A/N: For Summer Klaine Week 2013, Day 5: Ten Years From Now. I was really imaginative with the title, right? (A tiny shout out to me for finally writing a futurefic! Never done that before.)
By the way, Sebastian ended up being friends with Kurt and Blaine in this. He's sort of the token single friend. Now, Sebastian isn't actually in this story, he's just mentioned, but I promise by the end you will understand why it had to be him.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Ten Years From Now
by padfoot
...
They make it down two flights of stairs and out the door of the apartment complex before Kurt pauses, reaching out to grab Blaine's hand and pull him to a halt.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Kurt asks, voice thin and concerned, "What if Felix wakes up? And you just know Lizzy will interrogate us in the morning. How would you explain this to a four year-old?"
Blaine raises his eyebrows, twining his fingers through Kurt's and pulling him out onto the pavement
"We tell her the truth?" he suggests idly.
"Which is?"
"We're going out to have fun. You're twenty-nine, Kurt – hardly ancient. I'll bet New York's premier bars have been missing you."
Kurt looks doubtful at that statement, but Blaine's rocks up on his toes and pecks his husband smartly on the lips, wiping the hesitancy off his face. Tonight is going to be great, Blaine tells himself, raising his eyebrows at Kurt in what's almost a challenge. All he needs is for Kurt to agree to be a part of it.
Rolling his eyes, Kurt lets Blaine pull him a couple of steps along the pavement, setting the pace at a brisk stroll as they move away from apartments and towards the noisy, bright night that makes New York famous.
"See, Kurt? This is going to be amazing."
Pursing his lips, Kurt doesn't answer. This was Blaine's idea: a night of freedom for the two of them, a night to dance and drink and be young again. Blaine's right, of course, they aren't exactly old yet, but Kurt's sure he'll feel out of place at any gay bar. It's just been so long since they've done something like this.
Blaine leads the way deeper into the city, towards their usual bar district, back in the day. He pulls his phone from his pocket when they get close, frowning at a message he's received.
"Who is it?" Kurt asks quickly, "The sitter? What's happened? Are the kids okay?"
"Everything's fine Kurt," Blaine laughs, "Relax, please. It's just Sebastian. He says that he and the guys are at Cupid. Want to head there first?"
"Where's Cupid?"
"Just near that Thai place, I think. The one that gave you food poisoning?"
Kurt nods, not at all encouraged by that information. Nonetheless, he lets Blaine grab his hand again and pull him onwards.
After about ten minutes of walking, Blaine realises with an internal jab of embarrassment that he's lost. The bar they were heading for is nowhere near where he thought, and Kurt must have clued on to the fact that they're now wandering the city streets, searching aimlessly. To Blaine's relief, his phone pings just as he's about to give up hope, and he hastily tugs it out of his pocket.
"Oh, Sebastian says they've moved on. They're at T Bar."
"Great," Kurt nods, "Where's that?"
Blaine opens his mouth to reply, then pauses. Kurt is staring at him with a dubious expression. He'd never wanted to come out tonight in the first place, and if Blaine let's on that he doesn't know where they're meant to be going, then Kurt will surely insist they head home.
Blaine considers his options, and re-reads Sebastian's message on his phone to buy himself some time. It's still early, he reasons. Even if he and Kurt get lost, he'll text Sebastian when they're close and Sebastian can direct them the rest of way. Blaine has definitely heard of T Bar before. It can't be far from where Sebastian's crowd – the crowd of single, childless, slight-younger-than-middle-aged gay men – usually spend their Saturday nights.
"It's a little way from here," Blaine answers, knowing Kurt's shrewd enough to pick up on his uncertainty, "I don't know exactly where, but I figure it'll be in the block of places where Sebastian and his friends normally are. And that's an easy walk from where we are now."
Kurt nods, but he seems unconvinced.
"We could go home?" he suggests, "There's no reason for us to stay out."
"This is our night," Blaine insists, "Our night to do what we want to do. And we want to go to a bar, get pleasantly drunk, and grind on each other as if we're teenagers again, right?"
Grinning a little, in spite of himself, Kurt nods, "Right."
Blaine smiles back, and it's sort of ridiculous that such un-romantic words somehow summoned a brief moment between them that feels special and private. On this noisy street with his husband, Blaine feels both old and married, and young and alive, all at once. He wants to do this with Kurt – wants to touch him again like he used to, wants to watch him dance, to dance with him and buy him drinks and show him off to the world. Blaine loves their kids, but sometimes he just wants Kurt to himself again. He wants those times back. And tonight is their one opportunity to recreate them.
"Come on," he says, and Kurt meekly follows as Blaine heads off again.
They are temptingly close to one of their old favourite bars – Callbacks – when Sebastian texts again. Blaine reads the message with a frown, which Kurt watches deepen as Blaine reads the text again.
"He says they've moved on again. Holy Knights? But that they'll be somewhere later... at, um-" he breaks off, showing his phone to Kurt, "That's not even a word, is it?"
Kurt laughs. Clearly, Sebastian is drunk. And he can't imagine any way that he and Blaine will be able to find him tonight.
Beside them, Callbacks is full to the brim, with wide-eyed NYADA students packing the brightly-lit space and the sounds of drunk karaoke echoing out. It's barely even past midnight, Kurt thinks, kids these days just cannot hold their liquor.
"Okay, no problem. We can skip Holy- whatever and go to Watchman's – you know everyone will end up there eventually. And I'm sure I can get us there from here, it's not far off, just a couple of blocks-"
"Blaine."
Kurt pulls on his husband's hand, ceasing Blaine's frazzled searching for the next direction to head in. There is a slightly frantic gleam in Blaine's eyes, as if he is for some reason desperate to make this night work, desperate for him and Kurt to just get into a bar and be there. As if he thinks the where of it all matters one bit.
"Blaine," Kurt repeats, to make sure he's listening, "I'm almost thirty. I have a child and a baby waiting for me at home, and I love them and miss them already. I have a husband who I love with all my heart, who I would follow off the edge of the Earth if he asked me to. And I don't think we need to do all this to prove we're still young."
Blaine's anxiety still lingers on his face, but his expression does soften significantly at Kurt's words.
"But what about-?"
"I don't need all this to prove to me that we're still young and sexy and perfectly capable of being insanely in love with each other. Do you?"
"No, Kurt, of course not," Blaine hurries to say, "I love you so much, I just wanted us- I'm only- I'm crazy about you. Always have been, always will be. I want to spend all of my life with you and our family. But I also want – I'll always want – to be with you. To hold you and feel you and have you to myself. I just wanted you to be mine for a night."
Blaine blushes at words, still embarrassed by how much he wants Kurt, even after all these years. But Kurt can feel his own cheeks flushing too. It's ridiculous – he'd have hoped to be at least somewhat immune to this mindless way that Blaine tends to confess his deepest, most intimate fantasies and desires – but Kurt is turned on by Blaine's words.
He can feel the ghost of Blaine's body against his from year's past. From a time before kids and mortgages and real jobs, back when sweat and heat and hard lines of muscle, seemed to be all that mattered, pushing in from all sides on the crowded dance floor of a club. Kurt can remember the feel of eyes on him, of swivelling his hips and lifting his arms and feeling his shirt ride up and knowing Blaine's fingers would wrap around the bones of his hips, pulling him surely and firmly against the warm wall of Blaine's chest until their bodies and faces are so close that they can't figure out whose breath is whose. Kurt can remember twining his body around Blaine's, tangling them both up in a gripping-tight knot. Touching each other and kissing each and pulling glorious sounds from Blaine's throat and feeling the stares of people around them, feeling the rush of possessiveness, the solid truth of inseparable somehow meaning more on a dance floor flooded with attractive, available men who will never, ever have what he has.
Kurt blinks back to reality, and Blaine has seen whatever spark of heat those thoughts have summoned into Kurt's eyes. Glancing around, Blaine steers them into a side street, an abandoned alleyway between the walls of two clubs. Kurt can feel the buildings throbbing on both sides of him. The vibrations run through the ground, up into his body like liquid fire.
"I wanted tonight to be reckless," Blaine murmurs, and suddenly Kurt's back is hard against a shocking-cold wall, buzzing with music from the club that's so close and yet so entirely separate from this moment.
"Reckless and shameless and- and hot, like it used to be. I wanted to not to have to be grown up anymore," Blaine takes a breath, exhales coolly against Kurt's cheek, then breathes a slow line across to Kurt's ear.
"I wanted to be loud," Blaine whispers, breath wet and lips so close that Kurt can feel the echoes of their movement, "without worrying about waking the kids."
Blaine's teeth close around the shell of Kurt's ear and pull, just once, but the broken off noise it elicits is enough to make Blaine's eyes travel down again. His gazes fixes hot and heavy on Kurt's, and both of them are so far gone that they're completely unaware of where they are or how old they are or what they're meant to be doing.
All Kurt knows is that his husband is sexy, insanely so, and if they can't kiss right now something terrible will most likely happen. So he pushes forward and kisses, tongue clashing with Blaine's and hands snatching out to grab any part of him that he can. Blaine's fist thuds against the bricks beside Kurt's head, that one arm holding them upright and anchored, somehow, while Blaine's other hand curves on Kurt's hip, fingers flexing back and fanning down over his ass. Kurt wraps his whole body around Blaine's, his back pressed hard against the wall, but both arms tugging Blaine closer, pushing up under the back of his shirt and digging into his hair, one ankle lifting up to curl around Blaine's calf. They're both emitting noises, desperate and wanton, hidden away enough to know they won't be disturbed, yet public enough to be absurdly turned on by their wild display.
"We should... home," Kurt chokes out, head thrown back as Blaine's lips suck and pull at his neck.
"Felix..." Blaine mutters, nipping at that gorgeous spot that makes Kurt squirm against him, letting out little whines, "Lizzy... disturb."
"Sebastian's," Kurt answers immediately, "Spare key?"
Blaine pulls back, eyes blown but expression exuberant.
"I love you," he says.
Kurt sags a bit against the wall, heart pounding, body thrumming, and breaths huffing out in quick, shallow pants. He and Blaine have been together for more than ten years now. Should this have stopped – this insanity, this desperation, this need for each other that pulses, trilling hot, through his veins?
"I love you too," he replies.
And maybe that answers his question.
...
Kurt's humming as he cooks brunch, stupidly happy, with Lizzy watching on with narrowed eyes.
"Hi, Dad," she calls when Blaine enters the room, carrying a quietly gurgling Felix, who is curled up against Blaine's chest, content after his morning bath.
Kurt looks up from the stove, grinning lazily at Blaine, a secret spark in his eyes that has his husband smirking and blushing. Blaine ducks down to kiss Lizzy's forehead, then leans over the counter to kiss Kurt on the lips.
"Morning, gorgeous," he murmurs.
Felix makes a soft snuffling noise, and Kurt lifts a hand to stroke a tender finger down his son's cheek.
"Daddy?" Lizzy asks suddenly, and both her parents turn to face her.
"Yes, sweetie?"
"What's that on your neck?"