Chapter Text
“Kurt, you okay, there? Why are you fidgeting so much?”
The entire booth turned their attention to Kurt after hearing Sam’s concern. Kurt stilled his movements and tried his best not to look like a deer in headlights. “No reason,” he said, lips pursing when he realized how squeaky his voice sounded. But then, his voice was always high, so maybe it would go unnoticed. “Just got a case of ants in the pants, y’know how it is.”
“That happened to me once,” Brittany said, nodding in understanding. “I forgot I had a candy bar in my jeans pocket and left them on the grass while I went swimming. It was super itchy.”
Sam ignored her, gaze still trained on Kurt. “Are you sure? Because it looks like you’re having a real hard time sitting.”
Tina gasped, bouncing in her seat and with a sparkle in her eye like Christmas had come early. “Kurt,” she whispered conspiratorially, leaning over the table like it would make her words any more private despite the two of them being seated on opposite ends of the booth. “Are you wearing a plug right now?”
Kurt’s jaw went slack and his entire body snapped back in shock, hitting the back of the booth with a thud. “No, Tina!” He shook his head forcefully, hoping to expel the memory of her ever speaking those words to him from his brain. It did not work. “I am not wearing a plug after my first intimate encounter with a new man. Who does that? Why would you think that?”
Tina shrugged, clearly unbothered by her own inappropriateness, and it was moments like this one that made Kurt wonder what the hell had happened to her after he graduated. She hadn’t always been like this under the shyness, had she? “Well, your ‘new man’ made it perfectly clear that he fucked you last night. It’s not like it would have been a stretch, if you get what I’m saying.”
“I understood your innuendo, yes. You’re not nearly as subtle you think you are.”
“You guys,” Puck interrupted. “He’s squirming because he has a hickey on his ass and it hurts to apply pressure,” he explained patiently, like he was talking to a group of kindergarteners.
“How the fuck did you realize that?” Kurt’s hands flew down to the waistband of his pants (Sebastian’s pants) to make sure it was still snug above his hips. It was actually the stubble burn that was irritating him more than anything, but how did Puck know about the bite down there?
“He knows his hickeys,” Quinn reminded him, more concerned with slathering a complimentary breadstick with melted garlic butter than she was with the conversation at hand. Still, she dropped the finished breadstick on his plate before offering a comforting pat on his hand, like she was apologizing for her worse half.
“Hell yeah I do!” Puck slammed a hand down on the table, hard enough to make all their dishes clatter. “My boy got his ass ate last night!” He announced with a grin and a booming shout that could probably heard in the kitchens. He slapped Kurt’s back in congratulation, hard enough to knock some wind out of his chest. “Proud of you!”
“Oh my god,” Kurt screeched. “This is a family restaurant, Puck!”
“You see this?” Santana pointed one of her talons at Puck, waving it up and down. “This right here? This is exactly what the meerkat was talking about when he was questioning the heterosexuality of the glee boys at large.”
“Whatever,” Puck dismissed airily. “I’m just glad he finally got laid. The only way to get the stick out of Hummel’s ass is to replace it with a bigger one and I was about ready to get the job done myself.”
“You just made yourself sound even gayer!”
“Family! Restaurant!” Before today, Kurt had been certain he would never be able to hit whistle register in his life. He wasn’t so sure anymore.
“So what will everyone be having for their entrées?” Kurt could kiss Rachel for her attempt at redirecting the conversation. “I will… as always… be having the meatless meatballs, since corporate just keeps sending me gift cards instead of listening when I send letters requesting more than one vegan option.” She smiled wide, but it looked fractured. Understandable, Kurt thought, considering how many times in her life she’s had no choice but to eat those damn meatballs. They're the worst thing on the menu.
He mouthed a ‘thank you’ to her and let the table turn to discussing what they would be having— like it really made a difference. Everyone would share everything, as always— as he pulled out his phone to check the message that had just come in.
From: Bastian
I bet my Italian food is better than yours.
His phone vibrated again, this time with a picture of Sebastian, smiling wide enough to make the skin around his eyes crinkle. He had a plate of greasy pepperoni pizza in front of him, and he was clearly in the same cafeteria they had eaten lunch in.
From: Bastian
Because I checked your place’s Yelp rating and I’ve never seen so much anger concentrated on one page on the internet. And I have seen some DARK corners of 4chan.
Kurt chuckled quietly and picked up the breadstick on his plate, letting one end rest against his bottom lip and snapping a picture of himself to send in reply.
To: Bastian
Our appetizers aren’t even at the table yet but you’re already wrong.
From: Bastian
Your face is the only appealing thing in that picture
From: Bastian
Is that thing bread or cardboard?
From: Bastian
Be honest with me. Are you actually having dinner right now, or did you book an ad to model for those embarrassing stock photos that people use for reaction pics? Are you going to be spending the rest of the night pretending to laugh with salad?
Kurt let out a giggle of amusement and wiped his fingers of oil from the butter, so he could text with both hands. Distantly, he was aware that the din of their booth had quieted down a bit, but it was hardly a cause for concern. Volume levels rose and fell during group outings like this one.
To: Bastian
If I had booked a modelling/advertising gig of ANY kind, I would be shouting it from the rooftops. Work is work is work. There are no small parts, only unemployed entertainers.
To: Bastian
And those people on Yelp didn't know what they were doing. When you come to Breadstix, you’ll be here with me! =D I promise will protect your delicate palate from this place’s duds.
From: Bastian
Nope. Sorry, babe, but I’m gonna have to give your beloved Faux-live Garden a hard pass. I will be skipping out on this supposed Ohio institution. I know a really good Italian restaurant run by actual Italian people in Findlay that we can go to instead.
To: Bastian
Nope. Sorry, babe, but the day WILL come that I take you on a classic Breadstix date night. I have picked my prize and this is it. The only question now is when I will collect.
From: Bastian
Seriously? THIS is what you want for your prize. I wasn’t lying when I said I could get you an apartment in soho.
To: Bastian
Yep! Mostly to annoy you tbh
From: Bastian
Fuck you tbh
To: Bastian
You probably will ;)
“Whoa!”
Kurt bodily jolted back to awareness of his surroundings. Then he turned to glare up at Sam, who was looming over him and clearly reading the conversation as it happened. Kurt turned to his other side, and sure enough, Puck was reading over his shoulder. And judging by how Quinn was snapping back into proper sitting position after being caught leaning over Puck’s lap a few seconds ago, even she had been snooping. And Quinn Fabray very rarely gave a fuck about things she wasn’t directly involved in. It was an admirable quality that Kurt was a little jealous of sometimes.
Kurt flipped his phone face down and went back to glaring at Sam until the boy walked back to his side of the booth and sat back down, then widened the scope of his glower. “I know you know that what you guys just did was unacceptable. Any reason you had to ignore common courtesy and follow along with my private conversation?”
“You were totally checked out, dude. We just wanted to see what had your attention.” Puck shrugged. He knocked their shoulders together, and it was still, after all these years, shocking how gently he did it now compared to the shoulder checks that used to knock Kurt into lockers. “We probably won’t be seeing you again until those two get married,” he said, nodding his chin at Santana and Brittany. “So maybe put the phone away for a bit? We’re only gonna get so many chances to have so many of us in one place, y’know?”
Kurt sighed heavily but nodded, flipping his phone over to send one last message before slipping his cell back into his pocket.
From: Bastian
???
To: Bastian
I’ll tell you when I get home, phone’s off for dinner time. Talk soon! xx