A/N: For the anon prompt 'bodyswap'. People have been asking me for a while to continue this. It's coming along slowly, and I apologize about that right now, but there will be more to this. Not Klaine, Blaine, or Blam friendly.
The second he starts to wake up, Sebastian knows it worked. He doesn't even have to open his eyes to prove that he is no longer lying beneath the satin sheets of his California King bed in his penthouse uptown. Everything – the air around him, the mattress underneath him, the skin covering him - feels different. He takes a moment to run borrowed hands down this stolen body. This chest is narrower, the waist trimmer, the muscles in the arms and legs leaner. He wraps fingers around an already half-hard cock.
Whoa. Much more impressive than he would have thought.
Who knew that a wacky magic potion from some drugged-out hippie would actually work?
Sebastian blinks open foreign eyes and looks straight up at the industrial cement ceiling. He raises heavy arms and sees two pale hands, long fingers, and perfectly manicured nails.
Oh, yes. It definitely worked. For the next twelve hours, Sebastian Smythe is trapped in the body of Kurt Hummel.
That means, if his calculations are correct, Kurt is comatose in his own sedated body, lying in Sebastian's bed. Damn fucking shit, they are both going to have one hell of a headache this evening, but Sebastian couldn't care less about Hummel, and as for himself…that doesn't matter right now. It will all be worth it when he gets his hands (and his mouth, and his ass, and everything else he can conceivably think of) on the body of Blaine Anderson.
Realization dawns on Sebastian, and he runs Kurt's hands over his body again, noticing that his fingers don't touch fabric or slip beneath the waistband of any pants or underwear, which means…
'Kurt Hummel, you sly dog,' Sebastian thinks, enjoying the feel of this different body and Kurt's incredibly soft skin. 'You sleep naked.'
Which means Blaine should be lying beside him, also naked, ready for his fiancé to have awesome (and surprisingly different) morning sex with him.
Sebastian rolls over, unprepared for how minor differences in their heights and weights become a problem in managing this seemingly simple maneuver. But he makes it onto Kurt's side and finds himself facing an empty rest of the bed.
"Fuck!" Sebastian hisses, startled by the high-pitched voice that echoes through the open space. Sebastian smiles. "Fuck! Shit! Fuck fuck fucking ass motherfucker!"
Sebastian laughs, way too amused at the sound of Kurt's prim voice cursing like a sailor. He quiets down and looks around, listening for sounds of life anywhere else in the apartment, but he seems to be alone.
It's Saturday morning. Sebastian figured Blaine would be there, if not hanging out in bed with Kurt, having some kind of deep, meaningful, Sarah McLachlan love song type sex, then making pancakes and singing Showtunes while birds and other forest creatures help him wash the dishes. Sebastian looks around the curtained-in space that passes as Blaine and Kurt's bedroom, judgmentally assessing the second-hand shabby chic furniture mixed with eclectic pieces and dated touches that he can only assume are part of Kurt's design plan and not Blaine's. Sebastian doesn't want to admit it, but he doesn't exactly hate what Kurt's done with the place.
Okay, so Kurt Hummel has an eye for interior design. There. He admitted it. Good deed for the day done. Now on to his plan of getting Blaine into bed.
Sebastian spots Kurt's iPhone on the dresser, a text message alert on the screen. He stands unsteadily on Kurt's feet, leaning against the bed frame until he's sure he isn't going to take one step and then face plant into the hardwood floor. He makes his way around the end of the bed, passing a vintage full-length mirror, and stops. Sebastian had never tried to imagine Kurt naked before, assuming he was pretty much androgynous, possibly with no visible genitalia whatsoever. So the reflection of the muscular body he's staring at, hairless except for his legs, and without a single blemish or scar, stuns him.
Sebastian turns Kurt's body from side to side, watching the muscles shift beneath the skin, the way every inch of him seems perfectly proportioned. If Sebastian was ever going to describe a human being as 'sculpted', Kurt, unfortunately, would be that person.
Sebastian sighs. As far as physical attributes are concerned, maybe he's going after the wrong guy. With this image in his sights, he pictures Kurt every time he's seen him, dressed in those ridiculous outfits he wears, though there's really no overlooking his penchant for tight ass pants. When Sebastian first saw Kurt in his black skinny jeans, he couldn't help thinking that it must be unhealthy to wear something that tight. How did he even sit down without cracking at the knees? But if Sebastian had known this body was hiding underneath, he might have taken a better look.
Taken a better look, and filed it away for some of his more intense masturbatory fantasies.
Sebastian feels one of those fantasies coming on now, as he reaches down Kurt's body for the cock that's started bobbing, begging for attention while Sebastian's been daydreaming about sex with Kurt's body – bending him over, taking him from behind (to avoid seeing his face), listening to that chirpy-little voice of his scream Sebastian's name.
It takes the memory of Kurt calling him a meerkat and saying that he has giant horse teeth to break Sebastian from his stupor, sending him back on his merry way towards the phone.
Sebastian picks it up, fumbling it a few times as he gets used to Kurt's fingers and the way they move. Sebastian figures he better practice grabbing things if he's going to properly take care of Blaine. Sebastian unlocks the screen and checks the first unread message.
Walked Rachel to the farmer's market. See you later. I love you.
Sebastian grimaces as he reads the message again. Geez. Blaine has to be pretty neutered if he'd leave his sexy fiancé naked in bed to walk with young Barbra Streisand to the farmer's market.
Yeah, he called Kurt 'sexy'. He'd deal with the consequences of that one later.
Sebastian smiles, dialing Blaine's number. He'll simply have to lure Blaine back to the loft with the promise of a blowjob or something.
Blaine answers on the first ring, and Sebastian grins.
"Hey, Kurt," the smooth voice on the line greets him.
"Hey handsome," Sebastian replies, trying to make Kurt's voice sound rough and sexy, and damn if it doesn't work a little too well, because Sebastian can feel himself getting turned on by the sound of Kurt's seductive voice. "I miss you, baby. Why don't you come back and I'll show you how much?"
Blaine sighs, the ensuing silence dragging on much longer than Sebastian thinks necessary.
"Kurt," Blaine says, enunciating the name with annoyance instead of sounding insanely aroused, as if Sebastian has unknowingly stoked an argument that had been left to burn itself out, "we talked about this. You know I have an audition on Friday, and I'm observing the 'Audition Tradition', which means no fooling around for the week before so I don't risk getting sick. No exceptions. End of discussion."
'What?' Sebastian thinks. 'That sounds insane.'
Sebastian's mind whirls, trying to find a response that sounds like something Kurt would say.
"But I miss you," he says, miming gagging in front of the mirror, where he had moved back to watch the reaction of Kurt's body to the sound of his voice.
'Hmm…he's definitely a grower…'
"Oh, honey," Blaine coos, his tune changing slightly, "I'll be back in an hour. I promise."
Sebastian sighs. "Yeah, okay," he says, under-impressed by Blaine's reaction to his fiancé blatantly throwing himself at him. "One hour."
"I love yo—"
Sebastian doesn't wait for Blaine to finish before he hangs up, tossing the iPhone on the bed.
Blaine would be back in an hour.
And then Sebastian would find a way to pry him out of his pants, 'audition tradition' or no 'audition tradition'.
Though the prospect starts to look less than appealing the more Sebastian thinks about it.
Maybe he pegged them both wrong, and Kurt isn't the frigid bitch in this relationship.
Sebastian takes a glance toward the window, where the morning sunlight has started to shine brighter, stretching under the curtain towards him.
What the hell is there to do in Bushwick for an hour?
Sebastian has no intention of leaving the loft, and not because he likes hanging around in Kurt's body naked, he tells himself, but because he wouldn't be caught dead in any body wearing Kurt's excuse for a wardrobe.
"What to do, what to do…" he murmurs, turning in a circle, sweeping his eyes around.
He can read.
He looks at the piles of Vogue, Italian Vogue, and Harper's Bazaar stacked on the floor by Kurt's side of the bed and groans.
He can (look around, look around) do some…sewing?
He stares at Kurt's antique sewing machine and smirks.
A world of nope.
He can rifle through Kurt's things and invade his privacy…more than he has already?
He sees the dresser Kurt's phone was on, its symmetrical line of drawers sitting shut, asking to be violated.
Sebastian looks back around at the furniture in the room, trying to figure out where he should start. The dresser looks promising, but it's too obvious. Nothing truly dark and deep is going to be left where anyone can go in and find it, under his socks or to the left of his underwear. Sebastian roams the room, toeing at shoes boxes and another small dresser, reaching with a foot under the bed to search there. He finds a footlocker in the corner covered by a pile of blankets…and it's locked.
Sebastian walks over and examines the lock. A padlock, and it needs a key.
Sebastian rummages over the dresser, moving cologne bottles and bowties, bizarre animal head brooches, and various banally-shaped pins, but no key. He moves on to a squat dresser over by the bed and sifts through the drawers.
Tissues, a vibrator, condoms, and lube in the top drawer. Sebastian rolls Kurt's eyes. Predictable.
Bottles of moisturizer, a few tubes of concealer, sunscreen, an iPod, and a prescription for Ambien in the middle drawer. Hmm, Ambien. Not as predictable.
In the bottom drawer, hidden beneath a collection of scarves (Sebastian grins - he can appreciate the thinking behind keeping scarves in a drawer right next to the bed) are a collection of leather bound journals. Sebastian pulls them out and spreads them on the bed. There must be around ten of them in total, each one with a different year stamped on the cover in gold. Sebastian picks the journal with the current year and flips to the last entry.
It was written just yesterday.
Sebastian sits on the bed and crosses Kurt's legs, preparing to read.
Dear diary –
Sebastian groans. What is he, twelve?
I think I've finally reached the end of my rope. I love him too much to leave, but I love myself too much to stay. What do I do?
"Oops, trouble in paradise," Sebastian mutters. Sebastian wants to gloat more over Kurt's apparent despair, but for some reason he can't. A tiny twinge of guilt hits him when he not only re-reads the words, but notices the handwriting – sloppy, wobbly, some of the ink smeared, parts of the page lighter than others, as if something dripped in those spots…water, maybe tears?
Sebastian grabs a handful of pages and turns back in the book. He finds a promising looking passage and begins reading.
Dear diary – Blaine messed up my coffee order again.
He claims it was the barista's fault, but he messed it up last week, too, at a completely different coffee shop. And the exact same order. Mocha soy latte with a shot of espresso. How does that combination even make sense? When I complained about it, he called me a bitch. He actually called me a bitch in front of everyone. People were staring. I couldn't honestly care less about the coffee; I just can't help but wonder if he took his coffee that way.
Sebastian opened Kurt's eyes wide.
Did Blaine Anderson, Mr. Perfect, sex-on-a-stick-and-sings-like-a-dream, cheat on Kurt Hummel?
Sebastian can't believe it. How did he not hear about this before?
Sebastian can't help but feel a little burnt himself. Blaine stepped out on Kurt, and Sebastian was not first on the list of candidates. More than that, Sebastian wonders - why did Kurt take him back?
Sebastian flips forward through the pages.
Dear diary – The daydream I had about living in New York with my best friend and my fiancé is much different than the reality. Who knew that a loft the size of an airplane hangar would feel so cramped with the addition of one other person - correction, two other people. Apparently now wherever Blaine goes, Sam goes, too. You would think everything would have evened out when Santana decided to move in with Dani, but it hasn't. The closed-in feeling isn't the only side-effect of Sam's omnipresence. Blaine barely wants to have sex anymore. He doesn't feel comfortable doing it with Sam in the loft. And we don't go out on dates alone together as often as I want because he feels bad leaving Sam out. But my feelings of abandonment don't seem to stop them from all the bro-dates (Sam's word, not mine) that they go on. Midnight movie marathons, sporting events, piggy back rides in the park (I kid you not). I would normally find solace hanging out with Rachel, but with all-day Funny Girl rehearsals, I never see her. Who knew that I could feel so lonely living with three roommates in a city of 8,000,000 people?
Sebastian swallows hard. Whenever he saw Blaine and Kurt together, they looked like the stereotypical sappy couple. He never knew about any of this. But then again, why would he? Sebastian's an ass. He knows that he's an ass. He looks at Kurt's reflection in the mirror to confirm it.
Yup. Sebastian Smythe is an ass.
But he's an ass that knows a little something about loneliness.
He's never really been in love.
He's only ever had fair-weather friends.
He's been living alone in his expensive penthouse uptown ever since he moved to New York.
Sebastian looks at Kurt's iPhone lying not too far away, and catches a glimpse of the time.
Blaine should be back in about fifteen minutes. He should probably get dressed, but Sebastian can't imagine that Blaine will actually be on time, not after everything he's learned so far. Besides, there wouldn't be anything suspicious about naked Kurt reading through his own journals, so Sebastian picks the first one, the one with the oldest date on the cover, and starts to read.
Dear diary –
The therapist my dad is sending me to recommends writing in a diary every day so that I can sort out my feelings about losing my mom. Well, here goes…
It sucks that she's dead.
It hurts not having her around.
Oh yeah, and my therapist should jump off a tall bridge.
Just a recommendation of my own.
Sebastian laughs, shaking Kurt's head.
Dear diary –
Did you know that a Slushie to the face feels like ice cold shards of glass cutting through your skin? Because it does…
Dear diary –
Mercedes thought we were dating. I got out of it by telling her I'm in love with Rachel.
It's kind of like shooting yourself in the head to escape a wild bull attack.
Dear diary –
I can't keep hiding who I am, especially from my dad. It feels like lying. I can be anything. He's always telling me that. But what I am is gay…
Dear diary –
A jock and his friends threw pee balloons at me, and as pissed as I am (defusing anger through humor right there, by the way) I can't help but think about the mechanics of peeing into a balloon…
Dear diary –
Another day…another dumpster toss…another fabulous designer outfit ruined…
Journal after journal, entry after entry of Kurt's life.
A lifetime spent fighting to be seen, hoping to be accepted, and every single time someone pushed him down, he got right back up again.
But it's the entries about Blaine that really turn Sebastian's (or Kurt's…literal or figurative…too confusing) stomach. Sebastian thought that meeting Blaine was like winning the lottery for Kurt. Otherwise, why would he hold on to him so hard? Why would he fight Sebastian tooth and nail to keep him?
The next entry he reads answers his question.
Dear diary –
Do you think that Stephen Chbosky is right?
Do we accept the love we think we deserve?
Another one…one that he's prepared to hate…nearly breaks his heart.
Dear diary –
I hate Sebastian Smythe. I hated him in Ohio, but I hate him more now that he's managed to worm his way back into our lives by getting accepted into NYU. Just when I thought he was gone, he pops right back up.
He seems to want Blaine so much. I know he probably doesn't love him. It would just be fun for him to break us up.
But what about me? What does he see in Blaine that he doesn't see in me? I know I'm not the 'alpha gay' that Blaine supposedly is, but I'm not chopped liver.
How come no one is trying to steal me away from Blaine?
Sebastian closes the journal and crosses Kurt's arms over his chest.
So many burdens. So much pain that Sebastian never knew about - his mom dead, his father's health always at risk, and this relationship with Blaine that never seems to be on stable ground.
Sebastian knows his moral compass doesn't always point in the right direction, but even he can see this isn't right. Kurt shouldn't have to go through this anymore.
Sebastian doesn't know if it's a consequence of the time he has spent in Kurt's body, but he feels strangely protective of him; a kind of peculiar affection blooming in Sebastian's heart as he replays every interaction they have ever had, trying to re-read every emotion, every shift of his eyes, every smile that most likely hid something deeper.
He turns back to the mirror, sees Kurt's reflection staring back at him, those impossibly blue eyes, that honest face, the masterpiece of a body that he's inhabited against Kurt's will for the last few hours.
Suddenly, Sebastian feels very foolish.
He wishes he could add a few lines to the entry in Kurt's journal; the one that asks what Blaine has that he doesn't. If he could, it would read, "There's nothing he has that you don't, Kurt Hummel. I can see myself falling for you, too."
Sebastian hears the loft door slide open, and more than one pair of feet shuffle in. Sebastian looks at Kurt's phone and sees it's now eleven o'clock. Sebastian bites his lips, feels Kurt's entire body rush with heat.
Blaine is two hours late…and Sebastian is pissed.
Sebastian grabs a shirt and a pair of jeans, and though the shirt goes on relatively easy, the jeans take a little finagling before he can do up the fly.
Sebastian in Kurt's body storms through the curtains of the partitioned room (amazed at his ease, since his first few attempts at movement were unspectacular, to say the least) and bears down on Blaine, so distracted with whatever conversation he and Sam are having that he doesn't seem to notice his fiancé flying at him, fury painting his face scarlet.
"Where the fuck have you been, Blaine Anderson?" Kurt's voice roars, and this time Sebastian doesn't try to think of something that real Kurt might say. Either way, the accusation fits.
"I was out…" Blaine says, laughter dying in his throat, wide whiskey-colored eyes confused, "…with Sam." Blaine rests a hand on Sam's shoulder, and Sam, at least, has the decency to shrink beneath the furious man's glare.
"Oh, really? And when did you make that decision? When I spoke to you at eight o'clock this morning, you were walking baby Babette to the farmer's market, and you said you were going to be gone an hour. It's ten o'clock, Blaine, and it's Saturday! Did you even stop to think that maybe I would want to spend time with you, too?"
Sebastian, feeling Kurt's body tremble around him as his anger builds, realizes he no longer cares about fucking Blaine. But Kurt…Kurt didn't deserve to be stood up by the man who supposedly loves him.
"The day's not even half over yet, Kurt," Blaine argues. "Sam told me about this great exhibit downtown I thought we could all go to…"
"That's not the kind of time I had in mind, Blaine," Sebastian seethes on Kurt's behalf. "What about our private time, Blaine? What about a good old-fashioned Saturday afternoon fuck fest? It seems like those have gone the way of the dodo since I inherited the blond bimbo here living on my couch."
"Hey!" Sam cuts in. "Not cool, Kurt."
"Really?" Sebastian says, turning on Sam. "You know, you were homeless once. I don't see why you can't be again!"
"Kurt," Blaine interrupts, keeping his voice even, trying to sound diplomatic, "now that's not fair."
"No, hobbit, what's not fair is that you came out here to New York to be with me. So when exactly does the being with me start?"
Sebastian feels Kurt's body become breathless, fists clenched by his sides. This is what it means to be Kurt; to fight his entire life to keep the things that other people get handed to them and take for granted.
"Um…I think maybe I'd better go," Sam says, backing away with his hands raised.
"No, Sam, wait" - Blaine turns and catches him by the arm before he makes it to the door - "I think if we just settle down for a minute, we can all work this out."
"No, Sam's right," Sebastian says, nodding Kurt's head. "It's time that there was one less person in this fucking fun house, and that's me. I'm leaving."
Sebastian turns Kurt back towards the bedroom with Blaine hot on his heels.
"Kurt! Kurt, don't! Kurt, stop!"
Sebastian grabs Kurt's phone off the bed and his wallet from the dresser. He slips on Kurt's Doc Marten boots, not even sparing a glance for Blaine, who's racing after him, reaching out a hand to grab him by the arm.
"Kurt! You can't leave!" Blaine sounds panicked, leaping over the sofa in an attempt to cut his fiancé off. "Please! I love you!"
"No, Blaine," Sebastian calls behind him as he brushes by Sam and heads for the door, "you love you. There isn't enough left for anyone else."
'Strutting in Kurt's body has to be the hottest fucking thing in the universe,' Sebastian thinks when he catches Kurt's reflection in the windows of the buildings he walks past on the way to the subway. He laughs a bitter, somewhat heartbroken laugh. He just succeeded in doing the thing he had been trying to accomplish since high school.
He broke up Kurt and Blaine.
Blaine calls and texts Kurt's phone about a hundred times before Sebastian shuts it off. He doesn't bother to read the messages. Not because they're private (ha-ha), but because he's disgusted to think about the kinds of excuses Blaine might use to try and win Kurt back. While he sits on the subway, traveling uptown, he thinks of everything that's happened in the last few hours. When he bought that stupid potion to switch places with Kurt, the crunchy, granola-eating freak he got it from told him that the experience might 'change him'. Sebastian thought that was pretty obvious, but he never imagined this. He'd always thought of Kurt as a stuck-up, prissy asshole, a peasant that demanded to be treated like a king, and that Blaine had been forced into subservience, demoted from his natural splendor into the position of Kurt's adorable but hot lap dog.
Sebastian told Kurt once that he didn't deserve Blaine.
How oddly right Sebastian was.
It's not that Sebastian hated Kurt. Kurt was competition, so Sebastian never really let himself dwell on what could be considered the finer parts of Kurt Hummel. Deep down, Sebastian recognized that Kurt was smart, talented, with a razor sharp tongue that matched his own, and, now that he's grown into his own fashion sense, Sebastian wouldn't be embarrassed to be seen with Kurt in public.
Kurt doesn't need someone wishy-washy like Blaine, who would pick bromance over romance. Kurt needs a man with balls and a spinal cord.
Sebastian considers whether or not he could be that guy.
Sebastian makes it uptown without remembering a single step of the journey. He manages to flirt his way past security (how did he never notice that Ryan, the security guard, was gay?) and up to his penthouse by way of a private elevator, thankful that he thought to leave his door unlocked.
He makes a beeline for the bedroom, kicks off Kurt's boots, and climbs into bed beside his sleeping body. It feels surreal to look at his own face, knowing that Kurt is trapped behind there. That alone makes it look unfamiliar - softer, not entirely his own. It goes both ways. Knowing everything he knows about Kurt now, this façade that is Kurt's face and body looks vastly different when he peeks at it in the mirror. He brushes a lock of brown hair away from sleeping eyes, wondering what kind of morning the real Kurt has had, what kind of dreams he might be having now. While the last remaining hours of their time apart from their bodies drips away, Sebastian concocts the story he plans to tell Kurt when he wakes up in an unfamiliar bed.
At some point, Sebastian drifts off to sleep, but wakes up when the sharp prickling behind his eyes warns him that the switch will happen soon. He hears his own body whimpering, and knows Kurt feels the pain, too; that it's pulling him from his drug-induced slumber. Sebastian wants to whisper something reassuring, but the agony is so all-encompassing that he can't move. With an instantaneous blinding flash of light and a deafening crack that sounds like his entire skull splitting apart, he's aware that he's back in his own body.
That's when the migraine kicks in.
"Oh, God," Kurt - the real Kurt - groans. Sebastian forces his eyes open, disoriented at having traded places on the bed, to watch Kurt wake.
"My head…" Kurt continues to groan. "Why does my head feel…OHMYGOD!"
"Please…don't scream…" Sebastian pleads quietly, and even though Kurt looks furious as well as confused, he agrees.
"What the fuck!" Kurt whispers, lifting a hand to his head to block the mind-numbing throb. "Why the hell am I in your bed?"
"Kurt," Sebastian says, but not quiet enough to keep the room from tilting left and right. He thinks for a moment, debating between a lie and some version of the truth, deciding to go ahead with his prepared lie. "You called me to come pick you up."
"Why would I do something stupid like that?" Kurt squeezes his eyes shut as his voice raises in pitch.
"Because you were drunk," Sebastian says, hating himself a little. "You got into a fight with Blaine, and you left. I brought you back here, and then we got drunk some more."
Kurt gasps, his face a shroud of disbelief as he tries his best to recall anything, but then he relaxes a bit, becoming sorrowful and calm.
"Yeah," he whispers, opening his eyes. "I'm not entirely sure why I would call you, of all people, but that sounds about right."
Sebastian is a little surprised, but he tries not to show it, though he can't imagine that his face shows anything other than the fact that he wants to die, as quickly as possible.
Kurt sniffles, and Sebastian sees a small tear race down his cheek.
Sebastian feels that tear, like razors, slice throughout his whole body.
Kurt looks lost and scared, and Sebastian curses to himself, questioning why he didn't just leave well-enough alone.
Because he couldn't. It would have been the worst thing he'd ever done, even worse than switching bodies.
"What's wrong?" Sebastian asks, trying to act like an outside observer, and not letting on about the volumes of ill-gained insider knowledge he has.
"It's just…I don't know what I'm supposed to do now," Kurt confesses. "I have nowhere else to go."
"You can stay with me," Sebastian rushes out too quickly, causing his whole head to ring like a bell.
Kurt's mouth twists in a sarcastic frown.
"Yeah, right," he scoffs, trying to get up, succeeding in lifting his head a quarter of an inch off the pillow, and then dropping back down with a wince. "Why would you help me?"
"You and I…I know we've never exactly been friends…"
"I hate you," Kurt deadpans.
Sebastian wants to laugh, but then his face would crack, and his brain would spill out. He's sure of it.
"Yeah, well there are days I pretty much want to staple your tongue to a wall, but I'm prepared to look past all that, princess."
Sebastian sees Kurt's face twitch as he tries not to smile. Kurt abandons his efforts at a sort-of half-smile, and sighs instead.
"I should go back," Kurt says.
"No, Kurt," Sebastian says emphatically, headache be damned. "You made a lot of sense, and I think if you go back, you'll be making a huge mistake."
Sebastian moves, slowly reaching across the distance between them. After several excruciating seconds, he places a hand over Kurt's and squeezes gently.
"Don't settle, Kurt," Sebastian says. "Don't settle for the love you think you deserve."
A second tear follows the first down Kurt's cheek. Kurt stares at Sebastian, and Sebastian can see his mind working, sluggishly, most likely, dragging itself through the mire of pain that Sebastian shares with him.
Sebastian sees the truth in Kurt's eyes now – the pain, the fear, the disappointment.
"Look, you don't have to trust me yet," Sebastian interrupts. "I'm not asking you to. Just…don't go back, not today at least. Think about it. Give yourself time."
Kurt doesn't answer. He tries to nod, but his head refuses to move.
"Okay," Sebastian says, "blink once for yes, and twice for no."
Kurt makes a sputtering noise as he tries to hold back a laugh, and blinks once.
"Good," Sebastian says, relieved by Kurt's answer.
"So, what do we do know?" Kurt asks. "I don't think I can move. This hangover is killing me."
"Yeah," Sebastian agrees. "I've got an idea. Since we're going to be here for a while, why don't we tell each other our deepest, darkest secrets?"
Kurt's face stays expressionless, but his eyes are wary.
"I just thought that maybe we should get to know each other a little better, seeing as we're going to be sharing a bathroom and everything."
Sebastian waits for an answer, but Kurt doesn't give him one, looking at him skeptically, still mulling things over.
"Who knows," Sebastian says with what would be a shrug if he could manage one, "maybe I'm not as much of a shit as you think I am."
Kurt sputters again, and smiles.
"Why not," Kurt says. "Stranger things have happened."
Sebastian returns Kurt's smile.
"You have no idea."