Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey! I wrote this just after whatever episode Kurt sent his NYADA application off (think it was I Kissed A Girl...? Haven't really enjoyed this season much, to be honest, yet can't really remember half the episodes...) because the bit where Kurt is sitting there holding the envelope with Blaine leaning over him inspired me. It's been up on my Tumblr and Livejournal for forever but just forgot to actually post it here... whoops. (Tumblr and LJ under the same username if anyone is interested)
This is really angst filled, by the way. You know me. Yes, there will be a sequel.
Reviews are always much appreciated :3 thank you!
"I can't open it, Kurt. You open it."
Shoving the smooth, white envelope into Kurt's hands, Blaine pulled back with a downward gaze as he wrapped his arms tightly around his own body. The envelope had fallen with a gentle 'pat' on the doormat in the morning as Kurt was out at work. Having his day off, Blaine had planned to catch up on some work that was needed for a deadline next week and to practice for a performance that he'd been booked for in a bar that weekend, but instead had spent the whole afternoon wearing down the floorboards in the hall by pacing by the front door, impatient for Kurt's return.
They'd been waiting years for this letter to arrive at their door and into their lives but now... it was all just so ominous.
The 'New York Office of Children and Family Services' stamp sat officially and boldly in the corner of the envelope as Kurt clutched the letter tightly in both hands, crumpling its strong exterior. Kurt and Blaine's future sat within this letter, their whole lives in the palm of their hands. As he still gazed down at his feet, Blaine thought bitterly of how it was so easy for the people at the Department to give the tick or the cross for what was going to happen for them. How they were probably fathers with wives at home, young children running around their feet screaming as they tuned them out with their feet up in front of the television. That was all acceptable, yes. But change that wife to another husband and suddenly, everything was different. Everything's changed. There are no screaming kids, no cluttered toys in the hallway or on the stairs, threatening to trip as someone carries a laundry bin filled to the brim with little jumpers and babygros down them. There's that love though. There's still the love that two men (and even two women) can supply just as much as a heterosexual couple can.
But they're both of the same gender, so it must be wrong, right?
"I can't do it either, Blaine. What if it's a no? What if they don't choose us? What if we never get to have the family we've ever dreamed of?" Blaine could hear the hysteria bubbling up deep inside Kurt, threatening to spill over. Taking his hand in a gentle embrace, Blaine led him through to the lavishly decorated dining room, both taking a seat opposite each other.
They sat in silence for a little while. Just looking down at that bold, white envelope. Just hoping upon hope that there was good news inside it, a tick, a congratulations, a future. A chance for them to be what they'd always dreamed to be.
A family, complete with child.
"Blaine," his head snapped up from where it was gazing down at his nails worrying the skin of his cuticles. His eyes met watery blue and felt a hand slotting in between his own. "If this letter s-says... if the letter says no, we'll still be okay. We'll look at our other options. We were going to consider surrogacy, right? Your cousin Lilia offered and even Rachel has even offered up her womb for her favourite gays."
Blaine sniffled a laugh at Kurt's attempt to soften the situation. The Hummel humour, as ever. His fingers tightened around his husband's in return, knuckles turning white from the pressure of the grip.
"We moved from Ohio for a reason," Kurt continued, "Number one, because New York is a fabulous place and the job opportunities blah blah blah. Number two, for this." Kurt twisted Blaine's white gold wedding band around his ring finger, fingertips stroking softly at the skin around it. "New York is accepting. They're not going to decline us just because we're a homosexual couple, just like Ohio would... Would they?" Doubt flickered across his face once again, eyes willing Blaine to just comfort him or even lie to make him feel better. He was trying to be strong but he just... couldn't.
Getting up from the table, Blaine moved around to the other side to hug Kurt from behind, fingers entwining once again so their wedding rings clacked together.
"They won't. They'll judge us for us. Not for who we love," The pad of Blaine's thumb swiped over the back of his husband's hand, comforting. "B-but... But if we don't get this, we're still us. We're still going to be okay. We-we'll look over our options. We're going to have a kid. We're going to have a child that is ours."
Kurt turned his head to the side to capture Blaine's lips in a soft and loving kiss. This one felt special. This one felt just as strong as the one they'd first shared as a married couple. It screamed 'we're going to take care of eachother. We're going to be okay.'
"I love you," Kurt murmured lowly as they broke apart, his forehead pressed against Blaine's.
"I love you too. Forever."
"And always."
The sat/stood in silence for a few minutes longer, just held in eachother's embrace. They needed the strength, they needed the support. But everything was going to be okay.
Pulling away, Kurt dragged the envelope back closer to them, his fingers playing at the tab. The label 'Mr. and Mr. Hummel-Anderson' stared up at him from the front, a small smile playing across his lips. Everything was going to be okay.
"I'm opening it, Blaine. We can't leave it forever."
Blaine rose from his bent position over Kurt and straightened up, his hand coming to rest on the soft fabric of Kurt's cardigan between his shoulder blades. He gazed down at the envelope too, his eyes never leaving the paper as it shook from the tremble of Kurt's fingers. He would have helped Kurt to open it but his fingers were trembling just as hard and he couldn't find the effort to tear his hand away from where it was now twisted in Kurt's cardigan.
The wait was agonising as the paper was drawn from its enveloped confines, the endless amounts of text blurring as they tried to quickly pick out a word that summed up what their fate was going to be.
Whether or not their dreams would be fulfilled...
And by the looks of it, they wouldn't be.
Their hearts plummeted as they both took in the beginning of the very first sentence. Those words had never been good news and they certainly weren't now.
'With the deepest regrets, we're sorry to inform you that...'
So that was what heartbreak felt like.
Kurt sat in silence and stillness, reading and re-reading over the letter in case they'd gotten in wrong, in case they hadn't understood correctly. He knew he was kidding himself, he knew that this meant that they hadn't been accepted.
They weren't being allowed to adopt a child.
Blaine rubbed at Kurt's back, his fingers shaking as he worked over the material. He gazed down at the letter too but wasn't really reading it. Everything had just come crashing down all around them and it just hurt, so damn much...
They didn't cry. Not yet.
Pushing away from the table, Kurt rose from his chair, envelope and letter scrunched tightly in his palm. It felt so much more than that in his hand. It was their hopes and dreams, crumpled up into a heap and damaged beyond repair.
"I'm going to put the dinner on."
And at that, he stalked from the room, dumping the letter in the bin by the door. Blaine could hear his footsteps move away through the house, the slam of kitchen cupboards and the faint sounds of sniffles. Screwing up his face in pain, Blaine finally allowed himself to break down, his arms wrapped tightly around his stomach as he doubled over. It hurt, it hurt so fucking much. That was all he could focus on, the pain in his chest where his heart used to be, as he sunk to the floor, his head coming to rest with a thunk on the table leg.
The distant sounds of Kurt crying in the kitchen. His own wails of despair. The pitter patter of tiny feet that his imagination had cruelly conjured up for him. It was all he could hear. And the pain was all he could feel. And as sobs wracked through his body and tears slipped down his face, Blaine wondered if they would ever feel whole again.