Paid Company

Disclaimer: Not mine *pouty face

one.

Blaine Anderson has learned a lot of things in his young life, the most important of which is that his 'best friend' (with quotation marks) Sebastian Smythe is the most untrustworthy bastard in the planet.

Of course, that should say a lot about the kind of person Blaine is, but Sebastian is not without his merits.

He may be an untrustworthy bastard, but he's an untrustworthy bastard that gets things done.

...Most of the time, not all by himself. A hefty trust fund to his name leaves Sebastian with enough shadows around him to suffocate the nearest person, and with just as many strings to pull. Blaine suspects (knows) that Sebastian's pulled his fair share.

As for Blaine, he hopes he's nice enough that he would never have resulted to that, not that he has any strings to pull in the first place. He's lost that right at fourteen, when he'd come out to his father, the same father who has this perfect vision of their family that's a far cry from the crumbling reality. He's gotten himself disowned for his troubles, but somehow, he's clawed his way up and sacrificed perhaps one too many for the Italian-furnished office and the gold name plate and the leggy secretary he's never, not once touched, despite the rumors she herself is spreading around the company because he's gay and she doesn't know that.

Sebastian, who has a similar office down the hall, on the other hand, has sacrificed next to nothing, has a completely skewed understanding of the concept of hard work and perseverance (mostly about the amount of money needed to be thrown at people to get things done) and is an untrustworthy bastard, that maybe sometimes has his moments and flashes of brilliance.

Not that his flashes of brilliance always lead Blaine to places he wants to go. He certainly did not want to find himself watching Sebastian nudge his week-old car into a deserted alleyway in the middle of a maze of alleyways.

"It's an alley," Blaine finally says, uselessly, taking in the grafitti-covered walls and the overflowing dumpsters. "You made me leave work early for an alley?"

"We're not going to stay in the alley, Blaine," Sebastian actually has the gall to sound condescending. The bastard.

"You said this was an emergency," Blaine folds his hands across his chest, thinking about the pile of paperwork he's left behind because it's important, Blaine. "Do I need to give you memo about what constitutes an emergency? Major disaster-"

"You'll thank me for this later."

"And death!" Blaine inspects Sebastian, in his perfectly pressed gray suit, lounging against his leather-upholstered seats. "You're not dead, Sebastian."

Sebastian sighs, looking very put-upon. "You're making this very hard for me, you know? Honestly, this is the last time I'm ever going to be charitable to somebody. You were basically begging me to help you, so I am."

...Did Sebastian really just imply that Blaine needed his charity? Blaine's come a long, long way from the lost, still just the slightest bit cocky boy he'd been, when he'd watched his world crumble all around him, without a penny to his name and completely no idea where to go. He needed no one's charity then, he still doesn't need any now.

And anyway, Sebastian's standards when it comes to being charitable are as questionable as his skewed moral compass. Blaine thinks that he can just shove those standards and so-called goodwill all up his- Wait. What? "What do you mean begging you?"

Sebastian rolls his eyes and inspects his fingernails. His opinion on Blaine's intellectual capacity has obviously dropped and now he thinks this conversation is beneath him. Blaine kind of wants to roll his eyes at Sebastian, too, like he always does when Sebastian's being particularly obnoxious.

"You're so exasperating," Sebastian sighs again, shaking his head. "That other day, when you were tipsy? You told me you were a virgin. Honestly, by that time, I was about to give up on your hopeless little hobbit ass, but you told me that and I thought to myself that's a cry for help, if I'd ever heard one, so I thought I'd try again."

Blaine's mouth hangs open in shock. It takes him a few moments to process that said mouth is hanging open and a few more to identify which muscles to pull just to rectify the problem. "I never told you that." Although somehow, Sebastian must be getting accurate information somewhere.

"You were tipsy," Sebastian smirked. "You also came on to me, by the way, but I resisted you out of the goodness of my heart." Sebastian eyes him calculatingly, still with his smug, smug smirk in place. Blaine sort of wants to punch it off of his face. "I'm almost regretting that I resisted."

What 'goodness of my heart?' Where? "Yeah, suppose I believe you for just one moment, it still doesn't explain why we're in an alley."

"Shut up for just one second," Sebastian opens his doors, rolling his eyes once again. "You're getting on to be grating. We're not gonna stay in the alley, Blaine, god."

For the record, the only reason why Blaine's mouth is half-open is because, out of the goodness of his heart, he's about to remind Sebastian that if they leave, they'll be leaving Sebastian's week-old, uninsured, swanky new car unprotected in an alley, but hey, Sebastian wanted him to shut up.

Sebastian doesn't even wait for Blaine to follow. He pockets his keys and snakes around the maze. Somehow, despite being in the middle of someplace he'd never be caught dead in, Sebastian looks comfortable, like he's been to this place millions and millions of times and he probably has.

Blaine wonders if Sebastian's mother, darling Mrs. Smythe who checks in bi-weekly to see if my dear Sebby has gotten himself a (pregnant) girlfriend yet, knows. He doubts it.

There's a very plain door at the end of the last turn. It stands out against the dirt and grime of its surroundings. Sebastian doesn't hesistate to reach out and rap against it in a rhythm Blaine's never even heard before.

The door clicks, Sebastian turns to Blaine with a smirk. "Come on."

They emerge into a room that could be an office.

The sort-of front desk was decorated with almost the very same Italian furnitures that Blaine has in his office, complete with a leggy blonde not-his-secretary to complete the almost-could-be-an-office scenario.

The dire feeling in Blaine's chest lets him know that it's not.

The blonde looks up from her computer, she's probably nearing the end of middle age, but she must have been pretty to look at, back when she was at her prime. She smirks at Sebastian as he approaches the counter and slathers her with charm for all he's worth.

"Master Smythe," she finally says. "I'm glad to see you're back. Hunter's been asking for you, he's been insufferable all week."

"Of course he is," Sebastian says, with the annoying smug, overbearing confidence that only he can muster.

"Full of yourself, like always," she shakes her head. "You're lucky he's free, or I wouldn't let you touch him with a ten-foot pole."

Sebastian looks like he severely doubts her, but lets it slide out of the goodness of his heart. "Oh, and we need someone for Blaine, too."

No, you don't. Somehow, Blaine is overwhelmed and tounge-tied enough that it translates itself to a very pathetic "I don't..." that Sebastian gifts with his extra-supercilious smile and that makes the lady's eyes glint like a predator.

His feeble denial gets ignored.

"No weird specialties," Sebastian continues; honestly, is Blaine even here? "It's his first time and I want him to enjoy himself."

"Of course, Master Smythe," she simpers. It's very unsettling, but Blaine's seen women much older than her who Sebastian's money has made to simper like that. Still. He opens his mouth, decides against talking and just glares at the back of Sebastian's head.

She clicks on a few things on her computer, before she's predatorily grinning at Blaine again. She reminds him of vultures, ready to zoom in for the kill once Blaine starts showing signs of dropping dead.

"We're not busy tonight, so... Trent is free, Jeff's free, and so are Brittany, Quinn and Santana, but since they're, all three of them, psychotic, we'll leave them out." She purses her lips and blinks. "I almost forgot, Kurt's free, too."

"Kurt's free?" Sebastian looks genuinely surprised. It's the first time in a long time he's seen Sebastian genuinely anything, it's a refreshing-disturbing change.

The blonde nodded, narrowing her eyes to convey her displeasure. "He's absolutely refused any patrons this week, and all of his appointments are cancelled. Needless to say no one's been very happy." Least of all her, apparently. "But try your luck, if you're sure you understand how to deal with him, Master Smythe.

Sebastian looks almost affronted that she's even given rise to thoughts like that. He passes a wad of bills to the woman, turning to Blaine, saying, "Please. Come on, Blaine. If this all works out the way I want it to, you're going to be a very lucky man." He smirks. "And you'll have me to thank for it."

Blaine can't think of anything worse: thanking Sebastian means that he owes Sebastian, and that's never the most pleasant situation anyone can find themselves in. But since Blaine's just been sort-of lectured for being a virgin, like it's somehow suddenly a bad thing, he's got a pretty good idea.

It doesn't mean he's not mad as fuck, though, and once they're out of the blonde's line of sight, he almost shoves Sebastian right againt the hallway wall, with its cheerful pale cream wallpaper.

"You brought me to a... a... whorehouse!" Blaine accuses, spitting out the word, it leaves quite a bad taste in his mouth.

Sebastian, for his part, is not even the least bit threatened. Mostly, he just looks completely amused. "Where did you learn that word? I don't remember teaching it to you." He disentangles himself from Blaine's hold easily, smug smile growing as he did so. "And this is an elite high-class brothel, Blaine. Honestly, they'd be offended if they even hear you thinking of that word."

Blaine feels very drained, suddenly, and looks at his shoes. They're a safe enough bet, at least they're not smirking at him, and making him feel like being wealthy and successful in his own right somehow isn't quite enough just yet. "I read it somewhere."

He hears a sigh, he looks up. Sebastian looks like he's trying to put up a sympathetic look, but also like it pains him to do so. It's not a very good look on him. "Look, if you don't like it, I won't drag you out here again. But I already paid, and..." He shrugs. "Don't you hate wasting money?"

Technically, it was Sebastian's money, and Sebastian has absolutely no qualms about throwing away money. Hell, he'd just left his uninsured car unprotected in an alleyway. But they've come to a door and Sebastian's knocking on it, and suddenly, it's all too late to turn back.

Maybe it's been too late to turn back ever since he's stepped foot in this cathouse.

...Excuse me, elite high-class brothel.

The door swings open to reveal a boy, standing by the doorway. A boy. He's wearing loose white everything, his loose white sweater revealing a few teasing inches of bare skin. It's white and perfect. He has the strangest blue or green (...or gray?) eyes Blaine's ever seen.

Sebastian smirks. "Hi Kurt."

Kurt takes one long, long look at Sebastian, before he steps back, and slams the door on their faces.

Sebastian's smile turns down, completely at a loss for a moment. Not a lot of people slam doors on Sebastian Smythe's face, he's probably not used to it, and Blaine couldn't help but be impressed at this boy Kurt's guts.

Finally, Sebastian huffs and starts literally pounding at the door. It opens when Blaine's about to drag Sebastian down the hall and apologize to himself for surrounding himself with these kind of impossible people, and the beautiful boy steps out once again.

He smiles at Sebastian, sarcastically, Blaine thinks, before he turns his smile at Blaine, too, even though it has a curious edge to it. Blaine kind of finds himself smiling back.

"Will you stop?" he turns back to Sebastian, turning on him with the full force of his sickly-sweet smile. "I'm sorry if you're so bad in bed that Hunter won't put out, but I'm not seeing anyone tonight."

Blaine blinks, astonished, as Sebastian takes it all in stride, and doesn't even bat an eye.

"I'm on my way to Hunter, in a moment, and then we'll be up all night making sweet, sweet love," Sebastian paused, letting his smile grow. "Won't you bless our relationship?"

"Go jump off a cliff, Master Seb," Kurt replies, looking completely unimpressed, and moving to close his door once again.

"That's not very nice, Kurtiekins," Sebastian sticks his foot out, preventing the door from closing completely. "Why aren't you seeing anyone?"

"Master Seb, move your foot."

"Tell me."

"I fail to see how any of it is your business," Kurt looks exasperated. "I don't feel like seeing anyone. Now, move your foot, or if I get sick, I'm telling Terri that it's your fault because you contaminated my door with all your pathogens and they're scaring away all the customers."

Blaine snaps out of his stupor, and puts a warning hand on Sebastian's arm. "Sebastian, move your foot. You heard him, he wants to be left alone, and I didn't even want to do this." His eyes widened at the sudden implication and he flails his arms wildly, turning to Kurt, trying to make sure he's said nothing offensive.

"It's not you! I mean, I don't want this not because I think you're ugly, you're not ugly! It's me... But... I mean, you're not ugly to me! But I just don't, I mean sex... Wow. That's... Sex... It's... Not that I don't respect your... line of work! It's totally..." Blaine pauses, watching Kurt's face shift from guarded to one with the slightest twinkle of amusement. "That was embarrassing, I'll stop talking now."

Kurt studies his face with his blue-green-gray eyes. Blaine feels exposed by them, somehow, like Kurt can see exactly underneath his layers... And wow, he so does not need that reference to Kurt's... unique profession.

"Are you the one who's seeing me tonight?" Kurt finally asks, offering him a tentative smile.

"I'm... not," he says, haltingly. "You don't want to and... Yeah, I apologize for Sebastian." He ignores Sebastian's affronted, I don't apologize, Anderson. "I'm honestly ashamed to know him sometimes."

Kurt's smile widens. "I don't mind, if it's you. It's actually Master Seb that I don't like." Another affronted shout. "I'm tired, but if we don't do much, I'll keep you company."

Somehow, Blaine entirely misses what could be a sultry way to interpret those words.

"Master Anderson, right?" Kurt asks, opening the door to his suite wider.

Blaine falters, glances at Sebastian, who makes a face at Kurt before he turns to Blaine and shrugs. "I did pay."

He turns back to Kurt. "I'm Blaine. Anderson. I'm Blaine Anderson." Real smooth, killer.

Kurt looks like he's trying very hard not to laugh, or smile too wide in front of Sebastian. "I'm Kurt. I have other names, but I don't really feel like saying them in front of Master Seb."

But the bite is gone, because Sebastian's walking away, down the hallway, calling, "I'll see you in the morning, Blaine, enjoy!"

Blaine turns back to Kurt, and stage-whispers, "I don't know him. Call 911."

This time, Kurt laughs. It crinkles the edges of his eyes, and when he looks back at Blaine, his eyes were the bluest things Blaine's ever seen.

He likes them.

AN: I think maybe good author etiquette means I have to focus on my other story, but I can't help it, this is too delicious to not bite :P I'll work hard, promise :)