Title: I Want You To Be [1/?]
Rating: R (eventually maybe?)
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine (eventually), AU
Warning(s): mild language
Disclaimer: I do not own!
Author's Note: This is my first attempt at writing Glee fanfic, and I am notoriously bad at finishing multi part stories. However, I have a good idea of where this is going to go, and if I get any sort of response I can guarantee that I will do my damndest to complete this in a reasonable amount of time. I know there is nothing more hated out there in the interweb that an unfinished fic. Also I am without a beta.
AU: Kurt and Blaine never dated, but remained friends through high school.
Blaine knew something was wrong before Kurt even spoke. Silence crackled over the phone, punctuated by the occasional careful breath.
"Kurt?" Blaine prompted.
"I can't go to school in New York."
...
August 2013
Kurt stood in the middle of Blaine's room, hands planted on his hips in a classic Kurt what am I supposed to do with you, Blaine Warbler Anderson expression on his face. He deliberately arched one eyebrow. Blaine wondered how long Kurt must have practiced in the mirror to get that precise snark to adorableness ratio, but quickly suppressed that thought.
"Blaine."
"Yes, Kurt?" Blaine replied meekly from his spot, sitting cross-legged in the middle of his bed.
"This ..." Kurt paused to give Blaine a thoroughly disgusted look before surveying the disaster zone that was his room. "This is your idea of being packed?"
"Um ... I somehow feel that this may be a trick question." Blaine tried for one of his patented showman grins, but hurriedly tried to school his expression to one of proper respect and decorum as Kurt's snark level skyrocketed from around a 6.5 to a 10. Kurt sniffed.
"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response."
"You just did." Shit. Wait. Did I just say that? Blaine winced instinctively. Ok, yes, here it comes. Snark has now become a thing of the past. We have progressed beyond eyebrow raises. Kurt's gaze could now literally boil solid rock.
"No, Kurt, please don't say anything," stuttered Blaine, "I know, I know, I'm the biggest asshole you've ever met, you came over to do me a favor and all I'm doing is getting in your way." Blaine sighed in relief when he saw the corners of Kurt's mouth start to quirk.
"Well, the first step is always admitting you have a problem." Kurt was smiling for real now with that oddly endearing way he had of not showing any teeth. "And I wouldn't necessarily grant you the title of the biggest asshole that I've ever met. I saw Christian Bale in a hair salon once, you know." Blaine looked at him skeptically.
"You did not."
"Are you calling me a liar, Blaine Anderson?" And oh look, the death and destruction laser eyes of doom have returned. But Blaine had known Kurt for 2 1/2 years now and was not about to let a little thing like threats of bodily disembowelment deter him.
"You're trying to tell me that you saw Christian Bale, Hollywood rebel, Bat freaking Man Christian Bale, in a hair salon in Ohio."
"I never said I was in Ohio." Kurt began moving around the room picking up discarded sheet music and socks and beginning to sort the chaos into neat piles. "On our way back to the hotel from breakfast at Tiffany's when we were in New York, Rachel and I passed bat freaking boy getting his grey hairs dyed."
"Batman, Kurt. Batman." Blaine looked pained. Kurt waved an elegant hand and continued his crusade to mortally injure Blaine's bowties by stuffing them all in a bag.
"Whatever. My point is you have stiff competition for the title." Blaine crossed the room quickly to rescue his accessories from their undeserved punishment. He ignored the almost forgotten flutter in his chest as his fingers lightly brushed by Kurt's as he took hold of the bag. Hazel eyes met blue as he smiled.
"In my defense, I never actually said I was packed. I said that I was mostly packed."
"Mostly, oh of course, my mistake," drawled Kurt. "You packed your guitar and three pairs of underwear and that constitutes being mostly packed. It's not like you're going away to college or anything. Who needs pants?" Blaine's smile turned into an outright grin.
"Kurt. That's what I've been saying for years."
...
Burt pulled up to the house and raised an eyebrow at the site of Kurt's Navigator, trunk open and overflowing, garment bags looking ready to burst out of both widows of the backseat. The owner of said garment bags was nowhere in sight.
"Kurt!" Burt called, striding into the house. There was no answer. Burt peered into the kitchen briefly on his way to the stairs when the sound of breathless voices made him stop dead in his tracks.
"Blaine. Blaine, please. I don't think it's going to fit." Burt couldn't help but feel his skin run cold at his son's words.
"Come on Kurt, don't you trust me?" There was a distinct wheedling tone to Blaine's voice that definitely set Burt's teeth on edge. "I've done this tons of times. I promise, I can make it fit." Burt could feel his blood pressure spiking.
"Well, if you're sure." Kurt's voice trailed off at the end only to be followed by a grunt and something that sounded way too much like a headboard hitting against the wall. That's it. Kurt may have spent an entire year away at college, living independently as an adult, but that did not give him to right to let anyone lay their hands on his little boy under his roof, let alone after using their slimy, weasely little words to convince his little boy to do something that he wasn't sure about. Burt reached the top of the stairs and flung open the door, eyes immediately falling on the two boys, faces flushed, sweaty tendrils of hair straggling into their eyes, panting with exertion ...
... as they both sat on a hopelessly stuffed suitcase struggling to get the latches to close. Two pairs of eyes flashed up at him, looking surprisingly guilty considering how the circumstances differed from the ones that Burt had envisioned finding them in.
"Dad! It's not what you think."
"You can say that again." Burt ruefully glanced at his son.
"I swear, all of the clothes in this suitcase are from last season. And absolutely none of them are McQueen. I would never treat McQueen like this." Kurt looked stricken at the very thought.
"Oh. Well that's all right then." Burt scratched under the edge of his baseball cap, still slightly unsure as to why both boys were looking at him like he caught them with their hands in the cookie jar, or down each other's pants, as it were. "Kurt. I feel for you kid, I really do. I know how important fashion is to you, but I think if you try and fit that suitcase in your car, Blaine is going to have to ride all the way to school on the roof." Kurt looked contemplative.
"Kurt. You cannot seriously be considering this. It's two and half hours to Oberlin." Blaine gave him his best puppy dog eyes. Kurt sighed and smoothed his hair, looking at the suitcase morosely.
"Well. I suppose I can make it until next weekend with what I already have packed." He sucked a corner of his mouth contemplatively. Now it was Burt's turn to interject.
"Wait. I didn't know you were planning on coming home next weekend. Going to miss your old man that much?" Kurt gave him a withering look.
"Dad. Of course I'm planning on coming home next weekend. I could only fit four pairs of Doc Martins in the trunk once Blaine packed his lifetime supply of hair gel."
"Of course." Blaine repeated, rolling his eyes fondly over his best friend's shoulder. Burt suppressed a smile.
"Kurt, why don't you go downstairs and make some coffee to take on the road. I want to make sure you're awake enough to make the drive after all of the problems you've faced packing." Kurt gave his father a slightly less intense annoyed look, but paused to kiss him on the cheek as he breezed by. Burt grinned at the remaining boy.
"Still sure you're ready to live with him?" Blaine rolled his eyes, but was grinning as well.
"Well, while I'm sure that we will make excellent roommates, I think my wardrobe is feeling a little more apprehensive."
...
"Kurt, what's going on? Why would you say that you can't go to New York all of a sudden?"
"It's my Dad." Kurt choked on the last word and Blaine felt his blood run cold.
"Oh, god. Did something happen, did he have another heart attack?"
"No, nothing like that." Kurt was quick to reassure him. "It's just ..." Kurt fell silent.
"It's ok, Kurt. You know that you can tell me anything."
"I keep having these dreams." Sniffle.
"Yeah?" Blaine prompted him gently when the silence ran on a little too long.
"These nightmares where I go, and I'm sitting in the middle of Times Square and I get this call. He's barely holding on, just waiting for me to get to his bedside so I can say goodbye. And I book the first flight I can, and I get to the airport faster that I thought possible, and when I get off the plane on the other side and turn my phone back on I see I have a missed call. It was my Dad. He realized that he couldn't hold on any longer. So he called to say goodbye. But I couldn't even answer, because I was on a damn flight." Kurt's last words degenerated into sobbing.
"Kurt." Blaine said gently as soon as he though his friend could hear him. "Your Dad is doing fine. He has Carole here to make sure he stays on track, and I'll watch out for him."
"I know." Kurt sniffed.
"And you know that your Dad wouldn't want you to give up on your dreams because of him. He believes in you Kurt. He knows that it's your fate in life to take the big city by storm. Whose supposed to star in the Kurt Hummel experience if you're stuck in Ohio?" Blaine's teasing elicited a small chuckle.
"Oh believe me, no one could replace me. That's not even a concern." Blaine smiled. "And I'm not saying that I'm ready to give up on my performance dreams. I'm not even saying that I'll never live in New York. It's just too soon." Kurt's voice ended in a plaintive note.
"I understand. And I'm sure you'll be just as fierce here at OSU as in any old performing arts school." Kurt's reply contained a little more of the classic Kurt gusto.
"Who said anything about OSU? What Blaine, you think New York has a monopoly on good music programs?"
"Enlighten me, oh wise one. What were you thinking?"
"Have you ever heard of Oberlin Conservatory?"
Author's Note: Welp. I apologize for any mistakes in the voices or grammar, as I said, it's my first attempt at a Glee fanfic and I am woefully unbetad.