A/N: Warning for being Adam Crawford/David Karofsky/Chandler Kiehl unfriendly. Also warning for mention of Eli C. I wrote this for a friend. It's fluffy, but with a twist. I hope you enjoy it :)
Sebastian looked down at his tight black Dickie shorts and sighed. He tugged at the hems, trying to will them to reach his knees, but it just wasn't happening.
"Sorry about that," Debbie, his supervisor, smirked in a way that told him she wasn't too sorry, especially considering the way she overtly looked over his ass with hungry eyes.
'Sorry,' Sebastian thought sarcastically. 'Not even if we played on the same team.'
Sebastian's morning had gone from bad to worse and was heading toward zombie apocalypse level of horrible at an alarming rate. It had all started when he dropped the carafe to his coffee machine, which shattered into a million pieces before he even had a chance to make his cup of coffee. It was the first thing he had bought for his run-down shoebox apartment.
He took it as a sign.
He had already been running late for his first day of work so he couldn't stop anywhere for a cup, not that he had $2.38 to spend on a tall drip anyway.
Apparently, when his father said 'cut off', he meant 'cut off'. Sebastian had always taken his silver spoon fed life for granted. He knew his father wasn't an overly affectionate man, but he didn't actually believe that he was a homophobic bastard. Though, to be fair, his dad's decision to leave him with nothing probably came from the fact that traditionally breeders were the ones more than likely to have heirs, and as it seemed less than likely that Sebastian would, his dad chose to dissolve all ties with his eldest son, and rest the entirety of the family's inheritance on his brother, who already had a wife and a newborn baby boy.
That probably explained why his father made a point of saying, "It's just good business," before slamming the door in his face.
Sebastian grimaced as he let the memory of that moment travel to the forefront of his mind, before shoving it back down into the hole where it was normally kept.
Sebastian had started out the day in a funk. Now, looking at himiself in the stained break-room mirror, wearing his brand spanking new Fed-Ex delivery uniform, he became overwhelmingly depressed. By the end of the day, he predicted he would be suicidal.
"You'll be riding the route today with Louis," Debbie said, mostly addressing Sebastian's crotch. Sebastian tried tugging down on his shirt this time, but polyester doesn't give.
Sebastian cringed at the idea that he was wearing polyester.
His life was definitely over.
Debbie gestured to an older hispanic gentleman with graying hair at the temples. The man came up to him, extending a hand for Sebastian to shake.
Sebastian really didn't want to shake this man's hand.
"I'm sorry," he said, thinking quickly and shoving his hands in his pockets, "I'm just getting over the flu."
Louis nodded, smiling appreciatively that the new guy was thoughtful enough not to get him sick.
Sebastian rolled his eyes at the idiocy.
Of course, Louis didn't know exactly how much of a practiced asshole Sebastian Smythe actually was.
The silence in the room lingered, much like Debbie's eyes on Sebastian's body. Now he was convinced that she had ordered him the wrong size on purpose.
"Let's get a move on," Louis said, grabbing his digital delivery pad and stylus. Sebastian followed the man out to the garage, greatful to be heading anywhere else, feeling Debbie's eyes on his ass the entire way.
The sun hadn't even touched the sky when the two men entered the loaded truck and made their way out of the Fed-Ex lot.
Sebastian only partially listened to all of Louis's instructions. All he really wanted was to put his head down and sleep. At Harvard, his first class didn't even start till eight. He could get away with not showing up most days and just picking up the notes later since he was blowing the T. A. on a pretty regular basis.
Sebastian wondered for a moment what...or who...Jeremiah might be doing right now.
Five o'clock in the morning just did not do it for him. He wished he could find something different...anything different...but this was actually the 80th job he had applied for. He only got it because the guy who had the route before him had gone nuts and walked out one day...right into oncoming traffic.
He lived, but there was pretty much no chance of him returning to work.
Louis did the first handful of deliveries alone, talking Sebastian through the procedure of scanning the packages and checking the labels against the master list. Sebastian accompanied him on the next batch, paying attention to how Louis addressed the customers. After lunch, Sebastian was running packages to the doors by himself.
Around two in the afternoon, they pulled up to the last house on the route - a cozy looking, out of the way townhouse, surrounded by a tall, black, wrought iron fence.
"Well, here it is," Louis said, a slight flourish in his voice. Sebastian looked at the older man, bemused.
"Um, am I supposed to know what that means?" Sebastian asked.
"He's the reason you have this route now." Louis looked almost incredulous.
Sebastian made a ridiculous face as he shrugged his shoulders.
"You mean, you haven't heard of this guy?" Louis shifted his eyes left and right, as if someone might be listening to their very important, secret conversation.
"No," he said, wishing that Louis would just get on with his dramatic story so that he could get back to the shop, take the bus home, and wash the stench of minimum wage off his skin.
"Well," Louis began, "this guy is awful. He's the reason why no one keeps this route very long. He pretty much drives every one he talks to bonkers."
Sebastian rolled his eyes for the hundredth time today. One more time and he might actually sprain something, he thought bitterly.
"Why?" Sebastian asked out of morbid curiosity, "What's his deal?"
"He's a shut in, or something. Works for a publishing company. Gets envelopes every day. I think they're all book manuscripts."
Sebastian shrugged again, failing to see the big deal.
"So, why is he so scary?"
"He finds fault in everything," Louis said exasperated, as if he had just said something really simple that Sebastian was just not getting. "He tears people down. Even if you don't say a word to him, he'll rip you apart for that, too. Debbie had this route a little while ago. He actually made her cry."
Sebastian laughed out loud.
"Sounds like a man after my own heart," Sebastian said. He looked over the soft yellow house with it's thick iron fence and sighed.
"Let's get this over with." Sebastian grabbed a handful of special express envelopes and leapt out of the truck to get to the house.
'Shut in,' Sebastian thought as he made his way up the walk. 'Must be some moldy old guy three years past death's door.' Sebastian laughed at his own joke.
Sebastian looked around at the garden that surrounded the walk. Beautiful dahlias grew almost four feet tall on both sides lining the concrete. Beyond rows of lilacs and marigolds grew vegetables of all kinds - beans, tomatoes, Indian corn. There were more types of plants and flowers than he could identify, all meticulously tended, not a weed to be seen, not a leaf withering, not a stem out of place.
A place for everything, and everything in its place.
It kind of reminded Sebastian of the garden his mom had planted when he was little.
He missed that garden every day.
Sebastian raised his hand to knock when he saw a sign, printed in the most elegant handwriting he'd ever scene. It read, "This door is made of ancient Victorian-era reclaimed wood and is worth more than you are. Use the door bell."
Sebastian shook his head.
His hands itched to knock on that door. He wanted to do it so badly that he actually made a fist and moved it within an inch of the wood. He turned around when he heard the shocks of the Fed-Ex van squeak loudly. He saw Louis, waving his hands wildly, mouthing the word 'No!' over and over again.
'This old fart has these guys scared to death.' Sebastian wanted to laugh. He turned, resolved more than ever to knock on the door, but it was already open.
Sebastian expected to see a gnarled, hunched over, old man, maybe with one crazy eye and a shock of white hair.
Standing in front of him was clearly not a crumpled old man, but the most incredible, ethereal creature Sebastian had ever seen. The man stood a little shorter than Sebastian, but not by much. His body was lithe and trim, wrapped in a luxurious blue satin dressing robe. He could only be a few years younger than Sebastian, if not the same age. He had the most pale and perfect skin Sebastian had ever seen. It looked so smooth and soft that Sebastian's first instinct was to reach out and touch it, to run a finger down his cheek. Sebastian imagined that if he did, he would hear him sigh, watch his eyelids flutter closed.
The man's eyes had Sebastian hypnotized, struck still by their depth of color. Prismatic irises, almost faceted like a diamond, they shifted between blue and grey, never quite deciding where their loyalties lay.
Sebastian's mouth dropped slightly, unaware that he was staring.
The man smiled, perfect pink lips curling up at the edges in a slightly lopsided grin.
Then, after the pregnant pause between them had run its course, he spoke.
"You're new," he scoffed, his voice deceptively light and airy. The comment sounded more like an insult than an observation.
"Uh, what?" Sebastian asked, confused by the man's tone.
The man rolled his eyes.
"You..." The man spoke slowly, condescention thick in his tone. "Are...new..."
Sebastian clamped his mouth shut, searching to find words...any words.
The only ones that leapt to mind were wholely inappropriate.
He might get slapped.
He'd definitely get fired.
"Uh, I was about to ring the bell," Sebastian said, stuttering a bit. He hated the way his voice sounded. Who am I right now? Sebastian thought.
"Ah," the man said, clapping his hands in front of him loudly with an insincere grin spreading across his face. "The dolt speaks."
That word hit home.
He'd heard his father say it many times.
"I am not a dolt," Sebastian said sternly, feeling himself come back to his own.
"No," the man said defiantly, "you're an ignoramus. You were going to knock, you heathen. Didn't you read the sign? Can you even read?"
Sebastian was stunned. He didn't know how to respond. He didn't want to lose this job. It was painfully obvious that another one wasn't sitting anywhere around the corner. But something else was going on, going wrong. Something bigger than losing this job.
It struck Sebastian immediately how weak this man seemed to make him feel.
Sebastian didn't believe in love at first sight. It was a ridiculous notion. He knew for a fact that this wasn't it.
Still, strangely enough, part of Sebastian wanted to bend to the whim of this beautiful man - whatever that might mean. Another part wanted to kiss him, if for no other reason than to shut his snarky mouth.
Or occupy it in some other way; that was always an option.
Undecided right now, he settled for not looking like a lap dog.
"Excuse me, princess," Sebastian said, raising an eyebrow and thrusting the delivery pad at the man, "I was a little lost in thought."
The man took the device, signing for his packages.
"And what thought might that possibly be? Which of the Power Rangers becomes the gold one, or something a little less complicated like does the little train make it up the hill? Spoiler alert, he does."
Sebastian had the machine thrust back in his hands. He looked down at the signature as the man tapped his foot, waiting impatiently. Sebastian squinted his eyes to make out the flowery handwriting.
"Kirk," Sebastian said finally.
The man huffed.
"It's KURT," he corrected. "Mr. Hummel to you. Now can I have my packages, please?"
Kurt bit his tongue. He said please! Why did he just say please? Kurt couldn't even remember the last time he had said please. If he was going to start saying please, why would he say it now to this brash, rude, boarish, lower-class oaf with the muscular legs, the emerald green eyes, and the obvious - OHMYGOD!
Sebastian gave the envelopes to Kurt. Kurt's eyes followed the movement of the delivery man's hands as he handed over the packages...and saw a rather impressive one of his own, straining against his incredibly tight and tiny shorts. Kurt immediately shifted his eyes skyward.
"Uh, you might need a new uniform," Kurt suggested, though he surrepticiously glanced to the framed mirror on his wall to get another peek.
Sebastian noticed the subtle dart of Kurt's eyes. He smirked, leaning against the door frame.
"See something you like, princess?"
It was too much fun flustering this uptight, stuck up man. Sebastian suddenly began thinking of all the ways he could go about loosening him up, kissing down the flawless skin of his neck, undoing the belt of his robe, running his tongue over the smooth skin underneath, running his fingertips down his back, stopping to palm over what must be a taut, shapely ass.
Sebastian heard a throat being cleared, and snapped back to the present, to the stormy, acerbic glare of the man, hugging his envelopes to his chest protectively.
"Could you please just go?" Kurt said, his voice trembling slightly.
"Nothing's keeping you from shutting the door, princess."
Sebastian couldn't help getting in one last dig.
Kurt smirked this time.
"Actually, you are, Neanderthal."
Sebastian looked around and noticed he was still leaning against the door jam. He took an exaggerated step backwards, bowing low, as he regarded the man one last time.
"Same time tomorrow?" he said with a low growl.
"God, I hope not."
Sebastian chuckled as the ancient wooden door shook in its frame.
"It's a date, then," Sebastian quipped, before turning on his heel and walking back towards the truck.
Sebastian's sarcastic, over confident smile slipped away as he relived the last twenty minutes, every sentence, every jab, every flash of those ice blue eyes, every time those perfect bow lips quivered ever so slightly. He plopped down into the seat beside Louis, completely confused. He had managed to get his quarry on the ropes in the end, just like Sebastian liked. But those first few moments, when he set eyes on that sculpted face and those eyes...those eyes that would haunt him every time he closed his own...he had felt something different. A strange, foreign life had flashed before his eyes. He actually could imagine making love to this man - not the same anonymous sex that Sebastian had always preferred, but cherishing Kurt with his mouth and waking up beside him in the morning.
The pale, gorgeous face with the exceptional body had a name.
Louis turned to Sebastian eagerly.
"So, how'd that...whoa, whoa, whoa!" Louis groaned, his eyes growing wide for a moment before he shut them tight and turned away. "Stow that thing away, sailor. You're going to put an eye out!"
Sebastian looked down at his pants. He had forgotten about his untimely hard-on pressing against the zipper of his too tight shorts.
'Fuck!' Sebastian thought, trying to pull down his shirt to cover the bulge that refused to go away. 'What would it be like to tap that?'
He grinned. Sebastian Smythe, jumping from silver spoon to silver lining without suffering whiplash.
Meanwhile, the man with the blue-grey eyes stood behind his closed door, back flush against the wood, his hand covering his chest over his racing heart.
"Oh, dear God," he whispered, eyelids fluttering closed, trying to shut out the light.
Once he did, Kurt could only see emerald green eyes.