Kurt/Sebastian: Rush of Blood (Prologue/?)
Title: Rush of Blood (Prologue/?)
Pairings: Kurt/Sebastian
Rating: PG this chapter, eventual NC-17
Word Count: ~700
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: None.
Summary: Kurt is told to infiltrate Dalton Academy to see what the Warblers are all about, but a chance encounter on the stairs changes everything.
A/N: Title comes from Coldplay's A Rush of Blood to the Head. Coldplay is my Sebastian muse.
Sneaking into Dalton Academy was easier than it should have been. Kurt had studied the website carefully, digging through the school’s online handbook in order to plan his infiltration outfit. In the end, he’d done the best he could, pairing a navy jacket and red tie with some plaid shorts and knee high boots (he had to add least a little Hummel flare), and had set off for the prestigious school with a scowl on his face. Slipping through a side door behind another student had been simple enough. Explaining away his lack of uniform had only taken a few simple “Clothing death by coffee”s that had been met with nods and shrugs and then they’d simply gone on their way.
There was a bruise blooming on his shoulder, in perfect position to be constantly rubbed and prodded with the strap of his bag. The shades of eggplant and crimson that had blossomed there on his pale skin after yet another Karofsky-enforced locker collision would have been beautiful in another context. As they were, he loathed them, was tempted to put concealer over the mark even though it lived beneath his clothes, just so he wouldn’t have to look at it while dressing and undressing.
As he traversed the halls, sunglasses on mostly just because it made him feel a bit like a spy and for some reason, that was really doing it for him-the chance to play make believe at an age beyond which such a thing is usually socially acceptable. He'd learned a lot about Dalton after looking at their website and from what he’d seen so far, it was all true. He didn’t mind going there to dig up some intel, but he did mind the way it had happened.
Who in the hell did Noah Puckerman think he was, dismissing Kurt and then sending him away as if he had any iota of authority whatsoever? Kurt had only agreed in order to get out of the room, as it was clear that none of them were giving his ideas any kind of serious consideration. In the end, they’d probably resort to something ridiculous like taking some kind of over-the-counter contraband in order to win like they had last time. Forgive Kurt for wanting to win with some dignity.
Dalton was beautiful, every inch of it grand and pristine and such a distant cry from overall apathetic feeling that seemed to fully sheath McKinley. Kurt found himself on a staircase, wide and curving with mirrors on the walls that reflected the stunning rose window above. The bodies around him were moving rapidly, voices raised in excitement. He felt out of place. Well, more so than usual.
It was time to act, to find out what was going on. He couldn’t just blindly follow and potentially get himself into a situation there was no comfortable way of extricating himself from. Looking around and sneakily whipping off his sunglasses, Kurt called out to the person ahead of him on the stairs.
“Excuse me, um hi. Can I ask you a question? I’m- I’m new here,” he said, nerves taking hold of his vocal chords and attempting to squeeze the smoothness from them.
The guy turned as he spoke, smiling at him before extending a hand.
“My name’s Sebastian,” he said. Kurt swallowed and returned the smile.
“Kurt,” he replied, preparing himself to continue, to further infiltrate Dalton’s admittedly shoddy security.
“Kurt Hummel, yeah, I know,” the guy said, releasing Kurt’s hand and laughing at little at the way Kurt’s eyes widened.
“How did you-?” Kurt asked, discomfort seeping into his limbs and clogging up his throat.
“The Warblers are about to have a performance in the senior commons, but you probably already know that, don’t you?” Sebastian asked. Kurt shook his head. “Well, Spy, despite the fact that you made a piss-poor effort to fit in here with your bitch boots and all, you might as well come and watch. You might learn something.”
Kurt tried to respond but his brain kept getting stuck somewhere around bitch boots and he wound up gaping instead. Again, Sebastian laughed at him.
“Follow me.”