Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, its characters, or Christina Perri's Arms.
AN: A result of too much Christina Perri and my love for these boys. T for swearing, mild homophobia, minor OC death, and mentions of sex. Nothing graphic is depicted.
The first time Kurt voluntarily hugs him, rather than be the receiver of Blaine's puppy-like enthusiasm, is during their Sectionals win. Kurt had been overcome with joy, knowing that both his former glee club and the Warblers would be advancing; one thing Blaine has discovered is that when Kurt gets attached, he is fiercely loyal, something that proves admirable and a hindrance.
It overwhelms Blaine, at first, the surprising broadness of Kurt's shoulders and the careful strength that he squeezes Blaine with. For a brief moment he closes his eyes, and breathes in Kurt's scent – a Eau de Something Fancy No. 9, a hint of aftershave, the memory of coffee on his skin, and something so inherently Kurt that Blaine could bury himself in the scent forever. He doesn't, because they've set up a strict mentor-student, relationship, or rather, he has, and Kurt has grudgingly agreed. Not for the first time, Blaine is facing some serious doubts on his decision.
The moment is wrenched away far too quickly, as Blaine and Kurt are pulled back into reality and go on to congratulate and celebrate with others. But Kurt's scent and touch had lingered, imprinted on his mind in such a brief space of time, and since then it had been the last thing on his mind before falling asleep every night.
I never thought that you'd be the one to hold my heart
But you came around and you knocked me off the ground from the start
The two of them easily find a rhythm after Sectionals, and Blaine can't bring himself to stop how quickly they are hurtling from mentor-student to platonic friend-friend to not entirely platonic friend-friend. He flirts, Kurt flirts right back, and Baby It's Cold Outside is just laden with tension – surely he couldn't have been the only one who felt that?
Blaine hasn't received a hug from Kurt since then, but Kurt has been responding to touches and initiating some on his own, slowly coming out of the shell he has so meticulously built around himself. He's happier. Glowing. Gorgeous.
A friend.
Christmas goes by swimmingly; they had exchanged new scarves as presents; Kurt's was hand-knit (and unbelievably soft), and Blaine had imported one from France with the help of his sister, who smiled at Blaine knowingly as she helped him order it online. Sometimes, Blaine thinks his older sister knows more about Kurt than he does, which is kind of ridiculous, but she's listened to all the stories about Kurt (it's an embarrassing amount, not that he'd ever admit it out loud). Despite her bubbly exterior – a trait she and Blaine share – she's quietly observant in a way that always takes people by surprise.
It had barely arrived on time, causing Blaine to panic and launch into a frenzied tailspin of the possible outcomes of this situation. Some were a bit dramatic – Kurt's flair has rubbed off on him – and his sister had just sat there coolly, sipping hot cocoa as Blaine paced back in forth, hands gesticulating wildly and words tumbling clumsily.
"Blaine, what will any boyfriend of yours ever do with you?" Amy had asked in a mixture of fondness and genuine interest to the answer.
He stops for a moment. "I don't know," he says, hands still fluttering. "But at least Kurt can handle my craziness."
Amy just smiles mysteriously before trying to suck the marshmallows from the steaming mug of cocoa, a habit that she's had since she was three.
In the end, thankfully it had arrived a little late but before the gift exchange, and Kurt's radiant smile and lingering hug – Eau de Kurt, that's its name, he thinks – had been worth every penny.
I hope that you see right through my walls
I hope that you catch me, 'cause I'm already falling
Rose-Marie Anderson passes away on January 13th, 2011.
"She was the only family member that didn't turn her back on me when I came out," Blaine says, numb. He won't allow himself to cry. Not in front of Kurt, who's tearing up despite it being Blaine's grandmother. Kurt feels so deeply sometimes, a part of his brain thinks. He knows. He gets it.
"She grew up a devout Catholic. She went to Church every Sunday, even when she was diagnosed with Alzheimer's. But she never said I was wrong or that I had sinned or that I was going" – no, Anderson, you will not choke up now – "to hell. She defended me and loved me unconditionally."
In a smaller voice, he adds, "I wish dad would, too."
The silence hangs heavy between them, and it roars in Blaine's ears. Kurt's glassy eyes – leafy green now – are staring with unending sympathy. No. Empathy.
Slowly and softly, Kurt says, "It's okay to cry now." You don't have to be strong, his eyes say.
And he does.
It first comes out in a choked sob, clogging up his throat that for a second he thinks that maybe he'll just suffocate to death and join Grandma in heaven. She'd be able to get him into heaven, through her love and sheer force of will. Then the tears well, he chokes a few more times, and his throat clears somewhat.
Suddenly, warmth engulfs him, and through blurry, puffy eyes, he sees Kurt taking him in his arms, and he moves the two of them to Blaine's bed. Blaine is practically dead weight by now, and he's grateful that Kurt is strong enough for both of them.
Sobs wrack his small frame, and whenever he thinks the tears will stop, a fresh batch appears with the telltale sting of the bridge of his nose. Time stretches and contorts, too short and too long at the same time in his grieving. But Kurt is constant, Kurt is warm, Kurt is safe and forgiving and understanding. There are too many words and not enough words to describe what Kurt is to Blaine, but he is too drained to dwell too deeply on the boy.
He falls asleep in Kurt's arms, holding him steady. When nightmares awake him in cold sweat, Kurt is there to comfort him, whisper sweet nothings, and lull him back into slumber.
He sleeps until 11 in the morning, the most peaceful he's had in a long, long time.
They're boyfriends now, Blaine thinks giddily. Despite Jeremiah and Rachel – he is forever labeling them as the most horrible mistakes of his entire 16 years of existence – Kurt had stuck with him, and Kurt was – is – still interested despite Blaine's unfortunate thick-headedness.
Boyfriends means hand-holding without reservation, it means hugging, it means cuddling, it means kissing and heated make out sessions (and maybe eventually sex) – everything, at the moment, is perfect. Blaine has never been this happy before. Every day, Kurt greets him with a kiss on the cheek, and two cups of coffee in hand. They sit together, thighs touching, during lunch. They text discreetly, pass notes, stare at each other in 'steaming sexual tension mixed with vomit-inducing rainbow puppy love' (Wes and David have also taken a liking to dramatic flairs), and have homework hours that turn into making out and cuddling.
Kurt's arms become very familiar to Blaine, from the briefest of hugs, to him being the big spoon. Kurt likes being the big spoon, as Blaine has discovered; he just gives and gives to anyone close to his heart, completely selfless ("Well," Kurt says with a grin upon Blaine's mentioning of this, "it's not entirely selfless."). Blaine craves affection, and now he cannot imagine life without the warmth and security that Kurt's embrace provides.
Everything is shattered when Kurt announces that he's going back to McKinley.
Well, Blaine rationalizes, that's a little melodramatic. He's still devastated, for reasons on Kurt's behalf and some that are more selfish. But he may possibly be in love with Kurt – it's very possible – but it is Kurt's decision to make, not his. He lets him go, singing goodbye while he's in an outfit that makes Blaine think some rather ungentlemanly thoughts. He had almost forgotten how tight Kurt's jeans could be and how good he looks in them (hot and sexy; Blaine's baby penguin comment may be the most stupid thing that's ever come out of his mouth, which is really saying something.).
The hug Kurt gives him and the whispered words of "I'm never saying goodbye to you," make his heart swell, and he's surprised that his heart hadn't just burst out of his chest then and there, singing "Kurt Hummel is My Life" as blood and bodily fluids explode from his overemotional state.
On second thought, he'd rather not have that.
Locked up in the safety of his dorm, he cries, mopes, plays sad songs on his iPod while constructing a massive "reminds me of Kurt" playlist, and then inexplicably, thinks of the Eau de Kurt.
He makes a massive 'Things I Miss About Kurt' list. The first thing he puts down is 'his embrace,' before listing all of Kurt's body parts ('his butt, God, his butt' is one he hopes none of the Warblers ever finds out, despite their heavy innuendos) and personality traits. When he feels satisfied – it's definitely not finished, because he misses everything (except the Lady Gaga, but even Gaga is becoming bearable) – he promptly collapses and tries to fall asleep imagining Kurt's arms around him.
Blaine somehow survives on weekend outings with Kurt, and summer goes by far too quickly. Their relationship becomes heated and more physical, and Blaine's love for Kurt increases by the hour. The feeling is so immense that it overwhelms him, consumes him at times, and both Wes and David have commented that he's in far too deep. Kurt owns his heart, and has somehow trusted Blaine with his. It's a heady feeling.
They have their first argument in June over something mundane – the best James Bond actor (despite Kurt's compelling arguments, Blaine will adamantly stick to Sean Connery). It is blown up and gets completely out of hand, and Finn of all people is the one who calms it down. Finn. Blaine is still aghast at that to this day.
Their relationship progresses day by day, week by week, and currently it's the last week of August. They've already had a 'discussion' (argument, but Kurt refuses to call it that) about Blaine and transferring to McKinley, but currently Kurt is holding Blaine and rubbing his hipbone in smooth circles, promising to never pressure Blaine into transferring.
"I love you," Kurt murmurs, kissing the top of Blaine's head.
"I love you too."
Yes, Blaine is in far too deep. He hates when Wes and David are right, and annoyingly enough, they're almost always right.
Home, his mind whispers. Kurt's arms feel like the home you never really had.
The idea startles him a bit, and Kurt notices the slight stiffening from Blaine.
"Is anything wrong?" he asks.
You're perfect. You're home. "No."
Kurt gives him a searching gaze – it works on Finn every time – but Blaine reveals nothing. He's not quite sure if he wants to make this bold announcement yet.
"Mm." Giving up on soul searching, Kurt begins to press soft kisses along Blaine's neck. "You're beautiful, Blaine."
"Not as beautiful as you," Blaine mumbles against Kurt's lips, causing Kurt to duck his head bashfully. "You're stunning."
"God, why do you have to be so cheesily perfect?" Kurt asks, voice deepening before pressing his lips more forcefully on Blaine's, quickly derailing Blaine's train of thought.
You put your arms around me and I believe
That it's easier for you to let me go
Sometime while he's sorting through the transfer papers to WMHS, Blaine realizes that he needs Kurt more than Kurt needs him.
Kurt has left Dalton confident, self-assured, and ready to flip the world upside-down with his mere presence and will. Blaine had been left behind in the new and improved Kurt Hummel and His Plan for World Domination - well maybe not quite world domination - and now he's struggling to catch up.
There are so many guys out there, Blaine thinks, that would suit Kurt better. Worldly, sophisticated, taller. Blaine is well aware of his irrational dislike of good-looking men taller than Kurt, and no matter what Kurt tells him, this insecurity is one buried deep inside and has been with him since day one of meeting Kurt.
If they were to ever breakup – Blaine's heart is dropping to his stomach just thinking about it – Kurt would be able to move on; he's stronger, and men will be waiting in lines to even try having Kurt Hummel as their boyfriend. Well, Blaine thinks indignantly and a little childishly, I had him first, so ha.
With this in mind, Blaine buries himself deeper into Kurt's embrace, savoring every detail; not just his smell, but the way the blankets are tangled around them; the way his warm breath sends chills down his spine; the way that their fingers are loosely entwined, Blaine's callouses fitting so perfectly with Kurt's soft skin; the way Kurt is so utterly relaxed and at peace, no walls, just his gorgeous self at this time; the way this feels so much like a home he never really had, a small bubble that can never be pierced by a harsher reality.
The world is coming down on me
And I can't find a reason to be loved
Amy is back in town for two nights before she has to head back to Duke. The University, on the shortest route Google Maps suggested, is 551 miles away, Blaine thinks glumly, but still smiles and chatters with her as if there's no tomorrow.
"Obviously, there's no better actor than Johnny Depp. Jack Sparrow, Sweeney Todd, Edward Scissorhands—you name it, I don't see what you have against him," Blaine argues, and stuffs a piece of chicken in his mouth before he beings to ramble about all of his dreamy qualities.
"I get it, Blaine, but honestly? He always plays the, you know, weird roles. I'm all for being weird – I know you, idiot, and you know how weird you are – but sometimes I like the traditional. Leonardo di Caprio is perfect for it. Titanic was phenomenal. I know you still cry after seeing it about twenty million times with me."
Blaine huffs. "If Kurt were here, I bet you'd agree with him in an instant. Sometimes I think you like him better than me." The very moment the two of them met, they had hit it off the way Kurt and Blaine had last year, which both relieves Blaine and makes him slightly horrified – there, to this day, is still no way of telling how much they could accomplish together as a team.
"Oh, don't be like that. I love you, you twat."
Blaine sighs but smiles. "I know. Love you too."
"Speaking of Kurt, how is the boyfriend?"
Before Blaine can tell Amy about how wonderful Kurt is – nothing she hasn't heard before, but he has a constant need to tell someone how amazing his boyfriend is, and Finn is very weary of hearing this – a spoon clatters loudly on the plate. The siblings look to their father, whose stony exterior has been soured, lips curling into an ugly scowl.
"That's enough. We hear enough of this so-called boyfriend every day. Eat your dinner."
Blaine sighs inwardly and resigns himself to continuing to eat dinner in an awkward silence. Amy, though, has other ideas.
"Listen, Dad, this is bullshit." Their parents wince at the rare usage of profanity from Amy. "Kurt and Blaine love each other. Like, sickening rom-com, cry-your-eyes-out-if-they-breakup in love, and I'm sick and tired of putting up with this…this homophobic asshole that you aren't supposed to be. I don't care if the Bible says it, I don't care if the Flying Spaghetti Monster floats around and poops the words out – Blaine is gay and it doesn't change a damn thing."
Everyone is shocked at this outburst. Blaine nearly tears up as Amy smiles back at him, albeit a little unsteady, while their father's jaw clenches and eyes harden. Their mother's eyes dart between the three of them, unsure of which side to take.
"Amy, a word."
"No," she almost growls. "I can't believe you do this to him on a daily basis, treating him like…this." She waves her arms helplessly, trying to convey her point. "He's your son. So you know what? Fuck you. Come on, Blaine, let's go."
Blaine nearly stumbles out of his chair, eager to have any excuse to be away from the Anderson household. Their mother lets out a small cry before being silenced by their father's dark glare. The two hold hands tightly, and Amy – who is Rachel's height, for god's sake – anchors him. Blaine, in another situation, would call this a fantastic stormout worthy of Rachel Berry.
"Do you want to go to Kurt's?"
He nods minutely.
When Kurt sweeps him to his bedroom and into his arms, Blaine retells the story, eyes burning and spine tingling. Kurt nods, makes some biting comments against his parents, and lays with Blaine for the rest of the night before Burt finally sets up the sofa-bed.
His arms are home, he decides firmly that night. My house isn't a home, but Kurt's embrace is.
You put your arms around me and I'm home.
"That…that was…"
There are no words to describe Blaine's first time and post-orgasm bliss.
They are both cuddlers after sex, as it seems, and they have relaxed into the usual position of Kurt being the big spoon, and Blaine the little one. Their bodies are close, so close, and the overwhelming intimacy leaves Blaine speechless.
"I know," Kurt responds, kissing Blaine's wild curls. "I love you."
"I love you too." Blaine can't keep the content grin off his face.
"Mm" is all Kurt says, squeezing his arms and trying to get closer to Blaine—something Blaine finds physically impossible at this point—and somewhat succeeding.
"You know," Blaine begins, tracing meaningless patterns on the sheets. "I always feel like home whenever I'm in your arms. You're so warm. Safe. Comforting. It's like nothing can hurt me when I'm in your arms."
He can feel Kurt's smile and envision it – full lips curling upward, a pale blush staining his cheeks, his being glowing with happiness – and smiles himself.
"When life sucks, you make it suck less." Blaine pauses. "Wow. That was an understatement. You're amazing, Kurt. There aren't any words to describe you."
"Blaine, turn around and look at me."
Blaine has seen Kurt countless times, but each time Kurt still manages to take his breath away. Kurt in post-orgasm bliss is glowing, beautiful, almost ethereal. He still doesn't understand what a guy like Kurt sees in someone like Blaine.
"If you think I'm amazing, take a look at yourself. You're like a dream come true. And since we're still exchanging sappy words, I can't believe you found a home with me. I didn't know that my embrace would mean so much."
"It does, Kurt." Blaine's eyes prickle with unshed tears. "You have no idea."
They kiss languidly, eyes fluttering closed and pulses picking up speed. Warmth blooms inside Blaine, spreading down to his toes, and the feeling continues to expand in his chest. This is their little world, a home they have created for themselves, Kurt's arms around Blaine.
This, Blaine decides, is what it means to be loved.
AN: I was feeling sappy. Still am. They're so precious. :3
Reviews are greatly appreciated :)