He had no idea how old his first official client was, but he guessed somewhere around twenty or so. Not that much older than himself, anyway. Carson had found him in a chat room for local people looking for hookups and agreed to meet with him in a hotel room downtown. He'd hesitated outside the door for a full ten minutes, trying to build himself up before he took a shaky breath and knocked. The guy opened the door almost immediately, ushering Carson inside and giving him an appreciative look from head to toe and back again.

"Nice," he said, his eyes wandering down to the vicinity of Carson's groin, which was currently stuffed into the tightest pants that he could find in his closet without resorting to borrowing a pair of Kurt's. "Very nice."

"I know," replied Carson, trying to sound jaded and bored, like he met strange men in hotel rooms all the time and this was just another day at work. "I try. Now, what did you have in mind?" he asked, swallowing and trying to keep the shakiness out of his voice as the guy took a step closer.

"How much for the night?" the guy asked.

"More than you can afford, I'm sure," Carson replied. "You can pay by the service, or you get an hour for five hundred. A condom is used the whole time with no exceptions, and I top. If you want to top, the price goes up. Way up."

"Well, that was a mouthful," said the guy with a grin.

"I like to be as direct as possible," Carson said.

"Your price is a little high, don't you think?"

"Well, you're more than free to not pay it," answered Carson, suddenly wondering if he really could go through with this to the end. He felt his knees start to shake and hurriedly calmed himself. This guy doesn't know anything about you. Don't give him anything to work with. Stick to your guns.

"I could just leave right now," he continued, relieved at how strong and sure his voice sounded. He stepped a little closer, tentatively brushing his fingers over the guy's stomach, right above the waistband of his jeans. "You'd have some pretty blue balls, I'd imagine, but, you know. You could always jerk off. Wouldn't cost you anything."

"You're awfully feisty," the guy said as he let out a breath, sounding more awed than annoyed.

"Like I said, I don't deal in bullshit," declared Carson.

"Good. That's good," murmured the guy thoughtfully.

"So, are we doing this or what? My time is valuable."

The guy looked pained, but eventually nodded in defeat. "Damn it. Ok, you can top. Two hours for a thousand?"

"Fine," replied Carson, a bit more confidence starting to creep over him now that their negotiations were getting somewhere. "As soon as you pay me, we can get started."

"I have to pay up front?" asked the guy with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes, you do," Carson insisted, crossing his arms. "No more body parts are touching until there are notes touching my hand. Those are the rules."

The guy snorted, shaking his head to himself as he went to retrieve his wallet. He counted out the agreed upon thousand, pressing it into Carson's hand, and Carson stuffed it into the pocket of his jeans. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and for a brief second felt a wave of shame at his reflection before he pushed it aside, focusing on the task at hand.

"So what's your name?" the guy asked as he sat down on the bed.

"My name?" Carson blinked.

"Yeah. You know. That sound that people generally use to catch your attention," replied the guy with an amused grin. "I assume you do have one. Or should I just call you BadBoy2012?"

"I don't do names," said Carson quickly. "You don't need to know mine, and I don't want to know yours."

"Interesting."

"Well names aren't really necessary for me to blow you, are they?"

"No, but it would be nice to have something to call out during orgasm."

Carson rolled his eyes and sighed. "Fine. Call me Taylor Lautner," he said at last, giving the first name that came to mind thanks to the nauseating poster he was used to seeing on the back of Kurt's bedroom door. The guy let out a loud laugh that echoed through the room as he looked at Carson in amazement.

"You're a real trip. This is going to be fun, I can tell. Ok, shirt off, Taylor Lautner. You'd better be worth your steep price," the guy said, settling back on the bed against the pillows.

"Oh, trust me. I am," Carson replied, trying his best to actually believe it as he crossed the room and hooked his fingers into the hem of his own shirt. He tried to picture the last of his hesitance being tossed onto the floor along with the garment as he climbed up onto the bed.

"Get ready to have your world rocked."

In the back of his mind, he was vaguely aware that he was saying that sentence to himself as well as his client, but for vastly different reasons.

The guy licked his lips and yanked off his own shirt, tossing it to the side and settling back as Carson considered him, trying to decide what he should do first. He didn't really want to kiss this guy on the lips, and he wondered if he was expected to. It felt like a boundary he shouldn't cross, somehow, which was absolutely ridiculous since he was actually about to fuck this guy, but still. Kissing felt more... intimate and personal.

He finally settled for leaning in and placing a careful kiss to the guy's jawline, going slowly at first until he remembered that he was being paid for this and that the guy probably wanted a little more enthusiasm than that. He kissed him again on the same spot, rougher this time, and the moan that escaped the other man's mouth sent a surge of pride throughout Carson's body. He began working his way down, neck to chest to nipple, relishing the new found realization that he was under no obligation to be at all gentle or caring. This wasn't sex with Kurt, where he wanted every last moment to be perfect and loving. This was just straight-up rough, dirty sex. Maybe he could learn to really enjoy this for what it was.

He sucked a nipple into his mouth and the guy gasped, yanking roughly at tufts of Carson's hair with both fists. It was a little too rough and it hurt, but Carson didn't bother complaining. He went into business mode and focused, moving his mouth ever more downward until he arrived at the top button of the guy's pants, which he quickly undid and slid them down and off. He was slightly taken aback that the dude wasn't wearing any underwear, but then again. Carson supposed he had been expecting a prostitute, so it wasn't all that strange. He stared for a second at the growing erection he was now faced with, considering it from every angle. It wasn't nearly as big as what he was used to. Or as pretty.

"Like what you see?" the guy asked in a cocky tone, and Carson swallowed back the quick retort that flew to the tip of his tongue, which was "I've seen better."

"Yeah, baby," he said instead, feeling so ridiculous as he said it that he had to actually try not to start laughing. "Looks... so... delicious," he stammered. He settled himself between the guy's legs and reached into his pocket for a condom, unrolling it and taking him into his mouth before he could lose his nerve. He figured it was probably better to keep his mouth occupied before it got him in trouble. At least he'd probably be able to fit the entirety of that thing in his mouth with no issues whatsoever.

He utilized every tried and true trick he had ever picked up, running his tongue along the many veins that littered the guy's cock and teasingly sucking until the guy's breathing was significantly heavier than it had been when they started. He glanced up at him briefly, wanting so badly to start laughing at the way the guy's face was all scrunched up and beet red. Thankfully, laughing with a dick in your mouth was an extremely difficult feat to accomplish. He stepped up his game, and he felt fists in his hair again, pulling too hard and making Carson yelp a little from the pain. He would have to think about instituting a rule about hair pulling in the future.

Several bobs of his head later, he felt a pulsing sensation in his mouth and the guy was coming into the condom, panting and muttering various words under his breath, one of which sounded suspiciously like "Taylor Lautner." It was all Carson could do to not laugh as he separated his mouth from the guy's spent dick and rubbed him gently on the stomach.

"Let me guess. It's been a while?" he asked, all business now as he watched the guy remove the condom and toss it into the garbage.

"Is it that obvious?" the guy asked.

"Well, you did just blow your load and we've only been at this for like three minutes."

"Well, I have one hundred and seventeen of them left on the clock," replied the guy, reaching into the drawer of the table beside the bed and retrieving a bottle of lube, which he handed to Carson with a wink. "We should make the most of them."

Carson nodded and took the bottle, resisting the urge to sigh as he did so. This was going to be a long two hours, even if it was ridiculously easy money.

His next few paid encounters basically went the same way, with the only variable being the ages of the guys involved, although so far Carson had yet to field an offer from someone old enough to give him pause. He wasn't sure how he would react if the day ever came where he got an offer from someone old enough to be his father, but he figured he would cross that bridge when he came to it.

He'd also discovered that performing while stone cold sober made him extremely nervous, so he had started experimenting with using just a little chemical courage before each encounter, hoping that it would take a bit of the edge off. It did help a little, but mostly it made him more jittery.

Meanwhile, he was pretty proud of himself for managing to be as discreet as was humanly possible. He was very careful to only ever meet clients either way across town or outside of town completely, to better minimize his chances of being seen by someone he knew. He tried to keep to afternoon hours when Kurt would be busy with glee club, or weekend nights when he would, more often than not, be occupied with hanging out with Sebastian. And he never, under any circumstances whatsoever, gave any of his customers his name. Sometimes he gave them an obvious fake one, and sometimes he flat-out refused to give them one, based on his mood. Some guys didn't even ask him for it, or want to engage in conversation at all, jumping right into the sex as soon as money had changed hands. He preferred those men, really. The work was over with faster with them, and Carson didn't have to spend time pretending that he was really interested in them.

He wasn't sure how he should feel about the fact that he barely felt any hesitation anymore after a few weeks on the job, so to speak. If he should feel weird about that or what. He supposed that maybe he should feel relief. And probably a fair bit of accomplishment, since the pile of money he was earning was growing steadily bigger every day. The prospect of being able to afford his own flat in the near future and being free from that house of horrors was certainly a powerful motivator that almost made him forget what a chore being alive felt like sometimes.

He just wished he could manage to push aside the nagging thought in the back of his mind that always seemed to pop up whenever he was with a client. The one that blared out "I wish this was Kurt" in flashing, neon lights and made him inwardly sigh with disappointment when it wasn't Kurt.

It was never Kurt, and he felt like shit for even wanting it to be.

"Carson!" Kurt called as he threw one last pair of socks into his duffel bag and zipped it shut with a flourish. "Carson, are you almost ready to go?" He gave himself one last glance in his full length mirror, patting his hair and silently declaring himself to look perfect. After a long, hellish week, the twins' birthday weekend had arrived at last and Kurt was determined to enjoy every last moment of the camping trip they had planned in the woods, just the two of them. He really hoped that Carson would try to enjoy it, too. The poor guy needed a little bit of relaxation to take his mind off his problems. Kurt had felt absolutely helpless in the weeks since Santana's miscarriage, watching as Carson withdrew deeper into himself and threw himself into work harder than ever before. He felt like he barely saw Carson anymore. He disappeared for hours on end every afternoon and returned home in the evening looking exhausted and hollow, like he'd had more than his fill of the world and just wanted to sleep for the rest of his life. He never really answered Kurt when he asked where he spent his time, just gave a tired "Around," if he said anything at all. Kurt wanted so much to be there for him, since he knew full well how much Carson had to be hurting inside, but he was at a complete loss as to how to do that. Hopefully this weekend, free from any and all real world distractions, would at least help his twin unwind a little.

Kurt patted the side pocket of his bag to make sure the present he'd gotten for Carson was still in there, smiling to himself as he felt the outline of the wooden box that contained a beautiful cerulean blue fountain pen (with matching ink) that had Carson's name engraved on it in silver lettering. The pen itself had been partly Sebastian's idea when Kurt had been at a loss as to what to get Carson for their birthday, but the ink color had been Kurt's. He couldn't wait to give it to him.

"Carson!" he called again, grabbing his bag and heading toward his twin's bedroom, where Carson stood hunched over his desk, looking at something on his laptop. He slammed the computer shut quickly when Kurt entered the room, turning around and giving him a strained smile.

"Geez, calm your balls, alright?" he said, waving a hand in the direction of his bed, which was littered with clothes and his empty bag. "I just have to stuff all this shit in there, and then we can head out. How are we getting there, by the way?"

"We're taking Mom's car," Kurt answered, leaning against the wall and holding his bag in both hands in front of himself like a shield. "I don't think she has plans to use it this weekend. I actually don't think she even remembers it's our birthday." Their mother was another problem that Kurt had spent a lot of time worrying about over the past few weeks. She barely left the house anymore, and it was disconcerting for Kurt, to say the least, to see her spend all of her time on the couch watching trashy reality television and stuffing her face with junk food and pills. Not to mention all the alcohol. Kurt wasn't sure if he should worry about her or Carson more.

"Yeah, medicating herself into a stupor isn't going to require a mode of transportation, I imagine," Carson said dryly as he tossed clothes haphazardly into his bag with no sense of purpose or organization. "Ok. I'm all packed," he added with a satisfied look as he started yanking on the zipper of his bag to close it. The zipper refused to budge. "Ugh, this fucking thing. I keep meaning to buy a new one. This one sucks dick."

"You don't need to buy a new one," Kurt pointed out exasperatedly as he crossed over and took the bag from Carson with a sigh. "You just need to learn to pack your stuff so that it actually, you know. Fits."

"Well excuse me, Mommy," said Carson haughtily. "I didn't realize it mattered how the stuff was arranged in there as long as it's in there."

"Oh, shut up," Kurt murmured, folding the clothes so that they took up a bit less space before triumphantly zipping the bag closed and handing it to Carson with a grin. "There, now you're packed properly, and I've already got our tent and other supplies in the car. Shall we get a move on before it gets late?"

Carson gave him a small smile and nodded, slinging his bag over his shoulder and following Kurt out of the room and down the stairs.

"Bye, Mom," Kurt called out to Sheryl as they passed her on their way to the front door. "We'll be back Sunday."

"Have fun, honey," she replied in a bored, absentminded voice as she stared at the blaring television. "Do a bit of grocery shopping before you come home, would you? We're running out of stuff."

Kurt sighed. "Sure," he agreed. "We will." He really hoped she'd make it through the weekend without someone in the house to make sure she didn't drink herself to death.

The boys packed their bags into the backseat of the car and Kurt drove off. To his relief, Carson seemed to be at least trying to enjoy himself, which Kurt could tell because his brother was going out of his way to criticize every single song that came on the station Kurt had set the radio to, a longstanding tradition between the two of them on car rides.

"The actual fuck does "bluffin with my muffin" mean, anyway?" asked Carson, glaring at the radio as if it could see him. "It sounds disgusting."

"You're welcome to change the station," Kurt invited him as he carefully made a lefthand turn.

"I don't do music," Carson mumbled.

"That's not true. You and I both know I've heard you humming Britney songs in the shower," replied Kurt.

"Yeah, well... that was your fault," Carson retorted, crossing his arms defiantly. "You and your practicing for glee club. You got it stuck in my head."

"Sure," Kurt teased. They finally reached their destination twenty minutes later and parked the car, distributing the bags and supplies between them and taking the relatively short trek through the woods to reach the clearing they always camped in. The late afternoon sun shining off the full, green leaves of the trees was absolutely gorgeous, and Kurt said a silent prayer of thanks that it was a rare sunny, rainless weekend that was perfect for camping. Perhaps it was Mother Nature's birthday gift to them.

"This is nice," he said enthusiastically, setting his half of their stuff on the ground and breathing in a gulp of air that smelled of spring. "Isn't this nice?"

"Delightful," Carson said quietly as he started unpacking the tent. "You brought bug spray, right? Because I can feel those little bastard mosquitos practically sizing me up and discussing among themselves which parts of me they want to suck."

"I can relate to that," Kurt replied without thinking and blushing furiously when he realized what he'd said. He glanced over at Carson, whose own cheeks were flushed a brilliant tomato red as he concentrated on assembling the tent.

"Ahem. Right. Yeah, I brought the spray," Kurt stammered. "You fix up the tent, and I'll get something started to eat, ok?"

Carson cleared his throat and nodded, and Kurt set about starting a fire and unpacking the frankfurters and canned beans they had brought along with them. He glanced over at Carson occasionally as he cooked, taking in the cute way his twin became so engrossed in concentration as he built the tent that the tip of his tongue poked out of the side of his mouth a little. He really hoped that Carson would take the opportunity this weekend to have a little fun.

"Dinner's on," he called out once everything was cooked to his satisfaction. Carson emerged from where he had been putting their sleeping bags inside the tent and took a seat beside Kurt on the log he was sitting on.

"Smells good," he said, and Kurt smiled, spearing a hot dog on a paper plate and handing it over.

"I have a bag of marshmallows and some chocolate for later, too," Kurt said as they doctored up their food and began eating. "Because it's our birthday, after all, and if I couldn't bring a whole cheesecake, I at least need something sweet."

Carson looked down into his plate, and Kurt could tell that he was smiling but trying to hide the fact. He leaned over and brushed his finger lightly across Carson's cheek, near the corner of his mouth, and Carson looked over at him questioningly.

"You had mustard there," Kurt lied, withdrawing his hand quickly and feeling stupid. "I, um... I got it."

"Thanks," Carson replied, staring intently down at his food. They finished eating in awkward silence and Kurt busied himself cleaning up while Carson wandered off. He went looking for him and found him sitting up against a tree with his arms wrapped around his knees, staring up at the darkening sky with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Hey, you," Kurt said softly, plopping down beside him and resting his chin on his shoulder. "Thinking about something?"

Carson let out a breath that sounded slightly shaky and shook his head. "No, not really," he replied. "Just watching the stars come out and thinking about how small we all are in the grand scheme of things. Me, you, everyone on earth. We're all fleas in the scope of the cosmos. We live and we die, and there really isn't any meaning to it all."

"Well, shit," Kurt said after a moment of not knowing quite how to reply to that. "That's..." Actually, it was pretty depressing, but he didn't really want to say that to Carson, considering how emotionally fragile he'd been lately. "That's... interesting."

"Just kinda puts things in perspective, is all," Carson said quietly. "Things that you dwell on, you know... stuff you feel is the end of the world... it doesn't mean shit in the end."

Kurt tentatively placed one arm around Carson's shoulder, pulling him close so that he was holding him, and to his surprise Carson actually settled into the touch, resting his head on the spot where Kurt's shoulder met his neck.

"I mean, don't you ever think about that stuff?" asked Carson. "About how literally nothing we do while we're here matters at all? I mean, in the end we all just become dust, and it doesn't even fucking matter what kind of person we were, or what we did, or who we loved. Or... or who we hurt," he added, almost in a whisper as he reached one hand up to stroke at one of Kurt's hands that was splayed across his chest. "It's fucking pointless, really."

Kurt leaned his face down and kissed the top of Carson's head. "I don't know about all of that," he replied, holding Carson tighter to him. "It matters a great deal to us while we're here. Maybe the meaning of life is to enjoy life and love. Or try to, anyway." He knew he probably wasn't being very comforting, but Carson's fingers were still brushing over his hand and he was having a hard time thinking of anything else. "And, I mean, yeah, some parts of life absolutely suck, but on the whole? At some point we're all capable of making our own happiness somehow."

Carson turned his head and looked up at him, his blue eyes full of a look that Kurt couldn't quite read, although that could have just been due to the darkness that was quickly surrounding them. Kurt met his gaze, wanting so badly to say in a million ways that he was here, that he loved Carson and would do anything for him, that he was so sorry about the baby and everything else and that if he had his way, he would make it so that Carson never felt any kind of hurt ever again.

He wanted to say all those things, but of course he couldn't. Instead he found himself inching his face closer to Carson's, inch by inch, until the gap between them was finally closed by their lips pressing together in a soft kiss that sent shivers up Kurt's spine. He expected Carson to pull away or get up and run or something, but to his surprise, his twin returned the kiss, clutching one of Kurt's hands in his. Kurt kissed him back fervently, reaching the hand that Carson wasn't holding up to his twin's face to stroke softly at the spot behind his ear as he poured every last bit of his soul into his lips. He felt a curious, soft tongue run across his bottom lip and he opened his mouth in invitation as he slowly repositioned them, laying Carson gently down on the grass as he hovered over him, never separating their lips. Carson pulled him down on top of him eagerly, and it felt natural to Kurt, kissing like this and being as close as possible. Nothing could hurt either of them as long as they were pressed together like this, safe in each other's arms. Kurt could hold Carson forever. He could, and then he could protect him from everything and anything that tried to hurt him.

He felt legs wrapping around his waist and warm hands creeping up underneath his shirt, and Kurt shivered in spite of the balmy, spring weather. His lips left Carson's to briefly travel to his jawline, nipping at the skin as he slid his own hands underneath Carson's thin T-shirt to roam over the smooth skin. He heard a breathy moan escape Carson's mouth and he moved his lips below his twin's ear as he trailed one hand down further, to the waist of Carson's pants. His fingers brushed over the top button and down to the growing bulge in the front, and he was so caught up in the moment that it took him a few seconds to realize that Carson had pulled away and had his palms pressed to Kurt's chest, pushing up.

"Kurt," he pleaded, pressing up and looking into Kurt's eyes as his own brimmed with unshed tears. "Stop, please."

Kurt granted the request immediately, sitting up and watching as Carson did the same. His twin leaned back against the tree in the same position Kurt had found him in to begin with.

"Carson?" Kurt asked worriedly.

Carson shook his head. "I can't," he whispered, sounding on the verge of tears that he was clearly doing his best to keep at bay. "I'm sorry, I just... I just can't."

Kurt felt like he'd been punched in the gut, but he tried not to let it show. "Ok," he replied, nodding his head. "Ok, we... we don't have to. It's ok." He crawled back over to the tree and cautiously placed his arms back around Carson, pulling him close once more and using one hand to stroke his hair. "Why don't we go back to the campfire, hmm?"

"Ok," agreed Carson. "Yeah, let's do that." He allowed Kurt to take his hand and help him up, and as Kurt led them back to the camp site he wondered silently if his brother would ever quite be the same again.

Even if not, I'd still love him anyway.