Kurt 1, Blaine 1
"C'mon, I'll buy you lunch," Blaine offers, squeezing Kurt's shoulder gently.
Kurt's struck by how strange it feels for a guy to be touching him, even platonically. He hadn't realized how much he missed that friendly contact until he lost it the year he started middle school and his peers started to recognize just how different he was from all the hormonal, girl-obsessed guys in his classes. It was a lonely existence, leaving him feeling like he had leprosy or some other horrible communicable disease. But Blaine didn't recoil when Kurt tapped him on the shoulder at Dalton Academy. On the contrary, he'd taken him by the hand and led him to where The Warblers were performing like it was the most natural thing in the world. Kurt has spent years being so thoroughly rejected and bullied that Blaine's casual invitation to lunch has him so flustered that he doesn't even know how to reply.
Instead, he's left panting and still trying to come down from the attack, his heart racing with a potent mixture of adrenaline, fear, and exhilaration at being in such close proximity to the cutest, most valiant boy he's ever met.
"Hey, are you okay?" Blaine presses, looking at him with obvious concern.
"I... think so?" Kurt finally replies, his wobbly voice betraying his anxiety. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, of course. Why wouldn't I be?" Blaine huffs out a laugh. He stands and offers a hand to Kurt to pull his to his feet.
"He shoved you into the fence pretty hard," Kurt points out. He waits for Blaine to let go of his hand, but instead he just threads their fingers together as he leads them down the bleacher steps and towards the parking lot where Blaine's car is parked.
"Yeah, but you shoved him back and away from me almost immediately," Blaine adds, giving his hand a quick squeeze. "Thanks for that, by the way."
"It was nothing," Kurt says modestly, blushing. "I just didn't want you to get hurt."
"And here I thought I was going to be the one doing the saving. That was pretty stupid of me, huh?" Blaine sighs.
"No, it's not stupid," Kurt starts to object. Blaine shoots him a skeptical look. "Well okay, yeah, it was stupid, but also brave. It's not something that most people would be willing to do for someone like me, after all."
"What do you mean someone like you?" Blaine asks, stopping dead in his tracks. He turns to face Kurt with an unreadable expression on his face, his forehead crinkled with worry.
"It's not important," Kurt murmurs, trying to shrug it off.
"It is to me, okay?" Blaine tells him, staring directly into his eyes. Kurt finds it hard to suppress a shiver at the intensity of his gaze.
"Okay," is all he manages in response, swallowing hard.
"By someone like me did you mean gay?" Blaine finally asks.
"Gay, different, a loser, a kid who gets bullied a lot because he refuses to conform – all of the above, really. Pick your poison," Kurt scoffs with more than a trace of bitterness.
"You don't deserve this, Kurt. No one does," Blaine insists. "And there's absolutely nothing wrong with being gay."
"Yeah well, try telling that to the kids at McKinley. Even the teachers seem to think I should just keep my head down and stop wearing, saying, or doing anything that makes me stick out and I'll be fine, as if that's fair. Hell, even my friends won't stand up to the people who are bullying me, so..." Kurt looks down at his feet, tugging at the hem of his jacket nervously. He can feel his eyes prickling with unshed tears, but he won't let them fall. He's already been humiliated enough for one day.
"Hey, look at me," Blaine requests softly.
Kurt takes a shuddering breath but doesn't meet Blaine's gaze. He's terrified of seeing rejection or pity in those impossibly wide, hazel eyes. He doesn't think he could bear it if this last source of hope, this lifeline, was extinguished.
"Kurt," Blaine tries again, reaching out and tilting his chin up so he can make direct eye contact. "Listen, I meant what I said before. I know what it's like to feel this way. There was a point in my life when I honestly felt like my life wasn't worth living, but then I got the chance to start over at Dalton and it literally saved my life. I want you to have that same opportunity. I know tuition is steep, but I'm sure we can work something out. There are a lot of scholarships available or maybe we could talk to the headmaster about-"
The rest of his sentence is cut off by Kurt launching himself into his arms. Blaine winds an arm around his waist to hold him close, hugging back. "Thank you," Kurt whispers. "Just... thank you."
"You're welcome. And I meant what I said, okay? We'll figure it out. You need to be somewhere safe and with people who really care about you."
Kurt pulls back, sheepishly wiping a fallen tear from his cheek as he looks at Blaine. "When you say people who care about me, did you mean...?"
"I meant me, yes. I do care about you, Kurt," Blaine promises him.
"I... don't even know what to say," Kurt manages, momentarily speechless. "How do you thank someone for basically saving your life?"
"Hey, you faced down your bully for me today too. Maybe we're meant to save each other's lives?" Blaine suggests.
The sense of certainty that washes over Kurt at Blaine's words is so strong that it takes his breath away. "I think you might be right about that."
Kurt 14, Blaine 13
"Kurt? Where are you? Are you close?" Blaine gasps urgently into the phone.
"I'm like a block away. Why? Is everything okay?"
"I'm basically a dead man, shit," he babbles.
"What? Are you hurt? Do I need to call an ambulance?"
"No no, god, sorry. I just – um – did something kind of stupid and I'm pretty sure when Santana gets back to the loft she's going to kill me. But I swear it was an accident and I didn't mean to, I didn't even notice that it was in there until I-"
"Blaine, stop," Kurt interjects. "Just breathe, okay? It's going to be fine. I'll be home in a second. Just go into our room in case she makes it home before I do, alright?"
"Maybe I should hide in the closet? Just to be extra safe? I think I might," Blaine rambles.
Kurt laughs despite himself. "Okay honey, you do that. I'll know where to find you. See you soon."
Kurt enters the apartment a few minutes later, relieved to see that the loft is quiet and still. There's no telltale trail of blood leading to his bedroom either, so Kurt assumes that he managed to beat Santana home. He slides open the curtain that separates his and Blaine's shared bedroom from the rest of the apartment. He snickers a little as he can see Blaine nervously pacing back and forth through the partially open closet door.
"Kurt?" Blaine calls out in a tremulous voice. "Is that you?"
"Yes, it's me, silly. The coast is clear. You can come out now," he announces, beckoning for Blaine.
"I'm such an idiot," Blaine groans as he sheepishly makes his way over to the bed where Kurt is sitting, flopping down onto it dejectedly.
"Yeah, but you're my idiot," Kurt tells him. "Looks like you could use a hug."
"I could use like a million hugs. Or maybe you should just kiss me because this will probably be the last chance you'll ever get to kiss your fiancé since Santana is going to murder me," Blaine sighs, letting his head slump to Kurt's shoulder.
"I'll protect you," he promises and kisses Blaine's temple. "Now, tell me what you did."
"Um, how about I just show you?" Blaine offers. Reluctantly, he withdraws a piece of pink knit material from behind his back.
"Oh god, please tell me that's not..." Kurt trails off, horror-struck.
Blaine passes it over to him and then puts his head in his hand. "Yes, it is. The Chanel white cashmere sweater that Santana's abuela gave her for Christmas just months before she decided disown her for being gay," he murmurs glumly.
"How did you – why did you?" Kurt manages, mind racing.
"I guess it somehow ended up in my laundry hamper? I have no idea why or how, but I was washing a bunch of my polos. As you've pointed out, I wear a lot of red, so they bled all over the white fabric and now it's pink. And to make matters worse, it's cashmere which is dry clean only to begin with so it shrunk in the dryer too. Basically, it's ruined!" Blaine wails. "The sweater's been discontinued, I already checked, so I can't even replace it."
"Well, fuck," Kurt groans. Blaine shoots him a panicked look, seeming on the verge of tears.
"I'll fix it," Kurt reassures him. "I'm not going to let her hurt you."
"But how? How can you fix it?" Blaine asks.
"I work at Vogue. I'll just have to offer her something really good as a trade off. Something couture, maybe? We have tons of samples. Isabelle loves me, I'm sure she'll cut me a good deal on something we've already photographed for the issue. Worst case scenario, she can take the cost out of my paycheck," Kurt decides. It's the best he can do on short notice, but hopefully it'll be enough.
"But there's also the sentimental value of the sweater because it came from her grandmother and now they aren't speaking. Oh god, oh god, what if she kills you?"
Kurt grabs Blaine by both shoulders, stilling his body. "Okay babe, do you trust me?"
He takes a shuddering breath and then nods, gazing up into Kurt's eyes. "With my life."
"Well good, because my life might literally be on the line tonight," Kurt chuckles darkly. "But I need you to stop stressing and just let me handle it, alright?"
"Are you sure? You don't have to take this bullet for me if you don't want to," Blaine rambles apologetically.
"I'm positive. I've had more practice at going toe to toe with Santana than you have. But you can't be here when she gets home. She'll literally smell the fear on you and attack almost immediately," Kurt explains. "Can you go over to Sam and Artie's for awhile?"
"Doesn't it make me a bad husband-to-be if I'm abandoning you in your hour of need?" Blaine worries his lower lip between his teeth.
"A good fiancé would do what he's told," Kurt points out, punctuating the statement with a wink so that Blaine knows he's (mostly) kidding.
"God, I love you so much," Blaine breathes, standing on tiptoes to plant a quick kiss on Kurt's lips. "You are seriously saving my life."
"No kidding, and for what – the tenth time?" Kurt jokes.
"Fourteenth time," Blaine answers automatically.
"...fourteen? You've actually been keeping track?" he gapes.
"Yes?" Blaine shrugs helplessly. "I like to know these things."
"Ooh, does that mean I'm winning?" Kurt lights up.
"You are now. Up until today, we were tied, but this will put you ahead by one," Blaine lays out for Kurt. "And we may not be in high school any longer, but remember what it does to me when you win?" he all but purrs.
Kurt's eyes go dark with unmistakeable lust. "Oh yes, that's something I'm still very familiar with."
Blaine not so subtly licks his lips as he gazes at Kurt. "That's... good."
"Okay, you better get your cute butt out of here before it's too late," Kurt says reluctantly, tearing his eyes from Blaine's at last. "You should also definitely grab a snack while you're at Sam and Artie's. You're going to need plenty of fuel for tonight when you thoroughly thank me for saving your life."
"Thoroughly, huh? Yes sir."
Kurt 21, Blaine 23
"Kuuuurt, can you believe we're going to have a baby? A little tiny baby with your eyes and porcelain skin and probably my curly hair. Oh my god, I'm going to cry," Blaine slurs, eyes watery and cheeks flushed bright pink.
"Jesus, how many drinks did you have while I was in the bathroom? Were you chugging straight moonshine or what?" Kurt marvels. Blaine's always been a bit of a lightweight when it comes to drinking, but Kurt can't even remember the last time he'd seen Blaine this drunk.
"A girl brought over shots and when I told her what we were celebrating, she said they were half-priced. Whoops?" Blaine shrugs. "They were lemon drop ones too and you know those are my favorites."
Kurt laughs. "God, are we allowed to become parents if we still take shots? Or will that disqualify us from parenthood altogether?" he teases.
"Oh no, Kurt, don't tell them. Shh, don't tell the PTA that I'm wasted, okay?" Blaine stage whispers, looking over his shoulder suspiciously.
"The PTA? Honey, Rachel's only three months along with our little one. I think we've got a while before we'll have to worry about the PTA. That's at least five or six years off," he points out.
"Whatever, the parenting police, then. Don't tell them. Our little secret, pinky promise?" Blaine insists.
"Sure, weirdo. I'll never tell the parenting police about that one time you took four lemon drop shots while I was in line for the bathroom. I do solemnly swear," Kurt teases, holding up his hand like he's swearing an oath.
"That's 'cause you're the bes' husband ever," Blaine hiccups.
"Alright killer, I think it's time to get you home. Otherwise I'm going to wind up having to carry you out of the bar like a sack of potatoes by the end of the night, I bet," he sighs dramatically.
"You wanna take me home for sexy times, yesssss," Blaine cheers, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.
"If by sexy times you mean going home to put on our pajamas and then me coaxing you to drink a bottle of water and take some Tylenol to head off the hangover you're going to have in the morning, then yes. Totally game for that. Plus, maybe some cuddling and watching Netflix if you play your cards right," Kurt winks.
"No sex?" Blaine pouts, eyes going almost comically wide.
"If you haven't fallen asleep on me by the time the cab gets to our apartment, we'll have sex," Kurt humors him. "But I'm not holding my breath on that one."
"Boo, you're no fun," Blaine groans.
"That's me, the boring one. I'll probably have to be the strict parent too, huh?" Kurt links arms with Blaine and begins leading him through the crowded bar and towards the exit.
"Does that make me the fun daddy?" Blaine crows triumphantly.
"Possibly, although hopefully we can take turns being the fun parent and the strict parent?"
"That seems fair," Blaine yawns, leaning heavily into Kurt's side.
He pushes open the double doors, his ears still ringing with the throbbing bass line of whatever song they were playing inside. Outside, the air is cool and crisp. There's a line of people waiting to enter the bar that winds halfway down the block. Kurt looks at the cluster of giggling guys and girls ringed around the sidewalk. "Stay here for a second, honey. I'm going to see if I can hail us a cab, okay?" Kurt directs.
"Okie dokie," Blaine hums in reply. He sways slightly when Kurt releases his grip on his arm, but he gets his feet under him after a second and seems to steady himself.
Kurt walks towards the intersection, trying to see if there is more vehicle traffic there, since the side road that the bar exit faces is pretty desolate. He cranes his neck down the block, but he doesn't see a single yellow taxicab in sight. He grumbles under his breath, wishing he'd thought to call for an Uber earlier. Kurt starts to head back in the direction of the bouncer at the bar entrance, hoping that maybe he can give them advice about where to best hail a cab. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a reflection of lights and looks up expectantly, hoping for a taxi. Instead, he sees a dark car barreling down the road at breakneck speed. His heart leaps into his throat as he realizes that Blaine is standing in the middle of the road, completely oblivious to the danger in his path.
"Blaine!" Kurt yells as he takes off as fast as his feet will carry him. No response. Blaine is too occupied with bending over to retrieve some object he's dropped on the ground, fumbling clumsily. "Look out!"
He leaps into the road and grabs Blaine roughly by the shoulder, tugging him towards the curb to safety just as the car roars by them, fast enough that the breeze ruffles Kurt's hair.
"Kurt?" Blaine says in a shaky voice, clinging to him.
"What were you thinking? You could have been killed," Kurt shouts, pulse pounding with terror at how close a call it had been.
"I didn't see him, I..." Blaine trails off.
Kurt pulls back so he can see Blaine's face. He cups his cheeks in both hands, smoothing away a tear with his thumb. "Are you okay? You're not hurt, right?"
"No, I'm not hurt. I'm sorry," Blaine murmurs, lower lip wobbling. "Don't be mad, Kurt. Please."
"You scared the shit out of me, Blaine. Jesus, I could have lost you," he admonishes.
"I know, I know." Blaine throws his arms around Kurt's neck, holding on for dear life. "Do you hate me?" he sniffles.
"Of course not. I love you," Kurt manages, rubbing Blaine's back. "But don't you dare ever do that to me again, okay?"
"I love you so much. I'll never be bad again, I promise, baby," Blaine babbles into his neck.
"Alright, shh, just breathe," Kurt soothes. "I know you didn't mean to."
He looks up and sees a yellow cab making its way towards them. "Taxi!" he yells, flagging it down with his free hand.
"C'mon Blaine, let's go home," he urges, maneuvering them both into the backseat awkwardly, given that Blaine stubbornly refuses to let go of his neck, even for a second. He winds up mostly cradling Blaine in his lap, his body curled into his. By the time that Kurt's done telling the driver how to best get to their apartment, Blaine's dead asleep and snoring.
Kurt 38, Blaine 38, Clara 1
"Daddy! Daddy!" Clara shrieks from the kitchen. The sound of panic in her voice is enough to spread ice through Blaine's veins. He jumps up from the couch and runs out to meet her. "What's wrong, angel?" he asks.
Before she can answer, he's rounding the table because he can already see what's wrong. Kurt's standing next to the dining room table, leaning forward, his eyes wide with panic as he clutches his neck. Blaine looks at the colander full of grapes sitting in front of them and quickly decides that his husband must be choking.
"What's wrong? Why can't Papa talk?" Clara wails.
"It's going to be okay, Kurt," Blaine tells him, his voice sounding surprisingly steady even though his hands are shaking like mad. He thinks back to the CPR and First Aid course they'd taken a few months before Clara was born, remembering the directions they'd been given for the Heimlich maneuver.
He walks behind Kurt, and wraps his arms around his waist, making his hands into a fist. Kurt is already bending forward, which makes the angle a little easier since Blaine's several inches shorter. He thrusts his hands in and up, once, twice, and then he sees something fly out of Kurt's mouth as he starts to sputter and cough.
Blaine steps around Kurt so he can see his face. His legs go wobbly with relief as he notes that Kurt's face is getting its normal color back as he takes several deep, gasping breaths. "There you go, shh, just breathe," he encourages, rubbing Kurt's back. "Are you okay?" he asks.
"Yeah, think so," Kurt manages in a hoarse voice.
"Thank god," Blaine says, guiding him down into a chair.
"Papa?" Clara calls out, her face tear stained.
"I'm okay, Clarebear. Come here," Kurt signals, holding out his arms for her.
"You did a good job," Blaine tells her, patting his daughter's back as he wraps his arms around both of them for a family group hug. "You helped make Papa better too."
"I did?" Clara asked, preening a little under the praise.
"That's right," Kurt congratulates her. "You were a very big girl."
"Daddy saved you and I helped," she announces to Kurt proudly. "I'm going to tell everybody at Show-and-Tell tomorrow!" Blaine laughs at how quickly the mood has shifted from tense to cheerful.
"So, what's that bring the grand total up to now, hmm?" Kurt wonders aloud. "Are you still winning?"
"I think we are still tied, but we need to add a new column for Miss Clarebear. She definitely deserves an assist."
"Daddy, what's an assist?" she asks, twirling a lock of hair between her fingers idly.
"It's just a grownup word for helping. Daddy and Papa are kind of silly and they like to know how many times they've saved each other. So, today you get a point too because you helped save Papa."
"I get a point?" Clara cheers. "Can I buy something when I get enough points?"
"She gets the shopping obsession from you, you know?" Blaine groans. Kurt chuckles fondly.
"You can definitely buy something with the points, Clara," Kurt tells her indulgently.
"Yay! Can I go color now?" she requests.
"Of course you can," Blaine agrees, kissing the top of her head. "Go have fun."
Once Clara runs off in the direction of her bedroom, Blaine pulls back so he can look at Kurt closely. "You're sure that you're okay?" he presses.
"I swear I'm fine. It was just so stupid..." Kurt sighs.
"Yeah, I think we've had enough of these close calls for a lifetime, okay? No more almost dying, please," Blaine requests, only half kidding.
"Says the person who needs to be wrapped in bubble wrap at all times," Kurt pointedly mentions.
"I know, we both suck. World's biggest klutzes," Blaine groans.
"Are we really tied on life saving now?" Kurt asks.
"Yep," Blaine hums.
"Well, that settles it. Quitting now while we're both ahead. From now on, we're living a safe and boring life, deal?"
"Deal," Blaine grins. "Better settle this pact with a kiss."
"If you insist," Kurt whispers against his lips.