Series - Three (Glee; Kurt/Blaine, eventual Kurt/Blaine/Sebastian) 1/?
Three
Originally written for this prompt on the Glee Kink Meme.
His usual table is a booth along the back wall. Not that Sebastian can say he's a regular, but when he comes into this particular bar, he always heads right to this booth. The number on the lip of the table reads 3, and Sebastian likes odd numbers, always had, so he takes it as a good sign that his booth is odd. Not like the number has brought him any luck, he's been haunting this bar off and on for two months and nothing exciting ever happens. He's thinking of giving it up, heading to the bar around the corner to see how that works out for him, but there's something about this place; maybe the dark green walls, the way the lights from the neon signs reflect off the mirrors behind the bar. Or maybe it's the people, even if Sebastian hasn't had any luck here, he's sure seen enough people meet up and leave with someone, so the ambiance must work for at least a little bit of the population.
But mostly he thinks it's the curly haired kid he sees in here once in a while. Sebastian would never think of himself as a regular, but compared to the kid with the curls, Sebastian practically lives here. He's only seen him twice, both times with a pretty dark haired boy that was always overdressed for the darkness this bar brought. The first time Sebastian had seen them, they sat at the other end of the room, at a table, their hands clasped on top of it, the curly haired guys thumb rubbing along the back of the other guys hand. They pulled apart when their food arrived, but Sebastian could see their legs under the table, always touching, their feet tangled together as if they couldn't stand to not be touching.
The second time it was raining, and they burst through the door all wet hair and bright smiles, dripping onto the hardwood of the floor for a moment while they looked around for a table. The one with the scarf that Sebastian thought might have been silk - and really, who wears a silk scarf out in this weather? - points, and they take a table that's just out of Sebastian's line of sight. He feels oddly disappointed at that, and then vaguely like a creep, because why would he want to watch these two play footsie under the table anyway? But when he gets up to leave, throwing a ten on the table for the waitress, he can't help but look in their direction. They're kissing, soft and sweet, not with the passion of a couple of kids who can't keep their hands off each other, but with the tenderness of two people who are in love, who know each other inside and out and know that there's no need to rush anything now, they have the rest of their lives. Sebastian tore his eyes away when they broke apart, smiling at each other like there wasn't a single person in the bar except for them.
It's not that he doesn't want that with someone, he does, but he's at an age where he feels like he should just go out and live his life. He's seen too many people, friends of his, hell, even his own family, who have settled down with someone before they were 25, and then ended up hurting the other person when they inevitably wanted someone else. Sebastian isn't going to do that. Not to himself, not to someone else. He knows what he wants, he's always prided himself on that, and right now, at this point in his life, he wants to have as much sex with as many people as possible.
He's vaguely aware of how this makes him sound, but he doesn't care. He's young. This is what life in New York City should be. He wants to be able to go to a club and dance with a guy and have that thrill, the rush of taking someone to the back corner and making out. He doesn't have to go all the way with all of them, in fact, he barely goes all the way with a quarter of them, but Sebastian is fluid, he doesn't really need to be fucking someone to say he's had sex. As long as he gets off, that's all he cares about. Crass? Maybe. But he's a 23 year old guy. It's in his nature to be crass.
It's not late when the door to the bar opens and the boy with the curly hair comes in. The first thing Sebastian notices is that he's alone. The door slams shut behind him and Sebastian keeps half an eye on it, expecting the other half of the duo to follow him in, but it remains shut. The second thing he notices is that the kid is pissed. Not just a little pissed, but goes-right-to-the-bar-and-orders-a-double-shot-of-Jack pissed. He sits down, tilting his head back and does the shot, not even wincing when the liquid burns his throat. Sebastian raises his eyebrows as he watches, mildly impressed. The kid sits on a stool, his body language screaming 'leave me alone I want to drink and I want to do it by myself.' The bartender pours him another double, but this time, the kid just wraps one hand around the glass, fingers sliding along the rim and uses his other hand to rake long fingers through his already messed up hair. His hand slides back to the front of his head and stops, palm against his forehead, as if the only thing keeping his head from dropping to the wood of the bar is the strength of his arm.
Without thinking too much about it, Sebastian gets up from the booth and saunters over to the bar. It's a Tuesday night, the bar isn't full, and the stools on either side of the guy are empty. He steps up on the guys left and rests his elbows on the bar, setting his empty beer bottle down and waiting to catch the bartender's attention. After he orders, Sebastian glances to his right. The guy hasn't moved, except to lift the glass in front of him to his mouth.
“Rough night?” Sebastian asks him, grinning his thanks at the bartender for the beer, tossing money across the wood. The kid snorts at him in response, but otherwise doesn't offer anything. Sebastian takes this as a cue to sit down.
“No offense, dude, but I'd rather be alone.”
As first words go, there are definitely others Sebastian would like to hear, but hey, beggars can't be choosers. He smiles a bit, “Well, if you wanted to be alone, you shouldn't have come to a public place.”
The kid lifts his head off his hand and turns to give Sebastian a withering look. “Yeah, well, I wasn't alone at home, either, but at least I thought random strangers wouldn't want me to talk.”
His eyes are hazel. Mostly brown, really, but there's flecks of green and yellow that prevents Sebastian from labeling them with such a boring color as brown. He holds his gaze for a moment before the guy looks away and takes another long pull of his drink, clearly dismissing Sebastian. Luckily, Sebastian isn't deterred.
“You want to talk about it?” he asks and the look of pure incredulity the kid gives him makes Sebastian laugh. “Sue me. I never took no for an answer.” He gives him a smile, slow, sexy. “Especially from someone who looks like you.” A flush appears on the guys face and Sebastian sets one foot on the ground, moving slightly closer, facing him. He reaches out to touch the fingers of the hand that rests on the glass. “Come on. I have a booth, we can be alone. You can talk.”
The guy sighs heavily and turns on his stool to face Sebastian. “Look. I have a boyfriend.” Sebastian wisely doesn't answer 'I know' but lets the guy talk. “So whatever you're trying to do here,” he waves his hand between them, “pick me up, get me to talk so I feel bad enough about myself to go home with you... it's not going to work. One fight doesn't mean we're breaking up.” He turns back to his drink and finishes it. Sebastian waits him out. A minute, then two passes before the guy looks at him again, “Seriously. You're still here?”
Sebastian motions for the bartender to refill the glass and then he picks it up, getting off his stool. He circles his hand around the stranger's wrist, “Come on.” Surprisingly, the guy sighs and gets up, following Sebastian to the booth and sitting heavily on one side. With the way he reaches for the glass as soon as Sebastian sets it down, Sebastian half thinks the guy just followed the drink.
“I'm Sebastian,” he said, sliding into the opposite seat.
“Blaine,” the kid answers and finally there's a name to the face. He slumps in the booth, his eyes on his glass.
“Well, Blaine, you look like shit,” Sebastian tells him and Blaine's eyes lift immediately. But Sebastian is smiling and Blaine just laughs softly, without humor and shakes his head.
“Yeah,” he replies, “tell me something I don't know.”
“You first,” Sebastian says, sweeping his arm out. “Come on, what happened?”
Blaine just looked at him, eyebrows raised slightly. “Why do you care? You don't know me. Why do you want to hear about my problems?”
Because you're gorgeous. Because I watch you and your boyfriend and want that. Because maybe if I get you drunk enough you'll let me kiss you.
“Because you look like you could use a friend.”
Blaine barks out a laugh. “A friend. So you want to be that friend? A complete stranger?”
Sebastian sits back and grins, shrugging, “Look at it this way. I don't know your boy, so I'm on your side. Validation and all that.”
Blaine relaxes slightly, Sebastian can see it in the slight slump of his shoulders as he takes his next breath. He blows it out and nods. “Fine. Fine, I'll tell you.”
”Kurt! I'm home!” Blaine lets the door fall shut behind him, and when it doesn't latch, he kicks it shut with the heel of his shoe. He's flipping through the mail, and absently drops his bag on the floor by the door.
“Blaine, how many times do I have to tell you to put your bag on the table?” Kurt says and Blaine rolls his eyes and kicks the bag near the table. Close enough. He hears Kurt huff and looks up in time to see him turning and disappearing into the small kitchen.
“What's wrong with you?” Blaine asks, following him. His mind races, trying to figure out if it was a mistake he made. But that's pretty much impossible, since he hadn't really seen Kurt since Sunday. Since dinner that night, it's just been Kurt in bed already asleep when Blaine got home from work and Blaine waking up alone because Kurt's already at class. Their schedules this semester don't mesh well at all, especially now that Kurt has an internship after his morning classes let out. Blaine sometimes wonders when things will turn around for them, when he'll get more than a Tuesday night alone with Kurt during the week.
“Nothing is 'wrong with me,' Blaine,” Kurt snaps and Blaine sighs as he takes in the pile of bills on the kitchen table. Of course. Kurt sits back down and picks up a pen, opening their checkbook and pulling a calculator towards them.
“How bad?” Blaine asks softly, sitting across from him.
“How bad do you think?” Kurt answers and Blaine sighs, getting up and moving to the fridge.
He hates this time of the month, when Kurt sits down and pays their bills. The two of them are pretty much broke, living week to week, day to day. They do what they can, saving money, not eating out, rarely doing anything except going to class, going to work and coming home. When they left Lima, they had big dreams of making it in this City. School was a requirement, something they had to do, but they were going to get jobs, great jobs that were going to pay their bills, and they were going to have a great time. They were young, they were in love, and they were going to be living in New York City!
The reality is that school took up way more time than either of them imagined, between classes and homework and studying, they only had a few free hours a night, and those hours were dedicated to work. Neither of them worked the same days, so they ended up always missing each other. Blaine loved his job at the local piano bar, but it kept him out late, so when he came home from work, it was all he could do to take off his clothes before falling face first into bed, much less reaching out to Kurt. Kurt worked at an art gallery downtown, so he was always home by nine, but that didn't help Blaine much, that's the time he was heading out. Blaine can't remember the last time he touched Kurt and had more than fifteen minutes to get off.
Blaine takes a bottle of beer from the fridge and Kurt looks up and makes a disgusted face at Blaine. Blaine takes another deep breath, it's their one night together until Saturday, and he does not want to spend it fighting. “I have some extra cash in the bedroom,” he tells Kurt, trying to help. “Maybe fifty bucks, does that help?”
“No, Blaine,” Kurt says, “that does not help.” And his voice is so condescending that Blaine can't take it anymore.
“Fuck, Kurt,” he explodes, “excuse me for trying to help!”
Kurt looks up and Blaine knows that face. His eyes are narrowed and his mouth is a tight line and Blaine groans, because yeah, now they were going to fight. “You want to help? Call mommy and daddy and tell them you need money.”
Blaine sucks in a breath, “You know I can't do that, Kurt. You know that, why are you being a dick?” It's a sore subject with Blaine, and usually Kurt sympathizes with that. Blaine's parents have made their position clear: if Blaine goes to school outside of Ohio, he's on his own. NYU is not the Anderson Alma Mater and therefore Blaine has to make do with what he has.
“Because, Blaine!” Kurt gets up and walks into the living room. “We are struggling here! I don't know if we're going to be able to eat more than spaghetti and ramen noodles and they have all that money just lying around and you won't stand the hell up to them and ask for it!”
“Oh, like you're asking your dad for money?” Blaine shoots back. “Your dad actually loves you, Kurt, he would give it to you!”
“My dad doesn’t have it to give, Blaine!” Kurt glares at him, his eyes hard, his fists closed at his sides. “In case you forgot, he's putting two of us through school right now, and Columbia isn't cheap! Your parents have more money than they know what to do with and if you would just pull that gigantic stick out of your ass and suck up your wounded pride and just go to them...”
Kurt is still talking, but Blaine is done listening. He manages to hold back the hot tears that are pressing against the back of his eyes and he takes a deep breath, his chest puffing out, his head held high. He pushes past Kurt and goes into their bedroom, taking that extra money he offered Kurt five minutes before and comes back out to the living room. He goes to the door, picking up his coat.
“Where do you think you're going?” Kurt asks him.
“Out,” he says and looks at Kurt. “Maybe a night away from you will get this gigantic stick out of my ass.”
Kurt has the decency to look chagrined, “Blaine...”
“No,” Blaine says. “Screw you, Kurt. Just... screw you.” He takes one more look at him and he turns, pulling the door closed behind him.
Blaine finishes the drink Sebastian bought him and is half way through the next before he's done with his story. Sebastian stays mostly quiet, interrupting only to ask what Kurt's father does for a living, what Blaine's own parents do. He tries to put the Kurt of Blaine's story onto the boy he's seen Blaine with in this very bar, but it's hard. This Kurt doesn't seem to fit with the loving Kurt who can't keep his hands off Blaine that Sebastian is used to seeing. Part of Blaine wonders how much Blaine embellished the story, trying to make his point, make himself seem less guilty, but most of him doesn't care. The fact is they did have a fight and now Blaine was here, with Sebastian, and now Sebastian had to figure out what to do with that.
On one hand, Blaine is just this side of drunk. His eyes were glassy, his speech slurred only slightly, but his face is flushed so much Sebastian is itching to touch it, to feel how warm it is under his fingertips. Sebastian is pretty sure he could get what he wanted from Blaine; he would just have to play it very carefully, make Blaine think it was his own idea in the first place.
On the other hand, Sebastian's mind keeps flashing to Kurt. He keeps seeing the way they both entered the bar that day it was raining, soaking wet and not even caring. He can't forget how the two of them kept touching, always linked somehow; hands on the table or feet under it. He sees Blaine's hand drop to Kurt's thigh, the way Kurt smiled faintly at the touch. He sees Kurt reaching out to tug on one of Blaine's curls, laughing when he let it go and it just went right back to where it was, on Blaine's forehead, looking ridiculous.
Sebastian thinks he's going soft, because he doesn't buy Blaine another drink. He lets him finish the one he has and he gently suggests Blaine go home. To Kurt. But there's something about them, something Sebastian can't put a finger on. Something he wants, though. That love, that intimacy. It's something rare and hard to find, especially for a guy like himself.
Blaine nods, “yeah. I should go.” He sighs and wraps his hand around his glass again.
Sebastian reaches across the table, putting his hand on Blaine's wrist. “Blaine. Go home. I'm sure Kurt is worried about you.” His thumb strokes the soft skin on the outside of Blaine's wrist and he is honestly cursing himself right now, because this could be so easy. Especially when Blaine drops his hand from his glass and turns his hand palm up, letting Sebastian's fingers fall between his.
“Yeah,” he says absently, his eyes on their fingers. “I know.” He sighs and squeezes Sebastian's hand. “Seb.. thank you...” he starts and then they're interrupted.
“Am I interrupting?”
Blaine pulls his hand back so fast, Sebastian actually wonders if he's been burned. Then he wonders how many drinks he's had, because that's just a stupid thought. Blaine tries to stand and hits his knees on the bottom of the table in doing so and Sebastian lets out a snort of laughter. Kurt turns his glare on him, and Sebastian stops laughing, but the smile still plays on his face. Blaine was right, Kurt does have a glare that could cut glass, but Sebastian's been on this side of glares before, he's not worried about it.
“Kurt!” Blaine finally says and his eyes are wide. “This isn't... we weren't...”
“Yeah,” Kurt says, his voice full of disdain, his eyes on Blaine, “I can see that.”
“Dude, really, nothing was going on,” Sebastian says to him, sitting back in the booth.
Kurt turns that look back on him and he sniffs lightly, “When I want your opinion, I'll ask for it. And don't call me dude.”
Blaine manages to get out of the booth and he pulls Kurt away, back to the bar. They take seats on the far side at the corner of the bar, and Sebastian watches, Blaine utterly fucking adorable as he talks, his hands moving in the air. He sighs and flags down the waitress, asking for his bill.
When he looks up again, Kurt has reached out and taken Blaine's hands in his, holding them down. Blaine's lips are still moving, and he can see Blaine wanting to gesture, but Kurt's hands are on his wrists. Sebastian looks down at them, watches Kurt's fingers sliding over the skin. With each stroke, Blaine relaxes even more, and Sebastian realizes that when he thought Blaine slumped and relaxed before, it was nothing compared to when Kurt touches him. The thought makes his heart ache in a way he never thought was possible. But to have that? To be able to be calm from just one touch of someone else? How could he not want that?
Blaine's eyes are wide, pleading and Sebastian can't really see Kurt's face, mostly his profile, but he can see Kurt shake his head, say something that makes Blaine close his eyes, and Sebastian can see the relief that crosses Blaine's face. Kurt brings his hand up, cupping Blaine's cheek and Blaine nods, surging forward to capture Kurt's lips with his.
And then they're kissing. Kurt's hand is still on Blaine's face, but Blaine's hands are sliding up Kurt's arms to his shoulders, clutching Kurt, pulling him closer. Kurt's hand moves to Blaine's curls, and Sebastian's own hands itch with the want to slide his own hands in that hair. He's so blatantly jealous of Kurt in this moment, Sebastian wants to get up and go over there, pushing Kurt out of the way and taking his place. Instead, he swallows thickly and watches Blaine open his mouth to Kurt's tongue and while it's still not pornographic, Sebastian feels a pull of want in the pit of his stomach. Blaine is mumbling against Kurt's mouth, and Sebastian would pay good money to know what he was saying. Kurt nods and stands up, nudging Blaine's legs apart and standing between them, standing over Blaine, holding Blaine's head up, tilting his own face down to kiss him again. Blaine's hands are now on Kurt's hips, fisting in the material of the shirt he's wearing, and from across the room, Sebastian can see a strip of skin along the top of Kurt's jeans, a pale flash that gives him his first jolt of lust for the boy without the curls.
But even with how desperate this is, how much they are so obviously clinging to each other, not wanting this fight to mean more than the fact that they just don't have as much money as they want, Sebastian can see the love underneath. He can see the tenderness in the way Blaine's thumbs brush over the swatch of skin above the waist of Kurt's jeans. He can see the way Kurt's fingers almost pet Blaine's hair as they slide through it. He watches them pull back, Kurt resting his forehead against Blaine's, their noses touching, the soft smile they offer each other when their eyes open. He can see the moment they remember they're not alone.
The waitress is in front of him now and he's asking her for a piece of her notepad paper and a pen. He scribbles out a note thanks for the show, boys, have another drink on me. And keep the change. - Sebastian. He pulls a hundred out of his wallet, folds the paper around it and makes sure the waitress knows who to give it to. He stands and gets his coat on, watching the waitress, making sure she's not going to steal his money.
She walks behind the bar and slips the paper to Blaine and Kurt. Sebastian is at the door now, but he watches them. Blaine turns on his stool and Kurt wraps his arms around Blaine from behind. Blaine takes the note and Kurt sets his chin on Blaine's shoulder to read over it. The bill falls out and Blaine stares at it a moment, his eyes widening, then flicks his eyes over the note. Sebastian can see the moment they realize he was watching them, and they look up, first at the booth he had been at, and then over at the door. Blaine's face is adorably red, and Kurt's expression is unreadable, but Sebastian grins at them anyway, winking before turning and walking out the door.
Yeah. Table 3 is good for him.
Originally written for this prompt on the Glee Kink Meme.
His usual table is a booth along the back wall. Not that Sebastian can say he's a regular, but when he comes into this particular bar, he always heads right to this booth. The number on the lip of the table reads 3, and Sebastian likes odd numbers, always had, so he takes it as a good sign that his booth is odd. Not like the number has brought him any luck, he's been haunting this bar off and on for two months and nothing exciting ever happens. He's thinking of giving it up, heading to the bar around the corner to see how that works out for him, but there's something about this place; maybe the dark green walls, the way the lights from the neon signs reflect off the mirrors behind the bar. Or maybe it's the people, even if Sebastian hasn't had any luck here, he's sure seen enough people meet up and leave with someone, so the ambiance must work for at least a little bit of the population.
But mostly he thinks it's the curly haired kid he sees in here once in a while. Sebastian would never think of himself as a regular, but compared to the kid with the curls, Sebastian practically lives here. He's only seen him twice, both times with a pretty dark haired boy that was always overdressed for the darkness this bar brought. The first time Sebastian had seen them, they sat at the other end of the room, at a table, their hands clasped on top of it, the curly haired guys thumb rubbing along the back of the other guys hand. They pulled apart when their food arrived, but Sebastian could see their legs under the table, always touching, their feet tangled together as if they couldn't stand to not be touching.
The second time it was raining, and they burst through the door all wet hair and bright smiles, dripping onto the hardwood of the floor for a moment while they looked around for a table. The one with the scarf that Sebastian thought might have been silk - and really, who wears a silk scarf out in this weather? - points, and they take a table that's just out of Sebastian's line of sight. He feels oddly disappointed at that, and then vaguely like a creep, because why would he want to watch these two play footsie under the table anyway? But when he gets up to leave, throwing a ten on the table for the waitress, he can't help but look in their direction. They're kissing, soft and sweet, not with the passion of a couple of kids who can't keep their hands off each other, but with the tenderness of two people who are in love, who know each other inside and out and know that there's no need to rush anything now, they have the rest of their lives. Sebastian tore his eyes away when they broke apart, smiling at each other like there wasn't a single person in the bar except for them.
It's not that he doesn't want that with someone, he does, but he's at an age where he feels like he should just go out and live his life. He's seen too many people, friends of his, hell, even his own family, who have settled down with someone before they were 25, and then ended up hurting the other person when they inevitably wanted someone else. Sebastian isn't going to do that. Not to himself, not to someone else. He knows what he wants, he's always prided himself on that, and right now, at this point in his life, he wants to have as much sex with as many people as possible.
He's vaguely aware of how this makes him sound, but he doesn't care. He's young. This is what life in New York City should be. He wants to be able to go to a club and dance with a guy and have that thrill, the rush of taking someone to the back corner and making out. He doesn't have to go all the way with all of them, in fact, he barely goes all the way with a quarter of them, but Sebastian is fluid, he doesn't really need to be fucking someone to say he's had sex. As long as he gets off, that's all he cares about. Crass? Maybe. But he's a 23 year old guy. It's in his nature to be crass.
It's not late when the door to the bar opens and the boy with the curly hair comes in. The first thing Sebastian notices is that he's alone. The door slams shut behind him and Sebastian keeps half an eye on it, expecting the other half of the duo to follow him in, but it remains shut. The second thing he notices is that the kid is pissed. Not just a little pissed, but goes-right-to-the-bar-and-orders-a-double-shot-of-Jack pissed. He sits down, tilting his head back and does the shot, not even wincing when the liquid burns his throat. Sebastian raises his eyebrows as he watches, mildly impressed. The kid sits on a stool, his body language screaming 'leave me alone I want to drink and I want to do it by myself.' The bartender pours him another double, but this time, the kid just wraps one hand around the glass, fingers sliding along the rim and uses his other hand to rake long fingers through his already messed up hair. His hand slides back to the front of his head and stops, palm against his forehead, as if the only thing keeping his head from dropping to the wood of the bar is the strength of his arm.
Without thinking too much about it, Sebastian gets up from the booth and saunters over to the bar. It's a Tuesday night, the bar isn't full, and the stools on either side of the guy are empty. He steps up on the guys left and rests his elbows on the bar, setting his empty beer bottle down and waiting to catch the bartender's attention. After he orders, Sebastian glances to his right. The guy hasn't moved, except to lift the glass in front of him to his mouth.
“Rough night?” Sebastian asks him, grinning his thanks at the bartender for the beer, tossing money across the wood. The kid snorts at him in response, but otherwise doesn't offer anything. Sebastian takes this as a cue to sit down.
“No offense, dude, but I'd rather be alone.”
As first words go, there are definitely others Sebastian would like to hear, but hey, beggars can't be choosers. He smiles a bit, “Well, if you wanted to be alone, you shouldn't have come to a public place.”
The kid lifts his head off his hand and turns to give Sebastian a withering look. “Yeah, well, I wasn't alone at home, either, but at least I thought random strangers wouldn't want me to talk.”
His eyes are hazel. Mostly brown, really, but there's flecks of green and yellow that prevents Sebastian from labeling them with such a boring color as brown. He holds his gaze for a moment before the guy looks away and takes another long pull of his drink, clearly dismissing Sebastian. Luckily, Sebastian isn't deterred.
“You want to talk about it?” he asks and the look of pure incredulity the kid gives him makes Sebastian laugh. “Sue me. I never took no for an answer.” He gives him a smile, slow, sexy. “Especially from someone who looks like you.” A flush appears on the guys face and Sebastian sets one foot on the ground, moving slightly closer, facing him. He reaches out to touch the fingers of the hand that rests on the glass. “Come on. I have a booth, we can be alone. You can talk.”
The guy sighs heavily and turns on his stool to face Sebastian. “Look. I have a boyfriend.” Sebastian wisely doesn't answer 'I know' but lets the guy talk. “So whatever you're trying to do here,” he waves his hand between them, “pick me up, get me to talk so I feel bad enough about myself to go home with you... it's not going to work. One fight doesn't mean we're breaking up.” He turns back to his drink and finishes it. Sebastian waits him out. A minute, then two passes before the guy looks at him again, “Seriously. You're still here?”
Sebastian motions for the bartender to refill the glass and then he picks it up, getting off his stool. He circles his hand around the stranger's wrist, “Come on.” Surprisingly, the guy sighs and gets up, following Sebastian to the booth and sitting heavily on one side. With the way he reaches for the glass as soon as Sebastian sets it down, Sebastian half thinks the guy just followed the drink.
“I'm Sebastian,” he said, sliding into the opposite seat.
“Blaine,” the kid answers and finally there's a name to the face. He slumps in the booth, his eyes on his glass.
“Well, Blaine, you look like shit,” Sebastian tells him and Blaine's eyes lift immediately. But Sebastian is smiling and Blaine just laughs softly, without humor and shakes his head.
“Yeah,” he replies, “tell me something I don't know.”
“You first,” Sebastian says, sweeping his arm out. “Come on, what happened?”
Blaine just looked at him, eyebrows raised slightly. “Why do you care? You don't know me. Why do you want to hear about my problems?”
Because you're gorgeous. Because I watch you and your boyfriend and want that. Because maybe if I get you drunk enough you'll let me kiss you.
“Because you look like you could use a friend.”
Blaine barks out a laugh. “A friend. So you want to be that friend? A complete stranger?”
Sebastian sits back and grins, shrugging, “Look at it this way. I don't know your boy, so I'm on your side. Validation and all that.”
Blaine relaxes slightly, Sebastian can see it in the slight slump of his shoulders as he takes his next breath. He blows it out and nods. “Fine. Fine, I'll tell you.”
”Kurt! I'm home!” Blaine lets the door fall shut behind him, and when it doesn't latch, he kicks it shut with the heel of his shoe. He's flipping through the mail, and absently drops his bag on the floor by the door.
“Blaine, how many times do I have to tell you to put your bag on the table?” Kurt says and Blaine rolls his eyes and kicks the bag near the table. Close enough. He hears Kurt huff and looks up in time to see him turning and disappearing into the small kitchen.
“What's wrong with you?” Blaine asks, following him. His mind races, trying to figure out if it was a mistake he made. But that's pretty much impossible, since he hadn't really seen Kurt since Sunday. Since dinner that night, it's just been Kurt in bed already asleep when Blaine got home from work and Blaine waking up alone because Kurt's already at class. Their schedules this semester don't mesh well at all, especially now that Kurt has an internship after his morning classes let out. Blaine sometimes wonders when things will turn around for them, when he'll get more than a Tuesday night alone with Kurt during the week.
“Nothing is 'wrong with me,' Blaine,” Kurt snaps and Blaine sighs as he takes in the pile of bills on the kitchen table. Of course. Kurt sits back down and picks up a pen, opening their checkbook and pulling a calculator towards them.
“How bad?” Blaine asks softly, sitting across from him.
“How bad do you think?” Kurt answers and Blaine sighs, getting up and moving to the fridge.
He hates this time of the month, when Kurt sits down and pays their bills. The two of them are pretty much broke, living week to week, day to day. They do what they can, saving money, not eating out, rarely doing anything except going to class, going to work and coming home. When they left Lima, they had big dreams of making it in this City. School was a requirement, something they had to do, but they were going to get jobs, great jobs that were going to pay their bills, and they were going to have a great time. They were young, they were in love, and they were going to be living in New York City!
The reality is that school took up way more time than either of them imagined, between classes and homework and studying, they only had a few free hours a night, and those hours were dedicated to work. Neither of them worked the same days, so they ended up always missing each other. Blaine loved his job at the local piano bar, but it kept him out late, so when he came home from work, it was all he could do to take off his clothes before falling face first into bed, much less reaching out to Kurt. Kurt worked at an art gallery downtown, so he was always home by nine, but that didn't help Blaine much, that's the time he was heading out. Blaine can't remember the last time he touched Kurt and had more than fifteen minutes to get off.
Blaine takes a bottle of beer from the fridge and Kurt looks up and makes a disgusted face at Blaine. Blaine takes another deep breath, it's their one night together until Saturday, and he does not want to spend it fighting. “I have some extra cash in the bedroom,” he tells Kurt, trying to help. “Maybe fifty bucks, does that help?”
“No, Blaine,” Kurt says, “that does not help.” And his voice is so condescending that Blaine can't take it anymore.
“Fuck, Kurt,” he explodes, “excuse me for trying to help!”
Kurt looks up and Blaine knows that face. His eyes are narrowed and his mouth is a tight line and Blaine groans, because yeah, now they were going to fight. “You want to help? Call mommy and daddy and tell them you need money.”
Blaine sucks in a breath, “You know I can't do that, Kurt. You know that, why are you being a dick?” It's a sore subject with Blaine, and usually Kurt sympathizes with that. Blaine's parents have made their position clear: if Blaine goes to school outside of Ohio, he's on his own. NYU is not the Anderson Alma Mater and therefore Blaine has to make do with what he has.
“Because, Blaine!” Kurt gets up and walks into the living room. “We are struggling here! I don't know if we're going to be able to eat more than spaghetti and ramen noodles and they have all that money just lying around and you won't stand the hell up to them and ask for it!”
“Oh, like you're asking your dad for money?” Blaine shoots back. “Your dad actually loves you, Kurt, he would give it to you!”
“My dad doesn’t have it to give, Blaine!” Kurt glares at him, his eyes hard, his fists closed at his sides. “In case you forgot, he's putting two of us through school right now, and Columbia isn't cheap! Your parents have more money than they know what to do with and if you would just pull that gigantic stick out of your ass and suck up your wounded pride and just go to them...”
Kurt is still talking, but Blaine is done listening. He manages to hold back the hot tears that are pressing against the back of his eyes and he takes a deep breath, his chest puffing out, his head held high. He pushes past Kurt and goes into their bedroom, taking that extra money he offered Kurt five minutes before and comes back out to the living room. He goes to the door, picking up his coat.
“Where do you think you're going?” Kurt asks him.
“Out,” he says and looks at Kurt. “Maybe a night away from you will get this gigantic stick out of my ass.”
Kurt has the decency to look chagrined, “Blaine...”
“No,” Blaine says. “Screw you, Kurt. Just... screw you.” He takes one more look at him and he turns, pulling the door closed behind him.
Blaine finishes the drink Sebastian bought him and is half way through the next before he's done with his story. Sebastian stays mostly quiet, interrupting only to ask what Kurt's father does for a living, what Blaine's own parents do. He tries to put the Kurt of Blaine's story onto the boy he's seen Blaine with in this very bar, but it's hard. This Kurt doesn't seem to fit with the loving Kurt who can't keep his hands off Blaine that Sebastian is used to seeing. Part of Blaine wonders how much Blaine embellished the story, trying to make his point, make himself seem less guilty, but most of him doesn't care. The fact is they did have a fight and now Blaine was here, with Sebastian, and now Sebastian had to figure out what to do with that.
On one hand, Blaine is just this side of drunk. His eyes were glassy, his speech slurred only slightly, but his face is flushed so much Sebastian is itching to touch it, to feel how warm it is under his fingertips. Sebastian is pretty sure he could get what he wanted from Blaine; he would just have to play it very carefully, make Blaine think it was his own idea in the first place.
On the other hand, Sebastian's mind keeps flashing to Kurt. He keeps seeing the way they both entered the bar that day it was raining, soaking wet and not even caring. He can't forget how the two of them kept touching, always linked somehow; hands on the table or feet under it. He sees Blaine's hand drop to Kurt's thigh, the way Kurt smiled faintly at the touch. He sees Kurt reaching out to tug on one of Blaine's curls, laughing when he let it go and it just went right back to where it was, on Blaine's forehead, looking ridiculous.
Sebastian thinks he's going soft, because he doesn't buy Blaine another drink. He lets him finish the one he has and he gently suggests Blaine go home. To Kurt. But there's something about them, something Sebastian can't put a finger on. Something he wants, though. That love, that intimacy. It's something rare and hard to find, especially for a guy like himself.
Blaine nods, “yeah. I should go.” He sighs and wraps his hand around his glass again.
Sebastian reaches across the table, putting his hand on Blaine's wrist. “Blaine. Go home. I'm sure Kurt is worried about you.” His thumb strokes the soft skin on the outside of Blaine's wrist and he is honestly cursing himself right now, because this could be so easy. Especially when Blaine drops his hand from his glass and turns his hand palm up, letting Sebastian's fingers fall between his.
“Yeah,” he says absently, his eyes on their fingers. “I know.” He sighs and squeezes Sebastian's hand. “Seb.. thank you...” he starts and then they're interrupted.
“Am I interrupting?”
Blaine pulls his hand back so fast, Sebastian actually wonders if he's been burned. Then he wonders how many drinks he's had, because that's just a stupid thought. Blaine tries to stand and hits his knees on the bottom of the table in doing so and Sebastian lets out a snort of laughter. Kurt turns his glare on him, and Sebastian stops laughing, but the smile still plays on his face. Blaine was right, Kurt does have a glare that could cut glass, but Sebastian's been on this side of glares before, he's not worried about it.
“Kurt!” Blaine finally says and his eyes are wide. “This isn't... we weren't...”
“Yeah,” Kurt says, his voice full of disdain, his eyes on Blaine, “I can see that.”
“Dude, really, nothing was going on,” Sebastian says to him, sitting back in the booth.
Kurt turns that look back on him and he sniffs lightly, “When I want your opinion, I'll ask for it. And don't call me dude.”
Blaine manages to get out of the booth and he pulls Kurt away, back to the bar. They take seats on the far side at the corner of the bar, and Sebastian watches, Blaine utterly fucking adorable as he talks, his hands moving in the air. He sighs and flags down the waitress, asking for his bill.
When he looks up again, Kurt has reached out and taken Blaine's hands in his, holding them down. Blaine's lips are still moving, and he can see Blaine wanting to gesture, but Kurt's hands are on his wrists. Sebastian looks down at them, watches Kurt's fingers sliding over the skin. With each stroke, Blaine relaxes even more, and Sebastian realizes that when he thought Blaine slumped and relaxed before, it was nothing compared to when Kurt touches him. The thought makes his heart ache in a way he never thought was possible. But to have that? To be able to be calm from just one touch of someone else? How could he not want that?
Blaine's eyes are wide, pleading and Sebastian can't really see Kurt's face, mostly his profile, but he can see Kurt shake his head, say something that makes Blaine close his eyes, and Sebastian can see the relief that crosses Blaine's face. Kurt brings his hand up, cupping Blaine's cheek and Blaine nods, surging forward to capture Kurt's lips with his.
And then they're kissing. Kurt's hand is still on Blaine's face, but Blaine's hands are sliding up Kurt's arms to his shoulders, clutching Kurt, pulling him closer. Kurt's hand moves to Blaine's curls, and Sebastian's own hands itch with the want to slide his own hands in that hair. He's so blatantly jealous of Kurt in this moment, Sebastian wants to get up and go over there, pushing Kurt out of the way and taking his place. Instead, he swallows thickly and watches Blaine open his mouth to Kurt's tongue and while it's still not pornographic, Sebastian feels a pull of want in the pit of his stomach. Blaine is mumbling against Kurt's mouth, and Sebastian would pay good money to know what he was saying. Kurt nods and stands up, nudging Blaine's legs apart and standing between them, standing over Blaine, holding Blaine's head up, tilting his own face down to kiss him again. Blaine's hands are now on Kurt's hips, fisting in the material of the shirt he's wearing, and from across the room, Sebastian can see a strip of skin along the top of Kurt's jeans, a pale flash that gives him his first jolt of lust for the boy without the curls.
But even with how desperate this is, how much they are so obviously clinging to each other, not wanting this fight to mean more than the fact that they just don't have as much money as they want, Sebastian can see the love underneath. He can see the tenderness in the way Blaine's thumbs brush over the swatch of skin above the waist of Kurt's jeans. He can see the way Kurt's fingers almost pet Blaine's hair as they slide through it. He watches them pull back, Kurt resting his forehead against Blaine's, their noses touching, the soft smile they offer each other when their eyes open. He can see the moment they remember they're not alone.
The waitress is in front of him now and he's asking her for a piece of her notepad paper and a pen. He scribbles out a note thanks for the show, boys, have another drink on me. And keep the change. - Sebastian. He pulls a hundred out of his wallet, folds the paper around it and makes sure the waitress knows who to give it to. He stands and gets his coat on, watching the waitress, making sure she's not going to steal his money.
She walks behind the bar and slips the paper to Blaine and Kurt. Sebastian is at the door now, but he watches them. Blaine turns on his stool and Kurt wraps his arms around Blaine from behind. Blaine takes the note and Kurt sets his chin on Blaine's shoulder to read over it. The bill falls out and Blaine stares at it a moment, his eyes widening, then flicks his eyes over the note. Sebastian can see the moment they realize he was watching them, and they look up, first at the booth he had been at, and then over at the door. Blaine's face is adorably red, and Kurt's expression is unreadable, but Sebastian grins at them anyway, winking before turning and walking out the door.
Yeah. Table 3 is good for him.