Kurt/Blaine: Precipice (10/10)
Title: Precipice (10/10)
Pairings: Kurt/Blaine
Rating: PG-13 overall
Word Count: ~4600
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: None.
Summary: Blaine is a new student at McKinley. Kurt is the star of the Cheerios. When Kurt is failing AP Chemistry, Coach Sylvester hires Blaine to tutor Kurt in order to ensure that he earns a grade that will allow him to stay on the squad. What will happen when the supposed nerd and the head cheerleader are forced to spend time together?
A/N: Please see Author's Note at the conclusion of this chapter. Thank you so much, all of you, for reading this story and for being patient with me when it sometimes took longer than I liked to produce updates. <3
“Where am I?” Blaine asks, words swirling and combining like ingredients in a blender.
“My basement,” a voice says. Blaine thinks it’s Puck, but the room is swirling even behind the safety of his closed eyelids, so there’s no way he’s going to open them to find out.
Calloused hands are touching his own, covering them with something tight and warm. He tries to flinch away, wanting to regain at least a little control over his traitorous body, but they just grip tighter.
“Stop,” he protests weakly, the word not rolling off his tongue but tumbling.
“Sorry, dude. You need this,” the voice says again and this time Blaine’s a good ninety percent certain that it’s Puck.
“Need what?”
“You’ll see.” Blaine whines a little and lets himself slump to the side against something warm and solid.
“He’s so drunk. Are you sure this is a good idea?” someone else asks. Finn, maybe?
“Will you stop worrying so much and just trust me?” Puck retorts. Blaine is positive now that the person speaking directly in front of him is Puck. There’s mumbling around him, people trying to speak indiscernibly in low voices and Blaine doesn’t bother trying to figure out what they’re saying. “All right. On your feet, Anderson.”
Blaine feels himself being pulled forward and up, feels his legs wobble and feels how little he can actually feel through whatever Puck’s put on him. Suddenly, his sense-numbed hands are pressed against something solid before him, fingertips digging into a smooth, cool material. He’s shocked into opening his eyes by the familiarity of the feeling.
“No,” is all he says, trying to push off but finding himself swaying on the spot due to the instability of the item in question.
“Yes,” Puck tells him, gently guiding him back toward it. “You need this. I know you do.”
Blaine drags his gaze from Puck back to the punching bag, reaching up a hand to stroke over it with a loving touch. He does need it, and while he probably should be surprised Puck somehow just knew that he needs it, he isn’t. Though just minutes ago he’d been furious with Kurt, now all he wants to do is sleep. He drops forward, letting his forehead press against the leather.
“Hit it,” Puck demands, pushing the bag a little so Blaine stumbles back.
“I can’t,” Blaine says, rubbing at his bleary eyes and sighing.
“You need to. Now do it.”
“No,” Blaine argues, knowing even through his drunk that he’s being supremely childish.
“Then tell us what’s going on with you,” Mike interjects, much less edge to his voice than Puck’s been showing.
“No. I can’t,” Blaine says, shaking his head and grabbing onto the bag again. He won’t tell Kurt’s secret, not even now.
“I told you this wasn’t going to work,” Finn repeats. Puck rolls his eyes and stands, fishing something out of a plastic crate on the floor before coming back over to Blaine.
“We won’t say anything. Something’s obviously really bothering you and you can tell us what it is,” Mike says. Blaine pauses, hardly noticing that his hands are again being tended to, everything going cold and then warm again, even more so than before.
“I can’t,” Blaine eventually says.
“Too much of a pussy?” Puck asks, shoving the bag harder so it collides with Blaine’s chest, knocking him off balance.
“Hey, chill out,” Mike says.
“It’s not my fault that Blaine’s not man enough to deal with his shit.”
“Not man enough?” Blaine spits out, pushing the bag back until it slams into Puck. “Just because I don’t want to talk doesn’t mean I’m not man enough.”
“You’re right. You should just go around getting drunk and screaming Fuck You at people. Awesome idea.” Blaine shoulder bumps the bag as he passes it, heading straight for Puck. His arms extend, preparing to shove, but the sight of his hands makes him stop.
They’re covered in black boxing gloves.
The world is still spinning, wobbling like a top almost ready to topple, but Blaine finds himself grounded by the tight confines around his hands. They’re as familiar and comforting as the smell of cinnamon bread baking at his grandma’s house.
“I’ve never been drunk before,” Blaine admits, legs threatening to sway.
“Yeah, we can tell,” Puck says, stepping forward. “You’re a pretty shitty drunk if you ask me.”
“I didn’t ask you.”
“Oh well,” Puck shrugs, narrowing the distance between them even further. “So what is it, huh? Have a big crush on Kurt and he won’t give you the time of day?”
“No.” Blaine’s fists curl tighter into the leather wrapped around his hands.
“Did he fuck you and never return your calls?”
“No,” Blaine says.
“So he decided you weren’t good enough?” Puck asks, getting right up in Blaine’s face.
“Shut up, Puck,” Blaine warns.
“Did he get you all worked up and then leave you hanging?”
Blaine steps-though staggers might be a more appropriate term-around Puck. His heart is throbbing, pulse thudding thick and muddy is his throat. His hands are aching for contact, wants to punch until he can feel it through the numbed dullness the gloves provide.
“We haven’t… I mean we were going to but…” Blaine stammers, the sense memory of Kurt’s hand cupping him through his jeans flashes through his mind, distracting him and lowering his defenses for a moment.
“Whoa,” someone says softly.
“Why in the hell would he want you of all people?” Puck taunts, smirk widening on his face as Blaine’s face alights in what he’s sure is a look of pure fury.
He wants to respond, to defend himself against Puck’s terrible words, but all he can picture is Kurt wrapped in the arms of…
Head swiveling of its own accord, Blaine looks over at Finn for just a split second before winding up and landing a solid hook on Puck’s left cheek.
“Ooo, hit the nail on the head, didn’t I?” Puck asks, laughing as he wiggles his jaw back and forth and raises his own gloved hands. “So what? You thought you had a chance with him after he joined the glee club and you made your move only to get denied?”
Blaine charges, crowding into Puck’s space and raining down hook after hook, hardly any of them making actually decent contact. He can feel grunts of exertion vibrating his throat but can’t hear them over the noisy throbbing in his ears.
“You don’t know anything,” Blaine yells, fist finally again connecting solid with the side of Puck’s face. “We’ve been hanging out for the last month and cooked for each other and he kissed me earlier but then he left because he likes someone else and I just-“
Blaine realizes then that he’s been wailing on Puck, hook after hook landing on his face, arms, neck, but Puck isn’t even phased. He’s just standing there staring at him expectantly, arms lowered. A wave of exhaustion sweeps over him and he feels his own arms drop.
“You just want it to be you,” Puck says.
“Yeah,” Blaine nods, eyes flooding with tears that he knows he absolutely can not shed right now. Not in front of them. Not when he’s sweaty and so drunk. Not with glove encased hands and a brain far too clogged with a myriad of confusing events. But for all of those reasons, Blaine does cry.
He drops to the ground and clumsily covers his face with his oversized hands.
“Have you told him how you feel?” someone asks. Honestly, Blaine has no idea who.
“No, what’s the point?” Blaine asks, attempting to swipe the tears from his eyes before sighing and holding out his hands. “Will someone please take these off?”
Puck comes into view and does just that before, tossing the gloves to the side and fixing him with a stern look.
“You should tell him,” Puck says.
“It won’t do any good.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do,” Blaine argues, closing his eyes and sighing as the space around him gives another rough shift. “It won’t change anything if I tell him.”
“Then what do you have to lose?” another voice says. Blaine looks to the side and sees Finn shrugging at him. “If you like him and you guys have been hanging out and… stuff, then you should tell him. Right?”
Blaine chews lightly on the inside of his cheek, mostly to keep himself from blurting that Finn’s the reason he’s in this problem to begin with, but outwardly just nods.
Finn-and Blaine really can’t believe that it’s Finn-is right. He needs to tell Kurt that he likes him, needs to get it off his chest. And Kurt had said that they could talk about it later, so clearly he has things to say as well.
Nodding again and feeling everything get even heavier and darker around the edges than before, he leans into the arm of someone next to him and drifts off to sleep.
Sunday is spent in a haze of trips to the bathroom and questions from his mother, ones he doesn’t even bother trying to answer in a way that’ll hide the truth of why he’s feeling so awful. She gives him a labored speech about being disappointed in him but in the end tells him she’s glad that he did it in a safe place with friends, but not to ever lie to her about what he’s doing and where he’s going to be again. There’s also a sidenote about how she’d ground him, but she thinks the hangover is punishment enough. He can’t argue that.
There is an upside to his body’s misery, though. All he can do is lay in bed and listen to music and replay every moment of his interactions with Kurt over and over, trying to figure out what he’s going to say and when. It’s unlikely that Kurt will be coming over on Saturday nights now. His outburst the night before has pretty much determined that that won’t be happening. It’s when a very particular song comes through his iPod that he just knows.
It’s perfect.
As soon as he no longer feels like he’s actually going to die, he starts to practice.
Blaine goes into Glee rehearsal determined, sure. This is the right thing to do and he can’t even feel bad about the public setting because he’d screamed at Kurt on Saturday night in front of these very same people. It’s better for him to sing, especially since the words are so perfect. If he tried to say the same ones, the meaning would be lost in stumbles and poorly chosen words. This will be so much better.
But as the minutes click by, he can feel nerves and doubt creep up his spine like vines on a trellis. Kurt keeps looking at him, doesn’t even really try to hide it. As their hour-long rehearsal slips away, Blaine eventually loses count of how many times he sees Kurt staring at him in his peripheral vision. Kurt’s sitting with Santana but Blaine’s off by himself. He feels so much gratitude for the guys who had taken him away from the party, especially Puck, but they’d seen him in such a hugely vulnerable moment that he can’t bring himself to sit with them. In fact, everyone seems to be giving Blaine space. It’s a good thing.
There are only a few minutes left and Mr. Schuester has been rambling about Regionals for the last half of the hour. Blaine has to do something now if he’s going to. If he walks out the door, his resolve will leave, too. He knows it will.
“Mr. Schue,” he says abruptly the second their teacher finishes his next sentence. No one but Mr. Schuester seems put out by the interruption. “There’s a song I’ve been working on that I’d really like to share today.”
“Sure, Blaine,” Mr. Schue nods to a grumbled chorus of “Thank god"s. Blaine rises and heads for the piano, giving Brad a little smile before he slips from the bench so Blaine can sit down. He doesn’t give any explanation for the song, no descriptors or even providing his classmates with a title. All he does is sing.
“You’ve been on my mind. I grow fonder every day, lose myself in time at the mention of your name,” he sings, mostly with his eyes closed to keep his bearings, but at the last second he can’t help but open them, searching out Kurt’s eyes in the sea of faces.
Kurt’s sitting there with his head cocked slightly to the side, face crumpled in what looks like sadness but could so very easily be something else. He’d been stupid enough to think that Kurt might actually like him and not Finn. Clearly he’s terrible at reading Kurt.
“I dare you to let me be your, your one and only. I promise I’m worthy to hold in your arms. So come on and give me the chance to prove I am the one who can walk that mile until the end starts.”
That’s all he wants, really, is just a chance. For Kurt to give him the opportunity to show that he’s not just some little nerd unworthy of his time. To remind Kurt of the moments they’ve shared. To snap Kurt out of this obsession with a guy who will never return his feelings because he can’t.
Kurt is staring at him with one hand pressed over his chest, over his heart. Blaine tries not to hope that maybe he’s getting through to him, that maybe his heart is aching just as much as Blaine’s is.
“I know it ain’t easy, giving up your heart. I know it ain’t easy, giving up your heart,” he sings, blinking and looking around as some of his classmates start to join in the chant. Their voices blend together as nicely as they always do, but their support is so much more important than that. He’s shocked from the random outpouring of community when another voice adds to the mix, singing the part Blaine had just been preparing to start on his own.
“Nobody’s perfect, trust me I’ve learned it,” Kurt sings, eyes fixed on Blaine’s, singing to him as he repeats the statement over and over. From the way the sound grows, Blaine knows that all of their classmates are singing by the end, each designating themselves to one part or the other, but none of that really matters because Kurt is singing and because of what Kurt is singing.
“So I dare you to let me be your, your one and only. I promise I’m worthy to hold in your arms. So come on and give me the chance to prove I am the one who can walk that mile until the end starts,” Blaine repeats, finishing off the song to a smattering of applause and trying to discreetly wipe away the tear trickling down his cheek.
“Gee, look at the time,” Santana says loudly, standing and reaching for Brittany’s hand before leaving with the rest of the glee club in tow, including one very confused-looking Mr. Schuester.
“Hi,” Kurt says, staring at his knees (sadly covered by his Cheerios uniform today) once the room has emptied.
“Hi,” Blaine replies, not sure if he should stay over at the piano or go sit next to Kurt. The fact that he didn’t run screaming from the room is a good sign, but then again, maybe Kurt’s just waiting to let him down in private. If that’s the case, Blaine’s grateful.
“Come over here,” Kurt requests, finally raising his gaze and inclining his head toward the empty seat to his left. Blaine doesn’t move, legs frozen, feet glued to the floor.
“If this conversation goes the way I think it’s going to, I think it’s best if I stay over here,” he admits. Kurt doesn’t react, just stares him down.
“Blaine, come here,” Kurt says, tone a little firmer but still gentle somehow. Blaine sighs and stands, trying to put as much protective armor around his heart as he can during the short walk to Kurt’s side.
Immediately Blaine can smell him, triggering the memory of the taste of Kurt’s mouth, the feel of his fingers. He sits down, trying to ignore how close Kurt’s legs are to his own as he gets situated. Kurt is quiet, then suddenly laughs quietly to himself before rapidly sobering.
“Lavender pants,” Kurt says.
“I’m sorry?” Blaine asks, face twisting up in confusion as Kurt laughs again.
“Lavender pants, a white shirt, a gray argyle vest, and a bright yellow bowtie,” Kurt continues.
“I don’t understand,” Blaine admits. Kurt looks at him and smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. They still look a little sad, just like they have since the beginning of rehearsal.
“That’s what you wore on the first day of school.”
Blaine’s mouth drops open because… Kurt is absolutely right. His heart thumps too hard, startling him a little, but not enough to stop him from staring at Kurt.
“Kurt, I’m confused…” Blaine admits. “I was under the impression that you’d never given me a second thought, a passing glance until Coach Sylvester asked me to be your tutor.”
Kurt takes a moment before answering, against staring down at his own knees.
“I noticed you right away. I noticed you every day.”
“Then why were you so rude to me? Why did you say that you didn’t want to be seen in public with me?” Blaine asks.
“I didn’t want to be seen in public with you because I couldn’t have people see you tutoring me. I was so… embarrassed when Coach approached me about my grade. I thought I could get away with it and bring my grade up without anyone ever finding out. And then she was making me get a tutor when I didn’t need a tutor. And then that tutor was you and-“
“You didn’t answer my first question,” Blaine interrupts. Kurt sighs loudly and swivels in his seat so they’re facing each other properly.
“That’s because it’s kind of a long story,” Kurt says, leaning one arm against the back of his chair. “My freshman year was… not good. I was bullied a lot. I got slushied, but I also got shoved into lockers and thrown into dumpsters. I went home with bruises and got called every idiotic, homophobic name in the book before I was even ready to admit to myself that I was gay. And one day at the end of freshman year, after I’d gotten slammed against the wall so hard that I actually fell to the ground, I just sat there and watched people walk by. You know what I noticed?” He looks at Blaine and holds his gaze before continuing. “The jocks glared or laughed at me. The other students looked at me in sympathy but did nothing because the jocks were trying to scare them, too. But the Cheerios just went on with their business. No one was bothering them. They were strong and confident and yeah, maybe a little bitchy, but no one was hurting them and they weren’t hurting anyone either. They were safe. I needed to be safe, too.”
Blaine reaches for Kurt’s hand, corners of his mouth trying to twitch into a frown as he fights to keep his emotions in check. Kurt looks down at their now-joined hands.
“I spent all summer exercising and memorizing old Cheerios routines and in the fall I made the squad. I haven’t been bullied since,” Kurt says, looking up at Blaine again. “I was strong for awhile and could handle the bullying, but once I realized what I could do to make it go away… I ran. And then you showed up on the first day of school and I watched you get slushied all the time, but you never changed. Watching you every day from afar… for the first time in three years I regretted my choice. I wondered what my life might have been like if I would have stayed strong.”
“Removing yourself from a dangerous situation shows strength, Kurt,” Blaine says, but Kurt shakes his head.
“No, Blaine, it doesn’t. And I was okay with it for a long time, but as soon as we started spending time together, I was just blown away by how strong you were, how sure of yourself. I tried to keep you at arm’s length because the more I was around you, the more I ached to be myself again for the first time in years. When I sang in front of you? It was the first time I’ve ever sang in front of someone other than my dad.”
Blaine doesn’t want to say it. Every inch of his body is screaming at him not to, but he knows that he has to. There’s no way he can’t.
“But what about Finn?” he asks hesitantly. Kurt gives him a look of genuine confusion.
“What about Finn?”
“You like him. You told me you did.”
“I liked him. But honestly, Blaine, I haven’t since you and I started spending time together.”
Blaine scoffs and pulls back a little, prompting Kurt to squeeze his hand tighter.
“Why did you only join Glee after he asked you, then? You were just thrilled when you told me he’d asked you.”
“Because no one knew that you and I knew each other, so I couldn’t have joined when you asked me. I was excited because I wanted to join and I finally had a way of doing so that wouldn’t spill my really embarrassing secret to the entire school.”
That’s not the answer Blaine is expecting.
“And what about Saturday night?” Blaine asks, blushing a little. “After Finn called out for you, you left without another word to me.” Kurt flushes a deep red and presses a hand to his forehead for a second.
“We were both way too drunk to talk things out and it was clear that people were just going to keep coming and looking for us. It had nothing to do with the fact that it was Finn. He was just the third person to come looking for us and I just… I meant it when I said that there are so many things I want to do with you, Blaine. And you asking me what we were doing snapped me out of my, um… ungentlemanly train of thought and that was a good thing. I didn’t really just want a drunken hook-up with you.”
“I didn’t want that either,” Blaine admits. There is so much else he wants to say, so many questions to ask. He could sit there and ask questions of Kurt all day, but he knows that he can’t. “I’ve just been so confused, Kurt. I could tell that you were opening up to me and then we were basically having dates at my parents’ house and you almost kissed me, but it just kept seeming like Finn was always in the picture for you and it’s been messing with my head so much. Why would you want to be with me-a person you didn’t even want to be seen in public with-when you could want someone popular like him? And I know you said that you didn’t want to be seen in public with me because it would’ve outed your secret, but I’m not stupid. I know that Cheerios don’t exactly make a habit of dating lower specimens on the food chain…”
“Blaine,” Kurt says, and honestly, he sounds a little angry. “I know how the Cheerios seem, and a lot of them are like that, but I’m not. Really, I’m not. I know that my actions have been confusing since we first met and I really am sorry about that. I honestly haven’t had any kind of feelings for Finn since you and I started spending time together. Finn was safe. I was so desperate to be safe that I even liked guys who were safe, who I never had a chance with so it was never real. The few times I’ve randomly hooked up with guys, its always been someone I had no connection with, someone who didn’t even go to our school. But the second I started spending time with you, I knew that I really liked you and it terrified me because it wasn’t some thing I could keep at a distance. You were here and you’re everything I’ve always wanted in a boyfriend. You’re smart and funny and handsome and you sing and I just… I want to be Kurt again. You make me want to wear kilts instead of my uniform for the first time in three years.”
Blaine’s mouth is hanging open a little and though he wishes he could close it, it’s busy being stuck around one huge word.
“Boyfriend,” he breathes out before swallowing and trying again. “You said boyfriend.” Kurt laughs fondly and smiles widely and this time it crinkles his eyes. His own eyes suddenly glossy with tears, Blaine grips Kurt’s hand tighter and does his best to smile back.
“I did, didn’t I?” Kurt teases, bumping his knee against Blaine’s. “I know that we’re still just getting to know each other, but… that’s kind of the point of dating, isn’t it? To get to know each other better? I’d like to know you better.” Blaine nods, vocal chords trying desperately to remember how to properly function.
This can’t be happening. How is this happening? How, after all of the tears and the misunderstandings are they actually here?
“I’d like that, too. So much,” Blaine says, biting back a noise of frustration at how emotionally wrecked his voice sounds. He wants to scoop Kurt up in his arms and kiss him again, but now without the haze of alcohol swirling around him. But they’re at school and he can’t, no matter how much he wants to. “Do you think people will talk?”
“So what if they do?” Kurt says with a shrug as he stands, releasing Blaine’s hand as they head toward the door. There are people out there passing by, stragglers like themselves taking too long to get out of the library or locker room.
“What if you start getting bullied again?” Blaine asks softly. Kurt looks up at the ceiling as he thinks it over.
“I can handle it. I’m feeling a little braver all of a sudden,” he says with a little smile as they step into the hallway. They make their way toward the parking lot in silence but Blaine can’t stop smiling or sneaking glances up at Kurt. It’s as if the weight on his chest is gone, the ache that’s been living there finally liberated and leaving him with a sensation that’s so wonderful and nervous and new that he can’t even begin to attempt to categorize the feeling.
They’ve walked about thirty feet when he feels something brush against the side of his hand. A quick glance down shows Kurt’s pinkie gently linking around his own. Blaine clears his throat and grins as Kurt gives the digit a light squeeze.
“So you should really use that hair gel I gave you more often,” Kurt says breezily, as if they do this every day.
Blaine’s heart surges when he realizes that now, they can.
The End.
Author's Note:
Well, here we are. This fic was born of a gifset, an overly active imagination, and an Adele song. I first got the idea of putting together a studious, though not overly nerdy, Blaine and Cheerio!Kurt this winter and a few main plot came to mind. It wasn’t until I was listening to some newly purchased iTunes tracks that everything came together. The first time I heard Adele’s One and Only, the rest of the story fell beautifully into place.
I challenged myself to write in a different style than I’m accustomed to with this fic and again (like I did in This Side) limited the audience’s POV strictly to Blaine’s thoughts, feelings, and interpretations of every situation. Knowing Kurt’s true feelings and intentions all along has been admittedly challenging at times when seeing people’s rather visceral reactions to things that happened, but really, that was the whole point, yes? ;)
This is just the ending of the first part of Kurt and Blaine’s story. We leave them here, standing on the precipice (see what I did there?) of something very new.
I can not thank my amazing beta gleekto enough for all of her wonderful encouragement, patience, and help. This story would not be here as it is today without her. Also, thank you to all of you for taking a chance with me on this fic that is admittedly very different from that which I normally do here in fandom. You all are wonderful.