Things you said when you thought I was asleep.
Blaine’s not sure if he can trace it back to what started it, or who started it. All he knows is that Kurt is his best friend, and Kurt is here, and Kurt is currently doing things to him that a best friend usually wouldn’t.
His mouth is on him – has been for the better part of the last half hour, everywhere, all over – and it’s overpowering in the most tangling way, like they’re making knots and bows and tying them so tight that there’s no way they could ever unravel. And that’s a lot to process, so Blaine just focuses on the way Kurt’s using his tongue and how his own back is arching because of it. How he’s practically writhing, and how Kurt is the reason why. Not why he’s the reason why, just that he is.
“God, Ku-” but he cuts himself off, not sure if he’s allowed to say his name. Not sure what this is at all, really, because they’ve barely spoken since they snapped.
Because that’s what it had felt like. A snap. Like they were a pencil being held with a grip too tight, or a piece of string being pulled too taut. And there was no slack in their friendship, never had been, just tension and a stretch that they were both committed to ignoring. Blaine had never been able to figure out why they ignored it, though. And he can’t figure out if this is still ignoring it, because even though he knows the taste of him now, he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to put the taste into words and say them.
It’s not until afterwards – both of them a breathing, worn-out mess on Blaine’s bed – that he traces it back. Kurt had come over to watch Summer Stock, and that was normal. It wasn’t their first rodeo with Judy and Gene. But Kurt had walked through the door with a weird energy, as if even just placing the lightest of pressure to his skin would make it spark and burn. And then Blaine had lent over him to get to the remote, not thinking, not remembering the electricity of Kurt tonight, and that was what had started it. But Kurt was the one to snap them. Kurt was the one to stop Blaine from moving back to his spot with a hand on his waist; Kurt was the one that had looked at him with a fire sitting there, just behind his eyes; Kurt was the one to kiss him. Kurt was the one.
(And Blaine was so glad he did. God, he was glad).
And now Kurt is the one getting up, getting dressed, acting like this was just some casual one-night stand, and not sex with his best fucking friend.
“Kurt, what are you doing?”
He hesitates, one leg in his jeans and a shake in his hands that Blaine notices, wishes he could soothe. “Oh... I don’t- I don’t know. I wasn’t sure...”
“Come here,” and he flicks the duvet down, gestures to the other side of the bed, tries to hide how desperate he is for Kurt to get in it again. And then he does, but they’re still not really sure what is happening and what they are, so they just lay next to each other and breathe.
Blaine closes his eyes and turns his head a little towards Kurt and it’s not on purpose, necessarily, but he’s too scared to actually look at him and so this will have to do. He is really tired so his chest starts to move deeper and with a weight to it pretty quickly, and then Kurt whispers his name. He’s awake, and he heard him, but he can’t find a way to reply, so he doesn’t.
Kurt slips out of the bed – he feels the dip and then the absence, and he hears the footsteps padding across his bedroom floor. And then he hears Kurt’s voice, quiet and a little panicked out in the hallway, and he keeps his eyes shut.
“Quinn? I’m sorry, I know it’s late.”
Blaine can’t hear Quinn’s side of the conversation – but he hears Kurt’s. Hears him tell her about what just happened, and how he’s terrified, and that he feels like he just made the biggest mistake of his life. And Blaine feels the knots and bows from earlier but in his stomach, twisting, making him feel like he can’t move or breathe or think. Kurt regrets it. Kurt regrets what just happened and they can’t go back – Kurt snapped them, and they are broken now, and they can’t be glued back together. They are two separate pieces, and they risked their friendship for what?
Sex. And Blaine had been so sure he was finding love in amongst it all, in the way Kurt held his face when they kissed and held his hand when they fucked and held his gaze when they came. Maybe not, though. Clearly not.
“I don’t know.” Kurt murmurs, and then, a moment later, “I don’t know, Quinn. I think maybe- but. Yes, I’m still at his.” Another moment and, “Well, he wanted me to stay. Yes. I know that’s not usually- Yes. Okay.” A wait, a sigh, “Do you really think so?”
Blaine wants to know what Quinn is saying, so desperately.
“Because I’m in love with him, Quinn. What if I’ve just ruined it? Ruined us?”
And the knots and the ties loosen, let him breathe again, and Kurt is in love with him. Kurt Hummel is in love with him. And he wants to laugh, really, because why didn’t they just start with that, for god’s sake?
Kurt thanks Quinn, and tells her he loves her, and then the padding is back and so is Kurt. In his bed and so close to him he might shudder, and then there’s a fingertip on his face, painting the outline of his features.
He knows that he should let Kurt know he’s not actually asleep, but the touch feels too nice to interrupt and he wants to be selfish. And then, when he’s pretty sure Kurt is the one that's asleep, he says it.
“I’m in love with you, too.”
And maybe Kurt’s not quite asleep, and maybe that was on purpose.