4. the best thing that has happened to me this week.-classes were cancelled monday!!!
11. would i rather be stranded on a desert island with someone i love for ten years or someone i hate for a month? explain why.- someone i love bc that would be like vacation thats so fun
13. one person from tumblr i’d throw off a cliff, one i’d marry and one i’d fuck.- im not saying the person i’d throw off bc they suck and i hate them so i’ll just throw lisa adamtanas off as a substitute i’d marry u and i’d fuck sami samcastiel
But I hate you, I really hate you
So much I think it must be true love
Kurtbastian AU: Kurt is a bartender at a small New York City bar, and works as a freelance fashion designer from his home when he's not serving drinks. A new regular, however, has turned his entire perspective on himself and his expectations upside down.
(title & lyrics from P!nk's True Love)
"Hey, babe."
Kurt doesn't even have to turn around to see who it is; all he does is continue drying the glass in his hands with renewed vigor, imagining that he's scrubbing that obnoxious smirk off of a too-familiar face. A face that he's now seen twisted beautifully in release, a face that he really, really shouldn't be looking forward to seeing again.
"The silent treatment," the voice says again, and Kurt can hear the amusement in it. "Alright, I'll play. But you weren't exactly quiet on Saturday--"
"Are you going to order something or do I have to deal with you all night again?" Kurt asks, refusing to turn around. He'd feel bad for the now extra-dry glass, but at least it's a distraction. He's not sure what he'd do if his hands were free. Probably slap the guy's smug rodent face into oblivion.
Or just take hold of it and pull him in for a searing kiss that leaves them both breathless and wanting. Who knows?
"Looks like I win."
"Okay, listen to me, Mr. Smythe," Kurt hisses, spinning to face the counter, on which Sebastian's elbows are resting. He leans as close as he can dare to the man, whose recognizable cologne catches him off-guard for a moment before he plows onward. "I don't know what the fuck I was thinking on Saturday night, but there is no way that's happening again. You're the biggest asshole I've ever met -- which is really saying something -- and I would be perfectly fine if you walked out of this bar and my life for good."
Something different appears in Sebastian's expression; it looks almost apologetic, but it's gone before Kurt can digest anything.
"You should really have a drink," he says, the smirk back in place. "You're kind of uptight for someone who's supposed to be serving alcohol to thirsty and/or horny college students."
"I'll show you uptight," Kurt mutters to himself as he nods to someone that has appeared to Sebastian's right, taking the order in his stride despite the anger (and maybe more) coursing through him. He slides the drink across the bar and picks up the bills dropped in its place, giving the customer his usual smile as he tips his head in farewell.
He wishes he could say he's ignoring Sebastian, but he can't help but notice the man staring at him in contempt (or is it awe? Kurt can never tell anymore).
God, he's a mess.
"You're good at that," Sebastian says after a while, surprising Kurt in the middle of mixing yet another drink. It's not terribly busy, but it's busier than most other Tuesday nights.
"At... bartending?" Kurt asks doubtfully, sliding the finished product across the counter.
"I guess so. I don't know, you're just really focused and..."
Kurt raises his eyebrows in an attempt to prompt Sebastian to finish, but the sentence trails off into thumping music and the sound of some basketball game playing on the nearest television.
"Anyway, babe, you up for a repeat?"
Kurt narrows his eyes. "You've got some nerve, you know that?"
"I can't help it if I've become addicted to the sight of you naked in my bed."
"It was one night," he mumbles, hating himself for having no witty responses ready in his arsenal. Hating Sebastian for putting him in this position and hating the way he kind of loves it.
"Just goes to show what kind of effect you have, hm?"
"Fuck off."
"Dance with me," Sebastian says, completely unfazed. "Have a drink, dance with me, and if you still want me to leave after that, I will."
"How do I know you won't drop something in my drink?" Kurt asks, though he's already reaching for an empty cocktail glass.
"Just trust me. Can you do that?"
"I must have lost my mind, but fine," Kurt finds himself saying. It's just one drink, just one dance, just one last time he has to deal with this sewer rat. Except he's starting to think of it as one last chance to finally fall over the edge into that bottomless pit that is a single four-letter word -- but no, he can't think like that. Because it's completely untrue.
As untrue as true love itself.
He makes a piña colada for himself and waves over the only other bartender that's working, whispering a quick apology and a promise to make up for the lost time another day before slipping out from behind the counter to sit next to Sebastian.
"The master has left his post," Sebastian muses, and Kurt rolls his eyes.
"I sincerely hope you're not thinking that I'll be going anywhere with you later," he says lightly, taking a sip of his cocktail and feeling the warmth of alcohol as it settles into his body.
"Not thinking, just knowing," Sebastian returns with an wink.
"I'll have you know that on the off chance I do end up alone with you, Mr. Smythe, it will be my decision," Kurt says in a mocking tone.
"Bossy."
"Last time I checked, you had no problem with me riding you senseless into the mattress," he hisses, officially off duty and perfectly at liberty to say whatever he likes. Or maybe the alcohol is just getting to him; he's never been much of a heavyweight. "You talk a lot about fucking, but somehow I get the feeling you're even better at getting fucked."
"Would you like to find out?" That trips up Kurt's words for a split-second, the image of Sebastian underneath him again, a sheen of sweat on his skin as he gasps out those same pretty noises that have been in the back of Kurt's mind since Saturday night, the way he would ride up the mattress with each rough thrust -- because no matter what his confused emotions might be, Kurt isn't about to go easy.
"I have standards." Standards that he's been ignoring, but standards nonetheless.
"Uh-huh. Ready?" Kurt glances down at the glass in his hands, realizing that it's empty and that he has no reason to put this off any longer.
"As I'll ever be."
Sebastian leads the way to the dance floor, which is far from the intrusive sound of the televisions and their sports recaps. It's just music and moving bodies -- fewer than Kurt would have liked, if he's honest with himself. Without being in a crowd, he's exposed, and he doesn't like it in this case. He's worried that Sebastian will figure out the truth before he's ready to admit it to himself.
And then Sebastian's hands are on his hips, his mouth is at his ear, and everything else seems to melt away in the back and forth of their movements. He's not sure when it happened, but suddenly Sebastian's nipping, sucking at his neck -- there's going to be a mark, he's sure of it, but Kurt doesn't have a reason to care at the moment.
"Come home with me," Sebastian whispers, hot and low in Kurt's ear. "Fuck me, Kurt."
And then Kurt's agreeing; how could he not? He has fallen -- it actually happened long ago, and only now is he realizing it.
He could blame it on the alcohol, but that would be a blatant lie, he thinks as they hail a cab. He's not that drunk at all, really. He could say he's just in it for the sake of a good fuck, but not only is that a lie, that's completely disrespecting the talk he'd had with his dad so long ago.
Whether or not it's just that for Sebastian, Kurt can't deny the fact that there's more than sex on his mind.
He really hates Sebastian Smythe, he's thinking as he's pressed up against the inside of Sebastian's apartment door, his tongue tasting and lips already sore.
