One-shot: Princess Peach

[lealpotter]

Title: Princess Peach

Author: lealpotter

Rating: R

Warning: None.

Character(s)/Pairing(s): Kurt/Sebastian

Word Count: 4780

A/N: Tenth on a series of fills for my own self-indulging prompfest on Tumblr.

Prompt: Sebastian's jacket, coffee, snow.

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It had all been Finn's fault, really.

In fact, Kurt was pretty sure most of his life predicaments could be traced back to Finn Hudson.

You see, Kurt might sound a little bitchy, but he was also more than a little cold.

Actually, Kurt was frozen. He was a stylistic popsicle, he was an avant-garde ice sculpture, he was a fashionable fucking icicle.

"You're d-dead, Finn Hudson," he muttered through violently clattering teeth.

His jeans were soaked through from bottom to thigh; his ankle boots, while stylish-yet-affordable, were not water proof; his cashmere sweater and light jacket, while perfectly coordinated, were respectively cashmere and light.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

Nononononono, go away.

“G-Get lost, Sebastian.”

His cool-acquaintance/reluctant-friend buried his hands in the undoubtedly cozywarmwonderful pockets of his heavy parka and cocked his head to the side, appraising Kurt with a delighted smirk.

“Actually, you’re more of a sore sight for my eyes, but lets not get hooked on semantics.”

Kurt made a face and waved him off, stomping his feet furiously for just the barest residue of warmth. He did not know nor did he care what Sebastian could be doing in Lima on a Tuesday three days before Christmas break, in the middle of the heaviest snowfall in the history of Ohio.

Must really be Tuesday, he thought wryly.

“No. Don’t waste your astounding wit and charm on my lowly self, please, don’t,” he grumbled, hugging himself tightly while plotting Finn’s slow and painful demise.

Sebastian gave a step forward, his brow crinkling worriedly. He hesitated, biting his lip and looking back.

Kurt watched him, feeling oddly disappointed. He couldn’t keep in a shuddery breath and huddled into himself miserably.

“There,” he heard close behind him, and there was a cozywarmwonderful weight over his shoulders, his back, his arms, a cocoon of heat and happiness encasing him whole, and Kurt felt like sobbing in gratitude.

He settled for blinking up warily at Sebastian, cringing internally at how unappealing he must look with his red nose and purple lips and twitching like some caffeine-addict Chihuahua.

And then he wondered exactly why would he be concerned over being appealing to Sebastian Smythe.

“Now. Will you tell me why are you standing in the middle of your driveway, looking like a half-drowned, half-frozen rat, and practically snowed in?” Sebastian looked around and clicked his tongue. “Also, was that a snowman?”

Kurt looked wrathfully at the remains of Finn’s Winter Wonderland Fun experiment and gnashed his teeth, nodding curtly.

“I see,” drawled Sebastian, smirking. “Your life really turned out to be the whirlwind of sophisticated thrills you always dreamed it would, didn’t it?”

Kurt ignored him and snuggled deeper into the heavy parka, discreetly inhaling the toe-curling vestiges of Sebastian’s cologne.

Suddenly, there were hands tugging at the fabric, pulling and twisting; he struggled against them, grasping at what he could with still thawing greedy fingers.

“Hold on, just let me - just get your arms - fuck, Kurt, stop moving!” Sebastian growled, deep and demanding, and Kurt quieted down immediately, frame swaying a little in Sebastian’s arms.

“There.” Sebastian looked him over approvingly then frowned when Kurt tried to pull the parka tighter around his bare neck. “Wait, I - here.”

He wrapped his woolen scarf around Kurt’s head and neck until only his face was exposed to the cold. Kurt glared at him half-heartedly, but otherwise let himself be manhandled into mummification.

Sebastian was looking at him strangely, his fingers lingering on the edge of the scarf where it framed Kurt’s jaw.

“You look ridiculous,” he finally said, voice a little rough.

“I’m aware,” Kurt retorted airily, curling his hands to keep them inside the sleeves. “But warm.” He appraised the thick woolen jacket Sebastian still had on. “You’re not cold?”

“I’m hot blooded,” Sebastian assured him with a salacious wink, his hand dropping from Kurt’s face.

Kurt didn’t think he had ever seen a salacious wink, but Sebastian’s had no other possible description.

“Mammals generally are. I’m sure meerkats qualify.”

Sebastian pouted and Kurt felt the shocking urge to touch his bottom lip.

“Why are you homeless?” Sebastian asked, swerving off topic so unexpectedly that Kurt almost felt the whiplash.

He kicked a small heap of snow at his feet and shrugged morosely.

“Finn,” he said, as if it explained everything.

For the smirk on Sebastian’s face, maybe it did.

“Finn wanted to build himself an army of snowmen, because he’s obviously only seen snow every winter in his life, and he’s five. Finn forgot to bring carrots, and obviously you can’t have nose-less snowmen. Finn also wanted some of my old scarfs and buttons and snacks, so I had to help him bring all that out here.” He paused to breathe in as Sebastian just hummed noncomitantly and adjusted the strings under Kurt’s chin.

“Finn, somehow, after years of being a semi-functional human being, managed to lock us out, and of course he was the last one who used the spare key, so no one knows where it is. Finn didn’t have his cellphone or his car keys with him, so he decided he’d run over to the shop and borrow my dad’s, and he’s taking forever, and I fell on his stupid snowman, and I hope my dad teaches him all there is to know about auto body shop health hazards.” He scrunched up his nose. “After he comes to rescue my poor hypothermic body, of course.”

Sebastian gave him a small, shy smile, the kind that should look so wrong and lost on his face, but Kurt had never seen something so glorious.

“Thought you had been rescued already,” the taller boy muttered, his fingers smoothing down the front of the parka.

Kurt gulped and shifted forward instinctively. Sebastian’s eyes were very green and very lovely in the cold white light that had saturated Lima since sunrise; Sebastian’s mouth was also very lovely, darkened from the cold, lips full and chapped, begging for Kurt’s care and attention.

Then a breeze picked up and it was enough to render him incoherent; parka aside, his jeans were still soaked through, as were his socks. His teeth started clattering again.

Sebastian snorted derisively and grabbed his arm, pulling Kurt behind him.

“Hey!”

“My car has heating, Special Gay. C’mon.”

Kurt was about to protest when the words car and heating resounded in his mind, accompanied by the knowledge of it being Sebastian’s car.

With heating.

“Oh, all right then,” he assented to no one in particular since Sebastian obviously did not require his opinion on the subject, and he was already being shoved into the shotgun seat.

Warm leather seats made Kurt a very happy camper; when the heat kicked on, he had to clench his jaw and bite his tongue to keep from purring into the upholstery.

Sebastian shook his head at him, the glint in his eyes definitely fond - unless it was mocking, but Kurt honestly didn’t care when there was warmth, and comfy seats, and Sebastian’s cologne like a heady bubble around his head.

“Did you finish early too?” he asked as soon as he felt close to human again.

“No, I skipped all my finals and ran back to France to found an escort business with my dubious yet charmingly wealthy great-uncle,” Sebastian deadpanned, and it was his luck that after a whole semester of continuously bumping into each other at NYU, Kurt had a good understanding of Sebastian’s sarcasm; if he could imagine anyone pulling that off, it would be Meerkat.

“You would have a dubious uncle.”

“Yet charmingly wealthy,” Sebastian quipped with a smirk.

Kurt raised one eyebrow at him.

“But why Lima? Why not Paris, or Christmas in New York, or home, even though I still have no clue where you live -“ Kurt grinned at Sebastian’s snigger; then a thought came to his mind and his smile dropped. “Or… Westerville?”

Sebastian tilted his head, giving him a shrewd look.

“Westerville’s a lousy lay,” he said with a shrug.

Kurt’s stomach churned, first at the thought of Blaine with Sebastian, then much more sickeningly at the thought of Sebastian with Blaine, of Sebastian with anyone.

“Hoping to try your luck in Lima, then?” he asked with a weak laugh, hoping against hope that Sebastian would take the gentlemanly route for once and not tell him, even if he was. Kurt was so warm and comfy, and Sebastian’s car and Sebastian’s clothes were so nice and sweet-smelling, and he just felt so good.

On a best-case scenario, Sebastian would ignore him and proceed with their chitchat until Kurt’s dad came to the rescue. On a worst-case scenario, Sebastian would tell him. And then he would call Kurt at four in the morning, drunk out of his mind, anxious to spill every sordid detail.

So no wonder he was so completely blindsided by Sebastian’s awkward cough and instant blush, of all things.

“Just dropped by to see a friend of mine,” he said vaguely, avoiding Kurt’s curious eyes.

Then he started twisting his body to reach the backseat, looking for something. Kurt tried to peek when he heard a low curse, but Sebastian was already back to the front of the car, holding out a Lima Bean travel cup and a small paper bag. When Kurt just looked at him dumbly, he rolled his eyes and thrust both items into his hands.

“Careful,” he warned, waving the reddening tips of his injured fingers for emphasis.

Kurt smiled awkwardly and lifted the cup to his lips, blowing softly at the simmering liquid before taking a sip. He suppressed a low moan, but only by so much. It was exactly how he took his coffee, which meant nothing, obviously. Plenty of people took their coffee that way, Sebastian’s friend included.

“Good?” asked Sebastian with only a sideways look at him, fingers tapping the steering wheel.

Kurt hummed as he swallowed another scalding mouthful, appraising Sebastian’s profile over the brim of the cup. He one-handedly opened the paper bag and narrowed his eyes at the contents.

The parka had been an accident, the car obligation, and the coffee a coincidence - but Kurt had to throw in the towel at the cookie.

The huge, gorgeous and delicious cookie, with dark and white chocolate chunks, still warm and tender, and chewy and rich. He felt himself fattening just by looking at it wrong.

This time, Kurt did moan as the flavor hit his palate, is eyes rolling back slightly into his head because, god, it was his favorite, Sebastian had bought Kurt’s coffee and Kurt’s cookie, and he had driven all the way to Kurt’s house to -

To what?

“Did you bring this for you or your friend?” he asked as neutrally as he managed to.

Sebastian scoffed and tuned on his side so that he was facing Kurt. A stray ray of that eerie white light played across the sharp angle of his jawbone; Kurt averted his eyes before it was too late.

“I drink real coffee, Princess Peach.”

Kurt scrunched up his nose at both the insinuation and the moniker and raised his eyebrows at Sebastian’s wondering expression.

“What?”

“After many a trial and error attempts, I finally found the perfect pet name for you, Peach.”

Kurt’s throat clamped up around the remains of his cookie; he coughed violently, the spasms making his eyes water and his cheeks burn bright red.

“Why - why would you need a pet name for me?” he stammered, body still overwrought with dry coughs.

He expected Sebastian to backtrack immediately, to insult Kurt’s complexion in the most biting way possible, to kick him out into the cold with a mocking “girls not allowed, Sister Agnes” - but it was apparently Defy-Kurt’s-Expectations Day for Sebastian Smythe.

“Charming. Just drink your coffee, Peach,” he said airily, looking out at the white sea of Kurt’s driveway.

Kurt grumbled a “really?” but swallowed the rest in one gulp, letting the warmth settle for good at the bottom of his stomach, flowing all the way to his still chilly toes. He was already feeling a little too warm all wrapped up in the too large parka, but he held on to it possessively, dreading the loss of Sebastian’s smell and second-hand touch.

Taking a deep breath, he launched his attack.

“Must be quite the friend.”

Sebastian made a questioning noise, still looking out with a contemplative frown on his face. Kurt sighed, reigning in the urge to kick into the bottom of the car like a petulant child.

“I mean, when Puck comes around,” and he knew he had seen Sebastian’s whole face twitching, “or did, actually, before California, he used to raid the kitchen, hog the living room and barricade himself in Finn’s room to defend his spoils.”

Kurt grinned at the side of Sebastian’s face, but was startled out of relatively fond memories by his quiet question.

“Your room?”

Sebastian’s tone was careful and guarded and he was still looking out as if the answers to his life wonderings lay in the sad remains of Finn’s disbanded snowmen army.

“Noah Puckerman has certainly grown on me over time -“

And that seems to be happening a lot lately, and not only with Puck, he thought, biting his lip as he admired the rhythmic jump of the tendons on the back of Sebastian’s tightly clenched fists.

“- but he’s not allowed in my room without direct supervision from me, and that only for no more than ten minutes at a time.”

Sebastian shot him a sideways look and nodded, his hands spreading open over the thick denim of his jeans.

“As I was saying,” Kurt continued, frowning at his own knees, “friends don’t usually go out of their way to bring each other food when visiting. “ he paused, gearing up for an inevitable fight. “And you don’t seem the type,” he added quietly.

Sebastian’s head whipped around to face him, finally, and yet Kurt would have given anything not to meet his eyes now.

Blaine’s eyes had always held that needy, pleading glint in them, even at his most angry, and Kurt had inadvertently developed a defense mechanism against that particular form of manipulation. It had helped him greatly when it came to breaking things off between them permanently, as Blaine grew unbearably insistent for Kurt to forego NYU’s fashion program and spend another year in Lima until he could reapply for NYADA, shiny teenage dream boyfriend bouncing happily at his side.

There was nothing needy about the cold fury in Sebastian’s eyes, though, and Kurt realized belatedly that he had no idea how to deal with it, defuse it, direct anywhere else but at him.

“Oh, really,” Sebastian said slowly, dangerously. “What type am I, then?”

Kurt gulped, holding his hands up loosely between the two of them, almost in surrender.

“You’re not - not the cookies and coffee type?” he said lamely, hating the uncertainty in his tone.

Sebastian scoffed; he yanked the empty cup out of Kurt’s grasp and held it up, uncomfortably close to Kurt’s face.

“What type am I, Kurt?” he snarled, and Kurt would have got out of the car in a huff that exact second if he hadn’t noticed the trembling of Sebastian’s hand.

He sighed softly and shook his head; then he reached up, caressing Sebastian’s wrist with the back of his hand and prying the cup off of his livid fingers. Sebastian glared at him wordlessly, letting Kurt intertwine their fingers together loosely.

“I don’t know what type are you,” he whispered, gazing at their joined hands lying on the top of his thigh. “What will you give your friend now?”

“Kurt,” Sebastian groaned, hanging his head slightly.

“You don’t bring food to just any friend, Bastian.”

He smiled tenderly around the nickname, hoping Sebastian would understand.

As predicted, when he got up the nerve to look up again, the other boy was gazing at him warily, shock visible in every line of his face.

“You remember.”

“I wasn’t that drunk.”

Sebastian sighed tiredly and rubbed his face with his free hand.

“Kurt,” he whispered, as if it was nothing, as if he only wanted the name on his lips, rolling off his tongue.

Kurt squeezed his hand and shrugged.

“I was afraid - I thought you’d regret it after. That you wouldn’t want to be friends anymore -“

Sebastian snorted.

“Were we friends? Are we?”

He rolled his eyes fondly when Kurt blinked at him bemusedly.

“Just today you almost wrote me my death sentence for daring to show up on your doorstep unannounced,” he retorted accusingly with a petulant frown.

Don’t kiss him, and, whoa, where had that come from. Of course he wouldn’t kiss Sebastian.

“You haven’t talked to me in weeks -“

“One week and four days, actually,” corrected Sebastian, narrowing his eyes. “And you haven’t exactly been Little Miss Social lately, Peach.”

Kurt groaned and dug his nails vengefully on the back of the other boy’s hand. Sebastian merely flinched.

“Don’t call me -“

“I’ll call you whatever the fuck I please, Kurt. And I like Peach.”

Something in Sebastian’s tired smirk must have jolted it, because the memory was suddenly there, whole and clear like it had never been. Sebastian nodded smugly as Kurt’s eyes widened in shock, but soon his expression sobered.

“I could taste you for days. Aidan’s mom sent him a whole basket of those and I couldn’t even smell them without walking around with a fucking hard-on all day.” He smiled sourly when Kurt’s fingers tightened around his. “And when you didn’t even - fuck, Kurt.”

“It was only a kiss,” breathed Kurt, his vision swimming as he gazed at the boy’s bent head.

Sebastian shook his head fiercely, meeting Kurt’s eyes with the same fury from five minutes before, only Kurt had been wrong, it wasn’t cold, it was about to burn him alive if he didn’t leap out of it’s destructive path soon enough.

Sebastian’s eyes burnt so beautifully.

“What type am I, Kurt?”

Kurt swallowed and shook his head, lost.

“I don’t have friends in Lima. I fucking hate Lima, and if I could I’d never set foot here ever again.” He leaned closer. “What type am I, Kurt?”

“You- you don’t have to - come here, I mean, you could just -“

“No,” Sebastian said resolutely. “I have to come to Lima. That’s just - there’s no going around it.” He smiled gloomily. “I hate white chocolate, it’s not even chocolate at all, and I’d never buy anything with it if I didn’t know - what type am I, Kurt?”

“Sebastian -“

“I don’t like letting people into my car. Don’t know why, maybe it’s just a thing.” His eyes hardened, looking impossibly more vulnerable for it. “What type am I, Kurt?”

“Oh god -“

“I bought ten different brands of peach flavored lip balm and I still can’t find it. Do you brew that stuff in your basement?” He grasped Kurt’s shoulder, shaking him gently. “What type am I, Kurt?”

“I don’t know -“

Sebastian scowled and released his hand, cupping Kurt’s face in both of his.

“You do. You know everything. You know labels, and steps, and appropriate touching and third-date sex and feelings. You know, you do, Peach.” His jaw was set in a tight angle, his eyes emerald bright. “I just know coffee and cookies, and car heating and parkas. I just know dragging your drunken ass back to your dorm, and trying to do the honorable thing for once, and you saying -“

“You’re the prettiest of all the princes, Bastian,” mumbled Kurt, breathless and desperate.

Sebastian shook his head, his thumb brushing Kurt’s cheekbone tenderly.

“’I wish I was pretty enough for you to kiss me. Would you kiss me if I was pretty enough?’” He chuckled darkly. “You’re surprisingly articulate when you’re plastered. Pity your skewed view of reality, though.”

“Sebastian -“

“I should have stayed. Should have fucked you that night, like you were begging me to, and then you’d have to face me in the morning and you couldn’t run and you -“

“Jerk,” hissed Kurt, yanking his door open and jerking free of Sebastian’s grasp to slip out off the car. The cold hit him like a physical wall and he lost his bearings for the few seconds that it took Sebastian to reach him.

“You can’t - you’re not ignoring me again, Kurt -“

“Get inside, Sebastian,” gritted out Kurt, violent shivers running through him.

“No, you can’t, I won’t let you -“

“Oh for - I’m not about to kiss you with a gear stiff poking out my pelvis, thank you very much.” He rolled his eyes at Sebastian’s stunned expression. “So get into the backseat before I decide that being sick on Christmas is so not worth making out with you.”

If Kurt had been feeling a little less disgruntled by the other boy’s idiocy and the biting cold - seriously, how had he handled being outside without Sebastian’s parka? - he would have laughed at the way Sebastian almost tripped over himself scrambling to get back inside.

Kurt breathed in deeply, ignoring the burn in his lungs. He sighed in relief, sure that it hadn’t been just intoxication and gratitude driving him to Sebastian; the cold blast had managed to calm his frenzied hormones slightly, but his metaphorical heart was exactly in the right place. There had never been much doubt, but he knew that the moment he got into Sebastian’s car again, his life would be turned around and on its head - and it felt wonderful to know he didn’t give a damn.

Hearing a whisper of his name, he looked down to see that Sebastian hadn’t even closed the door and was now staring up at him, his body already half out of the warm interior.

Kurt pinched his nose, thinking to himself mournfully that at least Blaine had had some sense of self-preservation.

“Get inside, you idiot. We can always volunteer for Christmas at the Hospital, you don’t need to experience it first hand,” he grumbled, pushing Sebastian away and getting into the car headfirst.

Over a detailed analysis of the situation later that night, Kurt was sure he had had enough points of leverage and support and that he hadn’t really needed to lean on Sebastian’s thigh for balance, nor had he needed to link his arm around Sebastian’s shoulders in order not to slide off the seat.

Sebastian hadn’t seemed to mind much, however; his arms had just wrapped around Kurt’s waist securely, pulling him onto his lap, their chests colliding hard enough for their pained gasps to sound above the furious beating of their hearts.

“Kurt.”

He felt like cracking a “That’s my name” joke, but one glance at Sebastian’s face and all traces of mirth were gone from his mind, because Sebastian looked wrecked.

He looked like a lost little boy clinging to Kurt for something he couldn’t name, and Kurt’s hormones gave way to a fierce protective urge. He wanted nothing more than to draw Sebastian in his arms and soothe him with whispered nonsense and sweet promises, all the more when the other boy looked down and started chuckling, low and a little hysterical.

“What - Sebastian, what -“

“I didn’t even see my parents yet, can you believe it.”

Kurt pulled back, frowning bemusedly.

“What do you mean you -“

“I drove here,” the other boy interrupted him quietly.

“I can see your car, thank you, we’re actually -“ Kurt’s mouth ran dry as he absorbed the real meaning of Sebastian’s words. “What do you mean you drove here?”

Sebastian gazed at him with wide, unblinking eyes, a little too glassy for Kurt’s taste.

The boy would be the death of him, one way or another.

“Sebastian Smythe.”

Sebastian flinched, his arms tightening around Kurt’s waist.

“Sebastian, where exactly did you drive from?”

Please don’t say it, please don’t be crazy about this, please be the sane one because I’m already in too deep to be the rock, please -

“New York,” he said softly, lowering his eyes again like a chastised child.

Kurt groaned and let his head fall back against the shotgun headrest, screwing his eyes shut.

“Kurt?”

He could have killed himself and then Sebastian at the hesitant tilt in the other boy’s voice.

“What could have possessed you, it’s an eleven-hour drive on a very good day, how did you -“ He jolted forward, his hand flying to his mouth. “Oh god, Sebastian, you did not. Tell me you didn’t.”

Sebastian grinned at him toothily, the absolute bastard, and stroked his knuckles over Kurt’s flushed cheek, his grin only growing wider when Kurt batted his hand away.

“You’re a worrier. Figures,” he said, sounding utterly delighted by it.

Kurt growled at him and started pushing and shoving at Sebastian’s limbs, trying to arrange their bodies in a position that would allow him to observe him more closely. Sebastian went with it easily enough, letting out short bouts of laughter whenever Kurt brushed a ticklish spot.

When Kurt finally sat high and proud properly straddling his thighs, he cradled Sebastian’s face in his hands and looked him over closely.

“You drove all night, didn’t you?” he said wearily, releasing him with a sigh.

“Might have,” replied Sebastian airily, cocking his head to the side.

“God, Sebastian -“

“I stopped to rest a bit at some service area two thirds of the way. Slept like a baby, woke up the very definition of bright eyed and bushy tailed, Peach.”

He leaned forward tentatively, glancing up to catch Kurt’s eye, as if asking for permission. Kurt hmphed and reached up, running his fingers through the hair at the back of the other boy’s head, maybe a little too forcefully.

Sebastian’s head lolled back, pushing into his hand insistently; Kurt chuckled warmly and obliged him, increasing the pressure of his fingertips to a full-blown scalp massage.

“Fuck, but you’re good at that,” he mumbled, his drooping eyelids and slack mouth making Kurt’s heart stammer irregularly.

“Remember that sleeping thing, Sebastian? I think it’s about time you started doing that again.” He rolled his eyes when the other boy groaned a “fuck you, Peach” with so little heat that it almost sounded like an endearment. “When did you leave?”

Sebastian gazed blearily at him, blinking.

“’Bout eight. Got done with my last exam.”

“PM?”

“No, AM. ‘Cause I’m a wizard with teleporting abilities,” retorted Sebastian snidely. “Yes, of course 8 PM, idiot.”

Kurt tugged harder at his hair in retaliation. Suddenly, instead of wincing in pain, or pulling away or cursing Kurt within an inch of his existence, Sebastian let out a shamelessly long moan, prompting Kurt to drop his hand immediately, as if burnt.

Sebastian made a grumbling sound of protest and opened his eyes slowly.

“Don’t stop.”

“Sebastian, I - “ Kurt started, his throat feeling raw.

“Don’t think.” Sebastian shook his head and sat up straighter, pulling an unprotesting Kurt closer to him. “You always think, about everything, and you never enjoy it.”

“I have no idea what you might still be doing with me if I am that boring,” retorted Kurt, struggling out of the other boy’s grasp.

Sebastian held him tighter with a scowl.

“You’re not boring. Would I drive all the way from New York to this fucking cowtown if you were? We’re not in Westerville, and you’re not Blaine Anderson, Peach.”

Kurt wanted to scold him for breaking their first-set rule of never actually mentioning Blaine’s name. But he could never, not when Sebastian had just fully admitted to it, to being that guy.

The guy who would drive straight from New York to Lima to bring Kurt Hummel his favorite coffee-cookie combo.

And incidentally the guy who would save Kurt Hummel from deadly hypothermia.

Sebastian Smythe was that guy and he knew it, and for that Kurt could forgive him almost anything.

“I’m aware,” he said with a soft smile.

Sebastian narrowed his eyes at him in suspicion.

“Stop. Stop it, you’re going to get all sappy and clingy and no one wants to see that, stop it right now.”

Kurt giggled, reaching up to kiss the tip of Sebastian’s scrunched-up nose.

“Stop it.”

“You’re the coffee-and-cookie type, Bastian.” One chaste kiss to the corner of Sebastian’s mouth. “You’re the parka-and-car-heating type.” A gentle press to his bottom lip. “You’re the prince type.”

Kurt looked a shocked Sebastian straight in the eye and winked before crushing their mouths together