#kurtbastian fic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thnxforknowingme · 2 years

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A Matter of Distance

Pairing: Kurtbastian Rating: M Word Count: ~10k

Summary: Sebastian and Kurt live in different cities, leading their own lives, only crossing paths when Sebastian visits New York and they hook up. It’s fun and easy, the way they slip into each other’s lives as long-distance friends with benefits, but things get a little more complicated over the years.

Notes: Countless thanks to @backslashdelta for betaing - her encouragement and critical eye were crucial to making this fic as good as it is.

Sebastian’s applying to another job while at work.

There’s little chance of him getting caught, with his private office and computer screen facing away from any potential visitors, but he doesn’t care that much anyway. Actually, if he did get caught, maybe his supervisor would panic and they’d offer him a raise.

He spins his pen between his fingers as he proofreads the email before sending it off. The salary for the position is higher than what he earns currently, but probably not proportional to how much his cost of living would go up if he moved.

He closes the tab and tries to focus on his current job, instead of hedging his bets on the future.

He misses New York, that’s all. It was nice to be in a bigger city, the center of the world. He’s grown bored of Providence lately - of his apartment, his job, the nightlife, the men - and New York might bring some needed excitement into his life. Plus, a lot of his college friends are still there.

He has plenty of good reasons to move back to New York. But he knows what the biggest reason is, and he steadfastly refuses to admit it to himself.

Eight Years Ago

“Out! With! A! Bang!” The crowd shouts together, and on the last syllable Devin opens a bottle of champagne with explosive force, the cork soaring into the night sky.

Sebastian’s laughing as someone thumps him on the back, and then Devin passes him a plastic champagne flute, the outside already sticky with spilled alcohol. He holds it up gamely, reviving the cheers of the partygoers, and then takes a long sip of the bubbly liquid.

It’s all that he could have asked for from a going-away party and more.

They’re at a rooftop bar, rented out for the evening, crowded full to burst with grad students, clubbing friends, lacrosse teammates, and random people who were dragged along or just wanted to crash a party. The night tastes like expensive alcohol and possibility. It’s everything Sebastian has loved about the city, here for one last encore before he moves away.

His closest friends from the MBA program he just finished had presented him with his outfit for the evening - one of those ubiquitous “I ♥ NY” shirts, but with the sleeves cut off to create a loose bro tank. His neighbor brought him a plastic golden crown, which is perched crookedly on his head.

Once several bottles of champagne have been poured and dispersed, the music volume increases, and Sebastian wanders around the bar, trying to split his attention between everyone. Drinks are constantly being pressed into his hand, and he’s well past tipsy by the time he notices Kurt.

Kurt…something with an H. He’s a friend of Maxie’s. Or maybe Maxie had dated him, or maybe Maxie had fucked his roommate. Kurt-H-Something-Who-Somehow-Knew-Maxie had been hanging around in their orbit for several weeks, joining Sebastian’s motley crew of friends at various bars and parties. He works in theater, somehow. A few times there have been various other alt-looking theater nerds tagging along with him.

Sebastian had been drawn to Kurt immediately because he was so unlike the finance bros he spent most of his time with. He’s intriguing, and although he isn’t Sebastian’s type he can’t deny that Kurt’s got a nice body. A shiny, new opportunity for entertainment.

Tonight he’s leaning against a railing, holding a cocktail, talking with Maxie and some woman Sebastian doesn’t recognize. Sebastian adjusts the crown on his head and walks over.

He lets them all fawn over him for a moment, wishing him goodbye and good luck and complimenting the party. Then the song booming through the sound system changes, and Sebastian makes some enthusiastic comment about how much he likes it. He moves into Kurt’s personal space so that he can swipe the glass from his hand and down the last sip of liquid inside. “Dance with me?” he asks, meeting Kurt’s gaze boldly.

If he weren’t drunk already he might have opted for a more subtle approach. But he’s leaving New York in 36 hours, and he’s decidedly unsober.

Kurt rolls his eyes, but lets himself be pulled into the center of the roof, already crowded with uncoordinated dancers.

Sebastian doesn’t know the name of the song that’s playing, but he’s heard it on the radio, danced to it in clubs. He feels the bassline buzz through his veins as he pulls Kurt close, moving his hips in time to the beat. He dares to rest his hands on Kurt’s waist, and Kurt responds by running a hand down Sebastian’s bare bicep.

“This is a ridiculous shirt,” Kurt says, leaning in close to be heard, breath warm against Sebastian’s cheek.

“That’s sort of the point,” Sebastian replies. “And I don’t think you’re one to call other people’s clothing ridiculous.”

Kurt laughs, and Sebastian feels it more than hears it. “I may make some bold choices, but this is just trashy.” Even as he complains about it, he continues to drag his finger along the edge of the shirt, down the side of Sebastian’s pec to his ribs where the fabric is cut open.

“If it’s so offensive to you,” Sebastian says, meeting Kurt’s gaze with a grin, “I could just take it off.”

Kurt’s pupils are wide, inky black, mesmerizing. “Now, there’s an idea.”

Sebastian is just leaning in, brushing his nose against Kurt’s cheekbone, when suddenly a large hand claps on his shoulder and he’s startled backwards.

“There he is!” It’s Devin, shouting, all affable bravado. “Come on, Seb, we’ve been looking for the guest of honor!”

Kurt’s hand falls away from his side as Devin wraps an arm around him and starts to pull him away. “Man, quit it,” Sebastian tries to object.

“Oh, no sir, it’s too early in the night for a hookup,” Devin insists. “We’re doing body shots. Everyone gets a piece of you tonight, man.”

Devin’s grip is iron. Sebastian turns back to Kurt and shrugs, helpless. “Can we take a raincheck?” he asks.

Kurt laughs, throwing his head back so that the light hits his sharp jawline and pale neck. “Sure,” he agrees, waving Sebastian off. Sebastian grins widely, and lets Devin pull him towards the bar, which has been completely cleared off for him to lie down on.

He climbs up at his friends’ insistence, and does end up taking off the shirt, just like he promised Kurt.

Kurt is at a copy shop, waiting for the remaining programs for the theater’s upcoming show to print out, when he gets a text. He pulls out his phone, hoping desperately that it’s not a last-minute change to the programs that will require him to reprint them all, and is surprised to see that it’s from Sebastian Smythe.

Hey I’m gonna be back in nyc for a bit next week, you wanna catch up? grab a drink?

Kurt blinks down at his phone screen. He hasn’t spoken to Sebastian since he moved to Providence last summer sometime - maybe five months ago? And it wasn’t like they had talked much before that, either. Kurt doesn’t expect to be anywhere near the top of his list of people to visit in New York.

He remembers the last time he saw Sebastian, at his extravagant goodbye party, where they’d had…some kind of moment. Something flirty and fun. He isn’t sure how seriously it was all meant - Sebastian seemed to act that way with most men at some point or another, and they’d both been a little drunk. Is this a veiled invitation for a hookup? Or does Sebastian actually want to be friends? And does Kurt care either way?

The constant whir of the printer finally stops, the massive stack of pages ready for Kurt to take, collate, and fold. He considers Sebastian’s message. He’s curious, more than anything, when he texts back, Yeah that sounds great! Tuesday night?

Tuesday finds Kurt tucked into the corner of a cozy bar, laughing uncontrollably as Sebastian tells a story about accidentally trying to break into a neighbor’s apartment when he first moved to Providence.

“So it’s late and I’m pissed and the property manager isn’t picking up,” Sebastian says, using the hand that isn’t holding his Jack and Coke to gesture, “and I’m googling locksmiths on my phone when this woman comes up and asks if she can help me.”

“No!” Kurt gasps, leaning his weight further onto his elbows on the table.

“Yep. So I explain the whole situation, with a pretty rude tone I might add, and she just goes, ‘well the reason your key doesn’t work is that this is my apartment.’”

Kurt covers his face, stifling another laugh.

Sebastian takes a slow sip of his drink. “Yeah, luckily she was surprisingly cool about the whole thing, and gave me directions to get back to my actual apartment.”

Kurt sighs, wipes a tear from the corner of his eye.

It’s the longest conversation he’s ever had with Sebastian, and he’s surprised at just how easy it is. In their acquaintanceship before they were usually only together in large groups, at loud bars, and while he’d grown fond of Sebastian despite his more off-putting qualities, he’s not even sure he would have called him a friend.

So tonight has turned out to be a surprise. Kurt had figured he’d stay for an hour or two and then have an early night in, but by the time he checks his phone it’s already 11:30, and there’s not a single cell in his body that wants to leave.

They stay until after last call, when the bartender starts turning up the music and sending them pointed glances. They gather up their coats to leave, and when they step outside it’s fucking freezing.

“My hotel’s nearby,” Sebastian says, his breath solidifying in the night air. “You wanna go warm up there?”

Kurt isn’t sure how genuinely the innuendo is meant, but he decides he’s fine either way. “Yeah, let’s go.”

They’re quieter as they walk - they still make idle comments about their surroundings, but it isn’t the nonstop conversation that defined the rest of their evening. Kurt wonders at the sudden lull - is it awkward, now that they’re going back to Sebastian’s hotel? He wants to say something to lighten the mood, but he can’t think of anything to talk about. Blurting out something random seems like it would only further compound the awkwardness. He doesn’t want Sebastian to think that he might feel awkward. He remains quiet as they make their way to the hotel and step inside the well-lit lobby.

“Just to warn you,” Sebastian says as he presses the button to call the elevator, “since this is a hotel in Manhattan, it’s just barely more space than one of those Japanese capsule hotels.”

Kurt laughs. “So just a step below my apartment, then.”

The elevator doors slide open. Sebastian shrugs. “I’ve never been to your apartment, but you do sort of strike me as the starving artist type.”

“I think I resent that,” Kurt says as they rise upward through the floors. “Even if it is accurate, for now.”

“For now?” Sebastian challenges.

“That’s right,” Kurt says. They step out on the twelfth floor, and he follows Sebastian down the narrow hallway. “Someday I’ll be rich and famous. You’ll get to say you knew me back when.”

“And how does your neck manage to hold up such a massive head?” Sebastian jokes. He pauses in front of a room, uses a key card to open the door, and gestures for Kurt to enter.

Kurt steps inside and flicks on the light. Sebastian had hardly exaggerated - the decor is nice, but the room takes up the approximate space of a suburban walk-in closet. There’s a queen bed, a small nightstand, an armoire, and a mini fridge with a microwave stacked on top. A TV is mounted to the wall. The door to Kurt’s left is ajar, revealing the bathroom.

Sebastian shuts the door behind them. There’s hardly enough room for them both to stand without touching. This isn’t a social call, a nightcap in a common area where conversation or entertainment is reasonable. It’s a hotel room. There’s only one reason for Kurt to have come here.

“Do you remember the last time I saw you?” Sebastian asks, his voice low.

Kurt turns around to face him. “Do you?” Kurt says. “You were already pretty drunk.”

Sebastian smiles. “Parts of that night are hazy,” he admits. “But you’re hard to forget.”

Kurt rolls his eyes at the line. “Shut up, Smythe,” he says. “You want to finish what we started?”

“God, yes,” Sebastian says, and then he’s closing the scant space between them, reaching up to cup Kurt’s jaw and pull him in hard against his lips.

It’s almost annoying that Sebastian turns out to be a really good lay.

Kurt leaves very early the next morning, since Sebastian has work meetings and Kurt doesn’t want to linger. They say goodbye through yawns, and Kurt walk-of-shames to the subway so he can get back to his apartment, shower, and then fall asleep for a few hours before he has to be at the theater.

He doesn’t think much about Sebastian after that, except when he tells friends about this wild thing that happened - a former acquaintance from out of town showing up and giving him an incredible night out of the blue.

And then, two weeks later, he gets another text: Ran into the woman whose place I almost burgled. She invited me to dinner. Extremely hospitable, or going to murder me in revenge?

Kurt snorts as he reads it, then slaps his hand over his mouth in response to the undignified noise. He replies, If she really wanted to murder you, she would have already done it.

So it becomes a pattern. Kurt doesn’t talk to Sebastian often, but they occasionally exchange texts, references to their few shared experiences or idle banter. Their conversations have little substance, but they’re fun in a way that Kurt doesn’t feel when talking to anyone else. They lead their separate lives in separate cities, but every once in a while they joke and tease back and forth through texts.

Shortly before Memorial Day, Sebastian mentions that he’ll be in the city again for a friend’s birthday. You free to hang out?

Kurt vibrates with anticipation, but forces himself to wait twenty minutes before replying. He doesn’t want to seem too eager and make things weird. Definitely ;)

Sebastian’s never had a friendship quite like this.

Sure, there are people he’s befriended and eventually hooked up with, or guys whose status in his life hovered somewhere between ‘friend’ and ‘booty call.’ But there was no one else who, after sex, he would hang around with in their apartment eating takeout.

“It’s literally just disrespectful,” Kurt says, gesturing sharply with his disposable chopsticks.

Sebastian swallows a piece of sweet and sour pork and says, “I don’t see why this is a big deal.”

He’s sitting on Kurt’s couch, wearing only boxers - Kurt had forbidden him from being naked while they ate - and Kurt’s complaining about some drama at the theater where he works. He looks rumpled and cozy - his hair still a little unruly from their late afternoon tryst, wearing the sweats and undershirt that he’d thrown on to meet the delivery guy downstairs.

Kurt rolls his eyes. “I think you either need to learn something about theater, or I need to stop talking to you about these things, because your ignorance feels a little offensive at this point.”

Sebastian grins. “I don’t ask you to learn about finance.”

“No,” Kurt agrees flatly, “because your job is boring, and I can still understand office politics without having to know exactly what you’re typing into your little spreadsheets.”

Sebastian snorts. “It’s a shame that you’re too clueless to even understand how clueless you are.”

The give and take is easy, second nature, and Sebastian feels like for the first time, he’s found a sharp-tongued equal. Kurt doesn’t even take time to be offended at a barb before he’s launching his own. It’s like a game of chess. Or really good foreplay.

He needs to get back to his hotel room eventually, because he does have places to be early the next morning. But he has no more plans for tonight, and he’s hopeful that Kurt will be up for a second round. Even if all they do is eat Chinese food and bitch back and forth at each other, the evening will still be pretty enjoyable.

Kurt steps into his apartment, tosses his keys into the basket by the door, and lets out a long sigh.

He’s just so tired of this - of false starts and mismatches, of promise and excitement that shrivels up, of break-ups and bad dates. Romantic as he is, he’s never managed to hold onto a serious, adult relationship for long. Even the guys that there’s a spark with, the ones who seem to have potential - something always goes wrong. Their goals don’t match up, or they move out of town, or there’s some unbearable habit of theirs that eventually shows through the cracks.

The date Kurt had tonight, though - it was just bad. No potential whatsoever.

He walks into the kitchen and pauses, glancing between the liquor shelf and the freezer. He decides he really doesn’t want to risk a hangover the next day, and opts for the ice cream.

With a carton of cookies and cream and a single spoon, Kurt turns the TV to a One Tree Hill rerun and luxuriates in his patheticness. The show isn’t sufficiently distracting, so he picks up his phone to scroll through Twitter. Seeing his message app when he unlocks the phone, he has the sudden urge to talk to someone. He thinks about texting Sebastian.

Sebastian might get a kick out of his dating woes. Or maybe they could just chat idly, cheering Kurt up through their typical fond banter, talking about nothing really but in the most entertaining way. Maybe he could say something flirty, bait Sebastian into complimenting him. They’ve never sexted, but Kurt bets that Sebastian would be into that.

The moment he thinks of it, it becomes so deeply tempting. He knows that no matter what they talk about, just exchanging a few texts with Sebastian will make him feel better. His thumb hovers over the app.

He glances at the time. It’s 10pm on a Friday. Sebastian is probably busy, out on the town or going on a date of his own. Or maybe he’s already in bed - he does work a lot, after all.

Kurt tosses his phone onto the couch and reaches for another spoonful of ice cream. It was a bad idea, anyway. The instinct to reach out to Sebastian when he’s having romantic issues seems like a dangerous precedent. Sebastian’s attention is welcomed, but it’s not the same as a boyfriend. Kurt shouldn’t try to use it as a replacement.

He has sugar and soapy television. He’s gotten through worse nights than this before - he can weather this alone.

Sebastian hears the shower shut off as he opens cabinets in the kitchen, searching for a glass. He finally finds one, fills it with water from the sink, and leans back against the counter.

He generally prefers to bring hookups back to his place, but this guy lived just two blocks from the bar where they met, and it seemed impractical to turn down his invitation. He observes the room around him as he sips his water, noting the crumbs surrounding the toaster, the mail splayed across the dining table. Providence is a small city, and unlike Manhattan, even the cheaper apartments tend to have a liveble amount of space.

The guy - Brennan, Sebastian thinks his name was - walks into the kitchen with a green towel wrapped around his waist. He jerks his chin upward in greeting. “You good?”

Outside of the dim light of the bar, his face is decidedly less handsome than Sebastian initially thought. It doesn’t matter, though - the sex was still pretty good, and they hadn’t been facing each other for most of it anyway. “Yeah,” Sebastian replies. “I’ll head out in a minute.”

Brennan grunts in acknowledgement, and then walks back towards the bedroom. Sometimes guys here will inquire whether he’s sober enough to drive at the end of the night, but Brennan doesn’t bother. Sebastian almost appreciates it - he’s a grown up, he’s responsible, he can get a cab if he needs to without someone nagging him.

Sebastian finishes the water and sets the empty glass by the sink. He double-checks his pockets for his keys, wallet, phone. He wonders if he should say anything, let Brennan know he’s leaving.

Sebastian doesn’t go home with random men to cuddle - he’s looking for a quick, good time, a shot of pleasure to keep him going through the mundanities of life. There’s always a strange sort of dichotomy at play, being let into someone’s home or taking someone into yours, getting them completely physically vulnerable, and then disappearing into the night to never see them again. It’s somehow the deepest of intimacy without any commitment whatsoever, a complete ‘fuck you’ to the general societal expectations.

Brennan had barely caught his breath after orgasm before he was climbing out of bed, away from Sebastian. Sebastian leaves the apartment without a word.

Sebastian got upgraded to a suite for his stay in New York this time, so he and Kurt have significantly more space than usual in which to fool around. They do spend a while on the couch when they first arrive, Sebastian straddling Kurt and exploring every inch of his neck and collarbones and shoulders with his mouth. Once they start fully undressing, though, Kurt insists they move to the bed. It’s a cleanliness thing, he says.

“I really wanted to bend you over that desk by the window, though,�� Sebastian complains.

“That sounds extremely uncomfortable,” Kurt says as he undoes his pants. “You’re gonna fuck me on the bed, where there’s pillows and newly-washed sheets.”

And who is Sebastian to say no?

After they’ve cleaned up and gotten dressed, and then lounged around a while longer, Kurt insists he needs to go home. “I’ll walk you to the subway,” Sebastian says, jamming his feet into his shoes.

It’s a block and a half to the station, but they’re long blocks, avenue blocks. It’s not too late, so they frequently pass other people on the street. Kurt mentions how he enjoys taking the J train at night, getting to see Manhattan all lit up as he goes over the bridge, and then they devolve into telling subway horror stories.

It’s odd, Sebastian thinks - when he’s not in New York, it feels like having lived in New York is such a big part of him. But then he comes back to the city every once in a while and he’s surrounded by lifelong New Yorkers, or even transplants like Kurt who have lived here for longer than Sebastian’s handful of years, and it feels a bit foolish to claim New York as part of his identity. He gave up subway rides and late-night bodega trips, and the city moves on without him, unaffected by his absence. He was little more than a long-term tourist.

They reach the subway entrance and pause on the sidewalk to say goodbye. Sebastian leans in to hug Kurt, and - to his surprise, feels Kurt’s lips brush against his face, somewhere between his cheek and chin.

They separate, both a little startled. “Did you kiss me?” Sebastian asks.

“You leaned in!” Kurt insists, defensive.

“I was leaning in to hug you,” Sebastian explains.

“Your face was way too close to my face for that just to be a hug!”

Sebastian laughs and runs a hand through his hair. “Well, we really fucked that up.”

“I was confused,” Kurt says, his expression somewhere between embarrassed and annoyed. “You’ve never kissed me in public before, but I figured I’d go along with it, so I didn’t hurt your feelings.”

Sebastian scoffs. “Well, you misinterpreted the whole situation,” he says. “And now it’s super awkward. I guess we have to never speak to each other again.”

That gets Kurt to smile. “I guess so. Well, it’s been nice knowing you, Smythe.”

“Likewise,” Sebastian replies. “Have a nice life.”

Kurt rolls his eyes and turns around, heading down the steps into the train station. Sebastian watches him go, sees him turn the corner and disappear into the underground.

He waits until he’s back in his hotel room to text Kurt. Look, I’ll forgive you. I know I’m just unbearably kissable. It’s been a problem for other people before.

Kurt’s reply is quick - his train must currently be above ground. Fuck you.

I’d love that, Sebastian texts back. How about some reciprocity though? You should visit Providence some time.

I don’t know what you think my life is like, Kurt answers, but I’m not so desperate for sex that I need to leave the state for it.

You seemed pretty desperate to kiss me, though, Sebastian sends.

That’s been replaced solely by the desire to punch you, Kurt says, and Sebastian laughs.

The night starts off well when Kurt’s date compliments his shoes, and it only gets better from there.

Carter is handsome and gentlemanly, and they go out to dinner at a vegan restaurant on the Upper West Side. The food is delicious, and Kurt snaps a photo of the menu so he can try and recreate some of the dishes at home.

The conversation flows between them, discussing work and family and hobbies. There’s some of that first-date uncertainty at times, pauses when the conversation fizzles out - but it always manages to pick up again, and they both seem to be genuinely enjoying themselves.

After Carter gets the check (insisting that Kurt can pay next time), they decide to find somewhere to get a drink and prolong the evening.

While they’re on the street, walking close down the sidewalk, Kurt feels his phone buzz with a text. He takes it out briefly, just to check that it’s nothing urgent. There’s a new message from Sebastian: I watched that stupid reality show you recommended and I hate it but I’m obsessed.

Kurt knows immediately what he’s referring to - a show that’s equally trashy, sexy, and addicting. He’d brought it up a couple weeks back, when Sebastian had been in town and they’d spent a late night at Kurt’s apartment, watching TV in between rounds of sex. Sebastian had made fun of Kurt’s guilty pleasure shows, and Kurt challenged him to watch his most recent obsession.

A million questions spring to his mind - which contestant is Sebastian’s favorite? How far has he gotten into the show? Has he thrown anything at his TV yet?

But he can feel Carter’s warmth next to him, and he forces himself to put his phone back into his pocket. He’s on a date, and he’s not going to be rude - Sebastian can wait.

The neighborhood seems to be dominated by sports bars, so in avoiding that they end up in an Irish pub. It’s not a venue Kurt dislikes on principle, but he wouldn’t have chosen it for a date. They slide into a booth with their drinks and continue talking.

Kurt notices that Carter frequently sucks his tongue against his teeth before speaking, making a sort of clicking noise. It isn’t that obtrusive, but once he catches it he can’t stop paying attention, and it becomes a little grating.

Kurt can feel the weight of his phone in his pocket, and his fingers itch to take it out.

Carter tells a story about how his father initially wanted to name him Jebediah, after an ancestor, before his mother convinced him not to. It’s a funny story, but it makes Kurt think more about the name ‘Carter.’ Would being part of a couple called Kurt-and-Carter be a little too cutesy?

A group of older men at the bar are being loud, and Kurt keeps having to repeat his words to be heard over the din. He can’t stop thinking about the unanswered text.

They finish their beers and walk outside. “Sorry about that,” Carter says, nodding back at the pub. “Do you want to go somewhere else? Or come back to my place?”

Kurt inhales. “I appreciate the offer,” he says. “And I did have a lovely time tonight, but - I’m pretty tired. I think I need to head home.”

Carter nods, his mouth twisting slightly. “Of course,” he says. “I had a great time, too.”

He steps closer. Kurt shifts back slightly. Carter freezes. “Can I call you?” he asks.

“Definitely,” Kurt replies, forcing himself to smile. It’s been a nice date. Carter seems like a good guy. He should be happy that he wants a second date, but everything has just felt off since they left the restaurant.

“Good,” Carter says gently. “Then I’ll call you. Goodnight, Kurt.”

“Goodnight,” Kurt replies, and then turns to walk to the south. He doesn’t look back to check if Carter is watching him, or if he’s turned the other direction.

Once he’s on the subway platform, waiting for his train, he pulls out his phone. Rereading Sebastian’s text, he grins, giddiness filling his chest. Who do you like best, and why is it Amara? he texts back.

He taps his fingers on the side of his phone and waits for a response. He looks forward to getting back to his apartment, to his bed. He wonders if Sebastian will reply soon, or if he’s busy with other plans tonight.

He glances down the subway tunnel and considers what he’s going to do about Carter. He feels a little bad about ditching him. Carter hadn’t done anything wrong, but if Kurt had spent half the night more occupied with answering a text about reality TV than the conversation they were having, maybe that was a sign it wasn’t meant to be.

His phone vibrates. Amara’s incredible, but JASON? That man is insane and I love his every action.

Kurt rolls his eyes, already tapping out a reply.

They’re sitting on a bench in Washington Square, and their knees are a hair’s breadth apart. Kurt’s telling a story about his job, about someone who was incompetent so Kurt had to step in and save the day, and Sebastian’s trying to listen, he is. Kurt is one of the few people that Sebastian knows who can really tell a good story - even the most mundane life events come alive in his words, the stakes always high, the twists always shocking.

But it’s hard to focus on the details of the story when Kurt is sitting so close, when his elbow is propped casually atop the back of the bench, his hand nearly brushing Sebastian’s shoulder as he gestures.

Sebastian wonders about the bounds of acceptable PDA in a friends with benefits situation. In a private space - within the confines of a hotel room, or Kurt’s apartment - it would be perfectly normal for him to rest a hand on Kurt’s thigh, or lean in against his body. Grabbing his hand and squeezing it, even bringing it to his lips, would be a routine gesture.

He’s seen Kurt naked dozens of times, done absolutely filthy things with him - but it would be weird to express some form of physical affection here, right? There was a bizarre inversion of typical procedure; if he leaned in close and mouthed at Kurt’s ear, whispered some indecorous suggestion, that would be reasonable within the definition of their relationship. If he did something entirely chaste, however, like intertwine their fingers, that would be some sort of violation.

But it’s Kurt, and he’s not only unjustly attractive, he’s also - delightful. Sebastian loves being near him. They’re in the same physical space so infrequently, it seems a waste to not spend every second possible touching each other. He wants to press his knee to Kurt’s, or toy with his fingers. The urge to reach out is hard to suppress.

It would complicate things, though. It would bring into question what they’re doing, invite some deeply awkward conversation about what their relationship is. It’s all bullshit - the definitions of romance and partnership and friendship and sexuality are all made up, so it shouldn’t matter whether he acts on his instincts here. But he knows it will matter, and he doesn’t want to rock the boat.

He shifts slightly, nodding along to Kurt’s story, so there’s a little more distance between them. He’ll keep his hands to himself until they’re no longer in public, until he can chalk it up to being horny. Kurt rolls his eyes as he explains his coworker’s actions, and Sebastian grins.

Kurt enters the bar, his heart thrumming in his throat as he looks around for Sebastian.

Sebastian has visited New York two or three times a year since moving, and out of those many instances, Kurt can only remember three where they didn’t end up having sex – because Sebastian was too busy for them to meet up, or Kurt himself was out of town or in the middle of a show that took up all of his time and energy.

He spots Sebastian at a table, in the process of removing his suit jacket. He doesn’t have a drink yet – he must have arrived just moments before Kurt. Kurt steels himself, and walks towards Sebastian.

They always have sex when they can because, besides the obvious fact of their mutual attraction, they’re both always single when Sebastian’s in town. Kurt asked Sebastian about it once, when they were comfortably tangled in his bedsheets. “Do you ever date anyone? Like, monogamously?”

Sebastian had shrugged, the movements of his shoulders jostling Kurt slightly. “Not really. I mean, I’ve had a few guys who I’ve seen regularly, and it’s become kind of an ongoing thing. Not just for sex, but going on dates, too. One of them asked to be exclusive eventually, and I told him I just wasn’t interested in that, so he broke it off.”

“And you weren’t upset about that?” Kurt asked.

“I mean, I didn’t love it,” Sebastian replied. “I would’ve liked to keep hanging out with him. But he wanted more than what I could give.”

Kurt, on the other hand, craved romance, commitment, stability. It had just never worked out for him in the long term, leaving him perpetually available whenever Sebastian was in town.

Until now, that is.

Sebastian grins when he notices Kurt, and Kurt greets him with a sort of side-hug, the corner of the table awkwardly in between them. Kurt sits down, facing Sebastian - his face so familiar after so many years, even though he sees it infrequently. Kurt thinks he’s gotten a haircut recently. He looks good. He always looks good.

“I’ll get drinks,” Sebastian says, but Kurt reaches out and grabs his wrist before he can step away from the table.

“Uh, Seb, wait,” he says. “I need to tell you something first.”

Sebastian sits back down, raising an eyebrow. “Okay,” he replies slowly.

Kurt bites the inside of his lip. “I have a boyfriend,” he says.

“Oh,” Sebastian blinks. “Congrats.”

“Yeah,” Kurt says. “Uh, thanks.” He glances down at his hands. “I just - I wanted to tell you upfront, in case that…changes whether you want to hang out tonight.”

He and Tomas have been dating for a couple months, now. He hadn’t said anything about it to Sebastian, because their sporadic text conversations rarely delved into big-life-event territory, and he felt like bringing it up would make it into A Thing, which he didn’t want. But then Sebastian had a trip to New York, and when he asked to meet up Kurt didn’t want to text him sure we can get drinks but I can’t have sex with you anymore. So instead he’d held off until this moment to reveal the truth.

“Kurt,” Sebastian says, sounding a little amused. “Do you think I’m gonna ditch you tonight just because you have a boyfriend now?”

Kurt shrugs. “I just felt like you should…I don’t know, that you shouldn’t spend the night with certain expectations while I know the whole time that sex is off the table.”

“It’s always been off the table,” Sebastian says. “I know how you feel about hard surfaces.”

Kurt laughs, unexpectedly. The joke should probably feel like something off-limits now, but it doesn’t. It loosens the anxiety in his chest a little.

Sebastian looks at him intently. “Look, Kurt, I’m not gonna say I’m not a little disappointed that I can’t hook up with you tonight. But you’re still my friend, and I never get to see you, so obviously I’m not going to abandon you. Now, what do you want to drink? A G&T?”

Kurt exhales. “A martini.”

Sebastian groans as he stands and mutters, “God, how are we so old already?”

Kurt watches as he walks to the bar, smiling to himself. They’ve been doing this weird, long-distance friends with benefits thing for a long time now, and a part of him had worried that this is what would break it. He wouldn’t give up his relationship with Tomas for anything, but he’d been sad at the prospect of losing whatever he had with Sebastian.

Knowing that the friends part of their relationship outweighs the benefits part fills him with a relief he didn’t know to expect. But he’s happy, and Sebastian’s here, and they’ll still have a good night catching up even if it ends completely innocently.

When Sebastian returns, he sets Kurt’s drink down in front of him and settles into his own seat. “All right,” he says, after sipping at his scotch. “Tell me all about the man who finally tied Kurt Hummel down.”

Kurt laughs, joy spilling out of him, and he obliges.

Kurt is measuring out almond extract when he hears his phone begin to chime, signaling the end of a timer.

“Can you turn that off?” he asks Tomas, not wanting to lose his focus on the icing he’s making. “I need to check the cookies.”

“Yeah,” Tomas replies, setting down the book he’d been reading. He takes a few steps to pick up Kurt’s phone and stop the alarm. “You have a new text, too, from Sebastian.”

Kurt stutters in his movements, nearly knocking the whole bottle of extract into the bowl. He takes a quick breath, chastising himself for panicking. There is literally nothing to panic about.

“Okay, thanks,” he says. He finishes stirring the icing, checking its consistency and then scooping up a tiny bit to taste it - perfect.

“Who’s Sebastian, again?” Tomas asks. “Is he a college friend?”

There’s nothing accusatory in his tone, only genuine curiosity. That’s been the joy of getting to know each other over the past several months, discovering each other’s lives and pasts with delight. Kurt learned about the complex web of drama between Tomas’s mother and her sisters, knows the names of his best friends from high school, heard about the neighbor who used to babysit him and then, years later, offered to sell him weed. In turn, he’s regaled Tomas with glee club stories and NYADA absurdity, talked endlessly about his dad, described the most vulnerable and challenging moments of growing up in Lima. They love to learn new things about each other.

“No, I met him after college,” Kurt says, turning around to face his boyfriend. “Just through mutual friends in New York. He moved away, though, he’s in Rhode Island now.”

“Cool,” Tomas says. He’s wearing a very cozy-looking sweater, and Kurt has the urge to bundle him up in a hug, hold him close. “Do you need to take the cookies out?”

“Yes!” Kurt exclaims, turning towards the oven.

It’s half an hour later, when they’re settled on the couch eating a few of the cookies, that Kurt musters the courage to bring it up again. He doesn’t want to talk about it, but he knows he needs to be honest with Tomas, he wants to be honest. “So, you know Sebastian?”

Tomas smiles. “Very vaguely.”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “Yeah, um. I just wanted to tell you that, we are just friends, but we used to hook up sometimes, when he was in town.”

“Oh,” Tomas says, wiping a crumb from the corner of his mouth. “Okay.”

“It was totally casual, though,” Kurt insists. “When I saw him last I told him about you, so. He knows that’s over.”

Tomas blinks. “You’ve seen him recently?”

“A few weeks ago,” Kurt replies. Probably he should have told Tomas at the time, but seeing Sebastian in the first place had sort of blindsided him, and it just seemed simpler to deal with it on his own, to keep it all separate. “We don’t really talk that much. Like, the last time he texted me before I saw him,” he said, grabbing his phone and opening his messages to check, “was last August.” He turns the phone so Tomas can see the screen. He’s being transparent. In fact, he could let Tomas read his entire text history with Sebastian and it would probably be fine. Tomas might not even recognize the moments of flirtation between them - he communicates in such a different way. He’s so genuine and kind, he’d probably read Sebastian’s teasing and insults just as mean.

“Okay, okay,” Tomas says, pushing Kurt’s phone away from him. “It’s fine, hon. I appreciate you telling me. Seems like it’s not a big deal.”

“Yeah,” Kurt says with a shrug. “Exactly.”

And that isn’t a lie, but it also doesn’t feel quite like the truth.

The red glow of Sebastian’s alarm clock shows a time just past 1am when he’s woken by the persistent buzzing of his phone. He blearily picks it up off the nightstand, and sees the name emblazoned across the screen: Kurt Hummel.

“What the fuck?” he whispers to his empty room. He and Kurt have spoken on the phone only a handful of times, almost always when Sebastian was in New York and they were making logistical plans that were just easier to do over the phone than by text. They’ve never called one another out of the blue, and certainly not at one in the morning on a Tuesday. Or, Wednesday, now.

Baffled and mildly concerned, Sebastian answers the call. “Hello?”

“Sebastian?” It’s Kurt’s voice, but there’s something slippery about it.

“Yeah,” Sebastian confirms.

“Hey, you like my body, right?”

Sebastian rolls onto his back. His eyes have adjusted enough that he can make out his ceiling. “Your body is great, Kurt.” Is this an invitation for phone sex? Kurt has to be drunk, right? “Are you okay?”

“And you like having sex with me,” Kurt goes on, ignoring the question. “I’m good at sex, right?”

Sebastian scrubs a hand over his face. “Kurt.”

“Sebastian,” he whines back.

Sebastian takes a deep breath. “I wouldn’t have been hooking up with you every time I’m in New York for the past six years or whatever if you weren’t really fucking good in bed.”

There’s a little pride in Kurt’s voice when he responds. “Good. That’s what I thought.”

Sebastian is suddenly annoyed - he knows now that his workday is going to suck, because he’s fully awake, and all for what? Kurt Hummel needs a little midnight ego boost? “Why did you call, Kurt?”

There’s a pause, and what sounds like a shaky breath. “Tomas broke up with me.”

Sebastian freezes, his frustration immediately giving way to guilt. “Fuck. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” Kurt says softly. “Me too.”

Sebastian tries to remember how long they’d been together - a year, maybe? “Tonight?” Sebastian asks, surprised that Kurt would be so quick to tell him.

“No,” Kurt replies. “A week ago.”

He’s not accustomed to placating heartbroken people. “Well,” he manages. “Like I said, you’re a total sex god, so sounds like it’s his loss.”

Kurt laughs, and then sniffles. “I knew you’d be honest with me,” Kurt says, and something twists in Sebastian’s chest. “I just thought this was gonna be real. I thought it would last.”

“It did last,” Sebastian says softly. “For a while. Several thousand times longer than my most significant relationship.”

“Still not long enough, though.”

Sebastian doesn’t know what to say to that, and so it’s quiet for a bit. He can hear Kurt breathing over the line, and he wonders if Kurt can hear his own breaths. There’s something unbearably intimate about it.

“Were you asleep?” Kurt asks.

“Yes.”

“Were you dreaming?”

Sebastian closes his eyes. “I don’t remember.”

A beat. “I had a dream about you, the other night.”

He blinks, the ceiling above him the same as always. “You did?”

“Yeah,” Kurt replies, and his voice seems stronger now. “We were at Grand Central. Well - other people were there, too, and you weren’t there the whole time. I think you had a train to catch.”

“That sounds like me.”

Kurt snorts. “Yeah, it does.”

They keep talking about dreams - their recurring nightmares, their most elaborate dreams, their best sex dreams. Sebastian stays on the line until Kurt starts yawning, and finally says he needs to go to sleep.

“Thank you,” he says. “You shouldn’t have picked up.”

“I’m glad I did,” Sebastian replies, and he means it.

They meet in a coffee shop. It’s cramped, bustling, loud - it’s an evening in Manhattan. The table they sit at is so small that Sebastian keeps accidentally brushing against Kurt’s leg. It starts accidentally, at least.

Kurt looks good. He’s animated as they discuss their jobs, and television, and retell entertaining stories from their lives over the past few months. They don’t talk about dating, or about Kurt’s breakup. He doesn’t seem fragile, though. Maybe enough time has passed, or maybe Kurt just bounces back quickly. They’ve never acknowledged that late night call shortly after the breakup, but Sebastian knows Kurt remembers. He wasn’t that drunk or that tired.

Someone passes by them, coffee in hand, and jostles the table. The environment is chaotic, and the already-rushed meeting feels all the more constrained.

Sebastian’s in New York for less than forty-eight hours. He got in last night, and he’s leaving early tomorrow morning. He has dinner with a client tonight, at a steakhouse in midtown. Technically, all the meetings he had today could have been done over the phone, but his supervisor wanted him to go in person. Sebastian’s charm doesn’t translate as well in a conference call.

He texted Kurt when he knew he was coming, but he only has a tiny window of time to see him. A little over an hour, crammed in between work and dinner. Based on the client, he doesn’t think he’s going to get away from the meal early - and then there’s that flight in the morning.

It’s so easy, how he and Kurt fall back into the comfort of their friendship, the back-and-forth of their teasing conversation. Sebastian says something mean and Kurt smacks him on the arm. Sebastian puts all his willpower into not grabbing onto Kurt’s wrist when he pulls back.

He checks his watch. He has to leave in twenty minutes, that’s the absolute latest he can push this. He watches Kurt as he talks, the curve of his smile and the light in his eyes. Would he be up for a quickie in a cafe bathroom? He doesn’t seem the type. They’ve only ever had sex in private, but god, the idea of tugging Kurt down the hall, locking the door behind them, pressing him up against the wall and sinking to his knees…

Ten minutes. Have Kurt’s lips always looked so appealing? Sebastian tries to focus on the conversation. This is all he’s going to get for months. Kurt wouldn’t be offended if he just asked, would he? But fuck, he doesn’t have any condoms with him. Has he ever been so frustrated by a situation like this?

“I’m sorry,” he says, standing up, adjusting his slacks (do not get a boner before a work meeting, Smythe). “I really have to go.”

Kurt’s mouth twists to one side, resigned. “Yeah, I understand.”

They walk out together, and hug goodbye, and then Kurt’s gone.

Sebastian gets into a cab and recites the address the client gave him for the restaurant. New York seems to move past him too fast. He should have just been late to dinner, he should have tried something - but it’s too late now.

Excitement buzzes through Sebastian’s veins as he makes his way to meet Kurt. He’s done with work, and he’s taking the next day off, extending his trip for a day - on his own dime. Partially that’s so he can meet up with Devin and his girlfriend while he’s in the area, but he’s also hopeful it means he’ll have more time with Kurt. Maybe they can spend the night together and not have to rush off in the morning, sleep in and grab breakfast somewhere. He’s sure Kurt will have strong opinions about breakfast restaurants.

The bar they meet at is crowded, especially for a weeknight. Kurt comments pessimistically that it must have just been featured in a TimeOut article or something. They have to practically shout to be heard over the chatter, and Sebastian can tell that Kurt is tense, annoyed. Once they’re finishing their first drinks Sebastian says, “You wanna get out of here?” and Kurt happily agrees.

They step outside into the humid night air, damp but no longer unbearably warm now that the sun has gone down. The light of the streetlamps shines over them, casting dark shadows over Kurt’s features, making him look mysterious and imposing.

“You wanna brave another bar,” Sebastian asks, “or do you just wanna go back to my room?”

Kurt looks at him, and there seems to be something tight about his eyes. “Where’s your hotel?”

“It’s like a twenty-minute walk,” he replies. “We don’t have to.”

It’s not awkward between them, exactly, but there is something…uncertain. Sebastian’s not sure what the rules of this game are anymore.

“No, it’s fine,” Kurt says firmly. “We can go.”

So they walk to the hotel, and in the relative peace of the streets they can actually hold a conversation, picking up where they left off in the bar. Sebastian only had the one drink, but he can feel it, everything a little warm and buzzing, a little clumsier, a little quicker to laugh. He hasn’t been going to clubs as much as he used to, and clearly his alcohol tolerance reflects that.

Once they’re up in his room, they both sit on the edge of the bed - there’s nowhere else for two people to sit. They take their shoes off as they talk, and Sebastian undoes the top buttons of his dress shirt. Not as a come on, necessarily, just because it’s uncomfortable.

He watches the way Kurt’s eyes flicker down at his newly-revealed skin.

Okay, maybe it’s sort of a come on.

They seem to slide closer to each other as they talk, the mattress dipping under their combined weight. Kurt folds his leg underneath him and his knee rests against Sebastian’s thigh. Sebastian mixes up the words in his sentence, his tongue thick and his mind distracted, so Kurt teases him for it, making some joke about all those private school elocution classes gone to waste.

Sebastian leans in, tired of talking, so ready to cut to the chase. He pauses a centimeter from Kurt’s lips, still level-headed enough to know that he needs to give Kurt the chance to pull back if he doesn’t want this, if somehow Sebastian has completely misread all the signs leading up to this moment.

Kurt presses forward, closing the distance and kissing him viciously. It’s hard and intense and artless and so, so good. Sebastian lies back, pushed against the bed at Kurt’s urging. He gasps as Kurt sucks along his jaw and neck, scraping his teeth against his exposed collarbone.

When he pulls away to take off his own shirt, Kurt’s eyes are dark and full of fire.

They don’t talk much, during. They’re too desperate for anything more than rutting against each other, chasing friction with help from hands and lube until they tumble into a sated heap.

After catching breaths and half-hearted cleaning up, Kurt is lying back against the headboard. Sebastian has settled lower on the bed, his fingers tracing idle shapes against Kurt’s outer thigh.

“You know,” Kurt says, and Sebastian looks up at him. His hair is sweat-damp, skin pleasantly flushed. “After the last time we saw each other, and we didn’t have sex…” He glances away for a moment, shrugs. “I sort of thought this was over.”

Sebastian stills his hand, resting it on Kurt’s knee. “No, I just - I really didn’t have time. I thought I was clear about that.”

“Could have been an excuse,” Kurt says mildly.

Sebastian kisses Kurt’s leg, hair rough against his lips. “I don’t anticipate ever not wanting to have sex with you if that’s an option. If that changes, I’ll be upfront with you about it.”

Kurt smiles. “Okay, deal.”

The doorbell buzzes, and Kurt swears under his breath, his reflection showing his expression of frustration. He’s not ready to leave yet. Is Sebastian early, or did Kurt linger too long when picking his outfit?

He leaves the bathroom and walks over to the intercom. “Seb?” he says into it. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Yeah, sure you will,” Sebastian replies, clearly doubtful. “Just let me up, I can entertain myself while you finish primping.”

Annoyed - more so at the fact that Sebastian could see through him than at his tone - Kurt buzzes Sebastian in, and returns to his mirror to try rushing through the rest of his preparations. He feels a little off-kilter, thrown off after Sebastian’s text a few days ago, asking to meet this afternoon. It’s the middle of the day during the week, and Kurt’s grown accustomed to seeing Sebastian only late in the day, meeting up after he’s done with work.

A minute later there’s a knock at the door, and Kurt goes to open it.

Sebastian is wearing a black polo shirt and jeans, an easy smile on his face. It’s the most casual Kurt has seen him in years - typically when they’re in person together, Sebastian is either still in work clothes or completely undressed. This in-between stage is just another thing that feels unusual about today, although Kurt’s not sure if he and Sebastian have ever had a baseline for what’s ‘normal’ between them.

“I didn’t know I was inviting a frat boy into my home,” Kurt says in lieu of a greeting, even though Sebastian actually looks very, very good in the polo. “Are you playing hooky from work?”

Sebastian’s grin grows. “I’m not here for work, actually.”

Kurt leans his weight onto the doorframe and crosses his arms. “On vacation, then?”

“I’m actually here to look at apartments.”

Kurt blinks. “Apartments?”

Sebastian raises an eyebrow, a silent challenge. “Yeah.”

Kurt still isn’t sure if he understands. “Like, in New York?” he asks. “You’re moving back to New York?”

“Looks like it.”

Kurt stands up fully, and as he meets Sebastian’s eyes he feels the thrumming energy between them, the unexpected joy at this revelation. He bites his lip and shakes his head. “You know,” he says, a sardonic lilt to his voice, “I don’t know if this is gonna work. I’ve grown so used to seeing you in small doses. I might not like you if you’re around all the time.”

Sebastian schools his smile into a more serious expression. “You know I worried about the same thing. I just have this feeling that all of your endearing quirks are actually gonna be insufferable once I’m living in the same city.”

There’s something light expanding in Kurt’s chest as he reasons, “Well, it’s a big place, New York. We might never run into each other.”

Sebastian nods. “Great point. You wanna just keep meeting every five months or so?”

“No, you idiot,” Kurt says, dropping the game. No teasing or innuendo, no genuine feelings couched in jokes or insults. He reaches out to grab Sebastian by the elbow and pull him into the apartment. “I want to see you all the fucking time.”

“This is so boring,” Sebastian says, hovering behind Kurt as he looks at a display of local honey.

“You didn’t have to come,” Kurt says mildly. “You could have stayed in bed when I left.”

The farmer’s market around them is bustling, couples pushing strollers, people walking dogs or examining vegetables to put in their tote bags. It seems aggressively sunny outside, and Sebastian wishes he’d thought to bring his sunglasses. “You bribed me,” he tells Kurt, holding up his nearly-empty cup from the coffee shop they’d stopped at on the way, his favorite place near Kurt’s apartment.

“I could have brought you something back,” Kurt replies, moving down the table to look at the baked goods for sale.

Sebastian scoffs. “Cold, hour-old espresso? No thanks.”

Kurt turns to face him and cups Sebastian’s jaw, but his expression makes it clear that the gesture is more warning than affection. “Then be glad about your fancy coffee and stop bitching.”

It’s probably not healthy that Kurt making threats in a very polite tone of voice sends a thrill down Sebastian’s spine, but he revels in it all the same. He gives Kurt a sarcastic smile, which is apparently satisfactory, as Kurt pulls away and continues walking down the path. They pass booths selling various items, and Sebastian sips on the last of his coffee while Kurt chatters about what he plans on making for dinner.

Now that he lives in New York again, Sebastian has a smaller office and a more cramped apartment. He gave up his car, relying instead on the disgusting and inconsistent labyrinth of the MTA or the cab drivers battling against New York traffic. The city is loud and crowded and inconvenient.

He loves being back.

He finds he doesn’t miss Providence much, now that he’s settled in, even though he lived there for longer than he ever lived in New York before. He made some friends there, coworkers and neighbors and people who frequented the queer bars, but he doesn’t feel terrible leaving them behind. He’s generally been content to have people drift in and out of his life, to know people in certain contexts and then let them go when the time calls for it. He’s not used to long-standing connections with other people.

Kurt finds a fruit stand and pores over the berries, picking out a basket to take home. He offers it to Sebastian as they walk, and he takes a few blackberries to pop into his mouth, a burst of sweet flavor.

This isn’t what he imagined for himself, walking through stalls selling organic produce and handmade soaps on a Saturday morning. If the Sebastian from ten years ago could see him now, he might be completely baffled. Sebastian’s confused about it himself, sometimes. But despite all the drawbacks, he doesn’t regret returning to New York. He’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop, to get tired of this life and want to find something new, to return to the more unpredictable or chaotic habits of his past. But so far, even the boring parts are worth it.

They turn a corner into a more crowded area, having to weave carefully through bystanders. Sebastian reaches out and takes Kurt’s hand in his, holding firmly, to keep him by his side.

#kurtbastian #kurtbastianarchive #kurtbastian fic #kurtbastian fanfiction #one shot #my fic

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thnxforknowingme · 10 months

Text

The Same Coin

Pairing: Kurtbastian

Rating: T

Word count: 2200

Summary: Dalton parties are full of surprises - like Kurt ending up in a confined space for seven minutes with Sebastian Smythe, who he absolutely can't stand.

Notes: Written for the @kurtbastianarchive Kurtbastian Prompt Fest 2023, based on prompt #20 by @backslashdelta!

Kurt hadn’t been to a lot of Dalton parties, but as a school for wealthy boys who idolized an a cappella show choir he knew that it would be full of good music, a lot of alcohol, and unpredictable shenanigans.

Still, when Jeff grabbed him and bodily pulled him down to the den in the basement to join some party game, he wasn’t prepared for what he was about to find. When he saw the “game” involved a dozen or so people gathered around an empty beer bottle on the floor, he wrested himself from Jeff’s grasp.

“I am not playing Spin the Bottle,” he insisted. “I have traumatic memories I am not going to relive.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not Spin the Bottle,” Thad reassured him as Jeff guided him to a spot in the circle. “It’s Seven Minutes in Heaven.”

“That’s worse!” Kurt exclaimed. “I’m not interested, you hormonal gremlins! Aren’t most of you straight, anyway?”

Being a Dalton party, the gender ratio skewed heavily male. Kurt had seen a handful of girls throughout the house, and only two seemed to be participating in this game.

“That’s what makes it interesting!” Nick insisted.

“Come on, Kurt,” Jeff pleaded. “Stay for a few spins and then I’ll duet with you upstairs on any song that you want. You might not even get landed on!”

Kurt glowered, but he did like the sound of a duet. Besides, it was senior year and he didn’t get to see his old Warbler friends very often - no matter how stupid the circumstances, he didn’t want to say no to spending time with them.

”I’ll stay for three spins,” he said finally.

A cheer went up through the room, and Jeff reached for the bottle. “I’ll go first, then.”

The bottle spun erratically and landed on a guy that Kurt vaguely recognized from some classes at Dalton. The players ushered them into the laundry room attached to the basement and shut the door. People took turns listening up against the door, calling out crude suggestions, postulating what might be going on, and continuing to drink from Natty Light cans and Solo cups.

When the pair came back out their clothes were visibly disheveled and Jeff boasted loudly about how he’d rocked the other guy’s world, but it was so over-the-top that Kurt was pretty confident it was all for show.

The next Dalton student in the circle spun, and this time the bottle selected one of the few girls in the room. The crowd gasped and ooh-ed, and Kurt gathered that the petite girl who followed the spinner into the laundry room was someone else’s girlfriend. Those seven minutes were a little more tense, and when they were released they both seemed demure, but that only fueled the raised eyebrows and rumor-full whispers already spreading through the party.

The other girl was about to take her turn when a voice called out, “What’s this, huh?” and Kurt turned to see none other than Sebastian Smythe standing at the foot of the stairs, surveying the room.

“Seven Minutes in Heaven,” Nick called out. “You in, Smythe?”

Sebastian’s mouth curled into a smile that only emphasized his rodent-like features. “You all need to play a cute little game to get a guy to make out with you?” he asked. He stepped forward and leaned into the circle, gripping the bottle with his fingertips. “Fine, I can play, if you’re so desperate.”

He twitched his fingers to set the bottle in motion, glass rattling against the floor until it slowed, slowed, slowed - and came to a stop pointing directly at Kurt.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Kurt breathed, and looked up to see Sebastian’s head turn in his direction, recognition and then alarm flitting across his features.

“I don’t think -” Sebastian scoffed, but Thad cut him off.

“The bottle has spoken!” he decreed. “Sebastian, Kurt, you’re up.”

“Absolutely not,” Kurt protested, but Jeff was already pulling him up by the elbow.

“You both knew what you were getting into!” Jeff insisted. “That’s the beauty of the game.”

The whole room seemed involved in shepherding them towards the secluded laundry room, chattering in excitement.

“Now this is a new kind of Seven Minutes,” Nick said, “more like a cage fight.”

“Maybe they’ll reconcile their differences,” Thad suggested.

“Maybe they’ll kiss and make up,” Jeff said, and the room burst into laughter and catcalls.

Sebastian stumbled through the doorway, and Kurt was regrettably close behind him. “Or maybe Sebastian will come out with a broken nose,” someone else postulated.

“He’s an athlete in a contact sport,” a voice argued. “I think he could hold his own.”

“Are you kidding me?” Jeff asked. “Kurt is scary when he’s mad. He’s like a fashionable Hulk.”

“Look,” Kurt called out, one final plea. “This really isn’t necessary!”

“I think it’s time for you boys to be mature,” Thad insisted, a sentiment that was entirely at odds with the juvenile situation. “We’ll see you in seven!”

The door shut, leaving Kurt alone in the dark, cramped space with his old nemesis.

Kurt and Sebastian had started off on pretty terrible terms when they met, since Sebastian was flirting with Kurt’s then-boyfriend. Even long after Blaine had assured Kurt he wasn’t interested in Sebastian, Sebastian continued to be stuck-up, selfish, and obnoxious every time Kurt was forced to be in his presence. Even now that Kurt and Blaine were no longer together and Sebastian posed no threat, Kurt thought he was a despicable human being - and he was good at holding grudges anyway.

Kurt leaned back against the shelves behind him and let out a deep sigh. “This is so stupid.”

“Yeah, I’m not a fan of this either,” Sebastian retorted. Kurt’s eyes were just starting to adjust to the dark, so Sebastian appeared as a vague mass.

“Then why’d you spin the goddamn bottle?” Kurt demanded.

“Because it’s a party, dumbass. Everyone is here to get drunk and make poor decisions that’ll make a great story on Monday. I wouldn’t expect you to be familiar with the concept of fun.”

“We have different definitions of fun,” Kurt bit back. “Mine just happens to involve less risk of STIs or liver failure.”

Sebastian laughed, mocking. “Are you not even drinking?”

“No,” Kurt responded. “Unfortunately, I’m experiencing this stone cold sober. I’m driving tonight. But there’s no amount of booze that would make you an attractive romantic prospect.”

“I know a few people who’d disagree,” Sebastian said, leaning forward and lowering his voice. “You should count yourself lucky for this opportunity. Plenty of guys would like to be in your shoes. Metaphorically, as I’m sure your actual shoes are bedazzled.”

Kurt’s nails dug into his palm as he fisted his hands. “I bet you’re not even a good kisser,” he told Sebastian, stepping forward and matching his tone. “You just only hook up with people so drunk that they’d jump anything that moves.”

Sebastian scoffed, and they were close enough now that Kurt could feel the heat from his body. “Oh yeah, and you’re a paragon of sexuality? You exude frigidity so strongly I bet you’re Ken-doll smooth underneath those flamboyant pants.”

Kurt’s frustration overwhelmed him - he was so mad that he was wasting his time arguing instead of enjoying himself with his friends, annoyed that instead of a fun random kiss he was stuck with someone he hated, angry that nothing he said ever seemed to get through to Sebastian.

“Oh yeah?” he demanded, leaning in closer. He was done with fighting. It was time for drastic action. “Try me.”

He closed the scant space between them and kissed Sebastian.

It had been a while since Kurt had kissed anyone - months since the breakup - and he’d never kissed anyone like this. All heat and no tenderness, a crash of lips and teeth and desperation. He was driven by blind instinct, his hands fisting in Sebastian’s shirt, caught between wanting to pull him closer or shove him away.

Sebastian trapped Kurt’s bottom lip between his teeth, and Kurt yanked their bodies flush together. There was something both thrilling and comforting about being so close, unsure if he was the predator or the prey.

Sebastian’s hands found Kurt’s hips and gripped them hard, jolting heat through Kurt’s body. Kurt gasped involuntarily, which might have been embarrassing if Sebastian didn’t respond by pushing him up against the shelves and starting to kiss down his neck. The wooden shelves dug into Kurt’s back and he knocked over some cleaning supplies when his head fell back. Sebastian’s mouth was divine against his skin, teeth scraping over delicate veins and tongue bringing flames of heat in its wake. He slid one hand up to the nape of Sebastian’s neck, grasping at his short strands of hair, nails scratching against his scalp. Sebastian grunted and moved his hand down to grip Kurt’s ass.

It was rough and new and so fucking sexy.

He tugged Sebastian’s head back up by his hair, pressing their lips together again and swallowing Sebastian’s soft whimper. In the small part of Kurt’s mind that wasn’t overwhelmed by lust, he was so mad that Sebastian actually did turn out to be a good kisser. Somehow that just fueled his passion - he pushed harder and kissed dirtier, as if trying to prove that he was better than Sebastian, as if one of them could win this wordless dispute. Sebastian slotted their legs together, so close to giving the friction that Kurt fiercely wanted -

There was a sharp rapping on the door and Thad’s voice called out, “Time’s almost up! Are you both still alive?”

They broke apart and Kurt pushed Sebastian away, feeling his warm breath huff out against his skin before cooler air filled the new space between them. Sebastian leaned back against the dryer, eyes lidded and mouth partially open. He took in a breath, as though he were going to say something -

“Oh, shit,” Jeff’s voice carried from outside. “Did they actually kill each other?”

Kurt heard the doorknob rattle, and had just enough presence of mind to straighten his shirt and wipe the saliva off his mouth before anyone else could see him.

The door opened, a crack of blinding light quickly expanding to fill the room. Sebastian and Kurt were standing as far apart as possible, staring at each other.

“So,” Thad said. “How’d things go?”

“I still hate you,” Kurt spit out as he turned to leave.

“Good,” he heard Sebastian’s signature cocky tone from behind him. “I still hate you too.”

Kurt grabbed Jeff as he emerged into the den. “Come on, you owe me at least two duets after that.”

The party felt crowded and chaotic after the isolation of the laundry room. Kurt pushed past bodies as he headed back upstairs, blinking in the brightness.

Once they reached the living room, Kurt and Jeff monopolized the karaoke machine for numerous songs - but after the initial outcry about cutting in line, the audience enjoyed their performances so much that there were no complaints. Losing himself in the music helped clear Kurt’s head, forcing him to focus on the moment, instead of dwelling on whatever the hell had happened downstairs.

It was a little after 1AM when Kurt said his goodbyes and headed out. He opened the front door to return to his car, and nearly ran into someone standing on the other side. As he regained his balance, he discovered that it was Sebastian he’d almost collided with.

“Careful, Hummel,” Sebastian warned with a lopsided grin. “Or are you hoping for a second round already?”

Kurt rolled his eyes and pushed past him. The door slammed shut, cutting off the noise of the party. All he could hear were the crickets, the distant sound of the highway, and Sebastian’s breathing.

“Don’t you ever tire of being the worst?” Kurt asked. He paused on the porch steps to turn back and look at Sebastian. He wasn’t sure if it was the general havoc of the party or remnants of their secret tryst, but Sebastian’s hair looked disheveled in an appealingly rakish way.

“Nope,” Sebastian replied. “Pissing you off only gives me more energy, actually.”

Kurt crossed his arms. Even this late, the air was warm and sticky outside. It felt like a summer rainstorm was imminent. “You know,” he said, “you might actually be attractive if you weren’t such an ass.”

Sebastian shrugged. He seemed a little unsteady on his feet. “And you might be attractive if you weren’t so damn uptight.” He jutted his chin up, a confident gesture. “But I exceeded your expectations, huh?”

Kurt raised an eyebrow. “Now who’s fishing for a round two?”

“You started it,” Sebastian pointed out.

“You didn’t stop me.”

Sebastian grinned. “Touche.”

Sebastian’s admission of defeat sent a thrill through Kurt that he didn’t particularly want to examine. It was late, and he definitely needed to go home. “I’ll see you around, Sebastian.”

“Yeah,” Sebastian replied with a knowing smile. “I think you will.”

Kurt turned away, walking through the dewy grass to where his car was parked. He desperately wanted to know if Sebastian was still watching him, but he restrained his urge to turn around.

Kurt hadn’t been to a lot of Dalton parties, but he knew one thing about them - they never turned out how he expected.

#kurtbastianarchive #kurtbastian #my fic #one-shot

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