leela_cat: Starchild on table, back of Kurt's head (Starchild/Kurt)
leela_cat ([personal profile] leela_cat) wrote in [community profile] glam_100 on November 9th, 2013 at 06:01 pm
Prompt #107: Traffic
Title: Dear Mr. Fantasy
Author: Leela ([personal profile] leela_cat)
Pairing/Characters: Elliott "Starchild" Gilbert/Kurt Hummel
Rating: PG
Word Count: 8x100
Content/Warning(s): Preslash
Author's notes: Written for [community profile] glam_100, prompt #107: Traffic. Many thanks to @aislinntlc for the preread.

The song that Elliott and Kit sing is Dear Mr. Fantasy by Traffic.



Elliott slams through the apartment door, tosses his top hat at the coatrack, and with a moan of despair, flings himself onto the couch next to one of his roommates.

When Kit continues to play his guitar without looking up, Elliot sighs dramatically.

Pushing his bangs out of his face, Kit leans forward to write in his music notebook.

"Uncaring bastard," Elliott hisses and places his foot, still in his highest platforms, on top of the notebook.

"Yup, that's me."

"He hated me. Actually hated me. My look. My outfit. My everything."

"Asshole," Kit agrees, and returns to his song.



"I'm serious, Kitty."

Kit sticks out his tongue. "Don't call me that, not unless I'm dressed for it."

"He thinks I'm over the top. He wants mainstream."

"He thinks Starchild is over the top. He wants Elliott."

"Elliott is boring."

Kit stares at Elliott so intently that Elliott wants to put on the steampunk goggles and hide from him.

"How can you like someone who doesn't get Starchild?"

Elliott sits up, blinks at him. "Because it's Kurt."

"Uh huh."

"He's cute and small and he has a butt that..." Elliott shapes a curve in the air. "He's my Mr. Fantasy."



The guitar isn't tuned properly, but Kit plays a riff anyway and sings, not quite off-key, stretching out the music and twisting it to replace "us" with "Elliott."

"Dear Mr. Fantasy play us a tune. Something to make Elliott all happy."

Elliot ignores him in favor of resting a heel on the edge of the couch and unlacing his boots.

"Do anything, take us out of this gloom. Sing a song, play guitar, make it snappy."

By the second chorus, Elliott's feet are bare and he can't help singing along, sending his voice soaring over Kit's, almost feeling like smiling.



"Fuck him," Kit says, setting his guitar aside.

"I wish."

Elliott does. He wishes he'd reached out, pulled Kurt to him when he'd been on that table. That he'd curled his fingers in Kurt's ugly blue shirt, dragged him onto the table, kissed him, pressed him down...

Groaning, Elliott shifted on the couch. Lovely, now he's turned on and depressed. Fuck his life anyway.

"Starchildren don't give up, not that easily," Kit says. "Not if you really want him."

"I don't know how..."

"Figure it out." Kit stands up. "In the meantime, I have to go put my Kitty on."



Elliot lets Kitty talk him into going to her show, wearing full Starchild regalia: high heel boots, velvet shirt, leather pants and jacket. It makes him feel a little better, as does the attention he gets from one of the customers.

"I don't think so," Kitty says, inserting herself between Elliott and the guy. Chad or Tad or something like that. Elliott's sure he'd remember once he got the guy's mouth wrapped around his cock.

"Go." Kitty makes a shooing gesture. "Starchild and I are leaving."

The guy shrugs but doesn't argue.

Clearly he doesn't think Starchild's worth it either.



"Oh no, you don't." Kitty hooks her hand into the crook of Elliott's elbow. "You're not making up for being rejected by taking up with that loser."

Elliott figures it's a sign of how depressed he feels that he lets Kitty maneuver him out of the club and onto the street. Apparently he's buying her pie and coffee.

This time, it doesn't make him smile when people want to take pictures with one or both of them. It just makes his heart feel that much heavier and his smile that much more forced.

Then they walk past the Spotlight Diner.



"Oh my god," Elliott breathes, crashing to a halt.

They're still open, and have a crowd hanging around outside. But that's not who Elliott's looking at.

"It's him," he says, then clarifies with, "The guy singing to the group in the corner booth."

"That is a cute butt," Kitty says. "You should go for it."

Elliott shakes his head, because... No.

"Oh, and they have lemon meringue pie." Kitty tugs at his arm.

He resists, refusing to move, even though he's bound to have bruises from her grip.

"I can't," he says. "Not like this."

Because Kurt doesn't like Starchild.



"Tomorrow, then," Kitty says.

Elliott ducks instinctively when Kurt turns around. It's stupid, because no one can miss someone his height, in that outfit.

Except Kurt just moves to the next table, obviously not seeing Elliott, stabbing another knife into his ego. So he snaps at Kitty, "No."

"Yes," she says, "and you're going to let me pick out your outfit. I'll turn you into that idiot's Mr. Fantasy no matter how much it hurts my soul to even think about it."

Elliott smiles at her, and with one more glance into the diner, follows her over to the cabstand.


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