The Stranger's Son
Summary: Kurt has a one night stand after an agonizing sex drought where after he finds himself constantly running into the stranger's eighteen year old stepson Blaine, who he's been assigned to give remedial French classes to. Sexual tension ensues.
A/N: I have NOT abandoned Klainelight… In fact Chapter Ten is almost 7000 words along at the moment! This is just a little idea I came up with on the plane back home from Europe and it wouldn't leave me alone… Please read and review!
…Chapter One... Best Thing I Never Had
Kurt Hummel was lying in bed, bored.
Honestly, his hand just wasn't cut out to serve him justly anymore. Still it was all that he had but he was starting to get really, really bored of using it.
Alone up in the fifth floor of his hotel apartment with absolutely nothing to do was actually incredibly peaceful when he thought about it.
He needed some background noise. The television would have to suffice in the meantime. And then, something weird happened.
His phone rang.
His phone never rang. Sometimes he forgot he even had one.
"Seriously lame way to answer the phone, Kurt. It makes you sound really boring and pretentious." Wait—he recognized that voice.
"C'mon Kurtsie, we're both subs now, I told you to call me Holly."
He had guessed right, "Yeah, sure. It's just—it's been a while. So now where and when do you need me to step in for you?"
"I'm offended that you wouldn't assume this was a catch-up coffee call."
"I've known you a while now. Six years in fact."
He heard her sigh into the phone, "Okay so you got me. But I promise this gig is closer to home. I've got an address for a school in Westerville. And it's a French class. So you can turn up hung-over and still teach sober."
"Not everyone has your skill, Holly. But I'll take it. When is it?"
He jotted down the details and bade her goodbye. She promised the next time she called, it would be for coffee.
Then another weird thing happened. Kurt's phone rang again. Wow, I'm popular today, he thought.
"Kurt speaking," he repeated, out of habit more than anything else.
"Kurt? Kurt, it's Julie."
"Julie?" It sounded like he had no idea who it was—but that's the tone he was aiming for, "Okay, I'm just kidding—oh my God, how are you?"
Julie used to work at the Starbucks from across the road and had made Kurt's coffee three times daily every day for the past year… until some up and coming Broadway director had noticed her during one of her performance assignments and she was suddenly running all over the country. Kurt envied her but his Broadway dreams were long over—and despite what he may have thought during high school he really did enjoy being a French teacher. He sometimes even stepped in if the school had a glee club. Mr. Schue, his old glee teacher who had also taught languages, would have been proud.
"Are you there, Kurt?"
"Yeah, yes, sorry. I just haven't heard from you in ages. So you must be busy?"
"Super busy. I'm so sorry we haven't been able to catch up—which is why I'm calling. Do you want to be my plus one for a dinner party tonight? It's a fancy one…"
"I don't know, Julie. I've just been scheduled for a class tomorrow. Why aren't you taking Brian?"
"Because I see him every night but I haven't seen you in ages. This is me apologizing for being so crazy busy so I'd much rather take you. We won't stay out too late so you can still make your class. Meet me at my place at seven?"
She wasn't going to take no for an answer and truth be told, Kurt did miss her. And her superb making coffee skills. Starbucks had never been the same since she left.
Kurt looked at the time. It was four thirty. If he was going to be at Julie's by seven he'd better start getting ready now.
Kurt dressed pretty simple that night. But simple for Kurt at a fancy dinner, with his Broadway ex-coffee barista bestie Julie, meant that he was wearing a fucking suit. The aftershave he wore stung at his cheeks as he made his way outside, the cool breeze blowing through his spray straightened hair. Julie lived near the Starbucks she used to work at and as a result was only across the road from Kurt too.
Arriving three minutes fashionably late, Kurt was ready to accept all praise showered to him when Julie opened the door to see how fabulous he looked but when she finally did reach her front door he gasped.
"Oh my God, are you wearing Valentino?"
She leapt out and hugged him and he almost choked. And Chanel perfume, too?
Squealing, her greeting was at the very least, enthusiastic. "Oooh, I can't believe it's you! I've missed you so much!"
"Yeah okay, woman! Now tell me how the hell did you afford this dress?"
She hit his arm playfully, "I'm surprised that someone who's wearing a suit from an unnamed designer's last year's collection can even recognize what I'm wearing!"
"Well," Kurt spluttered, "If the salary you're on can afford you this unbelievably gorgeous dress than the next time I see you, I expect a new damn suit!"
She laughed, hugging him again tightly. "C'mon let's get out of here or we'll both be more than fashionably late to this stupid dinner."
They were in the penthouse of some rising choreographer—no, producer… well, someone important, eating weirdly expensive finger food and sipping on vodka tonics when Julie suddenly ambushed him.
"Okay who is he? What does he do for a living and why haven't I met him yet?"
Kurt raised an eyebrow confused, looking around the place. He couldn't see who she was talking about or what she was referring to. He also swore that he'd only had two drinks.
"What are you on about?"
She giggled, "Your boyfriend, silly! And I'm asking you like that because there is no way in hell that you're single right now."
Kurt sighed, "Sadly, the only intimate relationship I have is with my hand and quite frankly I think we're over each other. It just isn't working out anymore. Shame. He was my first."
This time Julie hit him hard, "Kurt! Could you be any less subtle?"
"Hey!" he teased, rubbing his arm where she had struck him, "You asked for it!"
"A simple 'I'm not seeing anyone at the moment,' would have been sufficient."
He shrugged, "Why'd you bring it up anyway? You know I would have already bragged about him by now if there were someone."
"Because—and don't look now okay—but there's an absolutely gorgeous guy sitting on the blue suede couch who's been checking you out all evening. I'd do him myself except he's obviously gay for you."
"And you have Brian."
"And I have Brian. Now go talk to him before I go over there and tell him you told me to!"
The thing with Julie is that she always meant what she said. In short, if Kurt didn't listen to her she really would go and talk to that guy for him. But over the past they had checked out similar guys so if she said he was gorgeous, he probably was… and it had been a while since he had hooked up so…
He turned around and first allowed himself to look. There was nothing wrong with that, right?
…And Julie hadn't been lying. The guy was smiling right at him and he was absolutely sexy. He was wearing a gray suit and his shoes—oh! His shoes!—were Italian leather…. He had light brown hair and a chiseled jaw and maybe it was because the guy needed to shave but he looked—
"Julie, that guy at the very least has to be forty!"
"So? It just means that he has more experience. And unless you kiss and make up with your hand, I don't think you're in a position to be so picky. Besides, judging by all the male attention you've been getting tonight, he's far by your best pick."
"What other male attention?"
"My point exactly. Now go!"
Kurt sulked mockingly, "I thought tonight was supposed to be about us!"
Julie laughed, "Totally is! Which is why I'm the best wing-woman ever, right?"
Kurt couldn't even argue that tonight had been a ploy to set him up because Julie hadn't even known he wasn't seeing anyone until he had just told her two minutes ago. And she had made some pretty valid points. And okay, maybe there was a lack of male attention tonight but it wasn't like he was at a gay bar where the men stared at him plenty. But he had to stop making excuses because Julie had that look in her eye that said if he didn't get a move on she was going to go over there soon.
Resigned to keep her quiet, Kurt did make his way over to the couch. He shook the man's hand, learnt that his name was Alex and that he was definitely a lot older than Kurt. Like thirteen years older. Kurt was only twenty-two.
But then Alex bought Kurt a couple more drinks—and this was on top of the three (or four?) that he had already shared with Julie—so he no longer cared how old Alex was. He was gorgeous. And manly. And it had been so long since had had hooked up so of course he was going back to Alex's place after. And no, Julie wouldn't mind. And when Alex kissed him and they fell back onto his bed, drunk as he was, he knew his hand had finally forgiven him.
Kurt mightn't have known where he was the next morning but he did know that his head hurt. A lot. And that he was going to kill Julie.
Slowly, he opened his eyes. He was half-on, half-off—someone's—bed and oh! Were those his expensive pants on the floor? Ugh. He was getting them dry-cleaned before class today.
Oh. Yeah. He had to teach class today. Shit.
Where was…? What was his name? Kurt curiously looked over to a photo the guy had of himself on his bed stand. And though his head was still spinning like mad he was still awake enough to realize that the guy wasn't alone in the photo and that he had his arms wrapped around a woman.
No, Kurt no. You had not just got into bed with a curious straight guy. That was obviously his sister in the photo. It didn't matter that they didn't look anything alike. It was his sister.
"That's my ex-wife."
Kurt spun around. The guy was standing there in nothing but a towel. His hair was dripping wet and even though he had shaved now, wow, he was still sexy but definitely a lot older than Kurt. He took a step forward noticing how wide Kurt's eyes were and smiled.
"Yeah, our marriage kinda fell apart after we both realized I was gay."
Kurt nodded. Really, what do you even say in these situations?
"Hey—Kurt, was it?"
Again, Kurt nodded.
"I don't mean to sound like a prick but my step-son is coming over soon and although he's not really my step-son anymore I don't want him making any unnecessary assumptions about my personal life."
Kurt realized that this was his cue to leave. Ah well, at least the sex had been good. And Julie had been right on another account—they guy had experience. But he looked really awkward at having to ask Kurt to go.
"It's okay, I understand. I have somewhere I have to be anyway, so…"
The guy made another step towards him, "L-look I… I don't like leaving things like this. Can I get your number or something?"
Kurt tilted his head a little, scanning the man's face for any trace of sarcasm. When it became evident however, that he was actually being serious about wanting Kurt's number, Kurt had to force his inner bitch down to keep from laughing in his face.
"Oh wow, I guess it's me who's going to sound like the prick here. Honestly—I don't even remember your name—and I'd rather you didn't tell me." Kurt added hurriedly as the guy had looked like he was about to remind him. "I don't mean to sound so horrible. Last night was amazing and I don't regret it but sometimes I'm not myself when alcohol is involved. The guy you met last night—that's just not me. I'm not the type of guy who just sleeps around which I know makes it sound like I used you and I'm sorry."
And then, because he couldn't get over the stunned look in the man's eyes and because he really was feeling like a douche at the moment, he took the guy's hands in his own, locking their finger's together in an apologetic way.
The moment only lasted a second. The man kissed Kurt on the forehead and broke their hands apart.
"I understand, Kurt."
Kurt gave him an awkward smile and let himself out of the room. He had almost reached the main door when he heard his name being called out.
"Can I at least give you my number? That way, you know, if you change your mind, that would be okay with me."
Kurt didn't see the harm in accepting. It wasn't like he was going to call but he didn't need to tell him that. In fact, as soon as the door had closed behind him, Kurt scrunched the paper in his fist and casually let it drop to the floor.
What Kurt hadn't realized however, was that the hallway wasn't empty. Behind Kurt, a school boy had seen him walk out of the apartment and drop the paper. Kurt hadn't noticed him at all.
"Hey! Er excuse me! You dropped this!"
Kurt turned around, ready to tell whoever not to worry, that he didn't need the paper, that it was just rubbish but—damn.
The boy in front of him was incredible.
Judging by his uniform, he obviously went to a private school. His dark navy blazer was emblazoned with a large capital 'D' that had been tailored on in red. So, despite Kurt having just slept with a thirty-five year old guy, he did have an age limit and if this boy was still in school he was definitely under it. But still, there was really no harm in looking. Because this young man was incredibly gorgeous with his hazel eyes and curly slicked back hair and—
"Did you just come out of my dad's apartment?"
"Um, no." Kurt lied. Horribly too, the boy didn't look convinced. And then the boy looked down at the paper in his hand and gently unfolded it.
"Well, that's strange 'cos this is my dad's number."
Kurt glanced at his watch. He was going to be late to his class. "Hey, you look like you come from a good school, you wouldn't know the easiest way to Dalton Academy, would you?"
The boy looked at him, a small sarcastic smile forming across his lips, "Actually, that's exactly where my dad's dropping me off now. You wanna see if I can get him to give you a lift?"
So explains the smile, Kurt thought. "You know on second thoughts I can use Google maps. I'll see you around."
He turned to leave but the student hurried to catch up beside him, "Hey um, what school did you transfer from? I didn't know we were getting a new student and there's no way you're a freshman."
His sincerity caught Kurt by surprise and he stopped walking, "Actually, I'm a teacher. I'm subbing for Mademoiselle Rousseau. And if I really was a student, what would I be doing with your dad?"
"So you admit it? You did just come out of his apartment and throw his number away?"
Kurt shrugged, "What can I say? You caught me."
The boy shook his head. The disappointment in his face confused Kurt, "But why did you throw away my dad's number like that? He's actually a great guy, you know."
"I'm sure he is. He's also thirteen years older than me. But as of right now I am your teacher, so this conversation has just become entirely inappropriate."
This time when Kurt walked away, the boy did not follow him.
When Blaine had finally let himself into the apartment, Alex was already dressed and had lain breakfast out.
"Hey Blaine! All ready for school? I've got pancakes ready for before we leave!"
"They look great."
His dad wasn't buying it, "Really? Because you couldn't look less enthused than you do right now. I thought these were your favorite?"
Blaine sighed, "No, I'm sorry, they really do look wonderful. It's just I found out today who we have substituting for Mademoiselle Rousseau."
"And why has that got you down? Do you not like this new teacher?"
Blaine moved over to the dining table and still standing began to pick at his food, "The new teacher is the douche who just walked out of your apartment."
His dad, who was halfway through drinking some orange juice, almost spat it out. "How do you know Kurt?"
"I don't. I just tried to catch up to him after he threw this paper on the floor."
Alex looked up, realized the paper was the one he had given Kurt with his number on it and sighed. "Ah don't worry about it Blaine. I didn't think I had a shot anyway."
But Blaine wasn't listening. His dad was the nicest guy he knew. Okay so maybe things hadn't worked out with him and Blaine's mom (but they were still really good friends), and maybe Alex wasn't his dad anymore (but he may as well still be) so Blaine was not going to let anyone screw him over. Including sexy young substitute French teachers.