Fic: Higher Education, 12/?
Title: Higher Education, 12/?
Author: knittycat99
Rating: R for language and mild sexual content
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Puck/Kurt, Kurt/Blaine friendship
Genre: Romance, Angst, Friendship
Warning: AU, FutureFic
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: The boys belong to Fox. Song lyrics from Rent belong to the estate of Jonathan Larson. The extended lyrics from "Embraceable You" belong to the estates of George and Ira Gershwin, and are taken from the version of the song performed by Michael Fienstein on his 1987 recording, "Pure Gershwin". Noah's last line of dialogue is borrowed from The Sea of Light, a remarkeable book by Jenifer Levin. If you can find a copy of this out of print gem, it's totally worth reading.
Author Notes: I apologize if this part is a little disjointed. There was so much that I wanted to have happen here, and I really don't know how well it worked out. Also, the timeline for this fic is based on Kurt's five-year college curriculum. At Northeastern, the "Middler" year falls between Sophomore and Junior years as a way to get in more class and internship time. I've loosely adapted the college's division of classes and interships to fit my needs here.
Summary: Blaine comes for a visit, and Kurt has to deal with a situation
Word Count: 4,561
Boston, Middler Spring
Noah was taking advantage of a lot of things on a startlingly sunny April Friday. The biggest one was the fact that Kurt had work for the better part of the day, and Noah didn’t. A free Friday was a rare find, and he didn’t want to waste it. He had the apartment to himself, so he began his day by doing the one thing Kurt hated: fixing himself breakfast and taking it back to the bedroom. He surfed the ‘net while he ate his toast and drank his tea, and then decided that if he was going to be pseudo-lazy he should at least be a little bit productive. He figured he’d get a jump on the sociology paper he had due on Tuesday. It was going to be a busy weekend. He had the day shift tomorrow, and Kurt’s concert with the Gay Men’s Chorus was at night. Sunday was brunch with some of the chorus guys, and then Noah had a study group for his bio class. He told himself that if he made it halfway through the paper, he could take himself out for the afternoon, to lunch and maybe over to that secondhand music store that always had really eclectic stuff for cheap. He quickly lost himself in his work. He’d discovered since high school that he digested information quickly and easily, and while he wasn’t the best writer in the world he had a grasp of facts and nuances that made writing surprisingly easy. He still had Kurt edit for him, but the initial process of putting ideas to paper was a fast one. When he emerged the better part of five pages in, it was to the sound of his cell vibrating across his nightstand. Crap. He’d forgotten to take it off of vibrate after work last night. The caller id told him it was Kurt.
“Hey, you.”
“Noah. Good. What are you up to?”
“Working on that Soc paper. Maybe going out later. Why?”
“I have to work late.”
“I thought you were off at 6.”
“So did I. But I didn’t realize I was on tomorrow’s schedule, too, and I can’t because of the concert, so I had to trade. I have to pull night duty, till at least 10.”
“Crap. I’m sorry.”
“Tell me about it. But it’s my own fault for not realizing before, I’ve just been so distracted.”
“It’s okay, babe.”
“Will it still be okay if I ask you for a favor?”
“Sure. What?”
“I need you to meet Blaine’s bus.”
Blaine. Bus. Oh, Shit.
“Oh, shit. That’s this weekend?”
“You forgot.”
“I forgot.”
“I told you, I’d invited him for the long weekend.”
The long, Patriot’s Day weekend that commemorated the start of the Revolutionary War and the battles of Lexington and Concord. Marathon weekend, meaning that the city would be teeming with runners, and virtually shut down on Monday. The Red Sox had a home stand, and the Celtics were on the verge of making the playoffs again. Crap. Work was going to suck.
“I forgot. I’ve been so focused on your concert, and all my shit for school. I’m sorry, babe.”
“It’s okay. But I need you to meet his bus. He gets into South Station at 4. I also need you to go up and see if Erica and Alice will let you borrow their air mattress. We can set it up in the living room, like when Finn came to visit.”
As much as he didn’t want to do either of those things because, well fuck if he didn’t really hate Blaine, he couldn’t day no. Not when Kurt was going to have to work late.
“Sure. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. You think you’ll be home about what, 10:30?”
“If I’m lucky.”
“Okay. I’ll entertain the guy, and we’ll order Chinese for dinner late, so it’ll be hot when you get home. You want your usual?”
“Please.”
“You got it.”
“Noah?” Kurt’s voice was uncertain and yet full of relief. “Thank you. I love you.”
“I love you too, baby. Relax. It’s all going to be fine.”
He hung up the phone and cursed at it. Damn Kurt’s internship. Noah knew that part of what had drawn Kurt to Northeastern in the first place was the way the university incorporated experiential learning into the curriculum, the fact that multiple internships or co-ops were required. The only problem was that in order to complete all his internships and classes in the expected five years, he hadn’t had a real vacation (not counting Christmas break) since returning to school for sophomore year. His first internship had been the heartbreaking one at the hospital, which had kind of been good for Kurt. It had almost broken Noah, though, watching his boy struggle with the memories and feelings from his teen years that still sometimes became too big to deal with. They were both dealing with it better, though. If Noah got home and Kurt was blasting Rent, or if he could smell something sweet baking before he even got the front door open, he knew it was a bad day. Those were the nights when he wouldn’t push; more often than not, anymore, Kurt would find him on those nights after the worst of the hurt had been let go in singing or baking and whisper the leftover things to him in the dark.
Then, there had been fall classes for them both and Noah had finally finished all of his work for his EMT-II. That bump in status at work had arrived with a welcome pay raise and a little more flexibility in his hours, since he wasn’t the rook anymore. Now there was another internship for Kurt that would carry through till May, at a residential school for kids with severe behavior and emotional problems. That meant that Kurt was on night duty rotation at least once a week. It was just Noah’s luck that the schedule had gotten screwed up and that night was tonight. Oh, well. There really wasn’t any use in being pissed about it. But now he had shit to do, so he figured he’d better get to it.
Blaine’s bus was late, which wasn’t a surprise. Getting into or out of Boston all weekend long was going to be a challenge. Noah killed the time with an iced chai from the Starbucks in the food court and the novel he had to read for his queer lit and theory class. He’d balked, but Kurt had insisted. “I know you’re not gay, but take this class. Please. It’s important to me.” It turned out to be one of the best classes Noah had taken. This book, the last on the syllabus, was about two college swimmers and their coach, and was full of sadness and loss and recovery. It was so unlike anything he had read before. Every time he picked it up he fell into the writing and hated to put it down. He was so close to the end, he just let himself get lost in the lyricism of the words. And that was where Blaine found him, engrossed in his book at quarter till 5.
“Kurt texted and said you’d meet me, but I wasn’t sure you’d show.”
“No big.”
“I know I’m not your favorite person, so thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Noah was determined not to let Blaine get under his skin. He couldn’t identify anything logical about why he hated the guy. He was pretty sure it was just that he had been Kurt’s first boyfriend, which was kind of stupid and juvenile. He was going to be 21 in a couple of weeks; he was too old now to be jealous of something that had happened when they were all just kids, really.
“I don’t know what you might be up for tonight. Kurt won’t be home until 10:30 at the earliest, so we’re going to order in late. If you want, we can have a snack or something and go out-”
“Actually, what I’d really love is a nap. I had a hell of a week. Would that be okay?”
“That’s fine. Why don’t we head back, then?”
Blaine was quiet on the train, and on the walk from the T stop to the apartment. Noah got him settled in the living room and closed the room off using the shower curtain they’d hung in the open doorway. He took the laptop and his Soc books and research to the kitchen table, where he worked in silence; he had the whole paper done except for his conclusion and bibliography when Blaine emerged, sleep-rumpled and foggy-eyed at 8:30 and his phone started beeping. He figured he’d deal with Blaine first.
“Do you need or want anything?”
“Shower. And coffee?”
Noah pointed through the kitchen. “Bathroom’s through there, turn left. Can’t miss it. Do you want caf or decaf?”
Blaine gave him an ‘are you serious’ look, and Noah said “Caf, then. I’ll put a pot on. Kurt’ll want some when he gets home, too.” He got up to fill the coffee pot, a necessary skill for living with Kurt, who drank it by the pot even though Noah didn’t drink coffee himself. Once he had everything put together and the filter was dripping, he turned his attention to his phone. A text from Kurt: got done early, on my way. Home by 9. Noah texted back a smiley face, and dug the around in the menu drawer for the Chinese one. With their busy schedules, and sometimes alternate shifts, they ordered a LOT of takeout. They hadn’t had Chinese in over a month, though, so he had to sift through Thai, Italian, three pizza places, and Indian before he found the green paper of the China Palace menu at the very bottom. He went and stood outside the closed bathroom door and called to Blaine over the running water of the shower: “Kurt’s on his way, and we’re getting Chinese for dinner. What do you want?”
Blaine’s voice rose out of the noise without hesitation. “Egg rolls and kung pao beef. Fried rice.”
“You got it.”
He went back out to the kitchen, and dialed the restaurant. He recognized the young voice of the owner’s middle school-aged daughter speaking carefully. “Thank you for calling China Palace, this is Mia.” Noah liked Mia. She was sweet and spunky, the same age as his sister. “Hey Mia, it’s Noah.”
“Noah! You and Kurt haven’t been in for so long!”
“I know, sweetie, we’ve been super busy.”
“Do you need a delivery?”
“Yeah.”
“Let’s see. An order of teriyaki beef and chicken lo mein, no mushrooms or water chestnuts for you, and fried dumplings and moo shu pork for Kurt.”
“Yup, but we have company tonight, so I also need an order of egg rolls and kung pao beef.”
“Fried rice?”
“Of course.”
“Okay. Hold on.” Noah could hear her ringing the order into the cash register. “Your total is $33.17. Do you want to do cash or credit card?”
“Cash.”
“You got it. Should be about half an hour.”
“Thanks, kiddo.” He could hear her giggle softly.
“No problem, Noah. See you soon?”
“Yeah, Mia, see you soon.”
He pulled $40 out of the “takeout cash stash” in the tiny canister next to the toaster, and set it on the table next to the front door, and focused on turning the computer off and getting his books put away. He was just finishing up when Kurt arrived and Blaine finished in the shower. Blaine looked well-rested and casual in sweats and a t; Kurt looked exhausted but professional in khakis, a dark blue button-down and a blue and silver striped tie. He dropped his messenger bag by the door and almost fell into Noah’s arms. “Food’s on the way,” he whispered into Kurt’s ear. “Why don’t you go and change?” Kurt nodded at him before turning away and giving Blaine a perfunctory hug. Noah could hear him say “Hey, you, thanks for coming” before he headed to the bedroom. Noah could hear him shuffling around, opening drawers and then running water in the bathroom. When he came back out to join Noah and Blaine around the kitchen table, he was in his sleep pants and one of Noah’s ratty long-sleeved t-shirts. Noah poured coffee for Kurt and Blaine, and grabbed a can of Sprite out of the fridge for himself; he didn’t care what the others did, but he needed to sleep that night. When the food arrived, they all dove in, using chopsticks and eating right out of the containers. When Noah was full, he tucked the flaps of his lo mein container closed, put it in the fridge, and tossed his chopsticks into the trash; he crossed the room and leaned down, wrapping his arms around Kurt and burying his nose in Kurt’s hair. “I have work early, so I’m going to turn in. You staying up?”
Kurt’s voice was threaded with fatigue. “Not too much longer. If I don’t get sleep myself, I won’t be able to sing tomorrow night.”
Noah made his excuses to Blaine and retreated to the bedroom. He changed into a pair of sweatpants and listened to Kurt and Blaine as they moved through the kitchen, cleaning up from dinner and talking softly. He brushed his teeth and washed his face and crawled into bed, turning off the overhead but leaving Kurt’s bedside lamp on. He was just on the edges of sleep when he heard Kurt’s light click off and felt Kurt slide in beside him. Kurt’s hand was soft and cool against Noah’s stomach, and he relaxed himself into Kurt’s embrace.
“I know he’s not your favorite person. Thank you for meeting him.”
“It was nothing.”
“It wasn’t nothing.”
“You don’t seem very excited to have him here.”
“It’ll be better tomorrow. All day, I just wanted to come home to you and let go of the day.”
“Long one, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you want to talk?”
“Maybe later.” He startled at the scrape of Kurt’s teeth along his bare shoulder. “Right now I have other plans.”
There was no talking later.
*****
Kurt wandered aimlessly backstage, trying to ignore the feeling of wanting to crawl out of his skin. It was his usual pre-performance feeling, but the fact that it was expected didn’t make it any easier to deal with. He knew that Blaine and Noah were sitting out there, in the seats he’d selected for them between Eric’s long-term boyfriend and Ethan’s trick of the week. He knew they’d likely be sitting in silence if not actually shooting daggers at each other. And after today, he had to admit that any daggers on Noah’s part were justified.
Kurt knew that Blaine was jealous of the happiness he’d found with Noah. He knew that while Noah would never say as much, his boyfriend harbored a secret fear that Kurt would someday decided that Noah wasn’t enough and that he’d go back to Blaine. And he knew that Blaine still had feelings for him. That had become painfully obvious over the course of the day in the way that Blaine had leaned towards him on the subway and looked at him with unmasked, dampened desire over lunch. It was the same way he had behaved in their Dalton days. It was kind of sweet, and kind of sad, and it had made Kurt really uncomfortable. Blaine had been his best friend for so long; they had a kind of shorthand honesty about things that was different from what he had with Noah. Even after their breakup, they had maintained an easy physicality that drove Noah crazy and, in hindsight maybe hadn’t been the best idea. And here he was, bouncing around worrying about Noah, and about Blaine, and how to make it perfectly clear to Blaine that he was most definitely with Noah when he should have been worrying about singing.
He finally found a quiet corner where he could close his eyes and block out the world. He remembered that first Regionals duet with Blaine, how it felt winning Nationals with his Glee family, how comfortable he’d felt at his audition for this very group when he was a scared 18 year old in a new city; he was so different from that scared kid. He’d passed his 21st birthday back in October, and he was, slowly, becoming a man. He’d spent so much of his life singing; with his mom in the kitchen as a little kid, alone in his room after she died, in cars and in showers from Ohio to Boston, with people and alone. Whispered in Noah’s ear the night they got engaged, and belted out with hurt and anger when he’d had a terrible day. Tonight he’d be singing to Noah. “Just breathe,” he said to himself as the ready lights flashed. He pushed away from the wall, joined his section, and walked proudly onto the stage.
*****
Noah tried to ignore Blaine’s presence next to him, but it was kind of hard when the guy actually sighed when Kurt appeared on stage. He rolled his eyes, but didn’t acknowledge the sound at all. Instead, he focused on the look of mild fear on Kurt’s face. Noah recognized that face. It was the “I’m scared to death because I have a solo” face, and that realization made Noah’s heart sink a little bit; Kurt hadn’t told him. He leaned over and whispered to Blaine “did you know he had a solo?”
Blaine looked dumbstruck. “He has a solo?”
The dude may have still been not-so-secretly in love with Kurt, but he sure didn’t know him, and that thought was a little comforting. He settled in with that thought as the lights went down and the concert began.
It was an odd mix of songs that sounded like something Mr. Schue would have put together. The first half of the concert was billed as “Standards”, and Noah wasn’t surprised to hear lots of Cole Porter and Gershwin, and some of the Broadway and movie ballads that Kurt loved. He let himself get lost in the music, in the joy of seeing Kurt so open and free, and then there he was, standing in front of the group as a piano started and Kurt’s voice was soaring into the auditorium.
Embrace me, my sweet embraceable you
Embrace me, you irreplaceable you.
Just one look at you, my heart grew tipsy in me
You and you alone bring out the gypsy in me . . .
Kurt’s vocal range had filled out in recent years, and it was clear and rich and sweet. Noah knew that the lights on the stage kept Kurt from seeing him, but it didn’t matter. He knew that Kurt was singing to him, for him.
I love all the many charms about you.
Above all I want my arms about you . . .
He could see where Kurt had his hands clasped in front of him, and where his fingers absently rubbed over his ring. Then there were lyrics Noah had never heard, that cut his heart because they made this choice all the more perfect for Kurt:
I try not to be so formal, my dear.
Am I not a man who’s normal my dear?
Noah wasn’t sure he even heard the end of the song, because all of a sudden people were clapping, Blaine was cheering, and Kurt was taking an awkward bow. And Noah was crying. Like a baby.
He composed himself in the men’s room during the intermission, and sipped at a watery cup of ginger ale before returning to his seat for the second half, the “Contemporary” portion of the program. This was more to Noah’s liking, Billy Joel and Elton John and an odd choice in Springsteen’s “I’m on Fire” mixed with Celine Dion and still more Broadway songs. As the show was winding towards it’s end, Noah recognized the guitar riff echoing from behind the chorus as the intro to one of the songs from Rent, and he puzzled at how that would work with a big group, and then Kurt was there again in the spotlight. He sounded so different, more rough and unpolished, and the raw emotion of the song was oh god so fucking sexy.
One song, glory. One song before I go, glory-
One song to leave behind.
Find one song, one last refrain, glory-
In the pretty boy front man who wasted opportunity
Noah had only ever heard Kurt sing along with his iPod; he’d had no idea that his boy was capable of this. He felt the scrabble of a hand on his arm, and he turned to look at Blaine. His eyes were wide, his jaw slack, and he looked on the verge of crying. He looked like he was fighting heartbreak. Noah had to peel his eyes away, though, because here was his Kurt on stage, pouring himself into the throbbing of drums and the wailing of the guitar.
Find one song, a song about love, glory-
From the soul of a young man, a young man.
Find the one song before the virus takes hold, glory-
Like a sunset, one song to redeem this empty life.
God, he was so talented. And Noah loved him so fucking much.
He was on his feet before the last strains of guitar faded away, clapping even as he pushed past Blaine and the two guys at the end of row in his rush to get somewhere where Kurt was going to be. His hands were shaking with how much he needed to touch Kurt, kiss him, tell him how insanely proud he was, how much he loved him. He knew where to find the backstage area, and he waited in the wings while the group sang their last song and took their bows. He tucked himself in a corner while the men filed offstage, until he could reach out and grab Kurt’s hand. He pulled Kurt into a tight hug and whispered incoherently into his neck.
“Oh, god, K, do you have any idea what you did to me? You were. Wow. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wanted it to be a surprise.”
“You killed me. The Gershwin? Made me cry.”
“And the Rent?”
“Hot. So hot. I had no clue you could sing like that. You might have broken Blaine, though.”
“Yeah. I was a little worried about that.”
“He’s still in love with you, y’know.”
“Yeah. I might need to deal with that tonight.”
“That’s a good idea.”
“You know I love you, right, Noah?”
“Baby, I think the whole audience knows that. Or, they at least know that you love someone. You can’t sing like that without love and passion.”
Kurt blushed from his collar to his hairline, and Noah laughed and turned him towards the dressing rooms.
“Go get your things, baby, we have some solos to celebrate.”
*****
Kurt sat with Blaine on a bench at the edge of Harvard Yard. Now that the adrenaline of the performance had faded, and he’d dulled his nerves with a Rum and Diet Coke over dinner, he’d decided it was time to have a showdown. He’d sent Noah home, telling him “don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” But now he had to figure out what to say, how to convince Blaine that he was really, well and truly in love and committed to Noah.
Blaine still looked a little shocked, so Kurt reached over and put his hand over Blaine’s where it rested between them on the bench.
“We need to talk, B.”
“I know.” Blaine was silent for a moment. “I guess you know I still love you.”
“Yeah.”
“And that I’m crazy jealous of what you have with Puck.”
“He hasn’t been Puck in a long time.”
“Whatever.” Blaine’s voice was bitter in the cool night.
“He’s it for me, B. I’m going to marry him someday. I’ve known it since he came to Boston that first time. And when you look at me like you did at lunch today, I just-”
“He’s not even really gay, Kurt.”
“I know. But it doesn’t matter.”
“It did when I went on that date with Rachel.”
Oh, god, that again? “We were 17, Blaine, and it’s not the same thing at all. You were trying to deny who you were. I know exactly who Noah is. And he knows who I am. We come home at the end of every day and accept each other with all of our imperfections. I’m my best self when I’m with him, and he gives himself to me every day. That’s all I can ask.”
“It just seems too perfect.”
“Of course it does when you’re outside of it. It’s work, every day, and sometimes it sucks, and it’s hard, but you get up the next day and try it again. And some days, you get it really right.”
He felt Blaine lean back against the bench, and heard his gentle sigh. “You’re so different. I came here expecting the same Kurt that left Lima. I mean, we haven’t really seen each other in so long. But you’re not that boy. I loved that boy, but I realized tonight, watching you sing, that you’re a man now.”
“We’re both men, B. Can we be friends as men?”
Kurt heard Blaine sniffle, and then he said “I don’t know. We can try. That’s about all I can do right now.”
“It’s a start.” Kurt stood up off the bench and held his hand out. “C’mon, let’s go home. It’s been a long day.”
*****
Noah must have dozed off. His light was still on, the TV was flickering softly through the late news, and his book was lying, closed, on his chest. That’s right, he’d finished it. It had been so beautifully heartbreaking that he’d just closed his eyes to think about it. And, clearly, taken a nap. The sound of the front door opening and closing had woken him up, but he figured he’d wait for Kurt to come to him. He didn’t want to interrupt whatever might be going on with Kurt and Blaine. He was surprised to see Kurt’s face appear around the doorframe so quickly. His voice sounded tired.
“Hey, you. I’m going to make some tea. Do you want a cup?”
“Yeah. Want help?”
“Only if you want. You look cozy.”
“I finished my book, and then I fell asleep. You guys all good?”
“I think so. I mean, we will be.”
“Good. I’ll be right out.”
Noah found Kurt leaning against the counter spooning sugar into their mugs while he waited for the kettle to boil. He wrapped one arm across Kurt’s chest and pulled him back into a hug. He rested his chin on Kurt’s shoulder.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“And Blaine?”
“I think he’ll be okay, too. You know, sometimes being an adult really sucks.”
“I know. But we get through it. We always do.”
“Thank you for that.”
Noah turned Kurt in his arms and kissed him softly. “You’re the person standing in this little room of my life with me. I’m lucky, and grateful, for the company and the love.”
“I’m lucky, too.”