Disclaimer: Steve Reeves and Mark Nixon are two totally vintage hot muscle men who I just figured would be in those types of magazines. Sadly, they do not live in my imagination :( Nor does Blaine's valiant attempt at being romantic, which is partially borne of Shakespeare's mind. The story title is a line from the same scene, and it's supposed to be a nod at both the play and how Kurt and Blaine are two rising stars...wow, that sounded a lot less cliche in my head "^^ Idea credit aaaallll goes to Meg, I'd have never thought of this on my own!
A/N: I found myself giving a weird nod to Kum in this story, which is very strange for me XD (I love Sam to death, I just never could get behind the ship, sorry!) Not sure what my mind meant it as...a subconscious peace offering between Klainers and Kummers? Hahaha, I have no idea. Oh well, don't read too much into it, this is a Klaine story after all! :3
Enjoy!
"Of course I'm sure you should come over," Kurt reassured through the phone line. "Finn's gone for the night and it doesn't take a genius to figure out where he is. And as much as I'd really rather not thinking about it, Dad and Carole staying the night in a hotel for their anniversary isn't exactly subtle either."
"Well, if you're sure," came Blaine's voice through Kurt's cell. "I just don't want to get you in trouble."
"They'll never even know," Kurt said, stuffing assorted old craft supplies from under his bed into a large box that would go out with the garbage. The one thing his parents had asked him before leaving was that he finally clean out the accumulated old junk in his room. Kurt was an extraordinarily neat person by nature, but even the neatest of people couldn't keep it up when the sheer mass of what they owned started to outweigh the space they had for it. "Seriously, Blaine, if you don't come over I'll be sitting here all night cleaning my room."
"That sounds fun," Blaine said sarcastically. "You plan to use my company as a mere distraction from menial household tasks? Should I be insulted that that's the extent of my value?"
Kurt chuckled into the receiver. "You know that isn't true," he said, his voice lowering. "You know…we haven't been alone since that night after the opening of West Side Story…when we went back to your house. Do you remember?"
"Of course I remember," Blaine replied. Kurt could almost hear the smile that was on his face, and when he closed his eyes he could most certainly envision it. His lips would have slid apart, exposing his toothy grin, and his eyes would have crinkled up, leaving the amber eyes as only slits and the apples of his cheeks protruding adorably.
"Well if you come over tonight you might just leave with something that will make that memory shrink in the background," Kurt teased, though he knew that both of them would remember that night forever.
When Blaine spoke again, Kurt was certain that the catch in Blaine's voice and its heightened octave wasn't in his imagination. "Uh…I'll leave now. Bye! I mean, I'll see you soon, yeah? Okay, uh…love you!"
Kurt chuckled under his breath and shook his head as he heard the line go dead. He tossed his phone onto his bed and pulled another box out from underneath it. Honestly, he didn't even remember accumulating most of this stuff.
After dusting off the top, he pried it open and began to sift through the insides. He pulled out a Burberry-esque canary cage cover and smiled sadly. After staring at it a moment, Kurt gently ran his fingers along the fabric, carefully folded it, and set it on his bed to save. Who knew when he would get another bird that might need an undeniably fashionable accompaniment? Besides, the memories were still a bit to tender to simply toss out with the weekly garbage. Maybe when he and Blaine had their own apartment in New York they could get a bird of their own.
Kurt found that he'd begun to think in terms of such a nature almost exclusively: when he and Blaine had their own apartment in New York they would, etc. A few thoughts of the sort had always filtered back and forth through his consciousness, but he'd tried to stifle them. But after taking their relationship to a new level, Kurt felt more certain than ever that Blaine and he were truly soul mates. Thinking that he and Blaine would be together forever didn't honestly seem like too much of a stretch.
When the box was almost empty, Kurt pulled out one last thing that made him laugh in disbelief. He couldn't believe that he still had those; he thought he'd gotten rid of them in shame ages ago. His fingers gently glided over the formerly well cared for pages that currently looked a bit neglected, to Kurt's mild guilt. He was sure that they were worth some degree of money.
A smile pulled at the corner of Kurt's mouth as he remembered the circumstances surrounding the magazines when he'd been given them. He'd just come out to his father officially not long before, and in all honesty he had still been rather fragile about the whole situation. In a weird way, April was the first one who had shown him that not everything would be like how it was in McKinley. Sure, she gave alcohol to a minor – it was probably more like poison than alcohol to be honest – and she was a more or less misguided individual who had been seeking his approval in order to guiltlessly relive her glory days, but she had given it to him with the intent of bolstering his confidence. She'd given him something that provided him strength to face the day to day, even if it did completely backfire a few days later with him vomiting all over Ms. Pillsbury's neat shoes.
That was not to mention what she'd given him that lasted: the vintage muscle magazines that he currently held. She'd just handed them over, as if she figured they were something he could enjoy more than her and for that reason she'd wanted him to have them. He'd kept them all this time, Kurt thought as he traced a finger over the cover model's two-dimensional pectorals.
He didn't think that he'd gotten the satisfaction out of them that April had intended for him to, though. He'd locked his door and cautiously flipped through the pages, blushing furiously to himself as he did so. After self-consciously flipping through every page with meticulous care to inspect every specimen as if he were conducting a scientific investigation, he'd pushed them under his bed as far as they'd disappear, so that his father would never find them. He hadn't quite had the confidence to gain any monumental pleasure from them, but he hadn't tossed them away either. He'd actually forgotten about them for the two years they'd been hidden away.
He was just about to flip one open – for the sake of continued scientific observation, of course – when a clatter against the window glass made him jump almost out of his skin. Heart pounding, Kurt immediately realized what must have happened, for this wasn't the first time. He hastily restacked the magazines and shoved them halfheartedly back under his bed before stumbling over to the window and cracking it open.
"You know, you could ring the doorbell like a normal person," Kurt said, looking down at Blaine, who stood below his window with a handful of pebbles. "I already told you that there isn't anyone home to hear it. You almost gave me a heart attack, I thought I was about to be assaulted by a night prowler."
"A seven-o'clock-in-the-evening prowler?" Blaine asked, grinning up at him. "Sorry, it's habit!" Kurt flushed as he thought about just how many times Blaine had snuck into his room by such a method. "And anyways, I think it's more romantic this way. Don't you? It's like Romeo and Juliet! But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east and Kurt is the sun! Arise fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief! Something, something, eyes and a gloved cheek! No, that isn't right…"
Kurt laughed indulgently and rested his head on the window frame. "I was about to be really impressed that you knew those words before you botched them," he informed Blaine, leaning up to his screen as much as he could without accidentally popping it out of the window. "And I never did understand why people want to compare their love to Romeo and Juliet's. Don't they realize that they were both idiots who ended up being dead? I'd much rather stay alive with you."
"Are you going to let me in or do I have to beg?"
Kurt's mouth twitched up in a smile. "Come around to the back door. I'll be there in a second." Shaking his head at how easily entertainment filtered through any conversation with Blaine, Kurt quickened his pace as he skipped down the stairs and through the kitchen to open the back door.
"That was quick," he commented as he motioned Blaine in, gently grabbing the front of his shirt to pull him closer for a swift kiss.
"I drove fast," Blaine said with a smirk. "It's your own fault. I think you say things sometimes without realizing how hot they are."
"Oh, I realized," Kurt said, looking over his shoulder to shoot Blaine a smoldering glance as he led him up the stairs. "I know how to utilize my advantage when I need to."
Blaine grumbled something indistinct but didn't say anything until they reached Kurt's room. "Hmm, you invite me over and usher me directly into your room?" Blaine asked, flopping down onto Kurt's mattress. "I don't suppose you're planning on taking advantage of me?"
When Kurt glanced over at him, he flipped over onto his back and spread his legs and arms out starfish-style, making Kurt snort in surprise. "You don't look too put out about that prospect," he commented lightly. He turned back toward his iPod and squinted at it as he flicked through the selections. "So, I was thinking that maybe we could start practicing early for duets this year? Mr. Schuester is almost painfully predictable, so I'm guessing that they'll be coming up some time soon. I heard Finn singing along to Captain Von Trapp's part in "Something Good", so I suspect that Rachel is even more ahead than we are in this pre-planning thing. It figures that she would want to get absolutely every Maria in the history of theatre into her repertoire. I'm thinking that we could definitely beat them if we sing something from RENT. "I'll Cover You" would be the obvious choice, but it would be hilariously shocking if we sung "Take Me or Leave Me", don't you think? Then I'll prove my absolute theatre obsession by tossing "Sometime Do You Think We Could Fall in Love?" from Zanna, Don't! into the mix. I doubt anyone else would know it but it would certainly be original. And if this happens to turn into a dance party…so be it. There's really nothing you can…"
Blaine's conspicuous silence suddenly struck Kurt, making him look up from his iPod. "You're awfully quiet. What are you…?" His eyes widened when he saw what was in Blaine's hands. "Ah," he commented uncertainly. "I can explain…"
Blaine's amber eyes flicked from the magazines in his hands to Kurt, and back down again. Slowly, a smile began to form on his lips. "Kurt…"
"I didn't even know they were there! I mean, I knew they were there, obviously. Uh…I knew of their general existence but I totally forgot about them until just now when I was cleaning. I don't…take them out or anything, and…oh God." Kurt leaned his forehead into his palm, realizing that he'd just talked himself in an unconvincing circle.
"Kurt, you're blushing!" Blaine exclaimed, reminding Kurt starkly of another embarrassing conversation they'd had with Blaine sitting on his bed. "What on Earth are you embarrassed about? This is awesome! You have a weird sexy kink! Does this mean I have to start going to the gym more often?"
"It isn't a kink!" Kurt defended himself, mortified at the thought. "Somebody gave them to me." He waved away Blaine's inquiring expression. "It's a long story. Suffice it to say that she gave me likely illicit, bathtub made God-knows-what and loaded my arms with muscle magazines before sending my poor, confused sophomore self drunkenly on my way."
Blaine stared at Kurt with disbelief. "Who are you?" he asked, flipping open the top magazine. "Definitely not the Kurt Hummel I know. Maybe you're the same one that thought the gay bar was a good idea."
Kurt groaned and rolled his eyes. "Don't even bring it up," he said ruefully, taking steps toward Blaine, who had started flipping through the magazine. "And what on Earth do you think you're doing?"
"Looking," Blaine said casually, adjusting himself against Kurt's pillows and crossing his ankles. "Don't tell me you didn't look." He shot Kurt a grin, and from the victorious tone that it soon adopted, he was willing to bet that his face gave more than a little away. "Mhmm, that's what I thought."
Kurt spun in silent, conflicted circles for several moments before giving way to temptation and curling himself up against Blaine's side, tucking himself into the circle of Blaine's arms and leaning his head on his shoulder. "You're a wicked temptress," Kurt commented, tilting his head to kiss Blaine's jaw lightly. "Not in a bad way, it's worth mentioning."
"Wow," Blaine said, flipping to a page of a frighteningly handsome – not to mention extremely muscled – brunette man. "Steve Reeves…that sounds familiar…"
"Rocky Horror," Kurt said suddenly, the source coming to him out of nowhere. "We could take in an old Steve Reeves movie."
"Right! That makes so much more sense now. Dear God, look at his chest. That's almost frightening. You know Kurt, his hair kind of looks like yours."
Kurt felt a sudden touch against the shell of his ear, and he realized that Blaine was burying his face into his hair. "You are so lucky the day is over," he commented lightly, turning into Blaine and wrapping an arm around his waist. "I don't know…he isn't my style. Here, look at this one." Kurt took the magazine, surprised that he actually remembered any of it, and flipped to a page a bit more than halfway through.
"Mark Nixon." Blaine took the magazine back and read off of the caption at the bottom of the page Kurt had flipped to. "Kurt, he's blonde."
"I like blondes," Kurt said, the confession fading off into an unconquerable bout of giggles that had him pressing his face into Blaine's shirt to attempt to squash away his laughter.
"Great," Blaine said weakly. "Perfectly coiffed blonde models with perfect faces and hot bodies. Uh…duly noted."
Noting the change in Blaine's tone, Kurt perched his chin on Blaine's chest and stared up at him. "But I still haven't told you my absolute number one turn-on."
"Do I want to know?" Blaine said uncertainly.
"Oh yes," Kurt said quickly. He walked his fingers from Blaine's side up to the collar of his shirt, which he grabbed and pulled forward until their lips met gently. Kurt lingered there for a long moment, tongue lazily flicking out and tracing Blaine's top lip before he drew away conspiratorially. "Promise not to tell?" His fingers slid up Blaine's neck, over his jaw, across his cheek, and to his hair. Small smile cracking into a genuine grin, Kurt ruffled up Blaine's hair, breaking up the gel that held it in place and allowing his curls to spring free of their confines. "Ebony…curls," he whispered, lips brushing against Blaine's ear. "Wait a minute. I think I happen to have someone that fits the bill right here, in my bed."
Blaine chuckled bashfully and looked away. "Kurt…"
"What? It's true!" Not looking away from Blaine's amber gaze, Kurt reached up and took the magazine from Blaine's hand. Without another look at it, he tossed it off the bed and to the floor. "Forget about the stupid magazine. That was so long ago." His mouth twisted mischievously. "Anyway, who needs a silly magazine when they have the most beautiful boyfriend in the world?"
Blaine's bottom lip disappeared between his teeth as he bit it lightly, but Kurt could tell that he was trying not to smile too widely or look too pleased with himself. Instead of saying anything, he tipped his chin upward, kissing Kurt with a slow sweetness that made him sure he meant one hundred percent of what he'd told Blaine.
Just as Kurt pushed deeper into their kiss and his hand begun to stray to the bottom hem of Blaine's shirt, Blaine broke away from him giggling. "Uh…what?" Kurt asked. He didn't figure that it was a good sign when your boyfriend started laughing madly at the beginning of a potentially productive night.
"Nothing, nothing," Blaine said, gasping and trying to regain his composure. "I just still can't believe you keep muscle magazines under your bed."
Kurt groaned helplessly and let his head fall against Blaine's shoulder as he joined in on the laughter. "Next time I have something to hide I'll make sure I push it under my bed properly."
"Next time?" Blaine said, lifting an eyebrow and surveying Kurt curiously. "Hmm…what exactly might these 'next time' things entail?"
"Mmm, all sorts of secret things," Kurt murmured, pressing his lips to Blaine's again.
"Things that only I'll get to see?"
"Things exactly like that," Kurt affirmed, lifting a hand to trace a delicate path along Blaine's jawline.
"In that case," Blaine said, with a smile. With a playful noise, and a little squeak of surprise from Kurt, Blaine rolled up toward Kurt and quickly turned them around until his body was pressing Kurt's into the mattress. Kurt grinned wickedly at him and shook his head slightly. From the look of it, their night would turn out to be very productive indeed.