AN: hey, sweetie. Come here often?
It's Valentine's and, well, I wrote this the other night. I'd like to dedicate it to m'dear Bottle of Curry, though, 'cause if it wasn't for her, I wouldn't post this.
I have no spellcheck, English is obviously not my first language and this is so fluffy I'm gonna die :D
Warnings: It's Klaine, which means two boys head over heels for each other. Other than that? Sappiness, fluff, incurable romance. (It's Blaine, really. His fault it's so fluffy).
Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Not literally. I have things. But I don't own Glee. And yes, I think I'm hilarious.
The thing was, it was too easy with Kurt.
He was witty, funny, really smart and dressed... spectacularly. Flamoyantly, sure, but he could pull off wearing an orange, life-sized bucket and pink boots - not that he'd ever be caught dead in such an outfit - and make it look like something that went down the runway in Paris last week. He made flamboyant look comfortable, fashionable and good.
He was very brave, whether or not he saw it himself. He'd stood strong, found himself even when he was bullied practically every day since he started school. He refused to take an crap from anyone and he had good manners. Sure, Kurt was a bit of a diva, but he was sneakily humble, too. He cared a lot about others, even when they didn't deserve it, and never shied away. He really didn't know how amazing he was.
Kurt had... many sides to himself. He was the constant fashionista, vain and always clad in the latest designs and always with the latest Vogue issue in his ever-present satchel. He was a greasemonkey that grew up working with his dad in the garage, helping out and he liked it.
He was this secret dork that had read all of the Harry Potter books, along with loads of other paperbacks that weren't just sappy romance novels and he even kept a few comic magazines under his bed for rainy days, though he'd rather stomp his D&G sunglasses into tiny smithereens with his favorite Doc Martens than admit it.
He was Mercedes best friend, Rachel's best rival, Finn's best brother and one of the few, reliable calms in the group; even in the middle of his own crises, Kurt was someone his friends could turn to when they needed someone to lean on.
It was the same at Dalton. Within weeks, Kurt had turned into this... unofficial adviser. Clothes, music, French, love, girls. He managed to keep up with everyone, remembered everyone's names and what they were like. Okay, so Warblers practice could be tense because Wes seemed to have something shoved up his behind - quite likely the gavel he was so fond of - and was really, really strict, but when they were actually singing? It went fine. Kurt sort of... naturally fit in.
Oh, and to top if off, he was good-looking, too. He had a confident air of impeccabile-ness about him, without a hair out place and clothes that fit him perfectly, no matter how crazy they were. He was slender, with the body of a dancer and even if he wasn't particularly tall - taller than Blaine, shorter than his mohawked friend (because bringing the step-brother into the comparison was awkward, considering everyone were short next to Finn Hudson) - he had endless legs that, despite sexuality or gender or anything, was bound to have you staring. And of course Kurt had a habit of wearing skinny jeans, of course, yes. Preferably with boots that made those really long legs seem even longer. Suffice to say, he had a tendency to garner stares wherever he went. For lots of reasons.
It was too easy with Kurt. Too easy to judge him, too easy to be proved wrong. Too easy to find him endearing, too easy to fall for his subtle charm, too easy to disappear in the quest of figuring out what colour his eyes were. It was too easy to confide in him, too easy to get along, too easy to lash out at him. Too easy to care for him, too easy to let him do the caring.
It was too easy to flirt with him, too easy to sit closer than was usually socially acceptable between just friends. It was too easy to reveal too much, too easy to trust, too easy to let your eyes linger.
(Really, Blaine knew that he was a terrible flirt most of the time. He'd made the mistake of leading someone on before, which had ended painfully awkward on both sides. Blaine knew that he was all touchy-feely, but it was too easy to just constantly be so close to Kurt, constantly touch. And Kurt was so touch-deprived - he seemed to be more used to being shoved into lockers than nudge shoulders with his friends - that it was just too easy to lean that little bit closer, to casually hold his hand or sling an arm around his shoulders as they walked down the hall.)
Kurt... he was so unlike any other person Blaine had ever met. He was the sort of person you only ever met once in your life, because there was truly no one else like him. He was the definition of unique, defining the word in the best of ways with his twinkly eyes, quirky smiles and airy laughs.
Not to say that Kurt was perfect, not really. He had flaws just like everyone else; bouts of selfishness and moments when his inner diva broke out and did something that was probably rash, potentially dangerous and doubtlessly dramatic. He had a tendency to jump to conclusions and assume the worst, or do the opposite and remain completely oblivious to the truth of a situation. He could be annoyingly protective when he wanted to, was stupidly stubborn and had this silly idea in his head that he had to be independent.
So, really, Kurt wasn't perfect. He was a handful to be around. But he didn't need to be perfect to be awesome. And Blaine wasn't going to use the the-good-outweighs-the-bad-excuse, because flaws weren't necessarily bad and they were basic, essential components that helped make up the explosive, admirable individual that was Kurt Hummel.
Sappy? Yes. Cheesy? Absolutely. Sweet enough to put puppies puking rainbows and butterflies to shame? Quite probably. Blaine was a hopeless romantic, though, and not even the combined forces of Burt Hummel in Overprotective-Dad-Mode, Wes in Stuck-Up-Strict-Council-Member-Ssh-I-Have-A-Gavel-And-I'm-Not-Afraid-To-Use-It-Mode - or worse, the If-You-Cross-Me-I'll-Start-Spouting-Warbler-History-Mode - and the New Directions Hurt-Him-We-Hurt-You-threat that was constantly hovering over his head, well, not even all of that could stop him from being a hopeless romantic. Not even Kurt's skepticism toward anything romantic in relation to himself could bring Blaine down.
In fact, Kurt's skepticism made Blaine fall even more in love, try a little harder to prove that the world wasn't as cruel as if often seemed...
And - that was it, wasn't it. It made Blaine fall even more in love. It was way, way too easy with Kurt. All of it; smiling, laughing, joking, crying, cursing, losing composure, being the shoulder to cry on, crying in return. It was too easy to feel that sharp tug of jealousy or protectiveness, too easy to be protected in return. Too easy to find things they had in common, too easy to find their differences, too easy to make up excuses to see him; small, white lies for the sake of a glimpse of glittering blue-grey-greenish eyes and a dazzling smile.
The thing was, it was too easy with Kurt.
Blaine wouldn't change a thing, though, even if it wasn't quite fair that it was humanly possible to fall so hard for someone so quickly. Blaine wouldn't change a thing, because a part of him - quite possibly that hopelessly romantic part - liked to believe that it was so easy with Kurt because they were sort of supposed to find each other, sort of supposed to fall too hard, too quickly. Because in the end, it was just as easy for Kurt to fall for Blaine and even if their relationship was anything but easy, it was their kind of perfect.