Disclaimer: I own nada. Simples.
Blaine Anderson didn't skip. Particularly in the halls around Dalton – even though it wasn't specified, he was pretty certain that it was encompassed by the 'no running' clause of their behaviour code. And even if Dalton encouraged it, it didn't really fit in with his dapper, lead soloist, top pupil, out-and-proud-but-not-a-walking-stereotype-I-mean-c'mon-I-like-football image. So he didn't. Skip, that was.
However, if Blaine did occasionally indulge in skipping (which he didn't) he would definitely be doing so now. He'd be dancing and prancing and leaping and bounding and back flipping his way towards the Junior Commons. Because that was where Kurt was waiting for him, and wherever Kurt was, Blaine wanted to be. As soon as physically possible. School had ended half an hour ago, but because Blaine had had to discuss a submission of one of his English essays into a competition with his professor, Kurt had said that he would wait and then they could go and get coffee. Blaine loved that. Kurt would wait. For him. Kurt was waiting for him. He'd never had someone to wait for him before, and if Blaine had been slightly less dapper he probably would have squealed at the prospect, but as he was the epitome of charming he settled for merely smiling.
"Zut alors, Jeff!" Kurt's exclamation carried clearly down the oak-panelled corridor from the commons to where Blaine was, "Il n'est pas si compliqué!"
"Kurt! I have no idea what you're saying!"
"Etes-vous mentalement déficient?"
"I don't understand!"
Blaine was torn between several emotions as he quickened his pace down the hallway. He allowed himself to be dominated by how unbelievably attracted to Kurt he was when he spoke French for a moment before embracing the sheer euphoria he felt at hearing his voice, even if it was just spitting out insults in a foreign tongue. However, the slightly less rational part of his brain had gone into panic mode and somehow managed to shout down all of his saner thoughts – what was Kurt doing speaking French with Jeff? With Jeff-Something-Happened-At-Nick's-Summer-House-But-We-Don't-Talk-About-It-Jeff? He founding himself full of hatred for Jeff, suddenly. Hated how stupidly tall he was, hated his stupid blonde hair, hated the fact that he was so bad at French that he needed a tutor. He especially hated that Kurt was his tutor, and that Kurt hadn't told him that by waiting for him, he meant tutoring Jeff. Stupid Jeff.
Fortunately, that part of Blaine's conscious was quickly silenced as he stepped into the commons and he had to remind himself how to breathe. Even though he'd only seen him 2 hours ago, he still felt his heart rate quicken as his gaze fell on Kurt pacing around the sofa, ranting fluently in French at Jeff, who looked completely dumbfounded by it all. Thoughts of his stupidity were overwhelmed by a sense of pity for the boy – Kurt did look pretty scary right now. Sexy, Blaine observed, but still scary.
"Je jure devant Gucci que vous avez la mémoire d'un poisson rouge. Un poisson rouge vraiment stupide…"
"Did you just call him a very stupid goldfish?"
"Wait, what?"
"Enfermer, Jeff. Et vous, Blaine. Oh." Kurt snapped abruptly. Then he realised what he'd just said and stopped pacing so he could turn to face the doorway. "Blaine…" he sighed, his face spreading out into a wide grin.
Jeff pretended to vomit.
"Hey babe," Blaine couldn't stop his own features from doing something similar to the beautiful boy's in front of him. Kurt looked stunning – Blaine just probably looked goofy.
"I thought your meeting with Howard would take longer," Kurt said breathlessly.
"Same. But it didn't."
"I'm glad."
"Me too."
They lapsed into silence, simply content to stare at each other for a moment.
"Right, I'll leave you to moon at each other then…" Jeff awkwardly tried to hold back laughter as he rose to his feet and gathered his books, rather ruining the moment as he did so. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do. And use protection. We don't want any gay babies running around."
"Imbécile…" Kurt rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling good naturedly, so Blaine figured Jeff was safe enough.
"Yeah, I do know what that means!" Jeff called back over his shoulder, "Not a complete idiot, Kurt."
"Debateable."
"Va te faire foutre!"
"You've taught him well…" Blaine chuckled as he took a step closer to the sofa, closing the distance between them slightly.
Kurt merely gave another eyeroll. "Yes, he can now swear in French. I deserve an award. Dalton should take me on their payroll," he drawled sarcastically.
"I wouldn't mind having you as my teacher."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah."
"I'll bear that in mind. Coffee?" Kurt flitted daintily over to where Blaine stood and extended a perfectly manicured hand.
"Always ." Blaine reached out and intertwined their fingers. "By the way, have I told you how sexy you are when you speak French?"
"Non. Tu veux dire comme ce?"
Blaine bit back a groan. The things Kurt Hummel did to him…
He wanted to do a happy dance after he'd taken that first sip. Genuinely wanted to leap up on the table and bust out some moves. He didn't, for fear of causing a scene in the packed coffee shop, and getting them both barred, and while right now he couldn't care less about that, Kurt would most likely pitch a fit. And he didn't particularly want that to ruin their epic semi-date.
"Is it okay?" Kurt asked nervously. "Did I get it right?"
Blaine chuckled. "It's perfect. You're perfect." And it was, and at that moment, Kurt was too.
"Good," Kurt exhaled a sigh of relief. "I know how fussy you can get about your coffee!"
It might have seemed like a slight over reaction to one cup of medium drip, but to them, it was momentous, just like when they'd first learnt each other's coffee order. The Lima Bean was absolutely jam packed, and it was only through sneaky tactics that they managed to get a table. However, these sneaky tactics had Blaine dashing about the place, inspecting every other customer briefly but carefully to see whether they indicated any signs of leaving soon, whilst Kurt was in charge of ordering and then finishing off the coffees. And he'd gotten Blaine's right. Without asking. His own mother couldn't remember his favourite colour, yet this boy he'd known for 5 months knew exactly how he liked his coffee. It took all of Blaine's efforts not to just sit there, gawping at him in awe.
"Almost as fussy as you are about your hair," Blaine shot back, smirking.
"Hey, it's all for a good cause - I'm hot stuff, I'll have you know," Kurt shoved his nose in the air and huffed, but his glass eyes were sparkling with mirth.
"Damn straight you are," Blaine agreed in a low and sultry tone, causing Kurt to blush furiously and immediately become very absorbed in his coffee. They passed the next few minutes in silence, in which Kurt stared intently at anything but Blaine. Blaine on the other hand couldn't peel his gaze away from the boy opposite him, whose cheeks were turning pinker every second. Blaine didn't care – he was completely entranced, devouring every inch of Kurt's face with his eyes.
"Okay seriously, Blaine - do I have something on my face?" Kurt snapped, drawing Blaine's attention away from his jawline for a second.
"What?"
"You just keep on staring…"
"You're gorgeous and you're my boyfriend. I'm allowed to stare," Blaine reasoned, shrugging, "Plus that pimple on the end of your nose is massive."
Kurt froze, coffee cup half to his mouth. "Are you serious?"
"Yeah, it's massive. I can barely see your face," he teased.
"I really don't care about that right now," Kurt shook his head, slamming his cup down. Blaine's triangular eyebrows shot up to his hairline in shock, but didn't interrupt as Kurt took a deep breath and started to speak measuredly, "Did you mean what you said… About me… being your…"
"Being your what?" Blaine pushed when Kurt's nerve seemed to fail him and he faltered.
"Boyfriend. This. This is boyfriends?"
Blaine couldn't help but laugh. Kurt didn't like this, and his features twisted into a frown.
"Clearly not…" he muttered.
"No, no, no!" Blaine protested, still spluttering slightly, "It's just… well, your question sort of surprised me that's all. I thought it was obvious."
"Oh?" Kurt still looked slightly dubious, so Blaine hurried to explain himself.
"Well, what else would we be?" Blaine asked, cocking is head to one side, "We spend nearly every second of our days either with each other or talking to each other or texting each other or just… well involved with each other."
"We did that before, Blaine," Kurt pointed out.
"We didn't make out as much before."
Kurt turned dark crimson again.
"Have I told you how adorable you are?"
"Yes, repeatedly."
"Oh. Well, I'll say it again. You're adorable."
"Stop trying to change the subject!"
"Sorry. We were talking about making out?"
"Blaine!"
"Sorry!" Blaine threw his hands up in defeat, "I've never done this before, not really sure what the protocol of the 'where are we going in this relationship' discussion is."
"Me neither." Kurt sighed, but with rather less annoyance in his tone than before, and he reached out his hand to take Blaine's.
"Kurt, listen, we like each other, right?" He looked to Kurt for confirmation, who nodded firmly and smiled, "We're definitely some form of together, and everyone at school knows… why wouldn't I call you my boyfriend?" Blaine absentmindedly ran his thumb over Kurt's porcelain skin as he spoke, "I mean, why shouldn't I call you my boyfriend?"
Blaine's voice had cracked slightly, however his gaze did not falter after he finished speaking, watching Kurt anxiously and waiting.
"I feel like an idiot now," Kurt admitted quietly after a moment's reflection.
"You're not an idiot, Kurt."
"I didn't say I was an idiot. I said I felt like an idiot. Difference."
"Sorry."
"Don't apologise when I'm just being a bitch. It makes me fall for you all over again for being so damn sweet," Kurt groaned,
"Sorry," Blaine offered coyly, grinning at Kurt over his medium drip.
"Don't push your luck, Anderson," Kurt reprimanded with an eye roll.
"Sorry. Oops, unintentional, I promise," Blaine backtracked upon receiving his nearly-boyfriend's patented death glare, "Anyway," he reverted to the original topic deftly, "How come you feel like an idiot?"
Kurt sighed. "Blaine, ever since you sang about your skin-tight jeans that time in the Senior Commons, they have pretty much dominated my thoughts. And now here we are, and rather than singing with joy, all I can do is obsess over the tiny, insignificant details – like how I can't run my fingers through your hair without getting gel gunk all over my fingers, and worrying about whether teachers are going to tell us off for being inappropriate in the halls, or what will happen if we run into the football team when we're out together, and what's Mercedes going to say when I finally tell her, and how I'm going to hide my Dad's gun when I tell him and are we ever going to be Facebook official and…" His talking speed had rapidly increased throughout the duration of his rant, and it was only through tapping in to his almost bat like hearing that Blaine had been to separate the blur of words at all. He held up his hands, indicating for his almost-boyfriend to stop.
"Whoah, babe, slow down," he laughed, interrupting Kurt's rambling, "I don't even know where to start on that, without you adding more to the mix…"
"I was pretty much done anyway," Kurt shrugged. "I can save the rest for later."
"I'd appreciate that. Firstly, I'll lay off the gel, if you want. Unleash the beast, so to speak." Kurt's jaw dropped open for a second, before he regained rational thought, features rearranging themselves into a smirk. He nodded and gestured slightly with his hand, indicating Blaine should continue. "Second – don't worry. I know what we can and can't get away with around Dalton. So as tempting as it is sometimes, I will resist from jumping you in the hallways. Third of all, we haven't run into those idiots yet…"
"Yeah, but our luck won't last forever, Blaine!" Kurt interrupted sadly, but with an angry edge to his tone.
"I know. And we'll cross that bridge when we come to it, together. You never have to deal with them on your own again, I promise. Mercedes on the other hand," Blaine cocked his head to one side and made a rueful sort of gasping noise, "I am staying well away from… she will cut someone when she finds out you kept this a secret. And I'll just wear a bullet proof vest all the time, so your Dad won't be a problem either."
"He would find a way to seriously maim you," Kurt assured him, and Blaine tried very hard to keep his fear off his face.
"Well, if he hurts my performing skills, Wes will seriously maim him, so it'll balance out," Blaine responded coolly in his best attempt at non-chalance. "Finally, Facebook status will always be significant. And you're significant. So…" He took a deep breath, and actually found his palms to be sweating a little bit, "Kurt Hummel – will you please be my Facebook official, tell your father and your friends, screw what anyone else says because we're awesome , you can put your hands on me in my skin tight jeans any time you like boyfriend? Please?"
Kurt was grinning so wide that Blaine feared his face might split in half.
"Seeing as you put it so nicely… I suppose so," he sighed, completely unconvincing in his apathy.
Blaine gave up on holding back his Cheshire cat impression, and instead joined his boyfriend (God it felt good to say that) in beaming like a lunatic.
"Now, more importantly, please say you were kidding about that pimple?"
Kurt was stalling. He'd said he would tell him as soon as he got home. But when he'd walked into the living room, his father had been absorbed in some game on the plasma, and Kurt had decided that he would wait until half time. Then when it got to half time, he told himself that he should probably wait until it had completely finished, and then they could have an honest and open discussion about it. Well, the game had finished 40 minutes ago, and Kurt was now sitting cross legged on his bed, under the guise of doing some completely fabricated homework so that he wouldn't have to sit downstairs and attempt to interact with his family. His stomach was tying itself in knots at the very thought of even saying those words – Dad, I have a boyfriend. For some reason, he'd never pictured himself having to tell his father that. He'd always envisioned much more awkward scenarios, like Burt walking in on him and a guy making out, or something like that. Kurt cursed his inner drama queen – why had he not prepared himself for far less confrontational circumstances?
"Boys! Burt!" Carole's voice called, "Dinner time!"
Kurt sighed. It was time to face the music. With a quick text to Blaine, telling him not to worry if he didn't hear from him for the rest of the night, he was probably just a little bit dead, the young countertenor rolled gracefully off his bed, straightened his sweater and padded down to the kitchen.
"Hey kiddo," his dad greeted him as he walked in, making Kurt feel horrific with just those two words –he already felt guilty for hiding from his father ever since he'd arrived home, and now he was pretty certain that what he was going to announce over dinner would not be beneficial to Burt's blood pressure levels. To be perfectly honest, even with his low cholesterol diet, Kurt felt pretty close to cardiac arrest himself at that point. However, he managed to mumble a greeting in response, stumble to his seat and make the appropriate responses to all of the words that were flying around the dinner table as they began to eat.
"…and then right, the pigeon flew through window, stole her hairbrush, flew back out to its nest, and then when she went to find it, the baby birds had turned blonde because they'd been eating her hair! I didn't know that that could even happen!" Finn enthused, spraying casserole crumbs everywhere as he did so.
"Eww," Kurt muttered.
"I know right!"
"No, I was referring to your inability to swallow your food, Finn," he rolled his eyes at his stepbrother's stupidity, "And just for future reference, don't accept everything Britt says as truth."
Finn made a spectacle of chewing and finishing his next bite of food before opening his mouth to speak again, but Kurt had already tuned out again, desperately trying to remember where the key to the gun cabinet was kept now they had moved – he internally chastised himself for not thinking of that earlier.
"Kurt! Stop zoning out on me!" Finn whined, poking him in the ribs sharply. Kurt grimaced apologetically, and hoped that nothing more would be made of it – no such luck though.
"Yeah, what's with you tonight, son?" Burt asked in between mouthfuls of peas. "You're jumpier than a rattlesnake in a pickle barrel."
"Huh?"
"It's a metaphor, Finn," Kurt sighed, "We learnt about them in English last year."
"I thought metaphors were those shiny rocks that fell through the sky."
"No, Finn."
"Kurt, you answer me when I ask you something," Burt stated, not happy at being ignored, "What is with you?"
"It's really nothing," Kurt dismissed casually, however they did not have the desired effect. He could see the alarm bells ringing in his father's head – he's said that about Karofsky, of course Burt wouldn't believe him now.
"Is something wrong? Has something happened? Is school okay? I thought the kids there were nice? Has someone said something? Has…"
"Dad!" Kurt interrupted exasperatedly, "Everything's fine... in fact, everything's better than fine…"
"Well, how comes you're acting all strange then?" Burt jabbed his fork in his son's direction, but the accusing action was overridden by the concern in his tone.
Kurt took a deep breath to steady his pounding heart. It made no noticeable difference. "Because… well… the thing is… it's…" he stammered out.
"Spit it out, Kurt. Don't have a haemorrhage."
"Blaine…"
"Blaine what?"
"Blaine…"
"Do I need to punch his face in?" Finn offered.
"What did that kid do?"
"Seriously, bro, if you want me to, I will…"
"Finn! Violence is not the answer! Most of the time." Carole interjected, "And Burt! Let Kurt finish. What is it, honey?"
Kurt threw his stepmom a grateful look and hoped she would help him with the shit storm which was most likely about to go down. "Blaine and I," he started again slowly, "Blaine and I are going out."
"That's not news," Finn snorted, shovelling more food into his mouth, "You and Blaine go out all the time."
"Say it, don't spray it, Finn. And as in going out going out. Dating. Boyfriends," Kurt stated, emphasising each different term for 'in a relationship'. It was sort of comforting to hear out loud, and Kurt felt himself relax slightly.
Burt however had frozen up completely. Finn had dropped his fork with a clatter. Carole was beaming at him so wide that he feared her face would split in half, and Kurt was struck by how absolutely insane they all looked. It would have been funny if it wasn't so damn scary, and all of Kurt's recently evaporated nerves rushed back as his gaze flickered between his for-once-silent family's faces.
"Dad…" he prompted, after a few minutes of awkward tension.
"Boyfriends…" Burt croaked, not lifting his gaze to meet Kurt's. "Boyfriends…"
"Dad, are you okay with this?" His voice was nearly as whisper, full of dread over the multitude of possible responses.
"… When?"
Kurt did not miss his father's failure to answer his question but chose to ignore it for now. "Only officially today… but we've been together for a few weeks," he admitted.
"Together…" Burt echoed hoarsely. Kurt didn't elaborate, instead allowing him time to process the new information. Finn had slowly resumed eating mechanically, but his gaze was glassy and he almost missed his mouth a couple of times.
"Well, I think it's great!" Carole announced after neither her son nor her husband passed further judgement, "You happy, hon?"
Kurt nodded, a slight pink tinge to his cheeks.
"Well of course you are, that boy is damn cute. If I was twenty years younger…"
"Mom!" Finn groaned, his disgust snapping him out his daze.
"What? It's true!"
"You're the wrong gender too, Carole," Kurt giggled, smiling again now that it was only one member of his family who appeared to be catatonic.
"Fine, if I was twenty years younger and male, I would so scoop that boy up," Carole amended with a wink.
"Eww, Mom! Seriously, I'm being mentally scarred here!"
"You jealous of your brother's luck too, eh, Finn?"
"Mom! Stop!"
"Aww, Finny," Carole consoled her son with a pat on the arm, "I'm sorry. But this is really great news for Kurt and I think we should all," she shot her husband a pointed look, "be happy for them."
"I am happy for them…" Finn grumbled.
"Try saying that with a smile, honey."
"I've got to work on my threatening face for when I next see Blaine! I can't smile! Otherwise he won't take me seriously!"
Kurt restrained from pointing out that very few people took Finn seriously on a regular basis anyway, and instead turned back to face his father, who had now refocused in on what was actually happening. Kurt knew his father, and he could see the emotions flickering over his face. Happiness, anger, but mainly concern.
"Kurt, invite Blaine over for dinner this Saturday," he instructed after another moment's contemplation on what Finn had said.
"Dad…" he implored, not liking where this was headed.
"I'm happy for you," Burt nodded and gave a small smile before resuming eating, "Promise. Just invite the kid over."
With a sigh, Kurt nodded. He would definitely have to find that key before Saturday.
Blaine had tried to do his History essay. He really had. But it had proved to be nigh on impossible, what with checking his phone every 30 seconds, keeping the 'edit information' Facebook tab open, scrolling through various possibilities and generally panicking.
He almost leapt out of his skin when his phone vibrated and he scrambled about, all fingers and thumbs in his desperation.
1 new message.
His heart race quickened considerably… and then plummeted again.
From David: Warblers rehearsal tomorrow has been shifted back by half an hour – hope that doesn't cause any problems y'all.
Of course it would be about bloody Warblers. The one time in his life when he genuinely didn't care about Glee club, and that's what he was getting texts about.
He dropped his phone back onto his bed carelessly and plodded over to his bathroom. After he'd answered nature's call, he stood and stared at himself in the mirror for a while, killing time by picking out flaws in his features and just thinking about everything and nothing in particular. And then when he got bored of that, he allowed himself to check his phone again.
2 new messages and 3 missed calls from Kurt.
Dammit.
From Kurt: Keep Saturday evening free.
From Kurt: And check your facebook.
Blaine smiled.
His history essay could wait a few more minutes.
Kurt Hummel is in a relationship with Blaine Anderson
Mercedes Jones, Jeff Barker and 26 others like this.
Tina Cohen-Chang: Happy happy happy dance.
Mercedes Jones: Finally! You better take care of my boy Anderson, else I'm gonna cut you.
Wesley Hughes: Wait, why is this on my news feed? This isn't news!
Mercedes Jones: What you chatting about, Warbler?
Wesley Hughes: They've had their tongues down each other's throats for weeks now.
Mercedes Jones: WHITE BOY! WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME!
Quinn Fabray: Well that explains Candles.
(Lauren Zizes likes this)
Burt Hummel: Wait, what?
Kurt Hummel: He's kidding Dad. And sorry 'Cedes, only became official today.
Noah 'Puck' Puckerman: Shut up Fabray. And gutted for you Hummel – this is why you don't have the parents on Facebook.
Wesley Hughes: I was most definitely joking Mr Hummel.
Brittany Pierce: O yay! He's a really good kisser Blaine!
Trent D'Arcy: Okay, Kurt, you're going to have to explain this tomorrow.
(David Grant, Jeff Barker and Nick Lynch like this)
Blaine Anderson: Regretting making it Facebook official now, Kurt? And Mercedes, of course I will. I do not want to get cut.
Noah 'Puck' Puckerman: I will also introduce you to a world of pain, Warbler, if you hurt by boy Hummel.
(Sam Evans, Finn Hudson, Michael Chang and 4 others like this)
Lauren Zizes: Will you drown him in your tears, crybaby?
(Quinn Fabray, Michael Chang, Finn Hudson and 8 others like this
A/N: Up next, Blaine joins the Hudmel's for dinner. Reviews = love.