When Kurt's phone chirped, he groped blindly for it on his bedside table with a hand and opened one eye to squint at the screen.

Sebastian:  Hey, sex on a stick, see you tonight at Scandals?

Good Lord, Kurt thought, when did I become a gay bar superstar?  Kurt also wondered why he was now hanging out with that skinny weasel, Sebastian, all the time.

He opened the other eye to see how far he had time traveled this time, and he was somewhat relieved to know that it was only a couple of months, although, once again, he had a hard time figuring out the significance of this particular day.

The school day turned out to be largely uninteresting, except for the fact that Matt seemed to be avoiding him, which was just peachy with Kurt. Blaine texted Kurt a few times during the day to comment on some mundane entertainment news items, and each time Kurt saw his face appear on his phone, his heart did a little happy dance. He wished he knew if they were together. He wished also New Kurt wasn't so meticulous at deleting old texts. They might have left a nice historic trail.

In the evening, he headed to Scandals, and his dad didn't even comment about it, which kind of freaked Kurt out a little. How often was he there? He pulled the Navigator into the parking lot and flashed a fake ID at the uninterested bouncer. Scanning the place, he spotted Sebastian at the bar—alone. No Blaine in sight. Kurt's countenance fell for a moment, and then he lifted his head high and sashayed over the stand in front of the Warbler's slimiest front man.

“Sebastian,” Kurt said frostily. “Well, hello,” Sebastian dragged out the “hell” syllable suggestively. There were two drinks in front of him: a shot of tequila and a tall, pink drink with a lot of cherries. He nudged the girl drink toward Kurt and said, “I ordered you a Shirley Temple, because I know you're the designated driver. Like, all the time.”

Kurt looked at the drink, reached a hand in, and grabbed the shot of tequila. Tilting his head back, he downed it in one go. The liquor burned through his body in a very pleasant fashion.

Oh, God, yes. What this dimension needs is alcohol. Kurt wondered why he hadn't thought of that before.

Sebastian responded with a slow clap. Clap. Pause. Clap. Pause. Clap. Pause. Clap. Then he made a circular motion with two fingers in the air and signaled to the bartender to set them up again, twice. When the new tequila shots arrived, he handed one to Kurt and raised his own in the air and said, “To our friend, Blaine. If the fates are kind, maybe at least one of us will get to fuck him.”

Kurt gave Sebastian the hairy eyeball, but he tipped his own drink back and downed his second shot. Sebastian laughed and said, “Shit, Kurt, what's gotten into you today? You never…” He let the last word trail off, leaned forward, and squinted at Kurt. “Old Kurt?” he asked.

Kurt's eyes widened in alarm. “Blaine told you?”

“Of course he told me. I'm his best friend.”  

“I'm his best friend.”

Sebastian put his palms up placatingly, “Okay, you're his best friend. But I'm his closest hanger-oner, public school boy. God, Kurt, you know he had to tell someone. It's not like he could tell your little, virgin doppelganger.”

“So, what? We're, like, friends in this universe?”

Sebastian shrugged. “Sure. Why wouldn't we be?”

“Because I hate you.”

“New Kurt doesn't. I mean, I'm the only person with whom you can let your bitch flag fly. When you're with Blaine, you're all goody-goody.”

“Blaine makes me want to be a better man. There's nothing wrong with that.”

Sebastian nodded with a wry expression, “Blaine makes everyone want to be a better man. I hate that about him.”

Kurt raised a third shot of tequila in a mock salute to that, and Sebastian clinked his glass.

“So, why are we here, exactly? Do you and my stunt double just hang out at gay bars and make bitchy comments about…” Kurt looked around, “…absolutely everyone in here?”

Sebastian grinned, “Pretty much. But, no, I just asked you to come out tonight because I heard about you and Matt, and I wanted to cheer you up.”

“What about Matt and me?”

Sebastian paused for a moment, then he let out an enormous donkey bray of a laugh, “Oh, shit, Kurt. You don't know, do you? Oh my God, you don't know how happy I am that I get to be the one to tell you.”

“Why do I have the feeling that this is going to be really bad?”

“Oh, it's beyond bad. Well, not for me. For me, it's hil-ar-ious.”

“Spit it out, Meerkat.”

“Ouch! Kitty has claws.” Sebastian smirked. “Okay, so I guess Matt's been kind of…lonely…since you've been spending more and more time with Blaine.”

“Well, can you blame me?”

“Oh, Hell, no. But, anyway, I guess you…I mean, New Kurt…got to Glee early last week and found your boy, Matt, in flagrante delicto with the piano man.”

urt looked confused, “Billy Joel?”

Sebastian chuckled and pushed at Kurt's shoulder lightly. “No, genius. Billy Joel did not come to Ohio to steal your man. It was your guy—the one who's always just around when one of you No Directions can't suppress the urge to break out in song. What's his name? Brad?”

“Brad? Who's Bra—. Oh my God, do you mean Mr. Ellis, the music teacher?”

Sebastian shrugged, “I guess. It's your school.”

“Ewww.”

“Truth. You walked in on them lip-locked on a piano bench. Apparently, you went all Flight of the Valkyries on both of them.”

“It's so disgusting. I mean, Mr. Ellis is old.”

“Speaking of disgusting,” Sebastian commented, as he swiveled around on his barstool, “check out the Neanderthal at the juke box.”

Kurt scanned the room until his eyes fell on a big guy, baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. Karofsky.

“That guy should do the world a favor and stay in the closet.”

Kurt's head snapped around so that he was looking at Sebastian once again. He put a hand on Sebastian's arm and spoke urgently “Sebastian, that guy's going to hit on you.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow to signify well, duh.

“You have to be nice to him,” Kurt took a deep breath. “Try to be less…you. Channel your inner Blaine, think about happy bunnies. Trust me, you do not want to insult this guy. It's so important.”

“No, Kurt, I do want to insult this guy.

“Please, Sebastian? I'm asking you, as a friend.” The words felt strange coming out of Kurt's mouth, but he had realized fairly soon into their exchange that, absent the competition for Blaine, Sebastian was kind of fun in snarky, sarcastic way, and Kurt actually liked the little stick insect.

“What's in it for me?” Kurt rolled his eyes. Of course, Sebastian was still Sebastian,

“What do you want?”

Sebastian pretended to think about it. “Come back Friday for karaoke night and sing a duet with me.”

Kurt thought about it for a minute, “I can't guarantee it will be me. I might have…jumped.”

Sebastian smirked, “It will be one of you, and you both have great asses.” He smacked Kurt's to underscore his point, and Kurt jumped.

“I will do it under two conditions.”

“Let's hear them.”

“First, I am not singing, ‘I Got You, Babe,' or anything else by Cher, because I am not a gay bar karaoke cliché. Second, I am not going to be your girl. I will not be Jennifer Warnes to your Joe Cocker or Olivia Newton-John to your John Travolta. I want to sing something manly.”

Sebastian looked like he was trying hard not to laugh, “I will if you will.”

Kurt raised an eyebrow, “You got what you want, Sebastian. Just be nice to Karofsky.”

Sebastian gave a mock bow. Then his face grew serious, “Kurt, are you sure?”

“Yeah, I'm sure. Why?”

“If I go over there,” he nodded toward Karofsky, “and I'm nice…” he said nice the way most people say vomit or spit, “…it might change everything.”

Kurt nodded, “That's what I'm hoping for.”

“Even if it means losing Blaine forever?”

Kurt stared at Sebastian for a long time, and then he said loftily, “I'm not worried; Blaine and I will be together. We have to be.”

But he chewed his thumbnail as he watched Sebastian dance over to Karofsky.