FIC: In My Veins 4/?
Title: In My Veins 4/?
Rating: Eventual NC-17
Warnings: AU, stepcest, language
Summary: He’d only introduced Carole to his father so that he could get closer to Sebastian - it was just a simple crush at first. He didn’t expect to become his stepbrother. And he certainly didn’t expect to actually fall in love. Kurt/Sebastian and Kurt/Blaine.
Smythe, Sebastian (9:38 PM): Did something happen?
Me (9:40 PM): ...What do you mean?
Smythe, Sebastian (9:41 PM): Didn't see you at group on monday. Or even the three mondays before that
Smythe, Sebastian (9:46 PM): Kurt?
Me (9:48 PM): I’ve been busy. Cheerios practice runs late now.
Smythe, Sebastian (9:49 PM): haha, don’t lie. You just didn’t want to see me, huh?
Kurt stares at Sebastian’s last text. He stares hard, stares until the individual letters all melt into one shape and the word “didn’t” begins to look less like recognizable English and more like a clumsy selection of consonants in a foreign language. He brings his mind back to focus and reads the text again. And again. Just to see if repetition would be of any help.
It isn’t. He drops his phone onto the mattress and shuts his geometry book, leaning back against the headboard to try and wrap his brain around what just happened. He tries to search for answers - god, he really, desperately wants to know - but no matter how hard he thinks, he can’t come up with a good reason why Sebastian is texting and joking around with him now when the last time they saw each other, he looked like he wanted to shove Kurt in front of a speeding train.
Maybe something happened that night to put him in a foul mood. Then again, that attitude seemed to be directly mostly to Kurt. He can try to chalk it up to mood swings, but this is the first time he’s seen it, and he’s pretty sure that two hours every Monday for a month and a half is plenty of time for any mercurial behavior on Sebastian’s part to manifest.
It just doesn’t make any sense. But the more Kurt tries to analyze it, the more his head starts to hurt, so he puts his phone on silent and opens his book to finish up his math homework instead of worrying about the Sebastian issue.
He only goes back to read the text message - oh, about twenty times after that.
---
He actually wasn’t lying when he told Sebastian that Cheerios practice kept him from attending group - rather, that was at least part of the reason; he just conveniently left off the rest.
It is exhausting though - with Regionals coming up soon, practice runs from 4 to 8:30 Monday through Friday plus 8 to 12 on Saturdays. Most days after practice he just wants a nice bath and a long rendezvous with his pillows, but his books are always sitting there on his desk as a constant reminder of his other obligations. Usually he gets his assignments done by midnight; other times he has to set his alarm to five in the morning just so he can get some shut-eye before committing to reading.
Luckily Mercedes knows exactly what he’s going through - she does the same things with the same amount of passion, she gets it.
On Friday afternoon during practice, he’s reaching over to grab the arch of his foot in a seated hamstring stretch and she’s in the middle of evaluating the past week’s glee performances when she suddenly stops talking, her eyes locked on something behind Kurt.
“Didn’t know you were that flexible. I like.”
...What? No. This has to be some sort of cosmic joke.
“Sebastian, what...” Kurt begins, turning his head around to get a better look. As soon as he sets his eyes on him, he can’t quite find words anymore, and he becomes painfully aware that this is the first time he’s ever seen Sebastian in his Dalton uniform. Those awful polyester gray pants do no favors to anyone, Sebastian included, but the top half - he’s taken off the blazer, casually slinging it along with his bookbag over his left shoulder. His sleeves are rolled up to the elbow and he’s loosened his tie and undone one button -
- and god damn, he looks good. Kurt has to remind himself to breathe. “Um.” He blinks and looks away just for a second, “What are you doing here?”
“You and I are logging in a little quality time with our parents tonight at Breadstix. Burt said you weren’t picking up your phone, so I figured I’d come over here to relay the message... among other things.” Sebastian cocks his head to the side, letting his eyes roam over his bent-over figure and Kurt flushes hotly on the realization that the other boy is blatantly checking out his ass. Immediately he sits up straight.
“Thanks. Is that it?” Kurt asks, tugging at the sweatband on his arm in a nervous habit.
“Pretty much.” And then Sebastian just stares at him, again, and suddenly he feels bones-bare.
So badly he wants to know what happened that night, but when Sebastian’s here, and friendly, and flirty, Kurt can almost forget that open house ever happened. After all - Sebastian’s clearly over it now, right? No need to bring it up again.
But when he closes his eyes, remembers that cold stare, and considers his utter confusion upon receiving that warm, joking text, his morbid curiosity sparks up again. He can’t help but hate himself a little bit for his indecisiveness. Before he can say anything - though he's still not exactly sure what he would say -
“Rodent face in the steward outfit, this is not an open practice. Get the hell off my field!”
He's not sure if he wants to thank or curse Sue for the disruption. In the end, he merely fights back his amusement at Sebastian’s stunned expression. Maybe he can bring up the open house thing later, if he really wants to. “I’d get going. Coach Sylvester can be really unpleasant when she’s angry.”
“So it seems,” Sebastian shakes his head incredulously. “Dinner’s at 8. See you tonight.”
Kurt watches Sebastian walk away until he’s only a tiny speck in the distance. Then he turns back to face Mercedes, who’s got a slightly affronted look to her features.
“Kurt...” She draws out. “You’ve got five seconds to tell me who the hell that was and why I’m only finding out about him now.”
He sighs, bending back down over his other foot to complete his stretch as he begins his story. “Buckle up, Mercedes, you’re in for a long ride.”
Next
Rating: Eventual NC-17
Warnings: AU, stepcest, language
Summary: He’d only introduced Carole to his father so that he could get closer to Sebastian - it was just a simple crush at first. He didn’t expect to become his stepbrother. And he certainly didn’t expect to actually fall in love. Kurt/Sebastian and Kurt/Blaine.
Smythe, Sebastian (9:38 PM): Did something happen?
Me (9:40 PM): ...What do you mean?
Smythe, Sebastian (9:41 PM): Didn't see you at group on monday. Or even the three mondays before that
Smythe, Sebastian (9:46 PM): Kurt?
Me (9:48 PM): I’ve been busy. Cheerios practice runs late now.
Smythe, Sebastian (9:49 PM): haha, don’t lie. You just didn’t want to see me, huh?
Kurt stares at Sebastian’s last text. He stares hard, stares until the individual letters all melt into one shape and the word “didn’t” begins to look less like recognizable English and more like a clumsy selection of consonants in a foreign language. He brings his mind back to focus and reads the text again. And again. Just to see if repetition would be of any help.
It isn’t. He drops his phone onto the mattress and shuts his geometry book, leaning back against the headboard to try and wrap his brain around what just happened. He tries to search for answers - god, he really, desperately wants to know - but no matter how hard he thinks, he can’t come up with a good reason why Sebastian is texting and joking around with him now when the last time they saw each other, he looked like he wanted to shove Kurt in front of a speeding train.
Maybe something happened that night to put him in a foul mood. Then again, that attitude seemed to be directly mostly to Kurt. He can try to chalk it up to mood swings, but this is the first time he’s seen it, and he’s pretty sure that two hours every Monday for a month and a half is plenty of time for any mercurial behavior on Sebastian’s part to manifest.
It just doesn’t make any sense. But the more Kurt tries to analyze it, the more his head starts to hurt, so he puts his phone on silent and opens his book to finish up his math homework instead of worrying about the Sebastian issue.
He only goes back to read the text message - oh, about twenty times after that.
---
He actually wasn’t lying when he told Sebastian that Cheerios practice kept him from attending group - rather, that was at least part of the reason; he just conveniently left off the rest.
It is exhausting though - with Regionals coming up soon, practice runs from 4 to 8:30 Monday through Friday plus 8 to 12 on Saturdays. Most days after practice he just wants a nice bath and a long rendezvous with his pillows, but his books are always sitting there on his desk as a constant reminder of his other obligations. Usually he gets his assignments done by midnight; other times he has to set his alarm to five in the morning just so he can get some shut-eye before committing to reading.
Luckily Mercedes knows exactly what he’s going through - she does the same things with the same amount of passion, she gets it.
On Friday afternoon during practice, he’s reaching over to grab the arch of his foot in a seated hamstring stretch and she’s in the middle of evaluating the past week’s glee performances when she suddenly stops talking, her eyes locked on something behind Kurt.
“Didn’t know you were that flexible. I like.”
...What? No. This has to be some sort of cosmic joke.
“Sebastian, what...” Kurt begins, turning his head around to get a better look. As soon as he sets his eyes on him, he can’t quite find words anymore, and he becomes painfully aware that this is the first time he’s ever seen Sebastian in his Dalton uniform. Those awful polyester gray pants do no favors to anyone, Sebastian included, but the top half - he’s taken off the blazer, casually slinging it along with his bookbag over his left shoulder. His sleeves are rolled up to the elbow and he’s loosened his tie and undone one button -
- and god damn, he looks good. Kurt has to remind himself to breathe. “Um.” He blinks and looks away just for a second, “What are you doing here?”
“You and I are logging in a little quality time with our parents tonight at Breadstix. Burt said you weren’t picking up your phone, so I figured I’d come over here to relay the message... among other things.” Sebastian cocks his head to the side, letting his eyes roam over his bent-over figure and Kurt flushes hotly on the realization that the other boy is blatantly checking out his ass. Immediately he sits up straight.
“Thanks. Is that it?” Kurt asks, tugging at the sweatband on his arm in a nervous habit.
“Pretty much.” And then Sebastian just stares at him, again, and suddenly he feels bones-bare.
So badly he wants to know what happened that night, but when Sebastian’s here, and friendly, and flirty, Kurt can almost forget that open house ever happened. After all - Sebastian’s clearly over it now, right? No need to bring it up again.
But when he closes his eyes, remembers that cold stare, and considers his utter confusion upon receiving that warm, joking text, his morbid curiosity sparks up again. He can’t help but hate himself a little bit for his indecisiveness. Before he can say anything - though he's still not exactly sure what he would say -
“Rodent face in the steward outfit, this is not an open practice. Get the hell off my field!”
He's not sure if he wants to thank or curse Sue for the disruption. In the end, he merely fights back his amusement at Sebastian’s stunned expression. Maybe he can bring up the open house thing later, if he really wants to. “I’d get going. Coach Sylvester can be really unpleasant when she’s angry.”
“So it seems,” Sebastian shakes his head incredulously. “Dinner’s at 8. See you tonight.”
Kurt watches Sebastian walk away until he’s only a tiny speck in the distance. Then he turns back to face Mercedes, who’s got a slightly affronted look to her features.
“Kurt...” She draws out. “You’ve got five seconds to tell me who the hell that was and why I’m only finding out about him now.”
He sighs, bending back down over his other foot to complete his stretch as he begins his story. “Buckle up, Mercedes, you’re in for a long ride.”
Next