kurt hummel. fashion bitch, actor, wannabe contestant on top chef. before you ask, no, i'm not the kid from school of rock and no, i'm not the stripper from the adonis lounge. but yes, i will admit that those 2am paparazzi photos of me at taco bell are probably legitimate. current project: untitled noel coward biopic. The second I do, I know we're gonna be through. I'm not gonna teach him how to dance with you.
JANE: I didn't say you weren't. I just mean I was there when you had to pick up the pieces of yourself afterwards and I don't want to watch you go through that again.
JANE: If you were murdered I wouldn't be saying anything to you.
KURT: I don't know. If it goes wrong, I only have myself to blame. Nothing's even happening, anyway. But I can't pretend like I'm getting over him, you know?
JANE: Which makes me practically a wingman, so really you should be thanking me.
JANE: Deets.
KURT: By ignoring my text, you had a 20% chance at being a wingman, 30% chance at making me sad, and a 50% chance at being a secondhand murderer. Roll of the dice, Hayward.
KURT: We definitely had sex. And might get back together. I don't know.
JANE: Everything's fine. I saw your text, I just got distracted.
JANE: Some bff I am--You could've died or something and I just forgot to answer my texts.
KURT: I could have died. How would you cope if I died and you were too distracted to come and get me? Tsk. I may need to hold auditions for a new best friend at this rate.
KURT: You're lucky that, uh. I also texted Sebastian. And then Sebastian came and took me home.
SL: Please! I've been fully prepping, along with dropping hot loads of seething gossip 'bout me to different media outlets about my possibly auditions - but everything is not perfect.
SL: I sound like a hyena getting an enema when I try to cute cackle.
KURT: Well, I can feed the tip to a few of my own sources (no innuendo intended) but if you want me to come over, I can help you run your lines.
KURT: And... fix that cackle, because I can't claim you as my friend if you go on screen and conjure up any image like that. I love you, but I have my limits.
who  →  kurt hummel & brody weston ( @WESTOFBRODY )
where  → kurt’s place
what  → shocktop and hungdancer are about to meet. yikes.
warnings  → rapidly softening boners. butt plugs. intense second hand embarrassment.
What was that saying, the best way to get over someone was to get under them? Well, that was what Brody was planning to do - or, at the very least, he was planning to just have a rebound, try and mend his hurt feelings so that he could sit down and figure out what the hell he wanted. And, thankfully, it hadn’t taken much to find someone. He had met shocktop on a whim, the guy having messaged his grindr account, and he wound up getting surprising advice from the other man. Advice that actually made sense, even if it did make him feel like a complete tool.
But now, not even a full twenty-four hours after he broke up with his girlfriend, he was riding the elevator to meet shocktop - and find out just how hung he was, too - when the elevator door chimed. And as he stepped off of it, and the door opened, his face went as white as a sheet as he nearly froze in his spot.
“…Kurt?!” Brody gaped, eyes nearly bugging out because, well, he had been flirting and getting advice from Rachel’s very good friend. At least shocktop made sense now. “Please tell me you’re not who I think you are…”
Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe he went to the wrong floor and Kurt just happened to open the door.
But god, he really didn’t think that was the case.
Kurt wasn’t a religious man, but this was one of those rare Come to Jesus moments.
To be honest, while his first thought should have been something along the lines of “I just accidentally convinced my good friend’s boyfriend to dump her and then jerked off to a picture of his dick, oh no,” in reality his first instinct was to text Rachel to let her know she made a good choice not to sleep with Brody because he probably would have, like. Destroyed her. That was an easier idea to fathom than the aforementioned, because as Brody stood in front of him, there was no way he could deny that this was a massive miscommunication.
Shoulders sagging under the weight of the situation, Kurt compromised by taking another drink of wine. “I honestly wish I could say you’re at the wrong door, but.” Tone dry, almost annoyed, he leaned against the doorframe, unsure if he even wanted to bother inviting him in. This was... Not good. “So. Is this where we make a pact to never tell Rachel that I saw your penis, or...?”
MASON: you're very hot. if he doesn't get that, he's stupid. or smart for not taking advantage of you, maybe. either way if he doesn't come ill come and we can talk and I'll drive you home, okay?
[...]
MASON: I haven't seen madison since the wedding
KURT: Thanks, Mason. I'm sure you'd come have sex with me in this bathroom if you were my ex. You didn't say that, but I'm pretty sure you would. You're a good guy, McCarthy.
KURT: Cool. I'll let you know when he rejects me because he hates me.
MASON: My day has been weird snd frustrating, but not day-drink weird and frustrating, which I think is a step up, all things considered.
KURT: I'm cool. People like me enough to want to Facetime me.
KURT: Weird AND frustrating? Do you want to talk about it? We can have a conversation. If my ex doesn't come have sex with me in this bathroom then I'll let you know and you can come here and we can have a conversation about your weird and frustrating day, if you'd like. I can listen.
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