Chapter Text
Kurt was about ready to ask Sebastian really where he'd really bought that chicken from last week, because the flavors has lingered in his mouth for days, and office sex with Sebastian was very tiring; tiring enough that Kurt couldn't find the strength to even get off the floor. Luckily, Sebastian was on sprayed out on the floor with him.
"Don't even start," Sebastian said, moving his body closer to Kurt's, pulling the other boy into his arms. "In my defense, I can't be held accountable since I'm under the influence of mind-altering substances."
"Excuse me, Mr. Lawyer," Kurt slapped Sebastian's chest, "you of all people should know that that's a poor excuse and won't hold up in a court of law."
Sebastian was about to make a leud comment making suggestions about what he'd like to 'hold up' when Kurt rolls over him with an accidental elbow to the stomach, and as a result he groaned instead, hand trying to dislodge the elbow, but it ended up lingering because as unrealistic as it sounded, Kurt's outfits were so elaborate that no skin ever showed, and fuck you Sebastian Smythe, you know better than to get worked up over an elbow.
It was the russling that told Sebastian that something was wrong, though, not the barely concealed gasp or the ring tone. "C'mon Bas, which take away shop was it? I know you keep the menu's somewhere-"
He wasn't paying any attention to Kurt, all eyes focused on his phone ("Can I go out tonight?" "Why are you asking me? Did San say no? And will Jason be there?") and his reply is sluggish. "I, um, actually made that chicken myself."
The rustling of the drawer had stopped, and Sebastian dropped his phone on the ground beside his crashing body, eyes half closed and arms grabbing out for Kurt; the lack of contact was already beginning to be bothersome on Sebastian's behalf, especially with fresh memories of Kurt's hands wrapped around his biceps, the taste of Kurt's moans on his tongue. "What's this?"
"I mean, I know I should have told you straight up, but I didn't know if it would be okay so I wanted to wait until you tasted it, and you liked it and I was going to tell you but then sex and it slipped my mind." Sebastian buried his face in the crook of his elbow, slightly going red in being caught by Kurt. Really, he had been planning to tell Kurt, but it had taken hours and multiple chicken breasts to get right, so nerves in the end had prevented Sebastian from owning up to the chicken, especially since Kurt could actually cook. He hadn't burnt the sauce or the chicken (on his second attempt), it looked right, but that didn't mean anything really. Sebastian had hinted to the fact that he'd cooked it, but after the cheerful joking about "there's no reason to lie to me, but where did you get it from" Sebastian left the subject alone.
When he doesn't get an immediate reaction, Sebastian lifts his head to look at Kurt; possibly catch a cute look to elevate his feelings, hopefully get a promise of more sex for later. Now that it was heading towards eight o'clock, maybe they could even catch a taxi to Kurt's and cuddle on something other than the office floor, not that Sebastian would ask.
Kurt's eyes were downcast, looking at something in his hand, his fingers playing with it. Really, Sebastian should have know what it was. It caught in the light as Kurt rolled it in his palm, like he was trying to determine its reason for existence, like it personally offended him, like it was cute, and then, finally after a tense minute, like it was exactly what it was.
"Sebastian, why do you have a wedding ring in your drawer?"
Sebastian wasn't braced for the question, and Kurt could see that fact obliviously in the boy's eyes and action. Absentmindedly, Sebastian's fingers had started playing with each other, his index finger looking to flick something that wasn't there anymore. It wasn't until Sebastian glanced from his finger to the small silver thing in Kurt's hand that he realised the gesture was of nervousness and being uncomfortable.
It explained a lot, Kurt realised, like that lighter patch of skin around Sebastian's finger that Kurt had noticed after he'd taken an unexplained holiday ("You're just going to go for a week and not even tell me who with?" "Honestly, princess, it's not any of your business where I go and who with I go. You just worry about everybody's hair down there in fashion, not that you even know anything about fashion considering you can't tell the difference between female and male clothes,") and then returned a week later nervous and apologetic, with a peace offering of a decedent French scarf.
A scarf that was now hanging over the chair along with all of Kurt's other clothes.
The fact that for the first three weeks of their relationship, Sebastian had refused to go out on Friday nights, and he'd sheepishly laughed as he rubbed his neck as a response to Kurt's teasing, "What? Have you got a secret wife that I don't know about and friday night is date night?"
Sebastian was saved of having to say that he is actually married when Kurt exclaims it himself. All Sebastian can do is nod, as he can feel Kurt's words cut through him. The ring drops to the floor, and Kurt has to force himself not to cry as he sees how quickly Sebastian moved to get it; the ring hadn't even stopped spinning before it was slid onto Sebastian's finger. This punches the last hope out of Kurt's chest, because he knows that Sebastian has a wife, rather than had a wife, and it slaps him when he realises what it means; he's a whore, with a very large potential of becoming a home wrecker.
He, Kurt Hummel, had become a whore. Sleeping with a married man, and was Sebastian even gay? Was Kurt just a misplaced experiment or was Sebastian just bored with his wife? Did Sebastian even love his wife? Kurt has a strong urge to be sick, because although Kurt knew that movie portrayals of marriages were extreme, they usually involved love, and love didn't involve cheating. He doesn't notice that he's crying until he opens his mouth to talk when a droplet falls in. When he does speak, he ends with a little self-deprecating laugh. "Don't tell me you've got kids too."
"A boy and a girl," Sebastian replies, voice strained, and it's right then that Kurt realises that for some mysterious reason, this was hurting Sebastian more than it washurting he himself, and he was the one with the bad end of this deal. He's the one who had been lied to, but Sebastian's the one with layers of pain in his eyes, with his body folded in on itself breathing heavily, like his world was just ripped apart by an unknown woman.
It was really hard to ignore the urge to go and comfort Sebastian, help the older man move through the pain, but as soon as Kurt's ignored the urge, Sebastian's body has cocked up into the sarcastic man, with cold eyes and squared shoulders and a stone, blank, scary expression.
Kurt doesn't know the man now looking at him. He knows that the words to come won't be teasing or soft around the edges, and it's scary. That knowledge doesn't stop Kurt from turning in onto himself, nor does it make him think that maybe he should censor his words. "So all the times that you tried to hide your phone from me, the times you left the room for a phone call, that time when you looked scared when I walked in after work and you were rummaging through your drawer, the Friday nights you wouldn't go out on, the woman you bought to a work party- not your sister-, the holiday that you took with your wife and kids?"
The thing that gets Kurt the most though, is how nobody knew. The whole office knew about Sebastian's promiscuity (which was even worse in light on the new developments) and because of that, Kurt had been repetitively warned, but never about a wife.
And kids.
It did occur to Kurt, just for a second, that Sebastian would be a good father and maybe this isn't such a tragedy. It's easy to imagine Sebastian holding a baby, nurturing it, watching it grow up into a person. He'd probably be one of those overprotective fathers, threatening boyfriends and having the awkward sex talk, letting his daughter paint his nails and playing lacrosse with his son. He'd argue with them about money, cuddle with his wife at night, fight over the television remote, sleep in on Sundays. All of the things that Kurt was supposed to have with Sebastian, not a nameless, faceless woman. "What's her name?"
"Santana Smythe, and Samantha and Jackson. They're twins. Seventeen years old soon." The words don't come as harsh as Kurt had assumed they would, as he watched Sebastian's face light up with his words, like he was being awoken, and seriously, how would Kurt ever mean something to Sebastian when he already had people in his life who could produce such an affect with only a thought?
Slowly, Kurt started putting his clothes back on, and with every new layer returned something. First, his composure since he was no longer physically exposed. Secondly, his dignity; third, his defenses; and forth, his heart, which was nearly given to Sebastian. Just in time.
As Sebastian dressed himself, he keet his eyes strictly off Kurt, but he could feel Kurt withdrawing, so he maked a snap decision, holding out his phone with a number ready to dial. "She knows, and you can ask her yourself."
Kurt, honest to go, scoffed at Sebastian's words. "Did you honestly think that would make it okay? Even if she did know - and how would I know that's her? - you've been lying to me for the last few months, even from before we were seeing each other. Why, and more importantly how, should I believe you." He's almost out door, ready to disappear down the hallway and out of Sebastian's life with half a heart when he's stopped by a hand wrapping around his wrist.
Why does his touch still feel so right?
"Please, Kurt. What about Skype?" The same painful expression overcomes Sebastian's face then, and Kurt softens because he has to; because whether he likes it or not, right now a part of Kurt's heart does belong to Sebastian, and although he owes Sebastian nothing, for some inexplainable reason, Kurt feels as if he owes Sebastian this.
Probably because the desperate helplessness in Sebastian's tone was breaking what was left of his heart. And if there was the smallest chance that Sebastian wasn't lying, that his wife knew and freely gave her consent over their relationship, well, maybe they could work something out. So he closed the door behind him as he stepped into the room, flicking his hand to indicate that Skype should be loaded, because Kurt knew his voice would break, nor could his eyes hold a position on Sebastian.
As he made his way to stand behind the large leather chair, all Kurt could see was the first kiss; Sebastian pulling him in by the lapels (and Kurt squeaking about it) until Kurt was settled like a child, and then kissing, after putting his computer to sleep. Kurt didn't even get the choice of whether he wanted to settle on Sebastian's lap for this - not that he could, at a time like this - as Sebastian quickly rose out of the chair, stuffing his hands deep into his pockets with his eyes just barely avoiding Kurt's own.
Skype was the only thing that looked out of place on Sebastian's desktop, a big blue S being the only thing that seemed not to be a folder, sitting on what appeared to be a family photo; Sebastian, smiling, snuggled under a blanket with what seemed to be his wife, a young boy sitting on the floor in front of them and a finger over the lens. Even through the fabric it was obvious that Sebastian's arms were around her, pulling her in close, and it occurred to Kurt that he needed to be jealous here. The man he'd been seeing for weeks - nearly three months - was pressed against another person and he looked happy. Sebastian was wearing a smile that Kurt wasn't familiar with, and if the rumours were to be understood, then Kurt was the only person in the whole building to get a date out of Sebastian, no matter multiple ones. "Sebastian, I don't want to do this. I don't want to ruin your marriage."
Sebastian is saved from having to reply (You're not ruining anything Kurt, believe me) when an artificial phone fills the room along with a bouncing phone icon - Kurt makes a mental note to upgrade his Skype because this version is so much more ascetically appealing - and he automatically moves to accept the call. His hand doesn't get to the mouse in time, it seems, as the video opens up on the screen and his fingers bump against Kurt's.
They look at each other, both suddenly rigid from the contact until it's broken by Kurt moving to cover the skin, like maybe he could brand Sebastian's touch if he pushed the phantom warmth hard enough and for long enough.
"Mum! It's for you. Dad's eyefucking somebody on Skype."
Sebastian's the first to look away from Kurt's hand, sheepishly giving Kurt a smile and then turning to face the camera straight on. "Samantha, you cannot say things like that, young lady."
The young girl filling the screen rolls her eyes. "But Dad, you are eyefucking him."
"And what would you know about eyefucking, huh?" Sebastian asked, a protective tone over taking his voice. "Is it that Jason boy again? Samantha, we've had this discussion."
"Oh my god, Dad, it's not like I could actually get pregnant."
Kurt doesn't get time to question that last comment, as the same woman from the computer background pushes into the screen, speaking Spanish to the daughter. The woman - and why hadn't Kurt remembered her name - sat calmly, a smirk pulling at her lips. Her jet black hair was pulled back in a messy bun and her skin looked flawless. Her eyes looked tired, but Kurt could still see the attraction; this woman was beautiful. Kurt wondered if she was a model, and if she wasn't, would she be one for vogue.com's next shoot, but he stopped that thought dead in his tracks, because this was his boyfriend's wife.
"Bas, I'm surprised. I know you said he was pretty, but I didn't know you meant that pretty. Kudos. " She flicks her eyes from Sebastian to Kurt, "will you stand up and turn around so I can see if Bas was exaggerating about spray on pants and a nice ass?"