Author's Note: (Instert lack of update excuse here.)
I'd like to just throw something out there. Some of you have noticed that my style of writing is wierd. Why? Becuase I'm a subconcious writer. I don't really think about what I'm typing. If I forced myself to actually think then nothing would come out. Very bad times. Add more detail? I'dunno. That bit's not up to me. It's what comes out. I picture words like movies... I already think they're visual enough in my head that I don't really bother to add more detail. Yeah, very shitty thing for me to do, but it's always been like this and I don't think it's going to change. /PSA.
Um. Enjoy. Next time we get to see Kurt and Blaine acting like boyfriends for a certain someone from Kurt's life. And a pair of infamous pink sunglasses come into the story.
The plane ride hadn't been as long as I thought it would have been, mostly because it was oddly peaceful and quiet—hardly any little kids that weren't too vigorous or loud. Kurt begged for the seat next to the window, which I happily obliged. I had a sort of fear of heights, and looking out of a plane window really didn't help me sustain the nausea. I sat beside him and listened to my iPod, mostly drifting in and out of sleep. The few times I did come to Kurt was wide awake, staring out the window and listening to his own iPod or flipping through the magazine he had bought.
I woke up once again, which was probably my fourth time waking up, and looked over at him. I couldn't turn my head properly since there was a weight on my left shoulder. I glanced down and spotted his auburn hair, his cheek was pressed against my shoulder and his breathing and turned to a therapeutic pace. He'd finally fallen asleep…on my shoulder, too. I smiled and pulled the baby blue blanket up, covering his chest. I looked out the window and noticed the blackness. We were probably only a few hours away from our destination.
Butterflies swarmed in my stomach. The closer we got to our destination the more I could breathe. It was as if my life in Ohio was more than miles away…galaxies away. I could step off this plane and be anyone I wanted to be, no one holding me back—not even me. It was refreshing and even caused my palms to sweat, but the overall freedom was euphoric. I could feel my lips form into a smile, probably far too big and far too unwanted on a plane ride full of groggy people who were starting to feel claustrophobic.
"We're currently flying over Nevada. Estimated time of arrival is fifteen minutes," a voice over the intercom said. I took a deep breath and shrugged my shoulder. Kurt stirred and fluttered his eyes open, his hand rubbing against my elbow.
He smacked his lips together and licked them, his eyes hazy as he looked up at me. He was probably still half asleep but he murmured, "Are we there?"
I nodded my head and turned my eyes to the window. "You'll probably be able to see the lights soon. It's quite pretty."
He straightened in his seat, the blanket falling down into his lap. I chuckled at the redness of his cheek and the sweat in his hair from lying on my shoulder. He didn't glare or question me, only moved to look out the window better.
"This is amazing," he said in awe, his small hands pressing against the glass as he pressed his nose into it.
"When I was younger, I used to call it Lost Vegas. Which is plausible. It's such a big, bright city. So much to see. So much to do. So many ways to lose yourself," I said and then laughed. Kurt looked back at me and nodded, immediately turning back to the glorious view.
Soon after, the plane landed and the two of us headed off to our hotel. We took a taxi just outside the airport and once again Kurt found himself glued to the window, staring at everything and anything. Not all of Vegas was glamorous and shiny, but he didn't seem to care. He kept saying to himself how amazing everything was and that he couldn't believe he was actually here.
"You don't leave Ohio much, do you?" I asked him, completely and utterly amused by him.
"Not all of our daddy's own big companies with money to spare," he replied quietly. It was as if he didn't want to speak to me but he had things to say. Kurt didn't seem like the type to hold back what was on his mind.
I could understand that. At some point in life you just don't give a shit anymore. I reached mine when I hit college… when life for me wasn't like it used to be. Things change and they will change you, no matter how much you promise yourself that they won't. Time will attempt to fix those things, but sooner or later you will forget why you've changed in the first place. Being different will be the norm for you, and you'll be stuck like that until things are resolved.
I know why I'm cruel and mean at times, careless and hopeless—but I'm not ready to change.
I wondered why Kurt was the way he was. Shut off. Angry and hostile, yet he still had that little bit of him trying it's best to surface. I knew this person.
And I wanted to discover who he was before his walls were built.
-:-
We arrived at the Ballagio, Kurt immersed in the crowded streets of the Las Vegas strip, his eyes wide with the happy yet loud crowds and the sparkling lights that lit up the night sky. Inside the hotel, Kurt kept his eyes on everything, never blinking or daring to turn away from something exotic looking or expensive. I smiled the entire time to our hotel room, his amazement making me feel like he wasn't actually hating his time here.
Inside our room we glanced around, looking and admiring every corner and crevice. Kurt had an obsession with the low quality moisturizers and how they were shit for his skin, and then I forced him to leave the bathroom before he could ruin his good mood.
We were staying in a split hotel room. One room had my bed and a dresser, along with an attached bathroom. Through two large doors was his room, which was symmetrical to mine but much smaller and without a bathroom. I helped him put his things away and he stared at the room, occasionally touching things, as if to see if they were real or not.
"How do you like it?" I asked, taking a seat on the edge of his made bed. He fumbled with his fingers as he stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, facing me.
He shrugged and made a face, his lips pressed together near the corner of his mouth. "I've never been in a hotel like this before."
"But you've been in one before," I said, smiling.
"Yeah… I was a cheerleader once and when we went to Nationals we stayed at the Hilton. I had to share a room with three other guys. It was sort of uncomfortable."
"Is it uncomfortable for you now?"
He ignored my question and let out a rather loud and shaky sigh. He closed his eyes and his chin fell to his chest, his hands on his hips as he took deep breaths.
"Are you okay?" I asked him, standing up. He looked up immediately, a soft grin on his face.
He nodded and said, "Its two to ten." I looked over my shoulder and spotted the clock on his night stand beside his bed. The red glowing numbers seemed impossible and I swallowed, turning back at him.
"I'll… see you in a bit." I headed for my room, shutting the doors behind me as I bit my lip and stared at a wall.
It was time. The deal we'd made. The reason we were here. It was happening…now.
I tore off my leather jacket and kicked my shoes off, not bothering to put away my own clothes or toiletries. Instead I just pushed things under the bed and grabbed a chair from a small table near the corner and pushed it towards the door that led to Kurt's room, facing it…facing him.
I sat in that chair and I waited. I waited and I waited and I waited. Time was going slow, making this moment last forever. My palms began to sweat and I could feel my heart beat against my chest. My left leg bounced up and down and at some point I began to eat my own fingernails.
When he stepped out of his room I couldn't be sure if he was fucking with me or not.
He wore a trucker hat, his brown bangs brushed out against his forehead. His hands were deep in the pockets of a brown vest, which was covering a long sleeved red flannel shirt. He wore jeans that seemed far too baggy for his style. I laughed.
"I didn't know the trucker luck was in this year."
He smirked. "You'd be surprised."
Kurt walked over to me, silencing my laughter. His knees bumped into mine and he took his vest off slowly, his eyes staring deeply into mine. I froze as the vest audibly hit the floor and his fingers touched the buttons of his shirt. I hadn't expected him to be so forward, but then I remembered the first time we met. Maybe if I accepted the lap dance or hand job we wouldn't be here.
I watched with tentative eyes as he slowly and smoothly unbuttoned his shirt, letting it join the vest on the floor. Of course my eyes feasted upon Kurt's chest. He wasn't a Situation with more abs than skin, and he was as pale as a porcelain doll, but it suited him. It was what I imagined it would be and I couldn't help myself from touching him and unlike the dark room back at the club, he let me. In fact, he encouraged me to touch him.
I let my hands wander over his bare chest, running my fingers over his nipples, causing him to gasp as he found his way to my mouth, his lips attacking mine with ferocity. The hat fell off as he dipped his head to kiss me deeper. I moved my hands from his chest to his head, kissing him harder as he climbed into my lap. He kept his hands on my shoulders, gripping them and squeezing every few seconds as our tongues battled against each other.
"Wait," he whispered, tearing his lips from mine and climbing off of my lap.
"What?" I asked, slightly panicked. He jumped up to the entertainment system behind us, turning on the stereo as he flicked through the few CDs there.
"I wouldn't even make an attempt, Kurt," I said to him, standing up and walking over to him. "I'm sure this collection is full of Lionel Richie and Hootie and the Blowfish."
"One can only hope that someone left behind some Britney or Cher or Celine. Or their iHome," he muttered as he narrowed his eyes at the five cases. I grabbed one that caught my attention.
"James Taylor. We lucked out." I opened up the case and put the disk in the stereo, flipping the case over and reading the back.
"I think I recall him. He seems like someone my dad liked. Or maybe it was Carol. Or maybe Finn. They all love that older stuff," Kurt said as leaned in to read the back with me.
I glanced at him and raised an eyebrow. "Familia? I was starting to think you were a little orphan Annie or something."
He rolled his eyes and pointed at a track. "I think I've heard this song. Play it."
I skipped to "You've Got a Friend" and pressed play, immediately experiencing a massive case of music nostalgia as my eyes shut. A moment later Kurt said, "Yeah, I remember this song. One time my dad put it on repeat when he was teaching me how to change a tire."
"That's funny…that's how I first heard it," I murmured as my head started to sway back.
"Really?" I heard him ask.
I opened my eyes and found him, smiling with anticipation. "No, not really. But wouldn't that have been something?"
He shook his head but kept his smile. "You're an ass."
"Yes, I am. Now dance with me before I make a fool of myself by dancing with that body pillow on the bed."
He was hesitant but he walked over, his hand slipping in mine. I put an arm around his waist and he did the same, his cheeks glowing red as I began to make him sway and turn with him. He laughed and I serenaded to him, singing him the lyrics loudly and as seductively as I could manage.
"You've got a nice voice," he commented.
"Why thank you. I try."
"I couldn't say the same about your ego, though."
I gasped. "I take offense."
"You should."
I went to twirl him, even though the song didn't call for it, and he stepped onto the bottom of his jeans, nearly falling over.
"Maybe you should take them off," I said, raising an eyebrow suggestively. I was waiting for him to say something sarcastic or call me out for being a dick, but instead he wrapped his arms around my neck and pressed his body against mine. I felt his breath against my ear.
He licked my earlobe. "Maybe you should do it for me…" I rose to the challenge.
Grabbing Kurt's hand, I pull him to the bed. He followed me, never blinking or making sudden movements. He has a curious yet smug grin that only encouraged me to continue. His hands flew to my zipper of my jeans as the back of my thighs hit the edge of the bed. I shook my head and slapped his hands away.
"This is all about you, kiddo."
He narrowed his crystal blue eyes at me and I heard my pants come undone. His hands moved from the dropping pants to my shirt, where he swiftly grabbed the collar of my shirt and pulled me closer to him.
"Got a boyfriend, Mr. Anderson?" he asked as he ran a hand over my chest.
"If I did, then I wouldn't have needed you to accompany me, now would I?" He smirked and began to unbutton my shirt, his eyes on his hands as he did so.
"It's none of my business to know, now is it?" he said in a mocking tone.
I laughed a breathy laugh. "What about you?"
He only continued to smirk and let his hands palm against my chest, the tips of his fingers running against my nipples, causing every inch of me to stiffen.
It was sudden, then. My back was pressed against the headboard of the bed and he was working the pants off from my ankles. Our lips had found each other once again and Kurt giggled as I hummed to James Taylor.
This was easy.
I had thought being intimate with him would have made things even more awkward and apathetic, but we were having fun. Laughing and moving our hands and legs just as the other was doing the same. It was as if we'd been doing this for years.
He wrapped his tiny, delicate hand around my hard-on and began to move up and down, all the while his mouth moved against mine. My own hand had found its way into his pants, which were supposed to come off a few minutes back. Together we kissed, our bodies starting to sweat as we pleasured each other.
He was so… perfect. I loved the way he felt against me. This might sound cliché, but it was like he was a piece to my puzzle. He fitted. And I loved it.
He moaned and came, continuing to beat me off as I pulled my hand out his pants. He smiled and shut his eyes, pulling himself over me and sitting against my thighs. I grunted that I was about to come. He worked me faster.
I came, gushing over his hand that remained wrapped loosely around my dick. He sat with his knees on each side of me, his forehead pressed against mine as we both caught our breath. His eyes locked on mine and I pulled my hand out of his pants. Through our matching gasps we laughed.
"That was…great," I said, licking my lips. I could still taste him.
He nodded and turned his head to the left. He pulled his hand out of my boxers and got off of me and the bed.
"It's not even eleven," he said to himself. I glanced at the clock. It was just barely ten thirty.
Kurt put a hand on his neck. "I feel—can I go take a shower?"
My facial expression must've said yes (not that I wouldn't let him take a shower). He turned on a heel and headed to his room. I got on my knees and crawled to the edge of the bed, leaning over it so I could peek into the open double doors. I could see his pale back and his elbows move, the sounds of dresser drawers opening and closing, along with zippers. I spotted him leaving his room and I jumped back to the top of the bed, acting like I hadn't just been creeping on him. He carried a pile of things into the master bathroom, only giving me side glances.
I sat Indian style on the bed, my legs and other unmentionables sticky. It was an obvious reason as to why Kurt wanted to take a shower, but we still had a few more hours to go. But if I was being honest with myself, I was spent. I closed my eyes and almost didn't open them.
We had two more nights. That was enough time to get things done. Besides, I doubt that Kurt has ever really been out of state. Am I some kind of monster? I bet the poor kid is homesick and scared and just feeling like shit.
Perhaps my ego was too big. I was a selfish thinker, but I'd fix that. I heard the sound of the shower shut off and I walked into the bathroom. Kurt had a towel wrapped around his waist and he was drying his hair with another.
"Can I help you?" he asked. At least Kurt's attitude was back. Maybe I didn't scar him for life.
"I'm sorry," I said.
He scrunched his nose. "For what?"
Good question. "Just…everything. I kind of feel like major scum for asking you to do this. I didn't really think. I never think."
Kurt shrugged. "Well, I'd love to talk about this, but I need to get dressed." I nodded and turned. "Hey," he called out. I looked back at him. "I was sort of wondering…actually hoping that maybe…"
I finished for him, "We could continue this tomorrow night? Sounds good."
He smiled and I left the bathroom, only to return ten minutes later. Kurt was dressed in silky blue pajamas and attempting to keep his hair from having cow licks. I was busy putting bubbles into the huge tub. I would have taken a shower like a regular guy, but I had a soft spot for bubble baths.
Kurt didn't think it was weird, but then again he had nearly six types of moisturizers on the counter.
I stripped off the rather gross boxers and climbed into the warm water, immediately being attacked by white bubbles that smelt like strawberries. I sighed and leaned back, letting my body relish in the comfort.
Kurt laughed. "All you need is a rubber ducky."
"You did pack that rubber duck suit, right?" I fired back.
He snorted. "Puh-leaze. I'd wear garbage before I wore a leather suit, especially one that represented an animal that doesn't know the proper time to cross a street."
"You're harshing my mellow," I said, splashing some bubbly water onto him. He gasped and looked down at his designer top, his eyes wide as he ran a hand over the dark spot on his abdomen.
He snapped his eyes to me and glared, the tips of his ears turning a soft pink. "I could kill you right now. I worked overtime for this shirt. I got drooled on by an obese man who smelt like cottage cheese."
"You know what you need?" I asked. He raised an eyebrow and gave his "please-do-amuse-me-I'm-really-in-the-mood-can't-you-tell-by-the-sarcasm?" look and I climbed out of the tub. He averted his eyes form my nakedness. You would think that being around naked guys five days a week would make him a subconscious nudist but he's quite the little prude.
"What are you doing?" he asked, his hands reaching out to the ledge of the sink. I lunged for him then, my hands grabbing onto his arms as I pulled him back.
"No! Don't you dare!" he shouted, trying to get away from the dooming water that was five inches away. I wrapped my arms around his waist and pushed him into the tub, bubbles flying everywhere and water reaching every crevice of the bathroom. But Kurt wasn't going to go down with a fight.
He pushed his hands on top of my head and submerged me, taking that chance to make a break for it. He jumped out of the tub like a cat, his hair high and messy, dripping water down his face.
"This is dry clean only! Are you fucking kidding me?"
My eyes burnt from the bubbles but I pretended that I was perfectly okay. "Geez. Thank God you didn't start that moisturizing routine you're always on about."
"You wouldn't even be breathing right now if that was the case," he said through clenched teeth. He grabbed all the colorful bottles and stomped out of the bathroom. He slipped in a puddle of soapy water but caught himself before he could fall.
I probably shouldn't have laughed.
Ending Note: I'm not going to lie; Kurt's trucker stripper moment was written whilst I was watching Lord of the Rings. Sam and Frodo's obvious gay love for each other brought out my subconscious need to write Klaine. I must compute.