Right As Rain, Chapter Three
III. Kurt
Kurt dumped his bag on a chair, glancing around the kitchen. No sign of his father.
“Dad?”
“In here!” his father called from the living room.
“You'll never guess what I-oh,” Kurt said, stopping short in the doorway to the living room.
Three heads turned to look at him.
“Carole and Finn are over,” Burt said, unnecessarily.
“I can see that,” Kurt said, stiffly. “Well, I'll just be heading up to my room to get started on homework, then. Don't want to fall behind in school.”
“Hey, Kurt. Hold up a minute,” Burt said.
Kurt sighed, then turned back around. “Yes?” he asked, politely.
“Finn tells me you've joined the Glee Club.”
Kurt turned his gaze to Finn, who shrank back into the cushions. “Did he.” His voice was ice-cold.
“What made you decide to do that?”
“Vocal training,” Kurt lied smoothly, his eyes still trained on Finn. You'd better not tell. “I have to be flawless if we're going to win Nationals this year. Coach wants me to strengthen my range.”
“Well, I gotta say, kid, I'm impressed,” Burt said, slowly. “I think it's a great idea.”
“You do?” Kurt asked, uncertainly.
Burt nodded, lifting him baseball cap to rub at his head. “Cheerios is tough on you, bud. I know you're friends with the girls on the squad, but this glee thing might give you time to relax, just enjoy yourself. Finn likes glee, right?” he directed the last part of his question at Finn.
Finn started. “Oh. Yeah! It's-really great. Yeah,” he finished, rather lamely.
Kurt cleared his throat. “Well, as lovely as this is, I really do need to go. I have a lot of homework tonight.” He made perfunctory eye contact with Carole. “It was nice to see you again. Have a good night.”
He backed out of the room, waiting until his bedroom door was closed and his face was buried in his pillow to scream in frustration.
He moved mechanically through his Yoga routine, trying his best to breath in through his nose and out through his mouth and steadfastly not focusing on the barely-noticeable sound of laughter trailing light underneath his door.
When his phone buzzed, indicating he had a message from Blaine, he breathed a little more easily.
He busied himself for a few more hours, waiting until he was sure Finn and Carole were gone before emerging from his room, stomach clawing at his insides. He was ravenous, otherwise he wouldn't have come out at all, not when he knew what his dad would say when he saw him.
Burt was sitting on the couch, flipping through channels. He looked up when Kurt came into the room. “Kurt, I understand that you aren't Finn's biggest fan,” he said.
Kurt arched an eyebrow.
“But you could at least try, buddy.”
Kurt tipped his head back, swallowing hard.
“I'm trying, kid,” Burt said, seriously, leaning forward to perch his elbows on his knees. “But you gotta meet me halfway, here. How come I had to find out about you joining glee club from Finn?”
Kurt stepped forward to sink onto the couch, curling into a ball and resting his cheek on the armrest to look at his father. “I'm sorry, Dad,” he said, softly. “I only joined today. I was going to tell you.”
“This about a boy?” Burt asked, gruffly. “Because I'm not ready to have that conversation yet.”
“No,” Kurt said, softly, his heart sinking. “Not exactly.”
Burt sighed, reaching an arm out. “Hey. You know I was kidding, right? If there's a... if there's someone special in your life, I want to know about him. And meet him.”
A barely-there smile crossed Kurt's face. “It isn't quite at that stage yet, Dad, I barely know him.”
“What's his name?” Burt asked.
Kurt exhaled loudly. “Well, I think it's about time I grabbed something quick to eat and headed to bed, I'm exhausted.” He leapt up, crossing the room to the kitchen door.
His father's voice stopped him. “Kurt.”
“Yeah, Dad?”
“I'm happy for you.”
For a moment, Kurt clung to the doorframe, saying nothing, feeling everything. “Yeah,” he managed, finally. “Me too, Dad.”
* * *
He didn't see Blaine until nearly noon the next day.
“I think that tomorrow, we should give our Madonna routine another try,” he was saying as he closed his locker. “Now that Erin's hamstring has healed--”
“Kurt!”
He turned, his heart leaping to his throat. Blaine was waving at him from down the hall, smile bright and big on his face.
“If you'll excuse me, ladies,” Kurt said. The three Cheerios Kurt had been talking to exchanged a look, giggling.
“Is that your boyfriend, Kurt?” Amy asked, her voice almost... mocking.
Kurt's eyes narrowed.
“Excuse us,” Jessica said, apologetically, tugging the other two away.
Kurt shook it off, slinging his bag up higher on his shoulder and striding forward to meet Blaine, who was already headed down the hall toward him. He stopped a foot from the other boy, his face lighting up in a smile so goofily smitten that he was sure he was giving himself away. “Hi,” he said, suddenly feeling ridiculously shy.
“Hi,” Blaine said back, and his answering smile was brilliant.
He was brilliant. Kurt's eyes couldn't help their trek down his body, taking in his polo shirt, his bowtie, his highwaters-and he must have liked Blaine, if his brain supplied the word “adorable” to a boy wearing dress shoes without socks.
“How are you?” Kurt asked, tucking his hands into the pockets of his letterman jacket before Blaine could see just how shaky he was. Since when did he get nervous about talking to boys?
“I'm well, and you?” Blaine asked, fiddling with the strap of his bag.
“I'm fine. I was actually wondering about... rehearsal times, for our duet,” Kurt said, and cursed himself mentally for how soft and unsure-sounding his voice came out.
“Yeah,” Blaine said, and his quick smile made Kurt's stomach flip-flop in a surprisingly pleasant way. “D'you want to meet in the auditorium around four? It might be a little bit after, I've got newspaper after school.”
“Yes,” Kurt said, just as the bell rang. He cleared his throat. “Yes,” he said, more firmly. “Four sounds good. I'll see you then.”
“Glee,” Blaine corrected. “We'll see each other in glee practice, first.”
“Right.” Kurt reached out to straighten Blaine's bow tie, and with a confidence he didn't think he had, said, “save me a seat?”
Blaine's grin broadened, and the sight of it made Kurt's heart curl up in a most wonderful way. “Of course.”
Kurt allowed himself one more quick, subtle once over-to last him the rest of the day until glee practice-and departed.
He clenched his hands into tight fists as he walked, trying to keep a dopey smile from spreading across his face. How could one conversation with Blaine leave him feeling so dreamy and over the moon?
Mercedes fell into step beside him.
Kurt felt instantly wary.
“Have you noticed the uniform you have on?” she asked, in leu of a greeting.
He glanced down at his outfit in an over-exaggerated fashion, then back up at her. “The Cheerios uniform?”
“Kurt, this isn't funny.” Mercedes stopped him with a hand to his arm. “He's seriously damaging your reputation. All of them are. I had to let loose on a few freshmen for calling you a loser this morning. And it's only been a day. I might've been able to stop them this time, but I can't hold off the hate forever.”
A knot twisted in Kurt's stomach. “Let them say what they want,” Kurt said with a confidence he didn't really feel. “I'm not breaking it off with Blaine. I really like him.” He hated that he couldn't help the way his voice went a little higher, a little dreamier at that admission. “Why does it matter so much to you?”
“You're my best friend, Kurt,” Mercedes said, a slightly wounded look in her eyes. “I care about you. Do you think I want to see you throw it all away for some boy?”
Kurt pressed his lips together in a tight smile, looking away from her. “Thank you, Mercedes, but I can take care of myself.”
“I worry about you.”
“Well, don't,” Kurt said, sharply, and turned away from her into his math class.
* * *
“Who are you partnered with?” Quinn asked from behind him. “For the duets assignment, I mean.”
For once, he didn't jump. He'd grown accustomed to Quinn's surprise sneak attacks. He shut his locker, and turned to face her. “You're going to have to find another partner, Quinn. Blaine asked me if I could be the other half of his duet.”
She smiled sweetly. “I'm happy for you.”
He narrowed his eyes at her.
“I'm serious,” she insisted. “I'm not Santana, Kurt. I want both you and Blaine to be happy. And if you make each other happy, why would I stop that?”
His face softened. “Thank you, Quinn.”
Quinn smiled back, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “I'll ask Rachel to be my partner.”
His eyebrows shot up.
Quinn laughed. “I've... been talking to her a lot. About-Beth. And-it's strange, but she understands. And even when she doesn't, she still tries to help. She cares too much about everything, but sometimes that can be a good thing.” She grinned at the expression on Kurt's face. “It's crazy, I know.”
“It's definitely not the Rachel Berry I'm used to,” he agreed. “She can hold her tongue long enough to listen to you?”
Quinn pinched him, and they were both laughing as they entered the choir room.
Kurt's eyes immediately searched out Blaine. He was seated towards the far right, facing away from Kurt, his bag slung over the chair beside him. As he watched, Mike leaned forward to nudge Blaine, jerking his head towards the door.
Blaine turned, and Kurt's stomach flip-flopped at the way Blaine's eyes lit up when he caught sight of Kurt. He lifted his bag off the chair beside him, gesturing for Kurt to sit down.
Kurt started forward, then hesitated, his eyes darting between Blaine and Quinn.
Quinn rolled her eyes, shoving Kurt towards the empty seat. “Go ahead, I'll be okay with Rachel.”
Kurt didn't need to be told twice.
He hurried up the risers to Blaine, settling his bag underneath the chair and dusting off his uniform before turning to Blaine, heart thudding unsteadily. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Blaine said softly, smiling at him. “How was your day?”
Kurt sighed dramatically, flapping his hand. “Math was invented by Satan, I broke a beaker in Chemistry. The usual.”
When Blaine smiled, his eyes crinkled in the corners in the most attractive way.
Kurt swallowed hard. “How was-how was your day?”
“The usual,” Blaine parroted, grinning, and Kurt laughed.
Mr. Schuester walked into the choir room, clapping his hands loudly and beginning the lesson. To Kurt's surprise, Blaine leaned over to whisper in his ear. He hadn't seemed like the type to talk while a teacher was talking.
Maybe Kurt was stereotyping.
“I'm really excited about singing with you, Kurt,” Blaine said softly, his breath warm against Kurt's ear, and Kurt's breath hitched ever-so-slightly. “You have a fantastic voice.”
Kurt blushed, arms going to pull tight around himself. “Thank you. I can't wait to hear your voice.”
There was a moment's silence, in which Kurt thought he'd said something terribly wrong, then Blaine breathed, “that's right. You haven't heard me sing yet.”
“I haven't,” Kurt whispered, turning his head and starting in surprise when his nose brushed Blaine's. He hadn't realized the other boy was so close to him.
“I'll sing something this afternoon.” Blaine sounded almost as breathless as Kurt felt.
“Okay,” Kurt breathed, frozen.
There was a long moment when neither of them moved, then Kurt quickly turned back to the front of the room, cheeks hot. After a moment, he felt Blaine follow suit.
Blaine was going to sing for him.
Just him, and nobody else.
How was he supposed to concentrate during Cheerios practice?
* * *
“Where do you want me?” Kurt asked, rolling back onto his heels.
“You can... just take a seat on the piano bench?” Blaine suggested, plugging in the microphone and sliding it into a microphone stand. “Or, I guess you could sit in one of the seats, but it would feel too much like a formal performance if you did that, you know? I think I'd prefer you on the stage with me.”
“Of course,” Kurt said, taking a seat on the piano bench.
Blaine nodded to the band, and they began to play.
Blaine took a deep breath, gripping the microphone tight between his hands. Kurt held his breath.
Stop, the train is riding down to the station
Where you lived when we were school kids
Kurt's eyebrows rose. This was not what he had been expecting. If he was completely honest with himself, he had been expecting something like Frank Sinatra or Nat King Cole, an easy-listening “crooners” sort of song, not something that was so full of energy and intensity and life.
Hey, the rails are caught now
And I am falling down fools in a spiral
Round this town of steam
Blaine's eyes were closed, his hands clutching the microphone, fingers sliding tantalizingly down the stand, knees and feet rocking in a controlled sway.
My body tells me no, but I won't quit
Cause I want more, cause I want more
My body tells me no, but I won't quit
Cause I want more, cause I want more
His voice was incredible. Intense, passionate, so full of pent-up something that it nearly moved Kurt from his seat.
Stop, the train is riding down to the station
Where I lived when I was a cool kid
Hey, is it my fault that the embers burn
down in a spiral, round your crown of thieves
Blaine's eyes opened, landed on Kurt. Kurt swallowed hard. Blaine smiled slightly, eyes burning Kurt alive.
My body tells me no, but I won't quit
Cause I want more, cause I want more
My body tells me no, but I won't quit
Cause I want more, cause I want more
and it rides out of town
He was moving, taking the microphone in his hand and walking towards Kurt. He was glowing, bright in a way that nearly blinded Kurt. He shone.
Oh, it's my war, it's my war, it's my war
His eyes are open
His eyes are open
He held out his hand, and Kurt took it.
Oh, cause I want more, I want more, want more
His eyes are open
His eyes are open
Blaine tugged Kurt off the piano bench, pulling him close, threading their fingers together.
My body tells me no, but I won't quit
Cause I want more, cause I want more
My body tells me no, but I won't quit
Cause I want more, cause I want more
It rides out of town...
For a moment, they were breathing in synch, their eyes locked, palms pressed tightly together.
“You have an amazing voice,” Kurt murmured, and just like that, the moment shattered.
Blaine blinked, his gaze sweeping between their bodies. He pulled away, releasing Kurt's hand, lowering the microphone. “Right. Um. Thank you.”
“Of course,” Kurt said, softly, feeling his stomach drop in disappointment as Blaine walked away to put the microphone back on the stand. Of course Blaine wasn't actually interested. He'd been foolish to think that just because Blaine was gay and wanted to sing a duet with him, he'd also be interested in pursuing something romantic with him. “So, you wanted to talk about possible duets?” he asked, clearing his throat when his voice came out a little too bright.
Blaine rubbed his palms against his thighs (Kurt certainly did not track the movement with his eyes), crossing the stage back to Kurt. “You said you wanted to do something Broadway, right?”
“Yes,” Kurt said, sitting back down on the piano, legs crossed, looping his linked fingers over one knee. “If that's okay with you.”
Blaine grinned, taking a swig of water from the bottle at the edge of the stage (Kurt's eyes didn't follow the way small trickles of water slid down the sides of his mouth to his jaw and throat). “I have the perfect song.”
It was nearly six when they stopped practicing long enough to check the clock. Blaine seemed truly regretful when he said, “we should probably get home.”
The words spilled from Kurt's mouth before he could stop them. “Do you want to come to my house for dinner?”
For a short moment, Kurt regretted asking.
Then Blaine smiled, his eyes steady on Kurt's. “Okay,” he said. “Thanks.”
* * *
“Dad?” Kurt called, ushering Blaine into the house and closing the door behind them.
“In here.” There was a shuffling noise from the living room, then Burt rounded the corner. He stopped short.
“Dad, this is Blaine,” Kurt said, raising his eyebrows in warning. “He's in glee club with me. He and I have been working on a duet together as an assignment. I invited him over for dinner tonight.”
“It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hummel,” Blaine said, stretching his arm out to offer his hand to Burt.
Burt merely crossed his arms, staring stonily at the boy.
Blaine's smile dropped.
Kurt rolled his eyes. “Dad.”
“All right, all right,” Burt grumbled, reaching out to shake Blaine's hand. “It's nice to meet you, Blaine--”
“Anderson,” Blaine supplied.
“Anderson.” Burt shook once, firmly, then stepped back and folded his arms across his chest once more.
There was a moment of awkward silence, then Kurt said abruptly, “I think I'll go make dinner. Blaine?”
“What?” Blaine asked, and Kurt gave him a sharp look and tugged on his sleeve. “Oh, right. Of course. Dinner.”
He followed Kurt into the kitchen and leaned against the counter while Kurt opened the pantry.
“Your dad seems... nice,” Blaine offered.
Kurt snorted, folding his arms as he surveyed the contents of the pantry. “You mean intimidating.”
“A little, yeah.” Blaine scratched the back of his head in a rather adorable manner. Kurt hid his smile. “He's, uh-nothing like I pictured him.”
“I inherited most of my looks from my mother,” Kurt said, setting a few containers of various herbs and spices on the counter. He paused, reaching out to touch Blaine's arm. “Just be yourself, and he'll like you.”
“Really?” Blaine asked, his voice a little skeptical.
“I promise. My dad is really a nice guy. And he'll like you.” He patted Blaine's arm once before walking to the stove to assemble the ingredients for dinner.
“You like football, Blaine?” Burt called from the living room.
Blaine shot a quick glance at Kurt. Kurt raised his eyebrows expectantly at him.
“Uh, yes, sir,” Blaine said.
“It's Burt,” Burt called back, sounding amused. “Come on in and watch the game with me, then.”
Blaine shot another look at Kurt. Kurt jerked his head to the door and mouthed “go”, with a slight smile.
Blaine was out the door and into the living room in seconds.
Kurt sighed, shaking his head and turning back to the onions he was chopping up.
He only checked on them once or twice, but from what he saw, they appeared to be getting along well. It probably didn't hurt that Blaine seemed to be rooting for the same team as his father was.
Once dinner was on the table, he moved to the doorway of the living room and waited for them to notice him. The game had ended; Blaine and Burt were excitedly discussing their favourite players, the result of the game, stats from other games and players.
Kurt watched fondly for a minute, then cleared his throat.
Blaine whipped his head around to look at him, smile huge on his face, eyes bright and shiny, and Kurt's breath caught in his throat.
“Dinner,” he forced himself to say, caught on the way Blaine's hair was curling around his ears, the way his glasses were slipping down his nose.
“Of course,” Blaine said, leaping up. Burt was leaning back on the couch, his eyes moving between Kurt and Blaine in an almost amused way. “Do you need me to set the table?”
“Already done,” Kurt said, smiling.
Blaine folded his arms. “Then I insist on doing the washing up. No protesting; you had me for dinner, it's only fair.”
“You don't hear me complaining,” Kurt said, grinning cheekily at him.
Blaine bounced past him into the kitchen.
Burt stood up, crossing the room to lay a hand on Kurt's arm. “I like him, Kurt,” he said, quietly, and Kurt's heart swelled as he followed his father into the next room.
His father liked Blaine.
He had known all along that he would, of course, but hearing it from his mouth-it meant more to Kurt than he'd thought it would.
Dinner went smoothly-Kurt only caught himself staring at the way Blaine's hands moved when he was gesturing while making a point a few times, and he quickly tore his eyes away every time. Once, he caught his father's eyes momentarily after he'd been staring at the way the light in the room highlighted Blaine's hair, and blushed as Burt gave him a knowing look.
Blaine wiped his mouth on his napkin. “I should get started on the dishes if I'm ever going to get home before curfew,” he said, smiling at them and standing up.
Kurt jumped up. “I'll help.”
“You don't have to--” Blaine began.
“You wash, I'll dry,” Kurt interrupted, reaching beneath the sink for dish detergent and a sponge. “Sound okay?”
A slow smile spread across Blaine's face. “That's-okay, sure.”
Burt threw them a knowing smile before leaving the kitchen. Moments later, Kurt heard the sound of the TV, on some car show.
“I like your dad,” Blaine said, after a moment of silence. “He's really nice, Kurt.”
“He likes you,” Kurt said, focusing on the plate he was drying. “He told me.”
Blaine passed Kurt another plate, but held onto the dish until Kurt looked up to meet his eyes. His smile was gentle. “Thank you for having me for dinner, Kurt.” His eyes were warm, fond on Kurt's face.
“It was my-my pleasure.” Kurt cleared his throat.
Blaine's other hand came to rest on Kurt's. He squeezed it lightly.
“You're welcome any time,” Kurt said, softly.
“I might have to take you up on that.”
The rest of the task passed by quickly, Blaine and Kurt talking about trivial things-Glee Club, the Cheerios, the Mathletes (Kurt was more surprised by the fact that Mathletes competitions were apparently nothing like how they were portrayed in Mean Girls than he was that Blaine was on the team). It was close to nine thirty when Kurt said his final goodbye to Blaine and shut the front door behind him.
He turned around with what he was sure was a ridiculously goofy smile on his face, closed his eyes, and sagged against the door.
When he opened his eyes again, Burt was standing there, an amused expression on his face. Kurt started violently. “Dad!”
“So that's the boy, huh?” his dad asked.
“That's the boy,” Kurt agreed, his eyes going soft and unfocused.
Burt sighed. “Come sit with me, okay?”
Kurt's forehead wrinkled in confusion, but he followed his father to the living room, anyway.
“Sit down,” Burt said, taking a seat himself.
Kurt sat, slowly, even more confused. “Dad, is something wrong?”
Burt sighed, rubbing one hand over his head. “I told you that I like Blaine, kid.”
“Yeah,” Kurt said, the corners of his mouth twitching up in a smile. The smile disappeared instantly as another thought occurred to him. “Did you change your mind? Because--”
“No, no, I haven't changed my mind,” Burt interrupted. “I just want to know how well you've thought this through.”
“What do you mean?” Kurt asked.
“I mean I know how important your reputation is to you, buddy. And you already know how I feel about that, but I'm just... I gotta say, I'm a little worried. I don't want you to get in too deep with this guy and then realize that he's more than you're willing to take on. I don't want to see either of you getting hurt.”
Kurt turned the words over carefully in his mind before tucking them away in a safe place. “I've thought about that, Dad,” he said, quietly. “But... Blaine is... he's special. I don't know how to describe it. Have you ever seen someone and just-you just know?”
“Yeah,” Burt said, a soft smile on his face. “Your mom. Carole.”
“It's like that,” Kurt said, his hands clasping together on his lap. “I saw Blaine in the crowd at the pep rally and we made eye contact and I just-I knew.”
Burt examined his face for a moment longer before standing up. “If you're sure.”
“That's all?” Kurt asked, surprised.
Burt shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I just don't want either of you getting hurt.”
“I won't hurt him,” Kurt said, firmly.
He wouldn't. He couldn't.