Work Text:
“Babe, I have to take this.”
Sebastian holds his phone up, already pushing away from the table. Kurt hums in acknowledgement, turning his head to smile at him before he leaves. Sebastian barely affords the same courtesy to the other occupants at their table.
“We’ll save some dessert for you, Sebastian!” Rachel calls out pointedly at his retreating back.
Kurt’s phone buzzes about thirty seconds later. He peers at it under the table.
Sebastian:
eat my share tell them i had an emergency
like dont kill me but if i spend another fucking minute with them im going to kill one or both
“Sebastian is such a sweetheart, isn’t he, Kurt?”
Kurt sucks in his bottom lip, affecting a neutral expression as he looks up to meet Rachel’s eyes. “Hm?”
“I think he was going to stab me with his fork,” Jesse announces. He looks unbothered, only morbidly curious as he leans towards Kurt. “Was it the finance bro comment or the Twelfth Night joke?”
“Mmm—“ Kurt pretends to think about it, squinting, “Probably when you started talking about your start-up.”
“So the finance bro remark,” Jesse nods. “I see.”
“Well, I mean, not really,” Kurt shrugs. “I think he had more of an issue with you citing MLM schemes as a new gay movement? He’s not exactly a finance bro, just—“
“It’s the best of two evils,” Rachel says to Jesse. “I would much rather spend an evening with an economics graduate than with someone with a complete lack of respect for the arts.”
“Before tonight I thought we agreed that the two often intersected,” Jesse says.
“Exceptions to every rule, hence the best outcome,” Rachel says primly, smiling widely at Kurt.
Kurt forces himself to do the same and wishes that he’d followed his boyfriend out.
“Well,” he says, “I’m glad he meets your standards.”
“Of course! Only the best for my best,” Rachel flags a waiter to follow-up on dessert, the light catching on the rock on her finger.
“That was sarcastic,” Kurt tells her. Rachel is unfazed by that.
Rachel and Jesse had just gotten engaged a few months ago, and upon Kurt’s congratulatory message she’d expressed interest in reconnecting. Kurt had taken it with a grain of salt but a couple months later she’d reached out with a double date invitation on Instagram after Kurt had posted a lazy photo compilation for the month. Sebastian had been in more than a few of them.
“I’ll admit I thought you two would be an odd pairing, but I see the appeal now,” Rachel tells him, once their dessert had arrived. Kurt had taken Sebastian’s chocolate cheesecake with little hesitation. “Rivals to lovers is a classic. And Sebastian is a catch, you should hold onto him.”
“Did you not hear Jesse’s comments?” Jesse himself had excused himself to the bathroom just a moment beforehand.
“I meant a catch for you, silly, why would I care if Sebastian was sweet to me?” Rachel says after a bite of her avocado mousse. “If I were you, honestly, I would feel quite flattered. It’s always a little bit of an ego boost to have someone reserve their affections for you and you alone.”
“Then it’s good he’s gay, because your ego is well-nourished,” Kurt snorts. “And that’s a pretty big assumption from two hours with us.”
“Are you kidding?” Rachel puts her fork down, grinning. “Kurt, he has been perfectly polite with myself and Jesse the whole evening, despite the undercurrent of fork-murder intent. While you and Jesse were talking to the waiter before we got shown to our table, he even pulled me aside and apologized for the Photoshop stunt in high school!”
“Wait, what?”
“And the pet names?” Rachel puts a hand to her heart.
“I think he was trying to one-up Jesse calling you darling,” Kurt says. “Neither of us are actually big on PDA. Blaine’s convinced I’m ‘settling’ or something, and it’s only been four months.”
“And in the grand scheme of things, Blaine is the jilted ex-lover waiting in the wings for his opportunity to swoop in like a white knight,” Rachel picks up her fork and points it at him, her eyes sparkling with intensity.
“My life is not a play, Rachel,” Kurt sighs.
“I’m just saying! I appreciate the subtle affection, the personal touches of love,” Rachel says. “You said it yourself, Kurt, you’re not in a play and you’re not on stage. His love suits you very well.”
“I’m not entirely sure Sebastian Smythe is already in love with me after four months,” Kurt says.
“Well, compared to you, he might as well be,” Jesse comments, sliding back into the conversation as he slips past Kurt’s chair. Kurt stares at him. Before he can ask, Jesse picks up a fork and asks, “Did you notice I’m not the only one throwing jabs tonight?”
Kurt raises his eyebrows.
With a patient tone, Jesse clarifies, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re quite cold. Sebastian could make a tease and you respond with a figurative slap to the face. Are you sure you like him?”
“Is this a double date or an assessment?” Kurt can’t believe the audacity. Fucking Jesse St. Sucks. Suddenly he feels like he’s eighteen again.
“Part of my show choir consultation service is to assess in-group relationships, advise on whether it harms the performance or adds to it,” Jesse says, but he waves a hand, “Though neither of you are in the show choir circuit anymore, I have experience. And you act as if you’re still fighting him for a spot on the stage.”
“Oh, Jesse, now that’s too much for two hours of reconnection,” Rachel says.
-
As Kurt is leaving the restaurant, frowning, a voice calls out.
“Hey!”
Kurt whirls around and blinks at Sebastian, but before he can say anything he’s being pulled off down the street urgently.
“What—were you waiting? I stayed for like thirty minutes,” Kurt jogs to match his pace.
“I’m not an asshole date, I’m an asshole double dater, I’m still gonna walk you to the subway,” Sebastian flashes a grin.
Kurt opens his mouth, not exactly sure what to say now, because this just drives the metaphorical fork Jesse stabbed him with even further in.
At his lack of reply, Sebastian’s grin turns awkward. “St. Berry got your tongue?”
Kurt snaps out of it, stuttering out a laugh, “No, no, they were okay.”
“You don’t need to lie to me, I’m sure one or both of them said something,” Sebastian scoffs, starting to withdraw his hand.
Kurt makes a grab for it before he can think too hard about it, lightly curling his fingers without lacing them through Sebastian’s.
“They said. . .things,” Kurt amends, “Both good and bad. Ultimately well-intentioned. Rachel and Jesse together are either long lost best friends you wonder why you ever drifted apart from, or completely insufferable as you remember why.”
“Can’t relate to half of that but okay,” Sebastian says, mouth tilting in a smirk.
“And you left me there alone,” Kurt mock-pouts.
“It was almost over,” Sebastian defends, “And, besides—“
He holds up his other hand, a bag swinging lightly from his wrist. Kurt zeroes in on the logo of the bakery from across the street.
“After you gave me your dessert?” Kurt complains, and Sebastian laughs.
“It’s just a lure, basically, I’m asking you to sleep over and we can have reheated pastries in the morning. It’s Saturday tomorrow anyway.”
Kurt pretends to hesitate, grimacing, and Sebastian knocks his hip against Kurt’s. Kurt laughs, intending to knock him back but ending up pressing himself to Sebastian’s side instead.
When they get to Sebastian’s apartment, Kurt perches on the armrest of the sofa and scrolls his phone while waiting for Sebastian to rummage through his drawers to find appropriate sleepwear for him. He likes Rachel’s freshly posted pictures from earlier, and munches on warm bread that he’d snuck out of the bag. He’s licking his fingers clean when Sebastian comes back out in loose sleep pants, carrying a sweatshirt and another pair of pants over his arm.
“So we’re not reheating them in the morning,” Sebastian surmises.
“No, it’s cheat day,” Kurt sighs. “We deserve it.”
Sebastian snorts, and sits on the couch. Kurt turns himself around on the armrest, closing his phone and sinking his bare feet into the cushions. While Sebastian’s turning on the TV, Kurt hums consideringly, crossing his arms over his knees.
“Do you think I’m cold?”
Sebastian glances over at him. “Cold how?”
“Like. . .mean,” Kurt shrugs.
Sebastian raises his eyebrows, navigating his movies and TV folder. “Kurt, we just spent a perfectly good Friday night hanging out with Rachel Berry and her fiancè who I’m pretty sure was genetically engineered in a lab to complement her personality.”
“It was polite,” Kurt points out. “It’s not the same thing as having a. . .barbed personality, I guess.”
“Is this an excuse to punch Jesse in the face?”
“Can you do that?” Kurt asks doubtfully. “Have you ever actually thrown a punch in your life? Do you know what to do with your thumb?”
“I’ll slap him,” Sebastian amends after a moment. He perks up, “Or I’ll get a drink and like, splash it in his face, I’ve always wanted to do that. We won’t let him get away with this, babe.”
“He didn’t say I have a barbed personality, that’s how I’m paraphrasing it,” Kurt groans.
“Same thing.”
“I just insulted your physical capabilities,” Kurt says.
“You’re just keeping it real,” Sebastian waves it off, a smile pulling at his lips.
Kurt snorts, then drops his head. “God, you’re such an enabler.”
“I wear your insults with pride,” Sebastian says. “But if we’re being serious, a while ago it did feel like the restaurant was a portal into 2012, except I wasn’t in a super hot solo fight with you, Rachel Berry is gawking at us, and her fruity husband is trying to butt in. I mean, come on.” He scoffs. “Finance bro? That’s the best he can come up with? Really? He thinks he can hurt me with that?”
“I think this is the most disgruntled I’ve seen you,” Kurt says.
“It’s the most disgusted you’ve seen me,” Sebastian corrects. “Guy went for the most low-hanging fruit.”
Kurt makes a noncommittal sound.
“Look,” Sebastian sets the remote down next to him. He turns to face Kurt, folding one leg under him. “I wouldn’t be dating you if you were too mean for me. I’ve been aware it’s a defense thing since like five minutes after you went after me in the Lima Bean. You’re kind of an open book. Honestly, the thing that’s taking more effort for me to wrap my head around is how you get around your high school friends.”
“What?”
“Back then, every time you met me, you go in claws out, chin up, and I thought you were like that with everybody,” Sebastian says. “When you’re around Rachel, or Santana, or even Blaine you’re like. . .I don’t know. Less.”
“Less. . .?”
“Just less.”
Kurt takes this in. He tries not to take it personally, because Sebastian actually looks serious and maybe even a little nervous, and Kurt likes that they’re honest with each other. But it’s hard to swallow.
“I guess I get weird around them,” Kurt says. “It’s just—I spent four years at NYADA and Rachel’s booking gigs, Jesse’s going on a national tour, and I’m. . .doing social media work for Isabelle. I did everything right. It doesn’t work when I take risks, it doesn’t work when I play by the book.”
“You’ve only been working a year and a half,” Sebastian reminds. “It’s a marathon, babe, just keep going.”
“I know,” Kurt says. “I mean, I listened to everybody at my program, I network and everything, I know what I signed up for, I just—I guess it’s hard to really put theory to practice when you’re in a room with Rachel frickin’ Berry.” He picks at a stray thread on his sleeve.
“Rachel frickin’ Berry is still getting That’s So Rachel gifs under every single tweet,” Sebastian says. “You don’t want her career.”
“And everybody else’s?” Kurt says, though he feels the funk lifting a little already.
Sebastian shrugs. “I don’t know, but it’s not a race. Stop looking at everybody else.”
Kurt nods, staying silent. After a while, when Sebastian’s back to flipping through movies, Kurt says:
“So I was mean tonight.”
“You get a pass,” Sebastian says. “Cheat day.”
Kurt snorts, but his mouth curves into a smile. He really is sweet, in his own way, and maybe Rachel was right about one thing. It does feel good to have Sebastian massaging his ego.
-
Musical theatre is a lifelong passion project with little profit, and as much as Kurt has gotten his fair share of mental breakdowns, admittedly the lifestyle kind of suits him. He doesn’t think he could ever stand working in an office long-term like Sebastian does, and especially in a traditional, corporate, sterile setting. Living gig to gig and having a system of multiple income sources like private teaching or voiceover work or projects with Isabelle or Elliott gives him enough positive stress, and when the bottle cap on his negative stress does pop, it’s Sebastian who’s the stabilizing factor.
It’s a bit peculiar given their opposite personalities and opposite work lives and opposite everything. Kurt is uptight and lives in near-constant instability, Sebastian is fun-loving and works a 9-5 and has not switched jobs since the first one he got after graduation. A lot of people he’s met in the industry so far tell Kurt he’s lucky to have a partner who’s pulling the financial weight, which was uncomfortable to deal with and makes him defensive of the efforts he goes through to have a significant share of the financial responsibilities, but Sebastian's response to that is to say he’d "probably be skirting substance abuse by now to feel alive if I was living a monotonous, Kurt-less life, so we're par for the course". Which is a bit extreme, but Kurt also has extreme reactions to the mere idea of not having Sebastian in his life to loosen him up, so. They often argue, still, but there’s a balance to it that keeps Kurt sane.
-
It’s sheer dumb misfortune that Sebastian gets sick on their one year anniversary.
“I can’t do anything. I can’t have the fucking chocolate you got me. I can’t even have anniversary sex,” Sebastian is visibly angry, but the image loses intimidation points when his nose is bright red, his voice is nasally and rough from a sore throat, and he’s lying in a pile of tissues like a murder victim. Kurt is gingerly picking them up, tossing the things into an old paper bag.
Sebastian is a terrible patient. He keeps trying to work or get up and do something, contrary for somebody who claims to love being lazy and living ‘the easy life’.
“We can have all the sex in the world after you’re better, and it’ll be just as good as if we had it today,” Kurt says, muffled through his face mask. “Or better, judging by the state of you.”
“All the sex in the world?” Sebastian peers up at him. His eyes look half-glazed over.
“All the sex you’d want,” Kurt amends.
Sebastian hums. “I want. . .let me think about it.”
“You do that, honey,” Kurt says, crumpling the bag and tossing it into the trash.
“That for sure,” Sebastian mutters.
“Huh?”
“But like, not in a mom way,” Sebastian says. “I don’t want you to call me a good boy or something. ‘M not a dog.”
Kurt stands at the foot of their bed as he processes this. “You want me to call you pet names?”
“‘M not a dog,” Sebastian repeats.
“Of course you aren’t,” Kurt pauses, and goes for the first that comes to his mind, “baby.”
In Kurt’s opinion, it comes out more like an awkward half-insult, but Sebastian’s face lights up with a genuine, albeit delirious smile.
“I rate that seven,” He says. “No, eight.”
Kurt can’t help the laugh that escapes his throat as he goes to fetch some food for him. “Thanks, it’s my first time.”
Kurt thinks about it as he heats water for tea and prepares soup. Technically, the one and only time he’d ever used something like a pet name genuinely was when he was calling Brittany ‘boo’ in sophomore year while he was trying to be straight.
Does honey count? Kurt uses it for a lot of people. That wasn’t very special.
He’d never really felt the need to use pet names. Even when he’d been in a relationship with Blaine, and even four months into a technically unofficial marriage (Sue nor Brittany nor Santana had thought to prepare a marriage license) he’d called his sort-of husband by his full first name right to the sort-of divorce overseen by Sue in her office at McKinley.
(Kurt had navigated the pains to arrange that due to Blaine’s need for closure, and even sought to print divorce forms, which was how he’d even reconnected with Sebastian in the first place.
Sebastian, sleep-deprived and attempting to photocopy some book pages at the machine next to Kurt’s, had questioned why he was at the public library printing out divorce papers, because “a lawyer is supposed to do that for you or you’re going to lose the custody battle over some shit like a couch”.
Kurt had turned to roll his eyes at Sebastian’s shit-eating, slightly confused grin—and noticed how Sebastian was using the photocopier wrong, and proceeded to make fun of him. And then Kurt helped him. The rest was history.)
He’d had one serious boyfriend between Blaine and Sebastian, and he’d never called him anything but his name. He didn’t with Adam either, though to be fair it was difficult to derive a nickname from ‘Adam’. Sometimes he calls Sebastian ‘Seb’, but he was only following his friends in that. Kurt tended to call people by their first name as told, and the only time he’d ever called someone by a nickname of his own volition was calling Brittany ‘Britt’.
Kurt pauses in the middle of opening the soup can, suddenly disturbed. This is not right. Brittany should not be having the upper hand over all of his boyfriends combined, even in a highly specific department.
-
“I can’t believe some of the things I’ve been seeing online. Like, why the hell would you call your boyfriend fuzzybutt?” Kurt says, appalled. “Sebastian would break up with me on the spot and tell everybody and I wouldn’t blame him.”
“Maybe they mean it like, spiritually,” Elliott says. They pause to turn, following the zumba routine along with the rest of the class. “Warm, fuzzy feelings, you know? Maybe she sees her boyfriend’s butt and she just feels all warm inside. In a wholesome way.”
“The first on the list was Mi Torta,” Kurt says, “I don’t even—“
“Nooooo mi torta, Steven Universe,” Elliott groans. “Oh, that’s funny, I like that.”
“I don’t know what that is,” Kurt tells him.
Elliott flaps a hand at him, “Later. I’ll show you a clip. What were the others?”
“Umm. Farticus,” Kurt grimaces. “Tooshie. Ty and Phoid—”
“What!?” Elliott shriek-laughs. “Wait, sorry, that one caught me off guard.”
“—Sweet Babboo,” Kurt continues, “Oh god, I can’t keep going, I’ll just show you later.”
“Where did you even find this shit?”
“It was the first Google result!” Kurt turns to apologize to the person beside them, then in a more hushed tone: “It was a Buzzfeed article.”
“Were any of these people gay?”
“Judging by the usernames cited, no,” Kurt says. “There was one, but they just called each other sir, they said. Their friends call them The Sirs.”
“Well,” Elliott starts, then leaves his sentence unfinished.
“Out of context, okay, these do sound ridiculous, but I’m sure it makes sense in the larger scheme of things for them,” Kurt says, feeling guilty for his judgement. “What I’m getting here is that pet names are personal, and reflect the history of the couple.”
“Or, you don’t have to think so hard about it,” Elliott says. “Stick to the classics first. Babe, baby, hon—oh my god, you know what? Just follow his lead. Sebastian calls you babe like all the time,” Elliott rolls his eyes, and suddenly Kurt feels attacked on behalf of his boyfriend.
Kurt screws up his face, but hums consideringly.
-
“Babe,” Kurt’s voice is soft in his hesitance, holding out the creamer Sebastian was looking for.
“Thanks,” Sebastian takes the jar. He clears his throat. “So, did you forget my name or something?”
“Sorry?” Kurt purses his mouth politely, looking up from his coffee.
“You’ve been calling me babe exclusively for like a week,” Sebastian says. “I don’t even know what my name is anymore. I’ve forgotten now too, like the taste of strawberries, or the sound of water or the touch of grass. I’m naked in the dark—“
Kurt snorts, “I’m sure I’m not the only person you’ve talked to in the last week. I thought you wanted this.”
“What? When did I say that?” Sebastian laughs.
“A week and a half ago,” Kurt stirs his drink. “While you were sick. You said you wanted me to call you pet names, and I called you baby, and you rated it an eight.”
He looks up. Sebastian looks mildly uncomfortable. “I said that?”
“Pretty much,” Kurt says.
Sebastian laughs again, averting his eyes. “Don’t take me seriously when I’m sick, sweetheart.”
There’s a bit of edge to his tone that makes Kurt raise an eyebrow. “Well, sweetheart, does that mean my offer of all the sex you’d want is off the table now too? You were sick when you accepted.”
“Hey, that was your idea,” Sebastian crowds him with a grin, and Kurt tries not to make it obvious that this sends a thrill down his spine.
“You never did let me know what kind of sex you wanted for our anniversary,” Kurt murmurs, before Sebastian leans in and kisses him.
Sebastian’s hand comes up to trace along his jaw, thumb pressing into the cleft of his chin, and Kurt’s sigh is muffled by Sebastian licking into his mouth. He puts his hands on Sebastian’s hips, pulling him closer. Sebastian nips on his lower lip before pulling his head away.
“Right now I want my name in your mouth, and something else in mine,” Sebastian says, snaking a hand between them to pop the button of Kurt’s pants open.
“Sebastian,” Kurt starts, already feeling weak, “I’d love to but you leave in—“
“Just give me ten minutes,” Sebastian drops to his knees. “Keep it up, babe.”
“Are you s—ohhh fuck,” Kurt hisses, one hand flying back to grip at the kitchen counter and the other sliding into Sebastian’s hair, gripping around a fistful but giving no resistance. “A-ah, Sebastian, oh god.”
Sebastian makes quick work of him, his tongue working skillfully, and he doesn’t bother to tease—until, of course, he does right in the middle of it because it’s a quick way to get Kurt to beg and do whatever he wants and Kurt is aware but he kind of can’t be bothered to give a rat’s ass about it.
“Sebastian, please,” Kurt is simultaneously mortified and spurred by the palpable neediness in his own voice, “Sebastian, oh my god, please, I need—“ He cries out, knuckles white as his nails scratch at the kitchen tile. “Yes, like that, yes yes—“
In an addled state Kurt almost calls him baby like he’d been practicing all week, but apparently he still has the mental capabilities to remember what Sebastian asked for and in a second of jumbled synapses firing off it just slips out.
“B-Bas—“ Kurt almost thrusts forward when Sebastian does something torturously wonderful with his mouth, barely stopping himself and flexing his palm over Sebastian’s head, because accidentally ripping off his hair is a legitimate concern. “Oh fuck I’m gonna—“
-
Sebastian ends up chugging his coffee black, as Kurt stumbles around the kitchen throwing together a packed lunch for him after thoroughly rinsing his hands because they’d lost themselves making out after the fact, then Kurt attempted to make a quick job of Sebastian with his hand but ended up on his knees letting Sebastian fuck his mouth somehow anyway. Kurt was one degree of dirty talk away from full penetrative sex on the kitchen table. Sebastian can’t be allowed to talk during alleged quickies anymore.
“I messed up your hair, you need to fix that,” Kurt calls as Sebastian disappears into the bathroom to brush his teeth. Sebastian had not afforded any thought to Kurt’s own hair, and surely he’s miles more dishevelled than Sebastian, but thankfully all his work is remote during the morning today.
By the time Sebastian is about to rush out the door, he looks decent and put together save for a kind of wild look in his eyes that Kurt doesn’t spend too long looking at in a bid for self-control. One of them has to have it.
“Hey, earlier,” Sebastian pauses, while Kurt’s seeing him out the door. “You called me Bas.”
“Sorry.” Kurt smiles, and laughs self-consciously. “Not sure where that came from. Don’t make a dick joke.”
Sebastian grins. “Anyway—it’s—you can. . .keep doing that. If you want.”
“It’s not weird?”
“No. It sounds nice.” Sebastian is holding himself stiffly in the way he does when he’s being vulnerable. It’s step one to the handbook for specifically his boyfriend mode, because otherwise he goes straight to step two instead. Step two is making fun of something accessible. “Don’t kill me but when you call me babe or baby your face goes like—“
Sebastian widens his eyes and purses his mouth awkwardly.
“You look like a baby alien,” Kurt says.
“You’re insulting yourself this time,” Sebastian tells him. “Anyway, you sound less like an alien trying to assimilate into society when it’s coming from your—“
Kurt tilts his head and gives him a look.
“—heart, Kurt, your heart.”
-
“Bas, hi, can you buy a pack of bobby pins too?” Kurt says, the phone held between his shoulder and cheek. “Or, two, two of them. And check if they have pink or white thread. No, I don’t need needles, I have some already. Three. What? Oh, buy those. Thank you, love you. Bye.”
He awkwardly bends to drop the phone to the nearby chair, aiming it into the corner so it doesn’t bounce off the cushions as he holds the fabric of Rachel’s wedding dress in place, trying not to bend the wire of the safety pin.
“That’s so cute, is that your special nickname for him?” Rachel says, even through her despair. She sniffles.
“Um,” Kurt says. “I guess.”
“How did you come up with it?”
“By picking a syllable,” Kurt jokes. “I don’t know. It, um, it came from the heart—I mean, it just slipped out one day and he liked it, so.”
“Your epic love is for the ages. I’ll dedicate my next show to you. Maybe I’ll even write a song, or a new musical.”
“That is. . .not necessary,” Kurt mumbles, managing to slide the wire into the clasp, though it’s essentially a bandaid. “Focus on your current project.”
“You’re right. You’re so right,” Rachel lifts a hand to wipe a stray tear from her eye. She meets Kurt’s eyes in the mirror determinedly. “I’ll write it for that. Workshop feedback tells me that act two is missing an essential number, the turning point when my heroine realizes something needs to change. This could be it. In fact, it needs to be it. I’m living it right now.”
“I thought—“ Kurt cuts himself off. Rachel is clearly hysterical. He doesn’t want to add to it, she might burst into distressed song and jostle the dress or something. “Okay.”
“I appreciate your help, Kurt.” Rachel takes a breath. “I should’ve picked you to be my attendant.”
“No, no, I’m fine being a guest with an aptitude for dress and makeup repair,” Kurt says, fiddling with her hair. “You and Santana have always had that. . .um, bond.”
“Well, she’s. . .” Rachel purses her lips and forces a smile. “I think she’s struggling with some things right now. She had to step out for a work call.”
Kurt hums noncommittally, brushing off nonexistent dust from her shoulder. “She always comes through when you need it. Or when she can, anyway. Remember when she took over Fanny?”
Rachel exhales, nodding.
“And it would’ve been awkward with Blaine as Jesse’s best man anyway,” Kurt addresses the elephant in the room casually, lifting her chin to assess her makeup.
“I would’ve rearranged the lineup for you,” Rachel says. “You would’ve walked with Tina or Mercedes.”
“It’s your day,” Kurt says, choosing not to say that he still wouldn’t have been comfortable standing across Blaine at the altar. “It should go the way that’s designed for you, not me. I’m here either way.”
Rachel’s stage face cracks. “Kurt. I—I think I’m having wedding jitters. Cold feet. I never thought this would happen to me, I’m so sure about getting married to Jesse, but. . .it’s like choking on my NYADA audition all over again. What if the tear in my dress is the beginning of the end?”
“Oh, honey,” Kurt tsks, “NYADA didn’t end for you. There were roadblocks. I mean, they were mostly self-installed, but who would you be without all the twitter cancellations, and the weird fight with Santana, and—and your kids, you know, Roderick and Kitty and Madison?”
“They’re your kids too,” Rachel says, teary-eyed and smiling.
“Split custody,” Kurt jokes. “I took Jane and Mason and Spencer.”
“What about Alistair and—what’s his name. Myron?”
“I can take Alistair.”
“No, I can, it’s okay, Kurt.”
“You shouldn’t break up Spencer and Alistair.”
“They split amicably at the end of high school.”
“No, it was freshman year of college,” Kurt says, “Spencer emailed my alumni address in the middle of the night to ask me how to not be a ‘Whiny Hummel’ about losing his ‘high school sweetheart’ that he goes to school with.”
Rachel starts tearing up.
“Whoa, okay. It’s fine, Rachel, they got over it.”
“It’s not that,” Rachel fans her eyes. “Well, not about them, exactly. This wedding is perfect, but. . .it’s not how I thought it would be.”
“Things change all the time,” Kurt says. “Most of the same people are still here, and those who aren’t would just want you to be happy.”
“You really think so?”
“Yeah.” Kurt hesitates, wondering if it would be wise to address the lingering shadow of his brother. "He'd be happy for you. Take it from me, if anyone."
-
When Rachel walks down the aisle, dress and makeup restored as best as Kurt could, she’s wearing her stage face, like she’s going to storm the altar and seize it. Kurt meets her eyes from his row as she passes, and he gives her a small smile and subtly crooks his finger to trace a matching one in the air. Rachel grins, and turns her eyes onto Jesse.
There’s some kind of grief and joy exchange here, maybe a twisted feedback loop of it in the shape of a missing person that Kurt and Rachel probably won’t talk about, not in words anyway.
Even if he and Rachel have only talked maybe five or six times in two years, and even if admittedly being around her just isn’t great for Kurt emotionally, they’re still connected the same way Kurt can pick up a conversation with Mercedes after five months of silence like the last message was only five minutes ago. Maybe that’s all the dosage Kurt and Rachel can take of each other these days—or well, for Kurt, rather, but it’s still special.
He tears up during the vows, of course, even if Rachel and Jesse finish it off by duetting, and Sebastian pulls out a small tissue packet from his pocket and offers him one.
“I don’t care what else you’d wanna do,” he murmurs to Kurt, “but just so you know, I draw the line at duetting for the wedding vows.”
-
A couple months later, Kurt gets an email from Rachel.
“She’s inviting me to perform for their workshop,” he tells Sebastian over dinner. “As one of the secondary characters, um, Kevin, who is apparently the ‘narrative thread’ binding the acts together.” He pauses. “Literally.”
“Literally?” Sebastian squints.
“Yes. Apparently it involves ribbon dancing and a dual role as the protagonist’s like, conscience, and as a regular character,” Kurt scrolls the email, “though the showcase workshop is vocals-only to generate interest, if it gets funded there will. . .might be doing an aerial silk number in the third act, pending feedback. Getting sponsors is a big if.”
He looks up. Sebastian’s face is blank.
“You can laugh,” Kurt says.
Sebastian opens his mouth, working around nothing before he closes it and grins, “I mean, whatever you wanna do. . .but this sounds like a public humiliation ritual.”
“The entertainment industry runs on public humiliation rituals,” Kurt says with a wry smirk, putting his phone down. “That’s what makes it entertaining.”
“So are you taking it?”
“I mean, it’s paid,” Kurt shrugs, frowning. “And I don’t have any serious commitments right now. But. . .if it was just Rachel I’d be fine with it, but Blaine is on as a composer, Jesse’s the director, all their friends are the creative team, it’s. . .” he shrugs again. “I don’t know, it’s a lot. I have to think on it. Would it bother you?”
“Are you still carrying a torch for Blaine?” Sebastian tosses back at him, chewing.
“No,” Kurt says, without much thought. He takes a second to feel surprised that no complex feelings accompany the answer anymore.
“Secret crush on Jesse?”
“What the hell? No.”
“Then go knock yourself out,” Sebastian says, looking away and to his food. “Have fun twirling your narrative thread ribbons, sweetheart.”
Kurt rolls his eyes, smiling sickly sweet, “Have fun sleeping alone tonight, honey.”
“Wait—“
-
By now, Kurt is well aware of the fact that Sebastian is conflict-avoidant when it’s not their usual banter. He deflects expressing his needs or deeper feelings with jokes, or swerves and presses at Kurt’s buttons like an emergency exit plan. It’s difficult, sometimes; they’re not perfect, and honestly, Kurt also tends to bottle up frustrations until it explodes at minor things. When it’s time to have a serious talk, however, they’re always honest, even if it results in a fight, and Kurt appreciates that.
It wasn’t until Sebastian that he’d realized how people could still fight with love, how prodding at a problem with him could feel like pulling a knot free instead of forcing it tighter. Mercedes calls him nuts whenever he describes it, but it’s true. They come out of arguments stronger, not because they’re still their petty high school selves, but because they’ve learned to keep the banter at the door and fight fair when it matters.
Well, most of the time.
“Look,” Sebastian says tersely, as they’re standing miserable and hungry on the sidewalk, “Look at this. Do you see this shit?”
“I can’t when you’re shoving it in my face,” Kurt grits out, leaning away from Sebastian’s phone, open on his calendar app. The brightness is turned onto fucking maximum because Sebastian is a freak like that.
“Well, let me spell it out for you.” Sebastian purses his lips. “Saturday, brunch with my mom. Cancelled. Tuesday, movie night. Cancelled. Sunday, my work gala. Oh, wait, not cancelled—you arrived for the last twenty minutes. A for effort, I guess.”
Kurt clenches his jaw, looking away. Sebastian’s anger is uncharacteristic, but today is different.
“Did I fucking complain about any of that? No! But today? Really? You had one fucking job!” Sebastian shakes his phone at the sky.
“Actually,” Kurt hisses, exploding, “No, Sebastian, you have one job. I have three. I have the musical, rehearsals, teaching, freelance—“
“You didn’t have to take up Isabelle while you knew you were going to be busy!”
“None of what you named were because of Isabelle!”
“Don’t nitpick,” Sebastian says. “You know what I mean.”
“I do,” Kurt sneers. “It’s about the musical.”
Sebastian rolls his eyes.
“Sure, okay, be that way,” Kurt snorts. “I know you’re pissed I keep cancelling on you for social functions, but I’m not there for fun, Sebastian, it’s fundraising. This isn’t even new. It’s not like you have the time of your life at your work galas or your team building—“
“Yeah, at least I’m not playing circus work.”
It’s drawled out, slow, not gritted or terse or biting. Faux-casual. Head turned away.
Kurt is momentarily overcome with a rage he hasn’t felt in a long time, white hot and dizzying. Or maybe he’s hungry and sleep-deprived. Either way, he doesn’t care.
“At least I’m happy in my circus,” Kurt says sarcastically, glancing down the street. He doesn’t wait and picks a random direction to walk. Sebastian doesn’t stop him.
Kurt doesn’t go home; as he walks, he scrolls his contact list and considers his options. He ends up crashing with Elliott, though he avoids the offers to talk.
Even while mad, it’s hard to sleep. Kurt already has a shitty sleeping schedule, and lying alone on Elliott’s couch makes it worse. He sleeps better when Sebastian is next to him, and the fact makes him feel irritated and sad. And afraid, because the last time he’d felt so deeply affected by a lover that it messed with his ability to sleep was when he was crying in bed every night in his first year in NYC, having to take sleeping pills to get rest and hating himself for missing Blaine because he was supposed to be angry over his ex cheating on him.
It’s not like he’s unaware that he’s really in love and invested in Sebastian. But he feels doubtful, mistrustful. Maybe Kurt is just opening himself up to heartbreak again, walking down the same roads.
Sebastian calls him at past one in the morning. Kurt stares at the caller ID and contemplates letting it go to voicemail. He’s not sure if he wants to deal with it right now. Before he can decide, the ringing stops. Kurt sits with a heavy stomach, until his phone buzzes with a text.
Sebastian
can u let me know if ur fucking alive maybe
Kurt stares at the text for a good few seconds.
Kurt
yeah
Sebastian
ok
So that’s that, Kurt guesses. He puts the phone facedown on his chest and stares up at the ceiling. Three minutes later, his phone is buzzing again.
Sebastian
maybe this isnt a good idea doing this over text but fuck it. im not gonna shut up when ur shutting me out
Kurt
well you kind of do when I’m not shutting you out
Sebastian
wow give the boy a cookie
Kurt
Real mature.
Sebastian
pot meet kettle
i say one shit thing and ur walking away, no text no anything and i have no idea if ur coming home
Kurt
I forgot
Sebastian
yeah i know u keep doing that lately
Kurt presses the back of his hand to his eyes. Everything’s kind of burning; his eyes, his face, the inside of his chest. At one in the morning, lonely and miserable, he can admit it’s guilt and not anger.
Kurt
can we do this tomorrow
Sebastian
its already tomorrow
Kurt
it’s probably not good to do this over the phone
Sebastian
better than nothing
be real are either of us going to get any sleep
Kurt
I don’t want to talk on a call where I can’t see you
but I can’t text and say something I’ll regret
I think that would be worse than nothing
Just in our phones forever
Sebastian
u can delete the conversation
from my phone too
where r u even
Kurt
Elliott’s
I know I fucked up and I hate it, okay?
I shouldn’t have walked away but I’m just so mad and its easy to be mad at everything else including you even if I shouldn’t be because I’m supposed to just be mad at me and I don’t see what else I can do without fucking it up more
You’d think forgetting to make the reservations for our anniversary is bad enough but if I stayed a minute longer I can guarantee you I would’ve said something shittier about how you hate your job
I already had my foot ahlfway in there
I feel stuck because if you quit I’m not a safe bet and I can’t support both of us without making us downgrade on like pretty much our whole lifestyle I’ve been saving but I don’t know how long I can do it and you know that
And I hate that you can’t quit because of me
And I love my job but I know you’re still bothered that I’m spending a lot of time with Blaine, I’m not blaming you. I know you didn’t think about how much time I’d have to give to stuff outside of rehearsals since it’s actually moving out of workshop
And this is horrifically long already but I’m just showing you that I’m pretty much just holding you back now and making you miserable which makes me miserable so
Maybe we should just stop before we end up hating each other
Because I think that would kill me I cant do it
Sorry
Kurt exhales heavily through an admittedly stuffy nose and turns over on his side, shoving his hand with the phone under the pillow to avoid looking at it. The typing symbol hadn’t even come up once since Kurt started talking. It still didn’t show even when Kurt was saying sorry.
Kurt sniffles and presses the fingers of his free hand against the corners of his eyes. Maybe all their anniversaries going wrong is some kind of a sign.
His phone buzzes. Kurt pulls it out to look at it, bleary-eyed.
Sebastian
im a block down from starchilds building
Kurt
its like 2 in the morning
Sebastian
we live in new fucking york city kurt
Kurt
did you even read my messages
Sebastian
i did
[location pin]
now get over here i ordered already
-
Kurt shows up at the 24/7 diner still in his nice, going-out-for-dinner clothes, but the image is ruined by his messy hair, red-rimmed eyes, and the way his clothes are all rumpled under his coat.
Sebastian is slumped over in a booth, and lazily raises his hand to catch Kurt’s attention. He’s dressed in a plain sweatshirt and jeans, looking put together enough, but his face is tired and wan.
Involuntarily, Kurt’s lip trembles at the sight, but he sucks it in and bites it to keep from embarrassing himself. Sebastian stares at him for a good, long minute.
“You look like shit,” He says.
Kurt stops worrying his lip with his teeth to say, flatly, “thanks.”
They’re silent for a good minute before Kurt finds the awkwardness unbearable and asks Sebastian what he’s thinking. Sebastian clasps his hands together on the table, squinting at them, then fiddles with a loose string on the hem of his sleeve.
“Your thumb,” Kurt says, idly.
“Huh?”
Kurt points at Sebastian’s thumb, where there’s an angry looking cut near the edge of his nail.
“Cut it open on a can,” Sebastian waves it off. “Accident. It’s fine.”
Kurt squints at it, spotting a few more shallow, small cuts around Sebastian’s fingers now that he’s really looking at them under the harsh fluorescent lights, but lets it go for the time being when Sebastian speaks up.
“I know you’re busy, I should’ve checked if you made the reservations.”
Kurt shrugs. “You’re busy too.”
“Well, I don’t hustle as much as you,” Sebastian snorts. “Honestly? I let it play out.”
“Why?” Kurt finds himself feeling quite blank, already having exhausted what he’s needed to say. He takes a sip of his water.
“Felt like you were getting distant, I guess.”
“So. . .” Kurt translates, “You wanted to see if I’d keep messing up until today—yesterday. Like a test. Which I failed.”
“It’s not a test,” Sebastian drums his fingers on the table, “I didn’t know how to start talking about it, so I figured I could just start an intervention or something if you forgot, which you did, except I fucked up and blew up, and I—I was panicking, I guess.”
Kurt blinks, slow.
“I thought I was losing you, or something,” Sebastian clears his throat. “And now you’re spouting some bullshit about breaking up, so. I have basis.”
“It’s not bullshit,” Kurt frowns.
“It is,” Sebastian insists. “I’m ‘miserable’ because we’ve been distant, and you think cutting each other out is going to fix it? What the hell is that going to do?”
Kurt bristles, “It’s going to set you free or whatever. Obviously this isn’t ideal for you anymore so you can go and. . .like, do what you want to do.”
“You can’t even say what I want to do, so it’s not obvious,” Sebastian says, and Kurt sighs. “Yes, okay, I hate my company, it sucks, but why the fuck would I want to give up the number one thing that makes it okay?”
Kurt is momentarily stunned. “Because it shouldn’t be okay.”
Sebastian stares at him for a second, mouth parting a little at Kurt’s response. “Well, it’s not one thing or the other. I mean—you said it yourself, maybe it’s not ideal, but. . .”
Kurt shakes his head, “You’re gonna end up hating me.”
“You can’t know that, and even if I did, it wouldn’t be as much as I’d hate not having you at all,” Sebastian argues. “Look, what I really want to do? Is not break up, I can tell you that much.”
“Alright, fine, then we’re not breaking up.” Kurt raises his shoulders, trying not to roll his eyes.
“Fine.” Sebastian leans back. “One more thing: I’m insulted by the limitations you have put on us. I’m a fucking mastermind. You don’t think I can figure out a third option?”
“You couldn’t even figure out the new coffee machine last week,” Kurt points out. He gestures to Sebastian’s hands, “Or open canned goods unscathed, apparently.”
“That’s what I keep you around for. Also, the sex we haven’t been having.”
Kurt lightly kicks at him under the table, as a waiter comes by with their food. Sebastian catches his foot with his own and they engage in something that’s like half-footsie and half-fighting, which escalates past something subtle after the waiter leaves and they thank him.
Sebastian is halfway slumped down his side of the booth, trying to hook Kurt’s calf, and Kurt is gripping the edges of the table and trying not to laugh. They stop when Sebastian’s ass nearly slips off his chair, Kurt’s restraint on his giggles breaking as he holds the table to keep it from rattling as Sebastian momentarily disappears under the table and shoots back up, a little red and grinning.
They stop talking for a while to eat, because they both skipped dinner and they’re starving. Sebastian opted for breakfast orders. Kurt notices that his own order is perfect, down to even the minute specifications about how his eggs are cooked and whatnot, stuff he wouldn’t have minded being overlooked but meant everything when they were remembered.
It would be really weird if Kurt started crying over his eggs, so he stuffs his mouth instead.
Towards the end of their meal, once they’re both content, Kurt addresses the unspoken omission from their earlier talk.
“About the Blaine thing. . .”
Sebastian looks up at him, as Kurt trails off. His face is carefully neutral. “I don’t really care.”
Kurt squints.
“I don’t care because we are all big boys, if not in size then in spirit, sorry Blaine—” Sebastian tips his head back and makes an apologetic gesture towards the ceiling. Kurt snorts. “I told you it was okay.”
“Things can change,” Kurt reminds. “You can talk to me about it. It’s not gonna make me quit or anything.”
Sebastian studies him. “Okay. You notice how, all this stuff, it’s kind of familiar?”
“What do you mean?”
“The avoiding. I mean, we both do it but now it’s dialed up. You, walking away, not answering your phone and just going completely radio silent when you’re mad. Which fucking freaks me out because you don’t do that with me.” Sebastian gets shifty-eyed for a moment, before looking Kurt right in the face, “And—‘let’s break up before we completely hate each other’?”
Suddenly—and viscerally, Kurt can practically hear something snapping into place in his brain—it clicks. He opens his mouth, but ends up zoning out a little, rewinding everything in the past weeks, now with the added perspective of ‘holy shit, I still have ex-boyfriend baggage’. Kurt silently presses his fingers to his mouth.
“Yeah, so I assume this confirms I wasn’t being delusional. Whatever I’ve got with Blaine is nothing compared to how he somehow made you invent time travel simply by proximity,” Sebastian says. “Do you think there’s something in his hair gel? Airborne drugs?”
Kurt’s mouth works around nothing for a few more moments before he jokes, helplessly, “It’s just regular stuff. Olfactory sense is very powerful—I inhale enough raspberry scent and suddenly I’m nineteen again.”
Sebastian exhales out a laugh.
“He doesn’t even wear that much of it anymore,” Kurt says, sheepish. “God, I’m so sorry.”
“Appreciate the effort, but that’s way too much flattery, dial it down, babe. Use my real name.”
“Shut up. No more jokes. Oh, you’re never going to let me live this down,” Kurt moans, massaging his temples. “This is so stupid.”
“Yeah, but I know it’s not all ex-goggles. I hear you about the job thing,” Sebastian tries. “You just. . .adapted your old shit to our new shit. I mean, I’m kind of the same.”
That last part is said more quietly, and Kurt respects it by not acknowledging. Sebastian doesn’t like talking about his parental issues more than he has to, which was just the handful of times when it was him acting weird, or when the non-confrontation got out of control.
“Let’s just. . .let’s go home,” Kurt drops his hands.
“Yep, I’m so with you.” Sebastian starts pulling bills out of his pockets.
When they’re out on the street and Sebastian is hailing a cab, Kurt says, “Wait, so you do have issues with Blaine.”
“They are minor and very Blaine isolated,” Sebastian says evenly.
“Tell me anyway.”
“I don’t expect you to notice this,” Sebastian says, sticking his arm out and craning his neck trying to determine if an approaching cab is filled. He drops it, “Because usually you’re not looking at him when he does it, but he looks at you weird, like, yearningly, and it makes me feel weird, like I want to drape even more layers on you.”
“That is weird, you love when I have less layers.”
“I also tried being friendly one time, you know, big boy stuff, and he was just not having it. Which was fine, because at least he wasn’t being a total asshole. I can respect that.” Sebastian holds up his hands, palms out to mime his civility, “And then you came back and he changed his tune all of a sudden, acting like we were old besties. I could’ve said something rude, but I didn’t. Congratulate me, it was very hard.”
“Wow, does the big boy want a cookie?” Kurt teases, dodging a pinch. “That is weird, though, I don’t like that. Just that first time?”
“Nope, all the times we’ve shared a space since then. Kinda drives me nuts. Okay, wait, I’ve been sitting on this because we were all weird and had our own problems but I can tell you now.” Sebastian turns to Kurt, forgetting about the cab. “I’m like, adult and mature and reformed and shit so obviously, I wasn’t going to confront Blaine directly.”
“Obviously.”
“So, I did a thing.”
“I hope I am not about to hear you’ve committed a crime.”
“I texted Rachel looking for gossip.”
“Oh my god.” Kurt widens his eyes. “But that’s smart. Rachel is your best choice for that.”
“I know.” Sebastian holds up a hand. “And here’s the kicker. I found out why Blaine got mad with me.”
“He was mad?”
Sebastian hums, then he says, “It’s because when I tried to start things over with him, I called him your ex-boyfriend. Just—‘hey, I know things might be weird since you and Kurt were boyfriends but I’d like to be friends’, yada yada once a Warbler always a Warbler blah blah.”
Kurt waits. Sebastian gives him a look, bouncing expectantly on the balls of his feet a little.
“That’s it?” Kurt asks, squinting. Sebastian raises his eyebrows meaningfully. “What’s wrong with tha—oh my god.”
“He wanted me to call you his ex-husband!” Sebastian explodes, “Why the fuck would I do that!”
Kurt moans, covering his face.
“I was there when the fake divorce papers were written!” Sebastian is flailing, uncharacteristically graceless in his gesticulations. He’s really worked up about this.
“No, you were there when they were printed,” Kurt drops to squat down on the curb, hiding his face in his hands as huddles into a ball. He laugh-cries into his palms. “I feel so bad. The ceremony happened and everything.”
“And it lasted four months!” Sebastian exclaims. “It was a sham!”
Kurt lifts his head and stares out into the early morning morosely. “It’s a really gray area, technically we never went through the process of getting a license, but we did, like, everything else, emotionally. Spiritually. We even had a honeymoon though Sue controlled everything. Hell, I made divorce papers. It kind of sucked. Everything sucked. I feel bad every time I see Britt posting the pics on Throwback Thursday with me and Blaine obviously cropped out or covered up in unicorn and dolphin emojis.”
“Kurt, I will fucking pull up the law right now,” Sebastian whips out his phone, dropping to sit next to him on the curb. “It’s a fucking void marriage—“
“I know, I know,” Kurt says. “I went to the internet too, several times over the four months. I did not have the money for a lawyer as a broke college student.”
“My dad could’ve called up some people. You know, I was stupid, I should’ve made you go through an actual legal process instead of fake divorce. Like, technically you could’ve said you were forced,” Sebastian says.
“You hadn’t slept in 48 hours, it was hilarious to you, dating each other didn’t even occur to us until like a year of friendship after that day,” Kurt says listlessly. “Also there is a video on YouTube of my vows and several eyewitnesses. Nobody has proof of Sue Sylvester ushering us into a room and me getting peer pressured into spontaneous marriage, not outright forced. That would be the elevator incident when she locked us in, pumped airborne drugs through the vents and forced us to make out for her amusement. Everything else is a gray area.”
Sebastian is quiet for a second. “When they contact you about the McKinley high school ten year reunion I will tie you to a chair.”
“You’re assuming I would even want to go,” Kurt snorts, looking over at him. “Why are you even so mad about this? It’s label technicalities. This won’t affect you, or us as a couple.”
Sebastian shrugs. “Just bothers me, I guess.”
“Why, you wanna be my first husband?” Kurt teases.
“You’re crap at proposals. I haven’t even said anything and you’re already implying there’s going to be a second?” Sebastian grins. “Fuck you.”
“Bas, you would be my second too, I have a sort-of first one,” Kurt says. Self-deprecatingly, he gestures grandly, “I have so much room for loopholes and technicalities. The world is my oyster, I guess.”
“This is why I never had a high school sweetheart,” Sebastian says, standing up. He offers a hand to Kurt. “Or a college sweetheart.”
Kurt laughs and takes it, letting Sebastian pull him up. Sebastian doesn’t let go after Kurt’s up, and uses the momentum to pull him in. Sebastian kisses him, slow and soft. Kurt melts into his arms.
When they separate, Kurt smiles. “What do we call you?”
“Just a sweetheart, no frills. I’m a real one, obviously,” Sebastian jokes.
“You are,” Kurt says, sincerely, and is treated to the very rare sight of Sebastian Smythe blushing at four in the morning on the sidewalk.
-
“Okay, before we go to bed and crash—“
“No makeup sex?”
“Later, sleep first so we can do a nice long marathon. This is not a cookie, but it’s better.”
Sebastian watches, mystified, as Kurt opens their storage closet and takes out a large, thin box hidden in the back.
“Anniversary gift,” Kurt says, setting it upright on the floor with a huff. “It was too big to bring outside. And I didn’t have time for gift wrapping.”
“You got me one?” Sebastian looks awkward. “Uh, I—“
“It doesn’t matter, I don’t need anything,” Kurt smiles, leaning down and prying the top open. He reaches inside. “Consider this an apology gift too.”
“What—“
Kurt pulls out a giant Toblerone bar.
“Holy shit!” Sebastian practically prances over.
“Do not eat it all at once,” Kurt warns.
Sebastian laughs, borderline hysterical, as he lugs the thing into the kitchen. “Oh my god, is this like a lot of the normal ones or is it—HOLY SHIT baby it’s huge! Look!”
When Kurt enters the kitchen, Sebastian is gawking at an exposed giant version of a Toblerone section, looking overjoyed.
Kurt snaps a picture for posterity. They end up getting a head start on the makeup sex and share a block of chocolate between rounds.
-
Sebastian does double down and work on hashing out different options, with Kurt’s support. It’s a little risky, but with careful planning they do manage when Sebastian finally quits his job and starts over, taking an paid internship in a different career. They do have arguments about various things, as usual, but it’s all part of the process. Kurt’s six various sources of passive income also doesn’t hurt, though he has to step back a bit to focus on workshops and rehearsals.
By the time their third anniversary rolls around, Kurt has just had his off-Broadway debut—as the ribbon-twirling narrative thread of Rachel’s dramedy musical.
Critically, it’s a mixed bag. The story is kind of a mess, not all of the characters make sense, and overall the concept is just weird. Blaine took inspiration from one of the less popular brat pack movies and wrote a ragtag group of friends navigating college, Rachel wrote a lonely woman making friends out of her furniture come to life and rewrote her songs My Headband and Only Child (and Brittany offered all the rights to her song My Cup) for it, and the two combined this into Rachel’s protagonist hallucinating her college friends as her furniture.
Commercially, it’s somehow a hit. Everybody came together to work for getting funding and sponsors and generating interest. The right people in high places loved it and it’s viral on social media, and Kurt is a bit shocked by the popularity of his own character. He’d buckled down and focused on his job, taking Blaine and Rachel’s wackiness in stride and apparently people were pleased with the result. A few days ago, Kurt was with Sebastian on the subway and a group of teenagers came up to him asking for selfies and enthusiastically praising his performance, one of them good-naturedly doing a shoulder shimmy before bidding goodbye.
Kurt doesn’t know how to feel about casually agreeing to immortalize “the finger wag, the shoulder shimmy, and the one where you pretend to twirl two invisible rainbow ribbons attached to your hips”, even if Santana has apologized.
(“Your comments haunted me for years,” Kurt had told her.
“Hey, at least you’re going to get fucking paid,” Santana throws her arms up. “You and Blaine’s faces have been haunting our wedding photos for years. Where’s our compensation, huh?”
Kurt’s mouth dropped open, appalled, “You were part of the people pressuring me to hitch a ride on your wedding dress train! Your damn bride printed cutouts of our faces and stuck them on mannequins dressed in tuxes!”
Britt was standing behind Santana, making a slashing motion at her own throat. That was Sue, she mouthed exaggeratedly. She made me do it.
“In Kurt’s honor I ask that you lend publicity work to our project so that he can benefit substantially from your disparaging verbal abuse,” Rachel ventured bravely. Kurt turned his appalled expression onto her, but she held up a hand. “The scars may never heal but at least his glory will outlast his days like a shining star.”
“I’ll give you the entire rights to My Cup,” Britt offered.
“Deal.” Rachel held out her hand.
“Hold on,” Kurt pushed her hand down, “At least help us get Sue to fund a part of this damn mess, you and Quinn have pull. And Britt’s song rights. And publicity.”
Santana raised her eyebrows.
“I will get Sebastian Smythe to personally photoshop me and Blaine out of your pictures,” Kurt said.
Santana’s face shifted, a pleasant, genuine smile on her mouth. “Now, that, Berry, is how you sweeten the pot. You’ve got yourself a deal, Hummel.”)
Anyway, the comedy made for viral clips, but Kurt, like everybody else involved in the production, was serious about the technicals. His agent had sent him a little compilation of glowing snippets the other day about his allegedly graceful quality and excellent dancing and vocal control which elevated the purposeful misuse of them for humor, and Kurt is still absorbing all the different words and praise. The future is promising, even if the origins are a bit questionable.
“So this is going to run for how many performances?” Sebastian asks.
“Um, eight more weeks, but Jesse’s hopeful for an extension,” Kurt loops his arm through Sebastian’s. “Sales are great so far.”
Sebastian might not have noticed it’s the second time he’s asked. Sebastian’s been fidgety the whole of the twenty minutes they’ve been together after meeting. Kurt is a little perplexed. Sebastian is also holding a heavy-looking paper bag that Kurt has been debating asking about for the last twenty minutes.
“So, is that dessert?”
Twenty minutes is good enough. Kurt usually breaks after five minutes max.
“Cheesecake?” Kurt teases hopefully, leaning to peer over at it. Sebastian swings it out of view.
“That's a basic anniversary gift,” Sebastian says. “No.”
“It could be a special one,” Kurt says. “Like, shaped all eccentric or something.”
“I was supposed to give it to you on opening night, because tradition, but then I figured it might be heavy,” Sebastian says, apropos of nothing. Then he quiets.
“Heavy,” Kurt repeats. “And Broadway tradition. Okay. Can I get another hint?”
“Fuck,” Sebastian runs a hand through his hair. Kurt blinks.
“Your hands are all cut up,” Kurt grabs it and examines his fingers. In a softer tone, concerned: “Okay, sweetheart, now you have to tell me. Bodily harm is involved.”
“Park,” Sebastian points, cheeks a little red. Kurt ushers him along, snorting.
Once they’re on a bench, Kurt waits a polite amount of half a minute before he says, “Okay, you can tell me now.”
Sebastian wordlessly hands over the bag. Kurt opens it gingerly.
“Oh my god.”
Kurt delicately lifts out a sparkling brooch bouquet. It’s a very eccentric, tasteful design; there’s a small diamond brooch in the center, and tons of interesting plant-themed antiques arranged around it. The gaps were accentuated with animal brooches, owls, canaries, doves. Kurt turns it around by the blue-wrapped handle, open-mouthed, as he examines it, scooting closer to the edge of the bench to get closer to the light of the streetlamp by its side.
“Oh my god,” Kurt repeats faintly, “There’s a little meerkat holding the diamond.”
“Yep.”
Kurt looks at it, then at Sebastian’s slightly wide eyes. Then at Sebastian’s hands, fingers drumming erratic beats on his thighs.
“Did you make this?” Kurt thinks. “Wait, did you make this last year?”
“It was ugly last year,” Sebastian mutters. He spreads his hands, “My artistic talents begin with dancing and end with video and image editing.”
“I. . .” Kurt is speechless. “It’s beautiful.”
“You can also thank YouTube, random redditors, and Starchild Gilbert,” Sebastian adds. He seems calmer. “I bought a DIY thing, when I was bored, and it looked like a good idea. You’re always making random stuff, and you’ve made me clothes. I thought I could make it last year, but it was all fucked. And we, you know. The whole—“ He makes a hand gesture. “And then you busted out the giant chocolate, my gift would have looked lame.”
“I would’ve loved it anyway.”
“I know. But I decided to hold off and work on it more.” Sebastian smiles wryly. “Too soon.”
“Would this diamond have anything to do with that?” Kurt asks slyly, moving back down the bench. He squints. “And why you were so mad about the husband thing?”
“Possibly,” Sebastian squints to match him, then he laughs. “It’s not a formal proposal. No rush. You’re performing six days a week, then you’ll be off to a Broadway debut at some point after.”
“We don’t know that yet,” Kurt smiles, tracing a finger over the edge of a blue flower brooch.
“Please, I’m calling it,” Sebastian rolls his eyes. “You can brag, I won’t judge. I’ll find it hot, even.”
Kurt snorts. “Well, it’s just surreal. Even just the possibility that if we make it to Broadway and I’m still in the cast. I always wanted to originate a role, but I don’t think I imagined something quite like this one.”
“I’m pretty sure Rachel wrote it for you.”
Kurt hums, noncommittal, and they sit there in a comfortable silence for a few moments. Sebastian seems completely relaxed now, enjoying the evening breeze. His hand plays with the short hairs at the nape of Kurt’s neck.
Kurt admires his bouquet, looking at it from all angles. It really is beautiful work; Sebastian stuck to mostly green, blue, and white accessories, with small accents of other colors. He asks about one, which turns into Sebastian pointing at random ones and telling him where he’d gotten it. Apparently he ended up replacing the generic looking ones he had and just spent a few months collecting nice-looking brooches before arranging them.
Kurt kisses him while he’s explaining how he found a meerkat pendant online and—well, Kurt doesn’t know the rest of that sentence, given that his tongue is already slipping into Sebastian’s mouth. Sebastian doesn’t seem to mind, kissing him back eagerly and winding an arm around Kurt’s back.
Kurt pulls back just a little bit. “When you mean it’s possibly a proposal, does this mean you want to get married?”
Sebastian looks up from where he’s staring at Kurt’s mouth. “Um. Well, if you want to.”
“But do you want to.”
“I want to be married,” Sebastian says, after a few seconds. Kurt pecks him on the mouth. “Or more like—mmph—I never want to break up so—I don’t care if I’m your boyfriend or your husband—fuck, come here—as long as we’re together.” He sucks a kiss onto Kurt’s mouth before adding, “You’re mine.”
“Mm-hm,” Kurt kisses him again. And again. “I want to marry you.”
“Um,” Sebastian indulges a kiss. “Hm. But—your show.” He pulls back far enough to stop the kissing. Kurt pouts slightly, and Sebastian laughs. “And I’m still working up the ladder at my new job. Not sure we have the time.”
“Surely we can spare a day or two,” Kurt shrugs. Shifting to fold one leg under him, he lets his arm slip from Sebastian’s neck, carefully holding the heavy bouquet away as he draws his hands into his lap, holding it there. “We can apply and book an appointment for a marriage license, I don’t know how schedules are right now but it can’t take more than one or two weeks of waiting, I guess. The actual thing takes like ten minutes. After they issue the license there’s just a 24-hour wait then we can get married anywhere by an officiant. The actual vows and ring exchange will be just ten, fifteen minutes tops, I imagine, unless you want to perform an extensive monologue for me, in which case, I won’t complain.”
Sebastian tilts his head. “Why do you know so much.”
Kurt smiles, holding his bouquet innocently. “I might have daydreamed about eloping once or twice since last year. After I got past my embarrassment and had that talk with Blaine all that husband talk got me thinking.”
“You want to elope?” Sebastian starts to laugh, but cuts himself off, looking a little awestruck. “You don’t want to have a nice big wedding with like, the public vows and the fancy decor and all our families. . .”
“Do you?”
Sebastian thinks. “Nah. I mean, I would if you wanted it.”
“I’ve done the traditional wedding and engagement thing,” Kurt says. “I wouldn’t say it was all bad, but a lot of the time I didn’t feel like I had much of a say in however anything went except for yes, no, maybe. I still love to see weddings of all kinds, Rachel’s was wonderful, but the way I imagine one for myself is very different now.”
“How do you imagine it?”
“Just us,” Kurt says, his mouth curving into a smile. His voice gets a little breathless as he shares, “And a photographer, I guess. They can be the witness too. We dress up, exchange vows, then rings, probably in the morning. Then we spend the rest of the day having fun together in places we like and take nice pictures. That’s it.” He continues smiling at Sebastian before jolting a little. “Oh, and sex in the evening.”
Sebastian’s face had started out neutral enough, but now, Kurt observes, he looks softer, a little smile on his mouth as well. There’s a glint in his eye.
“You can add whatever you’d like to do, that’s just what I imagine,” Kurt says.
“No, I like that one. It’s perfect, it’s the wedding I never knew I wanted,” Sebastian looks very pleased. “Though, you know we’re probably gonna piss off some people by eloping. My parents won’t mind, but I don’t know about your dad. There’s also Rachel herself.”
“Oh, no, she’ll be sad, but give her a minute to think about it.” Kurt holds up a finger. “Then, she’s going to realize what this could mean and dramatize the hell out of it, swooning. She’ll probably say something like ‘oh Kurt, you truly captured the whirlwind essence of New York. Eloping is so daring and romantic. Let’s write a song about it—“
Sebastian bursts out laughing, and Kurt joins in.
“And my dad knows I don’t want a traditional wedding anymore. He’s never really made a big deal of the giving me away thing or walking me down the aisle, he says I’m my own man. The one who’s actually going to be mad at me is probably Mercedes,” Kurt sighs as his laughter trails off, wiping at his eyes.
“And you’re okay with that?”
Kurt shrugs. “I have to be. A lot of the others are going to feel bad if I invite her and not them. I don’t know, I love my friends, but I have to admit the way everything happened, with the engagement and the double wedding and all the weird stuff—it’s kind of tiring. I’m not doing it out of spite or because I want to be different. I just want you to myself on our actual wedding day, and the freedom to just decide whatever without worrying about anyone other than us. Is that too selfish?”
“Babe, if there’s any day to get selfish about us, it’s that one. Me too,” Sebastian leans in and kisses him.
When they separate, Sebastian has a thoughtful look on his face.
“How about, we just throw a party and invite everybody when we’re next free post-elopement?” Sebastian shrugs, and Kurt blinks, brightening up more. “Like a super delayed reception. Edit the wedding video, then show it there. I kinda don’t want my vows filmed, though.”
“Then it won’t be,” Kurt says easily. “Picture slideshow.”
“Yeah, then put, like—wait, this is my one special request,” Sebastian says, a sudden grin spreading across his face. “If we’re doing a slideshow, it has to be like, this cheesy, comic sans—“
Kurt makes a cross between a grimace and a smile.
“Wait, no, I got an idea. Hear me out—“ Sebastian straightens up, holding his hands up. “We can set aside five minutes per location to vlog.”
“Vlog?”
“Or, have you seen the One Direction music video, like the Night Changes music v—“
“Are you serious?“
“It’s okay babe, I’ll do all the acting. You can be the hand, like the POV person. The cameraman.” Sebastian starts singing, touching Kurt’s hand, “Does it ever drive you crazy, just how fast the night changes. . .”
“I will be the guy throwing spaghetti on your head,” Kurt threatens, because of course he knows that music video. Sebastian made them watch it together five fucking times in a row once. “I know you’re messing with me.”
He sees Sebastian’s mouth twitch.
“A little,” he admits. “Somebody has to bring the fun. It thrills you.”
“A little,” Kurt echoes, smiling wryly. He looks up. The sky is completely dark now. “Shit, our reservations.”
Kurt slips one hand into his pocket to get his phone out and check the time.
Sebastian laughs. “Fuck it, let’s go to a cheap diner again. Or a cafe, there’s that cute one like five minutes from here.”
Kurt hums, highly tempted but reluctant to admit it.
“We can start planning elopement over coffee and sandwiches,” Sebastian offers. “We have, what’d you say, one week? Two?”
“Around that time, yes,” Kurt fiddles with his bouquet. He can already see outfit concept boards behind the backs of his eyelids, colors and styles that will complement the bouquet. “Once I file an application. . .yeah okay fine. Let’s go.”
Kurt stands with purpose, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet as he tucks the gift back into the bag.
“I was so blind,” Sebastian says. “I should’ve known.”
“Hm?” Kurt turns around. Sebastian is still slouched on the bench.
“Look at you. You love this,” Sebastian gestures to Kurt. He’s smiling, a soft one, looking at Kurt like he’s soaking him up. “The two week deadline. The fucking whirlwind essence of New York.”
“The fucking whirlwind essence will leave you behind if you keep sitting around,” Kurt says to him, only blushing a little bit. He actually bounces in place as he gestures, grinning, “Up, up, I’m already getting ideas. God I wish I brought a notebook. Hey, sweetheart, how do you feel about getting married in the High Line at sunrise?”