Carson wasn't quite sure what to do with his new knowledge once he left his grandmother's room. He was so weighed down by a host of conflicting emotions, and it was all he could do to collapse against the cold, brick wall of a nearby building and shakily light up a cigarette as he pondered what he had just learned. Namely, that his parents apparently didn't even care a tiny, little bit about his well-being, not even enough to let him go and live with someone who did. They, specifically his father, had, in fact, chosen to intentionally keep him in an environment where he was unwanted and treated like shit constantly.

Fucking Christ, who the hell did I piss off in a former life? he thought bitterly as he took a long drag from his cigarette and exhaled slowly, watching the smoke billow out into the frosty air. What did I ever do to deserve this? Did I just happen to draw the short straw when I was born, or what? Did the fates look at Kurt and I and go "Ok, let's roll the dice. Looks like this baby will grow up to get anything he wants, and this one... fuck that one. He can have a shitty life unfit for even the worst person in the world."

Honestly, at this point, he would be willing to believe anything.

He finished his cigarette and wandered around town for a while with his hands shoved in his jacket pockets, not doing anything in particular. He considered starting to run, just running as fast and as far away from everything as he could. He wondered how long it would be before anyone noticed he was gone, and once they noticed, if they would even care. Obviously, his parents wouldn't, and would probably be glad he was gone. Kurt would notice, but only because he'd be short one fuck buddy. Santana would too, but she probably wouldn't worry.

In short, they'd notice, but they wouldn't give a shit. He was close. He was so close to just running and saying "Fuck it" to everybody, but then he found himself coming full-circle back to where he'd started, outside of the assisted living home where he'd spent so many hours by the bedside of the one person who would both notice and care if he went missing. If only she were able to.

Goddammit, he thought with a sigh, looking up at the building, which was getting harder to see clearly as it grew increasingly dark outside. He closed his eyes for a moment, summoning all the strength he had left in him before he turned around and started for home, deliberately taking as long as possible.

By the time he was walking up the driveway toward his house, it was late enough that almost all the neighbors were home already, their houses either completely dark or with a lone light shining dimly through one window. He could see the light on in Kurt's bedroom, and he sighed wearily as he hoped fiercely that his twin had just fallen asleep without turning his light off. He was in no mood whatsoever to deal with Kurt at the moment.

Of course, as was typical of his luck, Kurt was not asleep when Carson quietly entered the house and slowly made his way up the stairs toward his room. His twin was on him almost as soon as he'd stepped foot onto the upstairs landing, his arms crossed and his face looking peeved.

"Where the hell have you been?" Kurt demanded, glaring at him. "You've been gone all day and you wouldn't answer your phone. I was worried. I was beginning to think you were dead in an alley somewhere."

Carson scoffed, returning Kurt's glare with one of his own. "My phone was on silent. And bullshit you were worried. It's not like you couldn't just replace me if I was gone, right? One fuck buddy is as good as another."

"How can you even say that?" Kurt retorted, crossing over to him and wrapping his arms around him before Carson could do anything. "You're my brother too, you asshole. Of course I couldn't replace you, and I wouldn't want to."

Carson just stood there, letting Kurt hug him. He didn't have the energy or the desire to hug him back, but he couldn't squelch the feeling of comfort that Kurt's arms gave him, which, frankly, pissed him off more. He didn't want to feel comforted by Kurt hugging him. He didn't want to feel like sinking into Kurt's arms and letting the steady thumping of his twin's heartbeat calm him down. He was hurt and angry, and goddammit, right now he wanted to stay hurt and angry.

"Leave me alone, just leave me the fuck alone," he snapped, pushing Kurt away and rushing into his room as fast as he could, closing the door and sinking down against it as he drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. He thought dark, stormy thoughts about his parents, about Kurt, about life in general, about how everyone was out to fuck him over and they were happy to do it. It was the worst feeling in the world, really, to feel so trapped in a shitty life, stuck in an endless cycle of wanting better but knowing he had to wait to obtain better. Whatever "better" might be.

I don't know how much more I can take, he thought as he buried his face in his knees and tried to fight off the tears that came anyway. I'm tired. It never ends, and I've been dealing with it for too fucking long. I'm so fucking tired.

Just a little while longer, he reminded himself, rocking himself back and forth against the door without thinking about it. Just a little while. As soon as you finish school, you'll go off to uni and then all of this, all of this bullshit, it will be long gone. You can start fresh and never deal with any of it again. Just be strong.

I don't know if I can, was his last thought before he fell asleep where he was, still hugging his knees to his chest.

"Carson!" Kurt shouted, scurrying down the sidewalk as he tried to keep up with Carson, who had left the house ahead of him and was already making progress toward the street. "Carson, wait up!"

He ran until he had caught up with his twin, panting to regain his breath as he switched his messenger bag from one shoulder to the other. "You could have waited for me," he said to Carson as his twin looked straight ahead, refusing to make eye contact with him.

"I wanted to get there on time today, Kurt, because I have important shit to do," Carson replied in a bored tone of voice. "And you take for fucking ever to get ready in the morning. It's really not my job to escort you to school."

"I didn't say it was," Kurt snapped back. "But we at least usually walk together. I don't know what's crawled up your ass the past few weeks, but you don't have to be such a shit to me in the mornings."

Indeed, for the past several weeks, it seemed as if Carson had literally stopped giving a fuck about much of anything except school, and it both confused Kurt and pissed him off. His twin had been even more on edge than usual, and more often than not, Kurt received a snippy retort if he dared to say anything to him at all. The only times when he loosened up at all were when he was either drunk or high, and even then he was more closed off than usual. They hadn't even had sex in weeks, which was worrying because even when Carson was at his most moody, it usually didn't affect their sex life that much. Something was definitely up, but, as usual, whatever it might be was clearly going to remain a mystery, because Carson wasn't talking.

It couldn't be family drama, Kurt decided. At least, no more than usual. Their dad hadn't been around much, and their mother was at least trying to act civil when Carson was around.

Maybe Santana did something to him, he thought darkly. Though, I don't know why it would affect him this much. Or why he would take it out on everyone, including me. Especially me.

I wish he would just fucking talk to me instead of bottling everything up. He has to know it doesn't do him any favors.

He sighed and prepared to trudge through another school day, meeting up with Seth and Sebastian at their spot while Carson went on inside the building alone, as was his recent custom. Kurt bit his lip and watched him go, wanting badly to follow him and shake him and ask him what the hell his problem was, but not having the energy in him for it.

"He'll be fine," Sebastian said, as if he could read Kurt's mind.

"Maybe, but he's pissing me off," Kurt mumbled. "Not to mention worrying me. All he ever does is go into that stupid library and study anymore when he's at school. He even does it during lunch. And he snaps at me when he bothers to talk at all."

"He's Carson," said Seth with a shrug. "You know he gets moody."

"I don't pretend to be an expert on all things Carson or anything," said Sebastian seriously, "But, I do know that pushing him to open up is just going to close him off more. It's how he is. He'll snap out of it eventually and respond when he's ready.

"Yeah, well, it still frustrates me," Kurt mumbled as the bell rang to indicate the beginning of the day. "Gotta go. History awaits."

"Fascinating," said Sebastian as he walked with him into the building and down the hall. "Have fun with that."

"Oh, I will," Kurt replied in a bright tone, thankful for something to take his mind off of Carson for a while. "Have you seen the new teacher who replaced Mrs. Sellers after she took her maternity leave?"

"Which one?" asked Sebastian, frowning in confusion.

"Mr. Martinez? Tall young guy, Latino, wears a lot of tight jeans and T-shirts?" prompted Kurt. "Come on, surely you've noticed him around."

"Oh!" Sebastian exclaimed as it finally clicked. "Fuck, he's hot. I didn't know he taught history."

"Well, he does, and it's very hard to concentrate on wars and shit when he's at the front of the class with his ass on display in those jeans," replied Kurt, taking his pocket mirror out of his bag and making sure his hair still looked perfect. "Plus, I'm pretty sure he plays for our team."

"Lusting after the teacher, hmm?" Sebastian said with a sly grin. "I'm so proud of you right now. Bet I can fuck him before you do."

"Oh, shut up," said Kurt, slapping him playfully on the arm. "Go to class."

"And you're bossy, too," Sebastian replied as he headed down the hall toward his own class. "I like a dominant man."

Kurt smiled, shaking his head and giving his hair one, final check in the mirror before he opened the door to his history class and eagerly took his seat in the front, right beside Carson, who was busily scribbling something into a notebook.

"What are you working on?" he asked him, leaning over and brushing his fingers softly over his twin's back.

"Notes," replied Carson shortly. "For the school paper."

"Oh," said Kurt, trying to sound upbeat. He was about to ask what the notes were about, but he was suddenly very distracted by the arrival of their teacher into the classroom, looking hot as ever in a black T-shirt and jeans. Kurt swallowed and crossed his legs demurely, hurriedly unbuttoning the top button of his shirt just in case Mr. Martinez happened to be looking over at him during class.

Which, admittedly, he often was. Kurt was sure he'd imagined it the first few times, but after several days it was quite clear that he was, indeed, one of the teacher's favorite students to look at while going on about wars and treaties and other things Kurt couldn't care less about when there was a great ass in tight jeans being paraded in front of him. Honestly, who could concentrate?

He dug around in his bag once the lesson had begun, retrieving a pen and his notebook. He set the notebook on his desk and pulled off the pen cap, sticking it on the end of the pen and sticking the pen in his mouth, just enough to be barely tucked between his teeth while his tongue darted out every once in a while. He noticed Carson giving him a stormy look out of the corner of his eye, which, quite frankly, only spurred him on more.

"So, by the end of... of the war," Mr. Martinez was saying, his voice trailing off as he caught sight of Kurt sucking earnestly on his pen and swallowed. "Um... you know what," he said, closing his teacher book and holding it discreetly in front of his pants. "Why don't you all turn to page 412 and start answering the comprehension questions. I have... I have work to do. At my desk," he spluttered, hurrying over to his desk and looking relieved once he was finally behind it and his pants were no longer visible.

"Oh, before you do that, could you please go back to the board and write down those dates you said were going to be on the exam?" piped up Carson, his voice dripping with fake, syrupy sweetness. "I can't seem to find them."

Mr. Martinez cleared his throat uncomfortably as Kurt turned to Carson and glared at him, knowing full well what he was up to.

"I, um... the dates are in the list of key facts at the end of the chapter," the teacher replied. "I'm sure you can find them yourself."

"It's just so hard," Carson replied with an exaggerated sigh as he flipped trough his book. Mr. Martinez blushed furiously and busied himself writing something down in his grade book.

A snort from a student several rows back echoed throughout the classroom, and Kurt kicked Carson under their table, prompting Carson to kick him right back.

"Ow," he muttered through gritted teeth as Carson focused his attention on his book, ignoring Kurt completely. Kurt spent the rest of the class trying to concentrate on his assignments, occasionally throwing a flirty smile or a well-timed suck of his pen over in Mr. Martinez's direction when he caught the teacher looking at him. If it was pissing Carson off, well, then... all the better.

"Ok, what the fuck is all that?" Carson asked him as soon as the bell rang and they'd exited the classroom (but not before Kurt had gotten in one last flirty wave to Mr. Martinez on his way out).

"What's all what?" asked Kurt innocently, heading straight for his locker as Carson followed him, his face dark with irritation.

"Oh, I don't know, Kurt," Carson answered sarcastically. "Maybe all that eye-fucking between you and Mr. Martinez? Who is a teacher and is therefore too old for you."

"Excuse me, I must have missed the part where who I eye-fuck is any of your business," Kurt replied haughtily as he reached his locker and began spinning the combination on its lock. "Considering that you've been a complete bear to me for weeks now. Besides, what's the harm in it? He eye-fucks me right back."

"Exactly, Kurt," Carson stressed, sounding exasperated. "He's in his thirties, he shouldn't be eye-fucking you at all. What do you think, just because you're hot that you can suddenly start seducing everyone and anyone you want?"

"Actually, Carson, maybe that's exactly what I think," Kurt replied angrily, turning around to look Carson square in the eye. "We're not exclusive. Hell, I don't even know what we even are anymore, and I don't stop you from incessantly fucking Santana. So if I want to seduce a teacher, or anyone else, then that's my choice, isn't it?"

"Again, you're missing the point," Carson snapped. "He. Is. A. Teacher. You're a student. Do you even care that if anything happened he could lose his job, or are you really that selfish?"

"I'm selfish?" Kurt spluttered, his anger snapping inside of him like a rubber band. "What about you? Walking around snapping at everyone, including me, like an asshole for the last few weeks and refusing to let anyone help you? I'd say that's a little bit selfish, wouldn't you agree?"

"Oh, please, that's not even the same thing," Carson retorted.

"Like you care if anyone loses their job," Kurt spat. "All you care about is me being available for you to fuck any time you want."

"Not true, and don't you think that's a little bit of the pot calling the kettle black?" replied Carson with narrowed eyes.

"Excuse me?"

"Look, I'm only trying to save you from yourself, here," said Carson.

"Well, don't," Kurt said through gritted teeth, slamming his locker shut with a loud bang that echoed throughout the hallways and attracted the brief attention of some nearby students. "I'll flirt with who I want, when I want, and I don't really give a shit if you like it or not. Are we clear?" He stormed down the hall, not waiting for an answer from Carson. He didn't think he could stand one more second with him before he exploded.

Who the hell does he think he is, anyway? he thought bitterly as he practically stomped down the hall, pushing his way past students and not paying any attention to where he was going. He thinks he can order me around like he owns me? Bullshit, he hasn't even touched me in weeks. Why the hell does he care who I flirt with? It's not like he's USING me anyway. I'll flirt with whoever the fuck I want. Any time I want. It's my body, and I'll decide what to do with it.

He was so busy with his thoughts that he almost didn't even realize that he was standing outside the history classroom until his hand was on the doorknob, ready to turn it. He paused, realizing where he was and what he was about to do, and wondering if this was something he was going to regret later.

Probably, he thought, his fingers brushing up against the pocket of his pants and feeling the outline of the condom he had started carrying around ever since he and Sebastian had become a thing. But I don't even fucking care right now.

He took a deep breath, turned the knob, and pushed open the door, revealing an empty classroom except for Mr. Martinez, who was at his desk busily working on something that looked important. He looked up in surprise when Kurt walked into the classroom and shut the door behind him, locking it as an extra safety measure.

"Kurt?" the teacher said cautiously, and Kurt didn't miss the way his cheeks turned slightly red, nor the nervous look on his face or the way he visibly swallowed.

"Don't you have a class right now?" asked Kurt.

"No, this is my planning period," Mr. Martinez replied, his eyes quickly travelling down Kurt's form and back up again to his face. "Was there something I can help you with?"

Kurt smiled, turning on his seduction mode as easily as a light switch. "Maybe," he said, putting his bag down carefully on the floor and situating himself on the teacher's desk so that he was sitting on the edge of it closest to Mr. Martinez's chair with his legs crossed, his arms supporting his weight as he leaned back slightly. "You don't mind if I sit here, do you?"

"Um, well... n-no," the man replied, reaching up to tug at the collar of his T-shirt. "I... I guess not."

"Oh, good," said Kurt, smiling before biting down on his bottom lip. "See, the thing is, I'm just not sure how well I'm going to do on the exam this week."

"Oh," said Mr. Martinez, and Kurt could almost see the relief pass over his face. "Is that all? I'm sure I could help you with a bit of tutoring."

"You could," Kurt said, nodding. "Or," he added, leaning closer to the teacher and reaching out a finger to toy delicately with the skin just above the man's T-shirt collar, surprising himself with his own boldness. "We could, perhaps, come up with some other arrangement? Something that would guarantee me a passing grade and mutually benefit both of us, if you get what I mean?"

He leaned his face closer and watched the other man gulp as the space between their lips grew smaller and smaller.

"Kurt, I can't... we... this is very inappropriate," he stammered, his voice silenced as Kurt closed the final bit of distance and kissed him roughly.

"Maybe, but you want it," Kurt replied as he parted from the kiss and licked his lip. "I've seen the way you look at me in class."

"I... but... I don't..." Mr. Martinez tried to protest as Kurt delicately slipped off the desk and into his lap, straddling him.

"I think you do," said Kurt, smiling as he felt the telltale bulge in his teacher's pants. "Unless that's a roll of hard candies in your pants."

"Oh god," the teacher whispered under his breath as Kurt experimentally moved his hips, grinding down on him.

"So, it's totally your choice, of course," continued Kurt, leaning in and delicately kissing the exposed skin of the man's neck. "I'll walk right out of the classroom right now if you want. But somehow," he said, scooting out of Mr. Martinez's lap and settling down on his knees in front of him, "I don't think you really want that." He ran his hands over the bulge in the man's pants to prove his point, and he heard him sigh shakily before he looked nervously over to the closed door.

"Did you lock the door?" he asked, and Kurt smiled, nodding.

"Mm-hmm," he replied, placing a teasing kiss over the fabric-covered bulge. "Is that a yes?"

Mr. Martinez closed his eyes and nodded slowly.

"Brilliant choice," purred Kurt, wasting no time as he reached for the button of the man's jeans and began to work them open. His brain was screaming at him, demanding to know just what the fuck he thought he was doing, but he shoved the thoughts away, concentrating exclusively on pulling his teacher out of his pants and wrapping his lips around him.

"Oh god," the other man moaned, and Kurt looked up at him through his eyelashes to take in the effect he was having on him. Mr. Martinez had his eyes closed, his face turned toward the ceiling as he breathed heavily, and Kurt smiled as well as he could with a full mouth as he began bobbing up and down on him, using every trick he had picked up along the way.

Carson would totally flip his shit if he could see this, Kurt thought as he brought up a hand to fist around what he couldn't fit in his mouth. But I don't give a shit. This is me taking charge, and he can just deal with it.

"You know," Kurt said brightly as he removed his lips from Mr. Martinez and started using his hand to pump him instead, his eyes looking coyly up at him. "I have a condom in my pocket. And lube in my bag. This could get a whole lot more fun, if you so choose."

He didn't have to say anything else. His teacher had lifted him up and practically thrown him down on the desk in about three seconds.

I told you I could seduce whoever I wanted, Kurt thought, feeling both triumphant and guilty as he pulled Mr. Martinez down on top of him and wrapped his legs around him.

Carson trudged down the hallway to his locker, his already sour mood made even worse by the sheer size of the homework assignment he knew he was going to have to do that night for science. He was at least grateful that he had finished his exam early and had consequently been dismissed before anyone else, granting him a few moments of silence in the empty hallways before the throngs of cattle, better known as students, started clogging them. He would take whatever peace he could get, being in absolutely no mood to deal with anyone's shit. Especially not after his fight with Kurt that morning.

It wasn't that he was deliberately trying to be an asshole to Kurt lately. Well, not entirely, anyway. He just found that he suddenly had a lot less tolerance for bullshit than he had before. It felt like a cloud had settled over him ever since that day in his grandmother's room, and he was always running, trying to stay one step ahead of his emotions before they caught up with him and destroyed him. He'd detached himself from pretty much everyone while he dealt with them, and he supposed it had probably affected Kurt the most.

Sometimes he felt like his increasingly complicated relationship with Kurt was like digging a constantly deepening hole that he didn't have a prayer of getting out of, but which he knew he didn't entirely want to get out of.

It sucked, basically.

He fucking hated watching Kurt flirt with that history teacher. Fucking hated it. It ignited a fire of jealousy inside of him, which was ridiculous, of course. He should have been over that shit by now, what with the amount of time he'd spent watching Kurt and Sebastian together. And especially after all the talks he'd given himself about how he shouldn't want anything from Kurt except a friends with benefits relationship, because that was all Kurt seemed to want.

An older guy touching him is an entirely different thing, though. I was only looking out for him. Don't know why I bother, if he's just going to be a shit about it.

As if the universe wanted to prove a point (and Carson often suspected that it did), as he turned the corner toward his locker, the door to the history classroom opened up and out stepped Kurt, his hair a mess and half the buttons on his shirt undone as he grappled with the button on his pants. He looked up, freezing in his actions and looking slightly guilty as he noticed Carson staring at him. It was only a brief moment, but it was there. Then the guilt was gone and replaced by a stony look and a raise of Kurt's eyebrow, as if to ask Carson what the hell he was going to do about it.

You know what, Kurt? Nothing. I'm going to do nothing, Carson thought wearily. Do what you want. He adjusted his bag on his shoulder and walked right past Kurt, not making any eye contact at all as he focused all his concentration on finding his locker without screaming bloody murder.

By that Friday night, Carson was more than ready for a distraction. He was reaching his breaking point, what with all the Kurt drama, not to mention his blistering homework load and the fact that the tension between his parents had become so thick it could practically be cut with a butter knife. He was pretty sure that they were never sleeping in the same bed anymore even when Neal was around, which wasn't very often these days.

I take it the accommodations at Mystery Redhead's place are more satisfactory than the ones here, he figured. The bright side was that his father wasn't around much, but the downside was that when he was, he seemed to go out of his way to be even more of an asshole to Carson than normal. Which, oddly, seemed to piss Sheryl off even more, which led to more fighting, which led to Kurt moping around (or fucking Sebastian in the house as some sort of weird rebellion), which led to the entire house basically being a ticking time bomb of tension.

Carson really fucking needed a night out.

"You up for the club tonight?" he said into his phone after dialing Santana's number. "I'm on my way there. We could meet, or I could pop by your house first and give you an earth shattering orgasm. Tongue, fingers, or dick, your choice. Although, I do kind of hope you choose dick, because I haven't been laid in like two weeks."

"Fuck, don't tempt me," Santana groaned into the phone. "I'd take you up on all three of those, but unfortunately my abuela is here to visit. If I don't at least spend tonight at home visiting with her I'm going to get bitched at the entire rest of the weekend."

"Well, shit," mumbled Carson. "Well, I'm going to the club by myself, then. I can't stay at home tonight. Kurt's got Sebastian around and my white noise machine is on the blink."

"Sucks, babe," said Santana sympathetically. "Can I take a rain check on your, um... offer, though? For tomorrow, perhaps?"

"I'll consider it," replied Carson. "Good luck with your grandmother."

"Thanks. Gonna need it. I should be fine as long as she doesn't happen to see the Megan Fox poster behind my door."

"Yeah. Well. See ya," Carson said awkwardly, hanging up the phone and continuing on toward the club. By the time he got there, he was determined to have a good time. Well... as good a time as he was capable of having, anyway. At the very least, he wanted to get plastered off his ass and forget what feelings were.

"Right. First things first," he announced to no one in particular as he entered the club. He made his way over to the bar and plopped his money down for a drink, which he quickly downed before ordering two more. He smiled as the pleasant, buzzed feeling took over him and looked around the club.

"One more, please," he said to the bartender, plunking down some bills as the woman nodded and began preparing the drink.

"Thirsty, are we?" said a guy, sidling up to Carson and leaning up against the bar beside him.

"Maybe," Carson replied curtly.

"You look a bit young," the guy said.

"You look a little nosy," retorted Carson, taking the drink the bartender slid to him and downing it in less than two gulps.

"Hot and feisty," the guy said with a smile, flashing a set of perfectly white teeth. "I love that in a man."

"You think I'm hot, huh?" asked Carson.

"Well, you don't often see an ass like that in a club like this," the guy replied, inching closer into Carson's personal space. "You here with anyone?"

Carson crossed his arms and met the guy's gaze, his eyes locked on the guy's brown ones. "What's it to you?"

"Just wondering," the guy said with a chuckle. "It's just, you don't seem to be, and it's weird, that's all."

"What's so fucking weird about it?" asked Carson. "I can be at a club alone. It's allowed."

"I only meant that someone as hot as you would usually be with someone," the guy supplied. He was so close to Carson now that the sides of their arms were touching, and Carson could smell the alcohol on his breath. He quickly scanned the guy with his eyes, taking in the lean, muscular body that was perfectly accentuated by a tight, white shirt and tight jeans. There wasn't any denying the guy was definitely hot, even if he was being kind of an intrusive motherfucker at the moment.

"What's your angle?" asked Carson.

"What do you think it is?"

"I think you're looking for a free blowjob," replied Carson, downing another drink.

"Well, I wasn't going to come right out and ask like that. I did think we could dance and get to know each other a little first."

Carson reached for his fifth (or was it his sixth?) drink and toyed with the glass for a moment, considering the offer. Logically, he knew that the guy was being weird and creepy and was probably a gigantic asshole, and that he should probably tell him to get lost before he lost a limb.

On the other hand, at least he was a hot asshole. Who also thought Carson was hot enough to hook up with despite being a total stranger.

And Carson had been wanting a distraction.

And he hadn't been laid in weeks, after all.

And the icing on the cake would be the fact that this would give Kurt a taste of his own medicine. If he could fuck anything that moved, so could Carson.

"Know what?" he said, chugging down the drink and grabbing the guy by the hand. "Fuck dancing, let's go to the bathroom."

"I... oh... ok..." the guy stammered, allowing himself to be dragged across the club and into the men's room. Carson wasted no time shoving him into a stall and pressing him up against it, his lips locking with the guy's before he could really think about what he was doing.

"You're much more aggressive than you look," the guy said breathlessly once Carson had parted from the kiss and had started fumbling with his belt buckle.

"I'm full of fucking surprises," Carson replied. "I've got the condom, please tell me you have the lube."

"Here," the guy said, rooting through his pocket and shoving a small bottle in Carson's hand.

"Thanks, hon," Carson said, smiling as he turned the guy around and pushed him tightly against the wall, whispering in his ear. "I promise you, you've never had a fuck quite like the one your ass is about to get."

"You know, Sebastian, the next time I'm blowing you and you feel the urge to pull my hair, please try to remember that I do actually want to have hair left when you're done," Kurt groaned, getting up off his knees and wiping his lips delicately with one finger as he stumbled drunkenly back onto the couch.

"Sorry," Sebastian apologized, clumsily tucking himself back into his pants and pulling Kurt into a kiss. "I kind of lose control of my own strength when I'm drunk."

"I know, and it's hot, but my poor scalp," Kurt whined, falling back against the cushions as Sebastian pressed him into them.

"I can make you forget all about it with a blowjob," Sebastian said with a grin, leaning down to suck a kiss into Kurt's neck.

"Watch the hickeys!" Kurt squealed. "It's coming to the end of scarf season."

"Right," said Sebastian, working his way down Kurt's body with his lips, pressing a kiss over the fabric of Kurt's clothes every few inches. "Got something for me in here?" he asked coyly, running his hand teasingly over Kurt's denim clad erection.

"Maybe," Kurt giggled, cutting himself short as he heard footsteps on the walkway outside. "Shit," he muttered, pushing Sebastian away and sitting up. "I don't know if that's my mom or not."

"Fuck," Sebastian slurred, getting to his feet and adjusting his clothes while Kurt ran his fingers through his hair and tried not to look quite so flustered. Or drunk off his ass. He wished he had time to hide all the half empty bottles.

To his relief, it was not one of his parents that came strolling through the living room a moment later. It was Carson, clearly severely plastered and having trouble staying steady on his feet.

"I'm hooooome," he announced in a sing-song voice, plopping down on the couch beside Kurt and smiling stupidly. "I just... room's spinning. Shit."

"How did you get home?" asked Kurt. "You can barely walk."

"Took... took the bus and then I walked around for a while," Carson slurred. "Wasn't sure I had the right house. All the fucking houses on this street look the same. We.. we should... should paint ours, like, pink or something, so we can find it."

"Ok, I'm gonna go," said Sebastian, patting a twin on the shoulder with either hand. "Kurt, I'll see you later. Carson... you ok, killer?"

"M'fine," Carson murmured, picking up one of the bottles off the coffee table and taking a swig from it. "M'drunk."

"I can see that," said Sebastian with a smile. "Bye, guys."

Kurt watched him go before turning his attention back to Carson, who was sitting on the couch looking intently at the bottle in his hand, as though he wasn't quite sure what it was.

"Where did you go tonight?" asked Kurt.

"Club," said Carson, putting the bottle down. "Had to. Had to get drunk and just... just, like, forget shit. Shit, so much shit. Shit everywhere." He curled up in the corner of the couch and hugged his knees, looking unusually small and vulnerable. Kurt wasn't quite sure how to reply to that, but he didn't have to, because Carson kept talking.

"Like, my life is just... it's shit, Kurt you know? Everyone hates me. 'Specially Dad. I don't understand why didn't just let me go when he had the chance, it probably would have been way less stress."

"What do you mean, let you go?" asked Kurt, confused.

"To Grandma's," whispered Carson.

"I still have no idea what you're talking about," said Kurt. "Ungh, I'm so drunk."

"Grandma... Grandma would have taken me," Carson said, rocking back and forth in his corner of the couch, staring blankly off to the side. "When I was little. She said. She said she would. But Dad said no," he continued, his brows furrowing into a frustrated frown. "Said I had to stay, but he doesn't even like me."

Kurt stared at him, trying to gather up enough functioning brain cells to make heads or tails of what Carson was saying. "Are you saying you could have been adopted by Grandma?" he asked. Carson nodded.

"Mmm-hmm," he crooned, a smile forming across his lips. "But they said no," he repeated with a pout. "Didn't like me. Wanted to fuck me over, and they did."

Kurt blinked, doing his best to process this information. Carson could have been adopted? He didn't doubt this was true. Grandma had expressed her disapproval often enough with the way Carson was treated so obviously inferior to Kurt, even if their father was very careful to never let her see him being outright physically abusive. If he had, Kurt wondered if the adoption would have happened no matter what Neal had to say about it.

Am I a horrible person if I'm secretly glad that he didn't get adopted? he wondered as he bit his lip and watched his twin rock himself monotonously, his face looking like he didn't know whether to laugh or cry. We wouldn't have had each other then. We wouldn't have the bond we had growing up.

But... Carson also wouldn't have had to live his entire childhood being constantly hit and punished.

Oh god, I AM a horrible, selfish fucking person.

He felt like the shittiest person on the planet, sitting there being secretly glad that his brother had a horrible childhood because of what it would have meant for Kurt if he hadn't. He didn't know if it was possible to feel any lower, but he didn't want to find out. He hoped it was just the alcohol talking, that he would think more logically in the morning. At the moment, all he wanted to do was take Carson in his arms and hug him forever. Comfort him and let him know that he was there for him, despite the fights, despite the ups and downs and twists and turns of their severely fucked up relationship, despite everything. That he was here and that he cared.

He tentatively reached a hand out and brushed it gently against Carson's shoulder, expecting Carson to shrink away from him or tell him to fuck himself or something. Carson didn't do anything, however. He let Kurt awkwardly pet him, and Kurt decided to go for broke. He held out both arms to Carson, and Carson looked at them for a second before he crawled over to them and let Kurt wrap them around him securely.

Kurt wanted to cry as he sat there, hugging Carson to his chest and gently stroking his hair with one hand as Carson buried his face in his shirt and let out a shaky breath that smelled of alcohol and cigarettes.

"Could have lived with Grandma," came Carson's muffled voice from where his face was buried in Kurt's chest, and Kurt held him tighter, rubbing soothing circles into his twin's back.

"I know," he whispered. "I know."

"She would have wanted me, you know."

"I know," Kurt repeated. He lay back on the couch to get more comfortable, pulling Carson on top of him and continuing to gently stroke his back as Carson rested his head on his chest and planted a kiss just below the collar of Kurt's shirt.

"You smell like flowers," he murmured, and Kurt smiled in spite of himself.

"It's my lotion," he said, kissing the top of Carson's head.

"Smells nice," said Carson. "Better than that guy at the club. He kind of smelled like trees and shit, but you smell reeeally good."

Kurt decided he didn't want to know what Carson meant by "That guy at the club." He tucked his fingers under Carson's chin and lifted his face up, bringing their lips together in a soft, tender kiss. He didn't exactly expect Carson to kiss him back, but he did, a little more desperate this time as Kurt brought both hands up to cup his face. Carson maneuvered himself into a better position on top of Kurt, settling his body between his legs, and Kurt brought his legs up to wrap around his waist as their lips glided together effortlessly. Hands roamed and shirts were tugged at, until both boys were shirtless and enthusiastically letting their lips wander wherever they wanted.

Carson flipped them, flopping down onto his back and pulling Kurt on top of him, his hands running down Kurt's back to settle at his ass, and Kurt instinctively ground down into him. He was rewarded with a soft moan from Carson, who wrapped his legs around him and frantically ran his fingers up and down Kurt's back while Kurt set to work on his twin's neck with his lips.

"Can... can we... I want you," Carson babbled in his ear. "In me. Want you in me."

"Mmm," Kurt mumbled in reply, nipping at the spot just below Carson's ear. "You sure?"

"Yes," Carson insisted in a panted whisper, bucking his hips up into Kurt's. "Please, I want... I just want... I only wanted you... went with him but I wanted you..."

"Shhh," Kurt soothed, looking down into Carson's face and stroking his cheek gently. "It's ok, Carsey. It's ok. I'll take care of you, ok?"

Carson bit his lip and nodded as Kurt worked his way down his check and stomach with his lips before clumsily undoing his twin's pants. He removed them as swiftly as possible, reaching for the lube Sebastian had left on the coffee table and drizzling it over his fingers. He kept his eyes on Carson's face the entire time he was preparing him, paid attention to every breath, every quiver of his lips, every flutter of his eyelashes. He watched the blue eyes slowly darken and become almost black with lust. He watched Carson's face contort with pleasure when he inserted the third finger and crooked them up just right, and he silenced the desperate moan with a kiss before he pulled his fingers out and ripped open a condom.

"Please," Carson whined, making grabby hands toward Kurt. "Please, I want you."

"Shhh, baby, I know," Kurt said soothingly, leaning down to kiss him tenderly as he lined himself up. He hesitated only a moment before he pushed in, slowly inching his way inside as Carson kissed him desperately. It took a minute before he bottomed out, and he just stayed put for a minute, looking down into Carson's face and committing every detail to memory. This was a rare moment of Carson without his hardened, world-weary mask, and Kurt didn't want to forget any of it.

"Please," Carson whispered, kissing him again and wrapping his arms around him tightly. Kurt nodded, beginning to thrust gently before he picked up the pace and got a decent rhythm going. It felt so good being with Carson in that way again, being entrusted with taking care of him. Expressing his feelings in the most intimate way possible. Feeling Carson's warm skin against his own and their heartbeats thumping against each other. It was raw and pure, and it felt like home in a way that sex with other men never did.

Carson came first, his face forming a silent scream of pleasure as he flopped back, clearly exhausted. Kurt followed him over the edge after a minute, holding him close and pressing their lips together as he quivered inside of him. He didn't ever want to let him go, never wanted this moment to end.

"Don't go," Carson pleaded, reaching his arms back out as Kurt pulled the condom off. Kurt nodded, quickly resuming holding him as they lay there on the couch, limbs entwined together. Kurt could already feel his eyelids becoming heavy, and he could tell that Carson was already more than halfway off to sleep, his face softened into something just short of angelic.

"I really do love you," he murmured as he kissed Carson's ear, sleep rapidly overtaking him. He wouldn't remember in the morning whether he'd really said it or just dreamed he did.

Carson slowly blinked his eyes open, wincing at the sunlight streaming through the living room windows. His head was throbbing, and every bone in his body ached like hell. He'd most definitely drank too much last night.

"Unngh, fuck," he groaned as he tried to sit up, barely managing it due to the blanket that had been tucked tightly around him. He looked down and discovered that he was wearing clothes again, which was weird, because he definitely remembered falling asleep naked right after he and Kurt...

Oh god, we slept together again, didn't we, he thought, frantically trying to piece together everything that happened the night before. He glanced at the coffee table, which was now free of all the bottles and various other debris that had littered it last night. He suddenly remembered the club and groaned out loud, wondering if he'd made a complete shit of himself and told Kurt any details. Maybe not. Hopefully not. He grabbed at a tiny piece of paper that had been tucked inside his shirt sleeve in Kurt's handwriting.

You're too heavy for me to drag upstairs, so I put clothes on you and tucked you in down here. -Kurt

The sound of the coffee maker roaring to life and Sheryl humming in the kitchen made him wince and cover his ears. Fucking hangover, he mumbled in his head as he slowly got up and shuffled his way into the kitchen.

"Oh, you're up," his mother said, looking carefully at him as he entered the room.

"So it would seem," he mumbled.

"There's eggs if you want some," Sheryl said awkwardly, nodding over to a pan on the stove. "I know you like scrambled ones."

Carson was more than a little taken aback by this. It was such a simple thing, her making breakfast for him, but it was just so foreign. Foreign enough that his self-protective instincts kicked in and he wondered what the catch was as he shook his head.

"No, thanks," he said quickly. "My head hurts, and I'll make my own toast and stuff later."

"Why do you do that?" she asked after a moment of silence, as Carson settled himself down at the table with a glass of water.

"Why do I do what?" he asked.

"You never eat anything I give you," she replied.

"Well, Mother, there's a simple explanation for that," Carson replied, feeling a little snippy since he was in excruciating pain. "See, when you openly admit to drugging somebody via their food for most of their childhood, that person grows just a little dubious when it comes to accepting any food from you in the future."

"Well, I didn't drug the eggs," Sheryl insisted.

Carson sighed. "I know you didn't, ok? I just... I'm not hungry."

There was silence in the kitchen for another moment, and then Sheryl crossed over to the table, pulling out a chair and sitting down as she fixed her gaze on Carson, which creeped him out more than a little.

"Can I help you?" he asked pointedly.

"Do you want to know why?" his mother asked, her voice serious. "Why I put the meds in your food, I mean."

Carson shrugged. "I don't know. Because it would be easier to kill me in my sleep if you ever got the inclination?"

Sheryl closed her eyes and sighed. "No, Carson. I did it to help you."

Carson scoffed. "Help me with what? My non-existent ADHD?"

"Will you just listen to me for a minute?" Sheryl pleaded, looking him in the eye. "Please."

Carson settled back in his chair, his arms folded across his chest. "Fine. Go on. This should be amusing."

"You were really a rambunctious child when you were very small. I know a lot of that was probably our fault for not giving you as much attention as you needed, but... Ahem. Your father was always just... I know this might be hard for you to believe, but it was very hard for me sometimes to watch the way he treated you, compared to Kurt. He's not the easiest man to reason with. As you know."

"Got the scars to prove it, literally," Carson said. "Continue."

Sheryl winced before continuing. "Well, I thought back then that maybe... maybe if you were on the meds, that you would calm down a little and not get on his nerves so much. And that maybe if you were a little more like Kurt, then maybe your father would at least leave you alone, if not even warm up to you a little."

"Yes, well, we've seen how well that worked, haven't we?" asked Carson bitterly.

"Carson, I'm sorry," his mother said with a sigh, reaching tentatively across the table and patting Carson awkwardly on the hand. "For a lot of things. And especially for letting him treat you the way he does."

It felt really weird, sitting there at the table with his mother while she was actually, terrifyingly, trying to be motherly. It freaked Carson out more than anything, but he didn't really have the energy at the moment to get up and storm out like he wanted. He sat there and turned her words over in his mind instead, wondering why, if she cared so fucking much about the way his father treated him, she didn't just tell him to stop.

"Why me?" he blurted out before he could stop himself. "Why was I the target? I thought he wanted a kid."

"He did," Sheryl insisted, looking relieved that Carson hadn't told her to go fuck herself yet. "He did. He wasn't all that enthusiastic about twins at first, but he was at least happy that you were both boys. But you... you were just such a fussy baby. You had colic and cried all the time, and in general you were very hard to bond with."

"Babies cry, it's kind of their thing," Carson muttered.

"And when you got older you were just, well... more difficult compared to Kurt. It was like he didn't even want to try to connect with you, and he just poured everything into Kurt. And I didn't know how to stop him from treating you the way he did. I know it's not an excuse, but..."

"While we're getting everything out in the open, lest you forget, he's not the only one who treats me like shit," Carson interrupted her. "You've told me more than once that you wish I'd never been born."

Sheryl sighed. "Look, I know I'm not Mother of the Year. I know nothing I say can make up for anything. I don't even really know how to explain myself, except to tell you that it was easier to keep the peace in the marriage, so to speak, and go along with the status quo than try to change it."

"The status quo being "Make sure Carson knows he's unwanted," Carson added.

"I never really felt that way, Carson," she said. "I really didn't. I wanted both of you."

"But keeping your abysmal marriage intact was more important than looking out for your child," said Carson. "I get it, Mom. Really."

"Carson, please...."

Carson didn't hear the rest of what she said after that. He was too busy thinking dark thoughts about his father. About both parents, actually, but especially his father. He hadn't realized it was even possible to hate the man even more than he already did, but, well.

I hate him. I fucking hate him. I just want to fuck up his life like he fucked up mine.