So I havent posted in literally years and the only reason I am back now is because I am bored and finals are here and Klaine is getting me through them and I need to WRITE SHIT. LIKE NOW, SOMETHING, ANYTHING.
So enjoy.
Kurt has a lot of things to do.
He has to go celebrate the New Directions' latest improbable win at Puck's house, where everyone who drinks will be sloppy and everyone who doesn't will also be sloppy because they're just so proud and happy and silly and together.
He has to receive a tight hug from Carole, let his father ruffle his hair (which he lets him do because he loves Burt more than he loves perfection) and give Mr. Schue the goofy yet ritual high-five.
He has to text Mercedes and ask if she's okay, because even through they aren't what they used to be and he knows that she might not want to hear from him at all, he knows how it feels to be sucker-punched just when you think you've got it in the bag and you really did your best, and it sucks, and if a friendly text helps even a little then it's worth it.
But all of this has to wait, because right now he and Blaine are tangled head to foot in the backseat of his car, parked out in the McKinley public lot, and the windows are steamy from the heat inside and the rain outside and everything feels too good, too perfect perfect perfect hot to interrupt with life and its little ups and downs.
"Mmmm," Blaine hums low as he kisses Kurt, lips sucking gently and tongue warm on Kurt's, one hand holding his boyfriend's soft pointed face and the other pressed flat against Kurt's lower back so that there's no space between them, just body on body and both of them undulating together in a delicious slow rhythm. Kurt curls one leg up and over, scissors Blaine's thigh down against his crotch in a way that makes nerves spark hot and sharp down there, and Blaine laughs into his mouth and slides that hand on Kurt's back down with a hard pressure and stops kissing him (nocomebackyousexysexyjerk) so that he can nuzzle into the curve of Kurt's neck and tease the skin there with his teeth and tongue, nips and little swirls of warmth that send waves of something truly incredible through Kurt's veins so that his free leg kicks out and thumps against the car door. He arches his head back and whimpers and god damn, it took way too long for him to start letting his boyfriend do things like this.
"Don't break a window or anything," Blaine mutters into his neck, and then snorts a little at his own bad joke. This should bring Kurt down to earth from whatever planet he's flying by right now, but instead it's weirdly hot, that Blaine can be such a goof and still love Kurt, still touch him so wonderfully and make these things happen under his skin. He rakes a hand through Blaine's hair, not even caring about the gel getting all him all sticky and gross because not only does it ruffle Blaine's hair in a way that makes him look like he just came out of a porno, but because Blaine groans in response and clings tighter to Kurt, wrapping him up in his arms until the heat between them is unbelievable and nothing on this sweet earth will ever smooth out the wrinkles they are both making in their tuxedo shirts.
Kurt's phone buzzes somewhere on the floor, and though he would rather die than disentangle his limbs from Blaine's to check the message, it does deliver a sharp little dose of real-life into their snug sexy-times cocoon.
"We should-nngh-we should g-go back soo-oooooooh, god, Blaine," Kurt whines as Blaine bites down on that spot just beneath his jaw and at the same time slips one hand in between their bodies and lets his fingers brush lightly over Kurt's zipper. There's white light dancing in front of Kurt's eyes and it's not fair, it's really not fair that Blaine can ruin him with these tiniest of gestures. Kurt prides himself on being cool and collected at all times, no matter who's giving him crap or making fun of him or telling him he's wrong. He could put on a Sasha Fierce face anytime, anywhere, and until Blaine came along with his dark eyes and blobby nose and unbelievably talented tongue no one could take that away from him.
If he didn't love him so much, Kurt would want to murder Blaine most of the time.
"We should do what now?" Blaine whispers, and Kurt's hips buck upwards without any conscious decision-making on his part. He grabs a fistful of Blaine's shirt and tries to focus.
"Go inside...see people, we have to...the party at Puck's...my dad," Kurt manages to say without his voice breaking more than once. Blaine pauses in his ministrations and pulls back a little bit, letting tremendously unwelcome space open up between their bodies.
"Promise never to mention your dad ever again while we're doing this and we'll go back in five."
"Deal," Kurt snorts, and Blaine laughs too, and they're giggling as they move back together and start to rock, legs braced at different angles against the seat and door, both of them achingly hard and shuddering at the surging electrical charge from the friction between their legs, hands all over, and in some shadowy part of Kurt's brain he remembers being all over Blaine in this backseat another time-Kurt let's just do it, I want you so bad, it's all about us--and how can it be that after such an awful feeling settled over him that night, after the car and the nighttime and the smell of parking lot, now he can be with Blaine here and feel so good, so alive and energized and loved and wanted and safe from the problems of the world-
Crickk crkk crkk.
The sound of knuckles knocking against Plexiglass is like getting slapped in the back of the head. Both boys rip their mouths away and Blaine turns wildly towards the window behind him while Kurt hikes himself up on his elbows so he can see over Blaine's shoulder. A dark, blurry figure is standing beside the car, blocking the yellow glow from the parking lot lamp, but the steam inside and the rain outside makes it impossible to identify who just interrupted one of the hottest moments of Kurt's life. Blaine moves his legs to either side of Kurt's and carefully sits back on his knees; Kurt struggles to sit up a little more, although Blaine still hovers over him like a panting dark-haired hobbit sex-lord.
"Who the hell is that?" Kurt huffs, disoriented and pissed off by the sudden lack of his boyfriend's tongue in his mouth. Blaine shakes his head and tries to adjust his shirt, but only ends up disheveling it in a slightly different way. Both of their tuxedo jackets are wadded up in the front seat, and looking over his and his boyfriend's dress-shirt-dress-pants-undone-bow-tie outfits, Kurt feels a little twinge of pride at participating in such a classy hookup.
"Dunno...maybe your dad sent Finn after you or something," Blaine suggests in a hushed voice. Kurt groans and rolls his eyes.
"Oh god, he would. And Finn would actually do it too."
"Should we-" Blaine starts to speak, but suddenly the dark shape outside knocks again, three quick raps against the wet windowpane. Kurt grinds his teeth.
"Just tell him to get lost and slam the door in his face," he suggests; apparently a little too much impatience finds its way into his voice, because Blaine raises an eyebrow and laughs a little under his breath. Kurt can feel the blush creeping over his cheeks, and to shut Blaine up he reaches down and strokes the insides of Blaine's thighs with his fingertips, pressing hard against the taut muscle. Blaine shudders, almost loses his balance and sways over Kurt like he's about to collapse back on top of him (yes please). "We still have four minutes out here anyways," he adds with what he hope is a coquettish smirk, and even if it's not quite Marlene Dietrich it's certainly enough to make Blaine twist around and open the door a crack with a barely hidden smile on his face.
"Sorry, Finn, we're kind of in the middle of-"
The playful tone cracks like a broken mirror and Blaine's words are choked back as the fuzzy figure outside appears in sharp relief through the open door, and Kurt's mind seems to have been electrocuted or sent to another planet or voted off America's Top Model or something else equally crushing because what he sees over his boyfriend's shoulder is Sebastion Smythe's face, glowing in the lamplight and shining a little from the rain, an umbrella held over his head and a look of dirty delight slowly spreading over his incredibly irritating features, and Kurt really really really cannot handle this.
"Oh wow," says Sebastian, and just the sound of his voice is enough to make Kurt's blood boil. This moment, this triumphant night, this goddamn backseat are suddenly filthy and awful because Sebastian is in the middle of them and Kurt isn't picky, all he wants is something heavy and appropriately shaped for bludgeoning, in his hand, right this second. "Guess I'm interrupting something," Sebastian continues, eyes narrowed with pleasure. "My bad."
A long second passes and Kurt is feeling worse and worse; he refuses to move (he couldn't anyway, Blaine is frozen staring at Sebastian and he's straddling Kurt's legs so that they're pretty well pinned to the seat) but he hates the way Sebastian is looking over the inside of the car, his eyes practically leaving trails of slime as they slide over Blaine-two shirt buttons undone and the hem pulled out halfway, hair completely crazy-messy, lips swollen from kissing-and then over Kurt, who feels vulnerable and unprotected and trapped on his back with his black dress pants bunched up along his hips and the hickey from earlier pulsing purple-blue on his neck and his hair looking just ridiculous and everything about him undone, the way he never lets anyone see him, anyone but Blaine, whom he loves and trusts and knows would never look at him like he was a picture on a skanky website or a cut of meat in a store window.
A long long long moment, as the rain taps staccato on Sebastian's umbrella and Blaine's face is white and shocked in the lamplight. A long moment, and then Sebastian's grin widens.
"Was gonna give you my congratulations, Blaine...and I wanted to ask if you'd like to come out and celebrate New Directions' big win. But it looks like you guys kind of got started celebrating without me." There's a look in his eye that makes Kurt's stomach flip, and he feels Blaine stiffen. Sebastian smirks and moves closer, leaning down so his head is practically in the car with them. "Room for one more?"
"That's it."
Kurt doesn't realize he's said it until Blaine's head whips back around and Sebastian's eyebrows go soaring, but he barely waits a second before wrenching his legs out from underneath Blaine and shoving himself upright, grabbing the door handle behind his back and pulling so that the door falls open and cold air rushes up against his flushed face. His feet land squarely on the wet asphalt and the first drops of rain hit him in the eye as he launches himself from the car and practically throws himself around the rear bumper so that he's face to face with Sebastian, ears ringing and body buzzing with something that Kurt would call rage if it weren't so desperate for itself.
"Excuse me?" asks Sebastian, and it's the smugness in his voice that removes any manners which might have corralled Kurt's temper. He steps up so that he and Sebastian are inches apart, both of them under the umbrella, so close that Kurt is surprised Sebastian isn't bursting into flame from the sheer heat of the anger radiating out at him.
"Look, I don't care who you are or where you've lived or what matchbook-backwoods-four-dollar beauty school graduate cut your hair, but you need to back. Off." Kurt's voice sounds strange to him, hard and lower than usual and yet somehow still in danger of breaking. Blaine is struggling to get out of the car now, but he can't open the door wide enough with both of them standing so near, and neither Kurt nor Sebastian are moving any time soon. "This isn't a game, this isn't funny, this is my life and Blaine's life and we were both absolutely fine before you showed up and started whoring yourself out like you're cool and you don't care, but guess what, I care, because we're together and you need to leave him alone because I love him and I am not going to let you mess with me."
And it's true, Kurt's been through hell and worse, Sebastian is nothing nothing nothing compared to a casket being lowered in the ground and a meaty face with hating eyes looming over him and the steady beep of a heart monitor that could stop at any second and end the only person who Kurt cannot imagine any kind of a life without, all of these things are Kurt's to cherish and loathe and Sebastian holds a candle to none of them and Kurt should not have to deal with this idiot so why is his heart hammering in his chest and why does he feel like this, so furious and helpless and small? Suddenly Blaine half-dives, half-falls out of the tiny gap between door and car and only just manages not to end up ass-down on the asphalt, but by the time he's up and breathing hard as his eyes flick from Sebastian to Kurt, Sebastian's grin has faded slightly and the playful glint in his eyes has a mean edge to it now, razor-sharp and jagged.
"You really think it matters what you want?" he sneers, and Kurt is nauseous at the tone in Sebastian's voice. "You think one twink who's terrified of sex and can barely hit a low F under middle C is going to scare me offt? I get what I want, Kurt, and right now I want you to take your gay face back a little bit. And then I want you to get it through the pint of hairspray that's slowly choking your brain of oxygen, I am so much more of a catch than you will ever be. I know how to have fun, for starters, I'm not just here to sit around looking squeaky clean and frigid-"
"Hey." Blaine's voice is different too-Kurt only ever hears him speak like this when something is encroaching on the little patch of world Blaine feels comfortable and safe in, like Sam with his body roll or Karofsky calling them fairies in the empty hallway or Kurt telling him that he was fooling himself with the bisexuality kick, people just butting into the bits and pieces of life that are protected and no-fire zones and that Blaine thinks are worth defending. This voice can say a million words and only one message comes through: get out.
"That's my boyfriend you're talking to. Watch your mouth," Blaine continues, and Sebastian's smile is back in full, although it's empty as a drained flask. "You don't talk to him that way, not around me, not ever. And I have tried to be polite, I've tried to give you the benefit of the doubt and act like all of this, everything that you're doing is, is okay, like it's normal, but it's not, it's not okay and you need to stop. Please," Blaine finishes somewhat lamely, and here's one of those moments where Kurt's body is sending him messages that don't compute, in this case there's Is that all he's got why hasn't he pulled a right hook on this jackass am I really dating a boxer who can't even get it up and make it clear to this guy how out of line he is, versus the opposing argument of There is not room in my hear for how much I love this boy he's beautiful and wonderful and how did I find him how did this happen whats the best way to get Sebastian out of here quickly if not permanently so I can ravish Blaine against the side of Finn's mother's station wagon and wow thinking about Finn and Carole is making things weird and things are already pretty screwed right about now.
"Huh," says Sebastian. There are spikes of something unpleasant down Kurt's spine because he's never heard a sound more threatening in his life. "Huh," again, and then Sebastian's smile is becoming so wide he might as well be the Cheshire Cat dressed like a Catholic schoolboy. "Interesting."
He takes a step back, cocks his head to one side. "I have to tell you, Blaine, I find it a little puzzling-don't get me wrong, I mean this in the best way possible-I find it kind of strange that when you start talking like a fourth grader with crack laced in his applesauce you just become that much more attractive. I could seriously do some pretty nasty-lovely things to you right now." His eyes sweep over Blaine, head to feet and back up, and then they're on Kurt, disdain shining in them like the lamplight spoiled and rotten. "Kurt, you just annoy me. So much. Like, too much."
The rain is still coming down, but so far they've all been kind of cramming themselves under Sebastian's umbrella; now he begins to back up, taking his umbrella with him, and the rain is falling on Kurt's shoulders and hair and face and he's shivering in a sudden chill that doesn't make sense because the rain is not that cold. Sebastian's face weaves through shadows as he moves backwards, his horrible grin squarely in place.
"I'm not done here, Blaine. Not by a long shot." He's almost at the next row of cars now, approaching the lamppost, and in a second he'll be in shadow. "Let me know when you're ready to stop messing around with kid's stuff...I'm always up for a little grown-up time."
No more yellow light on the umbrella, just the red piping on his Dalton blazer vanishing into the shadows and then he's gone, Kurt and Blaine are alone together by the car and all Kurt wants is to reach out and fold himself around Blaine, let his boyfriend's heartbeat thrum through him and take away this sick sick sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, but Blaine looks like his own stomach is upsetting him and Kurt can't stand to lay his own heavy feelings on top of what seems to be threatening to pull Blaine under already.
So they stand there, in the rain, their tuxedo shirts soaking through and their shoes filling with water until, moving at the same time as though responding to some secret signal, Blaine turns and opens the car door and Kurt heads around back and gets in the other side and they meet in the back seat, hands and teeth and tongue and lips and hips and grasping pulling gasping touching in a way so different from before, not playful or silly or fun but desperate and needing and scared that somewhere out there is someone something that wants them ripped apart from each other, sees the love they share and wants it destroyed, torn to shreds, left to bleed on the wet parking lot tarmac. They make love now, generating it like electricity, filling the enclosed space with it, and when Blaine's hands spasm on Kurt's hips and Kurt pounds a fist into the cheap upholstery and bites back a shout, the release is truly a letting go, of fear and uncertainty and all the poison Sebastian left with them, sucked from the wound and washed away by the falling rain.
They lie together afterwards, late for the party, driving Kurt's father crazy probably, but making sure, making it clear to each other that it's just them, it's all about them, Them, Kurt and Blaine as one. Blaine drags a hand gently up the length of Kurt's spine and sighs as Kurt rubs a circle with his thumb on the nub of bone above his shoulder. The rain is coming down harder than ever, pounding furiously onto the roof above their heads. They haven't said a word the whole time.
"Love you," from Kurt.
"Love you back," from Blaine.
Silence-and a little fear, and a world of tenderness-from them both.