kurt hummel. 25. single. nyc. wine uncle. before we get started: no, i'm not the stripper from the adonis lounge. yes, i'm well aware that i look like him. yes, i am willing to discuss giving you a lap dance anyway--after a background check, a credit check, three forms of ID, your grindr profile, and four shots of whiskey. now that that's out of the way: i'm kurt hummel, fashion bitch. newly appointed uncle and self-proclaimed/not legal godfather to a damn cute nephew. if i'm not working, i'm likely drunk and belting showtunes, so hit me up for a good time.
It’s too late. I’ve decided it. I miss you. Come hang out with me.
Fine. I’m busy, though. I have a job and I have to shop for a new apartment and there is, of course, my booming social life, so. You’ll have to work around my schedule. Pitch some ideas to my people and I’ll get back to you.
SEBASTIAN: It had been a whirlwind of a few weeks-- he hadn't seen Kurt nearly as much as he'd wanted to, but work had been hell and a half. Sebastian was trying desperately to balance everything in his life, and he was trying to keep Silas on some kind of a string, but even now, on the streets of New York, he found himself feeling content. Calm, even. "You're right on that one," Sebastian countered, a smirk playing at his lips as he quickly realized that Kurt didn't miss much of a trick. There was nothing more attractive than intelligence, but really, it didn't take much for anyone to see how done for Sebastian was when it came to Kurt Hummel. "Thanks for accompanying me, by the way. I need a new suit and I don't think you'd forgive me if I tried anything on without the Hummel seal of approval."
KURT: They were friends, and that was a conscious decision. Kurt knew he could have Sebastian if he wanted. Maybe not in a romantic capacity--he still didn't believe that Sebastian would ever commit to him--but sexually, at the very least, Kurt knew he could have him. And it was tempting; although he was still seeing Blaine, still knew that Blaine wanted to fix everything between them, but. There was something about Sebastian that Kurt found irresistible. Frustratingly so. But God, that was a dangerous rabbit hole. Cocking his head to the side, Kurt matched him smirk for smirk. "I don't trust you to dress yourself," Kurt teased, squeezing Bas' elbow quickly before leading the way to the door. He held it open for him. "Is this for work or an event?"
SEBASTIAN: How he'd managed to convince Kurt to come shopping with him was a feat in and of itself. To say he felt like he was constantly walking on eggshells when it came to one Kurt Hummel would be a total understatement, but Sebastian wasn't about to look this gift horse in the mouth. Kurt had agreed, he was going to be on his best behavior. He stood outside Bergdorf Goodman's with his credit cards already burning a hole in his pocket. Leaning casually against the brick beside the storefront window, Sebastian did his best to look casual, and ignore the way his heart skipped a beat when he saw Kurt approach. What was he, a goddamn teenager? "Hummel," He greeted, with a polite nod of his head, even if his next comment was anything but. "Ravishing as usual. What I wouldn't give to be a fly on your dressing room wall..."
KURT: His life had been, for the better part of the past month, hell. Working non stop had culminated into a breakdown of sorts, followed by quitting two of his jobs, and... now being able to unafford his already terrible lifestyle. With the prospect of having to move to New Jersey on the horizon, Kurt had been irritable and avoiding essentially everyone, but especially Sebastian. Sebastian could not, under any circumstances, know that he was a failure. But Bas had worn him down, and although a trip to Bergdorf Goodman's was inevitable torture, an afternoon of being with his favorite person coupled with looking at clothing was probably just what he needed for his mental health. He couldn't resist the smile on his face when he saw Bas, though it was coupled with a roll of his eyes at the comment. "Smythe," Kurt countered, handing over one of the two coffee cups in his hand. "You'd never let me get dressed if you had it your way. Shall we?"
I don’t, that’s because I only want to associate with the best. Did you just admit to me giving you pleasure? I think the seventh level of hell just froze over. Did you seriously just ask if I have a loved one? It’s like you don’t know me at all.
Well. I’m the best, and how long has it been since you’ve made an effort to talk to me? I admit to your attitude giving me pleasure--or, more accurately, the fear it instills in others. Don’t flatter yourself. I know you have many “loved” ones, but perhaps there’s a special someone in your midst.
Moi? It’s not my fault that the average layperson can’t handle this. What’s a mental health day without sucking dick, though? Seems like a waste of a day off.
You don’t make it easy, that’s for sure. Thankfully, I have thick skin and gain a lot of pleasure from your Scrooge-esque attitude, so I’m fond. I love sucking dick as much as the next New York gay, but. There’s something satisfying about laying in bed, eating awful food, and watching Netflix--alone or with a loved one, if you have any of those.
Today, one of my co-workers had the nerve to imply that I needed a “mental health day.” If I do, it’s because I need to listen to his insufferable mouth spew bile every five seconds while I’m trying to read through paperwork. Some people have a lot of nerve.
It’s worth noting that you do have a notorious attitude problem. Perhaps taking a day for yourself that doesn’t involve sucking dick would be helpful. Just a friendly suggestion.
You know, it’s only right for me to have an amazing weekend but for Monday to be a complete slap in the face. But, I’m starting my taco cleanse today, so in your face Monday, I have tacos, and a great weekend under my belt.
A taco cleanse, you say? I’m fascinated. Unfortunately, healthy ingredients are not in the budget, and neither are food truck tacos, and I refuse to go to Taco Bell, so. Please post daily Instagram updates so I can live vicariously through you.
I swore New York would never change me, but here I am drinking rosé. I don’t know what happened. It started with trying a sip at work once or twice and now I just never buy beer anymore. I drink wine. Wine that’s pink. I’m a complete mess.
A wine drinker and brother abandonment? And here I thought I would flourish under the weight of New York City.
SEBASTIAN: I'd rather not be in New York, if we're being frank, it's too dirty and too noisy and everyone's meaner than I am, which is saying something.
SEBASTIAN: You want me to type out this entire novel?
SEBASTIAN: Meet me on Mercer and 3rd, there's a coffee shop there that will even please you.