By the next morning, he was, thankfully, feeling a lot better than he had the previous evening. As he yawned and turned off the alarm on his phone, blinking at the early morning sunlight streaming through his bedroom window, he decided that his momentary lapse of missing Kurt had been nothing more than the product of extreme exhaustion. He'd have to work on that. Maybe come up with some sort of solid weekly schedule where he could fit in some cat naps as needed. Or maybe if he just pretended that he really was an orphan, and that there was no such thing as Kurt.

Yeah, right. Easier said than done.

Oh, well. It's only a short while until graduation, anyhow. Soon you'll be able to leave this place for real, and start an ACTUAL new life somewhere else. Somewhere without memories, where nobody knows you who are, and where nobody thinks of you as the town whore. That'll be nice.

But, unfortunately, that also wouldn't be for months yet, so, for the time being, he would just have to do his best to get along.

Just remember, you're on your own now and you love it. You don't give a single, solitary fuck what anyone in this godforsaken wasteland of a town thinks of you, least of all Kurt. Pretty soon, you won't ever have to see any of them again.

He left for school excruciatingly early, hoping to get a couple of productive hours out of the journalism classroom before he had to attend his first class. Thankfully, the only people roaming about the school at such an early hour were teachers and the select few, brave students who took early morning remedial classes. Not that Carson pitied them very much. In his opinion, if they spent less time fucking around in their actual classes and more time paying even a speck of attention to what was going on around them, half of them wouldn't be in the position of needing remedials in the first place. He guessed he was just a heartless bitch that way.

He set to work immediately, getting a significant chunk of the weekly paper finished by the time people started pouring into the hallway outside of the classroom. He was so engrossed in his work that he almost didn't notice that Sebastian had entered the room until the other boy was leaning over his desk, peering at him over the rim of his laptop.

"Can I help you?" asked Carson, not making eye contact as he continued clacking away at the keyboard.

"Yeah, it's Friday. What's our action plan for the weekend?" asked Sebastian.

"I assume it's the same plan we've made for the past nine thousand weekends," replied Carson as he put the finishing touches on an article and started the spellchecker. "I'll show up to your house this afternoon, you'll pay me money, and then we'll do filthy things with our genitals."

"Well, yeah, that last part is obvious," said Sebastian with a roll of his eyes. "But we can't do it at my house."

"Why not?" asked Carson, finally looking up from his laptop to glance at Sebastian curiously.

"Because my parents are home."

"Oh?" Carson intoned with interest, his mouth stretching into a devious grin. "I didn't realize your hot daddy would be around. That's all the more reason to do our thing at your house, as far as I'm concerned."

Sebastian gave him a look that could have cut glass. "First of all, that's fucking gross. And secondly, I am not having a weekend sex marathon while my parents are around. Especially with you subtly hitting on my dad the entire time."

Carson crossed his arms. "Don't be stupid," he said indignantly. "And give me some credit. I was going to blatantly hit on your dad the entire time. There is nothing subtle about me when I see a desirable piece of ass."

"I did not just hear that," Sebastian groaned, looking disgusted as Carson looked on in amusement.

"Yes, you totally did just hear me call your dad a hot piece of ass," he replied with glee. "Unf, the things I would let him do to me. He wouldn't even have to pay."

"Stoooooop," Sebastian pleaded, bringing his hands up to cover his ears. "Seriously, shut up."

"Ok, well, if you don't want to do it at your house, then where?" asked Carson practically. "A hotel?"

"What's wrong with your new flat?" asked Sebastian.

"There's barely any furniture in it, and it doesn't have a screening room or room service," replied Carson simply.

"So what? Besides, I helped you lug your grandmother's ancient furniture up there, and you've never invited me for a visit beyond that," Sebastian pointed out. "That's very rude."

"You're weird."

"Come on, don't you want to christen the place in style?" Sebastian prodded.

"Not particularly, no."

"Not even that fancy-ass new bed?"

Carson sighed. "Whatever. I'm only agreeing to this because you're paying and I need the money."

Sebastian grinned, satisfied. "Great. I'll show up around five, then?"

"Bring pizza," Carson ordered. "You know what I like. And also, don't think you can keep your sizzling hot daddy and I apart forever."

"Didn't hear that!" Sebastian called out as he hastily made his way out of the journalism classroom, leaving Carson alone to close his laptop and tiredly rub his eyes. He shoved the computer into his bag and stepped out into the hallway among the crowd of bleary-eyed cattle known as the student body, hoping he had time for a quick stop at his locker first before the morning bell rang.

Ugh, seriously, if these fuckers were moving any slower, they'd be going goddamn backwards, he bitched silently as he pushed and shoved his way through the infuriatingly immobile crowd. He eventually reached his locker with only a couple of minutes to spare, stopping short when he realized that Kurt was standing in front of it, clearly waiting for him.

Kurt, come on. Don't do this to me today.

The two of them made awkward eye contact for several seconds before Carson shook himself and continued on to open his locker as if nothing had happened, all the while feeling his twin's eyes on him.

"Um…. hi, Carson," Kurt spoke up, his voice tentative and cautious. It was one of the first times in a very long time that his voice had sounded anything but disdainful when directed at Carson, and it momentarily made Carson's stomach flop to hear it. Before the logical part of his brain kicked into gear and told him not to be a fucking sap, that was.

"Hi, Kurt," he replied civilly, taking care to keep his tone of voice neutral. He focused on gathering his books, wishing that Kurt would stop staring at him. Not that he didn't appreciate the attention, but it was more than a little weird, considering the way their relationship, such as it was, had been for what seemed like forever at this point.

There was a seemingly endless stretch of awkward silence, and then Kurt cleared his throat. "Listen, Carson, can we, um… I mean, could we-"

The blaring of the morning bell interrupted whatever his twin had been about to say, and Carson breathed a silent sigh of relief as he hugged his books in one arm and slammed his locker shut with the other.

"That's the bell," he said curtly, pointing out the obvious. "Gotta get to class." He turned away as quickly as he could from Kurt's disappointed face and hurried to class, making it into his seat just as the late bell rang.

Well, that was sufficiently uncomfortable.

What did he want, though? I mean, I've pretty much heard everything he has to say about me, my life, and my choices. I really don't need to hear another lecture. Maybe he's finally noticed that I moved out and wants to guilt me into coming back. Ugh, I bet that's exactly what it is. Well, guess what, Kurt? It's not going to work. You can take away my flat when you pry it from my cold, dead hands.

The end of the school day suddenly couldn't come fast enough. By some miracle, he managed to evade Kurt for the rest of the day and practically flew home afterwards, wanting to get the bulk of his weekend homework done before Sebastian arrived. He had the feeling he wouldn't have very much time or energy for it once the other boy got going.

"Knock knock!" came Sebastian's voice, his knuckles rapping on the door just as Carson finished his last assignment, almost if he were some kind of psychic.

"Right on time," Carson mumbled, slamming his book shut and getting up from the sofa. "You better be carrying pizza," he called out as he crossed the flat and yanked the door open.

"I am. I was a good boy," Sebastian said as Carson grabbed the pizza box out of his hands without a greeting and spirited it away into the kitchen.

"Why yes, hello, nice to see you too," Sebastian's sarcastic voice resounded from the hallway.

"Please, I just saw you at school," said Carson as he set about putting the pizza on paper plates. "And one of us is going to be balls deep inside the other in about an hour. I think we're safe skipping the formal niceties."

"Good point," muttered Sebastian. "So, this is the swinging bachelor pad," he murmured approvingly as he leaned against the entrance to the kitchen and looked around, a bottle of soda swinging from one hand. "I would say it's nice, but it's….. actually really kind of depressing. Seriously, you practically have nothing in here."

"Like you've never seen it before," snorted Carson. "You already knew this."

"Well, I kind of assumed you would have done something with the place by now to make it a little more homey," replied Sebastian. "Like, I don't know…. get a plant or something."

"Sebastian, do I look like the kind of person who has the time to take care of a plant?" asked Carson, grabbing the soda bottle from him and rooting around in the cupboard for cups. "I can barely remember to keep myself alive most days."

"Good point," said Sebastian thoughtfully. "I don't know, maybe you could get a poster or something."

"Maybe," Carson agreed in a monotone. "Ugh, hold that thought," he said as his phone began ringing insistently in his pocket. "Hello?" he said as he slid it open, not bothering to check the caller ID first.

"Hello, Carson? It's April."

"Oh…. hi," he answered, caught off guard by the sound of her voice when he'd been expecting it to, most likely, be a potential client on the other end.

"Is this a bad time?" April asked, sounding a bit uncertain.

"No, it's fine, um… what's up?" he asked awkwardly as he gestured for Sebastian to take the plates to the table. He made his way into his bedroom for a bit of privacy as he wondered what his stepmother could possibly want. He hadn't spoken to her since she had stopped by his flat, baby Max in tow, shortly after he moved in to give him a small housewarming gift in the form of a table lamp, which he had felt a bit uncomfortable accepting, but had done so anyway. He never knew how to graciously react to random gifts. That was probably a side effect of hardly ever being given any while he was growing up.

"Well, I won't take up too much of your time. I know you're probably busy right now, but I was wondering if I could possibly ask you for a favor," April said.

"Uh…. sure?" Carson replied, the word accidentally coming off as if it were a question instead of a statement.

"Ok, well, you're completely free to say no, of course, but your father and I have tickets for a show a couple of cities over this coming Friday, and it would appear that no one is free to babysit," said April, getting right to the point of the matter. Carson suddenly felt dizzy. Babysit? Him? For how long? And…. where? Surely she didn't mean for him to go to their house, did she? And what the fuck was he supposed to do with a baby for an entire night? What if he accidentally cooked it, or sold it on the black market or something? Well, she'd probably want that table lamp back then, for starters.

"Carson?" asked April, and Carson swallowed, realizing that he'd been silent for an awfully long couple of moments.

"You…. you want me to babysit?" he squeaked into the phone.

"Yes. It would have to be overnight, so, like I said, I completely understand if you don't want to," replied April reassuringly.

Overnight? Jesus. "Won't my dad kind of, you know, lose his shit?" asked Carson.

"Oh, you wouldn't have to come here," April assured him quickly. "I would just bring Max to your place if you wanted to do it. I would pay you and give you all the stuff you'll need, of course. Your father wouldn't have to know. I just thought…. well, you got on so well with Max when we visited you, and, I don't know. I thought that maybe this would give you some bonding time with him. If you wanted, of course."

Carson considered this. On one hand, he was pretty sure that he possessed roughly the same amount of babysitting skills as the houseplant that Sebastian had suggested he get. And he still didn't know what the fuck he was supposed to actually do with a baby for that long.

On the other hand, though, it would only be for one night. And he never liked to turn down money making opportunities. Even if it wouldn't pay as much as a typical client session would, at least Max would be a lot less demanding than a typical client. Probably. Maybe. If he slept a lot. Babies slept a lot, right?

"Well….. I…. I guess so?" Carson stammered out, almost instantly regretting his decision.

"You will?" asked April, sounding positively delighted. Carson sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Yes. I guess a night couldn't hurt."

"Oh, that's…. thank you!" April exclaimed, and Carson could practically hear her smiling on the other end of the phone. "That's fantastic. I'll drop by on Friday afternoon, then? After you get home from school?"

"Sure," Carson agreed. "I'll see you then."

"Ok. Bye bye, now."

"Bye."

He hung up the phone and frowned to himself as he shoved it back into the pocket of his jeans. What the fuck had he just gotten himself into?

"Who was that?" asked Sebastian curiously as Carson walked back into the kitchen and flopped down into a chair at the table. "Someone trying to set up a hot date?"

"I wish," muttered Carson as he reached for a slice of pizza. "Actually, it was my dad's new wife. Remember, I told you about her? The one who looks like she's copyrighted by the Walt Disney Company?"

"Oh. Yeah. What did she want?" asked Sebastian around a mouthful of dough and cheese.

"She wants me to babysit next Friday," replied Carson, shoving half his pizza slice into his mouth all at once.

"And you said yes?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, I'll probably live to regret it, but it's just for one night. How much damage could I possibly inflict on a baby in twelve hours?"

"Do you want an honest answer?"

"Shut your mouth."

Sebastian grinned mischievously. "I'm kidding, of course. I'm pretty sure the kid will survive. Probably. So, I guess this means no wild sex on Friday, then?"

"No, Sebastian, I'd totally love to ram your cock down my throat while my baby half-brother is hanging out only a short bit away," Carson said sarcastically as he swallowed down his bite of pizza.

"...Really?"

"NO!" Carson shrieked, reaching over to whack Sebastian on the arm. "Fuck's sake! I'll see your ass on Saturday if we're on."

"Just checking." Sebastian took another bite of pizza and chewed it, looking over at Carson thoughtfully.

"Something on your mind?" asked Carson.

"Well, speaking of brothers, Carson…"

Carson felt his stomach seize up as he realized where this was going. "Sebastian," he said warningly.

"Have you, um… spoken to Kurt lately?" asked Sebastian anyway, ignoring the warning.

"I fail to see what business it is of yours," said Carson calmly, despite the fact that he was fervently wishing for Sebastian to just shut up already. He didn't want to talk about Kurt. Not now. Not in his new flat, in his new life.

Sebastian just looked at him for a moment in silence. "God, you two are more alike than you even know. He's miserable without you. You know that, right?" he said at last, and Carson kept his eyes down at the half-finished pizza on his plate, refusing to make eye contact with the other boy.

"He has a funny way of showing that, then," he replied.

"For god's sake, Carson, he was just angry," Sebastian said with a sigh. "You can hardly blame him for that. You have to give him the chance to come around. Has he even tried talking to you?"

"I don't have to give him anything, And why do you even care?" demanded Carson, ignoring that last question. "You're still getting what you want. Sex with one of us."

Sebastian looked down at his plate in frustration. "Look, Carson, if I know anything about Kurt, it's that he's stubborn. You're both stubborn, but Kurt… he has a hard time admitting when he's wrong."

"Well, he's also a big boy, so if he feels that strongly about it, he knows how to reach me," Carson said quickly, pushing aside the nagging thought in his brain that his words were more than a little strange, considering his weird encounter with Kurt earlier that day.

"But-"

Carson sighed, pushing his almost empty plate to the side and getting up from his chair. He crossed over to Sebastian, placing one leg on either side of his thighs and straddling him before the other boy could react.

"Ok, tell me, what do I have to do to get you to drop this?" asked Carson in a low, sultry voice as he wrapped his arms around Sebastian's neck. He ground his hips down, and Sebastian let out a small gasp.

"This is a good start," he replied, flashing Carson a grin as his hands placed themselves around his waist to keep him steady.

"Thought so," said Carson. He kept one hand on Sebastian's shoulder and trailed the other down his arm and into his lap. He let his fingers brush the crotch of the boy's pants ever so slightly before he reached his hand further back, stopping when he felt his fingers touch the slight bulge of Sebastian's back pocket. With ninja-like precision, he removed the wallet from its denim prison and clutched it in his fist as he brought it back to the front and wiggled it in Sebastian's face.

"There, that's better. Now, let's take this into the bedroom."

"What's wrong with right here?" Sebastian whined, and Carson could feel him starting to get hard under his jeans. He said a silent prayer of thanks that Sebastian seemed to have forgotten about Kurt for the time being, and he would do his best to keep it that way for the rest of the weekend.

"There's no condoms or lube in here, and besides, the bedroom is where all the toys are," replied Carson as he leaped off of Sebastian's lap and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, dragging him with it in the direction of the bedroom.

"Good point," said Sebastian as he allowed himself to be dragged into the room and pushed unceremoniously onto the bed. Biting his lip, he watched Carson strip off his T-shirt while rooting around in his dresser drawer for condoms. A loud thud from outside startled both of them momentarily, and Carson rolled his eyes.

"It's probably a cat out on the fire escape," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "I hear it out there a lot."

"Damn cat," groaned Sebastian.

"Forget the cat. We have business to get down to," Carson said with a wicked grin as he tossed a box of condoms in Sebastian's direction. "Lose the clothes."

Kurt couldn't get off that fire escape fast enough once it became abundantly clear what Carson and Sebastian were about to do. He hadn't signed up for that.

He also realized that he had somewhat of a problem, because there was absolutely no way that making it a habit to hang out on your brother's fire escape just to feel closer to him was normal. At all. There was a name for that, and he was pretty sure that name was "creepy."

He wasn't quite sure why he'd started doing it. He'd just sort of tried it on a whim one day, after he had tried and failed to work up the courage to go back into the building and repeat his little breaking and entering episode. He'd discovered that, depending on which part of the fire escape he sat on, he could somewhat easily see, but not necessarily hear, parts of Carson's living room or bedroom. He tried not to look too much, though, because it made him feel like a stalker. Just being out there was enough, most of the time.

He supposed that maybe it just gave him a certain peace of mind to know that Carson was nearby and that he was safe. Sometimes he told himself that he was only sitting out there so that he could wait for a good time, sometime when Carson was home and didn't look like he was busy with homework or something, and then he could actually go inside the building and knock on the door. And then, maybe his twin would let him in and they could finally talk.

Except, if what had happened that morning when Kurt had tried to talk to Carson at his locker was any indication, he had a feeling that the more likely scenario would be that he would just get the door slammed back in his face. And obviously, the perfect moment wasn't going to happen that night. Not when Carson had Sebastian pinned underneath him and was doing god only knew what with his mouth. It practically made Kurt's blood boil with raging jealousy to see it, so he knew damn well it wouldn't do him any good to stay out on the escape any longer.

He took his time going home, stopping at a bakery on the way for a piece of cake to pour his feelings into. He wasn't looking forward to spending another night practically alone in the house, with only his constantly asleep mother for company. It felt so empty and cold now that Carson wasn't living there, even though Kurt told himself that was stupid. Carson had hardly ever been home even when he had lived there, but passing by his twin's almost bare bedroom still made the hollow feeling in Kurt's stomach grow larger every time. And soon he wouldn't even have Adam to distract him, because Adam would be spending his last semester of university in America come the new year, and Kurt wouldn't be seeing him again for a very long while. If ever.

He passed by Sheryl on the couch when he got in and took his cake up to his bedroom, where he could eat it in peace and wallow in feeling sorry for himself. Somehow, when he was younger and picturing what his seventeenth year would look like, he sure as hell had never pictured this. Eating cake alone on the floor of his bedroom in an almost empty house, his family shattered to pieces and he and Carson not even on speaking terms.

He can't avoid me forever, right? I mean, I caught him at a bad time this morning, right before the bell and all. I should probably try the journalism classroom on Monday. I should have done that today, I was stupid. He was probably there the entire time.

He sighed around a mouthful of cake and slumped wearily against the side of his bed as he came to a firm decision. He and Carson were going to talk at some point this week, come hell or high water. Sebastian was right. This whole thing had gone on for too fucking long.

Carson, I know I fucked a lot of things up, but I promise, I'm going to fix it. I'm going to make it up to you, ok? Just…. you have to meet me halfway and at least let me talk to you first.

Please.

He stuck to his guns, putting his plan into action first thing on Monday morning. He arrived at an hour far beyond what most people would consider reasonably early and parked himself right outside the journalism classroom, certain that Carson would show up sooner or later. He was so nervous that he was almost tempted to bite his nails, but he refrained.

Come on, Carsey. Where are you? I need to talk to you.

He waited and waited, but his twin never showed up at the classroom. Disappointed, Kurt eventually gave up and headed for his locker, not wanting to add "being late for class" to the list of ways in which this day already sucked.

Tuesday and Wednesday went much the same way, much to Kurt's extreme disappointment. It wasn't until Thursday morning that he finally, at last, managed to arrive at the journalism classroom just as Carson was letting himself in.

"Carson!" Kurt exclaimed, running up to him and following him into the classroom before his twin could lock him out. Carson gave him an odd look that Kurt couldn't quite read, but it wasn't angry, so Kurt decided to take that as a good sign.

"Can I help you with something, Kurt?" Carson asked as he settled himself down behind the large desk normally reserved for the teacher and started taking his laptop out of his bag.

"Can I talk to you?" Kurt asked in a rush before he could lose his nerve.

"I'm kind of busy right now," Carson replied, opening his laptop and not looking at Kurt at all.

"Oh. Um… I…. I know, but I think we really need to talk, Carson," Kurt insisted, sitting down in a nearby chair and hanging his bag off the back of it. "I've been wanting to talk to you for days. You're a hard man to get a hold of," he added with a smile, hoping that a bit of humor would soften the mood a bit.

"I didn't realize you'd misplaced your phone," Carson said dryly as he started typing something on his keyboard.

"I didn't want to do this over the phone," said Kurt, biting his lip nervously. "I just…. we have so much to talk about, and I-"

"Do we? That's interesting," interrupted Carson, still not looking at him at all. "I seem to recall being given the silent treatment by you for a very, very long time, so it would seem as if whatever you think we have to talk about can't really be all that important."

Kurt looked down at his hands. "Ok, ok, I deserved that. But Carson, I just-"

"Kurt, now really isn't a good time, ok?" said Carson pointedly. "I have a shit ton of work to do here, and I won't be able to do it tomorrow, so could you please?" He nodded his head in the direction of the door, and Kurt felt his stomach dropping to his toes.

"But Carson…"

"Kurt, seriously. Please go."

Kurt looked at him for a second, willing himself not to start crying, even though he could feel his bottom lip starting to quiver as all his confidence seemed to zap right out of him in an instant. This wasn't how the talk was supposed to go at all. I can't do this when he isn't even listening.

"Carson-"

Carson let out a frustrated sigh. "Kurt, SERIOUSLY."

Kurt used what was left of his willpower to keep his lip in check as he quickly grabbed his bag and hurried out of the classroom. He shut the door behind him and leaned against the wall outside of it for a few minutes, wanting to let go and cry, but not wanting to give in that easily. No. Goddammit, no. He wasn't going to be some delicate flower who crumpled at the first sign of adversity. If right now wasn't a good time, then fine. He would keep trying until he hit a time that was good for Carson. Even if that meant paying him a visit at home.

It took him a whole day, but by the next afternoon he had sufficiently psyched himself up again and was heading for Carson's building, looking his best and running the words he wanted to say over and over in his head.

Carson, I know I've acted like a dick about this whole… thing, and I'm sorry. And I know that it will take some time, but can we please try to be brothers again? I miss you. Life isn't the same without you.

I love you.

He swallowed a lump in his throat at that last part. That was the part he wanted Carson to know the most.

He hesitated only briefly outside the building before he reminded himself that he had nothing to gain by being scared. He strode through the lobby as if he belonged there, marching directly to the elevator and pressing the button for Carson's floor without thinking about it. He tried not to think about what would happen if he got the same sort of reception he'd gotten at school the previous morning.

Optimistic, Kurt. Be optimistic.

He stepped off the elevator and navigated his way to Carson's flat, pausing outside the door and suddenly feeling nervous as hell. What if Carson slammed the door in his face? What if he never wanted to talk, ever? What if he just packed up and moved out of the country one day and Kurt never saw him again, and he never even got to say goodbye?

Wow, ok, I really need to calm the fuck down. Damn.

He took the deepest breath he'd ever taken in his life, and then he raised his hand, rapping his knuckles smartly on the door while trying not to hyperventilate.

"Coming!" he heard Carson call out, and then the door was opening and his twin was staring back at him with a look of complete surprise on his face.

"Kurt?" he said, his tone of voice indicating that this was not at all a pleasant surprise. "What are you doing here?"

Kurt straightened his back, trying to project an air of confidence that he was honestly having trouble feeling at the moment. "Is now a good time?" he asked pointedly. Carson looked exasperated as he focused his eyes at a point somewhere to the left of Kurt and sighed.

"How did you even know where I live?" he asked at last, and at least that wasn't outright rejection. Kurt would take it.

"I…. I just…. I found out," he said, avoiding giving an actual answer to the question altogether. "Can I come in? Please?"

"Kurt, I hate to sound like a broken record, but now really isn't a good time, either," said Carson, and Kurt felt annoyance rising up inside of him like a volcano.

"Why?" he asked, trying to sound rational, but not sure how well that was working. "We really do need to talk, Carson, and you can't avoid me forever. Can't you just give me five minutes?"

"Kurt-"

"Please," Kurt begged, desperate. "We have so much to talk about, and I-"

"Helloooo," a bright, female voice rang out in the hall behind them, and Kurt turned around to see April walking toward them, laden down with a baby carrier in one hand and what seemed like a thousand bags full of…. stuff in the other. He wanted to scream out in frustration as he realized that, at this rate, he was never going to get to talk to Carson.

"Like I said. Not a good time," said Carson quietly. "Hi, April," he greeted her with a small smile. "Jesus, is that all his stuff? This is still just for one night, right?" he asked as he started relieving her of her various baggage and setting it in his front hallway.

"Yes, don't worry," she answered with a laugh. "I know I gave you the bassinet and the bouncy seat yesterday, but this is just all the rest of the stuff you're gonna need. Extra clothes, blankets, toys, diapers, bottles…. there should be enough formula in here to last you until tomorrow. Oh, aaand, I typed up some fairly detailed instructions for you, to go with the formula," she added as she started digging around in her purse. "Ah, there it is," she said triumphantly as she produced an envelope and handed it to Carson.

"Kurt!" she exclaimed in surprise as she finally noticed he was there and gave him a warm smile. "How nice to see you again."

"Hi," Kurt muttered, his eyes settling on the carrier in her hand, which, obviously, contained a baby. He didn't want to look too closely at it, but from a quick, cursory glance, he could already tell that the kid was relatively cute. Not that he would admit that. Especially not now, when he was disappointed and pissed off and in no mood to make small talk with anyone, or pretend to care about their babies.

"Kurt was just leaving," Carson spoke up quickly, as if to reassure April that the surly, storm cloud copy of himself out in the hallway wouldn't be hanging around the baby.

"Oh, that's a shame," said April, tilting her head to one side and giving Kurt a sad look. "I would have loved for you to spend some time with Max. Do you want to see him before you go?" she asked brightly, holding the carrier out to Kurt like some kind of offering.

"No, I… I'm actually, um… late," Kurt mumbled, locking eyes with Carson, who looked uncomfortable. "I'll see you later, Carson," he said pointedly and hurried off, wanting nothing more than to escape to the safety of the elevator, where he could, hopefully, be left alone to sulk.

Babysitting? BABYSITTING? He's babysitting for this kid now? For the love of god, WHY?

Ugh, Carson. This is it. We are going to talk, and I don't care what I have to do to make sure it happens, he thought to himself furiously, remembering the key he kept in his wallet.

Carson stood in the doorway of his flat, holding Max in his arms as he waved goodbye to April, who had just spent the better part of forty-five minutes fully briefing him on all things baby. He felt fairly confident that he could keep the kid alive until she came back for him the next day, but he still had his doubts, especially when he remembered that there had been one or two moments he hadn't been paying much attention to, thanks to Kurt's unexpected visit.

He didn't know why the thought of talking to Kurt filled him with so much apprehension and dread. After all, he had made his decisions. Even if Kurt wanted to try to talk him back home, he knew he could stand his ground. All he really had to do was let his twin say his peace and then inform him that, while he heard him and understood how he felt, he would most certainly not be returning back to that house. Not now, not ever.

But, despite this, he just couldn't face the thought of actually going through with this talk. Deep inside, he somehow knew that Kurt could talk him into anything if he tried hard enough. He had always been able to do that. All it took was a sad look in those beautiful blue eyes, and Carson usually felt his resolve start to crumble. He knew he was stronger now, but still. Better to be safe than sorry.

He knew he wouldn't be able to avoid his twin forever, though. That was what was troubling him. It had been the world's biggest relief when April showed up just in the nick of time. He wouldn't always be that lucky.

Max cooed in his arms, and Carson was brought back to his present reality, which was that he was in charge of the life of a tiny little person for at least the next fourteen hours, so he should probably start to attend to that.

"Ok, kid," he said softly as he shut the apartment door. "Let's see if we can't get your shit all set up, shall we? Uh, I mean…. crap. Your crap. Your…. stuff. Yes, that's it. Stuff," he settled on as he placed Max carefully back in his baby carrier for safe keeping. "Sorry. I have a habit of cursing. Though, if you're anything like me, you might…. actually, you know what? No. Don't be like me."

He unpacked all of the stuff April had left him with, placing the bottles and formula in the kitchen and laying everything else out in the living room. He figured it was probably safest if they only left the living room when it was absolutely necessary.

"Ok," he said when everything was unpacked. He scooped Max back into his arms and sat down with him on the sofa, wondering what the fuck he was supposed to do now.

"Now what?" he said out loud, and Max looked up at him with a world-weary expression for someone so young, as if it were his baby way of saying "Hell if I know, you're the adult, here."

"I'd sing you a song, but I don't really know any. That are appropriate for kids, that is," Carson added. "Um… how about a story? Let's see…. ok, ok, so once upon a time there were these three bears, right? Dad Bear, Mom Bear, and Baby Bear. And they all went out for a walk one morning while they waited for their porridge to cool off, because apparently their stove was pretty fucking effective and…. oh, shit. Sorry. I'm trying not to curse. Anyway, they went out, and then this entitled little bitchlet named Goldilocks came wandering through the forest and decided to break into their house, because her parents never taught her any damn manners. Well, either that or she came from a rough neighborhood and was initiated into a gang early in order to survive. Nobody is sure. So, she goes in there, and she sees the porridge bowls just sitting there on the table, and she takes a bite of Dad Bear's porridge, and she bitches that it's too hot. Then she takes a bite of Mom Bear's food and complains that it's too cold, which doesn't make any sense because the whole reason why they were going out was because all of the porridge was too hot, but whatever. So she takes a bite of Baby Bear's porridge, and apparently that one was just fine for her little thieving tastebuds, and she ate the entire bowl, which was so fucking rude, I can't even…I mean, bitch this isn't your food…."

Max started to squirm in his arms, his little face scrunching up as he began to cry.

"Shit," muttered Carson. "It's ok, it's ok, I'll stop telling the story," he said soothingly as he tried to gently rock the baby. Max continued to cry, though, and Carson wondered if maybe he was hungry. Or needed a new diaper. April had said he'd probably need a new one soon.

"Ok, kid," he said as he laid a blanket out on the floor, placed the baby on it, and reached for the diaper changing supplies he'd been given. "This is my first time, so go easy on me. Wow, it's been a hell of a long time since I've had to say that sentence. Wow, ok, inappropriate. Sorry. Thank god you can't understand a word I'm saying."

Max squirmed around, unimpressed, and Carson set about taking care of the task at hand. Ten minutes and several missteps later, the baby was clean, dry, and quiet, and Carson was starting to have serious doubts about this whole babysitting thing.

"How about some nice TV?" he said brightly as he carefully placed Max into his baby seat and switched on the small television. He clicked the channel button on the remote until he found a rerun of Spongebob Squarepants. He settled himself on the floor beside Max's seat and reached for a set of brightly colored, plastic toy keys, which he handed to the baby. Max grabbed them and promptly threw them across the room before starting to whine and point in the direction of the discarded toy.

"It's ok, little guy, I've got them," Carson assured him, crawling over and retrieving the keys. He handed them back to Max, who waited two whole seconds before throwing them again.

"Seriously?" asked Carson as he rolled his eyes and retrieved the keys once more. "You can have these back if you promise not to throw them again. Promise?"

Max just ignored him, of course, his focus fixed on the keys in Carson's hand as he made grabby hands toward them.

Carson sighed. "Ok, ok. Here you go." He held the keys out and Max grabbed them and immediately threw them, giving Carson what he could have sworn was a shit-eating grin.

"Well, apparently you're more like me than I thought."

Ok, maybe this whole babysitting thing isn't so bad, Carson thought as he resigned himself to playing fetch with a baby for the afternoon. I can do this.

To his relief, he'd almost completely forgotten about Kurt.

Kurt waited outside Carson's building the next morning for what felt like forever, waiting for the perfect opportunity to put his plan into action. He'd stayed up for the better part of the night trying to think of what to do next. Obviously, it would never be a good time to talk to Carson. His twin would make sure of that, or else make him wait a very, very long time. And Kurt didn't think he had it in him to wait as long as he was pretty sure Carson wanted to make him wait.

Needless to say, he was getting impatient and desperate. He wanted to cry when he thought about all the time that had already been wasted on the two of them fighting, let alone when he thought about how much more time that would turn into if he didn't at least spark some kind of civil conversation with his twin. Pretty soon, Carson would be going off to university somewhere and Kurt would hardly ever see him again if they never spoke before then. And Kurt would be absolutely damned if that happened.

I can't let him go without at least knowing that I tried everything in my power.

That was where his plan came in. He would wait until Carson left for the day, and then he would let himself in, maybe cook something nice, and wait for his twin to come back home. If he knew anything about Carson, it was that the boy never turned down food. The food, hopefully, was going to be his ticket to not being immediately kicked out.

He hoped, anyway. It was worth a shot. If this didn't work, he was completely out of ideas.

He waited until after April had finally come to pick up the baby and Carson left the building shortly afterwards. He allowed a twenty minute period before he made a move, figuring that if Carson had forgotten something or had to go back for whatever reason, it would be within that time frame. When nothing happened, he decided to finally go ahead. He arrived at the flat in record time, pausing to catch his breath for a second before he stuck the key in the lock and let himself inside.

The place looked, more or less, the exact same as it had the last time he'd been inside of it, except that there were now a few more empty pizza boxes stacked next to the rubbish bin in the kitchen. Kurt shook his head. He could only imagine how much takeout his twin had been consuming since moving out. A glance inside the refrigerator revealed an almost bare expanse of space, occupied only by a bottle of vodka, several apples, a paper plate containing a couple of slices of leftover pizza, and a bottle of ketchup.

Jesus Christ, Carson, Kurt thought, horrified at the contents of the fridge. How are you even still alive? Please tell me you don't eat pizza ALL the time, honey, that's not good for you.

He waited a while, not wanting to start cooking too soon, since he had no idea when Carson would be back. He didn't go poking through the rest of the flat this time, restricting himself to the kitchen and bathroom only. Not that it made him feel any less like a creepy intruder, but at least he felt better that he'd respected some boundaries.

Ok, food time, he decided after a couple of hours of waiting. He opened the shopping bag full of food he'd brought along with him and set to work making a simple pasta dish and salad. Granted, it wasn't the fanciest food ever, but it was one of Carson's favorites, and as a bonus, it was something that would keep no matter what time his twin came home.

He'd just put the finishing touches on the salad when the sound of the door opening caught his attention and he froze, remembering suddenly that he'd forgotten to lock the door behind him when he'd arrived. Oops.

Tentative footsteps approached the kitchen, and Kurt walked toward them, almost colliding with Carson as his twin peeked around the corner and into the room. Carson let out a bloodcurdling scream, which startled Kurt, and he let out a shriek of his own as the two boys stared at each other for an endless moment.

"KURT!" shrieked Carson, his breathing labored as he clutched his chest with one hand. "Jesus fucking Christ! You scared the fucking shit out of me!"

"I'm sorry," Kurt apologized profusely, reaching out to try to comfort him, but Carson angrily batted his hand away. "I'm so sorry, I-"

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Carson demanded, glaring at him as he continued taking deep breaths. "What are you doing….how… how the fuck did you even get in?"

"I…. I have a key," Kurt admitted, biting his lip nervously. He hadn't thought this through. This wasn't how the plan was supposed to go.

"You have a KEY?" exclaimed Carson. "Give it to me and get the fuck out!"

"Nooo, no no no, Carson, please, no, I really need to t-"

"GET OUT OF MY APARTMENT, KURT!"

"Carson, wait, please calm down," Kurt pleaded. "Please. Here, come sit down," he said frantically, pulling one of the chairs out of the kitchen table and gingerly leading Carson over to it. "Sit. Please." His shell-shocked twin actually did sit, pushing Kurt away from him immediately after he'd landed in the chair, and Kurt stumbled back, his eyes meeting Carson's furious, steely blue ones.

"I, um… I cooked," Kurt said lamely, waving his hand behind him at the stove that contained the finished pot of pasta. Carson blinked at him, as if he weren't quite sure how to react to that.

"Do you have any fucking idea how much of a creepy stalker you're coming off as?" he asked icily. Kurt swallowed nervously and held his gaze, even though he was dying to just look at the floor. And maybe have it open up and swallow him. This had been such a horrible idea. What the fuck is wrong with me?

"Carson, I-"

"Wait," Carson interrupted him. "Have you been here before? Inside? While I was gone?"

"Well…"

"OH MY FUCKING GOD, KURT."

"Carson, it's not… I didn't… I only wanted to talk to you, and I didn't stay long. I couldn't face you, so I left, ok? But…. I've tried talking to you and you always blow me off, so…"

"Well, gee, Kurt, I fucking wonder why that is," Carson retorted, his face reddening with rage with every word he spoke. "You ignored me and treated me like complete shit for months, so excuse me if I'm not leaping at the chance to talk to you now that you've decided that I'm worth talking to."

Kurt winced at the words. He knew that Carson was right, but damn it, he'd come this far. "Carson, I know I've been a dick, ok?"

"Dick is an understatement. You've been a giant, throbbing, mutant cock of a person," Carson muttered, his arms crossed angrily over his chest.

"But," Kurt continued, "I really wish you would just give me five minutes to just…. talk."

"Oh, you mean like you gave me the opportunity to talk to you after this whole thing started?" asked Carson sarcastically. "Yes, you're right, I vividly remember you calmly listening to me then. I totally didn't get treated like vomit in a bucket by you for the rest of eternity until you suddenly decided that you would deign to speak to me again.

"Carson-"

"Get out, Kurt."

"But-"

"Get. Out."

Something snapped within Kurt then, and a weird sort of resolute defiance overtook him as he looked at Carson, his twin, the man he'd loved and lost and would be damned if he lost permanently. He wasn't going to give up. He couldn't.

"No," he said.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, I said no," Kurt repeated. "I'm not leaving until you talk to me."

Blue eyes met identical blue eyes as the twins stared each other down, both of them with arms crossed like shields to protect themselves from each other.

"I'm not planning on saying anything more than what I've already said, so what's your plan?" asked Carson. "You're just going to stand there until one of us dies? I will physically remove you from this flat if I have to."

"No, you won't." Kurt knew he was pushing his luck. Carson's eyes had darkened and grown dangerous as he got up from his chair and started to close the distance between them.

"Get out, Kurt."

"No."

"Give me the fucking key, and get the fuck out."

"Make me." Kurt's heart was thudding in his chest as Carson moved closer to him, backing him up against the wall until there was precious little space between their bodies.

"Give me the key, Kurt."

"No."

Carson's face was dangerously close to his own now, and Kurt could feel the warmth of his twin's body radiating off of him. He'd stopped focusing a while ago and was now just staring at Carson's lips, which were pink and parted slightly and….close enough to….

Before he could stop himself, he was surging up, colliding his lips with Carson's and pressing them together in a kiss so explosive that his knees almost gave out. He moaned and caught Carson's bottom lip between his own, sucking on it slightly, and he felt, for the briefest of seconds, Carson relaxing into it, almost kissing him back.

And then that was over and Carson's hands were roughly pushing him away, glaring at him as he tried to regain his composure, his chest heaving.

"No," he practically growled. "No, you don't get to just kiss your way out of this. You've been an asshole, stalked me, invaded my space, hell, you basically hated me a couple of weeks ago, and I'm not going to drop it just because you turn on your fucking seductive charm. That doesn't work on me, not anymore. I have to wonder what your precious prince Almond or whatever would say about this. This just proves that you don't give a shit about anyone's feelings but your own."

Kurt bit his lip, refusing to allow the tears to fall that so very much wanted to at this point. "Well, I'm not leaving until we've talked this all out," he insisted, standing his ground. "And if you want to talk about people only looking out for their own feelings, why don't you start with a mirror?"

Carson looked at him sternly and laughed ruefully. "Oh my god, if I had a quid for every time you acted like a stubborn child, I wouldn't even need prostitution anymore. You know what? Fine. Stay here until you rot, but I have nothing to say to you. You have to fall asleep sometime. I'll carry you out then." He brushed past Kurt and disappeared into his bedroom, closing and locking the door behind him and leaving Kurt alone in the kitchen to slump down against the wall and ponder what the fuck had just happened.

Carson stayed in his room for hours, refusing to leave even to visit the bathroom. The last thing he wanted was to see Kurt's face for one more second. He didn't want to look into those eyes and feel himself start to weaken, he had to stand his ground. As it was, he'd nearly forgotten himself when Kurt had kissed him.

He was pissed beyond belief, to say the least. Who the hell did Kurt think he was, breaking into his flat and acting like some entitled little shit? Trying to pretend like the last few months had never happened? Did he think that Carson just had some kind of magical switch where he could forget the way he'd been treating him for months?

Sorry, Kurt, it doesn't work like that.

And yet….

Fuck it all, the spark was still there. He'd felt it ever since he'd realized it was Kurt and not a burglar in the flat, but he'd tried to push it down, only for it to bloom full force for a brief moment while Kurt was kissing him. He might be fucking furious at him, but Kurt was still Kurt.

Fuck my life, seriously.

He knew damn well he wouldn't be physically forcing Kurt out of the flat. He knew it just as well as Kurt knew it. No, if he wanted Kurt to leave, he would have to make him do it of his own accord, but he sure as hell was not going to give him what he wanted. If his twin wanted to talk, he could damn well wait until Carson decided he was ready. If there was one thing Carson knew for sure, it was that he was beyond fucking done trying to please anyone but himself. He wasn't ready to talk, and damn it, he wasn't going to fucking talk.

Suck on that, Kurt.

Eventually his desire for food and the toilet overcame his resolve to stay hidden away, though, so he quietly opened his bedroom door and peeked out, hoping that maybe Kurt had gotten bored and left on his own. He listened intently for any sign of life and heard nothing, so he left the room, quickly using the bathroom before making his way out into the living room. He sighed as his eyes landed on the sofa, where Kurt was curled up with his back to him, fast asleep, his head nestled into the corner where one sofa arm and a seat cushion met.

Carson walked up and stared down at him for a while, watching his brother sleep and weighing his options. He could easily pick Kurt up right now and carry him out into the hallway. He could shut the door and lock it and put a chair against the door and call building security to report an intruder. It would serve Kurt right to be arrested after what he'd pulled that day.

He reached out one arm, as if he were seriously considering it, but even before his hand made contact with Kurt's back he knew he wasn't going to do that. It may be satisfying, but even Carson had to admit to himself that he would feel awful for doing that. A part of him he didn't want to acknowledge knew that this whole episode proved that Kurt had noticed he was gone. And it felt... sort of reassuring? He guessed.

Ok, well, if he's going to be a stubborn mule, then he can go ahead and be a stubborn mule. I mean it, he can stay for as long as he wants, but I'm going to go about my normal business as if he weren't here. Let him see what the reality of my day to day life is. He won't be able to stand it, and he'll get pissed and leave.

Then I'll change the locks.

He gave one last glance at Kurt, wondering if he should find a blanket to throw over him. The living room wasn't exactly the most cozy place to fall asleep.

You know what? No. Fuck him. Let him sleep like that.

He wandered into the kitchen, opening the fridge and noticing that Kurt had neatly put away the food he'd made. Mmm, his pasta, he thought as he carefully peered into one of the bowls. Damn it, Kurt. Stop trying to win me over.

He put some of the pasta onto a plate and into the microwave, sitting down with it just as the sound of Kurt beginning to stir in the living room hit his ears. His twin shuffled into the kitchen, bleary eyed and tired looking, as he cautiously eyed him.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," Carson said around a mouthful of food.

"That was four civil words," Kurt pointed out. Carson shrugged.

"Yeah, well. I'm feeling just a bit charitable, I guess. Must be the pasta."

Kurt carefully stepped closer, taking tiny steps as if he were afraid that Carson might try to attack him at any moment. He eventually made it to a chair and sat down, fixing his eyes on Carson as he watched him eat.

"Can we please talk now?" he asked, his face taking on the pleading puppy face he always used when he was determined to get his way.

"Nope," Carson replied resolutely.

Kurt frowned, annoyed. "Then I'm still not leaving," he reminded him.

"And I said that's fine," Carson said calmly around a bite of pasta. "You can camp out in there forever for all I care, but I'm not making any accommodations for you."

Kurt glared at him. "Seriously?"

"Yep."

"You're serious? You're going to be that stubborn about this?"

"Yep."

"So if I got someone to bring me some of my stuff and just decided to stay put for a while, you would seriously just let me do that without even considering one five minute conversation?" asked Kurt. Carson had to admit, that did give him pause, but he knew Kurt was most likely just bluffing.

"I told you I wasn't ready to talk to you," he said at last. They stared at each other for a minute, Carson waiting for Kurt to crack, and Kurt's eyes practically shooting lasers at him. His twin reached into his pocket and retrieved his phone, beginning to tap at it with a determined look on his face.

"What the fuck are you-" Carson demanded, but Kurt ignored him and placed the phone up to his ear.

"Adam?" he said into the phone as Carson looked on in horror. "Can you do me a favor? I'm going to be staying with Carson for a while, and, well… do you think you could stop by my house and pack up some of my stuff for me?"

Oh my fucking god, Carson thought as he watched Kurt give his boyfriend (his fucking boyfriend, oh my GOD) the address and hang up, sliding the phone back into his pocket while giving Carson the most triumphant of looks.

"You are such a child, you know that?" Carson exclaimed. "A psychotic child."

"I'm staying here until you crack, Carson. I don't care how long that takes."

"You'll be waiting forever, and you cannot stay here forever."

"We'll see."

"No, we fucking won't."

"I'm not backing down from this."

"Well, I'm not either."

"Fine."

"Fine."

Three days later, Kurt was still camping out on Carson's sofa, joined by his own bedding, two bags full of clothes, another bag full of face creams and lotions, and one more bag full of hair care products. He was in this for the long haul, and he was going to stick to his guns if it killed him. Which he wasn't entirely sure that Carson wouldn't, honestly. His twin was clearly pissed beyond any form of measurability, and he wasn't shy about letting it show.

On the other hand, he had yet to find himself waking up on the street with his stuff thrown on top of him, which he'd been expecting the first couple of nights. So, honestly, he had no idea what this meant. Surely, if Carson was going to throw him out, he would have done it by now. Right? Then again, his twin was hardly ever home. Kurt didn't know if this was usual, in which case he didn't want to know what Carson was up to, or if his twin was avoiding him, in which case…. Kurt still didn't want to know what he was up to. Either way, he hadn't been forcibly removed from the apartment, and he didn't know whether he should be scared about that or not. What did it mean? How had they gotten to this point?

Why isn't anything about our lives even remotely normal?

A loud blast of music woke him up with a start early on Tuesday morning, and he shrieked and fell off the couch with a thud as he frantically looked around for the source of the noise. It turned out to be Carson, proudly standing beside the sofa, where he had apparently just plugged in a stereo that was excruciatingly loud for something so small and compact.

"What the fuck," Kurt groaned, rubbing his head where he'd bumped it on the floor in the wake of his fall.

"Oh, good morning, Kurt," Carson yelled over the music. "Did I wake you?"

Kurt didn't dignify that question with a response. "What the fuck is that?" he muttered, nodding at the stereo.

"It's a stereo, Kurt. Maybe you've heard of it? It plays music."

"I know that, Carson, I meant, why are you playing it at this ungodly hour?" asked Kurt grumpily.

"Well, aside from the fact that this is my flat that I pay for and can therefore do whatever I want in it, I'm testing it to make sure it's good enough for my party this weekend," replied Carson calmly as he turned the stereo down.

"Your… party?" asked Kurt, still trying to wake up properly.

"That's riiiight," Carson said in a sing-song voice.

"What party?"

"The party I'm throwing this Friday night, Kurt. Jesus," said Carson with exasperation. "Since, again, this is my flat, and I am free to throw a party whenever I damn well please. You're more than welcome to get lost before then, though."

"Nice try," Kurt muttered as he wrapped his blanket around himself and blinked at Carson tiredly. "I'll be there with my best clothes on."

"Whatever," said Carson with a shrug. "You look like hell," he continued cheerfully. "Haven't you been sleeping well?"

"Fuck you."

"You ought to be a bit nicer to me, since I haven't drugged you yet and sold you to the drug dealers down the block," Carson admonished him. "I take it the couch isn't that comfy?"

"It's fine," said Kurt.

Carson leaned against the window, arms crossed, and looked at him thoughtfully. "Well, it won't do to have you and your shit clogging up the sofa during the party, so, purely for my own benefit, I've decided you can take the spare bedroom for the duration of this little standoff. You know. Just because it's what's good for me and all," he said with a dismissive sniff.

"But there's no bed in there," Kurt protested. "Not even a sofa."

"I think you'll find there's an air mattress in there now," Carson replied, seemingly very interested in the buttons of the stereo as he spoke. "I'm not a complete monster, you know."

Kurt just sat there for a moment, wondering what to think. Carson was giving him a bedroom? With a sort-of bed? He was willing to do all that, but not take five minutes to talk to him about their relationship?

I really do NOT understand what this means. At all.

"...Thank you, Carson," he said, after several moments of awkward silence. Carson shrugged and walked past him toward the kitchen.

"Whatever. I'm just sick of seeing you in here all the time. Just get your shit out of the living room by Friday."

Apparently, Kurt was the very last to know about this party, because all anyone at school seemed able to talk about for the next couple of days was…. well, the party. He had no idea how word had spread so fast, but he was pretty sure that Carson's flat couldn't even hold as many people as he'd seen talking about it, even as large as it was.

"Carson, how many people did you invite to this thing, exactly?" he asked on Friday afternoon, as his twin came through the door laden down with bags full of food and alcohol.

"No idea," replied Carson with a shrug. "I told a few clients at school, and I expect they told some people who told some people. We'll pack in as many as we can hold. The more, the merrier. I plan to be both drunk and high as fuck the entire time, so."

"Is this usual for you?" asked Kurt. "This whole drunken party thing? Because you preferred going to clubs when you lived at home."

"Ok, first of all, that's not home anymore, and secondly, if you're going to stay here freeloading like a stubborn five year old, then you're going to have to fucking deal with whatever I decide to do," replied Carson sternly. "If you don't want to be here for the party, you know where the door is. I highly encourage you to use it."

"No," said Kurt defiantly. "It's fine. I'll go change."

"Fine."

"FINE."

By later that night, Carson's party was in full swing, and Kurt was doing his best to deal with as well as he knew how. Which was to say, he was drinking. A lot.

It seemed as if more people than either twin even knew had shown up to this thing, and he was actually pretty sure he'd never seen some of those people before. The flat was busting at the seams, and Kurt privately thought that it was a good thing his twin had so little furniture or other possessions, because there was no way something wouldn't end up getting stolen with this many people in the place. He stood in his chosen spot, angrily drinking from a cup as he watched Carson, high as a kite on some pills Kurt had seen being passed around earlier, grind up against some random guy.

"So, Kurt," Sebastian said in a drunken slur, sidling up to Kurt and placing one arm around his shoulder. "Like… what… what the fuck is even going on with you and Carson right now? You living here or what? What's the deal?"

"None of your business and don't touch me," Kurt muttered, wriggling free from Sebastian and walking as far away as possible. He ended up standing next to a tall, really cute guy he'd never seen before, who was sipping from a plastic cup and looking out at the party as he casually leaned up against the wall.

"Hi," Kurt said, shouting to be heard over the beat of the music and the noise of the crowd.

"Hi," said the guy, looking over at him and smiling.

"I'm Kurt."

"Elliott."

"Nice name," said Kurt with a drunk giggle.

"Thanks."

"I've never seen you before!" Kurt shouted over the noise. "Do you go to-"

"What?" Elliott shouted back, cupping his ear with one hand.

"I said I've never seen you before. Do we know you?" asked Kurt, taking a sip from his cup and looking the guy over. God, he's really cute. And you know what? Maybe making Carson jealous will snap him into fucking doing something.

"I don't think so," replied Elliott with a shy smile. "I got dragged here by one of my friends."

"Oh." Kurt was about to ask which friend, but just then the music abruptly changed and the opening bars of Rihanna's "S&M" filled the flat. Everyone's eyes were focused on the middle of the living room, and Kurt looked over to see what was holding everyone's interest so much.

The answer was Carson, high as hell and starting to perform what Kurt could only describe as an obscene dance as he moved in time to the song, running his hands over his body and thrusting his hips in the air with the expertise of a porn star.

"Wow," whistled Elliott beside him, and Kurt narrowed his eyes, watching jealously as Carson started removing his shirt. He yanked it off and threw it across the room, where it landed square on a girl's face. She took it and giggled with her friends as everyone continued watching Carson perform his little striptease.

"Cause I may be bad, but I'm perfectly good at it…" the song declared as Carson slid up to a nearby guy and started rubbing up on him seductively, running his hands down the guy's sides.

Carson, what the actual fuck? Kurt seethed as his twin caught his eye and held it, staring at him the entire time as he practically gave this random dude a lap dance. He felt himself growing hard in his pants and he angrily tried to think of anything else but the pornographic display that was going on in front of him. Carson wasn't going to win at whatever fucked up game he was playing. Not tonight. Carson reached for the button of his jeans as Kurt was thinking this and yanked them off as well, leaving him clad only in his ultra tight boxer briefs in front of god only knew how many people. Everyone was staring, everyone was clearly turned on, and Kurt was more pissed off than he could remember being in a while.

Everyone fucking stop looking at him. He's not meat for your consumption.

Mercifully, the song finally ended and so did Carson's dance, although that didn't really make Kurt feel any better, considering that the very next thing that happened was that Carson walked up to a different guy and kissed him right on the mouth, tongue and all.

"Right, that's it," Kurt declared, putting his drink down and walking over to the stereo. He took the iPod and scrolled through the songs until he found a suitable one and pressed play, while everyone watched him with interest. The opening notes of Shakira's "Hips Don't Lie" resounded throughout the apartment, and Kurt walked over to Elliott, grabbing him by the front of his shirt.

"What the…" Elliott started to protest.

"You look like a performer," Kurt said firmly. "You dance?"

"Well.."

"Doesn't matter, just go with it," Kurt ordered, beginning to perform the moves he'd been accompanying that song with since middle school. Everyone had always told him he had the uncanny ability to move his hips just like Shakira, and by the stunned looks of everyone in the room that he could see, particularly Carson, who was both glaring AND licking his lips, he hadn't lost it.

And Elliott wasn't a bad performance partner either. He wasn't moving his hips quite the way Kurt was, but it was safe to say that Kurt definitely wouldn't mind getting his freak on with him in a bedroom sense. He hoped Carson was watching this. He hoped he was seething. He hoped he was jealous enough to maybe fucking talk to him when this ridiculous party was over with, because Kurt was done playing around.

The song ended and Kurt walked determinedly across the room, stopping when he reached Carson. He pressed one hand to his twin's still bare chest, moving his mouth to his ear and breathing on it for a second before he delivered his message.

"I win."