Carson slowly stirred awake, his brain straddling the thin line between deep sleep and semi-consciousness as he left the bizarre land of dreams behind. He felt like complete shit, warmed over in the microwave in order to be extra shitty. His head hurt, his mouth was dry as a desert, his stomach felt queasy, and he couldn't exactly tell whether he could feel his legs or not. On top of that, he'd dreamed about a giant, inflatable Halloween pumpkin giving a blowjob to an inflatable Rudolph, and truth be told, he wasn't entirely sure whether that had been a dream or reality. Just like a lot of the last evening, he realized as he grew more awake and started to piece together the events of the past twelve hours.

He recalled pretty much everything, actually, although he had absolutely no fucking idea how much of it had been based in reality and how much had been the result of those demon shrooms Santana had given him wreaking havoc on his imagination. Well, he was pretty sure the evil shape monsters hadn't been real, and Britney Spears hadn't actually been driving the car that took him back to the flat. Those things were really easy to pick out as figments of an epic high.

But other things, he was still a bit fuzzy on. He knew Kurt had been there, but had he really thrown up on him? Oh god, even worse, did I really spill my guts and start crying in the bathroom? Did that really happen? Please tell me that didn't really happen.

He knew, deep down, that it really had happened, though. It had to have, because he could still vividly recall Kurt's arms around him, holding him tight as he tried to soothe him, whispering in his ear that he loved him. It was too vivid to have been a hallucination.

He said he loved me. Fuck, he probably felt sorry for me. Who the hell wouldn't feel sorry for the poor fucker tripping balls on shrooms and crying like a little bitch that no one ever loved him? Christ. I want to punch MYSELF in the balls.

It suddenly occurred to him that he was alone in the bed, and he briefly wondered where Kurt had gone, figuring that his twin had probably had enough of him and gone to sleep in his own room. To his surprise, though, when he shifted and turned his head to the other side, Kurt was right there in the chair across from the bed, closing a book as he looked at Carson tiredly.

"Good morning, starshine," said Kurt gently, putting his book aside and turning his full attention to Carson, giving him a smile. "How'd you sleep?"

"Like ass," Carson answered truthfully. "How long have you been there?"

"Um.. all night," said Kurt.

"Just watching me sleep?"

"Well…. sort of."

"That's actually kind of creepy, Kurt." Carson regretted the harsh tone of those words almost as soon as he'd said them. It wasn't that he was intentionally trying to sound like an asshole. He really, really wasn't. It was just… well. He was more than a little embarrassed about what had gone on the night before, and dealing with embarrassment had never exactly been his strong suit.

Kurt sighed, settling back in the chair as he looked at Carson thoughtfully. "Just out of curiosity, how much do you remember about last night?"

Carson pretended to look confused as he "thought" about it for a minute. "Not much? I remember taking Santana's shrooms and then dancing with a lamp, but that's pretty much it," he lied.

"That's it?" Kurt pressed. "You don't remember anything else?"

"Nope."

"You don't remember throwing up?"

"Actually, yeah, now that you mention it, I do kind of remember that," Carson said in a bemused tone. "Threw up right on you, didn't I? My bad. "

Kurt sighed. "Ok, ok, but do you remember anything that happened afterwards?"

"Can't say I do. Why so many questions, Kurt?" asked Carson. "Did I murder someone last night or something? Wait, did you murder someone? Do you need help hiding the body? Who was it? Rachel? It was totally Rachel. Did she scream? Was there blood?"

"No, Carson, I…." Kurt protested, sounding very tired indeed. "You're positive you don't remember anything else?"

"Nope. Now go get me some coffee instead of just sitting there, would you?" said Carson quickly, keeping his eyes trained on a piece of lint hanging off his bedspread. "My head hurts like a bitch." He watched out of the corner of his eye as Kurt stared at him for a long moment and then got up, sighing heavily as he went into the kitchen and left Carson, mercifully, alone. Carson let out a breath and curled up in the bed, hugging a pillow to his chest and closing his eyes as he let the memory of Kurt's embrace wash over him. Carson had been high as a fucking kite at the time, but he remembered it so well. It had felt so nice and soothing.

It had felt like home. Or, at least, as close to home as Carson was ever capable of feeling.

Ugh, that was much closer than I ever planned for him to get ever again, he thought in embarrassment, his cheeks reddening as he thought about some of the things he'd said the night before. It's best for everyone if I just pretend not to remember a damn thing.

Murdering that bastard Sebastian for bringing me to Kurt even when I specifically told him not to couldn't hurt, either.

He spent the rest of the weekend living life as normal and pretending to have forgotten, and by the time Monday morning and school rolled around, he was beginning to wish he really had forgotten. Apparently, someone had seen fit to fucking film him during the beginning of his trip and upload it to the internet at the first possible opportunity. He could tell something was up as soon as he walked into school and was immediately confronted by a group of giggling teens, who pointed at him and shouted "Heeeeeeey macarena!" in unison.

"What the fuck?" Carson mumbled to himself as he made his way toward his locker, interrupted by another person every few feet who seemed to be in on a joke that he didn't get. He finally reached his locker and gave a small wave to Malerie, who was across the hall at her own locker and came walking up to him, looking earnest.

"Hi, Carson."

"Hi, Malerie."

"I didn't know you were such a fan of mid-90s novelty fad songs," she continued, giving him a big grin. "I kind of like them, too. Not really the macarena, specifically, though. I do like the Mambo #5 one from a few years later, but…"

"Whoa, wait, hold on," Carson interrupted her. "What the hell? Why is everyone quoting the fucking macarena at me?"

"You don't know?" asked Malerie, confused.

"No."

"Oh. Well, I imagine it's because of this," she explained, pulling out her phone and opening up a video on Youtube before handing the phone to him. Carson looked down at it in disbelief as he watched himself, high as balls, clumsily dancing what looked like a drunken toddler's interpretation of the macarena while Santana, who was clearly the one holding the camera, laughed in the background.

"Excuse me, Malerie," said Carson as calmly as possible, considering how very pissed he was. "I have a former baby mama to murder," he added, handing Malerie her phone back and marching determinedly over to Santana's locker, where she was just closing it up and hoisting a pile of books in one arm.

"Are you fucking brain dead?" he demanded, getting up in her face and making her jump a bit in surprise.

"What's your problem, Newsie?"

"The price of green beans keeps going up at the supermarket. What the fuck do you think my problem is, Satan?" Carson exclaimed. "What the hell would possess you to upload that video on Youtube?"

"Oh, that," she said dismissively, waving her hand away as if it wasn't important. "You have to admit, it's hilarious as hell."

"It's embarrassing, shithead."

"Oh, please," Santana scoffed. "You're known throughout Bristol as Blowjob Bob, and this embarrasses you?"

"I cannot deal with people quoting the goddamn macarena at me for the rest of the school year, Santana!"

"Hey, you should be thanking me," she retorted. "Those shrooms you took were some quality shit. Besides, I could have uploaded the part where you started screaming about the monsters coming to get you."

"Fuck you."

"Oh my god, it's just a video. Everyone will forget about it in a few days. Calm the fuck down."

"You calm down," Carson retorted, knowing that was the lamest comeback he could ever possibly have given her. "And do something else, too. When you see Sebastian, tell him he's an asshole."

"I've been called worse," said Sebastian's voice from behind him. "What did I do this time?"

Carson turned around, folding his arms and glaring angrily at him. "I thought I asked you not to take me home to Kurt when I was high. I do remember that, you know. I asked you specifically."

Sebastian sighed. "Look, Carson, I didn't know how to deal with it, ok? I mean, you took all the shrooms and were freaking the fuck out. What was I supposed to do?"

"Anything but take me to Kurt!"

"Listen, you're lucky as fuck to have someone in your life who loves you enough to take care of you when you're at your worst, ok?" Sebastian snapped. "All Kurt did was help you. I doubt he thought anything horrible about you, even as you were covering his clothes with vomit, so maybe you should learn to be a little more appreciative and get over yourself." He turned around and stalked off, leaving Carson standing there trying to process the fact that he'd just been epically told off.

"Ouch," murmured Santana.

"Shut the fuck up."

Sebastian's words did have a bit of an impact on him, though, and he couldn't get them out of his mind for the next several days. To be fair, he did have a point. Carson knew damn well how Kurt had reacted to him being sick. He hadn't been grossed out or angry. He'd just taken care of him. Led him into the bathroom, cleaned him up, hugged him when he cried, did his best to comfort him and make him feel better. The way someone would who loved him.

Kurt loved him. He did.

That was exactly the problem. He didn't want Kurt to love him. Well, he did. Of course he did. But he didn't, at the same time. It only made it that much harder to squash down his own feelings for Kurt, which was something he would absolutely have to get better at if he ever had a prayer of moving on in life without dragging huge amounts of baggage from his past around.

However, another thing that had to be considered was that, well… he and Kurt had had sex recently. Several times. And what if he had been wrong to beat himself up over those incidents? What if they were actually exactly what both of them needed to start to move on from each other?

I mean, if Kurt can get it into his head that all our relationship ever was about from the start was sex, then maybe he'll start to believe it and we can both start to move the hell on. Basically, if I give him exactly (well… sort of) what he wants, he'll eventually get sick of it.

It's worth a shot. Besides, I have horrible self control when it comes to stopping myself from fucking him. Why fight that anymore? Let's make the most of these last few months together before uni.

If Kurt agrees, that is.

"I think we should fuck more," he found himself saying a couple of afternoons later as he sat across from Kurt at the kitchen table, a plate of cookies between them.

"...What."

"I said, I think we should fuck more," Carson said casually, splitting a cookie in half and licking the frosting off in a way he knew damn well looked tantalizing as fuck, if Kurt's slightly wider eyes at the sight was any indication.

"...Are you high again?" asked Kurt. "Or sick?"

"I am neither, how dare you?" Carson said, feigning offense. "I've just been thinking about how we've had some pretty damn good fucks lately, and, I don't know. It might be nice to do that more often."

Kurt just looked at him for a second, clearly very much perplexed. "Did you seriously just sit me down with a plate of cookies in order to propose a casual sex relationship? Is that actually happening right now? Is this supposed to be romantic, or…"

"NO it isn't supposed to be romantic," Carson said quickly. "And if you think it is, you can forget the entire thing right now."

"No, no, wait, I didn't say no or anything," Kurt protested, clearing his throat. "I just…. I wondered what had gotten into you, that's all."

"Nothing, but I can think of about five or six things that are gonna be going into you if you agree to this arrangement," said Carson around a mouthful of cookie. "And that's all it is, mind you, an arrangement, because this would in no way mean that we are together. Just that we fuck. Occasionally."

Kurt blinked at him, clearly confused as hell but also looking like he was seriously considering it. Well, obviously he's considering it. Who wouldn't?

He's probably going to say no, though.

"Ok."

"...What?"

"I said ok," Kurt repeated with a shrug. "Obviously you have some kind of plan, and I don't know what that is, but.."

"I don't have a plan, I just want some ass every once in a while that isn't work related."

"BUT," Kurt continued, "I love you. Against my better judgement, I trust you. And if this is the closest I can be to you that you'll allow, I'll take it."

Well, shit, Kurt. I'm trying to be an asshole, here, don't go trying to make it all sentimental and make me feel guilty.

"Good," he said, swallowing his cookie and holding a hand out to Kurt, refusing to be deterred. Kurt looked like he was seriously considering where his life had gone wrong as he rolled his eyes and shook it. "It's settled, then."

"Carson, what the fuck?" Kurt demanded the next day, tugging his wrists as far apart as they could get within the restrictions of the handcuffs. "When you said casual sex, I assumed that meant… you know, casual sex. Not bondage."

"Oh, come on, you are so turned on right now and you know it," Carson replied, continuing the work he was doing on his twin's neck, which was currently littered with an array of very nice looking hickeys. He was actually pretty damn proud of his handiwork. There should be hickey museums, I swear to god. This shit is a masterpiece.

"It's just weird, that's all….oh."

"Look, if we're going to be having sex more often, it's going to be under my conditions," Carson continued, wrapping one arm around Kurt's middle and pulling him close, placing his lips close to his twin's ear. "That means you're going to be a good boy for me, or I won't fuck you at all," he whispered gruffly. He felt Kurt shiver against him, indicating that he was very much intrigued by this sudden turn of events, even if he wasn't about to admit it.

"In fact," Carson continued, running one hand teasingly down Kurt's chest as he spoke, "I think you should prove to me how much you want this. I'm not in the habit of giving rewards to bad boys who don't deserve it."

He expected Kurt to put up some sort of protest, possibly become indignant and insist that he wasn't going to do any such thing and that Carson could fuck right off, but what actually happened was quite the opposite of that. Kurt wiggled free and turned around, pressing his body to Carson's and tilting his hips forward so that their erections only touched the tiniest bit. "And how would you like me to prove it?" he asked, his voice taking on an air of sweet innocence that shot straight to Carson's already hard dick. Really, with the way Kurt was biting his lip and looking at him with those big, curious, blue eyes, it was a wonder he didn't just grab him and start fucking him right then and there.

He did grab him, but only around the waist, jerking him forward to grind his arousal against Kurt's. "I don't know," he replied. "Why don't you show me what you've got to offer?"

"Oh, everything," Kurt said coyly, slowly and sinfully swiveling his hips against him before giving them a sudden thrust forward that caught Carson off guard for a brief second.

"Mmm," murmured Carson approvingly, sliding his hand from Kurt's hips to the top button of his jeans. "Everything, huh?"

"It's all yours," breathed Kurt heavily, wiggling his hips to help Carson get his pants off.

"I should have known you'd be so fucking eager for it," Carson said huskily as he worked on pulling Kurt's shirt up and over his head. The handcuffs didn't allow him to remove it completely, so it stayed there, looped over his bound hands, as Carson began slowly undressing himself. He took his time, enjoying the frustrated impatience that spread over Kurt's face with every passing second as he made careful, deliberate work of his pants, shirt, and underwear. He stepped back over to Kurt when he was fully naked, smirking down at the obvious, insistent bulge protruding from the front of Kurt's tight underwear.

"You want me to take these off for you?" he asked teasingly, running the palm of one hand lightly over Kurt's erection, which twitched excitedly at the touch. Kurt gasped and nodded, straining his wrists against the confines of the handcuffs and letting out a low whine when Carson brushed his thumb over the head of his dick.

"Not so fast, naughty boy," Carson admonished him. "If we're going to do this, there's going to be a few rules."

"R-rules?" Kurt gasped out, trying to keep his composure as Carson worked him over through the fabric of his briefs.

"Mmm-hmm," Carson murmured in reply. "First of all, you do exactly what I say, exactly when I say it. If I tell you to ride me, you ask how hard. Got it?"

"Yes," Kurt agreed eagerly.

"And secondly, you are, under no circumstances, allowed to come until I fucking tell you you're allowed to," Carson continued, watching the way Kurt's blue eyes darkened with lust as he took in the words.

"I promise," Kurt insisted, wiggling his hips desperately against Carson's palm.

"Good," said Carson gruffly, dragging Kurt over to the bed. He grabbed lube and a condom out of his top drawer and sat down on the bed, pulling Kurt toward him by the waist and digging his fingers into the soft, delicate skin. "Your little friend looks very eager in there," he said teasingly, running his hand back over Kurt's throbbing dick as his brother cried out in pleasure and frustration. "Mmm, not so little, actually. I really shouldn't fuck you, you know. I should make you get down on your knees and take my cock down your throat like a good boy." He looked up at Kurt to take in his reaction to this statement. Kurt bit his lip and whined low in his throat, clearly not agreeing with that idea at all but keeping his protests to himself, lest Carson decide to call off the entire thing.

I know him like a fucking book, it's really scary.

"But I'm not going to do that, because that would be a tragic waste of such a delicious, firm, round ass," Carson continued, giving Kurt a hard slap on the ass to illustrate his point. Kurt gasped at the contact, his eyes dancing with intrigue as he looked down at Carson, eager to learn what came next. He panted hard as Carson slowly peeled his underwear down, revealing the long, thick, eager cock beneath, which sprang up to attention, bouncing softly against Kurt's stomach.

"Like I said. Fucking delicious," groaned Carson. He scooted up the bed, resting against his pillows as he uncapped the lube. He drizzled a generous amount onto his fingers and gestured for Kurt to come closer. Kurt carefully climbed onto the mattress and straddled Carson's thighs, squeaking with surprise when Carson hauled him closer with a strong arm and started circling two fingers around his tight hole.

"Fuck," Kurt groaned wantonly as Carson slipped a finger inside. He somehow always managed to forget just how tight and warm Kurt was inside, and this served as a beautiful reminder. Kurt's walls clenched around the intrusion of his finger, and Carson's dick throbbed eagerly in anticipation of the moment when it would be enveloped in the delightful, tight heat.

"Ah!" Kurt screamed out when he added a second finger, his body pitching forward so that his forehead rested against Carson's shoulder, his breath deliciously hot on his skin. His erection brushed against Carson's, making both boys shiver involuntarily in pleasure.

"God, fuck me," Kurt groaned, and Carson responded by giving a particularly hard thrust with his fingers.

"Uh-uh, you aren't the one giving the orders here, remember?" he reminded him, adding a third finger as Kurt arched his back and fucked himself down on them. "Who's in charge, here?"

"Unngh…. y… YOU are," Kurt screeched, his breath catching as Carson thrust his fingers into him unrelentingly. He deliberately avoided Kurt's prostate, pulling his fingers out much sooner than he normally would have as he enjoyed the look of murderous rage that crossed Kurt's face at the loss.

"Don't look so put out, drama queen," Carson admonished him with a coy smile. "Trust me, you'll have something filling that perfect little hole of yours shortly." He reached for the condom, unwrapping it and sliding it over himself quickly before drenching it in lube. He held his slicked up dick with one hand and guided it to Kurt's hole, using his other hand to ease his twin onto it. Kurt slid down with a long, low groan, letting out a deep breath once Carson was fully inside of him. Carson had to take a moment to collect himself and bask in the pure bliss that was Kurt's hot insides engulfing his dick while his twin's long, toned body hovered over him like some kind of Greek statue carved into marble. He reached a hand out to explore the perfect skin, his fingers brushing over abs that would make actual Greek statues jealous.

God, he's beautiful.

"Fucking ride me," he ordered, getting a hold of himself and refusing to appear as anything other than ruthless and dominating. Kurt adjusted his weight and carefully lifted himself up, easing back down onto Carson's dick slowly a few times until Carson lost patience. With no warning, he grabbed Kurt's hips and thrusted his hips upward rapidly, losing count of how many times he'd pounded into Kurt while his twin panted and took it, his eyes rolling back in his head with every upward thrust.

"I told you to ride me," Carson said gruffly, giving Kurt a hard smack on the side of his ass. He slowed down his pace, encouraging Kurt to pick it up on his own. Kurt got the hint, lifting himself up and down on Carson's dick with more rhythm. Carson lay back and let him work, keeping his fingers firmly around his waist, tight enough to leave bruises on the perfect, porcelain skin. Kurt leaned back, his abdominal muscles clenching and bulging with the effort to keep himself upright with no hands for support.

"Mmmm," Kurt groaned as he fucked himself on Carson's cock, his own erection bobbing tantalizingly in front of him, the tip purple with arousal and already leaking a significant amount of precome. Carson reached up, wrapping one arm around Kurt's neck as he used his other hand to start stroking slowly at his cock.

"Don't you fucking come," he ordered, and Kurt whined in frustration, arching his back and thrusting desperately against the hand on his dick as he continued riding Carson like his life depended on it, his chest gleaming with sweat.

"Carson… I… fuck….the cuffs…"

"Shhh, do your job and keep riding," Carson demanded, slowing down his stroking as he felt his orgasm beginning to brew deliciously, deep in his stomach. He groaned, his voice low and gruff, his nerve endings lighting on fire every time he felt himself be fully sheathed inside Kurt's tight heat. He kept control until he couldn't stand it anymore, finally surrendering and letting his body go taut as his climax overpowered him, rolling over his body in waves as everything went white for several, blissful moments. He pulled Kurt closer without realizing it, resting his head against his chest, murmuring various things and hearing the rapid fire beating of Kurt's heart as he rode out his orgasm.

"Carson… ungh…. Carson, I…. I need…" Kurt babbled, his pace slower now as he worked his hips over Carson's softening cock. Carson took pity on him, putting his hand back on him and stroking him hard and fast, until he felt Kurt pulse in his hand and a stream of warm, thick liquid hit him in the chest as his twin came violently hard, with a guttural moan. He leaned his head forward as he came down, resting it against Carson's shoulder as he fought to regain his breathing, his entire body boneless and limp as he height sagged on top of him.

"Good boy," Carson panted out, patting Kurt approvingly on the head, allowing him to lay there for a few moments. It felt good, having him cuddled up so close, even though he would never admit that out loud. It sort of felt like the old days…

No. Fucking stop that.

"Carson?" Kurt spoke up, interrupting his thoughts.

"What?"

"The, um… the cuffs?"

"Oh, Right." Carson shook himself out of his post-sex reverie, reaching for his bedside drawer and rooting around in it until he found the key that went with the handcuffs. He reached behind Kurt to undo them, resisting the urge to rub the angry, red marks they had left on his twin's wrists.

"We'll get you some lotion or something for the next time we use those," he offered, watching Kurt rub his own wrists as he took the handcuffs back and placed them in the drawer.

"Next time we use…" Kurt repeated, trailing off mid-sentence as he looked at Carson curiously.

"Keep up, Kurt, I did say we could fuck on a regular basis, didn't I?"

"Yeah…"

"Well, there's way more where those handcuffs came from, trust me," said Carson, very much enjoying the nervous but extremely titillated look that crossed his twin's face as this bit of news started to sink in. "I think we're going to have to get you a cock ring, though."

As days and weeks kept on passing by, the time eventually came when Carson began eagerly anticipating the arrival of his university acceptance letters, if he should be so lucky as to receive one. He had applied to several different places, obviously, but his favorite and first choice was City University, in London. His research into their journalism program had excited him like a child on Christmas morning, and even though he knew he would be grateful to be accepted anywhere, he was secretly hoping to be admitted there, in particular. He didn't see any reason why he shouldn't be accepted there. He had perfect grades, he'd done everything he was supposed to do. His application was as perfect as it could possibly get. Surely it was just a matter of time.

It seemed like it took forever, though, with numerous weeks passing by with nothing arriving in his mailbox but bills and the occasional junk mail. He'd even placed Kurt under strict instructions to inform him immediately if he were the one to discover a letter in the box, threatening him with the penalty of no sex again, ever, if he didn't comply. And still, nothing.

But finally, one warm, Monday afternoon in the middle of the spring, he opened up his mailbox and there, sitting proudly on top of the stack of bills, was a thick, creamy white envelope bearing the official City University seal. His heart caught in his throat as he took it in his hands, almost forgetting entirely about the rest of the mail in the process.

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuuuuuuuuck.

He practically sprinted through the lobby of the building, jamming his finger onto the elevator button without thinking about it. He didn't even wait until the elevator doors had fully closed behind him before he was eagerly ripping open the thick envelope and yanking the papers out, his eyes excitedly scanning over the gorgeous, typed print on the top sheet.

"Dear Mr. Phillips," it began, and Carson had to swallow a nervous lump in his throat and take a deep breath before he could continue reading. "We are delighted to inform you that you have been accepted…"

He stopped paying attention to the words on the page after that, because all he could concentrate on was the sheer, unadulterated joy that was coursing through his veins at the realization that he'd done it. He had survived almost his entire high school career. He had been through the ringer, true, and he'd had more than his fair share of bullshit rained down on him from a cruel and unforgiving universe, but he'd survived. He had worked damn hard, and that hard work had finally paid off. He'd gotten the grades he needed. He'd been accepted. He was getting the fuck out of the city that had defined a childhood full of pain and suffering, and he had a bright future ahead of him. He was free.

He let out a delighted squeal when he'd finished reading the letter over, twice, and hugged it to his chest as if it were the most precious thing in the world. And, at the moment, it truly was. It was the symbol of the endless, wonderful opportunities that awaited him in just a few short months. He almost wanted to cry, but he stopped himself. No more crying, he declared silently. We've done enough of that, haven't we? This isn't a time for crying, this is a time for throwing a fucking party.

He practically flew down the hall when the elevator doors opened up onto his floor. He flung the apartment door open and threw the rest of the mail down on the kitchen table as he continued hugging his acceptance letter to his chest and dancing around in sheer bliss.

"Hi, Cars…. ok, wow, why are you in such a good mood?" asked Kurt suspiciously. "Please tell me you haven't just signed a contract with a 78 year old sugar daddy or…."

"Oh, shut up, Kurt," Carson interrupted him, refusing to let anything or anyone spoil this extremely rare, good mood he was in at the moment. "This is better than… than….. fuck… anything you could ever even dare to think of, ok?"

"What's going on?" asked Kurt, confusion clouding his face as he watched Carson waltz around the kitchen with his letter. "Why are you dancing with a piece of paper? Are you high again? How many shrooms did you take this time?"

"I'm not fucking high, Kurt!" said Carson, walking over to him and shoving the piece of paper in his face. "Look! LOOK! Is this not the sexiest thing you've ever seen in your life?"

Kurt rolled his eyes and took the paper from him, reading it over carefully as realization began to dawn on his face. "Oh… oh! Oh my god, Carson!" he shrieked in excitement, glancing up from it and giving Carson a proud grin.

"I got in!" said Carson, unable to get rid of the wide grin on his own face.

"You did!" replied Kurt, rushing toward him and wrapping him up in a tight, warm embrace that caught Carson a little of guard. "I knew you would, though. I'm so proud of you," Kurt continued, his words muffled by Carson's neck and his breath hot on his skin.

"Thanks," Carson said, gingerly returning the hug and allowing himself one moment to bask in Kurt's affection, guilt free. He figured he deserved at least this small treat. It didn't have to mean anything.

"We should start looking for flats in London as soon as possible," said Kurt, and Carson froze, his happy bubble starting to leak ever so slightly as he processed his twin's words.

"What?" he asked, pulling away from the hug and looking Kurt in the eye. Kurt looked uncomfortable for a second, but recovered quickly and cleared his throat nervously.

"Well, um…. I mean, I didn't want to say anything until you got your letter, but… well…"

"Kurt, out with it!" Carson demanded, breaking the hug completely, a twinge of panic starting to rise up within his gut.

Kurt glanced briefly down at his feet and then looked back up, locking eyes with Carson as he stood up as straight as possible. "It's just… I applied to Roehampton. In London. And I got my letter already. A couple of days ago. And, like I said, I didn't want to say anything until you knew whether you'd been accepted to yours or not, but now it looks as if we're going to both be students there next year, so….. I mean, instead of bothering with the dorms, we could just find a-"

"No," Carson said, almost in a whisper as he refused to believe the words that were coming out of his twin's mouth. This couldn't be happening. It just couldn't. This was not the way he wanted his future to begin, with Kurt tagging along with him like an anchor that permanently reminded him of all the shit he'd been through for the past seventeen years. He'd wanted to be free, not still dealing with his conflicted feelings about Kurt on a constant basis. He was sure he'd be relieved of that burden the minute he moved out of Bristol, and now Kurt was just going to follow him?

"Come on, Carson, don't be like that," Kurt said, his face full of hurt as he stepped back a little at Carson's whispered protest. "This is a happy time for both of us."

"No, you don't understand, you can't just follow me to university, Kurt!" exclaimed Carson, knowing how whiny he sounded, but not caring at the moment.

"Why not?" asked Kurt defensively. "A school's a school, Carson. We go to the same one now. Besides, we'd be at different schools, just the same city, and…."

"That's different, Kurt! This was supposed to be a fresh start! Completely fresh!" Carson insisted, folding his arms irritably. "With nothing from my past following me, including you. Especially you."

"Oh, so you were just never going to deal with anything from your past ever again?" asked Kurt sarcastically. "You were never going to come visit Grandma, or Max? Were you planning on never seeing me again? Did you really think this was a possibility?"

Carson sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "No, of course not, but…"

"But what?"

"You don't understand, Kurt. There's a difference between coming to visit every once in a while and having it follow me into every aspect of my new life."

"Well, I'm sorry I'm such a drag on your super shiny, new life, but it's a little late to change it," retorted Kurt. "I've already been accepted to Roehampton, and I'm going to attend. Besides, what about our… you know. Arrangement."

"Our arrangement? I can still fuck you occasionally without living in the same city. Jesus, Kurt, out of all the universities you could have applied to, why did you have to apply to one so close to mine?" asked Carson fiercely. "And don't give me some bullshit about how they have a hell of a theater program, or whatever."

"I can study theater anywhere, Carson. That wasn't why I chose Roehampton."

"Then why?"

"Honestly? I didn't want to be away from you," replied Kurt, his bottom lip quivering as he clearly struggled not to cry. "I did apply to a London school on purpose because I was so sure you'd do the same, even though I knew if I asked you would never tell me. I know you refuse to ever acknowledge the fact that I have feelings of my own, but guess what? I do. And literally my entire life has been turned upside down in the past year. I know you've had a time of it, but it hasn't exactly been rainbows for me, either. So excuse me for wanting to hang on to the last bit of consistency I have left in my life for a little while longer. You're a huge asshole, but you're familiar. Adjusting to university in a new city is going to be hard enough already."

Carson just stood there, keeping his face as immobile as stone so as not to let on that Kurt's words had moved him even a tiny bit. He could understand how Kurt felt. He really could. But that did not mean he wanted to deal with constantly battling and squashing his feelings for him during a time that was supposed to be bright and carefree full of promise.

"You can't live with me," he said finally, after several moments of tense silence.

"Why not?" asked Kurt, disappointment clouding his beautiful features, which certainly wasn't making it any easier for Carson to stand his ground.

Because I have a hard enough time now keeping you far enough away, emotionally, so that I don't fall back in love with you, and continuing to live with you isn't going to make that any easier when I'm trying to start a new life somewhere else. "I just…. you can't. I need my space."

"But we could get a nice, big flat…"

"No, Kurt."

Kurt bit his lip, breaking eye contact with Carson and looking down at the floor. "You'll change your mind," he declared, with a certainty that instantly pissed Carson off.

"Wanna bet?"

"Oh my god, Carson, after all these months of living together, can you really, honestly say it's been that bad?" asked Kurt, letting out an exasperated sigh. "I mean, I know that we annoy each other, and sometimes you act like a child, but…"

"I act like a child?" exclaimed Carson in disbelief. "Who's the one who used an actual child to try to cockblock me from doing the job that is responsible for the roof over both of our heads right now?"

"Ok, fine, I admit, that was a little juvenile of me, but…"

"A little?"

"But," Kurt tried again, "I was only doing what I thought was in your best interests."

"Oh my god, Kurt, I really do not want to have this argument with you for the thousandth time," grumbled Carson. He could already feel a huge headache coming on. "I do what I have to do to get by. I don't care if that means you think any less of me."

Kurt looked wounded. "I don't think less of you."

"Yes, you do," said Carson with a shrug, feeling like an ass even as the words left his mouth. He perfectly remembered what it felt like to be sitting on the bathroom toilet, tripping out of his mind and wondering if he was going to die, and Kurt wrapping him in a hug as he whispered to him that he loved him.

But Kurt didn't know that he remembered that, and that was the way it was going to have to stay. This had to stay at "occasional fuck" level and nothing more. Carson had to see to it that it stayed that way. For both of their sakes. They were no good for each other, in the long run.

"You can't live with me, Kurt," he repeated quietly, averting his eyes so that he wouldn't have to deal with seeing the hurt in Kurt's.

"Fine," Kurt said at last, after several moments of silence. "Congratulations on your acceptance." He turned around and marched quickly toward his room without another word. Carson expected to hear a door slam, but he didn't. He just heard Kurt's door close quietly, followed by the squeaking of springs as his twin flopped down onto his bed, probably to sulk for the rest of the evening. Carson sighed and leaned up against the kitchen wall, holding his letter tightly as he closed his eyes and tried to regain the positive mood he'd had when he first opened it.

"You'll change your mind." Kurt's words swirled around in his head, refusing to leave him alone, and Carson punched the wall in frustration, inwardly yelling at his brain to shut the fuck up.

Fuck you, I will NOT change my mind, ok? He can live in the dorms. We'll fuck every now and again. It'll be fine. He'll get over it.

Good things. Concentrate on good things. This isn't the time for stupid feelings.