Fic: Compromise.
“Kurt, I know it’s a sentimental thing for you. I get that, I do. But I have a very important policy that states ‘Blaine Anderson does not drink warm milk unless it’s blended with chocolate, artificial flavouring or coffee.”
“Come on Blaine. Just once. If you hate it, I promise I’ll never make you do it again.”
“Was that not the sentiment behind your first drunken experience? And now you’ve been Scarred. For. Life.”
“Blaine. I called my school guidance counsellor Bambi and puked on her shoes. She’s OCD. She still can’t look me in the eye.”
“Yes, but the taste of warm milk could very well make me puke on your shoes. And they’re Armani.”
“Oh stop being such a drama queen. It’s only milk.”
“Warm milk, Kurt. And I don’t like cold milk at the best of times. Look, you just sit there with your flavourless cultures and I’ll be over here with my delicious hot cocoa with extra whipped cream.”
“Oh fine. But mark my words, Blaine Anderson. One day you’ll have a cup of this in your hand and you’ll love it as much as you love publicly serenading your love interests.”
---
“Kurt…nnngh. Kurt.”
“Oh God. The sounds you make…fuck. Blaine.”
“Kurt, really…shit…I mean, fuck. Kurt…the stove…”
“If you can…ungh…mention the stove, I’m clearly doing something, unnngh, wrong.”
“Seriously, Kurt. Just…Christ, it’s burning.”
“Oh God yes, Blaine. I feel it too.”
“No…please just-“ Blaine summons a herculean force within him and gently shoves Kurt away from him. “The stove, Kurt. The milk is burning.”
There’s a moment where both of them just sort of stand there and pant at each other, their faces flushed and their shirts askew.
“Oh shit.” Kurt leaps into action as Blaine just stands, breathlessly laughing at his boyfriend whose hair (and demeanour) is unusually ruffled. “Ugh. It’s curdled.”
Blaine wants to laugh at the slightly-disgusted, mostly-sad look on Kurt’s face, but really, it just heightens the urge he has to wrap his arms around the body his boyfriend (his boyfriend…God he loves that.)
“Well…maybe it’s a sign that I’m just not destined to drink warm milk. Ever.”
“Ohhh no, Blaine Anderson. This is just one mishap. You won’t be able to resist me forever.”
Blaine sidles over to Kurt’s side and bumps their hips together. “Well no, I can’t possibly resist you. The milk though, I definitely can.”
“But if I could just…”
“Kurt, babe, that’s curdled. It’s disgusting. I’m not drinking that. And before you offer to make me another glass, I should tell you that there’s precisely twenty-seven minutes till your dad gets home,” Blaine runs his lips softly over the side of Kurt’s neck and mumbles, “And we could be doing at least ten other things that are more pleasant than making warm milk.”
Oh. Well who the hell is Kurt to argue with that?
---
They’re sitting in Kurt’s room shoulders hunched and characters subdued. It’s a quiet, rainy afternoon, and both of them are turning their backs to the world and slumping in defeat, just for the moment.
“I’ll get you some ice for that eye,” Kurt says, and he bolts.
It’s the only sentence he’s uttered since The Mall Incident of 2011, and Blaine’s starting to worry that it’s affecting Kurt in a rather unhealthy way. Blaine finds himself having to be the strong one for both of them (for the second time in their friendship, not that the first time worked out so well), despite the fact that he’s the one that’s been punched in the face by some homophobic nutjob in a mall.
“Okay,” Blaine turns to see Kurt with his hands full, speaking in the midst of harsh breaths. “So I’ve got some ice as well as some fabulous ointment that will help to clear that right up. I also brought some painkillers just in case, and some Disney DVDs because even though they perpetuate ridiculous ideals or perfection and fairly rigid gender roles, you seem to love them despite all their antiquated-“
“Kurt.”
The boy freezes, the unmentioned warm milk in his hands nearly spilling over it’s confines in the mug. Blaine takes the items from him, setting the warm milk on the bedside table and everything else on the bed.
“Come here,” Blaine says, widening his arms in a silent command. A second later, he’s got his arms full of Kurt Hummel and a heart full of pain.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.”
“Shh, Kurt. You have nothing to apologise for. It happens. It’s not the first time, and it probably won’t be the last.” This doesn’t really stop Kurt’s tears (it actually has the opposite effect, but it needs to be said. “Come on. Let’s sit on this gorgeous comforter and you can tell me all about the qualities of that ointment while I ice my eye.”
They move slowly, but by the time they’re on the bed, Kurt is only sniffling and looking longingly at the warm milk.
“I just…I hate seeing you hurt like this. You walked into the mall like an excited puppy about to get a new toy, and you walked out looking like someone had died. I can’t stand this, Blaine. It’s times like this where…”
“Where what?”
Kurt answers in a whisper, barely audible above the steady noise of the rain. “Where I wish we were straight.”
Blaine feels like he’s been punched in the gut. He can’t be upset with Kurt though, because Blaine’s so been there and thought that exact thing. Plus, Kurt looks like he wants to shrivel up and die. So he sucks it up and puts his hand on Kurt’s knee.
“I’ve thought about that, Kurt. I really have. I used to wish it all the time. But now…now I think of this. These exact moments with you that make my life so worth living. And I can’t wish to give that up or change it in any way. I can’t. You’re the best thing to ever happen to the world, Kurt Hummel. You’re the best thing to happen to my world.”
Kurt sniffs, wiping daintily at his eyes and nose. His voice sounds rough and shaky when he speaks.
“I want to share every part of my world with you. Always.”
They sit in silence after that, breathing each other in and taking stock of their own lives, knowing this is a defining moment individually and as a duo.
“Please take the warm milk, Blaine. It’ll make you feel better.”
Blaine smiles wryly, deciding against making a far too insensitive joke. “Thanks Kurt, but you need it more than I do.”
---
“I love you. So much, Kurt. You don’t even know.”
Those three words have been the basis of every conversation they’ve had today, and even though David and Wes and the blonde-haired freshmen from the polo team were sick of hearing them, Blaine and Kurt are not.
“I love you too. I’m so ridiculously in love.”
“Mmm…so am I.”
“Prove it.”
“Oh?” Blaine smirks. “Does that mean I get to finish what I started in the library stacks this morning?”
“Yes. I will definitely let you re-prove it to me after you prove it to me the first time.”
“And what do I have to do this time, your highness?”
“If you loved me at all Blaine, even the smallest bit, you would drink the warm milk I just made.”
“Okay. As long as you prove your love for me by letting me serenade you in the Burberry store tomorrow.”
“Blaine.”
“Take it or leave it.”
“Ugh. Fine. You win. You’re such a dirty player, Anderson.” Kurt made a show of pouring the milk down the sink before Blaine had him pressed up against the kitchen counter.
“And you love me for it.”
---
“No.” Blaine’s voice is flat.
“But you’re only meant to drink liquids for at least the first day when you have your wisdom teeth out.”
“I see thousands of other options. No.”
Burt Hummel chuckles as he walks through the living room. “I loved your mom, kid. I really did, but that milk was disgusting.”
“Daaaad!”
Blaine laughs uproariously for the next fifteen minutes.
---
There are two mugs on the (absolutely gorgeous, custom design) coffee table in front of them, both filled with warm milk.
There are two hands intertwined on the couch between two boys. Two simple rings adorn two vastly different, but equally as lovely fingers.
“I’m so happy right now Kurt. You make me like this. So. Fucking. Happy.”
There are two minutes that go by before both mugs are half empty.
Because Blaine is too happy to resist his fiancé’s affinity for warm milk. After all…marriage is all about compromise.
And Kurt’s got to hold up his end of the bargain. And what’s a cup of warm milk when you’re getting a gorgeous man standing at the altar in return?