there's no harm in a little experimentation.
It wasn’t that Kurt had sworn off parties; au contraire. It was the fact that parties weren’t something he was regularly invited to participate with to begin with. High school days may have been in the rear view mirror, but he was still clutching the invite as if afraid the thing was going to spring from his grip the second he let go until it earned its rightful spot on the fridge in the loft. Where it would stay, unless the party proved to be less than memorable, in which case he would swear the whole thing off in attending ever again.
Dressed and prepped, he arrives alone. Unsure if party gifts were still a common practice in this day and age, but still brought the host a bottle of the best sparkling spirits he could’ve found before the mingling even began. Amongst faces he didn’t know, with only a hint of the occasional NYADA student appearing in the haze.
An hour in, and he’s already drained from so much small talk that barely went anywhere interesting. Were parties always like this? Why hadn’t Finn at least properly informed him? Was this what it was like to be popular? And why were they suggesting a game of spin-the-bottle? Weren’t they too old now? Had more important things to focus on with their livelihoods than kissing strangers? Or was he not drunk enough?
Sitting criss-cross in the circle regardless, Kurt is ready to watch everyone else have a good time sucking face until the one person he had never expected to see was helping himself to the circle and spinning the bottle when the last participants got lost in the heat of the moment and were now on top of each other, rolling awkwardly away and making room for…
“Sebastian?” He asks, indignant, unsure if he’s relieved at least one former Ohioan was here to share in the same sentiment about a dull party or if he was mortified that the guy was in the same building and he hadn’t caught the whiff of expensive cologne sooner. The smug face that looks back at him does clear anything up when the bottle neck points directly at him, bringing with it a hoot and holler of the fellow players.
“There’s no harm in a little experimentation, Hummel.” Sebastian is saying, crawling over the bottle to get closer.
Kurt, unsure how to properly react, decides he needs to finish the punch in his cup for some last minute strength before reciprocating. Not wanting to be the odd duck out by sitting there like an idiot, he’s abandoning his empty cup and closing the distance officially in a kiss. It’s meant to be a small peck, formal and polite. But the newly added courage surging through his veins dares him to keep it going. Chasing the feeling of his stomach knotting as his mouth melds with Sebastian’s guilt-free, the crowd fading into nothingness around them both. Needing to touch, by grabbing the front of the other man’s shirt to keep them locked in the heat of the moment until air broke them apart.
Spit sheen and eyes blown, Kurt realizes — in horror — who he just made out with. In front of people no less. Drawing a breath as he sits back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, face heating, he stumbles to stand with a clearing of his throat. “Sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” He apologizes to the room, carefully stepping around the circle to make his get away.