Fic: Whatever Side of Love Part II
Whatever Side of Love
Part 2 of 3
Fandom: Glee
Disclaimer: Not my sandbox, I just like playing in it. Completely not for profit and written with love.
Pairings: Brittany/Kurt, Brittany/Santana, references to canon pairings.
Rating / Warnings: PG-13 for sexual references, nudity, and some language.
Spoilers: AU starting at 1x03 (Acafellas) and running through to 1x13 (Sectionals). Also: spoilers for the preview for 1x18 (Laryngitis) in the Notes, under the cut.
Summary: Kurt Hummel doesn't mean to lie about being gay. Life's just easier if he doesn't say anything.
Notes: This part: 4,090 words
Beta'd bekkis who is still the loveliest person in the world.
I neglected to mention last part, but concrit is always loved, valued and appreciated.
Notes (cont.) So if you've seen the preview for (as of the time of posting) tomorrow's episode, you know what's supposed to happen. From that alone, I think the conversation with Burt is already Jossed to pieces. But maybe not. We'll see.
I just want to thank Ryan Murphy for actually giving me some Kurt and Brittany makeouts, whatever Kurt's motivation may be and no matter what kind of faces he will make during. I'm still going to make icons out of it.
I'm so weird.
Part 1
~*~
"Santana.
Wheels.
Gay Kid. C'mon, move it!"
Artie nervously wheeled himself to the other side of the room, while Santana flounced over in a cloud of superiority. But Kurt remained in his seat, calmly inspecting his nails.
Coach Sylvester waited exactly four seconds before she tried again. Louder. "Gay Kid! Get your fabulous little butt over to my side before you make me ruin your sparkle."
"Puck, I believe the woman is waiting for you."
"Bite me."
Kurt refused to look up until Coach Sylvester was in his light. He smirked up at her and hoped he exuded an air of calm, rather than an air of about to faint.
"Well, Liberace?"
"I'm sorry," Kurt said, proud of himself for not letting the shake reach his voice. "I don't respond well to blatant stereotypes that do not actually befit my person."
Coach Sylvester gave him the look that she probably gave the puppies she was about to kick. "And I don't respond well to uppity little bags of hormones who seem to think I don't know just how often he uses the amenities in the girls' locker room that are there exclusively for my Cheerios."
Kurt felt the blood drain from his face. Slowly, he got to his feet and headed over to Sue's Corner.
Coach Sylvester continued to read her list of names, if one could call them that. And as she started to argue with Mr. Schuester about minority students and stuff said students didn't care about, Brittany gazed over at the group looking absolutely crushed to not be included. When they were herded away so as not to 'mingle with the stench of the enemy', she waved at them sadly until long after they were gone.
~*~
Kurt was having an excellent month. The football team had all but stopped their harassment. Glee had gained enough members compete and they were actually sounding somewhat close to good. And his skin was starting to clear up after the initial 'I am suddenly playing sports outside' breakout.
And then there was Brittany. Brittany, whom he could take shopping without having to force himself to endure too much neon or Hot Topic, and then get a hand job in the dressing room. Brittany, who didn't mind spending money on weekly facials and spa treatments, who didn't mind getting touched for massages and really didn't mind getting touched below the waist. Brittany, who actually preferred frozen yogurt to ice cream sundaes and really liked fooling around in his backseat afterwards.
Of course, maybe he had ignored one too many texts from his friends. Mercedes had started giving him that look she reserved for the weekly ‘Rachel Berry gets a solo’ meetings. But what could he do besides promise her a rain check? He still called her every night; he knew what was going on in her life and was there when it mattered. He still cared. But getting off with another person was a too new and too exciting experience for him to pass up.
And besides, all the semi-sexual activity had helped him drop a pound and a half. Really, why everyone didn't have a fuck buddy was beyond him.
He was in the girls’ room after he opted for the quick make out session instead of American History. Brittany had simply re-tied her hair and skipped off with a wink and a wave. Kurt had to wash his face and get his hair back into place and redress himself to prevent unnecessary wrinkles and reapply some concealer that he would never admit to wearing. Not to mention waiting for his pants to stop being uncomfortably tight. So he was still there when Santana burst into the room. Literally, burst, door swinging back violently and hitting the wall. Her scowl was more sour than usual and her eyes narrowed to slits as she zeroed in on him. "Hey! George Michael! We need to talk."
"I think your insults need an update, sweetheart," Kurt said calmly, turning back to the mirror and quietly slipping the makeup sponge into his bag. He pet a stray hair back down. "That would have been lost on anyone under twenty eight, and they might as well be dead."
"Oh God, why do you have to talk?" She rolled her eyes and moved to stand beside him, leaning over the sink threateningly, forcing her way into his line of sight. "Just shut up and listen."
"Oh, joy," Kurt said flatly, taking a cautious step back. "It's like being in class only with a side order of bitch."
"Someone seriously needs to remind you you're not cute." She took a second to check her lip gloss in the mirror before standing and staring him down. "It's about Brittany."
Of course it was. People had taken notice of how much time they were suddenly spending together. Kurt had seen the looks, had suspected what those whispers behind his back were about. They had agreed to keep their little rendezvous quiet. Brittany didn't want people to think she was a slut - a bit late for that, really, but Kurt wasn't exactly ready to tell Mercedes yet, so he went along with it. But it wasn't like Brittany was known for being the sharpest bulb in the lamp. So poor her, spending all of her time with a boy who was so flaming her hair-spray should be catching fire. Poor Brittany, she was on the road to heartbreak. Poor Brittany, letting bitchy little Kurt Hummel lead her on like that.
He smirked at Santana, daring her to do her worst. Won't she be shocked to hear some of the things her best friend had kept from her?
Santana was not the type to be intimidated. She got right up in his face, her eyes deadly serious. "She and I have an understanding, but I'd hardy expect her to tell you about it. Just to make sure you're aware of a few things." she took a deep breath, waiting to make sure she had Kurt's full attention.
"You can kiss her. You can fuck her. You can dress up like a pony and have her stick a carrot up your ass. I don't give a shit. Just do not delude yourself into thinking she's your girlfriend." She spat the last word like it was some kind of slur, disgusting and meant to hurt.
Kurt blinked slowly, trying to process. This was not the conversation he was expecting to have. "I wasn't planning on it," he said automatically, hoping he didn't seem too fazed.
"Good," Santana said with a sweet little smile that fooled no one. "Just so we're clear."
She was strutting out the door when Kurt's brain finally caught up with things. He spun around to face her. "Wait. Brittany said she hasn't said anything to anyone. Including you. So how do you know?"
Santana stopped at the door, ready to swing it open, and rolled her eyes. "Please, like anyone would spend that much time with Brittany if there wasn't sex involved."
Kurt hated to admit how much sense that made. He frowned. "Why do you even care?"
"Like I said, we have an understanding." She took one last lingering look over him and snorted her disappointment. Then she was gone, the door swinging gently behind her.
Kurt turned to look at himself in the mirror, taking the time for some self reflection and a quick blackhead check. Here he was, thinking he was being so subtle with his deviance. Sure, Santana didn't know he didn't want this getting out, but it was still something she could hold over his head. He couldn't let Mercedes find out through the rumor mill instead of from him.
And what if they were being that obvious? Of course, Santana had years of experience with Brittany, but did everyone else think something was going on? Were those whispers not 'poor Brittany' but 'I thought he was supposed to be queer?' Was the first thought on everybody's minds 'of course they're having sex-'
"Like anybody would spend that much time with Brittany if there wasn't sex involved."
'- he's a desperate virgin and she's a slut-'
"Like I said, we have an understanding."
'- who do they think they're fooling?'
Kurt stopped and went back over things in his head. He watched his eyes widen in the mirror as an image started to form.
It was a very, very nice image.
His pants once again uncomfortably tight, Kurt dug through his bag for his cell phone. This definitely required further investigation. He quickly typed out a text as he locked himself in one of the stalls.
B - we need 2 talk
~*~
"- And I still haven't found my panties, even though Santana's car's pretty small and there are only two places they could be..."
It was after school, and they were lying on Kurt's bed. Brittany had moved on from inspecting his last manicure to playing with his fingers, stretching them apart and bending them into unnatural shapes. Kurt let her, too enthralled by the hour of storytelling he had just been gifted with.
"So, that's a yes then?"
Brittany looked up at him as adorably confused as ever. "What's a yes?"
Kurt had gotten used to Brittany's tendency to forget where tangents started and just smiled at her placatingly. "You are having sex with Santana."
Brittany smiled back and dropped his hand, lying back on the bed. "Oh. Yeah, we are. You don't mind, right?"
"Let me think about that for a second," Kurt said, threading his fingers behind his head. "I now have confirmation that two beautiful cheerleaders - one of whom I'm already fooling around with - do naughty things to each other on a regular basis." He pouted in mock contemplation. "No, I don't think I mind that at all."
Brittany gave a happy little sigh and rested her head on his shoulder. Kurt, with a head full of Brittany and Santana's Sexy Cheerio Adventures, would have liked nothing more than to pull her close and commence with more fooling around. But he knew this conversation wasn't over yet. It was time that Brittany and he came to their own understanding.
"I know this is a dumb question coming from me, but do you think you might be gay?"
Brittany giggled. "You're asking me that?"
"Humor me."
She was silent for a moment before he felt her shrug. "I just like sex. It doesn't really matter with who, so long as they're not super weird or, like that creepy afro kid or whatever. There are other people I have sex with, you know. Just not as a regular thing."
Kurt laughed for a moment, but he tried to stay focused. “Do you love Santana?"
She was quiet again, for longer this time. "She's my best friend," she said into his chest. "Of course I love her."
"That's not what I meant."
"Well, that's my answer."
Kurt's eyebrows went up. If he didn't know better, he'd think she had just given him some attitude. It was probably a sign that he should stop pushing this particular button, but he couldn't help himself. "Do you think that maybe Santana might...?"
Brittany sighed and shifted so she was sitting once more. "I know what you're getting at, but I just don't think you get it."
"Try me."
She blinked down at her feet, focusing on them as she chose her words. "Santana always says that until you're a sophomore in college, everything is kinda free for the taking. Or, trying, I guess. You're allowed to fool around with people and do whatever and if you try to have something serious, you're just fooling yourself and going to get hurt."
"And all those couples who met in high school?" Kurt asked. He was intrigued by the idea, but he was more intrigued by how well Brittany understood it.
She just rolled her eyes at him. "Okay, it doesn't work that way for everyone, but think of everything they missed out on! It's way too boring to just let yourself be tied down like that."
Interesting. "And you're not worried about what sex with so many other people will do to you?"
"Oh please," she said, kneeling up to face him. "Quinn yelled at us to be in her stupid 'No Sex No Life' club, but we know what condoms are. We're careful. We know what we're doing."
It wasn't quite what he meant, but he didn't expect anything less from Brittany. He gave her a look that made her snort in laughter and move to straddle his waist. "I know most people would think I'm a crazy slut or something, but it works for me. It makes me happy. Because I like sex. I like sex with Santana as much as I like being her B-F-F. I like sex with the guys on the football team that don't talk about me behind my back. And I'm pretty sure I'll like sex with you." She smiled her wicked smile as she leaned down close. "If you're interested?"
Damn her, she knew what that smile did to him. He moved his hips slightly beneath her. "Do you think I'm interested?"
She kissed him, mouth open and tongue hot against his lower lip. His hands drifted down to that wonderful area where her skirt met her upper thighs. He let his thumb drift up to meet her spanks - probably the least sexy piece of clothing in the world if he didn't know that she didn't wear anything underneath.
Brittany hummed her approval into his mouth as she sat up on top of him. He helped her pull the tight uniform top up over her head. He expertly removed her bra - years of working with eyelets of his own had had their uses. He cupped her breasts, thumbing her nipples to hard little points and making her giggle.
He traced down her spine as she leaned over him, her chest teasingly close to his face. She slapped his hands playfully when he tried to hook his thumbs under the band of her skirt. "We leave that on."
"Kinky," Kurt murmured, tongue darting out of his mouth to touch the skin in front of him.
Brittany shivered. "Santana likes it when I leave the skirt on."
He could see it so clearly in his mind's eye. Brittany straddling a pair of smooth, tanned thighs. Long, polished nails reaching up to tug at blonde curls. Streaks of lip gloss shining along Brittany's neck and breasts. Even when her hand wormed its way past Kurt's zipper to close around him, he could see her fingers slipping up past folds of skirt and panties to -
"Kurt? You have double A's, right? The remote-"
They broke apart to stare at the stairs where his father stood, wide eyed and speechless. Kurt was acutely aware of Brittany's hand still down the front of his pants. And she was topless, with her skirt pushed up and her spanks pulled down. But she was frozen on top of him, looking every bit as shocked as his father. "Brittany," Kurt hissed, jabbing her in the side to try and bring her out of her stupor. "You might want to cover up?"
She looked down at him, and he watched her face slowly turn bright red. And then she shrieked, high and loud. She made a frantic grab for her clothes, nearly falling off of the bed in her desperation. Tripping over her own feet, she raced past his father and up the stairs, clutching her Cheerio top to her chest. Kurt hoped she at least clothed herself before she ran outside. She didn't have her car with her, and the neighbors didn't need to see her like that.
"Dad," Kurt said breathlessly. He sat up and tried to straighten out his hair. Like this kind of thing was normal and not completely mortifying. "I didn't think you'd be home this early."
"There's a Top Gear marathon." His father looked away and swallowed. "You... er, your zipper..."
Kurt's face felt like it was on fire. He hurriedly tucked himself away and zipped up. He cleared his throat. He smiled. "Bet you weren't expecting that when you got home."
His dad just stared at him. Kurt couldn't quite read his expression, and it worried him. He forced his smile wider. "I think this is the part where you lecture me on having girls over when you're not around."
"Is it?" He sighed, rubbed a hand over his face, and sat heavily at the end of his son's bed. Kurt was at a complete loss for words, for what to do. He calmly folded his legs in front of himself and waited.
"You know I love you, right?" his father said after an achingly long pause. He finally turned to face his son. "Not matter what you do, right?"
"Of course, Dad," Kurt said quietly, hoping his lack of confidence in those words didn't shine through.
"And you know that if you're happy, I'm... All that matters is that you find someone to love you for who are you, even when you don't think you deserve it-"
"Like how mom still loved you when you stopped being a football star. I know, Dad. You don't need to worry about me."
"Don't I?" His father sighed again. His shoulders squared and he sat up straight, and Kurt worried that he knew exactly what he was bracing himself for. "I don't want you to think you have to force yourself to be someone you're not just to make me - just to make anyone love you. It's not fair to you or to that girl or to... y'know, to that... that guy you could be-"
"Oh God, Dad. Please stop." So many years, so much planning for how to avoid this conversation, wasted. Kurt hadn't thought he could have been more embarrassed than he had been two minutes ago, but here was his father, proving him wrong.
His dad's eyes narrowed slightly, but he soldiered on. "Listen, I know I may not seem like it, but I'm a pretty cool guy. And you being... you know, yourself, well, it's not exactly what I had planned for but I know it's not something you can change exactly, so it's not like I can complain..."
"Dad. Stop talking. I am not gay."
His father paused to take in his son, flushed and shaking, before opening his mouth to start once again. And something in Kurt snapped, and suddenly everything he had kept bottled in for the past ten years was pouring out of him.
"I know I'm not the son you've always wanted. I've never wanted to toss a ball around because my new jeans might get dirty, I will always and forever refuse to go out and kill things for fun and the only reason I have ever set foot in that garage is because you threatened to cut me off and my wardrobe can't buy itself every season. But that's just who I am. I like spending hours picked out what I'm going to wear tomorrow and singing the female parts of show tunes and curling up with junk food every week to watch Ugly Betty. And believe it or not, I like girls. And I like myself that way. And I'd really like it if more people just got over it and accepted me."
His father just stared at him. Of all that things he had prepared himself for, he had clearly not been expecting that to come out of his son. But as terrible as he felt, Kurt could still feel the weight of a thousand little quirks lift from his shoulders. Maybe he should have done this a long time ago.
It took a few minutes for his father to find his voice again. "So... not gay, then?"
Of course. Kurt rolled his eyes. "I might give it a whirl in college but for now... No. Not gay."
His father laughed uncomfortably as he got up from the bed. "I really don't need to worry about you half as much as I do, do I?" He reached out and put a hand on Kurt's shoulder. "And for what it's worth, there is not a kid in the universe that I would rather have as my son."
Kurt knew that. Of course he knew that, how could he not? But it was such a relief to hear it out loud that he didn't stop himself from throwing his arms around his dad. And he hugged back just as hard, like he hadn't done since he was still a kid.
On his way upstairs, his father paused and turned back. "What you said about college..."
"I was joking, Dad," Kurt said, because it wasn't like he was ever going to tell him about stuff like that when it happened.
"Okay, okay," he said, nodding along in an effort to appear nonchalant. "Just making sure you're sure."
Kurt sighed but smiled, for real this time. "Yes, Dad. I'm sure."
~*~
"I still don't get it. Does it have to be a love song?"
Kurt fought the urge to sigh as he dragged one of the stools across the stage. As much as he liked Finn, sometimes it was far too tempting to ask him to please shut up.
"It's like porn," he said after a moment to think. "You know it when you hear it, if you will."
At the mention of porn, Finn's back had gone ramrod straight. He was watching Kurt with the carefully guarded look he always had when they were alone. Or standing too close together. Or made any kind of eye contact. It was more than a little annoying, though, like everyone else, he had refused to believe any of Kurt's assertions regarding his sexuality. But at least he wasn't being an asshole about it. Like a certain entire school Kurt could think of off the top of the head.
"This is just really weird. Singing stuff like that to a guy, I mean," Finn said for what felt like the thousandth time.
"Tell me about it," Kurt mumbled to himself.
There was a hand on his shoulder. "Hey Kurt. Hey Finn."
Kurt turned his head to face Brittany, eyebrows raised. "Hello there, Miss Britt. When did you learn to sneak up on people?"
"From avoiding your dad. He scares me. It’ll be super awkward when I see him again." She shrugged, and her lips twitched, and Kurt was helpless to do anything but smile back.
"Anyway, Santana and I have practice and then we're going to practice and then probably 'practice' so I can't do anything tonight." She bumped his shoulder gently with her own. Her hand had dropped beside his and even that small contact was sending electricity through his body.
Damn, it felt good to be having sex.
"That's fine, I suppose," he said with mock annoyance and bumped her back.
"It better be, loser," she said, her voice brimming with affection. The girl had strange ideas when it came to terms of endearment, but Kurt had gotten used to it quickly enough.
They kissed each other on both cheeks before she headed towards the stage door. "You'll tell me all about it during Project Runway?"
Brittany spun around, taking a few steps backwards as she answered. "You know it. Bye Finn." She smiled brightly at him as she twirled to face the door. Her skirt flared around her, and Kurt watched the hem settle high on the back of her thighs. He watched it until she was out the door and out of sight.
He turned back to find Finn staring at him. Kurt could see the gears trying to turn, could see the poor boy struggling to touch the conclusion that was just out of reach. Trying desperately to find some way to ask the obvious question without being outrageously offensive.
Kurt looked back towards where his Cheerio had disappeared. "Yes," he said with a small smile. "I am hitting that."
Finn's eyes bulged as he dropped heavily onto his stool. "Oh," he said, cheeks tinting a little in embarrassment. "I thought-"
"I know what you thought," Kurt interrupted, waving his hand in dismissal. "I know what everyone thinks, but that doesn't mean they're right. Now," he said as he slid onto his own stool, back straight, leaning forward intently. "Sing to me. Everything you feel."
TBC
Part 3
Part 2 of 3
Fandom: Glee
Disclaimer: Not my sandbox, I just like playing in it. Completely not for profit and written with love.
Pairings: Brittany/Kurt, Brittany/Santana, references to canon pairings.
Rating / Warnings: PG-13 for sexual references, nudity, and some language.
Spoilers: AU starting at 1x03 (Acafellas) and running through to 1x13 (Sectionals). Also: spoilers for the preview for 1x18 (Laryngitis) in the Notes, under the cut.
Summary: Kurt Hummel doesn't mean to lie about being gay. Life's just easier if he doesn't say anything.
Notes: This part: 4,090 words
Beta'd bekkis who is still the loveliest person in the world.
I neglected to mention last part, but concrit is always loved, valued and appreciated.
Notes (cont.) So if you've seen the preview for (as of the time of posting) tomorrow's episode, you know what's supposed to happen. From that alone, I think the conversation with Burt is already Jossed to pieces. But maybe not. We'll see.
I just want to thank Ryan Murphy for actually giving me some Kurt and Brittany makeouts, whatever Kurt's motivation may be and no matter what kind of faces he will make during. I'm still going to make icons out of it.
I'm so weird.
Part 1
~*~
"Santana.
Wheels.
Gay Kid. C'mon, move it!"
Artie nervously wheeled himself to the other side of the room, while Santana flounced over in a cloud of superiority. But Kurt remained in his seat, calmly inspecting his nails.
Coach Sylvester waited exactly four seconds before she tried again. Louder. "Gay Kid! Get your fabulous little butt over to my side before you make me ruin your sparkle."
"Puck, I believe the woman is waiting for you."
"Bite me."
Kurt refused to look up until Coach Sylvester was in his light. He smirked up at her and hoped he exuded an air of calm, rather than an air of about to faint.
"Well, Liberace?"
"I'm sorry," Kurt said, proud of himself for not letting the shake reach his voice. "I don't respond well to blatant stereotypes that do not actually befit my person."
Coach Sylvester gave him the look that she probably gave the puppies she was about to kick. "And I don't respond well to uppity little bags of hormones who seem to think I don't know just how often he uses the amenities in the girls' locker room that are there exclusively for my Cheerios."
Kurt felt the blood drain from his face. Slowly, he got to his feet and headed over to Sue's Corner.
Coach Sylvester continued to read her list of names, if one could call them that. And as she started to argue with Mr. Schuester about minority students and stuff said students didn't care about, Brittany gazed over at the group looking absolutely crushed to not be included. When they were herded away so as not to 'mingle with the stench of the enemy', she waved at them sadly until long after they were gone.
~*~
Kurt was having an excellent month. The football team had all but stopped their harassment. Glee had gained enough members compete and they were actually sounding somewhat close to good. And his skin was starting to clear up after the initial 'I am suddenly playing sports outside' breakout.
And then there was Brittany. Brittany, whom he could take shopping without having to force himself to endure too much neon or Hot Topic, and then get a hand job in the dressing room. Brittany, who didn't mind spending money on weekly facials and spa treatments, who didn't mind getting touched for massages and really didn't mind getting touched below the waist. Brittany, who actually preferred frozen yogurt to ice cream sundaes and really liked fooling around in his backseat afterwards.
Of course, maybe he had ignored one too many texts from his friends. Mercedes had started giving him that look she reserved for the weekly ‘Rachel Berry gets a solo’ meetings. But what could he do besides promise her a rain check? He still called her every night; he knew what was going on in her life and was there when it mattered. He still cared. But getting off with another person was a too new and too exciting experience for him to pass up.
And besides, all the semi-sexual activity had helped him drop a pound and a half. Really, why everyone didn't have a fuck buddy was beyond him.
He was in the girls’ room after he opted for the quick make out session instead of American History. Brittany had simply re-tied her hair and skipped off with a wink and a wave. Kurt had to wash his face and get his hair back into place and redress himself to prevent unnecessary wrinkles and reapply some concealer that he would never admit to wearing. Not to mention waiting for his pants to stop being uncomfortably tight. So he was still there when Santana burst into the room. Literally, burst, door swinging back violently and hitting the wall. Her scowl was more sour than usual and her eyes narrowed to slits as she zeroed in on him. "Hey! George Michael! We need to talk."
"I think your insults need an update, sweetheart," Kurt said calmly, turning back to the mirror and quietly slipping the makeup sponge into his bag. He pet a stray hair back down. "That would have been lost on anyone under twenty eight, and they might as well be dead."
"Oh God, why do you have to talk?" She rolled her eyes and moved to stand beside him, leaning over the sink threateningly, forcing her way into his line of sight. "Just shut up and listen."
"Oh, joy," Kurt said flatly, taking a cautious step back. "It's like being in class only with a side order of bitch."
"Someone seriously needs to remind you you're not cute." She took a second to check her lip gloss in the mirror before standing and staring him down. "It's about Brittany."
Of course it was. People had taken notice of how much time they were suddenly spending together. Kurt had seen the looks, had suspected what those whispers behind his back were about. They had agreed to keep their little rendezvous quiet. Brittany didn't want people to think she was a slut - a bit late for that, really, but Kurt wasn't exactly ready to tell Mercedes yet, so he went along with it. But it wasn't like Brittany was known for being the sharpest bulb in the lamp. So poor her, spending all of her time with a boy who was so flaming her hair-spray should be catching fire. Poor Brittany, she was on the road to heartbreak. Poor Brittany, letting bitchy little Kurt Hummel lead her on like that.
He smirked at Santana, daring her to do her worst. Won't she be shocked to hear some of the things her best friend had kept from her?
Santana was not the type to be intimidated. She got right up in his face, her eyes deadly serious. "She and I have an understanding, but I'd hardy expect her to tell you about it. Just to make sure you're aware of a few things." she took a deep breath, waiting to make sure she had Kurt's full attention.
"You can kiss her. You can fuck her. You can dress up like a pony and have her stick a carrot up your ass. I don't give a shit. Just do not delude yourself into thinking she's your girlfriend." She spat the last word like it was some kind of slur, disgusting and meant to hurt.
Kurt blinked slowly, trying to process. This was not the conversation he was expecting to have. "I wasn't planning on it," he said automatically, hoping he didn't seem too fazed.
"Good," Santana said with a sweet little smile that fooled no one. "Just so we're clear."
She was strutting out the door when Kurt's brain finally caught up with things. He spun around to face her. "Wait. Brittany said she hasn't said anything to anyone. Including you. So how do you know?"
Santana stopped at the door, ready to swing it open, and rolled her eyes. "Please, like anyone would spend that much time with Brittany if there wasn't sex involved."
Kurt hated to admit how much sense that made. He frowned. "Why do you even care?"
"Like I said, we have an understanding." She took one last lingering look over him and snorted her disappointment. Then she was gone, the door swinging gently behind her.
Kurt turned to look at himself in the mirror, taking the time for some self reflection and a quick blackhead check. Here he was, thinking he was being so subtle with his deviance. Sure, Santana didn't know he didn't want this getting out, but it was still something she could hold over his head. He couldn't let Mercedes find out through the rumor mill instead of from him.
And what if they were being that obvious? Of course, Santana had years of experience with Brittany, but did everyone else think something was going on? Were those whispers not 'poor Brittany' but 'I thought he was supposed to be queer?' Was the first thought on everybody's minds 'of course they're having sex-'
"Like anybody would spend that much time with Brittany if there wasn't sex involved."
'- he's a desperate virgin and she's a slut-'
"Like I said, we have an understanding."
'- who do they think they're fooling?'
Kurt stopped and went back over things in his head. He watched his eyes widen in the mirror as an image started to form.
It was a very, very nice image.
His pants once again uncomfortably tight, Kurt dug through his bag for his cell phone. This definitely required further investigation. He quickly typed out a text as he locked himself in one of the stalls.
B - we need 2 talk
~*~
"- And I still haven't found my panties, even though Santana's car's pretty small and there are only two places they could be..."
It was after school, and they were lying on Kurt's bed. Brittany had moved on from inspecting his last manicure to playing with his fingers, stretching them apart and bending them into unnatural shapes. Kurt let her, too enthralled by the hour of storytelling he had just been gifted with.
"So, that's a yes then?"
Brittany looked up at him as adorably confused as ever. "What's a yes?"
Kurt had gotten used to Brittany's tendency to forget where tangents started and just smiled at her placatingly. "You are having sex with Santana."
Brittany smiled back and dropped his hand, lying back on the bed. "Oh. Yeah, we are. You don't mind, right?"
"Let me think about that for a second," Kurt said, threading his fingers behind his head. "I now have confirmation that two beautiful cheerleaders - one of whom I'm already fooling around with - do naughty things to each other on a regular basis." He pouted in mock contemplation. "No, I don't think I mind that at all."
Brittany gave a happy little sigh and rested her head on his shoulder. Kurt, with a head full of Brittany and Santana's Sexy Cheerio Adventures, would have liked nothing more than to pull her close and commence with more fooling around. But he knew this conversation wasn't over yet. It was time that Brittany and he came to their own understanding.
"I know this is a dumb question coming from me, but do you think you might be gay?"
Brittany giggled. "You're asking me that?"
"Humor me."
She was silent for a moment before he felt her shrug. "I just like sex. It doesn't really matter with who, so long as they're not super weird or, like that creepy afro kid or whatever. There are other people I have sex with, you know. Just not as a regular thing."
Kurt laughed for a moment, but he tried to stay focused. “Do you love Santana?"
She was quiet again, for longer this time. "She's my best friend," she said into his chest. "Of course I love her."
"That's not what I meant."
"Well, that's my answer."
Kurt's eyebrows went up. If he didn't know better, he'd think she had just given him some attitude. It was probably a sign that he should stop pushing this particular button, but he couldn't help himself. "Do you think that maybe Santana might...?"
Brittany sighed and shifted so she was sitting once more. "I know what you're getting at, but I just don't think you get it."
"Try me."
She blinked down at her feet, focusing on them as she chose her words. "Santana always says that until you're a sophomore in college, everything is kinda free for the taking. Or, trying, I guess. You're allowed to fool around with people and do whatever and if you try to have something serious, you're just fooling yourself and going to get hurt."
"And all those couples who met in high school?" Kurt asked. He was intrigued by the idea, but he was more intrigued by how well Brittany understood it.
She just rolled her eyes at him. "Okay, it doesn't work that way for everyone, but think of everything they missed out on! It's way too boring to just let yourself be tied down like that."
Interesting. "And you're not worried about what sex with so many other people will do to you?"
"Oh please," she said, kneeling up to face him. "Quinn yelled at us to be in her stupid 'No Sex No Life' club, but we know what condoms are. We're careful. We know what we're doing."
It wasn't quite what he meant, but he didn't expect anything less from Brittany. He gave her a look that made her snort in laughter and move to straddle his waist. "I know most people would think I'm a crazy slut or something, but it works for me. It makes me happy. Because I like sex. I like sex with Santana as much as I like being her B-F-F. I like sex with the guys on the football team that don't talk about me behind my back. And I'm pretty sure I'll like sex with you." She smiled her wicked smile as she leaned down close. "If you're interested?"
Damn her, she knew what that smile did to him. He moved his hips slightly beneath her. "Do you think I'm interested?"
She kissed him, mouth open and tongue hot against his lower lip. His hands drifted down to that wonderful area where her skirt met her upper thighs. He let his thumb drift up to meet her spanks - probably the least sexy piece of clothing in the world if he didn't know that she didn't wear anything underneath.
Brittany hummed her approval into his mouth as she sat up on top of him. He helped her pull the tight uniform top up over her head. He expertly removed her bra - years of working with eyelets of his own had had their uses. He cupped her breasts, thumbing her nipples to hard little points and making her giggle.
He traced down her spine as she leaned over him, her chest teasingly close to his face. She slapped his hands playfully when he tried to hook his thumbs under the band of her skirt. "We leave that on."
"Kinky," Kurt murmured, tongue darting out of his mouth to touch the skin in front of him.
Brittany shivered. "Santana likes it when I leave the skirt on."
He could see it so clearly in his mind's eye. Brittany straddling a pair of smooth, tanned thighs. Long, polished nails reaching up to tug at blonde curls. Streaks of lip gloss shining along Brittany's neck and breasts. Even when her hand wormed its way past Kurt's zipper to close around him, he could see her fingers slipping up past folds of skirt and panties to -
"Kurt? You have double A's, right? The remote-"
They broke apart to stare at the stairs where his father stood, wide eyed and speechless. Kurt was acutely aware of Brittany's hand still down the front of his pants. And she was topless, with her skirt pushed up and her spanks pulled down. But she was frozen on top of him, looking every bit as shocked as his father. "Brittany," Kurt hissed, jabbing her in the side to try and bring her out of her stupor. "You might want to cover up?"
She looked down at him, and he watched her face slowly turn bright red. And then she shrieked, high and loud. She made a frantic grab for her clothes, nearly falling off of the bed in her desperation. Tripping over her own feet, she raced past his father and up the stairs, clutching her Cheerio top to her chest. Kurt hoped she at least clothed herself before she ran outside. She didn't have her car with her, and the neighbors didn't need to see her like that.
"Dad," Kurt said breathlessly. He sat up and tried to straighten out his hair. Like this kind of thing was normal and not completely mortifying. "I didn't think you'd be home this early."
"There's a Top Gear marathon." His father looked away and swallowed. "You... er, your zipper..."
Kurt's face felt like it was on fire. He hurriedly tucked himself away and zipped up. He cleared his throat. He smiled. "Bet you weren't expecting that when you got home."
His dad just stared at him. Kurt couldn't quite read his expression, and it worried him. He forced his smile wider. "I think this is the part where you lecture me on having girls over when you're not around."
"Is it?" He sighed, rubbed a hand over his face, and sat heavily at the end of his son's bed. Kurt was at a complete loss for words, for what to do. He calmly folded his legs in front of himself and waited.
"You know I love you, right?" his father said after an achingly long pause. He finally turned to face his son. "Not matter what you do, right?"
"Of course, Dad," Kurt said quietly, hoping his lack of confidence in those words didn't shine through.
"And you know that if you're happy, I'm... All that matters is that you find someone to love you for who are you, even when you don't think you deserve it-"
"Like how mom still loved you when you stopped being a football star. I know, Dad. You don't need to worry about me."
"Don't I?" His father sighed again. His shoulders squared and he sat up straight, and Kurt worried that he knew exactly what he was bracing himself for. "I don't want you to think you have to force yourself to be someone you're not just to make me - just to make anyone love you. It's not fair to you or to that girl or to... y'know, to that... that guy you could be-"
"Oh God, Dad. Please stop." So many years, so much planning for how to avoid this conversation, wasted. Kurt hadn't thought he could have been more embarrassed than he had been two minutes ago, but here was his father, proving him wrong.
His dad's eyes narrowed slightly, but he soldiered on. "Listen, I know I may not seem like it, but I'm a pretty cool guy. And you being... you know, yourself, well, it's not exactly what I had planned for but I know it's not something you can change exactly, so it's not like I can complain..."
"Dad. Stop talking. I am not gay."
His father paused to take in his son, flushed and shaking, before opening his mouth to start once again. And something in Kurt snapped, and suddenly everything he had kept bottled in for the past ten years was pouring out of him.
"I know I'm not the son you've always wanted. I've never wanted to toss a ball around because my new jeans might get dirty, I will always and forever refuse to go out and kill things for fun and the only reason I have ever set foot in that garage is because you threatened to cut me off and my wardrobe can't buy itself every season. But that's just who I am. I like spending hours picked out what I'm going to wear tomorrow and singing the female parts of show tunes and curling up with junk food every week to watch Ugly Betty. And believe it or not, I like girls. And I like myself that way. And I'd really like it if more people just got over it and accepted me."
His father just stared at him. Of all that things he had prepared himself for, he had clearly not been expecting that to come out of his son. But as terrible as he felt, Kurt could still feel the weight of a thousand little quirks lift from his shoulders. Maybe he should have done this a long time ago.
It took a few minutes for his father to find his voice again. "So... not gay, then?"
Of course. Kurt rolled his eyes. "I might give it a whirl in college but for now... No. Not gay."
His father laughed uncomfortably as he got up from the bed. "I really don't need to worry about you half as much as I do, do I?" He reached out and put a hand on Kurt's shoulder. "And for what it's worth, there is not a kid in the universe that I would rather have as my son."
Kurt knew that. Of course he knew that, how could he not? But it was such a relief to hear it out loud that he didn't stop himself from throwing his arms around his dad. And he hugged back just as hard, like he hadn't done since he was still a kid.
On his way upstairs, his father paused and turned back. "What you said about college..."
"I was joking, Dad," Kurt said, because it wasn't like he was ever going to tell him about stuff like that when it happened.
"Okay, okay," he said, nodding along in an effort to appear nonchalant. "Just making sure you're sure."
Kurt sighed but smiled, for real this time. "Yes, Dad. I'm sure."
~*~
"I still don't get it. Does it have to be a love song?"
Kurt fought the urge to sigh as he dragged one of the stools across the stage. As much as he liked Finn, sometimes it was far too tempting to ask him to please shut up.
"It's like porn," he said after a moment to think. "You know it when you hear it, if you will."
At the mention of porn, Finn's back had gone ramrod straight. He was watching Kurt with the carefully guarded look he always had when they were alone. Or standing too close together. Or made any kind of eye contact. It was more than a little annoying, though, like everyone else, he had refused to believe any of Kurt's assertions regarding his sexuality. But at least he wasn't being an asshole about it. Like a certain entire school Kurt could think of off the top of the head.
"This is just really weird. Singing stuff like that to a guy, I mean," Finn said for what felt like the thousandth time.
"Tell me about it," Kurt mumbled to himself.
There was a hand on his shoulder. "Hey Kurt. Hey Finn."
Kurt turned his head to face Brittany, eyebrows raised. "Hello there, Miss Britt. When did you learn to sneak up on people?"
"From avoiding your dad. He scares me. It’ll be super awkward when I see him again." She shrugged, and her lips twitched, and Kurt was helpless to do anything but smile back.
"Anyway, Santana and I have practice and then we're going to practice and then probably 'practice' so I can't do anything tonight." She bumped his shoulder gently with her own. Her hand had dropped beside his and even that small contact was sending electricity through his body.
Damn, it felt good to be having sex.
"That's fine, I suppose," he said with mock annoyance and bumped her back.
"It better be, loser," she said, her voice brimming with affection. The girl had strange ideas when it came to terms of endearment, but Kurt had gotten used to it quickly enough.
They kissed each other on both cheeks before she headed towards the stage door. "You'll tell me all about it during Project Runway?"
Brittany spun around, taking a few steps backwards as she answered. "You know it. Bye Finn." She smiled brightly at him as she twirled to face the door. Her skirt flared around her, and Kurt watched the hem settle high on the back of her thighs. He watched it until she was out the door and out of sight.
He turned back to find Finn staring at him. Kurt could see the gears trying to turn, could see the poor boy struggling to touch the conclusion that was just out of reach. Trying desperately to find some way to ask the obvious question without being outrageously offensive.
Kurt looked back towards where his Cheerio had disappeared. "Yes," he said with a small smile. "I am hitting that."
Finn's eyes bulged as he dropped heavily onto his stool. "Oh," he said, cheeks tinting a little in embarrassment. "I thought-"
"I know what you thought," Kurt interrupted, waving his hand in dismissal. "I know what everyone thinks, but that doesn't mean they're right. Now," he said as he slid onto his own stool, back straight, leaning forward intently. "Sing to me. Everything you feel."
TBC
Part 3