Rain pelted the window, it's soothing sounds relaxing Kurt almost more than his shower had. He'd been reluctant to take off the kilt; his mind had almost convinced him that it was all a dream. But it wasn't. He still had that tacky crown, he still had that plastic scepter. He still had twinges of shame and embarrassment.
They'd been so cruel.
Kurt rubbed his nose, wiping away one last tear with his index finger. Rain continued to fall…. What was that? He moved closer to the window. Was that a… he heard a thud. And then another. His fingers grasped the latch as he squinted out into the darkness. A dark shape stood there, a dark shape that was throwing small stones at his window. With a small grunt, Kurt thrust the window up, dodging a pebble that nearly hit his shoulder.
"Blaine?" he asked incredulously. Kurt had made out the figure tossing rocks: his boyfriend, sodden wet in his tux. "Please tell me what exactly you're doing out here? You'll catch cold."
"No I won't!" Blaine shouted. "It's almost seventy degrees out here."
"That's not what I meant. One second, I'll come down."
Instead of nimbly leaping out of the second story window, which would have been about three times more romantic and one hundred times more like a cheesy chick flick, Kurt scurried downstairs and out the front door into the rain.
He smiled softly, "So what's the reason for rock pelting?"
Blaine didn't answer. His lips turned up as he dug his foot in the ground.
"Seriously, I wouldn't be standing in the rain for anyone. These pajama pants are silk."
Blaine chuckled softly, flipping his head up, and met Kurt's eyes. "I wanted to… I don't know. Everything felt so unfinished. So tense. Not to mention 'Dancing Queen' is one of the worst slow dance songs in the history of forever. And I sort of missed you."
"It wasn't tense. It was perfect," Kurt said, pressing his lips to Blaine's slick forehead.
"No. It wasn't perfect. You weren't supposed to be elected fucking Prom Queen. You weren't supposed to come back and get coronated. I wasn't supposed to dance with you there. Karofsky was. But.. I couldn't leave you. Not left hanging there. We were supposed to have another dance."
"Shhh, Blaine. It's alright." Kurt gripped him in a fierce hug, letting Blaine's head fall onto his shoulders.
"No it's not! I want to go in and redo that whole night. I want to get Puck to switch the ballots. I want to do something. You know there's nothing worse than seeing the person you love cry because of something you can't prevent? It was like seeing James all over again. I'd blacked out, after they beat me… But he was conscious the whole time. He saw them kicking me and, Kurt, he… he tried to help me. He was so hurt, so bruised. And he tried to help me. They only beat him worse. I came to then, but all I could hear was his sobs."
Blaine was crying into Kurt's shoulder now. And Kurt knew exactly what he'd meant. Kurt had no idea what to do, so he settled for rocking back and forth, whisper-singing into Blaine's ear, letting him cry. He could tell this had been eating him up longer than he'd admit. Everything was coming out in a torrent, matching the rain that fell on both their heads. He stroked Blaine's back through his sodden tux.
"Blaine, Blaine, look at me."
He did, tilting his head up. His eyes were red-rimmed, but Kurt couldn't tell if it was rain dripping of his hair, or tears that stained his cheeks. Kurt's heart swelled, and he pressed his lips to Blaine's. They stood there a moment, neither deepening the kiss. It was soft and sweet, reassurance.
"I love you," Kurt said, fiercely. "And that won't happen again. I promise."
Blaine sniffled, and wiped his eyes. Rain drops hit him in the face, and he let out a small smile. "Guess that was pointless."
"Don't say that, Blaine. Nothing you do is pointless. Nothing."
Blaine blinked at him. "You can't mean that."
"I do! Every word. You're special, I've known that from the first time I laid eyes on you. You know my past; I'm strong enough to handle yours."
"I don't know about that, Kurt. Worse has happened to me." Blaine bit his lip, his hazel eyes searching Kurt's blue ones.
"I can take it. I promise."
Blaine sighed with relief. "Not tonight. I don't want to make this any worse for you than it is."
"When I said it was perfect, I didn't mean that it was my dream. Sure I'd rather have Quinn be Queen, and I'd rather have been able to dance with you in different circumstances, but you have to believe me. I wouldn't trade it. I don't have a lump in my throat, and they can't put one there. I meant it when I said they can't touch us. There's nothing no one could do, or has done, that will make me stop loving you."
Blaine grabbed Kurt's face, pulling him closer into a kiss. It wasn't like before, a kiss of reassurance; it was warm and passionate. Their tongues slipped together, and Kurt smiled.
"I love you, too," Blaine whispered, pulling away slightly, before grabbing Kurt's lips with his again. This time Kurt pulled away, panting slightly.
"Dance with me."
"What?"
"Dance with me. Twirl me around in the rain. Play a sappy love song in your head. Sing me a sappy love song. I don't care. Just dance with me."
Blaine grabbed Kurt's waist, feeling the soaking wet shirt under his fingers. He felt Kurt's hands on his shoulders. They swayed side to side, spinning in circles. A few times, Blaine slipped in the mud and slick grass. Kurt caught him and they laughed together; the emotion from earlier was washed away with the rain. Kurt rested his head in the crook of Blaine's neck.
"Thank you," he whispered.
"For what?"
"Everything. Absolutely everything."
A/N: I don't even know what this is. A little post Prom drabble, that got a lot more emotional and almost made me cry writing it. I honestly meant it to be fluff, but look where we ended up
You know you're too attached to fictional characters when…
Eh, it's Klaine. I'm allowed to be emotionally attached.
Inspiration: Last Dance ~Camera Can't Lie.