Chapter 58: Getting Out of Lima

Kurt parked on the street in front of Santana's house. The drive-way was already packed with cars. It looked like the whole glee club had shown up. Not surprising, when Santana sent an invitation, saying "no" was not really an option. Not that anyone wanted to say "no", of course. The Latina's Evite had called them to celebrate "Getting the Hell out of Lima", and they were more than ready to do that.

Kurt slipped his hand into Nigel's as they wove their way between the parked cars in the drive-way, to the front door of the house. The heavy wrought iron door knocker slammed against the door twice before Santana's mother swept it open. "Kurt! I haven't seen you in forever. Come in." Imperious dark eyes smiled at Kurt and turned to the young man beside him.

"Mrs. Lopez, this is my boyfriend, Nigel."

Santana's mother shook Nigel's hand, observing him carefully. "Ah, the Boston Banker.

"Yes, ma'am." Nigel smiled into eyes that were obviously the blueprint for Santana's. "Although, I just analyze what the bankers do."

Mrs. Lopez nodded, her look still assessing. "Kurt's very important to my daughter."

Kurt's mouth opened in surprise. News to him!

Nigel had no trouble interpreting the challenge in Mrs. Lopez's look. It's not like she was trying to be subtle. "He's very important to me too."

Apparently, that was the right thing to say. Nigel suddenly found himself the recipient of a dazzling smile and a quick hug. "Everyone's in the back yard by the pool. Go on through."

Leaning into Kurt, as they walked down the hallway to the back of the house, Nigel whispered. "Wow! Now I know where Santana gets it."

Kurt laughed as he put his arm around his boyfriend. "It's okay, I'll protect you." He grinned at Nigel. "She likes me."

Nigel pushed the sliding door closed behind them, and Kurt slipped his sunglasses over his eyes. They walked out into the myriad sounds of summer; laughter, music, splashes.

"Kurt's here!" Britt announced in a megaphone shout, and then executed a perfect back flip off the diving board.

"Kurt!" Blaine called from the pool, and beside him in the water, Dave waved. Kurt and Nigel started towards the pool.

"Yo! Princess." Turning at Puck's shout, they switched directions and headed for the Mohawk. Kurt stopped, just short of the bar, and Nigel paused beside him. Kurt tapped Nigel's cuff lightly. Nigel's eyes locked on Kurt, wide with surprise.

Over the summer, they had created this code between them. Kurt touching Nigel's cuff meant Kurt's Dom was asking Nigel's Sub out to play. Similarly, when Nigel touched his forehead to Kurt's wrist, he was making the same request. Their games did not leak into the real world, so this tap to Nigel's cuff had to mean something else. He looked from Kurt to his cuff, and back to Kurt again.

"Remember the last party, at my place? Puck's drinks are always lethal. Be careful. I don't do drunks." Kurt spoke quietly, so only his boyfriend would hear.

Nigel studied the younger man carefully. Analyst that he was, he slotted the words into the context of Kurt's tap to his cuff, and deciphered exactly what Kurt was saying.

This wasn't about their Dom/Sub games. It was about sex. It was about Kurt making his position on drunk sex very clear. Kurt wasn't telling him what to do. The choice to get drunk or not was completely his. Kurt was simply stating what he would or would not do depending on the choices Nigel made. It was still controlling as hell, but it didn't infringe on Nigel's autonomy.

Nigel took Kurt's hand, turned it over, and kissed the back of his wrist. Not the submissive bow of the head he usually used, but his meaning was clear. Kurt smiled his appreciation of Nigel's decision. "Good."

Nigel grinned and pulled Kurt closer, hands on his boyfriend's hips. "It's a good thing you're so fucking hot because you're a major control freak, and a manipulative ass hat."

Laughing, Kurt slid his arms around his boyfriend, and linked his hands together, at the small of Nigel's back. "Yes, but I'm so good at it."

Puck plunked two glasses down on the bar. "Feeling brave?" He poured a lime green concoction into their glasses.

Nigel picked his glass up and tilted it, looking at the liquid dubiously. "What is it?"

"It's a family recipe, handed down through the generations..."

"Right!" Kurt sniffed at his drink, nose wrinkling in distaste. "Your mother only drinks kosher wine."

Puck didn't even blink. "Nah, man, it's from my father's side."

"Uh-huh." Kurt put the glass down untouched. He watched as Nigel took a cautious sip.

"It's not awful." Nigel took a second sip. "It's really sweet. Tastes a little like Kool-Aid."

"Kool-Aid?" Puck glared at Nigel. "Dude, seriously, you're missing some taste buds."

While Puck and Nigel argued the merits of his liquid creation, Kurt glanced around the yard. Santana and Mercedes were bringing food platters out from the kitchen. Sam was firing up the B-B-Q. Britt, Dave and Blaine were in the pool. Artie wheeled himself over to the pool, laughing as Britt tried to push Blaine under the water.

"Dave, help!" Blaine splashed and spluttered water out of his mouth as he tried to get away from Brittney.

David took a few strong strokes, away from his boyfriend, and leaned against the pool edge near Artie's chair. "Sorry, babe; can't help you. It's part of the jock code, football players can't go up against cheerleaders."

Britt crowed, as she launched herself over Blaine's shoulder. "You're so going down, Blaine!"

Kurt kicked off his sandals, and sat on the lip of the pool, between Artie and Dave, his legs in the water. "Jock Code? No one ever mentioned a jock code when I was on the team."

Dave laughed. "That's because there is no jock code. But Blaine doesn't know that." They watched as Blaine dived and pulled Britt under. They both came up gasping for air, and Britt bounced through the water to the edge of the pool.

"You guys coming in?" She wiped water off her face and grinned up at Kurt and Artie.

"Kurt says you're going out to Hollywood?" Nigel played with his drink.

"Yeah, figure I can clean a few pools while I write a screen play." Puck threw some ice in a cocktail shaker. "California dreaming!"

"Have you ever written anything?"

"Nah, man, but how hard can it be? If that chick from fan fiction can write a best seller, I think I can bang out a screen play."

"You mean the woman who wrote Fifty Shades of Gray?"

Puck held up the cocktail shaker. "It's like mixing drinks. Throw in a few sex scenes, a car chase or two, a puppy or a little kid to make the audience go 'awhh', add a really hot cast, and bam! You're ordering the custom paint job on your first Rolls Royce."

Nigel laughed and clinked glasses with Puck. "California dreaming!"

Kurt and Mercedes found glasses, napkins, cutlery, while Santana got the drinks.

Kurt twisted a jar of salsa open. "Where's Rachel?"

Mercedes opened a bag of Nachos. "She's coming. She promised to have dinner with her dads, but she'll be here later."

"How's she doing?"

"Not good. She's gone past hurt, and moved onto furious." Mercedes grimaced. "I don't think Finn's ever going to be able to explain his way out of this one."

"Quinn coming?"

"No, she's already gone. Yale takes their orientation week seriously!"

Sam clanged his spatula on the B-B-Q hood. "Burgers are done!"

"Kurt, you're going to love it! It's this great open space. The neighbourhood sucks but it's a loft!" Rachel bounced with excitement. "We're going to live in a New York loft!"

"Totally open concept?" Kurt didn't like the sound of that. He liked Rachel, he did, but all Rachel, all the time was not his idea of fun.

"Don't worry; we'll put up dividers to separate our spaces. It's going to be fantastic!"

Kurt smiled, not that he was convinced it would be fantastic, but it was nice to see Rachel this excited about something again. For the moment, Finn was a distant memory.

Nigel helped Santana clean up after dinner. He wasn't terribly efficient, staring at Kurt slowed him down.

"It's not polite to drool, Boston Boy." The Latina smirked at Nigel. "You didn't get enough of each other this summer?"

"Right! Like you've had enough of Britt." Nigel stacked dirty platters and followed Santana into the house.

"No, but we're breaking up anyway." Santana rinsed the platters and Nigel slotted them into the dishwasher. "I don't know what's going to happen next year, and I don't want to hurt her."

Nigel nodded. "Yeah, Kurt and I have had the same discussion." He leaned against the counter and watched Kurt through the kitchen window.

"You're going to miss him." It wasn't a question, Santana could read it in his eyes; see it in his body language. He was clearly suffering from separation anxiety even now, and Kurt was only on the other side of the window.

Nigel turned to the cheerleader, shoulders slumped with sadness. "Every single day."

Stuffed with food and tired from a day in the pool and under the sun, the Glee kids gathered together on deck chairs, sun loungers, and pillows. Puck, Sam, Joe and their guitars formed a musical triangle; Joe and Sam on cushions, Puck in a deck chair. Dave and Blaine shared one lounger and Santana and Britt took the other. Rachel and Mercedes claimed a garden bench. Kurt took a deck chair and set it beside Artie. Nigel decided that since Sam and Joe were using cushions, it wouldn't look too odd if he pulled up a cushion at Kurt's feet. He settled himself and leaned back against Kurt's legs.

Kurt didn't even think about it, his fingers automatically stroked through Nigel's hair, as he talked to Artie. Nigel wrapped an arm around Kurt's leg, and rested his head on his boyfriend's thigh. He caught Puck smirking at him, and mouthed the words that accompanied his finger salute. Puck laughed, and turned to Sam. "Dude, let's do that one you sang last year, what was it? Little Red Cup?"

Sam started the song, and Joe and Puck merged their strings with his. Everyone sang; everyone but Nigel. He was convinced his voice was not for public consumption, and Kurt didn't try to push him. Nigel was having a good time and that's all Kurt cared about.

The party broke up late, goodbyes and promises drifted on the air as they hugged each other and walked to their cars. Pulling away from the curb, Kurt glanced over at Nigel. "It just seems wrong that Finn wasn't there."

Nigel nodded. "Yeah, Santana said the same thing, well almost. She said 'the pool doesn't look the same without Frankenteen's man boobs jiggling about'. But I think that's what she meant."

Kurt snorted. "Yeah, with Santana, you have to read between the lines."

"Rachel seemed better."

"She's excited about New York, so yeah, better." Kurt dropped his right hand off the steering wheel, to thread his fingers through Nigel's.

"Santana and Britt are breaking up?" Nigel turned his head to see Kurt nod.

"Yeah."

"Does Britt understand that? She doesn't seem very upset about it."

"San says she's pretending." Kurt looked over at Nigel. "Dave and Blaine are taking a hiatus."

"What does that mean?"

Kurt turned into his drive way, and cut the ignition. "Blaine says it means they'll be single when they're apart and get together when they can."

Nigel closed his car door. "That sounds like what we're doing."

Kurt waited for Nigel to come around the front of the car. They walked to his front door together. "No. That's what I'm doing." Kurt unlocked the front door, and waved Nigel in before him. He locked the door, and turned to his boyfriend. "You're not single, no matter where I am."

Nigel locked the door at the top of the staircase to Kurt's bedroom, and followed his boyfriend down the stairs. Kurt dropped his keys and phone on his night table, and turned to Nigel. He gestured to Nigel's clothes. "Off."

Pulling off his T-shirt and shorts, and kicking off his beat-up Docksiders, Nigel was naked in seconds. A nod, from Kurt, and he slipped to his knees.

Kurt threaded his fingers through Nigel's hair, and tipped his head back. "What do you need?"

"Right now, I need to do whatever you want."

Kurt considered Nigel's phrasing. "And after?"

Green eyes looked up into crystal. "Sometime before you get on the plane to New York, I need to fuck you."

Kurt closed his eyes, as that image shot through his mind. "Yes." He knelt and took Nigel by the shoulders, lowering him onto his back on the floor. Nigel spread his legs, and Kurt moved between them. He leaned over Nigel, nuzzled into his boyfriend's neck, and kissed along his jaw. He slid his tongue over Nigel's bottom lip, and swept inside. Nigel sucked on Kurt's tongue, slid his own tongue behind Kurt's teeth, and nibbled at his lip. Kurt raised his head, and looked down into Nigel's eyes. "Tonight, you're mine. Tomorrow night, I'm yours."

Nigel smiled up at Kurt. He traced his fingers over Kurt's temple and cheek. "I'm always yours."

Kurt nodded. "Yes." He dragged his hand down Nigel's body, and wrapped it around his lover's cock. "And that's not going to change, not tonight, not ever."

Nigel arched into Kurt's hand. He trailed one hand down Kurt's back, over the T-shirt, and hooked his fingers in the waist band of the younger man's shorts. "Yes, sir."