summary: they made it to the city, but tomorrow Blaine must turn around and leave Kurt behind. sequel to the sinking ‘verse. ao3 / prologue
notes: holy inspiration batman! i’m going to ride this for as long as i can. want to know more about these characters? read the sinking ‘verse! check out this page! and this tag! or just shoot me a question! a more personal note from me is at the end.
I want to know your voice.
It comes unexpectedly, after they’ve exhausted each other in bed and have begun to wind down. The weight of knowing that tomorrow they’ll be separated is starting to sink in; it’s a little reassuring, actually, that Kurt seems to be in a similar mindset, although his thought process seems to be taking him in a different direction.
I wish I could show you somehow, Blaine signs back. Kurt tilts head as he watches his hands.
How did you get better at this than me?
The subject change catches Blaine off-guard, but his curiosity compels him to go along with it. Better than Kurt? He’s not sure that’s possible in any capacity. Better at what?
Signing.
I don’t know, Blaine answers honestly. He rolls onto his back to stare up at the ceiling of what is now Kurt’s new room. The sounds of the city at night rumble from outside the window, and he almost comments on it before remembering. Sometimes Kurt appreciates when he describes what he hears, but this doesn’t seem like one of those times. I watch videos and take online courses and stuff.
Kurt grunts, a soft noise that gives nothing away. In some ways he’s still as unknown as the day Blaine met him, still prefers to keep things to himself. Kurt taps Blaine on the shoulder and he turns to look at him. You sign more than I do now. And faster. I don’t understand you sometimes.
I’ve been learning ASL. I think... Blaine pauses. I think you learned a different way.
I guess so. You still understand me, right? Blaine nods. Then I’ll stay with it.
Let’s take a break. Hangman?
Kurt grins. It’s so much more of a relief to see him smile than to see him deep in troubling thoughts. Yes, please.
Finding one of their dry-erase boards is more difficult than he anticipated. They’ve done a number on the bedsheets - the ones that were just perfectly made a mere two hours ago when they finished unpacking Kurt’s things - and while Blaine knows they’re somewhere in the piles of fabric, actually locating them is another thing altogether.
“Oh.” Blaine spins around to look at Kurt, suddenly very aware of how naked he is. It’s way too cold in this apartment to be undressed. “Huh. Fuck.”
They both stare at the dry-erase board in Kurt’s hands. Or, rather, the two halves of it, one in each hand. A ridiculous thought creeps in. Did we do that?
Kurt laughs as he tosses the pieces to the floor. I think so. I’ll get a new one.
You can have mine, Blaine signs. He gets back to the search after they put sweatpants on to warm up and finally spots the board; it’s partly under the bed, and how it got there is anyone’s guess. Instead of wondering, Blaine gets back on the bed and sits up against the headboard. Kurt pulls himself up so they’re even, connected from shoulder to hip. Ready?
“I was born ready, pretty boy.” It’s always a good sign when Kurt speaks; if it’s not done because it’s necessary, it generally means he’s in a good mood and feels comfortable. Although Blaine knows he wouldn’t mind if Kurt preferred to sign full-time, it’s nice to know he’s trusted in this way. He smiles as he starts drawing up the game.
__ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __
“Well, I have to start with B.”
Blaine shakes his head and draws a circle for the head. Kurt crosses his arms as he studies the puzzle.
“N.”
Blaine writes the letter in - it’s the very first one. He also writes a hint: None of the letters repeat, by the way.
Kurt huffs. “I thought you were supposed to be on my side.”
I am. I love you. But I love winning too. <3
“Jerk. This is what I get for falling for an athlete. E.”
N E __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __
Let me know if you want another hint.
“Fuck no, I’m going to get this on my own,” Kurt says, stressing the last three words. Blaine glances at him, but Kurt’s staring intently at the board, thinking hard. That is, until he notices Blaine’s look and says, “Too loud?”
Blaine shakes his head, but Kurt looks skeptical. You sound fine, sweetheart.
“If you say so. O.”
N E __ __ O __ __ __ __ __ __
“This su-- wait,” Kurt says, going quiet. “Blaine?”
Yes?
“Is it New York City?”
Blaine grins and fills in the rest of the blanks. Yes! I knew you’d get it.
“Fucking genius, that’s me,” Kurt says, going for playful confidence but missing his mark when it comes out soft and disheartened. Blaine decides he should ask rather than ignore it.
What’s wrong?
Kurt sighs and takes the marker to write. It’s stupid. Don’t you do that, it is, Kurt writes when Blaine takes his free hand. I’m just scared. I always thought going away from home would be like some kind of freedom but I’ve never been here when I could take in all of it. It’s completely new and I don’t know if I like that idea anymore.
You of all people can make this place your own, Blaine writes when Kurt passes the marker back. It’ll just take some getting used to.
Kurt scoffs. It takes other people only “some” getting used to. I barely even got used to Lima after the accident. I don’t even have a memory of what anything sounds like here to fall back on.
So you use the rest of your senses.
B, I love you, but you don’t understand. It’s not that simple.
As true as it is, it hurts a little that Kurt is suggesting that he can’t help. But maybe there are some things that he just needs to figure out for himself. Blaine has some of those things of his own, too. You’re right. But you have that tattoo for a reason, right?
Kurt tips his head down to look at his chest, where the blackbird still flies. “Yeah, for my mom.”
Yes, but more than that. I don’t think you were ever meant to stay trapped in Lima, that would drive you nuts. It’s not easy but once you figure it out, I know you’ll like being here so much more. More room to spread your wings, so to speak.
“You should write a book,” Kurt mumbles, pulling the board from Blaine’s hands in order to wrap his arms around him in a sort of bear hug. With his arms stuck, all he can do is tilt his head questioningly. “You just get so much practice with that thing.”
Blaine shrugs, squirming loose to kiss Kurt’s shoulder. Kurt’s hand slips down to touch the tattoo on his hip, the small anchor that will be his little piece of Kurt while they’re apart. For his part, Kurt has the necklace that Blaine gave him at their private prom.
“Say something. I want to read your lips.”
“I love you,” Blaine says. Kurt rolls his eyes.
“I love you too baby, but that’s easy to read.” Blaine starts to speak again but a yawn interrupts him. Kurt laughs softly. “Maybe another time. Let’s get some sleep. You have a long drive tomorrow.”
Blaine’s heart sinks a little; any drive away from Kurt feels so much longer than it really is. But what can they do? He can’t just drop everything to live with Kurt in New York, just as much as he knows Kurt would have hated to stay in Lima. This separation was inevitable, but hopefully it will be good for Kurt to adjust on his own.
I love you.
It occurs to him only briefly that he has barely accounted for the fact that he will have to make some adjustments of his own. It shouldn’t be that hard, though; he’s well-established at McKinley at this point. He has good friends. He can text Kurt whenever he wants. So his only concern has been for Kurt’s well-being, given all that is changing for him.
I love you too, pretty boy. Goodnight.
Goodnight.
The sudden tightness in his chest and the hot tears threatening to completely ruin their quiet night together suggest that he might have misjudged how difficult this year will be. But Blaine holds back for the sake of a good night’s sleep for both of them. Surely he’s just overreacting.
--|--
notes: hey! so, due to positive support in regards to the prologue I managed to finish up for the three-year anniversary, I decided to give a shot at putting Love’s Strange out there. as a hard-of-hearing someone who has now gone through the process of moving to the city, I have plenty to draw from in that respect. there are also other conflicts that I’ve been struggling with in my personal life that may show up in this ‘verse, making it one of the most personal things I’ve tried to write. it makes for difficult decisions on my part.
mostly I just want to say thank you for supporting this little world which is so important to me even if rereading the original sinking ‘verse now makes me recognize the ways i’ve improved (or not) since then.
Love’s Strange: so real in the dark; think of the tender things that we were working on
This is a story of long-distance, of mistakes made and apologies left unanswered, of isolation and discrimination, of hard decisions and harder ones, of soaring ups and crushing downs. More than anything, however, it's a story of a ship and his wayward anchor; a boy and his wandering home.
a/n: Guess what? It has been three years (on March 12th) since the first part of the Sinking 'verse was posted! This is a continuation of it to celebrate. And, yes, it was intended to be the prologue for a multi-chapter fic, hence the separate title, POV, style, & summary that’s included. (ao3)
warnings: Finn remains a prominent character so he’s mentioned
Kurt Hummel's reputation is one that precedes him. Everyone knows everything about him, except they don't. Here's what they do know, what's also true:
He is gay. He has sexual experience as a result of Scandals hookups. He belongs to the Skanks, a group that has recently gone down to two members - himself and Quinn Fabray - since the rest dropped out of high school in search of more "noble" ventures. He has a round silver tongue stud, ear piercings (two silver rings in the upper cartilage of his left ear), a small nose stud; has pink dye streaked through his chestnut hair; wears dark, sometimes ripped clothing, a leather jacket on occasion.
He is deaf.
Kurt is unabashedly intimidating, perfectly capable of low insults and retaliation, though neither protect him from incessant gossip. Otherwise he's quiet, preferring to avoid people rather than go through the trouble of reading their lips - he would most likely only be reading some disparaging comment about his assumed lifestyle, anyway.
He is dating Blaine Anderson, kicker for McKinley Titans football and soon-to-be team captain in Finn Hudson's place (co-captains, actually - Sam Evans will be the other).
It seems reasonable that Kurt Hummel has little to hide, given what is known. He doesn't actively hold secrets back, after all. But, at the same time, he does. In his silence he conceals himself behind walls, underneath which lies an entirely different person that few have met. Here is what the general public does not know about Kurt Hummel:
He hasn't had sex with more than one person in almost a year. He holds none of the lazy values the Skanks held; in fact, he embraces the importance of education - it's just a matter of getting it (skipping classes, though, he's had no problem with). He keeps up with fashion trends and implements some of them into his own wardrobe, usually in a subtle way. In stark contrast to Quinn and the past Skanks, he hates wearing dirty clothes. Actually, he kind of hates dirty anything. There's a tattoo that few see because it's inked from his right shoulder blade to his chest; it's in memory of his mother, who passed away when Kurt was eight.
Kurt is deaf as a result of an accident in his dad's garage in the middle of sophomore year. He was in the New Directions from its start-up that year until he dropped out of it near the beginning of his junior year for reasons no one but he knows, aside from the fact that he can't hear what he's singing. He still loves music, despite his bitterness at being unable to hear it.
He despises violence, has only taken part in it once - and that had been because a loved one was threatened. He is kind-hearted, has a love for romance and can't help but smile when faced with it. He's a far different person than he was in sophomore year, yet he's also the same. It's nothing he can explain very well, but it's true nonetheless.
At the moment, he's leaning against the wall of the empty, dirty auditorium, quietly criticizing the way his gown clashes terribly with his hair. He'd like to take it off, but he's waiting for something. Someone. This someone appears in the doorway just up the stairs and Kurt smiles, bright and unguarded and free. There are no words - he wouldn't hear them anyway - he simply runs to his someone, not caring that he probably looks ridiculous, and hugs him tight.
Oh yes, there's one more thing about Kurt Hummel that few know: he is in love; blindly, fiercely, amazingly in love with Blaine Anderson.
"I'm out," he mutters, still holding on. "I can't believe it."
Blaine shakes a little in his arms; Kurt realizes that he's chuckling, and releases his hold to allow Blaine the room to sign to him.
I'm so proud of you, he signs, eyes shining with the kind of look Kurt would never have expected to get from someone like Blaine. It's intimately tender and open. But I knew you'd do it.
I know, Kurt signs back. Speaking, he's able to kind of determine whether or not his voice is controlled by the vibrations in his throat. He even prefers to speak - it makes him feel less like he's not part of the world of sound. But when he doesn't think he can get through sentences properly, he signs.
Or, of course, he writes on the dry-erase board he keeps on him at all times. It's slower, but infinitely more accurate than both signing and speaking, especially when he's rarely around people who understand sign language. Blaine likes the board; he can doodle silly pictures around their conversation, hearts and balloons and, once, a dick in a bow tie.
That had been quite an interesting conversation.
So, Blaine continues on, leaning his shoulder against the wall. What are your plans for the summer?
Kurt smirks. I don't know. What will I do to pass the time?
It's an opportunity, and Blaine takes it. Me, I hope.
Kurt nudges Blaine until he has his back against the wall, and crowds in close. There's no one in the auditorium - the graduation ceremony is long over, and everyone's continuing their celebration elsewhere - so he feels perfectly at ease with slotting his thigh between Blaine's. Besides, the whole semi-exhibitionism thing works for both of them.
"I haven't had a summer with you yet," Kurt murmurs. "It just sucks that I have to leave afterwards."
He feels Blaine hum into his neck, and he already knows what Blaine is thinking: Forget about me, you need to go.
The plan is for the two of them to take a road trip to New York City at the end of August, which is where Blaine will leave Kurt to his new life. There will be a job waiting for him at a garage in the city, conveniently nearby his apartment-to-be, so he won't be without income.
(Kurt isn't exactly thrilled about the job, given his past accident and the uncertainty of new surroundings, but it's more than he'd dared to hope for.)
(He's also not thrilled about the fact that Finn plans to live with him, like he can't get by without his stepbrother around to help. It's not like he doesn't love Finn, but really.)
The job had been secured for him by his dad, who made some connections through his own work and managed to find the place and get acquainted with its owner. Kurt's grateful - but irritated. Grateful that he has this opportunity, however nervous it makes him, but irritated that he had to get a job with help from his own dad.
Blaine tugs at the gown and Kurt returns his focus to the boy in front of him, whose eyes have started to shine with tears. Kurt, in an effort to keep from shedding any tears himself, mumbles, "Don't cry on this gown, pretty boy, it probably cost a whopping ten bucks."
He watches Blaine huff out a laugh, his head ducking down in that shy way it always does. God, what Kurt wouldn't give to hear again, to hear Blaine's voice and laugh. Sure, there are hearing aids, but part of him doesn't want to pin what's left of his independence on a tiny piece of technology; another part of him doesn't want to find out whether or not any of that stuff would actually work for him. As usual, he sucks up the bitter feelings caused by something so mundane and positive as his boyfriend's laugh and smiles with him.
You think we can manage long distance? he signs.
Kurt, Blaine responds, we have a whole summer before we have to think of that.
Of course, Blaine has considerably less on his plate. His thoughts aren’t weighed down by wondering if he’ll be able to prove that he can live independently in a big city, or wondering how he’ll deal with working among new people who may or may not take issue to Kurt’s various inconveniences. He still has another year, and he’ll be on top of the world of McKinley as a co-captain of the football team. It’s hard not to be at least a little bit envious of him, but Kurt refuses to act petty. He smiles and nods, agreeing for now. A summer is, after all, no small length of time.
We should go. I don’t want to stay here any longer than I need to.
Blaine bites his lip and signs, Okay. First I want to show you something.
Intrigued, Kurt lets Blaine take his hand and lead him out of the auditorium. They weave in between the graduates and parents that are lingering in the halls. Kurt spots Quinn’s hair - a surprise, as he’d thought she’d have left as soon as possible - but the glimpse is momentary. It’s long enough to notice that she’s standing with Puck; he grins to himself at the thought of teasing her later. She’ll undoubtedly tease him about gravitating straight towards Blaine after the ceremony, so it’ll be a fair and friendly match of wits.
It’s not long before they’re outside, and before Kurt knows it, they’re ducking under the bleachers towards the Skanks’ not-so-secret hideout. He taps Blaine’s arm to get his attention and signs, What are we doing here?
Just wait here for a second, Blaine answers, and he goes off in the direction of the shed that they’d once (or twice) used for certain activities, most of which involved the shedding of clothes to some degree. Kurt stands in the middle of the space and looks around at this place that was almost, almost, like a second home. It wasn’t, really, but it was certainly safe, which was enough. He’ll miss having a place like this when he’s in the city. A tap on his shoulder makes him jump a little as he turns around to see Blaine standing there with a familiar backpack in his hands.
Oh, when did you take that? Kurt asks, accepting it. There’s something inside, probably his notebooks. I didn’t know my boyfriend was a jock and a thief.
I’ll only be playing football for one more year, Blaine signs. You’ll have to find another way to refer to me.
No, you’re a jock for life. You’ll still be wearing that letter jacket in ten years. It’ll probably still fit you, too.
Blaine shakes his head with a smile. Open the backpack.
“Oh,” Kurt says without thinking, looking at the bag. He opens it and pulls out a slightly bent bouquet of flowers. They’re not just any flowers, though, they’re--
Cherry blossoms. Do you like it?
I love it, Kurt signs. For once he’s glad he isn’t inclined to speak - if he had to, he’s not sure he’d be able to get any words out. He takes a deep breath, his nose buried in the blossoms. The delicate scent relaxes muscles he hadn’t even known were tense. He puts the bouquet back in his backpack and slings it over his shoulder to free his hands. Thank you, handsome.
Blaine smiles. I know I didn’t know her, but I bet she’d be proud.
Even with all the dye and skipping classes?
Yes. From what you’ve told me, she had a very kind heart. I believe it because you do too. It’s science at work.
Now you’re bringing science into this, Kurt teases. Maybe I was wrong about you. You’re actually a nerd.
Blaine nods seriously. Of course I am.
Laughing, Kurt tugs Blaine closer by his shirt and kisses him, muttering an “I love you” against his lips. Blaine tries to pull away, probably to respond, but Kurt keeps him close and takes every bit of him in that he can, from his nose pressed into Kurt’s cheek to his soft lips to his hands on Kurt’s waist. Kurt already knows that Blaine loves him too, he doesn’t have to say it in those words when it’s clear in everything else he says and does. Now it’s just a matter of getting as much of him as he can before he has to leave Blaine behind and face the world more alone than ever.
But if Blaine’s on the other end of all of his text messages, Skype conversations, and so on, maybe he won’t feel like he’s that alone. Maybe having Finn close by will actually help, not in terms of independence but because he’ll be a familiar person with him in an unfamiliar place. It’s New York City, he should be excited.
Still, his doubts persist. For now he’ll have to lose himself in summer - it’s not typically his favorite season, but now that he has someone to help him apply sunscreen, maybe he’ll change his mind - and his family and friends. After that, well, fuck it. That’s something to worry about later.
hi! i'm really really sorry because this isn't exactly an update but i wanted to make it clear that i've started work on a little something
because i've had trouble updating things like this in the past, i won't start posting until i'm done writing. it may be a while, yes, but i wanted to make it clear that i am working on this kind of thing and i'm not just thinking about it anymore
as for the verse itself, i've really only got one bit left in me that is a step forward and not just slipped into the middle of the timeline - and that may end up just being a part of the prologue up there. but we'll see
i would be happy to hear thoughts or whatever on this if you've got 'em uwu
Sinking 'verse: "I used to dream about this kind of thing."
a/n: I'M SORRY ABOUT THE LAST ONE I just needed this time split and I figured this was the easiest way to do it -- further notes at the end. mid April.
how they met | rumors and a proposition | scandals | confirmation | cherry blossoms | meeting burt (&finn, again) | blaine's surprise | first date | secret's out | scandals v2 | insults & apologies | first time | blaine's birthday | smoke no more | signed confessions | pb&h | in the shed | christmas cookies | the letter - chrono
Blaine kept his head down and waited for Kurt to respond to the letter, but no sound came; he didn't even move, just remained frozen there. Looking up, Blaine frowned as he realized that Kurt indeed had the letter open in front of him, but with eyes shut tight, he wasn't reading it.
"Kurt," Blaine said, "what does it-- but you can't hear me," he added with a roll of his eyes meant for himself. He reached over to place a hand on Kurt's thigh, rubbing gently until the corner of Kurt's mouth twitched into a half smile.
"Thanks," he said quietly. "I don't ever want to open my eyes again because then I'll have to look at this." Blaine squeezed his leg. "Okay, okay, I'll look at the damn thing now."
Blaine watched, muscles tense despite his every effort to relax, as Kurt blinked his eyes open and focused them on the sheet of paper. His irises, with all the colors of the ocean and just as deep, flicked from word to word, but Blaine couldn't read his expression. So he waited. And waited.
Finally Kurt inhaled softly, glancing at Blaine, who resumed without a thought the rubbing of his leg, maybe out of anticipation.
"It's a no," Kurt said flatly.
Blaine's hand stopped and his stomach clenched unpleasantly.
--|--
I don't want to go.
Blaine sighed, crossing his legs on Kurt's bed while Kurt paced the room. He'd been touchy for over a month now and it was starting to wear on Blaine's nerves -- all this tip-toeing around his boyfriend like he was a ticking time bomb didn't feel good at all. And sure, they'd had more than a few moments when Kurt seemed to forget all about his rejection and allowed himself to have fun with Blaine or with Quinn or whatever, but right now...
I haven't even asked you.
But you want to go, Kurt signed back. He hadn't tried speaking once since the topic came up, which was a clear indication of his state of mind. It worried Blaine. I know you do.
Not without you, but I don't understand.
Don't understand what?
Blaine slipped in his signing and huffed out a frustrated breath before grabbing the board from nearby. It's your senior prom, why don't you want to go?
It's stupid was Kurt's childish response, and he seemed to realize it. That didn't keep him from continuing. I'll go to yours next year. I'll be here, anyway.
So the hunt still isn't going well, I take it.
No one wants a deaf employee like me. Kurt shook his head. I can't even be a translator because I don't know this language that well.
Really? Blaine knew enough about sign language at this point to know that Kurt often used choppy, direct translation instead of the language's true structure, but he didn't want to lower Kurt's progressively worsening morale.
Two years and I've never taken a real class. It's not enough.
You never know until you try. Besides, there are plenty of entry-level jobs you could get.
Kurt arched an eyebrow and stopped to stare, challenging, at Blaine. Name one.
... do I get time to do research first, or?
Thought so.
Kurt sat down on the floor, legs stretched out in front of him and towards Blaine, who doodled a quick picture of the New York City skyline. He smiled as, underneath it, he drew a stick figure with Kurt's signature messy pompadour. He wished he had a pink marker.
What are you doing? Kurt signed; Blaine almost missed it, as focused as he was on the drawing. In answer, he turned the board for him to see. Kurt craned his neck and squinted slightly in order to see from his distance, but he soon smiled, a subtle flush rising in his cheeks. I can't believe you still think I'll get there.
It was a squeeze with the drawing still there, but Blaine wrote, It's not a belief, it's fact. You, sir, are meant to be in New York or wherever you want to be at any given time. I don't believe for a second you'll let yourself stay here if your heart is somewhere else.
Kurt grinned but glanced away, apparently embarrassed as he signed, I'm pretty sure my heart is sitting right in front of me.
Blaine's own heart felt like it skipped over a beat or three -- he lay the board in his lap and reached a hand out. Kurt took it and let himself be pulled, first to his feet and then to the bed, nearly tumbling on top of Blaine in the process.
"I keep telling you I'm a romantic," he mumbled, voice rough from not speaking for what had likely been more than a day, "yet you're always surprised." He backed off to let Blaine sign.
Not surprised, just happy. But I love you no matter what.
"So even if hadn't a single romantic bone in my body--"
I love you.
"--or I dropped out of school to become a crude trucker--"
Blaine scoffed. I love you.
"--or I--"
I still love you, Blaine signed one last time. Always.
Kurt nodded, leaned in, and whispered "I love you, too, handsome. Blaine."
Then they were kissing and Blaine found himself on his back, Kurt's forearms bracketing his chest and pressing into the mattress. He melted into it as always, Kurt's nearness grounding and sweet with the smell of him. Too soon, though, Kurt broke the kiss and his lips hovered mere centimeters from Blaine's.
"I almost bought a pack last week," he confessed; when Blaine found his eyes, they were looking off to one side. "I didn't, but it was close. I just needed to tell someone that."
Blaine, with no way to communicate other than to mouth a gentle "It's okay," let his hand find Kurt's cheek. Kurt leaned automatically into the touch and started in for another kiss -- Blaine stopped him, though, an idea leaping to his mind.
"Make it quick," Kurt said, getting to his knees when Blaine indicated the board. "I'd like to taste more than just your lips today."
With a barely-there shiver, Blaine nodded and started to write furiously after he erased the drawing and everything else.
I want to do prom with you
Kurt saw and sighed, "Blaine..." but he held up a finger and kept on.
We don't have to go to school but I want us to have the tuxedos and the dance if nothing else. Like a real slow dance with everything I know you not-so-secretly love.
"Where?"
Wherever you want. We could stay in one of our houses for the night, but we do spent a lot of time that way already. Kurt hummed, thoughtful.
"You want it to be special."
Everything we do is special, of course. But... personally, I've always loved the symbolism behind a first dance. Call me cheesy for the rest of our lives if you want...
"You are cheesy," Kurt huffed as Blaine cleared room to continue writing. "It fucks up all the rules of being a jock." Blaine raised an eyebrow at him, then indicated Kurt with a vague gesture. Kurt rolled his eyes. "There aren't rules for whatever I am except for 'thou must fuck well.'"
Blaine snorted. I can assure you that you've got that covered.
"Mm. Sorry for interrupting, keep going."
As I was saying. My last dance with a guy didn't really end up... great... but I want more than anything to have a dance to remember as that time I got the one and only Kurt Hummel to, somehow, love me.
Kurt bit his lip, trying not to smile and failing. "You didn't make it very difficult."
So is that a yes to a two-person prom?
Grinning, Kurt signed Yes and all but tackled Blaine to the bed, peppering him with kisses that quickly turned languid and heated. Before Blaine could get his bearings and ask if he needed to talk about anything else -- it seemed as though he did, somehow -- Kurt murmured, "Would you like me to ride you, pretty boy?"
Guilt settled bitter in his stomach but Blaine nodded, his dick starting to drive his priorities rather than his head. They could talk later, he reasoned with himself as Kurt slid his polo up, the initial bite of cold skin against his fading to needy warmth in record time.
The time passed in a blur, with sharp, clear images sticking in Blaine's mind -- of Kurt sinking down, his face scrunched; of him mapping the skin of Blaine's chest with his hands almost frantically; of the way his back arched, jaw dropped beautifully. Too soon, Blaine found himself wrapping his arms around Kurt from behind and breathing in the sweet scent of him mixed with sweat and sex. The giddy post-orgasm phase had passed and now Kurt was pliant and relaxed.
It was getting late and Blaine knew he had to leave or else risk stern looks or maybe even a lecture from his parents. They meant well, of course, his mom having warmed up to Kurt quite a bit over the past few months, but he was still a teenager with a curfew.
He gave Kurt an apologetic kiss when he grumbled (something ridiculous about needing something warm near his sore ass) and got up. Blaine put his clothes back on as soon as he located them and, when he looked back at Kurt to ask if he needed anything before he left, his boyfriend turned out to be fast asleep.
"I love you," Blaine said, signing it as well out of plain habit. That particular phrase he was sure he'd never, ever forget, even if Kurt disappeared from his life and he had no reason left to use it.
Not that he ever wanted to find out for sure.
In sleep, Kurt seemed younger. He went from a semi-badass, tattooed young man full of defenses to a boy with a lifetime's worth of problems that, through dreams, dissolved into nothingness. Blaine knew better than to worry -- Kurt was strong, had proved it many times over -- but still he worried, because there was something there that wouldn't let go of him, that parasite of perceived worthlessness that everyone has and occasionally notices. Maybe Kurt knew he was amazing, but he didn't trust the world to believe him.
It was a pitfall, Blaine thought, because the world turns coldly, half built of distrust and indifference to its individuals. Kurt wouldn't ever find the world's support because that sort of thing doesn't exist.
But it's built of warmth and caring too, those things being more focused and, in the stony face of society, meaningless at first glance. They matter, though, matter more than anything else. They just come in smaller packages, ready to open when the world is too much.
Blaine shook his head; he was thinking too much and he had to get home. On the way, he passed by a shop of odds and ends, crafts and unique trinkets in downtown Lima. He smiled and pulled over.
--|--
"Hey, wait up!"
Blaine turned around in the hallway and instantly spotted Finn maneuvering between people to get to him. He smiled when he got closer and said, "Hey, congrats on the prom king nomination."
Finn shuffled his feet and grinned. "Thanks, man. But listen, what are you doing for prom?"
"Oh, I'm not going."
"What? Dude, you have to go!"
Blaine shrugged. "I've got next year. Kurt doesn't want to go, so I'm not going."
"Wait, he doesn't want to go to his senior prom? Why?"
"It probably has something to do with this school's attitude towards him," Blaine said slowly. "Just my guess."
"Oh, right. So you guys are just gonna skip?"
Blaine shook his head. "We're having our own kind of prom, just us. I don't really know where or how, but that's the plan. What?" he asked when Finn gave him an odd look.
"Nothing. I'm just really glad you guys are together, you know that? I know I was kinda stupid about it at first--"
"Yeah," Blaine muttered.
"--but he's a good guy that deserves a good guy like you, even if I never really understood all that sleeping around stuff. And, like, the dye and everything."
"Was it really that big of a change?"
"I keep forgetting you only transferred here this year. Yeah, it was crazy at first. He came home one day at the beginning of our junior year with the pink stuff in his hair and his ear pierced and I thought Burt was gonna explode. He dropped outta glee pretty soon after that."
"Do you know what... happened? The accident happened a while before that, didn't it?"
"Yeah. I don't know anything, though," Finn said, hanging his head a little. "I should have asked 'cause it was pretty obvious something was going on, but yeah."
Blaine wanted to continue the conversation but the bell rang. "Shit," he grumbled as Finn looked around with wide eyes as though he forgot he had class. "See you, Finn."
Finn gave him a half-smile. "See you."
They parted ways and Blaine managed to slip into his classroom without getting marked tardy. During class he thought about what Finn had said -- everything he'd said. How Finn thought he was a good guy and how Kurt still held some secrets even from Blaine.
Not that Blaine minded. It sounded like something Kurt would have to tell him on his own, and it wasn't as though it affected their relationship in any direct way. Simply put, it was just another mystery. Still, he couldn't help wondering about it. How did the Kurt he knew come to be? He'd seen one or two photos of Kurt from before, and he almost looked like a different person. Much of it was just him growing up, but part of it was the set of his jaw and, of course, the altered parts of his appearance. And his eyes.
Kurt's eyes then held a kind of sullen ferocity. Kurt's eyes now held anything from cold indifference (usually in public) to deep warmth (usually when he looked at Blaine or his dad). Blaine's Kurt had that ferocity too, but he had that visible wisdom that comes solely from difficult circumstances, as well.
Sometimes he just looked tired, mentally and emotionally so.
Blaine sighed; he glanced up to the front of the room and carefully pulled out his phone.
To: Kurt
Hey. I love you.
From: Kurt
Are you feeling spontaneous again?
From: Kurt
ps I love you, too.
To: Kurt
Not really, I was just thinking.
From: Kurt
Sounds dangerous.
To: Kurt
shhh, I was thinking about you.
From: Kurt
Especially dangerous, then. try not to pop one in the middle of class okay?
To: Kurt
I have more control than that, Hummel
From: Kurt
hmm, are you sure? I'm pretty distracting, if I do say so myself
To: Kurt
that's... true, but I really was just thinking about you and how lucky I am.
From: Kurt
Cheesehead. I think I'm the lucky one here, actually. I mean here I am texting my boyfriend, who is so kindly missing out on his education to be schmoopy as fuck when he could do so later
To: Kurt
... are you telling me to pay attention?
From: Kurt
Ding ding ding. I'll see you later, handsome.
Blaine shook his head, unable to keep a smile off his face. God, he was so ridiculously in love he could hardly believe it. He still had questions but they could wait, he'd wait forever for Kurt to be ready if he needed to.
It was the mystery he was first attracted to, but it was Kurt he fell in love with.
--|--
The week passed by slowly, so Blaine was relieved when Saturday evening finally came and he could drive to McKinley. He, however, wasn't going to walk into the building like the rest of the students.
It wasn't as cold outside as he'd expected it to be, thank god. Blaine adjusted his bow tie (handpicked by Kurt; they'd gone out to get their tuxedos together, though Blaine still hadn't seen Kurt wear his) and headed for the football field.
Kurt's idea had been to have their mini-prom under the bleachers -- something private and meaningful but not in either of their houses. Blaine had agreed, of course, but he still held some reservations. It just seemed like an odd place to go for such an event, but Kurt said he'd take care of everything. Blaine didn't really know what that meant, but he trusted his boyfriend's words -- and figured that they'd have a good time no matter what.
He ducked into the familiar space and stopped, eyes wide.
The concrete floor had clearly been swept and maybe even washed if the way it shone was any indication. Strings of tiny, warm lights hung from the steel bars that held the structure up, lighting the area like fireflies. The dirty old couch was nowhere to be seen; in its place was a simple table draped in navy. Finally, on the table sat a wireless stereo system, one of their dry-erase boards, and Kurt Hummel himself.
Kurt grinned at him and got to his feet, self-consciously brushing off his slacks. He wore his sleek black tuxedo -- and a chartreuse tie that Blaine didn't remember seeing on their little shopping trip, but that complemented his hair. It was strange to see Kurt dressed so formally, but Blaine loved how he looked this way, how he almost looked ready for a grand wedding.
That, of course, was letting his mind wander too far away, so Blaine stopped staring to sign, You look amazing.
Blaine smiled when Kurt ducked his head, uncharacteristically bashful. Thank you, he signed. You look very handsome, as well.
Then, I used to dream about this kind of thing, is that weird?
Blaine shook his head. Of course not. Did you do all this?
Yes. My dad helped. Kurt glanced at the stereo. I brought the music I used to listen to and threw in some of your favorite songs too. If you want.
In answer, Blaine held out his hand and waited. Kurt took it with a raised eyebrow, letting himself be pulled in close.
"Is that a no to the music?" he asked. Blaine traced a plus sign into his hip. He didn't need music -- well, in certain senses he did, but not here. It was more than enough to have Kurt's arms draped over his shoulders and his own hands at his waist as they started to dance to near silence.
After a while, Blaine playfully began to dance to something more upbeat in his head; Kurt yelped as he was unexpectedly twirled.
"Two can play at this," he muttered, and Blaine was perfectly content to let Kurt lead him, spin him, dip him however he liked to the imaginary (or not so imaginary?) music between them.
Eventually they slowed to a stop and Kurt showed him a smaller table with chairs and yet another board. Blaine sat down as Kurt grabbed two glasses and a bottle of sparkling cider.
Who's cheesy now? was the message written on the board when Kurt finally sat down across from Blaine.
"Oh, stop it. Let me live my younger self's fantasies," Kurt huffed. "I'm sure you'll do something to even us out in about two seconds."
Well...
Kurt smirked. "I knew it."
I do have something I want to give you, and you'll probably think it's cheesy but I don't care. Kurt tilted his head, curious. Hang on, it's in my pocket.
Blaine fumbled for his pocket, suddenly fiercely nervous -- what if Kurt didn't like it? What if he thought it was dumb? Or, worse: offensive? He almost wanted to just not give it to him, but he couldn't go back now.
Nearly dropping it, Blaine pulled a small box from his pocket at last. He noticed Kurt craning his neck to peek, so he placed it on the table in front of him.
It wasn't a particularly pretty box -- it had its own kind of rustic charm, but it was really just a pale brown square with a white ribbon wrapped around it. Blaine dragged the board back towards himself.
I found this last weekend after I left your house. I didn't plan on getting anything but it just... reminded me of you? so I got it. And I can take it back if you don't like it, I kept the receipt and everythi
Kurt's hand stopped his on the board and Blaine looked up. "Don't panic, baby, I'm sure I'll love it," Kurt said, a smile quirking at the corner of his mouth. "Closeted romantic, remember?"
Blaine nodded and smiled back despite his nerves. This was okay. Kurt loved him, so of course it was. His fingers went to the box and opened it with surprising ease given how much they seemed to shake.
Inside the box was a simple cord necklace. A roll of stiff paper made up the charm it was adorned with -- the outer pattern consisted of music notes on a staff in black ink. It wasn't anything particularly expensive or complicated, but when Blaine had seen it in that shop, it had reminded him of Kurt.
Kurt took the necklace with wide eyes, examining it. When he looked back up in wonder, Blaine took a deep breath.
You're my music, he signed. And we're my favorite song.
Returning to the board before Kurt could say or sign anything, he wrote, It's handmade, made out of paper but I thought it could be something for you to take with you WHEN you leave. Not if.
"You... shit, Blaine." Kurt shook his head, seemingly overwhelmed. Give me a second.
Blaine waited for what seemed like hours, his fingers toying with the marker in his hand as Kurt took a minute to collect himself.
"Sorry. Okay. Um." Kurt laughed sheepishly. "Words are kind of fucking with my head right now but I want to say this out loud. I never expected the cute guy that got lost last September to be the one I fell in love with, but, well. I did. Really fucking hard. And I think I just did a little bit more, if that's possible.
"I still don't think I'll be going anywhere next year but I know for a fact I would have given up by now if it weren't for you. So... thank you for that. And for this," he added, indicating the necklace, "because it's perfect."
Blaine grinned. I love you.
I love you, too, Kurt signed back. He put the necklace carefully back into its box and motioned for Blaine to go around to his side of the table.
What are you doing? Blaine asked when Kurt scooted his chair back until they were facing each other, one standing and one sitting, and reached up to untie Blaine's bow tie. Kurt just smiled, grabbing the ends of the tie once he finished and using them to pull Blaine down until he was straddling his lap.
"I think we've had enough cheesiness for one night," Kurt murmured. "And there's another prom tradition that we need to acknowledge."
Leaning back slightly, Blaine signed, Doesn't the sex come afterwards? Not during?
"Oops."
Later, as they headed for his car and ignored their below-the-equator discomfort in favor of keeping their hands on each other, Blaine figured he could easily forgive Kurt that little slip.
--|--
a/n: hey! so, a few notes: 1. this is probably one of two or three final bits of the verse as it is. 2. I do still plan on writing a true fic with chapters and I've come up with a title and a few ways it could go, so I'm excited. 3. there is a reason for me deciding that Kurt doesn't truly know sign language. 4. if you didn't notice the link because of my font, click here to see a picture of the necklace. 5. if you're reading this you're lovely ok bye
a/n: early March, fairly short -- and I do apologize for the end, oops. feel free to yell at me
how they met | rumors and a proposition | scandals | confirmation | cherry blossoms | meeting burt (&finn, again) | blaine's surprise | first date | secret's out | scandals v2 | insults & apologies | first time | blaine's birthday | smoke no more | signed confessions | pb&h | in the shed | christmas cookies - chrono
From: Kurt
I have a letter from NYU in my hands right now.
To: Kurt
oh my god? What does it say?
From: Kurt
I haven't opened it. fuck, I almost don't want to.
To: Kurt
why's that?
From: Kurt
I want you with me first. Meet me at the park by your house?
To: Kurt
Sure. I'll be there soon.
Now used to being summoned places by Kurt -- which wasn't a bad thing at all -- Blaine was out the door within minutes. Outside, there was still a thin layer of snow that covered the ground. It being March, it no longer held fast to reflective, pure white; instead the snow was dirty and smudged from winter's trials. Rain from the previous weekend had washed some of the snow out, of course, but it only served to further dirty the patches that were left behind. All in all, Blaine tried not to let the dull landscape of his neighborhood bring him down as he walked towards the park.
He knew that Kurt visited that park often, much more so than Blaine ever did. Kurt had never explained why, exactly, but it was one thing that Blaine didn't mind not knowing. No longer was Kurt a mystery to be solved -- or even a mystery to be left unsolved. He was Kurt Hummel, flawed and clouded and perfect and clear. Blaine loved him for all his mysteries and revelations, his bad days and his good days.
Blaine reached the park before Kurt did and found the spot underneath the largest slide that never seemed to be touched by snow, or so Kurt had explained. It was a little cramped and the wooden beam that provided support to his back did so painfully, but Blaine smiled as he settled in.
As he waited, Blaine wondered at the contents of the letter that Kurt would be opening. It could either be a yes or no, and though Blaine had told Kurt that it didn't matter either way... he really wanted Kurt to have this. Something real that would prove to the doubting world that Kurt was more than pink highlights and tattoos and deafness.
"Even I can hear you thinking," came a quiet, familiar hum, and Blaine let himself melt into the voice for a moment. When Blaine turned his head to look at Kurt, he saw in his hands a purple envelope. Kurt eased in next to him, though he angled himself slightly so he was still facing Blaine, and placed the letter on the ground in order to sign I have a confession to make.
What's that?
Kurt laughed, a little breathless sound, and shook his head. I'm scared.
Good. Blaine grinned as Kurt gave him a side-eyed look. If you weren't, you'd be a... a...
"Robot?" Kurt supplied with the sign, and Blaine nodded. He sighed. I thought I was done being scared.
He continued out loud, "I never told you, but none of the other schools accepted me. This one's my last shot and, fuck, it's the most selective place I even bothered with. There's no way there's a yes in that stupid letter."
Blaine frowned. Board?
(Because as much as he was starting to get used to sign language, the written word was safe for them, familiar and easy; even Kurt had only been teaching himself and his family the language for two years. For serious conversations, at least, this was preferable.)
Kurt dug the board out of his backpack and handed it to Blaine. He crossed his legs and fiddled with a loose thread in his hoodie as Blaine started to write.
I've never heard you like this.
Scoffing, Kurt signed, Like what?
Lacking in confidence.
Kurt gave him a hard stare, but Blaine simply raised his eyebrow in response. He waited -- because that's what his boyfriend needed sometimes, someone to wait for his walls to drop -- and was rewarded when Kurt opened his mouth to speak, his hands wrapping around himself. "I know I'm good enough. I just need other people to agree with me. Usually they don't."
Is it too cheesy for me to say 'MAKE THEM BELIEVE?'
"A little."
Too bad, I already said it.
"Dumbass."
You love me.
"So much," Kurt said gently, a smile returning. "Look, I don't know if I can open this one."
Blaine nodded, staring at the board as he erased the marks from it. He placed it on the ground next to him, took a deep breath, and signed, Is there anything you want me to do?
"I--" Kurt stopped, got to his knees, and shuffled closer to Blaine in the small space. He sat back a little with a resigned huff. I want you to hold me.
Blaine smiled and opened his arms for Kurt to lean into his body and let him wrap his arms around Kurt's middle. Aware that he wouldn't be able to sign properly from this position, Blaine decided to nose gently at the side of Kurt's neck, leaving small, hopefully comforting kisses there. Kurt shifted and laughed quietly when Blaine's lips brushed feather-light across sensitive skin.
"That tickles," he muttered. Blaine squeezed his arms around him in response. "You're not helping me get around to opening that letter, Blaine."
Blaine attempted to draw an affirmative plus sign into the skin of Kurt's stomach with his finger, but he only succeeded at making him squirm as it tickled him even more. Then he maybe kept doing it just to hear Kurt's laugh.
"Asshole," Kurt gasped when Blaine stopped, turning to glare at him. "That was unnecessary."
Blaine gave him a little maybe shrug and took advantage of Kurt's closeness by kissing him, soft and gentle until Kurt pushed it over the edge into hard, rough, rougher--
Kurt stopped when Blaine found his hip and squeezed, a reminder. He leaned his forehead against Blaine's, breathing heavily. "I'm doing it again, aren't I?" he asked. Blaine nodded and Kurt visibly slumped against him. "Sorry."
This happened sometimes -- Kurt had the tendency to lose himself in Blaine for the sake of escaping some kind of stress, often doing so in a rough way that never hurt Blaine but was always so unlike Kurt that he could tell within seconds what was going on. He figured it's left over from Kurt's old habit of going to Scandals and, well, fucking his stress away with guys that didn't matter. Once upon a time, Blaine thought that he was one of those guys. He knew better now.
They'd talked about it a little, enough for Kurt to tell Blaine to let him know (with a noticeable squeeze or three taps) if he was getting too rough too fast because he'd stop -- and he always did.
Of course, Blaine didn't mind either of them getting a little rough once in a while, not one bit. He just wanted it to be for the right reasons when it happened.
After a moment of silence, Kurt grunted and got off of Blaine. "Fuck this, I can't wait," he said, picking the letter up and staring at it. He looked back at Blaine as he turned around to face him. "Should I?"
Do it, Blaine signed, getting on his knees in a mirror image of Kurt, nerves sparking in anticipation. He couldn't help sweeping his gaze across Kurt -- down his chest, along the column of his neck, across streaks of pink among chestnut hair, then back down to the purple envelope held in deceitfully steady hands.
Those hands moved after a moment, though, and Blaine heard the paper tearing before he registered the sight of it. Kurt took out a neatly folded sheet of paper and tossed the torn envelope aside, a breath coming out shakily.
Blaine reached for Kurt's wrist; it only took a touch for Kurt to look up at him, eyes wide and worried.
Whatever that says, Blaine signed, I love you. You're going to New York, whatever happens.
"God, I hope so," Kurt said breathlessly. "I love you, too, pretty boy."
The old nickname made them both smile fondly, but then Kurt opened the letter.
--|--
a/n: the next part will deal with what happens with a flashback, never fear!
a/n: we're going back! and this is for rose and her crew because they prompted a little something that happens here. this is actually the day before Christmas Eve, so late December.
additional: this is very short/not heavy and probably one of the last bits of this I'm doing </3 however, I still want to write the next year in present tense and as a chapterfic w/ some alterations to account for things I've learned through writing this 'verse. I'll try to give updates on that as I figure it out
how they met | rumors and a proposition | scandals | confirmation | cherry blossoms | meeting burt (&finn, again) | blaine's surprise | first date | secret's out | scandals v2 | insults & apologies | first time | blaine's birthday | smoke no more | signed confessions | pb&h | in the shed - chrono
"No, no, like this."
Blaine frowned as he watched Kurt from the other end of the couch, eyes following his hands. Kurt was trying to teach him some new words and phrases in sign language, but it was all more complicated than it first appeared to be. It definitely wasn't just simple translation all the time.
And he'd thought he was good with his hands.
Not working, Blaine signed shortly when he still couldn't grasp the right movements. He took the dry-erase board from the nearby coffee table and scratched ( or rather, squeaked) out a message.
Can we try a new phrase?
Kurt nodded. "What do you want to know?"
I want to try describing Finn. You know, like "tall" and stuff. Just as a practice exercise or something.
Furrowing his brows, Kurt appeared to be thinking it over. But then he grinned, biting his lip. "Come closer."
Blaine scooted into the middle of the couch and settled there on his knees, ready to attempt to mirror whatever Kurt was about to sign. Kurt's eyes widened a bit but he didn't say anything until he started to speak along with his hand movements.
"Finn... is... extremely tall," he started, then he repeated the sentence until Blaine had the motions down. "He... is... a stepbrother. He likes... video games... and football. Okay, try it."
Blaine said the words to himself as he tried to remember and perform the sentences as Kurt had shown him. It took a few rounds, but eventually Kurt gave him a thumbs-up. Blaine frowned, though, when he noticed that Kurt was clearly stifling his laughter at something. At him?
Are you okay? he signed slowly.
"Fine, I'm-- I'm fine," Kurt said, clearing his throat as his voice cracked. He pulled out his phone. "I'll get Finn in here."
A few minutes after Kurt sent the text, Finn came wandering into the living room. He stared at Blaine, still on his knees, then at Kurt, and shook his head. "Sorry, but I'm not gonna be a part of any weird sex thing you guys are doing," he said, signing at the same time for Kurt, though Blaine did notice him slip despite not knowing all the signs.
"Jesus, Finn, no," Kurt said, offended. He stopped talking to sign quickly to Finn, who seemed to have almost as much trouble as Blaine at keeping up. But he actually knew all of what Kurt was saying, or so it seemed, because then he looked at Blaine and shrugged.
"Show me what you got, man."
"Okay," Blaine muttered. He knew this, he could do it. He looked Finn in the eyes and signed exactly what Kurt had shown him. Finn's eyes grew comically wider the longer he went on, but Blaine pushed through. It couldn't be that bad even if he was doing it wrong, right?
"Dude, what the hell?" Finn said when Blaine dropped his hands. "What--"
"I didn't-- I--" Blaine stammered, looking at Kurt for help. But Kurt was giggling, honest to god giggling as he hid his face in his arms.
"Fuck, that--" Kurt started, but he shook his head and took a deep breath, grabbing the board.
That was the most hilarious thing I've ever seen, he wrote. Your FACES, fuck.
Blaine stared at Kurt; Finn did the same, his face and ears violently pink now. Kurt grinned at each of them in turn and wrote on.
I may have taught you the wrong words on purpose. He showed the message to Blaine, whose jaw dropped.
"What?" he mouthed, appalled. "What did I say?" Kurt winked.
"Finn is extremely sexy." Blaine groaned. "He is a god. He likes long socks and feet."
"Wait, so you didn't know you were saying all of that?" Finn asked before Blaine could grab the board back from Kurt.
"Of course not," Blaine mumbled, face warm. "I would never, I--"
"It's cool, Blaine," Finn said with a lopsided smile. "It wasn't your fault." He tapped Kurt on the shoulder and gave him the finger, which was definitely a sign Blaine could understand. Kurt stuck his tongue out at Finn, who grumbled to himself as he walked away.
That was mean, Blaine wrote once he got the board back, pouting at Kurt, who did look a little chastised at least.
"Sorry. Still funny though." Blaine huffed. "Are you still coming over on Christmas Day?"
Absolutely.
Kurt let out a relieved breath, and Blaine wondered if he'd been worried that Blaine wouldn't be there. It was so obvious that Kurt loved Christmas -- he'd taken to the task of decorating his home almost on his own; the tree sat in a corner, draped with lights and ornaments of all shapes and sizes. Blaine had helped him, of course, the two of them flitting around the living room in complete, easy silence except to occasionally sign a simple word or two to each other.
There had been Christmas music playing, which had been Burt's doing, and Blaine enjoyed dancing to it. At one point he'd been caught wiggling his hips by Kurt and froze, irrationally afraid that Kurt would feel bad about not being able to hear what Blaine could. But instead Kurt had rolled his eyes fondly, engaging Blaine in a short slow dance that ended when Kurt cleared his throat and backed off to continue decorating.
Christmas made him glow brighter, it seemed. That shadow of him that Blaine caught at school, the part of him that kept people away, was now impossible to spot in the wash of warm, flickering white light from the tree.
Blaine was starting to love Christmas more than ever. That Kurt would even think that he wouldn't share the holiday with him -- well, he was going to fix that.
We should bake cookies.
It took a while to get Kurt's attention; he'd been scanning the decorations around the room as if making sure not a light was out of place. When he noticed, he frowned.
"Cookies?" he asked, like the idea was preposterous.
Christmas cookies. We can decorate them and then eat them all when I'm here again in two days.
"If you think this family won't eat any before then, you'd be mistaken," Kurt hummed, "but okay."
Kurt led him to the kitchen, where they said nothing as they pulled ingredients and bowls from cupboards. Blaine allowed Kurt to direct him with a mixture of simple sign language and plain old universal body language. There was no music this time, but Blaine almost liked this better. He could focus completely on how they worked together, not quite perfectly -- Kurt nearly bumped into Blaine and got flour all over both of them as a result -- but still perfect.
Kurt revealed a small collection of Christmas-themed cookie cutters that he admitted he has used every year since his mom died. Blaine made sure to use the gingerbread man mold a few more times than necessary -- he had a plan. A plan that involved pink frosting for hair.
While the cookies baked in the oven, they conversed through the dry-erase board -- and maybe made out against the counter a little bit. Or a lot. Blaine grinned against Kurt's lips when the timer sounded and pulled away to get the cookies, ignoring Kurt's grumbling.
"What's all this?" Burt asked, walking in just as Blaine set the cookies on a cooling rack. "Blaine?"
Baking cookies, Blaine signed proudly, smiling when Burt's eyebrows raised, impressed.
"Not bad, kid. I'm goin' out to the store to pick up a few things, is there anything you two want?" Burt signed and spoke. Kurt shrugged, but Blaine thought to himself and started signing again.
Real food, he signed, confident. I'm hungry.
Kurt snorted next to him and Burt blinked before he started to chuckle. "Not something I need to know," he said to Blaine with a wink, then he left. Blaine turned, crestfallen, to Kurt.
What did I do? he asked.
"Uh--" Kurt started, grinning, "I suppose you don't know that the signs for 'hungry' and 'horny' are incredibly similar, do you?"
Blaine didn't say anything; he just let himself sink down to the floor and sat there, arms crossed. Kurt sat down next to him and crossed his leg over Blaine's, as usual.
"You're cute," he said, giving Blaine a kiss on the cheek. When Blaine didn't do anything in response, he leaned in closer to nibble at his earlobe. Blaine jumped a little, gasped when Kurt's tongue piercing ran over the skin just below his ear. "You think I could get you off in here before Finn smells the cookies and comes looking for them?"
Please, Blaine signed, one of the few signs he knew without a single doubt due to how often he used it now. Kurt laughed, then moved to straddle him right there.
Yeah, he really, really loved Christmas with Kurt.
Sinking 'verse: "Kurt Hummel, you are amazing and you know it."
a/n: this is dedicated to byrd who wanted some porn and I hadn't added anything to this 'verse in a while and, well. this happened. - mid February is the time slot. and let's ignore what time the sunrise actually happens in February.
warnings: semi-exhibitionism, a little more intense breathplay than previous (but still not, like. super hardcore), marking. there are also ~emotions, because I can't do anything without plot, it seems.
how they met | rumors and a proposition | scandals | confirmation | cherry blossoms | meeting burt (&finn, again) | blaine's surprise | first date | secret's out | scandals v2 | insults & apologies | first time | blaine's birthday | smoke no more | signed confessions | pb&h - chrono
From: Kurt
How early are you willing to wake up tomorrow?
To: Kurt
depends. What's up?
From: Kurt
Can you meet me under the bleachers at 6:30?
To: Kurt
this is a very strange request, Mr. Hummel. but yes. I'll be there.
From: Kurt
I think you'll like what I have in mind. Love you, pretty boy.
To: Kurt
I love you, too. see you tomorrow.
--|--
Blaine's heart leapt as he reread the conversation from last night, particularly the last two messages. Kurt was still (understandably) hesitant to say "I love you," and seeing it before his very eyes was an instant mood-lifter. He preferred to hear it, of course, in Kurt's beautiful, imperfect voice, but either way, it amazed him how such simple words could alter his day and make it that much better.
It was cold, though not terribly, as Blaine beat the now-familiar path underneath McKinley's bleachers. Tiny pockets of snow littered the ground where the flakes had slipped in between the metal seats, but the area was mostly dry. A scattering of used cigarettes near one metal post reminded Blaine of Quinn; he wondered where she was, briefly, then remembered it was way too early for anyone to be at school yet, especially not a Skank.
Blaine searched around for a sign of Kurt and frowned when he didn't so much as see Kurt's signature backpack. But then he heard a door creak open; he spun around and saw Kurt stepping out of a medium-sized shed he'd only vaguely registered during his visits here in the past. Kurt smiled when he saw Blaine, something bright and sweet in his eyes that reminded Blaine that, regardless of all that had happened in the past two years, the old Kurt Hummel was still there underneath his dye and tattoos. Not that Blaine would have his Kurt any other way -- this Kurt, beaten down and ultimately stronger for it, was the Kurt he fell in love with.
"Fancy seeing you here," Kurt said, playful and way too awake for almost 6:30 AM.
Just stopping by to say hello, Blaine signed, winking. But he couldn't hold his curiosity in any longer. Care to explain?
(He hoped Kurt would know what he meant; Blaine knew the words to express himself, but it was another thing entirely to get the grammar correct. Sign language was weird.)
This shed has a heating system, Kurt responded in kind, nodding towards it. It also locks, and no one uses it.
And?
And you're absolutely clueless. "Blaine, think. What could we possibly do in a locked shed at an ungodly time when, hopefully, no one could interrupt us?"
Blaine gaped at Kurt, looking between the shed and his boyfriend. It didn't look very welcoming; as far as he could see, it was dark except for wide shafts of burgeoning sunlight that broke through the paneled wall, a wall that would be nothing to peek through. The rest of the shed was built of unforgiving cement, with a chain-link fence propped against the inside of the sun-streaked wall.
Are you serious? Blaine asked, nervous. He wasn't nervous about getting caught -- Kurt was right, no one would ever come to school two and a half hours early, especially not anywhere near the bleachers (though there was a chance, there was always a chance). In fact, he couldn't pinpoint an exact reason to be nervous other than how uneasy the shed made him feel.
Yes. But... Kurt bit his lip, glancing down. We don't have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.
Blaine watched him, a smile spreading on his face in spite of himself. Another look at the inside of the shed, and it didn't seem as bad. He reasoned that the sun would only get brighter as time went on, illuminating the inside that much more. And, of course, there was Kurt, who could make Blaine forget everything about where they are and let them just be.
Let's do it, Blaine signed. Kurt's eyebrows raised and a little smirk graced his lips. He stepped forward into Blaine's space, long legs clad in tight black pants. His earrings glinted in the sun.
"Three taps, right?" Kurt muttered, fingers finding Blaine's belt loops and locking into them.
Blaine reached around, drew an affirming check mark into Kurt's right shoulder blade through the material of his grey hoodie with a fingertip. Kurt chuckled and pressed his lips gently to Blaine's without urgency, starting to back into the shed and pulling Blaine with him.
"I bet you never thought you'd be doing this," Kurt continued softly. "Anyone could catch us."
Shrugging, Blaine grinned into another kiss, but Kurt broke it almost immediately to go to the door and close it -- after ensuring that it would lock upon shutting. Then he took the backpack from his left shoulder and hung it from the chain-link fence.
"I brought what we need in here," he explained to Blaine, who really wasn't paying that much attention.
It was surprisingly warm, a soft hum radiating from a box in the corner that Blaine assumed was the electric heater. Some forgotten football pads lay scattered on the floor; the segment of fence, upon closer inspection, was slightly bent out of shape. But what drew his attention was Kurt, who had taken his sweatshirt off -- underneath he wore only a clinging black tank top, the tips of the branch tattoo visible around his right shoulder, and Blaine had to wonder how he'd managed to get this lucky.
Blaine shrugged off his own layers until he was down to a white undershirt, and it wasn't until he looked back up that he noticed Kurt -- touching himself, rubbing through his pants as he watched Blaine with a cocked eyebrow, casually leaning against the fence as he did so. Swallowing, Blaine cast his eyes around the small room, wondering what exactly Kurt had in mind, but then Kurt was on him with a deep, dirty kiss; the tongue piercing hit Blaine's teeth with a clack but it wasn't nearly as shocking anymore. Of course, all of Kurt was just as intoxicating as ever.
A metallic rustle, and Blaine registered somewhere in the back of his mind that he had been backed up against the fence. Kurt held him there for a minute or two, just kissing while his hand cupped Blaine, doing nothing but applying the gentlest pressure until Blaine couldn't help rocking forward in search of more.
"Turn around," Kurt murmured. Blaine did, a little thrill jumping in his nerves from anticipation. He wasn't quite hard yet but as Kurt reached around to undo his jeans, he knew it wouldn't take much longer to get there. Kurt slipped the jeans down, followed by his briefs; Blaine turned his head to get a better look, catching a glimpse of Kurt on his knees behind him.
Kurt saw him looking and smiled, pressing a short kiss to the back of his thigh -- it tickled and Blaine laughed, breathless.
"My face is inches from your ass and you're laughing," Kurt said, pretending to sound put-out but mostly just sounding pleased. "I can't believe it." Blaine shook his head, his smile growing wider because it is kind of ridiculous but he wouldn't have it any other way.
But then Kurt straightened up and Blaine found himself pressed into the fence again, metal cool against his cheek as Kurt started to mouth at the side of his neck. He could feel Kurt's cock through the rough material of those pants, hard against his ass and dragging slowly.
Kurt's hands found Blaine's hips, fingers pressing into the scar and the anchor tattoo on his right hip. He stroked Blaine a few times, dry, before he backed off to take the lube from the backpack that hung just a few feet away.
"Three taps," Kurt said again; Blaine nodded, and then tensed at the too-cold sensation on his skin when Kurt spilled a bit. "Sorry."
"It's fine," Blaine said, aware that Kurt couldn't hear him but needing to say something anyways. He wondered if Kurt knew that he responded verbally sometimes -- he must since it's pure instinct to speak, but still.
It was always a little weird starting out with Kurt's finger in him, stretching and dragging him open. But Blaine didn't mind the weirdness or even the pain upon starting out too much; he knew what was coming, after all. At two fingers, Kurt brushed against his prostate and Blaine gasped, his hands gripping the fence as he pushed back for more.
"Patience," Kurt hummed, nipping at his earlobe.
Blaine almost tried to find a way to tell Kurt to just fuck him, another finger be damned, but he didn't -- he let Kurt work the third finger in and shifted his hips back farther, impatient.
"You're a little shit, you know that?" Kurt said, amused. "Can't wait for me to fuck you, hm?" Blaine shook his head, whining low in his throat when Kurt crooked his fingers again. "Okay."
It felt dirty, illegal, when Kurt finally started to push in after a brief break to put the condom on, slow and murmuring in Blaine's ear until he bottomed out. Maybe it was just the location, the knowledge that someone could definitely hear the fence scraping concrete as Blaine's hold on it tightened and loosened. Maybe it was the fact that Blaine's jeans and briefs were pooled at his ankles, restricting him from spreading his legs like he usually did -- or that Kurt had the same problem, except he hadn't been wearing anything underneath those painted-on pants. Blaine was still recovering from that realization when Kurt started to grind his cock into him.
He didn't pull out so much as he just rolled his hips tight against Blaine's ass. Kurt's right hand gripped Blaine's hip almost painfully; his left, after a short question about whether Blaine was okay with it, wrapped not-so-gently around the front of Blaine's neck, forcing his head back and tightening his airway with each thrust.
Blaine's head spun, partly from the lack of air but mostly from Kurt, who had taken to biting and sucking at the back of his neck, leaving marks that would stay there for most of the day at least.
"Love you," Kurt muttered, voice low and no longer controlled, the way it got when he was close. "Love you so much, fuck."
Blaine groaned, let himself make whatever sounds that wanted to be made because Kurt could feel them at his throat. The fence rattled precariously but neither of them paid any mind to it; Blaine let go with one hand to interlace his fingers with Kurt's at his hip.
Kurt's cock dragged perfectly against his prostate and Blaine moaned, barely ragged from lack of air. It pushed Kurt over the edge, whose grip tightened for a few seconds so that Blaine couldn't breathe, could only feel Kurt shudder through his orgasm against him, swearing under his breath.
"Your turn," he mumbled after a minute, pulling out (to Blaine's discomfort; he didn't like the emptiness). Blaine heard him take the condom off but didn't see where Kurt put it -- he stayed against the fence, achingly hard but unwilling to do anything without Kurt's say. "Look at me."
Blaine turned his head as much as he could to look at Kurt, who had pulled his pants back up. Kurt rolled his eyes and put his hands back on Blaine's waist, turning him until he faced Kurt fully.
"Like this, B," Kurt said gently. He kissed Blaine briefly, sweetly, and sank to his knees with his usual smirk. "How long, do you think?" he asked, gripping Blaine's cock at the base, and god that felt good but not nearly good enough.
Not long, Blaine signed, his hands free from the fence (but shaking) as he leaned back against it. Just do something.
Kurt nodded, all signs of teasing gone as he took Blaine into his mouth, cheeks hollowed. Blaine's hips twitched forward and Kurt put his free hand up to hold him back against the fence. Kurt hummed, blinking up at Blaine with eyes that seemed navy-grey from the darkness of his pupils; like the ocean during a storm.
And that was it; heat expanded and stars burst as Blaine came, his fingers again gripping the fence behind him even as it dug into his back. Kurt swallowed as much as he could but when he stood up and Blaine came out of the immediate haze, there was a small streak of come at the corner of his mouth still. Blaine pulled Kurt in to kiss him, licking his own come off of Kurt.
"Oh," Kurt said, a little sheepish and a lot giddy. "Guess I missed a bit."
Blaine laughed and they broke apart, giving him the opportunity to pull his briefs and jeans back up. He checked the time; there was still an hour before school would start.
Now what? he asked, wishing he could just go home and rest. Kurt looked immediately uneasy and Blaine frowned. What's wrong?
Nothing, Kurt signed, shaking his head. I have a nice scarf for you.
What?
For your neck. Kurt gestured at the back of his neck, a small smile returning to his expression. He dug a simple black scarf out of his backpack. It wouldn't really match and would probably seem obvious, but it was better than nothing. Besides, Blaine liked wearing Kurt's clothes. They smelled like him. Sorry about that.
Blaine caught the scarf when Kurt tossed it to him and gave him a thumbs-up. But he wasn't about to let Kurt change the subject for good. Now tell me what's wrong.
"It's complicated," Kurt said out loud, but he furrowed his brows. "No, it's not. I don't know."
Write it.
"Blaine..." But Kurt sighed and took the dry-erase board out of his backpack as well. Blaine made a mental note to ask Kurt just how much stuff he kept in there at all times.
Kurt sat against one of the concrete walls so that the sun wasn't in his face and patted the spot next to him. Blaine sat there; it was a little uncomfortable, but no more so than when Kurt had told him all about his aversion to drinking on his kitchen floor.
That was two months ago, Blaine mused to himself. Somehow that seemed like both forever and the blink of an eye. He wondered if they had gone too fast; but then he wondered if they've been relatively slow. Either way, it seemed altogether perfect. Things felt right now, like he was confident in himself and confident in his relationship with Kurt. It didn't feel like that two months ago -- he'd still been worried that Kurt didn't think as much of him as he did of Kurt.
He knew now that even if Kurt wasn't his forever, he would always be his anchor in some way.
The future, Kurt wrote first, stopping there. Blaine nudged him and Kurt chuckled. "I'm getting there, slick."
My graduation is this June, he added after a short while. I should be able to graduate, I haven't acted like the other Skanks you've never met because they dropped out entirely. But my grades aren't good like before.
Ever since I heard of Broadway, I've wanted to go to New York. I doubt I could make it on the stage now and I don't know if I even want to anymore -- but I still want the city. A place where no one will give a shit that I've dyed my hair and gotten piercings and tattoos. Where no one will give a shit if I decide to do anything, including being with another boy.
Kurt stopped, looked at Blaine, and smiled. Satisfied that Blaine had gotten all that, he erased the words and started writing more.
I applied to NYU and a couple of other places, but I'll admit I didn't put much effort into it. Now it's hitting me that I really don't want to leave high school and just... do nothing. I may be called a delinquent, but I don't want to be that forever.
And whatever I do, there's always my fucking hearing problem. It's pretty much impossible to find an entry-level job for people -- people like me -- that are also disabled. I don't want to depend on others for the rest of my life, but it doesn't seem like I have a fucking choice in the matter.
I'm sorry for dumping all of this on you, Kurt finished. I guess I just didn't think about this stuff until recently and it's all crashing down.
Blaine reached for the board, kissing Kurt's cheek as he did so.
I still have a year after this so I can't say I know how you feel, he wrote, grinning sheepishly. But I think you can do anything, including New York. And that's not just me being the best boyfriend ever -- Kurt rolled his eyes -- I really believe that.
College, a job, whatever. I'm positive you'll make it anywhere because you won't let yourself give up. I can't imagine just doing high school the way you do, but you do it anyways.
"It's pretty simple," Kurt muttered. "I get everything in writing..."
Still. Kurt Hummel, you are amazing and you know it. That's what'll get you out of here, not an acceptance letter or a job offer. Just you.
Blaine capped the marker, feeling a little embarrassed because he'd gotten a bit sappy and as much as Kurt assured him that he had his moments too, he still felt silly. He didn't expect Kurt to lean over him and kiss him deeply, not searching for anything but just kissing.
"I love you," Kurt said, pulling back. He fixed Blaine with an intense gaze, broken a little by the softness in his expression and a teasing spark in his eyes. "My boyfriend is trying to get me away from him, I see."
I love you too, Blaine signed. And you're a dick. I'm trying to be serious.
Kurt snorted. You won't miss me too much, will you?
Blaine faltered at that, realizing that at some point he won't be able to do this, to meet up with Kurt during school. And if New York happens, he won't be able to see much of him at all.
It shocked him to realize that they had their days of being this close numbered, and maybe even their days of being boyfriends numbered as well. It was no secret that relationships often broke over two people being in different places, whether mutually or not. Blaine didn't want to think about not being with Kurt. He'd acknowledged the possibility enough before, but now that he felt secure... well, it turned out it wasn't so secure after all.
But Kurt was still his anchor.
I'll miss you, Blaine signed honestly. But I don't want you to be tied to Lima.
Kurt nodded. "It'll be fine," he said quietly, though whether to himself or to Blaine, the other wasn't sure.
Blaine stood, holding a hand out for Kurt to take and pulling him up as well. Are you going to class today?
"We'll see," Kurt hummed, peeking through the wood slats of the shed. "I already have my assignments."
So no, Blaine signed with a wry grin when Kurt turned back to him. Kurt smiled.
Of course not.
Blaine kissed him again for good measure after he rearranged himself to look less like he'd just had sex in a shed. Kurt wrapped the scarf around his neck and adjusted it a few times until he deemed it workable.
"I tend to wear scarves better, but this works," he said, patting Blaine's ass affectionately.
Thanks.
"Mhm. Have a good day. I'll text you Q's 'Problem of the Day' when she gets here."
Blaine chuckled, turning to leave. Before he opened the door, he signed, I love you.
Kurt bit his lip, cheeks a faint shade of pink visible in the shaft of sunlight that hit his face. He looked younger, somehow.
I love you too.
--|--
From: Kurt
you won't believe it: Q has a boyfriend. And he's not even a 40 year-old skater.
To: Kurt
Oh? Who is it, then?
From: Kurt
None other than your teammate, Sam Evans. Oh, I'm going to have a fucking blast making fun of her for this.
Blaine laughed, drawing some attention from his classmates around him -- not that he cared. Kurt was... god. Stunning, not perfect but perfect for that exact reason. And, scary as it was to think it, he was everything, too.
He tried not to think about the future. It'll come when it does. Instead Blaine decided to focus on right now, a present in which Kurt was his completely and in which he still went right on sinking into Kurt's, well, everything.
He only hoped he won't drown when his anchor slips away.
a/n: We're going back in time to a little talk that these dumbs had in my head but that never actually got written because this thing is so crazy out of order - mid December
warnings; talk of past minor character death, alcohol
how they met | rumors and a proposition | scandals | confirmation | cherry blossoms | meeting burt (&finn, again) | blaine's surprise | first date | secret's out | scandals v2 | insults & apologies | first time | blaine's birthday | smoke no more | signed confessions - chrono
His hand was on the doorknob when a voice stopped him.
"Blaine."
Blaine turned around with a slight frown to see his mother standing a few feet away and wringing her hands nervously. "Mom?"
"Are you seeing that boy again?" She sounded disapproving, which honestly didn't surprise Blaine. Still, it frustrated him that people always looked at Kurt (and everyone else, for that matter) and made snap judgments. Then again, he'd done the same thing at first. He sighed and put his hands in the pockets of his letter jacket with a small, tight shrug and nod.
"His name is Kurt," he added.
"Kurt, right." A moment of silence, then, "Is he your boyfriend?"
Well, shit.
"Uh... Yeah, I guess he is." Blaine searched his mother's expression for some kind of visible reaction but she remained passive for an endless few seconds, her hands still moving. He reached back to turn the doorknob, unsure whether or not he was free to leave. Neither of his parents were spectacular at communication, but he could usually figure out what they wanted. Now, he had no clue. "Can I..." Blaine trailed off, gesturing towards the now half-open door.
"Yes, go ahead, I'm sorry," his mom said, shaking her head. "Just promise me one thing?"
"Sure."
"Be safe, okay? I'm not saying Kurt is dangerous," she added when Blaine opened his mouth. "I'm saying he's a bit... visible. I don't want either of you attracting unwanted attention, not again." And then it all made sense; she'd never quite been the same since Sadie Hawkins and everything that surrounded that incident. He still didn't quite agree, but he understood.
"So you're okay with us?" Blaine asked carefully, wanting to be sure.
"Yes, yes, of course," she said with a small smile. "I just worry. Especially since he doesn't seem like your type."
"Kurt is one of the most amazing and beautiful people I've ever met," Blaine assured her with as much confidence as he could muster -- it was weird, really, talking about this with his mom. But it had to be said. "If I have a type, that's it."
She beamed and Blaine couldn't help but grin back, suddenly feeling light as a feather. "Have fun, sweetheart."
"Thank you," he said with complete sincerity before heading out the door, keys jangling merrily in hand.
He wondered, briefly, why they don't spend much time together outside of their respective bedrooms and houses. It could be that the weather this December was some of the coldest he had ever experienced, but there were other places to go (besides Scandals, of course).
Blaine thought about it all the way to Kurt's house and as he walked up to the door. As a result, he didn't notice anything out of the ordinary until a clump of freezing snow collided with the back of his neck; he yelped, spinning around in a frenzied attempt to find his attacker while at the same time reaching back to brush the snow away before it could slip underneath his jacket and completely soak his shirt.
Just as he saw Finn disappear around the corner of the house, someone tapped his shoulder from behind. Blaine turned and got a glimpse of amused, familiar blue-grey eyes before Kurt's lips found his, pressing gently.
"Gotcha," Kurt hummed quietly, smirking as he pulled back by mere centimeters. Too close to sign or attempt to speak, Blaine settled for tugging Kurt back in by the leather jacket he wore on colder days, kissing him deeper and flicking his tongue against Kurt's piercing.
It took some time for them to separate, during which Blaine was sure he heard Finn clear his throat multiple times before he finally gave up and went inside, leaving the two of them barely swaying in each other's arms in the snow. Eventually, it occurred to Blaine that the back of his neck, along with his fingers, was cold, so he reluctantly backed off in order to tug Kurt inside by the hand.
Nice to see you boys, Burt signed passively as they slipped into the living room, where he was watching a basketball game. Blaine felt a little burst of pride at having recognized and translated the signs.
Kurt then let go of his hand and signed something that Blaine didn't fully understand, and he turned to him confusedly. "I said we're going to the kitchen," Kurt said quietly.
We are? Blaine asked, but Kurt just grabbed his hand again and started to pull him in the right direction without another word.
"Out," Kurt said to Finn, who was in the kitchen when they arrived.
I'm eating, Finn signed, his mouth full as he followed up with "Blaine, help me out."
"Sorry," Blaine said with a shrug. "I'm as clueless as you are."
"Fine," Finn conceded, signing it as well. Then he added something else that Blaine missed which made Kurt stick his tongue out at him as he left.
Kurt hummed, seemingly to himself (could you do such a thing if you couldn't hear it?), and headed for a cupboard. He pulled out -- to no surprise of Blaine's -- a small jar of honey, as well as a loaf of bread and two plates. "I need to introduce you to the joys of peanut butter and honey sandwiches," he said, grabbing the peanut butter for good measure. All the ingredients he dropped onto the countertop nearest Blaine.
Blaine didn't question it; he made his own sandwich in silence next to Kurt, who was acting strange. They ate (Blaine admitted with extremely novice signing that the combination was delicious, to Kurt's delight) and ended up sitting on the kitchen floor, backs against the lower cupboards and sides against each other's, Kurt's right leg crossed over the top of Blaine's left.
Taking out his dry-erase board for the first time since arriving, Blaine wrote, Any reason why we're sitting on your kitchen floor after eating some impromptu (but amazing) sandwiches?
"I--I, um." Kurt struggled for a moment, then took out his own board from the bag he wore on his shoulder nearly all the time. It was a distraction.
From what?
"What do you think?" Kurt said harshly, his voice breaking into a low register. This quitting shit is harder than I thought, he added in writing. Blaine frowned, frustrated that he couldn't do anything to help the withdrawal symptoms.
They say the symptoms only last a few weeks, he wrote, trying to reassure him. If it's true, you're almost there.
Please let's not talk about it, it's hard enough not to beg Q for a pack without thinking about all this. Ask me a question, anything
Blaine tapped his marker against his lips, concentrating even as he noticed Kurt scrubbing at his board with more vigor than usual long after he'd erased the last of the marks. It worried him, so he shifted into Kurt's side a bit more to catch his attention as he wrote, Why don't you drink alcohol?
Kurt stiffened, which was definitely not the reaction Blaine wanted.
"I'm sorry," he said lamely, then swore to himself and wrote the same on the board where Kurt could actually see it, adding, Nevermind, that was a stupid question, forget it
No, Kurt wrote hastily. I don't like the subject but I need a distraction and you should know this anyway.
Blaine took a deep breath and nodded.
It's simple, Kurt started, pausing between words. I was eight when some fucking idiot thought it was a good idea to drive drunk. My mom was on her way to my piano recital and they crossed paths. She was killed instantly.
Blaine gaped for a few moments, completely speechless (wordless? whatever). He was saved the trouble of responding right away when Kurt wiped off his board and continued:
I'm glad she didn't suffer and all that shit but that doesn't make it hurt any less. Now, just the thought of tasting alcohol makes me feel sick because whether I'm being responsible or not I never, ever want to do to someone else what that asshole did to my family. And of course there was the guy that took my virginity without ever bothering to learn my name, not that he'd have been able to remember it.
Does it bother you when I drink? Should I stop? He didn't want to say "I'm sorry," because he knew Kurt wouldn't accept that. Besides, Blaine wanted to know -- he didn't want to inadvertently bring back any bad memories. He'd been tipsy around Kurt before, of course, but now that he knew...
I don't control you, Kurt wrote. It's not my favorite thing to watch, but as long as I'm around to make sure nothing bad happens, I'm fine with it.
I'm going to stop. Blaine turned his head slightly to see Kurt staring across at his board with a reluctant half-smile. If you can stop smoking, I can stop drinking.
You're not an alcoholic, Kurt wrote with a roll of his eyes towards Blaine.
I don't care, from now on I'm alcohol-free except for one glass of wine or champagne on special occasions. He meant it, truly and completely, and he hoped that it came through even in writing. Based on the way Kurt was now openly smiling, it did.
Like what?
It was lucky, really, that Blaine was writing and not speaking because he had time to think before he could blurt out "our wedding" or something equally stupid and embarrassing. New Year's, maybe?
Kurt nodded, the melancholy of his eyes fading as the subject changed. Speaking of New Year's...
... yes?
Come over here for the night?
I would love to. Christmas?
Whoa there, Slick.
Hey! I just want to spend as much time as possible with my boyfriend over break. Kurt chuckled, shaking his head.
Of course. Unrelated: my ass really fucking hurts from sitting on tile.
It only took that sentence for Blaine to realize that he was feeling rather uncomfortable as well. A smile crept onto his face and Kurt stared at him, obviously confused.
You know what would feel better? he asked, as nonchalant as he could be through the action of writing.
"What?" Kurt said warily, though the smirk on his face, the glint in his eyes, and the way he started to pack away his dry-erase board told Blaine that he already knew.
A bed. Your bed. You fucking me on your bed.
"You do realize my entire family is scattered around the house, right?"
Has that ever stopped us before?
"...Touché."
No more words were needed as they made their way out of the kitchen and up the stairs, Kurt pressing Blaine into one or two walls as they went (once out of earshot of Burt, of course). They never really needed words, actually. Enough was the rise and fall of their chests, the slick slide of skin, and especially the way Blaine couldn't seem to take his eyes away from Kurt's.
If he could look at Kurt every single day for the rest of his life, he would. He hoped he'd be given that very opportunity someday.
--|--
It wasn't until he was almost out the door for school the next day that Blaine realized he'd left his letter jacket at Kurt's. Figuring he could just pick it up later, he left without a jacket at all -- a mistake, really, since he was shivering as he got into his car. But he made it to school all the same and stopped at his locker to rub his hands in an attempt to warm them.
"Morning, stranger," Kurt's voice called quietly, and Blaine barely had time to spin around and see Kurt winking at him as he passed. Kurt, wearing his letter jacket for everyone to see. It looked... really good, despite the way the Titans red sort of clashed with the pink streaks in Kurt's hair.
It looked good because Kurt (his boyfriend!) was wearing his jacket without an ounce of shame or apology. Not to mention it was really fucking hot.
Blaine grinned each time he saw Kurt in the hall, only a little nervous about the reactions such a thing could instigate, but Finn's promise held true -- no one tried to hurt him or, as far as he knew, Kurt.
Sure, people were probably talking behind their backs, but Blaine couldn't find it in him to care. He cared about Kurt, and about them, and that was all he needed to get by.
And if he walked away from Kurt's house later that afternoon with a leather jacket smuggled into his shoulder bag, well, it was just fair. The way Kurt's jaw dropped the next morning (and the subsequent locked-classroom makeout during lunch) made the effort completely worth it.
