"Mrs. Forsythe! Mrs. Forsythe!" Kurt called, dodging students as he fought against the flow of hallway traffic heading towards the commons for lunch while he tried to make his way to his French professor.
She recognized his voice without seeing him, and she wasn't looking forward to stopping and turning around.
"Mrs. Forsythe!" he yelled. "Please! For God's sake, woman, wait up! This is an emergency!"
She stopped at the door to the faculty lunch room, hand on the knob, one step away from freedom. She could do it, she said to herself. She could walk thru the door and pretend she didn't hear him. But she'd already stalled. She wasn't sure she could get away with it.
"Please, Mrs. Forsythe!" Kurt begged, grunting as he was repeatedly buffeted by annoyed boys trying to shove him aside. "This (Grrr!) is a matter (Watch it, asswipe!) of life … and … death!"
Mrs. Forsythe sighed, turning away from her blessed one hour reprieve. She couldn't help herself. She couldn't say no to a student; not even Kurt Hummel.
"What do you need, Mr. Hummel?" she said, forgoing the usual French greeting she used when confronted by one of her students.
The toe of Kurt's boot caught on the smooth floor, and he tripped to a stop in front of her. His purple bangs dangled just shy of his brow, the effervescent smile on his face as bright as it was rare. He even bowed, which was a little over the top, but something she didn't think she'd ever see from Kurt in her lifetime.
"J'ai besoin de votre aide, s'il vous plait," Kurt said, asking for her help, even going so far as to say please, in an entirely unconceited tone, and that clinched it. The pastrami on rye she'd been daydreaming of since third period could wait.
"Allez, Monsieur Hummel," she said, putting a hand on his shoulder and leading him back to her classroom. "Laisse-moi voir ce que je peux faire pour vous."
When Sebastian got to his desk later that afternoon, he found three French exams clipped together, each with matching red A+'s written on top, along with a sealed business envelope. He opened it quickly, confident that he knew who it was from, and anticipating what it might say. It was a simpler note than he had imagined, definitely less vulgar, and brought a smile to his face.
Looksie! I did good!
See you Friday, Principal Smythe.
Kurt Hummel
Sebastian folded the letter carefully, slid it back in its envelope, and put it in his pocket for safe keeping. No need to risk people prying into his personal business by leaving it lying on his desk. Besides, he had his own foolish reasons for wanting to keep that letter safe.
Sebastian had a date on Friday night, with a teenager, and to his own surprise, he couldn't be more excited.
Kurt and Sebastian didn't talk more than necessary during the three days before the weekend, exchanging pleasant hellos as would be expected between teacher and student when they passed one another in the halls. But in that small space of time, Kurt Hummel transformed into a different version of himself. The piercings in total had disappeared, the Doc Martens exchanged for a sensible pair of black Oxfords. His black canvas backpack, covered in patches boasting the names of random Indie and retro rock bands, had been replaced by an understated, brown leather messenger bag. And his Dalton uniform, which Kurt seemed to care very little about, was impeccably cleaned and pressed. Knowing what Kurt's next step might be, Sebastian managed to slip him a note via his homeroom teacher, also in a sealed envelope, which read (vaguely to anyone not in the know):
Dear Mr. Hummel;
If you wouldn't mind, please don't touch the hair.
Kurt managed to read the letter in a roomful of students while wearing a perfect poker face, but inside, he was dancing the mamba.
When Friday night rolled around, Sebastian was surprised to find himself pacing his living room floor, actually waiting for Kurt's call. He worried his cell phone in his hands until the protective adhesive cover on his screen lifted up at one corner. At 7:15, his phone rang. He had to hold himself back from answering it too quickly. But a peek at the number on the screen brought his racing heart to an immediate and indignant stand still.
It wasn't Kurt.
"Shit!" Sebastian yelled. Answering the call too quickly, he had to switch gears at a breakneck pace, and when he did, it was with a goofy – and guilty – sounding, "Good evening, Patricia! Hi!"
"Did you get that student census paperwork completed and mailed?"
"Yup," Sebastian said proudly. "Finished it up an hour after the bell rang and sent it on its merry way."
"For Dalton and Crawford Country Day?"
Sebastian's smile dropped as fiercely off his face as if Patricia had reached through the phone and smacked it off. The Dalton paperwork alone had taken him over a week to complete. Crawford Country Day had close to a third more students, and Sebastian didn't know any of them. Not personally. Names, addresses, class schedules would all need to be double checked, and that was going to take him forever!
"Wh-what? What do you mean for Crawford Country Day? Sylvia Perkins handles the paperwork for Crawford. She's their head mistress."
"Yes, but she's on maternity leave, remember? You promised to handle the paperwork for their school, too, so that their assistant head master wouldn't have to. You know he's got that … delicate condition."
"Oh, God," Sebastian groaned, dropping to his sofa. He'd completely forgotten. "Are you kidding me?"
"No, sir," Patricia said with a not-so-discreet chuckle. "You're the one who volunteered."
He tried to remember, but he drew a blank. It had completely skipped his mind. In his defense, that promise was made during a whirlwind conversation at a countywide A.P. Exam Proctors' luncheon. He had made the offer after a particularly spicy bowl of curry caused Sylvia's second trimester Braxton Hicks contractions to flair up. He may have also offered to put together some IKEA furniture. He wasn't sure. It was all a blur.
"But, you were there, too! And you let me! You know that I can't be trusted with decisions like this!" Sebastian complained as Patricia let fly with a full-throated laugh. "And let me guess," he said, running a hand down his face, "they have to be postmarked no later than Saturday?"
"Ah, I see you've been screwed by this system before."
"Yeah. And of course it doesn't matter that I've got a date."
The line went quiet, and Sebastian's eyes shot open.
"You've got a date, sir?"
"Uh … no. Maybe. Just … forget I said that. Please?"
"Consider it forgotten, sir," Patricia said in a perky clip, like a soldier confirming a command.
"Yeah" – Sebastian smirked, knowing firsthand, and from years of experience, how pervasive the gossip chain at Dalton was, and that it usually started in the faculty lunch room – "right. Look, I've gotta run if I'm going to get that paperwork done sometime before the next century." He sighed. The thought of hours and hours of filling in bubbles and checking boxes gave him a pinchy headache behind his eyes. And tonight, of all nights. Not the nights he spent binge eating Madagascar Vanilla Bean ice-cream drizzled in Courvoisier. Not the nights he spent watching back-to-back episodes of Daredevil on Netflix.
Nope. Tonight.
"Hey, Patricia…" He had an idea. It was a long shot, but if he asked sweetly enough, maybe he could save his evening after all "…there's no chance that maybe you would be willing to …"
"Shhhh-crackle-crackle, what's that?" Patricia cut in over the line. "I can't … crackle-crackle … hear … shhhh … bad connection … bzzz … going through a tunnel …"
Sebastian frowned. Who even did that anymore? "Nice. You could just say no, you know."
"Oh," Patricia said in a smiling voice. "Then no. Sorry about that. But you're not the only one who may or may not have a date tonight."
"Fair enough," Sebastian grumbled, sliding down the cushions of his couch in defeat. Well, there went plan #1. Unfortunately, he didn't have a plan #2 yet. "Have fun, and remember … mum's the word."
"Of course," she said, but hurried off the phone so fast he could hear her rushing to dial another number before the call completely disconnected.
Great. Just great.
At least he knew what would be whispered behind his back come Monday. Took the trouble out of having to guess.
Sebastian's phone rang again. He didn't expect it, lost in thought over what he intended on doing now that about 3,000 pages of bullshit had been dropped into his lap, and he nearly tossed it into the air. He picked up the call, praying it might be Patricia calling back with a change of heart, though he knew that was a long shot.
"Hello?"
"Hello, Mr. Smythe?" It was Kurt, without even the subtlest trace of that immature, seductive tone he used when he cornered Sebastian in his office.
"Hello, Kurt." Sebastian bit his lower lip when he heard himself say Kurt's name, relaxed, familiar, as if they had been flirting with one another for a while now. In a way, they had been, playing out the overture of this relationship in the halls of Dalton whether they knew that's what they were doing or not. "You know, as long as we're talking outside of school, you can call me Sebastian."
"Oh, okay." Kurt cleared his throat. The voice that returned dropped to a deeper, huskier note. "Hello, Sebastian."
Sebastian shook his head, grinning so hard his cheeks hurt. God. What the hell was he getting himself into?
"Look, Kurt, I'm going to be honest with you. I've hit a bit of a snag. I have a ton of paperwork and …"
"Oh," Kurt interrupted before Sebastian could finish. "No, I … I understand."
"Kurt, you're not listening to me. Let me finish, alright?"
"Sure. Go ahead."
"So I'm going to make reservations for tomorrow night, but I did promise you a date tonight, and I always keep my promises."
"That's okay." Sebastian could hear Kurt's disappointment. "You don't have to do that for me."
"What if I'm doing it for me, Kurt?" Sebastian asked, catching himself off-guard when those words flew out of his mouth, and just how much he meant them. "Do you think I'd ask you out on a date if I didn't want to go on a date with you?"
"I … I guess I never thought of it that way."
Sebastian rolled his eyes to the ceiling, contemplating, then preparing, to make a humongous fool out of himself. "Do you know what I was doing before you called?"
"No. What were you doing?" Kurt asked, genuinely concerned.
Sebastian could hear Kurt moving, shifting on his bed from his back to his stomach. Sebastian remembered those wood beds and their hard, uncomfortable mattresses from when he attended Dalton. One of the first things he did when he became principal was to have the beds refinished and the mattresses replaced. Which meant that Kurt was lying on a mattress that Sebastian had personally picked out.
Putting two and two together suddenly made talking more difficult.
"I've been pacing the floor with my phone in my hand, waiting. And do you know how long I've been waiting?"
"How long?"
"I … I'm not going to tell you that," Sebastian decided when he felt his cheeks and neck flood with heat, "because it'll make me sound pathetic."
Kurt chuckled so hard that he snorted. It brought a smile to Sebastian's face.
"So, what I want to know is," Sebastian continued, "would you be willing to hang out at my place with me? We can grab some take out. I'll pick you up. I think it's fair to warn you, it's probably going to be hella boring …"
"Yes!" Kurt jumped to answer, nothing like the impish seductor that constantly haunted Sebastian's steps at school, but an enthusiastic young man. "Yes, I want to go to your place and be bored."
"Alright then." Sebastian grabbed his shoes and started untying the laces. Things were looking up. "I'll swing by and get you in about …"
"Twenty minutes? That'll give me enough time to make myself presentable."
"Yeah." As he slipped on his shoes, Sebastian felt butterflies in his stomach for the first time in years. "Twenty minutes is fine. I'll see you then."
Kurt chose to wait for Sebastian at the far gates to the school so that no one would see Principal Smythe pick him up. When Kurt first arrived at Dalton Academy, he heard a wealth of gossip about the oh-so-popular Sebastian Smythe before he even met the man. There was a degree to which this obsession with Sebastian started when Kurt discovered that, back in his high school days, he was known as the boy with the talented tongue that had made three entire graduating classes question (or confirm) their sexuality. Kurt could only imagine what that was like, having that kind of popularity. Back at his old school, Kurt was pretty much a nobody until he became the leader of The Skanks. Just when he was beginning to get a reputation, just when he had found a way to earn a little respect, his father yanked him out and sent him here. And he went back to being a nobody real quick.
What a status symbol would it be to date the principal, especially if the man had that kind of notoriety?
But now, knowing what Sebastian was willing to do for him when he far from deserved it, Kurt didn't want to cause any problems for him.
Kurt waited anxiously, not sure what Sebastian's car looked like. Kurt had never seen the man drive. But when an ink black Porsche turned on to the grounds and made its way towards him, Kurt squeaked.
Principle Smythe drove a Porsche.
Of course, he did.
It pulled up in front of him and, as cliché as it sounded, Kurt felt like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. He even toyed with the idea of asking Sebastian if he was looking for a good time.
"Hey, Kurt." Sebastian leaned across the seats to open the door for him. The man was dressed down – dark blue jeans and a green polo - compared to what he normally wore at school. It was less sophisticated than the tailored suits that Kurt drooled over, but it also made him look about five years younger.
"Nice car, Principal Smythe … I mean, Sebastian," Kurt corrected himself shyly while still openly ogling his car. "I don't know that I would have pegged you as a Porsche man."
"Really? And how would you have pegged me?"
Kurt choked on that comment before he answered. "Uh … I don't know. Maybe a Toyota. Possibly a Honda."
"Ouch." Sebastian laughed, but then he took a closer look at Kurt and his mouth dropped open. He'd expected Kurt to take the stereotype he'd been cultivating to the next level – ripped jeans, possibly an equally ripped t-shirt, the resurgence of all his jewelry, maybe even some spiky hair. What he didn't expect was crisp, clean black slacks, and a black McQueen button down with pink floral print, offset by a skull-print scarf wrapped loosely around his neck. A few of the hoops were back – subtle gold ones that hugged his ear close, and the Doc Martens made a return, but these were a shiny, cherry red, much more sleek and refined than the clunky black ones he tried to pass off with his uniform. "Wow," he uttered as Kurt slid into the car seat.
Kurt looked at Sebastian, his brow lined with worry. "What? What's wrong?"
"Nothing." Sebastian reached past him to pull the door shut. "It's just … you look so different."
"Not different bad, right?" Kurt asked, patting his hair and straightening his scarf. "I mean, it took me about an hour to get my hair the way I wanted it, and even then …"
"No" - Sebastian put a hand on Kurt's shoulder. Kurt looked at it, then at Sebastian, smiling in a way that stirred Sebastian's entire body - "it looks amazing. You look amazing." Sebastian looked Kurt's face over a bit longer in the low light. "You put the eyebrow ring back in?"
"Uh, yeah." Kurt reached for it subconsciously with a nervous giggle. "I take it out for school now, but I thought, maybe, after that note about my hair … I hope you don't mind."
"No, I don't mind. It looks good on you."
Sebastian straightened up and put his car into gear. He had to drive away. Another second longer with Kurt that close and …
Sebastian drove his car off campus, a mixture of hot and cold swirling in his stomach. Should he really be doing this? Yes, Kurt was an adult. A legal adult. But that didn't mean he was an adult adult. He didn't have a job, hadn't paid taxes, and according to his birth date, he hadn't ever voted. But did any of that matter? The two of them clicked. They had chemistry. Or was Sebastian just fabricating that logic to justify what he was doing? Sebastian remembered the day he'd met Kurt's father, when Burt Hummel enrolled his son in Dalton. Burt had said he had a good feeling about Sebastian. So many principals he'd met with seemed far removed from their students. But not him. Sebastian seemed to understand the boys on their level; he went out of his way to make a connection with them.
What would Burt Hummel say if he found out this was the way Sebastian was connecting with his son?
"Mmm," Kurt hummed, a sound that came out more provocatively than it should have, "what is that incredible smell?"
"I bought Thai," Sebastian said, thankful for the opportunity to drill thoughts of Kurt's dad out of his brain with chitchat. "I hope you don't mind."
"I don't mind at all." Kurt had his legs crossed, his hands wrapped around his knee, eyes peering intently at the gauges on the dash. "Thai sounds great. Especially after …" Kurt pinched his mouth shut.
"After …?"
Kurt met Sebastian's eyes in the reflection of the windshield and then quickly looked away.
"Uh … how much say do you get, as principal of Dalton, over what gets served in the cafeteria?"
"Ah." Sebastian nodded. "Yeah. Unfortunately, the governing board and the alumni association of donors have a lot of sway with regard to that decision. But if it's any consolation, the food wasn't much better before I became principal. You guys aren't the only ones who've had to suffer."
"No consolation whatsoever, thank you," Kurt sniffed.
"What can we do to make it better?" Sebastian asked. "If you had control of the kitchen, what would you serve?"
"I don't know" – Kurt shimmied in his seat, embarrassed that he'd propelled them into this conversation. He didn't want to think about school right now, didn't want to think about that divide of teacher-student that existed between them. "For one, it would be nice if we had more meatless options. I mean, I realize that lard exists at the heart of French cuisine, but some of us have cholesterol levels to worry about."
Sebastian barked out a laugh that squinted his eyes and threw back his head. When he met Kurt's eyes in the reflection again, they glared at him.
"What's so funny?" Kurt asked.
"Nothing," Sebastian said, "it's just … I've never heard someone your age complain about his cholesterol before."
"That doesn't mean it's not an issue. Heart disease and high blood pressure aren't just things that affect older people," he countered, leaning to his left as he emphasized the word.
"Them there's fightin' words," Sebastian shot back. "But seriously, we have single meal stations where you guys can order up something different when you want."
"Yeah, and have you seen the line for those? Besides, they're not around at breakfast, lunch is only an hour long, and at dinner, you might as well plan on getting there two hours early unless you don't mind eating at midnight."
"Well, the cafeteria only stays open till ten," Sebastian kidded.
"Ha-ha," Kurt huffed, but he had a hard time fighting the grin that bloomed on his face from being teased.
"Thank you for bringing that to my attention, Mr. Hummel," Sebastian said, turning down the street that led to his townhouse. "I promise to take that under advisement."
"See that you do," Kurt said, relaxing into the leather seat behind him.
Sebastian's townhouse was positively tiny compared to the estate he grew up on, but that was part of why he chose it. He never felt anything but fortunate to live in the huge house where he spent his childhood, but it didn't escape his notice, even as a child, how impersonal it was, how massive and intimidating it felt. Living in this quaint, two-story home, suited him so much better. He liked the feeling that everything he needed was, figuratively speaking, within arm's reach. He didn't get lost in it. It didn't overwhelm him.
Even living alone, he didn't feel alone.
Kurt helped Sebastian in with the two bags of food he'd bought. Not knowing what Kurt preferred, he pretty much got one of everything on the menu. Thank God some of it was vegetarian. Sebastian, meanwhile, balanced two boxes of forms that he had found hiding in a far corner of his office, where he had apparently left them in the hopes of never having to set eyes on them again.
He dropped them on the floor beside his desk with a thunk, then hurried to help Kurt with the food.
"I'll set you up here on the couch," he said, pulling white boxes from the bags and lining them up on the long coffee table. "The remote's on the arm." He picked it up and switched on the TV, navigating through start screens to get to the satellite home page. "I'll be at my desk for a bit" – He motioned across the room to his work space" - finishing up some …" But when he looked up from the TV screen, Kurt was gone.
"You have an amazing amount of space," Kurt called from down the hallway, the one that led to the bathroom … and the bedroom. "I thought the Dalton principals lived on campus in tiny cottage-slash-huts."
"They usually do." Sebastian followed Kurt's voice. "And the faculty housing is actually nice, but I like the freedom of getting away from campus every night. Just … leave Dalton behind and return to the real world for a couple of hours." He found Kurt in his bedroom, looking at the picture frames Sebastian had on his dresser.
"Hypocrite. If we have to stay on lock down on campus, you should, too."
Sebastian watched Kurt wander, perusing his private things without a single thought to ask him to stop, even though he never intended on Kurt seeing his bedroom.
"You're not a big fan of Dalton, are you?" he asked, following Kurt on his tour.
Kurt shrugged. "It's okay. It has its perks." He gave Sebastian a flirty wink. "But, to be honest, I'm just not fond of all the assimilation."
"You hate the uniforms, huh?"
"That's a big part of it," Kurt said. It sounded heavy, but it was a small part of a larger weight. "I like being free to express myself. I've always been able to do that with my clothes and my hair. Those are things I could control, things that, even when people bullied me, they couldn't take away. They couldn't change me unless I decided to change." Kurt stopped at the edge of Sebastian's bed, fingertips hovering over the odds and ends he kept on his bedside table with a small smile on his lips – a Rolex watch, cufflinks, a Mont Blanc pen. "In the end, it wasn't my choice to switch schools. My father did that. And I'm not angry. I know why he did. But in order to keep me safe, I had to shut away the things I liked most about me."
"You can be who you want at Dalton," Sebastian said, not in defense of his school, but to reassure Kurt. "You can dress how you want, express yourself ..."
"Really?" Kurt said bitterly. He picked up the single photograph that Sebastian had sitting by his bed. It was taken a few years ago, when he visited his parents while they vactioned on the French Rivera. "Because I spend eight hours of the day in that uniform. And as for the things I want to do, well, The Warblers won't touch me, I don't play lacrosse, and you guys have nothing even close to a theater department. That leaves Model U.N., Speech and Debate, Future Business Leaders of America, and the yearbook. Sorry" – He flashed Sebastian a watery smile - "but none of that calls to me."
Sebastian took a step towards him, but he didn't know what to say. Sebastian had attended Dalton, he worked at Dalton, but he'd never been bullied. Hundreds of the kids who attended Dalton had. That's part of the reason why they were there, but Sebastian never knew how to comfort them. He found ways to bring them out of their shells, but from there on, Dalton – her curriculum, her staff, the rest of her student body – took over.
He'd succeeded in getting Kurt out of his shell, but selfishly, he wanted to lure him out further. He wanted Kurt to trust him, to tell him his secrets.
Kurt looked up and saw Sebastian coming. Realizing where they were, feeling tension growing, he put the photo down, arranging it neatly back into place. "You were a Dalton boy, right?" Kurt asked, walking past Sebastian and heading for the living room. Kurt didn't have to ask. Sebastian's picture was plastered in the entry way, in numerous older photographs of The Warblers and the lacrosse team, Speech and Debate, Model U.N….
… all of those clubs Kurt didn't want to join.
He was changing the subject, returning to something comfortable, so Sebastian let him.
"Yup. Pretty much had my name down on the register since birth."
"You make it sound like Hogwarts."
"It kind of was," Sebastian said, opening the food containers on the coffee table as a way of feeling useful. "You know, awesome and intimidating when you first hear about it. My parents talked about Dalton Academy like it was the gateway to the world. Once you made it there, your future was certain – signed and sealed. You would be a shoe-in success the rest of your life. They also made it sound like getting into Dalton was something I would have to work hard to earn. But, as it turned out, all it took was a $50,000 check each semester, especially considering the fact that my dad is a Dalton alum, and his dad was a Dalton alum. Kind of disappointing in the long run." He stuck a plastic fork into a container of pineapple fried rice and handed it to Kurt.
"And no three-headed dogs," Kurt said, taking the container and sniffing the contents with a grin.
"Yeah. That's a bummer. But you know, I'm looking into it for next year."
"Damn." Kurt snapped his fingers in annoyance. "I'll just barely miss it." Kurt raised a coy brow over his food. "Do you still have your uniform?"
"Yeah," Sebastian chuckled. "Yeah, I do."
"Does it still fit?"
"I'm not certain it would close around the chest, but I think I can still get my arms through the sleeves."
"You should whip it out for me someday," Kurt remarked nonchalantly, taking a seat on the couch and digging in to his food.
Sebastian smirked at Kurt's choice of words, especially since Kurt didn't seem to catch the innuendo he implied. That tiny slip of innocence brought out the teenager in Sebastian. It made him wonder what things between them would have been like if they were attending Dalton at the same time. Would they have been friends? Could they have become boyfriends? "I might just do that."
Sebastian signed his name on the last blank space on the last page, and put down his pen. He shook out his hand, which had cramped from his knuckles to his elbow. Why they weren't allowed to file this crap electronically, he'd never understand. Antiquated schools seemed to be governed eternally by antiquated systems. He ran a hand down his face and looked at the time on his phone. It was a little after three in the morning. God fucking damn it! Where had the time gone? Sebastian stood from his desk, cracked his back, and searched his living room. The start menu for the movie Captain America: The Winter Soldier cycled on the TV screen. The movie, and its predecessors, were long over. Kurt, curled up on the sofa, his head resting on the arm, had fallen asleep. Sebastian cursed. He had wanted his first date with Kurt to be something fantastic, memorable. It seemed like Kurt was really looking forward to going out with him. Sebastian wasn't thrilled by his methods, but he definitely went through a lot … especially at the end, pulling three A-pluses on exams that would have taken the average student close to an hour a piece to complete.
Mrs. Forsythe said that he finished the tests in twenty-three minutes flat, and ten of those minutes were spent fighting against a pen that was running out of ink.
That deserved to be rewarded somehow.
Besides, Sebastian wasn't lying when he'd said that he wanted this, too, if for no other reason that he wanted to admit than he was curious. What would make an intelligent, handsome young man with such potential like Kurt try so hard to win over an old fogey like Sebastian? And yes, as much as he hated to admit it, compared to an eighteen-year-old boy, Sebastian was old.
He felt old.
Sebastian had wanted to sit next to him on the couch and pry him for all sorts of information about his life, his likes, his wants, his hopes for the future. But instead, he got caught up filling out paperwork and poor Kurt knocked out on his sofa.
Classy, Sebastian. Real classy.
God, he really fucked up. And something told him he wasn't done. He was just going to keep fucking up where this boy was concerned. At least he had been smart enough to make reservations for tomorrow night before this whole mess began. He'd be able to make it up to Kurt with a proper date.
Sebastian walked over to the couch. He looked at Kurt's sleeping face – his muted purple bangs, his eyebrow piercing, his relaxed cheeks and lips. He looked so young, but most people did when they slept. But Kurt was also eighteen, and so much a man – in his smile, in his walk (not the strut he put on for Sebastian's viewing pleasure, but when he hurried down the hall between classes. Yes, he was right. Sebastian had been watching, but he wasn't about to admit that). In the way he laughed.
The way he said Sebastian's name, in that seductive tone he kept trying on for size.
Sebastian could too easily imagine Kurt saying his name while they had sex, hard and dirty, on the living room floor, and that was a problem.
Not as much of a problem as Sebastian had made it out to be in the beginning, but still a problem.
Kurt had a lot to learn about being in a relationship, and Sebastian felt he had too much baggage attached to teach him.
Sebastian thought he knew what Kurt might have expected when he invited him over.
And Kurt came anyway, which should mean … nothing without consent.
Sebastian sighed. He brushed Kurt's bangs away from his face, then ran his fingertips down his hairline, ending at his mouth.
In his sleep, Kurt hummed, and gently kissed Sebastian's fingertips.
Sebastian's breathing caught at the sensation, which sent sparks flying up his arm into his brain, shorting out everything he could use a double dose of, including common sense and reality. He leaned forward and kissed Kurt lightly on the lips. He intended for it to be a peck, nothing more. But Kurt smelled so good, and his lips felt so soft, and it had been so long.
So damn long since Sebastian had kissed another man.
He didn't deepen the kiss, but he didn't back away.
A few breaths later, Sebastian felt Kurt kissing him back.