Title taken from "Merry Christmas, Darling" by The Carpenters.
For anon on Tumblr who prompted: "Kurt locks himself out of his apartment and he has nowhere to go… until he runs into Blaine, his neighbour, who he has never really talked to."
Happy holidays!
The rolling door rattled in its tracks, the old wood creaking and groaning but remaining steadfastly in place no matter how hard Kurt pulled at the handle. In one last, desperate attempt he dropped his gloves and grocery bags to the floor and wrapped both hands around the door handle and tugged. And the damn thing still refused to budge.
Christmas Eve and he was locked out of his own apartment.
This was all Rachel's fault. And he wasn't just saying that this time. It was really her fault.
When she'd been on her way out the door two days ago and begging to borrow his loft key for the day ('I swear, Kurt, I'll give it back as soon as I get home. Mine has to be in the apartment somewhere.'), he hadn't thought anything of it. Except she hadn't given it back as soon as she got home and now she was on a boat somewhere in the Caribbean Ocean with her fathers for the holidays, his loft key packed safely away in her luggage for the trip. Santana was somewhere across the city at Dani's place and had sworn to make his life an absolute living hell if he bothered her during her first chance to get some in over a week, and even his own father and stepmother, with the obligatory spare key, were off in Hawaii enjoying their long overdue honeymoon.
Kurt had been looking forward to a nice quiet Christmas at home - just him, a carton of Chinese takeout, and Love, Actually - and now... Now he had no idea what to do. He could always try calling the landlord, but they hadn't been on his good side since that night their old neighbours called him at two in the morning to complain about Rachel's singing. (And that was after the time they pissed him off when those same neighbours called at four in the morning to complain about the, well, noises Santana and Dani were making.)
Pulling on the door hadn't helped. Glaring at the door wasn't working. And, as he discovered as he stumbled back from the door clutching his foot and sobbing frustratedly, kicking it was also unsuccessful, "What a merry... Fucking... Christm -"
"Um. Excuse me? Are you... Okay?" a voice interrupted cautiously, and Kurt spun around to find himself staring at the anxious - but still very much dreamy - face of his newest neighbour.
Because of course it was. It couldn't be the creepy neighbour from the floor below who Santana claimed was going to be on an episode of the Hoarders reboot soon, or the other old lady who definitely was definitely breaking apartment rules by owning at least five cats. No, it had to be the new neighbour who looked like he'd stepped right out of the '50s with his gelled back hair and bow ties and the adorable boat shoes that were totally not appropriate for New York City winters and who was in his last year at NYADA and very much single (at least, you know, according to Rachel). The same new neighbour who was standing there looking very concerned and maybe a little creeped out, with snow still melting in his hair and a bag from the Chinese place down the street that smelled downright heavenly.
...And who was definitely looking at him a little funny now, head tilting to the side and staring him in the eyes, "Are you okay?"
Kurt waved his hands, praying the hallway was too dark for his neighbour to see the ridiculous shade of pink his face had to be turning, "Yeah, yeah, I'm great. I'm just locked out of my apartment, but I'll be fine! Enjoy your Christmas!" he rambled, quickly spinning back to face his door.
It was tragically difficult to make a smooth exit when said door was, unsurprisingly, still locked.
He heard the rustle of a paper bag, then felt a gloved hand land lightly on his shoulder, "You're Kurt, right? Rachel's roommate? I'm Blaine; I think we met the day I moved in?"
"I am." he answered hesitantly. "It was lovely talking to you, but you really don't have to worry about me. You clearly already have plans, so enjoy your night!" This was not how he had wanted his first real conversation with Blaine to go. He'd had it all planned out, actually, and it definitely involved a lot more of inviting Blaine over because he he had "accidentally made too much food for dinner" and much less being locked out of his apartment on Christmas Eve.
"No, no, it's okay! No big plans!" If Kurt didn't know any better, he might have thought Blaine was blushing in the dim lighting of the hallway as he added, "I don't know how to ask this so it's not creepy, but do you need a place to stay? You're welcome to come over. I swear I'm not a serial killer, and I'll even share my Chinese food."
He's tempted to say no. He really should. He had plans for how their first real meeting was supposed to go, but Blaine is standing there staring at him with his sparkling honey-coloured eyes and holding the paper bag of Chinese food out to him like an offering and... He can't turn that down.
A voice in his head that sounds eerily like Santana points out that this is exactly how horror movies start, but that's overshadowed by his own realization that this is also exactly how a decent romantic comedy starts.
"You promise I'm not interrupting any plans?" he prompts.
"Not unless you count Chinese takeout while watching Elf as plans, no."
"And you promise you're not a serial killer?"
"I'm really not."
Kurt believes him; no one who dresses that well would risk ruining their clothes with such a pesky thing as blood, "Make it Love, Actually instead and you have a deal."
There is no doubt in his mind he'll treasure the sight of Blaine absolutely beaming at him for the rest of his life, and that's how he finds himself pulling the door shut behind him while Blaine sets the takeout bag on the coffee table and begins to unload it, "Make yourself at home. You can just hang your coat up on the back of one of the chairs over there. Can I get you something to drink? I bought the stuff for boozy hot chocolate earlier, but I know I've got water and milk in the fridge. The juice in there might still be good, too, but I don't know if -"
"- Blaine." He waits until wide, earnest eyes meet his before continuing, "What you were going to have is fine. Especially if by 'boozy' what you really meant was 'peppermint schnapps'." Between work and the whole apartment thing, he's had a day; he's earned a drink.
"Okay." Blaine smiles back at him, "My DVD collection is over in the corner. I'll make drinks if you want to try to find the movie."
The DVD is easy enough to find, filed away in a row of Christmas movies next to Die Hard and Elf, and Kurt is pleased to note the impressive collection of old classics and musicals organized by title on the shelf above. For that matter, the whole apartment is nice, less cluttered than the loft with that feeling as if it is just on the cusp of looking lived in. Interspersed between musical posters hung on the walls are pictures, of a younger Blaine surrounded by boys in private school uniforms that look hauntingly familiar to him, Blaine posing with two severe-looking adults and... The guy from the "Free Credit Rating Today!" commercials that Kurt would never admit had been his ringtone for a full year back in high school. The private school boys and the guy from the commercial feature prominently in multiple pictures, along with a few of people Kurt thinks he might recognize from his time at NYADA, but the adults who he has to assume are Blaine's parents, are surprisingly missing from all but the one photograph.
"Here you are. I thought you might want to add it yourself." A steaming mug is brought into his line of sight along with a bottle of schnapps, jolting him from his thoughts. He finds himself feeling guilty, as if he's just spent the last few minutes prying into Blaine's personal life. But that's silly, isn't it? Blaine was the one who invited him in.
Blaine flops down next to him on the couch and starts to divide out their food onto paper plates, turning to shoot him another of those stunning smiles like he couldn't think of a better way to spend his Christmas Eve than with a near-stranger, and Kurt starts to think that maybe that might be the case.
They don't talk much through the movie, but the silence is comfortable in a way Kurt isn't used to after the constant chatter of life in the loft.
Blaine is in the kitchen refilling their drinks, humming along to the Christmas music playing quietly in the background, and both of them are well on their way to comfortably tipsy when Kurt has his realization, "You were in the Dalton Academy Warblers! I knew the uniforms looked familiar!"
"Hm?"
"We competed against you, back in my junior year! You did a P!nk mash-up!" And were gone before Kurt ever had the chance to start a conversation with the attractive lead soloist.
Blaine's cheeks are flushed an adorable shade of red from the alcohol when he sits down beside him again, "Then that makes you… The New Directions? We knew we didn't stand a chance when we realized you had original songs." He hands him his mug and the bottle of peppermint schnapps, and Kurt doesn't hesitate to add a generous amount to his drink.
"I almost went to Dalton." he admits, "My family couldn't afford it, though. I guess we just missed each other."
"At NYADA, too. I think you were the year above me." Blaine adds, setting the liqueur off to the side, "I saw you perform in the Winter Showcase last year; you were amazing. You'll be brilliant on Broadway."
"I hear you're not so bad yourself, Mr. 'Already Getting Offers for Off-Broadway Roles'."
"That doesn't even come close to you, working Off-Broadway and writing a lead column for Vogue! I can't believe you're willing to associate with a peon like me!" Blaine shoves lightly at his shoulder when he laughs, and Kurt takes the opportunity to slide closer.
"I don't know how you can say that when it's Christmas Eve and I'm the one without plans." he points out teasingly.
"I'm not sure if you noticed, but I didn't exactly have any big plans for the evening, either."
"How does that work? How does someone like you not have something going on for the holiday?"
"I could ask you the same thing. Someone as stunning as you deserves to have anything better to do than this." This time Blaine leans in to nudge him and doesn't pull away, a comforting warmth against Kurt's side, "But my parents were never big on celebrating, and Coop's out in LA doing a character study for some acting role he got as a dead guy. So in a place as crazy as New York? I'm okay with the quiet for a few days. With someone like you? It's kind of my ideal Christmas, I think."
"I think it's kind of my ideal Christmas, too." Kurt ducks his head, staring down into his mug of hot chocolate, and this time he's sure that the sudden redness spreading beautifully across Blaine's cheeks before he looks away isn't just from the alcohol, "I… Kind of had a plan, you know."
That stops Blaine, and he's pulling away to look Kurt in the eyes, "For tonight?"
"No. I mean for this… For whatever's happening here. I had plans." Kurt confesses, feeling bold all of a sudden with Blaine staring at him with those sparkling golden eyes and looking positively angelic illuminated from behind by the multi-coloured light off the Christmas tree, "I was going to make dinner some night - I make a mean chicken cordon bleu - and chase Santana and Rachel out of the apartment. That way I could invite you over when I had too much food for just myself. We'd talk, and then at the end of dinner, you'd suggest we go out for coffee tomorrow to pay me back for dinner." He'd tried executing his plan once, actually; Rachel had heard him mention inviting Blaine over and decide she didn't really need to go try that new bistro that opened around the corner right that very minute and, well, if Rachel wasn't going out, then Santana certainly wasn't going to either, especially if it meant getting to see Kurt crash and burn at his first attempt at flirting in well over a year.
He hadn't invited Blaine over that night.
And Blaine is looking back at him with wide-eyed, genuine delight and Kurt would definitely not mind getting to look at that smile every day for the rest of his life, "I would have loved that. I… Might have been trying to find a good excuse to talk to you since the day I moved in. You're stunning, Kurt, and I'd love to invite you out for that coffee sometime if you're not sick of me by tomorrow."
Kurt doesn't think it's much of a stretch when he says, "I don't think it's possible to be sick of you. You're kind of stunning, too."
It's even less of a stretch when he leans in and presses his mouth to Blaine's and Blaine kisses back.
This was all Rachel's fault. Clearly he owes her a better Christmas gift.