"One, two three, four, five, six, seven..." Rachel was saying as she led the glee club through some stupid choreography she had come up with for them to try. Everyone was trying it except for Carson, who was not about to take any kind of orders from Rachel. Besides, he was more than content to just sit back in his seat and watch Kurt dance.

"Good news, guys!" announced Mr. Schue, barging into the choir room brandishing a piece of paper. "I just got the competition bracket for sectionals, and we are in really good shape! There's only two other teams. If we beat them, we make it to regionals."

"Who are the other teams?" asked Rachel eagerly as everyone else high-fived each other behind her.

"Drumroll please, Finn!" said Mr. Schue. Carson rolled his eyes. Mr. Schue was always asking Finn for a drumroll before he made any kind of announcement. Frankly, it was starting to get on Carson's last nerve. Was it really necessary? Couldn't Mr. Schue ever just say what he needed to say without asking Frankenteen to pound those fucking drums first? He wondered what would ever happen if Finn was out sick (one could only hope) and there was an important announcement to be made. Carson imagined Mr. Schue pulling a sad face and saying that he would love to tell the club some super awesome news, but he can't, because there's nobody to provide a drumroll. 

Carson was snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of said drumroll, which made him grit his teeth. He really hated those drums. And Finn.

"School for the Deaf in Dayton, and some place called Jane Adams Academy," answered Mr. Schue.

"Jane Adams? That's a halfway house for girls just getting out of juvie," Mercedes said happily.

"Th-th-this is great!" stuttered Tina.

"People who can't hear what they're singing, and criminals who don't care. It's gonna be a cakewalk!" said Artie.

Carson had to fight the urge to get up and slap all of them. That was no attitude to have if they wanted to win. Don't they know anything? he thought. The secret to winning shit is to never underestimate your competition. Ugh, that was such a Rachel thing to say, though. I'm ashamed of myself right now. Whatever. If the club wanted to slack off and lose sectionals, it was their decision.

"Hey," Kurt said to him as he followed him out into the hall when glee let out that day. "Mercedes and I had planned to go see Paranormal Activity tonight, since tomorrow is a teacher's workshop day. Do you want to come with us? 

"Why would you go see that? You hate horror movies," said Carson as he stopped at his locker.

"Yeah, I know, that's why I'm asking you to come with," replied Kurt. "Horror movies freak me out, and if you're there you will undoubtedly start snarking on everything that happens onscreen, which will calm me down."

"Is that OK with Mercedes?"

"Hmm?...oh, yeah. Now that she's reasonably certain that you're not going to come after her with an ax over what she did to our car, she's fine with it," replied Kurt.

Carson considered the offer. On the one hand, he didn't really enjoy going to the movies all that much. Especially not a movie that was probably going to be packed with inconsiderate teenagers who kept checking their phones every five minutes and filling the theater with their stupid bright screens. On the other hand, Kurt was right. He did get freaked out easily by horror movies. And when he did, he usually got extremely clingy, and when he got clingy he clung to Carson.

Carson decided that he kind of really wanted this to happen. He wasn't sure why. He just knew that he did.

"Ok. I'll come along," he agreed, grabbing books out of his locker and placing them into his bag.

"Great!" said Kurt, a smile lighting up his face like a Christmas tree.

Carson wasn't sure why the sight of that smile did weird things to his insides, either. 

He met up with Kurt and Mercedes outside the movie theater later that day, just as the sun was beginning to set. He was in a relatively good mood, for once. It had been a rather pleasant visit with Grandma that afternoon (she had talked to him at length about the time she taught "her twin grandsons" how to swim, which made Carson smile fondly at the memory), and now he was ready to at least try to have fun. As much as he was capable of such a thing, anyway.

He spotted Kurt talking animatedly with Mercedes against the concrete wall adorned with movie posters, his back to Carson. Carson caught Mercedes' eye and put his finger to his lips, asking her to keep quiet as he snuck up behind his brother. He reached him quickly, reaching in front of Kurt's face to place his hands over his eyes.

"Guess who," he said playfully.

"Hmmm," Kurt muttered, pretending to think it over. "Johnny Depp?"

"Eeew, no," Carson replied. "Someone way better."

"Gerard Butler?"

"Nope, better. Try again."

"....Carson?" Kurt said at last, as Mercedes laughed.

"Yep, that's the one," said Carson, removing his hands from Kurt's eyes and wrapping his arms around him from behind, resting his chin on Kurt's shoulder. 

"You're right. Much better than Johnny or Gerard," said Kurt. "Here's your ticket. Show starts in five."

"Great," said Carson, taking it. "Let's go then."

The movie, as Carson predicted, was pretty lame. He could tell that it was creeping Kurt out, though, so he both amused himself and relaxed Kurt's nerves by pointing out, in whispers, how lame it really was.

"Look at the size of that house," he said, leaning over to Kurt and whispering in his ear. "How the hell do they afford it? They're both in their early 20s, and one of them doesn't even work! This movie really should be taking place in a studio apartment." A smile spread across Kurt's face and he visibly relaxed.

"And what the hell is the boyfriend's problem?" Carson said a bit later. "What kind of douchebag wouldn't let his girlfriend call the demonologist when this is clearly a situation in which their assistance is needed? I don't understand why she doesn't tell him to go fuck himself."

Kurt snorted, his hand coming up to his mouth to stifle his giggle. "Yeah," he said. "There's no way that I would ever-AAAH!" he squeaked as a door slammed loudly by itself on the screen. He jerked in his seat and turned to Carson to bury his face in his shoulder.

"Tell me when it's over," he said, his breath warm against Carson's neck. Wow. That...that felt...nice.

"It's over," Carson said regretfully as the scene changed. 

Maybe it was Carson's imagination, but it seemed as though Kurt took his time removing himself from his twin.

************************************

"Competition!" Mr. Schue said excitedly, gesturing toward a bulletin board in the middle of the choir room, onto whch he had attached pictures of various people and things that were supposed to help the kids understand whatever the hell the point was that he was trying to make. "Every one of these people or elements was a champion in their own right, but they used competing with each other to make themselves even better."

Carson examined the bulletin board thoughtfully. He could kind of see Mr. Schue's thought process there, but some of his examples were just really stupid. Lightning and a swimming pool? What the hell? How the fuck are those two things in competition with each other? And if they are, how does that make either of them better? Does lightning really need to get any better? I mean, it's lightning.

He was about to open his mouth and say exactly this when Kurt spoke up. "I don't understand how lightning is in competition with an above ground swimming pool," Kurt mused out loud. Carson smiled to himself. That's my twin, alright, he thought proudly.

Mr. Schue looked confused, which Carson wasn't all that surprised by. It wasn't difficult to confuse him, apparently. "Just go with it," he said impatiently. "You guys have become complacent. You were great at the invitational, but you gotta up your game if you want to get through sectionals."

Well, fuck me, thought Carson. We actually agree on something. Feels weird.

"Ok, split up," Mr. Schue said. "Guys on the left side, girls on the right side.....let's go, come on!" he added when nobody moved.

Reluctantly, the club began to split up into their assigned sides. Kurt took a look around at the boys group and, apparently not liking what he saw, started toward the other side of the room to join the girls. Not that Carson could blame him, really. Even if he was leaving Carson to deal with the lot of them by himself.

"Kurt?" Mr. Schue said, nodding pointedly over to the boys' side. Kurt looked uncomfortable, but did as he was told, rejoining the boys with his eyes cast downward. Carson felt a surge of anger toward Mr. Schue. Why the hell couldn't Kurt team up with whoever he wanted? Why were they being segregated by gender, anyway?

"Here's the deal," Mr. Schue said. "Two teams. Boys versus girls. One week from today, you will each perform a mashup of your choice."

"What's a mashup?" asked Puck stupidly. 

Carson missed Mr. Schue's answer because he was still too busy being annoyed with him for forcing Kurt to join a team he wasn't comfortable with. He did catch the part about the winning team choosing the number that they would do for sectionals, which only fueled his annoyance.

"Excuse me," Carson interrupted as Mr. Schue was saying something about a "celebrity judge." Celebrity judge my ass. I bet it's probably just Miss Pillsbury. "Why exactly do we need to be segregated by gender for this? Is there a reason why we can't just pick our own teams? Not all of us will work well together just because we happen to have the same body parts."

Mr. Schue looked confused again. Surprise, surprise, thought Carson. 

"Boys versus girls," he repeated pointedly, not bothering to address Carson's question. Carson locked eyes with Kurt, who shrugged. He suspected that this was going to be a long week.

He was right. The boys' group began work on their mashup in the choir room the next day, since the girls had taken the auditorium. Carson sat in a chair playing with his phone, completely uninterested in the discussion over which songs they should combine together. He really couldn't care less. He was only participating in this mashup crap because he had no choice. He glanced up and frowned as he observed Kurt hanging around Finn, who looked like he was ready to fall over at any moment. Kurt looked worried.

"You should sit, Finn," he insisted, gently guiding him toward the chair beside Carson, where Finn immediately fell asleep and started snoring loudly.

"Well. He snores. Isn't THAT the shock of the century," Carson said, his eyes never leaving his phone. "I would have suspected as much, if I thought about it at all, since he's the size of an ogre. Makes sense he would snore like one."

He didn't look up, but he could feel the look of irritation that Kurt shot his way. 

Puck walked up to the sleeping Finn and gingerly poked him in the shoulder. "He's out cold," he said wonderingly. 

"Well, he probably doesn't get any sleep, what with worrying over Quinn and the baby and all," replied Kurt, eliciting an uncomfortable look from Puck. Carson thought it was hilarious that nobody had caught on yet that Puck was the real father of that baby, but he figured he would let them all figure it out on their own and see who got it first.

"Dude, we can't let those girls beat us. Come on!" said Puck, jostling Finn's shoulder.

"He's drooling," said Kurt, peering at Finn's face as the other boy's eyes slowly began to open again. Carson snuck a quick glance over and saw that Kurt was absolutely correct. Fucking gross.

"Sure, that sounds good," mumbled Finn.

"Dude, come on. I said we can't let those girls beat us," Puck repeated.

"Sorry. Sometimes when I'm thinking real hard it helps to close my eyes," said Finn groggily.

"That explains why your eyes are wide open most of the time," Carson quipped. Kurt glared at him. "What? It's true," said Carson.

"We're doing a mashup of "It's My Life" and Usher's "Confessions," said Artie, rolling himself toward the group. We are? Carson thought. Huh. Must have zoned out during that discussion, because I totally missed that decision being made. Not that I really give a shit.

"We should get some trash can lids and stomp the yard up in this place," suggested Puck, looking proud of himself. Carson couldn't contain his annoyance.

"You'd know all about trash cans, wouldn't you, Puckerman?" he said sharply. "You know, considering how you're so good at throwing people into them." He gave him a reproachful glare before turning his attention back to his phone. Puck ignored him.

"Puck, with respect, you're more helpful when you don't contribute," said Artie. Kurt ignored all of them, his attention completely on Finn, much to Carson's chagrin. God, who the fuck CARED if Frankenteen wanted to sleep through glee? 

At Puck's suggestion, Finn got up and left to go to the nurse's office, leaving the rest of the group to start working on some dance moves that Mike Chang was trying to lead them through. Carson planted himself beside Kurt and tried to focus, he really did, but dancing was so not his thing. 

"I feel like an idiot dancing like this," he whispered to Kurt during a break while Mike tried to sort out what wasn't working.

"You look fine, though," replied Kurt.

"Liar."

"Let's put it this way. You look better than Rachel would doing the same dance moves," said Kurt cheekily.

"I don't know whether I should consider that a compliment or not," said Carson with a smile.

Right at that moment, Finn burst back into the choir room, full of energy now and babbling about wanting to do the number and something about a vitamin he got from the school nurse.

"Vitamin D!" he said excitedly, brandishing a box in his hand. "And I got you guys some!" He tossed the box to Puck. Carson grabbed the box out of Puck's hand and looked down at it suspiciously.

"This is decongestant," he said, looking up at Finn.

"So?" asked Finn.

"So you're hopped up on unnecessary meds right now, and you want us all to do the same thing?"

"Yes?" Finn said cautiously. "It would help us perform better, and then we'll beat the girls."

Carson really wished he had a desk to bang his head against right then. What Kurt saw in Finn, he would never understand.

*******************************

Despite Carson's objections, the boys went ahead with Finn's ridiculous plan of taking the "vitamins" before their performance the following week. Carson refused, insisting that there was no way he was taking part in such stupidity. He didn't want Kurt to do it either, but he had. Because heaven forbid Kurt go against anything the almighty Finn thought was cool. He was a little surprised that Kurt told the girls about it (he supposed it was because Kurt was insulted that nobody wanted their hair done in cornrows for the performance), but he wasn't a bit surprised that everyone was disqualified and that Coach Sylvester was brought in to co-chair the glee club because Figgins didn't feel that Mr. Schue could handle the job himself.

"I knew this would happen," Carson said after Will had told them the news. Nobody answered him.

Coach Sylvester's first order of business had been to separate the glee club into two groups, taking all the minority students (including Kurt) into her own group and leaving the rest under Mr. Schue's care.

"Wait, that's not fair!" Carson had protested. "I don't want to be in the group with Finn and Rachel. Can't I join the minority group? I'm a minority too, you know. It's not easy being one of the only people in this school with a fully functioning brain."

"Sorry, Twin-of-Gay-Kid, my group was pre-selected and I'm not accepting any more members right now," she had replied.

So that was how Carson now found himself being forced to be glorified backup for a Finn and Rachel number against his will for the fourth day in a row. It was excruciating, to say the least. If he had to hear Rachel screech one more verse of "No Air" into that stupid microphone of hers, he was going to crack. And possibly beat her over the head with said microphone. Yes. That sounded quite appealing, actually. And the less said about Finn, the better. Really, Carson didn't know WHY Finn was considered the male lead in this club. He couldn't sing. At all. Nor could he dance. If anyone should have been the male lead, it was Kurt. Then again, Carson had long ago come to terms with the fact that Mr. Schue was clearly unable to recognize real talent when he saw and heard it.

"Excuse me," Quinn said angrily after what felt like the hundred and fiftieth time they had run through the song. "What about us? Do you expect us to just sway back here like props?"

Carson almost felt like giving her a slow clap, because he agreed with the sentiment. Glee club as run by Schuester seemed to be all about the Finn And Rachel Show, and it was just a little bit ridiculous.

Ok, it was a LOT ridiculous.

"I think Sue is right about him," Quinn continued, picking up her bag. "He clearly doesn't like minorities."

By the look that crossed Puck and Brittany's faces as Quinn stalked out of the auditorium, Carson had a feeling that they had just stumbled upon the same idea as him. He wasn't sure how he felt about that, considering that Brittany thought girl scout cookies were made out of actual girl scouts, and Puck was just an asshole, but nonetheless, he still found himself in Coach Sylvester's office later that afternoon sitting in a chair between the two of them while the cheerleading coach stared at them thoughtfully.

"Can you imagine in this day and age being discriminated against?" she said after a minute. "My goodness. The pain you must be feeling." She turned to Puck. "So, your last name's Puckerman, huh?"

"Shalom," replied Puck, raising his fist up.

"Who knew? And poor, sweet Brittany," she continued, passing over Carson to look at the girl to his left. "Oh, I know the Dutch are famous for being a cold people, but that's no excuse for treating you like some half-price hooker in Amsterdam's famous red light district."

Brittany just looked confused. Carson had to hand it to Coach Sylvester, she really had a way with words.

"And you," she said, turning to Carson at last. "I'm sorry, Twin Gay, I'm afraid I don't remember your name."

"Carson," he replied, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes.

"Right. Well, Carson, I haven't quite figured you out yet, but I'm sure there's something about you that Will Schuester would be only too happy to discriminate against you for."

He nodded, not sure what to say to that.

"Well," she continued, "All I can say is, if you're serious about leaving Schuester, Sue Sylvester's rainbow tent will gladly protect you from his storm of racism."

Great, thought Carson. And that means I won't have to spend another afternoon listening to a dying cat and a walrus trying to sing.

Apparently, luck was not on Carson's side, because the first glee club meeting he attended as part of Sue's group involved trekking to the auditorium to watch Rachel and Finn (and a very pissed off Quinn Fabray) perform "No Air." 

Fuuuuuuck, I thought I had JUST escaped this, he thought, irritated. He tried to initiate a thumb wrestling contest with Kurt to amuse himself, but Kurt was too busy staring at Finn. Of course. Carson sighed. He wasn't at all upset when the meeting somehow turned into an almost-brawl between Mr. Schue and Coach Sylvester, resulting in everybody leaving.

"Do you ever stop and think, "Wow, my school is staffed entirely by idiots?" Carson asked Kurt that night as Kurt prepared to take a shower.

"All the time," replied Kurt, gathering up a towel and a new bottle of shampoo. "Especially after a day like today. What the hell was that?"

"That fight between Shue and Miss Sylvester? What that was, Kurtsie, was a horrible example for impressionable children such as ourselves, and I honestly don't know what the deal is with the hiring standards in this school system," said Carson, opening his laptop as Kurt disappeared into their attached bathroom.

"Truth!" he heard Kurt reply before the sound of the running water hit Carson's ears. He logged into his email to find a letter from Jacob Ben Israel, who was informing him that Coach Sylvester wanted him to run a story about Quinn's pregnancy, and could he do it in the Muckraker?

Uuum, no. No, you may not. You can run it on your stupid gossip blog, but you will NOT run it in my paper. I do not run a tabloid.

He ran off an email to Jacob that said exactly this, only he said it a bit more tactfully. What the hell. He was feeling generous. He had just hit "Send" when the sound of water stopped and Kurt emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, dressed in nothing but the bath towel wrapped around his waist as he sat down at his mirror to begin his moisturizing routine.

Carson tried not to stare. Really, he did. But he couldn't really help it. Kurt was starting to fill out, that much he could see clearly. He had been doing a lot more dancing lately thanks to glee club, and it was starting to show its effects on his body. His arms, in particular, were slowly becoming more and more toned, even starting to show the beginnings of muscle. Carson wondered if he should be worried that he was blatantly checking Kurt out like this, but pushed the thought to the back of his mind. There wasn't anything wrong with appreciating the fact that his twin was gorgeous. Right?

"Are you ok?" Kurt asked, catching his eye in the mirror. "You look like you're going to be sick."

"Fine," Carson said, shaking his head and forcing himself to look away from Kurt. He logged out of his email and closed his laptop, getting under the covers and trying to act normal. As normal as he could act when he couldn't get the image of Kurt's arms out of his head, anyway.

Kurt joined him in bed a few minutes later, having put on a T-shirt and pajama pants, and settled himself against him, his back to Carson's chest. Carson could swear he felt his own heart leap into his throat as his arms settled over Kurt's relaxed form. He could feel Kurt's arms under his fingers, and wow, yep, he really was developing muscles there. Carson ran his fingers lightly across them, fascinated by the feeling.

"Good night, Carsey," Kurt said with a yawn. "Love you."

"....love you, too," Carson answered.

******************************

"Well, that was embarrassing," said Carson dryly to Kurt as glee club let out one afternoon. "I don't know why Mr. Schue seems to think that rapping is a good idea, or that it's something we enjoy seeing him do. One of these days, I think I'll video it when he does it and post it on Youtube just for shits and giggles."

Kurt laughed. "Oh god, I so agree with you. And he does it like he thinks he's on MTV. It's actually kind of adorable how clueless he is."

"Mmm-hmm," said Carson in agreement, stopping to lean against a wall of lockers ad Kurt spun the combination to his own. "And why the fuck does he assign us homework? Glee is a club, not a class. It shouldn't be our job to come up with a song to mash up with "Bust A Move." No song exists that can possibly be mashed up with "Bust A Move." And shouldn't we have actually picked a number for sectionals by now? I swear, every day he says "I think this is our number for sectionals," and then it's forgotten about by the next club meeting. If we don't pick a number soon and start rehearsing it, we're kind of screwed when it comes time for the actual competition. He does know this, right? I mean...he's the fucking leader of glee club, he should know this, right?"

Kurt looked at him in awe as he finished his long and rambling speech, closing his locker and placing his arm around him, which instantly clogged Carson's brain with thoughts of Oh, wow, ok, that feels nice, you should keep your arm there and never remove it ever.

"Is there anything you enjoy about glee club, Carson?" Kurt asked, leading him out to the parking lot. Carson thought about it. He did enjoy the fact that Finn had arrived at the meeting that day with a face full of slushie, but Kurt probably wouldn't share the sentiment.

"The free entertainment," he answered finally, regretting the loss of Kurt's arm around his shoulder as they got into their car.

Kurt shook his head and started the engine. "You're too much."

"No, I'm just the right amount, and you love me for it."

"Yeah," replied Kurt, pulling out of the student parking lot. "You know I do."

*****************************

"Well, I resigned from football," announced Kurt, strolling into the journalism classroom several days later and flopping down into an empty chair. Carson looked up from his laptop and removed his glasses.

"As happy as I am that you're no longer going to be spending time around those overgrown apes, why the sudden change of heart?" he asked. "And when did this happen?"

"Coach Tanaka has gone off his nut and added an extra practice day at the same time as glee meets," replied Kurt. "And glee is more important to me than football, so the decision was easy. I didn't really enjoy football all that much, anyway. I announced my resignation in the showers just now."

"And how did that go over?" asked Carson, trying not to think too much about Kurt in the shower.

"Not well. But whatever. I just worry about what Finn and the rest of the guys are going to decide. If they choose football over glee, we're once again short of enough people to qualify for sectionals."

Carson rolled his eyes. "I will PAY people to join glee if it means no more Finn."

"Carson!"

"What? You know how I feel about him and Mohawk, especially since Mohawk has apparently decided that dating Trollberry is a good idea" said Carson, turning his attention back to his laptop. "Talk about terrible decisions. Wait," he said, a troubling thought occurring to him. "Now that you're not on the football team anymore, won't you be at risk for daily slushie facials again?" Kurt hadn't been slushied since he joined the football team, which Carson had counted as the only bonus of him joining. 

"Ugh, yes. Probably," Kurt groaned unhappily. "That's why I'm wearing this raincoat. That's why everybody has been wearing raincoats. In case of a a random act of slushie violence. My poor wardrobe can't handle it!"

"Don't worry. I'll escort you everywhere," said Carson. "If they want to slushie you, they'll have to get through me first."

Kurt got up and stood behind Carson, throwing his arms around his neck and planting a kiss to the top of his hair. "What would I do without my big brother?"

"Walk around constantly covered in high fructose corn syrup, probably," said Carson, allowing himself to revel in the tight hug.

"Will you be done soon?" asked Kurt.

"Eh...fifteen minutes or so," said Carson. "Why don't you wait here?" And feel free to keep your arms where they are. Please? Really. I highly approve.

"Nah, I think I'll go catch up with Mercedes before we go home. What are the odds of a slushie attack right now?" said Kurt. Damn.

Carson frowned. "Be careful, ok?"

"Will do,"said Kurt, walking out of the classroom. Carson finished up the article he was working on and closed his laptop, slipping it into his bag. He headed out into the halls, looking for Kurt so they could go home. He found him at his locker, surrounded by Rachel, Tina, Artie, and Mercedes, and staring at none other than Finn Hudson, who was holding a fucking slushie in his hand.

"If I don't do it, the guys on the team are gonna kick the crap out of me!" Finn was whining as Carson got closer. Oh, well heaven fucking forbid that poor Finnykins get tormented by his Neanderthal teammates for refusing to be an asshole, thought Carson. There's no fucking way I'm going to let him-

"Well, we can't have that, can we?" Kurt said in a determined tone, interrupting Carson's thoughts and grabbing the slushie out of Finn's hand.

"What are you doing?" Finn asked, as Carson watched in confusion.

"It's called taking one for the team," answered Kurt, before he threw the slushie in his own face. Carson could only watch, mouth agape, as the cold liquid streamed down his brother's face. This was exactly why he could not stand Finn. Because for some reason, Kurt liked him enough to slushie himself to spare Finn from his teammates. Carson didn't understand what Finn's appeal was. He really, really did not. He just knew that he didn't deserve Kurt's loyalty.

"Now get out of here, and take some time to think whether or not any of your friends on the football team would have done that for you," said Kurt quietly. Finn obeyed, looking dazed as he walked right past Carson, who gave him his best icy glare. Fucking idiot.

"Someone get me to a day spa, stat!" said Kurt. He was immediately ushered into the girl's bathroom by Tina, Rachel, amd Mercedes. Carson followed them in there. He didn't care if it was the girl's bathroom or not.

"What was that, Kurt?" he asked sharply, crossing his arms across his chest. 

"That was being a good teammate," replied Kurt.

Good teammate my ass. That was you covering for a guy you like who wouldn't ever fucking deserve you in a million years, even if he wasn't straight, thought Carson. But he didn't say anything back. He just silently helped the girls clean Kurt off and then took him home.

******************************

"Are you sure you don't want to come with us, Carson? I hate to think of you spending Halloween all alone," Kurt asked as he put the finishing touches on his costume. He was dressed as a pirate in a costume he had assembled himself, which consisted of a billowing, white, long sleeved shirt that was unbuttoned just enough to show a hint of chest, tight black pants, leather boots, and eye makeup, which Kurt was currently applying in the mirror. A red bandana was tied skillfully to his head. Carson was trying deperately not to think of him as "Sexy Pirate," and was failing. Miserably.

Because that costume was sexy as hell. 

"No, thanks. I'd rather spend the night in the company of horror movies and answer the door to trick or treaters than attend a party at Rachel Berry's house," replied Carson, his eyes wandering to Kurt's ass as his brother stood up. He quickly averted his gaze, focusing instead on Kurt's arms. Fuck, that's not any better.

"Yeah, I can't believe I'm going either, but...eh. What else is there for teenagers to do in Lima on Halloween?" said Kurt thoughtfully, capping the eyeliner he was finished using. "If you're sure..."

"I'm sure," said Carson.

"How do I look?" asked Kurt, standing up and twirling around to model his costume. Carson swallowed.

"You look...you look good. Sex...er...best pirate ever," he said quickly, panicking slightly at the fact that he had almost said "sexy."

"Thanks!" said Kurt happily. He picked up his phone, which was lighting up with a text message. "That's Mercedes. She's waiting outside. You're SURE you don't want to come?"

"Positive," replied Carson, opening his laptop. "I got stuff to do for the paper anyway. You go. Have fun. But not too much fun. You know how I worry."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Don't I know it. Ok, see you later, Carsey."

Carson waved him on as Kurt ran up the stairs. He sighed and thudded his head against the headboard.

What the fuck is wrong with me? I have GOT to stop checking him out like that. He's my brother, for fuck's sake. It's weird. Just....it's just weird. I'm turning into exactly the kind of pervert I would do anything to protect him from. This isn't good.

He took his laptop upstairs and lay down on the couch with the remote in one hand, determined to let an evening of horror films take his mind off of Kurt. It worked. He became so engrossed in answering the constantly ringing doorbell while counting all the plot holes in the Halloween series (Wait...when did the Myers house turn into a magnificent gothic mansion? Because I'm pretty sure it was just a regular house in the last movie) that he barely noticed that any time had passed until Kurt came through the door later that night.

"Ugh, I'm exhausted!" Kurt exclaimed, removing his bandana and moving Carson's closed laptop onto the coffee table so that he could lay on top of him, his arms wrapped around his torso and his head resting on his chest. "Rachel made us have a karaoke contest, but she insisted on singing seventeen songs in a row. I was ready to kill her by the end of the night," he said. "And I don't know who decided that pumpkin carving was a fun Halloween activity, because it's actually really tedious and boring. And Puck wouldn't stop making "plundering the booty" jokes about my costume."

Carson, who had suddenly found himself with an armful of Kurt, was too distracted by how good he felt against him to provide an answer to that monologue right away. "That's terrible," he said at last. Not his best work, but he wasn't really thinking straight at the moment. Even though there was plenty he would have liked to say. Like how Rachel was a spotlight hogging diva, and that pumpkins were stupid, and that if Puck ever made a crass remark like that to Kurt again, Carson would shave his mohawk right off.

"Now I'm just ready to pass out," Kurt murmured, nuzzling his head a little higher, into Carson's neck. God, his breath. It was so warm. So warm and so nice.

"Go ahead," Carson said softly, holding Kurt in place with one hand and stroking Kurt's hair with the other. Kurt let out a happy sigh and Carson smiled. He knew that in a few minutes, Kurt would inevitably get up off of him and go downstairs to remove all that eye makeup and start his moisturizing routine, but for now he felt really good where he was. And Carson was enjoying it. A lot.

Which wasn't weird at all.

Right?