Raid

Just as Kurt expected, the kids returned with their bikes and the dog only a few hours later, much to Kurt and Blaine's annoyance. This time the boy with the Mohawk was carrying a boom box (Kurt hadn't seen a boom box in years, but this was far from any large city where the technology would be up to date), and within a couple minutes of their arrival it was obvious they intended to stay.

Kurt grimaced as the Mohawk switched on the boom box, blasting Judas Priest (seriously, what era were these kids from?) and laughing at something the Latina said, gesturing over her shoulder in Kurt and Blaine's direction. Despite the fact that the kids were camped out a good fifty feet away, the horrible '80s metal was at an almost painful and certainly irritating volume; they might as well have been squatting in the middle of Kurt and Blaine's campsite.

After putting up with it for about fifteen minutes, Kurt stood up from where he was eating lunch with Blaine by their fire pit and stalked over. "So this is what you call giving us privacy?" he demanded.

The narrow-faced sleek boy who had earlier established himself to be the leader of the group smiled thinly, pushing his sunglasses up his nose. "Sorry, I can't hear you," he said. The chubby boy and both the girls smirked.

Kurt pressed his lips together, trying to keep his irritation as low as possible. They were teenagers; he was not. They were kids looking for trouble; he had a law degree.

He was not fighting for control; he had control.

"Please turn the music down," he said forcefully. "We don't care if you hang out here – just please lower the noise pollution."

That wasn't true – he did care. They were ruining what up until then had been the rare treasure – time for him to be with Blaine, alone, unbothered by calls from either of their respective workplaces (Blaine was usually on call in the emergency room, and Kurt always had random case problems to deal with even when he was supposed to be off-duty, so the majority of their private moments were prematurely brought to a halt).

Unfortunately, the kids were right. This was state-owned land and he and Blaine had no legal ability to tell the kids to relocate.

Unless, of course, they were eligible for harassment charges.

Kurt almost wanted them to push enough buttons for him to have enough reason to approach the town sheriff.

"You want to talk about noise pollution?" the leader laughed, glancing over his shoulder at his cronies. Half of them were grinning along with him, and Kurt got a strange prickling on his arms, like they knew something he didn't. Even the dog seemed to be smirking.

"Show him, Sebastian," urged Sugar, bouncing eagerly where she sat.

The boy, Sebastian, gave an odd predatory smile and pulled an iPhone out of his pocket (finally, something that fit the current year). Mohawk switched the boom box off, and Kurt didn't have to look behind to know that Blaine was watching the exchange carefully for any sign of real trouble. Sebastian held up the phone and tapped the screen once.

Kurt's steely expression almost instantaneously melted away in shock at the sounds that came out of the phone's speaker. It was tinny and laced with static (built-in Apple mics weren't that great, after all) but it was impossible not to recognize his own voice overlapping Blaine's.

"Oh, god, yes – faster – yes…"

"B-Blaine, I'm so close – ahh!"

Sebastian's thin-lipped smile stretched as he stopped the recording. "I could actually have you written up for engaging in sexual activity within ten feet of more than one minor," he said smoothly, like it was something he'd been planning. Kurt blinked. "My dad's the district attorney," Sebastian added with a wink. The others sniggered.

Kurt didn't realize his hands had curled into fists until the nails dug into his palms. This was no longer anywhere near the perfect day – it was beyond salvaging.

"That was private," he bit out, straining to keep his voice and temper in check.

You're the adult, you're the adult, not them.

"And again, it's not your property," Sebastian countered. "Technically, it's a public place. That could easily get you a spot on the sex offenders registry."

Kurt's vision was tinged with red, but Blaine appeared by his side just before Kurt thought he might lose it altogether. "Is there a problem?" Blaine asked, glancing between Kurt and Sebastian.

"Just establishing boundaries," Sebastian replied, and Kurt had to physically restrain himself from punching the smug grin off his face.

"Boundaries?" he sputtered instead. "This is what you call boundaries?" He lurched toward them with his fists clenched, but Blaine stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder. "This is harassment!" he snarled.

Blaine pulled him back as several of the kids snorted. "Come on, Kurt, we'll just find another campsite. It's fine."

"I will not be bullied by a bunch of snot-nosed twelve-year-olds!" Kurt spat. Now, the group had done enough to warrant official intervention, and Kurt seized the opportunity. "I'm taking this to the police or the sheriff or the park wardens or whoever the hell has jurisdiction."

Sebastian bared his teeth in a smile. "That would be my dad."

Kurt lurched forward again, opening his mouth to spew another string of threats. Several of the kids launched to their feet, ready to defend themselves. Kurt had been right – they were looking for a fight and were too eager to start one.

Blaine turned and pushed him back with a hand to Kurt's chest. "Let's not let this get out of hand," he said quickly, with a pointed look towards his boyfriend.

Kurt forced himself to take a deep breath. "Okay," he started, raking his fingers through his hair and not even bothering to care that it was beginning to stick up in several places. "Okay, here's the plan," he said. He made sure to look Sebastian directly in the eye. "You will delete that recording—"

Sebastian, Sugar, Mohawk, the Latina, and the chubby boy all snickered.

"—and then you'll leave, so that we can have our weekend as planned."

Sebastian laughed, glancing out over the pond, unperturbed. "Sounds pretty one-sided to me."

"You do that, and I won't report you to the sheriff," Kurt said through gritted teeth. He really, really wanted to make them suffer the consequences.

You're the adult, not them.

The small boy who hung towards the back of the group and didn't seem to belong spoke up for the first time, his voice lilted with a foreign accent. "That's not a bad deal, Sebastian."

"Shut it, Flanagan," Sebastian snapped. "What have I told you? We just keep you around for your Irish luck."

The Irish boy ducked his head, like a puppy reprimanded for making a mistake it didn't understand.

"What if we don't delete it?" asked the chubby boy with a small-toothed scoff.

Kurt's eyes narrowed. "Then I will report you to the sheriff, and you all can deal with the ramifications yourselves. How does that sound to you, Ham Hock?"

"I dunno how it is in the city," Ham Hock replied, "but up here everyone knows everyone. Sheriff's a personal friend."

"I wouldn't expect him to care," Kurt spat. "You've crossed the line. I'd step back if I were you."

Kurt's lawyer-talk, unfortunately, had no bearing on teenagers who had never even been out of high school, let alone to law school. The closest these kids had come to a courtroom was through their grainy-image TVs. This time, all of them except for the Irish boy laughed loudly. The dog snuffed and edged towards Kurt with its hackles raised.

Then, Sebastian stood up, still grinning but pulling his dog back. "Fine," he said. "Wouldn't want to bother the Sheriff from his busy day."

The rest of them snorted at that, but followed Sebastian's lead and began to edge away in the direction of the dirt road. Mohawk shouldered the boom box and the group mounted their BMXs, pedaling up the short slope and disappearing into the vegetation. Only Sebastian hung back, the Doberman standing attentively by his legs.

Flashing Kurt and Blaine one last knowing smirk, Sebastian raised his hand in a mocking salute, then was swallowed up by the trees.