Do What You Will (4/5)
Chapter summary:
You were the sweetest thing that I ever knew
But I don't care for sugar, honey
If I can't have you
A/N: As much as I like to pay attention to detail it somehow never occurred to me that this is Blaine's favorite holiday. I mean, it changes nothing, I just. It was a weird revelation.
Also. I know this was gonna be four parts. This part was hard - I gave it an inch and it took several miles. 4k...what? I'm sorry, somewhat. Lyrics from Annie Lennox's "Walking on Broken Glass."
Posted here at AO3
Now every one of us was made to suffer/ Every one of us was made to weep
But we’ve been hurting one another/ And now the pain has cut too deep
So take me from the wreckage/ Save me from the blast
Lift me up and take me back/ Don’t let me keep on walkin’ on broken glass
Blaine entered the lobby of the airport inn with the overnight bag from his trunk over his shoulder, huffing the last of the icy winter air from his lungs. Kurt had gone ahead to check them in while Blaine parked his car. Leaden in his stomach was a weight of anticipation, swollen with bits and pieces from throughout the night: the pull of Kurt’s gaze from the passenger seat as they stalled at stoplights, the liquid heat that rushed his veins with every laugh he drew from Kurt’s throat.
They met up in the elevator bay. Kurt was humming along as if he knew the tune of the muzak playing from the speakers, with one leg jiggling fiercely below him. His eye drifted to hold Blaine in his peripheral.
“Thank you, again, Blaine,” he spoke up, “Dinner was delicious.” And it had been. If all else failed, Blaine thought, it was still a night of good company, good food, good atmosphere. If he lied to himself, that was more than enough.
Shoulder to shoulder, the two of them slipped between the first doors to open. As they ascended Blaine leaned against the wall adjacent, rubbing a hand along his upper arm pensively. Kurt arched an eyebrow in question. “If I was wiser I probably wouldn’t ask...” Blaine began. “Did we have a reservation there before today?”
Their room was a handful of feet from the elevators. Kurt paused after retrieving the keycard from the slot and barely nudged the door inwards. “Don’t be silly. I didn’t even know for sure you’d be free to pick me up.”
Blaine continued as if he hadn’t heard. “Since about a week ago?”
“Perhaps.” His broad shoulders held fast to the door to let Blaine pass - his gaze, too, was instinctively unwavering. Blaine paused right in front of him and his free arm lifted - up at Kurt’s side below his pack, up where it would be a slip of silk away from touching the fleshy, vulnerable skin above his waistline - to flip the switch by Kurt’s hips. In the harsh relief of the hall light, Blaine smiled almost predatorily. “I think that’s the closest thing to a yes I’ll get.”
Kurt let the door fall shut as he walked past Blaine, eyeing the hotel room with a guarded mix of appraisal and resignation. Each of the two dropped his bag on the luggage rack so they sat side by side, unassuming.
Back at the piano bar as they sat awaiting their plates (to share), Kurt had admitted he wouldn’t mind another drink - “I am on vacation, after all,” he’d said with a wink at Blaine, not at the teasing waiter who’d asked - but even now his tongue was still rather careful, flirty but reserved.
Blaine looked on from one of the armchairs by the window as Kurt rambled about, leaving barely-there touches everywhere his fancy landed. He played with combinations of lighting in the room until settling on a brightness that was a notch below 24-hour-drugstore, dragged the curtains to almost shut, fiddled with the thermostat until huffing and deeming it hopeless. Finally, he paced over to one of the double beds and began to manhandle the comforter, pushing the pillows aside and yanking it from on top of the bedsheets. Blaine sat up, holding out a hand, “Hey, hey. What are you doing?”
“You know you can’t actually use the comforters, Blaine. I wouldn’t even chance holding a black light up to one,” he shivered. Kurt’s back remained to him, folding and refolding the bedding until he held a compact puffy square in his hands.
“I was referring more to the fact you’re acting like the turndown service and it’s barely ten o’clock.”
Kurt angled his head from where he was occupied stuffing the first comforter onto the top shelf of the hall closet. “And when do you propose I do this, then? We should have an early start in the morning, right? Can’t just stay up playing with each other’s pigtails all night.”
Blaine tilted his head, his eyes narrowed in that achingly tender way. “Did I... offend you in some way, Kurt?”
“No, of course not, Blaine. You’re fine. Not a hair out of place.” And wasn’t that reminiscent enough of their past fights to be stomach-turning.
And then Kurt came back to himself a bit. He leaned on the wall opposite, steadily driving the toe of his boot into the carpet like he intended to leave a mark. He threw his head back with a smirk, eyes closed. Blaine waited. This was a time when he had to remind himself, desperately, not to initiate.
“You know sometimes when I’ll tell you I did something,” Kurt started, hands cupping elbows behind his back, “And you’ll tell me it’s alright, or we’ll be fine in the end, or mostly that I’m not as horrible as I sometimes think?” He continued to curve his spine, shoulderblades lifting him to arch more and more, as if it was taking him away from this conversation. “Like if I were to cold shoulder someone for a stupid reason for weeks on end - that’s something you’d never do, you’re good like that - you wouldn’t instantly tell me to sort myself out, and you’d listen, and you might give me advice.
“But if I fought for it and insisted I’m horrible, you’d fight right back, give me all the reasons why I’m wrong. And we both know that you’re not completely right, either. My heart can be cold and lonely and-” he choked on a snotty laugh, “really talented at lashing out...”
The heating clicked off and Kurt quieted for several moments, his breaths coming soft and quaky.
“That plane ticket,” he began again. “I bought it last week without giving anyone else a second thought, really. Anyone but you,” he amended, eyelashes fluttering atop his cheekbones. “If that wasn’t obvious. I just... didn’t even think. If I’d called last week and you said you had plans already I’d be so tempted to cancel my reservations, or maybe go to Lima and just fake sick at the house.”
Blaine still watched calmly, listening with shoulders hunched, elbows braced on his knees. “And what about my overnight bag? The hairspray? That was something, wasn’t it?”
Even across the room he could tell Kurt’s cheeks had pinked. “I couldn’t very well have told you I had a room if I knew you’d freak yourself out on account of not having your stuff.”
Blaine didn’t let his thoughts linger there long. “Is this really the only break you’ll probably get until summer, then?”
Kurt met his gaze abruptly and a tear broke free, slipping along his nose and into the corner of his mouth. “That part was true.” He smiled ruefully, attempting to swipe a thumb under each eye discreetly.
The only sound to meet their ears was the dissonant scritch of Blaine’s palms against the thighs of his pants. He stood and cleared his throat. “Which part wasn’t true?”
Kurt looked alarmed. “None of it! I wasn’t- I didn’t lie, not once.”
“You kind of left things out, wouldn’t you say?”
Kurt’s eyes were still a little wet, his nose and cheeks mildly rouged, his lips parted and searching. Blaine hated to do this but it felt like a much better alternative to letting this night end in lost potential. That can’t have been what Kurt desired; he’d tolerated Blaine’s appalling Barry White impressions for half the car ride, they’d shared the Valentine’s dessert special less than an hour ago.
“I was doing it for you,” Kurt said, his conviction revived. “I was planning... I was putting together a nice night as a surprise. So yes, I maybe omitted some things, but it’s the same as anyone else would do for their-”
“Friend? One hundred percent untethered, unromantic friend?” He was certain that if he’d been a few steps nearer he would’ve been able to see Kurt’s jaw barely shifting in frustration.
“When I said earlier that what you do is fight me on these things, what I wanted to say was that I really hope you have a good argument for what’s been running through my head right now. Well, all night, really. Because I’m afraid,” he paused, palms unconsciously turned outwards in supplication. “Afraid that this whole thing was kind of a horrible thing, that it’s gonna end up being bad for even our friendship. For all that it may seem selfish - getting you to myself, asking you to clear your agenda, even letting you buy me dinner - I’ve been scrabbling to think of what we need to make things right and I thought this was what we needed.” And this was where it was apparent Kurt probably had been affected by the alcohol, as he dragged his fingers fiercely through the hair at the nape of his neck.
“All this time I’ve really wanted you to tell me that this was the right direction. And here’s the selfish part: if it isn’t, then I would’ve loved to learn that I haven’t just done something pretty awful to my heart. But you haven’t-” Kurt hiccoughed and slapped the back of his hand over his mouth, eyes squeezed tight to will away the ache in his throat.
Infinitely slow and careful, Blaine had come to sit an arm’s length away, on the bed at Kurt’s side. With the same degree of fondness in his eyes, he wrapped two fingers feather-light around Kurt’s tensed wrist. “Haven’t what?”
Kurt shook his head, eyes fixed on some point on the ceiling.
“As much as I hate...talking about it, Kurt, I know the capacity I have to hurt you. Do you remember during that phone conversation I mentioned, how you said that we might end up together, we might not, but we shouldn’t want it for the wrong reasons, and we shouldn’t push for it either? I know you sort of meant that you didn’t want to rush yourself if you wanted us back but it might not have been what was right for you. But doesn’t that also apply to me? Even when I was going through every day thinking of ways to win your trust back, it doesn’t mean I should’ve blindly gone after what I wanted. I didn’t have the right.”
“You always have the right. People lie, people cheat, they’re still people.” Kurt’s tone was biting, not as a punishment but definitely as a reprimand. Stubborn. He still hadn’t looked down.
“I guess it didn’t feel fair, pushing the topic when I’m to blame for fucking things up.”
“Bull. You push, I push back. I have the right to say no, and I do, and I would’ve. But I haven’t had the opportunity to, so maybe you should be pushing harder. Or at all.”
“I haven’t heard ‘no’ yet,” Kurt had said. Neither had Blaine.
“Damnit. Kurt, I don’t want to be responsible for hurting you ever again." At some point Blaine had let go of Kurt and started talking with his hands. "I don’t- I fucking can’t... I can’t even think straight sometimes, knowing that I cheated, and I hurt the man I love so entirely. I’ve never been so aware of the pain I could cause if you let me in again. God, Kurt. You’re right here in front of me, and not only did you forgive me, but you’re giving me a second chance.”
“Giving us a second chance,” Kurt corrected. “You don’t get credit for all the screw ups.”
“There’s no way that taking me back could cause you less pain than what we have now. We have each other. This is safe. There’s no reason you should put your heart on the line for someone who was so careless with it before,” he said imploringly.
“When would you say you started to care about me?” Kurt met his gaze piercingly, toying with a cufflink between thumb and forefinger.
Blaine gaped, then worked out the answer, obvious to both already: “The moment I saw you at Dalton.”
“I was lost, hmm? And maybe cute. ‘Adorable,’ right? Not hot, not really. Okay. And,” he drawled, “when did you stop caring?”
“I never- I haven’t ever stopped. You’ve practically been what I cared about most since the day we met.” And it was startlingly true; Kurt had long been his first thought when he awoke, his final prayer before bed.
Kurt nodded. “What I want is for you to understand as long as that remains true, I don’t need to know anything. I’m not going to waste time trying to find a sure thing. If you haven’t noticed by now, I don’t particularly like safe. I trust you and you give me reason to. You broke my trust once but somehow I have a hard time believing you’ll do it again. Maybe it has something to do with the fact I fell in love with your personality, with the Blaine who thoughtfully brought me coffee every week of my senior year and the one who just serenaded me with disco songs of all things-”
“Those were all great songs.”
“Like I said, disco, and I somehow didn’t mind. I...” He hesitated before weakly intertwining one of Blaine’s hands in his, letting himself bask in the snug weave of their fingers. “I don’t love how either of us acted this past year. We have a laundry list of things to look out for if we try again. Even so? I really want to try again.”
Blaine paused for a long time, thumbing one of Kurt’s knuckles distractedly. “Are you sure about this?”
“Alright,” Kurt delicately laid his other palm on the bedsheets beside Blaine’s thigh. “You know that I don’t put stock in God or in multiple gods, I even have a really hard time trusting qualified medical professionals because of a lifetime of experience. But when I’m telling you I have faith in you, Blaine, you’re gonna need to accept that even if you don’t trust yourself right now. If you’re second guessing because you’re afraid of your potential to hurt me, I won’t let that go. If you’re saying that for any other reason, then we’re fine. We can stay the night in Columbus or you can drive us to Lima right now or you can drive back and my dad can pick me up here tomorrow morning."
He continued, “But you’re not allowed to decide what I want or who I’m allowed to let in. If you want this and I want this? From my side, I know I’m ready to give us another opportunity. Both of us. And I promise to work hard at making us better. So will you trust me to trust you right now? Will you do that for me, Blaine?”
“Okay,” he replied, eyes searching Kurt’s.
“Can we be us again, do you think? Do you want that?”
“Yeah. God, so much, Kurt. If you’re sure you want me then I’m sure I want us together, more than anything else.”
“Good,” Kurt grinned, his nose rumpling sweetly. “Then we’re agreed.”
Blaine watched Kurt’s face, the pink rims under his eyes, the gorgeous slip of teeth that Kurt never even bothered trying to hide when it was just them. His right eyebrow, which Blaine always kissed first (if he could help it) because it was the one that always lifted at the first test of Kurt’s patience. His muted dimples, the sight of which could take Blaine’s breath away; he could usually return the favor with a well-timed lick and suck to the mouth-watering dimples of Kurt’s that lay 'below the Equator.'
Kurt’s eyes widened subtly when the silence between them had stretched on, when his smile had suspended their eye contact for too long. He began to shift uneasily and withdraw his hands but Blaine gave him an urging tug, light but unmistakable.
“I think we’re allowed,” Blaine said. “If you want to.”
Kurt smiled sheepishly, rubbing his nose into the crook of his shoulder. His grasp tightened once again and he drew Blaine closer, as if Kurt was pulling the other off his seat and onto the dancefloor. At such proximity Blaine faltered and shuffled to keep his footing, but it wasn’t strictly necessary; Kurt’s warm hands cupped his neck, grounding them both at once. Blaine’s pleased gasp was swallowed right up as those plush ruby lips sealed to his. It was reckless: latching onto lips and sucking until one or both ran short on breath, panting aborted sugar-laced breaths before coming back for more, shuddery laughs at the occasional click of too-eager teeth.
Blaine’s weather-chapped fingers had come to caress the indent of Kurt’s torso just below his ribs, coarsely running up and down as if summoning the sense memory of firm but yielding skin, just a breath away from his. One of Kurt’s arms braced across the back of his shoulders, his fingers massaging under the shoulderblade as if they hoped to bring Blaine’s pulse to the surface, while the other arm had drifted up to cup the back of Blaine’s head, fingertips delicately guiding its tilt.
Kurt was rather indelicately rolling his tongue, wriggling to get the better of Blaine and capture the honeyed corners of his mouth, when Blaine pulled away a few inches, chest heaving. Presumably, Kurt’s desire to overpower came off as a struggle.
“Is this alright?” he asked, fervently eyeing a purpling swell on Kurt’s lip, then turned his bright eyes back to Kurt’s.
Kurt scoffed, rolling his eyes warmly. “More than.” He ducked back in, suckling on Blaine’s own bottom lip, nipping and teasing until Blaine couldn’t resist licking back inside to taste again.
Amidst letting his tongue reacquaint itself with the mesmerizing hollow behind Kurt’s front teeth, Blaine was well aware his free hand was fidgeting to explore further south. It made its presence known slipping between the wall and Kurt’s back, briefly nudging at the elastic of his briefs, warm to the touch.
Kurt’s jaw slackened and a muddled plea fell from Blaine’s lips, but too suddenly Kurt’s head was tipped back and his hands were digging Blaine’s out from where they sought out the heat of Kurt’s lower back.
“Not tonight,” Kurt said, and they were both sobered in a beat.
“No?”
“Don’t want you thinking you can just wine and dine me, love,” Kurt fiddled with their entwined hands, held up between them.
“We can do whatever you’re okay with, but you know I don’t think that,” Blaine replied.
“I know.” He smiled calmly. “We can still...”
“Play tonsil hockey?”
“Yeah, well. We can if you want. First, feel free to take a breather.”
Blaine smirked, “I’m sorry?”
“You look like you could blow off some steam.”
“In... the next room.”
“I don’t really feel like we should... consummate things, not this fast. I guess I kind of want to know we’re good. We’re still gonna have to manage without getting to touch, most days. You can have the room, if you like.” Kurt dipped his head, dropping a lingering kiss to one of Blaine’s knuckles.
Blaine shook his head, even as his hips jumped in response to a kitten lick between two of his fingers.
“I can leave, if you want, find a vending machine or something,” Kurt offered.
“I think I want you as close as possible.”
Kurt beamed, already pushing him towards the restroom. He grazed the taut skin below Blaine’s ear with his teeth, laving over the spot carefully. “Be sure to knock on the door when you’re finished,” he whispered, eyes aglint. “Promise we’ll make this worth the wait.”
They went on to take care of themselves with that wall between them, once and then again after spending another hour hips-apart on one of the double beds. Each time Blaine took the time to clean up his appearance - and Kurt must’ve been working his own typical magic with wipes and a comb - but they couldn’t, didn’t want to conceal the brilliant flush of their cheeks, the strange buzz of getting off together yet apart.
At their first reunion just outside the bathroom door, Blaine had mouthed up the side of Kurt’s neck and collected the salty taste of sweat along his hairline. Then, when he had buried his face in the pillows to wait for Kurt to return from the bathroom mirror, he’d moaned outright, brash and shameless. “Kurt,” he’d groaned, “It smells like sex.”
Kurt had snorted as he rounded the corner back into the main room. “If you want to sleep on the same bed, maybe we should wear ourselves out on this one then strip -” he paused, patting Blaine’s ankle, “the covers off the other one, sleep there. What do you think?”
“I think I’m not old enough to be worn out by an orgasm and some heavy petting, so I may have to throw in a hundred-meter dash.”
“Aw, Blaine. No one said you were only allowed one orgasm.” So they’d gone for a second round, twisted though Blaine complained the set-up was; he recognized the need to know they were there for the right reasons, wanted to prove they could work as boyfriends better than they ever had before.
The midnight hour found both of them sprawled and facing each other (on the fresher bed), infinitely less wound up yet still abuzz.
“I want to come see you,” Blaine said, tiptoeing his fingers up and down Kurt’s forearm.
“In New York?” Kurt asked, quiet but alert.
“I know you can’t come see me,” Blaine said, “Not until the semester’s over, really.”
“When? I thought we already figured out our spring breaks don’t line up...”
“I know, but what does it matter if I miss a few days? I’m not even close to having the worst case of senioritis, but I know these months don’t count. I missed almost two weeks of my junior year at McKinley and I was still at the top of the senior math class, Kurt. I could come over for your break.”
“And do what? My days are gonna be filled with dancing at that workshop from sunup ‘til sundown, ‘til my ankles are the size of grapefruits. I’m just gonna be sweaty and exhausted and cranky whenever you see me.”
“But I’d get to see you, in person.”
Kurt’s eyes flickered up. “You think you’d be willing to put up with that?”
“Yeah, I do. And...” he lead on, “with any luck, I could use some of the daylight hours to scope out what might be my future schools.”
“I think you’re gonna get into every one you applied to, Blaine,” Kurt said, bring a hand up to caress the hair at Blaine’s temple lightly.
Kurt continued, “I don’t think I want to miss out on that. Maybe I can swing it so I transfer to the half-day program and still get some money back. Then you’d have me for the afternoons, still gross and bruised from kicking my own ass, but willing to run around the city.”
“That would be perfect.”
“Like I said, maybe.”
“Maybe we could round second base, too,” Blaine suggested.
Kurt slapped him on the shoulder. “Shut up. Was this such a bad night?”
The other’s face became sincere, lips pressed together. “It definitely wasn’t.”
Kurt rolled backwards to flip the switch on the bedside lamp, enveloping them in darkness. “Didn’t think so.” He felt a brush of air but no sound came. “Yeah?” he prompted.
“Thank you, Kurt.”
“Happy Valentine’s, Blaine.”
Next chapter
You were the sweetest thing that I ever knew
But I don't care for sugar, honey
If I can't have you
A/N: As much as I like to pay attention to detail it somehow never occurred to me that this is Blaine's favorite holiday. I mean, it changes nothing, I just. It was a weird revelation.
Also. I know this was gonna be four parts. This part was hard - I gave it an inch and it took several miles. 4k...what? I'm sorry, somewhat. Lyrics from Annie Lennox's "Walking on Broken Glass."
Posted here at AO3
Now every one of us was made to suffer/ Every one of us was made to weep
But we’ve been hurting one another/ And now the pain has cut too deep
So take me from the wreckage/ Save me from the blast
Lift me up and take me back/ Don’t let me keep on walkin’ on broken glass
Blaine entered the lobby of the airport inn with the overnight bag from his trunk over his shoulder, huffing the last of the icy winter air from his lungs. Kurt had gone ahead to check them in while Blaine parked his car. Leaden in his stomach was a weight of anticipation, swollen with bits and pieces from throughout the night: the pull of Kurt’s gaze from the passenger seat as they stalled at stoplights, the liquid heat that rushed his veins with every laugh he drew from Kurt’s throat.
They met up in the elevator bay. Kurt was humming along as if he knew the tune of the muzak playing from the speakers, with one leg jiggling fiercely below him. His eye drifted to hold Blaine in his peripheral.
“Thank you, again, Blaine,” he spoke up, “Dinner was delicious.” And it had been. If all else failed, Blaine thought, it was still a night of good company, good food, good atmosphere. If he lied to himself, that was more than enough.
Shoulder to shoulder, the two of them slipped between the first doors to open. As they ascended Blaine leaned against the wall adjacent, rubbing a hand along his upper arm pensively. Kurt arched an eyebrow in question. “If I was wiser I probably wouldn’t ask...” Blaine began. “Did we have a reservation there before today?”
Their room was a handful of feet from the elevators. Kurt paused after retrieving the keycard from the slot and barely nudged the door inwards. “Don’t be silly. I didn’t even know for sure you’d be free to pick me up.”
Blaine continued as if he hadn’t heard. “Since about a week ago?”
“Perhaps.” His broad shoulders held fast to the door to let Blaine pass - his gaze, too, was instinctively unwavering. Blaine paused right in front of him and his free arm lifted - up at Kurt’s side below his pack, up where it would be a slip of silk away from touching the fleshy, vulnerable skin above his waistline - to flip the switch by Kurt’s hips. In the harsh relief of the hall light, Blaine smiled almost predatorily. “I think that’s the closest thing to a yes I’ll get.”
Kurt let the door fall shut as he walked past Blaine, eyeing the hotel room with a guarded mix of appraisal and resignation. Each of the two dropped his bag on the luggage rack so they sat side by side, unassuming.
Back at the piano bar as they sat awaiting their plates (to share), Kurt had admitted he wouldn’t mind another drink - “I am on vacation, after all,” he’d said with a wink at Blaine, not at the teasing waiter who’d asked - but even now his tongue was still rather careful, flirty but reserved.
Blaine looked on from one of the armchairs by the window as Kurt rambled about, leaving barely-there touches everywhere his fancy landed. He played with combinations of lighting in the room until settling on a brightness that was a notch below 24-hour-drugstore, dragged the curtains to almost shut, fiddled with the thermostat until huffing and deeming it hopeless. Finally, he paced over to one of the double beds and began to manhandle the comforter, pushing the pillows aside and yanking it from on top of the bedsheets. Blaine sat up, holding out a hand, “Hey, hey. What are you doing?”
“You know you can’t actually use the comforters, Blaine. I wouldn’t even chance holding a black light up to one,” he shivered. Kurt’s back remained to him, folding and refolding the bedding until he held a compact puffy square in his hands.
“I was referring more to the fact you’re acting like the turndown service and it’s barely ten o’clock.”
Kurt angled his head from where he was occupied stuffing the first comforter onto the top shelf of the hall closet. “And when do you propose I do this, then? We should have an early start in the morning, right? Can’t just stay up playing with each other’s pigtails all night.”
Blaine tilted his head, his eyes narrowed in that achingly tender way. “Did I... offend you in some way, Kurt?”
“No, of course not, Blaine. You’re fine. Not a hair out of place.” And wasn’t that reminiscent enough of their past fights to be stomach-turning.
And then Kurt came back to himself a bit. He leaned on the wall opposite, steadily driving the toe of his boot into the carpet like he intended to leave a mark. He threw his head back with a smirk, eyes closed. Blaine waited. This was a time when he had to remind himself, desperately, not to initiate.
“You know sometimes when I’ll tell you I did something,” Kurt started, hands cupping elbows behind his back, “And you’ll tell me it’s alright, or we’ll be fine in the end, or mostly that I’m not as horrible as I sometimes think?” He continued to curve his spine, shoulderblades lifting him to arch more and more, as if it was taking him away from this conversation. “Like if I were to cold shoulder someone for a stupid reason for weeks on end - that’s something you’d never do, you’re good like that - you wouldn’t instantly tell me to sort myself out, and you’d listen, and you might give me advice.
“But if I fought for it and insisted I’m horrible, you’d fight right back, give me all the reasons why I’m wrong. And we both know that you’re not completely right, either. My heart can be cold and lonely and-” he choked on a snotty laugh, “really talented at lashing out...”
The heating clicked off and Kurt quieted for several moments, his breaths coming soft and quaky.
“That plane ticket,” he began again. “I bought it last week without giving anyone else a second thought, really. Anyone but you,” he amended, eyelashes fluttering atop his cheekbones. “If that wasn’t obvious. I just... didn’t even think. If I’d called last week and you said you had plans already I’d be so tempted to cancel my reservations, or maybe go to Lima and just fake sick at the house.”
Blaine still watched calmly, listening with shoulders hunched, elbows braced on his knees. “And what about my overnight bag? The hairspray? That was something, wasn’t it?”
Even across the room he could tell Kurt’s cheeks had pinked. “I couldn’t very well have told you I had a room if I knew you’d freak yourself out on account of not having your stuff.”
Blaine didn’t let his thoughts linger there long. “Is this really the only break you’ll probably get until summer, then?”
Kurt met his gaze abruptly and a tear broke free, slipping along his nose and into the corner of his mouth. “That part was true.” He smiled ruefully, attempting to swipe a thumb under each eye discreetly.
The only sound to meet their ears was the dissonant scritch of Blaine’s palms against the thighs of his pants. He stood and cleared his throat. “Which part wasn’t true?”
Kurt looked alarmed. “None of it! I wasn’t- I didn’t lie, not once.”
“You kind of left things out, wouldn’t you say?”
Kurt’s eyes were still a little wet, his nose and cheeks mildly rouged, his lips parted and searching. Blaine hated to do this but it felt like a much better alternative to letting this night end in lost potential. That can’t have been what Kurt desired; he’d tolerated Blaine’s appalling Barry White impressions for half the car ride, they’d shared the Valentine’s dessert special less than an hour ago.
“I was doing it for you,” Kurt said, his conviction revived. “I was planning... I was putting together a nice night as a surprise. So yes, I maybe omitted some things, but it’s the same as anyone else would do for their-”
“Friend? One hundred percent untethered, unromantic friend?” He was certain that if he’d been a few steps nearer he would’ve been able to see Kurt’s jaw barely shifting in frustration.
“When I said earlier that what you do is fight me on these things, what I wanted to say was that I really hope you have a good argument for what’s been running through my head right now. Well, all night, really. Because I’m afraid,” he paused, palms unconsciously turned outwards in supplication. “Afraid that this whole thing was kind of a horrible thing, that it’s gonna end up being bad for even our friendship. For all that it may seem selfish - getting you to myself, asking you to clear your agenda, even letting you buy me dinner - I’ve been scrabbling to think of what we need to make things right and I thought this was what we needed.” And this was where it was apparent Kurt probably had been affected by the alcohol, as he dragged his fingers fiercely through the hair at the nape of his neck.
“All this time I’ve really wanted you to tell me that this was the right direction. And here’s the selfish part: if it isn’t, then I would’ve loved to learn that I haven’t just done something pretty awful to my heart. But you haven’t-” Kurt hiccoughed and slapped the back of his hand over his mouth, eyes squeezed tight to will away the ache in his throat.
Infinitely slow and careful, Blaine had come to sit an arm’s length away, on the bed at Kurt’s side. With the same degree of fondness in his eyes, he wrapped two fingers feather-light around Kurt’s tensed wrist. “Haven’t what?”
Kurt shook his head, eyes fixed on some point on the ceiling.
“As much as I hate...talking about it, Kurt, I know the capacity I have to hurt you. Do you remember during that phone conversation I mentioned, how you said that we might end up together, we might not, but we shouldn’t want it for the wrong reasons, and we shouldn’t push for it either? I know you sort of meant that you didn’t want to rush yourself if you wanted us back but it might not have been what was right for you. But doesn’t that also apply to me? Even when I was going through every day thinking of ways to win your trust back, it doesn’t mean I should’ve blindly gone after what I wanted. I didn’t have the right.”
“You always have the right. People lie, people cheat, they’re still people.” Kurt’s tone was biting, not as a punishment but definitely as a reprimand. Stubborn. He still hadn’t looked down.
“I guess it didn’t feel fair, pushing the topic when I’m to blame for fucking things up.”
“Bull. You push, I push back. I have the right to say no, and I do, and I would’ve. But I haven’t had the opportunity to, so maybe you should be pushing harder. Or at all.”
“I haven’t heard ‘no’ yet,” Kurt had said. Neither had Blaine.
“Damnit. Kurt, I don’t want to be responsible for hurting you ever again." At some point Blaine had let go of Kurt and started talking with his hands. "I don’t- I fucking can’t... I can’t even think straight sometimes, knowing that I cheated, and I hurt the man I love so entirely. I’ve never been so aware of the pain I could cause if you let me in again. God, Kurt. You’re right here in front of me, and not only did you forgive me, but you’re giving me a second chance.”
“Giving us a second chance,” Kurt corrected. “You don’t get credit for all the screw ups.”
“There’s no way that taking me back could cause you less pain than what we have now. We have each other. This is safe. There’s no reason you should put your heart on the line for someone who was so careless with it before,” he said imploringly.
“When would you say you started to care about me?” Kurt met his gaze piercingly, toying with a cufflink between thumb and forefinger.
Blaine gaped, then worked out the answer, obvious to both already: “The moment I saw you at Dalton.”
“I was lost, hmm? And maybe cute. ‘Adorable,’ right? Not hot, not really. Okay. And,” he drawled, “when did you stop caring?”
“I never- I haven’t ever stopped. You’ve practically been what I cared about most since the day we met.” And it was startlingly true; Kurt had long been his first thought when he awoke, his final prayer before bed.
Kurt nodded. “What I want is for you to understand as long as that remains true, I don’t need to know anything. I’m not going to waste time trying to find a sure thing. If you haven’t noticed by now, I don’t particularly like safe. I trust you and you give me reason to. You broke my trust once but somehow I have a hard time believing you’ll do it again. Maybe it has something to do with the fact I fell in love with your personality, with the Blaine who thoughtfully brought me coffee every week of my senior year and the one who just serenaded me with disco songs of all things-”
“Those were all great songs.”
“Like I said, disco, and I somehow didn’t mind. I...” He hesitated before weakly intertwining one of Blaine’s hands in his, letting himself bask in the snug weave of their fingers. “I don’t love how either of us acted this past year. We have a laundry list of things to look out for if we try again. Even so? I really want to try again.”
Blaine paused for a long time, thumbing one of Kurt’s knuckles distractedly. “Are you sure about this?”
“Alright,” Kurt delicately laid his other palm on the bedsheets beside Blaine’s thigh. “You know that I don’t put stock in God or in multiple gods, I even have a really hard time trusting qualified medical professionals because of a lifetime of experience. But when I’m telling you I have faith in you, Blaine, you’re gonna need to accept that even if you don’t trust yourself right now. If you’re second guessing because you’re afraid of your potential to hurt me, I won’t let that go. If you’re saying that for any other reason, then we’re fine. We can stay the night in Columbus or you can drive us to Lima right now or you can drive back and my dad can pick me up here tomorrow morning."
He continued, “But you’re not allowed to decide what I want or who I’m allowed to let in. If you want this and I want this? From my side, I know I’m ready to give us another opportunity. Both of us. And I promise to work hard at making us better. So will you trust me to trust you right now? Will you do that for me, Blaine?”
“Okay,” he replied, eyes searching Kurt’s.
“Can we be us again, do you think? Do you want that?”
“Yeah. God, so much, Kurt. If you’re sure you want me then I’m sure I want us together, more than anything else.”
“Good,” Kurt grinned, his nose rumpling sweetly. “Then we’re agreed.”
Blaine watched Kurt’s face, the pink rims under his eyes, the gorgeous slip of teeth that Kurt never even bothered trying to hide when it was just them. His right eyebrow, which Blaine always kissed first (if he could help it) because it was the one that always lifted at the first test of Kurt’s patience. His muted dimples, the sight of which could take Blaine’s breath away; he could usually return the favor with a well-timed lick and suck to the mouth-watering dimples of Kurt’s that lay 'below the Equator.'
Kurt’s eyes widened subtly when the silence between them had stretched on, when his smile had suspended their eye contact for too long. He began to shift uneasily and withdraw his hands but Blaine gave him an urging tug, light but unmistakable.
“I think we’re allowed,” Blaine said. “If you want to.”
Kurt smiled sheepishly, rubbing his nose into the crook of his shoulder. His grasp tightened once again and he drew Blaine closer, as if Kurt was pulling the other off his seat and onto the dancefloor. At such proximity Blaine faltered and shuffled to keep his footing, but it wasn’t strictly necessary; Kurt’s warm hands cupped his neck, grounding them both at once. Blaine’s pleased gasp was swallowed right up as those plush ruby lips sealed to his. It was reckless: latching onto lips and sucking until one or both ran short on breath, panting aborted sugar-laced breaths before coming back for more, shuddery laughs at the occasional click of too-eager teeth.
Blaine’s weather-chapped fingers had come to caress the indent of Kurt’s torso just below his ribs, coarsely running up and down as if summoning the sense memory of firm but yielding skin, just a breath away from his. One of Kurt’s arms braced across the back of his shoulders, his fingers massaging under the shoulderblade as if they hoped to bring Blaine’s pulse to the surface, while the other arm had drifted up to cup the back of Blaine’s head, fingertips delicately guiding its tilt.
Kurt was rather indelicately rolling his tongue, wriggling to get the better of Blaine and capture the honeyed corners of his mouth, when Blaine pulled away a few inches, chest heaving. Presumably, Kurt’s desire to overpower came off as a struggle.
“Is this alright?” he asked, fervently eyeing a purpling swell on Kurt’s lip, then turned his bright eyes back to Kurt’s.
Kurt scoffed, rolling his eyes warmly. “More than.” He ducked back in, suckling on Blaine’s own bottom lip, nipping and teasing until Blaine couldn’t resist licking back inside to taste again.
Amidst letting his tongue reacquaint itself with the mesmerizing hollow behind Kurt’s front teeth, Blaine was well aware his free hand was fidgeting to explore further south. It made its presence known slipping between the wall and Kurt’s back, briefly nudging at the elastic of his briefs, warm to the touch.
Kurt’s jaw slackened and a muddled plea fell from Blaine’s lips, but too suddenly Kurt’s head was tipped back and his hands were digging Blaine’s out from where they sought out the heat of Kurt’s lower back.
“Not tonight,” Kurt said, and they were both sobered in a beat.
“No?”
“Don’t want you thinking you can just wine and dine me, love,” Kurt fiddled with their entwined hands, held up between them.
“We can do whatever you’re okay with, but you know I don’t think that,” Blaine replied.
“I know.” He smiled calmly. “We can still...”
“Play tonsil hockey?”
“Yeah, well. We can if you want. First, feel free to take a breather.”
Blaine smirked, “I’m sorry?”
“You look like you could blow off some steam.”
“In... the next room.”
“I don’t really feel like we should... consummate things, not this fast. I guess I kind of want to know we’re good. We’re still gonna have to manage without getting to touch, most days. You can have the room, if you like.” Kurt dipped his head, dropping a lingering kiss to one of Blaine’s knuckles.
Blaine shook his head, even as his hips jumped in response to a kitten lick between two of his fingers.
“I can leave, if you want, find a vending machine or something,” Kurt offered.
“I think I want you as close as possible.”
Kurt beamed, already pushing him towards the restroom. He grazed the taut skin below Blaine’s ear with his teeth, laving over the spot carefully. “Be sure to knock on the door when you’re finished,” he whispered, eyes aglint. “Promise we’ll make this worth the wait.”
They went on to take care of themselves with that wall between them, once and then again after spending another hour hips-apart on one of the double beds. Each time Blaine took the time to clean up his appearance - and Kurt must’ve been working his own typical magic with wipes and a comb - but they couldn’t, didn’t want to conceal the brilliant flush of their cheeks, the strange buzz of getting off together yet apart.
At their first reunion just outside the bathroom door, Blaine had mouthed up the side of Kurt’s neck and collected the salty taste of sweat along his hairline. Then, when he had buried his face in the pillows to wait for Kurt to return from the bathroom mirror, he’d moaned outright, brash and shameless. “Kurt,” he’d groaned, “It smells like sex.”
Kurt had snorted as he rounded the corner back into the main room. “If you want to sleep on the same bed, maybe we should wear ourselves out on this one then strip -” he paused, patting Blaine’s ankle, “the covers off the other one, sleep there. What do you think?”
“I think I’m not old enough to be worn out by an orgasm and some heavy petting, so I may have to throw in a hundred-meter dash.”
“Aw, Blaine. No one said you were only allowed one orgasm.” So they’d gone for a second round, twisted though Blaine complained the set-up was; he recognized the need to know they were there for the right reasons, wanted to prove they could work as boyfriends better than they ever had before.
The midnight hour found both of them sprawled and facing each other (on the fresher bed), infinitely less wound up yet still abuzz.
“I want to come see you,” Blaine said, tiptoeing his fingers up and down Kurt’s forearm.
“In New York?” Kurt asked, quiet but alert.
“I know you can’t come see me,” Blaine said, “Not until the semester’s over, really.”
“When? I thought we already figured out our spring breaks don’t line up...”
“I know, but what does it matter if I miss a few days? I’m not even close to having the worst case of senioritis, but I know these months don’t count. I missed almost two weeks of my junior year at McKinley and I was still at the top of the senior math class, Kurt. I could come over for your break.”
“And do what? My days are gonna be filled with dancing at that workshop from sunup ‘til sundown, ‘til my ankles are the size of grapefruits. I’m just gonna be sweaty and exhausted and cranky whenever you see me.”
“But I’d get to see you, in person.”
Kurt’s eyes flickered up. “You think you’d be willing to put up with that?”
“Yeah, I do. And...” he lead on, “with any luck, I could use some of the daylight hours to scope out what might be my future schools.”
“I think you’re gonna get into every one you applied to, Blaine,” Kurt said, bring a hand up to caress the hair at Blaine’s temple lightly.
Kurt continued, “I don’t think I want to miss out on that. Maybe I can swing it so I transfer to the half-day program and still get some money back. Then you’d have me for the afternoons, still gross and bruised from kicking my own ass, but willing to run around the city.”
“That would be perfect.”
“Like I said, maybe.”
“Maybe we could round second base, too,” Blaine suggested.
Kurt slapped him on the shoulder. “Shut up. Was this such a bad night?”
The other’s face became sincere, lips pressed together. “It definitely wasn’t.”
Kurt rolled backwards to flip the switch on the bedside lamp, enveloping them in darkness. “Didn’t think so.” He felt a brush of air but no sound came. “Yeah?” he prompted.
“Thank you, Kurt.”
“Happy Valentine’s, Blaine.”
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