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Chapter Text

Kurt browsed his new favourite website, NewYorkers-to-go.com. If anyone had told him a few years ago that he’d ever be speed dating in New York city, he would have directed them to Miss Pillsbury’s office. New York, the Big Apple, home of so many love-stories; Serendipity, Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Kate & Leopold, West Side Story, Sleepless in Seattle… who needed speed dating when all you had to do is wait for true love to find you on the Empire State building or in rainy Manhattan?

But as it turned out, it wasn’t that easy. Somehow, all those people in the movies had all day to sit at diners pretending to have orgasms, or stroll down Central Park with a well-groomed dog. Kurt was pretty sure none of them worked as a personal assistant at Vogue.com during the day and a singing waiter at night and attended a prestige performing arts school while they waited for their chance meeting with Mr. Right.

No, if Kurt wanted to meet someone, he’d have to squeeze it into his lunch breaks and sparse nights off, and speed dating had turned out to be the most efficient way to go about it.

NewYorkers-to-go.com had been a tip from Chase. It listed all speed dating occasions per week per area, sorted by popularity and fees. And though Kurt hadn’t found his Mr Right yet, he’d collected a few phone numbers and been on a few follow-up dates- and all of them had been better than his recent nights out with Blaine…even the accountant-slash-hobby-taxidermist, or the guy who only spoke Polish. His dates had had one thing in common: they actually wanted to be there. They didn’t spend all evening complaining about the state of their living room (“My advanced classes at NYADA are like, super hard, Kurt, I don’t have time to pick up after you”) or about what a chore it was to find a decent organizer board for their bow-tie collection. Instead, Kurt dates had showed up on time, asked about Kurt’s day, and complimented him on his outfits- even with no Polish, Kurt had been able to make that out.

So far though, no real spark.

Kurt smiled as he thought about the exchange with Chase that had lead to him speed dating in the first place. Chase had walked up to his desk at Vogue, tilting his head a little as he always did when he talked to Kurt, and said conversationally:

“So…I just got back from Paris and the first thing I hear from Isabelle is that you got rid of that pest problem in your home.” He waggled his eyebrows and grinned.

“Pest? What- oh,” Kurt replied, catching on. He had been in the middle of an email to one of their advertisers and his mind had skipped to the bedbugs in Blaine’s horrible couch at first- but that had been back at the loft, and the pest Chase was referring to was actually… human. He scrunched up his nose. “That’s not really fair,” he said, defending his ex more out of habit than anything else, and then sighed. “But yes, Blaine is gone. I tried not to take it personally when more people showed up to help him move out than when we moved in together.” Kurt offered Chase a small, slightly weary smile.

“And you’re ok?”

Kurt nodded. “I’m actually kind of relieved. I haven’t figured out how to pay next month’s rent yet without Blaine’s share, but at least I no longer have to save up for a marriage we couldn’t afford in the first place.” His tone was light and cheerful, but he could tell Chase was catching the darker undertone.

Chase pursed his lips. “Pay still sucks, huh? Want me to talk to Isabelle? I’m sure we can work something out.” He paused and seemed to be weighing his chances. “Or there’s always plan B…”

Kurt raised an eyebrow. He kind of expected what was coming next.

Chase lowered his voice a little. “I know this guy, really handsome, well-dressed, nice job…great apartment in Manhattan. I could tell you about him over dinner.”

God, how Kurt had been tempted to take that offer! But he had told himself from the start of his New York career never to start anything with someone at his workplace. Chase knew this already - he had already tried his chances the last time Kurt had broken up with Blaine- but Kurt had reminded him of his good resolutions anyway. Chase had playfully offered to resign, but then relented and told him about the website instead.

Kurt’s eyes wandered down the list of new occasions, mentally checking them against his calendar, when he saw something new: one of the gay bars in his area had a new karaoke night?

“Duet Roulette,” Kurt read out loud, “huh.”

It sounded a little like something Mr. Schue could have come up with, but he continued reading.

“Serenade a stranger and let the sparks fly where they may! Participants get assigned a song and duet partner by chance, fee 25$ + one free drink per participant, yada yada- the winning couple receives 400 dollars?”

Kurt sat back in his chair. Meeting guys, getting to sing, and possibly winning money. What was the catch? He read through the disclaimer twice but couldn’t find anything fishy. It was a pretty straight-forward competition. The winners were determined by the applause-O-meter, which was an obvious (but expected) tactic of getting people to bring their entourage to the bar so they could sell more drinks. Not exactly in his favour when he could count the people who’d join him to such a place on, well, maybe 3 fingers, but what he lacked in friends he could make up with sheer talent. Karaoke was his game, after all. And even he didn’t win, the bar would be filled with gay men who shared his number one interest: music.

Kurt marked the night in his calendar and made a mental note to make sure he’d plan his shifts at the diner so that he could keep that night free.

Chapter Text

The duet competition night had come, and Kurt was very excited. As expected, he hadn’t been able to get anyone to come with him, but maybe that was for the best. If he did meet the guy of his dreams here tonight, he’d want to have his privacy anyway.

As he reached the bar, he could see people lining up around the block. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach. It had been a while since he’d sang for such a large audience. He hoped he’d get in! He was about to make his way down the line when someone whistled. Trained by years of insults that usually followed such calls for attention in high school, Kurt kept his eyes to the front and ignored it. Whoever it was whistled again.

“Hey. You with the body paint pants. Do you want in?”

Kurt froze in his steps and glanced down his very tight skinny jeans, then slowly turned around.

The large man at the entrance of the bar was looking at him. “I’m not gonna ask again, gorgeous,” he said. “In or out, your call.”

Kurt nodded so quickly he could feel his hair wobble despite the extra-strength hairspray he had used to comb it up, and he hurried back. There was quite a bit of mumbling among the people waiting in line, but oddly enough, a lot of what Kurt could make out was more appreciative than rude. “Thanks,” he offered the man at the door, who nodded and wished him a good time.

The first thing Kurt did after he got in and bought a ticket was text Elliott to tell him about it. It was Elliott’s last week at the yoga retreat, and the only way Kurt had been able to convince him to stay there and finish his 500 hours teachers’ qualification was to promise him a full play-by-play of the entire evening. Kurt missed him like crazy. Elliott and Dani were more than just his band- they were the only real friends he had made in New York that had stuck around. Dani was currently covering his shift at the Spotlight diner. Rachel, as usual, had been too busy with herself to come (She loved to slap the label ‘best gay’ on him when she introduced him to people, but so far she had yet to actually accompany him to any gay bar or act as an ally in any way).

Kurt pocketed his phone, feeling even more boosted after Elliott’s encouraging texts. He pinned his competition number to the lapel of his jacket and looked around the bar. He could see several people wearing numbers, but at least three times as many without. The bar’s scheme was working out for them. A large wide-screen was running a loop of advertisement for their other themed nights and their Facebook page, and a text running at the bottom of the screen read that the duet pairings and their songs would be announced as soon as the maximum of participants had been reached. There would be 25 couples singing that night. Kurt had number 41, so it probably wouldn’t take much longer. The woman at the booth had said that if everyone who had RSVPed on the bar’s Facebook page actually showed up, they’d have to host one or two extra karaoke nights, or else they’d be singing until sunrise.

To pass the time and have something in his hands, Kurt used his free drink coupon from the ticket to order a Shirley Temple. He looked around. Hopefully he’d get paired up with someone who could actually sing! Then again, if they looked like number 23… who cared?

Kurt tried to look inconspicuous as he eyed the tall man with the blond ponytail and the large arms. He kind of reminded him of burglar Santa, but in a rock star kind of way. He tried to spot more numbers. Number 12 wasn’t so bad either. A bit old, maybe, but Kurt was really hoping for a mature relationship this time around anyway.

The music stopped for a moment, and someone on a microphone announced that the 50th slot had just been filled and that they’d be putting up the couples and song list shortly. They advised participants to make their way towards the stage and wear their number visibly to facilitate finding their match. Kurt straightened his jacket and drained his drink, popping the cherry in his mouth. Here we go, he said to himself, as the advertisement screen went black. The list came up and he scanned it quickly, looking for his number.

With a pang of disappointment, he saw he wasn’t paired up with 23 or 12.

Number 6 & 41 - Fire & Ice (Pat Benatar)

Kurt put his glass down and filed through the crowd towards the stage. He knew the song. It was pretty old, but in his wheelhouse. Hopefully, he’d find his partner quickly so they’d have time to go over some of the trickier lines. To his left, he saw number 23 shake hands with a guy wearing stretch stirrup pants and no socks. Kurt shuddered. What a waste.

He heard someone behind him complain about the song selection, which they said was outdated, but he didn’t think their complaint was very fair. All of them had been given 80s and 90s hits- those were simply songs that almost everyone knew. Queen, Tina Turner, ABBA, the BeeGees. Those were karaoke classics. He supposed he had been hardened by years of Mr. Schue’s personal record collection.

“Hello. Is it me you’re looking for?” a male voice sang softly in his ear. Kurt turned around and saw a young man with soft brown eyes and very white teeth smiling at him. The man held out his number. Kurt could see the bar’s logo was upside down.

“That’s actually number nine,” Kurt said. “I’m paired with number 6.”

The man smiled. “Busted. Can I give you my phone number anyway?”

“Um. Sure.” Kurt replied, a little dazed by the encounter. First the bouncer, now this guy. Clearly the skinny jeans had been a good choice. He was about to ask for the man’s name when he saw number six on the other side of the stage. It only took a few seconds for him to make up his mind.

“I’m sorry. I have to go,” Kurt said, and turned away, pulling his number off his jacket.

“Wait! I haven’t-!” Number nine called after him, but Kurt ignored him and strode briskly towards the exit. “I forfeit,” he told the woman at the counter. “Maybe someone wants to fill in for me.”

“We don’t give refunds, honey,” she said, frowning.

“That’s okay.” He put his number down and left. There was absolutely no way - not under any circumstance, money prize or not - that he’d be singing a duet with Sebastian Smythe.

Chapter Text

[a few days later]

“I can sing high and sing low… I can sing high and sing- AAAH!”

Kurt broke off in the middle of his post-shower vocal exercise at the sight of Blaine sitting on his couch, looking at a magazine. He took a deep breath, counted to five, and then asked: “Blaine, what are you doing here?”

Blaine looked up. “Oh hey, Kurt. I wanted to talk to you. Our land lady let me in.”

“She is my land lady now. You moved out, remember?” Kurt yanked his magazine out of Blaine’s hand and put it back on the coffee table. “There is a reason you don’t have a key any more.” He clutched his bathrobe tighter around himself.

“Oh come on, Kurt.” Blaine smiled smarmily. “It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before.”

“Out. Now.” Kurt could feel his cheeks burn and his stomach swirl with nausea.

“But I have something great to tell you! I know you’ll be interested. Just hear me out.” Blaine got up from the couch but made no intention to leave. “After three years, and everything we’ve been through- we can still talk to each other, right? You promised you’d always be my friend. And friends talk.” He threw in one of his ‘I am so disappointed in you’ looks for good measure.

Kurt glared back at him and ground his teeth together as he calculated which way would get his ex-fiancé out of his apartment fastest. The clock behind Blaine told him he still had half an hour until he had to make his way to Vogue. “We can talk at Starbucks. I’ll get dressed and meet you there.”

“Our Starbucks?” Blaine replied with a hopeful smile.

Kurt resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Yes, the one down the street,” he said through gritted teeth, working hard not to yell “MY Starbucks!” at Blaine. Nothing was ‘theirs’ around here any more. “Now go.”

Blaine left. When Kurt had closed the door behind him, he finally allowed his face to fall. He hunched in on himself, hugging his own arms, and stood there with his eyes tightly closed for a few moments. He hated the effect Blaine still had on him. Hated how he could just show up after weeks and turn everything upside down; how he could make Kurt feel wrong somehow with only a few words or a single look. Blaine acted like Kurt owed him something, like all of their fighting and their inevitable breakup was something like a character flaw of Kurt’s that he might be gracious enough to overlook, but only if Kurt grovelled enough.

He let out a long breath and straightened his back. No more grovelling. He went into the bedroom (his bedroom, not theirs, he thought vengefully), and put the single Henley and jeans combination he had laid out for after his shower back in his closet. Instead, he took out a pair of looser fitting pants and a belt, an under-shirt, a long-sleeved shirt, a lace-up vest, his knee-high Doc Martin boots and a jacket. With every layer he put on, he felt a little stronger. He completed his outfit with his hippo brooch, nodded at himself in the mirror, and went to meet Blaine. As an afterthought, he picked up a leather messenger bag from the hat stand by the door and hung it over his shoulder, the broad strap crossing diagonally over his chest.

He found Blaine at a small round table by the window with two coffees in front of him. He doubted Blaine had remembered to make his a skimmed one. Blaine was so fond of whipped cream himself that he always had it put into Kurt’s coffee as well.

“So, I was reading up on the school choir blogs, which is this thing I do to stay connected-” Blaine started excitedly after pushing one of the cups over to Kurt. His breath smelled like cronuts, and there were crumbs on his shirt that weren’t there earlier.

Connected to what? Kurt wondered, but didn’t comment.

“-and I heard that the National School Choir Competition turns fifty this year! Or was it eighty? Anyway, they want to celebrate by inviting the best Glee Clubs of the past to compete against each other once again! It’s like a School Choir Allstars reunion. Only national champions are allowed to compete.”

Kurt frowned a little. “We’re disbanded. I’m pretty sure almost all former Glee Clubs are. That’s what happens when people graduate. I don’t even know where half of them are any more.” He thought about the other day, when not even those of his former friends who lived in New York had bothered to show up at their agreed meeting place. He suddenly felt a raging desire to raid the cheesecake display he could see from the corner of his eye.

“I know, but I checked. It doesn’t say anywhere that the whole club has to be there.” Blaine paused for dramatic effect. “We could sing together.”

“We? There is no we, Blaine. You and I are not together any more.”

Blaine shook his head and waved his hand like he was flicking away an annoying buzzing insect. “I know that. But we sang Candles before we got together, right? Don’t you remember that?”

Kurt snorted. “Yeah. In retrospect, that was pretty clairvoyant.” It was also technically after their first kiss, but it wouldn’t be the first time Blaine retconned their romantic history to fit his narrative.

Blaine ignored him. “We sound great together! And there are some pretty fabulous prizes… I know we could totally win this thing. The first prize is a car-”

“I live in New York. Why would I want a car?”

“It’s not about the prizes!” Blaine said irritatedly, immediately changing tactics. “Look, I just want another chance to sing with you, and to show you, in front of an audience, how I feel about you.”

Kurt sighed. “Just tell me now, with actual words of your own, and save us both a lot of time.”

Blaine pulled his 'long-suffering’ face. “Just promise me you’ll think about it? There’s a meeting at Breadstixx next week. I doubt anyone will show up, but if they do, I’m sure they’ll agree that we - I mean, you and I,” he corrected, smiling sweetly at Kurt, “should be singing the solos. I’ll send you the Facebook page.”

“I’m gonna get some cheesecake to go,” Kurt replied noncommitally, and rose from his seat.

Blaine grabbed his wrist.

“Please,” Blaine said softly, his thumb running up the inside of Kurt’s wrist, over his pulse.

“Just send me the link,” Kurt replied, pulling his hand away.

Chapter Text

“Kurt, could you come into my office for a bit?”

Kurt looked up from his phone and saw Isabelle with her head sticking out of her door. He nodded fervently and quickly put his phone down. He shouldn’t have been on Facebook during work, but by the time he had arrived at the building, Blaine had already sent him the link to the competition organizer’s page, and Kurt had decided to check it out. To make up for his idleness, he sprung into action. He picked up his clipboard and a pen, diverted Isabelle’s phone to the front desk, and followed her inside.

Isabelle smiled and gestured at the seat in front of her desk.

“You don’t need to look like you just got called into the principal’s office, Kurt,” she joked, and Kurt relaxed a little. Apparently this wasn’t about him playing with his private phone.

“Is everything okay?” Isabelle asked gently.

Her question surprised Kurt a little. “Sure. I’m fine.” He waited for her to explain. She seemed a little awkward.

“Well, it’s just…” Isabelle gestured at his outfit. She hesitated, then seemed to second-guess herself. “Or is there a retro trend we need to get on board with? Because if Elle runs this before we do, Anna will have my ass. You weren’t here yet when we completely missed the boat on the comeback of neon socks. I’m telling you, that was bad.”

“So were those socks,” Kurt joked, but then he grew serious and thought about what he would tell Isabelle. He could lie, but this was Isabelle- she’d already done so much for him, given him chance after chance. She had never judged him or given him bad advice. When she held him at Thanksgiving, it was a little bit like having a mom again.

“I ran into Blaine just before I came here. Or rather, he ran into me. My land lady let him into my apartment while I was taking a shower.”

Isabelle gasped and clasped a hand over her chest. “Oh my god. That’s so creepy! He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“No, no, I told him to get out and he did,” Kurt quickly reassured her, a queasy feeling taking over his stomach. Blaine had given him a scare, yes- but that had just been because he had thought he was alone. Right? He pushed away flashes of a back-seat argument and grabby cold hands, and told his vulnerable younger self that he was now wiser, less naive and much, much stronger. “But he wanted to talk to me, and when I got dressed this felt…” Kurt wasn’t sure how to explain. “I dressed like this in high school when I knew I was having a class with my bullies that day. It was like a shield.”

Isabelle nodded, then eyed his outfit more critically. “So I guess I should be flattered you haven’t worn the hippo brooch to the office since your job interview?” she finally offered, not unkindly.

Kurt blushed. “I kind of expected some sort of Miranda Priestly. A younger version, of course,” he added quickly.

Isabelle chuckled. “Well, I like to think of myself as tough, but not unreasonable.”

Kurt had to bite the corners of his lips not to grin too much. Tough? His boss was more of a fashionable marshmallow.

“So what did he want?” Isabelle asked.

Kurt briefly explained about the competition-slash-reunion. “It sounds nice, but… I’m just sceptical when it comes from Blaine. I’ve been burnt enough,” he finished.

“Do you think he’s using it to get back together with you?” Isabelle was not new to Blaine’s tactics. Kurt had told her all about their first break-up and the proposal; he sort of had to, since she had been the one who kept having to pick up the pieces.

Kurt sighed deeply. “It’s possible. I’m just trying to move on, but he’s got it set in his mind that we’re soulmates and all of this is just a temporary setback, or a challenge we need to overcome in the name of true love.” Kurt put air quotation marks around “true love”. He used to believe in that, too- but not since Eli. Maybe not even since Sebastian. Even though he was pretty sure nothing had happened between him and Blaine, the fact that they had exchanged texts and remained friends long after Blaine had told Kurt he “never wanted to see that guy again” had undermined Kurt’s trust in their relationship a lot.

He forced his mind back to the present situation. “There’s no saying he won’t use the competition as a way to propose again or make some other grand gesture. He always seems to want an audience for those kind of things.”

Like their marriage. While they were planning, Blaine kept adding more people to the guest list, and came up with ever more elaborate celebration plans. No matter how many times Kurt said he wanted to keep it small and intimate- Blaine steamrollered all over him in the name of Gay Rights Activism. We should be out and proud, he’d keep saying. We should invite all of McKinley. Or even all of Lima! I’d invite the president if I could! At some point, Kurt had given up trying to argue with him. If Blaine couldn’t (or didn’t want to) understand why Kurt would rather celebrate with his closest friends instead of with the people who had made his life a living hell when he was growing up, what was the point?

Isabelle shook her head. “I just don’t understand that boy.”

“Me neither, but I’m done trying to,” Kurt replied. “I was doing fine before he decided to show up again.”

“But if you like the idea of competing again, can’t you enter the competition without him?” Isabelle asked.

Kurt shrugged. “I could. We wouldn’t even really enter as a duo anyway- as far as I understand it, you enter as representatives of the former choir, along with anyone else from the same school who wants to join, and then you decide as a group who to put forward to sing. Blaine just assumed he’d get a solo automatically, as usual.” He sighed. “But meeting with the other alumni would mean going back home, and I already burned a hole in my creditcard last year with all those trips to Lima. Back then I thought I was doing it to save my future marriage. I shouldn’t add on my student debts with yet another trip just to hang out with some McKinley graduates. My friends are probably not even coming. They all made it out of Lima.”

“So did you,” Isabelle gently reminded him.

“Yes, but I keep going back!”

Isabelle rounded the table and sat down in the chair next to him. “I think it’d be good for you to take a short break. You’ve been working so hard! Meeting those other choir members might be more fun than you think. And you could go see your family, too. Family’s important.”

Kurt offered her a sympathetic smile and took her hand. She had lost her sister to cancer a few months ago, and hadn’t been able to go and see her in time. Isabelle squeezed his hand.

“If it’s just the money stopping you, I think I can arrange for some kind of summer bonus. I know we don’t pay much- I am really trying to get your contract changed! But until that happens I can offer you a seasonal extra; the write-off is different.”

“I…” Kurt started, planning to decline. Somehow he heard himself saying something else instead. “I’d really like that.”

“Consider it done. I just need one favor.”

Kurt raised an eyebrow.

“Could you tell Chase I’m really doing my best getting your temporary contract upgraded to a permanent one and that he doesn’t need to send me weekly reminders?”

Kurt blushed. “I will.” He suddenly felt very warm in all of his layers. “Do you think I could borrow something from the Vault for today? I feel kind of uncomfortable.”

Isabelle’s eyes sparkled. “I thought you’d never ask. Come with me.”

Kurt left the office that day with a Karl Lagerfeld black and white graphic button-up and sharp black slacks (“no one at the office but you could wear these anyway Kurt, just keep them”) and a bonus in his account that would get him a plane ticket and a part of next month’s rent. He would get to see his dad, go to the glee club alumni meeting, and live at walking distance to NYADA for yet a little while longer, all thanks to Blaine. Kurt’d send him a thank-you card, if he didn’t think Blaine would take that the wrong way and would arrive with a fanfare to move back in the same night.

Chapter Text

[Lima, Ohio]

Kurt took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He straightened the collar of his jacket and carefully felt if his hair was still holding up. This time, he had resisted the urge to dress like an onion. He had mentally prepared himself to deal with Blaine swiftly and clearly. However, he hadn’t prepared for the sight that greeted him inside. He pushed open the door of Breadstixx and immediately noticed the large banner greeting the Glee club members, the balloons, streamers, and the large Nationals trophy from New Directions. Right under the banner stood a beaming Will Schuester. Kurt quickly plastered on a show smile.

“Oh my god, Kurt, is that you?” Mr. Schue exclaimed. “I hardly recognise you. You look so… I mean… so grown-up.”

Kurt heard all the unspoken possibilities of the pause in his former teacher’s sentence (so manly, so fashionable, so un-Kurt) and didn’t care for any of them. It was true that he was wearing something from his New York wardrobe rather than his Ohio closet, but that didn’t make him unrecognisable. Also, it had been a few months, not years. But Mr. Schue was what he was. He probably just didn’t know anything else to say. This was the guy whose idea of ‘mixing it up’ was 'boys vs girls’ after all.

“Yeah, it’s me, Mr. Schue. How’s your family?”

“Great! Great! Well, you know, Emma is still a little…” He made a scrunchy face, “but all things considered, with the diapers and everything- she’s holding up real great. And little Daniel is such a bundle of joy. I brought pictures!”

Before he could show them to Kurt, someone else spotted him.

“Kurt! Yaay!”

Kurt recognised the affected squeal and the little claps, though he was surprised she had shown up. “Rachel? I thought you were super busy?”

“Well, I am. But I sort of took a break.” Rachel shrugged.

“On an ongoing tv show?” Kurt asked in disbelief.

“What? I’m not in every scene. They can work around me. Besides, I had to come here. My dads are getting divorced and they’re selling the house. My house! The house I was raised in, where all my dreams were born! I still can’t believe it! I mean, the basement alone- when I think of all the times I put on my little shows there, or the parties… it brings tears to my eyes. Do you remember that party we had there with Glee club?”

“How could I forget,” Kurt said flatly. He definitely remembered dressing up to the nines to impress Blaine, and then being forced to sit through a childish game of spin the bottle where Blaine, drunk out of his mind, kissed Rachel and thought he was bisexual for a bit. He doubted Blaine had even taken note of the designer pants he had bought for that night especially, let alone appreciate the awkward sitting positions Kurt had to squeeze himself into in order to sit on that basement floor in those tight pants next to Blaine as he got drunker and drunker. Blaine had thrown up in his Navigator on the ride home, and babbled nonsense about music and the taste of Rachel’s lips all the way up the stairs to Kurt’s room until he finally fell asleep snoring and drooling on Kurt’s pillow. It wasn’t exactly the way Kurt had imagined sharing a bed with a boy for the first time would be.

“So, I called in a family emergency,” Rachel continued, blissfully unaware of Kurt’s lack of empathy.

“That’s for when someone is dying,” he reminded her. “Rachel, we’ve been through this. You have responsibilities now, you can’t just call in sick-”

“My soul is dying, Kurt!” Rachel said dramatically. “If my dads sell that house, I shall be dead inside.”

Kurt shook his head and looked over the top of her head around the room. There were quite a few people he didn’t recognise. It was disappointing to see none of the other original New Directions there, but he wasn’t surprised. Mercedes and Santana were recording an album, Quinn, Artie, Mike and Tina were all busy with school, Puck had joined the military- he had lost track of what Brittany was doing, but it was clear all of them had lives that had taken them out of Ohio. Good for them.

“Is this all for us?” He mumbled, looking at the large buffet in the corner. He hadn’t had dinner yet and the baby cupcakes were looking very inviting. “Who’s paying for all this?” He glanced at Mr. Schue, who was now showing pictures of his son to some other people.

“The Andersons,” Rachel replied, with a tone of nonchalance that belonged to children who were used to their parents paying for everything. “Speaking of Blaine…A little birdie told me the two of you are planning a duet together, and I have to say, while I think it’s great that you two are back together, I really think we should let the people vote on the competition solos. Blaine may have provided the food but I am going to sing later and after that would be a perfect time to decide who should sing at the competition - and which of my songs I should do.”

Kurt’s heart sank. Typical Blaine. It was like their engagement all over again. Why talk to Kurt when he could manipulate everyone around him instead? Everywhere Kurt looked, people were already eating and looking cheerful. He suddenly didn’t feel very hungry any more.

Then, in the middle of a small crowd, he discovered the breadsticks benefactor. Blaine was looking almost as garish as the party decorations, with a mustard-colored vest, a red and blue polka dot bow-tie, and turquoise jeans that ended above his naked ankles. He was smiling and shaking people’s hands like he was running for president. Kurt figured that by the time everyone was sated, Blaine singing was a done deal.

Rachel seemed to think so as well, so she wasted no time getting onto the small stage that had been erected on the opposite side of the buffet, and tapped the microphone.

“Hello? Hi. I’m Rachel Berry. Yes, the Rachel Berry, thank you. I would like to thank you all for coming tonight. As you know, McKinley’s Glee Club has won Nationals twice since its establishment in 1954- once in 1993,” she directed a few small claps in Mr. Schue’s direction, “and again in 2012, when I sang It’s All Coming Back To Me Now by the great Celine Dion. I would like to present that song to you now, as I think it’s very appropriate as a reunion song and also to show you why I should be the one to lead our alumni choir-”

Kurt zoned out. He didn’t know what he had expected coming here. After four years of being ignored or enlisted for background vocals -unless he was singing second fiddle to Blaine- why should this alumni competition be any different? He glared at Rachel’s adoring audience. Sheep, he mumbled. She’d get a solo without a doubt. It meant he didn’t have to try. He had never competed against Rachel Berry and won- not in Ohio anyway. Somehow he doubted he could sway this audience with Les Mis.

He shook it off. Reunions were stupid anyway. What was the point in trying to recapture moments of your past? Especially when, unlike what everyone always claimed, high school hadn’t exactly been the 'best time of his life’ for Kurt. He checked his watch. If he went home now, he could still watch an episode of the Greatest Catch with his dad.

“She’s still amazing, isn’t she?” Mr. Schue asked, appearing suddenly at his side.

“Yeah,” Kurt sighed. “Sure.” He looked around. Maybe he could sneak one of those baby cupcakes into his pocket before he left.

“Kurt! Kurt!”

Too late. Blaine had spotted him at the buffet and was now making his way towards him.

“Hello sexy. I knew you couldn’t stay away,” Blaine said, managing to sound sleazy and smug at the same time. Kurt let go of the cupcake in his hand immediately.

“Hi Blaine.”

“So I’ve been doing some canvassing,” Blaine said proudly, “and I think our chances are good. Most of these old Gleeclubbers just showed up for the free food and to exchange brag stories. I don’t think many of them are interested in the competition, not for more than background vocals anyway. Most of them haven’t sung in years! For our duet, we may have to…tone it down a little, though. You know.” He nodded at Kurt’s outfit, and Kurt frowned. He knew what Blaine was trying to say, but if anyone need toning down, it was the guy who looked like a kid’s coloring book gone wrong.

“Thanks for that,” he said, “but there’s no need. I won’t be singing with you.”

“But Kurt, why not? Come on. It’ll be romantic?” He batted his eyes at Kurt.

Kurt longed to just come out with it. Because I’m tired of being in your shadow, Blaine. Because I won’t be your political statement. But he couldn’t. After all this time, sparing Blaine’s feelings to avoid public tantrums was hard-wired in his brain. “I just can’t. I’m-”

Kurt thought fast.

“I’m already competing for Dalton.”

“What?”

Kurt raised his chin. “They are eligible. They won Nationals in 1981 to 1985, their winning streak with-”

“You only went there for, like, two months!”

“Once a Warbler, always a Warbler,” Kurt replied. Now that he thought about it, he actually liked the idea. He was sure he could get in touch with some of his old friends through Facebook. It would be nice to sing with them again.

“How could you do that to me?!” Blaine let out, sounding dramatic.

“I never promised I’d sing with you,” Kurt replied. “I only said I’d think about it.”

“But Dalton? That makes us competitors!”

Kurt smiled a little. “May the best man win, right?” With that, he palmed a cupcake and left, leaving Blaine standing under the banner, his mustard-colored vest reflected sadly in the Nationals trophy.

Chapter Text

Kurt spent the rest of that evening trying to look up Warbler alumni on Facebook. He wrote a few messages to the guys he used to know and left an open event invitation to the competition on the Warblers’ wall. Then he waited.

By the time the weekend was over, several people had “liked” Kurt’s post, but only a handful of people had actually replied. None of them could make it. Wes was too busy studying for his bar exam, Jeff and Nick had joined a teenie band and were touring the malls, and David’s parents had been so freaked out by the doping scandal they had forbidden him to stay in touch with any of them lest he’d lose his trust fund. Trent was doing a social year in Spain and promised to send Kurt some turron. Two other guys (whom Kurt didn’t recall ever meeting) only asked about Blaine. One of them had a semi-naked user picture, the other the Statue of Liberty. Kurt deleted those without replying and decided to give it a few more days.

When he got back to New York a few days later, there were still no positive replies. Kurt started getting nervous. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to enter in the competition. Not just as a platform to sing again, but to prove to Blaine, Rachel and Mr Schue that he could make it without them. But the rules clearly stated that only choirs may enter; not soloists. He had to find at least one other person to sing with him.

He browsed the Warblers’ Facebook page again, hoping to find someone he hadn’t contacted yet. As he scrolled back through the pictures and ended up in 2013, he froze. Apart from Hunter, who was in juvie, there was one guy he hadn’t asked yet. Sebastian Smythe.

Kurt felt his heart beating in his throat. Should he? There were at least a dozen reasons why he shouldn’t. Feeling oddly giddy, he clicked Sebastian’s username and got to his profile. Most of it was blocked, but a few pictures and videos he was tagged in by others were public. One picture showed a group of smartly dressed men at a bar, drinks in hand. Sebastian had his arm around a handsome dark-haired young man. They grinned goofily at the camera. The caption read: NYU study group ;)

Another, slightly blurry, picture showed the same group, now in various states of undress, clearly inebriated. Sebastian was wearing his tie wrapped around his head and was sticking out his tongue at the camera. The dark-haired man was only partly visible- he had one hand on Sebastian’s naked chest and another on his crotch.

“Ugh,” Kurt mumbled, wrinkling his nose in disgust. Clearly nothing had changed. He scrolled down, and one of the videos started playing. Open Mic Night at Camels. Like he had summoned a ghost, Sebastian’s voice started singing.

After the pictures he had seen, Kurt expected something rowdy, maybe an embarrassing drunken karaoke recording- but what he heard was actually a rather decent version of Edit Piaf’s Je Ne Regrette Rien. Of course Sebastian lacked the life experience to really do it justice, but his diction was good, his breathing technique sound, he didn’t make any weird or unnecessary faces, and his voice was…

“…amazing,” Kurt mumbled, waiting breathlessly until it ended, then quickly scrolling to find another video. He found one dated a few months back. It showed Sebastian singing a duet with a woman at some party- a shaky mobile phone video with bad sound, but what Kurt saw rekindled a spark of hope for the alumni competition. The duet had two clearly distinguishable voices, and there was an easy chemistry between them as they playfully exchanged lines. In all the years Kurt had sung with Blaine, his ex had never managed that. He always ended up over-shouting Kurt, reducing him to a singing prop in the background.

“Congratulations, you just got through to the next round,” Kurt said in a casting show voice, and opened up a message to Sebastian.

Sebastian,
I have a proposition for you. Can we meet?
Kurt Hummel

A few minutes later, he got a reply.

Blaine finally convinced you to try a threesome? :3

Kurt gritted his teeth.

Blaine and I are over. This is about the Glee Club Allstar competition.

He attached a link and waited.

??

“So eloquent,” Kurt mumbled sarcastically, and typed up another reply, this time attaching the address of a coffee shop somewhere between NYADA and NYU. Neutral ground.

I’ll explain in person. 7 pm this Thursday?

You’re buying.

Chapter Text

Kurt stood in front of his mirror and tried on his third outfit. “What am I doing?” he asked himself. “It’s not like this is a date.” But as much as he tried to deny it, he wanted to impress Sebastian. He wanted to show Sebastian that he had made more of himself that the other had predicted in high school- he got out of Lima and into a prestigious school, and had a killer job.

His job- that was it. Kurt shrugged out of his velvet jacket and retrieved the Karl Lagerfeld shirt and the slacks from the Couture Vault. If anything said “well-adjusted, desirable, single-by-choice New York professional” it was Karl. Wait- desirable? Kurt narrowed his eyes at himself in the mirror. Then he raised his chin. Well, why not? Why shouldn’t he show off his new-found comfort with his body, honed by NYADA’s physical classes and his own fitness regime? Let Sebastian know that he was no longer the small town boy he could push around.

Feeling very good about himself, he shot a selfie to send to Elliott and made his way to the coffee shop.

Whoever this Sebastian guy is, I’m jealous!!! Elliott texted right away.

Kurt shook his head, but felt pleased anyway. He was five minutes early and ordered two large coffees, eyeing the black-and-white cookies but deciding not to push it. This was still Smythe, after all. Kurt hadn’t decided if he deserved any cookies yet.

Right on time, but not a minute earlier, Sebastian came into the shop and looked around. It was a vintage place with patterned tiles on the floor and high-backed leather booths. For a moment, Kurt thought Sebastian was purposefully ignoring him, but when Sebastian checked his watch, Kurt realized he honestly hadn’t seen him. He put up his hand to draw his attention. Sebastian saw him and nodded. As he came his way, Kurt resisted the urge to cross his arms in front of his chest. He reminded himself that he had invited Sebastian here, and to keep his eyes on the goal. Even so, he could feel his body getting into fight or flight mode like it was preparing for an attack. Old habits clearly died hard.

“Hello Kurt,” Sebastian said.

Kurt braced himself and waited, but no insult followed his greeting, and now there was an awkward pause instead. “Hi. Um, thanks for coming,” he offered quickly. “Please, have a seat.” He pushed one of the coffees towards Sebastian.

As soon as Sebastian sat down, Kurt launched into his prepared speech. “So, did you see the link I sent you? There’s a Glee club alumni-”

“Wow, no small talk, huh?” Sebastian interrupted him. “We haven’t seen each other for two years!”

Kurt raised an eyebrow. “Small talk is for friends,” he said, but regretted it as he saw the guarded expression that came over Sebastian’s face. He realized he needed to put in some more effort if he wanted this to work. “Okay. What do you want to know?”

Sebastian sat back and smiled a little, clearly enjoying having the overhand on the conversation. “Why did you and Blaine break up? I thought you were going to get married - do the whole… ‘high school sweethearts’ thing.” He rolled his eyes a little as he said it, making it obvious how he felt about that scenario.

Kurt smiled thinly. “Sometimes the plans you make when you’re 16 don’t work out in the long-term,” he said, and took a sip of his coffee. He had intended to leave it at that, but Sebastian was still looking expectant. He shrugged. “Our relationship had been rocky for a while. Maybe it even had been from the start, but we’d just been to invested in our idea of being in love to realize it. We just didn’t have enough in common. We disagreed about the tiniest things. We had arguments about the color of the napkins for the reception!”

Sebastian snorted. “That’s ridiculous.”

Kurt couldn’t really argue with him there. “Well, there were bigger issues too,” he admitted.

“Like what? You couldn’t agree which side of the bed you slept on?”

“More like, whose bed Blaine slept in.”

Sebastian mimed another ‘wow’.

Kurt shrugged it off. “Let’s not pretend you didn’t try to get him to cheat on me with you. When Blaine first told me what he had done, I assumed it was you.”

“Your first thoughts were of me? How sweet.”

“It’s not a compliment.”

“Still, I made a lasting impression,” Sebastian said smugly. “And now here we are.”

“Yes. Here we are. And believe me, I wouldn’t be, if you weren’t my last resort.” Kurt immediately regretted saying that- he hadn’t intended to let Sebastian know how badly he wanted his help. “Is your curiosity satisfied now? I’d like to get on with it.”

Sebastian nodded. “You may start your sales pitch.”

Kurt told him about the competition and his idea. Sebastian was quiet throughout, his expression unreadable. When Kurt was done, Sebastian looked at him for a moment, then smiled and shook his head a little.

“Sing with me. That’s what you wanted? Just to sing?”

Kurt looked surprised. “What did you think I wanted?”

Sebastian shrugged. “I don’t know. Steal a set list. Sabotage another team. Sleep with a judge…”

“You would have done that?” Kurt asked, shocked.

Sebastian grinned. “Probably not, but I figured since you see me as this moustache-twirling criminal mastermind-”

“More like a juvenile delinquent,” Kurt corrected.

“Same thing,” Sebastian smoothed over. “But singing seems almost boring compared to picking up some old-school shenanigans again.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but I actually mean to win on talent,” Kurt replied. “So instead of feeling nostalgic for your lawbreaking past, maybe you could take this as an actual compliment. I saw a few of your videos. You’re good. I can really see this working out, and I don’t sing many duets. Most people can’t keep up with me.”

"What about Blaine? Could he… keep up?”

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Let’s just say that if I ever adopt any children, I’ll already have practised pretending their stick figures and macaroni pictures are works of art.”

Sebastian chuckled. “I never did understand why the Warblers gave him all the solos.”

“It’s the Blaine-effect,” Kurt said. “I’m not sure how it works. The same thing happened at Glee club, and then again at NYADA. And he’s not even that good.” He rolled his eyes. At least at NYADA they had come to their senses and made him drop out. Kurt looked at Sebastian. He seemed amused and mildly interested. He decided to push a little further. “I meant what I just said. You are a good singer. And unlike Rachel, you have experience as a team player.”

Sebastian’s lips curled into a smile. He was flattered all right.

“I suppose we could give it a try,” he said, and Kurt did an imaginary fist-pump. “There’s just one thing I need to know before we start.”

“Oh?”

Sebastian’s smile turned into a calculated expression. “What do I get out of this?”

“I’m sorry?”

Sebastian sat back leisurely and took his coffee. “Well, you get to defeat your old school and your ex. I’m zero invested in any of that. What do I get for helping you out?”

“Bragging rights?” Kurt tried. “Reinstating your Warbler honor?” He could see it wasn’t working. “We can split the prizes?”

“Great. I always wanted half a car,” Sebastian said sarcastically.

Kurt sighed. “Okay, fine. I’ll owe you a favor. How’s that?”

Sebastian raised his eyebrows, and then grinned.

“Not that kind of favor!” Kurt immediately said. “I meant something like…watering your plants if you go on a longer trip. Or…bailing you out of a bad date. Something like that.”

“Hmm.”

“Come on. You’d love holding this over my head, godfather-style.”

Sebastian laughed. “That’s true. Okay. I’m in.” He leaned over the table and offered Kurt his hand. Kurt shook it, hoping he hadn’t just made a very big mistake.

Chapter Text

Two days later, they were listed as representatives of the Warblers, and Kurt was waiting for Sebastian to stop walking around in his apartment looking at everything, so they could start practising. Sebastian’s inspection irritated him immensely- mostly because it somehow felt like he was hoping his place was up to par. Why did he feel that way, anyway? He didn’t need Sebastian’s approval for anything. And Sebastian had bad taste anyway.

Finally, after what felt like half an hour, Sebastian had arrived at the small gallery of photos Kurt had put up to replace the large light bulb star lamp Rachel had took when she moved out.

“Hummel’s Tires & Lube,” Sebastian read aloud, looking at the picture of Kurt’s father in front of his shop. He snickered a little. Kurt paid it no heed. He had grown immune to lube-jokes in high school. Sebastian stepped closer and peered at it. “Oh my god, is that you?”

Next to Burt was a young, bedazzled overall wearing Kurt showing very dirty hands and sticking out his tongue cheekily.

“My dad showed me how to change a tire on a truck that day,” Kurt reminisced. “That tire was almost bigger than I was.”

“I thought you’d have been more of a dolly tea party kind of kid,” Sebastian commented.

“Oh, we had those too,” Kurt replied, ignoring the underlying jab. “It might come as a surprise to you, but it is actually possible to like cars and dolls - even if you were obviously raised thinking one of them was taboo.”

Sebastian was silent for a moment. “No, I had a few tea parties with my older sister as well. I’m not sure why I said that.”

“Well, there’s really nothing you can taunt me with that my fellow students haven’t already tried, so you could just give it a rest,” Kurt said. Sebastian had the decency to look properly guilty.  Kurt gestured at the sitting room.

Sebastian nodded and walked over, but not before running his hand admiringly over the small piano that Blaine had left.

“Don’t do that,” Kurt told him, just because he could. He knew Sebastian wasn’t stupid enough to damage anything, but this was his home. His revier. To his satisfaction, Sebastian pulled his hand away. Kurt sat in his leather chair before Sebastian could, leaving him the couch. He was eager to finally start.

“So, what did you think of the songs I suggested?” He asked.

Sebastian frowned. “They were kind of boring? I don’t know. I didn’t listen to all of them-”

Kurt rolled his eyes exasperatedly.

“Hey! You sent me like twenty titles, I didn’t have all day!” Sebastian said defensively. “Anyway, in my opinion, to win this competition we may need something more pop.”

Kurt shook his head. “No. No, you don’t get it. Pop is what everyone does nowadays. Pick a song from the current hit parade, something that everyone knows, something to nod their heads to or clap along, and they’ll like it. It’s the safest bet. It’s definitely going to be McKinley’s pick, especially with their lead vocalists.” He barely repressed a scowl, and Sebastian snorted.

“You really want to beat him, huh?”

Kurt ignored him. “We need to get back to the Warblers’ roots. Before your time, before Blaine, the Warblers used to be an acapella stool choir. That’s what got them their reputation, and that’s what they won Nationals with. Technique instead of tricks. Harmonies instead of hollering.”

Sebastian sat back and crossed his arms, but for once, no smart remark was coming. Kurt continued.

“I think, if we can pull it off, Scarborough Fair by Simon and Garfunkel could be our winner song. It’s very difficult and we’d need a lot of practise, but I think we could do it.”

Sebastian frowned. That title seemed to ring a bell. “Hey, is that the song about the guy wanting some girl to make him a shirt?”

Kurt sighed. Poetry was truly lost on this boy. And he had lived in Paris? “It’s about love lost, and two lovers setting each other impossible tasks to show they are willing to try again,” he said. “It’s actually very romantic.”

“Well, you lost me there,” Sebastian replied drily.

“Oh right, I forgot for a moment you were more of a twenty-minute rendez-vous kind of guy,” Kurt bit back.

“Don’t forget that romance put you in this position, Kurt. If you and Blaine had just moved on after twenty minutes, you wouldn’t have to conspire with the enemy just to enter a school choir alumni competition.”

Kurt cleared his throat. “So…getting back to this song…do you think we can do it in a week?”

Sebastian shrugged. “Sure. It’s pretty bland and the lyrics repeat themselves a lot, so…I don’t see why not. So you want to be the whafro or the hobbit?”

With every word that came out of Sebastian’s mouth, Kurt had less confidence in his plan. Did this man have zero respect for the classics?

“This song is a piece of art, you idiot,” he scolded. “It is neither bland nor repetitive. Simon and Garfunkel mixed original lyrics with an existing old English ballad, creating a song that switches and layers upper and lower voice counter points. I think you have the range for it, but it requires concentration and talent; and I am beginning to think you lack both!”

“There’s innuendo about switching in there somewhere, just give me a minute,” Sebastian replied, and chuckled as Kurt’s jaw dropped in indignation. “Calm down, I’m just playing with you. Look, why don’t we just try it?”

Kurt sighed and took two sheets of music from the folder he had prepared. He looked at them and then handed one to Sebastian. “You take Garfunkel. I have a guitar sample without lyrics on my phone,” he said, and quickly scrolled through his music. Then, he stood up, straightened his back to get into singing posture, waited for Sebastian to get ready as well, and pressed play. The melody started.

“Are you going to Scarborough Fair?

Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme,

Remember me to one who lives there

She once was a true love of mine,”

Sebastian looked at Kurt with a triumphant glare. Kurt nodded briefly before focusing on his own sheet and focused on the music again. Sebastian continued into the next part.

“Tell her to make me a cambric shirt-”

Sebastian frowned as Kurt’s version drifted off from his. Kurt saw him looking at him but continued to sing. Sebastian looked back at his sheet and plodded on, growing more and more annoyed until he broke off the second verse.

“What are you doing?” he asked. “Are you trying to throw me off?” He held up the sheet. “Your timing was off, there’s no canon in this thing. You’re supposed to do my backup vocals.”

“No, I’m not!” Kurt replied. “I was singing the Canticle part. It sounded pretty good until you stopped.”

“I sounded good, you mean. You were messing up your lyrics. The second verse goes like this!” Sebastian thrust out his sheet and waved it under Kurt’s nose. “You know, it would have been cute if you did it on purpose, but if you didn’t even notice…wait. What? What’s a canticle?”

Kurt groaned. “You obviously didn’t listen to the link I sent you. Did you google it and get the light version?”

“I was on my phone and the link didn’t work. What do you mean, the light version? What are you talking about?” Sebastian asked, looking confused.

Kurt sighed and handed Sebastian his sheet. It had two columns, one with the lines Sebastian had sung, and one with a different set. “In the link that I sent you, they are singing two lyrics at once. Those are your lines,” Kurt pointed. “These are mine. They overlap. I already figured you might do better on the main melody so I took the counter lines.”

When Sebastian still looked puzzled, Kurt took up his phone and scrolled through his playlist, putting on an old live recording. Sebastian listened quietly, his expression growing more and more subdued.

“Why did you think I said it was a difficult song?” Kurt asked rhetorically.

Sebastian looked like he was caught doing homework from the wrong chapter, or reading the abridged version of a book only to find out at the test that the original had an alternative ending. “I thought you were just being modest,” he admitted. “Fishing for compliments.”

Kurt grimaced. “You’ve insulted me often enough for me not to be very hopeful in that department.”

Sebastian offered him a weak, apologetic smile. “Okay, so…” he mumbled, still a little embarrassed. “Do you want to try again?”

It took a few aborted tries for them to finish the song in one go. Clearly, Sebastian found it very hard not to adjust himself to Kurt’s melody and kept catching himself following the Canticle instead. To counter it, he upped the volume, trying to sing his own lines louder against it so he wouldn’t hear Kurt’s voice. He tried putting a finger in his ear, but that made his own voice sound warped and made him go sharp. It was very frustrating.

“This isn’t working,” Sebastian complained. “You’re distracting me.”

“You need to focus better,” Kurt countered. “let’s just try a few more times, and then take a break. We still got a few days to get it right.”

Chapter Text

[3 days later]

Sebastian sighed heavily and gave Kurt a martyred look. “Okay, once more, but I’m telling you, it’s not going to work. I just- we’ve done it so many times, my head just doesn’t want to do it any more. I sing this fucking song in my sleep and it’s still not enough.” He let himself fall down on Kurt’s couch dramatically.

Kurt rubbed his eyes. It was already quite late, and he had switched his diner schedule to the early morning hell shifts to make time for practise. And after Sebastian left, he still had a trip to the laundromat waiting for him. With Rachel and Blaine always getting the solos and singing them from the top of their heads without bothering to check what the other singers or dancers were doing, Kurt had forgotten how much work it was to actually prepare for a competition.

Though Sebastian had taken longer to get used to the song, he wasn’t the only one who had trouble focusing. They could harmonise perfectly, they hit the right keys- but there was always at least one slip-up, one of them stealing lines from the other, their voices suddenly synchronising where they ought to be crossing. It had long since passed the point of serious effort and it was wearing them both down.

“Get up,” Kurt told Sebastian irritatedly. “You can’t sing like that.”

“Yes, I ca–haaan!” Sebastian replied in a sing-song voice, and didn’t move from the couch.

Kurt let out a long breath, slowly counting to ten. “Fine.” He put the music on.

“Are you going to Scarborough Fair

Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme…”

As the music faded out, Kurt opened his eyes and saw Sebastian sitting up on the couch, looking equally bewildered as he felt. “We did it,” Kurt said.

They had sung through the song without pause or doubling back, and everything had just fit.

Slowly Sebastian began to grin. “Yeah, we did.” He got up and laughed. “We totally nailed it!”

“I know!!” Kurt exclaimed happily, hopping up and down on the balls of his feet a little.

Suddenly, a new song started to play on Kurt’s phone. It was Teenage Dream, and the volume was a lot louder than the recording they had been using to practise.

“Ugh, let me just-” Kurt started. That was the last song he wanted to hear right now.

“It’s okay, I can–” Sebastian said at the same time, and the both of them reached for Kurt’s phone- and bumped their heads into each other over the coffee table.

“Ow,” Kurt said, and started to pull back, when he felt Sebastian’s hand on his shoulder and saw him moving closer. Moving like in a dream, he quietly raised his hand to touch Kurt’s cheekbone, and he leaned in to place a kiss on his lips almost reverently.

“No,” Kurt breathed, pulling away at the last moment. He was tired of being kissed without his permission, just because the other person had an epiphany, became overwhelmed, or wanted to shut him up. He straightened back up with his phone in hand, and switched off the song.

Sebastian was looking at him as if trying to judge his mood.

“Do you want to try again? The song, I mean. Find out if it was a lucky strike or if we actually got it?” Kurt offered, cutting off whatever Sebastian was about to say before he could even start.

Sebastian let out a short breath and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s do that.”

Chapter Text

When Saturday finally arrived, Kurt’s first instinct was to stay in bed. It was his first free Saturday in weeks. He had no classes, no hell shift at the diner, no deadlines for Vogue that required for him to work on the weekend…just the competition in the evening. Kurt sat up in his bed. The competition!

Sebastian would be coming over soon for a last run-through and he was bringing his old Dalton uniform to see if it needed any last minute adjustments. Kurt had used the large conference table at Vogue last night as a sewing table to let out the arms and the seams of his own old jacket, and he had ended up having to replace the entire lining. It could have been worse, he mused as he padded barefoot into the bathroom and rolled his shoulders in front of the mirror. Letting it out because he bulked up in the arms department was better than moving a button to accommodate his belly (a repair job he had done for Blaine’s vests quite a few times after he just started NYADA). Isabelle had stayed late with him to help. His Dalton jacket now had a custom fit that showed off his physique without any pulling folds or gaping. The trousers were hopelessly worn, but any pair of dark slacks would do. The important part was the Dalton crest anyway.

Kurt hurriedly brushed his teeth and ran a comb through his hair. He checked the clock. Maybe he’d just have time to clear away the evidence of his late-night take away fest that was still sitting in the sink.

Fifteen minutes later he was sitting on his couch, dishes and sink cleaned, waiting for Sebastian. Some time passed. Kurt started getting impatient. All week, Sebastian had been punctual to the minute, and now he was already 10 minutes late. What was going on? He began to think about the possible scenarios that could have made Sebastian late. Overslept. Possible, he had nearly done so himself. Missed a subway. Possible. Crazy old Frank on the corner flashing him. Also possible, though Kurt doubted Sebastian would let that stop him for long. He suddenly felt nauseous. What if this whole week, Sebastian had been playing a prank on him, and the punch line was to leave him hanging on competition day? He took a few deep breaths. No. That would make no sense, even for Sebastian. They had practised really hard and he had seemed genuinely pleased when they finally got a hang of the song. Maybe he was really just having subway problems. He checked his phone to be sure- no messages.

Then there was a knock at the door. Kurt quickly went to answer it and saw Sebastian holding two large coffees on a tray and a paper bag in one hand, his uniform on a hanger with a plastic cover in the other.

“Hey. Sorry I’m late. I brought breakfast. It took a little longer. There was this crazy old guy flashing everyone in the line, it was kind of hilarious. I took pictures, you wanna see?”

Kurt wrinkled his nose. “No thanks, I already know what Frank has to offer.”

Sebastian chuckled and held out the bag and the coffees. “I wasn’t sure what you would want so you get first pick,” he offered.

Kurt stared it him for a moment, jaw hanging. He couldn’t deny he was pleasantly surprised. He relieved Sebastian of the breakfast items. “Thanks. I’m starving. I can eat anything but cronuts. Can’t stand the after-taste.”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t get any,” Sebastian said, strolling in and draping his uniform over the back of the couch. “I hate those nasty things, they make everything in the bag smell deep-fried.”

As Kurt set the coffees down on the table, he wondered when they had gone from sniping remarks to actual small talk about pastries. It must have happened some time during the past week. Their rehearsals had been like those team-building workshops some offices had their employees do- mastering something difficult in a limited time frame by working together. It had been easier than he had anticipated, once Sebastian had let go of his tendency to turn everything into an insult or a dirty joke. They were both ambitious and driven, demanding both the best out of themselves and each other. Neither of them wanted to be the one to give up- so they pushed themselves until it worked. And during this process, they learned a lot about each other.

“Don’t- my brother is always doing that, it drives me nuts!”

“You have a brother?”

*

“Wow. I haven’t heard that song since my mom’s funeral.”

“How did she-”

“Don’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

*

“I love that you have your own place. I hate my dorm. I’m not good with room mates, even if it’s just Lilly. I had to share a dorm with three guys in Paris, it was a mess.”

“What was school like there?”

*
“So why Lacrosse?”

“It was the only sport that didn’t clash with tap dancing.”

“You tap danced?”

“Shut up.”

*

It was strange, but not in a bad way. That almost-kiss though… that had been strange. What was it about his singing voice that made boys suddenly want to kiss him, he wondered. Kurt pretended to peer inside the paper bag, but glanced at Sebastian instead. He was stirring three packets of sugar into his coffee and didn’t notice Kurt’s eyes on him. His tongue was poking out between his lips in concentration as he gingerly held the piping hot paper cup.

If only he could be like this all the time, Kurt mused. He looked almost harmless. But it was very telling that as soon as Sebastian was late, Kurt’s mind had wandered to foul play- after everything that had happened in high school, Kurt wasn’t sure he could trust him.

Sebastian’s uniform still fit him. Seeing him in it only enhanced the strange feeling Kurt had. To get away for a moment, Kurt excused himself and went to put his uniform on in the bedroom. He knew he was better equipped to deal with Sebastian now than he was back then; he was more comfortable in his body and less susceptible to his taunts…and since he was single, he was not in danger of losing a boyfriend. Still, in his uniform, Sebastian looked like the guy who occasionally visited his nightmares; not the casually dressed New York student with the sweet tooth. Kurt automatically felt more defensive, on edge somehow. It was like the uniform triggered some instant rivalry in him.

But as Kurt looked in the mirror and saw the same uniform on himself, he suddenly realized they were on the same team now. It was no longer Sebastian vs Kurt - it was Sebastian and Kurt vs the rest of the world.

Kurt stepped into the living room and Sebastian looked up. Kurt could feel his eyes travel over his body and he struck a pose, unbuttoning the jacket to show Sebastian the custom lining: a silk paisley from Isabelle’s stock. It wasn’t visible from the outside, but it felt amazing. Sebastian smirked.

“Couldn’t resist, huh?” he said, but it was said without venom.

“It’s symbolic for my inner fabulousness,” Kurt said.

“Of course,” Sebastian replied, still smirking. “You look great.”

Kurt waited for the “but-” that never came. “Shall we have a little dress rehearsal then?”

They sang the song three times without fault, and Kurt couldn’t be happier. He picked up his phone, which had been recording them, and played back the audio. “We sound amazing,” he said smugly. Sebastian agreed.

“I think this calls for another cupcake,” Kurt announced, heading towards the left-overs from their breakfast. He peeled the paper off the sides of a glazed pastry. “Maybe I should have done the Duet Roulette after all,” he mumbled to himself, and licked his fingers.

“What was that?” Sebastian asked.

Kurt looked up, one finger still in his mouth. “Hm?”

“Did you just say Duet Roulette?”

“Um… yes?” Kurt hesitated.

“Two weeks ago. In the Village. You were there?”

“I was, but… I left early.”

Realisation dawned on Sebastian’s face. “You dropped out, didn’t you? Number 41?”

Kurt pressed his lips together and nodded.

“Unbelievable…” Sebastian let out, shaking his head.

Kurt wasn’t sure why Sebastian suddenly acted so edgy. “I gave them my ticket, I was sure someone would take my place…”

“Oh, someone did,” Sebastian said, letting out a laugh without mirth. “But not before they called us up and let me standing there by myself like a complete fool. Ditched before a blind date. They called up your number three times and waited, with the guy on the mike making jokes at my expense, and then they basically auctioned me off. It was humiliating! And I got to sing with a tone-deaf creeper who kept trying to grab my crotch every time he got close to the microphone. We didn’t win. Obviously.”

Kurt lowered the cupcake he had been nervously nibbling while Sebastian talked and cleared his throat. “That’s not my fault,” he said quietly.

“Why did you bail?”

Kurt shrugged. “I changed my mind.”

“Did you know it was me?” Sebastian’s eyes were narrowed suspiciously.

Kurt could feel his shields coming up. Sebastian was obviously fishing to hear what he wanted to hear; so he’d get it. And an earful of it. “Yes, I did. I saw you and nope-d out of that place as fast as I could. Do you want to know why, Sebastian? Because I came there that night hoping to find someone to sing with, and maybe date - and there was no one I could imagine dating less than you.”

“Oh? But I am good enough to sing with you to piss off Blaine, right?”

Kurt opened his mouth, found no words, and closed it again. “That’s not- …No. No, I asked you because you’re a good singer.”

“I thought I was a last resort?”

“Well, yes, but-”

Sebastian shook his head and started pulling off his jacket. “I think we’re done here,” he said.

“What?” Kurt asked. “What do you mean?”

Sebastian poked a clothes hanger at his jacket angrily. “I’m out. I am… what did you say? Nope-ing out of this.”

“Hey, come on,” Kurt said. “I’m sorry, ok? That night…I just got these flashbacks of high school and you gotta admit you were really quite a jerk to me back then.”

“Ugh!” Sebastian let out frustratedly, lowering the jacket. “How many times will you guys make me apologise for that?”

Kurt shrugged. “I’m not asking for another apology. It takes actions to trust someone again, not words. God knows I have learned that lesson with Blaine over and over again.” He stepped a little closer, and took Sebastian’s jacket and the hanger from his hands, sliding it into the shoulders with practised ease and straightening the collar before handing it back to him. “We worked well together the past week. You were punctual, focused, and you haven’t said anything offensive in four days. I’ve been counting. My opinion on you has changed since that night at the bar.”

Sebastian smiled self-consciously, his anger deflating a little. “Punctual is on top of your list?”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “You have no idea how often I’ve had to wait for Blaine to show up somewhere.”

“That’s so rude.”

“It is, but he always had an excuse about how it wasn’t his fault because- whatever. I stopped listening after a while.” Kurt shrugged.

“I still have those pictures of the naked guy as my alibi for today,” Sebastian joked. He looked down on his jacket. “So…I guess I should get over myself and sing with you, huh?”

Kurt smirked. “Yes.”

Sebastian nodded. “Okay. On one condition.”

Kurt cocked his head and raised an eyebrow.

“We do two songs. After Scarborough Fair, you sing Fire & Ice with me at the competition.”

“What? Are you crazy?” Kurt let out. “That’s like the complete opposite of the atmosphere we are trying to create with Scarborough Fair! It would ruin everything!”

“It will show how versatile we are.”

“It’s inappropriate!”

“Nah. Hunter having us sing Whistle, that was inappropriate. This is harmless. It’s playing the field. Get the purists on board with our harmonies- then convince the foot-tappers that we can rock as well.”

“That’s…” Kurt started, but trailed off as he considered previous juries and winning set lists. “…actually a good idea,” he finished. “Maybe we should do that.”

“Awesome,” Sebastian said and grinned. “I didn’t even need to use my favor. Now I may still call upon you some day, though that day may never come.” He rasped his voice in a bad imitation of Don Corleone, then coughed.

“Hey, careful with your throat,” Kurt scolded. “I still need it for one more night.” Realising the innuendo-potential in what he just said, he raised a forbidding finger at Sebastian, who contorted his face like it was physically hurting him to hold back.

“I guess this means we have a few hours to get our rock on,” Kurt said.

Chapter Text

Scarborough Fair  — Fire & Ice 

Time flew by, and before they knew it, it was time to go to the venue. It was the same place as the 2011 Nationals, and a strange feeling overcame Kurt as they entered. He looked at the stage, and felt a small shiver run down his spine.

“Are you okay?” Sebastian asked, and Kurt kept his eyes on the stage as he answered.

“Just…seeing some ghosts,” he mumbled, aching back for the time when Rachel and Finn ruined their chances of winning by kissing on stage. He remembered how furious he was, and how many jokes they had made about them afterwards. Finn had been clueless, judgemental and on occasion infuriatingly naive - but Kurt would give anything to be able to laugh about and with his brother again.

“Do you need a moment?” Sebastian offered. “I could put our stuff in the dressing room.”

Kurt tore his eyes away from the stage and shook his head. “No, I’m good. Let’s go.” His voice was a little unsteady.

Sebastian nodded and they made their way to the area behind the stage. For once, Kurt was glad that Sebastian chose this moment to start a sarcastic monologue about their competitors, reciting what he had learned from several Facebook groups he had stalked. It was very easy to tune him out and try to pull himself together as Sebastian gossiped away about the age of the participants, his suggestions for their set lists, and predictions about their ranking. From the way Sebastian kept sneaking glances at him, Kurt suspected it was his way of trying to make him comfortable, and he was grateful for that.

Twelve former National winning choirs had signed up. As could be expected, Vocal Adrenaline was there, as well as the Portland Scale Blazers and Soundsplosion. The other names were vaguely familiar too, but while they hung their blazers in the designated dressing area, Kurt didn’t see any familiar faces. There were no representatives of the New Directions yet.

“Probably still trying to decide on their set list,” Kurt remarked, infected by Sebastian’s barbed commentaries, and Sebastian smirked.

“Amateurs,” Sebastian agreed. “Oh, they’re putting up the choir order lists. Let’s check it out.”

They were at tenth place, right after the New Directions. Vocal Adrenaline closed the evening. Kurt was pleased. Their songs would definitely be a stark contrast to Blaine and Rachel’s mainstream tunes. Their placement also gave them a lot of time for a decent vocal warm-up.

Kurt took his thermosflask of hot herbal tea out of his gym bag and smiled at Sebastian, tucking away his memories of Finn and his friends safely away in the back of his mind for now. “Let’s go find a quiet place to do some stretching,” he suggested. As expected, Sebastian snorted. Kurt admitted to himself that he might be making Sebastian laugh on purpose by now.

*

The first eight competitors were a mixed bag. They weren’t the only ones with a solid eighties rock song in their setlist, and there was one other choir that had delivered a very smooth harmony. But none of them, Sebastian whispered smugly into Kurt’s ear as they watched from the side of the stage, had done both.

When the New Directions took their places on the stage in the half-dark, Kurt finally saw some people he knew. He beamed at Marley and Sugar and waved his hand. Sugar blew him a kiss. Blaine was adjusting his bow-tie and didn’t notice them. Rachel took her place in the front, already beaming straight ahead with a show smile to melt the audience. Roderick stepped up as well.

“Damn,” Kurt mumbled. “Roderick’s really good. His voice is amazing. I didn’t expect them to use him, though.”

The lights went up, and the iconic intro of The Police’s I’ll Be Watching You started playing. Then, Roderick put the microphone to his mouth and said, in his deep, rich voice: “Yeah, this right here…goes out to everyone…who has ever lost someone that they truly love…”

Suddenly, Will Schuester stepped forward and took over, and Roderick blended into the back with the others. They were doing I’ll Be Missing You instead, P. Diddy and Faith Evans’ version of the song.

“Oh my god, he’s gonna rap,” Kurt said, wincing.

“Seems like yesterday we used to rock the show-”

It wasn’t really bad, and Rachel’s vocals saved the song, but Kurt wasn’t very impressed. It soon became clear they were singing about and for Finn, and while their tribute was touching, in a way, he felt like they were trying to manipulate the jury into giving them a sympathy vote. He wondered why Rachel had agreed to it. She was crying by the time it was over, and he knew that at least a few tears were real.

Then the background singers hurried off the stage and returned pushing a large piano on wheels onto the stage. Blaine adjusted his bow-tie again, and sat down.

“Oh dear,” Kurt whispered. “Here we go.”

“Hi. The next song is my own arrangement, and I’d like to dedicate this to a dear, dear friend of mine…” Blaine introduced. “Kurt, where ever you are… I love you.” Blaine’s voice broke a little, and although Kurt could only see him from the side, he knew what kind of face Blaine was making.

Sebastian snorted. “Dramatic much? ‘Where ever you are’…He knows you’re right here. We’re up next.”

Kurt just sighed. Blaine did a short piano intro, and the melody was somewhat familiar.

“You….change your mind…like a girl….changes clothes-” Blaine crooned slowly, drawing it out. “Yeah you…. PMS…like a bitch… I should know.”

“Tell me he is not serenading you with Katy Perry,” Sebastian said.

“Oh, he is,” Kurt replied, not surprised. His mouth was drawn and his toes were curling up in his shoes. This was going to be a very, very long song- and not just because Blaine had changed the tempo.

“We fight, we break up, we kiss, we make uuuuuuuup!”

“Did anyone ever tell him he’ll destroy his voice like that?” Sebastian commented casually, breaking the tension.

Kurt chuckled a little. “Only all the time. But Blaine said it’s better to sing with raw emotion.”

“Oh, it’s raw all right,” Sebastian replied.

Kurt nodded. After two years of formal training at a professional level, he had a better vocabulary to describe how and why Blaine’s technique was bad- but he had already told Blaine the same thing in his own words when they were both still in high school. Blaine hadn’t listened then and he wouldn’t listen now.

The serenade did nothing to move him. If anything, it reminded Kurt of that horrible night at Callbacks where Blaine had sobbed himself trough a ballad arrangement of Teenage Dream before confessing to Kurt that he had cheated on him.

As if he had read Kurt’s mind, Sebastian whispered in his ear: “So, are you ready to move back in with him now?”

“Not in a million years,” Kurt replied grimly, staring at the spectacle on stage. He felt a warm huff of breath on the side of his face as Sebastian laughed softly before straightening away.

*

“And now, singing for the Dalton Academy Warblers: Kurt Hummel and Sebastian Smythe!”

A polite applause greeted them as they walked onto the stage in their blazers.

For Scarborough Fair, they had decided to simply stand side by side facing the audience, hands folded in classic Warbler pose. Sebastian looked ahead as he started singing, focusing on something beyond the audience.

“Are you going to Scarborough Fair?

Parsely, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme,

Remember me to one who lives there,

for he once was a true love of mine.”

From the corner of his eye, Kurt could see Sebastian had turned to glance at him, but he kept his eyes to the front, not wanting to miss his cue. They had not agreed to change pronouns for this song- but Kurt had to go along with it now. The show had to go on, after all, and it would give the observant members of the audience a little taste of what was to come.

Kurt’s voice joined Sebastian’s, flowing around his words and layering their voices. The same thing that had been so difficult the first dozen times they had sung together now felt natural, like it completed their own voices. Sebastian no longer got distracted by Kurt’s counterpoint singing, and mastered his own lines perfectly. There was probably a hidden meaning somewhere, but if Kurt thought about that too long he might lose focus, so he didn’t.

A muted applause rose through the second verse, but Kurt barely noticed.

When the song reached the last verse, repeating the first verse together without alternate lyrics, Kurt slowly turned to look at Sebastian, and found he was looking back at him. Kurt was feeling the heat in his cheeks and knew his face would be flushed. Without rehearsing it, their shy glances combined with the lyrics seemed to subtly imply they were the long lost lovers.

Take that, Blaine, Kurt thought vengefully. That’s how you serenade someone in style.

The audience started applauding. Sebastian grinned and offered him a rapper pose, with one hand on the crotch of his pants and the other signing ‘W’ for Warblers. A few days ago, they had fooled around with the song a little, rapping it and adding lewd comments between the lines; or at least Sebastian had, to try and distract Kurt as he sang, and it had been all-round hilarious. Kurt had made him promise never to tell anyone.

From the corner of his eye, Kurt could see people rising from their seats and he turned to face the audience. He and Sebastian offered them the small formal bow they had practiced. Then Sebastian stepped aside and held out his arm to the side to direct the applause at Kurt. As the volume increased, he clapped too, whistling between his teeth. If it was possible to blush even more, Kurt did. He gave the audience a brief nod.

Then it was time for their next song. Sebastian unbuttoned his blazer and loosened his tie. Kurt unbuttoned his jacket too, and took off his tie completely, sliding it out of his collar as the music started. It was time to show the audience that the little school boys were all grown up now.

After they had divided the lyrics into two voices, choosing one had been easy. One of them had Sebastian written all over it. It also left Kurt with the slightly trickier vocal parts, which suited him fine. They had asked the light technicians for two simple spotlights to start off with, and they had taken their microphones out of the microphone stands, allowing them to move around. Kurt looked out over the audience, shifting his weight from side to side with the bass.

“You’re givin’ me the fever tonight, I don’t wanna give in, I’ll be playin’ with fire…”  Sebastian sang inside his spotlight, his voice low and dark, giving Kurt a longing look.

Kurt shared a smile with the audience and shook his head a little as he turned to face Sebastian. In the back of his mind were Sebastian’s fratboyesk Facebook pictures. “You forget, I’ve seen you work before; take 'em straight to the top, leave 'em cryin’ for more…” He turned away and closed his eyes to put volume behind the next line, holding up his free hand as if to ward Sebastian off. “I’ve seen you burn 'em before!”

Sebastian took a few steps closer, the spotlight following him.

"Fire and Ice…you come on like a flame, then you turn cold shoulder-” He turned away again.

Like two pieces in an antique weather clock, the moment he turned away, Kurt turned towards him, singing his next lines to Sebastian’s back. ”Fire and ice, I wanna give you my love - You’ll just take a little piece of my heart…“ He thought about the past week and the side of Sebastian he had gotten to know. In a sung whisper, he added: "Please tear it apart…”

Sebastian had taken a few steps towards the audience and pretended to adjust his tie and straighten his collar like he would in front of a mirror.

“Movin’ in for the kill tonight, you got every advantage when they put out the lights…” Kurt sang like a narrator on the sideline.

Sebastian shook his head and pulled off his tie, throwing it aside. “It’s not so pretty when it fades away, 'cause it’s just an illusion in this passion play…”

They repeated their call and answer version of the refrain, playing their parts like they were in a musical; the moral protagonist who secretly longs for the bad-boy antagonist, who is looking to better his ways because of a desire for the other.

“So you think you got it all figured out, you’re an expert in the field without a doubt,” Sebastian sang gruffly, taking off his jacket and letting it hang over his shoulder on a crooked finger. He turned towards Kurt again and stepping into his spotlight, crowding his space.

“I know your methods inside and out - I won’t be taken in by fire and ice!” Kurt countered. He let his head fall back as he sang, putting power behind his words.

Lights came on in the back, revealing the orchestra, and the main guitarist stepped forward for her solo. As she played, Kurt and Sebastian circled each other, chest out and shoulders pulled back, their postures poised and strict as tango dancers. As they fixed each other with their eyes, Kurt unbuttoned his collar, and Sebastian flung his jacket to the side. Their measured steps took them closer and further apart again, their movements drawn out whenever the guitar’s notes lingered and faster when it sped up again. Finally, they met in a dancer’s embrace, and Kurt lead them through a few quick steps as they sang in unison.

“Fire and ice, you come on like a flame, then you turn cold shoulder, fire and ice…I wanna give you my love, you’ll just take a little piece of my heart.”

(“Yeah, yeah that rocks, and then I’ll lead-”

“Excuse me, no,” Kurt had objected. “I’ll lead, thank you very much.”

“That makes no sense. I’m the hot guy in this scenario.”

“Ha, and what does that make me? No way.”

“I’m taller than you.”

“Barely. And I’ve had more training. You’re lucky I took Improv 101 with the best dance instructor at NYADA. We only have a few hours to work on this song as it is.”

“Why don’t we just think of something else?”

“No, this is perfect. Just suck it up and let me lead.”

“You’re kind of bossy, aren’t you?”

“Too much exposure to Berry over the years.”

“It’s kind of hot.”

“You think Rachel Berry is hot?”

“Shut up. Let’s just dance.”)

In practise, they had only gone over the steps in a basic way, counting aloud and humming the words, concentrating on their own feet. Now, as they danced, their bodies flushed together, time seemed to exist in a vacuum. Kurt had time to notice all the finer details that made up Sebastian as a whole. The shadows his eyelashes cast on his cheekbones from the spotlights above. The small birth marks beneath his eyes. A hint of five o’clock shadow and a whiff of a familiar cologne (who else wore it? Chase? Someone at stage combat class? Certainly not Blaine). Kurt could feel each breath as it filled Sebastian’s ribcage and pressed against his own chest. Sebastian’s skin was warm under his hand resting on the small of his back, and Kurt could feel his spine and muscles work as they moved through the steps. He knew his body was reacting to it- and the smirk on Sebastian’s lips told him he knew it as well.

“I wanna give you my love…” They let the last line trail off, and in practise, this was the part where they’d let go and return to their own starting positions; but neither of them was letting go. The music stopped and the applause swelled, but they were still standing there in their embrace, looking at each other.

Don’t think about it - just kiss him, dude, a voice rang in Kurt’s mind, sounding eerily familiar. Kurt smiled. They’d lose- Eurovison might be ready for an on-screen kiss, but this wasn’t Europe; this was still a school choir competition, alumni or not. Kurt realized that he didn’t care. He tightened his arm around Sebastian and kissed him. With a flair for dramatics, Sebastian let himself be dipped back a little by bending his knees, and kissed him back. The lights went out.

It was a rather rude cue, but it shook them out of their trance for now, and they broke their kiss and walked off stage together, arms still half-entwined.

Chapter Text

Kurt didn’t notice Vocal Adrenaline rushing past them to take their places on the stage. He wasn’t paying any attention to the competition any more. He was flushed with the thrill of performing, of the song and the moment they had shared. He didn’t want it to end. He wanted to take Sebastian back to his place, singing all the way home, lock the doors, and ‘play with fire’. He wasn’t even sure if he could wait until they got back.

One look at Sebastian made it clear he was thinking the same thing. He was still breathing hard, pupils blown with a natural rush, and he kept grinning at Kurt as if he could read his mind.

“Do you want to-” Kurt started.

“Yes,” Sebastian cut him off. “God, yes.”

Kurt swallowed hard and nodded. “I’ll go grab our things. You call a cab.”

“Shouldn’t we stay until we find out who won?” Sebastian asked half-heartedly, sounding like his deepest wish was for the answer to be no.

Kurt shrugged. “It won’t be us, not after that kiss. I’ll be right back.” He hurried to the dressing room, amazed by how little he cared about the results of the competition. But if Glee Club had taught him anything over the years, it was that the best efforts usually went unrewarded- and that that didn’t mean the performance hadn’t been good. Their version of Scarborough Fair had been perfect, and no jury was going to change that.

He quickly made his way through the narrow hallway towards the exit, ignoring the looks he was getting from the other singers. When he didn’t see Sebastian anywhere, he turned and headed back to the stage. What was keeping him? Had he changed his mind?

Then Kurt saw what was stopping Sebastian. It had the shape of a very furious, red-faced ex-fiancé. He groaned softly. Why now?

As he came closer, he could hear the two of them arguing.

"Un-be-lievable,” Blaine proclaimed. “I literally can’t believe what I just saw.”

“I’m pretty sure I saw a few cellphones up in the air, just google ‘School Choir Allstars winners’ later,” Sebastian said, sounding calm.

“That’s not what I meant!” Blaine hissed. “Now, I don’t know what you did to get Kurt to sing with you-”

“Actually, he asked me,” Sebastian interjected, but Blaine ignored him.

“-but you ruined what should have been our big moment. Mine and Kurt’s. Tonight was going to be the night we found each other again, through song.“

Kurt shook his head in disbelief. Blaine had been trying to create a spectacle to put Kurt on the spot- again- and now he was angry that it hadn’t worked. There was nothing big or romantic about that.

"Well, I’m thinking, maybe you shouldn’t have lost him in the first place,” Sebastian remarked drily.

“Shut up!” Blaine yelled. “What did you do to Kurt? Are you blackmailing him? Does he owe you money? Tell me!”

“I’m confused. Do you want me to shut up or tell you?”

Blaine let out a groan of frustration and lunged at Sebastian, grabbing him by his shirt. “Tell me what you did!”

“He asked me to sing with him, and I agreed,” Sebastian replied, looking down on Blaine’s angry face. “That’s all there is to it.”

“Why you?” Blaine demanded.

“Because I am awesome?” Sebastian suggested, sounding a little amused. “Who wouldn’t want to sing with me?”

“He is also very disciplined, a good dancer, oh- and a good kisser,” Kurt added, walking up to them. He took a stand and crossed his arms over his chest.

Blaine immediately let go of Sebastian and turned to face him. From the corner of his eye, Kurt could see Sebastian subtly shifting his weight on his feet, preparing to physically put himself between the two of them if necessary. Kurt shook his head slightly, signalling that he could handle this.

Blaine’s eyes were narrowed to tiny slits under his dark, bushy eyebrows. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” he stated, pointing a finger at Kurt. “You chose him because, of all Warblers- of all people, you knew it would hurt me the most if it was him.”

Kurt smiled wearily. There was a time where he would have felt the same way if the roles were reversed.

“I wasn’t thinking about you at all,” he said honestly. “I just wanted a chance to sing, with a decent duet partner. When I saw you had Rachel and Mr Schue on board I knew at once that wasn’t going to happen if I joined the New Directions alumni, so I asked Sebastian for a favor.”

“A favor?” He suddenly took in Kurt’s appearance and the coats draped over his arm. “And what were you about to give him in return?”

The implications of Blaine’s question were clear by his tone and the twist of his mouth, and it made Kurt furious. Was that really what Blaine thought? That, in order for anyone to stoop to singing with Kurt, he’d have to bribe them with sex?

“None of your business,” he said flatly, too angry to even raise his voice.

Blaine barked out a laugh as if that answered his question. “Well, you two deserve each other then. That must have been the sleaziest, cheapest performance I have ever seen.“

"Does that in- or exclude the videos you watched on fratboisphysicals.com?” Kurt asked. If Blaine really wanted to go there, Kurt had plenty of material to draw from. Blaine’s serenade to Jeremiah. His version of Animal. The cellphone videos he had seen on Sam’s phone from him twerking with Ryder.

Sebastian snorted, and Blaine glared at him. Then Blaine pulled himself up to his full height (which still left him a head shorter than Sebastian) and decided to try once more, with one last tactic.

“Kurt,” he said softly, “let’s just go somewhere and talk about this. I know this isn’t what you really want. Don’t throw yourself away like this. I love you. We belong together.”

Kurt looked at Sebastian. “Did you call that cab yet?” he asked, and Sebastian nodded.

“I have to go,” Kurt told Blaine. “By the way, I have told my land lady to call the police the next time you try to get in to my apartment.”

He took Sebastian’s hand and pulled him towards the exit, just as Rachel came running towards Blaine.

“The jury is back,” she exclaimed excitedly. “Oh, hi Kurt. I didn’t see your song, I was busy touching up my make-up for when we accept our prize. Did it go well? What is Sebastian doing here?”

“Bye, Rachel,” Kurt said, and turned his back on her.

Chapter Text

“He couldn’t have been more obvious if he had pissed on your shoes,” Sebastian chuckled. “He was like one of those Pixar seagulls, going MINE-MINE-MINE-MINE!”

“Oh god, stop it,” Kurt let out breathlessly between bouts of laughter. Sebastian had been telling him exactly what Blaine had been saying before Kurt arrived, and now that it was over, Kurt’s anger had shifted seamlessly into hilarity.

“And then he got this look on his face, you know, like he really needed to poop-” Sebastian continued mercilessly, imitating Blaine at his most passionate, and Kurt swatted his arm.

“Stop it,” he wheezed, and Sebastian finally relented.

As Kurt was catching his breath, Sebastian’s expression grew serious.

“Kurt, what are we doing? I mean,” he gestured at the inside of the cab. “What’s this?”

Kurt resisted the urge to pretend not to understand. “I don’t know,” he confessed. He hadn’t really thought ahead much further than wanting to act on the feelings he felt during their duet.

Sebastian bit his lip. “I think it’s time I ask you for that favor you owe me.”

Kurt came down a little. He got a sinking feeling in his stomach. “What do you want?” he asked hoarsely.

Sebastian looked at him. The lights of the streets were reflecting in his eyes, and Kurt wondered again where he had smelled his cologne before.

“I want you to go on a real date with me.” He looked out of the window for a moment, then turned back with a devious smile. “After Blaine, I kind of feel like it can’t be too hard to meet your standards. I just need to be punctual-”

“Hey!” Kurt protested softly, pushing at his arm again.

“-which means even a guy like me might have a chance,” Sebastian finished.

Kurt shook his head, not sure if he should be amused or insulted. “Maybe,” he said.

“Maybe? You owe me!” Sebastian protested.

Kurt leaned over until his face was close to Sebastian’s. “Let’s just see how this first twenty-minute rendez-vous goes, shall we?” he breathed against Sebastian’s lips.

“Challenge accepted,” Sebastian replied, and met Kurt’s lips the rest of the way.

Chapter Text

“You did not!” Elliott let out, sounding positively outraged. “And then what happened?”

“Then, we went to my place…and…you know…” Kurt said languidly, staring up at his ceiling. He had his phone in one hand and was idly drawing patterns around his bellybutton with his fingers. Elliott had called to ask how the competition had gone just as Sebastian was leaving, and Kurt hadn’t bothered to shower or get dressed yet. He tried to decide what to share with his best friend about the night before.

*

They had almost fallen through the doorway, blindly grappling for the light switch, neither of them wanting to stop the feverish exploration their hands had started underneath each other’s clothing in the cab. As Sebastian’s hands started to unbuckle Kurt’s belt and he began to kiss his way down from Kurt’s neck to his chest and stomach, getting down on his knees, Kurt used the momentum to flip the large bolt lock on his door. There’d be no unwanted visitors tonight.

Kurt let his head drop back against the door and threaded his fingers into Sebastian’s hair, tugging it a little to make him look up at him. He couldn’t deny that this was a visual he had imagined quite a few times already, and not just in the past few days. Sebastian smirked up at him like he was reading Kurt’s thoughts off his face.

“Admiring the view?” he asked cheekily, and winked.

Kurt mumbled something affirmative, tightening his hands around the back of Sebastian’s head. Now was not the time to waste breath. Sebastian obeyed his cue and set to work.

*

“It was. Amazing,” Kurt confessed, closing his eyes. “I mean, that Polish guy was pretty great, but Sebastian? Oof. It was like he had no gag reflex at all. And the way he used his fingers? He definitely knew what he was doing, I can tell you that.”

He could hear Elliott chuckle on the other side of the line. “I’m happy for you, man,” his friend said. “I’m jealous, but I’m happy.”

Kurt smiled. “That’s not all, though…” he trailed off, and sighed.

*

After the room came back into focus again, Kurt, now slightly wobbly on his legs, had offered Sebastian a revanche - only to find out Sebastian had already taken care of that himself.

“Sorry,” Sebastian said sheepishly, looking down on his trousers, that were halfway down his thighs. “I kind of couldn’t wait.”

“When did you even-?” Kurt asked dumbfoundedly.

Sebastian shrugged. “Around the time you stopped biting your own tongue and let the neighbours know what we were doing. I multitasked.”

Kurt could feel his face flush for the second time that night. He cleared his throat. “Well, um… in that case… how about some food? No- don’t say it!” he added forbiddingly as Sebastian ran his tongue over his teeth. Kurt knew what he had been about to say, and he didn’t want to ruin a perfect moment with a dirty pun.

“Alright,” Sebastian said instead, rising up from his knees and hiking up his pants. “Do you have any beer?”

They had made a few sandwiches and shared the last beer in Kurt’s fridge. While they ate, Kurt was trying to weigh the pros and cons in his head. Pro. He really, really wanted to do that again. Con. Wasn’t he supposed to be morally repulsed by Sebastian’s obvious skills? Pro. Sebastian said he wanted to date him. Con. It was Sebastian Smythe. Pro. Who had really amazing hands. Con. He was pretty sure his dad wouldn’t like him. Pro. Kurt liked him, as long as he wasn’t making lame ass remarks. Con. He would probably make some, anyway. Pro. Speaking of asses…

“So…round two?” he asked.

*

“You know this is unfair, right? I have literally been living like a monk at the yoga retreat, only to come home and listen to my best friend telling me how he fucked his way halfway through the karma sutra in one night,” Elliott complained, and then added, “just kidding, Kurt, this is the best part of my morning. Please tell me more.”

Kurt laughed and stretched his long limbs on the bed. “Well, after that, I guess we were both pretty sore-”

“You would be, jeez,” Elliott chipped in.

“So we had a bath and then he gave me a massage and we went to sleep.”

“Like, sleep sleep?”

“Well, not right away…”

*

“No, there- ow. Hold on. Yes, that’s good. Okay.” Kurt closed his eyes and let his warm body melt against Sebastian’s, who was cradling him from behind. He was rocking very slowly into him, their bodies completely still except for the rhythmic clenching and unclenching of Sebastian’s thighs and buttocks. Kurt had never felt so completely and utterly spent, yet neither of them wanted to stop. Pretty soon, exhaustion would take them anyway.

Sebastian whispered something against the back of his neck. Kurt couldn’t hear what it was. “Hmm?” he let out, his mind getting hazy and sleepy.

“I’m sorry,” Sebastian said again, a little louder.

Kurt was silent for a while, concentrating of the movement of their bodies as he tried to sort his thoughts. Finally, he settled for squeezing Sebastian’s hand to let him know he had heard him. It didn’t change anything in the past, but it did put another Pro on Kurt’s list.

Congratulations, you just got through to the next round, he thought vaguely before drifting off to sleep.

*

“Okay, there’s just one more thing I need to know,” Elliott said.

“I already told you everything!” Kurt let out.

“No… you never told me who won the competition!”

Kurt laughed. “Oh, right.”

They had forgotten all about it that night, and it hadn’t been until the early morning -somewhere between breakfast and round six- that Kurt had bothered to look it up. They had placed fourth. The New Directions had placed eleventh. Kurt felt sorry for Sugar, Marley and Roderick, but a large part of him felt like their loss had been justified. Fourth was quite good. It meant they didn’t win any prize, but it was definitely a recognition of their efforts.

Kurt had also received an email from an event manager, written that same evening- she had been present at the competition and had been very impressed by them, and was now offering to book them for a Pat Benatar tribute night at a large office party. She asked if he might be able to bring a band and mentioned that the budget was negotiable.

“Tell me you mentioned One Three Hill,” Elliott begged.

“Of course I did,” Kurt replied. “She’s going to send us a date for a meeting next week.”

“Okay, I take it back. This is the best part of my morning,” Ellliott said. “That is awesome.”

“I know,” Kurt replied. He glanced at the clock by his bed and sat up. “Okay, I have to get ready. I’ll talk to you later, ok? I’m meeting Sebastian for lunch.”

“Right. Lunch.”

“Yes. With actual food,” Kurt said. “Eventually.”

“I hate you,” Elliott replied fondly.

“I love you too, Elliott. Byyyye!”