It's Not Babysitting - chapter 5/27
<--- Chapter 4
CHAPTER 5
The second week of Blaine’s New York stay came to a close; it was almost the end of June. The heat was still thick in the air, making everyone sweaty and irritable. But Blaine felt anxious and fidgety in ways that had nothing to do with the weather.
Ever since that evening with Kurt at the theater, it was very hard for him to sit still. So he kept coming up with ways to keep himself busy.
On Monday, he focused on places with live music; coffee houses, restaurants, karaoke bars. He’d order coffee or a coke and chat with people, amazed with how many places in this city offered a chance to sing and play. On certain days, you could just come and perform, no matter how much of an amateur you were. Blaine promised himself to try it one day soon, and the mere prospect of performing was exhilarating.
On Tuesday, he explored the subway. He traveled the whole length of some lines, got off on random stops and tried to find something interesting everywhere: unusual buildings, a pretty little park, a lovely view or three, a great music store. It gave him all sorts of pictures and memories to bring home that evening, and yet, as exhausted as he was, he still had trouble falling asleep.
On Wednesday, it was art - he made a list of exhibitions to see this summer, and since they required way more than just a day of his time, he started with the ones with the shortest run. The day was busy and full of things beautiful, interesting and just plain weird, but as he was nearing Cooper’s apartment that evening, he still felt like something was lacking. He even knew what it was. Without much thought, he turned and walked towards Kurt’s place instead.
The piano. He missed playing after a five-day break.
The apartment was dark and quiet when he let himself in - no telltale sound of a sewing machine or Kurt’s humming flowing through his studio door. It wasn’t much of a surprise - Kurt had told him back on Saturday that he wouldn’t have time to meet for several days at least. He was spending all of his time this week creating some elaborate, multilayered dresses. He had two seamstresses to help him, so he’d planned to work in his theater workroom during the day. Blaine knew all about it, and he hadn’t really expected to see Kurt here. Still, he felt a little disappointed. Okay, very disappointed. Which was silly.
He shook his head to move his thoughts in some other direction. It worked for a bit, but after ten minutes of focus, he let himself flow on the waves of music and his mind went to the one topic it had been bouncing back to constantly in the last couple of days.
He missed Kurt.
And not just in that simple, easy way you miss a friend, like when he’s home sick for a week and you have no one to exchange notes with in a boring class or to go for coffee with. No. This was like an ache, persistent and impossible to locate. Like a constant vibration in his brain, like he couldn’t relax because something important was missing. It kept him awake and made him stop and turn in the middle of the street more than once these past few days, because he thought he’d seen Kurt’s gracious form, or the stormy blue of his eyes; thought he’d heard his laugh.
It was exhausting. And so, so stupid.
Blaine ground his teeth and set to playing the difficult new piece from the sheet music he'd left here last week. It was a good distraction and even if it didn’t fill the hole that the longing left, it was enough for now.
So he had a crush on a guy he could never have - so what? He’d deal with it.
And then it was Thursday, and something happened, and Blaine was left confused and terrified, his head reeling and his heart pounding with panic, and anxiety, and maybe just a little hope. And as he was sitting in his room late that night, shaking and lonely and going crazy with the hurricane of emotions, there was only one person he knew who might understand and not judge him, and maybe even help.
With trembling fingers, Blaine scrolled through his address book until he found him.
Kurt Hummel
He wrote a short text, pressed Send and waited.
***
An incoming text startled Kurt around 2 a.m., when he was curled in an armchair with the third glass of red wine in his hand, celebrating the fact that the dreadful dresses were almost done. Curious, he reached for his phone - most people he knew either slept at this time, or were well on their way to bed, at least on workdays.
Well, apparently Blaine wasn’t like most people in more ways than Kurt had already known.
Blaine Anderson: How busy are you tonight?
Kurt tapped out a reply.
Not critically so. Why?
The answer was immediate.
Blaine Anderson: I need to talk to someone.
Kurt frowned. Had it been anyone else, he’d only be mildly concerned. But in this case, he was actually worried. Blaine hesitated to ask for help even when he needed it. Mixed with the fact that he knew Kurt would most likely still be buried in work, but texted anyway, meant that something had to be seriously wrong. He hoped the boy wasn’t in trouble - god knew it was easy to find in this city, especially after dark. Wait, was Blaine even at home, or at least somewhere safe? He replied quickly.
Do you want to come over?
Blaine Anderson: I’m on my way.
Kurt had barely finished his wine, washed the glass and straightened the kitchen a bit before there was a soft knock on the door. Blaine looked unharmed when he nodded hello and came into the brightly lit living room, but Kurt knew it didn’t necessarily mean he was fine. He looked closer, noticing the details - the soft curls of his hair with barely a touch of product, the furrowed brow, the slumped posture. Yes, Blaine Anderson was definitely one troubled boy tonight. And if he came to Kurt, and not to Cooper, did it mean he got tangled in something Kurt might better understand, or that he wouldn’t dare tell his brother?
No. No assuming. Blaine would tell him if he wanted to, and in his own time. Which didn’t look like anytime soon. That was fine - Kurt wasn’t going to pry; he knew the difficulty of opening up to other people with your problems. Instead of hovering, he left Blaine fidgeting with the plush throw on the back of the sofa and went to the fridge.
“I have water, grapefruit juice, diet coke and wine. What can I get you?”
“Coke please.”
Even Blaine’s voice was quiet tonight, subdued. He looked like he didn’t know what to do with himself, and Kurt got an idea. He took out the coke and a bottle of sparkling water for himself, and gestured for Blaine to put his shoes back on.
“Come on, I’ll show you something.”
Several flights of stairs and a ladder later, they were on the roof. Kurt quietly closed the door behind him and smiled at Blaine, who stood there, clearly enchanted with the view.
“I come here sometimes when I need to think, or just to get away from everything and everyone.”
He set their beverages on the ground and leaned against the waist-high brick wall that ran around the edge of the rooftop. The view always took his breath away, no matter how long he’d lived in the city.
“It’s so beautiful.” There was awe in Blaine’s voice, a hushed sort of astonishment as he stood beside him.
“It is.”
It was still hours until dawn, and even though the stars had faded against the illumination of the city that never slept, the moon was still clear over faraway skyscrapers, frail and thin in its crescent. It was peaceful, and after a while, Kurt heard Blaine take a steadying breath.
“I was in Central Park since early morning today,” he started, still looking away, at the vast city of lights spread before them. “I wanted to walk all around, see as much as I could, and then settle somewhere and relax.”
Kurt nodded. He’d done that regularly his first year here, and many times since. Blaine continued, still not looking at him.
“In the afternoon, I found a nice place to rest. There was a girl playing the violin in an alley; she was really good. I dropped some money into her violin case, and then sat on the grass under a tree, where I could still hear the music. I read some, then started writing in my journal.”
Blaine glanced at Kurt, as if to check his reaction. Reassured by the lack of judgment, he reached for the coke, popped it open and drank a little, stalling.
“The music must have stopped at some point, but I didn’t realize it until the girl sat beside me. She seemed nice, so we started talking. Her name was Meg. It turns out she’s a senior in high school too, and that she also wants to study music next year, and since she lives here, she knows all about the best programs. We had a lot to talk about - I mean, music alone, it felt really good to chat with someone as passionate about it as I am. We must have talked for an hour, maybe more, before she said she needed to go back to playing, and then she…" Blaine paused and took a shuddering breath. "She kissed me. On the lips, and not just a peck, either, Kurt. I was so surprised I didn’t even react when she took my hand and wrote her number on my palm, said ‘Call me’ and left.”
“That’s one bold girl.” Kurt commented, if only to say something. It clearly wasn’t all because Blaine was still struggling to get something out, but at that point Kurt felt calmer. He could already guess what it would be - and he wasn’t mistaken.
“But Kurt, it felt nice!” Blaine sounded desperate now, as if admitting to a grave sin.
“Well, kissing’s supposed to feel nice, isn't it?”
Now that he knew what he was dealing with, Kurt relaxed. Blaine was safe, and the situation, while undoubtedly confusing for him, was nothing Kurt - and Sebastian, if needed - couldn’t help him get through.
“Well yes, but… Kurt. I always assumed I am gay, it was, well, kind of obvious, but what if I’m actually bi? I’ve never even tried dating a girl, what if I’ve built my whole life on a wrong assumption? What if I’m not who I thought I was?”
Blaine’s voice was quivering now and he crossed his arms tightly, defensively. Kurt thought of the real questions that Blaine never voiced.
What if I was bullied, beaten and hated for being someone I’m not?
What if I could have had my father’s love after all, if I’d only tried harder?
Kurt was pretty sure it wasn’t so, if only because Blaine was so shocked by the possibility, proving that he’d never even thought of girls that way, but he wasn’t one to assume - or judge, for that matter.
“Was she hot?” he asked, and Blaine’s dumbfounded expression would be answer enough.
“What?”
“The girl, Meg - was she hot? You two talked for a while, you had time to look at her.”
Blaine frowned, the effort of picturing her clearly visible on his face.
“Um. She had nice hair? Long and blond. And green eyes.”
“Were you attracted to her?” Kurt continued.
“No, but -“ he seemed lost for words.
“Close your eyes. Try to imagine an attractive girl - well, any girl - in a sexual situation. Take your time.” Kurt prompted gently. He stood silently for two or three minutes, until Blaine opened his eyes. “Now do the same with a boy you consider hot.”
The wait was shorter now, but Blaine still looked worried afterwards. Kurt asked, “Was there any difference in what you felt?”
Blaine nodded. “An obvious one, between nothing and a lot, but… I don’t understand then. When she kissed me, it felt just like when Nathan did.”
Kurt raised an eyebrow. Blaine was looking at him intently now, as if asking for an answer he could only really find by himself.
“You mean, it turned you on?”
Blaine blushed. “Well no, it was just a kiss after all. But just as nice.”
“Wait, you mean that your boyfriend’s kisses didn’t turn you on? What about other guys?”
Blaine looked confused. “Not the kisses alone, no. I mean - why should they? It was just kissing. And there were no other guys. Nathan was my first boyfriend.”
Later, Kurt would blame the wine; alcohol always gave him problems with impulse control.
They were standing so close that it was all too easy to raise his hand and lay it on Blaine’s cheek, rough with light stubble. The boy’s eyes, almost black in the darkness, were wide and incredulous as Kurt took the half-step into his personal space and whispered into his ear, close enough for his breath to tickle.
“There’s no such thing as just kissing, Blaine.”
He didn’t push for it - as much as he suspected that Blaine was attracted to him, Kurt was a gentleman. He would never force anything. He paused with his lips barely a breath away from Blaine’s, and let him close the distance - or move away, if he so chose.
Which he didn’t.
The soft fullness of Blaine’s lips was delicious, and Kurt relaxed into him, feeling strong arms embrace him and pull him closer - those sinfully hot arms, attached to a gorgeous, smart, fascinating man.
No. Only a kiss, Kurt, nothing more. Focus, you’re trying to prove a point here.
He took the lead with ease. The kiss wasn’t dirty or overtly sexual, but it wasn’t chaste either. For a moment Kurt moved his lips slowly, languorously against Blaine's before he ghosted the tip of his tongue against the bow of Blaine's upper lip - and felt his hands flex against his back as he was granted entry immediately. The sweet heat of Blaine’s mouth tasted like cinnamon, and Kurt took a long while to dance his tongue against Blaine’s and slide it across his palate, causing his breath to quicken and stutter. He sucked on Blaine's lower lip and was rewarded with a small, helpless moan as Blaine's hips bucked. Kurt smiled and slowly retreated, with one last soft, lingering kiss.
Blaine looked like the very definition of well-kissed when they parted. He was breathing heavily, his cheeks blushed dark enough to show in the low light and his lips already slightly puffy. He was still clutching at the back of Kurt’s shirt. He looked so tempting that Kurt could barely stop himself from diving back into another kiss. But he wasn’t tipsy enough to throw all reason to the wind. Sadly.
He grinned instead, and Blaine’s hands relaxed on his back, reluctantly releasing their hold.
“That was what a proper kiss should feel like, I’d say. And for the record - I’m not saying that you are surely not bisexual, or that there would be anything wrong if you were, because -“
“I’m gay. One hundred percent gay.” Blaine sounded shell-shocked, but relieved.
“Are you -“
“Oh, I’m sure. About as sure as I am about the fact that there was barely any chemistry between Nathan and me, apparently. Oh god. Kurt… would you mind if I went now? I think I need to process it all. I… just…”
He looked about ready to burst with emotional overload, and Kurt nodded.
“Sure. Come on, we’ll go together.”
They didn’t talk as they descended the stairs, but Blaine stopped by the door to Kurt’s apartment and touched his shoulder with a shy, gentle hand.
“Kurt… Thank you. You really helped me with this. Can we meet for dinner tomorrow or are you still busy? I was going to cook, so maybe even Cooper will be home on time.”
A wide grin spread on Kurt’s face. He missed their shared moments these past days.
“Absolutely. Just let me know what time and I’ll be there.”
Cooper wasn't home yet when Kurt arrived near eight the next evening.
"He said he should just be an hour more," Blaine said after he opened the door to let Kurt in. "Well, his loss. I'm making stuffed peppers, they should be ready in ten minutes."
A delicious aroma was already permeating the air as Kurt settled at the kitchen table, nursing a tall glass of ice-cold water. He watched Blaine dance around the kitchen, humming as he finished the preparations with an ease of someone used to cooking. Another surprise, and Kurt honestly wondered how many more the boy had up his sleeve.
"Looks like you're good at kitchen management," he smiled at him when Blaine leaned against the counter opposite, taking a sip of his orange juice.
"I've learned over the years. My parents aren't really the cooking type - they mostly either eat out or order in, and usually just leave me money to do the same. And there's only so many times you can eat pizza or Chinese from the same places before you feel sick just thinking about them. So I taught myself to cook what I like. It's nice, being able to take care of yourself."
Kurt's first reaction was to say that teenagers shouldn't have to take care of themselves in such basic ways as homemade food, but thought better of it. Try as he might, he couldn't fix the world. Not everyone was blessed with a family like his.
Instead, he just looked at Blaine, trying to assess his mood after last night's events, and was relieved to see him rested and relaxed, no visible evidence of a hard night. Well, good. Maybe a bit surprising, but good nonetheless. It was enough that he hadn't been able to sleep well after their... conversation on the roof. Even now, he was feeling guilty every time he glanced at Blaine.
No, not because they'd kissed - it wasn't like he'd forced anything, and a kiss was simply a kiss. You could kiss a stranger in a club, or your best friend, and it didn't necessarily mean anything.
It wasn't even because - after tossing and turning for the longest time, plagued by the images of Blaine's lips and thoughts of how good they'd feel, and how perfect they'd look around Kurt's cock - he'd finally given in and brought himself to a quick, messy orgasm fantasizing about a boy he shouldn't think of this way; a thing he'd resisted doing even after the fitting in the theater last Saturday.
No, the problem was that the urge, the fascination hadn't gone away like it was supposed to have after giving in - that the moment Blaine opened the door tonight, Kurt wanted to pull him into another kiss, and then rid him of those indecently well-fitting clothes, lay him over Coop's kitchen table and show him how much more Kurt could give him.
The problem was that with every word from Blaine's mouth Kurt remembered that little moan and ached to hear it again, hear it louder, hear Blaine fall apart under his fingers and lips.
The problem was that Kurt had been hard from the moment he'd entered the apartment and when Blaine bent a moment later to take the food out of the oven, Kurt had to bite his lip so that he wouldn't moan himself, positively desperate to run his fingers down that perfect round ass. To sneak them under those dark jeans and deeper, deep, to unravel this boy completely like no one ever had.
God, who knew Kurt had a thing for virgins? Because that had to be it, right? The forbidden fruit, the desire to show Blaine the pleasures of everything Kurt knew...
Man, he needed to get laid.
"I meant to ask you something about last night," Blaine started as they sat to eat a moment later, and Kurt tensed. He hoped Blaine wouldn't ask what it meant for Kurt, because right now, he wasn't sure himself. "Did you mean what you said?"
Oh. Then it wasn't about the kiss.
"Yes. Which part?" He answered without hesitation and Blaine made a funny face. "What? I did mean everything I said, but if you want me to elaborate on anything in particular, I need to know which part you're asking about."
Blaine nodded and ate a bit of his pepper before answering.
"You said that even if I am bi, there's nothing wrong with it."
"Of course there isn't. What would it change?" Kurt noticed the nonchalantly used grammar trap and ran with it. Good one. "I mean, it could change quite a bit for you, obviously, and take some getting used to, but other than that? We are what we are - gay, straight, bi, pan, trans, ace or anything in between - and it's okay."
"Plenty of people would disagree." Blaine was playing with a grain of rice, moving it all around his plate.
"I know." Kurt said softly. "But the thing is, you don't have to fit into other people's expectations, or even declare and name what you are for their sake. It's what you believe that matters. The only acceptance you truly need is your own."
"It gets lonely when you're not accepted by most though." Blaine still wasn't looking at him.
"I know." Oh, did he know. "Sometimes it takes a while to find people who accept and love us the way we are, and I don't just mean the sexuality part - all of us. But in the end, it's worth every minute of waiting."
"I think I'm starting to learn that."
Blaine looked up at last, his eyes bright and earnest. He was clearly trying to sound nonchalant, and failing. Kurt felt something in his throat catch at the vulnerability of his open, trusting face. He reached and laid his hand on Blaine's.
"I'm glad to hear that."
Chapter 6 --->