A/N: Using the trope Kurt!skank. Sebastian is taking Kurt to meet his parents for the first time, but first he has to make Kurt presentable. (Rated NC17)
Kurt hears Sebastian's Porsche pull up to the football field, knowing it's him before he even has to turn to see it. He takes one long last drag on his cigarette before pitching it into the grass and stomping it out, waving frantically to clear away the smoke. Sebastian is particular about the smell of smoke clinging to his precious prep school uniform, and even though Kurt despises all of Sebastian's petty rules, he's not in the mood to argue.
Kurt doesn't get too many opportunities to see Sebastian, and even if he hates to admit it, he misses him.
Kurt watches Sebastian strut across the parking lot on his way to the bleachers, flawlessly styled hair catching highlights from the afternoon sun, piercing green eyes reflecting his smug smirk, perfectly pressed Dalton blazer hugging his broad shoulders and accentuating his trim waist. How anyone can manage to make that stuffy suit look so good, Kurt will never understand. Sebastian definitely thinks he's God's gift. At least Kurt knows first-hand that the best parts are hidden underneath, and for now, Kurt gets to keep those all to himself.
Sebastian winks at a Cheerio as he saunters by, and the blonde tart practically faints in the arms of her friend beside her, sighing dramatically. Kurt's eyes narrow as he sets the girl in his sights and memorizes her face. He's going to have a talk with her later about keeping her eyes to herself. For now, Kurt fidgets, ridiculously adjusting his torn jeans and brushing off the shoulders of his musty leather jacket, carding his fingers quickly through his carefully mussed pink-tinted locks, preparing for the moment when Sebastian rounds the corner to the bleachers and says…
"Hello, gorgeous."
Sebastian advances on Kurt, picks him up roughly, latches a hand to his ass, and kisses him hard.
Kurt squeaks a bit at the bite to his lower lip, but all too soon, Sebastian drops him back to the grass, spitting off to the side, his nose scrunched with disgust.
"If you insist on smoking those shit cigarettes, could you at least do it an hour before I show up?"
"An hour ago I was in Calc," Kurt argues, his face red from the rush of adrenaline at being kissed and the humiliation of being reprimanded.
"Then try an Altoid, for Christ's sake." Sebastian reaches into his pocket, pulls out a small red and white tin of the strong mints and tosses them Kurt's way. Kurt catches them with one hand, and as reluctant as he is to kowtow to any demand of Smythe's, he knows that if he doesn't, Sebastian won't kiss him.
And Kurt wants to be kissed.
Kurt takes one and sticks it in his mouth, trying not to pull a face at the burn on his tongue. Sebastian stares at him with a significant look until Kurt takes two more. Pleased with his obedience, Sebastian puts an arm around his boyfriend and pulls him close, nuzzling into his neck.
"So, today's the day," Sebastian coos. "The 'rents want to meet you, so we need to get you ready."
Kurt chokes on his mints.
"What? Now!?" Kurt coughs out, pounding on his chest with his fist to move the mint shards along.
"Well, tonight," Sebastian clarifies. "You've been invited to dinner at the club."
Sebastian pulls away from Kurt, giving him a once over with disapproving eyes, tutting and shaking his head.
"Nope," Sebastian says finally. "This simply will not do."
"Fuck you," Kurt spits, pulling out of Sebastian's grasp. "My clothes are just fine, fucktard. You seem to like them."
"Yeah, well, that's because I can get you out of them," Sebastian drawls, looping a finger around Kurt's studded belt and pulling him back against his body. Sebastian ruts slowly along the seam of Kurt's jeans, pressing his erection against the crack of Kurt's ass, and despite his diminishing self-esteem, he can't resist pushing back to meet him. "But the fact remains, I can't take you home looking like a skank." Sebastian says it so matter-of-factly, with added emphasis to the word 'skank', that it makes Kurt's skin crawl. He always thought Sebastian liked him just fine the way he was - pink hair, cigarettes and all.
Apparently, that's not the case.
"I do have a reputation to uphold."
"You're an ass," Kurt scowls, reaching in his pocket for another cigarette, Sebastian's rules about smoke smells on his clothes be damned.
"You love my ass," Sebastian purrs, pulling the cigarette from between Kurt's lips and tossing it to the grass before he can light it, "and you want my ass, so you're going to do what I say. Isn't that right, Hummel?"
Kurt sighs. He would like to believe that after two years Sebastian would realize it's more than his ass that Kurt's after, but he'll take what he can get.
"Fine," Kurt barks. "What do you want me to do?"
"We have an appointment." Sebastian throws his arm over Kurt's shoulders, leading him away from the bleachers. "And if we don't leave now, we're going to be late."
"An appointment where?" Kurt's raises a skeptical eyebrow as Sebastian walks him to the Porsche, which is currently being gawked at by about a dozen or so jocks and cheerleaders.
"The club has a stylist," Sebastian says, shooing away the crowd with a disgruntled glare, "and a tailor on call. I think four hours is enough time to turn you into something resembling a silk purse."
Sebastian doesn't open the car door for Kurt, just waves at him impatiently. Kurt pulls on the handle and drops down into the leather seat, stares of disbelief following him as he shuts the door and puts on his seatbelt. Sebastian reaches past Kurt into the glove box and pulls out a small aerosol bottle, spraying the air around Kurt with something that smells vaguely like sterile lilacs.
"There," Sebastian grumbles, turning on the air and aiming a vent right at Kurt. "That will make the hours fly by."
Kurt rolls his eyes and sinks into the seat, praying for a four car pile-up on the freeway, just to piss Sebastian off.
The stylist at the club is even more disapproving of Kurt's looks, if such a thing could be believed. The moment they step into the salon, she sighs audibly, making no effort to hide her despair. Sebastian deposits him into a chair, slips the haggard woman something that looks suspiciously like a hundred dollar bill, and disappears out the door with barely a wave in Kurt's direction. Kurt bites his tongue for the next few hours as a team of hairdressers, tailors, and manicurists swarm over him. The pink in his hair (courtesy of a gallon bottle of cranberry Ocean Spray) is stripped, his naturally chestnut-colored locks highlighted, and his coif recut. His nails are filed, the black polish removed, and some petite brunette bitch with an orange stick pushes back his cuticles, torturing him until he is tempted to punch her in the face.
He's shoved into a black suit and matching tie – simple, stylish, and extremely expensive - something he can appreciate but would probably never wear. Polished patent-leather shoes replace his Doc Marten boots, and the ensemble is complete.
The haggard woman removes his piercings - seven from his left ear and nine from his right - but a sympathetic stylist with a slightly edgier look sneaks in unnoticed and replaces a single diamond stud, giving him a conspiratorial wink before dissolving back into the crowd. Kurt has never owned a diamond stud before, so he can't imagine where it came from, but he's not going to turn any random gift-giving angels down, especially since this one tiny trinket is the only thing on his body that makes him still feel real, still feel like Kurt.
Kurt looks at his reflection in the mirror and sighs in defeat. A much younger looking Kurt stares back at him, definitely much more dignified, certainly more refined, but so far from the real him that he doesn't even know who he's looking at anymore. His eyes dart to the old hag who did this to him, sure that at the very least she will be pleased with his appearance, but she only sighs as well, mumbling, "If he'd given me more time," and "well, it will have to do," and worst of all, "better give me more than an extra hundred next time."
Next time? Kurt's mind howls. There's going to be a next time?
Kurt steps out of the salon, stumbling in the unfamiliar shoes, and is immediately greeted by a low, appreciative whistle.
"Now that's what I'm talking about," Sebastian says. "Looking good, Hummel. Now that's a look I can get behind."
Kurt wants to preen under Sebastian's praise, but instead his heart sinks in his stomach like a stone.
This is what Sebastian wants. Bye-bye Kurt Hummel. Hello Sebastian's primped pet.
Sebastian circles Kurt, taking in the new look from all angles, stopping to flick the stud in his ear with his finger.
"Very dapper," he comments with a strange knowing glimmer in his eye. Kurt's heart lightens knowing that the earring is from him.
"I guess," Kurt says, disgusted at his own meek voice, "if you like it."
"But do you like it?" Sebastian asks. Kurt hates Sebastian for teasing him, especially at a time like this, but when his eyes meet Sebastian's, he doesn't see his usual cocky swagger. His green eyes are soft and genuine, like he might actually care how Kurt feels.
Kurt is so thrown by this rarely seen side of Sebastian Smythe, he doesn't answer right away.
Sebastian shakes his head and answers for him.
"You don't have to say anything," Sebastian says. "I know you hate it. I can see it in your eyes."
"I don't hate it," Kurt says finally, "and I wouldn't have minded so much if you'd asked me, to make a change this once. I just…"
Kurt's words drift away but Sebastian is not willing to let it die. He leans in close.
"Just what, Kurt?" he asks.
"I just want to know that you like me the way I am." Kurt looks into Sebastian's eyes. "I thought you did. You used to."
Sebastian smiles, rolling his eyes and trying to look put-out by Kurt's cluelessness, but manages to look more chagrined instead.
"I do like you the way you are," Sebastian says, kissing Kurt on the forehead. "Can you forgive me for being an ass?"
"I'll forgive you," Kurt says, "but I don't see that changing any time soon."
Sebastian smacks Kurt on the rear in full view of passersby and smirks at the disapproving looks he earns.
"Fine," Sebastian says. "Do you want to change?"
Kurt's head snaps up to meet Sebastian's, eyes wide with disbelief.
"You'd be okay with that?" Kurt asks. "You'd be okay with me putting on my ripped jeans and my old t-shirt to meet your parents?"
"Yup," Sebastian says, "if it makes you happy."
Kurt looks up at the ceiling, affecting a look of deep thought. He pulls out of Sebastian's arms to look down at his suit.
"You know what," Kurt says, "I think I'm good. I'm not so far removed from my days of thumbing through Vogue that I can't appreciate a classic black Armani suit."
"Are you sure?" Sebastian asks. "You don't have to do this for me, you know."
"I know that now," Kurt answers brightly. "But deep inside me, I think, is a man who likes to wear a suit."
Sebastian laughs – the sound surprisingly warm and comforting.
"And," Kurt adds, turning his head to show off his bedazzled ear, "I think diamonds suit me."
"Well, it's all yours," Sebastian says, chuckling again when Kurt smiles wide. "Consider it a thank you for going through all this shit."
"You know," Kurt says coyly, crowding back into his boyfriend's arms, "if you keep this up, people are going to think that you 'more than' like me."
Sebastian takes a quick peek around and Kurt becomes disheartened, wondering who Sebastian is worried about seeing them. Sebastian darts away quickly, but before Kurt has a chance to consider the implications, he returns, slipping something thick and heavy over Kurt's shoulders. Kurt reaches up to grab at the weight, his fingers coming in contact with the collar of his leather jacket.
"I think, Kurt Hummel, I might just 'more than' like you."
Sebastian shakes his head, taking his stunned boyfriend's arm, and leading him away.