Chapter 18: Send in the Clowns

Sebastian stared at the name. Kurt Hummel! A boy – no, now a man – Sebastian used to hate. And want. And want to hate. And maybe hate to want. But in any case, never expected to see again in his life. Yet, here he was, eight years and a world away from the Regionals auditorium where their last duel played out. Now he was a professional actor, currently inhabiting the role of Monsieur Désiré Armfeldt, the former lover of fickle Fredrik Egerman in Sondheim's musical farce. And Sebastian was a reporter. And he was single. And he was… intrigued.

While waiting for the show to start, Sebastian devoured Kurt's bio, reading it over multiple times and parsing every word. In addition to an impressive list of theater credits from various parts of the country, Kurt thanked a number of people Sebastian assumed were friends, plus his parents, for their unfailing love and support. There was no mention of Blaine or any other clearly identified partner.

The lights dimmed, the curtain rose. As the show progressed, Sebastian felt a strange thrum of excitement. There was something naughty, dangerous even, about lurking anonymously in the darkened theater audience, voyeuristically watching Kurt unawares, drinking him in, appraising him. Noting how his body had changed but his unique voice had not. He was still the ultimate twink, but taller now, more willowy, with even sharper cheek bones. All the cast was good, but Kurt was incandescent. He floated through the production exuding charisma and wit and incredible grace. Sebastian tried hard to be professional and take notes for his review but found it very difficult to focus with all the memories crowding in of their intimate afternoon together all those years ago. As the show progressed and characters spoke to one another about love and relationships, he thought about all the clever, cruel things he'd ever said to Kurt. Then he thought about his sweet farewell with Claude-Étienne and the messy Hogan breakup.

Early in Act II, Kurt sang "Send in the Clowns." Sebastian had never actually heard Kurt sing solo before. He was always just a back-up singer during glee competitions, completely overshadowed by Blaine and Baby Barbra. Kurt's voice here was a revelation. His clear, ethereal tone and the pathos he imparted to Sondheim's iconic song of mismatched lovers and chances not taken stirred a longing in Sebastian he'd never felt before, not even with Claude-Étienne. An exquisite ache in his soul – to be loved and held, forgiven of his sins, to be a better man.

After that, Sebastian abandoned all pretense of following the show. He put away his pen and notebook and just let Kurt's voice and motions carry him along in a sort of trance. When the show ended, most of the audience rose to applaud the cast at their curtain call. Sebastian shrank back in his seat, unwilling just yet to relinquish his safe anonymity.

But this feeling, this the intense, poetic, inchoate ache Kurt had sparked in him – it demanded attention. It demanded honesty. A few things hadn't changed about Sebastian in eight years – he was rarely troubled by self-doubt and he still wasn't on good terms with apologies. But he knew he kind of owed one to Kurt for how they left things. This was most likely the only chance he'd ever get. So when all the actors cleared the stage and the houselights came up, Sebastian made his way out to the stage door to wait.

Eventually, Kurt came out, laughing, his arm slung over the shoulder of another male cast member. Something about their body language told Sebastian the two were more than just friends.

He forced a winning smile and stepped forward. "Hi Kurt. Nice to see you," he said, careful to do it without a trace of snark.

Kurt looked stunned and stopped in his tracks. "Oh my god, Sebastian Smythe!"

They stared at each other for a beat. Then another. When Kurt didn't immediately swing a right hook at Sebastian's face, the taller man took it as a win.

Eventually Kurt's companion cleared his throat. "Um, hi. I'm Neil." He disengaged from Kurt to offer his hand.

"Hi," said Sebastian on autopilot and shook it, still drinking in the sight of Kurt's long legs, his trim torso, chiseled features and gorgeous eyes. Yes, he was definitely taller now, with cheekbones to die for. "You look really good, Kurt. I mean, the show was really good."

Kurt hadn't thought about his evil Warbler nemesis in years, but here he was, the Devil in the flesh, looking … pretty normal, actually. Older, more angular and rugged. With better hair. Kurt blinked and forced his mouth to work. "Thanks. What are you doing in Chicago?"

"I live here. I'm a reporter with Windy City Times."

"Wow. I would have pegged you for the corporate lawyer type."

Sebastian chuckled darkly. "Yeah, you and my parents both."

More awkward silence. More staring. Sebastian looked good, unfairly so. In the rolodex of Kurt's mind, snippets of their high school interactions flitted by. The Lima Bean, the motel, Scandals, the motel, Regionals, the motel. The motel. Kurt felt his cheeks heat up and hoped the crisp night air would excuse it.

Neil looked between them and raised a knowing eyebrow. Gotta give Kurt credit, Sebastian thought, this guy's no dummy.

"So you liked the show?" Neil asked when it was apparent neither man was going to speak again.

Kurt bestirred himself. "Sebastian, this is Neil."

Sebastian smirked. "I think we already covered that, genius. Do try to keep up with the class." There, thought Kurt. Now he looks like the Sebastian I remember. "And yes, you guys were great. The whole cast was. Expect a glowing review." In truth, the review would be an exercise in creative writing, since Sebastian had hardly paid attention to anything onstage that wasn't Kurt.

Kurt was genuinely surprised. Maybe this wasn't the same (admittedly handsome) meercat whose life mission was to tear down everyone else. "That's … very decent of you, Sebastian."

"Whoa," said Sebastian mischievously, "Watch out, Hummel. Put the words 'Sebastian' and 'decent' together in the same sentence and you might cause a rift in the space/time continuum."

Kurt couldn't suppress a little smile. "Well, just this once I'll take my chances."

Encouraged by Kurt's smile, Sebastian decided to plow forward with his plan. "Can I talk to you for a second? In private? No offense, Neil," he added apologetically.

Kurt looked uncertain. Sure, Sebastian was being kind of charming right now, but vivid memories were coming back of insults and dirty tricks Kurt had suffered at his hands.

Neil touched Kurt's arm. "Should I stick around?"

Kurt drew in a breath and tilted his chin up defiantly. Really, what had he to fear? The insecure Kurt Hummel of high school was long gone. "No, I'll be alright," he said, looking Sebastian dead in the eye. Challenge accepted.

Ah, thought Sebastian approvingly, There's my little bitch.

"Are you coming over tonight?" Neil asked Kurt but not, Sebastian noted, in a particularly possessive tone.

Kurt turned towards the actor, his expression softening. "Yeah, I'll be around later."

"Okay. Nice to meet you, Sebastian," Neil said. The former rivals both watched him go.

Sebastian turned back to Kurt. "So… Neil," he said knowingly.

Kurt shrugged dismissively. "It's nothing serious. He's funny and nice. And good in bed."

"Kurt Hummel now does casual sex? I think I just found the headline for my review."

Kurt smiled coyly. "Let's just say I've picked up a thing or two since you saw me last."

Sebastian looked delighted. "Oh really? Tell me more. Be as specific as possible."

"Still the same sex-addled rodent, I see."

"Lately, not so much. Now I'm a semi-reformed rodent. Practically a monk."

Kurt looked skeptical. "Hmm, somehow I can't picture it."

"I read your bio. Impressive list of credits. You sure get around. And I'm not just talking about your slutty sex life."

Kurt felt a stab of disappointment, mostly at himself for thinking maybe Sebastian had changed. But no, the meercat just wanted to hurl insults as though they were still in high school. Well, Kurt could always keep up with him in that game. "Yes," he said coldly, "my career is going well. The roles keep coming despite my gay face."

Sebastian grimaced and his shoulders slumped. "Yeah, speaking of all that, I think maybe I owe you an apology for how things went down in high school."

Kurt arched an inquiring eyebrow. "Oh really? Tell me more. Be as specific as possible."

Sebastian drew in a nervous breath. "The constant insults, the boyfriend stealing, abandoning you at that motel after calling you a frigid bitch. I did a lot of shitty things in high school, mostly directed at you, and, well, I'm sorry." Kurt looked unimpressed. "Especially for how I treated you at the motel. I mean it." He opened his arms in a gesture of supplication. "I'm sincerely sorry I was so malicious and hurtful to you, Kurt. I have no good excuse. I don't even have a bad excuse. I'm just an asshole."

"At last, we agree on something."

Sebastian grimaced in defeat. This wasn't going to work. Kurt was implacable. But really, who could blame him? "Look, I don't expect you to forgive me or anything. I mean, why would you?" he said sadly. "But I just wanted you to know."

Kurt was silent for a long moment. After many years of dealing with difficult friends and lovers, Kurt had developed a fairly good bullshit meter, plus a mostly forgiving nature, and it seemed the scheming chipmunk had a conscience after all. Sebastian looked so obviously deflated. Maybe it was time to let go of past grudges, at least a little. "Thank you," he said at last. "I accept your apology."

Sebastian perked up instantly. "And you really were spectacular tonight. So, is this Chicago gig a one-off for you or…?"

"You haven't asked about Blaine."

"That's right, I haven't. I still prefer steak to hamburger."

Kurt didn't miss a beat. "Eight years and you couldn't come up with a new line?"

"I like the classics. But if you insist, how is gay Cyclops?"

"He's fine, as far as I know," Kurt replied vaguely, and then felt the need to add, "We don't keep in touch much anymore."

Sebastian stepped a little closer, making sure Kurt couldn't miss the heat in his gaze. "Hmm?" he purred as he raked his eyes down Kurt's body. "Can't say as I'm sorry to hear that. I never did like to share."

Kurt scoffed but he struggled not to blush. "I think that apology scrambled your brain."

"Maybe. But I mostly think with my dick, so it's fine."

"Are you actually hitting on me?"

"I'm trying, but you're pretty obtuse."

Kurt couldn't help laughing, a golden, tinkling sound. "My god, Sebastian Smythe! It's almost good to see you." He gave the taller man another searching look. No, this wasn't quite the same person he'd sparred with in high school. Sebastian's green eyes were sparkling. "Well," Kurt said at last, making a half-hearted move to go, "Neil's waiting so …"

But now that they were apparently back on speaking terms, Sebastian wanted more. "Can I see you again? Maybe grab a coffee together or something?"

And Kurt thought, why not? This somewhat new Sebastian was… intriguing. "No."

That took Sebastian aback. "No?"

"You and I don't have the best track record in coffee shops. But you can buy me dinner on Monday. The show is dark that night."

Sebastian tried to act cool as he handed Kurt his phone. "Great. Give me your number."

"Take me somewhere outrageously expensive," Kurt said without looking up as he typed away. "A five-star restaurant you can't really afford but you desperately hope impresses me."

"Only if you promise to wear something skintight that shows off your perfect ass."

Kurt handed back the phone. "I promise to look fabulous, no more and no less." But mentally he was already sorting through his wardrobe. Perhaps the custom fitted Ermenegildo Zegna pants that cost a small fortune? "And Sebastian?" he added with a Cheshire Cat smile. "Don't fuck this up."

He turned on his heel and sashayed away, deliberately swaying his hips provocatively.

Sebastian stared after him, exhilarated, a wide grin on his face. The battle was joined once again! Who could say this time which man would win, or should? Kurt was a worthy foe - demanding, infuriating, beguiling. A lava hot, high-riding bitch who, Sebastian now realized, had always hovered on the edge of his desires, shadowed his few relationships, and haunted all his one-night stands. The boy who, perhaps, one fateful afternoon, had ruined Sebastian for every other man.

"I hate to see you go, mon beau," he called after the diva,"but I love to watch you walk away!"

Author's Note: And there you have it, an ending full of possibilities to a story that was, when I began it so long ago, just a little exercise, a test for myself to see if I could write porn. But porn without feelings is so boring, don't you think? And then the motel scene just kept going, because there were so many, many feelings to explore. I kind of love where I'm leaving Kurt and Sebastian, their battle rejoined but with a gentler edge. Thank you, dear reader, for taking this journey with the boys and me. I'm always grateful for reviews and feedback.