Chapter 3

The flamboyant music pumped through Sebastian's body as he sat at the bar, cradling a bottle of beer. Potentially his 12th, but he'd lost count. He'd been sat here 5 hours, wasting his day away flirting with the super-hot bar tender. He knew he was taken, but it was fun none the less. The bar had been dead when he'd arrived, but now, it was pushing 6 pm, and Scandals, the local gay bar, was starting to fill out.

A few guys had asked him to dance, and it had been fun, but he's gone back to the bar every time, and not fucked any of them, even though they had clearly wanted it. It wasn't like him. Something was occupying his mind, and yet it was in a good way. The bar tender, Ste, had queried him about it, as it was blatantly obviously he wasn't his usual self, but he'd just sighed and said, things seem to be going right for once and smiled.

A hand pushed the bottle he was clasping, aside, and took Sebastian's hand, pulling him to his feet.

He was dragged onto the dance floor, with the mystery persons other hand over his eyes. He giggled in surprise, and he felt the person pull their bodies together, and a pair of lips collided with his own, and finally his vision was returned, as the mystery man revealed himself.

Sebastian found himself staring into a familiar pair of hazel eyes, surrounded by dark, tanned skin. He felt the guys muscles ripple beneath his shirt, and a hot smile swept across his lips.

"Well, well, well. Fancy seeing you here!" Sebastian cackled. "I haven't seen you about, since you almost got castrated by Baby face!"

"Shut up! That was not funny!" The handsome man replied.

Sebastian grinned, cheekily, and spun on the spot, rubbed himself up against the guy, and then strutted off, casting a glance over his shoulder, and winking, daring the man to follow, which he eagerly did.

"Seb! Wait; don't go outside, I can NOT get caught here. Too many close shaves!"

"Who the hell is gonna be in the parking lot?" Sebastian replied dryly. "Man up and come out already. You're boring as fuck. Wait. Fucking really isn't boring… Anyway…."

"Sebastian, you're such an idiot sometimes."

Sebastian winked, and continued outside.

"Wait you twerp! I only just got here! I don't want to leave yet!"

"Who says we're leaving? There's a space in the parking lot I haven't christened yet… if you know what I mean…" Sebastian smiled.

"I'm not drunk enough for public sexual encounters, get me pissed first."

Sebastian grabbed the butch footballer's hand and dragged him to the bar, with an exasperated sigh.

"It's such a pain, trying to fuck you, you know!"
"I'm not exactly hard to get…"

Sebastian laughed, and called the bar tender over, ordering a double Goldschlager for his dear friend and a Brazil cocktail for himself.
"So. How have you been?" Sebastian smirked, as he observed this man's facial expression… which was somewhat embarrassed.

"Look sparkles-"

"PUCK?" A deep yell echoed across the room, and the whole club fell silent.

Puck spun on his stool, almost falling off in the process, to see a very drunk, very angry, father of his.

"Shit man… Seb, I have to go, I'm so sorry!" Puck whispered to Sebastian, and he got up and made his way over to his dad.

"What the fuck are you doing in a fucking gay bar you fucking piece of shit?"

"Dad, I was just hanging with a friend, trying to invite him to a party I'm having, don't worry, I'm not a… f-fag." He stumbled over the word, in an unconvincing way, "L-lets go dad, you need to get home, and rest." He attempted to ease his father out the door, but he was having none of it.

"What, You're FRIENDS with a FAG? You're no son of mine!"

"Hey!" Came a deep cry from somewhere in the corner of the room. "Who the fuck do you think you are, coming in here like this, insulting us all?"

Four massive guys, built like brick walls crept out of the shadows, and glared at Pucks dad. "Girls, this is gonna get rough." They called to the rest of the bar, as they strode forward.

"G-guys, just leave it yeah? He's pissed, just leave us alone and we'll be gone." Puck attempted to defend his father to try and maintain the peace.

"Oh, I don't think so." They replied, and with that, they pushed both Puck and his rather out the door.

OOOOO

As Blaine lay in bed that evening, he couldn't help but replay in his head what Azimio had said earlier… "You don't belong here, and hey, take the other faggot back with you, or I'll personally see to it that you leave." What did he mean by that? Was that a threat? Should he report it? Should he tell Kurt what had happened? Should he be worried? So many questions filled his head; he knew he'd never be able to sleep tonight. Besides the aching pain in his neck, that turned into a sharp stabbing pain, every time he moved. Oh god. If he was supposed to be worried, then Azimio's plan had definitely worked. He was terrified. What if he hurt Kurt? What if he could stop Kurt getting hurt, if they moved schools? Where could they go? Not back to Dalton. Not with Sebastian there. He knew he'd give in if he was around Sebastian every day… And oh god, what if he ended up dorming with him? He knew Sebastian had no roommate, and at Dalton, unless you have a very valid reason, you had no say in whom you dormed with… No. He couldn't go back to Dalton. He couldn't believe he was being chased out of his own school (he still thought of Dalton as home) by a guy he barely even knew… A sexy mother fucker of a guy… who wanted him… And Blaine probably wouldn't kick him out of bed either… Oh lord, the thoughts of being in bed with Sebastian… No. He could feel his dick start to firm up and he groaned, burying his head into his pillow. He shouldn't be thinking like that! He has a boyfriend! A beautiful boyfriend, who he loves with all his heart. He closed his eyes, as he realised he was starting to get tired. He tried to clear his head of any thoughts, and concentrated on counting sheep. Hopefully he'd be able to drift off soon enough.

OOOOO

Kurt sat at his desk, nail file in hand, dealing with a blasted broken nail. He'd caught it getting into bed, and had just had to deal with it. He glanced at the clock and almost squealed out loud. It was 00:15. He had to get to sleep; he'd already lost too much sleep that night, seriously bad for his skin. He clambered into bed, but thoughts of the previous day filled his head. Something had been up with Blaine. They'd met at lunch, and he had barely spoken. He'd asked him what was up, but he just shook his head and smiled. Come to think of it, he hadn't touched his food either. Something was up.

Kurt considered calling him, but it was late, so he'd no doubt be asleep, so he didn't bother. He'd wait until morning. But what on earth could be up with him? Did something happen with his parents? Was it school? Lying there thinking about it wasn't going to change a thing. He'd see him in the morning and find out what was up then.

OOOOO

The sound of sirens filled the air, and tires squealed on the tarmac of the parking lot of scandals. Sebastian wasn't one for drama, unless he was the one causing it, but he had feelings, though no one actually knew that, so he had called the police the second the guys had pushed Puck and his dad outside. Good thing he had too, because in the 8 minutes and 14 seconds it had taken for the police to arrive, Puck's dad had been floored, and was bleeding out, unconscious. Puck was knelt by his side trying to stop the blood flow. Sebastian was leant against the door of the club, watching as medics rushed to their aid. He couldn't understand why Puck insisted on helping his dad, after everything he'd put him through.

The police were asking Puck questions now. Of course, the guys who'd beat him up had legged it the second they heard the sirens, so they were nowhere to be seen.

Sebastian turned around and walked back inside the club. He returned to his stool at the bar, and called Ste over. "Double Jack, cheers."

Ste would know what he meant.

A couple of hours later he dragged himself off his stool, glancing at his watch, 3:15. Great. He thought to himself. He clambered out into the parking lot and considered walking home, but knew he'd probably end up in some bush, so he'd risk the possibility of throwing up in a taxi. He pulled out his phone, called a taxi, and waited for it to arrive. There was no one about. Everything was deadly still, except for a slight warm breeze distilling the air. He glanced up from the curb, he didn't remember sitting down, but he clearly had. The taxi pulled up, and he staggered to his feet and got in.

A few minutes later the taxi pulled up outside his empty house. He paid the driver and crawled out fumbling with his keys, trying to unlock the door. He made it inside and crawled upstairs to bed.