"I love you."

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as Kurt lay there motionless, still on top of and inside of Carson, trying to figure out if Carson had really said those words or if he had only been imagining them. His mind raced with a billion thoughts, several hundred thousand of which were entirely panicky and frantic.

Did he really just say he loves me?

Oh god, he did. He did say that.

How am I supposed to respond to this? FUCK.

Does he actually mean it?

If I tell him I love him back, would I mean it?

It seemed like, up until now, he had spent forever trying to figure out exactly what he and Carson were to each other. He had just about been ready to assume that they were fuck buddies who just happened to share a deeper connection than just that because they were brothers, but... was he really ready to call it love? Really, really ready? What would it mean, exactly, if he were to tell Carson that he loved him back? Would it mean that they were actually each other's boyfriends, or what? And most importantly, did Kurt love Carson back in that way?

He suddenly felt very scared and panicked as he continued to lay there, feeling Carson's hands still clutching him tightly and his twin's rapid, fluttering heartbeat beneath him. He had no idea what Carson expected him to say, or even what he, himself, actually wanted to say. He was being confronted with this all of a sudden when he thought he'd had much more time to think it over, and it was very overwhelming.

I'm not ready for this. Oh god, I'm so very NOT ready for this. I should be ready, but I'm just... not.

"Everybody loves me," he said lamely as he gently pulled out of Carson and reached into his bedside drawer for his wipes before starting to take care of the condom. Carson sat up slowly and pulled the covers up over his chest, biting his lip and looking every bit as uncomfortable as Kurt felt. There was something else, though. Something going on behind his eyes that Kurt couldn't quite read, especially not in the dark bedroom. It almost looked like... sadness, maybe? Disappointment? Embarrassment? Whatever it was, the usual mask that his twin wore, the hard, rigid "Nobody can fuck with me because I don't give a shit" aura that made Carson... well... Carson, had slipped. Just the tiniest bit, but it was definitely not in place.

"Everybody loves me?" What the fuck kind of reply was that, Kurt? Jesus. You could have been a little more tactful than that. The poor guy has been through hell the past few days, and that's the best you can do?

There were a few moments of awkward silence as the twins sat looking at each other and cleaning themselves up. Kurt didn't know what to say, and Carson looked as if he didn't know, either.

"We should get some sleep," Carson said at last, rapidly changing the subject and clearing his throat. He reached over the side of the bed and rooted around, retrieving his clothes and starting to put them back on. Kurt took a careful look at him, wanting to further analyze the strange look in his eyes, but no such luck. The mask was firmly back in place, and it wasn't leaving again any time soon.

"Um... yeah. Yeah, I guess we'd better," he agreed, finding his own pajama bottoms and putting them on, if only because he felt strange being completely naked while Carson was not. Carson never usually put on clothes right after sex, unless they were in public. It unnerved Kurt a little that he was doing it now.

"School tomorrow," Carson continued, glancing toward the door and looking undecided for a moment before he settled himself under the covers, his back to Kurt, and grabbed a pillow to shove under his head. "And we've missed a few days, so. You know. We'll have tons to make up, I'm sure."

"Yeah," agreed Kurt, climbing in beside him and pulling the covers comfortably over both of them. He hesitated a little before gingerly touching Carson on the shoulder, waiting for the subtle give that usually came with Carson relaxing into the touch. To his disappointment, it didn't come this time. Carson didn't react at all, other than to burrow deeper into his pillow and give a little snuffle. Kurt sighed inwardly, maneuvering himself until he was comfortable and hesitantly wrapping his arms around his twin.

He's just tired, Kurt told himself, trying to make it as convincing as possible. He's been through so much the past few days, and him saying... what he said... that was just the heat of the moment. If he really meant it, he would have repeated it, right? We would have had a whole conversation about it. He's Carson. He doesn't mince words. Especially not with me.

So, I shouldn't feel like a complete ass for not being able to say it back. Right?

"Good night, Carson," he whispered in Carson's ear. "I... sweet dreams, ok?" he finished, placing a small, gentle kiss on the skin just below his earlobe.

"Good night, Kurt," replied Carson, his voice muffled by the pillow. Kurt felt him relax a little into his arms, and he closed his eyes in relief.

Definitely just a heat of the moment thing. It has to be. Jesus, Carson, don't scare me like that.

Because I know that I love you... somehow. I just don't quite know HOW. And that scares the fuck out of me.

"I love you."

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, fuck, why the hell did I say that?

As soon as the words had left his lips, Carson instantly regretted it. Not because he hadn't meant it. He was pretty sure he had. He just hadn't meant to say it out loud. Not even to himself, and certainly never to Kurt. He had just been so overwhelmed with emotions, which was a foreign feeling to him, considering that he generally tried to close himself off to feeling emotions as often as possible. But something about the moment... something about being underneath Kurt while Kurt held him close and protected him and made love to him...

Jesus Christ, Carson, will you stop that shit? He was not "making love" to you, or any of that shit. He was fucking you. He was using you to get off, you were letting him, and that's all this little arrangement ever was or ever will be. And you were a fucking idiot for letting your emotions get involved and get the best of you. When has that ever served you well?

He hoped that Kurt hadn't heard, but he could tell, from the way his twin froze on top of him and stiffened in panic, that he had. Carson could feel his own heart beating so fast it was practically fucking humming as he waited for Kurt to say something. Anything. Something to get the both of them out of this awkward as hell moment, because Carson was about wish he could shrivel up and die of embarrassment if someone didn't say something soon.

And, if he was being honest, if he could have chosen his ideal words for Kurt to say, they would have been "I love you, too." He knew that would never happen, of course, but for one second, one shining, hopeful second, Carson thought that maybe... just maybe...

"Everybody loves me," Kurt replied casually as he rolled off of Carson and started cleaning up. Carson lay there for a minute, absorbing his disappointment so as not to show it to Kurt. Of fucking course he didn't love Carson back. No shit. Carson knew that. Knew it all along. He didn't even know why he felt so let down by Kurt's reply. What had he expected, really? This was just a fuck buddy arrangement. It had been that from the very beginning.

And frankly, Carson, you're being kind of a selfish prick for wanting it to be any more than that. You should be happy that you get to fuck him pretty much whenever you want. What more do you expect? Asshole.

He sat up in bed, pulling the covers up over his chest. It was stupid, but he felt very exposed right then, completely naked in front of Kurt. The sheets acted as a makeshift shield between him and his own humiliation as the twins sat there, cleaning up and staring at each other in awkward silence for a few moments until Carson couldn't take it anymore.

"We should get some sleep," he said to break the tension as he started looking around for his clothes. He wanted to be dressed as quickly as possible, hoping that his embarrassment would subside a little if he could just not be in his most vulnerable state.

"Um... yeah. Yeah, I guess we'd better," replied Kurt, sounding a little odd as he put on his own pajama pants.

"School tomorrow," said Carson, latching onto anything to say at this point that wasn't a conversation about the three most embarrassing words he'd ever said to Kurt. He glanced toward the door, wondering if he should just leave. Sleep in his own bedroom and forget that this night had ever happened.

No, he decided. That will only make things more awkward. Best to just stay with him tonight.

"And we've missed a few days, so. You know. We'll have tons to make up, I'm sure," he babbled, climbing under the covers and quickly shoving a pillow under his head as he turned away from Kurt.

"Yeah," agreed Kurt. Carson felt him climb in beside him and gently touch him on the shoulder. He sniffed and buried himself deeper into the pillow, trying to act as normal and cool as possible.

Don't let him see how fucking awkward you feel. Keep calm. Act like a fucking normal person.

He tried to relax as he felt Kurt wrap his arms around him in a familiar, comforting embrace. He mentally scolded himself one more time and eased into the touch, letting Kurt hold him even though he knew damn well that Kurt was probably only doing it because he was pitying him.

"Good night, Carson," Kurt whispered in his ear, kissing him on the sensitive skin just below it, one of Carson's favorite spots.

"Good night, Kurt," he replied, closing his eyes and desperately praying for sleep to come quickly.

Remember, he's your fuck buddy. He's your friend with benefits. He is not your lover. He is not your boyfriend.

And you shouldn't want it to go beyond that. It's bad enough that your parents hate your guts. Don't make Kurt hate you, too.

Carson's sleep that night was restless at best, and by the time he woke up for school in the morning, he was more than ready to just forget the whole night. Kurt must have done the same, because he was already up and out of bed when Carson turned around and glanced over to his side. He could hear him moving around in the bathroom, humming as he prepared to take his morning shower.

Good. Let's forget the whole thing, Carson thought sleepily, yawning and sitting up in bed. He shivered in the cold morning air and climbed out, heading for his own room with the idea of grabbing a hoodie to keep himself warm until he could have his own shower. He'd just about reached his door when he felt a hand grab him roughly by the shoulder and turn him around, pushing him up against the wall.

"Why were you not in your own room last night?" his father demanded, his eyes gleaming with fury as he looked Carson in the eye.

"Why do you care?" Carson retorted, returning the look with one of his own. He was about five thousand percent done and was not even slightly in the mood to deal with anyone's bullshit at the moment, especially his father's. "Were you hoping I'd run away again and gotten hit by a train?"

"You will adhere to the rules around here, including and especially sleeping in your own room, or there will be consequences," Neal replied, his grip on Carson's shoulder tightening painfully.

"Like what?" asked Carson, surprising himself with his own boldness, considering that his black eye from the last encounter with his father had still not completely healed and he could very much still feel the soreness from it. "What are you going to do? Hit me? Give me another black eye? I'd love to hear what Kurt has to say about that. I do believe the deal was that if he comes home, you leave me the fuck alone," he continued.

Neal just glared at him for a moment, looking like he definitely wanted to add a new bruise or two to Carson's face. Carson was expecting it, even. But his father did nothing. He released his grip on Carson's shoulder and shoved him in the direction of his room, causing Carson to stumble a bit before regaining his footing.

"University can't come fast enough," he muttered. "Assuming you can even get accepted into one."

Carson glared after him as his father disappeared down the stairs. He wanted to shout so many things in reply, but he just stalked into his room and retrieved a hoodie from his closet.

"He's right, though. University can't come fast enough," he murmured under his breath, flopping onto his bed with his phone.

"Shower's all yours," announced Kurt, breezing into Carson's room, clad around the waist in a towel and using another to rub at his hair. Normally, Carson would have taken the opportunity to ogle a perfect set of abs, but today he just wasn't in the mood.

"Great. Thanks," he replied, avoiding eye contact with Kurt as much as possible as he shut off his phone and stood back up.

"You ok?" asked Kurt, his brows furrowing as he bit his lip in concern.

"Fine," Carson insisted. "Been a rough few days, hasn't it?"

"It has," agreed Kurt. "Sure you don't want to skip school today? We could hang around, go "shopping," maybe christen a few public bathrooms..."

"No," Carson interrupted him, shaking his head. For some reason, the last thing he felt like doing was being around Kurt for the whole day. It would only remind him of how stupid he had been to say what he'd said to him the previous night, and all he really wanted to do was throw himself into something else for a bit. "No, that's ok. We really shouldn't. It'll be hard to keep up if we skip any more, and we have exams coming up soon."

Kurt looked at him carefully, nodding after a minute. "Ok. You're right," he said, standing up and kissing Carson on the cheek. "Have a shower and get dressed. I'll see you downstairs, hmm?"

"Ok," said Carson, giving him a small smile as he watched Kurt leave the room.

He showered and dressed quickly before heading nervously downstairs. He wasn't sure what to expect from his parents, but he was ready to do battle, if necessary. Thankfully, Kurt was already sitting at the table, nibbling delicately at a piece of toast. His presence made Carson feel a little bit safer as his father glared at him over his newspaper and his mother ignored him altogether as she added milk to a cup of tea.

It wasn't a very comfortable atmosphere, to say the least.

"Want me to fix you something to eat, Carson?" Sheryl suddenly asked, and judging by both Kurt and Neal's faces, Carson wasn't the only one completely thrown for a loop. He couldn't remember the last time his mother had offered him anything other than harsh words or a slap, and here she was offering him breakfast as though it were the most normal thing in the world.

Well, it would be normal, if she were a normal mother, I guess.

"Um... no," replied Carson, unsure how to answer that question any other way. "Um... thanks? I'll get my own breakfast." It was probably safer that way, anyway. He hadn't forgotten the day several years ago when he'd been casually informed that his mother had hidden ADHD medication in his food throughout most of his childhood.

"It wasn't working anyway, so I stopped bothering," she'd casually added when Carson had asked her just what the fuck she thought she'd been doing.

So, even though she reportedly hadn't drugged him in years, it was probably best if he just started making his own food from then on. Lord only knew what she would drug him with now, in light of recent events.

He set about fixing his own toast, cringing a little when he heard his father clear his throat behind him and begin to speak.

"Kurt," he said, even though he was clearly addressing both boys, "From now on, it would be much appreciated if the two of you would sleep in your own rooms. Separately."

"Well, Dad, I would love to follow that ridiculous rule, except I totally will not be following that ridiculous rule," replied Kurt casually in between bites.

"Excuse me?" asked Neal dangerously, and Carson looked nervously between him and his twin as he sat down, nibbling on his toast as he waited to see what would happen.

"I said I won't be following that ridiculous rule," repeated Kurt, looking Neal directly in the eye. "Carson and I have slept in the same bed many times ever since we were little kids. We're not going to stop now just because you have your prejudices against what our relationship has become."

And what is that, exactly, Kurt? Carson thought to himself, his blood turning to ice as his father fixed him with a stare that could have cut glass.

"Besides," Kurt continued, "You don't sleep in your own room either. Don't think I didn't see the sheets sticking out from under the couch cushions this morning when I came down for water."

"What your relationship has become is immoral and disgusting, and it's not going to happen under my roof," replied Neal through gritted teeth, clearly trying to restrain himself from yelling at Kurt. "I know this whole thing wasn't your fault, but you need to realize that you-"

"Carson, come on, we'll be late for school," Kurt interrupted, shoving the last of his toast into his mouth and grabbing Carson by the arm with one hand and his school bag with the other. Carson barely managed to grab his own bag as Kurt began dragging him out the door.

"I hadn't finished my toast," Carson mumbled when they got outside, unable to think of anything more substantial to say at the moment.

"I'm sorry," Kurt said apologetically. "I just couldn't handle it in there this morning."

"It's fine," Carson assured him. "At least I've got my bag. There's vending machines at school."

Kurt smiled, pulling him over to the spot just outside the large kitchen window, where Carson knew full well their parents were probably staring at them.

"Who gives a shit what they think about us?" Kurt said, leaning in and capturing Carson's lips in a hungry, passionate kiss. Carson let it happen for a moment, his brain short circuiting before coming back online and screaming at him to put a stop to it.

"Kurt, Jesus," Carson exclaimed, pushing Kurt off of him and glancing nervously in the direction of the window. "They're watching us!"

"Good," replied Kurt. "Let them."

"Dad wants to fucking murder me as it is, let's not give him any more ammunition," Carson retorted, taking Kurt's arm and leading him away from the window and toward the street. "The sleeping arrangements are one thing. He can't prove that we did anything last night. Kissing in front of him is an entirely different thing."

"Since when do you care what anyone thinks?" asked Kurt. "Especially Dad. He's a shit, he can piss off."

"Kurt, does this mean anything to you?" asked Carson, pointing exasperatedly toward his healing black eye.

"He won't do that again," Kurt insisted, although his voice did waver and he gently brushed his fingers against the bruised spot. "We have their word."

Carson sighed, shaking his head and focusing his eyes down on his feet. "Forget it," he said tiredly. Clearly, Kurt either couldn't see or was choosing not to see how much he was throwing Carson under the bus by shoving their relationship in their parents' faces. "It's fine. Let's just get to school."

I love you, Kurt. But don't do this to me.

"I thought you were running away to London," Santana greeted them as they arrived at school that morning and approached their group's usual meeting spot. "What are you doing back here in Shitsville?"

"Change of plans," Carson muttered, in no mood whatsoever to discuss it. "It's complicated."

"Well, thank god you're back," said Santana, wrapping her arms around Carson in a hug, which was so very unlike her. "I thought I would go fucking crazy having to hang out with Preppy and Pretty Boy for the rest of my academic career."

"Which one of those am I?" asked Sebastian cockily.

"I think it's obvious you're the preppy one," replied Seth, preening.

"Both of you shut up," said Santana, and Carson could practically hear her rolling her eyes. "Seriously, are you ok?" she asked in a quiet voice only he could hear.

"I'm fine," he answered, awkwardly hugging her back.

"Did he do anything to you when you got back?" she asked. "Because I'll find a way to kick his ass, if you want."

Carson smiled in spite of himself. "Santana, I'm fine. Really. This protective, maternal behavior is very unnerving on you. Stop it."

"You're right. We'll never speak of this again," replied Santana, letting go of him and looking at him carefully. "Jesus, that eye," she said, wincing at his healing bruise.

"This is nothing, really," he said dismissively. "You should have seen it when it was new." His gaze wandered over behind Santana, where Sebastian was patting Kurt on the shoulder. Kurt was ignoring him at the moment and looking over at Carson and Santana, his blue eyes flashing with what looked a lot like jealousy.

"Ok, let's all head inside, shall we?" Kurt said chipperly, marching over and looping his arm through Carson's. "We're all going to be late if we don't hurry. Santana, don't you have a class, like, waaaay on the other end of the building?"

Yep. It was jealousy.

Well, good. It's only fair that he get jealous over something if I have to deal with him being all flirty and shit with Sebastian all the time.

Shit, there I go again. Being a selfish wanker. Carson, what did you JUST tell yourself last night?

On the whole, it was a pretty normal day, as far as school went. None of his teachers even asked where he'd been, or how he'd gotten his bruised eye. Which was just as well, he figured, because he didn't feel like coming up with an explanation. He attended his classes, collected his missing assignments, and headed home that afternoon determined to throw himself headfirst into his course work. Now, more than ever, it was important that he keep his grades up. Anything to keep him focused on his future, his actual future, and not on the way he'd utterly humiliated himself with Kurt the night before.

Normal. Normal, normal, make everything normal.

He took some food up to his bedroom and worked steadily until he heard Kurt come home, his twin's footsteps coming up the stairs quickly and bursting into his bedroom.

"I tried to get out of glee club today, but I was caught on my way out the door," he said breathlessly, his cheeks red from the wind and cold. "I barely saw you all day. Are you ok?"

"Fine," replied Carson, glancing over at him briefly over the rim of his glasses. "I'm fine."

"No encounters with Dad?" asked Kurt. "Or Mom? Well, she's out, anyway, but..."

"I haven't seen either of them since this morning," Carson answered, concentrating hard on the math problems in front of him and hoping they would go away if he wished hard enough.

"Good," breathed Kurt, walking over to him and wrapping his arms around him from behind. "Mmm, I love when you wear glasses," he said in a seductive whisper, his lips ghosting over the shell of Carson's ear. Carson shivered with delight in spite of himself, but tried to retain his composure.

"They're just glasses," he said.

"They're sexy," said Kurt, turning Carson's chair around to face him and straddling his lap. "They make you look like a sexy librarian," he added, leaning down to kiss Carson. His tongue darted out to taste Carson's bottom lip, and Carson started to relax into it, only to be jarred back to earth by the sound of a car door slamming outside.

"I really have a lot of school work," he said quietly, his hands gripping Kurt around the waist and rubbing up and down gently.

"Ok," Kurt said, biting his lip and nodding. He leaned down to kiss Carson once more and looked into his eyes. "You know that I'm here for you, right? That we're in this thing together still? You know that."

Carson nodded. "I know."

Kurt patted his cheek and got off of him, blowing him a kiss as he left the bedroom and headed for his own. Carson breathed out and turned his chair back around, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes.

I love him so much, but... fuck, normal. Normal. Have to act normal.

He should have been careful what he wished for, because when he groggily opened his eyes later that night after having fallen asleep over his pile of work, the last thing he expected to find was that there was, at the moment, no way out of his bedroom. His doorknob refused to turn no matter how much he twisted it.

Please let it just be stuck, he hoped, trying to ignore the feeling of dread that was rapidly filling his stomach as he kept attempting in vain to open his door.

No dice. It was locked tight.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, no, goddamn it, no. I didn't want things to be THIS normal.

Bits and pieces of childhood memory flashed through his mind as he raced around his room, trying to find something to pick the lock with. He saw himself at five years old, being dragged through the house by the death grip his father had on his arm as Neal roared at him for breaking something or other. Saw himself being tossed into his bedroom as his father went around angrily collecting all the light bulbs in the lamps and stalking out of the room with them. Saw his bedroom door closing with a loud clicking noise that meant he could turn the knob all he wanted, but it would never budge. Saw himself hiding under the bed for hours, terrified of the dark. Saw himself trembling with fear when the doorknob finally rattled, only to sigh with relief when he saw it was only Kurt, carrying a plastic bag full of cookies in one little hand while opening the door with the other.

"Daddy's asleep now, it's safe. I brought you cookies."

Carson rooted frantically through his desk drawers, sighing with relief when his hand closed over a paperclip. He went right to work, making quick use of the extensive lock picking skill he'd acquired over the years, and the door popped open in no time.

Gonna have to try harder than that next time, asshole, he thought as he slumped down against the wall. You're not dealing with a five year old anymore.

The next few weeks were very odd for Kurt. Ever since their very brief adventure in running away, Carson had seemed so behave so strangely toward him. He wasn't exactly closed off, but he was definitely more than a little withdrawn. He'd taken to throwing himself into his course work more than ever before, not to mention insisting on sleeping in his own room every night. Kurt had to wonder just how much he was actually sleeping, because Carson came downstairs every morning with dark circles under his eyes, looking as if he'd barely slept a wink.

At least he still seemed interested in his usual activities. He still went to Grandma's home consistently, still hung around with Kurt and their friends, still smoked (albeit much more than he ever had, which worried Kurt), and still engaged in various illegal activities. All the things that made Carson Carson. And he still seemed interested in sex. Definitely not as often as they used to do it before getting caught, but they still had a fairly active sex life.

But Kurt couldn't shake the feeling that there was just something different. He was sure that a lot of it had to do with Carson being uncomfortable around their parents, even more now than he'd been before, especially because it was more than obvious how much he was despised by their father. And their mother... well... she was just acting weird. She almost seemed like she was trying to be somewhat nice to Carson whenever Neal wasn't around to see, and if Kurt found this unnerving, Carson must have found it to be damn near the Twilight Zone.

But every time he tried to open a dialogue with Carson, he got shut down subtly but quickly. The conversation would turn to school, or their plans for the weekend, or it would turn to sex if no one else was home. The sex was nice, but Kurt wished he could just understand what was going on inside his twin's head.

By the time the beginning of winter break rolled around, Kurt had just sort of come to accept this as the way things were going to be for a while, if not ever. And he was liking it less and less. He welcomed any opportunity to stop worrying about it with open arms, especially if it involved getting absolutely pissed drunk.

Which was exactly what he was doing one Friday night, several days into winter break. The usual gang were all partying at Santana's house, despite her being less than thrilled about it.

"How come it's always my house that we have to do these things in?" she asked drunkenly, yelling over the music and wobbling slightly on her feet. "You... you guys aaaall have houses too."

"Yours is the only one with no parents in it for any acceptable length of time," Carson replied simply, taking a swig from his cup. "Besides Sebastian's, and he lives too far away to be convenient. Accept the science."

"Fuck you," Santana mumbled, downing the rest of her drink and getting up for another.

Kurt, meanwhile, was so drunk he could barely even remember his own name, and he was loving it. He had no idea who he was dancing with at the moment, but whoever it was had very strong hands, and they felt like heaven around his waist. Carson? Was it Carson?

"Anyone ever tell you those hips should be illegal?" said a voice in his ear, and Kurt smiled. Ok, not Carson.

"Anyone... anyone ever tell you that... that... I dunno," he slurred, moving back against Sebastian and swaying his hips to the music. He caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye of Carson looking at them darkly, but he was legitimately too wasted to care.

"Hands feel goooood," he continued happily, moving his ass back to brush against Sebastian's crotch.

"Oookay, how much have you had to drink?" asked Sebastian, a smile in his voice.

"Mm'not a baby, I can hold my liquor," Kurt cooed.

"Whatever, I'm probably about as wasted as you," Sebastian replied.

"Everybody sit the fuck down, we're playing Spin The Fuckin' Bottle," Santana announced, turning the music down and waving her cup haphazardly in the air. "I'm bored, let's get shit sexy up in here."

Kurt giggled as Sebastian grabbed his hand and led him over to the middle of the living room floor, where everybody was arranging themselves in a sloppy circle.

"You too, Carson," Santana ordered, looking sternly over at him and pointing at the circle.

"I'll sit this one out, thanks," Carson replied.

"Come oooon, you're hot, come get your mack on with someone," Santana prodded.

"You've got Kurt playing, so you can wank off to watching him do it," Carson replied. "I'll just be here with my drink."

"You're no fun," Santana said, shaking her head. "Alright, bitches, here's the rules."

Kurt barely heard her. He was too busy sipping a drink and looking around at everyone in the circle, most of whom he would seriously rather not kiss, and mentally upgrading their outfits. He didn't even realize they had started playing (apparently, the various people kissing in front of him weren't enough of a context clue) until someone pushed the bottle toward him and told him to spin it. He obeyed readily, missing the bottle the first few times he tried to spin it, but eventually succeeding. He had to close his eyes as it was spinning, because watching it move was making him dizzy, and when he opened them, everyone was looking at him with interested faces.

"Rules are rules, Phillips. Kiss him," crowed Santana gleefully, and Kurt had to blink several times to figure out who "him" was. It turned out to be Sebastian, who was looking at him with one eyebrow raised and a smirky smile playing on his lips.

"I bet he won't," Sebastian said, slurring his words slightly. "Bet he can't handle it."

"Bullshit," Kurt replied. He turned to face Sebastian and surged forward, crashing their lips together before he could really think about what he was doing, and wow... He'd wondered before what it would be like to kiss Sebastian, and he was pleased to discover that he's mostly been absolutely right. He kept kissing him, letting his tongue get involved, and he felt Sebastian gasp into the kiss when he felt the metal of the tongue ring. This wasn't like kissing Carson at all. He wasn't sure if he could describe how so if asked, but... this was just so animal-like. There was a certain rawness there that he'd never felt with Carson, no matter how rough they'd gotten, and he wasn't sure if it was his favorite thing quite yet, but he didn't hate it either.

"Mmmph," Sebastian mumbled, returning the kiss with equal passion, and Kurt felt teeth nipping at his lip and a tongue demanding entrance into his mouth, which he granted automatically as he climbed into Sebastian's lap. He was so drunk, and it felt so good, and he knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that Carson was watching, and that Carson was probably hating it, but fuck, he couldn't stop.

"Get a room," Santana yelled out after several minutes, and Kurt finally parted his lips from Sebastian's, licking along his bottom lip to catch the last remnants of the other boy's taste.

"Jesus," Sebastian murmured. "You've got a fucking talented mouth."

"Well, unless he's going to blow you right here and now, then it's someone else's turn," Santana retorted in between sips of her drink. "Actually, that's an excellent idea," she added with a snort. "I dare you to blow Preppy, Kurt."

Kurt had no idea what the hell came over him just then, and maybe he would never know, but all he knew in that moment was that he would be damned if he backed down from a challenge. He wanted to tell her to fuck off, but... he also really kind of wanted to blow Sebastian. The thought that there were people in the room and that he wasn't that kind of guy, and Carson was watching... all of that should have been important things to consider, and he knew that, and he tried to listen to his head, but...

"Oh god, I was kidding! I didn't actually think you were going to... holy fucking shit," came Santana's voice from somewhere.

"Fuck, what the fuck..." Sebastian babbled, and Kurt looked down to see that there were hands in front of him unbuckling a belt.

His hands. Sebastian's belt.

And then everything went fuzzy as he went on autopilot.

Carson felt sick to his stomach. He wanted to throw up so badly, but he was rooted to the spot as he watched, horrified, as Kurt settled himself in front of Sebastian and presumably pulled him out of his pants. Carson couldn't actually see the action itself, and good fucking thing. It was painful enough just watching Kurt from the back as he got to work.

Fuck.

FUCK.

Why?

He was the one thing I really had left to hold out hope for, and now this.

Goddammit.

Well, there you go. If you were ever in doubt that he doesn't actually love you, here's your fucking proof.

And you can't say shit about it, because it's not your right.

He glanced at Sebastian, who, to his credit, looked just as shocked and surprised at this turn of events as everyone else was. He caught Carson's eye and looked like he wanted to say something, but whatever it was quickly turned into a moan as he threw his head back.

"Oh fuck," he groaned as Kurt's head bobbed back and forth. "Fucking tongue ring, fuck, fuck... oh god.."

Carson couldn't take it anymore. He had to stop looking, or he really would throw up. He held tightly to his cup and stormed out of the living room as fast as possible, running up the stairs and shutting himself into the nearest bedroom. He downed the rest of his drink, tossed the cup, and slumped down onto the bed, burying his face in his knees.

I'm not going to cry. I'm not.

A few tears squeezed themselves out anyway before he could stop them, and he mentally scolded himself for losing control like that.

"Carson?" came Santana's muffled voice from the hallway. "Carson, where are you?"

"Go away," he ordered her. "Just leave me alone."

"Carson, I'm sorry. I didn't think he would actually do it," she pressed, opening the door to the bedroom and peeking her head inside. "I thought he would tell me to fuck myself and then stop playing. Boy must be super drunk."

Carson didn't say anything, just stared down at his hands as Santana sighed and climbed up on the bed beside him.

"Look, this might not be any of my business, but that's never stopped me before," she said. "Are you two even... you know... a thing? I mean, like, an actual thing? Besides fucking each other, what are you guys?"

Carson shrugged. "You tell me, because your guess is as good as mine." He sighed and played absentmindedly with a loose thread on the comforter. "He really got into it down there, didn't he?"

"Yeah," replied Santana. "I doubt he knows what he's doing, though. He drank, like, the entire liquor cabinet."

"Yeah," said Carson quietly.

Several moments of silence passed, and then Santana spoke up again.

"You know what you need?"

"What?" asked Carson.

"You need a good fuck with someone else," Santana said matter of factly. "Just cut loose and let off a little steam. It's not healthy for you to be so entwined with Kurt when the boy is playing your feelings like a damn violin."

"With who?" Carson asked, snorting. "You?"

"Why not?" asked Santana.

"Didn't think you swung that way, to be honest," replied Carson.

"Please, I swing every way. Did I ever tell you about the time I had a sexually explicit dream about a shrub?" said Santana.

"No, and please, don't take that as an invitation to do so now," Carson said, edging away from her. "And no, I think I'll pass on a mercy fuck."

"Oh, come on," Santana pressed. "Are you seriously telling me you don't think I'm hot?"

"No," said Carson quickly. "I mean, yes, I... you're hot, but I..."

"One kiss," said Santana.

"What?"

"One kiss. If you don't like it, I'll leave you alone," she clarified.

"Well.."

"Excellent," said Santana, and before Carson could process what was happening, he felt lips pressing against his own. They were way different from Kurt's lips. They were smaller and much, much more commanding, which was saying a lot, considering how rough Kurt could be once he got going. Just the fact that they were a girl's lips threw him a little off-kilter, but actually, he'd be lying if he said he didn't like it.

"Well?" Santana asked, parting from him and looking at him expectantly.

"Well, I didn't hate it," Carson replied, trying to sound casual even though his attention was now drawn to her cleavage peeking out from the top of her dress, and he was feeling the tell-tale beginnings of a hard-on.

"So, more?" Santana pressed.

Carson bit his lip for a moment, hesitating. On one hand, he felt like he would be betraying Kurt a little if he went ahead with this.

On the other hand, Kurt was currently downstairs blowing another guy in front of a room full of people, and didn't seem to give a fuck how it made Carson feel. And Santana was hot, and they were both drunk, so... why the hell not?

"Why the hell not?" he said, surging forward and crashing their lips back together. He returned her kiss with enthusiasm this time, moaning a little as he felt her pushing him back against the pillows and straddling him. His semi erection was rapidly becoming a full blown erection, and it strained at attention as she sat up on top of him for a second and started lifting her dress.

"Oh god," he murmured as she took the dress off and tossed it aside, leaving her clad only in a bra and panties. His eyes were drawn to her breasts like magnets, and she grinned as she took hold of his hands and placed them right on her chest.

"Go ahead. Touch them. I'm rather proud of them," she said as she leaned back down to kiss him again, her lips travelling down his jaw to his neck and over to his collarbone, sucking what felt like huge hickeys into the skin every few inches. He busied himself playing with her boobs, which were actually a lot firmer than he expected them to be. Probably because they were fake. He wondered if there was much a difference in feel between fakes and real ones, and then decided he didn't really care because the ones he was currently fondling felt pretty damn good.

"Let's lose this," Santana said after a while, hooking her fingers into the bottom of his hoodie and lifting it up until it came all the way off, exposing his skin to the cool air of the room.

"And these," she added, working at the fly of his jeans. "Let's see what you're working with...oh my fuck," she exclaimed as she pulled down the pants and underwear and Carson's flushed, fully erect cock sprung free. "How the fuck do you manage to hide this thing without a circus tent?"

"Magic?" he offered lamely, and Santana snorted.

"Yeah, ok. Lie back and enjoy, elephant dick," she ordered, and Carson watched as she worked her way down his chest and stomach with her mouth until she reached his dick. There was no hesitation and no consideration. She just took it in her mouth and began to suck, and Carson wasn't able to contain the moan of pleasure that escaped from his lips at the sensation. This was a blowjob quite unlike any other he'd ever experienced. Kurt's clearly had the advantage in his opinion, because there really wasn't any way to compete with a blowjob given by an actual guy who knew the ins and outs of the equipment, as it were. Not to mention one with a tongue ring. However, Santana obviously knew her way around a cock and was proud of it, because every little lick or confident trick of the tongue she performed on him made him catch his breath and wonder why in the hell they'd never done this before.

"Ungh.." he groaned, hissing as Santana's hair glided around his balls and enhanced the sensation. "Fuck."

"That's the goal," she replied, popping off of him and pulling her panties down before straddling him again. He barely had time to react before he felt the familiar texture of a condom going on, and then he felt himself sliding inside something very warm and very wet, something so very unlike any sex he'd ever had before.

"Jesus fuck, you're huge," Santana groaned, moving her hips around in a circular motion as she leaned down to suck Carson's lips into hers. "Mmm... take my bra off," she ordered him, and he looked at it in confusion for a second before he reached behind her and started fumbling with the clasps.

"I... I can't... how the hell... is this thing welded on?" he asked, his fingers wrestling unsuccessfully with the frustrating garment.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, let me," Santana sighed, reaching behind her and unhooking the bra in two seconds flat, tossing it to the side as she started lifting herself up and lowering herself back down on Carson's dick.

"Aaagh," he moaned. "Fuck!" He reached his hands up to feel her now exposed breasts, experimentally tweaking a nipple between his fingers.

"Yes! God, keep doing that," Santana moaned, starting to get into a decent rhythm as she rode Carson's dick expertly. "Yes, yes, god... what the hell?" she gasped, and Carson could have asked himself the same question as he suddenly found himself flipping them over and ramming into her as fast as possible, grunting and moaning with every thrust. He leaned his head down and boldly took a nipple into his mouth, sucking slightly and almost losing his rhythm as Santana's long nails dug into his back and she screamed.

"FUUUUCK," she moaned, and Carson's orgasm slammed into him without warning. He shuddered and came, filling the condom with a moan. Santana's hand snaked between their bodies and rooted around for a few seconds until she arched her back and moaned louder. Carson felt her contracting around him as she came, her nails actually drawing blood as she scratched his back raw.

"Fuck," he breathed out once he could actually form words. He pulled out and took the condom off, tying it sloppily and tossing it aside before collapsing on his back.

"Yeah... fuck," Santana agreed, cuddling up to him and resting her head on his chest. "How do you feel?"

"Tired," Carson answered truthfully. "And a little cold."

"You're not real big on the romance talk, are you?" asked Santana, yanking the covers free and wrapping them around the two of them.

"I'm drunk as fuck," Carson pointed out.

"Don't go anywhere, we're totally doing round 2 after a little cat nap."

"Ok," he heard himself say. He felt his eyelids drooping, and he wanted to say something else, but he couldn't remember what it was as he slowly fell asleep.

The early morning sunlight streamed through the bedroom window, waking Kurt up rudely as he opened his eyes to the blinding pain that was his hangover.

"Uuuugh," he groaned. "How much did I drink last night?" It took him a minute to figure out that he was naked and that he wasn't in his own bed. He was in one of the Lopez guest bedrooms, that much he knew, and there was a warm body breathing beside him.

"Carson," Kurt groaned. "Carson, what time is it?" He sighed when he received no answer, slowly turning himself around and ready to shake Carson awake. Only, it wasn't Carson naked in the bed beside him. It wasn't Carson at all.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed, not caring if he woke up Sebastian and wincing at the way it made his head pound. "Oh god, what the hell did I do?"

Well, it was pretty clear what he'd done. He tried to piece together how it had happened as he clumsily rooted around for his clothes. He remembered sucking Sebastian off, but that hadn't been in this room, had it? He was sure it hadn't been. But yeah, he'd given Sebastian a blowjob. There'd been cheering (Oh god, did I do it in FRONT of people?) and he'd been so horny, and the alcohol had been flowing freely in his system, enough to make him act on what he'd admittedly been curious about for a long time.

And then one of them had dragged the other upstairs and... Kurt, it had been Kurt who dragged Sebastian... they had stumbled into the first available bedroom and Kurt had pushed Sebastian up against the wall, and then...

"Want you to fuck me," he'd said as he turned them around so that Sebastian was pinning him to the wall. "Wanted you to fuck me since forever."

They'd had quite a wild time, by the looks of the room. Sheets and objects and pillows were scattered fucking everywhere. The memories were coming back bit by bit, and Kurt tried to push them aside for now. He had to find Carson so he could...

Oh, fuck. Carson.

"Oh god," he said out loud, throwing on the first shirt and pair of pants he saw and staggering out of the room as quickly as possible. "Carson!" he yelled as loud as he dared, holding his head in pain. "Carson... Cars..." He peeked into every room, stopping at the closed door at the beginning of the hallway.

"Carson?" he asked, slowly opening the door. He wasn't sure what he'd expected to see when he opened it, but it sure as hell was not Carson and Santana in bed together, fast asleep, and almost definitely naked from the waist up.

What the hell happened last night?