If the Suit Fits

Kurt's proud of his many talents, one of which is being an excellent storyteller. One of his favorite stories to tell is how he and Finn segued from brothers to boyfriends. Their eyes met over the dining table, their hands brushed as they reached for the bottle of pinot gris at the same time, and they both just knew. Their lips brushed, sharing a first kiss that was slow and sweet and tender, Finn's eyes sparkling in the soft candlelight as Kurt pulled away to cup Finn's face in his hands. It's such a beautiful and evocative story that even Santana smiled when she found out.

The story of Finn and Kurt's actual first kiss isn't quite as beautiful or evocative, though. It's certainly one Kurt feels less comfortable telling. It starts in a Neiman Marcus dressing room, Kurt happy to give up his Saturday afternoon to assist Finn in picking out a summer wardrobe and some formal wear for an upcoming charity ball.


"You're hopeless, Finn. Hopeless!" Kurt threw his hands in the air, trying not to cringe as Finn added another pair of colored pants to the pile of clothes on the dressing room floor like he was attempting some sort of performance art project. Sighing, Kurt started to fold them back into neat piles. "You look like Will Ferrell in 'Elf'."

Kurt looked away as Finn peeled off his t-shirt and yanked the John Varvatos shirt off its hanger. "Ooh, awesome! Iron Maiden!" Kurt smiled; it was a little ironic, but if styled appropriately, classic rock shirts could be very fetching. And this one was. At least until Finn added a plaid shirt and turned around making horn gestures with his hands. Then, Finn looked at the price tag and frowned. "Ninety eight dollars? Dude, what the hell?"

"Too tight. Try these," Kurt said. He indicated to the pair of indigo jeans which were delightfully whiskered to add a hint of texture. "Wear them with the gray v-neck," he added, "and the shaded scarf."

Several minutes of rustling later, and Finn turned around, holding out his hands in a please appraise me, but do it kindly gesture. Kurt nodded appreciatively, but Finn didn't seem convinced. "I look like Zoolander," he said, removing his scarf and tossing it on the floor with a huff.

"No, you look like a twenty three year-old man should, instead of Brawny the paper towel man. You're buying all of that, and the same shirt in white. That'll be the basis of your casual capsule wardrobe. Now, every man needs a suit for his repertoire."

There was a grunt as Finn tugged his jeans down, then he reached for some divine straight-leg Hugo Boss suit pants Kurt wished he could get away with. "Dude, I'm not going to a repertoire. I told you, charity ball!"

"Fine, Cinderella. The point still stands," Kurt said, then snapped his fingers. "Now turn around," he commanded, and his breath caught a little in his throat. With a little assistance, Finn really was a fashion plate made flesh. If one stuck to earth tones and factored in for the freakishly long limbs, he was less Zoolander and more Mark Vanderloo; Kurt might have even suggested some head-shots if Finn wasn't so inherently clumsy.

Unfortunately, as Finn shifted a little from side to side, Kurt realized there was something else in the freakishly long category he hadn't quite accounted for. The suit pants skimmed his legs in just the right way, but as Finn winced a little, saying, "um, these fit good on the legs, but..." and was clearly unwilling to admit the source of his discomfort, Kurt quickly realized he'd have to get past the potential for sheer embarrassment and take matters into his own hands.

"This is..." Kurt tried to avert his eyes out of respect for his stepbrother, but given that he was a red-blooded gay man standing in front of a very hot man in formal wear, his eyes kept drifting downwards. "This is beyond awkward, but which way do you dress, Finn?"

"Um, one leg at a time?" Finn raised an eyebrow. "What, am I doing that wrong, too?"

"No, Finn." Kurt could see the blush on his cheeks appear in the dressing room's mirror, but supposed Finn would be far less embarrassed hearing it from Kurt than the female sales assistant who he suspected might be more than a little handsy given the prospect. "Dress."

"I don't follow?" Finn said, scratching his thigh, fingers reaching closer to the inseam in what he likely thought a surreptitious manner. "Is this like that t-zone thing?"

"It... it refers to how comfortable you are in your..." Finn still looked puzzled, and also very far from comfortable and Kurt took a deep breath before speaking, knowing tact would probably confuse his stepbrother even further. "How your junk hangs, Finn."

It should have been a comical moment, Finn's mouth flying open in horror, but instead he just nodded and muttered something about how the guy fitting him for his dress uniform had said something similar although he'd not used that particular phrase, and he would have adjusted but he didn't think Kurt would want to see him groping his junk in front of him. Of course, it was beyond awkward, but this wasn't the first time Kurt had assisted someone with a suit fitting, so he explained it was fine, that he'd avert his eyes so Finn could... adjust.

After the tell-tale zip and rustle, Kurt turned around and his eyes flew open. "Finn!" he yelped, shaking his head because in the process of adjusting, things had become a whole lot worse. "The point is to minimize."

"Guess I'm maximized everywhere," Finn said, looking down at the floor rather sheepishly. "Can you help me out?"

"No, no, and thrice no."

"Ku-urt!" Finn said, then added a pout. "Please? I'll be itching it all evening."

"Charming. And knowing you, you'll probably ask your date to scratch your itch."

"Nah." Finn shrugged his shoulders. "I'm going with Mom."

"Well, now. That's unexpected," Kurt responded, Finn throwing him an angry glare.

Tutting a little, Kurt appraised the cut of the suit pants. He stepped a little closer and placed his hands on Finn's waist, gripping it firmly. Watching Finn's expression for discomfort, Kurt found none so moved his right hand a little further down, resting just above the waistband of Finn's suit pants. Finn's eyes fluttered shut; Kurt took a deep breath. Yes, this was embarrassing, but he had to do this. Both in the name of fashion, and in the name of Finn not turning up to a refined charity ball in a pair of pants which screamed I'm tall, dark and hung, although Kurt grudgingly had to admit a part of him thought Finn should just roll with his... assets.

Kurt brushed his hand very lightly against Finn's thigh. "Maybe... here would be better," he managed to stutter out somehow, before moving his hand slightly upwards, intending to rest it against Finn's hipbone.

Except, there was a shift of Finn's hips, and Kurt found himself with a very large handful of the very thing he was trying to conceal. Immediately, he squeaked; yes, they were both single, but this was his straight stepbrother. His very hot, very endowed straight stepbrother who had been innocently asking him to ensure his suit pants fitted correctly. In horror, Kurt lifted his hand away slowly, his brain churning explanations and apologies.

That was, until Finn's hand immediately covered the back of Kurt's hand then pressed Kurt's palm down firmly, and unable to do anything else, Kurt squeaked out, "whatthehelldoyouthinkyou'redoing?" before taking a deep breath to rush some oxygen back in his lungs.

"What do you think?" Finn muttered like it was obvious, the lopsided grin on his face both familiar and dangerous at the same time. "Was gonna ask you at dinner tonight, to kiss you, but -" his breath hitched and Kurt could feel him harden, arching into his hand. "-you just looked so good today, and, I guess this is kinda a date, so..."

Kurt slapped his other hand against his forehead. Then, he pinched his arm, and stared up at the ceiling to see if he was on one of those hidden camera shows. Except Finn still shifted against him, panting, his cheeks a rosy flush.

"Enough!" Kurt said, stepping back forcefully, not missing the pout on Finn's face. "This is not, and was not a date. I really think we should..."

"Make out?" Finn said, leaning back in, and he was so stupid, and so arrogant, and if he hadn't been standing there looking like some sort of fantasy in the stories Kurt wouldn't admit to anyone he read, Kurt would have strangled him with his bare hands. "Yeah, thought so," Finn ground out, then he was begging a recital of phrases which mostly ended in, "...my mouth on you," and, "...grind you into the wall," and Finn's large hands could pretty much circle Kurt's upper arm as he found himself pushed against the dressing room door, Finn's breath rushing warmly over his face.

"You will have to buy those now, you know," Kurt said as he unbuttoned Finn's pants with one hand, looping his other around the back of Finn's head to press their mouths together, and there was a little voice in the back of Kurt's head which said, "six years and the lovable oaf tells me in a dressing room?" but Finn was an incredible kisser, dragging Kurt's lower lip between his teeth before nipping his jaw and as Kurt tilted his head back, Finn's mouth sliding across to suck on his pulse point, he couldn't quite bring himself to care.

They left the store in an awkward mess. Kurt giggled drunkenly, and Finn whistled Foreigner's 'Hot Blooded' while swinging his shopping bag in his hand. It contained the beginnings of a capsule wardrobe, a pair of crumpled-beyond-the-point-of-sale Hugo Boss pants, a scarf that would make Kurt blush whenever Finn wore it, and a set of Burberry boxers to replace the old tighty whities Finn had stupidly left on the dressing room floor.


As well as being an excellent storyteller and having fashion powers Tim Gunn would envy, Kurt's also proud he can keep secrets. The incident, as they called it, remained a fond memory between Kurt and his now-boyfriend until the pair had coffee with Rachel several weeks later. When Rachel informed Finn and Kurt she received a little peck in the dressing rooms at H&M, and, "it was so daring, like we were in 'Eyes Wide Shut'!" the spark of competitiveness brightened her eyes, and Kurt just couldn't help himself.

Rachel swore she wouldn't tell a soul, and as weeks passed by, Kurt and Finn believed her. Until, that was, Finn tapped Kurt on the arm one morning and showed him a package addressed to Lady Lips and Lady Hips which, to Finn's dismay, contained a greying pair of underwear with, "forget something?" written on them in plum-colored lipstick, and a Neiman Marcus gift card from Britt Britt and Auntie Tana.

Notes:

1. Not going to lie, this was incredibly cracky but also very fun to write.
2. Check out the summer fic meme at the finnkurt community on LJ if you haven't already - even if you're not a writer or an artist you can leave whatever prompts your heart desires, be it Kinn, Furt or Monfer, and it's lovely to keep our little ship alive.
3. Feedback is always cherished and loved.