Author's Notes: I don't even know what this is ::throws up hands in disgust:: This is just a snapshot, I suppose, that I needed to get out of my system. I apologize for the pointlessness and the self-indulgent angst/fluff in advance m(_ _)m On a side note, I'm a firm believer of Endgame \o/
"I shouldn't be out for more than an hour," Burt said as he pulled on his jacket, eyeing his son who was currently washing the dishes and Blaine who was drying them. Kurt didn't respond, instead grabbing a handful of suds and wiping it across Blaine's unsuspecting nose and causing the shorter teen to laugh out in surprise before defending himself with the dishrag he held.
Burt thought he'd feel uncomfortable with seeing his son behaving in this way with another boy, but seeing Kurt so carefree and happy, Burt couldn't help but feel happy in return. Still, it didn't mean he was okay with his son doing...stuff...while he was out. No matter how polite this Blaine kid was, he and Kurt were both still teenage boys.
"Kurt."
"One hour. Tops. Got it, Dad," Kurt said, still not looking at his father directly, and Burt rolled his eyes before heading out the kitchen and to the front door.
"And no funny business!" he called out unable to refrain from the parting shot. He smiled at Kurt's mortified shout.
"Da~d!"
Burt barked out a laugh before closing the door behind him.
The door had barely clicked shut before Kurt grabbed a fistful of Blaine's black T-shirt and locked their lips together. He felt Blaine's smile against his lips and wrapped his arms around Blaine's back as his boyfriend's hands settled on either side of his hips.
"Your dad said no funny business, Kurt," Blaine teased as he smattered several kisses around Kurt's face before nuzzling the span of skin between Kurt's neck and shoulder.
Kurt huffed out a breath rocking his hips once against Blaine and causing the other to shudder. "Does that feel funny to you?"
Rather than respond, Blaine began making a very impressive hickey on Kurt's neck and Kurt hummed low in his throat, thinking it very fortunate indeed that he loved scarves.
When Blaine finally pulled back to admire his handiwork, Kurt rolled his eyes before sealing their lips together again and began backing them out of the kitchen and towards the family room. He must have made a wrong turn somewhere because they somehow ended up in the hallway closet, which was ironic for obvious reasons, but Kurt didn't care where he was if it meant having his boyfriend pressed between him and a wall. Kurt knew he'd receive no protest from Blaine given the many times they'd wound up in this exact position at Dalton.
It was with some surprise then when he felt Blaine press a hand against his chest and Kurt pulled back to see Blaine's slightly wide eyes. He was about to ask what was wrong when he heard the familiar trudge of Finn's feet as he stomped down the stairs. Not wanting to deal with his stepbrother at the moment, Kurt reached behind him to pull the closet door shut.
Sound seemed to amplify in the heavy darkness that followed and Kurt pressed his body closer to Blaine's and whispered, "Shh..." Blaine obediently stilled and breathed more softly.
They stayed that way until Finn walk past the door and then back again and up the stairs. Kurt released a soft breath, laughing quietly and rested his head against the side of Blaine's. It was then he realized how tense his boyfriend's body was, how it would shudder on occasion as if he were trying to hold something back and Kurt lifted his head to look at Blaine, but it was too dark to see. "Blaine, what—oh! Are you claustrophobic?" he asked, already turning around to open the door, but arms suddenly wrapped around him, pulling him back and to Kurt's surprise down onto the floor. Blaine tugged him until they were pressed into the far corner of the closet and behind the coats that hung from the rod overhead.
"Blaine—"
"Shh," Blaine whispered, holding Kurt close. "They'll hear you."
Kurt felt his heart skip a beat, wanting to ask who "they" were because only Finn was home. Carole was at a book club. Blaine knew that. Instead he raised his arms to wrap around his boyfriend and began rubbing his back soothingly because Blaine sounded so scared. When he attempted to speak again, Blaine shushed him begging him to be quiet, please be quiet and that he'd protect him and wouldn't let them hurt him and Kurt didn't know what to do except to whisper okay, okay and hugged Blaine in return, keeping silent despite the fact that all he wanted to do was to ask the other what was wrong.
When his father later opened the door, bathing the small space with light, Kurt was too preoccupied with talking Blaine down from a panic attack to answer his father's question of what exactly they were doing in there.
"It's just my dad, Blaine. Look, it's just my dad. You're okay. You're safe. We're safe."
Burt took an unintentional step back when Blaine finally turned to stare at him, pupils dilated and breath coming out in harsh gasps. Whatever nightmare Blaine was currently trapped in finally relinquished its hold upon seeing Burt and he turned back to Kurt and said with an edge of desperation and hysteria, "I want my dad. Please call my dad. I want—" He choked out a sob and Kurt pressed his face to his shoulder holding onto the other for dear life as he wordlessly asked his dad to do as Blaine asked.
Kurt had just managed to coax Blaine out of the closet and into the hallway when Burt returned, the cordless phone held to his ear.
"Yes," he heard his dad say, "he's right here. Blaine?"
Blaine lifted his eyes from the floor and to the phone Burt held out to him. "Your father wants to speak with you."
Blaine blinked once before reaching out tentatively to take the phone.
"Daddy?" he whispered into the receiver.
"Blaine, I'm okay. Your mom and I are both okay."
Upon hearing his dad's voice, relief washed over Blaine in waves and he slumped against the hallway wall.
"We're coming to get you now. Okay?"
Blaine nodded, closing his eyes and suddenly feeling so very tired. "Okay, " he echoed voice soft. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry," his father said immediately. "We'll be there in an hour; maybe faster. Your mom's driving."
Blaine nodded again too tired to smile at his dad's attempt at a joke. "Okay."
"We love you, Blaine."
He felt Kurt squeeze his hand and he squeezed back, his eyes growing hot as he replied, "Love you too."
oOo
George Anderson stayed on the line up until he rang the doorbell to the Hummel-Hudson house. By then Carole had returned home to see her family huddled around Blaine who sat on the bottom steps of the staircase speaking quietly into the cordless phone. She shot Burt a questioning look who, after giving Kurt a reassuring pat on the shoulder, ambled his way over to explain what he knew.
Finn sat quietly for once two steps up from Kurt who kept a comforting arm around Blaine's shoulder for the entire time they were waiting for the Andersons to arrive. He hadn't known anything was up until Burt asked him where Kurt and Blaine were. Finn had thought they'd all gone to the garage since he hadn't seen any of them after dinner. He wasn't sure what made him check the hallway closet, but when he saw the tangle of legs on the floor he immediately turned around feeling his face flush. "Dude," he said in surprise and Burt must have heard him because the next thing he knew he was being pushed aside and Burt was glaring into the closet.
He hadn't meant to get Kurt in trouble, would have covered for the other if he knew, but he didn't know, so Kurt shouldn't get too angry at him. He hoped.
It wasn't until he realized that Burt wasn't yelling and was actually sporting a confused expression that he knew something was wrong. When Burt left for the kitchen, Finn walked up to the closet and peered inside to see Kurt trying to calm Blaine down, who was crying and sounded like he was having a hard time just breathing. It was a disconcerting sight as he'd never seen Blaine anything but put together.
He liked Blaine and not only because the other knew what football was and kicked butt at Call of Duty, but because of how happy he made Kurt. Seeing Blaine like this and how worried Kurt looked was just wrong and was why he now hovered over the two, wanting to be there for them both albeit not knowing what he could do to make it better.
When Burt opened the front door, Blaine immediately jumped up from his seat and ran into his dad's open arms.
George Anderson was a tall man, a splitting image of his son with the obvious exception of his height and nose, the latter of which Blaine thankfully inherited from his mother. It was easy then for the elder man to receive his son's hug without being bowled over.
"I'm okay. You're okay. Everyone's okay," George said, repeating it like a mantra. As George continued to comfort their son, Karen Anderson—an unmistakable foot shorter than her husband and hair a shade just shy of dark chocolate—stepped into the house to apologize for the intrusion (which Carole quickly refuted) and attempted to explain, in a quiet voice, what was going on.
"Several years ago, when Blaine was six, we experienced a home invasion," she began, but paused in her account when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned her head to see her husband indicating that he was going to take Blaine to the car. Karen nodded, kissing Blaine's forehead and giving his shoulder a quick and reassuring squeeze before George led him outside.
She returned her attention to the Hummels, who stood side-by-side and looked more like a family than the two separate ones Blaine had told her that they used to be. "They broke in during the middle of the night," she continued. "George called the police while I went and got Blaine and we hid in his closet. We weren't in there for very long, but it felt like ages, you know?"
Karen started when she felt a hand rest on her wringing ones, eyes refocusing to see Carole looking at her with concern. "You don't need to tell us everything if you don't want to," she said. "We're just worried about Blaine and would like to know that he'll be okay."
"It's okay," Karen assured her in the sea of nods that followed Carole's statement. "I don't mind, and Blaine will be fine. He's never let this keep him down very long even after it happened."
"He's a strong kid," Burt said matter-of-factly, and Karen smiled, nodding in agreement.
"Yes, he really is." She took another steadying breath before resuming her explanation. "George confronted them—his harebrained attempt at keeping them away from us, I suppose—and let them know the police were coming so they should just leave.
"They knew the response time for the police in our area wasn't very good though and demanded whatever cash and jewelry was in the house. George refused to help them. There was a scuffle, things being thrown and, and then a gun being discharged."
"Daddy!" Blaine screamed and Karen covered his mouth, her own eyes wide as she whispered for Blaine to be quiet, to please be quiet even when she herself wanted to run downstairs to see if her husband was okay.
"George was fine. Our throw pillow wasn't," Karen mused, but the joke fell flat if the awkward silence that followed was any indication. Undeterred, Karen gamely continued. "The police arrived not long after and caught the men as they attempted to leave through the back of the house. George was the one who came and got us. Aside from a split lip, he was fine. We all were. For the most part," she finished wryly, mentally recalling the weeks after where she, George, and Blaine could barely function without being in the same room together, or being within eyesight of one another. It was a normal reaction, their family therapist had said and eventually it did get better.
"Thank you for looking after Blaine, Kurt," she said into the silence, taking Kurt's hand and giving it a firm squeeze. "I know you must have been so...confused."
Kurt shook his head, his smile strained. "I was scared, Mrs. Anderson," he said, not ashamed to admit it and Karen nodded in understanding. "I...Is it all right if I come by tomorrow to see Blaine? Or the day after if it's too soon?" he asked, and Karen's heart warmed to know someone cared so much for her son.
"Yes, of course," she said taking in how Kurt's shoulder relaxed at her response and after a moment's hesitation, gave into the impulse to give the other a hug, knowing how frightened he must have been to see Blaine like that. "You're always welcome, Kurt, and I'm sure Blaine would like to see you."
Kurt nodded the last dregs of tension draining away from his body and murmured a "thank you" into the petite woman's hair.
Karen smiled, so incredibly happy that this boy was in her son's life. "No, thank you, Kurt."
oOo
"Hey."
Blaine's eyes rose from the book he was reading, his entire face brightening upon seeing Kurt standing at the entryway to the living room. "Hey yourself," he said, putting down his book and patting the couch cushion beside him in invitation.
Kurt stood in place for a while longer though quietly assessing the other, and Blaine's smile wavered as he shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny. He was afraid Kurt would treat him differently after what happened yesterday and he didn't want that. So, he coughed once into his closed fist and said to break the tension, "As you can see, even at the tender age of six I didn't want to be kept in the closet."
Kurt blinked owlishly at him a few times. Then released an exasperated sigh and finally made his way across the carpeted floor to sit beside him. Blaine labeled it a win in his book.
"I see that the tendency to tell a joke at inopportune times is a family trait," Kurt said, causing Blaine to tilt his head curiously to the side.
"What?"
Kurt shook his head. "Nothing," he said before leaning forward and pressing a chaste kiss on Blaine's lips. "How are you doing?" he asked as he pulled back.
"I'm okay," Blaine replied not quite meeting Kurt's eyes as his fingers fidgeted with the bottom of his sweater. Kurt stilled his hands, lacing their fingers together and Blaine felt his shoulders relax at the familiar gesture.
"Really?" Kurt asked tone demanding his attention and Blaine obliged looking at him directly.
"Really," he said with conviction because he was. It was a long time since he was last reminded of that night ten years ago and he was somewhat surprised of the effect it still had on him. Although he supposed he'd never actually spent an inordinate amount of time in closets to see how he would react, so maybe he shouldn't have been surprised. Nevertheless, he was okay. Really. The only trauma he felt now was that Kurt's entire family had seen him like that and not due to what happened that awful night. Because at the end of the day, what happened that night was bad, but bad things happened and the important point was that his family came out of it alive and well.
Kurt eyed him seriously for another minute before a smile broke out across his face and he was on the receiving end of another kiss. "Okay."
Blaine raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Okay? That's it?"
Kurt merely nodded. "That's it."
Blaine looked slightly gobsmacked. He expected maybe a bit of hovering, to be handled with kid gloves for a while, and (what he dreaded most) to be the recipient of a few pitying looks. It always bewildered him (although he knew it shouldn't) how well Kurt really knew him and how incredibly lucky he was to have such an amazing person by his side.
Blaine's hands surged forward to pull Kurt's face close to his, kissing him and hoping to convey all he felt through the motion. They parted after a minute both panting and faces equally flushed.
"You're amazing, you know that?" Blaine breathed, his thumb brushing idly across Kurt's reddening cheek.
Kurt smiled brazenly. "I know."
Blaine smiled in return, his next words flowing easily and without hesitation across his lips for the first time. "I love you."
He watched Kurt's eyes widen, heard his breath stutter, so Blaine said it again, "I love you, Kurt Hummel."
Kurt laughed the trilling sound light and melodious and of which Blaine knew he could never grow tired of hearing. Kurt kissed him once more before pulling back just enough to whisper shyly against his lips, "I love you too."
Feeling his heart swell in delight, Blaine was fairly certain he wouldn't ever grow tired of hearing that either.