A.N. Hold on to your hats – and hold on tight! – because Cloud Green is starting a NON KLAINE fic! I know: I'm as shocked as you are. Admittedly I got into Kurtbastian by complete accident thanks to a wonderful yet sadly abandoned fic and now I'm a shipper. Don't get me wrong, I'm a much bigger fan of Klaine and I have countless more Kurt-Blaine fics coming soon but I feel I have to get this one out. I've finished a few chapters already but my warning is I would like to update regularly so parts may be small at times compared to my normal-sized updates. I view this like a rom-com movie fic so it's strikingly different to my dark collection. Still, I hope readers from past fics give the first couple of chapters a go but I understand if you don't like the shipping then there's little motivation to read it. My promise to you is that I will be starting another Klaine fic very soon!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything but the non-canon plotline. This is a good thing because if I owned Glee I'd have the last season focus solely on Kurt, Blaine, Sebastian (BRING HIM BACK!) and Santana. With maybe the odd funny comment from Rachel.

Warning: Less 'darkness' but still my standard level of swearing and sexual references and scenes may offend so please stop reading now if you have issues with this. I'm not here to offend, I'm here to entertain! ;)

The Break Ups

'Kurt, not this again...'

'You think I like having to remind you about this?'

A stab of pain shot through twenty year old Kurt's chest as he watched his boyfriend of three and a half years shrug off his coat in a frustrated and defensive manner: it seemed there would be no improvements tonight. Blaine dropped the keys to their New York City apartment in the bowl by the intercom. The dark haired man didn't even look at his partner as he spoke. 'Reminding me of what? You're just mad and you're jumping to conclusions like you always do.'

Unhelpful, Kurt thought to himself as he tried to fight the urge to automatically deny that was what was happening. He unhooked the fasteners on his coat and his shaking hands took a few attempts to hang it up on the peg. He knew they weren't shaking out of anger. Yes, he was angry but it was something else... Was it fear? What was he so scared of? He cleared his throat and followed Blaine into the living room, where the other young man was already collapsing on the couch. 'He was all-over-you.' Kurt emphasised carefully. Blaine finally turned his eyes to him and alarmingly he was glaring as he did so. 'I leave you alone for two minutes and when I come back he has you up against the wall – and you know what hurts the most? You let him. You were smiling. You-your hand was on his back, for God's sake!'

Blaine sat up and raised a hand to silence him. 'Hey, you know I don't look at Michael in that way. I don't see why you're acting jealous. He's not my type. He never will be. And you know that because you know me so why the hell am I getting this lecture when it's your own insecurities that are the problem?'

Blaine's words stung. They stung bad. Kurt had to bite his lip to stop it from shaking but it was all for nothing as his voice then came out in a quiver. 'Because we're supposed to be a couple, Blaine; you're supposed to care about what I care about, like I do when you get anxious over the show or when you think your director is asking too much of you.' He paused as Blaine looked away but didn't interrupt. 'And what I care about is coming to watch the man I love up on a Broadway stage then running to congratulate him on yet another incredible performance only to find one of his co-stars in my boyfriend's lap grinding into him like a dog in heat!'

'He knows I have a boyfriend. He knows you and I are serious.'

'And yet it doesn't seem to stop him, does it?' Lowering his tone to a kinder one, Kurt sat down on the edge of the coffee table across from a very irritated Blaine. He clutched onto his hand and squeezed it tight, as if hoping some of his emotions would surge into Blaine and suddenly the other man would realise how much this hurt him. 'He does it in front of me now, Blaine. He knows I get upset but he knows you won't tell him to stop. You're supposed to be mine, not anyone else's-'

Blaine whipped his hand out of Kurt's grasp and threw himself back on the couch, arms waving in the air. 'You didn't have to throw that pitcher of beer in his face!' Anger again. This time, Kurt flared up too.

'Evidently, I did!'

'No, you didn't.' Blaine's voice was getting sharp and Kurt could tell from past experiences that meant he was reaching his last nerve and the argument would soon be forcibly put on hold as Blaine would shrug him off and go to bed. Kurt couldn't let that happen. Not tonight; it hurt too much tonight.

'Why can't you just listen to me for once?' Kurt's voice was bordering on hysterical and he could feel himself shaking as tears choked at his throat. 'You claim you don't feel anything for him but you refuse to tell him to stop when he comes onto you! At least for my sake, as your boyfriend-'

'Ugh, no. Not this whole 'respect' thing again.' Blaine rolled his eyes. The simple action was yet another stab in Kurt's heart as he was reminded the sweet and sensitive boy in a blazer he fell in love with was practically gone, and in his place was a over-confident, over-privileged, ego-crazed Broadway Star. Blaine Anderson: The New Voice of New York. Blaine Anderson: Not the guy you thought he was. The realisation hit Kurt like a kick to the stomach. It knocked the air out of him emotionally and took him completely by surprise to know that for the first time in his life it was too hard. Blaine was oblivious to his boyfriend's revelation, as he continued 'I'm tired of this same argument over and over-'

'So am I.'

Kurt said it without thinking. The words were simple, innocent, yet the tone was not. It was broken and wrecked. It matched Kurt's torn insides, which bled hurt. Blaine turned back to him mid-way to the bedroom. He studied Kurt with a cautious gaze which soon turned more anxious. 'Kurt,' he murmured quietly, 'I want you to think very carefully about what you want to say next.' Had Kurt any intention of chickening out before, the option was taken away by those words.

Kurt had spent the last two years campaigning for his boyfriend – the love of his life – and the success of Blaine's Broadway career tasted just as sweet as it would have been had Kurt been the one up on that glorious stage. Every step of the way Kurt was committed. When Blaine fell, Kurt fell. When Blaine won, Kurt was the luckiest guy in the world. He was positive that they had been through too much to be wrenched apart in any way now, but he soon came to see that while all Kurt needed was Blaine, Blaine seemed to need more than Kurt. Fans, public events, over-sharing of their personal life – all were things Kurt was not comfortable with yet was willing to put up with for 'the sake of Blaine'. But having some other guy blatantly manhandle your boyfriend in front of you and for your boyfriend to happily let it happen? That was too much. It had been going on ever since Kurt had first met the other guy, Michael, and every minute of every day since Kurt found himself worrying about what Blaine and Michael got up to during the show's rehearsal hours while Kurt was at work. Isabelle, his boss and chief editor of , had noticed the decline in his creativity and concentration and insisted it was not healthy to be so distressed. But, as Kurt struggled to explain to anyone, the worst part was nothing to do with Michael. It was Blaine who let it all happen. It was Blaine who deemed Kurt's pleading unimportant and it was him who could make Kurt's heart break into a million jagged pieces with just a look or one word.

And now Blaine was looking at him with those beautiful yet intense hazel eyes. They told him to be quiet and say nothing more on the subject that night. Kurt was to join him to bed and if he must he may cry himself to sleep as Blaine tiredly cuddles into him. Think very carefully about what you want to say next.

'I...I think it's time we,' Kurt paused only to stifle a sob, 'take a break. O-on us. For a while.'

The apartment grew deathly quiet. No outside traffic noise or the typical apartment block neighbour sounds could detract from the sheer silence. Kurt's knees buckled and he landed against the couch. He cried into a cushion as Blaine watched on, stunned.

Far across town, in a penthouse overlooking a prime section of the Upper East Side, another argument was taking place. This one was far more heated and a great deal louder.

'Geez, you sound like my fucking mom!' Hunter Clarington groaned and stalked into the master bedroom. He kicked off his shoes and immediately took to the mirror to examine his appearance after his night out on the town.

Sebastian stood by the doorway of his bedroom and watched in bitterness as the other man treated the place like it was his own. 'Why? Does your mom get tired of all your bullshit too?' Hunter ignored him. Sebastian threw his jacket off into the corner of the room and then folded his arms, his skin sizzling with anger. He wasn't used to being ignored in general, but it infuriated him that since meeting the slightly older male socialite he was getting more and more accustomed to the crappy impact it had on his self esteem. 'Hunter,' he said firmly. The other man graced him with one gritty glance in the mirror's reflection before going back to focus on his hair. Knowing that was the only form of acknowledgment he was going to get, Sebastian clenched his teeth and continued. 'I asked you what the hell happened tonight. First you get on my case so that I get us into that club and then you trash the back room and ditch me so you can go play that moronic beer game with those asshole friends you found-'

'The game's called Rolling Rodgers-'

'You treat me like shit, Hunt!' Sebastian exclaimed, kicking one of Hunter's abandoned shoes across the room. That got the older man's attention, as he then scowled and swiftly grabbed both shoes and set them away from the now-pacing Sebastian. 'You fucking use me; pick me up and drop me like I'm nothing!'

'What's the big deal? Why are you always so clingy and annoying?' Hunter stepped up to him and roughly shook his shoulders before giving an exaggerated shrug. His eyes burned into Sebastian's. 'It's not like we're dating.'

Sebastian gave a loud sound of fake surprise. 'Gee, y'know you could've fooled me!' It blew his mind to hear Hunter belittle their relationship despite the fact it happened so frequently. They had known of each other for a number of years as they both were stable members of Ohio's social elite families, yet had not been formally introduced until just a few months before. In fact, they hadn't been introduced – Hunter had rudely intercepted Sebastian when the younger man had been talking to a friend in a well-known gentlemen's club. He had proudly hijacked Sebastian, buying him drink after drink with the obvious motive of having him for the whole night. Sebastian was on to him but smugly let it happen; Hunter was not just any rich guy. He was Hunter Clarington, known around New York as the next in line for his family's multi-million dollar law firm and he also just happened to be quite the sweet-talker. After a night of raw fucking on every surface of Sebastian's apartment, the younger man was prepared to view it as a one-night stand however Hunter kept calling round. What's say we check out the new Thai place near your street? There's a poker game going on tonight, wanna come save me from sheer gambling boredom? I was just thinking about that hot ass of yours...was it thinking about me? It was dumb of Sebastian to be as interested as he was; Hunter was known for being a serial dater. He never answered Sebastian's calls, nor did he have anything complimentary to say to him when they were together which didn't involve his ass, 'sexy smile', or his 'talented lips'. Sebastian didn't need a group of friends to tell him to cut it off but whenever he tried, Hunter pushed his way back in. He made Sebastian feel guilty for not answering his phone on the first ring. Clothes and other personal items began appearing in his apartment and one particular Sunday morning – as Hunter lay hung-over in his bed – the younger man only just stopped himself having a panic attack as he realised the socialite had effectively moved in. Not only that but he was monopolising his time and demanded all his attention. And now the jerk had the nerve to wave this all away as if it meant nothing? Sebastian was having none of it. He angrily opened his top drawer and began throwing out socks, underwear and belts towards Hunter. 'Tell me, Hunt,' He snarled, 'if we really are nothing then why-oh-why is my furniture filled with your shit, huh? Tell me why I have a dozen bottles of your aftershave in my bathroom and why does my cell ring incessantly all day ever day with your fucking voice on the other end of it?'

Hunter avoided most of the flying objects as he struggled to reach his angry lover. Capturing his wrists in his hands, Hunter dragged him away to the centre of the room. 'Jesus, Sebastian, quit being a whiny little bitch-!' Eyes burning with renewed anger, Sebastian fought back harder and they struggled against one another until Hunter grew tired. 'Hey, hey...' he murmured softly, pulling the less muscular boy into his arms by force. He ran his lips along his ear, 'Hey, vanilla, calm down...' Sebastian panted and struggled less at hearing his nickname said with such ease. They were supposed to be fighting – what the hell? Hunter sensed his hesitance and slowly let go. 'All this energy you got...it's turning me on.' He stepped away and expertly stalked back and sat down perfectly on the edge of the bed. A suggestive brow arched up and he issued a smile. 'Can't we give this a rest now? C'mon, sexy, why don't you bring that attitude to bed, hmm?'

'Hunt-'

'You know the best way to relieve all that tension, right? Let me fuck you.'

Looking dumbfounded and at a loss as to what happened, Sebastian just stood in the centre of the bedroom. He watched as the man who had frequented his bed a lot over the last couple of months easily leaned his hands back on the mattress and parted his legs a little. His head tilted to the side, Hunter smirked and gave a non-too-subtle wink followed by a 'come here' jerk of the head. He noticed those pretty green eyes were drawn to the fly of his pants and it was obvious there was some 'naughty imagination' stuff going on as he felt himself be mentally undressed. 'Sebastian,' Hunter purred again, 'I said...let me fuck you.'

Sebastian's breathing became noticeably heavier and for many more moments he remained stuck within his inward battle. At last, though, he tentatively took a step forward. He took in the beckoning expression he was receiving and grew more confident with each stride. By the time he reached the bed, his own expression was lustful and heated. Hunter's smirk widened and he instinctively shuffled his legs apart wider so that Sebastian could stand between them. A hand pressed against his shoulder and the older man found himself lying back on the bed. Sebastian straddled him and caused a low rumbling moan to escape the man beneath him as he gently grinded into his hardening crotch. Lips lowered slowly, tongues flickered out to moisten them in anticipation. Breathing hitched, and one set of eyes closed out of habit.

'Ah-argh!' Hunter's eyes shot open when he felt his jaw being forced open and the rough, disgusting material of a used sock thrust into his unsuspecting mouth. He didn't want to but he bit down; it tasted awful. His tongue tried to force it out but then he realised Sebastian's fingers were holding it in. The slightly younger man glared down at him with a furious sneer.

'Hunter...get the fuck outta my home.'

A.N. Thoughts? Review or private message me if you want to share some ideas or comments. Really hope my first non-Klaine attempt works out!