"Look," Carson was saying as he and Kurt headed toward the choir room for their afternoon glee meeting, "I'm not saying that Geometry is a waste of time for everyone, but since I'm not planning to be a professional scientist or mathematician, why the fuck do I need to learn it? Seriously, what possible use does it serve for me?" They entered the room and took seats beside each other as Carson continued his rant. "Do you know how many other useful things I could be doing with the time I waste in that class? I could be helping homeless animals or whatever. Or at the very least I could be learning something that will actually benefit me in life after I graduate from this prison." 

Kurt smiled and patted him sympathetically on the arm. "I know you hate it, Carson, but you do need it to graduate and get into Northwestern, after all. Plus, the year is almost over. You can hang on until then." 

"No, I can't," Carson pouted, crossing his arms. "That class is torture." 

"Hey, I offered to tutor you, Hummel, but you said no," spoke up Santana from behind them. Kurt bristled and resisted the urge to give her bitch face, as he was usually tempted to do any time she spoke to Carson. Sure, he was about eighty percent sure that there was something going on between her and Brittany, but that didn't mean she couldn't be trying to worm her way into something with Carson, too, no matter how disinterested he might be.  

"Oh, please, how was he supposed to trust you?" asked Kurt, linking his arm with Carson's possessively and scooting his chair ever so slightly closer to him as he turned his head to look at her. "You probably would have demanded payment in blood or something." 

Santana smiled devilishly. "Actually no, I would have demanded payment in seeing you two make out again," she said in a low voice that only the boys could hear. 

Kurt blushed and looked straight ahead. He could see Carson's cheeks turning slightly pink out of the corner of his eye, as well.  

"Hey, what's Jesse doing here?" asked Carson, leaning over to whisper in Kurt's ear. Kurt shrugged. He'd noticed the boy in the choir room as they entered, but had figured he was there to see Rachel or something. 

"New Directions!" spoke up Mr. Schue, as if in answer to Carson's question."I would like to introduce you to our new show choir consultant, Jesse St. James."  

The club just stared, except for Rachel, who started enthusiastically clapping until Mercedes stopped her. 

"I don't trust this guy," said Finn. "How do we know he's not going to trick us into doing something stupid so his alma mater wins?" 

Kurt knew his twin well enough to know that Carson's raised eyebrows after that question meant that he was shocked Finn even knew what an alma mater was. Frankly, so was Kurt. 

"I don't think I need to do much tricking to get you to do something stupid, Finn," replied Jesse coolly.  Carson snorted.  

"Brilliant," he said under his breath. 

"Guys, Jesse is just a consultant," said Mr. Schue. "I still make all the calls." 

"Then we're still screwed," muttered Carson.  

"Now, I have all the confidence in the world in you guys," Mr. Schue continued. "I just think we could use all the help we could get, because this is it." He indicated the whiteboard at the front of the room, on which was written the word NATIONALS. Seeing the word sent an excited shiver down Kurt's spine. He couldn't wait to set foot in New York. 

"We've been working so hard for two years for this moment, and that moment is finally here," said Mr. Schue. "Now, I was talking with Jesse and he agreed we should continue with our successful trend of doing original songs for the competition. I was thinking of doing one group number and one duet." 

I would kill for a part in that duet, thought Kurt. Granted, last time I sang a duet in a competition, we lost, but this time would be different. It would. 

"Rachel and I should sing a duet," said Finn. "We killed it last year at regionals with Faithfully." 

And we lost, Finn. Did you forget that part? 

"Yeah, it killed us. We lost," said Quinn. Thank you, Quinn. 

"I agree that Rachel should sing lead," said Jesse. Ugh, of course you do. "But Finn, I think it's best if you sit this one out. The fact is, most of the guys in here are better singers, and Mike Chang, who can't even sing, can at least dance. You kind of sing and dance like a zombie who has to poop." 

The whole club erupted into giggles, especially Carson, who had the widest, most adorable grin on his face. He snorted and buried his face in Kurt's shoulder as his own shoulders convulsed with laughter.
 

"You see what I'm talking about? This guy's a jerk," complained Finn. 

"Oh, shut up, Finn," said Carson, lifting his head and wiping away the tears from his eyes as he struggled to stop laughing. "Jesse is only telling the truth." 

"Jesse, maybe you could be a little gentler with your advice?" suggested Mr. Schue. 

"Gentle?" asked Jesse. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize that we were training for the "Good Try" ribbon at Nationals. I thought we were in it to win the whole damn thing, and there's only one way we can do that." 

"Poison darts?" asked Brittany.
 

"The Vocal Adrenaline strategy is simple," continued Jesse. "Identify your best performer, and build the entire performance around them."
 

"So what does everyone else do?" asked Mercedes. 

"And who's our star performer?" asked Puck.
 

"Obviously it's Kurt," said Carson. "I've only been trying to tell you people this for two years now." Kurt felt butterflies in his stomach and gave Carson's arm a gentle squeeze. 

"We're gonna have auditions to find out," answered Mr. Schue, ignoring Carson.
 "I'm gonna post a sign-up sheet later this afternoon." 

Finn said something then, probably more complaints, but Kurt didn't hear him. He was too busy mentally going through every song he knew trying to decide which one he would sing for his audition. 

"I have to get this," he whispered to Carson. "I have to. I bombed at Regionals, I need this." 

"You didn't bomb at Regionals," answered Carson. "Bruce did. The Warblers would have won if you'd sung by yourself. And there's no reason why you shouldn't blow everyone out of the water with your audition. Jesse is smart, even if he did date Rachel. He'll be able to see how talented you are." 

Kurt smiled. "Thanks. Oh my god, I have to sign up as soon as the sheet is posted."
 

"I wouldn't count on getting a part at Nationals, Kurt," said Santana. "I'm auditioning too, and I will wipe the floor with you." 

"Actually, no, Satan, it is I who will wipe the floor with you," replied Kurt sweetly. 

"He'll kill it, Santana," said Carson. "Deal with it." 

"Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot you were secret boyfriends," said Santana. "My apologies, Matt Laur. I didn't mean to insult your lover, but nevertheless, I will be murdering him at those auditions." 

"Bring it, Satan," Kurt practically spat, tightening his grip on Carson's arm and doing his best to ignore her boyfriends comment. "May the best man win." 

"Oh, she will," retorted Santana. The bell rang then, and everyone filed out of the choir room, Kurt keeping a tight grip on Carson's arm until Santana had disappeared down the hallway toward her next class. 

"I'm going to win," Kurt declared, glaring down the hallway after her. 

"Yeah, you will. I believe in you," said Carson, patting him gently on the shoulder before heading down the hall. "Santana doesn't stand a chance!" he added, turning around briefly. Kurt smiled and waved. 

His next few classes went by agonizingly slowly, but finally his last class ended and he made his way quickly toward the bulletin board in the hallway, on which was posted the sign-up sheet Mr. Schue had promised. He noticed it at the same time as he noticed Santana on the opposite end of the hall, also staring at the sheet with a determined smile. They caught each other's eyes at the same time and shared a glare before they both started sprinting toward the bulletin board. They reached it at the same time and spent several seconds trying to elbow each other out of the way. Kurt managed to grab hold of the pen attached to the sign-up sheet's clipboard, only to have Santana yank it right out of his hand. 

"Give it!" Kurt ordered, trying to grab it back as Santana continually moved the pen out of his reach. 

"No, fuck you," said Santana, slapping his hand away. "You'll wait your turn." 

"What the fuck is going on here?" asked Carson, who was walking toward them, one hand gripping the strap of his bag as he took in the scene before him. Santana took advantage of the fact that Kurt was distracted by his arrival to hurriedly sign her name on the first line of the sheet. 

"Carsoooooon," Kurt whined, putting on his best "Wounded Little Brother" pouty voice and pointing accusingly at Santana. "She hit me. Do something." Santana smirked. Carson frowned and crossed his arms, glaring at her. 

"Is that true, Santana? Did you hit him?" asked Carson dangerously. 

"Might have slapped him around a little," answered Santana with a shrug. "Ain't nobody getting in my way. I'm auditioning first, and I'm nailing it." 

"Keep dreaming," Kurt said with a scoff as he took the pen and added his name below hers. "Nobody is even going to remember your audition when I'm through." 

"Damn straight," agreed Carson. "And the next time you hit him will be the last time, Santana, because I will fucking end you. Got it?" Kurt crossed his arms to match his twin and gave Santana a triumphant smile. 

Santana rolled her eyes. "Whatever," she said, turning and stalking down the hallway. 

"I'm kicking her ass at those auditions," said Kurt determinedly.  

"Of course you are," said Carson. "Have you decided on a song yet?" 

Kurt nodded. "Yeah. "Some People," from Gypsy. I think it shows off my range brilliantly. It should impress Jesse, I hope." 

Carson smiled. "It will. He'd have to be a complete idiot not to like it." 

******** 

Carson was almost as excited as Kurt the next afternoon as they entered the auditorium for the auditions. Finally, at last, Kurt had a real shot at getting a part for a competition completely on his own merits, and not just because some guy decided that songs about dead birds were hot. He was very confident that Kurt could knock this audition out of the park. 

"Ok, one more time, does my outfit look ok?" asked Kurt anxiously, smoothing his hair in the small pocket mirror he carried around at all times. He had changed out of his regular school clothes into an outfit he had planned specifically for his performance, which included tight pants emblazoned with skulls. Those pants were Carson's favorite part. They made his ass look fantastic. 

"Yes," Carson reassured him. "Your outfit is great." 

"Ok, good," said Kurt, sighing with relief and handing Carson his mirror to put in his bag for safekeeping. "Wish me luck." 

"Good luck," said Carson, giving him a quick hug. "Break a leg. But...you know...not literally." 

Kurt snorted. "Thanks." He headed backstage to wait his turn, and Carson took a seat in the audience behind Jesse and Mr. Schue, who were quietly discussing something among themselves. Santana was already up on the stage, looking increasingly agitated as she waited for them to tell her to start. 

"We're ready for the first contestant," Jesse said finally, and Santana pasted a smile on her face. 

"My name is Santana Lopez, and I will be singing Amy Winehouse's "Back To Black," she announced. Carson scoffed. Yeah, good luck, hon. Kurt's song is better than yours, and he's so nailing this. 

Santana started her song, and Carson was pleased to see that only Mr. Schue seemed to be paying much attention to her. Jesse was scribbling something in his notebook, only occasionally glancing up at the stage. Carson craned his neck to try to see what he was writing, and discovered it was a drawing of a cat. 

Ha. Take that, Santana. 

"Thanks so much for coming in," Jesse said dismissively when Santana had finished.  

"Wait, that's all you have to say? You spent the entire performance scribbling notes!" she replied irritably. No, he didn't.  

"Well, if you must know, I was simply writing down that I don't think your performance went very deep into the emotional truth of the song," replied Jesse calmly. Carson snorted. 

"Oh, is that so?" said Santana, her voice laced with sarcasm. "Well, I happen to have some feedback for you..." 

"Thanks, Santana, that's all we need," Mr. Schue cut her off, giving her a dismissive wave. 

"I'm about to go all Lima Heights!" Santana declared, her arms crossed as she stalked off the stage. Carson rolled his eyes. BYE. Now let's get to the one audition that really matters. Kurt sauntered confidently onto the stage and turned to face the audience, one hand posed dramatically on his hip. He locked eyes with Carson, and Carson gave him a big smile and a thumbs up. 

"Hello, I'm Kurt Hummel and I'll be singing "Some People" from Gypsy," announced Kurt. 

"Ah, great selection, Kurt," said Mr. Schue. "Hit it!" 

Kurt began to sing, and as usual, Carson was mesmerized, even though he had watched him spend the previous afternoon rehearsing. His voice was just perfect, not to mention that his ass looked very nice indeed wiggling around in those pants. Carson was kind of proud of himself for having the self control not to pop a boner this time, although it was a close thing, especially at the very end of Kurt's performance, where he flopped down backwards on the stage with his knees tucked under him. 

"Woooo!" Carson shouted, standing up and clapping enthusiastically. "Good job, Kurt!" 

"Good job, buddy," said Mr. Schue approvingly. Carson waited eagerly for Jesse's response. Surely he was going to praise that perfect performance, right? 

"Kurt," Jesse began, fiddling with the pen in his hand as he spoke. "You do know that song was meant to be sung by a woman, right?" 

Oh, fuck, not this shit again. Jesse, I swear to fuck, if you do not give that performance rave reviews, Santana isn't the only one who will be going all Lima Heights on your ass. 

"Yes, I'm aware," answered Kurt, his smile tightening as he spoke. "And the glee club sort of dealt with that whole "Boys singing songs that were meant for girls." It's kind of old news." 

"Then you must know that that song was done to great fanfare by such Broadway legends as Merman, LuPone, Bernadette...those are some awfully big heels to fill, and I'm just not quite sure that you nailed it," said Jesse. 

Kurt said nothing, just gave Jesse his very best bitch face and stalked off the stage. Carson heaved a huge sigh and got up from his seat. 

"Are you fucking kidding me, Jesse?" he snapped on his way to go follow Kurt backstage. "That performance was gold." 

"You're biased," said Jesse with a shrug. Carson glared at him and marched backstage where Kurt was sitting on a closed costume trunk next to Santana, his arms crossed and his face a storm cloud. 

"I hate him," Kurt mumbled. 

"I want him dead," said Santana. 

"I mean, I hate to sound like Rachel, but I'm extremely talented, damn it," said Kurt. "I know when I do good work, and that song was excellent work." 

"It was," agreed Carson. "Jesse is just an idiot like everyone else at this school, I guess. I had hope, since he did throw eggs at Rachel, but I guess I was wrong." 

"You guys know that Berry is auditioning too, right?" Santana said. 

"What? Why?" asked Kurt. 

"Why the fuck is she auditioning?" asked Carson. "Wasn't the whole point of this competition to see who would take the second part of a duet? A duet that Jesse already said was half hers? Why does she need to audition?" 

"Who knows?" said Santana. "Apparently now we're auditioning for a solo, I don't know. I just have the extremely bad feeling that we're fucked, because Eggs Benedict Arnold is going to pick Rachel. Everything about this glee club is favoritism." 

"As much as it kills me to agree with Satan, she's right," mumbled Kurt. "Jesse St. Sucks is going to pick Rachel, because he's still trying to get into her pants."
 

"Ew," said Carson and Santana at the same time. Kurt got up off the trunk and grabbed Carson's arm, leading him toward one of the dressing rooms. "Come on, Carson, I may as well change back into my school clothes, and you've got them in your bag." Carson gulped and allowed Kurt to lead him, flustering at the prospect of watching him change. He noticed Santana smirking after them, but chose to ignore her. 

Once Kurt had changed his clothes (and Carson had snuck more than a few peeks at his bare chest in the process), they filed back into the auditorium and took seats in the audience, along with Santana, who was staring stony faced at the stage. 

Mercedes was up next, and Carson had to admit she was good (although pretty common-sounding, and of course not as good as Kurt had been). Predictably, however, Jesse had nothing good to say. And then it was Rachel's turn. 

Ugh, of course she's singing a Streisand song, thought Carson irritably. She never sings anything else. And god, what the fuck is wrong with her face? Is she capable of singing anything without scrunching her face up like she's trying to take the hardest shit she's ever taken in her life? I don't understand. Nobody DOES that.  

After what seemed like six hours, Rachel finally stopped singing. Carson looked over to see Kurt teary-eyed, watching Rachel's performance with rapt attention. 

"Kurt?" said Carson softly. "Oh honey, don't cry. I know her singing was painful, but..." 

"She may be difficult, but boy, can she sing," Kurt murmured. 

"….What?" asked Carson. 

"Bravo!" Kurt exclaimed, jumping up in his seat and clapping enthusiastically. Carson gaped, refusing to believe that he was witnessing Kurt actually clapping for Trollberry. On Kurt's other side, Santana looked just as horrified. She caught Carson's eye and they exchanged a brief look before they each grabbed one of Kurt's arms and pulled him back down into his seat, although Carson thought Santana could have been a bit gentler. 

"I have to be honest," said Jesse. "That was brilliant. I have nothing but the tip of my hat." 

"Bullshit," mumbled Carson. 

"Garbage. This whole thing is rigged," said Santana angrily.
 

"Hold on, guys," said Mr. Schue. "Like I said before, I make the final call here." 

"Well, then make it," ordered Mercedes from her seat on Carson's other side. 

Mr. Schue stood up slowly and sighed. "Out of respect to you all, I'm going to take a couple of days and consider all the results. I will let you all know by Friday," he promised, when all four teens rolled their eyes heavenward. "Great job, everyone." 

******** 

Not surprisingly, Mr. Schue took the easy way out and decided that nobody was getting a solo (duet part? Carson didn't even fucking know anymore). Instead, they were supposed to write original songs for the whole club to sing. Granted, Carson had no clue how in the hell he expected them to be able to write two whole songs with Nationals only days away, but whatever. It wasn't like it was the stupidest thing the club had ever done, and besides, at least this way he didn't have to suppress a murderous rage at Rachel winning over Kurt, who clearly deserved it more. Suppressing murderous rages all the time couldn't be healthy for him. He was pretty sure he was developing an ulcer. 

"Can you believe we're about to fly in a plane for the first time in our lives?" said Kurt excitedly as they boarded the plane to New York the following Friday morning. "And in first class, too! I'm so excited!" 

Carson smiled. Kurt was adorable, practically bouncing on his feet as they entered their cabin and took seats. Kurt made a beeline over to a seat by a window and flopped down into it, sighing contentedly. "Come sit with me," he said, patting the seat next to him. Carson did, sinking down into the extremely comfortable seat and enjoying the cute little grin on Kurt's face as he glanced around the cabin. He had to admit, he was pretty excited, too. This would be a weekend where he could just be with Kurt and wouldn't have to worry about Blaine ruining it, since the biggest miracle in Carson's life right now was that at least Blaine attended a different school and wasn't coming with them to New York. 

"We're going to New York, Carson. New York! The city of my dreams! What if we see a celebrity there? Oh, I wish we could see a show while we're there," Kurt lamented. "We probably won't have the time, though. And money, we don't have that, either. Shows are expensive. Do you think the hotel will have chocolates on the pillows?" 

"Most likely," said Rachel, who had overheard him. "I Googled our hotel and it's rather nice, if I do say so." 

"Whatever, I'm just so excited!" Kurt said again, letting out a little squeal. His excitement visibly diminished a bit once the plane started to take off. His face contorted into a grimace and he groaned, closing his eyes and putting his hands over his ears. 

"Ugh, I was afraid of this," he complained. "Takeoff sickness. I feel nauseous. And my ears hurt." 

Carson reached into his carry-on bag, rooting around for the mint gum he had stashed in there just for this purpose. "I prepared for that," he said sympathetically, finding the gum and handing Kurt a piece. "You get carsick, I figured you would probably get airsick, too. Chew the gum, it will help." 

Kurt popped the gum in his mouth and took a shuddering breath. He curled sideways, resting his head on Carson's lap and keeping his eyes shut. Carson wrapped him in his arms and stroked his hair gently. 

"It'll pass," he soothed. Kurt kept his eyes shut for several minutes, taking deep breaths, until the plane stabilized and they were running smoothly. 

"Better now?" asked Carson as Kurt opened his eyes and lifted his head. Kurt nodded and gave Carson a watery smile. 

"Yeah...still a little bit sick, but I think I'll be good now," he said. 

The rest of the flight was relatively peaceful, except for the brief period in which Rachel decided to start singing all the New York themed songs she could think of. A glare from Carson and a positively demonic look from Santana after "New York State of Mind" shut her up quickly, thankfully, and soon enough they were landing in New York.  

"This is it, Carson," Kurt said happily after they had exited the airport and were walking the streets of the city. "This is home. This is where I'm going to live after I graduate." 

Carson smiled and slung one arm around his shoulder. "Yep, you will. And you'll have your name in lights on one of these marquees. Or all of them, more likely." 

"And you'll live here, too, after you finish college," said Kurt dreamily, reciting the future plans the two of them had gone over so many times ever since they were little kids.

"We'll both live here together and life will be perfect." 

"Indeed, it will," agreed Carson, letting his thoughts wander to the not-quite-so-distant-anymore future where he could clearly see himself and Kurt living together in the very city they were walking in now, lighting it on fire, so to speak. With any luck, Blaine would just be an unpleasant memory from the past by then. Maybe by then I'll have found the courage to tell Kurt that he means more to me than just being my brother. Maybe, if I'm extremely lucky, and if I'm good and don't piss off the fates too badly, maybe by some miracle we could be together. As in BE together. 

He shook his head and mentally chastised himself for even allowing his thoughts to go there, because they hurt. There was no way he would ever be that lucky. 

The club ended up stopping for lunch in Times Square before heading to their hotel. Kurt found a burger joint that caught his eye, and Carson carried him there piggyback style after Kurt threw his arms around his neck from behind and exclaimed "Carry me!" Who was Carson to resist that? 

Now everybody was gathered on some steps in the middle of the square, eating their various lunches and still marveling that they were somewhere other than Lima. 

"A year and a half ago, the New Directions were nothing but a group of six misfits stumbling their way through a horrific rendition of "Sit Down, You're Rocking The Boat," and now here we are, at the top of the show choir heap," Kurt was saying, waving his burger in the air excitedly. "Nationals!" he squealed. 

"I wanna hit up Central Park and get my frolic on," said Tina. 

"I want to throw stuff off the Brooklyn Bridge," added Puck. 

"Guys, come on. I mean, we still have two songs to write," said Finn practically. Carson groaned inwardly. He hated any time he had to admit to himself that Finn was right. He still thought it was stupid that they hadn't written the songs weeks ago, since not only did they have to write them, they also had to rehearse them. Mr. Schue made no fucking sense. 

"Ok, Mr. Bossy Pants," Kurt teased him. "But I think we have some time for a tune before we leave." He started singing "New York, New York" and everybody joined him, even Carson, who normally didn't join in any of the group singing if he could possibly help it. Kurt's excitement was contagious, though. 

"Guys, I have news!" announced Rachel, running up to them and interrupting the song. 
 

"You're staying behind when we go home?" asked Carson hopefully. 

"No," said Rachel with a glare. "Actually, to celebrate our impending win at Nationals, I got us all thirteen tickets to Broadway's longest running show ever. Cats," she said proudly, holding up a fistful of tickets. Kurt snorted beside Carson and almost choked on his burger. 

"You might want to check the dates on those tickets, Rachel, because Cats closed about eleven years ago," said Quinn. Carson did a literal facepalm.  

"Seriously?" he said, trying to choke back the tears of laughter that threatened to burst forth from his eyes at any moment. "Isn't Broadway, like, your whole life? How the fuck did you not know that Cats wasn't even running anymore?" 

Rachel looked embarrassed. "He did seem crazy," she said. "He charged my credit card by swiping it through his butt crack." 

"Ugh," said Carson. "And you let him? Are you completely stupid?" 

Rachel held her head high and ignored him. They all finished their lunches and headed toward the hotel, where Mr. Schue informed them he was planning to segregate them into two rooms by gender, except for Kurt, who was assigned the girl's room. 

"Um, think again, Mr. Schue," said Carson. "There's no way I'm sleeping in the boy's room without Kurt. We bunk together." 

"I bet you do," muttered Santana. 

Mr. Schue sighed. "Whatever, I don't care." 

"Top notch supervision there, Mr. Schue," said Santana. "I do agree, though. Romeo and Juliet should probably not be separated. The one in the hoodies probably turns into one of those creatures from Gremlins after midnight if you take away his precious porcelain doll."
 

"Hey, Santana?" asked Carson sweetly. 

"Yes?" 

"Bite me," he said through gritted teeth. She just smiled. Everybody assembled in what was to serve as the girl's room so that Mr. Schue could give them instructions. 

"Do you know that I can get an ahi tartare and a steak sandwich at 3:00 in the morning from their all night dining menu?" asked Kurt excitedly, squished onto Carson's lap and looking through the room service menu while they waited for Mr. Schue. "I feel like Eloise!" 

"I have pills for that," said Brittany. 

"Ok, guys," announced Mr. Schue. "This is your time. Now, you are all on lockdown until you finish writing our songs for Nationals. I want at least two solid verses by the time I get back." 

"Back? Where are you going?" asked Carson. 

"Aren't you going to help us?" asked Tina. 

"I, um...I will be back and read your amazing creations and give notes," said Mr. Schue."But right now I have to head to the theater to, uh...fill out some paperwork." 

"This is bullshit," said Carson. "You didn't even prepare us for Nationals at all, and now it's the day before the competition and you're just going to leave us alone to write two whole songs without even enough time to rehearse them when we're done? Are you trying to make us lose? Wouldn't it have made more sense for us to write the songs days ago instead of wasting time on that pointless solo competition, so we could have rehearsed right now?" 

Everyone just stared at him, open mouthed, except for Kurt, who softly muttered "Amen" under his breath, and Mr. Schue, who just cleared his throat and said "I'll be back" before leaving the room. Carson rolled his eyes."Why the fuck do I even bother?" he asked. Kurt rubbed his arm sympathetically.The rest of the afternoon was wildly unproductive, as Carson had the feeling it would be. Between leaving the room to go explore the city and then Kurt and the girls (except Rachel) engaging in a pillowfight when they got back, absolutely nothing had gotten done by dinner time. Not that Carson really cared one way or the other. Clearly they were going to lose either way. He really only felt sorry for Kurt, who would be devastated losing his second competition in a row. Several more hours later, after room service had been ordered and all the food thoroughly picked through, practically all the girls had fallen asleep right where they were. Only Brittany was half awake, muttering something under her breath about her cat. Carson was perched on one side of a bed, and Kurt was slumped in his lap, yawning. It had been a long day for everyone. 

"Tired, baby?" asked Carson quietly, lest he wake any of the girls (even though Rachel would probably end up doing that anyway once she got back from that ridiculous date with Finn that she thought no one had noticed she was dressing for earlier). 

"Mmm, yeah," mumbled Kurt, sinking further into Carson's lap so that he was basically laying between his legs, facing away from him with his head on his chest. "Can barely keep my eyes open." 

"Don't you want to do your face before you end up falling asleep?" asked Carson. "Or at least put on pajamas?" There was silence from his twin. "Kurt?" 
 

He glanced down at Kurt's face, only to find his eyes closed and his breathing deep and even. Kurt was asleep. Carson smiled. Poor baby must really be tired to both skip his face AND fall asleep fully dressed. He heard Kurt's phone vibrate on the nightstand beside them and glanced over, rolling his eyes at the text message that had popped up on the lock screen. 

Just wanted to say goodnight. -Blaine 

Sorry, Bitterman, he's asleep. You missed your chance, thought Carson as he gently maneuvered himself and Kurt so that they were in their usual sleeping positions. So sorry. Wait, no. I'm not. Fuck off. 

"Goodnight, Kurtsie," he whispered, pressing a kiss to the skin right beneath Kurt's ear. "I love you." It only took him a few minutes to follow his twin into sleep. 

He woke up several hours later, feeling stiff and slightly uncomfortable from sleeping in his clothes. The room was almost pitch dark, but he could see that the girls were still sleeping in the same positions they had been in hours ago. Kurt was still fast asleep, his solid warmth pleasant against Carson's body. Carson stroked his arm a little and smiled, thinking about how adorably horrified Kurt would be when he saw the way his hair was sticking up in the morning. 

"Aaaaaw, how sweet. Late night lover cuddles," said a familiar raspy voice in the dark. Carson managed not to jump, not wanting to disturb Kurt. He focused his eyes on the side of the bed, where he could just barely make out Santana perched on the floor, her arms crossed and a sly look on her face. 

"How long have you been sitting there staring at us?" he whispered irritably.
 

"Long enough to start shipping you two," she answered, as if she were discussing the weather. "Did you know that sometimes you sigh and whisper "Kurtsie" in your sleep? It's really quite adorable." 

"I do not," said Carson, knowing he was blushing and feeling extremely grateful that it was dark and Santana couldn't see it. He frantically wondered if she was right or if she was just fucking with him. "And even if I do, so what? Neither of us are the heaviest of sleepers. Talking happens sometimes."
 

"Uh-huh," answered Santana. "Whatevs."
 

Kurt stirred then and let out a huge sigh. "Oh my god, Satan, shut up and leave him alone." Carson's heart leapt into his throat. He wondered how much Kurt had heard.
 

"I'm sorry, boys. Don't mind me. Please, carry on spooning each other like the adorable little couple you are," said Santana, clearly enjoying herself. "It's very sweet. Weird, nauseating, and probably extremely emotionally unhealthy, but sweet."
  

"Oh, shut up," said Carson, deciding to ignore her and hoping that the embarrassment would blow over quickly if he just fell back asleep.
 

The next time he opened his eyes, it was morning. The room was bright with sunlight and most of the girls were awake, milling around the room like zombies. Carson made to hug Kurt to him and sleep for five more minutes, when he realized he was holding nothing. Kurt was gone.
 

"Kurt?" he asked, sitting bolt upright.
 

"He snuck out with Berry," said Santana, who was carefully taking locks of Quinn's hair in hand and studying them carefully before taking a pair of scissors to them. Carson didn't even want to know what the hell was going on there. "He's been gone for like two hours. Frankly, I'm surprised you didn't wake up. Don't you have some kind of alarm or something that goes off if you're more than two feet away from him?" 

Carson ignored her and grabbed his phone, about to text Kurt, when Kurt and Rachel suddenly walked through the door, looking like excited little kids on Christmas morning.
 

"Carson, oh my god, you'll never believe what happened!" squealed Kurt, sprinting toward him and practically bouncing on the bed next to him. "Rachel and I got to sing on the Wicked stage! I mean, we snuck into the theater and I totally thought we were screwed when a security guard found us, but then he let us stay, and we were on the stage, and it was incredible, and now I can't wait to graduate so I can move back here, and wow, ok, did you just wake up?"
 

Carson nodded, not bothering to hide the smile that was forming on his lips at Kurt's enthusiasm. "Yeah...I was about to text you and ask what the hell you were thinking wandering off in a strange city by yourself with Trollberry, where anything could have happened to you, but...you know what, it was a long night, and you're safe, so just this once, I'm gonna spare you the lecture."
 

Kurt patted him on the shoulder. "I appreciate it, thank you." 

Somehow, the club managed to crank out two half-assed songs by the time the competition started that afternoon, although Carson had no fucking idea how that happened. Some kind of glee club black magic, probably. Predictably, it ended up being one Finn and Rachel duet and one group number, and Carson almost threw up right there on the stage when Finn and Rachel decided to kiss after they finished their duet. 

Eeeeew, oh god, that's so fucking disgusting. We were already going to lose, but now we're probably not even going to place.
 

And he was right. They came in dead last. Surprisingly, Kurt didn't seem to be all that upset about it, which Carson was grateful for. He hadn't been looking forward to Kurt being depressed for the remainder of the weekend. They even both privately agreed that Santana losing her shit and trying to almost kill Rachel when they got back to the hotel was almost worth the loss.
 

"You still have the gum, right?" asked Kurt when they boarded the plane back home. It was going to be a very uncomfortable flight, that much Carson could tell. Santana still looked like she wanted to strangle Rachel. Carson hoped she would.
 

"Yeah, I've got it," he said, digging it out of his bag as they took their seats and handing it to Kurt. "Here, why don't you start chewing it now?"
  

Kurt followed the instructions and seemed to be in less pain this time as the plane took off. He still curled up with his head in Carson's lap, though, where he stayed for almost the entire flight.
 

"Do you still feel sick?" Carson asked him at one point, running his fingers through Kurt's hair.
 

Kurt shook his head. "No," he said. "Just felt like laying here." 

******** 

"Oh my god, you should have seen it," Kurt said to Blaine as they sat at their usual table at the Lima Bean. It was the morning of the last day of school, and Kurt had accepted Blaine's offer to drive him there and stop for coffee first, not allowing himself to notice the brief look of sadness that had crossed Carson's face when he learned of this change of plans. 

"We all looked at the top 10 list for the showcase, and we all just went numb," Kurt continued. "And then Jesse just kept going on and on about how Rachel and Finn's kiss is what cost us Nationals-" 

"While I understand passion, I do think that was unprofessional," interrupted Blaine. "But...sorry. Keep going." 

Kurt continued recounting the rest of the trip as Blaine listened attentively.
  

"I don't get it," Blaine said as Kurt finished. "You don't seem that sad at all."
 

'Well, it was still amazing," said Kurt with a shrug. "I mean, I flew in a plane for the first time in my life. I had breakfast at Tiffany's. I sang on a Broadway stage..." 

"I love you," said Blaine suddenly. 
 

All the air seemed to leave the room as Kurt just stared at him. Had he really said what he thought he just said? More importantly, what was Kurt supposed to say? Was he supposed to say "Thank you?" Or "Me too?" He was pretty sure he was supposed to say something. But did he really return those feelings right now? He wasn't sure if he was ready to call this thing between him and Blaine love yet. They'd only been dating for a few months, after all.  

He's waiting for an answer, Kurt. Just say something.
 

"…..I love you too," he said at last, not sure how he felt about saying it. Or how he felt about the fact that Carson's face was what materialized in his brain as he said it. 

And so began one of the most confusing summers of Kurt's life. He constantly felt like he was being pulled in different directions. On one hand, Blaine was hot, he was nice, and most importantly, he was Kurt's boyfriend. This was the first summer ever that Kurt was part of a couple, and he did want to enjoy it. On the other hand, Carson complicated things. A lot. Kurt was still having a hard time sorting through all the romantic and sexual feelings he was harboring for him, no matter how much he tried fighting them, and he just felt so very awkward whenever he had to be in the presence of both boys at once. 

And that happened a lot, now that there was no school to occupy their time. Kurt and Carson were back to their summer routine of visiting the community pool almost every day (their backyard pool was out of commission this year), and since Blaine's summer job as a theme park performer had yet to begin, he usually tagged along. And this made it anything but relaxing for Kurt. He definitely enjoyed the view of Blaine in nothing but swim trunks, but he also quite enjoyed the amount of shirtless Carson he was getting to see on a daily basis. Apparently, he enjoyed it a lot, because more often than not he found himself staring more at Carson than at Blaine. It was a constant struggle to keep his staring in check and not be caught checking out his own brother. Or be caught with a raging erection whenever Carson helped him reapply his sunblock on his back (there had been a few close calls with that one, but Kurt was relatively sure that neither Blaine nor Carson had noticed. He hoped not, anyway. Oh god, he really really hoped not. Although Blaine had been looking funny at him that one time...) 

The fact that Carson clearly hated having Blaine around only added to Kurt's stress. Sometimes he wished something magical would happen that would just allow him to enjoy spending time with his boyfriend and his twin like a normal person, without the bullshit complicated feelings. Unfortunately, it seemed as if the fates had decided, from the moment of his birth, that Kurt's life must be a swirling vortex of hardship and conflicting emotions at all times. It was, apparently, his lot in life. 

******** 

The summer did not start off on the right foot for Carson. At all. Not only was Blaine hanging around the house all the fucking time, but so was Rachel now that she and Finn were back together. It was like a never-ending circle of hell for him. If he wasn't having to deal with Kurt and Blaine making lovey dovey eyes at each other, he was having to deal with Rachel constantly talking, or worse, singing, and even worse, singing with Blaine. He was looking forward feverishly to the day Blaine's job as a performer for the summer show at a local amusement park started and he wouldn't have to deal with seeing his stupid face every day. 

Unfortunately, that didn't happen for another week, so for now he was stuck dealing with Blaine coming with him and Kurt to the local pool whenever they went, which was almost every day since it was so hot out. Carson wasn't sure what was worse, having to see Blaine half naked on an almost daily basis, or seeing Kurt blatantly looking at said half nakedness and clearly liking what he saw.
 

What the fuck is so great about his body, anyway? It looks pretty average to me, thought Carson bitterly every time he caught Kurt looking, which was often. I could have abs too, you know. Not all of us have the time to work out.
 

"You should take a picture. It would last a lot longer," he muttered to Kurt one day as he took a seat in a lounge chair beside him. Blaine was in the pool swimming laps, and even though Kurt was wearing sunglasses and had a copy of Vogue open in front of him, Carson could tell he had been checking him out.
 

"Oh, come on, Carson. I wasn't looking," said Kurt, blushing and burying his face in his magazine.
  

"Yes, you were. He's not even hot," said Carson. "And he wears hair gel to the pool. I mean, seriously, what the fuck? He's going to ruin the drains with all the gel he's shedding in there."
 

"Be nice, Carsey," said Kurt, putting down his magazine and lowering his sunglasses to stare at him. "You don't have to be so hostile." He checked his phone and reached into his beach bag for his sunblock, holding the bottle out to Carson with a pleading pout.

"Pretty please?" he asked.
 

Carson sighed, unable to resist the pouty face. "Yeah, fine. Come sit." 

Kurt smiled and got out of his chair, perching himself delicately on the edge of Carson's and removing his light T-shirt. Carson sucked in a breath at the sight of all that smooth skin, as he always did. Kurt was extremely well-developed now, especially in the arms and chest, and he looked so good without a shirt that Carson just wanted to punch himself in the face. He released some of the sunblock into his hands and rubbed them together, placing them softly on Kurt's back as he began to rub it in. 

"Mmm," murmured Kurt appreciatively, the sound going straight to Carson's dick. He gritted his teeth and willed himself not to pop a boner here in public, especially not with the risk of Hobbit Breath sauntering over at any second. He spread the lotion across Kurt's back, working his way down lower and becoming more and more certain he was going to have a heart attack from the way his heart was thudding in his chest as his hands inched closer to the waistband of Kurt's shorts.
 

"Your hands feel nice," said Kurt softly, and Carson swallowed hard. God, please let my dick behave, please please please...
 

"Thanks," he replied, his hands inching around Kurt's waist and rubbing sunblock right above his hipbones. He wasn't sure exactly how it happened, but eventually his brain registered that Kurt was leaning back into him, and then his chest was flush with Kurt's back.
 

"Um," he said stupidly, not quite knowing what to do with his hands.

"Will you do my chest too?" Kurt asked, sounding a little uncertain. Carson's brain practically fizzled and died.
 

"Yeah...um...sure," he breathed, quickly pouring more lotion onto his hands and tentatively placing them on Kurt's chest, right beneath his throat. He rubbed slowly, taking his time and marveling at the smoothness of the skin there. It felt like silk. He moved his hands lower, realizing too late that he was about to make contact with Kurt's nipples.
 

"Oh," Kurt breathed as Carson touched them, and fuck, yeah, that did it for his dick. It was rapidly hardening. He squirmed, quickly moved his hands back up to the top of Kurt's chest and just rubbed mindlessly, trying everything he could to get his erection under control. He hoped he'd moved his crotch far enough away in time for Kurt to not feel it. He heard Kurt let out a shivery breath in front of him.
 

"Hey, guys, why don't we go...go get lunch," said Blaine as he suddenly came walking up, his voice trailing off a bit when he reached them. Carson hadn't even noticed him leave the pool. 
 

"Blaine!" exclaimed Kurt, sounding just as surprised at his boyfriend's sudden appearance as Carson was. He pulled his knees up and whipped his sunglasses off, fiddling with them in his lap. "Yeah, sure. Let's do that," he said, his voice slightly higher than normal. 

Blaine's brow furrowed ever so slightly as he looked at the two of them, but it was brief, and soon he had pasted on that annoying smile of his as he reached his hand out to help Kurt up. Kurt seemed to hesitate for a second before he accepted the help, letting Blaine pull him up and out of Carson's lap. Thankfully, his arrival had completely killed Carson's boner. 

They went to a nearby pizza place for lunch, and Carson was once again reminded of how much everything about Blaine annoyed him when the boy actually sat there and ate his pizza with a fucking fork. 

What, is he worried that Kurt will think he's a barbarian or something if he dares eat pizza with his hands like a normal person? Who the fuck eats like that? A douchebag, I guess. 

Apparently, Carson was making his annoyance more obvious than he thought, because Blaine looked up from his plate of pizza and gave him a curious look. 

"What?" he asked.
 

Carson opened his mouth to make a smartass comment about the fork, but stopped when he saw the pleading yet warning look on Kurt's face. The one that said "I know what you're thinking, but please, I'm begging you, don't say anything or I swear to god..." 

Carson sighed. "Nothing," he said, picking up his own pizza and shoving half of it in his mouth at once, just to make sure Blaine knew how real people ate. 

Nobody felt like going back to the pool afterwards, so they all headed back to the Hummel/Hudson house, where they changed back into regular clothes and Blaine managed to convince Kurt to go out to a movie.
 

"You know, as a date," he said, stressing the last word slightly and glancing in Carson's direction, clearly indicating that Carson wasn't invited along. Kurt looked between the two of them and nodded.
 

"Yeah...yeah, ok," he agreed throwing a sympathetic look at Carson and turning back to Blaine with a smile. "Just let me go find a scarf. I'll be right back," he said, heading up the stairs to the bedroom and leaving Carson alone with Blaine.
 

"I trust you know my rules," said Carson, crossing his arms and giving Blaine a stern look. Blaine crossed his own arms and looked right back at him, which surprised Carson a little, because it had never happened before.
 

"I'm well aware of your rules, yes," said Blaine, narrowing his eyes at him. "You're really controlling and intimidating, you know that?"
 

"Forgive me for wanting to make sure that Kurt is protected," retorted Carson. "Quite frankly, I worry every time he comes home with huge bruises all over his neck. Are you perhaps part vampire?" 

"Oh, that bothers you, does it?" said Blaine in a voice dripping with sarcasm. "Well, he's my boyfriend, you know. Hickeys are kind of a perk of that. And incidentally, Kurt's not the only one with those after we go out," he added, moving the collar of his shirt down with one finger so that Carson could see a fading purple mark on his collarbone. "So maybe you should learn to lighten up." 

"I'm ready!" said Kurt, coming down the stairs before Carson could say anything. Blaine fixed his shirt and smiled at him. 

"Awesome, let's go," he said brightly, wrapping one arm around Kurt's waist and flashing Carson a triumphant look.
  

"I'll be back early, Carsey, ok?" said Kurt, giving Carson a sweet smile and a wave as Blaine led him out the door. Carson was still trying to process what had just happened and couldn't do much except nod and wave back.
 

"Be careful," he said quietly as the door closed behind them. 

Despite Kurt's promise, he was gone for almost five hours. Carson had waited up for him in their bedroom, having escaped up there when Finn and Rachel had taken over the living room couch and started making out. Carson's choices were either to vomit all over them or go upstairs, so he chose the latter. When Kurt wasn't back after three hours, he started texting him out of habit to make sure he was ok, only to receive no reply. He thought back to his confrontation with Blaine earlier that day and hoped that Blaine wasn't taking his frustrations with Carson out on Kurt. 

If he hurts him, I will fucking murder his ass. I will, was his last thought before he drifted off to sleep. 

The next time he opened his eyes, he found himself with his arms full of Kurt as his twin settled into bed, clearly trying not to wake him. 

"Hi," said Carson. 

"Oh, I was trying not to wake you up," said Kurt, finally settling into his usual sleep position. "You looked so peaceful." 

"Looks are deceiving," muttered Carson, glancing at the bedside clock. "Jesus, you were gone for five hours. Do I even want to know?" 

Kurt hesitated. "Probably not," he said. Carson closed his eyes and tried not to picture Blaine pawing at Kurt in the movie theater, or worse, in the backseat of his car. He snuck a glance at Kurt's neck and bit his lip to keep from crying when he saw the constellation of fresh hickeys peeking out from beneath Kurt's pajama top. Clearly, they were meant as a message from Blaine to Carson. 

Asshole, thought Carson as he felt Kurt slowly drifting off to sleep. He tentatively reached one hand up to his brother's neck and lightly touched his fingers to one of the hickeys, wanting to kill Blaine and yet at the same time wishing so badly to be the one who had left them. 

I really fucking hate my life, he thought bitterly as he fell back into a restless sleep. 

******* 

"Theme parks are stupid," grumbled Carson as he followed Kurt through the maze of families and children making their way toward the various rides and shows. "Rides are stupid. Sun is stupid. And being charged five bucks for a bottle of water is really stupid." 

Kurt sighed and tried not to roll his eyes. "Carson, if you think theme parks are so stupid, then why did you come with me?" he asked patiently, looking down at his park map and trying to figure out where the show Blaine was performing in was located. 

"Are you kidding?" asked Carson. "If I didn't, you would probably go see the Hobbit King in his dressing room and come back with enough hickeys to spell out your name on your neck. I'm only trying to save your poor skin. It's not scarf season." 

"Not necessarily true," Kurt protested. "I do wear scarfs in the summer, just not heavy ones. Besides, they wouldn't let me in Blaine's dressing room. Don't be silly. Ah, here we go," he said happily, having finally located the large theater in which a play based on "Rapunzel" was being performed three times a day. Blaine was playing the prince, and Kurt had promised him he would come to see it. 

"Yay," said Carson, not sounding thrilled at all as they got in line for the next show. "You know, Rapunzel's prince is kind of the perfect role for Brady. In the original version of that story, the prince totally saw that Rapunzel was pure and innocent, and managed to coerce her into sex and knock her up." 

"Oh my god Carson, could you not?" Kurt said, panicked as he looked around at all the parents and small children around them in the line. Several of the parents were giving Carson dirty looks. 

"I'm just saying," said Carson in a lower voice. "Rapunzel's prince was kind of a douche, and so is Bilbo. It fits." 

"Shhh," Kurt pleaded. He hoped Carson would be able to sit through the entire play without shouting something embarrassing at the stage when Blaine came on. 

He almost did make it, except for one moment after Prince Blaine begged Rapunzel to let down her hair. 

"Why?" asked Carson, loud enough to be heard by the entire audience plus Blaine and the actress playing Rapunzel on the stage. "So you can get in there and jump on all her furniture?" Both Blaine and the girl ignored him. Some of the audience tittered. Kurt blushed with embarrassment and hid his face in his hands. "Carson, oh my GOD," he whispered. "Could you please stop?" 

"Sorry," muttered Carson. Thankfully, he sat through the rest of the play in silence. They filed out of the theater afterwards and Kurt's phone immediately lit up with a text message. 

What the hell? -Blaine 

Kurt sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. 
 

I'm sorry. Carson will be Carson. -Kurt 

Whatever. Should we meet up later? I've only got one show left today. -Blaine 

Sure. Meet us near the bumper cars in an hour? -Kurt 

Ok. -Blaine 

"Ok," said Kurt, shoving his phone back into his pocket. "Blaine's meeting us after his next show." 

"Joy," said Carson sarcastically. 

"Carson, come on, please?" said Kurt with a sigh. "Honey, I love you, but I really wish you would at least try to be a little less surly. Please? For me?" He stuck out his lip and gave Carson the pout that never failed to work. 

Carson sighed. "I'm sorry, Kurt, I just-" 

"I know," said Kurt, taking his hand and squeezing it. "Blaine's not your favorite. Just try, that's all I ask." 

"Ok," Carson mumbled. Kurt smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek. 

"Thank you," he said, bringing a thumb up to stroke Carson's face. 

They spent the next hour exploring the park's gift shops until it was time to meet Blaine by the bumper cars. He got there before they did. Kurt could see him leaning against the fence that led to the ride's line, checking his watch and shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
 

"Hey!" he exclaimed, smiling as he saw Kurt, the smile faltering quite a bit when he saw Carson behind him.
  

"Hey," said Kurt, walking up to him and giving him a quick peck on the lips. "Were you waiting long?"
 

"Not really," said Blaine. "Now that I'm free, do you want to ride something?  I was watching the bumper cars while I waited for you. I kind of wanted to try them." 

"Sure," agreed Kurt. "Carson?" he asked, turning to his twin. Carson shrugged, his face stony. 

"Ok," said Kurt, ignoring Carson's silence. "Let's get in line, then."  They entered the line for the cars, nobody saying very much while they waited. The uncomfortable tension between Blaine and Carson was palpable, and Kurt was beginning to wish he had tried to convince Carson to stay home, especially once they each got into their respective cars. Kurt took one look at the mischievous glint in Carson's eye as his twin fixated on Blaine's car and he suddenly had a bad feeling about this ride. 

He's not going to show Blaine any mercy, is he? 

No, as it turned out. No, he wasn't. Carson was ruthless, repeatedly maneuvering his car to ram into Blaine's, mostly from behind, and with maximum impact. Blaine himself was starting to look like he'd like to run Carson over with his car by the time the ride ended. 

The day suddenly couldn't end fast enough for Kurt. 

*******

One hot, sweltering night in the middle of July found Carson and Kurt shirtless and sweaty in their bed, wearing nothing but their boxers as they tried to ignore the unbearable heat. Their new house had central air conditioning, but the unit was broken and wouldn't be fixed for several days. They had taken to sleeping shirtless again like they had during previous summers, which was fine with Carson. Any time he had a shirtless Kurt leaning up against his chest as they watched movies on Carson's laptop was fine with him. 

"You know," said Carson, grinning as Kurt rolled his eyes and set his mouth in a line, "I'm actually really glad you made me watch this movie." He picked up the rental case for Pretty in Pink and grinned down at it.  

"Carson, I swear to god..." 

"Because," Carson continued, "Now I have the perfect thing to say the next time I hear anyone say your hobbit's name." 

"Carson..." 

"It's a major appliance," recited Carson gleefully. 

"Stop it." 

"Not a name," Carson finished, with a big, cheesy grin on his face. 

"You're going to quote that with joy every chance you get, aren't you?" said Kurt, exasperated. 

"Yep," replied Carson, yawning and reaching for his glass of Sprite. The ice in it had all but melted, much to his chagrin. Only a few chunky pieces remained. 

"It's hot," complained Kurt, lazily bringing one hand up to fan himself. "I feel like I'm going to melt into a puddle." 

"You won't," said Carson. "The ice in my drink  did, though," he said, narrowing his eyes at the glass and sighing. 

"Wish I was that ice," murmured Kurt. Carson glanced down at him and swallowed. He knew Kurt was uncomfortable, but all the sweat glistening on his chest was seriously doing things for Carson. Good things. Very good things.  

"I could dump this on you if you want," Carson teased, indicating the glass of liquid. Kurt rolled his eyes. 

"Not gonna lie, that would probably feel really good," he said. "I'm seriously going to die of heatstroke over here." 

Carson glanced down at the two remaining chunks of ice in his drink and had an idea. He gingerly fished out one of the cubes and put the glass back on the nightstand, bringing the cube up to Kurt's neck and lightly touching it to his skin. 

"Eeep!" Kurt yelped. "Warn a guy, would you?" he exclaimed, rubbing at his neck while Carson bit back a grin. 

"Hey, you said you were hot," Carson answered him practically. "I was just trying to help you out." 

"Actually, that felt kind of good," Kurt said after he had given Carson a swat on the arm. "Do it again." 

Carson obliged, touching the ice cube to Kurt's neck again and sliding it around. Kurt closed his eyes and sighed, throwing his head back to give Carson better access. It was sexy as fuck, and Carson had to bite his lip a little to keep from outright panting at the sight. His hand dipped lower, touching the ice to Kurt's chest as Kurt opened his eyes and looked at him. 

"Feels really good," he said softly, his tongue darting out to lick at his lips. He did that every so often when he was deep in thought, and Carson wasn't sure he was even aware that he did it, but every time he caught him doing it, he couldn't help but picture that tongue doing other things. 

"Thought it might," answered Carson, sliding the ice across Kurt's chest and collarbone, relishing the vision of Kurt sighing with pleasure. He wondered if this was what Kurt would look like in bed. Well, not in bed, obviously, since Carson already knew what that looked like, but in bed. He drew the ice away and watched as Kurt pouted slightly, drawing his eyebrows together in frustration. 

"Put it baaack," he whined. Carson smiled and placed the ice back on Kurt, accidentally brushing his nipple with it and gasping as Kurt actually let out a moan. He caught Kurt's eye and they stared at each other for several seconds. Carson wasn't sure at what point he realized it, but eventually he registered that their faces were getting closer together. 

Oh god, not again. I really CAN'T kiss him this time, or he'll feel guilty because of the hobbit. I can't do that to him, I can't...stop...Carson STOP...he doesn't even feel the same way about you, STOP... 

The sound of Kurt's phone ringing snapped them both out of the moment. They stared at each other for a second, Kurt looking shocked and Carson unsure what to say. 

"You should, um.." said Carson, indicating the phone. 

"Oh, yeah," said Kurt, shaking his head and reaching for the phone. "Hi, Blaine," he said into it, closing his eyes and cradling his face in one hand. Carson fiddled with the ice in his hand, letting it melt as he listened to Kurt's side of the conversation. 

I hate that hobbit, he thought bitterly. I really do.