Summary:

Sebastian wakes up to the smell of sugar and an empty bed, which end up being the first steps down memory lane.

Notes: Warning for a bit of Blaine hate.

Sickly sweet and slightly burnt wakes Sebastian from a restful sleep. He inhales deep, tries to place the smell, but it's not one he can name off the bat. It's not cloves, which he'd assume, or weed, which he could also assume. He recognizes it, but he can't identify it for the life of him. It smells like sugar.

Warm sugar.

Cotton candy?

Cotton candy would necessitate a cotton candy machine.

Why would there be a cotton candy machine at Kurt's house?

Marshmallow?

He breathes in again.

Yes. That's it.

Marshmallows have a signature smell, especially when they're cooking.

Or burning.

He turns in bed to ask his Master why the air suddenly smells of marshmallow, but the man isn't there - his sheets wrinkled but tucked in neatly, declaring he's done with sleep for the night. Or more accurately the morning (as a glimpse at Kurt's alarm clock tells him).

Three in the morning.

That leads Sebastian into the Valley of Questions (as Kurt puts it, since Sebastian asks so many), which grows quite nicely alongside Kurt's Field of Fucks, which lays barren and dead since he's not too inclined to answer them.

Though Sebastian has his own ways of wriggling information from his Master.

Why on Earth would Kurt be cooking marshmallows at this hour of the morning? And why wouldn't he wake Sebastian to join him?

Kurt could be planning a scene. Maybe he's preparing and he isn't ready for Sebastian just yet. An image of himself covered in head to toe marshmallow fluff with only his eyes visible through the white goop fills Sebastian's brain, and he snickers. But an after thought of flaming hot food stuffs stuck to his cock knocks the snickers right out of him.

Slowly he begins to rise. With every inch off the bed, he weighs the possibility that him stumbling half-asleep into the kitchen might piss the every living fuck out of Kurt. He doesn't have express permission to join his Master. Maybe the man needs a moment alone. But Kurt loves sleep. He avoids waking up before his requisite eleven hours if he can. So if he's awake right now, then something's wrong.

Sebastian's heart aches to make sure Kurt is all right.

He pads softly, doesn't saunter out into the kitchen like he lives there … though he spends so much time at Kurt's and eats so much of Kurt's food, he has considered offering to pay rent. Kurt would never accept. He balks at any attempt by Sebastian to give him money, says he doesn't need charity from his sub. Sebastian does his best to shower Kurt with the tokens and tributes he knows Kurt will accept, along with the odd takeout meal, but Kurt is funny with regard to what he's willing to accept.

What he doesn't think will put him in someone else's debt.

"I hear you, preppy, I hear you." Kurt sighs. Then he chuckles. It's a bitter contrast to the scent of sweet wafting through the air. "I knew I couldn't escape you for long."

"I'm sorry, Master," Sebastian says respectfully. "If you'd rather I leave …"

"No, I wouldn't rather you leave. Sit." Kurt pushes the chair across from him out from under the table with his foot as an invitation. "Eat. There's plenty."

"Thank you, Master." Sebastian settles his bare ass into the wooden chair and watches Kurt stick another marshmallow onto the tines of his fork. He flicks open his Zippo and starts roasting the marshmallow by hand. Sebastian smiles. When he'd visit his folks on the weekends, sometimes he'd roast marshmallows in the kitchen. The Smythes weren't what one might call outdoor folk, and Sebastian hadn't been a scout for a while, so he never got the opportunity. So he'd stand over the stove top and roast himself a few, trying his hardest not to drip on the burner and aggravate their cook. Even though it was a private ritual, it was something he'd hoped to share with someone someday, kind of like this - late night, after sex, talking about life, praying the morning would take its sweet time coming.

Even though standing over the stove top with fork in hand is how he'd expected to find Kurt, sitting at the kitchen table he uses as a submission device and roasting marshmallows over the same lighter he uses to light his joints suits him better.

"I haven't roasted a marshmallow in about ten years," Kurt admits, concentrating hard on the ridiculously difficult task of browning his confection evenly on all sides using the tiniest cooking flame imaginable.

"Why not?"

Kurt snorts. "Need to keep an eye on my girlish figure, of course."

"Yeah. Right."

Kurt glowers at the marshmallow though it's meant for Sebastian. "What's that supposed to mean, preppy?"

"It means you strike me as the kind of person who can clean out a fridge, gain muscle and lose weight." Sebastian scoffs. "Classic fucking nightmare."

Kurt rolls his eyes. "Good save."

"Not a save, Master, but whatevs."

Kurt glances at his sub sideways. This is new. Is it real? It has to be. Sebastian doesn't lie to Kurt. But does Sebastian Smythe, hotter-than-fuck-super-athlete-extraordinaire, really have body issues surrounding his weight? Kurt knows his sub has self-esteem baggage hanging around in dark corners, but is this honestly one of them?

Kurt needs to find out. But he tucks that information away, saves it for later. Now's not the time. "Blaine and I, we'd sneak out of bed-oops …" - Kurt's marshmallow slips too close to the lighter and goes up in orange flame. He blows at it, trying to turn it out while he continues - "go to the kitchen and make cookies and shit." He offers the charred and extinguished marshmallow to Sebastian, but doesn't command that he eat it. He waits while Sebastian looks at it, shrugs to himself, then takes it.

"Cute, Master."

"Yeah, well, you should have seen us. We were fucking adorable."

"I believe it. So, if you don't mind my asking …"

"... and I probably do …"

"... what inspired you to get up and roast some now?"

Kurt doesn't answer right away, focusing on licking melted marshmallow off his fingertips, not doing the best job in the world since that's what he has Sebastian for. "I … had a nightmare."

"And you didn't wake me, Master?"

"I didn't want to bother you with my stupid crap."

"It's not stupid. Not if it's you." Sebastian pulls his marshmallow apart, eating it in pieces instead of devouring it whole. "What was it about?"

Sebastian expects to get reprimanded for asking so many questions, but Kurt doesn't seem in the mood for scolding.

"I was in New York," he explains. "I was still with Blaine. We were happy and in love. He wasn't a big, controlling asshole. I wasn't everyone's favorite drugged-up cockpit. I was going to NYADA and working at Vogue. I had everything I ever wanted."

Sebastian's eyebrows shoot up. Nightmare? That sounds amazing! "How is that a nightmare, Master?"

"Because part of me knew it wasn't real. That it wasn't right for me - not the person I am now. Blaine showed me his true colors a long time ago. No dream will ever change him. And I wouldn't take him back even if it did." Kurt's solemn expression perks up with the right corner of his mouth. "Besides, something was missing. Something important."

Sebastian considers that revelation as he chews his marshmallow. As much as he would love to speculate over what that means, he also doesn't want to get his hopes up. Kurt could be talking about his club, how successful it is, the work he does in the community.

He could be talking about Elliott and their tremendous friendship.

Yup, in the realm of reality, where Sebastian finds himself living less and less, Kurt has a lot more going for him than his relationship with Sebastian.

Sebastian should probably start remembering that.

"Do you dream about that a lot?"

"I did for a while. Mostly right after everything fell apart and I started wondering what went wrong, how could I have fixed it. When I came to terms with the fact that there was nothing I could have done, it stopped. But then, out of the frickin' blue, it started up again."

"When?"

Kurt glares at Sebastian, hands him another marshmallow. "Recently. Very recently."

"And why do you think that is, Master?" Sebastian asks, trying not to sound too amused.

"I think that's obvious." Kurt snaps his lighter shut and sets it down. He climbs out of his chair and into Sebastian's lap, straddling his legs, pressing the crotch of his cotton sleep pants against Sebastian's naked cock. Kurt feeds Sebastian the remains of toasted marshmallow stuck to his fingers. Sebastian nips one of Kurt's fingertips in the process. The sensation of Sebastian's teeth sinking into Kurt's skin shoots straight to Kurt's groin. Kurt grins, mentally making a list of all the places he's about to make Sebastian bite. "I'm going through an adolescent phase."