Disclaimer: Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy and Fox, not me.


"Your house is nice. It smells the air freshener aisle at Target."

Kurt leaned casually against the doorframe. "You look hot," he said, taking in Brittany's straightened hair and one-shouldered dress.

"You look like the cowboy doll from Toy Story."

He straightened and cleared his throat. "Why don't you come downstairs with me," he said. "We can go and...make out."

Brittany smiled. "Okay," she said, following him like a very tall golden retriever puppy. His hiking boots clunked loudly on the basement stairs; her heels clicked lightly after him.

"Here we are," he said, sweeping his arm at his bedroom, softly lit by several dozen white votive candles.

"This is fancy," Brittany commented. "Like one of those Italian restaurants, but without the picnic blankets on the tables."

He tugged at the uncomfortable straps of his overalls. "So…should we get started?" he said.

"Okay," Brittany said. "How do you like it?"

He paused. "Like…what?"

"You know. Some guys like it on a bed. Some guys like it on the floor. Or the closet."

Kurt tugged on his earlobe. "Um," he stammered. He hadn't thought this part through. He glanced from his neatly made bed to the tile floor. "I have a couch?"

"Okay," she said. She sat down, stared at him, then patted the seat next to her. He edged closer and sat down.

"So now I just…kiss you?" he said.

"Yeah. Go for it."

Kurt bit his lip, then leaned in. He missed her mouth and hit her chin.

"It's okay," she said. "Have you kissed a girl before?"

"No."

"Okay. Then pretend I'm a boy."

Kurt fiddled with the back of his trucker hat. "I haven't actually kissed a boy, either," he confessed.

"That's okay," Brittany shrugged. "It's easy. Like this."

He tensed up and she leaned in and brushed her lips against his. Kissing wasn't nearly as scary as he thought. Brittany's lips were soft and warm. He kissed her back.

Do I feel anything? he thought. No, not really. Pretty sure I'm still gay.

She kept kissing him, gently but thoroughly. He was surprised by how pleasant it was. Brittany bent over him and he moved with her until they were snuggling together on his couch. He leaned against the armrest, his legs resting across Brittany's bent knees and his feet propped up on the other side.

Brittany ran her hand against the nape of his neck and across his cheek, rubbing against the slight hint of stubble. He folded his hands over his stomach as she kept kissing him.

Her left hand slid from his knee and down his thigh. He grabbed it before she could reach forbidden territory and set it back on his knee. Brittany seemed unperturbed. He looked around the dimly-lit room from under his eyelashes. It all seemed like a very elaborate, very strange daydream.

Her left hand began to travel down again. "Your lip gloss tastes like root beer," he said dreamily. She pulled back, her hand resting on his left hip. "It's weird."

She smiled and leaned in to kiss him again. Her lips touched his and he could feel her warm breath against his cheek. "Can I ask you something?" he blurted out, before he could stop himself. "What do…boys' lips taste like?"

Brittany leaned back and stopped to think. "Usually dip," she said. "Sometimes they taste like burgers. Or my armpits."

He made a face. "Kissing my armpits is a really big turn on for me," she whispered.

She kissed him again, her blonde hair brushing against his cheek. He heard the click and swing of the basement door opening, and his father's work shoes on the stairs. Without thinking he deepened the kiss, opening his mouth slightly. Brittany needed no extra encouragement.

"Whoa," Burt said. "Am I interrupting something?"

He smiled smugly and sat up, swinging his legs around and slinging his arm around Brittany's shoulders. "You sure are," he said, as Brittany sat up and swiped at her lips.

His dad frowned and stepped closer. "Okay, I'm confused," he said. "I came home to find this note on your doorknob. 'Do not enter under any circumstances, I'm making out with a girl.' I mean…I figured it was the start to another one of your murder mystery dinners."

"Dad, I really need you to respect my privacy," he said in the lowered voice that made the back of his throat scratchy. "See, Brittany and I were just having sexual relations."

Brittany smiled and wiggled her fingers in a little wave at his dad. "Hi," Burt said. "Um…" He nodded towards Kurt, indicating for him to come over. Kurt got off the couch, sliding his hands into the deep pockets of his overalls, and crossed over to his dad. "Kurt, uh…I've been sort of dealing for months with you being gay and everything. Now you're telling me that's not the case?" "Dad, you and I have a lot in common than I would have thought," Kurt said, still in the deeper voice. "The flannel. The Mellencamp. The ladies."

Burt glanced over his shoulder at Brittany, who continued to stare blankly at the wall. "Okay," he said. "Well. You're free to be whoever you are. Just let me know when you make up your mind. I'm going to do the best I can." He clapped a hand on Kurt's shoulder. "I'm good either way."

He looked back at the couch. "Nice to meet you," he said to Brittany, who smiled and waved. "You kids be careful, all right? You've got to respect her. And if things get serious, use protection."

Burt headed back upstairs. Kurt turned round slowly. Brittany blinked. "Does he mean like a burglar alarm?" she asked.

Kurt sighed. "Come on," he said, plunking down beside her on the couch.

"Where are we going?"

He smashed his lips into hers. She responded quickly, matching his force. Only she was kissing because she liked it. He was kissing because he was angry. Or something.

Brittany pulled off his trucker hat and ran her fingers through his mashed-down hair. He reached up and twirled her blonde hair around his hands. Brittany, still kissing him eagerly, unfastened the clasps on his overall straps. His heart was pounding, but not because he was turned on.

Brittany kept one hand in his hair and the other unbuttoned his black and white flannel shirt. He kept kissing her, but he was losing his grip on his anger. Instead, he was shaking.

She pulled his shirt away, leaving him in his gray henley with the sleeves rolled up. He could feel her touch that much better now, and he hated it.

Brittany leaned back. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine," he said. "I'm fine." He leaned up to kiss her again, but she tilted her head like a puzzled puppy and touched her hand against his cheek.

"If you're fine, why are you crying?" she asked.

He dragged the back of his hand over his eyes. "I'm not crying," he said. "Just kiss me, okay."

She sat back. "You didn't invite me over because you like me, did you?" she said, almost sadly.

Kurt laid back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. "No," he whispered. He rubbed his eyes and realized, horrified, that he was crying.

Brittany patted his shoulder. "When I'm sad, I tell my mom," she said. "I'll go get yours." She started to get up, but he caught her by the wrist.

"Don't bother," he said. "I don't have a mom."

She sat back down. "Oh," she said. "Well, no wonder you're crying."

He got up, the top half of his overalls hanging around his thin hips. "You'd better go," he said. He folded his arms around himself in his usual comfortable, protective stance. "I'm…I'm sorry."

Brittany stood up, towering over him in her tall heels. "It's okay," she said. "Don't feel bad. I had fun."

She leaned over, cupped his chin in her hands, and kissed him first on the forehead, then on the lips. "What was that for?" he asked.

"You look really sad," she said. "I'm sorry you're so lonely." She let her hand fall against his shoulder and trail down his arm. "I can stay if you want me to."

He shrugged. Brittany took his hand and squeezed it.


Author's Notes:

I hope no one is mad that a lot of this is just the makeout scene from "Laryngitis." I was just really curious about the scene...what led up to it, and how it ended. So...I wrote this.

This was my first time writing Brittany. She's hilarious! She's one of my favorite characters in the show. She's just tricky to transition from her deadpan bon mots to being serious...as serious as she can manage.

Originally I was going to play up the idea that Kurt is starved for affection, but it kind of turned into something else, so I might pull that idea out in the future. Only...I don't know how. Anyone have any ideas on how I can write that?