I saw that limiro has been feeling sick and requested some fic. I hope you feel better soon! This is just Sebastian and Kurt being ridiculous and somewhat drunk after discovering Dildo Island is not what they thought.
The bar’s not too rowdy for a Saturday night but there’s some sort of sports game on every television screen in the place and most people are wearing a red or blue jersey of some kind.
With their dressier clothing, Sebastian and Kurt look completely out of place.
"Sorry you boys had to come out during game night," Leslie says, pouring them another shot. "I’ll get you out the back if it gets hairy in here."
Leslie, Sebastian has come to learn, owns the only Bed & Breakfast in town, as well as the only bar and one of three convenience stores. He can’t help but admire her ambition almost as much as he admires her cunning.
She picks off the out-of-towners with her warm smile, brings them into her establishment and under her wing. Before you know it, you’re doing body shots at her bar and stopping into her shop at check-out the next morning, craving any kind of hangover cure you can get your hands on.
He wonders why she isn’t president.
The crowd erupts in a thunderous cheer, fists pounding tables as the red-shirted crowd lets out a low tone of booing.
Leslie gestures to their shot glasses with a grin. “Drink up, boys- tradition around here is that you take a shot for every goal scored.”
Kurt’s crestfallen expression shifts to one of careless abandon before he downs the shot without so much as a wince.
That’s when Sebastian know it’s going to be a long night.
He loses Kurt in the five minutes it takes him to visit the bathroom and return to the bar. The crowd’s up milling around the room, while a man dressed in the ugliest suit Sebastian has ever seen gestures angrily on the television screens.
There’s a moment of panic- something left over from their Ohio days, from their cautious city life- where Sebastian tries to remember if nine-one-one even works in Canada, before Kurt stumbles out of a group of red and blue shirts to throw his arms around him joyously.
"Joe just made me a Canadian," he announces. "I puked in a bucket after but he said everyone does that." He blinks hard at Sebastian. "I want to live here forever.”
"I don’t think Joe has the authority to tie his own shoelaces," Sebastian says, dragging them back towards the exit. "Why do you smell like fish?"
Kurt laughs until they’re stumbling out into the cold night air. Sebastian doesn’t let him go, crinkling the back of his jacket in his fist when Kurt tries to spin around. “If you fall on your ass in the mud, I’m going to leave you there for Leslie to find.”
Kurt huffs, breathing clouding the air. “It smells so good here. Like, dirt and nasal spray. But clean. Look at the sky, there’s sequins everywhere.”
Sebastian watches Kurt tumble into the long grass on the side of the road with a small smile he can’t contain. “Grass stains.”
"Fuck the grass stains," Kurt mutters into the night, stretching out and patting the grass beside him. "Lay with me, Sebastian- I’m afraid there’s bugs but I don’t want to get up yet."
Sebastian tips his head back to sigh up at the sky before taking the spot to Kurt’s right. The ground’s too hard to be comfortable and cold in a way that’s really unappealing until Kurt rolls onto his side and curls against him.
"I’m sorry there weren’t any dildos."
Sebastian reaches a hand up to brush against the back of Kurt’s head. “It’s fine, we’ll just have to think of a fantastic way to get Santana back once we get home.”
Kurt makes a sleepy sound, pressing his cold nose into the warmth of Sebastian’s neck. “I still like it here. It’s pretty, people are nice. Makes me want to buy a house.”
Kurt trails off, letting the noise of the night creep over them. Sebastian waits until he’s sure Kurt’s too sleepy to hear him to say, “We’ll come back for our honeymoon.”
He nearly jumps out of his skin when Kurt hums and replies, “I’d kiss you but I kissed a fish earlier and I think I might throw up on us both and ruin your awful proposal if I move right now. Next time you talk about honeymoons, you better have a ring.”
Kissing a fish is part of a tradition in Newfoundland (where Dildo Island is located) in which main-landers (basically anyone who isn’t from Newfoundland) can get “Screeched In” and become honorary newfies.
There’s a little ceremony where you kiss a cod fish, recite an oath and then take a shot of Newfoundland Screech- a rum that is 40% alcohol.
Let’s take a moment to talk about this. I mean, because first off, “Tell cars not to hit kids.” Well, yeah, we do that all the fucking time, idiot. Ever seen signs like these?
We have classes and signs and laws about it, and people are constantly reminded. So your argument only works if we put up signs everywhere reminding assholes not to rape. But you’d rather talk about how rape victims have it coming to them.
But the dumbest part of this crap? Roads exist for cars to drive on. Children need to be careful to cross the street because they’re entering into an environment that exists specifically for something that is dangerous to them. The only way this shit is a valid comparison is if you think that bars, parties, and the world in general exists specifically for men to have sex with women. And I gotta break it to the guys who support this stupidity- your dicks are not that important. So knock off this bullshit and stop excusing rapists.