What: Sometimes I write scenes that we didn't see from episodes. This is a snapshot vignette of Kurt and Blaine in the corridor during Prom Queen.
Summery: "They can't touch what we have."
—
"They can't touch what we have."
Blaine shifted forward a little; the cold press of the lockers behind him a sharp reminder that this moment was real. That the shine on his boyfriend's cheek wasn't make believe, was no trick of the light; he'd been crying — was, crying.
Kurt was sniffing, his head bowed. Shoulders round with humilation, despite his speech. Blaine reached out and stroked the side of his cheek and Kurt let out a watery sigh, leaning into the touch. "Hey," Kurt raised his eyes and Blaine's expression was very tender.
It made something catch in Kurt's chest.
"I think you're going to look great in that crown." Kurt let out a brittle laugh, and Blaine's dark eyes gleamed. The corner of his mouth twitched, drawing upward at the edge a little. He used his hand on Kurt's face as an anchor, and drew him closer; knees skidding together.
Kurt's fingers grappled, clung to an elbow; Blaine's lapel.
"Your suit is going to be a ruin," he whispered; his forehead resting against his boyfriend's shoulder. Kurt could feel the vibration of Blaine's body as he laughed, feel his breath against his hair. The hint of the flowers they both wore; cologne he knew Blaine had worn just because Kurt loved the way it made his neck smell when he buried it there.
"Well it's a rental anyway and I got it for half price." The ridiculous note of pride in his voice, coupled with the fact that Kurt knew he only received it in lieu of his father's friendship with Lorenzo at the Tuxedo store made Kurt smile even though his mouth felt stretched and unsure.
Ugh, he bet he got premature wrinkles just from his stupid junior Prom.
"Blaine Warbler you are a heathen," he muttered and drew back a little to look at his face. Blaine's hands tightened where they rested around him and as Kurt studied his face, Blaine put a hand on his cheek and kissed him.
Just once; slow and burning and sweet.
He tasted the salt of Kurt's tears and his thumb erased the reminants of a track one had left on his skin. "You love it," he murmured, his smile somehow tredding the line between teasing and tender.
Then it was just tender.
Kurt opened his eyes.
There was that moment again; the precipace; the line drawn by that word, even uttered in passing. They were both a little terrified by it and the way staring at one another in a empty corridor just made it … more. Stronger.
Important.
Blaine seemed willing to wait, seemed almost ready to - "Kurt, I-" he invited the leap but Kurt shook his head a little quickly, his fingers brushing over Blaine's mouth to hush what he knew had been inevitable since day one.
"Not yet." His eyes searched Blaine's for understanding. "I can't … not with what's happened. I don't want my memory of you saying that associated with all the hate in there." A beat, he watched as Blaine looked down; away.
Kurt's heart ached when he couldn't read his expression any longer.
"Please."
He begged quietly, and when he looked back, Blaine's eyes were once again dark and warm. He'd put the moment aside. "I understand, Kurt. I do." Kurt drew a little breath, and leaned back on himself; straightening his spine.
Blaine took a packet of tissues from a pocket; held one out.
"Are you ready for this?"