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dayandnightwritings · 13 years ago

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Kurtbastian Week Part Deux, Day One: Kurtbastian + Meeting the Family (Next Door)

Title: Meeting the Family (Next Door)

Author: intergalacticafro

Pairing: N/A, eventual Kurtbastian

Rating: K

Word Count: 3925 HOLY HELL

Summary: Astrid Smythe has just moved to Lima with her husband and five-year-old son, problem child Sebastian.

Author’s Note: THIS GOT OUT OF HAND. Lucky Kurtbastian week got pushed back, so I'm on time, technically! Almost midnight, wooo!

Warning: fluff, snarky small boys, unbeta'd, as always

Astrid Smythe understood that a lot of things were out of her control. She understood that James's job at the firm was not ideal, and that it didn't pay as much as they needed it to. She understood his reasons for applying other places, and was even happy when he'd gotten a partnership with a different firm, one located in Ohio. She understood that the commute was far too long for someone who wanted to spend time with his family, and that a move was not only inevitable, but the best possible choice for them.

Astrid understood that the drive to Ohio was long, and that proper child care hadn't been set up for Sebastian yet, so she would have to stay home with him the first couple of months. She was even looking forward to it. Sebastian had been growing like a weed lately, and even though she picked him up from daycare, the notes pinned to his clothes when she picked him up every day had Astrid feeling a little like she was missing out on something important.

So she understood, all through the move, the ten hour ride from Cape May, New Jersey to Lima, Ohio, through the absolutely ridiculous amounts of packing and re-packing. She rubbed James's back when he complained from being hunched over the steering wheel, and rocked Sebastian when he fussed and couldn't sleep.

She'd even declined James's offer to take more than one day off to help her unpack. "You need to make a good first impression," she'd said, straightening his tie amidst the towers of boxes in the foyer. "They need to see that you're serious about this."

Astrid understood the importance of a good first impression, and that was why, after hustling James out of the front door with a kiss goodbye and a good luck swat to his bottom, she went in search of the box that held her baking pans. A new town meant new neighbors, and even though the custom was to wait to be welcomed, Astrid certainly wasn't that patient. A head start was key.

She finally found the box with all of her baking needs (in the bathroom of all places) and set to work making her favorite butterscotch brownies. In the living room, surrounded by plastic bins, Sebastian lay curled in the pallet of blankets she'd made up for him on the floor, after failing to get him to sleep anywhere else. From her spot at the kitchen counter, Astrid could see the wrinkle of his nose as he huffed in his sleep. One of the benefits of the new, open floor plan.

She tried to move quietly, to avoid waking him, but as she slid the pan of batter into the oven, the alluring smell of butterscotch eventually did it for her. Soon, her boy was yawning, blinking, nose questing for the source of the sweet odor.

"Morning, mon grand." Astrid could see he was still tired, and mildly confused at waking up somewhere strange. Seeing the start of a whining session in his confused green eyes, she dusted the cocoa powder from her hand and went to kneel beside him on the bare wood floor.

He immediately reached for her, pulling on the front of her apron to make her sit so he could crawl into her lap. He was only this sweet in the mornings, Astrid had learned. He was five, after all, at the age of independence. Getting snuggles from his maman was not high on the list of 'tough, big boy' things to do, and she reveled in these moments.

She held him until he began to squirm, hungry and demanding some of the brownies. They weren't done yet, but she did manage to get a bowl of cereal into him before he was off, slip-sliding down the hall in his socks, eager to explore his new domain.

While he thumped about upstairs, the oven dinged, and Astrid pulled the brownies from the rack, cooling them on the stove top while she searched for a platter to carry them on. Sebastian ran in and out occasionally, chattering about the things he'd discovered. In her distraction, Astrid gave vaguely positive noises in reply, though she did make him throw out the disgusting, chewed up dog toy he'd found in one of the closets ("No, you cannot keep it, it's not clean, we don't even HAVE a dog.") before sending him in search of the bags that contained their clean clothes.

It took her a half hour to realize that entrusting that task to a five year old was not the best idea.

Astrid went in search of him, only to find him wedged into a circle of boxes, roaring, with a toy lion in one hand, a GI Joe in the other, and missing his shirt.

She watched from the doorway as he bossed his toys around, turning them this way and that and smashing their hard plastic limbs into one another. The daycare in Jersey was fond of "making parents aware of the accomplishments and choices that their child was making." According to them, Sebastian was "strong in academics" and "had begun reading before the entire class".

They also said that he was "brash, loud, and confrontational" and "should seek professional help before his behavioral problems advanced any further," something Astrid chalked up to too many dinner discussions revolving around James's work, something he was almost fanatically passionate about.

Those "teachers" made her son seem like some sort of demon-child. He wasn't. Sebastian was high-spirited, competitive, and bright. He also liked to be in charge, and hadn't yet learned that people weren't like toys. It was a fact. And it alienated him from his peers. Those meek enough to be ordered about burst into tears when he was rough, and those bold enough to stand up to him ignored him, not interested in being pushed around.

She supposed, watching the dust swirl in the light from the still-curtainless windows, that they, as his parents should find it insufferable. But the reality was that she (and James, much as he liked to deny it) adored Sebastian. He was their son. And true, he was a bit of a handful when it came to dealing with other kids, but here at home he knew his boundaries. Her mother thought they were too soft on him.

Astrid knew that she should probably take this time alone with Sebastian, and address the behavior. Already she could see what it was doing to him, to be alone. Another mistake those 'teachers' had made was assuming that Sebastian didn't care what others thought of him. But Astrid had seen the look on his face, after yet another kid ran from him on the playground. Astrid wanted to scream after them, tell them to love her boy as much as she did, but she knew it was no use. Sebastian simply had no clue how to play nice with others.

From her spot at the doorway, she watched the waving of Sebastian's freckled hands and suddenly felt very tired. Hopefully this move would mean a new start for him. Ohio wasn't known for its acceptance of anything different, but she severely hoped that somewhere there was someone who could understand her boy.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Prying Sebastian out of his hiding place, bathing, and dressing him ate up the better part of an hour, so it was close to noon by the time the pair of them left the house.

Said house was situated on the corner of a cul-de-sac. Being just at the entrance meant that they only had one next-door-neighbor, and so Astrid set off across the lawn. It was damp with dew, even this late into the day, and the sky hinted at rain. Both Sebastian's shoes and her own were soaked by the time they made it to the porch of the small ranch-style next door.

She and Sebastian clomped up the steps, Sebastian trudging extra hard to make his sneakers light up. Quickly, Astrid hushed him, before giving them both an once-over. Sebastian had refused the sweater she'd proffered, and was wearing his favorite Transformers t-shirt, paired with the first pair of shorts she'd laid hands on. She herself was not much better. The humidity had caused her brown hair to frizz out of the bun she'd scooped it into, and somehow the neater of her wardrobe was nowhere to be found in the sheer volume of boxes, leaving her to old jeans and one of James's shirts, which she'd had to knot up because he was so tall.

So much for a good first impression.

But they were here, and it would be strange if she just left the food, so, after running one last hand through Sebastian's hair, Astrid reached out and rang the doorbell.

The door was thin enough that she could hear the bell reverberating through the house, and the answering clatter of feet hurrying to respond. The door was flung open, and Astrid was met with the sight of a petite, black-haired woman in sweats and a tee, balancing a curly-haired toddler on her hip.

They blinked at each other in confusion, before the other woman's face split into a grin, like she knew them already.

"Oh! Hi, and who might you be?" Her eyes were a ridiculously bright blue, and Astrid found herself stunned into silence. It was Sebastian who answered, tugging on her wrist and piping up.

"We live here now!"

That snapped Astrid out of her daze, and she was quick to clarify. "No, no, it's--we moved in next door, two days ago?"

Astrid didn't think it was possible, but the other woman's smile got wider.

"Ohhhhhh! That explains it. It's great to meet you, I'm Ellie, Elizabeth Hummel. Come on, come in, it looks like it's going to rain." Before Astrid could interject, introduce herself, the tiny woman had bustled both she and Sebastian through the door and into the small, well-lit foyer.

"Please, make yourselves at home. Are those for us?" Ellie had spotted the tray of brownies in the crook of Astrid's arm. Astrid nodded and held them out, blown over by the energy this woman was exuding.

"Oh, thank you! You shouldn't have, I kept telling Burt I was going to make my way over to greet you sometime this week, but I've just been so busy, forgive me." Accepting the tray, Ellie let the toddler she was holding slip to his feet. The child looked up at her, lower lip quivering, and she reached a free hand out, giving him a small push toward the back of the house. "Honey, go tell Kurt we have company."

That seemed to distract the boy from his impending tears and he nodded solemnly, trotting off on stocky legs and disappearing into what Astrid assumed was the kitchen.

Sebastian was already peering after him curiously, but subsided when Astrid glanced down at him from the corner of her eye. Ellie, now holding the tray with both hands, beckoned them forward with an elbow, inviting them deeper into the house, before disappearing into the same room that the toddler did.

Astrid only paused to toe off her shoes and help Sebastian out of his own before following. They emerged in a warm, yellow kitchen, the color made even warmer by the impending storm clouds that could be seen out the window.

Ellie was puttering about in front of the counter, unwrapping the brownies. Without being told, Sebastian stuck close to Astrid's leg, and even crawled into her lap when Ellie invited them to take a seat.

Ellie joined them at the three-legged table, with the platter of sweets and five small plates. She placed them at each spot at the table, before settling into a chair of her own

"I just realized, I didn't get your names."

Astrid started a bit. "Uh, oh, I'm Astrid Robins-Smythe, and this is Sebastian."

"Well it's a pleasure to meet you both. Thank you again for this, they look delicious. You don't have anywhere to be, do you? The boys should be down soon, would you like some tea?"

Astrid shook her head, before realizing that might be misconstrued. "No, no, we're free, but I would love some." As Ellie popped back up to put the kettle on, Astrid continued. "So how old are your sons?"

"Sons? Oh, no, that's just Blaine. He's clingy." At Astrid's obvious confusion, Ellie continued. "I watch Blaine while Anna, his mom, works. She lives down the block. My Kurt is upstairs."

As if on cue, a clatter on the steps was heard, and the toddler, Blaine, reemerged, climbing backwards down the steps. The boy following him used a more traditional method, and immediately Astrid could see the resemblance. This child had Ellie's translucent skin, her thin, petite frame, and, Astrid watched further, her remarkable eyes.

"Kurt, Blaine, this is Mrs. Smythe and Sebastian. Say hello."

"Hello." The boys chimed, Blaine just a bit behind Kurt.

"Hello boys. Say hi, Sebastian."

"'lo."

Astrid shook her head, as the boys clambered into seats at the table with them. Blaine had a harder time, clearly a year or two younger than Kurt, and needed a phonebook to sit on, something that seemed to embarrass him. Ellie slid a brownie onto each plate, and doled out glasses of milk to each of the boys. She handed Astrid her cup of tea.

Sebastian wouldn't move from her lap, but Astrid found herself not minding. Between bites of brownie, (which Ellie couldn't seem to get over, if her exultation of 'These are AMAZING, you simply must give me the recipe' was anything to go by) the two women fell into an easy conversation. Outside, the spatter of rain started up against the window, a comforting background track to their chatter.

Astrid found that Ellie was a stay at home mom, who ran a daycare out of her house. Her husband, Burt, had just recently become owner of a tire shop across town, which he planned to re-name 'Hummel Tires and Lube'. She also learned that today was actually a slow day. Aside from Blaine, most days she watched six other kids, and would be happy to take Sebastian on as well. In fact, she said, the boys could go upstairs and play now, if they wanted.

Blaine, who'd been watching the conversation with wide hazel eyes, his plate having been cleaned long before, was the first to catch on, and crawled down from his chair. Kurt was next, and Astrid, after a moment's hesitation, urged Sebastian, who seemed to have gotten over his sudden bout of shyness and was eager to go. Helping her son to scramble down and follow them up the stairs, Astrid reminded him with another glance to "behave."

The kids gone, Astrid tried to turn back to the conversation, but her attention was now diverted. One ear was on what Ellie was saying, but the other was cocked towards the ceiling, listening for the telltale disturbance. She'd told Sebastian to behave, but then again, she told him that every day when he left for daycare. It would be a horrible first impression, if Sebastian managed to cause a fuss this early on. Astrid thought about the tiny, bushy haired Blaine, and the quiet, beautiful Kurt, and worried.

Ellie didn’t seem to notice her distraction, and soon she’d managed to draw Astrid back into their talk. It was uncanny how comfortable Astrid felt around the woman. She was very personable, but with a surprisingly dry sense of humor that caught Astrid off guard more than once, sending her laughter ringing around the kitchen.

With the children gone, they were free to talk about other topics. Ellie confessed that she’d only just now started working again; she’d been ill on and off since Kurt was born five years ago, and had to quit her job when Kurt was two, to go on bed rest. She was, she said, only now regaining her strength. Astrid marveled at the way she’d hefted Blaine earlier and commented on how she would have never noticed.

In return, Astrid told her about the move, and the reasoning behind it. She also mentioned, haltingly, some of the issues Sebastian had been having. Expecting Ellie to instantly refuse to watch Sebastian after hearing some of the things previous teachers had said, she was surprised when the other woman laughed, throwing her head back and exposing clean white teeth.

“Oh, oh, I’m sorry.” Ellie wiped tears from her eyes, as Astrid looked on in confusion. “Oh, you must think I’m horrible, I’m so sorry, it’s just—“

A thump from above interrupted her, followed by a shouted “NO!” and Astrid’s head jerked up. She half-stood, jostling the table and sliding her cup precariously close to the edge. Catching it, she fumbled it back to the middle of the table, eyes never leaving the ceiling.

“Oh, I am so sorry, I just, I should check on Sebastian, do you mind if I—“ She could barely get the words out, and at the slightest nod from Ellie she was off, hurrying quickly to the stairs and taking them two at a time.

They deposited her on a landing that led to a hallway. Two of the four doors were closed, and a third opened clearly to a bathroom, leaving her one option. She hurried to it, debating whether to charge through and risk startling them, or to peer around the jamb and assess the situation. Sebastian probably deserved to be startled, if he had started this, but Astrid chose the second option, pushing the door slowly and sticking her face in the opening.

Clearly this was Kurt’s room. It was all bright blues and greens, the only exception being a small pink vanity in the corner. Blaine was huddled near it, a Raggedy Ann doll in his hands, trying very hard to ignore Kurt and Sebastian, who were standing in the center of the room.

The two boys faced off like cowboys at high noon. Sebastian’s hair was mussed. As Astrid watched, Sebastian ran a hand through it, drawing himself to his full, five year old height. He was barely taller than Kurt, but it seemed to count, to him.

“I should be the king!”

“No! It’s my house, I get to be king!” Kurt’s voice was like a lark, even laden with anger as it was. There were two, high spots of color on his cheeks, and the neat part of his hair had come undone, flopping in his face. In his hands he clutched a crown, which they’d clearly been fighting over.

Sebastian scoffed, and Astrid was reminded violently of the time she’d visited James at work. She’d searched him out in the throng of people leaving court, and at first she almost didn’t recognize him. He’d worn an unfamiliar smirk, one brimming with confidence and false bravado, one that only dropped when he’d seen her. It was the same look on Sebastian’s face.

“No, I should. Kings are boys, they fight and stuff. You’re too pretty to be king. You can be…” And here Sebastian’s smirk widened. “You can be princess.”

Astrid barley stifled her gasp, clapping her hands over her mouth. Over in the corner, Blaine frowned.

“No, Blaine is princess, and I’m king. You’re messing it up!” Blaine nodded in agreement, before catching himself and turning his attention back to the doll. Sebastian huffed a laugh, running another hand through his hair.

“Nope. I’m biggest, and oldest, and I’ma be king. You’ll be princess, and Blaine will be the court jester.” Sebastian smiled again, seemingly content with his logic, before adding, “It’s only fair, after all, you wanted to play tea party anyway.”

Astrid had heard enough. Her son was too far out of hand. Pushing the door open another few feet, she leaned in to sharply call Sebastian’s name, when she caught sight of the look on Kurt’s face.

He was smiling.

Sebastian didn’t seem to know what to do either. His cocky pose tensed up, and he folded his arms in front of his chest. “What are you smiling for?”

“Nothing.” Kurt’s sneer widened. “Only, you said kings know how to fight. Well I can fight.” At Sebastian’s scoff, Kurt dropped the crown, turned and strode over to his closet. Rummaging in it for a minute, he pulled out a long strip of fabric. On further inspection, Astrid could see that it was a yellow karate belt.

Sebastian had watched enough T.V to know what it was, especially when Kurt tied it around his waist, wrinkling his outfit. It was almost comical, the fear that spread across Sebastian’s face; he took a marked step back.

“Wait wait, you do karate?”

“Yup. Daddy takes me every Saturday. I’m the best in my class.” At the appearance of the belt, Blaine had abandoned all pretenses and crawled under the vanity. He watched, thumb in his mouth, as Kurt stepped towards Sebastian, who backed up again. The fear in his eyes had abated slightly, as the cool factor of Kurt doing actual karate overwhelmed it.

Kurt, sensing a victory, crouched slightly, bringing one palm forward. “So, I can be king. Because I can fight.” He beckoned slightly. “Want me to fight you? Maybe hitting you will make your face less mousy.”

Sebastian’s jaw dropped. “Hey! And no! That’s not fair, I don’t take karate! Though…that is really cool…”

Kurt relaxed; actual grin lighting up his features and crinkling his upturned nose. “If you let me be king, I’ll teach you some of my moves. Only you have to promise to use them for good, like Spiderman. I taught Santana, and now she just goes around pushing people around.”

Astrid could see Sebastian weighing the options, before finally nodding. “Okay. But I still want to be king too.”

Kurt’s smile vanished. “No, I’m king.”

“Why can’t you both?”

The small voice was Blaine, who, sensing the danger was over, had reemerged from underneath the vanity. Both five year olds blinked at the smaller boy, before looking at each other.

“Why can’t we?”

“Okay. I don’t have an extra crown though.”

A tap on Astrid’s shoulder startled her. She whirled to find Ellie behind her, holding a finger to her lips. As a fresh argument over who got to wear the crown broke out, Astrid followed Ellie back downstairs to the kitchen. Their tea was cold by then, and Ellie, smiling softly, popped both mugs in the micro, as Astrid nibbled on the edge of a brownie, head reeling with what she’d just seen.

“Kurt is very...strong-willed. He likes to get his own way.” Ellie spoke conspiratorially, resettling the mugs on the table.

“I see.”

“It seems he and Sebastian have a lot in common.”

Astrid shook her head in disbelief. “That’s the first time anyone his age has argued him down…”

Ellie laughed. “The threat of getting karate’d helped, didn’t it? Same for Kurt, Blaine just does what he wants, follows him around like a puppy.”

Despite herself, Astrid found herself laughing as well. “Sebastian’s gonna want lessons as well. His father will be so pleased.”

The two women headed into the living room, to sip at their cups of tea and chat while the rain poured on. Above their heads, more thumps were heard, but when Ellie went to check, it was only Kurt, teaching Sebastian the proper technique of a karate chop, wearing a makeshift paper crown that matched Sebastian’s.

#kurtbastian #kurtbastian week #Kurtbastian Week 2012 #day one: neet the family #drabble: 3000+ words #fluff #mild humor #kurtbastian as kids #mild mention of blainers

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dayandnightwritings · 13 years ago

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Crap.

Apparently something's gone wrong, and the wifi in the dorm has been shut off. :/

Unfortunately, this means the update I just spent 4+ hours on will not be up until it's back on.

I suppose I could look on the bright side and say that this gives me time to read through it for errors, but I'm just gonna rage-quit and go to bed.

hopefully it will be fixed by the morning.

Sorry you guys~D:

#day writes things #or tries to #goddamn wifi #and i hate typing on my phone

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dayandnightwritings · 13 years ago

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UPDATES! Finally, right?

Sorry I've been AWOL lately guys, I'm currently away on a writing seminar. :D

The atmosphere here has been really inspiring, plus, I have a bunch of free time, so updates are forthcoming!

I should have another chapter of "Tights Are A Necessary Part of Saving the World" aka my Zelda AU up tonight.

College!Kurtbastian should also be up tonight, and will be getting a title of its own, as well reorganized and linked together.

I also have a small preview of the multi-chapter fic I'm working on, which I'd really like feedback on, if possible.

On top of all that, I'll also be doing organization here, tagging all of the fics and adding links, as well as the summaries that I had previously only posted on my other, personal blog. I'll also be going back through the fics I posted and looking for typos. If you see any, please don't hesitate to let me knoww~

I might also look into submitting my stuff to Kurtbastianfics, for easier tracking, but I'm not yet sure. It's a little nerve-wracking kjdsllsakdvhqlk.

So thanks for the patience, guys! I love you alllll, ablublublu.

Until tonight~

#kurtbastian #kurtbastianfics #updates #day writes things #or tries to

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dayandnightwritings · 13 years ago

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AW YISSS.

Kurtbastian Week 2012

WEEK TWO!

August 5th-11th

#kurtbastian week 2012 #kurtbastianweek #kurtbastian week #kurtbastian

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dayandnightwritings · 13 years ago

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Hello~!

A greeting, and fic information under the cut~

Hi you guys! I don't think I properly introduced myself, I'm Day. :D

I really just wanted to thank you all for being so kind as to like and reblog the fics I've been writing for Kurtbastian Week. Every notification I have recieved has been enough to make me asdfghjklodfjgdao and touch the screen reverently, so thank you so so much~

I'd also love to thank the mods over at KurtbastianWeek2012, who went to all the trouble of organizing this and prompting and gathering all of the fics. They really worked hard and without them I wouldn't have written jack shit, so thank you thank you~:D

Lastly, and not leastly, I can't forget to thank the people who have chosen to follow me, new and old, you guys rock. You've really made me feel welcome in this corner of fandom~!

Anyway, to the more serious purpose of the post. This is just a heads-up that I am planning on continuing a majority of the fics I started this week in one form or another, as well as filling the prompts that I missed. I'll also be going through and editing any mistakes I've made, as well as doing some general cleaning and eventually a masterpost. The info on what will be written for what will be at the end of this post.

I also take prompts, so if there's anything you ever want to see, drop me a line and I'll see what I can cook up! :D

I'm currently working on a large multi-chaptered fic, which I am hoping to have completed by next month, so I can begin releasing chapters. Spoil, I shall not, but it is Kurtbastian, so keep an eye out if that's your thing. :3

Kurtbastian Week has really helped me to be more organized about my writing, to expect to see a lot of me around from now on~

Aside from all that, thanks again, I cannot express my love without bringing out the cosby.gif again, so thank you thank you thank youuuuuuuuu~

Kurtbastian Week Continuation Plans (Now with added links!)

Day One (Babies): I'm planning on doing two more one shots for this, one set before the events in the one I wrote, one set after. Title pending.

Day Two (First Times): I have a whole verse planned out for this one, so expect to see lots of our college boys~Title also pending.

Day Three (Au!Bioshock): This one I will not be continuing. I cried writing the first one, so yeah no, let's not go there again, plus it's complete anyway~

Day Three: (Au!Legend of Zelda): The idea of Kurt going on a Zelda based adventure is too awesome to not continue, so expect to see more of that as well.

Day Four (Proposal): I am not a big fan of this prompt, but I do have a snippet of a one-shot already started on it. Feel free to suggest things you'd like to see in it.

Day Five (Bedtime Stories): This one is set before Day Two in that verse, and as such will be continued.

Day Six and Seven (Texting And Scandals): This one actually blew up on me, and while it is not the largest WIP I'm working on, its definitely up there in terms of planning and research. I'm hoping it comes out really well. :D

Thanks again!

#day writes things #hello!#schmoop #Kurtbastian Week 2012 #thank you so much!#fic linkage #followers #i think i successfully muffled my creepy in this post #mentioning how i hug my laptop every time i saw a notification is not a good way to get people to stick around #but i can't help it I LOVE YOU GUYS *heavy breathing*

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dayandnightwritings · 13 years ago

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Kurtbastian Week, Day Five: Kurtbastian + Bedtime Stories

Title: None

Author: intergalacticafro

Pairing: Kurt/Sebastian, still platonic. I suck, I know.

Rating: K+, swearing

Word Count: ~2,400 words

Summary: Could be considered a companion to the piece from Day 2. Kurt and Sebastian are college roommates.

Author’s Note: My (late) contribution for day five of Kurtbastian Week! If you're not looking too closely, this could be set in the same verse as my contribution for day two, though it can certainly be read on its own. This particular one gave me a bit of trouble, the boys were just not cooperating with me. D: I hope you enjoy!

Also, fun fact. My freshman year I got placed with a roommate who came home high most nights and asked me to read her bedtime stories. So that's where the inspiration for this fic comes from lol.

Warnings: Schmoop, fluff, same old same old. Mention of alcohol consumption, mild somnophila if you squint, turn your head sideways and look at it from an angle. Unbeta'd, as always.

“Tell me a story.”

Kurt rolled his eyes without looking up from the textbook he was poring over. How Sebastian managed to sound completely coherent when Kurt knew he was sloshed was a constant point of bafflement. Sebastian was one of the most articulate drunks he’d ever had the misfortune to encounter. A glance across the room revealed Sebastian leaning haphazardly over the lip of his bed, eyes squinted in an effort to better see him. Kurt wondered if Sebastian actually expected him to be pulling a picture book from his desk or something. Rachel often referred to said desk as “Kurt’s version of a Mary Poppins bag” so the idea was not without merit.

He took in the bloodshot eagerness of Sebastian’s gaze and sighed, responding in a monotone.

“Once upon a time there was a meerkat. It died. The end.”

“That’s not a real story. Tell me a real one.”

Honestly, sometimes Kurt didn’t know why he put up with him. A loud thump overhead had him grimacing at the ceiling and wondering why he put up with dorming either.

It was not an uncommon opinion among BSU students, actually, with most choosing off-campus housing when given the option. Kurt would have happily done the same, had his money situation not impeded him. Turns out getting a full ride came with stipulations, one of which was the requirement to live on-campus for four years. Kurt bitterly figured it was to make sure that none of the scholarship money ever so much as touched his hands, but what kind of complaining could he really do? It was a full ride, after all.

It wasn’t even that the dorms themselves were that bad. Freshman year had been hell, with communal hallway bathrooms and a ramshackle, sad excuse for a building but the upperclassmen dorms were newer, cleaner, and set up in an apartment-style. Kurt now shared two bathrooms, a powder room, a kitchen, and a living area with three other people, which wasn’t so horrible. The two in the other bedroom were very polite. Both boys were very video-game oriented, and always made sure to clean up their messes after all-night marathons of Super Smash Bros and Soul Caliber.

It was the assholes living in the adjoining apartments that were a problem. Those who lived on campus mainly did it for the partying opportunities; a near-constant state of drunkenness was therefore, the norm. Freshman year had seen Kurt putting up with loud thumps, bangs, and even someone trying to climb in through his window one night. The dorm he was in now was better policed, but after eleven you could get away with pretty much anything.

Kurt was firmly of the belief that having a pleasant roommate could make even this seem bearable. He’d been fortunate freshman year and got placed in a single, which was affordable seeing as the freshman dorm was the cheapest to live in. Towards the end of the year, one of the girls he’d sat next to in Psych tipped him off to the option of genderblind roommates when he’d decided to upgrade to the more expensive building, and so sophomore year he spent a happy nine months cuddled up in a shared room with Mercedes, who he’d met and bonded with at orientation.

This year, however, that convenient trickle of luck had run dry; Mercedes had been discovered at one of their local karaoke hangouts, and signed for a record deal on the spot, with plans to fly out to LA as soon as she was able. Kurt couldn’t blame his girl, though, she’d made it big and he wished her nothing but luck. Then again, with her talent, she wouldn’t need it.

Strapped for time and with minimal options, (the girl he’d struck up a tentative friendship with in Culinary 105, Rachel, offered him a place to stay, but Kurt had taken one look at her dorm room and hurriedly refused. He could not tolerate that much pink and lace, gay as he was) Kurt had signed himself into the “random roommate” finder set up for sad sacks with no friends like himself.

He’d glossed over some of the more simple questions and gaped at others; were there really people who described their cleaning habits as “once in a blue moon?” Granted, Kurt had lived with Finn so he knew said people existed, but to actually describe yourself that way? It implied a lack of caring, and had Kurt instantly zipping for the “cleans every day” bubble. He didn’t, being generally neat enough to not need to, but picking the option would hopefully guard him from getting paired with a “blue moon” person.

The results were thankfully, quick, and a week saw Kurt adding one “Sebastian Smythe” on Facebook.

Who happened to be the most annoyingly frustrating person he’d ever met.

“C’monnnnnnnnn. You tell Audrey stories, tell me one.”

Kurt whipped his head around at that, eyes wide.

“Stop listening to my skype calls!” He shot back, voice going slightly shrill with embarrassment. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to eavesdrop?” But then again, Kurt could only really blame himself for talking where Sebastian could hear. Well, himself and Audrey. But really, what is he supposed to do when his dad calls him, chuckling as he clicks him over to speakerphone and states “Audrey wants her story.”?

Audrey Lynn Hudson-Hummel was Carole and Burt’s baby, and although no one considered her an accident, it was pretty much the best way to describe her sudden appearance in their lives. Kurt didn’t like to think too much about how Audrey had come to be, because considering that would mean acknowledging that his dad had sex, and ew, no, okay no.

She’d been born while Kurt was away freshman year, which made her almost three now, and twice as demanding as he’d been as a child. One of the things she demanded most was “Kur’ stories,” and she could be very…disagreeable if she didn’t get her way. This could be difficult with Kurt gone for the majority of the year, and eventually they’d settled with Skyping. Most of the time Kurt took the call out into the hallway and sat on the cold, linoleum floor, with the laptop in the vee of his legs and his hands free to gesture. But recently, Burt had called later than ever, saying Audrey was up with a fever and Kurt couldn’t bother to pull himself from the warmth of his bed. He’d thought Sebastian was passed out, but apparently he’d been wrong.

“Kurt. Kurt. Kurt. Kurt. Please.”

Sebastian had shifted even further in his whining, and as Kurt watched, his arms gave out. Kurt jolted forward, but luckily he hadn’t leaned all of the way out into space. The boy sat back, silently judging as his roommate just hung there, probably getting a very good view of the boxes stacked underneath his bed.

Being paired with Sebastian hadn’t been the worst thing to happen to him by far. He’d found out within the first month or so that the other boy had been very truthful on his own questionnaire. He was neat, understood when quiet was necessary, and didn’t eat Kurt’s food.

Unfortunately, he also was abrasive, snarky, and unabashedly conceited, as well as a raging partier, all qualities that rubbed Kurt the wrong way. Countless nights Kurt had come back from studying late in the library to find Sebastian laid out, sleeping off his most recent bar crawl. It made Kurt want to puke, and he made sure that Sebastian knew it, berating him at any opportunity for his general behavior. Sebastian countered back with comments about “chintzy curtains that should be used for toilet paper” and “a gay face that probably makes babies cry.”

It probably would have escalated into something bigger, had two things not factored in; first being that Sebastian was barely in the room, (and rarely conscious when he was) so the snark fests didn’t happen often enough for either of them to consider changing rooms.

Second being, that Sebastian was a completely different person when he was drunk. In fact, Kurt could almost say that alcohol improved Sebastian, rather than the other way around. A drunken Sebastian was less asshole and more manchild, and while Kurt made it a point never to frequent parties Sebastian was attending, stories of his antics had spread all over campus. Apparently Sebastian plus tequila equaled games of “Chubby Bunny” and “Duck Duck Goose” rather than fucking in back corners and fits of rage. Kurt himself had added “chatters like a two year old” and “demands attention” to that list after making the mistake of being awake when Sebastian came giggling back from one of his escapades.

And now, they had to add “wants to be read stories” to the list as well.

Sighing, Kurt pushed himself out of his desk chair, resigning himself to not getting any work done tonight. Dragging said desk chair over until he was within reasonable distance of Sebastian’s bed, Kurt sat back down and waited for Sebastian to notice he’d moved. It took a while, but finally his roommate pulled himself up from where he had been humming the Batman theme and grinned hopefully at Kurt, face flushed from all of the blood having run to his head.

“Story?”

“Yes, you idiot.”

Sebastian…there was no better word for it, beamed and sat back against his pillows, staring at Kurt with an eagerness that brought a flush to Kurt’s face. When he was like this, it was easy to notice the way some of his freckles formed constellations across his face, and how his bed-rumpled hair made him look charming instead of sloppy.

It was also easy to notice a lot of other things, especially considering that Sebastian slept shirtless, but Kurt was not going there right now.

“Once upon a time, when the world was young and dragons made claim to the Earth…”

Kurt would never admit it to anyone who wasn’t family, but he loved telling stories. Growing up, he’d told them to his stuffed animals, and to his mother, who would gasp and cheer at all the right parts. He loved reading aloud in class, showing off and doing all of the voices. When she’d died, and the bullying had become worse, he stopped, but still kept up a notebook full of some of the old ones his mother had written down for him in her flowing cursive. It was from there that he pulled this story, which was one of Audrey’s favorites. She liked it so much that he’d memorized it, and always made sure to slip in little changes every time he told it so she’d catch him out.

He told the standard version to Sebastian now, loosing himself in the familiarity of the action and eventually slipping into the voices and hand motions unconsciously. This story was about ten minutes long, the perfect length for lulling a small child to sleep, and it seemed to have the same effect on a drunk Sebastian.

Kurt watched his roommate snore peacefully with a shake of his head, before standing back up to move his chair. From this angle, he could clearly see that the constellations of freckles were not exclusive to his roommates face. They extended down his neck and scattered across his chest in light brown spots If he squinted, Kurt could even make out a cluster that he could have swore looked like the Big Dipper.

Before he’d noticed, he’d leant in for a closer look. It was the Big Dipper, spread broad across his stomach, and Kurt imagined thick, Sharpie lines connecting each dot. He imagined dragging the marker across his skin, watching the felt tip catch in the crease of Sebastian’s abs, hearing the others breath hitch as he ran his finger across after, smudging the ink before dragging those fingers lower, imagined the way those green eyes would darken…

A loud BANG, followed by a “WOO!” shocked Kurt out of his reverie, and he jumped back, nearly stumbling over his chair in his haste to put space between himself and sleeping Sebastian. The yelling continued on, masking the drag of the wooden chair as Kurt flung it back under his desk in frustration. Sebastian, a heavy sleeper even without the help of alcohol, snored on, oblivious to his roommate’s sudden fit of embarrassment, and therefore missed the absolutely mortified look that twisted Kurt’s face up into a scrunchy pink mess.

I was…and he...what the hell was I doing?!

The question was very rhetorical. Kurt knew exactly what he was doing, the real question was why. There was no way he could be attracted to Sebastian, asshole that he was. Kurt liked nice boys, boys who didn’t insult his intelligence and talk shit about his design choices. Kurt liked boys like his ex, Blaine, whom he’d dated the entirety of freshman year before they’d broken up…

So why is he your ex then?

Kurt’s inner voice was being a real bitch today.

He chose to ignore it, kicking the chair one more time out of frustration, before gathering his shower caddy and stomping across the hall to the bathroom. One of the other roommates was in the living room with a controller in his hands and a headset tangled in his hair, and Kurt waved feebly before shutting himself in the bathroom and flicking on the light so he could stare in the mirror.

The redness of his face was finally starting to abate, though he was still a little pink around the ears. Kurt met his own eyes in the mirror and wanted to scream at the hesitancy he saw there. He needed to be firm. Resolute. He had to not look like he had just been lusting over his sleeping roommate. His sleeping, rude, asshole roommate. Kurt straightened up, gripping the edge of the sink in his effort to pull it together.

Finally, when his expression appeared suitably calm, he stripped out of his clothes and stepped in the shower. He washed himself in the cold spray with brutal efficiency, giving his hair the same treatment before hopping out again. The monotony of his twenty-minute moisturizing routine did more to calm Kurt than the shower did, and it was a new man who stepped out of the bathroom and headed back to his own room. A man who did not fantasize about licking his roommate’s admittedly adorable…anything.

Kurt could have jumped for joy when he re-entered the room to find Sebastian buried down under the covers, blessedly concealed from view. As it happened he gave quiet sigh of relief, before stowing his shower items and hitting the light, climbing into his own bed.

TBC. :D

#kurtbastian #Kurtbastian Week 2012 #kurtbastianweek2012 #day five: bedtime stories #drabble: 2400+ words #fluff #schmoop #college au #platonic kurtbatsian #again #oops

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dayandnightwritings · 13 years ago

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Kurtbastian Week, Day Three: Kurtbastian + Crossovers/AU

The backwoods of Ordona is not the best place to nurture a burgeoning sense of fashion.

Neither is his new outfit at the height of said fashion, if the look of the people wandering Hyrule Castle Town is anything to go by. Kurt tugs uncomfortably at the hem of his tunic, causing the pointed green hat to slip over his eyes yet again. He thinks the light spirit at the spring might have been being a sarcastic bitch when it said he was the ‘hero of the gods.’ Kurt doesn’t exactly feel heroic in this outfit. And fashion may have no gender, but he’s never been a fan of tights.

Still, he’s doing the hero thing, even if it means being stuck in tights, and the ‘hero thing’ has led him to Hyrule Castle Town, which is bustling with activity. Try as he might, Kurt is still a small town kid, and he knows he’s gaping unattractively, but he can’t help himself.

He’s never seen this many shops in his life.

Popping in and out of a couple of them reveal that they’re mostly geared towards adventuring supplies. Which are all well and good, but Kurt wants something more along the lines of apparel. He does manage to find one little shop near the edge of the town square that looks promising, but is turned away at the door by a snooty doorman who claims his shoes are filthy. Kurt looks down at his leather boots in dismay, finding nothing wrong with them.

It must be the tights.

Eventually Kurt gives up on getting any type of shopping done. Approaching a couple of the people in town yields the location of a bar, not too far from the south entrance, where he might find the help he was looking for.

He finds it off of the busy main road, sheltered in the shadow of two large buildings. Santana’s Bar, the sign reads, and Kurt pushes the door open slowly, adjusting the sword on his back with unconscious nerves. After some of the shit he’s seen, it’s really not a surprise.

The bar is dark, even in the middle of the day, and lit mainly from a glowing fire in the corner. It’s also practically empty, save for a huddled group of people whispering in a back alcove and the bartender half hunched over, rummaging beneath the bar. Figuring this is as good a place as any to start, Kurt approaches the counter and taps gently on the surface for attention.

The head that pokes itself over the lip definitely does not look like a “Santana” to him. A neat swoop of sandy hair is the first thing to appear, followed by narrowed green eyes and broad…exposedshoulderswhatthehell?

Kurt stumbles back, eyes wide, as the rest of the bartender emerges, all freckles and tanned skin. A quick glance downwards instantly clears up the preconception that he’s naked; a pair of shorts and a wrap hang low from his hips, secured with a rather flimsy looking belt. Kurt can feel his face reddening (how nice, a complimentary color to accent all the green) and drags his gaze upward guiltily.

His staring has not gone unnoticed; the barman is smirking now, putting down the glass and rag he was holding before lounging against the counter. His eyes too are wandering, taking in Kurt’s outfit with barely concealed derision, and Kurt suddenly feels like smacking the expression off of his face with the flat of his sword, as impolite as the action may be.

“Woooow…” The barkeep’s voice is low and melodic, and had it not been running with a nasty undercurrent of superiority, Kurt might have swooned. “We get a lot of characters around here, but I’ve never served an oversized grasshopper before.”

Kurt scowls, nose wrinkling with distaste as the man continues on. “You don’t look like the type to drink…If it’s Santana you’re looking for; she’s out for the day. Doubt she’d want much to do with a little, gay-faced thing like you though, you’re not really her type…”

Impolite or no impolite, Kurt really wants to change his decision about hitting him with the sword now. The barman sees the tensing in his shoulders and laughs, rolling his head back in a movement that causes the firelight to catch along the planes of his abs. “I really don’t see you doing much harm with that thing, lady. Though, I’m a gentleman, and I’d let you have the first strike, of course.”

Kurt wants to tell him off, wants to ask when the last he’d been in a volcano, when the last time he’d been battling hordes of monsters and rescuing kidnapped children was. He seethes visibly, flushed all the way to the tips of his pointed ears now, and the barkeep notices that too. He doesn’t have the courtesy to stop laughing though, even as he holds up two hands in a defensive, calming gesture.

“Alright, grasshopper, relax. If you really want San, come back around the same time tomorrow.” The barman’s already turning away, busying himself with whatever it is shirtless barmen do. Kurt berates him silently for his utter uselessness and turns to go. He’s not even sure if this Santana’s help is worth this kind of treatment. Surely there is somewhere else in this gods-awful shopping-less city that’s a little more welcoming.

He’s nearly out of the bar when the man calls out again, and despite himself, Kurt stops with a foot out the open door, noises and chatter from the street already filtering in.

“And if I were you, I’d invest in a new outfit. No one’s gonna take you seriously in that get-up. Although…” And the barman’s laughing again, green eyes bright with amusement Kurt can see despite the dim lighting.

“Those tights really make your legs look hot.”

Kurt freezes, feeling his face filling yet again, and slams the door behind him. It’s not enough to muffle the loud, belly-deep laughter that’s emitting from inside, and the sound only fades as Kurt stomps off, fuming, not at the laughter but more at the small part of himself that’s actually looking forward to having to visit tomorrow.

#humor #legend of zelda au #an apology for the horror i posted earlier lolol #kurtbastian #kurtbastian week 2012 #kurtbastianweek2012 #fluff #day writes things #day three: crossvers/au #kurt as link is oddly hot to me #mute kurt #drabble: 1000+ words

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dayandnightwritings · 13 years ago

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Kurtbastian Week, Day Three: Kurtbastian + Crossovers/AU

You think you had a name, once.

You also think the city must have been beautiful once. But it has fallen into disrepair, like sandcastles and Mr. Fontaine’s mind. And it is your job to clean it up, and protect the only things worth saving.

“This way, Mr. B!”

Your body is a machine, clanking and whirring, emitting bursts of steam as you trudge along in the footsteps of your little girl. Her sweet, upturned nose, even smudged with dirt, could remind you of someone. She giggles into your face as she draws blood from yet another broken body, drinking it down like it’s a balm.

The helmet restricts your view at times, but you still manage to keep her in sight. She’s got you by the hand now, skipping her bare feet through shattered glass and filthy puddles, coquetting and curtsying to her watery reflection in the tunnel wall.

If her nose could remind you of someone, you think the eyes might too, but you can’t tell. They glow with an ethereal yellow light, twin beacons in the china doll face.

You groan, voice heavy with metal and sadness.

“Keep up, Mr. Bubbles!”

Your job is to clean the city, and protect the children. If you were able, you might be distracted now. The place you’re in, the apartments look familiar.

It’s all of the rage in New York, ‘Bastian! I got a telegram from Rachel, I’ll be the talk of Rapture…they won’t be able to resist me at the lounge.

If you could, you’d remember the building newer, the halls cleaner, and the carpets not so full of rot. They make heavy squelching noises under your booted feet.

If you could, you’d remember hooking an arm around a slim waist, burying your face in the slender column of porcelain skin. You’d remember the pride on his face as you open the lobby doors with a grand, sweeping gesture, would remember the hurried kisses against the elevator walls.

If you could, you’d wonder why you can’t remember more.

I really wish you’d stop smuggling, we’re visible enough as it is.

Listen, sweetheart, your fancy clothes don’t pay for themselves. And unless you’re willing to show up at Andrew Ryan’s office all dressed in gift wrap…

The little girl is leading you into one of the apartments now, and you reach out and push the door out of her way. She skirts a patch of blood just over the threshold; lets go of your hand as she runs deeper into the unit.

“I smell the angel back here, Daddy!”

You follow, listening to the scrape of metal on metal as you move, and find your little one has clambered onto a sizeable bed in the back of the apartment. She’s hovering over the body lying there, and if you were able, you’d notice the gentle sweep of the corpse’s arms, the pretty way they curve out as if beckoning someone to bed. An audio diary lies in the crook of those arms, splashed with blood, and you heft yourself over to retrieve it.

Clumsy metal fingers brush over the play button and the crackly audio spills outward as you clip the device to your chest.

They took Sebastian away.

I told him, I told him to stop dealin’ with Fontaine, to stop the smuggling. But he wanted us to have the best, he wanted us to have it all. “That’s the Rapture dream, babe.” He said.

He wouldn’t listen, and they came and took him away today. Pulled him right out of our bed and no matter how much I screamed that he was a “good man, a good man,” Ryan’s goons wouldn’t listen. Said he was due for Persephone for what he done.

Your little one is slowly sheathing the needle in the body’s stomach, humming quietly to herself as the compartment fills with blood the same hue as the neon signs outside.

Now, who knows where he is? Dead, or worse, all spliced up like the bozos I see on the Atlantic Express. All for a coupla bibles and some chocolates. You happy, ‘Bastian? I hope you are.

The body has the same upturned nose as your little one. The eyes are a crystal blue, sightless and hazed over with ice, evidence of frost burn meandering across the could-be familiar nose, down the almost-recognizable neck. The needle is almost full, the tape almost empty, whirring louder as it reaches the last of its ribbon.

The neighbors say they’re coming for me next. On account of it was me spending most of the money. Ryan doesn’t like leeches, I suppose, even lounge-singing ones. But I spent the last of that money on something good, something useful. No more frivolous outfits and diamond cufflinks.

Your little girl giggles again as the needle reaches capacity. Yanking it free carefully, she gulps the contents down, slurping sloppily and getting streaks on her chin. Turning, she crawls to the edge of the bed and reaches out, and you lift her down, setting the tiny feet back on the rotting hardwood floor. Your heavy step kicks a discarded EVE hypo out of the way.

The pair of you leave the way you came, over soggy carpet and through splintered doorway, the pats of her feet echoing off of the thick glass walls. Somewhere, near where your heart used to be, the tape grates out its final words.

…’Bastian, you were wrong. Turns out this......is the Rapture dream.

#omg i'm so sorry #this is completely different than the ones from before #bioshock au #bioshock #horror #major character death #drabble: 900+ words #angst #no happy ending #kurtbastian #kurtbastian week 2012 #kurtbastianweek2012 #video game crossover

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dayandnightwritings · 13 years ago

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Kurtbastian Week, Day Two: Kurtbastian + firsts [American Foreign Policy]

Kurtbastian Week, Day Two: Kurtbastian + firsts

Title: American Foreign Policy (Or Why Sebastian Spent 20 hours in The Library Once)

Author: intergalacticafro

Pairing: Kurt/Sebastian, platonic at this point (le gasp, please don’t be afraid)

Rating: A solid K, all schmoop. Light cursing.

Word Count: ~1,300 words

Summary: Sebastian pulls his first all-nighter.

Author’s Note: Contribution for day two of Kurtbastian Week! This is actually part of a larger verse that I’ve had floating around in my head for awhile, in which Kurt and Sebastian and a number of the others attend the same university. Unfortunately, it ends a little abruptly, but I plan on writing more of it when this week is over. Hope you like! :D

Warning: More schmoop. Also, Kurt and Sebastian are only best friends in this one. But they’re working towards something more, they just didn’t manage to get there within this part. Stupid boys. >_<

College was not very conducive to relaxation, and Sebastian was discovering this the hard way.

But no, college had to go be an asshole, and team up with cold winter weather and fucking finals to wreck Sebastian’s life. He’d ask himself what he did to deserve this, but the list was far too long to narrow down. He’d never get any work done.

The only bright side seemed to be that it was wrecking everyone else’s lives as well. From the only well-lit spot in the library, (and ‘well-lit’ was extremely relative) Sebastian could see that the space was strewn with people like him, poor unfortunate souls bundled up in sweaters, hoodies, and sweats, hunched awkwardly over piles of books and last-minute final projects. He knew he looked no better, pea coat lumpy with the hoodie he’d layered underneath it, beanie still damp from the last vestiges of snow that had started dumping on campus early that morning. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and avoiding a failing grade in American Foreign Policy definitely qualified.

A scraping sound pulled his head from the elaborate folder fort he’d built (it was a good way to focus, okay?) and he watched as Kurt settled a bag on the floor next to his chair before sitting down across from him. Sebastian took in the red glow of his nose and smirked a little.

“What up, Rudolph.”

“Shut it, Timon.” Kurt yanked the beanie from his own head, sending clumps of snow flying. One of them landed on Sebastian’s upturned folders, and he shook it off instantly, not wanting it to melt and threaten the structural integrity of his fort. He ignored Kurt’s judging snort in favor of watching the way the light twinkled off of the snow that had melted in the front of Kurt’s hair. It was oddly hypnotizing, and probably very indicative of how tired he actually was.

“How long have you been here?”

Sebastian chanced a glance out the windows, grimacing at the still-thick snowfall highlighted by the streetlamps. “Hard to tell. I could have sworn it was daylight…”

“I thought you only had a paper to finish.”

“Well, it’s hard to do a paper when you haven’t attended the class in two months.” Playing catch-up was a bitch, but necessary when you had a tendency to procrastinate and/or skip your classes to go bar-crawling with your friends. Carefully disassembling his fort, Sebastian shifted his belongings until he could stretch out, extending his arms until he could nearly reach the fringe of the scarf Kurt was wearing. He batted a fingertip out and managed to brush the yarn before Kurt scooted back, leaning over to grab something from his bag.

“Sounds like someone’s regretting not listening to me.”

“Bleh bleh bleh bleh…” Sebastian mocked under his breath, bringing his hands back to cradle his head, tangling his fingers his hairline right above his temples. He could hear Kurt rustling, placing his own textbook and laptop on the table and sighed wearily. As interesting a distraction as Kurt was, he still had fifteen pages and a bibliography to write. Grumpily he reassembled his fort, and stuck his head back inside, forcing himself to concentrate.

They worked in silence for the better part of an hour, broken only by the soft whirr of Kurt’s slightly outdated laptop. Inside his fort, Sebastian highlighted entire passages and cross-referenced articles he could have sworn were written in Japanese. He heard Kurt get up and leave at one point, but a quick look outside of the folders revealed his laptop still there, meaning he’d be back.

He was wondering idly to himself how America had managed not to choke on its constant foot-in-mouth-ery when he heard the telltale footsteps that marked Kurt’s return. Peeking out of the fort, he was slapped in the face by the thick, rich smell of coffee; Kurt was carrying two cups and a paper bag with him and Sebastian felt like he could cry. Food and drink wasn’t allowed in the library, and Sebastian never appreciated anything more than Kurt’s ability to ignore stupid rules.

“I love you…” He moaned faintly, grabby-handsing at the cup, and missed the flush across Kurt’s nose that had nothing to do with the cold. Fort Smythe reduced to a trifle in the wake of coffeecoffeecoffee, Sebastian knocked over the folders to make room, curling himself over the cup as he breathed in the steam and tried not to sob like an infant. He could hear Kurt resettling across from him, and blindly groped out, too enamored with his cup to take his eyes off of it. He flailed his hand until Kurt got the point and grabbed it, lacing their fingers together.

“Thank you.” It was almost embarrassing how heartfelt the sentiment was, but Sebastian needed to make sure that Kurt knew how much he fucking appreciated him. Him and his coffee bringing skills and his amazing ass…

“You are so weird.” The flush on Kurt’s face was back, even as he rubbed a thumb across the knuckles of their adjoining hands. “Welcome, Bas.”

The caffeine to the system was just enough to jumpstart Sebastian’s productivity, and he worked steadily after. Still, the sky was glowing with warning pinks and golds before he finally closed his laptop and stretched, loud popping echoing around the room full of half-dead students. Oddly enough, the tired feeling that had swamped his bones hadn’t increased, but rather, dissipated, leaving him feeling floaty and content.

Kurt had long since succumbed to sleep, being more responsible and having finished his work hours ago. Sebastian watched with intense curiosity as his best friend’s head drooped, lolling in the crook of one elbow, eyes pinched shut against the soft light slowly filtering through the window.

It felt like moving through quicksand, but finally Sebastian mustered enough energy to prod Kurt gently (he hopes) in the shoulder. Kurt doesn't wake gracefully, and makes a number of snuffling noises that Sebastian will be sure to tease him about once he’s gotten the requisite twelve hours, but eventually he’s sitting up, watching Sebastian with hazy blue eyes.

“I’m done.” Sebastian’s voice is something resembling a croak, but it’s a proud croak. He turned the laptop screen so Kurt can see, and watched his best friend scan the double-spaced pages with minimal interest.

“Great. Can we leave now? I have class in 5 hours and I wanna get some real sleep.” Kurt has pulled his beanie back on his head, though his movements are just as slow as Sebastian’s. Sebastian himself is not much help either, because when Kurt stands to throw out the empty coffee cups and food wrappers he snakes an arm out and pulls Kurt across his lap, tightening his grip when the other makes a halfhearted attempt at escape.

“It’s still fucking snowing. They should close the damn university.”

“Which is why I want to go back to the apartment and sleep, because you know they won’t.”

Sebastian did, in fact, know, but a man could dream.

Hooking Kurt’s arm around the back of his neck, Sebastian buried his face in the itchy yarn of Kurt’s scarf and sighed heavily. “Thanks for staying with me. And bringing coffee. And being generally awesome.”

“Wow. You’re not even this rambling when you’re drunk.”

“You love it.”

“You wish.” But Kurt’s eyes are determinedly focused on the snow whipping past the windows, and a more awake Sebastian would have picked up on the softening of his tone, wouldn’t have missed the hand that reached up and slowly stroked through his hair. But he’s already drifting off, twenty straight hours of work catching up with him as he breathes the damp sandalwood-and-boy smell drifting from Kurt’s hoodie.

The last thing he thinks of are French beaches.

#fluff #day writes things #day two: firsts #platonic kurtbatsian #le gasp #kurtbastian week 2012 #kurtbastianweek2012 #kurtbastian #sebkurt #sekurt #edited: 9/17/2012

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dayandnightwritings · 13 years ago

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Kurtbastian Week, Day One: Kurtbastian + kids [Baby Blues]

Title: Baby Blues

Author: intergalacticafro

Pairing: Kurt/Sebastian

Rating: K+, mild mention of sex

Word Count: ~1,000 words

Summary: The baby is on its way, and Sebastian's not handling it too well. Future!Kurtbastian.

Author’s Note: I actually finished something! Forget the miracle of childbirth, this is a miracle in its own right lol. This is for the first day of Kurtbastian Week. I'm gonna try really hard to write something for every day. This is unbeta'd, and also the first thing I've completed in a really long time, so I really and truly hope you like it!

Warning: Schmoopy, fluff feels abound.

Sebastian was drinking.

This was nothing new, Kurt noted. What was new was that he was drinking where Liesl could see, and that was just not on.

The worst thing Kurt could do was draw attention to it, he knew. Liesl was as stubborn as both of her fathers and would catch hold of the subject and not let go for months. So instead he leveled glare after glare at his erstwhile husband (who was slumped over the kitchen table with a tumbler in his hand, and really could the man be any more dramatic) as he hustled a chittering four year-old out of the room, nodding and ‘mhming’ in all the right places as he cleaned her up and got her ready for bed.

Her excitement was justified. After all, it wasn't every day that you became a big sister.

Liesl’s bubbling wouldn’t cease, even through three stories and an improvised bedtime sock puppet show. So finally Kurt climbed into the small (sorry, sorry, big-girl) bed and allowed his daughter to nuzzle her way into his arms until her rumpled head was practically in his armpit, short strands prickling at the skin there. It was her favorite way to snuggle, and though Kurt found it weird, this was Sebastian’s daughter after all.

“Daddy, will Lucas be getting here soon?” The recurring question had been strewn through the earlier chatter, and Kurt looked down to meet solemn green-grey eyes and figured he had to give a proper answer this time.

“Soon, sweets. Auntie Tana called an hour ago and said he was almost here, remember?” (Santana hadn’t said anything of the sort, too busy screaming profanity in Spanish to do so, but the midwife had taken the phone and relayed the message clearly enough.)

“And I get to hold him first?” Liesl’s fixation on the promise he’d made was quite sweet, even as mildly possessive as it was. Kurt tucked that away for future consideration as he nodded his assent.

“Before anyone else.”

This seemed to be enough for his little girl, because within ten minutes she was asleep, warm breath dampening Kurt’s t-shirt. He extricated himself gingerly, not wishing to be drooled on, before heading back into the kitchen where Sebastian had yet to move from his slump.

Kurt honestly wanted to slap him on the back of his tousled head, but a glance revealed his husband’s face was oddly stoic where it pressed into the wood grain of the table. So instead, he settled in the chair across and trained his gaze on Sebastian.

They sat that way for awhile, Kurt staring at his husband, Sebastian at the far wall. Sebastian wouldn't talk until he felt like it, so Kurt busied himself by counting freckles. He'd managed to count twenty-three before his husband broke the silence.

“Did the nurse call again?” Sebastian’s voice sounded choked as he tried to force the worry out of it, and Kurt almost chuckled to himself.

“You know she didn’t, you would have heard the phone.”

Green eyes blinked, before Sebastian dragged his face up and met Kurt’s gaze.

“Do we know how much longer?”

“It shouldn't be that long, ‘Tana was at eight centimeters when we last heard.”

Sebastian sighed at that, running fingers through his already wrecked hair before lifting the glass to take another sip. Kurt’s hand was there before he could; catching his wrist and lowering the tumbler gently back to the table.

“You shouldn’t do that in front of Liesl, you know.” Kurt chided gently, slipping the glass from his hand and the bottle as well.

“Li isn’t here…” The whine was halfhearted at best.

It was almost humorous, the way Sebastian’s eyes followed the alcohol as Kurt toted it across the room and replaced it in the locked liquor cabinet. By the time Kurt had turned back around, though, he had resumed his slumping, face hidden under his arms with only a tuft of sandy hair showing.

Shaking his head in disbelief, this time Kurt pulled out the chair next to Seb’s. The drag of the chair on hardwood garnered no reaction, so it was very clear Kurt had to break out the big guns.

Scooting in close, he poked and prodded at Sebastian’s exposed sides until his arms loosened. It was something he'd been doing for years, and even now, Sebastian knew his cue. His arms loosened, and from there, it was no difficultly for Kurt to work his way under them and tuck himself into the space he'd created, giving a sigh of his own as Sebastian’s arms wound around him, gripping tightly.

“What if I fuck it up?” Sebastian’s voice was muffled where he’d buried his face in Kurt’s hair.

“We did fine with Liesl. We’re doing fine with Liesl.” Kurt resisted the urge to shake his head again, burying his smile in the crook of his husband's shoulder. Honestly, sometimes he wondered if it was really Santana who was the one who was pregnant, the way Sebastian's moods shifted.

“But I was drinking in front of her.” The guilt in his voice was evident, and Kurt felt a responding pang when he thought about his plan to chew Seb out for that.

“She didn’t notice, I made sure. Besides, she’s too excited about Lucas.” Kurt pulled his head back just enough so that he could press a kiss right behind Sebastian’s ear. “We’ll be fine.”

Kurt could tell he didn't believe, wouldn't believe until they were at the hospital, until Seb was holding baby Lucas for the first time. (After Liesl’s turn, of course.) Never mind that Liesl herself seemed to be turning out perfectly extraordinary, it would take seeing Lucas to put the thought of ‘ruining a child’ out of his head.

But Kurt knew his husband. He would put the baby in his arms, as he’d done with Liesl, and watch the worry melt off of Sebastian's face.

Sebastian would forget, then, lost in the tiny hands no bigger than a frog’s, in the soft pink skin and wispy hair. He’d done the same about Liesl, worked himself up into a frenzy of worry and self-consciousness (and who would have ever thought; Sebastian Smythe, self-conscious) and if they decided to have a third, he’d do the same about them. The worry was unnecessary, of course, for there was always enough love to go around, and Sebastian, who loved harder than most, had it in spades. He had more than proven himself a good father, as well, nothing like his own. But he would still worry. It was what he did.

And Kurt would do as he was doing now. He would comfort his husband with reassurances (soft words only, their normal snarking and playful banter put on hold for a day. This was, after all, a special occasion), lead him to bed and let the taller man curl around him, run soothing fingers through his hair and continue insisting that it would be fine. Because it would be. And because that was what Kurt did.

And later that night, at 3:15 AM, when they received the phone call they’d been waiting for, they would celebrate with whispered “I love you’s” and Sebastian’s smirk would return, if only for a little while, before being replaced with a worried frown, and Kurt would kiss it off his face, along with every one of the twenty-three freckles he’d counted, and they’d make love, quietly and happily, and fall back asleep tangled in each other’s limbs, because that was what they did.

#kurtbastian #day one: kids #day writes things #drabble: 1000+ words #sekurt #sebkurt #fluff #baby feels #the idea of santana in labor is oddly funn to me #edited: 7/18/2012

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