We Were Never Here (2/5)
Masterpost
"Fuck. I suppose it was too much to hope that it was all an elaborate figment of my drunken imagination."
The dark mutter dragged the last shadows of sleep off Kurt, and he cracked an eye open to see Sebastian standing at the door to another room, one hand pressed to his forehead.
Kurt wanted to snark back with something suitable for Sebastian, but he was having enormous difficulty thinking through the thick, shaky feeling in his head and chest. "If we both try really hard to pretend, maybe it will be," he half-groaned in reply, rolling onto his back and cringing at the feeling of last night's clothes, stiff against his skin.
"I was doing a pretty good job for awhile," Sebastian said half-conversationally as he shuffled over to the kitchen. "An excellent job of forgetting everything after leaving Heat." Kurt heard a gentle smack against the leather of the couch near his feet, and grudgingly pushed himself into sitting position to see a water bottle halfway to rolling off onto the floor. He grabbed it and gratefully began to drink. "Until I saw my arm, that is. Your penmanship sucks, Kurt."
Sebastian collapsed down next to Kurt and stuck out his forearm, smirking as Kurt squinted at the black, slightly smudged writing there. The words were wonky and varying in size, starting large at Sebastian's elbow and meandering towards a cramped mess, tilting into his wrist. You are having breakfast with Kurt.
Kurt squinted a little longer at the marked skin, remembering the laughing stumble to the kitchen bench, grabbing the marker to promise Sebastian breakfast... to tell him a story? Oh. To tell him about his breakup with Blaine. Because for some reason, the four-in-the-morning closeness made it seem like that was a good thing to promise. But then, if Kurt thought harder, he could see sharp, clear eyes, feel a huge swell of sympathy, and hear a voice, strong with bitterness, ask how the fuck am I supposed to atone for all that?
Kurt wasn't really all that surprised to find that while he too had forgotten things from the time around leaving Heat, those memories were still available. It was the flash of honesty Kurt had seen in the Lima Bean in senior year, multiplied a hundred fold and laid out before him, tugging on his empathy as much as his sympathy with their shared guilt. It was the compelling pull of understanding, almost more than Kurt's promise to Sebastian for a story, that set a little voice in the back of Kurt's head whispering that Kurt kind of owed him an honest answer in return.
The only indication Kurt actually gave of what he remembered, however, was an affronted accusation. "You threatened to draw on my face in my sleep."
"Dicks, if I remember. And who's to say I didn't?"
Kurt almost jumped, but managed to restrain himself and just shoot Sebastian a patronising stare instead. "I lived with Finn Hudson, and by extension Noah Puckerman. I have a sixth sense for knowing when stupid boys are trying to do stupid things to me."
"And yet, you were more than happy to let Charlie have his way with you."
Kurt couldn't push down the heat he felt rising into his cheeks at that reminder. But he's single, and it's not like Charlie was hideous - the opposite in fact, from what he can remember - so what's the harm?
"And Weston. And me."
Sebastian's grin turned gleeful and Kurt almost dropped his water bottle.
"When did I do anything with you?" Kurt asked, his voice fast and a little shrill as he frantically searched his memory.
Sebastian laughed, still grinning. "Even drunk, I knew this would be excellent blackmail material. You refused to let me pry you off Charlie to take you home, so I had to resort to extraordinary means."
"But that means you instigated whatever happened," Kurt pointed out somewhat smugly, still searching for the memory of it among the huge blur of last night.
"Because it was a bet. Charlie owes me an extra two rounds next time." Sebastian paused, becoming very slightly less teasing. "Plus, he wanted to take you home. I wasn't sure if you were okay with that. All your bravado aside, I know that at least in Ohio you didn't get drunk a lot."
Kurt tilted his head and regarded Sebastian quietly for a moment, watching discomfort settle around the boy's shoulders. "You're a lot more responsible than you used to be," he said quietly. "Why is that?"
Sebastian repeated none of the things he had said the night before about wanting to be a doctor or the atonement he seemed to need. Instead, Sebastian answered with equal quiet. "I wasn't kidding when I said that it's all fun and games until it's not. I tread more carefully now."
Kurt could have said something teasing or mocking back, and if he was honest every instinct still pushed him to; but, as he watched Sebastian's shoulders tighten even further, Kurt started to get the feeling that even with his change of heart, Sebastian wasn't often this honest with anyone. As much as Kurt loved New York, it was a harsh and unforgiving place to people without walls. There was a softness about people from places like Ohio that was difficult to find here, and Kurt suspected Sebastian's rant about atonement had been building up for awhile. Where Kurt has built his strengths around unflinchingly showing himself to the world, the bad and the good, Sebastian was... selective. Eventually, all Kurt said was, "Thank you."
Sebastian didn't really acknowledge it, just half-nodded and then jumped up. "If you put that stuff back in the cupboard, I'll grab you a towel so you can shower," Sebastian said, turning away. "And then you owe me breakfast and a story." He smirked at Kurt over his shoulder.
They ended up at a coffee house half an hour later after establishing that neither of them was feeling ready to tackle much more than coffee and maybe a bagel. Kurt was grateful for the winter chill and the poor heating inside the store; his winter coat all but hid any signs that he was wearing yesterday's clothes. They seated themselves at a slightly rickety wooden table and buried themselves in their coffees for a while; Kurt took his time appreciating how the smell and then the taste and buzz wiped away the heavy, shaky feeling of his hangover.
"Well, Kurt, you owe me a story," Sebastian eventually said, breaking the silence, one that had almost started to be comfortable. After a moment's pause, he continued, saying, "Or is the tale all too sordid for your blushing sensibilities to bring it to light?"
Kurt sighed and tried for a second longer to bury himself in the scent and steam of his coffee. "I suppose you've earned it," he said. "What level of detail do you want?"
Sebastian looked down, his eyes flicking up to Kurt and his mouth tilting in consideration. "I'll be honest - note it, it probably won't happen again for a long time - and tell you that I did talk to Blaine. In passing; just enough to know that he wasn't feeling like he fit at McKinley, and was considering going back to Dalton. I, of course, encouraged that wholeheartedly; once a Warbler always a Warbler, right?" The smug smile was back. Kurt tried his best not to let it rile him up, something mostly subconscious noting it hadn't affected him until it was associated with Blaine. "But I wondered if that had something to do with your break up. Given the amount of blackmail material I now have on you, I don't think it will hurt me to admit that I was curious."
"It was a factor. Not the main one, though," Kurt said. He tried to keep his tone as emotionless as possible. "I'm sure you've probably noticed - and exploited - the fact that Blaine loves communication. With everyone. All the time. It's his biggest weapon and weakness. So, I don't think either of us were surprised, deep down, when after a few months it became clear that he wasn't suited to a long distance relationship." Such a clinical way to describe what had been such a messy, painful thing. It had been two months now. It had gotten better, Kurt wasn't denying that, but it probably shouldn't still have this much of a sting to it. "It's not a point of blame or even really a fault, just a personality trait. Especially from his boyfriend, Blaine needs more communication in all its forms. More time, more talking, the body language and the physical closeness - don't smirk at me like that, Sebastian Smythe, you know very well that wasn't what I meant." Though, Kurt admitted privately to himself, it was at least a little bit that. "A long distance relationship for him is like tying himself to a ghost. After seeing how hard he was still trying to make it work, despite so clearly not getting what he needed, I wasn't even really upset to let him go to find someone who can give him that."
Kurt stopped to take a deep draw from his now-cooling drink, taking quick stock of Sebastian's reactions. Nothing else was likely to have surprised him more than what he got - complete and utter reserve. It was a relief. He'd told this story a few times now - to Rachel in full, a briefer version for Mercedes, and ever briefer one still for his dad, and just enough to stop Finn from hunting Blaine down on principle and assure him no one was angry with anyone. Everyone had had at least some points of judgement or interjection or criticism or opinion. Sebastian was the first person to just let Kurt talk, and it was what spurred him into picking up the rest of the narrative.
"The other side is more what you know. At the start of my senior year Blaine moved to McKinley, and he said it wasn't for me, but we both knew it was. He's struggled a lot with that this year now I'm gone. Weirdly, it was winning senior class president that seemed to be the tipping point for him - he told me that everything he'd done at McKinley was for me. And I was gone. Sometimes, I think he even felt like I'd abandoned him. It was so hard for him to find a place there for himself, and he almost didn't. Say what you want to about New Directions, but it was eventually them that helped him find his place. The Warblers never managed that for me at Dalton."
"I always forget that you were a Warbler too, once," Sebastian murmured. "It's just so... regimented. Especially if you're not out in front. I can't picture it."
"Exactly." Kurt's smile was a little grim. "Well, glee clubs that neither of us are still a member of aside, Blaine had always planned to come out to New York once he graduated. Try to get into NYADA. But after all that, we were both forced to wonder what it would do to both him and us if that happened again. It -" Kurt stops. Swallows. "I can't think of anything worse. So, at the point when Blaine came to New York became an if, we broke up. Between him not getting what he needed and without the promise of him being here in the future... simple. We promised to try again if Blaine moves to New York."
"This is all very Blaine-centric," Sebastian said, still passive. "What about you?"
Another new response to telling this story, and from Sebastian. Another surprise. "I'm still hoping Blaine will choose to come to New York next year. But I'm no longer relying on it."
Sebastian nodded and looked down at his coffee. He was still relatively reserved, not saying anything, and it was starting to unnerve Kurt, who stiffened his spine slightly and let out a sardonic laugh. "You were right last night. Why on earth are we talking? This really is weird."
That brought Sebastian back to life. "We were never afraid to talk to each other," he said, his smirk well and truly in place. "Since I pinky swore to the flying spaghetti monster to be a nice boy, and, as your mohawked friend pointed out, you take the high road - then you add one of my friends trying to get into your pants and plenty of alcohol - it's not really a surprise, Kurt."
Kurt's phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out to see a calendar reminder. Skype with Blaine, in half an hour. He almost cursed and looked up apologetically - apologetically? - at Sebastian. "I totally forgot the time, I'm sorry. I have to go." He tightened his scarf, gathered all their rubbish to toss, and stood up. "All our bickering aside, just - thank you for taking me to your place last night. And," he took a deep breath, "everything, I guess." Sebastian nodded tightly. "I'll see you around?"
"Yeah, I suppose you will," Sebastian said casually, getting ready to leave himself. "No doubt I'll catch you around Callbacks or somewhere similar. Charlie won't let last night lie, if nothing else." The glint in Sebastian's eye spoke volumes on how much Sebastian had enjoyed 'winning' against the NYADA boy.
Kurt hesitated for a second, the performer in him feeling like there should be something more to conclude the most bizarre fourteen hours he'd had in a long time, but in the end he just waved and dashed out of the coffee house in search of a subway.
He wasn't very late by the time he was back in his apartment and signing into Skype. Blaine video called him almost immediately and Kurt accepted, bursting into breathless apologies the second he saw Blaine's face. Blaine cut him off almost immediately with an amused smile and said, "It's fine. Rachel told me you might be late, since someone didn't come home last night." Teasing, but under it, the hurt, almost always the hurt. God. It never did get much better.
"Not like that," Kurt responded immediately, flushing. "Oh god no. I just went to a club with some people I met at Callbacks since Rachel and Brody were being, ugh, Rachel and Brody, and then I was drunk, Blaine, so drunk so I stayed and talked with one of them and slept on their couch and-" Something was stopping Kurt from mentioning Sebastian. He wasn't entirely sure what, he just instinctively knew that every time all three of them were involved, in any way, things were so much messier than any combination of the two. Thankfully, Blaine had cut him off again.
"I was just teasing, Kurt," Blaine said with a soft smile. "It's fine, really. I wasn't doing anything, anyway. But," and his face, so beautiful, softened into a sad, self-deprecating smile, "is it alright if I don't want the details? I'm sorry. I just..."
"No, it's fine. Really." It's easier for me not to give them.
"I feel like such a bad friend," Blaine half-whispered, tilting his head down towards the keyboard. "And a hypocrite. I just can't."
"It's fine, Blaine. I meant it. Anyway, forget my night. How are you?"
"Cheerios is fun. You were right about Sue being crazy and the girls being not much better, but under it all it's still fun. Regionals is coming up soon!" Blaine tries to muster up his usual bright smile even though they both know he wants to be talking about glee regionals, not cheerleading; but that's not an option any more. "And glee is... rebuilding. Even though I don't think half the club has forgiven Marley yet. We'll get there."
Kurt could still see that look in the back of Blaine's eyes, as almost always now, the one that appeared the day Blaine had realised that he was at McKinley, in Ohio, and Kurt had left him there. The one with very little blame, but mostly just stunned bewilderment and fear, like a child who hasn't entirely processed that their parents have left them alone in an unfamiliar place, but is one second from crying because they're just so scared and hurt. The look that Blaine finding his place at McKinley hadn't entirely taken away, because it was so much more than just leaving him at a school. It was leaving him in a life. The look that was the reason, Kurt knew, that Blaine never answered Kurt's 'how are you' directly.
"And how are your college applications going?"
The atmosphere, thick and heavy as it was, sunk over Kurt like deep water as Blaine stared even harder at his hands. "I, um, sent the last off this week."
"Give me the complete list?"
"All up, that's NYADA, two schools at NYU, Carnegie Mellon, CCM at University of Cincinnati, Elon, and OSU as back up."
"Seven schools. Not taking any chances, I see," Kurt said softly, half-smiling. Learning from my mistakes. "And, hey, three out of seven here isn't bad. I like my chances."
"Kurt," Blaine choked immediately, like Kurt just threw the second last thing the dam wall can handle, and it's buckling; like one more stone will make it come crashing down, drowning everything.
"I'm sorry," Kurt said, trying to make his tone soothing and immediately regretting his choice of words.
"It never gets easier, Kurt. With... I... Do you... It feels like we never got our goodbye, with you unable to come home for Thanksgiving or Christmas." Everything about Blaine looked so small, shrinking, except his eyes, which were huge and stabbing straight into Kurt as they filled with crystal tears. "I know we need to be broken up for now, I do, but I feel like if we just had one more day to properly-"
"No, Blaine." It was Kurt's turn to cut Blaine off now, still so gentle and choking up himself. "I know you're a communicator and breaking up this way has been so hard for you, but it's never going to be easy. We just have to... let go."
"I don't know how. Especially not when it feels like I have this huge, flammable future in front of me, with three sevenths of a chance that I'll let you go just to have to win you back again... I don't know how to start letting go."
"You'll never have to win me back again. If it's right, I'll be there," Kurt said, able to be firm at least on this. But then his voice dropped low, and he leaned even closer to his computer screen like it made any difference. "But I don't think I know how to let go either." He put his hand up to the screen, knowing how ridiculous it looked on the other side but having to do it anyway. Blaine matched him finger for finger.
"I am so sorry," Kurt whispered, and tears he didn't want slid down the side of his cheeks. "Letting go or not, I love you. That doesn't change."
***
The next person to fall into Kurt's lap did it with a little more grace and a lot more intention.
It was a fortnight after the last occurrence, another Friday night with Rachel, Brody and half of NYADA. This time there was karaoke, though with the stipulation that it be upbeat, if not dance material. Rachel had insisted on going, maintaining that it was the best tool she had to keep her talent sharp, given the limited performing opportunities afforded to freshmen. Kurt privately scoffed at that; given they were in New York, where every street had at least one bar or café with an open mic night, he suspected it was less about the performing opportunities and more about trying to intimidate her classmates. Rachel had also insisted Kurt come, and this time perform; again, Kurt scoffed, though more outwardly. If he was planning on reauditioning next year the practice would almost definitely help, but he didn't want to become that guy - the one hanging around NYADA haunts, insisting on drawing attention to himself and competing with the NYADA students all year, only to fail again at trying to become one of them.
He was, however, still interested to meet some of Brody's seemingly endless stream of friends, all who seemed happy enough to relieve Kurt of third wheel status. He was also ostensibly supporting Rachel, who had the microphone when someone dropped onto his thighs and flung an arm around his neck.
"Kurt. Hi," Charlie said, grinning down at him. "You're very difficult to find."
Kurt eyed Charlie incredulously and tried to shove him off his lap, craning his head around the boy to see Rachel.
"It's only been two weeks, Charlie. Get out of my way, I'm trying to watch Rachel."
"Rachel Berry? Tibideaux's new pet? Why?"
"I'd protest that if I didn't know Rachel would be more than proud of the label. Because she's my best friend, you ass, now move." Kurt shoved Charlie again, but the boy's arms were disgustingly strong and he clung to Kurt's neck far too tightly.
Charlie obligingly leant to the side, allowing Kurt an unobscured of the stage, but also putting an annoyingly distracting view of Charlie's chest and arm to the immediate left. They were wrapped in a tight black v neck which showed off a dancer's build, and, combined with the warmth pressing down Kurt's chest and across his lap, were doing nothing for Kurt's concentration.
"Ah, I should have known. A little, lost hag to go with our little, lost gay?" Charlie asked, grinning and sliding his fingers under the collar of Kurt's shirt, which earned him a reflex slap to the hand. Charlie bent closer, scratched the pads of his fingers over the back of Kurt's neck a few times, and said, "I'm just trying to play."
Rachel finished her song and Kurt bit back a dozen scathing replies to applaud her instead. Even clapping proved difficult, however, with the boy between his arms - the movement ended up being awkward and mostly ineffectual, with the exception of pulling Charlie even further into his chest.
"Starting the competition without me, Charlie?" a voice asked from behind Kurt, before Sebastian appeared to drop into Rachel's chair.
"Competition?" Kurt raised an eyebrow.
Charlie's grin, which had been self-satisfied from the instant he'd sat in Kurt's lap, broadened even further. "I've talked Sebastian into going double or nothing on our bet."
Kurt resisted the urge to splutter, having an inkling where this might be going. "Do I even want to know?" he asked.
"Knowing your attitude to all things fun, Kurt, I don't think so," Sebastian replied, eyes sparkling with mirth. "Just know that those two rounds Charlie owes me are on the line, he's going to lose, and you're going to enjoy it."
"Especially since we've both been egging each other on the last four times we've gone out," Charlie added. "Like I said, you're hard to find."
"You've been out four times in two weeks? Aren't you busy with school?" Kurt asked incredulously.
"Learning how to work hung over is a part of your theatre education, Kurt," Charlie chided. "It's also the same for large parts of the fashion industry, so if you're going to keep working at Vogue you'd better get used to it."
They were interrupted by an indignant Rachel Berry, who had come back to the table clearly expecting praise. "Sebastian Smythe, get out of my seat!" she demanded, and slapped Sebastian on the back of the head.
Charlie laughed and whispered to Kurt, "I think I'm liking her more by the second."
Kurt idly watched Rachel and Sebastian snipe at each other for a moment. Rachel had never been particularly good at coming up against Sebastian, since she tended to use emotion and the sheer momentum of her personality to win arguments instead of wit. It clearly wasn't going her way tonight, because her eyes were flashing and Brody was sitting unobtrusively to her right looking very amused. As her voice rose, Kurt heard her say accusingly, "You still owe me for that picture of Finn!"
The flash of pain that darted across Sebastian's eyes and brow was lost on Rachel, but not on Kurt, who'd mastered the subtlety of minimising expressions that you'd rather hide in junior year. Charlie had started to relax, so one good shove caught him off guard and fighting to regain his balance as he was forced of Kurt's lap; Kurt then rose to his feet before Charlie could protest and grabbed Sebastian's elbow.
"We'll be going now, I think," Kurt said, tugging a little harder on Sebastian, whose face was now impassive as he let Kurt pull at him. Kurt grabbed his coat from the back of his chair as Charlie started to head towards the door. Turning to Rachel, Kurt wrapped her in a one-armed squeeze, asking, "You are okay to get home, aren't you?"
Rachel was eyeing up all three boys curiously but smiled and said, "Of course. Go! Have fun!" and tugged his lapel straighter.
Kurt rolled his eyes and said, "No need to report me to Blaine, I promise I'll come home this time."
"I wouldn't count on it!" Charlie tossed over his shoulder.
Kurt said goodbye to Rachel and then turned, striding through the crowded little bar to catch up to Sebastian and Charlie. "Where's Weston?" he asked.
"Not with us, not tonight," Charlie replied, pushing Kurt through the door. "Tonight is just you, me and Sebastian." And with a slightly predatory glint to his eyes he led Kurt forward and into the night once more.
Kurt was determined to not get as drunk this time, so once they got to Heat he drank the first two things handed to him but refused the third. Sebastian looked very amused by Kurt's refusal, but raised one shoulder in a half-shrug and drank it himself.
Dancing was at once better and worse without so much liquor coursing through his system. Sebastian and Charlie were clearly on their way to happily wasted, both trying to pull Kurt close and grind against him. They surrounded Kurt with laugher and warmth and boy in a way that he probably shouldn't be enjoying so much, especially with Sebastian involved. Kurt revelled in clarity and intensity of all the detail, soaking it up in a way that was such a beautiful contrast to the hazy wash of sensation of last time. But it was much more difficult to lose himself to the movement of another person's hips and follow along; he felt wooden under Charlie's hands, and was struggling to see how he could be anything like the person who had slid into the relative hedonism of the group before.
Once upon a time, Kurt would have probably gone to sit at the bar and stayed there rather than try and fail. But so much of Kurt Hummel as he had once been felt like he'd been left behind in Lima, and Kurt wasn't necessarily sure that was a bad thing. He tried his best to play along for another fifteen minutes before Charlie and Sebastian dragged him back to the bar, and when Charlie handed him a glass of something mostly transparent and pale green, Kurt eyed it suspiciously for a lot less time than he once would have.
"You're so fucking cute," Charlie said, sliding his arm around Kurt's waist. "It's a margarita; it's sour. You'll like it."
And really, it was as simple as these little things, wasn't it? People had always handed drinks to the Kurt of Lima telling him it was sweet, so he'd like it. But here there were people like Charlie, in a club a million steps up from Scandals, telling him that maybe there could be something different to him.
As he raised the glass to his lips and swallowed, relishing the sharp, clean taste of the lime, he met Sebastian's eyes and couldn't help but wonder if Sebastian could be like Charlie; with all the newness to him, if he too could see the redefinition.
The margarita and the realisation, while by no means getting Kurt drunk, loosened him up enough that he could start really moving when they got back to the pit of dancers. Charlie picked up on the change easily, grinning and placing himself squarely in front of Kurt, crowding close so his entire line of sight was filled with the NYADA boy. Sebastian was playfully trying to shove Charlie out of the way but failing. Then the music shifted to a new song - darker and not the DJ's interpretation of a top forty hit, for once - and the mood of their trio shifted with it. Kurt felt struck bold by it and pressed a little closer, dancing a little dirtier, and turned himself slightly to let Sebastian back in, sliding an arm over his shoulder. Every action felt a little more like a goodbye to the spectre of Kurt sitting at the bar with his Shirley Temple.
Charlie was the first one to push things any further, bending down on the roll of the beat to fit his mouth to Kurt's, conceding space to Sebastian in favour of sliding a hand up the side of Kurt's neck and into the shorter hair on the back of Kurt's head. Kurt let their mouths and tongues slide together, enjoying the sensations and the simple thrill of getting to kiss someone so clearly attractive. When the song changed again Charlie backed off a little to catch his breath and dance harder as the song demands it, a contradiction that somehow makes sense. Kurt lost himself a little more to the darkness and the coloured lights and the beat, feeling like they were sinking into his very skin, getting him drunk in a different, more thrilling way than alcohol. More audacious than ever, Kurt turned his face up to Sebastian and raised his eyebrow.
Sebastian grasped the meaning of Kurt's raised eyebrow sooner than Kurt thought he would. He moved closer, surveying Kurt's face with an amused tilt to his mouth, and Kurt gave him only boldness and challenge. When Sebastian pressed himself into a kiss, Kurt felt Sebastian laughing slightly under his lips.
The night passed quickly, far more quickly than Kurt thought it would, with his limited drinking only to counterbalance what he had burned off dancing. They danced and made out in almost equal measure, and the kisses passed between them so freely Kurt of Lima would have been near-shrieking; in the context of the moment, though, it made so much sense to extend the dancing of their bodies, the way their limbs and torsos fit together, up to their mouths. Kurt almost forgot anything about a bet between Sebastian and Charlie, neither of them making an overt move, happy to just live out the night. They didn't even restrict their kisses to Kurt; Kurt bore witness to a few between the friends, still more nipping teeth and clash than any deep connection, and a brief, almost incidental slide between them and the few brave others that approached from the crowd around them.
Eventually, Charlie's hand slid from the tantalising brushes of neck-back-waist-hips-ass to Kurt's stomach, brushing back and forth for a few moments in a way that gave Kurt a whole-body shudder. Charlie used his other hand, drifting on the hairline on Kurt's neck, to pull his head close, and asked, "So, are you coming home with me tonight?"
Kurt grabbed the hand that was now starting to inch slightly lower than his stomach, down over the waistband of his jeans, skin catching slightly on the button. "I could," Kurt said, feeling far too not like Lima Kurt to really let it throw him the way he knew it should. "But I won't sleep with someone who isn't my boyfriend."
Charlie regarded Kurt with a vaguely amused tilt to his mouth, looking like he was about to call Kurt cute all over again. Kurt met him eye to eye, trying to put the same amusement in his own face.
"Everyone needs a line," Kurt said. "This is mine."
Charlie laughed slightly, looking at Kurt like he was something unusual but enjoyably so. "That's a very Ohio line for a New York world, babe."
Sebastian knocked Charlie's shoulder slightly and said, "What you mean is, he has more morals than the two of us put together, and you don't attract many of those." Sebastian's voice was teasing but, in the on-and-off glint of the lights, Kurt thought he could see a hardness in Sebastian's eyes. It's all fun and games until it's not, Sebastian echoed in Kurt's head yet again.
Charlie laughed and nodded. "Suppose so," he said, conceding. He pulled Kurt a few inches closer to add, "Doesn't mean I'm not going to enjoy shifting your line for you."
Kurt bristled very slightly, but knew the tease was meant as just that - a tease - even if there was a touch of seriousness to it. He danced a little longer, happy to grind up against Charlie as hard as before and enjoying the rocking rhythm of it. But then he tipped his head up to Sebastian, pressed his lips against Sebastian's ear so close he could feel the delicate whorls of cartilage under his lips, and asked, "So, do you want to win tonight?"
Sebastian tightened the arm that had been slowly snaking its way around Kurt's chest, tugging Kurt back against his chest a little more. "Are you going to help me put on a convincing show?" he asked teasingly, keeping the words close between them so Charlie couldn't hear. As relaxed as they had all been tonight, Sebastian's tone implied that he didn't really think Kurt would.
But Kurt smiled impishly up at the boy, bit his bottom lip and said, "I'm having fun. So sue me."
Sebastian laughed, gave Kurt a second or two to change his mind or brace himself, and then leaned in. They were gentle at first, more gentle than they'd been all night. But as Kurt felt the heat spread across his face, felt Sebastian's hands and arms catch him a little more firmly, he threw himself in - after all, it was a show, wasn't it? So Kurt was the one to thrust his tongue into Sebastian's mouth, and to drag it along the underside of Sebastian's; he fought back when Sebastian tried to force the kiss back into Kurt's mouth, and was the one to trace curving, teasing lines along Sebastian's teeth and the roof of his mouth as a declaration of victory. Kurt was the one to scrape his teeth, lightly enough but with apparent intent, along Sebastian's bottom lip as they pulled away.
During the kiss Sebastian had turned Kurt in his arms until they were pressed chest to chest and Charlie was behind them. Charlie whistled lowly, and said, "Damn. You don't seem so sure about that line right this second, Kurt."
Sebastian smirked at Charlie, and asked Kurt, "You ready to leave?" Kurt nodded, turning between the two boys to make a way out for himself. He let Sebastian grab his hand as they both started to move from the crowd, trying not to laugh at the note of triumph in Sebastian's voice as he told Charlie, "Well, we're going, so we'll see you later. You better have those four rounds lined up next time."
Kurt was almost expecting Charlie to be a little put out, but he just laughed, taking it in his stride. Nothing had stopped Charlie laughing yet, Kurt observed idly. "Just you wait, Seb. I'm picking the drinks." Charlie let them go with a wave, and by the time Kurt and Sebastian had made it out of the dance pit, Charlie had already magically conjured another guy into his arms.
"How is that even possible?" Kurt asked Sebastian, tilting his head in Charlie's direction.
"This is NYADA's third home, the one that's kept a secret from the girls," Sebastian replied.
They grabbed their checked coats and stepped out into the street; there was still a line to get into Heat, to Kurt's surprise. They walked for a moment in what Kurt thought was the direction of the subway, but he was letting Sebastian lead so didn't really mind. Sebastian eventually said, "Damn, Hummel, I don't know if I should say you've changed, or if you were always like this and just keeping it wrapped up under all those monstrous sweaters and jackets."
Kurt smiled serenely and decided to give Sebastian this one. "I've changed," he said easily. And it was true. It wasn't just the drinks or letting pretty boys kiss him without it meaning anything. The more he thought about it, the more easily the full extent of everything fell on him, as gently as his blankets settling over him to sleep. So many of the things that had been a part of him in Lima were slipping away - from the way he had still held himself taut when walking down a corridor in senior year, to the idea he just had to hang on for one year and then he could have Blaine and NYADA. The core of him was still there, but the things that had shaped it were disappearing, and he felt like he should be panicking, but he wasn't.
He was changing, and he wasn't really sure what he was changing into right now, but he was enjoying it more than he'd thought he would.
"What on earth are you thinking about so hard?"
Kurt started when he realised that Sebastian was staring at him, and they'd walked a fair way. "Change," he said, and then skipped ahead of Sebastian, turning around so he was walking backwards but could look full into Sebastian's face, tilting his head teasingly. "I may have changed, but not nearly as much as you. We've been out twice now and I haven't seen you have a single twenty minute relationship." He pulled an overly shocked face, putting his hand over his mouth.
"Fuck you," Sebastian said, and stepped close enough to Kurt to shove at his shoulder. Kurt, who was already slightly off balance from walking backwards, screeched a little as he righted himself. Sebastian laughed harder than he'd done all night and pulled Kurt down into the subway.
Sebastian followed Kurt to his platform, and asked, "If I wait with you here, are you okay to get home once your line comes?"
Kurt nodded, still a little touched despite every sign that kept appearing to remind him of how responsible Sebastian had become. "What about you?" Kurt asked, and Sebastian actually smiled.
"I'll be fine. I think I'll just take a cab, since I don't live in such a miserably faraway place as Bushwick," Sebastian said with a mock shudder. "Will living in Bushwick really be worth it to see your name in the bright lights of Broadway one day?" he continued. "Or, rather, off-off-Broadway?"
"Maybe," Kurt said without thinking, and then his brain caught up to him as Sebastian looked slightly shocked.
"What do you mean, maybe?" he asked.
Kurt bit his lower lip for a moment, and then said, "If you tell Rachel, I will gut your entire wardrobe faster than you can blink and string it off your balcony. But, I..." He took a deep breath. "I actually really like working at Vogue. In fashion in general. It's... a harder choice than I'd first thought."
"Raise your hand if you're surprised," Sebastian said, deadpan, as the faint sounds of Kurt's train started to echo down the tunnel. "As fascinated I am by your struggle to choose between the two ultimate gay clichés, it appears your story is being cut short." Sebastian's face softened very slightly, and he said, "But I might be willing to suffer the rest of the tale, for the entertaining-train-wreck of it all. Like, Sunday morning afterI've had at least two coffees."
Kurt fixed Sebastian with a look of suspicion as a carriage ground to a halt in front of him. "Is this a part of some big, evil plan? I know too many of your secrets, so now you have to have too many of mine. And then we end up being friends because it's either that or we have to kill each other."
"Damn, you caught me," Sebastian drawled, and nudged Kurt in the direction of the now-open doors. "Well, be a good boy and help me with my nefarious plot. I'll see you Sunday."
"Sunday," Kurt finally agreed, with a nod, and then Sebastian raised a hand in farewell, and the doors closed, the subway taking Kurt home.
Part Three
"Fuck. I suppose it was too much to hope that it was all an elaborate figment of my drunken imagination."
The dark mutter dragged the last shadows of sleep off Kurt, and he cracked an eye open to see Sebastian standing at the door to another room, one hand pressed to his forehead.
Kurt wanted to snark back with something suitable for Sebastian, but he was having enormous difficulty thinking through the thick, shaky feeling in his head and chest. "If we both try really hard to pretend, maybe it will be," he half-groaned in reply, rolling onto his back and cringing at the feeling of last night's clothes, stiff against his skin.
"I was doing a pretty good job for awhile," Sebastian said half-conversationally as he shuffled over to the kitchen. "An excellent job of forgetting everything after leaving Heat." Kurt heard a gentle smack against the leather of the couch near his feet, and grudgingly pushed himself into sitting position to see a water bottle halfway to rolling off onto the floor. He grabbed it and gratefully began to drink. "Until I saw my arm, that is. Your penmanship sucks, Kurt."
Sebastian collapsed down next to Kurt and stuck out his forearm, smirking as Kurt squinted at the black, slightly smudged writing there. The words were wonky and varying in size, starting large at Sebastian's elbow and meandering towards a cramped mess, tilting into his wrist. You are having breakfast with Kurt.
Kurt squinted a little longer at the marked skin, remembering the laughing stumble to the kitchen bench, grabbing the marker to promise Sebastian breakfast... to tell him a story? Oh. To tell him about his breakup with Blaine. Because for some reason, the four-in-the-morning closeness made it seem like that was a good thing to promise. But then, if Kurt thought harder, he could see sharp, clear eyes, feel a huge swell of sympathy, and hear a voice, strong with bitterness, ask how the fuck am I supposed to atone for all that?
Kurt wasn't really all that surprised to find that while he too had forgotten things from the time around leaving Heat, those memories were still available. It was the flash of honesty Kurt had seen in the Lima Bean in senior year, multiplied a hundred fold and laid out before him, tugging on his empathy as much as his sympathy with their shared guilt. It was the compelling pull of understanding, almost more than Kurt's promise to Sebastian for a story, that set a little voice in the back of Kurt's head whispering that Kurt kind of owed him an honest answer in return.
The only indication Kurt actually gave of what he remembered, however, was an affronted accusation. "You threatened to draw on my face in my sleep."
"Dicks, if I remember. And who's to say I didn't?"
Kurt almost jumped, but managed to restrain himself and just shoot Sebastian a patronising stare instead. "I lived with Finn Hudson, and by extension Noah Puckerman. I have a sixth sense for knowing when stupid boys are trying to do stupid things to me."
"And yet, you were more than happy to let Charlie have his way with you."
Kurt couldn't push down the heat he felt rising into his cheeks at that reminder. But he's single, and it's not like Charlie was hideous - the opposite in fact, from what he can remember - so what's the harm?
"And Weston. And me."
Sebastian's grin turned gleeful and Kurt almost dropped his water bottle.
"When did I do anything with you?" Kurt asked, his voice fast and a little shrill as he frantically searched his memory.
Sebastian laughed, still grinning. "Even drunk, I knew this would be excellent blackmail material. You refused to let me pry you off Charlie to take you home, so I had to resort to extraordinary means."
"But that means you instigated whatever happened," Kurt pointed out somewhat smugly, still searching for the memory of it among the huge blur of last night.
"Because it was a bet. Charlie owes me an extra two rounds next time." Sebastian paused, becoming very slightly less teasing. "Plus, he wanted to take you home. I wasn't sure if you were okay with that. All your bravado aside, I know that at least in Ohio you didn't get drunk a lot."
Kurt tilted his head and regarded Sebastian quietly for a moment, watching discomfort settle around the boy's shoulders. "You're a lot more responsible than you used to be," he said quietly. "Why is that?"
Sebastian repeated none of the things he had said the night before about wanting to be a doctor or the atonement he seemed to need. Instead, Sebastian answered with equal quiet. "I wasn't kidding when I said that it's all fun and games until it's not. I tread more carefully now."
Kurt could have said something teasing or mocking back, and if he was honest every instinct still pushed him to; but, as he watched Sebastian's shoulders tighten even further, Kurt started to get the feeling that even with his change of heart, Sebastian wasn't often this honest with anyone. As much as Kurt loved New York, it was a harsh and unforgiving place to people without walls. There was a softness about people from places like Ohio that was difficult to find here, and Kurt suspected Sebastian's rant about atonement had been building up for awhile. Where Kurt has built his strengths around unflinchingly showing himself to the world, the bad and the good, Sebastian was... selective. Eventually, all Kurt said was, "Thank you."
Sebastian didn't really acknowledge it, just half-nodded and then jumped up. "If you put that stuff back in the cupboard, I'll grab you a towel so you can shower," Sebastian said, turning away. "And then you owe me breakfast and a story." He smirked at Kurt over his shoulder.
They ended up at a coffee house half an hour later after establishing that neither of them was feeling ready to tackle much more than coffee and maybe a bagel. Kurt was grateful for the winter chill and the poor heating inside the store; his winter coat all but hid any signs that he was wearing yesterday's clothes. They seated themselves at a slightly rickety wooden table and buried themselves in their coffees for a while; Kurt took his time appreciating how the smell and then the taste and buzz wiped away the heavy, shaky feeling of his hangover.
"Well, Kurt, you owe me a story," Sebastian eventually said, breaking the silence, one that had almost started to be comfortable. After a moment's pause, he continued, saying, "Or is the tale all too sordid for your blushing sensibilities to bring it to light?"
Kurt sighed and tried for a second longer to bury himself in the scent and steam of his coffee. "I suppose you've earned it," he said. "What level of detail do you want?"
Sebastian looked down, his eyes flicking up to Kurt and his mouth tilting in consideration. "I'll be honest - note it, it probably won't happen again for a long time - and tell you that I did talk to Blaine. In passing; just enough to know that he wasn't feeling like he fit at McKinley, and was considering going back to Dalton. I, of course, encouraged that wholeheartedly; once a Warbler always a Warbler, right?" The smug smile was back. Kurt tried his best not to let it rile him up, something mostly subconscious noting it hadn't affected him until it was associated with Blaine. "But I wondered if that had something to do with your break up. Given the amount of blackmail material I now have on you, I don't think it will hurt me to admit that I was curious."
"It was a factor. Not the main one, though," Kurt said. He tried to keep his tone as emotionless as possible. "I'm sure you've probably noticed - and exploited - the fact that Blaine loves communication. With everyone. All the time. It's his biggest weapon and weakness. So, I don't think either of us were surprised, deep down, when after a few months it became clear that he wasn't suited to a long distance relationship." Such a clinical way to describe what had been such a messy, painful thing. It had been two months now. It had gotten better, Kurt wasn't denying that, but it probably shouldn't still have this much of a sting to it. "It's not a point of blame or even really a fault, just a personality trait. Especially from his boyfriend, Blaine needs more communication in all its forms. More time, more talking, the body language and the physical closeness - don't smirk at me like that, Sebastian Smythe, you know very well that wasn't what I meant." Though, Kurt admitted privately to himself, it was at least a little bit that. "A long distance relationship for him is like tying himself to a ghost. After seeing how hard he was still trying to make it work, despite so clearly not getting what he needed, I wasn't even really upset to let him go to find someone who can give him that."
Kurt stopped to take a deep draw from his now-cooling drink, taking quick stock of Sebastian's reactions. Nothing else was likely to have surprised him more than what he got - complete and utter reserve. It was a relief. He'd told this story a few times now - to Rachel in full, a briefer version for Mercedes, and ever briefer one still for his dad, and just enough to stop Finn from hunting Blaine down on principle and assure him no one was angry with anyone. Everyone had had at least some points of judgement or interjection or criticism or opinion. Sebastian was the first person to just let Kurt talk, and it was what spurred him into picking up the rest of the narrative.
"The other side is more what you know. At the start of my senior year Blaine moved to McKinley, and he said it wasn't for me, but we both knew it was. He's struggled a lot with that this year now I'm gone. Weirdly, it was winning senior class president that seemed to be the tipping point for him - he told me that everything he'd done at McKinley was for me. And I was gone. Sometimes, I think he even felt like I'd abandoned him. It was so hard for him to find a place there for himself, and he almost didn't. Say what you want to about New Directions, but it was eventually them that helped him find his place. The Warblers never managed that for me at Dalton."
"I always forget that you were a Warbler too, once," Sebastian murmured. "It's just so... regimented. Especially if you're not out in front. I can't picture it."
"Exactly." Kurt's smile was a little grim. "Well, glee clubs that neither of us are still a member of aside, Blaine had always planned to come out to New York once he graduated. Try to get into NYADA. But after all that, we were both forced to wonder what it would do to both him and us if that happened again. It -" Kurt stops. Swallows. "I can't think of anything worse. So, at the point when Blaine came to New York became an if, we broke up. Between him not getting what he needed and without the promise of him being here in the future... simple. We promised to try again if Blaine moves to New York."
"This is all very Blaine-centric," Sebastian said, still passive. "What about you?"
Another new response to telling this story, and from Sebastian. Another surprise. "I'm still hoping Blaine will choose to come to New York next year. But I'm no longer relying on it."
Sebastian nodded and looked down at his coffee. He was still relatively reserved, not saying anything, and it was starting to unnerve Kurt, who stiffened his spine slightly and let out a sardonic laugh. "You were right last night. Why on earth are we talking? This really is weird."
That brought Sebastian back to life. "We were never afraid to talk to each other," he said, his smirk well and truly in place. "Since I pinky swore to the flying spaghetti monster to be a nice boy, and, as your mohawked friend pointed out, you take the high road - then you add one of my friends trying to get into your pants and plenty of alcohol - it's not really a surprise, Kurt."
Kurt's phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out to see a calendar reminder. Skype with Blaine, in half an hour. He almost cursed and looked up apologetically - apologetically? - at Sebastian. "I totally forgot the time, I'm sorry. I have to go." He tightened his scarf, gathered all their rubbish to toss, and stood up. "All our bickering aside, just - thank you for taking me to your place last night. And," he took a deep breath, "everything, I guess." Sebastian nodded tightly. "I'll see you around?"
"Yeah, I suppose you will," Sebastian said casually, getting ready to leave himself. "No doubt I'll catch you around Callbacks or somewhere similar. Charlie won't let last night lie, if nothing else." The glint in Sebastian's eye spoke volumes on how much Sebastian had enjoyed 'winning' against the NYADA boy.
Kurt hesitated for a second, the performer in him feeling like there should be something more to conclude the most bizarre fourteen hours he'd had in a long time, but in the end he just waved and dashed out of the coffee house in search of a subway.
He wasn't very late by the time he was back in his apartment and signing into Skype. Blaine video called him almost immediately and Kurt accepted, bursting into breathless apologies the second he saw Blaine's face. Blaine cut him off almost immediately with an amused smile and said, "It's fine. Rachel told me you might be late, since someone didn't come home last night." Teasing, but under it, the hurt, almost always the hurt. God. It never did get much better.
"Not like that," Kurt responded immediately, flushing. "Oh god no. I just went to a club with some people I met at Callbacks since Rachel and Brody were being, ugh, Rachel and Brody, and then I was drunk, Blaine, so drunk so I stayed and talked with one of them and slept on their couch and-" Something was stopping Kurt from mentioning Sebastian. He wasn't entirely sure what, he just instinctively knew that every time all three of them were involved, in any way, things were so much messier than any combination of the two. Thankfully, Blaine had cut him off again.
"I was just teasing, Kurt," Blaine said with a soft smile. "It's fine, really. I wasn't doing anything, anyway. But," and his face, so beautiful, softened into a sad, self-deprecating smile, "is it alright if I don't want the details? I'm sorry. I just..."
"No, it's fine. Really." It's easier for me not to give them.
"I feel like such a bad friend," Blaine half-whispered, tilting his head down towards the keyboard. "And a hypocrite. I just can't."
"It's fine, Blaine. I meant it. Anyway, forget my night. How are you?"
"Cheerios is fun. You were right about Sue being crazy and the girls being not much better, but under it all it's still fun. Regionals is coming up soon!" Blaine tries to muster up his usual bright smile even though they both know he wants to be talking about glee regionals, not cheerleading; but that's not an option any more. "And glee is... rebuilding. Even though I don't think half the club has forgiven Marley yet. We'll get there."
Kurt could still see that look in the back of Blaine's eyes, as almost always now, the one that appeared the day Blaine had realised that he was at McKinley, in Ohio, and Kurt had left him there. The one with very little blame, but mostly just stunned bewilderment and fear, like a child who hasn't entirely processed that their parents have left them alone in an unfamiliar place, but is one second from crying because they're just so scared and hurt. The look that Blaine finding his place at McKinley hadn't entirely taken away, because it was so much more than just leaving him at a school. It was leaving him in a life. The look that was the reason, Kurt knew, that Blaine never answered Kurt's 'how are you' directly.
"And how are your college applications going?"
The atmosphere, thick and heavy as it was, sunk over Kurt like deep water as Blaine stared even harder at his hands. "I, um, sent the last off this week."
"Give me the complete list?"
"All up, that's NYADA, two schools at NYU, Carnegie Mellon, CCM at University of Cincinnati, Elon, and OSU as back up."
"Seven schools. Not taking any chances, I see," Kurt said softly, half-smiling. Learning from my mistakes. "And, hey, three out of seven here isn't bad. I like my chances."
"Kurt," Blaine choked immediately, like Kurt just threw the second last thing the dam wall can handle, and it's buckling; like one more stone will make it come crashing down, drowning everything.
"I'm sorry," Kurt said, trying to make his tone soothing and immediately regretting his choice of words.
"It never gets easier, Kurt. With... I... Do you... It feels like we never got our goodbye, with you unable to come home for Thanksgiving or Christmas." Everything about Blaine looked so small, shrinking, except his eyes, which were huge and stabbing straight into Kurt as they filled with crystal tears. "I know we need to be broken up for now, I do, but I feel like if we just had one more day to properly-"
"No, Blaine." It was Kurt's turn to cut Blaine off now, still so gentle and choking up himself. "I know you're a communicator and breaking up this way has been so hard for you, but it's never going to be easy. We just have to... let go."
"I don't know how. Especially not when it feels like I have this huge, flammable future in front of me, with three sevenths of a chance that I'll let you go just to have to win you back again... I don't know how to start letting go."
"You'll never have to win me back again. If it's right, I'll be there," Kurt said, able to be firm at least on this. But then his voice dropped low, and he leaned even closer to his computer screen like it made any difference. "But I don't think I know how to let go either." He put his hand up to the screen, knowing how ridiculous it looked on the other side but having to do it anyway. Blaine matched him finger for finger.
"I am so sorry," Kurt whispered, and tears he didn't want slid down the side of his cheeks. "Letting go or not, I love you. That doesn't change."
***
The next person to fall into Kurt's lap did it with a little more grace and a lot more intention.
It was a fortnight after the last occurrence, another Friday night with Rachel, Brody and half of NYADA. This time there was karaoke, though with the stipulation that it be upbeat, if not dance material. Rachel had insisted on going, maintaining that it was the best tool she had to keep her talent sharp, given the limited performing opportunities afforded to freshmen. Kurt privately scoffed at that; given they were in New York, where every street had at least one bar or café with an open mic night, he suspected it was less about the performing opportunities and more about trying to intimidate her classmates. Rachel had also insisted Kurt come, and this time perform; again, Kurt scoffed, though more outwardly. If he was planning on reauditioning next year the practice would almost definitely help, but he didn't want to become that guy - the one hanging around NYADA haunts, insisting on drawing attention to himself and competing with the NYADA students all year, only to fail again at trying to become one of them.
He was, however, still interested to meet some of Brody's seemingly endless stream of friends, all who seemed happy enough to relieve Kurt of third wheel status. He was also ostensibly supporting Rachel, who had the microphone when someone dropped onto his thighs and flung an arm around his neck.
"Kurt. Hi," Charlie said, grinning down at him. "You're very difficult to find."
Kurt eyed Charlie incredulously and tried to shove him off his lap, craning his head around the boy to see Rachel.
"It's only been two weeks, Charlie. Get out of my way, I'm trying to watch Rachel."
"Rachel Berry? Tibideaux's new pet? Why?"
"I'd protest that if I didn't know Rachel would be more than proud of the label. Because she's my best friend, you ass, now move." Kurt shoved Charlie again, but the boy's arms were disgustingly strong and he clung to Kurt's neck far too tightly.
Charlie obligingly leant to the side, allowing Kurt an unobscured of the stage, but also putting an annoyingly distracting view of Charlie's chest and arm to the immediate left. They were wrapped in a tight black v neck which showed off a dancer's build, and, combined with the warmth pressing down Kurt's chest and across his lap, were doing nothing for Kurt's concentration.
"Ah, I should have known. A little, lost hag to go with our little, lost gay?" Charlie asked, grinning and sliding his fingers under the collar of Kurt's shirt, which earned him a reflex slap to the hand. Charlie bent closer, scratched the pads of his fingers over the back of Kurt's neck a few times, and said, "I'm just trying to play."
Rachel finished her song and Kurt bit back a dozen scathing replies to applaud her instead. Even clapping proved difficult, however, with the boy between his arms - the movement ended up being awkward and mostly ineffectual, with the exception of pulling Charlie even further into his chest.
"Starting the competition without me, Charlie?" a voice asked from behind Kurt, before Sebastian appeared to drop into Rachel's chair.
"Competition?" Kurt raised an eyebrow.
Charlie's grin, which had been self-satisfied from the instant he'd sat in Kurt's lap, broadened even further. "I've talked Sebastian into going double or nothing on our bet."
Kurt resisted the urge to splutter, having an inkling where this might be going. "Do I even want to know?" he asked.
"Knowing your attitude to all things fun, Kurt, I don't think so," Sebastian replied, eyes sparkling with mirth. "Just know that those two rounds Charlie owes me are on the line, he's going to lose, and you're going to enjoy it."
"Especially since we've both been egging each other on the last four times we've gone out," Charlie added. "Like I said, you're hard to find."
"You've been out four times in two weeks? Aren't you busy with school?" Kurt asked incredulously.
"Learning how to work hung over is a part of your theatre education, Kurt," Charlie chided. "It's also the same for large parts of the fashion industry, so if you're going to keep working at Vogue you'd better get used to it."
They were interrupted by an indignant Rachel Berry, who had come back to the table clearly expecting praise. "Sebastian Smythe, get out of my seat!" she demanded, and slapped Sebastian on the back of the head.
Charlie laughed and whispered to Kurt, "I think I'm liking her more by the second."
Kurt idly watched Rachel and Sebastian snipe at each other for a moment. Rachel had never been particularly good at coming up against Sebastian, since she tended to use emotion and the sheer momentum of her personality to win arguments instead of wit. It clearly wasn't going her way tonight, because her eyes were flashing and Brody was sitting unobtrusively to her right looking very amused. As her voice rose, Kurt heard her say accusingly, "You still owe me for that picture of Finn!"
The flash of pain that darted across Sebastian's eyes and brow was lost on Rachel, but not on Kurt, who'd mastered the subtlety of minimising expressions that you'd rather hide in junior year. Charlie had started to relax, so one good shove caught him off guard and fighting to regain his balance as he was forced of Kurt's lap; Kurt then rose to his feet before Charlie could protest and grabbed Sebastian's elbow.
"We'll be going now, I think," Kurt said, tugging a little harder on Sebastian, whose face was now impassive as he let Kurt pull at him. Kurt grabbed his coat from the back of his chair as Charlie started to head towards the door. Turning to Rachel, Kurt wrapped her in a one-armed squeeze, asking, "You are okay to get home, aren't you?"
Rachel was eyeing up all three boys curiously but smiled and said, "Of course. Go! Have fun!" and tugged his lapel straighter.
Kurt rolled his eyes and said, "No need to report me to Blaine, I promise I'll come home this time."
"I wouldn't count on it!" Charlie tossed over his shoulder.
Kurt said goodbye to Rachel and then turned, striding through the crowded little bar to catch up to Sebastian and Charlie. "Where's Weston?" he asked.
"Not with us, not tonight," Charlie replied, pushing Kurt through the door. "Tonight is just you, me and Sebastian." And with a slightly predatory glint to his eyes he led Kurt forward and into the night once more.
Kurt was determined to not get as drunk this time, so once they got to Heat he drank the first two things handed to him but refused the third. Sebastian looked very amused by Kurt's refusal, but raised one shoulder in a half-shrug and drank it himself.
Dancing was at once better and worse without so much liquor coursing through his system. Sebastian and Charlie were clearly on their way to happily wasted, both trying to pull Kurt close and grind against him. They surrounded Kurt with laugher and warmth and boy in a way that he probably shouldn't be enjoying so much, especially with Sebastian involved. Kurt revelled in clarity and intensity of all the detail, soaking it up in a way that was such a beautiful contrast to the hazy wash of sensation of last time. But it was much more difficult to lose himself to the movement of another person's hips and follow along; he felt wooden under Charlie's hands, and was struggling to see how he could be anything like the person who had slid into the relative hedonism of the group before.
Once upon a time, Kurt would have probably gone to sit at the bar and stayed there rather than try and fail. But so much of Kurt Hummel as he had once been felt like he'd been left behind in Lima, and Kurt wasn't necessarily sure that was a bad thing. He tried his best to play along for another fifteen minutes before Charlie and Sebastian dragged him back to the bar, and when Charlie handed him a glass of something mostly transparent and pale green, Kurt eyed it suspiciously for a lot less time than he once would have.
"You're so fucking cute," Charlie said, sliding his arm around Kurt's waist. "It's a margarita; it's sour. You'll like it."
And really, it was as simple as these little things, wasn't it? People had always handed drinks to the Kurt of Lima telling him it was sweet, so he'd like it. But here there were people like Charlie, in a club a million steps up from Scandals, telling him that maybe there could be something different to him.
As he raised the glass to his lips and swallowed, relishing the sharp, clean taste of the lime, he met Sebastian's eyes and couldn't help but wonder if Sebastian could be like Charlie; with all the newness to him, if he too could see the redefinition.
The margarita and the realisation, while by no means getting Kurt drunk, loosened him up enough that he could start really moving when they got back to the pit of dancers. Charlie picked up on the change easily, grinning and placing himself squarely in front of Kurt, crowding close so his entire line of sight was filled with the NYADA boy. Sebastian was playfully trying to shove Charlie out of the way but failing. Then the music shifted to a new song - darker and not the DJ's interpretation of a top forty hit, for once - and the mood of their trio shifted with it. Kurt felt struck bold by it and pressed a little closer, dancing a little dirtier, and turned himself slightly to let Sebastian back in, sliding an arm over his shoulder. Every action felt a little more like a goodbye to the spectre of Kurt sitting at the bar with his Shirley Temple.
Charlie was the first one to push things any further, bending down on the roll of the beat to fit his mouth to Kurt's, conceding space to Sebastian in favour of sliding a hand up the side of Kurt's neck and into the shorter hair on the back of Kurt's head. Kurt let their mouths and tongues slide together, enjoying the sensations and the simple thrill of getting to kiss someone so clearly attractive. When the song changed again Charlie backed off a little to catch his breath and dance harder as the song demands it, a contradiction that somehow makes sense. Kurt lost himself a little more to the darkness and the coloured lights and the beat, feeling like they were sinking into his very skin, getting him drunk in a different, more thrilling way than alcohol. More audacious than ever, Kurt turned his face up to Sebastian and raised his eyebrow.
Sebastian grasped the meaning of Kurt's raised eyebrow sooner than Kurt thought he would. He moved closer, surveying Kurt's face with an amused tilt to his mouth, and Kurt gave him only boldness and challenge. When Sebastian pressed himself into a kiss, Kurt felt Sebastian laughing slightly under his lips.
The night passed quickly, far more quickly than Kurt thought it would, with his limited drinking only to counterbalance what he had burned off dancing. They danced and made out in almost equal measure, and the kisses passed between them so freely Kurt of Lima would have been near-shrieking; in the context of the moment, though, it made so much sense to extend the dancing of their bodies, the way their limbs and torsos fit together, up to their mouths. Kurt almost forgot anything about a bet between Sebastian and Charlie, neither of them making an overt move, happy to just live out the night. They didn't even restrict their kisses to Kurt; Kurt bore witness to a few between the friends, still more nipping teeth and clash than any deep connection, and a brief, almost incidental slide between them and the few brave others that approached from the crowd around them.
Eventually, Charlie's hand slid from the tantalising brushes of neck-back-waist-hips-ass to Kurt's stomach, brushing back and forth for a few moments in a way that gave Kurt a whole-body shudder. Charlie used his other hand, drifting on the hairline on Kurt's neck, to pull his head close, and asked, "So, are you coming home with me tonight?"
Kurt grabbed the hand that was now starting to inch slightly lower than his stomach, down over the waistband of his jeans, skin catching slightly on the button. "I could," Kurt said, feeling far too not like Lima Kurt to really let it throw him the way he knew it should. "But I won't sleep with someone who isn't my boyfriend."
Charlie regarded Kurt with a vaguely amused tilt to his mouth, looking like he was about to call Kurt cute all over again. Kurt met him eye to eye, trying to put the same amusement in his own face.
"Everyone needs a line," Kurt said. "This is mine."
Charlie laughed slightly, looking at Kurt like he was something unusual but enjoyably so. "That's a very Ohio line for a New York world, babe."
Sebastian knocked Charlie's shoulder slightly and said, "What you mean is, he has more morals than the two of us put together, and you don't attract many of those." Sebastian's voice was teasing but, in the on-and-off glint of the lights, Kurt thought he could see a hardness in Sebastian's eyes. It's all fun and games until it's not, Sebastian echoed in Kurt's head yet again.
Charlie laughed and nodded. "Suppose so," he said, conceding. He pulled Kurt a few inches closer to add, "Doesn't mean I'm not going to enjoy shifting your line for you."
Kurt bristled very slightly, but knew the tease was meant as just that - a tease - even if there was a touch of seriousness to it. He danced a little longer, happy to grind up against Charlie as hard as before and enjoying the rocking rhythm of it. But then he tipped his head up to Sebastian, pressed his lips against Sebastian's ear so close he could feel the delicate whorls of cartilage under his lips, and asked, "So, do you want to win tonight?"
Sebastian tightened the arm that had been slowly snaking its way around Kurt's chest, tugging Kurt back against his chest a little more. "Are you going to help me put on a convincing show?" he asked teasingly, keeping the words close between them so Charlie couldn't hear. As relaxed as they had all been tonight, Sebastian's tone implied that he didn't really think Kurt would.
But Kurt smiled impishly up at the boy, bit his bottom lip and said, "I'm having fun. So sue me."
Sebastian laughed, gave Kurt a second or two to change his mind or brace himself, and then leaned in. They were gentle at first, more gentle than they'd been all night. But as Kurt felt the heat spread across his face, felt Sebastian's hands and arms catch him a little more firmly, he threw himself in - after all, it was a show, wasn't it? So Kurt was the one to thrust his tongue into Sebastian's mouth, and to drag it along the underside of Sebastian's; he fought back when Sebastian tried to force the kiss back into Kurt's mouth, and was the one to trace curving, teasing lines along Sebastian's teeth and the roof of his mouth as a declaration of victory. Kurt was the one to scrape his teeth, lightly enough but with apparent intent, along Sebastian's bottom lip as they pulled away.
During the kiss Sebastian had turned Kurt in his arms until they were pressed chest to chest and Charlie was behind them. Charlie whistled lowly, and said, "Damn. You don't seem so sure about that line right this second, Kurt."
Sebastian smirked at Charlie, and asked Kurt, "You ready to leave?" Kurt nodded, turning between the two boys to make a way out for himself. He let Sebastian grab his hand as they both started to move from the crowd, trying not to laugh at the note of triumph in Sebastian's voice as he told Charlie, "Well, we're going, so we'll see you later. You better have those four rounds lined up next time."
Kurt was almost expecting Charlie to be a little put out, but he just laughed, taking it in his stride. Nothing had stopped Charlie laughing yet, Kurt observed idly. "Just you wait, Seb. I'm picking the drinks." Charlie let them go with a wave, and by the time Kurt and Sebastian had made it out of the dance pit, Charlie had already magically conjured another guy into his arms.
"How is that even possible?" Kurt asked Sebastian, tilting his head in Charlie's direction.
"This is NYADA's third home, the one that's kept a secret from the girls," Sebastian replied.
They grabbed their checked coats and stepped out into the street; there was still a line to get into Heat, to Kurt's surprise. They walked for a moment in what Kurt thought was the direction of the subway, but he was letting Sebastian lead so didn't really mind. Sebastian eventually said, "Damn, Hummel, I don't know if I should say you've changed, or if you were always like this and just keeping it wrapped up under all those monstrous sweaters and jackets."
Kurt smiled serenely and decided to give Sebastian this one. "I've changed," he said easily. And it was true. It wasn't just the drinks or letting pretty boys kiss him without it meaning anything. The more he thought about it, the more easily the full extent of everything fell on him, as gently as his blankets settling over him to sleep. So many of the things that had been a part of him in Lima were slipping away - from the way he had still held himself taut when walking down a corridor in senior year, to the idea he just had to hang on for one year and then he could have Blaine and NYADA. The core of him was still there, but the things that had shaped it were disappearing, and he felt like he should be panicking, but he wasn't.
He was changing, and he wasn't really sure what he was changing into right now, but he was enjoying it more than he'd thought he would.
"What on earth are you thinking about so hard?"
Kurt started when he realised that Sebastian was staring at him, and they'd walked a fair way. "Change," he said, and then skipped ahead of Sebastian, turning around so he was walking backwards but could look full into Sebastian's face, tilting his head teasingly. "I may have changed, but not nearly as much as you. We've been out twice now and I haven't seen you have a single twenty minute relationship." He pulled an overly shocked face, putting his hand over his mouth.
"Fuck you," Sebastian said, and stepped close enough to Kurt to shove at his shoulder. Kurt, who was already slightly off balance from walking backwards, screeched a little as he righted himself. Sebastian laughed harder than he'd done all night and pulled Kurt down into the subway.
Sebastian followed Kurt to his platform, and asked, "If I wait with you here, are you okay to get home once your line comes?"
Kurt nodded, still a little touched despite every sign that kept appearing to remind him of how responsible Sebastian had become. "What about you?" Kurt asked, and Sebastian actually smiled.
"I'll be fine. I think I'll just take a cab, since I don't live in such a miserably faraway place as Bushwick," Sebastian said with a mock shudder. "Will living in Bushwick really be worth it to see your name in the bright lights of Broadway one day?" he continued. "Or, rather, off-off-Broadway?"
"Maybe," Kurt said without thinking, and then his brain caught up to him as Sebastian looked slightly shocked.
"What do you mean, maybe?" he asked.
Kurt bit his lower lip for a moment, and then said, "If you tell Rachel, I will gut your entire wardrobe faster than you can blink and string it off your balcony. But, I..." He took a deep breath. "I actually really like working at Vogue. In fashion in general. It's... a harder choice than I'd first thought."
"Raise your hand if you're surprised," Sebastian said, deadpan, as the faint sounds of Kurt's train started to echo down the tunnel. "As fascinated I am by your struggle to choose between the two ultimate gay clichés, it appears your story is being cut short." Sebastian's face softened very slightly, and he said, "But I might be willing to suffer the rest of the tale, for the entertaining-train-wreck of it all. Like, Sunday morning afterI've had at least two coffees."
Kurt fixed Sebastian with a look of suspicion as a carriage ground to a halt in front of him. "Is this a part of some big, evil plan? I know too many of your secrets, so now you have to have too many of mine. And then we end up being friends because it's either that or we have to kill each other."
"Damn, you caught me," Sebastian drawled, and nudged Kurt in the direction of the now-open doors. "Well, be a good boy and help me with my nefarious plot. I'll see you Sunday."
"Sunday," Kurt finally agreed, with a nod, and then Sebastian raised a hand in farewell, and the doors closed, the subway taking Kurt home.
Part Three