#flaming flamingo bashing

[lady-divine-writes]

Kurtbastian one-shot “Streaker” (Rated PG13)

Minutes before performing at a huge exhibition, in front of an enormous crowd and with dozens of renowned skaters, Kurt gets an epic case of cold feet. Sebastian and Blaine do their best to calm him down, but it's not working. Kurt says he'll only feel better if someone else makes a bigger ass out of themselves than he's going to.

And then, out of the blue, someone does. (1375 words)

Part 40 of Outside Edge

Read on AO3.

“I can’t … I can’t do this,” Kurt says, anxiously pacing the green room. “I can’t skate in this exhibition! Who am I kidding? I should just … I should leave right now.” He makes a beeline for the door, but Sebastian leaps in his way and intercepts him.

“Kurt” – Sebastian kneads the muscles of his boyfriend’s upper arms, trying to help him relax – “we talked about this. You’ve meditated over this. You can do this! I promise!”

“You think so!?” Kurt scoffs. “I’m sorry, but did you see Adam Rippon skate? He was flawless, Sebastian! Flawless! And the ShibSibs are here, Nathan Chen’s here.” Kurt gestures to the flat screen television on the wall displaying the rink below, with Nathan circling the ice, gearing up to perform. “He’s the quad king! By rights, they don’t even need the rest of us if he’s performing! Meryl and Charlie are here, Tessa and Scott …” Kurt’s hands drop to his sides, his gaze falls to his feet “… then there’s me - Kurt Hummel, from backwater Lima, Ohio, in an outfit I made myself like frickin’ Tonya Harding.”

“Well, I, for one, think you look incredible in this outfit.” Sebastian takes a step back to get the full effect of the crimson red, hand-stoned outfit Kurt labored months over especially for this exhibition – skin tight, and with a nude panel that makes it look essentially backless. Sebastian has spent many an uncomfortable and unfulfilled night fantasizing about Kurt in that outfit.

It makes Adam Rippon’s sheer burgundy top and black pants look like a Catholic school uniform.

“Plus, you didn’t bash anyone’s knee to get here, so that’s a point in your favor, isn’t it?” Blaine adds. But even though his attempts at humor during stressful situations usually get him a giggle, Kurt glares him down until he feels his skin pull back from his bones.

“Kurt” - Sebastian pulls his focus from a shrinking Blaine before the boy bursts into flames - “Kurt, you’ve got to calm down.”

“Calm down?” Kurt’s eyes snap to Sebastian’s face with the speed of an arrow leaving a crossbow. “Calm down!? How do you expect me to calm down!? Wh---what … what am I even doing here?”

“You deserve to be here, alright!? You earned the right to be here! You beat out hundreds of other skaters to perform at this exhibition. Do you remember what it says in the bio they printed in the program? Olympic hopeful.”

“B-but … b-but you wrote that bio!”

“So? They wouldn’t have printed it if it weren’t true! Because that’s what you are! An Olympic hopeful! You’re at the top of your game, Kurt! Most skaters will work their entire lives and never make it to where you are!”

Kurt sighs. His eyes drift to the row of windows overlooking the stadium below. Every seat is filled. It’s the largest non-competition crowd he’s ever seen in his life, and that makes his anxiety a thousand times worse. These people want to be here. They’re not here in support of their kid, or their sibling, or their teammate. These people paid sixty-dollars for the cheap seats; other people paid in upwards of a hundred and seventy-four dollars! Is his routine worth a hundred and seventy-four dollars a seat? He’s not too sure. “I wish I had your confidence in me. But right now …” Kurt’s attention shifts to the TV screen when he hears the crowd applaud and catches the tail end of Nathan Chen landing what had to be a stellar quad-quad combination “… I’m feeling a little overwhelmed.” He raises a hand to his mouth when Nathan lands another quad as easily as playing hopscotch. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Blaine races over with a small waste paper basket, but Sebastian waves him away.

“Hey …” He steps between Kurt and the screen, blocking his view of Nathan’s complicated footwork “… would it help you feel better if we made out? Maybe turning you on will turn the nerves off.”

Kurt raises an eyebrow at his coach’s suggestion. “How much of a turn-on will it be if I vomit in your mouth?”

Sebastian shrugs, a wicked smile sticking to his lips. “I don’t know, but some people are into that. Maybe we should get it on camera.”

“Sebastian!” Kurt clamps both hands over his mouth with that image glued to his brain. “You’re not helping!”

“Sorry, sorry. I was hoping that would make you laugh. I had a 50-50 chance.”

“Sebastian! This is serious! Everyone here brought their A game. And me? I feel like I’m somewhere in the vicinity of R. The only way I could possibly feel better about my performance is if someone, anyone, makes a bigger ass of themselves than me!”

Outside the green room windows, a handful of women scream, followed by a roar of laughter and cheering. Kurt looks at the screen, but where Nathan had been a moment before landing a triple Lutz, all Kurt can see are the backs of heads from people standing in their seats, and, in some cases, on their seats, to get a better view. The feed bounces from camera to camera, but none of them can seem to get a clear shot of the ice.

“Jesus Christ!” Kurt moans, face pointed to the heavens. “What’s happening now?”

“I don’t know.” Blaine heads for the windows, trying to catch a glimpse through the rush of people swarming the railings, but all he can see from his vantage point is security creating a wall to keep the performers in the green rooms separate from some altercation on the ice.

Sebastian starts to join him when he hears Kurt gasp, his eyes focused on the TV screen. Sebastian looks back to the broadcast feed. There’s someone sliding across the ice, in sneakers, being pursued by a wave of armed security guards. A rather husky, extremely hairy guy.

And he’s naked.

Correction. When the closest camera to the ice finally takes over the feed, Sebastian can see the man is sporting a novelty thong, a bright pink flamingo covering the man’s dick … but doing nothing to conceal his balls.

Blaine joins Kurt and Sebastian. The three stand in front of the screen as the camera zooms in on the streaker. He waves at the audience, laughing like a wild man. He leaps clumsily to avoid capture, the flamingo on his junk swinging left and right as he launches himself into the air. The peal of laughter filling the stadium is deafening, but boos begin to drown those out when he evades capture and the chase starts taking too long.

This is funny and all, but for a hundred and seventy-four dollars a seat, not what the crowd came to see.

When security finally tackles the man to the ice - a move that gets at least three cringing ooo’s - the audience gives security a standing ovation. Comments of, “Finally!”, “Thank God!”, and “Bring on the skaters!” travel around the crowd. Blaine shakes his head slowly, staring at the screen, unblinking.

“I … I can never un-see that,” Blaine says, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms.

“Yeah,” Sebastian agrees. “I mean … we just saw flamingos at the zoo last week … ugh …” He shudders, watching in morbid shock as security leads the man away.

During the excitement, Sebastian and Blaine lose track of Kurt, gathering up his things in the room behind them. Sebastian finally notices him doing a few test jumps, shaking out his shoulders and stretching his hamstrings with his game-face on. Sebastian smacks Blaine on the arm to get his attention, motioning towards his boyfriend with his chin.

“Kurt?” Sebastian says as Kurt grabs his bag – a rectangular leather clutch filled with his essentials: tissues, moisturizing face mist, Purell, Band-Aids, trail mix, and the like. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going down to the ice. I’m up in a few. You guys comin’?”

“Uh … yeah.” Sebastian exchanges a look with Blaine, who’s putting on his jacket. “Are you … are you going to be okay?”

“Don’t worry.” Kurt squares his shoulders and strides for the door. “I’ve got this.”