jump into the fog
WHEN: Saturday Evening
WHERE: The Victrola
WHAT: Kurt, in a moment of insanity, seeks Sebastian out to avoid dealing with a recent life-altering event.
KURT HUMMEL
For as long as Kurt could remember, Hunter had just been there.Their relationship had been an inevitability; they came from two of the wealthiest families on the Upper East Side, brought together by frequent playdates and forced social functions. They grew up attending the same school, keeping the same company, and sharing the same values. Kurt was the first to realize he was gay, the first to realize that he and Hunter were supposed to be something more for the greater good of their family names. Hunter caved to being with Kurt before he’d really grappled with his sexuality, sure, but a rocky year lead to many years of being a power couple at Constance.
And, really, Kurt had it all. He was loved by the people he wanted to be loved by, held on a pedestal by people he hardly gave a second thought to, and had a future laid out for him that guaranteed a life of happiness, financial stability, and recognition. In the Hummel household, that was what he was raised to work toward. That was what he’d always wanted. And Hunter, despite his constant stubbornness, was a very prominent key to that.
Unfortunately for Kurt, Blaine had to come back. They had been best friends for so long—like Hunter, Blaine was another person that Kurt had grown up with. Their friendship had always remained strictly platonic, but Kurt had always fancied Blaine to be one of his soulmates. For a long time, Blaine and Hunter were his two most trusted confidants.And now, as he stood on that sidewalk, hands shoved in the pockets of his Armani suit, it occurred to him that the two boys were now co-conspirators in the crumbling of everything he’d come to know.
For the first time in his life, really, Kurt was single.It was funny that, only a few hours ago, he’d honestly thought that Hunter was going to propose.Kurt’s life was built on living up to his family name and stability; as long as he didn’t screw up, his life was going to be good. He could travel whenever and wherever he wanted. He could buy anything his heart desired. And, despite the saying, money could buy you happiness. Unfortunately, he’d never had to deal with going through life without Hunter—until now.
He was in shock, he supposed, considering the truth of the matter hadn’t quite sunk in yet. He’d thought that he and Hunter would be able to work through their problems. Every couple had rough patches. Where had they gone wrong? What had hedone wrong?
It could have only been the shock, then, that could have prompted him to seek out Sebastian Smythe. Sebastian was another of their caliber of New York royalty, and yet the other boy had always seemed to have different priorities. Kurt had always thought that Sebastian’s habits were beneath them, but he’d always been forced to spend time with him through Hunter. There was no good explanation for why Kurt made his way to Victrola, then, save for temporary insanity and perhaps the distant hope that maybe some banter with Sebastian would snap him out of his little trance.Kurt found himself there a small time later, somewhat glad for the dim lighting. Although he more than likely still looked impeccable, he assumed he looked a mess; his tie laid undone around his neck, suit jacket unbuttoned and hair just less than perfect. It didn’t take long until he found Sebastian, and the prospect of actual human interaction seemed to liven him up just a bit.He crashed onto the couch next to him, slumped and defeated. After taking a moment to watch the show in front of him, Kurt turned his head. “Are you satisfied with the turnout?”
SEBASTIAN SMYTHE
Not unlike the gilded age of Gatsby, New York was a glittering reminder that those who were the elite reigned supreme over those who were not. The stunningly tall, glass skyscrapers and cobblestone streets were a reminder of the perfect blend of past, present, and future. To be rich and young in New York City was the greatest honor a young socialite could ask for. He had the world at his fingertips.
That, and Sebastian Smythe knew how to throw a rocking party and not get himself shot in a pool.
Yet.
As the son of Olivier Smythe, CEO of Smythe Enterprises, owner of hotels, bars, nightclubs, he was the heir to the Donald Trump of New York City– minus, of course, the ridiculous toupee and desire to be president of the United States. Sebastian had been permitted to begin his own business ventures, including the creation, marketing, and opening of the Victrola– a nightclub that would take you back in time. It had been his own idea and creation. The burlesque club, which involved gorgeous men and women dancing around in risque outfits, was Sebastian’s own brainchild. Sure, he’d have preferred it to be all men, all the time wearing absolutely nothing, but frankly, he had a reputation to uphold and well, sex sold.
Then again, his reputation as the bad boy of the Upper East was entirely deserved. He was known for his parties, certainly, and for his money, but most importantly, Sebastian Smythe was known for his raucous trips to Paris in which he celebrate life, love and the pursuit of cold hard cash, he was notorious for his less-than-sweet behavior. He was manipulative, flighty, fickle beyond all comprehension, and unable to commit to one thing for too long, as evidenced by the sheet number of nightclubs and bars that had been his “great idea” before he moved on to the next one.
Sebastian Smythe was a force of nature, a hurricane that had no eye and he was devilishly handsome to boot. He himself was a combination so deadly that he destroyed practically everything in his path. So to say that it was a bit of a refreshing change to have one Kurt Hummel fall perfectly into his lap at the hands of his best friend, well…
There was something to be said for the best friend code, but since said best friend was probably off sleeping with Blaine Anderson, Sebastian didn’t think Hunter would mind too much if he looked after his ex-boyfriend for the night. Frankly, Sebastian didn’t see the appeal in dating only one person, when it was far more interesting to keep several puppets hanging off of their strings.
As Kurt shimmied into the booth beside him, Sebastian took a sip of his Courvoisier, his eyelids fluttered shut as he relished in the taste– liquor, victory, pleasant company. “I’m always pleased when the turnout includes someone as gorgeous as you are,” He drawled, looking at him through heavy-lidded eyes. He was not drunk, but just beyond tipsy to be tolerable enough for an evening, and he was having a grand old time watching the show. “Didn’t think this was your scene, Hummel. I’m pleasantly surprised to see that you’ve decided to let loose for the evening.”
KURT HUMMEL
Sebastian was correct. This wasn’t Kurt’s scene.
He watched a particular dancer, one with a build not unlike Hunter’s, dance to the beat clad in a very minimal amount of clothing. In most instances, he would find this tasteless. Disgusting, even. Deep down, he supposed he still did; he was a man who had never been touched, really, never had the opportunity to understand the appeal of sex. He’d tried, of course. Ever since Blaine had come back into town, he’d put his best foot forward in an attempt to seal the deal with Hunter. It had all felt dirty once he realized that Hunter wasn’t a virgin like he was, particularly when that virginity was taken by Blaine himself. Kurt’s efforts being rebuffed had been a very big hit to his ego. Then again, this entire situation had managed to knock him off his high horse.
Under the given circumstances, though, he was okay with dirty. Why should he consider sex such a precious, special thing? It had ruined his relationship. It had caused him to lose his best friend. And, as he watched that dancer, he started to see the appeal; it would be so easy to get wrapped up in those muscles, invite those lips to his neck, press his hips forward…
And he looked away, quickly, before his fantasies could develop into a visible problem, which wouldn’t have been a very good idea given his present company. Sebastian was a disgusting boy when it came to his sexual exploits, but right now, Kurt had a feeling that was what he needed. Maybe he needed to be an object tonight instead of a person. Maybe he needed to learn the enormity of what Hunter had really left him for.
(It was easier, at that point, to believe it was what Blaine had offered him sexually instead of what he had offered emotionally, or worse, what Kurt was lacking.)
“I’ve come to get a taste of the Sebastian Smythe lifestyle,” he confessed, turning to look at his friend, taking in his appearance. Sebastian was borderline drunk, but Kurt had seen him drunker, so he could consider himself lucky that he managed to get there before too much damage could be done. “Are these the best men and women that New York has to offer? I’m surprised none of these boys have made it into your lap yet.”
SEBASTIAN SMYTHE
By now, Victrola was bustling with activity and Sebastian couldn’t help but be inherently proud of himself. His father had been disappointed in his latest exploit, surprise surprise, passing it off as another excuse for Sebastian to booze around and hook up with anyone in sight. Which really, it was, but Sebastian’s father didn’t exactly need to know that.
His relationship with Olivier Smythe wasn’t exactly one that he was fond of. It was a tremendous amount of pressure to be heir to such a real estate fortune, and it was so often that Sebastian got the lecture on whether or not he was serious enough to pursue it. In another lifetime, Sebastian would have considered a career in law, as there was something about getting paid to argue with another human that made everything that glittered seem gold, but having a dream and pursuing it was for peasants, not those who had already made it to the top. His job was to manage the maintenance and upkeep of someone else’s dream, and ensure that Smythe Enterprises remained the frontrunner in New York real estate.
In his parents’ perfect world, he’d also come up with an heir to look after the business after him, but Sebastian hated children and could never see himself as a father.
“A taste you shall have, then,” He agreed, “and I’ll drink to that.” Sebastian wasn’t terribly up to date with the gossip of the Upper East Side, but Hunter had told him in confidence that Blaine’s return had meant that his heart was set on the dark-haired young man. Sebastian, frankly, thought Hunter had better taste than that, particularly when there was such a delicate specimen in his grasp, and desperately begging for him… No, he wasn’t sure why Hunter had chosen to break up with Kurt, but either way, one might call it a twist o f destiny that Kurt was there, and Sebastian would be a fool to not cash in on his chance.
He tossed back the rest of his beverage, holding up his empty glass to a waiter who was literally at his beck and call for the evening. “The night’s still young,” Sebastian’s voice was the epitome of calm, but rather low and dark to match the atmosphere of the club. The waiter returned at that exact moment with a refill, and Sebastian opted to keep this as his last– considering how many gorgeous men there were onstage tonight, he wanted to make sure he remembered whoever was lucky enough to get fucked that night.
“I like a little show, first.” He raised his class of scotch before turning his gaze back on the dancers. He leaned in to whisper into Kurt’s ear, his breathing ghosting against his skin. “You should get up there.”
KURT HUMMEL
As Kurt was offered a drink for himself, he had no hesitations. Underage drinking wasn’t necessarily a thing in their world; it started early with wine at family dinners, and, as they got older, most bartenders were okay with turning a blind eye to their ages. The Hummel name gave him great access to many privileges, and it helped that confidence made him seem older. Kurt didn’t tend to overdo it. He’d seen Blaine self-destruct by way of drugs and alcohol and Kurt was the epitome of class. He couldn’t be seen drunk and sloppy if he wanted to make his way to the top of the Upper East Side’s social hierarchy.
Tonight may have been another exception. He tipped back the drink, a little stronger than he was accustomed to, and relished in the way the alcohol burned down the back of his throat. He made a face, examined the drink, then finished the rest. Kurt snapped his fingers and, quickly, another drink was placed in his hand. “Good service,” he mumbled, half to Sebastian, half to himself. He decided to take his time with this one.
As he felt Sebastian’s breath hot against his ear, it took everything in Kurt not to make any kind of noise. As much fun as he’d had rebuffing Sebastian’s advances over the years, right now? Newly single, feeling destructive, surrounded by nearly naked men? It was almost erotic. Still, in true Kurt Hummel fashion, he still had something to say about it.
“Oh, now that wouldn’t be fair, would it?” he replied, voice as casual as he could manage. “You know I’d steal the show. They’re good looking, sure, but they’re nothing compared to me.” He casted a sidelong glance, almost daring Sebastian to disagree. Kurt took a swig of his drink to pass a few more agonizing moments in time.
SEBASTIAN SMYTHE
“Pour votre bonne santé et le manque de petit ami.” Sebastian toasted in French, not sure if Kurt could understand him, but he was past the point of giving a fuck. He clinked his glass against Kurt’s before drinking a sip of it. He had to be careful, now, as he didn’t want to get sloppy. Nine times out of ten, getting sloppy ruined his very carefully drawn out plans.
For as manipulative and scheming as he could be, Sebastian did actually put Kurt in a somewhat high regard. The boy was charming, when he wanted to be, and he was most certainly gorgeous. He was from a well-connected family, intelligent, almost as manipulative as one Sebastian Smythe…
Yes, he’d decided, Kurt would do very nicely. A nice welcome home and fuck you greeting to Blaine, and a reminder to Hunter of who really ran the show. A way to establish himself as the real king of the Upper East Side, the prime chessplayer and manipulator. Everyone else was merely a pawn in his gloriously evil game.
For now, there was fun to be had a gentlemen to attend to. Sebastian could tell within the first ten minutes of any interaction if his partner was going to give in to him, and the clock was ticking for Kurt. “I know you won’t go up there,” Sebastian challenged, the smirk on his lips nearly predatory as he raked in Kurt’s appearance. Really, pants that tight should never be allowed under any circumstances. He’d never accuse anyone of asking for it unless he heard the words fall from their lips, but really, Kurt had to know the effect he had on everyone within eyesight when he wore pants like that. “But that’d be quite the show, don’t you think?” There was the invitation, whatever Kurt chose to do with it was his own issue.
KURT HUMMEL
Kurt kept his eye glued to Sebastian as he took a sip in honor of the toast, though the sentiment himself wanted to make him down the whole drink at once. He rolled his eyes just a bit. “Well,” he replied, voice low and full of bitterness, “you can guarantee that Hunter and Blaine will learn that I am not to be crossed.” Sebastian had to know that this was something that Kurt wasn’t going to let pass without consequences. He hoped Hunter and Blaine were smart enough to brace themselves for the storm. Kurt may be in love with Hunter, and Blaine had once been his best friend, but this? This was inexcusable. They had ruined everything.
Bitches. Fucking bitches.
Under most circumstances, he wouldn’t go up there. He wouldn’t play into Sebastian’s hand, because giving Sebastian Smythe what he wanted almost never worked out for him. But Kurt was breaking all of his rules for the night, apparently. And frankly? Sebastian was handsome, experienced, and had his sights set on him. If a night with Kurt was enough to jeopardize his friendship with Hunter, well…that was an ego boost. Downing the remainder of his drink, Kurt set the empty glass on the table in front of him and offered Sebastian a smirk.
“Well, let’s see, then.” He slipped his tie out from underneath his collar, dropping it into Sebastian’s lap, and stood. The rest of the men were good looking, certainly, but Kurt was confident that he’d be able to steal the show. He usually did. Zeroing in on one guy in particular, he walked the path to the stage, climbed the stairs, and reached forward to pull him into a deep, dirty kiss. He was smirking as he pulled back, freeing himself of this hold that Hunter had had on him since they were twelve years old. Tomorrow, the enormity of the loss would set in and break him. Tonight, he was numb, and that was the most thrilling feeling he could imagine at the moment. Locking eyes with Sebastian, Kurt shed the jacket of his suit, dropping it to the floor of the stage.
SEBASTIAN SMYTHE
Sebastian found that watching Kurt’s Adam’s apple bob while he was swallowing was exceedingly distracting, especially considering he was attempting to be somewhat decent before he went in for the kill. “Godspeed,” He called, as Kurt marched off to the stage, half-expecting him to turn around before he even reached the first step.
But he didn’t, and Sebastian felt his mouth start to water as he watched Kurt passionately kiss one of the dancers on stage– and in that poor dancer’s defense, he looked rather like his night had been made. Sebastian would be sure to remind him not to get any ideas, as the king had selected his virgin to be sacrificed for the evening. Nobody else was permitted to touch him, and anyone with half a brain knew that. Sebastian Smythe didn’t allow just anyone to sit at his private table with him.
He kept his eyes trained only on Kurt and Kurt alone as he removed his clothing. At this moment, Sebastian removed his own jacket, rolling up the sleeves of his black button-down. It was only then that he noticed the tie Kurt had left at his tableside, and he picked it up, running his fingers across it as he continued to watch the show.
“Who is that guy?” Asked one of the performers, who noticed he was now alone and obviously had come to check on him.
“I have no idea.” Sebastian replied honestly, because it was the truth. The Kurt Hummel onstage was not the frigid Kurt Hummel he’d known. And he rather liked the change. The sight of Kurt kissing the dancer burned across his vision, as he was most definitely the jealous type and he was going to have to make sure that pretty mouth had plenty to do before the night was over.
KURT HUMMEL
Kurt’s fingers worked slowly, almost clumsily, as he unbuttoned his dress shirt. The idea of his clothes touching the ground would have appalled him at any other time—these were designer, for fuck’s sake—but there was always dry cleaning, and really, what was one dirty suit when he had a closet full of others just like it? They all may have been different shades, different cuts, but at their heart, they were all just the same.
Tonight, Kurt was different. Tonight, he was swimming in the way Sebastian was looking at him, like he was some sort ofprize, and he was ready to be won. He was ready for someone to take advantage of the fact that he was there, attractive, and better than Blaine. He wasn’t going to come in second best tonight. Out of all of the nearly naked men dancing around him, he had Sebastian’s attention, and he was going to keep it.
Inevitably, Kurt would hate himself tomorrow. Maybe he deserved everything he’d been getting.
For now, he wanted to pretend he was valued.
He’d opted to only remove his shirt—it was enough, for now, still out of character for him—and moved to the beat of the music, keeping an eye on the guy he’d selected just a minute or so before. Once he’d gained enough confidence in himself, he turned back to Sebastian, making sure the other’s attention never strayed.
The beat ended as another song began, and Kurt reached down to grab his clothes, making a beeline for Sebastian. “Enough of a show for you?” he asked, voice considerably deeper than it normally was, gaze intense. “I’ve always fancied myself a performer, after all.” He reached forward, fingers drifting over the line of Sebastian’s jaw. “I’m open to critiques.”
SEBASTIAN SMYTHE
As Sebastian sat in his private little booth, just secluded enough for everyone to know that he was important but front and center to remind the club who was really in charge, he found himself completely intoxicated on something other than the half-empty glass of Courvoisier in his hand. He didn’t think that Kurt Hummel had it in him, but if Sebastian had his way, Kurt would most definitely have something in him before the night was up.
He’d created Victrola as a way to transport everyone and everything back into the past, when times were simpler. Prohibition had done the country a world of good, in his opinion, as it informed everyone of the importance of a good party. Now, that was a sentiment that Sebastian could get behind.
His eyes were glued to Kurt for the entirety of his dance, and while it wasn’t perfect in terms of sexuality and fluidity– Kurt was still pure and untouched, after all– there was potential there. Potential that Sebastian was going to tap into if he had his way.
Oh, but wait, he was Sebastian Smythe and he always got his way. Of course.
“It might look like I’m sitting down,” He drawled, with a sneaky sort of grin that definitely implied something else. “But trust me, Mssr. Hummel, I am giving you a standing ovation.” He waved a hand over to his attendant, mouthing at him to get the car. “I think we’ve imbibed enough for the evening, don’t you? After all, I’m sure you have a curfew and I most certainly don’t want to keep you from it.”
KURT HUMMEL
In most circumstances, Sebastian’s crudeness probably would have earned him a roll of the eyes and a “in yourdreams, Smythe,” but tonight, Kurt was beyond aware that Sebastian’s dreams may become a distinct reality. He should have been nervous, he knew. Sebastian was not the type to consider anyone’s feelings, especially those who were in delicate situations such as Kurt himself. But, ever since things with Hunter had ended, Kurt had just feltnumb. Reckless, maybe. He deserved to be desired, no matter the cost.
“I certainly hope you intend to accompany me home,” he replied, almost pouting. “You know. Just to make sure I get there safe. It is late, after all. And I’ve been drinking.” To prove his point, Kurt grabbed the glass he’d previously abandoned on the table and finished it off swiftly. With any hope, the tipsiness would set in by the time they got to Sebastian’s car.
Now that he was offstage, he felt somewhat exposed, and as counterproductive as it probably was, - took the opportunity to put his shirt and jacket back on. They would need cleaned the next day, there was no doubt about that, but he had no interest in walking back to Sebastian’s car with any hint of what was to come. After all, what if somebody saw them? What if somebody sent in a tip—or worse, a picture—to Gossip Girl? Kurt may have already made up his mind, but nobody else could ever know.Nobody.
Once his tie was once more draped around his shoulders, Kurt turned back to Sebastian, eyebrow cocked. “Are you ready?” he asked, tone suggesting that he was very much ready to go. He might have been a bitch for being so ready to rush Sebastian out of his own club, but in his defense, Sebastian was the one who’d made the decision to begin with. Kurt would make sure his evening was very well occupied.
SEBASTIAN SMYTHE
This was going even more perfectly than even Sebastian could have planned it. He was certain that he was going to have to woo Kurt a bit more– not, of course, that he’d ever think about sleeping with someone who didn’t faint at the sight of him, but Kurt had been able to resist him thus far. Their banter was always charged, though, and Sebastian knew that Kurt felt it too, otherwise there was no reason that he would continue this.
“What kind of gentleman do you take me for?” Sebastian asked, clearly amused by Kurt’s implication that he wouldn’t accompany him home. “I would never let you go home alone, Mssr. Hummel. Especially not after a night of consuming only the finest liquors.” They would never make it to Kurt’s apartment, if he had his way. Sebastian’s was right down the street.
He couldn’t help but Kurt looked a little apprehensive as he put his clothing back on. It was an unnecessary step, honestly, considering how that clothing would be soon removed again anyway, but if Kurt wanted to make an addition to the game, then so be it. It was with a bit of a smirk that he stood from his booth and carefully placed a hand on Kurt’s shoulder, guiding him through the crowd and to the exit.
The car, as expected, was waiting for them, and Sebastian’s driver opened the door for them. “After you,” Sebastian gestured, climbing in after him.
KURT HUMMEL
“Gentleman isn’t typically a title that I would attribute to you,” Kurt murmured, for as much as he knew what tonight was bound to bring, he still had some fight left in him. It was said, however, with less bite than it normally would have; the fact that Sebastian wasn’t anything like Hunter was precisely what made him most attractive tonight. “But I do hope that, with me, you have a different set of values.”
It was a bit surprising, actually, that Sebastian was willing to go behind Hunter’s back like this. There seemed to be no qualms from him at all, in fact; he didn’t know how much Sebastian knew about Hunter and Blaine, or even if Sebastian knew that they had broken up. That spoke volumes, Kurt supposed, at how much Sebastian valued sex over more permanent personal relations. He should have felt bad that he was coming in between two friends, but honestly? Hunter had cheated on him with his best friend. Maybe he had this coming. (Well, that and a great deal more—Kurt didn’t just get even. He needed the upper hand.)
Sliding into the car, Kurt crossed his legs and turned his body so it was facing Sebastian. Thankfully, any nerves he might have had were numbed by the events of the past couple of weeks as well as the alcohol. Despite the fact that Hunter truly had it coming and it didn’t seem like Sebastian cared one way or the other, Kurt couldn’t help himself from asking. “And what if Hunter knew what your intentions with me were?” he asked, speaking frankly—there was no use in pretending that they didn’t have the same end game in mind. “Are you not afraid of the consequences? Or do I truly matter so little to him that he won’t even bat an eyelash?”
