The Best Man in North America
A/N: So I actually wrote four drabbles for the Klaine Book Project, and of course only ended up submitting one. This is one of the others - a missing scene from "Big Brother" - with an amazing drawing by my artist, dreamingpartone, included at the bottom. Please check out her tumblr.
It’s Saturday and Kurt is lying on his stomach on Blaine’s bed, feet in the air and chin perched on his fists. He watches Blaine across the room, shuffling through his closet.
“Are you happy now,” Kurt asks, “that Cooper's gone?”
Blaine pauses, clutching the sleeve of a sweater. “Yes. No. I… we were good in the end. But I’m glad to be done with everyone fawning over him.”
Kurt winces, remembering his own behavior, remembering best-looking man in North America. “It would have passed, eventually. They’d have seen that he’s a narcissist, seen that he’s not half as good as you.”
“And you?” Blaine says, too careful, pulling a grey sweater off its hanger and pretending to examine it. “Did you see that?”
Kurt rises from the bed, coming up behind Blaine, twining his arms around Blaine’s waist and pressing a kiss to the warm skin of his neck. “I didn’t need to. I’ve always known it in my heart. I’m sorry,” he says, “if I got caught up in his fame and charm.”
Blaine chuckles, leaning his head back against Kurt’s shoulder. “I suppose I can forgive you. He does put on quite a show.”
“Your’s is better,” Kurt offers. “People love him for his gimmicks, but you… you only ever deliver yourself. Your passion is genuine, and it’s infectious. It’s the first thing about you I fell in love with.” He pauses, considering. “Well, maybe after your eyes. And the way that you saw me. And the way you took my hand…”
Blaine turns in his arms, the sweater forgotten, crushed mercilessly between their bodies. “Thank you,” he says, so full of sincerity it makes Kurt’s heart swell. He tips forward, leans up, and their lips brush sweetly. “I’ve just… I’ve always felt so dwarfed by him. I’ve fought so hard all my life to be seen as something more than his shadow, and then at some point I realized he wasn’t as flawless as I’d been telling myself all my life, and I just… I love him, but sometimes I hate the way he makes me feel.”
“You finally told him that,” Kurt says, and it’s not a question.
Kurt nods. “I’m glad. And as strange as it is, I’m grateful to him. I know it hasn’t been easy for you, but if he had a hand in making you the person you are today, Blaine…”
“Yeah,” Blaine says, nodding, understanding. “Me too. Plus, you know, if I actually decide to tell someone we’re related, he makes a great story…”
Kurt smiles, then steps back, looks between them and grimaces. “You can’t actually wear that now,” he says, plucking the offending garment from Blaine’s hand, “not until I’ve ironed it.”
“Kurt,” Blaine says. “I can iron it myself.”
Kurt regards him dubiously, but eventually concedes. “But you won’t need it for a while. I’ve got just the thing for our date night tonight, and then for school on Monday I was thinking we could coordinate; you can wear that green sweater you have and then this bowtie I made for you the other day, only I left it at home, and then Tuesday…”
Blaine has turned away to carefully re-hang the vest, placing it on the hook on his door, so Kurt misses his soft, amused smile.