Stubborn Hearts (and stubborn love): part 3
Title: Stubborn Hearts (and stubborn love): part 3
Rating: PG, (overall NC-17 for the verse)
Warnings: Future fic, brain injuries, brief sexual content, discussions of PTSD, anxiety and panic attacks
Word Count: 5,943
Summary: Kurt wants to feel it, this happiness, wants to surround himself with it, wants to embrace this second chance they've been given, wants to stop hiding from the shadows, wants to evaporate the ocean dragging him down and walk steady on his own two feet.
With Blaine's hand in his.
A hate crime leaves Blaine damaged and Kurt refuses to let it bring them down.
Part of the Lovesong verse
AN: Thanks so much to shandyall for looking this over for me. As always, comments are appreciated :)
Together September 15th, 2018)
Of Hurt and Hope June 20th, 2018; July 13th, 2018
A Time of Firsts November 24th, 2018; December 25th, 2018; March 16th, 2019
To Sleep, To Wake May 7th, 2018
(fear) June 5th, 2018
Coffee is a Bitter Drink June 22nd, 2019
A Father's Eye April 23rd, 2018; October 19th, 2018; February 15th, 2019; October 12th, 2019
Resolution, Evolution November 5th, 2019; December 2nd-3rd, 2019
(feel) November 16th, 2018
Resolution, Evolution: a continuation December 3rd, 2019
Shatter January 23rd, 2019
Let Me December 17th, 2019
Let Me: a continuation December 20th, 2019
Sometimes (a sandwich is all it takes) January 17th, 2019
And When I Wait, All I See is You May 2nd, 2018; May 9th, 2018
Hold onto the Sun April 23rd, 2018; June 20th, 2018; February 8th, 2020
Hold onto the Sun: a continuation February 8th, 2020
(found) February 19th, 2020; February 28th, 2020
At the End of the Day December 4th, 2018
Slow Dancing April 26th, 2019; September 2nd, 2019; January 6th, 2020
Each and Every June 6th, 2018; June 19th, 2018; December 25th, 2018; February 20th, 2019
Under These Fluorescent Lights June 1st, 2017; May 13th-15th, 25th 2018; June 1st, 2018
Stubborn Hearts (and stubborn love): part 1, part 2 June 12th-22nd, 2020
Bonus Letters blueprint
June 18th, 2020
Thursday
“Hello?”
“Hey there sleepy, did I wake you up?”
“Wha- uh, no?”
“Liar.”
“I’m in… incapable of lying.”
“Uh huh. Then do tell me what happened to the Waterford crystal vase your mom sent us last year?”
“Um… it spontaneously combusted?”
“I can see your nose growing, Blaine Anderson.”
“From a thousand miles away?”
“…”
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay. I just… miss you a lot.”
“I miss you too. Only four more days.”
“…It feels like four hundred. But you’re having fun with Cooper, right?”
“Yeah, it’s been great, we went swimming yesterday and I didn’t drown!”
“Congratulations.”
“And today Lauren is giving me a massage. A real massage, Kurt. I… sorry, I’m rambling.”
“No, no, I like listening to you talk. I miss your voice.”
“Mmm. How are things back there?”
“They’re… They’re okay. I wanted to, uh, to tell you. Something”
“… Yes?”
“I, um. Nevermind. It’s not important.”
“Kurt.”
“Blaine.”
“What is it? Is every… everything okay?”
“It’s fine, don’t worry. I just, um, wanted to tell you about our new furry friend.”
“The kitten?”
“The little beast who shredded our kitchen rug, you mean?”
“I never liked that rug.”
“It was vintage.”
“Who has a vintage kitchen rug anyways?”
“I will hang up this phone.”
“No, no I’m sorry. Continue. I’m sorry about the rug.”
“That’s okay. It was kind of ugly.”
“So… are we keeping it?”
“The rug?”
“No, the kitten.”
“I don’t know… We already have a dog.”
“Belle needs a, um. A friend.”
“It ate your favorite shoes.”
“No it didn’t.”
“Fine. It didn’t. But Blaine… can we really take care of two animals? That’s a lot of fur on our clothes. And what if it has rabies?”
“Kuuuurt. It’s a kitten. A kitten.”
“I am aware of that, Blaine. Thank you.”
“A poor, defenseless, kitten.”
“Don’t make that face at me.”
“I’m not making a face.”
“I can hear it in your voice. Besides, you haven’t even met the kitten yet.”
“Kitten, Kurt. I don’t need to meet it. Kittens are like…”
“Yes?”
“Nevermind. I lost it.”
“Blaine?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t think I’ve heard you sound this good in… a long time.”
“I, um… It’s been better, in the morning I think. Lately.”
“That’s great, Blaine.”
“Thank you. Um… are you sure everything’s okay?
“Yeah, actually, I think so.”
“Kurt…”
“Go get ready for your massage, okay? Say hi to Cooper for me.”
“I… I will. Call me again soon?
“Promise.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Goodbye.”
“Bye, Blaine.”
-
Blaine feels silly in the fluffy white bathrobe, sits awkwardly in the room smelling faintly of patchouli and sagebrush. Music plays in the background, similar to the music in the yoga videos that Kurt does, and it makes him feel sleepy, wonders if he just curled up in the chair and fell asleep if Lauren would just let him nap. He doubts it, she’s been very insistent on this massage, promising him he’ll feel like a new man after she’s done with him. Whatever that’s supposed to mean. He’s resorted to nodding and agreeing with whatever Lauren says, something he’s noticed Cooper does as well.
He wonders if he’s supposed to lay down on the padded table in the middle of the room, if he’s supposed to take off his bathrobe. He’s never had a massage before, not a professional one at least, Kurt’s have always been good enough for him, and he’s a feeling a little nervous, wishes Kurt was here with him. A couple’s massage has always had a certain appeal to it, though he imagines Kurt groaning in pleasure beside him would be enough to make him have a… problem that a thin sheet wouldn’t be able to cover. It’s probably better this way.
Lauren shows up in a flowing, beaded dress, a dozen bracelets on each wrist, and ushers him onto the table, turns her back while he removes his bathrobe and drapes a soft blanket over himself. He feels stiff, laying on his back, staring straight at the ceiling, oddly exposed. Lauren changes the music to a different track, her bracelets clinking together, tucks her hair behind her ear.
“You look nervous, little bird,” she says, offers him a smile he knows is supposed to be reassuring.
“I am, a little bit,” he admits, not quite sure where to look.
“That’s okay, a lot of people are nervous before their first massage. I promise I’ll go easy on you,” she assures, squirts a generous amount of lotion in her hands. “We’ll start like this and then I’ll have you turn around so I can work on your back, does that sound okay?”
Blaine nods, tries to force himself to relax.
“If something doesn’t feel good, just tell me and I’ll stop. I want this to feel good for you, okay?”
“Yeah,” Blaine manages, meets her eyes before glancing away again.
“We’ll start simple,” she says, grabs his left hand in hers, begins to gently massage the muscles in his hands. It does feel good, Blaine has to admit, as she works her way up his left arm, lets his eyes flutter closed for a moment, just listens to the music, the clink of her bracelets.
“That’s my bad arm,” he says, voice tinged with slight embarrassment when Lauren moves around the table, takes his right hand.
“What’s bad about it?” she asks, voice gentle, calming.
“It’s, uh… it gets really stiff. I can’t really move it very well.”
Lauren hums, works at the muscles in his hand with strong fingers. “Let’s see if we can give it a little encouragement. How do you feel about lavender?”
“Um… neutral but positive?”
Lauren chuckles, moves over to her station and grabs a small bottle. “Lavender is a natural muscle relaxant,” she explains as she works a few drops of the oil into his palm, up his arm.
Blaine makes a noise that doesn’t really sound like anything, feels the perpetual tension in his muscles start to melt away, his whole body starting to relax.
“Feel okay?”
“I feel gooey.”
“Gooey?”
Blaine hums, nods. “My muscles are turning to goo.”
Lauren laughs. “I like you, birdy.”
“I’m glad, I’m at your mercy,” Blaine says, voice a murmur as she works up to his shoulders, his eyes slipping closed again. She works in silence for awhile, giving careful attention to Blaine’s right arm, loosening every muscle until he’s not sure he could even move if he wanted to.
“Alright, flip over.”
Blaine feels a bit like an uncontrolled marionette as he wiggles over onto his stomach, Lauren starting down on his legs, again making sure to spend extra time on Blaine’s right side.
“You really should look into get getting regular massages,” Lauren says after awhile, working at a knot in his thigh. It should be awkward having his brother’s girlfriend’s hands so close to the most private parts of him, but Blaine feels oddly comfortable, Lauren’s practiced motions putting him completely at ease, and he melts into the table under him, lets Lauren have her way. She is the expert, he figures, she’s knows what she’s doing.
“And I’m not just saying that, you have a lot of tension in your muscles. I really think you’d noticed an improvement in your muscle mobility if you went in every month or so.”
“Maybe you should move to New York,” Blaine says, voice slightly muffled by the table-hole-thing his face is resting in.
“Too cold,” Lauren replies, moving up to start working on Blaine’s back. “I don’t look good in hats.”
“Shame,” Blaine hums, has to bite off a moan as Lauren loosens a knot in his back.
“I don’t think Cooper would mind though, if he got to see you more,” Lauren says, voice soft. “He misses you a lot, you know.”
“I know,” Blaine responds, lets out a long exhale.
“He’s been so excited for your visit for months. You make him very happy, Blaine.”
“I could say the same about you,” Blaine says after a moment, studies the floor under him.
“It’s a different kind of happy,” Lauren says, thumb digging into another knot. “Cooper asked me to marry him, you know.”
Blaine blinks at the floor, surprised. “He did? When?”
“A few years ago. I said I wasn’t sure and… well, I guess we’ve never gotten around to it again.”
“You still could,” Blaine says, feels Lauren slow down for a moment.
“Nah, aren’t you and your man getting married soon? One wedding in the family is enough for the decade.”
Blaine gives a little laugh and Lauren resumes kneading at his shoulders.
“Next year I think,” Blaine says, feels that giddy flutter in his stomach when he thinks about finally getting married. “We’re trying to find a venue that’s not booked out for five years and still meets Kurt’s standards.”
“I’m sure wherever you find will be perfect,” Lauren says, her hands working their way up Blaine’s neck. He feels a jolt, pain spikes through his left side and he hisses, tenses. Lauren stops, her hands pulling away.
“Sorry, I…” Blaine tries to apologize, feels the pain ebb away quickly, closes his eyes and breathes for a moment. “I’m still sensitive there sometimes.”
“Can I?” Lauren starts, her fingers hovering and Blaine gives a cautious nod, trusts her to be careful. “I’ve had a few clients with injuries like yours,” she says, her fingers soft on his neck, working gently to ease the ache and Blaine feels a slight tingling, but no pain. “Everyone is so different, that’s the beauty of the human body.” Her fingers work up into his scalp and Blaine has to stop himself from shivering, her motions releasing an ache from deep inside, something he didn’t even know he was holding in. She ghosts over the scars on the left side of his head, the dip where his skull was put back together, sunken like an unnatural soft spot.
“It’s weird, I know,” Blaine murmurs, tries not to feel self-conscious as Lauren feels the broken eggshells of his head, the undeniable evidence that Blaine is different, that he was pieced back together like Humpty Dumpty, put back into place, but never completely the same.
“It’s not weird,” Lauren responds, her fingers carding through his hair. “It just shows your strength.”
Blaine breathes, his throat suddenly tight.
“And you have a lot of that, little bird.”
-
Kurt leaves Nora’s office, shuts his boss’s door behind him with a soft click. His hands are still shaking, his heart pitter-pattering in his chest, his mind trying to catch up with what just happened. He walks on autopilot, grabs his bag from his office and makes his way outside, feet leading him towards the Starbucks down the street. Nora had sent him to grab them both coffees and collect his thoughts, with instructions to take as much times as he needs.
So he slows his pace, fumbles his phone out of his pocket, takes a detour to the park, sits down on a bench and takes a deep breath. He considers calling Blaine, his thumb hovering over the number under his starred contacts, hesitates. There are still too many thing he isn’t sure of, too many conflicting thoughts running through his brain and they’d already talked this morning, he doesn’t want to weigh Blaine down with his own problems. Not yet.
He settles on a different number, presses his phone against his cheek until a familiar voice answers.
“Kurt?”
“Hey, Dad. Did I… are you busy? I can call back later.”
“Nah, just working on some inventory at the shop. What’s up?”
“Kurt takes a second to breathe, to feel the excitement bubbling up inside him before the words are leaving his lips in a barely understandable rush.
“I got promoted!” He doesn’t even feel embarrassed about how his voice squeaks a little, about how he wiggles in his seat, even as people walk by.
“You… what?”
“I got promoted,” Kurt repeats, forces himself to talk a little slower. “To creative director. Jacob is retiring and and Nora wants me to take his place. She just told me this morning.”
“That’s great, Kurt,” Burt says, even though Kurt can tell he doesn’t really understand what he’s talking about. “This is good, right?”
“Dad, this is basically what I’ve wanted since I was fourteen and subscribed to my first issue of Vogue. My whole life I’ve…. They wanted me to be in charge, Dad. Me.”
“You deserve it, Bud. I know you’ve worked hard to earn this.”
“Thank you, Dad.” Kurt pauses again, looks down at one hand, feels the hot June sun beating down on him. “I haven’t accepted yet. I told her I needed to think about it first.”
“Kurt,” Burt says, his voice stern in that loving way only a parent can master. “You can’t turn this down, it’s your dream job, judging from the excitement I just heard.”
“It’s just…” Kurt sighs. “It would involve a lot more time, I would have meetings and they’d need me to do some traveling and I wouldn’t be able to work from home as much and…”
“And?”
“You know, Dad.” Kurt watches a couple walking their dog through the park, hands linked. “I worry about leaving Blaine alone so much.”
Silence a moment, then a “huh” from Burt’s end.
“I guess, I just don’t know what to do, and I feel…. I want this job so much, but I feel like I’m being selfish,” Kurt says in an exhale, draws a pattern on the bench with his thumb.
“Kurt, I don’t think you’ve done a single selfish thing in the past two years. Accepting the job you’ve worked this hard for won’t make you a bad person, Bud. In fact, I think you could stand to be a little more selfish sometimes.”
“Dad…” Kurt starts, falters, feels a little like he’s back in high school listening to his dad dish out his infallible words of wisdom.
“I want you to listen to me for a sec, okay? You’ve given the last two years of your life to Blaine, and I know you don’t see it that way because you love him and I know you’d do anything for him. These past years, devoting your life to taking care of Blaine, it’s the most selfless thing I’ve ever seen anyone do. But Blaine’s getting better now, hell, you call me every other week just to tell me about how good he’s doing and never once have I heard you complain or ask for something for yourself. You deserve this, Kurt. Blaine’s going back to work soon, he has friends and family to help him out, and he won’t be alone. Neither of you are ever alone, not while I’m around, you understand?”
Kurt nods, sniffs, mutters a shaky “yeah.”
“I obviously can’t make you take this job, but I can tell you if this is something that’s going to make you happy, then I know Blaine wouldn’t want you waiting around at home for him.”
Kurt’s eyes feel damp and he tries to subtly dab at them, clears his throat but doesn’t know what to say.
“You deserve to be happy, Kurt.”
Kurt gives a shaky laugh, avoids the eyes of those passing by glancing at him curiously.
“I know, I just… Everything is so different now, I don’t know how to not worry about Blaine with every decision I make.”
“You guys will work it out, I know you will. And I’ll be damned if I don’t see you follow your dreams, you got it?”
Kurt laughs again, this time less full of tears, digs his boot into the dirt.
“Got it.” His lungs expand a little easier now, his back sits a little straighter. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Anytime, kid. I mean it.”
Kurt smiles; his dad has never really understand what it is that Kurt does for a living, but he’s always been his biggest supporter, even subscribed to Kurt’s magazine for months before Kurt told him he really didn’t have to. His dad’s been there for him when no one else has, when things were so overwhelming and so hard, always knows what to say to make Kurt believe that things will work out, maybe not now, maybe not even tomorrow, but someday they will. And it gives Kurt hope.
“Did I tell you about our new kitten?” he asks, changing the subject, settling back into the park bench and revelling in the sun.
-
That evening, after a dinner of take-out lasagna, after a fast-paced and high-pitched conversation with Rachel, after walking Belle around the block and organizing his sock drawer for the twelfth time this week (this time by colors alphabetically), Kurt sinks into the couch, a wrinkled scrap of paper clutched in his hand, watches Beast attack a catnip filled mouse.
He considers the numbers scrawled on the paper, ten innocent digits, wonders what about them scares him so much. Why he feels so hesitant to call, to set up an appointment like his therapist wants him too, to take that step forward. It’s not that he’s uncomfortable with it, Blaine’s been taking an antidepressant ever since the fall after the attack, when awareness creeped back in and he could barely keep his head above water, when his brain no longer allowed him to regulate his moods like he could before, and Kurt had been a supporter of it then. He knows every side effect, every dosage, everything to watch for, and yet.
Yet. He doesn’t know why it feels so different this time. He’s not the one with brain damage and yet he’s so unable to cope, doesn’t know how to categorize his emotions without them swirling together and multiplying until he can’t even breathe and…
And when Kurt considers at it from the outside, life looks really good, with his promotion, with his expanding furry family, with Blaine going places and ready to teach again and every single day sounding better and better. Kurt wants to feel it, this happiness, wants to surround himself with it, wants to embrace this second chance they’ve been given, wants to stop hiding from shadows, wants to evaporate the ocean dragging him down and walk steady on his own two feet.
With Blaine’s hand in his.
Tomorrow, he resolves. He’ll call tomorrow.
And he smiles, pets the kitten, and writes in his journal.
-
The bar is noisy, full of too many people laughing, classic rock pounding from the jukebox, glasses clinking on old wood tables. The taste of alcohol is bitter on Blaine’s tongue. and he honestly can’t remember the last time he had a drink of something not approved for small children. He sits at a table with Cooper and Lauren and Jane, one of Lauren’s good friends, and despite the noise, the way the alcohol makes him feel loose and buzzy, he’s having fun. He feels happy, an excitement rippling through his body, making him bounce a little in his seat. Cooper laughs as he orders them another beer, Lauren and Jane deep in conversation beside them.
There’s a lull in the music, a twinkle in Cooper’s eyes, and Blaine looks at him suspiciously, hands wrapped around his sweating bottle of Blue Moon.
“What are you…?” Blaine starts, trails off when Cooper can’t hold it in any longer.
“It’s karaoke night, little brother,” he says, looks proud of himself. “And I put your name in fifteen times.”
Blaine shakes his head and laughs, feels oddly free; no one here knows his name, no one knows his story, no one will care if he forgets the words or messes up, everyone too anxious for their own turn to really listen anyways, and it’s his first chance to perform for someone other than Kurt and their dog in over two years.
Blaine smiles at Cooper, kicks him lightly in the shin.
“Only if you sing with me, loser.”
Cooper smiles, takes a swig of his beer and belches.
“Deal.”
June 19th
Friday
They’re strolling through the Marilyn Monroe exhibit in the Hollywood Museum, Cooper stopping for the appropriate amount of time at each display, but he’s not really looking, his eyes glancing towards Blaine. He’s been quiet today, despite his enthusiasm last night about the museum, and he lags a few steps behind Cooper, his shoulders weighted. Cooper bites his lip, wants to say something, but he knows how quick Blaine is to get frustrated and angry with his own struggles, has to trust that Blaine will know to ask for help when he needs it.
They’re nearing the end of the exhibit, Blaine’s eyebrows slightly pinched, and Cooper’s about to suggest they go to the cafe for some lunch, when Blaine reaches a hand out, grabs onto Cooper’s forearm.
“I think I need to sit,” Blaine says, his voice sounding slightly off. “To sit. For a min… minute.”
“Okay,” Cooper says with a nod, glances around and spots a bench near the restrooms just down the hall. “We can sit over there, okay?”
Blaine nods, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, and Cooper tries to keep his head level as he leads his little brother over to the bench, Blaine’s hand gripping his arm so tight Cooper wonders if he’ll have bruises later. They make it to the bench and Cooper guides Blaine down, Blaine immediately folding and pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes, elbows digging into his knees. Cooper rests a hand on Blaine’s back, his touch light, just so that Blaine knows he’s there.
“You okay?” Cooper asks, even though he knows Blaine’s not.
“Headache,” Blaine mutters through a clenched jaw.
“How bad?” Cooper asks, rubs his thumb on Blaine’s back in a soothing circle. Blaine just makes a tiny noise in his throat, like he wants to answer but the words won’t come.
“It’s okay,” Cooper tries to soothe, wonders what Kurt would do in a situation like this. “We’ll go home.”
He lets Blaine sit a few more minutes, hopes that maybe the worst will pass before they move again, but Blaine looks more tense with each second and finally Cooper nudges Blaine lightly, guides him to stand. Blaine’s eyes water, his body leaning against Cooper as he leads him out of the museum as quickly as he can, Blaine’s nearly stumbling on the stairs out but Cooper holds him steady. He helps Blaine into the backseat of the car, bundles up a towel to use as a pillow, digs out a pair of sunglasses from the glove compartment. They’re too big and look a little ridiculous but Blaine doesn’t protest, just rests his head against the towel and closes his eyes, his fingers wrapped tightly around his seatbelt.
Cooper drives in silence, makes sure to slow down for every pothole, adjusts the rearview mirror so he can keep an eye on Blaine, the whole way home.
-
Kurt draws lines around the date in his calendar, feels strangely okay.
He wants to call up Blaine, to tell him he did it, he made the appointment, he took the leap and now he just has to find his footing again, but he knows he can, with Blaine’s hand in his.
He waits, knows this is a conversation that should be face to face, knows Blaine’s probably busy, knows there’s only two more days and Blaine will be back, and they’ll have all the time they need to talk about things.
Two more days.
He can do this.
-
It’s late when Cooper hears the noise, half-past eleven and he’s just starting to drift into sleep, a muffled thump and he blinks awake. Lauren’s asleep next to him, her head buried under a pillow, and Cooper lays there confused for a moment, his brain firing back up. Another thump, just outside his door and Cooper sits up quickly, remembers Blaine, Blaine’s here, Blaine had a migraine, Blaine was sleeping all day, Blaine might…
He throws the covers off, slides out of bed, the hardwood floor cool under his feet, slips quietly across the room. The door opens with a creak, the hallway dimly lit by a small nightlight near the bathroom and Cooper can make out a shape where the hall turns into the living room, huddled on the ground.
“Blaine?” the name feels flat in the air, the shape moving slightly. Cooper kneels, the floor hard on his knees, hands hovering, not sure what to do.
“Hey, Blaine, watcha doing down here?”
Blaine’s back is bent, his knees and hands pressed flat into the ground, his head hanging low, eyes closed.
“I tripped,” Blaine says, voice quiet, slowly lifts his head and glances at Cooper with heavy eyes. “I wanted…” a pause, Blaine swallows, gives his head a tiny shake. “I was hungry.”
“Okay,” Cooper says, lets his hand rest on Blaine’s back, draws him in against him. Blaine lets his legs slide out under him, his weight resting against Cooper. “That’s okay. How about I… or, are you hurt?”
Blaine shakes his head, gives a humorless laugh. “Just… embarrassed.”
Cooper feels Blaine against him, feels the tension in his muscles, the quiver in his shoulders.
“It’s no biggie,” Cooper tries to reassure, wonders what Kurt would say in this situation, realizes it doesn’t matter what Kurt would say because Kurt isn’t here, it’s up to Cooper and Blaine is his brother and he can make this okay again. “How about we get to the couch, my knees are aching.”
Blaine nods, starts to push himself up from the ground. He falters slightly, hand brushing the wall for support and Cooper helps him up, arm wrapped around his back.
“You must be getting old,” Blaine murmurs, as they make their way over towards the couch. “I can hear your bones creak.”
“You shut your mouth,” Cooper says, nudges Blaine’s shoulder with his own.
“You wish you were limber like me,” Blaine says, lowers himself stiffly onto the couch. Cooper snorts and Blaine smiles softly, but his eyes are downcast, sad.
“How about some toast?” Cooper suggests and Blaine nods, runs his thumb over the edge of a throw blanket, avoids Cooper’s searching eyes. “Okay,” Cooper mumbles, mostly to himself, heads into the kitchen and loads the toaster with bread. He doesn’t know what Blaine wants on it, considers the jar of extra chunky peanut butter in the cupboard, the strawberry jam in the fridge, the marmalade that Lauren always buys but no one ever eats. He remembers Blaine always loved peanut butter as a kid, remembers him being scolded by their mother after sticking his fingers in the jar.
Cooper stares at the peanut butter but he doesn’t see it, his eyes unfocused as he remembers Blaine years ago, young and earnest. He remembers Blaine trailing after him with adoring eyes, remembers shutting the door in his face because he was a teenager and didn’t have time for his stupid little brother. He remembers Blaine begging him to play with him, remember giving in and playing Cops and Robbers in the backyard, remember throwing Blaine in huge piles of crunchy fall leaves, remembers how much fun he had, even if he didn’t want to admit it.
He’s not one to live with regret, he’s always considered the past as something to move on from and not dwell on, but now, making toast for his little brother who’s done nothing except love and give and try so hard, he wishes he could go back to those locked bedroom doors and let Blaine in. He wishes he could be the big brother that Blaine always wanted, not the one who pushed everyone away and left home as soon as he could.
He shakes his head, clears his thoughts, catches the toast as it pops hot from the toaster, and knows there’s nothing he can do except be here for Blaine now, when it matters.
Toast balanced on a plate, a glass of milk cold in his hand, Cooper makes his way back to the living room, carefully sits down beside Blaine, sets the food on the coffee table in front of them.
“Thank you,” Blaine says, voice quiet as he reaches for a piece of toast, holds it gingerly in his hand and takes a bite.
“I didn’t know if you wanted peanut butter or jam so I put one on both,” Cooper says, mostly just to fill the silence.
“It’s great,” Blaine says, takes another bite, reaches for the glass of milk. His hand shakes and milk sloshes over the lip of the cup, Blaine letting out a quiet curse.
“It’s okay,” Cooper says, mops up the small spill with the sleeve of his shirt. “No biggie.”
Blaine’s eyes are tightly closed, his mouth a thin line.
“It’s not okay,” he says, shakes his head. “It isn’t.”
“It’s just a little bit of milk,” Cooper says, keeps his voice soft but he knows this isn’t just about the milk.
“I…” Blaine starts, blinks his eyes open and looks at Cooper imploringly. “How am I ever going…” A breath. “Ever going to be a teacher again? How…” He stares at his knees, mouth turning down to a frown.
“How could I ever have kids?” Silence, Cooper can hear his heart beating in his own ears. “I can’t even… I can barely,” he motions to the milk. “I fell going down the… the fucking hallway. How could I ever be trusted with a kid?”
“Blaine…” Cooper starts and Blaine sniffs, blinks furiously.
“I wanted to be a dad,” Blaine says when Cooper falters, his voice wavering. “I really did.”
“You still can, you know,” Cooper says, nudges Blaine’s foot with his own. Blaine blinks, his eyelashes sticking together, eyes damp.
“How?” Blaine asks, pulls his foot away from Coopers.
“Everyone has shit they have to deal with,” Cooper says, shrugs and tries to catch Blaine’s eye. “So you tripped in the hallways and spilled some milk? That’s not a big deal, Blaine, and you can’t put yourself down because of that.”
Blaine lets out a long exhale, his face unsure.
“What about… the migraines and…” he trails off, waves his hand. “The other stuff.”
“That’s what Kurt’s for,” Cooper says, smiles a little. “You weren’t thinking of raising a kid on your own, were you?”
Blaine shakes his head, bites his lip.
“You’ll never be on your own, Blaine. Every parent has things they need help with, it’s normal to feel overwhelmed when you have kids. No one will think any less of you if you have to ask for help with something.”
Blaine’s silent, chews on his lip and stares at his toast.
“I can’t think of anyone who would be a better dad than you, Blaine. And Kurt, of course.”
Blaine smiles, glances at Cooper. “Kurt would be a good dad.”
“Squirt Junior would be lucky have both of you as their dad.”
“Squirt Junior?” Blaine asks, arches an eyebrow.
“What? Do you prefer Mini Squirt? Diet Squirt? Squirt 2.0?”
“How about we just leave the Squirt out of it,” Blaine says, but there’s a smile on his lips.
“No can do,” Cooper says, nudges Blaine’s foot and this time Blaine kicks back. “Seriously though, Blaine. You’d be a much better father than I ever could be. Don’t be so quick to give up your dreams, okay?”
“Okay,” Blaine says after a moment, nodding. He picks up his toast and takes a bite, chews quietly for a few bit. “Thank you, Coop.”
Cooper smiles, pulls Blaine into a hug, Blaine’s arms wrapping tightly around him.
“Anytime you need some sense talked into you, I’ll be here.”
Blaine laughs, the sound slightly muffled in Cooper’s shirt. Cooper just holds him tighter, hopes the ground feels a little more solid under his feet.
June 20th
Saturday
Kurt wakes up to a pounding head and a mouth as dry as the desert. He groans and feels his bones creak, his muscles cramping.
“Good morning,” a voice says and he blinks his eyes open, sees Rachel on the chair next to the couch, her hair a mess, her cheeks pink, but she’s smiling. “Drink this.”
She hands him a cup of water and two Tylenol and he swallows them gratefully, rubs his eyes to clear them of sleep.
“Thanks,” he says and his voice sounds like gravel. “What…”
“Now drink this,” Rachel hands him a second cup, this one hot with steaming coffee and Kurt cups it in his hand.
“Did we… get drunk last night?” Kurt asks, looks around at the room around him. Someone is on the floor, huddled under a pile of blankets, and he can hear the sounds of someone moving around the kitchen.
Rachel laughs. “Yes, I think we did.” She sips her own coffee with an amused expression and Kurt falls back against the couch.
“I feel like I’m in college again.”
“Well we had to celebrate your big promotion somehow,” Rachel says and the lump under the blankets groans, turns over.
“Maybe the cheap wine was a bad idea,” Kurt murmurs, takes another grateful sip of his coffee.
“It was fun though,” Rachel says. “You had fun.”
“You’re just saying that because I agreed to sing karaoke with you,” Kurt fires back, smiles at Rachel who nudges him back. He remembers last night, before the wine, calling Rachel and telling her everything, about the appointment about how he’s feeling about the medication, all of it building up inside him with nowhere to go. He remembers how Rachel had come over, had hugged him and ordered him to get dressed, had taken him out to dinner and called their friends and brought over her karaoke machine and declared it a long overdue night for wine and friends.
And it had been fun, Kurt doesn’t think he’s laughed so much in a long time, hasn’t let himself go so long without worrying about everything, without trying to micromanage every aspect of his life. He needed this, he knows, and he doesn’t know how to tell Rachel how much it means that she knows.
“I can’t believe you let me go to sleep without washing my face,” Kurt says, looks over at her without lifting his head off the couch. His cheeks hurt from smiling and Rachel winks at him, shrugs her shoulders and drinks her coffee.
A noise comes from under the pile of blankets, a kitten poking its head out, followed by a mop of blonde hair as Janessa emerges, looking thoroughly disgruntled.
“What was in that wine?” she moans, and Beast licks her nose before attacking her hair. She just watches, rubs her eyes with her hands and pulls the blankets back up over her head, Beast squirming his way under with her.
“I’m making pancakes,” Lily calls from the kitchen and Janessa makes an undistinguishable noise from under the covers. Kurt laughs, stretches his arms above his head and feels his body start to wake up, coffee and Tylenol making him feel a little more human, runs his fingers through messy hair.
He stands up slowly, presses a thankful kiss to Rachel’s forehead, her hand finding his and squeezing, makes his way into the bathroom to wash his face and answer the text waiting for him from Blaine (Kurt, did you… drunk text me last night?). He brings a pile of Blaine’s sweats for the girls to wear, helps Lily with the pancakes and nurses Janessa’s hangover and listens to Rachel practicing her lines and while he knows everything isn’t perfect yet, he feels really, ridiculously happy.
And he wants it to stay.
part 4
Rating: PG, (overall NC-17 for the verse)
Warnings: Future fic, brain injuries, brief sexual content, discussions of PTSD, anxiety and panic attacks
Word Count: 5,943
Summary: Kurt wants to feel it, this happiness, wants to surround himself with it, wants to embrace this second chance they've been given, wants to stop hiding from the shadows, wants to evaporate the ocean dragging him down and walk steady on his own two feet.
With Blaine's hand in his.
A hate crime leaves Blaine damaged and Kurt refuses to let it bring them down.
Part of the Lovesong verse
AN: Thanks so much to shandyall for looking this over for me. As always, comments are appreciated :)
Together September 15th, 2018)
Of Hurt and Hope June 20th, 2018; July 13th, 2018
A Time of Firsts November 24th, 2018; December 25th, 2018; March 16th, 2019
To Sleep, To Wake May 7th, 2018
(fear) June 5th, 2018
Coffee is a Bitter Drink June 22nd, 2019
A Father's Eye April 23rd, 2018; October 19th, 2018; February 15th, 2019; October 12th, 2019
Resolution, Evolution November 5th, 2019; December 2nd-3rd, 2019
(feel) November 16th, 2018
Resolution, Evolution: a continuation December 3rd, 2019
Shatter January 23rd, 2019
Let Me December 17th, 2019
Let Me: a continuation December 20th, 2019
Sometimes (a sandwich is all it takes) January 17th, 2019
And When I Wait, All I See is You May 2nd, 2018; May 9th, 2018
Hold onto the Sun April 23rd, 2018; June 20th, 2018; February 8th, 2020
Hold onto the Sun: a continuation February 8th, 2020
(found) February 19th, 2020; February 28th, 2020
At the End of the Day December 4th, 2018
Slow Dancing April 26th, 2019; September 2nd, 2019; January 6th, 2020
Each and Every June 6th, 2018; June 19th, 2018; December 25th, 2018; February 20th, 2019
Under These Fluorescent Lights June 1st, 2017; May 13th-15th, 25th 2018; June 1st, 2018
Stubborn Hearts (and stubborn love): part 1, part 2 June 12th-22nd, 2020
Bonus Letters blueprint
June 18th, 2020
Thursday
“Hello?”
“Hey there sleepy, did I wake you up?”
“Wha- uh, no?”
“Liar.”
“I’m in… incapable of lying.”
“Uh huh. Then do tell me what happened to the Waterford crystal vase your mom sent us last year?”
“Um… it spontaneously combusted?”
“I can see your nose growing, Blaine Anderson.”
“From a thousand miles away?”
“…”
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay. I just… miss you a lot.”
“I miss you too. Only four more days.”
“…It feels like four hundred. But you’re having fun with Cooper, right?”
“Yeah, it’s been great, we went swimming yesterday and I didn’t drown!”
“Congratulations.”
“And today Lauren is giving me a massage. A real massage, Kurt. I… sorry, I’m rambling.”
“No, no, I like listening to you talk. I miss your voice.”
“Mmm. How are things back there?”
“They’re… They’re okay. I wanted to, uh, to tell you. Something”
“… Yes?”
“I, um. Nevermind. It’s not important.”
“Kurt.”
“Blaine.”
“What is it? Is every… everything okay?”
“It’s fine, don’t worry. I just, um, wanted to tell you about our new furry friend.”
“The kitten?”
“The little beast who shredded our kitchen rug, you mean?”
“I never liked that rug.”
“It was vintage.”
“Who has a vintage kitchen rug anyways?”
“I will hang up this phone.”
“No, no I’m sorry. Continue. I’m sorry about the rug.”
“That’s okay. It was kind of ugly.”
“So… are we keeping it?”
“The rug?”
“No, the kitten.”
“I don’t know… We already have a dog.”
“Belle needs a, um. A friend.”
“It ate your favorite shoes.”
“No it didn’t.”
“Fine. It didn’t. But Blaine… can we really take care of two animals? That’s a lot of fur on our clothes. And what if it has rabies?”
“Kuuuurt. It’s a kitten. A kitten.”
“I am aware of that, Blaine. Thank you.”
“A poor, defenseless, kitten.”
“Don’t make that face at me.”
“I’m not making a face.”
“I can hear it in your voice. Besides, you haven’t even met the kitten yet.”
“Kitten, Kurt. I don’t need to meet it. Kittens are like…”
“Yes?”
“Nevermind. I lost it.”
“Blaine?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t think I’ve heard you sound this good in… a long time.”
“I, um… It’s been better, in the morning I think. Lately.”
“That’s great, Blaine.”
“Thank you. Um… are you sure everything’s okay?
“Yeah, actually, I think so.”
“Kurt…”
“Go get ready for your massage, okay? Say hi to Cooper for me.”
“I… I will. Call me again soon?
“Promise.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Goodbye.”
“Bye, Blaine.”
-
Blaine feels silly in the fluffy white bathrobe, sits awkwardly in the room smelling faintly of patchouli and sagebrush. Music plays in the background, similar to the music in the yoga videos that Kurt does, and it makes him feel sleepy, wonders if he just curled up in the chair and fell asleep if Lauren would just let him nap. He doubts it, she’s been very insistent on this massage, promising him he’ll feel like a new man after she’s done with him. Whatever that’s supposed to mean. He’s resorted to nodding and agreeing with whatever Lauren says, something he’s noticed Cooper does as well.
He wonders if he’s supposed to lay down on the padded table in the middle of the room, if he’s supposed to take off his bathrobe. He’s never had a massage before, not a professional one at least, Kurt’s have always been good enough for him, and he’s a feeling a little nervous, wishes Kurt was here with him. A couple’s massage has always had a certain appeal to it, though he imagines Kurt groaning in pleasure beside him would be enough to make him have a… problem that a thin sheet wouldn’t be able to cover. It’s probably better this way.
Lauren shows up in a flowing, beaded dress, a dozen bracelets on each wrist, and ushers him onto the table, turns her back while he removes his bathrobe and drapes a soft blanket over himself. He feels stiff, laying on his back, staring straight at the ceiling, oddly exposed. Lauren changes the music to a different track, her bracelets clinking together, tucks her hair behind her ear.
“You look nervous, little bird,” she says, offers him a smile he knows is supposed to be reassuring.
“I am, a little bit,” he admits, not quite sure where to look.
“That’s okay, a lot of people are nervous before their first massage. I promise I’ll go easy on you,” she assures, squirts a generous amount of lotion in her hands. “We’ll start like this and then I’ll have you turn around so I can work on your back, does that sound okay?”
Blaine nods, tries to force himself to relax.
“If something doesn’t feel good, just tell me and I’ll stop. I want this to feel good for you, okay?”
“Yeah,” Blaine manages, meets her eyes before glancing away again.
“We’ll start simple,” she says, grabs his left hand in hers, begins to gently massage the muscles in his hands. It does feel good, Blaine has to admit, as she works her way up his left arm, lets his eyes flutter closed for a moment, just listens to the music, the clink of her bracelets.
“That’s my bad arm,” he says, voice tinged with slight embarrassment when Lauren moves around the table, takes his right hand.
“What’s bad about it?” she asks, voice gentle, calming.
“It’s, uh… it gets really stiff. I can’t really move it very well.”
Lauren hums, works at the muscles in his hand with strong fingers. “Let’s see if we can give it a little encouragement. How do you feel about lavender?”
“Um… neutral but positive?”
Lauren chuckles, moves over to her station and grabs a small bottle. “Lavender is a natural muscle relaxant,” she explains as she works a few drops of the oil into his palm, up his arm.
Blaine makes a noise that doesn’t really sound like anything, feels the perpetual tension in his muscles start to melt away, his whole body starting to relax.
“Feel okay?”
“I feel gooey.”
“Gooey?”
Blaine hums, nods. “My muscles are turning to goo.”
Lauren laughs. “I like you, birdy.”
“I’m glad, I’m at your mercy,” Blaine says, voice a murmur as she works up to his shoulders, his eyes slipping closed again. She works in silence for awhile, giving careful attention to Blaine’s right arm, loosening every muscle until he’s not sure he could even move if he wanted to.
“Alright, flip over.”
Blaine feels a bit like an uncontrolled marionette as he wiggles over onto his stomach, Lauren starting down on his legs, again making sure to spend extra time on Blaine’s right side.
“You really should look into get getting regular massages,” Lauren says after awhile, working at a knot in his thigh. It should be awkward having his brother’s girlfriend’s hands so close to the most private parts of him, but Blaine feels oddly comfortable, Lauren’s practiced motions putting him completely at ease, and he melts into the table under him, lets Lauren have her way. She is the expert, he figures, she’s knows what she’s doing.
“And I’m not just saying that, you have a lot of tension in your muscles. I really think you’d noticed an improvement in your muscle mobility if you went in every month or so.”
“Maybe you should move to New York,” Blaine says, voice slightly muffled by the table-hole-thing his face is resting in.
“Too cold,” Lauren replies, moving up to start working on Blaine’s back. “I don’t look good in hats.”
“Shame,” Blaine hums, has to bite off a moan as Lauren loosens a knot in his back.
“I don’t think Cooper would mind though, if he got to see you more,” Lauren says, voice soft. “He misses you a lot, you know.”
“I know,” Blaine responds, lets out a long exhale.
“He’s been so excited for your visit for months. You make him very happy, Blaine.”
“I could say the same about you,” Blaine says after a moment, studies the floor under him.
“It’s a different kind of happy,” Lauren says, thumb digging into another knot. “Cooper asked me to marry him, you know.”
Blaine blinks at the floor, surprised. “He did? When?”
“A few years ago. I said I wasn’t sure and… well, I guess we’ve never gotten around to it again.”
“You still could,” Blaine says, feels Lauren slow down for a moment.
“Nah, aren’t you and your man getting married soon? One wedding in the family is enough for the decade.”
Blaine gives a little laugh and Lauren resumes kneading at his shoulders.
“Next year I think,” Blaine says, feels that giddy flutter in his stomach when he thinks about finally getting married. “We’re trying to find a venue that’s not booked out for five years and still meets Kurt’s standards.”
“I’m sure wherever you find will be perfect,” Lauren says, her hands working their way up Blaine’s neck. He feels a jolt, pain spikes through his left side and he hisses, tenses. Lauren stops, her hands pulling away.
“Sorry, I…” Blaine tries to apologize, feels the pain ebb away quickly, closes his eyes and breathes for a moment. “I’m still sensitive there sometimes.”
“Can I?” Lauren starts, her fingers hovering and Blaine gives a cautious nod, trusts her to be careful. “I’ve had a few clients with injuries like yours,” she says, her fingers soft on his neck, working gently to ease the ache and Blaine feels a slight tingling, but no pain. “Everyone is so different, that’s the beauty of the human body.” Her fingers work up into his scalp and Blaine has to stop himself from shivering, her motions releasing an ache from deep inside, something he didn’t even know he was holding in. She ghosts over the scars on the left side of his head, the dip where his skull was put back together, sunken like an unnatural soft spot.
“It’s weird, I know,” Blaine murmurs, tries not to feel self-conscious as Lauren feels the broken eggshells of his head, the undeniable evidence that Blaine is different, that he was pieced back together like Humpty Dumpty, put back into place, but never completely the same.
“It’s not weird,” Lauren responds, her fingers carding through his hair. “It just shows your strength.”
Blaine breathes, his throat suddenly tight.
“And you have a lot of that, little bird.”
-
Kurt leaves Nora’s office, shuts his boss’s door behind him with a soft click. His hands are still shaking, his heart pitter-pattering in his chest, his mind trying to catch up with what just happened. He walks on autopilot, grabs his bag from his office and makes his way outside, feet leading him towards the Starbucks down the street. Nora had sent him to grab them both coffees and collect his thoughts, with instructions to take as much times as he needs.
So he slows his pace, fumbles his phone out of his pocket, takes a detour to the park, sits down on a bench and takes a deep breath. He considers calling Blaine, his thumb hovering over the number under his starred contacts, hesitates. There are still too many thing he isn’t sure of, too many conflicting thoughts running through his brain and they’d already talked this morning, he doesn’t want to weigh Blaine down with his own problems. Not yet.
He settles on a different number, presses his phone against his cheek until a familiar voice answers.
“Kurt?”
“Hey, Dad. Did I… are you busy? I can call back later.”
“Nah, just working on some inventory at the shop. What’s up?”
“Kurt takes a second to breathe, to feel the excitement bubbling up inside him before the words are leaving his lips in a barely understandable rush.
“I got promoted!” He doesn’t even feel embarrassed about how his voice squeaks a little, about how he wiggles in his seat, even as people walk by.
“You… what?”
“I got promoted,” Kurt repeats, forces himself to talk a little slower. “To creative director. Jacob is retiring and and Nora wants me to take his place. She just told me this morning.”
“That’s great, Kurt,” Burt says, even though Kurt can tell he doesn’t really understand what he’s talking about. “This is good, right?”
“Dad, this is basically what I’ve wanted since I was fourteen and subscribed to my first issue of Vogue. My whole life I’ve…. They wanted me to be in charge, Dad. Me.”
“You deserve it, Bud. I know you’ve worked hard to earn this.”
“Thank you, Dad.” Kurt pauses again, looks down at one hand, feels the hot June sun beating down on him. “I haven’t accepted yet. I told her I needed to think about it first.”
“Kurt,” Burt says, his voice stern in that loving way only a parent can master. “You can’t turn this down, it’s your dream job, judging from the excitement I just heard.”
“It’s just…” Kurt sighs. “It would involve a lot more time, I would have meetings and they’d need me to do some traveling and I wouldn’t be able to work from home as much and…”
“And?”
“You know, Dad.” Kurt watches a couple walking their dog through the park, hands linked. “I worry about leaving Blaine alone so much.”
Silence a moment, then a “huh” from Burt’s end.
“I guess, I just don’t know what to do, and I feel…. I want this job so much, but I feel like I’m being selfish,” Kurt says in an exhale, draws a pattern on the bench with his thumb.
“Kurt, I don’t think you’ve done a single selfish thing in the past two years. Accepting the job you’ve worked this hard for won’t make you a bad person, Bud. In fact, I think you could stand to be a little more selfish sometimes.”
“Dad…” Kurt starts, falters, feels a little like he’s back in high school listening to his dad dish out his infallible words of wisdom.
“I want you to listen to me for a sec, okay? You’ve given the last two years of your life to Blaine, and I know you don’t see it that way because you love him and I know you’d do anything for him. These past years, devoting your life to taking care of Blaine, it’s the most selfless thing I’ve ever seen anyone do. But Blaine’s getting better now, hell, you call me every other week just to tell me about how good he’s doing and never once have I heard you complain or ask for something for yourself. You deserve this, Kurt. Blaine’s going back to work soon, he has friends and family to help him out, and he won’t be alone. Neither of you are ever alone, not while I’m around, you understand?”
Kurt nods, sniffs, mutters a shaky “yeah.”
“I obviously can’t make you take this job, but I can tell you if this is something that’s going to make you happy, then I know Blaine wouldn’t want you waiting around at home for him.”
Kurt’s eyes feel damp and he tries to subtly dab at them, clears his throat but doesn’t know what to say.
“You deserve to be happy, Kurt.”
Kurt gives a shaky laugh, avoids the eyes of those passing by glancing at him curiously.
“I know, I just… Everything is so different now, I don’t know how to not worry about Blaine with every decision I make.”
“You guys will work it out, I know you will. And I’ll be damned if I don’t see you follow your dreams, you got it?”
Kurt laughs again, this time less full of tears, digs his boot into the dirt.
“Got it.” His lungs expand a little easier now, his back sits a little straighter. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Anytime, kid. I mean it.”
Kurt smiles; his dad has never really understand what it is that Kurt does for a living, but he’s always been his biggest supporter, even subscribed to Kurt’s magazine for months before Kurt told him he really didn’t have to. His dad’s been there for him when no one else has, when things were so overwhelming and so hard, always knows what to say to make Kurt believe that things will work out, maybe not now, maybe not even tomorrow, but someday they will. And it gives Kurt hope.
“Did I tell you about our new kitten?” he asks, changing the subject, settling back into the park bench and revelling in the sun.
-
That evening, after a dinner of take-out lasagna, after a fast-paced and high-pitched conversation with Rachel, after walking Belle around the block and organizing his sock drawer for the twelfth time this week (this time by colors alphabetically), Kurt sinks into the couch, a wrinkled scrap of paper clutched in his hand, watches Beast attack a catnip filled mouse.
He considers the numbers scrawled on the paper, ten innocent digits, wonders what about them scares him so much. Why he feels so hesitant to call, to set up an appointment like his therapist wants him too, to take that step forward. It’s not that he’s uncomfortable with it, Blaine’s been taking an antidepressant ever since the fall after the attack, when awareness creeped back in and he could barely keep his head above water, when his brain no longer allowed him to regulate his moods like he could before, and Kurt had been a supporter of it then. He knows every side effect, every dosage, everything to watch for, and yet.
Yet. He doesn’t know why it feels so different this time. He’s not the one with brain damage and yet he’s so unable to cope, doesn’t know how to categorize his emotions without them swirling together and multiplying until he can’t even breathe and…
And when Kurt considers at it from the outside, life looks really good, with his promotion, with his expanding furry family, with Blaine going places and ready to teach again and every single day sounding better and better. Kurt wants to feel it, this happiness, wants to surround himself with it, wants to embrace this second chance they’ve been given, wants to stop hiding from shadows, wants to evaporate the ocean dragging him down and walk steady on his own two feet.
With Blaine’s hand in his.
Tomorrow, he resolves. He’ll call tomorrow.
And he smiles, pets the kitten, and writes in his journal.
-
The bar is noisy, full of too many people laughing, classic rock pounding from the jukebox, glasses clinking on old wood tables. The taste of alcohol is bitter on Blaine’s tongue. and he honestly can’t remember the last time he had a drink of something not approved for small children. He sits at a table with Cooper and Lauren and Jane, one of Lauren’s good friends, and despite the noise, the way the alcohol makes him feel loose and buzzy, he’s having fun. He feels happy, an excitement rippling through his body, making him bounce a little in his seat. Cooper laughs as he orders them another beer, Lauren and Jane deep in conversation beside them.
There’s a lull in the music, a twinkle in Cooper’s eyes, and Blaine looks at him suspiciously, hands wrapped around his sweating bottle of Blue Moon.
“What are you…?” Blaine starts, trails off when Cooper can’t hold it in any longer.
“It’s karaoke night, little brother,” he says, looks proud of himself. “And I put your name in fifteen times.”
Blaine shakes his head and laughs, feels oddly free; no one here knows his name, no one knows his story, no one will care if he forgets the words or messes up, everyone too anxious for their own turn to really listen anyways, and it’s his first chance to perform for someone other than Kurt and their dog in over two years.
Blaine smiles at Cooper, kicks him lightly in the shin.
“Only if you sing with me, loser.”
Cooper smiles, takes a swig of his beer and belches.
“Deal.”
June 19th
Friday
They’re strolling through the Marilyn Monroe exhibit in the Hollywood Museum, Cooper stopping for the appropriate amount of time at each display, but he’s not really looking, his eyes glancing towards Blaine. He’s been quiet today, despite his enthusiasm last night about the museum, and he lags a few steps behind Cooper, his shoulders weighted. Cooper bites his lip, wants to say something, but he knows how quick Blaine is to get frustrated and angry with his own struggles, has to trust that Blaine will know to ask for help when he needs it.
They’re nearing the end of the exhibit, Blaine’s eyebrows slightly pinched, and Cooper’s about to suggest they go to the cafe for some lunch, when Blaine reaches a hand out, grabs onto Cooper’s forearm.
“I think I need to sit,” Blaine says, his voice sounding slightly off. “To sit. For a min… minute.”
“Okay,” Cooper says with a nod, glances around and spots a bench near the restrooms just down the hall. “We can sit over there, okay?”
Blaine nods, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, and Cooper tries to keep his head level as he leads his little brother over to the bench, Blaine’s hand gripping his arm so tight Cooper wonders if he’ll have bruises later. They make it to the bench and Cooper guides Blaine down, Blaine immediately folding and pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes, elbows digging into his knees. Cooper rests a hand on Blaine’s back, his touch light, just so that Blaine knows he’s there.
“You okay?” Cooper asks, even though he knows Blaine’s not.
“Headache,” Blaine mutters through a clenched jaw.
“How bad?” Cooper asks, rubs his thumb on Blaine’s back in a soothing circle. Blaine just makes a tiny noise in his throat, like he wants to answer but the words won’t come.
“It’s okay,” Cooper tries to soothe, wonders what Kurt would do in a situation like this. “We’ll go home.”
He lets Blaine sit a few more minutes, hopes that maybe the worst will pass before they move again, but Blaine looks more tense with each second and finally Cooper nudges Blaine lightly, guides him to stand. Blaine’s eyes water, his body leaning against Cooper as he leads him out of the museum as quickly as he can, Blaine’s nearly stumbling on the stairs out but Cooper holds him steady. He helps Blaine into the backseat of the car, bundles up a towel to use as a pillow, digs out a pair of sunglasses from the glove compartment. They’re too big and look a little ridiculous but Blaine doesn’t protest, just rests his head against the towel and closes his eyes, his fingers wrapped tightly around his seatbelt.
Cooper drives in silence, makes sure to slow down for every pothole, adjusts the rearview mirror so he can keep an eye on Blaine, the whole way home.
-
Kurt draws lines around the date in his calendar, feels strangely okay.
He wants to call up Blaine, to tell him he did it, he made the appointment, he took the leap and now he just has to find his footing again, but he knows he can, with Blaine’s hand in his.
He waits, knows this is a conversation that should be face to face, knows Blaine’s probably busy, knows there’s only two more days and Blaine will be back, and they’ll have all the time they need to talk about things.
Two more days.
He can do this.
-
It’s late when Cooper hears the noise, half-past eleven and he’s just starting to drift into sleep, a muffled thump and he blinks awake. Lauren’s asleep next to him, her head buried under a pillow, and Cooper lays there confused for a moment, his brain firing back up. Another thump, just outside his door and Cooper sits up quickly, remembers Blaine, Blaine’s here, Blaine had a migraine, Blaine was sleeping all day, Blaine might…
He throws the covers off, slides out of bed, the hardwood floor cool under his feet, slips quietly across the room. The door opens with a creak, the hallway dimly lit by a small nightlight near the bathroom and Cooper can make out a shape where the hall turns into the living room, huddled on the ground.
“Blaine?” the name feels flat in the air, the shape moving slightly. Cooper kneels, the floor hard on his knees, hands hovering, not sure what to do.
“Hey, Blaine, watcha doing down here?”
Blaine’s back is bent, his knees and hands pressed flat into the ground, his head hanging low, eyes closed.
“I tripped,” Blaine says, voice quiet, slowly lifts his head and glances at Cooper with heavy eyes. “I wanted…” a pause, Blaine swallows, gives his head a tiny shake. “I was hungry.”
“Okay,” Cooper says, lets his hand rest on Blaine’s back, draws him in against him. Blaine lets his legs slide out under him, his weight resting against Cooper. “That’s okay. How about I… or, are you hurt?”
Blaine shakes his head, gives a humorless laugh. “Just… embarrassed.”
Cooper feels Blaine against him, feels the tension in his muscles, the quiver in his shoulders.
“It’s no biggie,” Cooper tries to reassure, wonders what Kurt would say in this situation, realizes it doesn’t matter what Kurt would say because Kurt isn’t here, it’s up to Cooper and Blaine is his brother and he can make this okay again. “How about we get to the couch, my knees are aching.”
Blaine nods, starts to push himself up from the ground. He falters slightly, hand brushing the wall for support and Cooper helps him up, arm wrapped around his back.
“You must be getting old,” Blaine murmurs, as they make their way over towards the couch. “I can hear your bones creak.”
“You shut your mouth,” Cooper says, nudges Blaine’s shoulder with his own.
“You wish you were limber like me,” Blaine says, lowers himself stiffly onto the couch. Cooper snorts and Blaine smiles softly, but his eyes are downcast, sad.
“How about some toast?” Cooper suggests and Blaine nods, runs his thumb over the edge of a throw blanket, avoids Cooper’s searching eyes. “Okay,” Cooper mumbles, mostly to himself, heads into the kitchen and loads the toaster with bread. He doesn’t know what Blaine wants on it, considers the jar of extra chunky peanut butter in the cupboard, the strawberry jam in the fridge, the marmalade that Lauren always buys but no one ever eats. He remembers Blaine always loved peanut butter as a kid, remembers him being scolded by their mother after sticking his fingers in the jar.
Cooper stares at the peanut butter but he doesn’t see it, his eyes unfocused as he remembers Blaine years ago, young and earnest. He remembers Blaine trailing after him with adoring eyes, remembers shutting the door in his face because he was a teenager and didn’t have time for his stupid little brother. He remembers Blaine begging him to play with him, remember giving in and playing Cops and Robbers in the backyard, remember throwing Blaine in huge piles of crunchy fall leaves, remembers how much fun he had, even if he didn’t want to admit it.
He’s not one to live with regret, he’s always considered the past as something to move on from and not dwell on, but now, making toast for his little brother who’s done nothing except love and give and try so hard, he wishes he could go back to those locked bedroom doors and let Blaine in. He wishes he could be the big brother that Blaine always wanted, not the one who pushed everyone away and left home as soon as he could.
He shakes his head, clears his thoughts, catches the toast as it pops hot from the toaster, and knows there’s nothing he can do except be here for Blaine now, when it matters.
Toast balanced on a plate, a glass of milk cold in his hand, Cooper makes his way back to the living room, carefully sits down beside Blaine, sets the food on the coffee table in front of them.
“Thank you,” Blaine says, voice quiet as he reaches for a piece of toast, holds it gingerly in his hand and takes a bite.
“I didn’t know if you wanted peanut butter or jam so I put one on both,” Cooper says, mostly just to fill the silence.
“It’s great,” Blaine says, takes another bite, reaches for the glass of milk. His hand shakes and milk sloshes over the lip of the cup, Blaine letting out a quiet curse.
“It’s okay,” Cooper says, mops up the small spill with the sleeve of his shirt. “No biggie.”
Blaine’s eyes are tightly closed, his mouth a thin line.
“It’s not okay,” he says, shakes his head. “It isn’t.”
“It’s just a little bit of milk,” Cooper says, keeps his voice soft but he knows this isn’t just about the milk.
“I…” Blaine starts, blinks his eyes open and looks at Cooper imploringly. “How am I ever going…” A breath. “Ever going to be a teacher again? How…” He stares at his knees, mouth turning down to a frown.
“How could I ever have kids?” Silence, Cooper can hear his heart beating in his own ears. “I can’t even… I can barely,” he motions to the milk. “I fell going down the… the fucking hallway. How could I ever be trusted with a kid?”
“Blaine…” Cooper starts and Blaine sniffs, blinks furiously.
“I wanted to be a dad,” Blaine says when Cooper falters, his voice wavering. “I really did.”
“You still can, you know,” Cooper says, nudges Blaine’s foot with his own. Blaine blinks, his eyelashes sticking together, eyes damp.
“How?” Blaine asks, pulls his foot away from Coopers.
“Everyone has shit they have to deal with,” Cooper says, shrugs and tries to catch Blaine’s eye. “So you tripped in the hallways and spilled some milk? That’s not a big deal, Blaine, and you can’t put yourself down because of that.”
Blaine lets out a long exhale, his face unsure.
“What about… the migraines and…” he trails off, waves his hand. “The other stuff.”
“That’s what Kurt’s for,” Cooper says, smiles a little. “You weren’t thinking of raising a kid on your own, were you?”
Blaine shakes his head, bites his lip.
“You’ll never be on your own, Blaine. Every parent has things they need help with, it’s normal to feel overwhelmed when you have kids. No one will think any less of you if you have to ask for help with something.”
Blaine’s silent, chews on his lip and stares at his toast.
“I can’t think of anyone who would be a better dad than you, Blaine. And Kurt, of course.”
Blaine smiles, glances at Cooper. “Kurt would be a good dad.”
“Squirt Junior would be lucky have both of you as their dad.”
“Squirt Junior?” Blaine asks, arches an eyebrow.
“What? Do you prefer Mini Squirt? Diet Squirt? Squirt 2.0?”
“How about we just leave the Squirt out of it,” Blaine says, but there’s a smile on his lips.
“No can do,” Cooper says, nudges Blaine’s foot and this time Blaine kicks back. “Seriously though, Blaine. You’d be a much better father than I ever could be. Don’t be so quick to give up your dreams, okay?”
“Okay,” Blaine says after a moment, nodding. He picks up his toast and takes a bite, chews quietly for a few bit. “Thank you, Coop.”
Cooper smiles, pulls Blaine into a hug, Blaine’s arms wrapping tightly around him.
“Anytime you need some sense talked into you, I’ll be here.”
Blaine laughs, the sound slightly muffled in Cooper’s shirt. Cooper just holds him tighter, hopes the ground feels a little more solid under his feet.
June 20th
Saturday
Kurt wakes up to a pounding head and a mouth as dry as the desert. He groans and feels his bones creak, his muscles cramping.
“Good morning,” a voice says and he blinks his eyes open, sees Rachel on the chair next to the couch, her hair a mess, her cheeks pink, but she’s smiling. “Drink this.”
She hands him a cup of water and two Tylenol and he swallows them gratefully, rubs his eyes to clear them of sleep.
“Thanks,” he says and his voice sounds like gravel. “What…”
“Now drink this,” Rachel hands him a second cup, this one hot with steaming coffee and Kurt cups it in his hand.
“Did we… get drunk last night?” Kurt asks, looks around at the room around him. Someone is on the floor, huddled under a pile of blankets, and he can hear the sounds of someone moving around the kitchen.
Rachel laughs. “Yes, I think we did.” She sips her own coffee with an amused expression and Kurt falls back against the couch.
“I feel like I’m in college again.”
“Well we had to celebrate your big promotion somehow,” Rachel says and the lump under the blankets groans, turns over.
“Maybe the cheap wine was a bad idea,” Kurt murmurs, takes another grateful sip of his coffee.
“It was fun though,” Rachel says. “You had fun.”
“You’re just saying that because I agreed to sing karaoke with you,” Kurt fires back, smiles at Rachel who nudges him back. He remembers last night, before the wine, calling Rachel and telling her everything, about the appointment about how he’s feeling about the medication, all of it building up inside him with nowhere to go. He remembers how Rachel had come over, had hugged him and ordered him to get dressed, had taken him out to dinner and called their friends and brought over her karaoke machine and declared it a long overdue night for wine and friends.
And it had been fun, Kurt doesn’t think he’s laughed so much in a long time, hasn’t let himself go so long without worrying about everything, without trying to micromanage every aspect of his life. He needed this, he knows, and he doesn’t know how to tell Rachel how much it means that she knows.
“I can’t believe you let me go to sleep without washing my face,” Kurt says, looks over at her without lifting his head off the couch. His cheeks hurt from smiling and Rachel winks at him, shrugs her shoulders and drinks her coffee.
A noise comes from under the pile of blankets, a kitten poking its head out, followed by a mop of blonde hair as Janessa emerges, looking thoroughly disgruntled.
“What was in that wine?” she moans, and Beast licks her nose before attacking her hair. She just watches, rubs her eyes with her hands and pulls the blankets back up over her head, Beast squirming his way under with her.
“I’m making pancakes,” Lily calls from the kitchen and Janessa makes an undistinguishable noise from under the covers. Kurt laughs, stretches his arms above his head and feels his body start to wake up, coffee and Tylenol making him feel a little more human, runs his fingers through messy hair.
He stands up slowly, presses a thankful kiss to Rachel’s forehead, her hand finding his and squeezing, makes his way into the bathroom to wash his face and answer the text waiting for him from Blaine (Kurt, did you… drunk text me last night?). He brings a pile of Blaine’s sweats for the girls to wear, helps Lily with the pancakes and nurses Janessa’s hangover and listens to Rachel practicing her lines and while he knows everything isn’t perfect yet, he feels really, ridiculously happy.
And he wants it to stay.
part 4