Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, English is not my native language, and there's going to be a lot of fluff.
AN: This has been chilling in my writing folder for entirely too long, so I've decided to skim through it and post it, because there's never enough fluff these days. I didn't have a beta, so if the mistakes get too glaring, I'm really sorry, but I've tried my best to catch them all. Also, I have the next installments already written, so despite my horrible tendencies, this won't get abandoned. One last thing, IMPORTANT one, seeing as this is the first part in the series and each of them is going to focus on a different stage in Kurt and Blaine's relationship, in this one, they're just platonic. Or, well, as platonic as they get.
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The halls buzz with muffled conversations, but they still seem uncharacteristically quiet. As Kurt rounds corner after corner, making his way through the maze that are Dalton's level corridors, he feels out of place. The school still seems unfamiliar, despite it being his third week here. He feels like a lone stranger, sailing over the waves of routine and normalcy, trying to tame them and failing. It's not that he doesn't like Dalton, really. It's just completely new and different to McKinley in so many ways that it still sometimes makes his head spin.
The architecture is stunning. There's no competition between the marble halls and the grey lino back at McKinley. The teachers are more competent. For the first time in three years, he's had to study for a French test the previous day. And it shouldn't shock Kurt the way it does, but the kids are nice, too. Not fake-nice or scheming-nice, but sincerely so.
Kurt still catches himself flinching sometimes, when he hears a louder grumble behind his back or when another student runs by him. He keeps expecting an insult, a catcall, a shove, and when they don't come, he always has to remind himself that this is reality, now. It feels surreal, but the best kind of surreal there is. Every time he realizes that he doesn't have to choose his clothes depending on which outfit hides his locker bruises the best anymore, the relief is absolutely overwhelming.
Sure, he misses his friends. It's the worst part, along with the annoying, nagging thought that he ran away. He has to wear a uniform now. And he can't neglect school anymore. Every day he has to drive home to Lima, he barely gets to sing much else than back up vocals for the Warblers. But every time he feels that relief, when a student raises his hand to high five him, or one of the Warblers compliments his performance, it's all worth it.
He makes his way to the large double door leading to the cafeteria. It's lunch break, but the room is far from stacked. Some of the tables are even empty and he considers going for the nearest one, when a familiar face catches his eye and a smile spreads on his face.
As if on cue, Blaine looks up from the book on his table, returning Kurt's own fond gaze and waving him over. He collects the piles of books and stationary he has spread out across the small rounded table and makes room for him, immediately closing the book he was reading.
"Hey," Kurt greets him once he settles on the stool across from Blaine, folding his blazer over it and putting his messenger bag on the floor.
"Hey yourself," Blaine says with a charming smile that never ceases to give Kurt butterflies. He reaches for an abandoned glass of water on his right and looks at the piles he had just assembled somewhat critically. "Sorry for the mess, I was just trying to finish my calculus homework."
"Oh, no need to apologize," Kurt reassures him quickly, adding a shrug. "In fact, you can continue your war with the numbers if you want to get it out of the way. I mean – I can sit elsewhere." He suggests half-heartedly, ready to move seats, but frozen in place at the same time.
"What makes you think I was fighting with the numbers?" Blaine dismisses his suggestion with a brief but pointed shake of his head and Kurt catches his lips twitching.
"Maybe the way you were murdering the textbook with your gaze," he says with a playful eye-roll.
"I wasn't murdering it. I was merely begging it to start making sense," Blaine replies lightly and his eyes lock with Kurt's. He feels the rush of blood, going straight to his face, coloring his neck, extending to his shoulders, but he can't bring himself to look away, getting lost in the warm and the hazel. Blaine breaks the eye contact first, shaking his head just the tiniest bit and grinning.
While Kurt's crush on Blaine is growing stronger every day, he hates him a little for the way he makes the crushing grow stronger so easily. A pat on the back here and a brief handhold there, he tries to think of him as a friend and a mentor, but fails sooner than he can start.
"Maybe if you hadn't spent all night watching What Not to Wear reruns, you would have paid more attention in class and then we wouldn't be having this problem," Kurt says once he deems it appropriate to break the silence.
"You don't get to act all superior just because you fell asleep by the third episode," Blaine scolds him mockingly.
"It's not my fault that you're such a lousy watching partner. Half the fun in watching reality TV are the jokes and comments it prompts, and you were so quiet that I thought the phone went dead at one point," Kurt says just as dramatically.
"I was sulking," Blaine throws in, offended. "You said that if I bought lilac capris, you wouldn't want to be friends with me anymore."
"Blaine, I'm a very tolerant person, but I draw the line at lilac pants," Kurt retorts sharply and they both burst into laughter.
They talk a bit, afterwards. Despite them both being at the same school now, the conflicting schedules take their toll and if they don't agree to meet after school, which, to be fair, they do a lot, they can't do a lot of talking directly at Dalton.
Twenty minutes, three hot celebrity topics, two brand new Dalton gossip items and one quoted awful Rachel line later, Blaine fidgets and looks at his wrist watch uncertainly. He reaches for the lousily organized stacks of books and throws them into his bag, cringing at the painful thump.
"Don't you want to get something to eat? There's still time," he prompts once the table is devoid of the mess.
"I was thinking of grabbing something after school, actually," Kurt says, looking at his own watch with concern. The sight makes him frown. "I have to talk to Ms. Hill before next period; she wants to make sure I understand the way her assignments work."
Blaine nods, though his eyes wander towards the counters in the back of the room. He looks at Kurt and then back at the counters and it's starting to get weird and suspicious, but then he actually says something. "How many periods do you have left?"
Kurt quickly checks the timetable in his head, freshly learned, and answers. "History and Biology, then I'm free to go my own way." He sort of, kind of, vaguely thinks he knows where Blaine is going with this, but shoots the idea down before he can get too invested in it.
"Would you mind me tagging along?" Blaine asks finally and Kurt does a little mental victory dance, because maybe he's not as bad at picking up signals and analyzing people as he was starting to think he was.
"Of course not," he says sincerely, shaking his head for good measure. "The cafeteria food can get quite repetitive."
Blaine flicks him a grateful smile and downs the rest of the water in his glass.
It suits Kurt, this casualness. Sometimes he gets flustered or embarrassed and he could swear sometimes even Blaine's cheeks are redder than usual, but most times they're really comfortable with each other. In spite of knowing one another for less than two months, it feels longer. Kurt wouldn't normally even notice how short of a period it is, if it wasn't for the moments when one of them brings up something from the past like it's obvious, only to have to explain it to the other when the realization hits.
Although Kurt's pretty sure his feelings are slowly crossing the friends line, he thinks he could be content with this. This friendship and companionship and understanding he's found in Blaine. And it feels stable… and calming.
"I know this great place halfway to Lima, called the Lima Bean. It's a coffee shop but they sell the best marble cake I've ever eaten," Blaine says and makes Kurt realize he's got lost in his thoughts yet again.
"I think that's just because you haven't tried mine yet, but I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt," Kurt retorts easily.
"I'm definitely all for investigating this claim further, but meanwhile, does it suit you to meet me at three by the parking lot?" Blaine asks and Kurt's really grateful for his straight forwardness, otherwise he would be able to sit here and talk for minutes upon minutes.
"I'll be there," he promises with a playful wink, which scores him a wide grin from Blaine.
He stands up, stretching out his back a little and putting on the navy blazer. It feels a bit like armor, covering his front while giving his insides time to heal properly. Kurt hopes that with more time passed, he will soon start feeling just as sure and fearless without it.
He's reaching for the messenger bag when he hears it.
"See you later, alligator," Blaine says, all white teeth and sparkly eyes and Kurt just can't bring his face to exude the proper amount of judgment.
"I can get on board with the slicked hair and your casual attire, but now you even speak like you're from the fifties and I don't know what to think," Kurt admits sincerely.
"How about you think about what the suitable response might be?" Blaine prompts him, positively glowing.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Kurt says, his disapproving gaze faltering under the weight of his own smile.
"Come on, Kurt," Blaine drawls out. Once he sees his words don't have any effect on him, he surrenders; his face turns dark in record time, like somebody has turned off the power. "What's so difficult about saying 'after a while, crocodile'?" he asks with mock seriousness.
"As your friend, I'm really sorry to shatter your illusions, but Blaine, normal people don't say stuff like that because," he dramatically takes a gulp of breath, "it's lame."
Blaine shakes his head, but smiles at him, and he shakes his head and smiles at Blaine, and then he catches himself turning around and heading out of the cafeteria. "See you at three, then," he says as he throws one last glance at Blaine.
"Take care, Teddy Bear," he hears in response and he wants to stop in his tracks and scold Blaine and hug Blaine and kiss him at the same time but he just keeps going, the smile he wears splitting his face in half.
He's glad that once he's out of the cafeteria, there's no one on the corridor and he can let at least one of his giggles escape. They've been a tickling presence in the back of his throat for a while and even though he immediately feels embarrassed afterwards, it feels good to let them go. It feels good to be happy.