BEEP! BEEP!

Carson Phillips groaned and sleepily reached one hand out of the warmth of his blankets to bat lazily at his alarm clock. He really wanted to throw it against the wall for interrupting the awesome dream he'd been having. He'd been standing up on a stage, happily accepting his Nobel Prize and smirking out at all the awestruck faces in the audience. It had felt exhilarating. He'd just been about to make his speech when his damn alarm clock had decided to be an asshole and rip him from his dream world.

"Stupid piece of shit," he grumbled, punching the clock to get it to shut up. He yawned and sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes and stretching his arms out. He was tired just thinking about going to school. He was in no mood to deal with bullshit today, and unfortunately for him, bullshit pretty much reigned supreme at school. As it had always been and as it always was to be, he supposed. He wondered if it was like that throughout the entire world, or if it was just England.

Probably the whole world, he thought, yawning again. He heard a soft padding of footsteps out in the hallway and quickly settled himself back down into his blankets, pulling them over himself and burying his face in his pillow. It was sort of a week day tradition for Kurt, his twin brother, to come into Carson's room to gently wake him up. Kurt had been doing that ever since they'd started Year 1, and even though they were now in Year 10, and even though Carson would never, ever admit it, especially not to Kurt, he found it very sweet and comforting. It was one thing he could count on to remain consistent in his otherwise admittedly crappy life.

He closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep as he heard his door quietly open and Kurt's footsteps gliding softly across the room toward Carson's bed. He felt a slight weight against his thigh as Kurt carefully perched himself on the edge of the bed, and then there was a warm breath against his ear as his twin leaned down next to him.

"Carson," he whispered, gently shaking Carson's shoulder. "Carson. Are you awake?"

"Barely," Carson grumbled.

"It's 7:15," said Kurt, a little louder now.

"Congratulations, you can tell time," replied Carson. "They should just let you into university now and be done with it."

"Don't be an asshole," Kurt admonished him, grabbing a pillow and whacking Carson over the head with it. "We have to leave in 45 minutes, so get your ass up."

"Ok, ok. Jesus," Carson muttered, sitting up in bed and narrowing his eyes at his brother. "You're a bossy little shit, you know that?"

"And you're a sarcastic one," replied Kurt sweetly, patting Carson on the shoulder. "Now get up out of bed before I drag you out." He left his perch on the end of Carson's bed and stood up, and Carson could see that he was already impeccably dressed in one of his patented, fashionable Kurt outfits, complete with tight pants and a royal blue scarf. Carson smiled to himself. The fact that he found Kurt's fashion choices completely adorable (most of the time) was another thing he would never admit to his twin.

"Well, come on, then. Up!" Kurt ordered, and Carson gave an exaggeratedly pained sigh.

"I'm up, I'm up," he said. "Are you done in the bathroom, or do I have twenty minutes to kill while you do whatever black magic it is you do to your face?"

"I love you, too," said Kurt with a smile, heading for the door. "I'll see you downstairs when you're done."

Carson watched him go, and then he got up out of bed and heaved a huge sigh as he shuffled his way toward the bathroom. He brushed his teeth and showered as quickly as possible before making his way back to his room, where he pulled on his standard everyday uniform of jeans, a T-shirt, and a blue hooded sweatshirt. He grabbed his book bag, running his fingers through his still slightly damp hair, and bounded down the stairs, sliding into a seat at the kitchen table across from their father just as Kurt was putting down two plates of toast. One was plain, and the other had jam spread on it, which Carson knew was for him. Kurt knew how much he couldn't stand plain toast.

"Strawberry. My favorite," Carson said, grabbing a piece and taking a huge bite.

"I know," said Kurt, setting down his own plate and going to the refrigerator for the orange juice. "Dad, do you want more coffee while I'm still up?"

"Please," Neal Phillips answered, peering briefly over his morning newspaper at Kurt and holding out his coffee cup so Kurt could refill it from the pot on the burner. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," answered Kurt, grabbing his glass of juice and settling down at the table beside Carson.

"Busy day at school today, son?" Neil asked next, and Carson calmly continued eating his toast, knowing full well that the question wasn't for him. The last time their father had expressed any interest in Carson's life beyond the basic acknowledgement of his existence was approximately never. Twins had not been planned on. Only one had been wanted, and neither parent ever missed an opportunity to remind Carson of that, whether it was giving Carson the smaller bedroom (complete with a smaller, lumpier bed), belittling his achievements while praising Kurt's, or outright groaning that life was so much harder with two children. It was a basic fact of life by now, and he was so used to it that he barely even noticed anymore. In a way, he was grateful for it. It meant that they left him alone.

Not that he ever held any of this against Kurt. He didn't. He never could quite bring himself to hold anything against Kurt, really. Anyway, it wasn't Kurt's fault that he was the favored twin any more than it was Carson's fault that he wasn't. He didn't see the point in blaming Kurt for that. Besides, Kurt had never been anything but good to him. He was one of the only people, in fact, besides their maternal grandmother, who had ever consistently treated him with kindness.

"Um, yeah," Kurt replied to their father's question, swallowing a bite of toast. "I have an exam first thing. English."

"Are you ready for it?" asked Neal, flipping the page of his newspaper.

"I guess so," said Kurt. "I studied and all."

"Of course you did," said Neal, giving Kurt a small smile. "You're a good student."

"The best," their mother, Sheryl, added as she padded into the kitchen, still in her bathrobe. "Please tell me there's coffee."

"On the burner, Mom," said Kurt. "Anyway," he added, glancing over briefly at Carson, "Carson helped me study. He went over the terms with me and everything. He's actually doing much better in that course than I am."

"Uh-huh," murmured Sheryl, pouring out a cup of coffee. "That's nice."

"Mmm," their father said with clear disinterest. "Oh, hey, before I forget, Kurt, here's your allowance," he added, reaching into his wallet and taking out a stack of notes, which he pressed into Kurt's eager hand.

"Thanks!" Kurt squealed, taking the money and stuffing it into his pants pocket. Neil paused slightly with his wallet in hand before taking out a significantly smaller stack of notes and sliding it across the table to Carson.

"I guess you have to have some, too," he said with a sigh, putting his wallet away. "Don't spend it all in one place. You won't get any more until next month."

"Wouldn't dream of it," said Carson, taking the money and sliding it carefully into his own pocket. He finished off the rest of his toast and got up from the table, sliding his book bag over his shoulder. "I have to go."

"Wait for me," Kurt said. Carson waited in the corner of the kitchen, watching as Kurt finished off his own last bite of breakfast and delicately brushed the crumbs off of his hands before grabbing his own book bag.

"Bye, Kurt!" said Neal, giving Kurt a small wave and completely ignoring Carson.

"Bye, boys," Sheryl added. "Have a good day."

"Yeah, right," Carson muttered as he and Kurt walked outside the front door and into the crisp October air. Truthfully, he kind of enjoyed the daily walk to school with Kurt, even if he'd rather be strapped to an electric chair than on his way to be stuck in a building with morons all day long.

"So," said Kurt as they walked down the busy street. "I got a very interesting Facebook message from Rachel last night."

Carson groaned. "Jesus Christ, not again."

Kurt snorted and nodded. "Again, I'm afraid. She wanted to invite us to the little Halloween get-together her dads are throwing this weekend."

"And you said no, right?" asked Carson, casually kicking a rock in front of him. Rachel Berry was a girl in Kurt's after-school glee club whom neither of them could stand. She was very loud, and as annoying as she was short, which was very. Unfortunately for Carson, lately she'd seemed to become irritatingly fixated on him, and was about as subtle about her crush as a hammer to the face. He usually went as far out of his way as possible to avoid her. So, the very thought of attending any event hosted by her made Carson's skin crawl.

"Of course I said no!" Kurt insisted. "What do you take me for? It was a close thing, though. I mean, I'm just as annoyed by her as the next person, but she did say there'd be apple bobbing, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious about exactly how many apples a couple of those boys in glee club can fit in their mouths at once..."

"Please stop talking," Carson said. "If I have to think about any of them putting things in their mouths, I'll lose my breakfast. Besides, you don't need to be thinking about them doing that." Carson felt weirdly protective over Kurt most of the time, especially when it came to boys. He knew that Kurt was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, but he couldn't help it. He figured maybe it was because he was three minutes older than Kurt. He had an obligation to be a protective big brother, didn't he?

"She particularly wanted to know if you would be interested in going," Kurt continued, ignoring Carson's last comment, his voice lilting teasingly and his blue eyes sparkling with merriment.

"I'm sure she did," said Carson dryly. "If she asks again, tell her I'd rather get a blowjob from a cobra."

"Such a way with words you have," said Kurt, slipping his hand in Carson's and swinging their arms back and forth. "You'll have to tell her that yourself, though. I have to work with her in the afternoons."

At long last, they reached their school and headed straight for their usual morning hangout, in the corner of the courtyard beneath the giant statue of a dolphin. There was already someone standing there, and Carson could see as they got closer that it was Seth Parker, Kurt's best friend since Year 2 and part of their admittedly small social circle. The sandy-haired boy was leaning casually up against the dolphin, taking long drags from a cigarette and blowing the smoke out in perfect rings.

"You're early today," said Kurt, sidling up beside him and setting his book bag carefully on the ground.

"For once," Carson added.

"Oh, shut up," replied Seth. "Someone had to get here first. Besides, it gave me a few minutes to ogle some ladies without either of you cockblocking me."

"And how did that work out for you?" asked Kurt sweetly. "Did you get any phone numbers this time, or just a couple of slaps to the face?"

"I said ogling, not talking to," retorted Seth, taking a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and offering it to Kurt.

"You know I don't smoke", Kurt admonished him, turning his nose up at them. "I have glee, and It's bad for my voice."

"So is alcohol, and that's never stopped you from getting plastered at parties," Seth pointed out.

"Or from smoking things besides cigarettes," Carson added, smirking.

"That's not nearly the same thing as inhaling god knows what that's in those things," insisted Kurt.

"Suit yourself," said Carson. "Hey, Seth, give me one of those, will you? I don't have to worry about protecting my voice." Seth obliged, handing Carson a cigarette and a lighter.

"Nor do I," piped up Santana Lopez, storming up to them and holding her hand out demandingly. "Fork over one of those things, Parker. Today is going to be shit and I'm gonna need it."

"Something wrong, Satan?" asked Carson. "Not that I care, mind you, but you seem just a little vexed."

"Just three fucking exams today, and I didn't study for a single one," said Santana with a shrug as she took the cigarette Seth handed her and lit it with a lighter she fished from her jacket pocket. "Not that it really matters. It's not like I'm going to uni, anyway. Fuck that. I'm getting out of here and going to New York once I'm cut loose from this place."

"You can come live with me," said Kurt. "I'm going there, too. I hope. We can live in a shitty flat and complain about our love lives. You can set me up with guys, I can set you up with, you know...whatever is floating your boat at the moment..."

"As exciting as that sounds, Casper, why don't we forget the future for a minute and focus on what we're going to do this weekend?" replied Santana. "My parents will be gone until Tuesday, and we'll have my whole place to ourselves. Should we gather some people and have a good time on Friday night?"

"Will there be food?" asked Seth.

"More importantly, will there be booze?" asked Carson, getting to the real questions.

"Booze and everything else you can think of," smirked Santana. "You know damn well that my parents have a fully stocked liquor cabinet. All you have to do is show up. Although, if you want to bring your own refreshment, I'm sure as hell not going to stop you."

"And that's Halloween!" Kurt piped up excitedly. "We can make it a costume party."

Carson smiled inwardly to himself. Of course Kurt would want to make it a costume party and be more excited about that than about the recreational refreshments. His twin never missed an opportunity to dress up.

"Whatever gets your rocks off," said Santana with a shrug. "I'm gonna head to class. I'll see you losers later."

"I'm going to dress as a vampire, I think," Kurt mused, picking up his book bag and looking thoughtful as Santana turned away and headed into the building. "I have that cape in my closet that I've never even used. Carson, you should dress up, too."

"Do I have to?" groaned Carson. "I'm only going for the booze, I really don't need a costume."

"We'll see," chirped Kurt.

"I'll dress up," said Seth with a shrug. "What the hell. Maybe it'll endear me to Quinn Fabray."

"I doubt it," snorted Carson. "Unless maybe you went as Jesus."

"Hmm," said Seth thoughtfully. Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Come on, let's get to class and get our exam over with," he sighed, linking his arm through Seth's and leading him away from the dolphin. "I'll see you at lunch, Carson."

"Bye," said Carson, giving them a half-hearted wave as he picked up his own book bag. He sighed and headed in the direction of his first class, not relishing the thought of yet another long and pointless day. It wasn't easy being one of the few people in the entire school with a modicum of intelligence, including the teachers, but he supposed that it was just a cross he was going to have to bear until he was old enough to be granted his freedom.

Just three more years and you'll be free, he reminded himself, pushing open the school doors.

It was a long day, certainly, but nothing Carson hadn't been through a million times before. He was grateful when the afternoon finally arrived, though, even though all it meant for him was trudging home to do his homework alone in his room while he waited for Kurt to come back from glee practice. He really worked hard to maintain good grades, although not because anyone particularly cared whether or not he did. He knew his parents didn't give half a shit what his grades were, since they weren't Kurt's. He did it for himself, so that when the glorious day came on which he could leave and go anywhere he wanted, he'd have a foot in the door to a decent university. He wasn't exactly sure yet where that would be, exactly. All he knew was that he wanted his options to be as open as possible.

"Hi, Mom," he said as he let himself into the house. His mother was stretched out on the couch, thumbing through a magazine and sipping lazily on a cup of tea that Carson was all but positive was probably spiked with some kind of alcohol.

"Where's your brother?" she replied, as though he hadn't even spoken.

"On a shuttle to Mars," Carson answered sarcastically, kicking off his shoes and heading into the kitchen to grab an apple.

"Don't be a smartass," she admonished him. "I'm your mother."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. He's at glee club," Carson said, taking a bite of his apple as he climbed upstairs as quickly as possible. The less interaction he had to have with his parents on a typical afternoon, the better.

He stayed in his room all afternoon, diligently finishing every last bit of his homework and then collapsing onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling and reflecting on nothing in particular. At some point he must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, he was opening his eyes to a pitch black room, and he could hear raised voices coming from downstairs as his parents engaged in yet another one of their epic fights.

The neighbors must be so entertained, he thought sarcastically as he listened to his mother screechingly demand to know why his father was so very late getting home. He wondered if she was blind or just stupid.

The careful turning of his doorknob jarred him out of his thoughts, and his room filled with a sliver of light from the hallway as Kurt cautiously peeked his head into the room.

"Carsey?" he whispered, using the nickname that he had used all the time when they were little, but which he very rarely used anymore now that they were teenagers.

"Yeah?" said Carson, glancing over at him. The bridge of his nose hurt from falling asleep in his glasses, and he carefully removed them, setting them on his bedside table and rubbing his nose.

"I, um... I can't sleep," whispered Kurt.

"Neither can half the neighborhood, I'd bet," said Carson as the sound of something heavy hitting the wall downstairs echoed through the house among the yelling. Kurt said nothing, just continued standing in Carson's doorway, hugging his arms around himself and looking at him with silently pleading eyes.

"Ok," Carson sighed, scooting over to make as much room for Kurt as he could and patting the spot beside him. "Come on in here with me."

Kurt smiled in relief, closing the bedroom door and hurrying over to the bed. He climbed on and settled himself close to Carson, his arms around his waist and his head resting on his chest as he breathed in deep.

"You still smell like smoke," he said quietly.

"I know. I'm sorry," replied Carson, settling one arm around Kurt's shoulder. "I fell asleep right after I finished my course work."

"It's ok. I like it," said Kurt. He settled down more, sighing against Carson and giving him a small kiss to the collarbone. "Good night."

Carson leaned his head down to kiss the top of Kurt's forehead and squeezed him protectively close as the voices downstairs escalated louder. "Good night, Kurtsie," he whispered into the dark.

"So," said Carson as he leaned against the doorway of Kurt's room and looked his twin up and down. "Are you going as a vampire, or a vampire hooker?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" asked Kurt defensively, checking himself out in the mirror and smoothing his hands down the front of the tight, black vest he was wearing over a long sleeved black shirt (which went really well with the extremely tight black pants he was wearing, Carson had to admit). "What's wrong with it?"

"Well, your ass is on full display in those pants, for starters," said Carson. "Not to mention other things. God knows how many guys will be all over you dressed like that."

"That's kind of the point," said Kurt, smiling into the mirror as he grabbed his cape and fastened it around himself.

"Really? What would Mom and Dad say if they knew their precious angel was going out dressed like a prostitute vampire so that horny guys could drool over him?" asked Carson.

"Probably that it's somehow your fault," said Kurt. "Besides, they'll never even know. They'll be back and asleep by the time we even get in." He took the small tube of fake blood he'd fashioned out of corn starch and food coloring and dabbed a little onto his finger, which he spread carefully along the corners of his mouth. "There. How's that?" he asked, turning around and smiling at Carson, putting his fake fangs on display. Carson swallowed.

Ok, is it considered creepy to tell your own twin brother that he looks sexy? Or... what's the protocol here? he thought, trying his hardest not to stare at Kurt's crotch, which was practically trying to bulge free from the tightness of those damn pants. He did make one hell of a hot vampire, that much was certain.

"You know I I look good, so you might as well just admit it," said Kurt, crossing his arms and raising his eyebrows.

"Fine. You look good," admitted Carson, relieved to have that moment of awkwardness over with. "Better than me, anyway." He had borrowed some of Kurt's tight clothes and fashioned himself a ninja costume out of black pants and a black shirt. He carried a black bandana, which he planned to tie over his face when they got to Santana's house.

"Nonsense. You're the hottest ninja ever," crooned Kurt, patting him on the shoulder. "Now come on, I have dance moves to show off."

"How in the hell are you going to dance in that outfit without severely crushing your balls?" asked Carson, allowing himself to be dragged down the stairs and out the door.

"It's a gift," replied Kurt. They hurried down the streets, stopping along the way to pick up Carson's friend from school, Malerie, whom Carson had invited along more out of pity than anything else. Malerie wasn't the brightest or most popular crayon in the box, but she was also the only person, besides Carson himself, who actually seemed to want to be in their morning creative writing class. Even if most (well... all) of her writing was stolen from other sources. He felt a weird kind of kinship with her. So when she had overheard him and Kurt talking about the party at lunch the day before and had inquired about it, Carson had weirdly not had the heart to not invite her.

"This is going to be so much fun," she said excitedly when she opened the door to her house and stepped outside. She wasn't wearing a costume, but she did have her ever-present video camera in one hand and was eagerly panning it from one twin to the other.

"The fuck are you planning to do with that?" asked Carson, pointing to it.

"Um...film things?" she said. "Like I do every day. This is the first party I've ever been invited to, and I want to remember every moment."

Carson wondered if she was still going to feel that way when they got to Santana's house and it was nothing but people drinking, smoking, and grinding on each other.

"Um... great," he said. "Let's go." The three of them made their way down the busy streets toward Santana's neighborhood, which was far more affluent than the twins'. Her father was a doctor, and the Lopez family lived in what might not exactly be called a mansion, but which was certainly larger than any of their other friends' homes. It was perfect for a party. Apparently so, if the loud music Carson could hear all the way down the drive was any indication.

"Hey, bitches," Santana greeted them, ushering them in and balking at Malerie. "The fuck's with the camera?"

"Never mind, just ignore it," said Carson, taking in the sight of Santana's sexy leather cat suit and cat ears headband. "Nice costume."

"Yeah, well. You knoooow," Santana said, slurring her words a little, and it was obvious she was already quite drunk. "Itsh a party."

"Someone please point me in the direction of the alcohol," said Kurt. Santana pointed, and Kurt went off in the correct direction, his cape flying out behind him. Carson really wanted to join him, but he wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to do with Malerie. He had a feeling that drinking wasn't quite her thing.

"Is there booze? Sweet!" Malerie exclaimed just then, hurrying off after Kurt and leaving Carson still in the entryway, feeling confused.

"Ok, maybe drinking is her thing," he mused.

"Wha... what are you sposed to be?" slurred Santana, looking Carson up and down.

"I'm a ninja," answered Carson, rolling his eyes and fastening his bandana to his face. "Isn't it obvious?"

"Not really," said Santana. "I thought you were supposed to be something abstract, like melancholia or whatever. Anyway, it's hot."

"Careful, mate," said Seth, walking up to them and slapping a hand on Carson's shoulder. "Tana's drunk as a skunk and will literally blow anything right now, so watch your back. Or your dick, as the case may be."

"Shut the fuck up," said Santana, punching Seth on the arm.

"Is Quinn here yet?" asked Seth hopefully.

"No, and I doubt she's coming. She has a celibacy club meeting at her house tonight," Santana sorted as Carson quietly made his way through the sea of bodies to the booze table. He poured himself a drink as he watched Malerie down what seemed like her second or third, from the looks of her.

"Greeaaat party," she said with a grin.

"You've been here for five minutes," said Carson.

"And they've been magical!" Malerie crowed, waving her video camera around in one hand. "Where are all the guys?"

"Hitting on my brother, by the looks of it," Carson growled, narrowing his eyes as his attention turned to the Lopez living room, where lots of people were either drinking, smoking, or dancing, and in particular, where Kurt was dancing suggestively to the latest Ke$ha song. He was looking hot as hell in his vampire costume, but what really was catching Carson's attention was the fact that not one, but two guys were dancing very, very close to him. Practically grinding up on him.

Well. That wouldn't do. That wouldn't do at all. He couldn't explain why, but he suddenly felt a very strong wave of... jealousy? Nah, it couldn't be jealousy. Kurt was his brother, and he just felt protective, that was all.

Whatever it was, it was making him down one more drink and then storm his way over to Kurt, shoving one guy away from him with either hand and settling himself up against him, his front pressed to Kurt's back. He felt Kurt seize up just a little, and then, Carson swore he didn't know what the fuck had come over him, but he was suddenly putting his hands around Kurt's waist and swaying along to the beat of the music.

Well... actually, he was more like grinding, technically... right? No. No, this was just dancing. Just dancing with his brother and letting those other guys know that they couldn't just do that with Kurt, ok? Because Kurt was special.

Just dancing.

And putting his lips close to Kurt's neck was just dancing, too. And so was Kurt pressing back against him as they moved. Just dancing.

"Waaaanky," crooned Santana, raising her drink cup at them and raising her eyebrows suggestively.

Oh, fuck, I need another drink, Carson thought, snapping back to himself as the song ended and another began. He quickly let go of Kurt and wandered over to the booze, downing three more drinks in a row and taking a deep breath.

Calm the fuck down, Carson. Get a damn hold of yourself.

He strode back into the living room, intending to let Kurt know that he was going outside for some air, but he forgot all about that as he watched yet another guy get close to Kurt, grabbing at his waist and pulling him close.

"Hey, cowboy, hands off," protested Kurt, prying the guy's hands off of him and glaring.

"Ah, come on. One dance," the guy insisted.

"I said-"

"He said to back off, asshole, so why don't you go fuck off and leave him alone?" interrupted Carson, giving the guy a shove to the chest with one hand. The guy rolled his eyes in defeat and wandered away, and Carson felt a punch on his arm as he turned to face Kurt.

"Ow! Kurt, what the fuck?" he exclaimed, rubbing his arm and glaring at his twin.

"I can take care of myself, you know," slurred Kurt drunkenly. "I don't need you to do it for me. I'm not a baby."

"Well excuse me," Carson huffed. "So sorry. Next time I'll just let some pervert molest you."

"See that you do," grumbled Kurt, pushing past Carson and heading back toward the alcohol. Carson shook his head. He always forgot how grumpy Kurt got when he was drunk.

He spent the next few hours drinking and staying out of Kurt's way, although he still kept a very close watch on him as he danced his adorable little ass off.

Stop thinking of his ass as adorable, Carson, Jesus. That's gross.

"Carshun," said Malerie, walking up to him on teetering feet and looking like she was about to fall over. "I gotta go hooome. I don't feel sho good."

Great, thought Carson as he reached a hand out to steady her. She's trashed.

"How much did you drink?" he asked.

"Not much," Malerie replied with a sloppy smile. "Three... four... maybe eight... I don't know..."

"Christ," murmured Carson. "Hey, Satan, tell Kurt that I'm walking Malerie home, ok?" he said to Santana as she passed by them.

"Whatever," said Santana. Carson carefully led Malerie out of the house, which wasn't quite as easy as it should have been, considering that he wasn't exactly sober himself. It took almost an hour to get her home, her frequent vomit breaks considerably prolonging the trip.

"Here we are. At last," he said with relief when they finally reached her house. "Drink some water, and try to practice holding your liquor for next time. Ok?"

"Kaaaaay," she agreed, holding the strap of her camera tightly in one fist. "I'll see you in s...school... I have to throw up," she said, rushing inside.

Well, that was eventful, Carson thought with a sigh. He made his way home, not particularly feeling like going back to the party, and let himself into the empty house. He stripped himself of his ninja costume, put on pajama pants and a T-shirt, and collapsed into bed, sending off a text to Kurt before he fell asleep to remind him to come home before their parents did.

Apparently, Kurt had not gotten the memo, because Carson awoke five hours later to an insistently ringing phone.

"Hello?" he mumbled into it, rubbing his eyes.

"Carson?" Kurt's voice whispered frantically. "I'm just coming home now, and Mom and Dad are just getting in, too. What the fuck do I do? I'm gonna get caught!"

"You're just coming in? Fuck, Kurt, what the hell were you doing all night?"

"Seth got a hold of some stuff, and... ok, that's not the point. The point is, if Mom and Dad see me sneaking in like this, I'm fucking dead!" said Kurt.

"Ok, ok. Keep your pants on," said Carson, choosing to ignore the irony of his word choice. "I'll distract them and text you. Ok?"

"Thank you," breathed Kurt, and Carson hung up, rubbing his pounding head. He hadn't realized how hung over he was until right that moment. He had no time to dwell on that, though. Kurt needed him, and he would have to come through for him.

He quietly made his way down the stairs, peering around every corner to see where his parents were. His mom had collapsed onto the couch, and his father was in the bathroom. Ok. He'd have to just distract his father, then. Sheryl was out cold and wouldn't wake up if a bomb went off in front of her face.

He snuck into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, his eyes scanning the shelves until they settled on a whole carrot. He grabbed it and walked over to the sink with it, quietly inserting it down the sink. He made sure it was down there nice and tight, and then he turned the garbage disposal on, wincing at the loud noise.

Coast is clear, Kurt, he dashed off in a text before clearing his throat.

"Daaaaaad!" he called loudly over the whirring of the disposal. "DAD!"

"WHAT?" Neal answered irritably, stalking drunkenly into the kitchen and glaring at him. "What is it? Jesus, my head is pounding."

"There's something wrong with the sink," said Carson calmly. "I might have accidentally tried to use the garbage disposal on a carrot."

His father peered down into the sink and turned the disposal switch off, swearing under his breath. "Goddammit, Carson, do you have any idea what the hell this is going to cost to fix? What the fuck is wrong with you? I swear to god, sometimes I wonder what the hell I did to deserve this shit in my life. One kid was enough."

"Sorry, Dad," said Carson in a syrupy sweet voice.

"Get the hell out of here," Neal ordered. "Go back to bed."

"Whatever you say," muttered Carson, silently giving his father the finger on his way out while Neal's back was turned. He made his way back upstairs and peeked his head into Kurt's bedroom.

"You get past Mom?" he asked.

Kurt nodded. "Out cold."

"I know."

"He sounds really mad at you," said Kurt, biting his lip and looking guilty.

Carson shrugged. "No more than usual. He hates me, anyway."

"That's not true, Carson," protested Kurt.

"Yeah, it is," said Carson. "It's really ok. Did you get home alright? No more perverts trying to feel you up or anything?"

"No," said Kurt with a smile.

"Good. Better get into bed before you get caught," said Carson, giving him a smile and preparing to shut the door.

"Carson?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you," said Kurt.

"Anything for you, Kurt," said Carson before softly closing the door.