confused by his own question.
"I do like it," Kurt says, his hand stuck in the air above his plate as he prepares to break off another piece of bread, remembering that he has the chance to earn one more kiss. "I like kissing you. I've never…kissed anyone before."
Sebastian looks at Kurt, the gravity of Kurt's words furrowing Sebastian's brow.
"But, in my room, that first night, you tried to…"
Kurt bites his lip.
"I wanted to kiss you. I thought, maybe…"
Kurt can't seem to finish, his training kicking in and shutting him down.
"So, I…"
"You were my first kiss," Kurt finishes for him with a shy twist on his lips.
Sebastian throws down his remaining bit of bread and curses to himself.
"What?" Kurt asks. Sebastian catches a hint of hurt in Kurt's tone and curses himself more. It's been a while since he's had to watch out for someone else's feelings, and he's fucking up all over the place.
"Nothing," Sebastian says. "Not you. It's just…if I'd known, I would have kissed you better."
"Don't apologize," Kurt says. "I thought…I thought it was lovely. Besides, if I finish my meal, you get to try again."
Kurt ducks his chin to his chest as he moves on to his meat, and Sebastian, knocked agog by Kurt's comment, starts to grin.
They talk no more about kissing or the regent's house during breakfast, rushing to finish their meal and make up lost time while enjoying the cool morning air - a rare treat in a place as dry and arid as the outlying lands. When the last crumbs are eaten off Kurt's and Sebastian's plates, Kurt starts to clear them, but Sebastian puts a hand on his shoulder.
"Leave the plates a moment," he commands, "and sit here with me." He gestures for Kurt, patting the wood slats between his legs, and Kurt sits cross-legged between them, already guessing why. Kurt takes off his shirt half-way, keeping it on his arms and baring his back. Sebastian uncorks his pot of salve and starts applying ointment to the burn on Kurt's shoulder. Kurt closes his eyes when Sebastian touches him, trying to make the moment last, and it must work because Sebastian takes his time. Kurt feels Sebastian's breath against the skin of his neck and hears him speak, but in such a low voice that Kurt isn't sure of his words or the language that they're in.
But Kurt is curious and he figures there's no harm in asking.
If Sebastian doesn't want to tell him, he won't. Sebastian won't hurt him for asking. Kurt has to remember that.
"What are you doing?" Kurt asks, peeking over his shoulder.
"I'm praying," Sebastian answers, and then goes back to his mumbling.
Kurt waits until he feels a break in Sebastian's prayer.
"Are you praying to heal my wound?" he asks.
"Yes," Sebastian says, laying a small kiss on the burn, then grabbing the hem of Kurt's shirt and helping him on with it. "I pray for that, and for you."
"For me?" Kurt asks with surprise.
"Yes." Sebastian grabs a jacket and puts it on Kurt over his shirt as a breeze begins to blow. He reaches around Kurt's torso and starts doing the buttons up the front.
Kurt cranes his neck around. From where he sits, he sees only the top of Sebastian's head, so he waits till Sebastian raises his face.
"Why do you pray for me?" Kurt asks.
"I pray to heal your soul," Sebastian says, giving Kurt a hug from behind. "To rid you of your nightmares."
"Which god do you pray to?" Kurt leans back into Sebastian's chest, smiling when Sebastian holds him tighter.
"I pray to the God of Creation," Sebastian says. "The one who made everything you see. The one who blesses us with birth and renewal, who paid a great price to rid us of our sins."
Kurt puts his arms over Sebastian's where they wrap around his waist, chewing his lower lip thoughtfully. Kurt looks at their arms – his pale hand against Sebastian's tan skin, how beautiful the two shades offset one another, how perfect they look joined together.
"Did they not teach you to pray at the regent's house?" Sebastian asks, laying a cheek in Kurt's hair.
"They pray to idols at the regent's house," Kurt says, tracing up and down Sebastian's forearm with his fingers, "and to the regent himself. They sing his praises." Kurt looks up at Sebastian. "My mother prayed to your God, I think. What she used to say about it and what you said sound very similar."
Sebastian squints at the change of expression on Kurt's face.
"But you don't believe?" he asks.
"I don't believe in God," Kurt answers sadly. "It's hard to believe when…" Kurt stops when his voice shakes. Sebastian leans down and places a kiss to Kurt's forehead.
"I understand," he says. "Many don't believe. Many stop believing. There was a time when I stopped believing."
"You did?"
"Yes."
Kurt thinks he can imagine why, but he doesn't speak of it. Kurt is a firm believer that people control their own destinies. The concept of an intelligent creator confounds him. If such a being does exist, why would he or she allow men like the regent to kill mothers and kidnap children? But his mother believed with every grain of her being, and maybe understanding why might make him feel close to her again.
"Can you teach me about your God?" he asks.
"Well, I'm afraid that I'm not as devoted as I should be," Sebastian says, standing up and helping Kurt to his feet, "but you're in luck. Someone wrote a whole book about him. I have one, if you would like to read it. I use it to practice my reading. You can do the same."
Kurt nods. "I would like that."
Kurt stoops for the dishes but Sebastian stops him once again.
"Oh," Sebastian says, "one other thing…" He snakes an arm around Kurt's waist and turns the boy around in his embrace. Kurt's face goes pink as Sebastian puts a hand in Kurt's hair, holding lightly to the back of his head, and then kisses him, much in the same way he did before, but this kiss he draws out, adding a sweep of his tongue over Kurt's lips, pulling a moan from his throat.
Like the other kisses, it ends too quickly, but Sebastian can't risk kissing Kurt longer.
He can't risk losing his heart to this boy.
"That," Sebastian says, backing away and leaving Kurt's arms before he can make the ill-conceived decision to go in for another, "is what you get for eating all your breakfast."
The trail they ride is much the same as the trail the day before with one significant feature that Kurt notices right away - the silence. An extreme nothingness seems to suck up all the sound, even the ones in close proximity to him, like the rocking of the buckboard, the clopping of the horse's hooves into the dust, the wheels digging into the ground with their hollow creak, until the only thing he can hear is the sound of his own breathing.
It's maddening. It makes Kurt want to scream. He thinks of Sebastian riding this trail, moving his many head of cattle, choking on dust, sweltering beneath the brutal sun in this miserable void of quiet. How can a man do this? How can someone live like this, traveling these roads alone, and not go completely insane?
Unless Sebastian wasn't alone. Maybe his husband went with him. Or his son. So many questions circulate through his brain. Whether he voices one subconsciously out loud or not, Sebastian seems to know his thoughts.
"I can hear you thinking kinda loudly over there, little one," he says. "What's up?"
"I was just wondering," Kurt starts, yelling louder than necessary to talk over the nothing, "how could you do this alone? I think I'd go crazy."
Sebastian keeps his eye on the horizon, watching the sun rise, the sky growing brighter with every step forward his horse takes. Without a thought, he takes the hat off his head and moves it onto Kurt's.
"Well, one man can't move a herd," he answers, his explanation guarded, as if debating how much exactly he's willing to tell. "I had help – a few hands, some hired men when the heads of cattle got past a hundred." Sebastian sucks a breath in through his teeth. "I had started teaching my son to do it – to move the herd with me."
"The regent's house was never quiet," Kurt puts in, desperate to keep the conversation going, afraid Sebastian might shut down at the mention of his son. "Even at night. There was always music playing or people laughing or yelling or…um…having relations…"
Sebastian smirks at Kurt's word usage.
"Loud relations?" Sebastian teases.
Kurt nods.
"Sometimes it was required of us…to scream," Kurt says. "Sometimes there were…we were…" Kurt stares straight ahead, searching his head for words he's able to say.
"Was it quiet at home?" Sebastian intervenes, pulling Kurt away from those horrible memories. "Where you lived on the farm with your folks?"
"Yes and no," Kurt answers, smiling. "My mother sang and my father…he was always fixing things around the house, around the farm, repairing equipment for the neighbors. He had a real knack for it. Taught me some. Then we had the animals. They made noise constantly, but not so that it bothered me. Sometimes I would lie out on the grass in the sun by the pond and listen to them talk to one another, listen to the water move with the wind, or the birds singing as they passed by overhead, almost as if they were saying hello and goodbye to me." Kurt sighs, dreamy and sad. "No, it wasn't quiet, but it was peaceful and calm."
"I'll tell you what, little one, I could sure do with some calm and peace," Sebastian admits. "Maybe when we find this farm of yours, I can stay for a while? A day or two tops, to unwind and get my bearings?"
"I'd like that," Kurt says, smiling brighter. "I'm sure my father won't mind. He'll be much indebted to you for bringing me home."
"I'm not collecting any debts on your account. I'm just looking for a little peace."
Kurt imagines bringing Sebastian to his favorite spot by the pond and lying side by side under the sun, maybe napping out there, wrapped around each other the way they do when they sleep. It's kind of an incongruous picture – tough and rugged Sebastian relaxing by Kurt's tiny pond, but it's a romantic one, too.
"Although…" Sebastian picks up again, "there is maybe one other thing."
Kurt holds his next breath. Will this be it? Will Sebastian tell Kurt now what he really expects? The other shoe that Kurt's waiting to drop?
"And what would that be?" Kurt asks with eyes firmly glued to the sky, detaching for a moment to accept his fate. And he'll do so gladly. Whatever Sebastian asks for, he deserves it.
"You said you sang at the regent's house."
"Yes," Kurt says, raising an eyebrow beneath the brim of the hat.
"Maybe, when you're up to it, you can sing for me."
Kurt turns his eyes from the sky to Sebastian, who has been watching him for a while.
"I think that can be arranged."
Before the sun begins its descent, Kurt starts to notice a sweeter smell to the air, and bird song punctuates the silence. On the dusty ground he sees a spattering of green, then another, and another, until a trail of grass clumps leads them along, indicating there's water nearby.
And thank goodness for that. Kurt's skin has become so filthy that it looks three shades darker. Didn't he wash this blanket of dirt off a few days ago? It should remind him of being abandoned out on the dirt road, but it doesn't. This journey he's on is a new adventure, a different adventure, an adventure with a possible happy ending, and it's time for Kurt to start doing a better job of leaving the past in the past.
"Okay," Sebastian says, pulling his horse and buckboard into the grass, heading off the trail, "we're going to be spending the night here, but by tomorrow we should be hitting a town. We can rent a room there if that's more comfortable for you."
"I don't know," Kurt says. "I kind of like sleeping outside, as long as we're in the buckboard."
As long as I'm with you.
Sebastian drives them out far off the main road, so far that Kurt can't see the trail they were on over the rising dunes of dirt and grass. "That's a good thing," Sebastian tells him as he surveys a campsite for the night. "If we can't see the trail, whatever's on the trail can't likely see us either."
After finding a covert to park his buckboard and removing his horse from the rig, he grabs a washing cloth and a bar of soap, and leads Kurt through the grass to the watering hole so he can bathe while Sebastian finishes setting up camp.
Sebastian's watering hole is literally that – a hole in the ground, five feet in diameter - just enough space for one person to squeeze into.
"It used to be a well, so it's lined with stones," Sebastian says. "It's clean water. Heated, too. Fed by some kind of spring or something underneath."
"But, it's so far away from the campsite," Kurt points out, glancing over his shoulder to where he can see a corner of the buckboard and the head of Sebastian's horse. "What do I do if someone comes by?"
"No one will come," Sebastian assures him. "No one ever comes here. But if it makes you feel better, I'll stick around with you while you bathe."
Kurt looks at Sebastian, the man shifting his weight on his feet as if itching to get on with his work. Then he looks off to the distance where the trail lies past the dunes, out beyond his sight in the receding light. Then he looks back at camp, partially set up for the night with so much more work to be done.
"I know you have a lot to do," Kurt says. "I'll be fine on my own."
"You're sure now?" Sebastian asks but looking visibly relieved. Kurt tries not to take it to heart. He knows Sebastian is tired. He's not dismissing Kurt, just looking out for them. Kurt can do his part by not acting like a child.
"It's alright," Kurt says, taking the soap and the cloth from Sebastian's hands. "Really. I'll be fine."
Sebastian nods, walking backward from the watering hole in the direction of the camp.
"Holler if you need anything," he says with a wave. "I'll be able to hear."
Kurt waves, waiting for Sebastian to turn back around before he starts taking off his clothes. He dips a toe into the water and discovers it is indeed heated, but it's a foreign heat that tingles his skin with a sizzling noise and a profusion of bubbles when his skin hits it. He lowers his body into it slowly, and the bubbles surround him, eating away at the dirt on his skin without the help of the soap. The bubbles remind him of fingertips caressing his skin.
It makes Kurt think of Sebastian.
He leans his head back and wets his hair, combing the dirt from the strands, letting the bubbles do their work.
It's an unusual sensation, being suspended upright like this, buoyant in the water. He doesn't know how deep this well is, but he feels no ground beneath his feet, and something in the water keeps him afloat so even when he tries to duck down beneath the surface in search of a bottom, he bobs right back up. At least it's reassuring to know he won't drown.
His eyes drift closed and his mind slips away, reaching for sleep with a solid grasp regardless of how he longs to stay awake, to talk with Sebastian again. But that's how exhaustion is – caring for nothing and taking when it needs. Kurt grabs the washing cloth off the ledge and scrubs his body, fighting his brain, borrowing time he doesn't have in order to finish.
"It's nearly dark, Kurt. That means you get supper and it's my turn…" Sebastian finds Kurt where he left him, his head bowed over the edge of the watering hole, resting on his folded arms, snoring soundly. "Man, but you sure as hell can knock out anywhere, can't you?" Sebastian chuckles. Kurt doesn't make a coherent sound in response – nothing but a squeaky moan, and Sebastian chuckles harder. "Come on. Let's get you out of there before you absorb all the water, hey, little one?" Sebastian pulls Kurt's body from the watering hole, and for the first time gets a good look at his naked body. He positions Kurt cradled in his arms, draping a towel over his privates.
Sebastian has to, or else he'll keep staring.
"Or maybe not so little, huh?" Sebastian mutters beneath his breath. "I can see why you were the court favorite. Maybe I need to change your name."
"No," Kurt mumbles, resting his head into Sebastian's shoulder. "Don't…don't change it. I like it."
Kurt hadn't ever had a nickname before that he liked. His mother called him pet names like darling and sweetheart. His father called him boy. At the regent's house, he was called a number of foul names, things every slave was called – whore, wretch, bitch, dog…
But little one – Sebastian came up with that himself, and it had a ring of caring to it. He may have called his husband the same, but it makes Kurt feel special nonetheless.
"You do, huh?" Sebastian asks. Kurt doesn't answer, but he smiles before his head nods and he falls back to sleep. "Then I won't change it," Sebastian says, holding Kurt's wet body close to his so he can feel Kurt's bare skin against him. "I'll let you keep it."
The second time Kurt wakes, it's to the sound of screaming. Or a single scream that echoes across the grassy land. It sounds like a woman screaming out in fear and pain.
It sounds like his mother.
Kurt's heart doesn't know whether to race like a mad horse and head for the hills or come to a full stop.
He hears the scream again, but this time it's accompanied by the beating of wings above his head, causing him to jump.
"It's a hawk, Sebastian," Kurt says with a laugh. "Just a dumb old…"
Kurt is alone, a plate of food close by his head, and himself dressed in dry clothes Kurt doesn't remember changing into. He's tucked into their makeshift bed with the blankets wrapped around his body to keep him warm, probably so he wouldn't wake up frightened. It would have worked if not for that gosh-darned hawk. Kurt sits up and looks around at the vacant campsite and the grass stretching out for miles, black sky meeting the horizon at every turn with no Sebastian in sight. Sebastian's horse lay nearby, napping in the grass.
Sebastian wouldn't leave without his horse, not if he was truly leaving.
Kurt takes a second to school his heart and think things through. He realizes that Sebastian hadn't yet taken a bath before Kurt fell asleep, and since he likes to bathe alone, that's where he must be.
Logically, Kurt knows that has to be the truth, but the lump lodged in his throat convinces him to climb out of the buckboard and check.
He picks the path through the grass to the watering hole as near as he can remember it, following the murmur of a voice he can hear in the air. The glow of a fire catches his eye, and something tells him that's what he's looking for. He walks toward it, choosing his steps cautiously so as not to bring attention to himself. Closer Kurt creeps until he sees Sebastian, sitting on the edge of the watering hole. This is more of Sebastian than Kurt has seen before, and even though it's an invasion of the man's privacy, Kurt has to look. Kurt's never seen such a man. Sebastian's naked body perched on the rock ledge with his legs dangling in the water mystifies Kurt. Sebastian has made a small camp here. He's built himself a fire nearby so he can sit this way and keep warm. Kurt sees Sebastian's clothes folded on a rock, a plate and mug from dinner sitting empty in the grass. It seems like Sebastian's been here a while, communing with the darkness.
The fire offers Kurt a clear view of Sebastian's back, which Kurt hasn't seen much of before; Sebastian rarely keeps his bare back to Kurt. Shifting between black and gold, the outline of his muscles are visible in the firelight, and what looks like the fading shadows of crisscrossed bruises. From whips? Or a belt? Sebastian carries no mark, not like Kurt, so he wasn't a slave. But someone has beaten him.
He sees Sebastian lift his arms from the water, putting one hand on the ledge and the other in his lap, and Kurt ducks back, sure that Sebastian's making to get out of the water. What if he heard Kurt sneaking around in the dark? What if he gets angry at Kurt for spying? So many what ifs linger in Kurt's mind as far as Sebastian is concerned. But Sebastian is not one of those men, not like the ones who have hurt him, and he has to keep reminding himself. He stays his ground and waits, bracing to greet Sebastian when he climbs from the water, ready to apologize and explain his actions.
But Sebastian doesn't leave the watering hole. Kurt watches in awe as Sebastian's hand in his lap moves – slowly at first, and then fast, then slowly again. Sebastian moans, leaning back, his head dropping back on his shoulders with his eyes shut to the world around him.
"Aaron," he whispers as his hand continues to move. "Oh, Aaron…"
Kurt becomes paralyzed when he realizes what he's watching. If this had been the regent's house and he was invading the privacy of someone at court, he would be blinded for sure. Had he done such a thing for himself, stroked himself, given himself pleasure, he would have had a hand taken off. He had seen several sex slaves removed of one hand. They were still kept on in their duties because there were strange men who visited court who had a liking for that – an inclination Kurt didn't understand. Maybe it was because those handicapped slaves were weaker, less likely to fight. Kurt tried not to think about it too much. The thought of someone preferring the services of a slave who could not fight them off – specifically because they could not fight – made him sick to his stomach.
Kurt wants to move closer, to see Sebastian more fully, but he can't without revealing himself. He wants to be with Sebastian, remove Sebastian's hand and replace it with his own, but he dares not – especially when Sebastian calls out the name of his husband.
Kurt feels electricity building in the air.
Sebastian is not alone.
Everything in Kurt's body tells him he should leave, go back to bed and try to un-see this moment he was not privy to, but he can't make his body move. His body reacts to Sebastian's moans, his legs wobbling, his cock throbbing, his hand reaching to touch it, but instinct and training block that compulsion, forcing it painfully away.
Kurt watches Sebastian's head roll from shoulder to shoulder, his arm tensing, his legs gripping harder on the lip of the watering hole, his body rocking back and forth as he's readying to cum.
"Aaron," Sebastian groans. "Aaron…oh, Aaron…"
In the silent dark, it becomes a song. A breeze meanders low through the grass, circling the fire, making it flicker. Fingers of fire reach over its ring of rocks and right to Sebastian, stretching out his way, and Kurt can't help but wonder…
But then Sebastian's voice shatters - what was once a name dissolves into nothing but a sound, and then it's gone, lifted with the breeze and carried away.
And Sebastian, slumping in on himself with his spent cock softening in his hand, looks tired and alone.
"What in the fargin' hell am I doin', Aaron?" Sebastian asks, growling his frustration into the evening air, raising his head to the sky the way some people do in prayer. "What am I doing?" Sebastian rinses his soiled hand in the water and then raises his wet hands to his face. "I need you, Aaron. You said you'd always…you'd always be with me. Why? Why did you havta go so early?" Sebastian's arms begin to tremble, the hands at his face rising up to grab fistfuls of his hair, starting to tug, yanking so hard that Kurt fears Sebastian might rip them from his scalp. A grumble erupts from Sebastian's throat that turns into a scream, breaking from his body through gritted teeth. He drops his fists onto his thighs, pummeling them over and over, making bruises form. "Why?" he asks with each strike until his arms become weak and he gives over to defeat. "Why did you havta leave me?"
Then, with his back bent and his head bowed, Sebastian cries – cries that rake tremors throughout his whole body and rattles the air like painful claps of thunder before a storm, when the skies open up and heaven begins to weep.
Kurt had heard plenty of boys cry before – stolen from their parents, dragged to the regent's house, whipped, starved, raped, taught discipline and obedience by whatever means the regent and the masters felt necessary. A person would need to be positively inhuman to withstand all that without shedding a tear. Those cries Kurt had taught himself over long nights to push out of his mind until they no longer affected him as much. But Kurt had only ever heard one man cry before and that was his father, on the day the regent's men came for him…the day his mother died.
Listening to Sebastian cry is a horrible, frightening thing. Kurt doesn't want to see Sebastian broken down into tears, doesn't want to know that such a thing can happen. Not because it makes Sebastian less of a man. Kurt would never think that about Sebastian. But because Kurt doesn't know how to help him – and he desperately wants to help him. Kurt wants to walk up to him with confidence in his steps. He wants to wash Sebastian's body, massage his skin, bring him peace. He longs to wrap his arms around the man's shoulders, kiss him gently, and tell him everything is going to be okay.
But Kurt can't do those things, and even if he could, Sebastian doesn't likely want his help anyway.
He wants Aaron.
Aaron must have been a remarkable person if he could create a dent in a man like Sebastian.
Kurt backs away. On quiet footsteps, he returns to the buckboard, his bed of blankets, and a troubled sleep, giving Sebastian space to grieve his husband in private.
Kurt balances on the tenuous boundary of sleep when Sebastian climbs back into the buckboard and slips beneath the blankets, wrapping his arms around the young boy and holding him tight. It's a squeeze with the two of them laid so close together, but it's comfortable for Kurt – giving him a sense of safety and security. Even though he knows it's bred from a place of grief, a place of pain, he accepts it, and with Sebastian's lips marking a trail from Kurt's neck to the burn on his shoulder, Kurt falls asleep in no time at all.