A Fork in the Road

by Azorrah Lee

Kurt found himself instrumental in a political game of chess, he was in a love triangle and his life was spiraling into the darkness. Deceit, scheming and money were the only language they used. When anything goes, the white hats come off. ID.

3. 2: The Black Queen Walks in the Light

A/n: After forever and a day... Ch 2. I've decided to include House of Cards as part of the crossover but that departs from cannon before the show's setting. Hope you enjoy this; special shout out to GoForthAndLive, I hope my PM didn't discourage you- this story is updated but with great infrequency due to the amount of work and research that goes into each chapter but I hope those who read it enjoy it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, Scandal or House of Cards.

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Kurt stood in Olivia's office waiting for her to come in, he had promised Mellie that he wouldn't mention her by name to Olivia but he had made her allow him to report that he'd taken on a new client. Kurt had decided that he was willing to manipulate and lie to anyone in the name of Mellie's cause but the key to a successful operation was certain level of transparency; that extended to his boss but in saying that, he wasn't willing to compromise his integrity as a trustworthy consultant by compromising his clients requested anonymity.

"Kurt," Olivia had been uneasy since after the acquittal of Lindsey Dwyer, Kurt wasn't sure what was behind that and he wasn't sure he wanted to know, "Why didn't you answer my call last night?"

"Good morning Olivia," Kurt smiled at his employer, he wasn't sure he still saw the same woman when he looked at her now that he knew she was the president's mistress; she was sleeping with a married man, that made him think of Noah which made him uncomfortable but he knew the discomfort went beyond Noah. Kurt kept his smile in place, "I was with a client, didn't you get my text?"

"Good morning," she looked him up and down suspiciously as she laid her designer handbag on her desk, "I don't recall assigning you to a new case, which client were you seeing?"

"I recently acquired a new client," Kurt pulled out a check from his breast pocket and laid it flat on her desk, she looked at it for a moment, "This is the first retainer check; they are in it for the long haul."

"Why is this check from you?" she asked as he was leaving the room, "You don't have to create fake clients and make payments in an effort to impress me; I'm already impressed by your work on your both your cases so far."

Kurt smiled and let out a small breath, "My client asked to deal exclusively with me, they pay me and I pay you. They are in a fragile position where they can't be seen to seeking external help, from me or you."

"This client," Olivia seemed to give it a fair amount of thought, before staring Kurt down, "Are they trustworthy? Are we free from any conflicts of interest? And can we wear the white hat proudly as their representatives?"

"I assure you that our representation of this client is completely cl-" Olivia's phone started ringing and she took the call without hesitation or courtesy for Kurt's presence; Kurt took this as his turn to leave.

"Good morning Huck," Kurt came in and sat in the bearded man's small alcove; this was Huck's working space, he was yet to receive one of own but he knew that in due time it would happen for him.

"Hi," Huck was short with him, not even raising his head to acknowledge his presence. Kurt raised a brow but it went unseen.

"What'd I miss?" Kurt smiled sweetly as he was met by silence and a horrified look he got from the scraggly man, "I'm just trying to be friendly, I'll leave you to... whatever it is you were doing."

"Pastor Marvin Drake is missing, he's been missing all night," the man seemed to stumble on his words when he spoke, his rhythm was off when he spoke, "my name is Huck, like Huckleberry Finn, I'm the tech guru and this is as friendly as it gets."

"A tech guru, do you programme?" Kurt asked cautiously, he noted that the man's eyes went abnormally wide when he spoke, "I did some programming in the old days, when I was in school."

Huck looked at him expectantly, "I'm more of a hacker than programmer."

Kurt tried to lean around see what was on the sea of monitors, "What are you working on right now?"

Huck seemed to be confused by Kurt's line of questioning but answered none the less, "Trying to figure out how to find Pastor Drake."

As he backed away from the alcove Kurt couldn't fathom the concept of being unable to communicate effectively and he seemed to be failing to hold up a conversation, "I'm going to make a cup of coffee, you want me to make you a cup."

Kurt received a gesture to the negative; he had never struggled to form professional friendships since the paradigm shift late in his high school career, it had been years since he'd been unliked and he didn't enjoy it. Kurt was distraught; he pulled out his phone and sent a single text that he knew would improve the rest of his day.

Kurt sat in the boardroom with his coffee in hand; shuffling his plan's for Mellie before his brunch date with Quinn to integrate his plans into the First Lady's schedule when Breakfast walked in through the front door.

"I'm on break between surgeries," David held up Chipotle's packet and Kurt smiled deviously, he got up and led David to the office that stood unused; Kurt would soon make it his own, all in due time.

Kurt lay down on the desk and smiled devilishly, "We could eat carbs or we could burn calories do our favourite most rigorous exercise regimen."

David chuckled deeply, "You think there's food in here?"

David dropped the packet and held a strip of condoms in his hands, he had a wicked grin on his handsome face that simply tantalizing Kurt. David seemed to stalk over to Kurt with sex appeal that one wouldn't think possible in his shapeless scrubs; he had his trademark predatory smile that drove Kurt wild plastered seductively on his face. Kurt pulled the larger boy in for a kiss; small and chaste. Kurt felt his belt being unbuckled and his pants being pulled down his narrow hips along with his underwear.

Kurt tilted his head back as David teased tip of his penis with his tongue, Kurt let out a breathy moan as his threw his head back in ecstasy; David was very gifted with his tongue, he knew just how to drive Kurt crazy and he never failed to do so at his own pleasure. Kurt grasped at the dusty desk so hard that his knuckles were white, he let loose a deep throaty and somewhat savage growl as David's head bobbed up and down with his mouth working Kurt's shaft. Kurt's eyes rolled back into his head and he threw his legs over the large man's shoulders in a tangle of pants and leg; he crossed his ankles and thrust his pelvis deeper into his husbands hungry mouth.

"I'm never going to unsee that, finish up," Kurt felt a blush rising from the depths of his soul to the tips of his ears as he watched a smirking Abby standing at the office door, "we found the pastor so we're on the move; kiss the very handsome doctor goodbye... on the lips."

Kurt bent over and planted a chaste kiss on his husbands lips whilst fumbling to straighten his suit, he followed Abby to the elevator where the whole team seemed to be riding down for the case, "Abby, let's never speak of this incident again."

There was no finishing, between the call to work and being caught out Kurt had lost his erection. In a quick and rushed move Kurt and David untangled themselves, "I'm sorry babe but duty calls."

"You owe me," David pointed a disciplinary finger at Kurt as he helped him smooth his appearance.

"I know," Kurt kissed him as they exited the office they had been in, "I will make it up to you tonight."

"I'm working tonight," David rolled his eyes.

"Text me when you're free and I'll come by the hospital," Kurt suggested as they entered the elevator with his colleagues.

Harrison asked with a raised brow, "Who's the doctor?"

"Kurt's fellating husband, you are the husband, right?" Abby's tone was merry and sweet, this only served to grow Kurt's anger with his partner further as the group turned to look at the pair. Kurt couldn't meet their gazes, he was sexually reserved and his one moment of indulgence could now potentially destroy his working relationships. Kurt got into his car and laid his head on the wheel, willing any sliver of dignity to return to him but to no avail. Kurt put his car in drive and followed the convoy of cars out into the morning sun; he turned to his partner in the passenger's seat.

"Really Abby?" Kurt raised a brow as he chewed off the red-head's ear, "My fellating Husband? How am I supposed to get any form of respect from the team now?"

"You could try being good at your job," the sarcasm dripped from each of her word as she taunted Kurt, "That's how you earned my respect."

"You do understand the double standard that exist in the working environment for people who belong to the one percent, I have to work hard to create an identity for myself outside the wealth and success of my family," Kurt drove effortless; it was the one thing he could do with his hands that turned out normally, without flames. He kept pace with the rest of the convoy whilst simultaneously holding up an intelligent conversation, "I'm already working meticulously to prove my abilities but being portrayed by you as a hyper-sexualised teenager isn't helping my case."

"That is such a republican thing to say," she rolled her eyes, "Boohoo, my family is rich."

"That's such a democrat response," Kurt argued back, "to believe that non-socioeconomic problems aren't real."

"Oh get over yourself, nobody is going to hold office sex against you," Abbey nudged his shoulder playfully, "Did you see that J.B. Prince is back? After almost fifteen years off the grid, he posts this encrypted chess modelled article about President Grant."

"Who is J.B. Prince?" Kurt asked in perplexed confusion; he wasn't sure how to react to this news about someone he was always nervous to discuss, he had chosen to feign ignorance because it was the easiest to master.

"You're a political genius who's never heard of J.B. Prince?" Abby gave him a disapproving look that caused him to shrink into himself, "J.B. Prince was the information terrorist of the nineties political scene, he invented the political gossip blog market with his website 'Jobs that Blow'. He covered everything that went on back in the day, from sex scandals to corruption."

"In the nineties I was a private school nerd," Kurt giggled to himself, "I was reading Vampire Diaries, listening to boy bands and dreaming about becoming one of the kids on Beverly Hills, 90210."

Abby was gawking at him as they got out of the car and followed the team into the hotel, "I was also a teen in the nineties but I wasn't ignorant, I read everything J.B. Prince wrote."

"Prince?" Harrison asked them as Olivia interrogated the receptionist, "Prince from 'Jobs that Blow'? He's posting again?"

"Why has everyone heard of this guy except for me?" Kurt demanded as they navigated toward the elevator, "Am I the only one who was a normal teenager?"

"No," Olivia gave him a reassuring look, "I didn't hear of him till my first year of college, my Political Science professor read us his article from the New Yorker on his projection of America's political climate in the next twenty years."

"I will look this person up," Kurt finally proclaimed raising his hands in defeat, "Now, the Pastor is at this hotel without his wife's knowledge? I hope there isn't an altar boy involved."

"Wrong denomination," Harrison stated as they steered through the hallways, "but there's definitely sex involved when a hotel room is paid for in cash; my money's on hooker sex."

Kurt watched intently as Huck used his own card to open the hotel room, he was impressed with the boy's skill. They entered the room and Olivia called out for the Pastor, they received a muffled reply; there he was laying on top of a woman who was hand cuffed to the bed frame.

"Called it," Harrison punched the air triumphantly.

Abby looked nervous, "I think maybe we should come back in a moment, he's in his sixties so it won't be that long a wait."

"Huck," Olivia gave him a look that evidently needed no more words because he approached the man, checked the man's pulse and shook his head to confirm that the man was dead. Olivia took a deep breath, "Move him off her, I need to think."

Kurt found himself between Harrison and Huck trying to roll the large man off the woman trapped under his large size; upon their success he got a good idea of the man's great size. Abby uncuffed the woman and ordered her to get dressed before turning to Olivia for instruction.

"Do we get rid of the hooker and call the police?" Abby asked softly.

"If we call the police then the world will know that this well respected man was having extramarital sexual relations," Harrison added.

"And that will destroy his reputation and undo all the work he's done over the years. Harrison, take care of the lady of the night," Olivia seemed to give the idea a moment's thought before turning to Huck, "What do you need to take care of this?"

"What do you mean by 'take care of this'?" Kurt demanded from the woman with a raised interjectory hand.

Olivia looked at him as though he were small and insignificant, a look he'd been successfully repressing all day, "We're moving the body to his home in order to keep his integrity intact for the betterment of this country."

Kurt nodded slowly as he acknowledged that they were going to break the law, he turned to Huck expectantly with the rest, "I'm going to need six king size sheets, four bags of ice, my make-up kit and two large coffees."

"Abby, I want you to find all of that and the shortest route to a service elevator. Kurt, I want you to go back to the office and start preparing press angles, prepare a release for his wife and meet me at the house in three hours."

"I have brunch with my client in twenty minutes," Kurt checked his watch, "I'll email you my first draft within the hour."

~0~

Quinn Fabray was already waiting at their table when Kurt got to Elements, they never failed to get their table even at last minute due to friends in low place. He threw himself into the seat opposite her whilst typing furiously on his iPad.

"You're late," Quinn hissed at him with a sweet smile, she was hung over again, "Do you know how bad it looks when I'm sitting at a table set for two on my own? People probably thought I'd been stood up!"

Kurt stopped a waiter who was rushing back to the kitchen, "Could you get us a waiter, tell them to bring us mimosas." He finally gave Quinn his attention, he gave a small smile before beginning to speak, "You look exhausted, you need to start drinking more; I drink at every meal and it never shows. Pastor Marvin Drake is dead, I want you to arrange for Mellie to drop by his family home later this afternoon in a conservative darkly coloured dress with a cardigan and flat respectable shoes; she offers her support and doesn't talk to the press until after the funeral."

"How did he die?" Quinn looked scandalised by Kurt's revelation, "I don't remember hearing he was ill."

"The man was three hundred pounds, how else do you think he died?" Kurt narrowed his gaze; the waiter arrived before they could say anymore, he placed a flute in front of each of them.

"Good morning, my name is Carl and I will be your waiter this morning," he flashed them a bright white smile and handed them menus, "Do you want to hear the specials?"

"Let's not and say we did," Kurt held up his menu, "I'll your garlic crusted lamb, no sides, and a bottle of Jordan Merlot."

"Steak, blue," Quinn scanned the wine list, "I'll have a bottle of Casillero del Diablo Carmenere."

"Will that be all?" the waiter moved to take their menus.

"I think some beluga and a cheese plate before the meal and more champagne will be lovely," Quinn nodded as she snapped her menu shut.

"Tell Bobby to be generous with the Garlic," Kurt waved the man off.

Quinn stopped him, "Tell Bobby to answer my calls, my pussy isn't going to eat itself out." Kurt shot his friend a disapproving look, "What?"

"Washington has changed you," he shook his head, "Ten years ago you were biding the time till you were unhappily married with children."

"Then somebody introduced me to the Black Queen," Quinn pointed an accusing finger.

"Black queen?" Kurt raised a confused brow.

"Oh, don't you dare," she let out a haggard laugh and lit a cigarette, "I know you're Prince."

"Is that so?" Kurt took the cigarette from between her lips and took a long puff, "And how do you know that?"

"I know it," She snatched back her cigarette and smiled wickedly whilst growing his anticipation, "Because you and I are the only people who know Mellie has played her hand."

"Touché," Kurt nodded but said no more on that subject, "On to the reason of resurrection, Mellie has a propaganda machine but we need to show America that she's so much more than a glorified housewife."

"How do you mean?" Quinn had her diary out and was taking notes.

"Right now her political capital is tangential to that of President Grant," Kurt knew that he probably looked crazy but he always looked that way when the politics charged his body but he was having too much fun to care, "We need to get her real capital; she needs to take an active role in educational and health care reform, she needs to empower the oppressed and uplift the disadvantaged, she needs to make herself seen."

"Do you have any ideas because I've got some rough diamonds going," Quinn looked on the verge of ecstasy, "We could get somebody to sponsor a scholarship in her name, we could create a mentorship programme for young woman and she could give motivational speeches."

"I like that scholarship one, I'll call my people," Kurt put down a note on his iPad, "but that's just the tip on the iceberg; she needs to take a firm stance on education, she could do a tour of schools around the country and then create a team to draft a bill afterwards. The mentorship programme should be in the form of Tax breaks for people who empower large groups of woman, not just in America but all over the world. She could throw a Gala as cover, I could get some of my mother's people in on building free clinics around the country, especially in predominantly democratic areas; she could spend a day with that sixteen year old doing cancer research at John Hopkins."

"If we're making her superwoman," Quinn smiled wickedly as she bit into a block of cheese, "Why not have her ordained and host a mass gay marriage on the White House lawn to honour Pastor Marvin Drake?"

Fig preserve dribbled down Kurt's chin as he began to vibrate excitedly, "Brilliant, she could also spend time with wounded war veterans and the families of those who have family been deployed."

"She could host a mass registration when the dream act is re-introduced and personally work a stand registering people," Quinn was on fire, it reminded him of their time on the Grant Election Trail, "she could also make more statements on the strong arm of democracy and the need for diplomacy like she did with Kimberly Mitchell."

"I think we have the making of a President," Kurt smiled, "The First Woman President which means we need to keep opportunistic Sally Langston at bay; maternal and relatable."

"She could take her kids to museums and national monuments," Quinn pursed her lips, "We need to re-launch Mellie on a public platform, can we get her on Harley Drew?"

"Harley Drew?" Kurt raised a suspect eyebrow.

"Harley Drew is the amalgamation of Martha Stewart, Oprah and Barbra Walters," Quinn argued indignantly.

Kurt nodded, having never thought of the idea, "Hard politics whilst cooking a meal, I'll call her."

"You'll call her?" Quinn looked affronted the insinuation.

"The Harley Drew Show is the most nepotistic television production on air," Kurt gave a small smile, "My Aunt Harley is the host, her husband is an executive at the network and my cousin Tripp Doyle is the producer; I will call one of these people and put it together."

"You never say anything about your family except when you're pulling them out of a little bag to hand out miracles like Santa Claus," Quinn shook her head.

"Kurt!" A booming voice called out, as a bearded dark haired man came barrelling toward them with their meals.

"Bobby," Kurt smiled broadly and stood to great the chef, "The only cousin I like."

The bearish man put down their plates and pulled him into a bear hug, "I feel like that isn't a great achievement, my siblings are terrible."

Quinn shot the man a cold look, "Bobby."

"Quinn," the man gave her a puppy dog look, "you aren't mad are you? My life is a mess, I manage and own four restaurants, and I have three kids to raise; I'm sorry don't have time to tongue wrestle Lucy."

"I'm about to eat so could we not do-" Kurt's phone interrupted him, he gestured for silence, "Olivia, I'm in a meeting with a client.

The pastor had a mistress, I need your statement now.

Should I email it to you?

I also need you here to negotiate a settlement on Mrs Drakes end.

I'm on my way."

"You're leaving without eating?" Bobby looked affronted.

"I eat here three times a week," Kurt grabbed a lamb chop, "I know what it tastes like."

He grabbed his bottle of wine and dropped his credit card on his way out.

~0~

Kurt stood just outside of the photo frame as Mrs Drake delivered her statement, "This morning I woke to discover that my husband, Pastor Marvin Drake had passed on during the night; He died of an acute heart attack in our bed last night. Last night I lost the man I love, my children lost their father and our country lost a great man; as the nation mourns alongside Marvin… the pastor's family and friends I hope they can afford us privacy and peace of mind in the midst of this sudden travesty." She took a deep steadying breath, scripted of course, "I hope we can all rest assured knowing that he's in a better place, thank you."

Cue her Oscar, Kurt was pleased with the effortlessness with which she had managed the statement; she read every cue like a professional. Kurt led Mrs Nancy Drake back into her home with his head bowed, he'd spent his whole life avoiding the limelight and he needed to keep it that way for just a few more hours.

"Thank you Kurt," Nancy smiled at him as they sat down in her formal lounge.

Kurt produced the bottle of wine from his bag, "Would you like a glass?"

"My husband had a mistress for fifteen years and I didn't know," she tilted her head, "We're waiting for her to make demands so that she doesn't desecrate my husband's memory, I'm drinking from the bottle tonight."

"In that case I could have somebody bring us some vodka," Kurt shrugged with a sideways smirk.

"The wine will be fine," Nancy put down the bottle with a chuckle, "I need my wits about me if I'm going to fight this bitch."

As if on cue, his phone rang and the game began: he answered and put the phone on speaker, "Kurt, Mrs Drake, she wants six million upfront in her name."

The call was cut, Nancy looked less than pleased, "Six million? Is she out of her mind?"

"I hear this lady is a lawyer which means she's smart," Kurt pointed out the facts, "She knows the book deal alone will be worth that much but on the other hand she is crazy if she thinks we're giving her that much."

"What assurance do we have that she won't take the money and talk?" Nancy queried.

Kurt moved to lay her worries to rest, "The first thing she has to do before we sign a check is sign a nondisclosure agreement, that's as good as a gag order; she can't talk or we get to rip her a new one, I have my good friend Noah Puckerman drawing one up that is so technically flawless that it'll make her head spin."

"But I still have to pay her off," she scoffed, "What do you propose as a counter offer?"

Kurt smiled wickedly, wine always made negotiating so much easier. Kurt grabbed his cellphone and called Olivia, "Our counter offer is half a million, paid out over the next ten years." Kurt could hear Olivia releasing a satisfied breath, "it's circumstantial evidence."

"How dare that man do this to me," Nancy shouted angrily as she got to her feet and began pacing, "How dare he undermine and trivialise the thirty-seven years of marriage with an illicit affair, by loving his mistress."

"It would be one thing if it was just sex but fifteen years means he had feelings for this woman," Kurt took the reins and attempted to be understanding, right now he wished he was with the mistress because he was sure she wasn't nearly this emotional.

"I bore his children and he loved another woman," Nancy complained, "I gave him all of me and it wasn't enough, now she wants his money.

Kurt's phone buzzed once more, "The stakes have changed, she has a son and he looks just like the pastor."

Olivia hung up, "that's the problem with heterosexuals, there's a kid which is definitive evidence."

"What does this mean?" Nancy looked livid.

"It means we need to start considering her as a serious threat to your husband's legacy," Kurt spoke assuredly and decisively, "We might have to actually engage her as opposed to scaring her."

"We're not giving his mistress six million," Nancy protested, "most of the money is for his kids, I don't have six million to give and I don't want my kids to know that their father had a mistress for fifteen years."

"Don't worry," Kurt laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder, "I will make sure that your children don't catch a whiff of this."

She sobbed on to his shoulder and Kurt pulled out his phone, he sent one text: 'Disaster, bring Mellie on the morning of the funeral.'

~0~

Kurt could hear the clicking of the door opening and closing as he sat on the window ledge inhaling smoke in the moonlight, he had promised to lead Mellie to the promise land and he was going to move mountains to see it through.

"Claire?" The familiar southern drawl sent shivers up his spine as it always had, time hadn't changed that, "What are you doing awake at this time?"

Kurt put his finger over his lips as they curled into a smile, "You'll wake her."

The man looked to the bed and there his wife lay, "Who are you? How did you get in here?"

"Congressman Underwood," Kurt sauntered leisurely over to where the man was standing, "I'm hurt that you don't remember me."

Kurt ran slender finger over the contours of the man's face; down from the frown lines that time had developed on either side of his face, to his chin and allowed it to linger for a moment. He elected to grab the congressman by his tie and lead him to the bed; as Kurt reclined on the bed he allowed the moonlight coming in through the crack in the curtains where he'd been standing, to illuminate his face.

The man gasped and a wicked smile spread across Kurt's face, "So you do remember me," he spoke in his full voice at this point, the man looked to his wife, "She won't wake, I've sedated her till morning."

"If it isn't James Benjamin Prince," he let out a chuckle as Kurt writhed in the bed as he whispered what he believed to be his name, "Or do you prefer Prince? How could I forget you?"

"Congressman Underwood," Kurt leaned forward off the bed, close enough to feel the man's breath on his face, "still going by Frank?"

"Is the sky blue?" he let out a breathy laugh as he moved closer so their noses touched.

Kurt moved his lips so close they brushed over Frank's when he spoke, "Fifteen years is a long time without a phone call."

"Well," the man pressed forward with his weight, forcing Kurt flat on his back, "You did tell me not to call just before you disappeared and considering you didn't tell me who you really were."

"You did tell me you loved me," the man gently pulled at Kurt's earlobe with his teeth, earning himself a respondent moan, "I didn't expect you to listen."

The man planted angry kisses along Kurt's neck as he steered along the pale skin back to eye level, "When somebody tells me that they found their soul mate in another, I generally take that as my cue to leave. Did it not work out?"

"We're married and going strong," Kurt slipped his hand into the man's pants and grasped the man's warm erection in his cold slender fingers, "I can feel something else going strong."

"Well Prince," the congressman shrugged arrogantly, "You've always had that effect on me."

"It's Kurt," Kurt flipped the man onto his back and straddled him, slowly beginning to unbutton his shirt, grinding his own hardness against Frank's through the layers of fabric between them, "You don't have to worry, I'm back now."

Kurt ripped through the fabric his undershirt and ran his fingers through the man's greying chest hair, teasing the nipples with his tongue as he left a trail of wet kisses down to Frank's belt buckle. The man stopped him, brought him to eyelevel, climbed out from under Kurt and over him, pressing his front to Kurt's back; effectively switching their positions in one swift and silent move, "You're back, where did you go?" Frank's hardness was on the small of Kurt's back as he spoke directly into Kurt's ear in hushed angry voice, "Who'd you tell?"

"I didn't tell a soul," Kurt could feel the man's hands unbuckling his belt under him, they aggressively pulled his pants and underwear down to reveal his pale buttocks, "unless you've forgotten, our initial arrangement was mutually beneficial. Mutually assured destruction, I'd have just as much to lose as you do if the truth ever came out."

The man thrust deep into him, Kurt bit his lip as pain filled his body; it wasn't the man's size, Frank wasn't nearly as impressive as David, it was the force and aggression. It had been a wise move to come pre-lubricated, it might have been close to fifteen year since they had last seen each other but Frank was predictable at best; at least to Kurt he was. The sex was never about pleasure for them, it was about power; seeing who would succumb to the pleasure first, who would love their inhibitions and let their instincts run away with them.

"That doesn't answer my first question," he thrust with every syllable and Kurt was in ecstasy but kept his reactions schooled, "Where did you go?"

"Yale," Kurt pushed back and flipped them over so they were right next to a sleeping Claire, Kurt manoeuvred his body so that he was sitting in reverse cowgirl, "I went to college."

"Did you realise that whoring yourself out for stories wouldn't-" Frank's speech was stifled by an intense moan as Kurt aggressively fucked himself on his erect penis, "last forever?"

Kurt smiled devilishly as he came to realise the man's oblivious nature, "I finished High School."

Frank's eye's shot open and then shut tightly as his body convulsed, he ejaculated with a pained groan. He threw Kurt off him and across the room, following to the spot on the floor where he landed; he pulled Kurt up to his feet by the collar of his shirt, "What do you mean you finished High School? That isn't at all funny."

"From here it is," Kurt grabbed the man by his flaccid penis and started to slowly stroke it, "Do I have to wait in line before I ride the rollercoaster again? That's the problem with men of a certain age."

"You couldn't have," He slammed Kurt against the wall and hovered menacingly inches away from his face.

Kurt let out a shrill laugh, "I see you're fixated on the fact that you had sexual relations with an underage boy. You should have cut one of my legs off and counted the rings instead of taking my word for it."

"Francis?" Claire was looking over in their direction through hooded eyes, "What are you doing?"

The man snapped his wife, "Go back to sleep."

"Okay," She yawned loudly and put down her head down with a mumble, "See you tomorrow."

"That's why I'm here," Kurt carried on from where he'd left off once he had Frank's undivided attention once more, "I figured that there was no better person to have in my corner than the newly elected Democratic Congressional Whip."

"I thought you were a Republican," he spat back, pinning his body and returning erection tightly against Kurt's.

"I am," Kurt smiled with satisfaction, "there's a filly I want you to back."

"What makes you think I'll do it?" the man's lips moved over Kurt's skin as he spoke, "an undocumented affair from fifteen years ago?"

"That." Kurt planted a deep and passionate kiss on the man's lips; "that, the emails, phone bills and the photos chronicling our affair. You didn't honestly think someone like me would engage in a wild affair and not keep evidence for later, did you?"

"Who is the filly?" Frank backed away slowly, he sat down on the edge of the bed, "what do you want me to do?"

Kurt came in and sat on his lap patronisingly, "Mellie Grant."

"The First Lady?" He looked at Kurt with confusion in his eyes.

"Yes," Kurt smiled broadly, victory was his, "I want you to back every bill she puts on the floor and whip votes for her because I'm creating a political entity."

"Isn't that what the Republican side of the house does?" he nuzzled Kurt's neck with his stubble.

"I want good results and we're going to be dancing on the fringe between conservative and liberal," Kurt smiled at him, got to his feet and started dressing, "Can I rely on you or should I start preparing a statutory rape case?"

"Consider it done," Frank gave him a firm handshake and a charming smile, "But one thing."

"What?" Kurt raised a brow.

"Who are you really?" the voice wavered slightly, "I've searched every hay stack and this is one needle I can't find."

Kurt kissed the man deeply and pushed him onto his back, crawling up his extended frame to whisper in his ear, "Kurt Edmund Elizabeth Christopher Hummel, the eight."

"Why does that sound familiar?" Frank's face contorted in thought, Kurt slowed his thinking by grinding his pelvis into the Congressman's own hardness, "You wouldn't happen to be related to former Governor and current Senator for Ohio, Albert Hummel?"

"That's my father but I don't like to talk about him during sex," Kurt smiled devilishly as he pinched the man's nipples lightly.

"Do you also not like to talk about the family oil business?" the man teased.

Kurt grazed his teeth over the man's nipple, "no, my preferred pillow talk is politics."

"Funny, someone I once believed to be an ambitious co-ed said the same thing to me once," the man chuckled.

Kurt lowered himself onto the man's erection, "Don't sulk, we were both young and ambitious twenty years ago."

"I wasn't fourteen twenty years ago," the man switched positions with Kurt, putting the slender man on all fours. Frank's fingers dug into Kurt's shoulder with each thrust, "I'm also not blackmailing you into supporting somebody that sickens you politically."

Kurt rolled his eyes, "You were something much worse than fourteen twenty years ago, you were green; still wet behind the ears and if it hadn't been for me you would have never seen re-election or risen to house whip. Consider this my collection of payment."

"I did the work," the man's thrust became angry and sloppy, longer and faster, "for fifteen years after you disappeared I did the work!"

"Stop!" Kurt shrugged the man off him, the job wasn't done but he was too frustrated to go on.

"What's your deal?" Frank demanded.

"You need to sort your shit out," Kurt began to dress and straighten his clothes, "I don't love you and you can't love me, whatever happened to the man who taught me that everything was about sex except sex?"

"Kurt," Frank called out to him as he reached the door.

"Look," Kurt stopped in the door, "You can tell me whether or not you can work with me at the Hunt, I'll email you the particulars."

~0~

"Okay ladies, now breath through to downward facing dog," a blond slender woman walked between the yoga mats and corrected people's postures as she went along, "Fathers, I want you to support mum and breath with her." Kurt supported Rachel's robust belly with one hand whilst typing furiously on his phone, sending off text after text for Pastor Marvin Drake's funeral arrangements.

"Why are you doing this?" Kurt turned his head upside down and made eye contact with Rachel, "I literally feel like this is the dumbest thing I have witnessed in my entire life."

"Breath through the negativity," the blond woman stormed across room toward Kurt and Rachel, she extended her hand to Kurt with a hand on her hip and her foot tapping furiously, "Cell phones are forbidden in my sanctuary."

"You have lost your mind if you think I'm giving you my phone," Kurt scoffed at her, "don't make me buy this place just to fire you."

She looked affronted by his insinuation, "I own this place, I am self-employed."

"I could hire someone to make it look like you never existed," Kurt put his phone on his ear as he dialled up Olivia.

"Kurt, how connected are you at the US Attorney's office?

I have my people.

I need you to stop the autopsy on the pastor; I'm not David Rosen's favourite person right now.

That's what I'm here for, delegate away.

Kurt.

Yes?

Make sure there aren't any loose ends

I'm not having him killed, I think I can handle that without drawing too much attention."

Kurt hung up, the whole class had stopped to watch him; he gave a small smile and gestured for Rachel to get up. She steadied her extreme girth on Kurt as she got to her feet.

"What are you doing?" Rachel hissed pulling her t-shirt down to cover her exposed skin.

"We're leaving," Kurt smiled at the yoga instructor, "We'll see you next week if she doesn't pop in the interim."

"Bring one of your other friends," she called after them as they walked out the studio.

"I need this class Kurt," Rachel's eyes bulged nervously.

"Please," Kurt rolled his eyes, "This is all just hogwash, people had kids for millennia before this bullshit. My mother's water broke during a morning flight to New York, she went to her nine o'clock meeting and went to have me when that was done; she didn't do any of this shit and I'm a bit of a genius."

"Yes but your genes are a factor in your genius," Rachel argued, "Your father's an engineer, entrepreneur and politician, and your mother was one of the most revered businesswoman in America."

"And you're a damn good lawyer," Kurt argued, "Your kids aren't completely doomed."

"What?" Rachel raised a brow, "I don't think my kids are doomed."

"So we're in agreement," Kurt nodded, "let's go."

"What was that about?" Rachel's eyes were wide as saucers, "I am not about to be an accessory to murder, am I?"

Kurt's laughter was high and melodic like a silver whistle, "Of all the people in the world, you are the last person I would conspire to kill with."

Rachel looked offended by his statement, "Your first choice being?"

"David, of course," Kurt opened the car door for her and gestured for her to enter, "He could dispose of the body with great ease, what with the whole being a doctor thing. Also I could fuck him into silence, I only think of you as a friend."

"I thought David fucked you," Rachel smiled broadly as she spoke.

"Assumption serves only to make an Ass out of you and me," Kurt started the car.

"Where are we going?"

"Do you still aspire to be a United States Attorney?" Kurt looked over at her whilst navigating the streets with ease.

Rachel scoffed, "I'm pregnant, not dead; my ambitions are still as real and as important to me."

Kurt smiled devilishly, "Don't thank me yet but I smell a promotion in your future, a step in the right direction."

"What does that even mean?" Rachel held her belly nervously.

"You my friend are about to become an AUSA," Kurt gave her a friendly rub on the belly, "Did you hear that Xander and Lexi? Mommy's going to be an AUSA."

"I'm not mommy," Rachel said dismissively, "we decided on either 'ma' or 'mother'; the earlier is more true to the cultural identity we want to share with our children because it's very important that they understand and are prideful of their heritage, like Natalie Portman."

"I get it," Kurt nodded along, "David's grandparents speak to him in Polish and Czech."

"I thought the surname was of Russian origin," Rachel admitted, "what with 'ofsky' as a suffix."

"Again with the assumptions," Kurt scolded before softening to a realisation, "I thought the same thing."

"What throws you off is that he doesn't look particularly Eastern European," Rachel added with a furrowed brow.

"But that's because he's adopted," Kurt pointed out, "his parents have more distinctly eastern European features."

"Does this conversation make us racists?" Rachel looked out the window as she thought over the idea.

"I don't think so," Kurt shook his head as he turned into Rachel's office block, "cultural identity has associated looks, you look Sephardi and I look Germanic."

"This is true," Rachel nodded her agreement.

"Asking if something is racist makes you a racist though," Kurt added before leaning into her belly, "Do you hear that? Ma's racist."

~0~

"You are fired Alyssa," The man called around Kurt as he entered his office.

Kurt took a seat without being invited to do so and made himself at home in the man's office, "David Rosen."

"I don't believe I've had the pleasure," David looked equally confused and peeved by Kurt's obviously arrogant behaviour.

"You haven't," Kurt gave a small patronising smile, leaned forward and extended a friendly hand, "Kurt Edmund Elizabeth Christopher Hummel, the eighth."

"Hummel?" David Rosen reacted exactly the way Kurt had expected, his eyebrows shot toward his hairline in surprise and his back straightened up, "Like the Senator?"

"Yes," Kurt gave a slow and patronising nod before reclining in his seat with small flip of his hair, "but I'm here on behalf of my client."

The AUSA looked confused, "Your client?"

"I represent Nancy Drake and the estate of Pastor Marvin Drake," Kurt dug into his bag and handed the man a white envelope, "if you stop the autopsy on the pastor, you don't have to open that."

"You work for Olivia Pope," the man nodded as sudden realisation dawned on him, "I'll tell you what I told Olivia, I won't be intimidated by the likes of Olivia Pope and Associates, I have justice on my side."

"Oh honey," Kurt gave a tight lipped saccharine smile, "You aren't being intimidated by OPA."

The man scoffed, "You're telling me this isn't Olivia Pope's doing."

"I told you," Kurt's smile fell and his eyes darkened, "I'm Kurt Hummel and I'm intimidating you?"

"You and what army?" David Rosen reclined in his seat with his arms crossed indignantly over his chest, "I am an Assistant United States Attorney."

Kurt got to his feet with a small friendly smile, "Alyssa, you aren't fired. David Rosen no longer holds the power of this office, that is an order of suspension pending investigation. You were an AUSA but now this is Rachel Berry-Rimbeau's office"

"What?"

Kurt's smile turned wicked as Rachel walked in with a box balanced on her hip, "you naïvely thought justice was on your side; you may wear the white hat but I have power you could only dream of."

Kurt turned to leave as Rachel was replacing David's things with her own, David Rosen called after him, "You tell Olivia Pope that it doesn't end like this."

"Of course not," Kurt gave a cold empty laugh, "This is not the end, it's just the beginning."

He gave Rachel a congratulatory kiss on the cheek before leaving the office.

~0~

Kurt sat nervously in the drawing room of the White House residence, he'd never been in the residence before and he didn't know what to expect; that wasn't a position he put himself into willingly but when he'd undertaken Mellie Grant as client he knew that he pledging his soul to her, this meant working beyond his scope of comfort. Kurt was growing restless as he waited for Mellie, he had adjusted his tie and hair far too many times for the short amount of time he'd been waiting.

"Kurt," Mellie pulled him into a maternal hug, Kurt wouldn't get used to that, "Thank you for coming here, I know it's rather unorthodox for you to come to your clients."

"The rest of my clients aren't The First Lady of the United States," Kurt smiled as she led him into the dining room, when the smell of the southern feast Mellie had laid out for him hit his nostrils it took all of Kurt not to cream his pants from ecstasy, he now realised that he hadn't really eaten anything that day, "You're spoiling me, I can't cook for shit and David doesn't know how to cook anything from south of Chicago."

"David," Mellie looked to be thinking hard about the name, "that's the one that's your husband, right?"

Kurt raised a curious brow, "yes, David's my husband."

"Noah's the one that works for me," she nodded to herself. She laid her hands at ten and twelve on her bell and reclined on the seat, "Now, how can I help you?"

"I need you to make a decision," Kurt looked squarely at her, she nodded, "You need to decide how you go on from here; the first option is you set the house on fire and dance in the flames with the hope that you don't get burned too badly, you take President Grant down and expose all his wrong doings whilst praying he doesn't take you with him. The second option is an amicable split, you guys pretend the decision was mutual and you support each other in the future like you do now but you decide that married life isn't for you anymore. The third option is to make your marriage work, you fight tooth and nail to make this last, you never let your marriage die."

"Oh wow," Mellie didn't looked shocked by what she was hearing, she was shocked to know that someone else had been thinking the same thing she'd been thinking to herself for years, "You want to know what I intend to do about my husband, the erections he gets in his sleep dreaming of Olivia Pope and the fact that when they're in close proximity they go at it like bunnies, you want to know how I'm going to deal with it."

"More or less," Kurt shrugged, "you need to pick a reaction and stick with it; are you scornful, indifferent or forgiving."

"Can't I be all three?" Mellie seemed exhausted.

"You can but you won't get anything done," Kurt met her gaze, "You can't control your husband's behaviour but you can control how it makes you feel."

Mellie's reply came out slow and deep, "you don't waste time."

"With all due respect Madam First Lady, you don't pay me to waste time," Kurt's tone was matter-of-fact, "results are what matter here and I will break myself to give you your desired outcome but all I ask in return is for you to see and think more than ten years ahead."

"You want me to have vision," she nodded her understanding.

"Margaret Thatcher and every great leader made it work because they knew what they wanted and what their constitutes needed," Kurt grabbed her belly where she held it, "we don't need another quick fix." Mellie opened her mouth to speak but failed to make a sound, "you don't have to answer that now, you need to think about that before we start making moves."

"What I wouldn't do for a fifth of vodka right now," Mellie rolled her eyes.

Kurt slid the platter toward her, "Have some cornbread, it's pretty much the same thing."

"You don't cook much, do you?" Mellie laughed loudly.

"My husband cooks," Kurt raised a silencing finger, "I bake."

"You bake?" Mellie gave a small chuckle, her eyebrows reached for her hairline, "Do you really bake or do you just add an egg and water to a ready mix?"

"I really bake, everything from modern scratch," Kurt crossed his arms indignantly, "you ask your husband about Monday morning's bagels."

"You're baking for the hunt?" Mellie scoffed and failed to supress a surprised smile.

Kurt gave a begrudging laugh, "I'm the kind of gay person who can't pull off holding a riffle without juxtaposing it with something feminine, if I don't bake or sing Barbra Streisand then my family feels uncomfortable and I ruin the excursion."

"On the other hand you have a virile man like Fitz who is supposed to be the embodiment of masculinity and he can't shoot to save his life," Mellie let out a high wheezy laugh, she wiped away tears forming in the corners of her eyes, "Please, for all that is good, outshoot him for me. I'm an excellent shot, my father taught me how to use hunting rifle when I was just a slip of a girl, and I can't go on the hunt so the onus falls on you."

"For me it was my Grandfather," Kurt didn't think of the memory fondly, "he isn't a very patient man but he was a damn good teacher."

"He is a very powerful man," Mellie's voice dropped and increased intensity, "he has no need for patience."

"Isn't that the truth," Kurt reclined in his seat, he was stuffed. He and Mellie sat in a comfortable silence, as if they had been friends for years instead of her having been his boss, then the wife of the candidate he was campaigning for and now his client, "Can you cook?"

"Can I what?" Mellie was caught unawares by the question.

"Can you cook?" Kurt repeated himself and tried not to lose his patience, "Quinn and I were considering getting you a spot as guest on The Harley Drew Show and I was wondering if you actually know how to cook."

Mellie scoffed, "Of course I can cook, I wear many hats; Mother, wife, First Lady, Harvard School of Law graduate, chef, etcetera."

"I'll be sure to have the chosen recipe sent to you ahead of time."

"A meal and some," Mellie didn't sound particularly pleased as she said the show's slogan, "a pitiful place to begin a political career, really."

Kurt snapped to attention, "I would never insult you so, your career started when you decided to leave your position as an named and managing partner in the largest law firm in the United States to make Fitzgerald Thomas Grant the Third the president."

"It's funny how I'm not the only one telling myself this anymore," Mellie let out a comfortable sigh.

"I wouldn't be saying it if it wasn't true."

~0~

Kurt was in his office reading through paperwork and old case files, he'd come in late after his meeting in the White House to call vendors in preparation for tomorrow's funeral. There would be no greater failure than a botched funeral, after having dealt with a selfish mistress and successfully gotten her to agree to a deal that equated to four million, Kurt would have been livid if something like flowers ruined the day.

Kurt was reading up on clients and their relationship with OPA, there wasn't much to learn as the files were kept surprisingly vague; he suspected that it was in case the files were subpoenaed, they didn't need an incriminating paper trail when they helped people get away with bombing offices and killing eight people. Much to the dismay of Harrison and Abby, Kurt had appointed himself the big empty office with a simple statement of, 'If you liked it then you should have had sex in it.' Olivia hadn't protested but rather gave a small pseudo-smile.

"Kurt," he raised his gaze momentarily and saw Noah standing in the doorway with a brown paper bag in hand, "I brought dinner."

"Oh honey," Kurt's tone was cold, "if you want to have sex with me you should know better than to try and feed me."

"Nobody is having sex," Quinn appeared with a bottle of vodka in one hand and several of champagne in the other, "If I'm having a dry season then we're all having a dry season."

"I have the best marriage in Washington D.C. so I don't understand what this 'dry season' you speak of is." Kurt shut the cardboard folder and disappeared for a moment to put it back in the locked filing cabinet, "I have good news on the sex front for you Quinn, Benji Porter is sending his new kids to Disneyland which means you might get a dicking if you're well behaved."

"I'd be getting a good dicking now if you hadn't decided not to come out tonight," Quinn poked him playfully, "Besides, I heard he was getting back together with his third wife."

"Am I the only one who is disturbed by the use of 'dicking' and 'Disneyland' in the same breath?" Noah furrowed his brow as he produced three flutes from the brown paper bag, he poured them each a glass.

"It's only you," Quinn gave him a disapproving look, "I'm preoccupied with the drinking we should be doing but you playing."

"Oh right," Noah started pouring the bubbly and Kurt produced three old fashioned glasses from the drawer, they were the only thing left in the office, "I forget about the fact that our alcoholism overrides any other facets of our lives."

"I haven't breathed since you guys showed up," Kurt laughed as they chugged vodka and sipped on bubbly, "my medulla oblongata is powered by alcohol."

"Say that again," Noah teased, "that sounded sexy."

"Medulla oblongata? You have no idea what I'm talking about," Kurt shook his head with a laugh, Noah did the same, "it's the part of the brain that controls involuntary actions."

"Like erections?" Noah joked in a sultry voice.

"Like breathing," Quinn countered with a boisterous laugh, "Your erections are voluntary."

"Then why do they come so often?" Noah put on false bewilderment to match his statement.

"Because you're a pig," Quinn countered with a giggle; more vodka, more champagne.

"How is it that you're not sexually drained?" Kurt tilted his head, "You've had more sexual partners in the last five years than Quinn, Rachel and I have had in our entire lives; including the many sexual personalities of David Karofsky."

"Wait a minute," Quinn raised her hand as she took a long drink of vodka, "David has sexual personalities?"

"Like crazy people have personalities?" Noah furrowed his brow.

"Crazy isn't politically correct," Kurt scolded, "but no, it's more of a mood thing than a psychological thing."

"Like, what kind of personalities are we talking here?" Noah gave a booming laugh and pushed back a few more shots of vodka.

"They're more like sexual mood swings than personalities," Kurt mused as he shot back another glass of vodka.

"That just makes me want to know even more," Quinn smiled devilishly, "do tell, I watched The United States of Tara and I just have to say that if you're having it out with a four in one then I have to know; is it Buck, Tee and Alice in there?"

"They don't have real names but I've kind come to identify and name them in the last twenty years," Kurt giggled, "I don't know if I should say."

"Don't be a cunt," Quinn snapped angrily, "we're curious so dish."

"Alright," Kurt grabbed the bottle of vodka and took a long swig, "the first one I ever met will hence forth be referred to as Alex;

…

Kurt hadn't imagined his first time with David to be anything like this; their first time was definitely something out of a blue movie with a recycled plot line. Kurt admitted that he had rushed the matter and pushed for these events but he didn't want the circumstances to send the wrong message; he and David were in Aspin with Kurt's family and the rustic logwood cabin might have led David to believe that they were sharing a special moment when in actuality Kurt was merely carrying out a formality.

"Are you sure?" David was shaking as he spoke, it wasn't from the cold because the fire they were laid out in front of ensured that they stayed warm and toasty.

Kurt pushed himself off the ground and kissed David softly on the lips, he looked the larger teen in the eyes and gave a small nod, "more sure than I'll probably ever be."

Kurt pushed off the ground, he and David tumbled as they wrestled each other's clothes off. The teens pawed hungrily at each other as they removed layer upon layer of skiing gear till they were left in nothing but their underwear and their bare pubescent bodies glistened in the orange glow of the fire beside them. Kurt was positioned over the boy, aggressively kissing and sucking the boy's lips with a sexual hunger he never knew he possessed.

Kurt slowly kissed a slow trail down David's sparsely haired torso till he came to the waistband of the white boxer briefs, he could see the throbbing member's outline through the white cotton barrier and it was bigger than he'd imagined but he assumed it was a matter of proximity. Kurt took a deep breath and a musky smell filled his nostrils and went straight to his groin, Kurt pulled down the larger boy's underwear with great haste and to his surprise the engorged member jumped up to hit him square across the face. He didn't make a sound nor did he allow himself to have a physical reaction that was anything but sexual, he didn't want to kill the mood.

Kurt had done his research and it was time for him to put all his knowledge to work, his actions now would determine what would become of his political future; Kurt knew that this wasn't a stellar moment to be thinking about politics but he remembered what the young Congressman Underwood had told him, 'everything was about sex but sex, sex was about power'. Kurt couldn't decide whether he was supposed to relinquish power or hold it and take it. Kurt lowered his lips onto David's penis and kissed the tip lightly, he received a shudder in response and that served as the encouragement he needed to proceed, he stuck out his tongue and gave a cautious flick over the spot where his lips had been. Kurt's eyes opened wide as his taste buds were greeted by an enjoyable musk, he twirled his tongue around the head and received a loud gasp of approval and encouragement; Kurt enjoyed knowing that he was excelling in his undertaking.

Kurt took a deep steadying breath that only served to imbalance him as his nostrils were flooded with an intoxicating musk, Kurt plunged in and took the head of David's penis in his mouth and applied suction as if drinking through a straw and he was rewarded with a sweet treacle glaze along the member's path to the back of his throat as he unwittingly took more of it into his mouth. Kurt bounced back when it hit the back of his throat, he needed to think about what he was doing and all these unperceived variables were making his job rather difficult; before Kurt could stop and assess his stance, he was rewarded once more with a cry from a euphoric David.

"Don't stop," Kurt was never one to take orders but there was something in the primal way David had called out to him that had willed Kurt to obey, "Oh Kurt."

Kurt was a sucker for praise and at that request began to go about his task with vigour and enthusiasm, Kurt was an over achiever and would not be satisfied with anything short of the best result regardless of whether or not sexual pleasure was a measurable achievement. Kurt could feel all of David's muscles go rigid under his command and in that moment he knew the power was his, he knew that it was up to him to take power.

"Oh, God!" David's voice was strained and distant, "Oh, Kurt! I think I'm-"

David lost his load into Kurt's waiting mouth in a quivering and panting mess, Kurt lapped up both the semen and the power he held in this moment.

…

He cried after we did the big dead" Kurt thought back on the moment with fondness, "Of course that was twenty years ago and we're different people now."

"So he isn't a big teddy bear anymore?" Quinn was glowing as if hearing the word of god, "a sensitive man is so hard to come by, you found one when you were fourteen."

"The man cries during sex and you marry him?" Noah quipped, "I recall being chastised for crying when we watched Australia; the part where Nicole Kidman is reunited with Hugh Jackman everyone else, that there deserved every tear."

"We've told you this before," Quinn scolded, "Crying is only for sad Tom Hanks or Colin Firth movies." She turned to Kurt in her sloppy and soppy drunk state, "what changed the most about you and David?"

"He isn't afraid anymore and I'm more in the moment," Kurt gave an amused grin, "or is it the other way around; the future was the difference, he was afraid of ruining his future and everything I did was a move for a brighter future for myself."

"Even sex?" Quinn laughed.

"If sex isn't about sex then what is it about?" Kurt quipped.

"The future?" Noah tried, "I fucked every model, socialite and actor so that when I'm married I don't need to cheat."

"No," Quinn playfully swatted his arm, "it's about power, Kurt has been driven since he was ten."

"Ten?" Noah gawked, "I knew you were a powerhouse but isn't that a little young?"

"It was my first year at St. Clements and I was learning how the world can be," Kurt smiled wickedly, "let's just say that boarding school was very different from the ranch and the endless staff that waited on my every whim there."

"Oh, you poor thing," Noah sneered sarcastically, "having to struggle without the help."

"The struggle is real friend," Kurt countered, "there were so many things I didn't know how to do, but by the time I went to New Haven I was more adept with the ways of the world. By the way, I never referred to anyone as 'the help', they all had names and were my friends; like all my friends at the time they were also there because my family had money."

~0~

Kurt was woken by something vibrating against his forehead, he opened his eyes and wasn't surprised to see that he was in his office and first light was pouring in; it was later than he usually woke but earlier than most. The vibrating was coming from Noah's pocket next to where Kurt had been resting his head in the man's lap, behind him Quinn was spooning him and resting her head on his back with Noah reclined over him, which meant Kurt was trapped between his sleeping friends. Kurt's head was spinning and his lips were dry, he hadn't been hung over in a very long time but he hadn't drank like they did yesterday in even longer.

"Noah," Kurt hissed angrily as the vibrating persisted, "Noah Puckerman." The man didn't respond nor show any signs of hearing Kurt, in a moment Kurt made a decision, turning his head slightly and biting into his friends thigh through the pant of his slacks, "Noah Elijah Ira Puckerman!"

"I'm awake!" Noah shot to his feet and in doing so caused their tower of friendship to collapse, "Dude, you bit me."

"Dude, you dropped me!" Quinn protested as she gathered her wits.

"Your phone woke me," Kurt protested, "it's almost seven, let's call a cab and have breakfast at my place. I'll text David and tell him to feed us."

"When is your husband at work?" Quinn gawked at him, "Or asleep, I feel like he has to do those things sometime other than be at your beck and call at every waking moment."

"David is waiting to go to Pastor Marvin Drake's funeral with me," Kurt rolled his eyes as they walked through the office in their dishevelled state of being, "Also, being married means making time to see each other even when your careers are taking off, we don't want to reach our goals and realise that we don't recognise each other anymore."

"So what?" Quinn scoffed, "you guys put your marriage on hold till you're president and he's a medical god but you make time to see each other and be seen together every now and again?"

"That's over simplifying the situation," Kurt rolled his eyes, "David and I were together and hopelessly devoted to each other till we graduated, we separated for a while and we were pleased by what we were able to achieve and now we're at a time in our lives where we have so much to achieve and we don't have biological clocks to consider in terms of the 'American Dream' so we can afford to put the personal sector of our lives on hold till we've achieved what we want to."

"Did you put a time limit on that?" Noah looked somewhat pleased by what he was hearing, "I'd hate to hear my favourite couple got divorced because they hadn't been intimate in ten years."

Kurt gave the man a devilish smile as they exited the cab, "we have an agreement that we have to see each other in an intimate setting at least once every seventy-two hours, we have to share a meal once every forty-eight hour and such; we're both very well educated people who love each other very much, we didn't enter into this agreement lightly and blindly."

"Hello Kurt," David kissed him deeply, before handing Kurt cufflinks and raising his arms, "help a friend out. Quinn, Noah, Please make yourselves at home."

"This suit is cute," Kurt smiled as he fastened both cuffs and gestured for his husband to turn and he helped him into his jacket, "what are you feeding me?"

"You have morning breath with a serious kick of digested alcohol, might I suggest brushing your teeth before you gorge yourself," David kissed him again.

"Why don't we go shower?" Kurt smiled broadly.

"I'm already dressed," David countered.

"That's never stopped us before," Kurt nibbled on his husbands ear as he spoke in a low tone.

"We can hear you up here," Noah shouted down from one of the guest bedrooms.

"I'm trying to masturbate to it so could you please not interrupt," Quinn shouted back from the guest room that had become hers from being used too frequently by his blond friend.

"I'll go shower," Kurt stood on his tippy-toes and kissed David on the forehead, "I want to be fed when I return."

"Hurry because we're leaving in less than an hour because you still have to go get your car," David called after Kurt as he was getting into the shower.

"Why do I need my car?" Kurt made quick work of cleaning up, slowing down his replies and breaking up sentences so that he could concentrate on getting ready at speed, "Why don't we take your car?"

"I have a shift after the funeral and you'll still be working," David called back from downstairs, "I not leave my car with you, you're the worst driver ever and I like my car."

"It's just a car," Kurt rolled his eyes as he worked on getting ready.

"It's not just a car," David protested, "other than being a birthday gift from the love of my life, it's the pinnacle of twentieth century ingenuity."

"It's just a car," Quinn chimed in from another part of the house.

"It's 'the' car," Noah added his own protest.

"That car is my road penis," David added with surprising seriousness, "Like a Hummer but better."

"Your actual penis is way too impressive for you to hide behind that," Quinn argued, this caused a naked Kurt to slip as he was moisturising.

"Kurt!" David's voice came out as a choked whine, "You can't tell your friends these kinds of things."

"I didn't tell her that," Kurt shouted defensively.

"Woah," Noah shouted out, "why don't I know that."

"Quinn!" Kurt hadn't expected that in the least, he had always hinted at David's endowment but he had never meant for it to become the subject of conversation.

"I have access to Kurt's cloud," Quinn giggled, he didn't have to hear it to know it to be true.

"For work," Kurt protested, "not so you can browse my husband's dick pics."

There was silence and this prompted Kurt to make quick work of getting dressed, when he emerged from the bedroom in one of his funeral suits he found that everyone was waiting for him.

"I'm very upset," David sulked, "I feel violated."

"I'm angry," Kurt turned to Quinn, "the folder was marked 'do not open'!"

"That made me curious," Quinn blushed but it was a clear deception, her eyes had a villainous glow about them, "I'm sorry I brought it up."

"Forgive her for she is thirsty and know not what she do,"

~0~

Kurt had arrived at the church where they would be holding Pastor Marvin Drake's funeral to bad news, the mistress was refusing to sign their nondisclosure agreement because she wanted more money but worse than that was the fact that the florist had gotten the flowers wrong; when they were delivered they were the wrong colour, the hydrangeas were purple and the hyacinths white instead of the other way around, this had caused Kurt to panic for a moment but he hadn't the time. The ushers were already seating people and everything would have to stay the way it was aesthetically, the point of changing things had come and gone and it was time for the show to go ahead as planned.

Kurt was listening to Quinn in his ear piece, she was reporting on Mellie's visit to Nancy Drake; the pastor's wife had apparently, rather loudly, let slip that her husband had been unfaithful to her. According to Quinn, Mellie had demanded some privacy and for five minutes the pair went undisturbed. When they had emerged they had been hand in hand, Mellie steadying Nancy Drake over to her car in an even better photo-op than Kurt could have dreamed; Kurt thought that he might solicit an endorsement at some point because Mellie had kissed the ring just like he'd asked her to and she deserved to be rewarded.

Kurt put Quinn on hold pulled out his phone quickly dialled Olivia to get bearings on the estimated delay but he stopped when he spotted Hal in the doorway, with the slightest movement Kurt knew he was being summoned. Kurt walked briskly, the Presidential motorcade was parked in front of the church and Kurt was ushered into the black town car, "Madam First Lady?"

"I know you're busy and I hate to disturb you like this," Kurt watched Mellie place her hands at ten and two on her bell which alerted him to the coming bombshell, "but I'm in one of those situations where if I don't speak now I might never speak, I don't want to leave my husband but I don't want to forgive him either," she went quiet, taking in a deep breath, "I tried so hard to move past this and pretended it was my problem, I even apologised; I can't find it in me to just let it go and I don't care if that means I'm a bad person but I want to be angry and I want to make my husband suffer for each breath he takes and every thought he has of Olivia Pope, can you do that?"

"Do I know have an algorithm that finds a pattern for calculating pi?" Kurt smiled, suppressing a chuckle.

"I don't know," Mellie raised a confused brow, "Do you?"

"Yes," Kurt smiled, realising what a bad comparison that had appeared to be to someone on the outside, "As a matter of fact I do." Kurt's headset started and Olivia delivered a few words in his ear that meant he had to get back to work, "If you'll excuse me, I have a mistress that I need to find a seat for at crowded funeral, I'll organise an endorsement for you because we are in a now or never situation and Nancy likes you enough to stretch the truth for you."

~0~

Kurt was late, he was last to arrive to Sunday lunch with his family but he was walking at a leisurely pace because he knew they would wait for him.

"You're late," A wiry blond haired man with a face like a falcon said in lifeless voice with an eye roll, his eldest cousin managed to have the arrogance of an attractive person with a face that was all nose, "Why am I not surprised though."

"It's because I have a real job instead of working for my father," Kurt gave him a patronising smile, "How is Doyle Energy, Hollis Jnr?"

"Now Kurt," his father shot him a disapproving look as he took his seat, "Everybody's time is just as valuable as your own, I feel your cousin is justified."

Kurt leaned forward, "Daddy, I didn't mean-" Kurt's eye on something unusual, "Finn; how lovely to see you here, at our family lunch."

"I reacted exactly the same way," Beau, a more strapping young man than his older brother, chortled merrily beside him, "I was so surprised to meet someone at one of our Family lunches."

"Three generations of Doyle men," his Grandfather smirked as he stuffed his pipe, Mitchel Sebastian Doyle was as attractive as he was an asshole; his dark hair had mostly turner grey at the tail end of his eighty odd years of life but that was the only tell of his age as he was still as fit as a horse. Everybody waited on him when he spoke, he used his pauses to remind everybody that he was the power in the family; despite being deposed by his kids from the leadership of his own business, he was still in charge and calling the shots, "Do you know how our family came to be one of the major superpowers of this great nation."

"Ambition," Beau tried his hand, "We have had a vision for where we want to see this family going."

"No," His uncle chortled as he took a drag from his own pipe, Hollis always fell into second best when his father was around, "As important as ambition has been in this journey nothing compared to growth. We never stop growing; our dynamisms is what keeps us afloat when so many are drowning. Our profit margins are up during a global economic crisis because we've changed and grown ourselves appropriately to the times by taking in only that which makes us stronger."

"Like the Sword of Gryffindor!" Finn exclaimed excitedly.

Kurt couldn't help smiling as he noticed the confused look on his grandfather's face as the man leaned in and whispered, "What's a Gryffindor?"

Kurt rolled his eyes, "Long story but it's a good thing."

"What is it you do son?" Mitchel gave Finn the same penetrative grey stare that Kurt had inherited from the powerful man.

Finn blushed and looked down to his lap, "Well, I'm teaching high school whilst I wait to hear back on my thesis."

"Thesis?" Beau choked out the words, "As in a doctoral thesis? Like, for a PhD?"

"Yeah," Finn blushed from being put on the spot.

Kurt's eyes grew wide, this was news to him, "In what?"

Finn scrunched up his face, "Theoretical Physics but it doesn't look good, I accidently disproved String Theory."

"Now ain't that something?" His grandfather gave a wheezy guffaw, "You accidently disproved String Theory."

"That sounds more like a Nobel to me," Kurt gave a bell like laugh before turning to Beau, "Do tell me Beau, how are our earnings looking this year? Is the family business doing well?"

"Well," The man gave an arrogant snort as he sipped his whiskey, "With the current fear associated with nuclear power after Japan we've redirected our output to both eco-friendly power and traditional coal burning power stations which makes the public feel they can trust us. Oil is fetching a good price these days because Mellie Grant rang the genocide bell and people won't touch the East Sudanese stuff."

"So for those of us who aren't in business," Hollis Jnr sneered.

Hollis shook his head at his eldest son, "we're Doyles, we're all in business boy."

"It means we're looking at a very good turnover and a healthy dividend for our shareholders," Beau concluded with cutting look at Kurt.

"Well, Hollis and Kurt look pleased with that report," Mitchel chortled loudly as the waitresses placed a large beef steak in front of each of them, Kurt watched his grandfather feel the young woman up but said nothing to stop it.

"David and I have been looking at vacation homes in Knightsbridge or maybe an island in the south pacific," Kurt smiled as he began to devour his blue steak.

"Where is David?" His father asked between bites of his steak.

"He's working," Kurt swallowed hard, "people aren't going to save their own lives and he took yesterday morning off to attend the funeral with me, so he actually had to do his job today."

"It's good to see that there are still honest, hard-working Americans," Mitchel spoke with a mouthful of steak, "That David boy is one good kind of man; comes from a good family and knows where he's going. If only he was working at making the family business great."

"I think our umbrella corporation owns a large portion of the company that owns the hospital he works at," Kurt added; his grandfather liked David in theory, when he didn't consider the fact that he and Kurt were in a relationship and that they were having sex.

"NetCare," Beau nodded in agreement, "Doyle Enterprise is the major shareholder, if memory serves we have seats on the board."

"Well," Hollis caught his father's brainwave and turned to Beau, "I want you to find a way to have David discreetly added to the board, preferably as chairman."

Kurt held his hands up and his eyes bulged, "that escalated quickly, I'm not sure how David would feel about that."

"That's what the discretion is for," His father shrugged, "what he doesn't know can't hurt him."

His grandfather then turned to Finn and blew smoke in his direction, "When you have your PhD, you call me and I'll put you up at your university of choice for research."

Kurt was amused by how Quinn had paralleled him to Santa Claus when his grandfather was the original rainmaker; their family didn't have weak links, he wasn't being generous but rather was lifting Finn and David to a level that matched the rest of the family. Kurt's father had the same done to him covertly; from his first job at Ford, to the success of Hummel Tire and Lube as a franchise, to his political career; there has been interference by Doyle Enterprise since day one but over time the older Hummel has come to make peace with and accept this.

"So what time are we meeting tomorrow?" A sweaty Bobby came up behind him and gave him a small kiss on the cheek, "Everyone enjoying their food?"

"Of course we're enjoying it," Mitchell chortled merrily with a wheezy coughing fit at the tail end, "My grandson is the best damn chef in these United States."

Beau shot his half-brother look of falsified superiority, "we're meeting at first light."

"You clearly aren't the smart one," Bobby chuckled heartily, of all Kurt's relatives he was most like their grandfather in both mannerisms and appearance, "I asked for a time, not a vague variable."

"We agreed on six-oh-five," Kurt's father answered in an effort to keep the peace.

"Are any of the rest of you joining us?" Beau spoke to his sibling as if speaking to riff-raff.

"Nick is in Singapore and Tripp said he would rather impale himself on the Empire State Building which means he thinks we're in New York," there was a round of laughter from the table at large at the expense of their Hollywood airhead relative, "How is Catherine? We're overdue for a play date, Avery and Skylar have been asking."

"They're ten," Beau countered with his nose in the air, "They're too old for play dates."

"You know what I mean, get together, discuss boys and exchange lip gloss like Kurt and Nick used to," Bobby rolled his eyes, "There's no need to be a dick to my kids bro."

"I'll talk to Lisa-Anne," Hollis interjected before Beau could make more of an ass of himself an spread the awkwardness further, "Maybe I'll send the four of them to Disneyland."

Kurt rolled his eyes at the sound of Lisa-Anne Rhenn's name, she was an ambitious social climber who had been in his year. She had been at St Mary's when he was at St. Clements and in her efforts to infiltrate their family Lisa-Anne had relentlessly pursued both Kurt and Nick before realising that Kurt was strictly same-sex oriented and 'Big' Nick was creepily strictly Kurt orientated. It was at a sports fixture in their senior year that the nouveau riche social climber had met eager to please Beau who was six years her senior and as they say, the rest was history. As Beau's wife, much like her husband, she was eager to please Hollis in hopes that he'd change his will and name them his sole heirs, she did whatever he asked of her and he exploited this with no intention of changing his will.

"Trent is in his tough guy phase," Bobby laughed, "you won't get him to go anywhere with the girls."

"Maybe he can talk about boys and exchange lip gloss with Kurt," Hollis Jnr joked.

Kurt smiled, "I would like his opinion on which Island to buy with my shareholder's dividend."

"Oh snap, he went there," Beau added insult to injury.

Kurt smiled as he watched the family business being reshaped an reconstituted before his very eyes, this was what they did the day before the hunt; they discussed the state of the family and how they were moving forward and soon after they would coerce the President of the United States of America, the most powerful man on the planet, change the law to suit their needs as one of the superpowers of the country. The Doyle Family had made a name for itself over the last century and a half by leading legislature in its favour much like the Walt Disney Company had shaped the media to it's liking, Kurt had always assumed that this is what it must have felt like to be in the mafia but for him it was a corporate-political mafia.

~0~

The Black Queen Walks in the Light.

In the midst of the sudden death of this nation's greatest religious leaders one has been chosen, the great Pastor Marvin Drake has seen something in the Black Queen and her soldiers that has warranted her a post-mortem endorsement. As many switch colours to stand by the Black Queen can this writer say he's surprised? This change of power is necessary and has been a long time coming, in the eyes of many of Gloria Steinem's followers this was the right game change for them.

Is a pest problem what drives the Pastor's wife to stand by the Black Queen?

"An enemy of my enemy is my friend."

-J.B. Prince

---

Hope you enjoyed reading this.