A/N: First reaction fic of the new season, and if it's anything like my time in fandom during Season 2, I will be writing a lot of these, because this show gives me all the feelings. Having said that: spoilers for "The Purple Piano Project", obviously.
It's such a little thing, really, significant only because Kurt makes it so, and he feels a little punch drunk and lightheaded from the entire day so far, a little like his emotions are few steps behind or a few steps ahead; he's all play-pause-play-pause to let it all sink it except he keeps getting stuck on the same few frames, him dancing in the choir room with Blaine, Blaine dancing with him, them dancing together and apart, mixed into the group like they'd always been doing this.
He thinks about this for a moment as he shuts the door to Blaine's car, watches Blaine lock the doors, spin a little on his heel, hold out his hand as he pockets his keys. Blaine's hand is slightly smaller than Kurt's, and he loves the way it folds inside his own, like a love letter slipped into an envelope, a token of their affection for each other to keep. He thinks about how it's the same coffee shop they've been coming to for nearly a year, a backdrop to the musical he's always writing, the story of their time together. How they've come here in their own clothes all summer, together and apart; it's just another afternoon spent doing homework and reminiscing about Project Runway together and the only thing that could make Kurt choke on his coffee this time is if Blaine actually agrees with Mr Schue that Jay Z's a good idea for a performance.
It seems significant, though, their first time here together as McKinley students, and Kurt's not sure what to do with it; they do milestones but they also don't, because Blaine is incorrigibly flirty even when Kurt's already like melted butter in his hands, and I feel like every day is an anniversary; you're the gift that just keeps on giving, he says, to which Kurt scoffs that's all I am to you; stop undressing me with your eyes and treat me like a present. He'd declare it the cheesiest thing he'd ever heard except that all the reasons that Blaine's given him for transferring this week make it look like stringy mozzarella in the face of a piece of gouda.
When they're inside, he lets go of Blaine's hand long enough to fumble for his wallet, producing his loyalty card and a crisp five dollar bill and wow, he's consumed a lot of caffeine over the last few months; Kurt just doesn't notice because, even after all this time, he still thrums with a kinetic kind of energy every time Blaine enters the room.
"I suppose you're going to want a blueberry muffin; I hear that showing off burns a lot of calories and you must be starving."
"I wasn't showing off," Blaine protests, but he nods thankfully, slipping his hand back into Kurt's. "I was just —"
"You're a regular Nadia Comaneci, Blaine," Kurt says, his voice a little bit low, a little bit flirty. It's so easy for him now; he doesn't have to slip into the persona, it's just the natural reaction that Blaine brings out in him, as simple as breathing (except for the bit where he sometimes forgets how to do that, in Blaine's presence; he doesn't mind so much when Blaine kisses him like he can hold onto Kurt's breath until Kurt's ready to claim it back). "For the record, I think it's adorable."
Blaine swallows, then, and Kurt's glad the barista can't seem to find the grande cup lids because it gives him a chance to ogle the tight column of Blaine's throat, accentuated by the way the collar of his shirt is open at the neck, and:
"It's different, isn't it? Coming here together, I mean."
Blaine nods, giving Kurt's fingers a tight squeeze. "I know what you mean," he says, with an almost imperctible frown. "I mean, I know that theoretically it isn't any different to me being here in the Dalton uniform, except for the fact that our English homework is actually our English homework now, but –-"
Kurt thinks about it, for a moment, stirs Splenda into his coffee when the barista gives it to him, slides into a booth across from Blaine, their ankles knocking together.
"Theoretically," he says finally, "it's just another coffee date. But –- we're marking something big, Blaine. This is part of the story we tell everyone we meet in New York, Blaine, when I'm famous. Rachel and I have started a scrapbook of high school stories to use as anecdotes in our interviews."
"What if –-" Blaine starts, before falling silent at a wave of Kurt's hand.
"New York is a city, Blaine; you'll be taking park benches away from homeless people and quite frankly, it's not worth the gum you'll get on your shoes." He lowers his voice, leans slightly forward, adds, "Between you and me, it's not necessary to dance on every surface for me to know that you've got moves, albeit ridiculous ones."
"Point taken," and Blaine's hand is on his thigh under the table, his grin so wide and sloppy it looks painted on. Blaine's eyes are focussed on Kurt's face, his eyebrows knotted in concentration, and it's all he can do to kiss him over the table, equal parts I am in love with you now and later, there will be more of this later; he swipes his thumb over the wet spot on Blaine's jaw when he pulls back and Blaine just smiles, so sated because even though it was just the one kiss, he's as in love as Kurt is, with his boyfriend, with the concept of their future together. It's a little presumptuous, maybe, to think that, but –- he might not be the galaxy of talented he once thought he was, but he's definitely still a star.
"What I'm saying is," Kurt says finally, leaning back in his chair, "this is the interlude after the big number. What you did is huge, Blaine, for you, for me, for our relationship, and this is where it all settles down. We've had the big show stopping number –- I'm not sure what was more flaming, you know, the piano or those pants –- and this where it settles down. This is us, Blaine, this is us being us."
"You're right, I don't know how much more significant it gets than that," Blaine says, before he's standing up and tugging at Kurt's arm, pulling him up and out of his seat. They all but sprint to Blaine's car, arms swinging at odd angles as Blaine fumbles for his keys; the gear stick digs into the back of Kurt's knee as they tumble into the passenger seat, Kurt making a quip about how Blaine can pay for their coffee next time if he's so intent on wasting it — just remember who'll be supporting you when he's a star on Broadway –- and it hits him:
New York is going to be significant because he makes it. His entire relationship with Blaine –- not Blaine Warbler, not any more, just Blaine Blaine Blaine who isn't anyone's really, just himself after so long, and Kurt's heart swells with pride so much that this boy is his –- is significant because they make it.
"So much for our English homework," he says, in between Blaine's mouth on his like a hurricane, wet and ferocious and making the world around Kurt spin a little and Blaine just laughs a short stuttering laugh in return, says:
"This is a perfect recount of what I did this summer."
It's a little bit brazen, a continuation of everything that had been spilling out of them on stage, the muscles in Blaine's arms making Kurt just as giddy when they wrap around him as they had when he did that cartwheel and yeah, this is never going to stop being significant.