Here only for Klaine, Klaine fanfic and Klaine fanart ~ Klaine fanfic’s voracious reader ~ Fanfic writers are a gift to humanity ~ Rereading a favorite fanfic is like catching up with an old friend
any fics where Blaine is older and Kurt’s friends are jealous
hello. I'm not sure of fics where the friends are jealous. Here are some where friends like Rachel and Santana played a prominent part. ~Jen
When The Time Is Right by lostinfictionalworlds.
Kurt is 25, successful, handsome and sought after by all, but still looking for more, Bar Owner Blaine 10 years his senior is on the exact same journey of looking for love and life. A/U Rated M for use of swearing, sexual references and scenes of a heavy sexual nature.
~~~
Bite Your Lip, Pull Me In by rayychel infinity
Age difference: Blaine is 40, Kurt is 19, and this is the story of how a chance meeting between a successful businessman and a struggling young intern blossoms into something wonderfully unexpected.
~~
Wake Me Up Inside Trilogy by MrsCriss2012
Kurt Hummel is a shy, insecure fifteen year old. Blaine Anderson is a thirty one year old musician. When their worlds collide, Blaine discovers he’s powerless to resist the lure of Kurt’s eyes and his exquisite voice, and Kurt begins a journey of awakening. *There is a large passage of time in this story meaning no illegal happenings!*
World-famous figure skater Blaine Anderson loses his costume designer just before the Sochi Olympics. When his manager brings in Kurt Hummel as the replacement, Blaine gets more than brilliant costumes. He also gets another chance at love.
A story about falling in love as an adult who's been in serious relationships before, interwoven with themes about preserving your voice and humanity when powerful politicians are trying to fuck everyone over. You know, in case any of you can relate.
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5147468/chapters/11849801
Chapters: 28/28
Word Count: 65,254
Fandom: Glee
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Characters: Blaine Anderson, Kurt Hummel, Sue Sylvester, Sebastian Smythe, Adam Crawford, plus varied and sundry cameos including Sam Evams, Santana, the McCarthy Twins, Mike Chang, and Becky Jackson
Additional Tags: Sochi 2014 Winter Olympics, Kurt Hummel & Sebastian Smythe Friendship, Past Adam Crawford/Kurt Hummel, fluff with minor drama, Heartwarming, character-driven smut, Anti-Vladimir Putin, Gay Rights, Russian Politics (more on AO3, including sex acts you pervs)
Art: @esilher made beautiful fanart and it's here!
The collage is just the ebook cover I made for my Calibre library. Feel free to download it for similar purposes. All photos but the Kurt and Blaine ones are from Unsplash.com. I know the K&B photos look a little young for 30, but older photos of the actors are so obviously the actors and not the characters, I can't bring myself to use them. (another version under the cut because I wasn't happy with the resolution I was able to get on the Blaine screenshot above)
For a young Mormon man attending at Brigham Young University, finding a wife is just as important as earning a degree. The only problem, as far as Utah native Blaine Anderson can see it, is that none of the girls he dates make him feel the way he does when he's with his fellow student and former missionary companion Kurt Hummel.
Read on AO3.
Title: Exactness and Honor
Banner by @gleefulpoppet
Words: ~20,000
Chapters: 3/3
Fandom: Glee (TV 2009)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Characters: Blaine Anderson, Kurt Hummel, Brittany S. Pierce, Santana Lopez, Sunshine Corazon
Additional Tags: Mormonism, Closeted Blaine Anderson, First Kiss, First Time, Bottom Blaine Anderson, Dry Humping, Masturbation, Anal Play, soaking (penetration with no thrusting), Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending (more tags on AO3)
read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/AK9VBek
by promiscuousjuno
Kurt Hummel is starting his first year at university when he encounters his roommate Blaine Anderson who is all around not a good guy but there's just something so attractive about him that he can't seem to stay away.
Words: 940, Chapters: 2/?, Language: English
Fandoms: Glee (TV 2009)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Categories: M/M
Characters: Kurt Hummel, Blaine Anderson, Santana Lopez, Burt Hummel
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Additional Tags: Gay Sex, Gay Male Character, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex, Alternate Universe - College/University, Bad Boy Blaine Anderson, Drama & Romance, Bottom Kurt Hummel, Virgin Kurt Hummel
Chapters: 13/14
Fandom: Glee (TV 2009)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Characters: Blaine Anderson, Kurt Hummel
Additional Tags: Klaine Valentine’s Challenge 2025, Married Life, Post-Canon
Summary:
Blaine and Kurt have been happily married for almost 13 years. They’ve worked through problems. Accomplished many things and are raising two crazy, but amazing children. Navigating through life with children and full-time jobs makes it hard for them to connect like they used too. They want to get back into their groove. So, Blaine decides to take his time reminding Kurt of just how much he loves him. Jesse and Rachel offering to take their kids to California with them for two weeks, just might give them that time they need.
Anderson’s Guide to the Birds of North America, Chapter 8: Show Me Love
Summary: Fourteen scenes from the lives of Blaine Anderson, grad student and avid birder, and Kurt Hummel, clothing designer and Vogue writer, from before their first meeting during the COVID lockdowns of spring of 2020 through falling in love. Written for the Klaine Valentine’s Challenge 2025.
Also on AO3.
~~~
Chapter 8: Show Me Love
“Rapunzel! Rapunzel! Let down your bucket!”
Kurt heard the call through the open window. He slammed his laptop shut and climbed out onto the fire escape. “What are you doing here, handsome? I was just about to get on Zoom for our chat!”
Blaine was down on the sidewalk, craning his neck to face Kurt. “I wanted to see you in the flesh! Plus, I have a present that cannot be transported over the internet.”
“A present? You know the ways of my heart!”
“Maybe. You should wait to make that judgment until after you see the present.”
Kurt reached back through the window for the bucket they kept there for deliveries ever since building management sent out a notice that the corridors and elevators were getting too crowded and people needed to spend less time in them. It was attached to a long rope Kurt had braided together from fabric scraps since the hardware store down the street was still closed.
As Kurt lowered the bucket down, Blaine rubbed his hands with sanitizer and pulled from his backpack a bundle the size of a very large bagel, wrapped in multicolored cloth with a pattern Kurt couldn't make out clearly from this distance, but seemed to match the fabric of Blaine’s mask.
The package felt slightly heavier than a bagel as Kurt hoisted the bucket back up. When he pulled the package out, he saw the fabric was a densely woven cream cotton muslin dotted with impressionistic illustrations of birds and their calls written next to their beaks in thin black cursive.
The brown bird with a yellow breast and black mask caught his eye. It was singing “witchity-witchity-witchity!” He pointed to it and called down to Blaine, “Is that a common yellowthroat?”
“You know what it is!” Blaine bounced on his toes and clapped.
“Of course I do!” Kurt had been reading the Field Guide to the Neighborhood Birds of New York City and Birds of New York City rather obsessively since borrowing them from Blaine. It was better than doomscrolling social media. “I figured I needed to learn the ones with ‘common’ in their names first!”
“You can keep the wrapping if you want. I’ve already made enough masks of it to outfit every birder I know with a different one for each day of the week.” Blaine pointed to his own mask.
“‘If I want’? As if I ever would have given this back to you! I have so many ideas for it already.”
“Of course you do.” Blaine chuckled. “Now, about what's inside, it's not brand new, but I cleaned it, and of course you could fumigate it with whatever except for … well, I'll tell you in a minute.”
Kurt untied the bundle and found, at its center, two masks of the same fabric and a neoprene case inside of which was tucked a pair of binoculars. “Blaine!” he squealed. And then again, “Blaine!”
“I couldn't stand that all you had were opera glasses to look through. These are going to give you so much better resolution. You'll get so much more detail, and of course the image is bigger, too. They were my introductory pair before I upgraded and I've always kept them around just in case and … Well, now’s my ‘just in case.’ They have a tight seal so you can wash them in soap and water—rinse them, I mean, don’t submerge them—and I already did that and I sanitized the outside with a diluted bleach solution and the lenses with rubbing alcohol and I wore gloves and I put the case through the laundry but you can do all that again if you want. Oh, and the masks have a polypropylene layer in the center because that’s supposed to be better for filtering …”
Kurt sniffled and wiped his eyes with the back of his freshly laundered sleeve. He'd become an old hand at not touching his face in the previous weeks. “Thank you so much. I can't—” He sniffled again.
“Oh,” Blaine said much more quietly. “I didn't mean to— Did I do something wrong?”
“No, dummy. It's perfect. You're perfect.” It wasn't just the binoculars. It was the fact that Blaine kept showing up for Kurt every single day since they had first met, that he so freely and unabashedly shared himself and the things he loved with Kurt and got equally excited over the things Kurt loved, and that he kept coming up with little and big ways to make Kurt happy during what would otherwise doubtless qualify as one of the shittiest times in Kurt’s life.
“Well, then. I’m glad you like it.” Blaine’s eyes danced. “And that you like me. I think you're pretty perfect, too.”
After his father's death, Kurt took over the family business, a diner that was Burt Hummel's pride and joy. He never thought he could be happy in Lima, but five years later he can't picture himself anywhere else. His husband does not understand his sudden love for the small town he was once desperate to leave behind. Blaine Anderson never had much, but he loves the diner. His entire life revolves around it ever since he met Burt when he was still a kid and he took Blaine under his wing. Now that Burt's gone, it looks like Blaine doesn't have a reason to stay around… except for one he's not willing to admit to anyone, sometimes not even himself.
Chapter wordcount: 8358.
Read it on AO3.
He wasn’t entirely sure what woke him up, but he knew it wasn’t the alarm. Blaine didn’t know why it had failed to ring – perhaps he had slapped it off in his sleep. So the first thought he had that morning was that he was going to be late for work.
Chapters: 10/14
Fandom: Glee (TV 2009)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Characters: Kurt Hummel, Blaine Anderson, Cooper Anderson, Santana Lopez, Rachel Berry, Sam Evans (Glee), Original Characters
Additional Tags: Waiter Kurt Hummel, Sexy Times, Sweet Blaine Anderson, Angst
Summary:
Cooper takes Blaine to a restaurant geared toward women and gay men called Cowpokes where the waiters wear cowboy hats, chaps, thongs and not much of anything else. After meeting Kurt one time Blaine can’t get him out of his mind.
read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/K7H3sMt
by GleefulPoppet
Kurt Hummel may have recently just had his thirtieth birthday, but he's already on his way to a mid-life crisis. Addicted to work as a distraction from his personal life being in shambles, he sets sail on a cruise for seven whole days to get away from it all and try to find some peace. Just as his shoulders think about relaxing, he hears a voice behind him that sends his heart whirling. What are the chances he'd embark on the same cruise as his ex-fiancé?
Reader prompt fill.
Words: 4879, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Series: Part 3 of Reader Prompt One-Shots
Fandoms: Glee (TV 2009)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: M/M
Characters: Blaine Anderson, Kurt Hummel
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Additional Tags: AU, if you squint really hard this could sort of be canon compliant, but I'm considering it an AU because they are 30, fluff and love, Second Chances, Cruise, night club, sexy times but not in too much detail, always a happy ending for my boys, Klaine Friendly
missed connections (klaine secret santa 2024) - Chapter 1/Prologue
So @cryscendo . . .Happy/Merry (late) Christmas!
Apologies yet again for the lateness of this Klaine Secret Santa gift . . I hope you'll enjoy it . .
A missed connection encounter refers to a situation where two people have the potential to form a significant bond but fail to do so, often due to timing, circumstances, or misunderstandings. It's a moment of connection that remains unexplored.
****
It is 1893. Vogue Magazine is in its second year of publication.
One of its most popular writers, Kurt Hummel, is both worshipped and feared by his readers - his ability to cut down or to uplift those yearning for social acceptance and acknowledgment rivals the influence that even those of the illustrious Four Hundred had.
When Kurt is assigned a new illustrator for his column, he is not pleased. In fact, he despises Blaine Anderson on sight. How could he not, after how their previous first encounter had ended . . .
For the Klaine Secret Santa Exchange 2024
Prompts: Period/Historical - AU - Enemies to Lovers - Vogue!Kurt
Figureskating!Blaine/designer!Kurt Olympics AU for december klaine fanworks challenge. Also on AO3.
Kurt drifted off after their second go-round of the morning. He was so magnetic, even in his sleep—his hair love-mussed, his bare arms stretched across Blaine, the sheets so low on his hips Blaine could see the top of the slanted line where the muscles of abdomen and thigh came together.
Kurt would be hungry when he woke up. Blaine’s own appetite was starting to kick into gear, a sign that it was finally starting to acclimate to the new time zone—or maybe just that he had expended a lot of energy during their lovemaking. He smiled at the thought, kissed Kurt on the forehead (Kurt made a soft murmur in response) and stepped into the shower before putting on the same clothes he’d worn to the hotel the night before.
He decided to stop at the café in the hotel lobby to grab some tea and check his emails before venturing out in search of authentic Caucasus delicacies for Kurt’s breakfast. When he stepped inside, he was surprised to find Sebastian was also there, sipping coffee by the window over a plate of syrniki.
Sebastian didn't see him. He was looking out the window, watching the scenery dreamily. It was strange to see Sebastian still and contemplative. In all the years they had known each other, Blaine had only seen Sebastian slow down like this a handful of times. If Blaine caught Sebastian alone, he was usually on his smartphone—and before those had been a thing, his dumbphone or his PDA or his laptop—making plans and schmoozing the right people to get one step closer toward clinching a deal or achieving some other clearly defined goal.
Blaine was wondering if he should go over and say hello now, or wait until Sebastian had naturally exited his reverie, when a man with fashionably disheveled dirty-blond hair walked right up to Sebastian's table as if he belonged there, pulled out the chair opposite Sebastian, and sat down. Sebastian slowly turned from the window and when he did, it was apparent from the expression on his face that the stranger did, in fact, belong there. Sebastian smiled with a childlike delight Blaine had only observed the few times he’d seen his friend and manager on ecstasy.
The two men began chatting—only from the tones and expressions and the mostly-empty plate with one piece of toast that sat on the stranger’s side of the table that Blaine only now noticed, it became obvious to Blaine that it wasn't a beginning. It was a continuation of a conversation that had started long before. They were laughing about something, and Blaine picked up snippets like “boarding school” and “first” and “vanity” and “America” and then, with less laughter, “picture-perfect life, but it was all in my head.” The man’s accent was English, with ‘r’s that were soft and ‘t’s that caught in the back of his throat, reminiscent of the way Adele or Billie Piper spoke.
Sebastian spoke, too, the English guy watching him with interest. He must have been about their age, or maybe in his mid-thirties, but the contented expression on his pleasantly chiseled face made him look younger. He wore an earthy green henley and, around his neck, something that looked like a dog tag but wasn't quite the right shape.
“You’re building a fire, not inventing it!” The English guy had launched into a Scottish(?) accent with hard ‘r’s and aspirated ‘t’s, and it took a few seconds of watching Sebastian crumple up into giggles before Blaine realized it was an impersonation of Mrs. Hughes from Downton Abbey—Sebastian watched Downton Abbey?—for Blaine to realize he was staring like a total weirdo.
That realization prompted Blaine to walk over and say hello like a normal person. “Hey, Sebastian.”
Sebastian startled and blinked his eyes. “Oh, hey Blaine.” Something about Sebastian’s expression made Blaine feel the way he had the time he walked into the wrong church in Paris and found himself being stared at by a sanctuary full of people confused to find a guy in mustard yellow chinos standing where a bride should be. “I forgot— I mean—” Sebastian cleared his throat. “Adam Crawford, this is Blaine Anderson, the client I mentioned. Blaine, this is Adam. He’s a journalist. He works for … Oh. Did you say?”
Blaine was confused. What kind of breakfast was this? They were talking like old friends, but also this guy was a journalist? No. If this guy was a journalist, that meant this was a business breakfast, and Sebastian was just buttering the guy up, trying to get an interview set up to keep Blaine in the spotlight. Except, if this was a business breakfast, Sebastian was being unusually terrible at business. He should know what venue the guy was from. That was the first thing you asked a journalist, if the journalist didn't tell you first.
The Adam guy laughed as he shook Blaine’s hand. “Maybe not. We’ve had more compelling things to chat about. It’s nice meeting you, Mr. Anderson. Your fame precedes you.”
“—and Blaine, this is Adam. He lives in London, originally from Essex, went to school in New York. Prior to becoming a television presenter for—” Sebastian raised a questioning eyebrow at Adam.
“The BBC,” Adam supplied.
“—he worked on Broadway and off-Broadway and TV and …” Sebastian started to rattle off a bunch of shows and small indie movies Blaine thought he might have heard of but certainly had not seen. It quickly veered off into more discursive speech, which turned into a bout of story swapping between Adam and Sebastian in which their only goal seemed to be to out-delight each other, and ten minutes later Blaine was still standing there without any tea.
He regretted ever coming over here in the first place. But what was he to do? He had to stick around. He was clearly the whole reason Sebastian and Adam were having breakfast in the first place. Blaine pulled up a chair, signaled the waiter, and ordered his tea along with some blini, because if he was going to be stuck here, he needed some sustenance.
“So, you two are setting up an interview? When for? What about? And how long will you need?” Blaine asked when there was finally a pause in the back and forth, well after his plate of blini had already arrived.
They stared at him blankly.
Blaine, confused, barreled onward. “Also, it would be helpful to understand why the BBC wants an interview with an American figure skater when UK Sport barely supports its own and the BBC itself doesn’t broadcast the British or European Figure Skating Championships or even the Worlds anymore.”
Again, that stare. Was Blaine coming on too strong? He had a reputation among reporters for being sweet, and maybe listing the UK’s sins against figure skating didn't come across as sweet. Okay. He’d be more diplomatic.
“You know what? If I can bring more attention to the sport in the UK, I’m all in. Just, please, give more airtime to Matthew Parr than to me. Maybe you could interview the two of us together? We could talk about the differences in support in our respective countries, and what the UK might do to grow competitive figure skating.”
“Oh.” Finally, Adam said something. “Oh! I didn't even think of that. But it would make sense, that I might want to interview you. Because you're a famous Olympic athlete, and I’m here covering the Olympics.”
“You’re not— You’re not …?” Blaine looked at Sebastian for help. He was so confused.
“Oh, Blaine. My sweet summer child. This isn’t a business breakfast. Adam’s staying at the hotel. We met in the lobby.”
The gears turned in Blaine’s brain and something clicked into place and he finally understood why this entire situation was so weird—why he had stared for so long before saying hello, and why he had felt so out of place since making his presence known. This was a date, or whatever Sebastian wanted to call breakfast with a conventionally hot guy he’d recently met in a hotel lobby. Except, Sebastian didn’t do dates. He thought it was too much light courting: old-fashioned, time-consuming, and completely superfluous to the acquisition of sex. And yet, here Sebastian was, eating breakfast and flirting with Mr. Chiseled Face.
“Should I move to another table?” Blaine asked.
Sebastian and Adam both laughed. They insisted he didn't have to. And it would have been just as awkward to move tables as to stay, and rude to the waiter. So he stayed. Besides, it was interesting, watching Sebastian be all smiley and flirty, with no signs of intoxication nor a hint of manipulation. What was the world coming to? Blaine was going to have to tell Kurt about this.
~~~
Blaine forgot all about it by the time he arrived back at the hotel with fresh-baked pogacha, a small jar of local honey, some Circassian cheese, and three kinds of churchkhela for Kurt to sample. He cracked Kurt’s door open to find him still asleep in bed and went back to the suite’s entryway to get the espresso started. He already knew how much his boyfriend(!) loved caffeine, and he figured Kurt would want a double shot at minimum to get started after his travel and their active night. He popped the first pod into the espresso machine.
It made a loud, heinous screech.
Blaine leapt to the bedroom door and grabbed the handle. But the damage had already been done. Kurt turned over in the bed and grumbled, pulling the covers over his face. “Sorry, honey,” Blaine whispered. “I forgot how loud these espresso makers are.”
Kurt lowered the blanket, revealing half-open eyes. “Honey?” The corner of his mouth twitched in suppressed amusement. “I’m your honey now?”
“If you don’t like that, you could be my darling, or my sweetie—” Blaine settled on the edge of the bed, kissing Kurt’s shoulder between each endearment “—or my soltsne, or my milyi, or my lyubimyi.”
“Mmmm,” Kurt sighed and pulled Blaine onto him, squeezing him into a full-body hug. “Is it safe to assume all those Russian ones are complimentary, mon petit chou?”
“As long as you’re okay with sunshine, favorite, and—” Blaine contemplated which translation to go with for lyubimyi, and decided to be daring “—loved one.”
Kurt giggled. “No one's ever called me sunshine before. Especially not when I just woke up.”
“Well, you’re mine, soltsne. Now, let me serve you breakfast in bed.”
Blaine finished making the espresso, then poured in a little milk and heated it in the frother. Not the world's fanciest latte, but it was made with love. He removed the tray from under the espresso maker, set the coffee and the bounty from his morning shopping expedition on it, and brought it to the bed. Kurt devoured the pogacha, tearing the rolls in half and topping them with cheese and drizzles of honey, but he was more hesitant about the churchkhela.
“Are you sure I'm supposed to eat those? They look like candles.”
“Actually, the process for making them is a lot like dipping candles. They string together nuts and then they dip the string in grape juice or mulberry juice that's been cooked down until it's the consistency of caramel, and when they hang it to dry it cools into this. You can pull out the string and break it into little pieces like this—” Blaine demonstrated with the sweet churchkhela made of hazelnuts and white grape juice “—or—” he picked up a string of walnuts coated in sour red grape juice “—bite into it and pull it off the string with your teeth. It’s like—” Blaine had to pause for a moment because he had bitten off a piece and the churchkela was like taffy, sticking in his teeth “—really thick fruit leather.”
“Oh!” said Kurt after trying a bite of the sweet one. “It tastes much better than it looks. Not like wax at all.”
They chewed contentedly, sometimes quiet in the pleasure of being in the same space and sharing something good, sometimes making a small observation that seemed much larger and more significant when it was shared. Later, while Kurt cleaned up and dressed for the day, Blaine read Russian news on his phone and noticed he hadn’t received any new texts from Cooper about Russia's new anti-LGBT law—or with an apology.
When Kurt reemerged from the bathroom, it was with the energy of a whirlwind. “I haven't even shown you yet! I have to show you!” He rifled through his suitcase, pulled out a muslin bag closed by a drawstring, and handed it to Blaine. “For the team event. After you told me about the music, I remembered a particular blue fabric I had in my stash and I was struck with inspiration. I only had time to cut the pieces in New York but not finish it on the machine, so I basted it by hand and did the trimmings on the airplane and in layovers. Be gentle with it when you try it on. I mean, unless you can tell right away that you don't like it. In that case, it doesn't matter what happens to it.”
Blaine’s place in the team event had been secured before they left Colorado Springs. During the meeting Blaine had almost missed because he was too pissed off from the interview with his brother to remember where he was supposed to be (and so naturally had gravitated toward the comfort of the costume room and Kurt), Sam's knee had already started to swell up from his earlier crash. By the next morning, it was the size of a grapefruit half. Even with cortisone shots, there were concerns about the effect on his performance in the team event, which was right at the beginning of the games. That wouldn't just affect Sam, but Mike and Kitty and Mason and Madison and everyone else participating in the team event. Sam himself was worried about the risk of worsening his chances for medaling in men’s singles if he pushed himself instead of letting himself heal up fully. He’d given Blaine his blessing, in his insecure way: “It's smart to save the top figure skater for the singles event, anyway. We don't want me wasting all my energy on the team event when I'm the USA's only chance for gold. With you in the line-up, the team might still get bronze. That's one thing you can say for old geezers. They're dependable enough.”
Blaine had texted the news while Kurt was flying from Colorado Springs to New York: Good news and bad news. Bad news is Sam hurt himself worse than we thought. Good news(?) is that now I'm doing the team event. I don't feel like I earned it, but I want to skate like I did. I haven't talked about this with you—or anyone, really—but the past season or two, I was starting to feel so burned out. I mean, Sam hasn’t been completely wrong when he’s accused me of being old and washed up. That’s how I was acting, and how I was feeling inside. I didn’t really care anymore. And then you showed up, and you cared so much about your own work, and about bringing my vision to life, and I remembered that I had a vision. That there was something I wanted people to feel and experience when they watched me skate, and that there are kids looking up to me who just want to see somebody like them doing something meaningful. I remembered what it felt like to care, and that what I'm doing in Sochi matters. So, thank you for that.
“Oh, Kurt!” Blaine felt the precious weight of the costume as Kurt placed it in his hands. They hadn't talked about Kurt making another costume. Obviously, Blaine couldn’t wear his old one by he-who-must-not-be-named because of the weird contract, and he wouldn't wear one of the others Kurt had made because they were specific to the programs they were designed for. He’d figured he’d wear something off-the-shelf, and had in fact packed several choices for Kurt to give his opinion on. But this—another entire costume from scratch. “You didn't have to do this. But I’m so glad you did. You amaze me, Kurt.”
“You haven't even opened the bag yet, silly,” Kurt teased, but he looked inordinately pleased by Blaine’s reaction. “You need to try it on first to see if I deserve any of your praise.”
The costume was a beautiful azure that reminded Blaine of Kurt’s eyes, and when he put it on, a fine plume of tiny, lightly colored rhinestones trailed up Blaine’s left thigh and up toward the center of his chest where his heart lay, expanding into a fine spray over his shoulders that Blaine knew would look like sparkling dew drops from far away from the stands or a camera lens. He stood in front of the mirror, the winter sunlight streaming in and illuminating the tiny prisms.
“A bluebird reference,” Kurt said, touching his hand to Blaine’s wrist, where the fabric flared out like wingtips. “I mean, I know the version you're skating to has the lyrics taken out because the International Skating Union wants to wait until next season to catch up with the modern world, but this is a way to bring them back. And the rhinestones—obviously I couldn't wrap you up in a big rainbow flag, but—” Kurt guided Blaine to twist toward the window.
“They’re a rainbow!” Blaine gasped as the rhinestones refracted the light into green and purple and red and yellow. The costume was beautiful in its own right, but in the context of the music and his life and Sochi, it transcended mere beauty. It was perfect.
How did Kurt understand him so well? By what magic did he take Blaine’s dreams and longings and express them in something tangible? “We didn't even talk about design ideas, but you understood everything. I …” Blaine felt tears pressing against the back of his eyes. He wanted so intensely to tell Kurt that he loved him, the way he'd wanted to half a dozen times during their lovemaking that morning, when instead he’d bitten his tongue to keep himself from blurting it out in the heat of passion because it must be too soon, because he might be falling in love, but surely he couldn't have arrived there yet.
But Blaine was already there, wasn't he? Had been there since Kurt’s first day at the Olympic Training Center, before they'd even shaken hands. Up until now, he’d thought of his feelings as falling in love, the falling separate from the love itself as journey is from destination. Even when Kurt had confessed his own state of falling the night before, Blaine had interpreted it to mean that Kurt was hurtling toward love, but hadn’t arrived quite yet.
But now, Blaine understood that, at least for him, the journey and the destination were the same thing. He loved Kurt. That love had plenty of room to grow, but it was still love.
“I couldn't have you wearing something off the rack or a costume meant for a different song and a different program,” Kurt said. “It would bring me professional shame. Besides, you inspire me too.”
The moment passed for Blaine to say anything. And maybe that was just as well. Blaine wanted to speak the words in a place and moment where Kurt couldn’t mistake them for misplaced horniness or gratefulness or sentimentality. He wanted Kurt to know that he meant it with his whole heart.
Kurt got out his travel sewing machine. As he sewed over and flattened his basted seams, they discussed whether they should do anything to avoid Sue’s suspicions. They would be riding over together with Sebastian, but that didn't mean they had to enter the skating arena together. Of course, Kurt would need to help Blaine with his costume before he went out, and Sue knew that. So maybe it would be weirder if they appeared separately, an obvious signal that they were trying to fly under the radar.
“Ugh. This is stressing me out just thinking about it,” Blaine said, flopping backward onto the now-made bed—not because housekeeping had been there, but because Kurt was apparently the kind of guy who made his bed every morning even when he didn't have to. “I'm terrible at lying. And sneaking around isn't technically lying, but I can't see how it would be any less stressful than getting Sue’s wrath. I think it would be more stressful. But also, I want you to be comfortable, because I don't think I can be comfortable if you're not comfortable …”
“I'm not really worried about Sue,” Kurt said. “She predicated punching me in the face on so many variables. If I avoid Provincetown, I should be good.”
“She specifically threatened to punch you only in Provincetown?”
“The circumstances were even more specific than that, but—” Kurt waved one hand in the air, dismissing whatever convoluted picture Sue had painted during her threat. “I just don't want to make trouble when you two need to be on the same page.”
“Sue and I are rarely on the same page. That friction is one of our strengths. She sees things I don't and I see things she doesn't. But I promise you, whatever happens, she's not going to punch you in the face. She wouldn’t risk the possible damage to her fingers. Besides, the U.S. Figure Skating banishes members who commit violence on their colleagues. Heck, it even banishes members whose abusive ex-husbands hire someone to commit violence on their colleagues. She’s not stupid.”
“You think my face would damage her fist?”
“The hardest bone in the human body is the jawbone. Hitting it with your bare fist is like trying to smash a marble statue with toothpicks.”
Kurt looked up from his sewing. “You seem to have given this a lot of thought.”
“Well, I do come from a hockey family,” Blaine laughed. “But also, I use to kickbox.”
Kurt peered at Blaine. “Really? Sue was okay with that?”
“Oh, it was way before Sue. I was 13 when I came out to my parents. My dad thought I should learn some self-defense skills.” At least, that's what Blaine’s father had said. At the time, Blaine couldn't also help but feel that his dad hoped getting him involved in something a little more masculine than figure skating might change him. All these years later, it was still difficult to tease out what his father meant from what he said.
Maybe that's why Blaine liked Sue so much. She usually meant what she said, and when she didn't, it was because she was being over the top, exaggerating her feelings instead of trying to hide them.
That thought decided things for Blaine. “We should be ourselves around Sue,” he said. “She’s the one making trouble where trouble doesn't belong. She'll come to see that.”
Blaine is more than a bit stressed with college finals looming, and something in the back of his mind is making him feel all out of sorts. Luckily, his roommate is amazing, and he comes home to find a surprise waiting for him. It's just what he needed to... Oh.
You can read it on AO3 [here].
[Posted 01/01/2025]
Hi do you know of the fic where Kurt is older and is rich or something and Blaine is younger and is struggling to pay for college and they meet on an app called sugar or something like that ?
Hello - that is the 2024 fic:
Undiscovered by @heartsmadeofbooks
All Blaine Anderson needs is a little help to put himself through school. That’s all. But he’s going to get so much more than he hoped for when he meets Kurt Hummel, the successful, sexy workaholic who in turn needs someone to make the loneliness disappear.
Enjoy! ~Jen
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