bluelovelights asked you: Kurtbastian and let’s say, having a petty argument.
This isn’t really that at all, but this came as a result of that prompt, so I figure it still counts.
It comes out as a complete accident, but Sebastian doesn’t mind; he figures it’s as good a time as any, and he’s always hated big romantic gestures, so he’s glad that it happens this way. Kurt, on the other hand, seems to be more fucking pissed off than ecstatic, or any other similar positive emotion.
“What?” Kurt spits out, his eyes narrowing in disbelief.
“Marry me,” Sebastian repeats, a grin growing on his face.
“Fucking no.” Sebastian laughs in response, and after a pause, Kurt says, “What’s funny about that?”
“Your face,” he chuckles. “You look so incredibly offended, and it’s fucking adorable.”
The corners of Kurt’s mouth twitch up, the movement barely noticeable before he steels his face back into a mask of disdain.
“I do believe we’re in the middle of a fight.”
“I don’t care; marry me.”
“I’m not agreeing to marry you while I’m standing in a kitchen splattered with spaghetti sauce.”
“Fine, have it your way then.” Sebastian sits down, tugging on Kurt’s hand in the process. “Come on, sit, that way you won’t be standing.”
“You’re so full of shit.”
“Well I’m admittedly a little tipsy, so that could have something to do with it.” Kurt purses his lips slightly, and Sebastian tugs on his hand once more. “Sit with me.”
“The sauce is going to ruin my pants.”
“They’re ugly as fuck, so the world will be thankful if they’re stained beyond restoration.”
“That’s really not helping your case.” Sebastian just pats the floor space in front of him in reply, a bit of sauce getting on his hand. “All right, all right, fine,” he agrees, sitting down across from Sebastian.
“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“All I wanted was a nice dinner with a bottle of wine and maybe some mood music or something. Instead I get this,” he sighs, gesturing vaguely to the general disheveled status of the kitchen.
“You must have known what you were getting into when you asked me out that first time.”
“I promise you that you have entirely exceeded any expectations, positive or negative, that I may have had for you.”
“Good, then you should marry me.” Kurt doesn’t say no again, just huffs a little and twiddles his thumbs a bit. “Well?” Sebastian asks, raising his eyebrows slightly.
“Why now?” Kurt wonders, obviously evading Sebastian’s question. “Why are you asking me now?”
“Because I love you,” he shrugs, “and because I can see myself spending the rest of my life with you, and because I can see myself enjoying spending the rest of my life with you.” He pauses for a second before his mouth shifts into a lopsided grin. “You make me happy, Kurt Hummel,” he admits, sounding so uncharacteristically young and boyish and sincere and cheesy, “and I hope that I make you happy too.” Kurt smiles gently, his eyes softening and any anger originating from the mess clearly fading away. “Look, babe, I’m not a romantic, and I’m not good at these things, and I’m not going to pull out a pair of matching rings and say ‘surprise’ and tell you about how I’ve dreamt about this moment for months. To be honest, I never even thought about marriage—well, actually, I never thought about marrying you until about three minutes ago. But us co-signing the lease for this apartment, us buying that stupid, boring-as-fuck fish because we’re not allowed real pets, us putting our fucking toothbrushes next to each other on the sink, that was me deciding that this relationship means something, and that I want to stay with you for as long as I can possibly keep you interested.”
Kurt looks at him for a moment then stands up, offering a hand down to Sebastian.
“Come on, get up,” he orders, breaking the mood, “and help me clean the kitchen. You’ve ruined the spaghetti, but I’m sure we have some ramen noodles or something we can eat instead.”
“You never answered the question.”
“And I’m not going to, at least not tonight. Listen, Sebastian,” Kurt says, kneeling, “that was a beautiful speech, and a quite admirable one too, especially given the fact that you’re just a bit drunk, but the fact is exactly that: you’re drunk. As much as you’d love to think that you’re serious about this proposal and that it’s truly what you want, you’re not functioning at your highest capacity right now, although God knows that that highest capacity is in itself seriously limited. I mean, you managed to get the entire contents of a pot of pasta sauce to cover our whole kitchen, an admittedly impressive feat, but really fucking stupid nonetheless, so you can’t possibly argue that your judgment is completely unaffected. Let’s just clean and eat, and just go on as we have been, until tomorrow morning when you’ve completely slept off the alcohol and when you’re clearly able to tell what you want.”
“Just, hypothetically speaking, what will your answer be tomorrow?” Sebastian asks; he can tell how entirely vulnerable he sounds and he notices a flash of something quickly come and go across Kurt’s face.
“Hypothetically speaking, I’m not really sure. I need some time to think about it, which is another reason for waiting until morning, and I don’t want to make any promises about something I could change my mind on.” A pause, and then, “But I am leaning towards yes.” Kurt put his hands on either side of Sebastian’s face and bumps their foreheads together, kissing Sebastian briefly and softly. “No promises, though, remember?”
“Okay,” he agrees, reaching his face up for another kiss.
Sebastian grabs Kurt’s waist and pulls him back down so that he’s fully sitting on the ground once more, and, despite the sauce ruining their clothes and undoubtedly staining parts of the walls, they don’t end up moving from the floor for a while. They lean against the cabinets and talk about things of relatively little consequence. They laugh quietly and talk in half-whispers, as though they’re teenagers sitting behind a bookcase in a school library, conversing in hushed undertones to avoid getting caught by some passing administrator. They kiss every once in a while, but they look for all the world like a young, innocent couple, too consumed with basking in their mutual happiness to be concerned with anything remotely sexual. They barely touch the entire night, interlocking hands only after they stagger into bed at some ungodly hour of the morning, and it is interestingly the purest and most intimate night Sebastian has ever had.
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