Do What You Will (2/5)
Chapter summary: Blaine very pointedly doesn't have plans for the weekend, but all signs indicate otherwise.
A/N: Apologize if the change in format between parts 1 and 2 is jarring, but it’s what was necessary (and I've been told it works).
Posted here at AO3
5:27 pm Thursday, February 14
Twitter
Mentioned by @AlternaTina: (2 hours ago)
@B_Warbler If ur not gonna mourn past relationships w/ @ArtsyAbrams & me 2moro nite u better have 1) a date w/ Ryan Gosling or 2) the plague
Kurt Hummel
Missed Calls (3) & Voicemail
Marley Rose
So you think it looked like “Can’t Help Falling In Love” had the right effect on Jake?
Cooper Anderson
What did you say the yellow roses meant again?
Cooper Anderson
Are carnations less monogamous? What about...
Blaine always tried to set an example as an unofficial leader in glee club, keeping his phone on silent during practice and usually until he got home. It didn’t own him. As the first one home, he entered the dim, quiet entryway of his house and locked the door behind him, pretending to be calm and composed as he went about his routine: keys placed on their hook, messenger bag unslung, coat unbuttoned one at a time... He lost his resolution as soon as his phone flashed again from the side pocket of his bag. Readily ignoring the barrage of text messages, each one more despairing than the one previous - and really, Lopez, you couldn’t even wait until the sun was fully set before you started binging? - Blaine hovered a finger over the Phone icon for one short moment before he hungrily moved to play the voicemail from Kurt. “Hey, stranger. I know we haven’t talked in like a week but I hope you’ll hear out my totally legitimate excuse. Anyway, you must be doing glee right about now, but please call me back as soon as you listen to this. It’s- well, it’s not an emergency, but it is...time sensitive, I guess I’d say.”
Time sensitive. Jesus. Blaine abruptly lunged towards the stairs, tucking his phone under an elbow to dry his slippery palms hastily on the sides of his chinos. Sparing his last shred of dignity, he calculatedly locked his bedroom door (for reasons unknown), removed his shoes and left them by his desk, then gave up and flung himself masterfully into a full sprawl across the bedspread. If it had been ten years ago, he’d have a phone cord artfully twirling around his finger. Blaine was pretty in pine green.
With one final deep breath and an all-too-familiar reminder to himself to keep his hopes reasonable, he started a call and hoped against hope that Kurt, one of the only people he actually liked talking on the phone to, would pick up on the first try.
“Kurt Hummel.”
Blaine’s breath caught. “H-hey.”
“Blaine? Oh my God, hi. Sorry, I’m just- I’m walking back to our building from the corner store, I answered the call with my headset. I didn’t expect your call until later. It’s good to hear your voice again. How are you?”
“I’m good, Kurt. Thanks for... asking.” He sat up. “Hey, do you want me to call back? If you’ve got your hands tied or something I can-”
“No! Are you kidding? When I said time sensitive I meant it. Just, give me a sec.” Blaine heard the rustling of bags on the other line. “I’m still psyching myself up for this conversation.”
“Feel free to... continue psyching,” Blaine fumbled. Kurt snorted.
“I think I’m good. So, okay. Before we begin, any plans for this weekend?”
Kill me now. “I, uh... We really should start with your thing,” Blaine said. “I have no idea when my dad’s gonna get home and I’ll need to start helping with dinner.”
“Won’t take too long. You first. Unless your agenda’s so full you’ll need a few hours to go over it all, hotshot.”
“Ha-ha. I mean, there isn’t anything really big going on. I don’t even think Sugar knows if she’s dating anyone or not, so she was way more concerned about that than putting something on at Breadstix. Tina and Artie invited me to what’s essentially a pity party, but I told them I couldn’t because...” Blaine trailed off, well aware of the delight it gave him to get just a dash of payback. Even if he didn’t know what was coming next.
“Because... of a previous engagement?” Kurt prompted, his voice going a bit feathery at the end.
“Nah,” Blaine said, hoping he could keep the smugness out of his voice - he’d tipped the scales, if only for a fleeting second. “I just... well, it’s not that I didn’t feel like it. I’m never one to turn down an invitation to hang out, you know, even if would be kind of a downer of a night. I guess I just would rather keep my night free than fill it with something sort of... less? Does that make sense? I’ll pick myself up and dust myself off Saturday, maybe go to that scifi double feature Sam’s been bugging me about. But tomorrow - and by that I mean today, really, but I think only Santana is extending her misery into a four-day weekend - is about love and romance and after spending a week getting everyone’s sparkly relationships shoved in my face, it’d feel like I’m kidding myself if I spent Friday night trying too hard to have fun with my very-much-platonic friends.”
Kurt laughed, just little hot puffs of air that Blaine imagined feeling down the line. “I am outrageously glad,” Kurt said, “to hear you don’t have plans.”
Blaine’s insides swooped and he let out a garbled question akin to, “Whoa yea-yuh?”
Kurt giggled. Try as he might, Blaine couldn’t help but hear his next words as a dirty secret: “I did something really stupid.”
“Um, bad stupid?”
“Not anymore.” There was a definite smile in his tone.
“Go on...” And maybe there was one in Blaine’s too.
“So last weekend Rachel invited Brody over and we all had a few glasses of wine, just chatting about God knows what, how not to die during the full-day dance workshops I signed up for over Spring Break, whether Carmen Tibideaux’s headscarves are full of secrets or just the broken spirits of aspiring performers... Anyway, as usual the night eventually devolved into Rachel fawning, both of them being awkward and I just don’t even know what their problem is.”
“That whole thing’s still kind of a mess, isn’t it?”
“Just be glad you don’t have to listen to the louder half of it on a daily basis. That night I decided to leave them to whatever and I retreated to my room (possibly with a mostly-full bottle of white to tide me over). Well, I was just drunk enough to make half-baked online purchases, and looking ahead I knew the last thing I wanted to do was spend Valentine’s Day weekend around those two.”
Blaine laughed easily, though his free hand was clutching steadily to his bedsheets. “I don’t blame you.”
“Right? So, yeah. I may have bought plane tickets to Ohio for the weekend with some of my savings. Gave myself a whole four days like I thought I earned it. Oh God, it was incredibly dumb. I didn’t even know if I could get time off, or if I could miss my lecture on Monday... Thankfully I found out as long as I attend my morning voice lesson on Friday I’ll be home free; a friend’s gonna send me his notes from Theory so I don’t have to worry about that.
“So that’s why I’ve been so awful at calling and texting, I’ve been up to my elbows in Vogue.com and NYADA stuff trying to make sure I could actually take that vacation time... Vacation time I asked for after the fact. I guess I figured since I’m not gonna be able to visit home over Spring Break this is my chance. This just goes to show even when you think your laptop password is 100% drunk-proof, it could still probably use a few more characters and numbers.”
Blaine’s mind had been too preoccupied with its steady chorus of What what what WHAT what what what what WHAT what what to realize neither of them had spoken, and he was to blame for drawing the silence out.
“So you’re coming to Lima, then?”
“Yeah. Approximately... tomorrow.”
Safe questions, safe questions. “Does your dad know?”
“No-ooo, he doesn’t.”
“Does anyone else know?”
“Not really. Um, not yet. Don’t tell anyone, please. I’d like it to be a surprise.”
“...Am I supposed to act surprised?”
“Don’t be silly. I had to tell you.”
Kurt Hummel, you have beaten around the bush far too much for one day. “And why is that?” Blaine murmured, attempting nonchalance and ending up sounding mildly nauseous.
“Oh. I thought I made that obvious. I had to know you were free.”
Oh.
Blaine struggled to string together his thoughts. “So are you- uh, did you plan someth-”
“Hush, you’ll find out soon enough. Just. Keep your schedule clear, alright? Will you do that for me?” Kurt asked coyly in a tone Blaine hadn’t heard in months - he shivered and savored it against his better judgment.
Was it even a question? “Yeah, Kurt. Of course.”
“Oh! Um, unless you had your heart set on that double feature.”
Despite the gratingly perfect tone of false earnestness Kurt put on, somehow Blaine found he didn’t mind conceding all that much. “I think I’ll survive.”
“See you soon, then.”
“Yeah.” Blaine was still grasping for something better to say when the call ended.
Will you do that for me?
~
Friday was easily the longest day of Blaine Anderson’s life.
Finn had cancelled glee practice for that Friday afternoon weeks in advance, knowing most of the club members would’ve begged off with half-assed excuses anyway in favor of celebrating - or bemoaning - the holiday. Even so, that had left Blaine with seven hours of being at school when he really mostly wanted to hurl due to equal parts anticipation and nerves.
Come half noon, Blaine was seated amongst friends in the cafeteria and dazedly observing his lunch plate, drawing swirling patterns with one of his french fries and a trail of ranch. There raged a heated debate in his head over whether he should shave again after school (he’d already done so before), or whether the tiniest bit of scruff might appeal to College Kurt. Enter the first sign of life he’d gotten from Kurt all day.
Kurt Hummel
Do you know what you’re feeling right now?
Blaine studiously avoided drawing attention to himself as he whipped his cell phone off the table and into his lap to reply. Yes, you sadist, he thought, I know that I’m feeling nervous and giddy and annoyed and scared and distracted... not to mention I’ve gotten semi-hard in every class period and even when you do things like this it just makes me want you more.
No, what am I feeling? Blaine replies.
>>You now know what it’s like to be Kurt Hummel circa junior year.
That was not in the top twenty things he would’ve guessed.
Point taken.
>>Boarding soon, should touch down in Columbus around 3:30.
Btw, what is your plan for getting here? Your dad still doesn’t know, right?
>>I was wondering if you could give me a ride?
The drive was easily two hours each way.
Ok. The earliest I can be there is around 5. And that was booking it, without a trip home first.
>>No worries, don’t you dare rush. I can grab a cab downtown. I’ll need a solid few hours to shop for myself, and then maybe ten minutes to drop by that Buckeyes shop for Dad.
10 bucks says you last no more than five.
>>I won’t take that bet out of sheer indignation. I’ll cover the gas, okay?
How about you tell me your scheme and my fee is waived?
>>I’ll cover the gas and you won’t try to stop me.
Well aware that he didn’t want to lose any more time than necessary while stopped at home, Blaine was already in the process of calculating how much of a change to his present outfit he could get away with. Something that he would never wear to school in actuality, but that he could get away with wearing in theory - it could not be obvious he’d changed, but his pants weren’t even full-length at the moment, his cardigan didn’t even have that upper-arm snugness he preferred. Something that wasn’t presumptuous but that definitely drew the eye to what he knew were Kurt’s soft spots.
~
Having finally found paid parking in the vicinity of the coffeehouse they’d agreed to meet at, Blaine folded his arms against the brash chill and navigated his way through the buzzing city streets, towards the golden glow of a shop he’d spotted from two blocks down. Telling himself to focus on the slush around his shoes so as to avoid an absolute nightmare, he only really looked up to make sure he had the right place - with the same wooden floors and paneling he remembered, the same fireplace near the back in front of which Kurt had once admitted to writing fanmail to Barbra Streisand every day for an entire year of grade school (“Like The Notebook, Blaine!”).
Moments later, he crossed the threshold and vaguely noticed the bell jingle somewhere above his head. The air was thick with warmth and the heady smell of coffee grounds, and Blaine spotted Kurt at the far side of the seating area, in an armchair with one finger at his temple as he flipped idly through a magazine in his lap. His long legs were crossed and they still went for miles in gray wash jeans that hugged every contour until those black ankle boots. Kurt hadn’t looked up at the sound of the door, and Blaine stepped aside to let others pass as he took just one more second to look.
Kurt had a discreet carry-on tucked under the table next to him, and when his free hand wasn’t handling pages, his arm floated up so his finger could trace mindless circles over top of a ceramic coffee mug.
It’s time. Blaine summoned up a little push and made his way across the floor, navigating around a couple sofas and a lamp. Kurt glanced up at the movement and his gaze caught; his lips quirked shyly, the magazine fell to the rug below with a light thud as he stood up, taking long strides to close the distance. Kurt’s arms interlaced somewhere around the center of Blaine’s back before he could think twice about what type of greeting was appropriate. One of them - he wasn’t sure which - inhaled deeply and the other followed.
My old one still smells pretty good, don't you think?
Before they fully untangled, Kurt slipped a delicate quick kiss to one of Blaine’s cheeks, hardly more than a split-second touch of his lips. But even French Immersion Lima Kurt wasn’t one for the traditional bisoux to each cheek. Was this a New York thing?
Kurt was stepping back and rubbing the backs of his knuckles over the reddened apples of his cheeks. Oh. This was a Columbus thing.
"So,” Kurt was saying, “did you want a drink or anything? Their cookies are heavenly. But you know that.”
"Well, I guess that depends on what your evil plan involves.”
"First, would you happen to have that overnight bag you always kept in your car? I was gonna suggest we get dinner but I’d die if I showed up anywhere with so little height to my hair.”
"You’re here now, aren’t you?”
"That’s beside the point.”
"I do have it with me,” Blaine said.
"Great. You sure you don’t want coffee, then? Tea?”
"Are you-” Blaine peered into the mug set behind Kurt. “I guess you’d be ready to go, then? …Wherever it is.”
"I’m offering free caffeine. Dinner can wait.”
"You won’t take no for an answer, will you?” Blaine had no plans for the next 72 hours, he was in Columbus, Ohio and not a soul but Kurt knew it, and the hairspray in his trunk had just been officially reserved by his best friend-cum-ex-boyfriend.
Kurt grinned, then schooled his lips together into something less pleased with himself. “I haven’t heard ‘no’ yet.” He dipped his head to hike his bag over his shoulder, smoothing the strap down coolly. “Shall we, then?”
Blaine tilted his head, indicating the door, and they headed out while bracing against the brisk wind. “I’m parked down the street aways.” They had exited at a street corner and Kurt pivoted to press the button, crossing in the right direction as soon as the light shifted in their favor. He was mute but seemingly serene. Pairs and clusters of people passed by, but they seemed rather irrelevant along with the steady stream of traffic flowing by on the thoroughfare.
For all that Kurt was the one to initiate action, Blaine recognized he had always been the verbal side of things. Frankly, the man at his side had always talked more, but Blaine was the one to lead them into conversations more often than not; it’d brought on countless accusations that he thrived off unpleasant situations, to which he couldn’t produce very good defenses.
Well, now wasn’t a time for protecting one’s pride.
"It, um,” Blaine started, “It might be kind of difficult finding somewhere decent to eat tonight.”
"I know, I know. I have a feeling about this place I saw while I was walking, though. Mind giving it a shot?”
"No, of course not. I’m glad you’ve got a place.” Blaine indicated the underground parking to their right and they descended down its ramp, blinking to get the spots out of their eyes. He lifted his finger to indicate the corner where his car sat.
"I don’t mind waiting, either,” Blaine added.
Kurt looked back from where his hand hovered by the car’s trunk, waiting for Blaine to fumble to the right key. “Oh no?” he said. Kurt opened the trunk and, after asking with his eyes, placed his bag inside out of the way. Blaine approached to pull out his own pack, pulling it to his stomach to shuffle through discreetly for the can of spray. He handed it over and Kurt exhaled his thanks, beginning to apply mousse while looking in one of the rear windows.
Blaine shuffled his feet. “I’m gonna... wait behind the wheel. It’s marginally warmer.”
Kurt nodded silently, absorbed.
"You know...” Minutes later, Kurt’s voice floated to his ears and their eyes met in the rear-view mirror. He continued on airily, “I booked a double at an airport hotel in case you couldn’t make it, just so my dad or Finn wouldn’t have to drive out tonight. There’s no charge if I cancel, I just thought I might... make it known in case you might feel too worn out or whatever for the trip back - although of course I’d be willing to split the driving if you were alright with it.” His eyelashes fell to mantle his cheeks and he groped for the spray again, stepping a few paces backwards to add finishing touches.
If Blaine hadn’t been certain before that this whole affair was an effort to torture him into insanity, this threw him over the edge. He rented a room for the night, Blaine, he moaned inwardly. He rented a room and it’s completely up to you and he gave you an out. How do you even accept without making him regret the offer?
First of all, do not lie.
"Are you sure it’s not,” Blaine’s expression was pained at having to raise his voice so Kurt could hear him from the back, “Not too pricy? I wouldn’t want you to go through the trouble because of me.” He twisted in his seat. “I’d be more than alright with you driving my car, you know that. If you ask me, it’s best to start a drive like that in the morning but if you’d rather be home tonight, say the word.” None of it was expressly a lie.
"No, you’re absolutely right. I haven’t been in the driver’s seat in weeks, it’s definitely in our best interest to get some rest before we set back out. Blaine, would you happen to have a- oh, there it is, a lint roller, gorgeous...”
Blaine surreptitiously fished his cell out of his pocket and held it low by the console as Kurt wrapped up his primping.
To: Sam Evans
I’m at a sleepover at yours if anyone asks.
>>dude, it’s Valentine’s.
It’s not weird bc you’re my Veep and we have budget things to discuss.
>>Will I get an explanation?
Monday.
>>Roger that. Make good choices, little man.
Thanks
Next chapter
A/N: Apologize if the change in format between parts 1 and 2 is jarring, but it’s what was necessary (and I've been told it works).
Posted here at AO3
5:27 pm Thursday, February 14
Mentioned by @AlternaTina: (2 hours ago)
@B_Warbler If ur not gonna mourn past relationships w/ @ArtsyAbrams & me 2moro nite u better have 1) a date w/ Ryan Gosling or 2) the plague
Kurt Hummel
Missed Calls (3) & Voicemail
Marley Rose
So you think it looked like “Can’t Help Falling In Love” had the right effect on Jake?
Cooper Anderson
What did you say the yellow roses meant again?
Cooper Anderson
Are carnations less monogamous? What about...
Blaine always tried to set an example as an unofficial leader in glee club, keeping his phone on silent during practice and usually until he got home. It didn’t own him. As the first one home, he entered the dim, quiet entryway of his house and locked the door behind him, pretending to be calm and composed as he went about his routine: keys placed on their hook, messenger bag unslung, coat unbuttoned one at a time... He lost his resolution as soon as his phone flashed again from the side pocket of his bag. Readily ignoring the barrage of text messages, each one more despairing than the one previous - and really, Lopez, you couldn’t even wait until the sun was fully set before you started binging? - Blaine hovered a finger over the Phone icon for one short moment before he hungrily moved to play the voicemail from Kurt. “Hey, stranger. I know we haven’t talked in like a week but I hope you’ll hear out my totally legitimate excuse. Anyway, you must be doing glee right about now, but please call me back as soon as you listen to this. It’s- well, it’s not an emergency, but it is...time sensitive, I guess I’d say.”
Time sensitive. Jesus. Blaine abruptly lunged towards the stairs, tucking his phone under an elbow to dry his slippery palms hastily on the sides of his chinos. Sparing his last shred of dignity, he calculatedly locked his bedroom door (for reasons unknown), removed his shoes and left them by his desk, then gave up and flung himself masterfully into a full sprawl across the bedspread. If it had been ten years ago, he’d have a phone cord artfully twirling around his finger. Blaine was pretty in pine green.
With one final deep breath and an all-too-familiar reminder to himself to keep his hopes reasonable, he started a call and hoped against hope that Kurt, one of the only people he actually liked talking on the phone to, would pick up on the first try.
“Kurt Hummel.”
Blaine’s breath caught. “H-hey.”
“Blaine? Oh my God, hi. Sorry, I’m just- I’m walking back to our building from the corner store, I answered the call with my headset. I didn’t expect your call until later. It’s good to hear your voice again. How are you?”
“I’m good, Kurt. Thanks for... asking.” He sat up. “Hey, do you want me to call back? If you’ve got your hands tied or something I can-”
“No! Are you kidding? When I said time sensitive I meant it. Just, give me a sec.” Blaine heard the rustling of bags on the other line. “I’m still psyching myself up for this conversation.”
“Feel free to... continue psyching,” Blaine fumbled. Kurt snorted.
“I think I’m good. So, okay. Before we begin, any plans for this weekend?”
Kill me now. “I, uh... We really should start with your thing,” Blaine said. “I have no idea when my dad’s gonna get home and I’ll need to start helping with dinner.”
“Won’t take too long. You first. Unless your agenda’s so full you’ll need a few hours to go over it all, hotshot.”
“Ha-ha. I mean, there isn’t anything really big going on. I don’t even think Sugar knows if she’s dating anyone or not, so she was way more concerned about that than putting something on at Breadstix. Tina and Artie invited me to what’s essentially a pity party, but I told them I couldn’t because...” Blaine trailed off, well aware of the delight it gave him to get just a dash of payback. Even if he didn’t know what was coming next.
“Because... of a previous engagement?” Kurt prompted, his voice going a bit feathery at the end.
“Nah,” Blaine said, hoping he could keep the smugness out of his voice - he’d tipped the scales, if only for a fleeting second. “I just... well, it’s not that I didn’t feel like it. I’m never one to turn down an invitation to hang out, you know, even if would be kind of a downer of a night. I guess I just would rather keep my night free than fill it with something sort of... less? Does that make sense? I’ll pick myself up and dust myself off Saturday, maybe go to that scifi double feature Sam’s been bugging me about. But tomorrow - and by that I mean today, really, but I think only Santana is extending her misery into a four-day weekend - is about love and romance and after spending a week getting everyone’s sparkly relationships shoved in my face, it’d feel like I’m kidding myself if I spent Friday night trying too hard to have fun with my very-much-platonic friends.”
Kurt laughed, just little hot puffs of air that Blaine imagined feeling down the line. “I am outrageously glad,” Kurt said, “to hear you don’t have plans.”
Blaine’s insides swooped and he let out a garbled question akin to, “Whoa yea-yuh?”
Kurt giggled. Try as he might, Blaine couldn’t help but hear his next words as a dirty secret: “I did something really stupid.”
“Um, bad stupid?”
“Not anymore.” There was a definite smile in his tone.
“Go on...” And maybe there was one in Blaine’s too.
“So last weekend Rachel invited Brody over and we all had a few glasses of wine, just chatting about God knows what, how not to die during the full-day dance workshops I signed up for over Spring Break, whether Carmen Tibideaux’s headscarves are full of secrets or just the broken spirits of aspiring performers... Anyway, as usual the night eventually devolved into Rachel fawning, both of them being awkward and I just don’t even know what their problem is.”
“That whole thing’s still kind of a mess, isn’t it?”
“Just be glad you don’t have to listen to the louder half of it on a daily basis. That night I decided to leave them to whatever and I retreated to my room (possibly with a mostly-full bottle of white to tide me over). Well, I was just drunk enough to make half-baked online purchases, and looking ahead I knew the last thing I wanted to do was spend Valentine’s Day weekend around those two.”
Blaine laughed easily, though his free hand was clutching steadily to his bedsheets. “I don’t blame you.”
“Right? So, yeah. I may have bought plane tickets to Ohio for the weekend with some of my savings. Gave myself a whole four days like I thought I earned it. Oh God, it was incredibly dumb. I didn’t even know if I could get time off, or if I could miss my lecture on Monday... Thankfully I found out as long as I attend my morning voice lesson on Friday I’ll be home free; a friend’s gonna send me his notes from Theory so I don’t have to worry about that.
“So that’s why I’ve been so awful at calling and texting, I’ve been up to my elbows in Vogue.com and NYADA stuff trying to make sure I could actually take that vacation time... Vacation time I asked for after the fact. I guess I figured since I’m not gonna be able to visit home over Spring Break this is my chance. This just goes to show even when you think your laptop password is 100% drunk-proof, it could still probably use a few more characters and numbers.”
Blaine’s mind had been too preoccupied with its steady chorus of What what what WHAT what what what what WHAT what what to realize neither of them had spoken, and he was to blame for drawing the silence out.
“So you’re coming to Lima, then?”
“Yeah. Approximately... tomorrow.”
Safe questions, safe questions. “Does your dad know?”
“No-ooo, he doesn’t.”
“Does anyone else know?”
“Not really. Um, not yet. Don’t tell anyone, please. I’d like it to be a surprise.”
“...Am I supposed to act surprised?”
“Don’t be silly. I had to tell you.”
Kurt Hummel, you have beaten around the bush far too much for one day. “And why is that?” Blaine murmured, attempting nonchalance and ending up sounding mildly nauseous.
“Oh. I thought I made that obvious. I had to know you were free.”
Oh.
Blaine struggled to string together his thoughts. “So are you- uh, did you plan someth-”
“Hush, you’ll find out soon enough. Just. Keep your schedule clear, alright? Will you do that for me?” Kurt asked coyly in a tone Blaine hadn’t heard in months - he shivered and savored it against his better judgment.
Was it even a question? “Yeah, Kurt. Of course.”
“Oh! Um, unless you had your heart set on that double feature.”
Despite the gratingly perfect tone of false earnestness Kurt put on, somehow Blaine found he didn’t mind conceding all that much. “I think I’ll survive.”
“See you soon, then.”
“Yeah.” Blaine was still grasping for something better to say when the call ended.
Will you do that for me?
~
Friday was easily the longest day of Blaine Anderson’s life.
Finn had cancelled glee practice for that Friday afternoon weeks in advance, knowing most of the club members would’ve begged off with half-assed excuses anyway in favor of celebrating - or bemoaning - the holiday. Even so, that had left Blaine with seven hours of being at school when he really mostly wanted to hurl due to equal parts anticipation and nerves.
Come half noon, Blaine was seated amongst friends in the cafeteria and dazedly observing his lunch plate, drawing swirling patterns with one of his french fries and a trail of ranch. There raged a heated debate in his head over whether he should shave again after school (he’d already done so before), or whether the tiniest bit of scruff might appeal to College Kurt. Enter the first sign of life he’d gotten from Kurt all day.
Kurt Hummel
Do you know what you’re feeling right now?
Blaine studiously avoided drawing attention to himself as he whipped his cell phone off the table and into his lap to reply. Yes, you sadist, he thought, I know that I’m feeling nervous and giddy and annoyed and scared and distracted... not to mention I’ve gotten semi-hard in every class period and even when you do things like this it just makes me want you more.
No, what am I feeling? Blaine replies.
>>You now know what it’s like to be Kurt Hummel circa junior year.
That was not in the top twenty things he would’ve guessed.
Point taken.
>>Boarding soon, should touch down in Columbus around 3:30.
Btw, what is your plan for getting here? Your dad still doesn’t know, right?
>>I was wondering if you could give me a ride?
The drive was easily two hours each way.
Ok. The earliest I can be there is around 5. And that was booking it, without a trip home first.
>>No worries, don’t you dare rush. I can grab a cab downtown. I’ll need a solid few hours to shop for myself, and then maybe ten minutes to drop by that Buckeyes shop for Dad.
10 bucks says you last no more than five.
>>I won’t take that bet out of sheer indignation. I’ll cover the gas, okay?
How about you tell me your scheme and my fee is waived?
>>I’ll cover the gas and you won’t try to stop me.
Well aware that he didn’t want to lose any more time than necessary while stopped at home, Blaine was already in the process of calculating how much of a change to his present outfit he could get away with. Something that he would never wear to school in actuality, but that he could get away with wearing in theory - it could not be obvious he’d changed, but his pants weren’t even full-length at the moment, his cardigan didn’t even have that upper-arm snugness he preferred. Something that wasn’t presumptuous but that definitely drew the eye to what he knew were Kurt’s soft spots.
~
Having finally found paid parking in the vicinity of the coffeehouse they’d agreed to meet at, Blaine folded his arms against the brash chill and navigated his way through the buzzing city streets, towards the golden glow of a shop he’d spotted from two blocks down. Telling himself to focus on the slush around his shoes so as to avoid an absolute nightmare, he only really looked up to make sure he had the right place - with the same wooden floors and paneling he remembered, the same fireplace near the back in front of which Kurt had once admitted to writing fanmail to Barbra Streisand every day for an entire year of grade school (“Like The Notebook, Blaine!”).
Moments later, he crossed the threshold and vaguely noticed the bell jingle somewhere above his head. The air was thick with warmth and the heady smell of coffee grounds, and Blaine spotted Kurt at the far side of the seating area, in an armchair with one finger at his temple as he flipped idly through a magazine in his lap. His long legs were crossed and they still went for miles in gray wash jeans that hugged every contour until those black ankle boots. Kurt hadn’t looked up at the sound of the door, and Blaine stepped aside to let others pass as he took just one more second to look.
Kurt had a discreet carry-on tucked under the table next to him, and when his free hand wasn’t handling pages, his arm floated up so his finger could trace mindless circles over top of a ceramic coffee mug.
It’s time. Blaine summoned up a little push and made his way across the floor, navigating around a couple sofas and a lamp. Kurt glanced up at the movement and his gaze caught; his lips quirked shyly, the magazine fell to the rug below with a light thud as he stood up, taking long strides to close the distance. Kurt’s arms interlaced somewhere around the center of Blaine’s back before he could think twice about what type of greeting was appropriate. One of them - he wasn’t sure which - inhaled deeply and the other followed.
My old one still smells pretty good, don't you think?
Before they fully untangled, Kurt slipped a delicate quick kiss to one of Blaine’s cheeks, hardly more than a split-second touch of his lips. But even French Immersion Lima Kurt wasn’t one for the traditional bisoux to each cheek. Was this a New York thing?
Kurt was stepping back and rubbing the backs of his knuckles over the reddened apples of his cheeks. Oh. This was a Columbus thing.
"So,” Kurt was saying, “did you want a drink or anything? Their cookies are heavenly. But you know that.”
"Well, I guess that depends on what your evil plan involves.”
"First, would you happen to have that overnight bag you always kept in your car? I was gonna suggest we get dinner but I’d die if I showed up anywhere with so little height to my hair.”
"You’re here now, aren’t you?”
"That’s beside the point.”
"I do have it with me,” Blaine said.
"Great. You sure you don’t want coffee, then? Tea?”
"Are you-” Blaine peered into the mug set behind Kurt. “I guess you’d be ready to go, then? …Wherever it is.”
"I’m offering free caffeine. Dinner can wait.”
"You won’t take no for an answer, will you?” Blaine had no plans for the next 72 hours, he was in Columbus, Ohio and not a soul but Kurt knew it, and the hairspray in his trunk had just been officially reserved by his best friend-cum-ex-boyfriend.
Kurt grinned, then schooled his lips together into something less pleased with himself. “I haven’t heard ‘no’ yet.” He dipped his head to hike his bag over his shoulder, smoothing the strap down coolly. “Shall we, then?”
Blaine tilted his head, indicating the door, and they headed out while bracing against the brisk wind. “I’m parked down the street aways.” They had exited at a street corner and Kurt pivoted to press the button, crossing in the right direction as soon as the light shifted in their favor. He was mute but seemingly serene. Pairs and clusters of people passed by, but they seemed rather irrelevant along with the steady stream of traffic flowing by on the thoroughfare.
For all that Kurt was the one to initiate action, Blaine recognized he had always been the verbal side of things. Frankly, the man at his side had always talked more, but Blaine was the one to lead them into conversations more often than not; it’d brought on countless accusations that he thrived off unpleasant situations, to which he couldn’t produce very good defenses.
Well, now wasn’t a time for protecting one’s pride.
"It, um,” Blaine started, “It might be kind of difficult finding somewhere decent to eat tonight.”
"I know, I know. I have a feeling about this place I saw while I was walking, though. Mind giving it a shot?”
"No, of course not. I’m glad you’ve got a place.” Blaine indicated the underground parking to their right and they descended down its ramp, blinking to get the spots out of their eyes. He lifted his finger to indicate the corner where his car sat.
"I don’t mind waiting, either,” Blaine added.
Kurt looked back from where his hand hovered by the car’s trunk, waiting for Blaine to fumble to the right key. “Oh no?” he said. Kurt opened the trunk and, after asking with his eyes, placed his bag inside out of the way. Blaine approached to pull out his own pack, pulling it to his stomach to shuffle through discreetly for the can of spray. He handed it over and Kurt exhaled his thanks, beginning to apply mousse while looking in one of the rear windows.
Blaine shuffled his feet. “I’m gonna... wait behind the wheel. It’s marginally warmer.”
Kurt nodded silently, absorbed.
"You know...” Minutes later, Kurt’s voice floated to his ears and their eyes met in the rear-view mirror. He continued on airily, “I booked a double at an airport hotel in case you couldn’t make it, just so my dad or Finn wouldn’t have to drive out tonight. There’s no charge if I cancel, I just thought I might... make it known in case you might feel too worn out or whatever for the trip back - although of course I’d be willing to split the driving if you were alright with it.” His eyelashes fell to mantle his cheeks and he groped for the spray again, stepping a few paces backwards to add finishing touches.
If Blaine hadn’t been certain before that this whole affair was an effort to torture him into insanity, this threw him over the edge. He rented a room for the night, Blaine, he moaned inwardly. He rented a room and it’s completely up to you and he gave you an out. How do you even accept without making him regret the offer?
First of all, do not lie.
"Are you sure it’s not,” Blaine’s expression was pained at having to raise his voice so Kurt could hear him from the back, “Not too pricy? I wouldn’t want you to go through the trouble because of me.” He twisted in his seat. “I’d be more than alright with you driving my car, you know that. If you ask me, it’s best to start a drive like that in the morning but if you’d rather be home tonight, say the word.” None of it was expressly a lie.
"No, you’re absolutely right. I haven’t been in the driver’s seat in weeks, it’s definitely in our best interest to get some rest before we set back out. Blaine, would you happen to have a- oh, there it is, a lint roller, gorgeous...”
Blaine surreptitiously fished his cell out of his pocket and held it low by the console as Kurt wrapped up his primping.
To: Sam Evans
I’m at a sleepover at yours if anyone asks.
>>dude, it’s Valentine’s.
It’s not weird bc you’re my Veep and we have budget things to discuss.
>>Will I get an explanation?
Monday.
>>Roger that. Make good choices, little man.
Thanks
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