spirit cold ➙ writings

not afraid to break.

Not Afraid to Break!

SUMMARY; It wasn't Kurt's fault he didn't want to be here. He had better things to do, and besides, this was the worst party he'd attended since moving to New York five years ago. Even the host must have ditched.

PROMPT; my friend dragged to me a party then abandoned me but you came up to me and we started talking and somehow i started talking about how i didn't want to be here while you start smirking when my friend comes back and introduces you as the host of the party and i blush really hard because i've been ranting about how boring it was for ten minutes ; au.

PAIRING(S); Kurt Hummel/Blaine Anderson; background Rachel Berry/Santana Lopez.

TRIGGER WARNINGS; Secondhand embarrassment.

NOTE(S); Title derived from Getaway Car by Lea Michele. // this prompt came up in my pinterest feed, and immediately, i know i couldn't resist its lure. so enjoy the first one shot i have written in five months. x

━━━━⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━

"Rachel, I don't want to be here!"

Kurt Hummel's protests did not prevent him from being aggressively dragged up countless stairs in a pricey apartment complex. The kind that he longed to afford someday. Such a feat would be likelier if he was allowed to work instead of being lugged around like cheap suitcases by his roommate.

Rachel Berry, short with forgettable brown hair and an unforgettable attitude, was full of pent-up frustration. That was the only explanation for how she could pull him like this.

"You won't say that once you meet the host. He's the one I told you about, with the breathtaking audition for Nicky? Let me just say, I wouldn't mind belting out My Man to him--"

"Make sure not to tell your girlfriend that."

Rachel stuck her tongue out childishly, despite being twenty-three and leading in a hit Broadway revival. "Santana would think he was attractive, too."

"If she swung that way."

"I'm going to swing you some way--"

Before Rachel could continue her threat, a door swung open. Kurt hadn't realized she'd stopped her borderline psychotic dragging until then. Santana Lopez hovered on the other side, a champagne glass in one hand and her iPhone in the other. "Tiny," she greeted Rachel, her smile on full-wattage. It dimmed when it landed on Kurt. "Lady Hummel."

Kurt was led into the loft by Rachel, who shrugged off her expensive faux-fur coat and hung it up. There were various other coats hanging on the same rack, each looking increasingly expensive. The elaborately unconventional designs made Kurt think of his job at Vogue, and his own sketchbook of potential designs at home. 

Home. How little he wished to be here.

"The least you could do is greet me with more dignity than you did in high school. I am the one who has to listen to you two sexing it up almost every night. And don't tell me to get my earplugs," Kurt added, glaring at Santana when she opened her mouth. "I've tried. You're both too loud for that."

Rachel wasn't listening, fixated on a group of people across the room. She squealed in delight, linking her arm through Santana's. "Oh, my director is here! Come on, I wanted to ask him about growing Fanny's hair out for the next year of performances." Without a second glance at Kurt, the two girls hurried into the crowd.