Lying in his bed beside Adam, Sebastian stretched his long, sinuous arms overhead, practically purring.  He scratched his head lazily, looking over through half-shut eyes, and smirked wickedly.  

Lighting up a cigarette, Adam couldn't help a return smile, watching the play of Sebastian's muscles in his chest under skin glistening with mixed sweat and semen.  His and Sebastian's.  He ran a finger through the glistening, pearly wetness, transfixed and pleasantly sated and sleepy, and his eyes met Sebastian's for just a moment, and lingered.  Sebastian was so beautiful like this, in the afterglow.  So beautiful.  He took Adam's breath away.  He crept in closer, and moved to lay his head on Sebastian's strong shoulder.  But before he could settle in, Sebastian sprung up like a cat, shot out an arm, and snatched the burning cigarette from his lips, hurtling it with precision into a glass of water next to the bed.

“You know I don't want that shit stinking up my apartment, Crawford,” Sebastian said smoothly.  He jumped up, and the moment, such as it ever was with Sebastian, was broken.  Adam sighed and watched Sebastian grab a towel and head for the bathroom, then heard the sound of the shower being turned on.  

He didn't know what he expected, really.  Sebastian had never pretended he was in this … arrangement for anything like romance.  They met up, at one or the other's apartment, when Sebastian was in the mood, and had a round of mind-blowing sex more and more frequently lately.  In fact, this was the third night in as many days, but it always ended the same.  Sebastian in the shower and then out the door if he came to Adam's tiny studio apartment, and broadly hinting at how late it was if they screwed in Sebastian's spacious two-bedroom.  Adam had refused to take the hint last night, and had pretended to fall asleep while Sebastian showered … and Sebastian had simply gone into the other room for the night.

Part of Adam wondered if it was because of the bane of his existence, the boy who had already stolen the first man he'd really cared for.  Blaine Berry.  Casting a resentful look at the bathroom door, he grabbed the pack of Marlboros again and shook out another cigarette, and lit it, taking a long drag.  Careless of the ashes, he picked up Sebastian's phone and started scrolling through it.  Sure enough, there were numerous calls to and from Blaine.  

Sebastian came out of the shower, his towel low on his hips, showing off his ridiculously toned abs, and quirked an eyebrow at the sight of Adam holding his phone and smoking furiously.  He pointed at the waterglass.  “I told you before, I don't want you smoking in here.”

Strolling over, he grabbed his phone. “Looking for something?”  

“You've been quite busy chatting with Blaine, I see,” Adam, taking another defiant drag on his cigarette.  “How's the brilliant campaign to get into his little boy pants going?”

“He's still with Old Mother Hummel, if that's what you're curious about,” Sebastian said, rifling through his drawer for a pair of underwear.    “It's lasted a lot longer than I expected, I have to say.  Especially since Kurt wouldn't even touch him until his seventeenth birthday a few weeks ago.  Of course now they're fucking like two rabbit twinks, I understand.  Sounds like Kurt has a few tricks in the bedroom and Blaine's not bored … yet.”

Adam felt a bit nauseous suddenly, and dropped the cigarette into the water with a fizzle and puff of smoke.  

“I'm getting old before my time waiting for that to run its course,” Sebastian said crossly, pulling on a pair of silk boxers.  “I can't believe they've managed to keep Rachel in the dark all this time.”

“Seriously?  She doesn't know yet?”

Sebastian shrugged nonchalantly.  “Blaine and Kurt said she'd freak out if she knew.  She's pretty overprotective, I guess.”  He cleared his throat.  “Um.  I've got a pretty early morning …”

“Yeah, well, then come to bed.” Adam avoided Sebastian's eyes, and kept his voice casual.

“Hm.”  Sebastian ran a hand through his spiky, damp hair.  “Listen, I … that smell is bugging me, I can't sleep in here … I'll just go into the other room.”

“Fine, then.  Sleep tight,” Adam snapped, turning his bare ass toward Sebastian.  He thought Sebastian hesitated a moment, but then he backed out and into the hallway.  Adam heard the door to the other bedroom open and shut.  

He turned back over, and stared at the ceiling.  Fuck that little piece of shit kid.  Fuck him.  Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him.  Why were Kurt and Sebastian so enamored of him?  What did he have that was so fucking compelling?  That big, stupid smile?  The stupid bow ties, the weird hair gel?  The kid was always smiling, always polite and happy. It had to be an act.  Nobody was that idiotically happy all the time.  He was a little phony, and he was so good at it, he had everybody else fooled.  But he'd stolen Kurt, he was stringing his “best friend” Sebastian along, and …

Lunging over, he grabbed his phone, and scrolled through his contacts to “B” for “Berry.”  Sure enough, from back when he was a regular Monday-night visitor to the Hummel-Berry apartment, there was Rachel's cell number.  His finger hovered over the icon.  He hadn't said anything to Rachel up to now.  He'd kind of promised Kurt he wouldn't, but really.  Didn't Rachel have the right to know?  She was Blaine's guardian, after all.  Kurt was wrong to sneak around behind her back with her little brother.  She had the right to know.  If it caused trouble for Kurt and Blaine, because they'd kept this secret, well, that wasn't his fault.  It was Kurt's and Blaine's for lying to Rachel.  

He pressed the icon for Rachel's contact number, and waited as the phone rang and Rachel's voice piped into his ear.

x x x x x x x

Rachel was resting her voice after her evening performance, sipping a cup of warm water and lemon juice with a warm cloth over her throat, so she frowned when she heard the phone ring in her dressing room.   All her friends knew enough not to expect conversation during a performance cooldown.  

The name “Adam Crawford” popped up on her phone screen, and she wondered at it, and considered not answering.  She was still pretty annoyed at Adam for spitefully cutting Kurt out of his show choir group.  If show choir was total social suicide, getting cut from the most unpopular activity at school was even worse.  It was so petty of him.  Adam knew Rachel was his best friend, so what on earth he could be calling her about, she couldn't imagine.  Heaving an impatient breath that blew her bangs up in the air, she went ahead and answered the phone.  “Hello … Adam?  It's been a while … what's new?”

“Em.  Hello, Rachel, yes, it has been quite a while, hasn't it …”

“Yes.  Since you acted so immaturely about Kurt, to be precise.  You really hurt his feelings by being so spiteful about your breakup, you know.”  She waited for a response, but there was only silence on the other end.  “Adam?  Hello?”

“I'm … I'm here.”

After another pause, Rachel rolled her eyes.  “Well, it's been nice chatting, Adam, but I've got to go … I'm pretty tired after my show and I have my last matinee tomorrow, so - -”

“You want to know the reason Kurt broke up with me?”  Adam's brittly cold voice sent a slight chill over Rachel.

“That - that's between you and Kurt, Adam, I -

“Oh, it's not just between him and me.  That's the problem.  And it does involve you.”

Rachel rubbed her eyes.  “Adam, I don't know exactly how many drinks you've had, but if you're seriously blaming me for your relationship failing, then you've officially had at least one too many.”

“I'm not blaming you.  I'm blaming your brother.  Kurt's been fucking him behind your back for some time now.  That's why we broke up.  He chose a sixteen year old - your brother - over me.  I thought you should know.”

Rachel gasped.  “That's a - - that's a dirty, disgusting lie, Adam Crawford, and you've crossed the line now.”

The voice on the other end of the line lowered a bit, and murmured maliciously, “C'mon, Rachel.  You had to know Blaine had a thing for your brother.  I mean, I wasn't even living in the loft, and I could see what was happening between them. Everyone could except you. Didn't you think it was strange when Blaine was the one he took home when his father was ill?  Not you, his best friend, or me, his boyfriend, but Blaine?”

She panicked, trying to think back.  Yes, it was true - - Blaine had gone home with Kurt - - but - - “Oh, God - - this was going on even back then?  Last October?” she whispered hoarsely.  Adam was saying something, but her mind was racing, flashing back over the last months and year.   She dropped the phone and dropped her head in her hands.  No.  It couldn't be.  Yes, Blaine clearly had feelings for Kurt, that was impossible to miss, but it was a kid's crush, one she'd warned Kurt to be mindful of, to avoid encouraging, since long before Blaine even came to live with her.  Before she and Kurt agreed they would take care of him - - no.  Not her best friend.  He wouldn't take advantage of Blaine and then lie to her face about it.  

She staggered up from the bed, the phone clunking to the floor, and went to her computer, thinking of something with growing dread.  She opened Facebook, and clicked on Blaine's profile, scrolling through his status updates first.  There were the pictures from the trip to Great Adventure with Kurt, for Blaine's seventeenth birthday last month while she was on this out-of-town run.  She'd been so grateful to Kurt for taking care of Blaine on his birthday, but … where were Blaine's many other friends - Harmony, or Unique, or Sam, or any of the others?  Why hadn't they gone along on the trip?

Then back along the timeline, to Blaine's prom pictures.  There he was with his friends, he'd gone with them as a group, he'd told her.  He looked so happy and handsome in his sleek black tuxedo, she almost smiled, but then something made her click on Harmony's profile, and scroll through her photographs.  She stopped at one, an untagged picture of Blaine and Kurt in tuxedos at the prom, dancing close.  Blaine looked drunk, and his lips were fastened to Kurt's neck … with Harmony's caption.  Blaine and his ‘Doctor Kurt VanDeLay'.  

Rachel slammed the laptop shut, enraged and shaking.  She tried to calm down.  Just because they had gone to the prom … and kissed … and Kurt used a fake name - - no.  It was illegal for Kurt to be with Blaine sexually before he was seventeen.  It was statutory rape.  It - - it would be the ultimate betrayal.  She closed her eyes.  Maybe Harmony was joking, as she was prone to do.  Maybe Kurt had gone with Blaine to the prom as friends?  

She swallowed, and forced herself to try to believe it, but …

I have to go home and be sure.

XXXXXXXX

July 14, 2015

Blaine cried so hard in his curtained room that he started feeling physically drained of tears and emotion and finally subsided, lying on his cold, empty bed and staring at the ceiling.  He listened to the sound of Rachel cleaning up the dishes he and Kurt had swept to the floor before they made love on the table, and made no move to go help her.  He couldn't face her just yet. She had come home a day early and had seen them, but the humiliation of that moment was nothing compared to the agony of his broken heart.  Kurt had obeyed Rachel's order to leave their home, and hadn't answered any of his desperate texts and calls over the last hour.  He had lost Kurt, Rachel had driven him away, and after waiting a lifetime to be with him, to feel his love, only to have it snatched away, Blaine didn't think he could go back to life without him.  It hurt even worse than those years before they got together, because now he couldn't even see Kurt and be near him, have his friendship … and, because now he had found out that being Kurt's lover was more wonderful than even his vivid imagination had conjured those aching nights when he had dreamed of what it would be like.

He rolled out of bed, exhausted and spent, and dragged his tired body to the curtain, looking through it at Rachel depositing the last of the broken dishes and scattered food into a garbage bag.  He glared as she wandered to the shelving unit in the unit and stared, grim-faced, at a framed photograph of herself and Kurt propped there, lips pressed together and hands clenching.  While Blaine watched, she turned on her heel and grabbed the trashcan from the kitchen area, dragging it over.  Tears rolled down her face as she snatched the picture from the shelf and stared at it a moment, then slammed it with a crash into the garbage.

Rachel turned back to the shelf and reached for the loft scrapbook that the two of them had created together, with pictures and ephemera celebrating the friendships and life they had built since moving to New York.  That was too much for Blaine to stand.

“Don't throw that out!” he cried, rushing to her side and prying it from her hands.  He clutched it to his chest.  “That's not just yours!  This is mine too!  This is my life, my family and you're not throwing it away like you do to anybody who doesn't do what you want!”

“Put it in your room, then.  I don't want to see it again,” Rachel said coldly.  She dragged the can to the door and started tying off the bag.  “And get your cellphone and computer.  I'm confiscating them as of right now.”

“You can't do that!”

“I can and I will.”  Rachel turned to him with hands on tiny hips, her face set like stone.  “You can't be trusted, obviously, so you don't deserve the privilege of internet or cellphone.  I don't want you contacting Kurt behind my back.  That's over, got it?”

Blaine frowned, and Rachel raised her eyebrows at him.  “You want me to call the police, then?”

He pulled his cellphone from his pocket and flung it on the couch. “Why are you doing this?  I'm seventeen, Rachel!  I'm old enough and you know it - are you so bitter you can't stand us being happy? Is that it?”

Rachel didn't even respond, but just picked up the phone and pocketed it, brushing past him silently.

“Why, Rachel?  Why are you making such a colossal big deal about this?” Blaine pleaded.  “I promise you, we wanted to tell you, we were going to as soon as you got home.  And we didn't do anything wrong or illegal, I swear - why wont you believe that?”

“Because you two lied to me.  The only reason I know is because …” she paused.  “Someone told me what you and Kurt have been doing, and that it's been going on for months.  You two didn't even have the decency to tell me yourselves, I had to find out that way?  And how can I trust that Kurt never took advantage when he lied to me?”

“Who told you that?  It's a lie!  We never did anything before I was old enough, Rachel!  Rachel, please - -”

But Rachel just brushed past him, silently, and disappeared into the bathroom with a slam of the door, ending the conversation.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

July 21, 2015

Adam woke up, disoriented, and looked around in confusion.  This is Sebastian's spare room, he registered, and there was an insistent banging sound coming from the living room.

The light came on in the hallway, and he heard Sebastian's door open, the sound of his footsteps following after.  

After a moment, he got up too, and came into the hallway.  Looking around the corner, he watched as Sebastian, wearing only a pair of pajama bottoms, peered through the peephole in the door.  

“Blaine?” Sebastian murmured, puzzled, and opened the door, and Blaine Berry tumbled in, uncharacteristically disheveled and unkempt.  Clearly drunk, he slumped against Sebastian's bare chest, nearly staggering to the ground.

“What the hell - - Blaine, how much did you drink?  You smell like a distillery!”  

“I - I drank th' whole thing,” Blaine slurred.  “The whole thing, but it still hurts, Seb - -still hurts too much.  I rec'nized your building so I came up here, came t'see you - - “  He leered up, his head lolling on Sebastian's bare shoulder.  “You're my best friend, and  - - I know you want me.  I know.  It's okay now.  Kurt left me.  I finally got a hold of him on the phone, and … he said it's over,  an' t'stop calling.”  Blaine swayed on his feet again, and Sebastian supported him, his eyes … tender and caring.  The fuck.

“So if you still want to do me, you might as well,” Blaine was babbling, barely coherent, as Sebastian started walking him through the living room.  Adam stood in the doorway, glaring at Sebastian and Blaine as they approached.

When Blaine looked up, his eyes bloodshot and unfocused, he pointed a finger weakly at Adam.  “I - - I didn't know you had company, Sebastian - - I'm - I'm sorry - - I'll go … somewhere - - if it's a bad time, I - -”  Blaine stopped, his face damp and his lips trembling.  Before Adam could get out of the way, Blaine threw up suddenly, spouting rum-scented vomit all down the front of Adam's tee-shirt.  Adam clenched his jaw.

“That's probably for the best,” Sebastian said, chuckling, and patting Blaine on the back.  “Sorry, Adam.  You can go in my room and grab a tee shirt.  You think you're done, buddy?”

Blaine nodded, and whispered, “Sorry, Adam. Sorry I threw up on you ... again.  Was ‘n acc'dent.”  

Adam fumed his way into Sebastian's bedroom, where they'd had a marathon sex session earlier that night.  The room still smelled like sex, with the dirty sheets still in the corner in a pile.   He went to the dresser while Sebastian maneuvered Blaine over to the bed and sat him on the edge.

“Hand me a tee shirt and pajama pants for him, will you?”

Pulling a clean tee-shirt on over his head, Adam snatched and flung the clothes Sebastian had asked for, hitting him square in the face.  “Anything else?” he snarled.  Sebastian's eyebrow quirked up, and he nodded.

“Yeah.  A glass of water and some Tylenol, and a washcloth from the bathroom.”

Hardly believing this was actually happening, Adam stalked to the bathroom and took down the Tylenol from the medicine cabinet.  As he ran the water into a glass, he heard Blaine's drunken mumbling in the other room, interspersed by low, measured responses from Sebastian.  When he returned, Sebastian had taken off Blaine's shoes and pants, and was unbuttoning Blaine's shirt and slipping it off him.  “Can you help me get these pj's on you, buddy?” he encouraged gently.

“No, just wanna sleep,” Blaine mumbled, his head back on Sebastian's shoulder.  “Just hold me, Seb, please.  I need you to hold me while I sleep.”

“Okay,” Sebastian said, smiling fondly.  He took the Tylenol and water and offered it to Blaine, who turned his face away with a grimace.  “Take it, and then you can lie down and sleep.  Be a good boy, Blaine.”  Blaine sighed and obediently let Sebastian slip two pills into his mouth, and then hold a glass to his lips.  After several swallows, Blaine pushed the glass away.  

“Somebody told Rachel on me and Kurt,” Blaine slurred.  “She wouldn't say who.  Somebody ratted us out.”  Blaine looked into Sebastian's eyes as he settled him into bed. “It - it wasn't you, was it, Seb?  You didn't do that to me, did you? You're my friend - you wouldn't - “

“I didn't,” Sebastian said, smoothing Blaine's tumbled hair.  “There are some dirty tricks even I wouldn't stoop to, apparently.  I'd never deliberately hurt you.”

Adam's face burned hot, and he was grateful for a moment at least that Sebastian's eyes were on Blaine's.  

“I need to call your sister, Blaine - she'll be worried about you, I'm sure.  Give me your phone, okay?”

“She took it,” Blaine said, tiredly.  “I don't care if she does worry.”

Sebastian sighed.  “Adam, do you have Rachel's cell number in your phone?  I deleted it when she banned me from the loft a while back.”

Adam startled, and nodded.  “I'll get it.”  He went back into ‘his' room, and picked up his phone, hurrying back to Sebastian.  “It's 555-” he started, but Sebastian grabbed the phone.  

“I'll just call her.”

Blaine was already asleep while Sebastian pushed the contact button and waited.  After a moment, Sebastian started to speak, but quickly went silent.  Adam fidgeted while Sebastian listened to Rachel's piping voice on the phone.

“Well … this is Sebastian, actually.  I'm just using Adam's phone.  Blaine's here, and he's really, really drunk.  But I'll keep an eye on him tonight and make sure he's okay.  You can come pick him up tomorrow morning if you want.  Sorry about … well, sorry.”  Sebastian clicked off the phone, his face expressionless.   He glanced up at Adam, and smirked slightly as he tossed his phone back.  “Well.  It seems you picked up a few tricks from me, after all.  And you'll be happy to know it worked.  Kurt's a free agent again.  Probably you can get back with him on the rebound, if you move fast.  I'm assuming that's why you told Rachel before Kurt could do it.   So … congratulations?”

Adam stood awkwardly in the doorway, fumbling for something to say.  Sebastian climbed into the bed beside Blaine, who rolled over and attached himself like a koala bear to Sebastian's side.  Sebastian stroked Blaine's hair again.  “Mind shutting the door and putting out the light in the hall on your way back to your room?” he said smoothly, his eyes narrowed and hostile.

“You're - you're going to - -” Adam stammered, then fell silent.  Of course.  Of course Sebastian was going to hold a drunk-off-his-ass Blaine Berry all night, whisper comforting, loving words to him, caress his face, wipe away his tears.  Of course, when he'd never so much as spooned with Adam for more than five minutes, even after sex.  “You know what, Sebastian?  Fuck you,” he burst out, slamming the door behind him as he stormed out.

X X X X X

Sebastian was tired; he had been up half the night making sure Blaine didn't choke on his own vomit or try to stagger out into the street, and this morning had been … ugly, to say the least.  Blaine had a brutal hangover when he woke up, and he had needed a lot of help in the bathroom and two changes of clothes.  Sebastian was depositing an armful of dirty tee shirts and towels in his laundry bag when he heard the sound of his housekeeper's key in the door.  He gently shut the door to the bedroom and headed toward the living room.

“Hi, Pauline,” he greeted the housekeeper affably as she came in.   Pauline was an impeccably efficient, highly discreet British matron who came in daily to keep his little home in order.  He really didn't know what he'd do without her.  At Dalton, he'd tried to do his own laundry and keep his room tidy, but soon enough had found boys willing to do those tedious tasks for him.  As soon as he came to New York, he'd advertised for a housekeeper and Pauline had been with him ever since.

“Good morning, Mr. Smythe.  Can I get you some breakfast to start?” Pauline asked briskly.   

“Yes, some tea and toast probably'd be a good idea for my guest this morning.  He had a rough night.”

Pauline looked concerned.  “Mr. Adam's not ill, I hope?” she said anxiously.  

Sebastian frowned a little.  “Mr. Adam isn't here.  It's my friend Blaine, actually.  I'm afraid he was ill in the bathroom and in my bedroom last night, and he has a bad headache this morning, so you can skip the vacuuming for today.  If you turn that monster on you'll probably kill him.”

“But … “ Pauline trailed off.

He glanced at her as he sat at the table.  “Something wrong, Pauline?”

“No, sir.”  She bustled into the kitchen, took down the tea kettle, and started filling it with water, avoiding his curious gaze.  He recalled vaguely that Adam and Pauline often chatted amiably on those occasions when Adam still was hanging around in the mornings.  They were from the same part of England, apparently, and Adam always used to help her get breakfast together even though Sebastian had reminded him pointedly that Pauline was paid to do that, and paid quite well at that.  

Pauline was buttering toast and setting it in the English toast rack that somehow had materialized into the apartment when he'd started fucking Adam on the regular.  He glared at it moodily.  “Where'd that thing come from, anyway?” he said irritably, unfolding the newspaper Pauline had laid by his plate.  

She glanced slyly at him.  “Mr. Adam mentioned missing it on the breakfast table once, so I sent for one to make him feel more at home, sir.  I hope you don't mind.  They're quite handy.”

“Whatever,” Sebastian muttered.  “I doubt we'll be seeing much of him around here from now on, so at least he left something useful behind.”

“You don't say, sir?”  Pauline said mildly, glancing at him sidelong.  Sebastian smothered a sigh.  

“Let's just say - - Oh, hey, Blaine, I didn't expect you up again this morning,” he said, surprised.  Blaine was slowly inching toward the table, his eyes bloodshot and his hair looking like a bird's nest.  “Pauline can bring you some tea and toast in bed if you want.  You look like you could use some more rest.”

Blaine shrugged, slumping in a chair at the table.  “I don't want to be any more trouble,” he mumbled, running a hand through his tumbled hair and trying to smile at Pauline.  “I made a big enough idiot of myself last night.  Listen … I didnt mean to interrupt whatever was going on with Adam … is he still here? I'd like to apologize to him for that.  And for the barfing.”  He took a piece of toast and nibbled at it apprehensively.

“He took off.”

Blaine and Pauline glanced at each other and Sebastian set his jaw.  “And I'm fine with that.”

“Are you sure, Seb?  I mean … you've been spending a lot of nights with him.   Usually your limit for relationships is one night.  This seems … serious.”

“I don't do serious, Killer.  You know that.  Adam was … convenient, that's all.  And there's apparently no danger of him developing any feelings for me, anyway.  He's still so hung up on Lady Fairchild Hummel, it's obvious I'll never be more to him than a fuck-buddy.”  He flung his toast down on his plate, frustrated finally.  “Can somebody explain to me why I'm a constant runner-up to that gay-faced, flouncing  little-”

“Hey,” Blaine warned, giving Sebastian an ominous look.  “I can see you're upset, but lay off about Kurt!”

“I'm not upset.  I knew all along I was just a rebound.  Hell, that's all I wanted to be!  I've been totally careful not to get too attached to him, get too comfortable, so he couldn't - -”  Sebastian paused, staring at Pauline's and Blaine's exchange of knowing glances, and their pair of over-sympathetic eyes on him.  

“So he couldn't hurt me,” Sebastian  finished, trailing off weakly.  He cast his gaze down at his plate of toast and pushed it away, his appetite gone.

Blaine heaved a weary sigh.  “Looks like that's working out well for you.”  He took a cup of tea from Pauline with a grateful nod, and took a long sip.  Setting it down and rubbing his eyes, he murmured, “Welcome to the broken hearts club, buddy.”