Disclaimer: I'm just playing in the sandbox. If you recognize it from elsewhere, I don't own it.
Rating: R
Ships: Klaine
Spoilers: none
Timeline: 2017, Kurt and Blaine never met in high school
Warnings: language, sexual content
Author's Note: This story is a sequel to War of the Words. I recommend reading that one first. I originally posted on my Tumblr (arainymonday) in smaller parts for Klaine Advent, but here's the whole story for you. Enjoy!
JINGLE BLOGS
Kurt stared at the computer screen in disbelief. He blinked, shook his head, and stared again, but the same red and green theme, animated falling snow, snowman cursor, and Santa hat-topped avatar still offended his eyes. How this could happen to his blog – the blog he had spent months learning HTML and CSS to design, the blog he had spent years cultivating as the epitome of literary class – he could not fathom. Until he read the most recent entry.
LITERATI
"If literature isn't everything, it's not worth a single hour of someone's trouble." —Jean-Paul Sartre
Happy Holidays, Blogosphere!
In the spirit of the holiday, I've decided to give something near and dear to my heart to a new friend I've made this past year. I've decided to offer a guest blogger account to the one and only Blaine Anderson. For the month of December, Blaine will be blogging his book reviews here on Literati. I've given him the 'keys to the kingdom', you might say. As you can see, he's already infused his personality into the blog theme.
I know a lot of you follow Literati and River. You might be wondering if River will suffer with Blaine guest blogging here all month. Let me assuage your fears. River will have its regular complement of two bloggers. While Blaine is guest blogging here, I'll be guest blogging there!
Tina and I are so excited to review together again, and I know Literati will be in good hands with Kurt and Blaine blogging together.
Posted by Rachel Berry
1 December 2017 | 2283 replies
riverati-klaine said: OMFG! IT'S CHRISTMAS MAGIC!
Kurt stared at his computer for a full thirty seconds, stood up sharply, and marched into the kitchen where Rachel was frosting store-bought sugar cookies. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared. Rachel froze, and the red frosting squeezed in her fist farted a giant dollop onto the middle of Santa Claus's face. She hastily laid down the frosting tube and put her palms up.
"Look, Kurt."
"No."
She sucked in a deep breath through her nose and started again. "You are always saying how it's not the right time to tell everyone that you and Blaine are dating, that you need to wait just a little longer, that neither of you are ready for the attention it will bring. But, Kurt, it's been over a year. At some point, you have to announce it to the world, and blogging together will be the perfect opportunity to show everyone how great you are together."
Kurt lifted an eyebrow. "No, we don't have to announce it, and if we decide to, it's on our own terms, not yours. Blogging together won't prove anything. God, Rachel, do you know how difficult it's going to be to keep our online personas separate from our personal ones if we're working together?" Kurt shook his head and threw his hands up. "I can't believe Blaine even agreed to this. I have to talk to him."
Rachel chewed her bottom lip. "Uh, Kurt?"
Kurt knew that look. He glowered while his best friend confessed her scheme.
"But Rachel said 'have Blaine guest blog' was on your Christmas list." Blaine looked utterly devastated by Kurt's opinion on the guest blogger plan. His eyes welled up with emotion and distress twisted his mouth. "I am so sorry, Kurt."
Kurt reached across the table and covered his boyfriend's hands. In the background, Christmas carols filled the gaps between chattering voices discussing Christmas shopping and the gurgling of coffee pots, espresso machines, and mixers.
"Blaine, you have nothing to be sorry for. This is 100% Rachel."
"I just … I thought you finally wanted to tell everyone about us."
The words stung Kurt. He'd never wanted to hide their relationship, but he didn't think a blog post about his boyfriend was appropriate on a book reviewing blog. Sure, some of their followers 'shipped' them – as Blaine explained the fandom term, that meant a lot of making gifs, flailing in the form of smashing ones hands against the keyboard, and reading subtext into everything – but the majority (or so Kurt hoped) followed for their opinions on books.
"Blaine, honey, we've already told everyone about us."
In Kurt's opinion, friends and family constituted everyone, although he knew Blaine was dying to post his gorgeous sonnets about Kurt online, complete with a dedication. His boyfriend was big into grand romantic gestures that way.
Blaine's lips twitched into a mopey frown. "I know." He poked at the remains of his biscotti. "But it doesn't feel that way. Especially not after June."
Kurt cringed. Recent history had not been so kind to him. He'd accidentally tweeted a message he'd meant to send directly to Blaine. The salacious content had caused a flurry of rumors among their followers, and Blaine's publicist still hadn't forgiven him for the press release she'd had to write about 'inappropriate jokes between friends' being common and yet regrettable.
"I'll tell Rachel to retract the post," Blaine said glumly. He sighed sorrowfully. "And I'll take all the festive cheer off your blog before she deletes my guest account. I hope Tina at least lets me put up HTML Christmas lights this year."
Kurt's heart constricted. "Oh, honey. You really want to blog with me? Even knowing how anal retentive I am about consistent formatting and refilling the queue and the posting schedule and my algorithm for answering the perfect ratio of asks?"
A smile appeared in the corner of Blaine's mouth. "Of course I do, Kurt. I want to share my life with you. I think I can manage to share a blog for a month."
"Oh," Kurt breathed. "Well …."
Blaine took his breath away every day with his love and optimism. If Blaine thought they could do it, Kurt could at least try.
"All right. We've already moved you out of that cockroach playground in Brooklyn and to where you belong in the Upper West Side with the other notable artists of our generation. We can negotiate cohabitating a blog too."
"It was hardly a 'cockroach playground', Kurt."
Kurt finished the last of his coffee and slid Blaine's closed laptop back into the center of the table.
"I can quit early if you want me to come back with you," Blaine offered.
Kurt shook his head as he stood up. "Keep to your writing schedule. Your sequel is due in January, and I don't want you to miss a deadline on my account."
Kurt leaned down to kiss Blaine.
"Hey, Kurt? We can keep all my decorations on the blog, right?"
Kurt's smile quailed. Sometimes he swore Blaine took begging lessons from adorable puppies. His big eyes pleaded with Kurt, as if his very happiness depended on some JavaScripts that made snow fall and hijacked visitors' cursors. Although it pained Kurt to say, he really had no other option with those eyes on him.
"Of course."
When Kurt and Blaine decided to move in together at the end of the summer, Tina had invited herself to move in as well because what recent graduate/aspiring writer could afford rent in New York on her own, even in Brooklyn? The solution had been to search for an apartment on the Upper West Side big enough for four renters, and they'd struck gold when they found 14D. While the advertisement boasted 14D had three bedrooms, it actually had two bedrooms and a long, narrow closet too small for even a twin bed to fit. So the girls took the largest room and some privacy screens, Kurt and Blaine settled into the smallest, and the glorified closet became a library.
Combined, the occupants of 14D had nine mismatched bookcases crammed into the library. Blaine's half-bookcase sat below the window ledge now piled with snow and casting the room in twilight. Tina's tall, shallow bookcase lurked behind the door. The others – a collection of Blaine's cheap pressed wood and Rachel's solid oak and Kurt's well-constructed IKEAs – covered every inch of wall space. Books, three deep in some instances, overflowed the shelves.
Coming into the library to retrieve a book required some measure of flexibility and agility to squeeze into the narrow aisle without knocking books off shelves or unsettling the cheaper, wobbly furniture and causing an avalanche. But sometimes, when it was snowing or raining or they simply wanted quiet time together, Kurt and Blaine braved the hazards of the library together.
Today, they sat on the floor of the library with their backs against the more stable bookcases and their socked feet tangled together under the fleece blanket staving off the draft seeping in through the window that they probably needed to call their landlord about. The swirling snow had blotted out the sun long ago, but the screens of their Kindles gave them enough light to read by, and anyway, neither of them wanted to interrupt the occasional brush of toes against thighs and happy smiles it elicited or the way a sudden burst of laughter would cause the other to peer over the top of his book and grin because he'd just read the same line or because he would read it soon and because he just loved hearing his boyfriend laugh so freely.
Blaine finished reading first. He marked his place, set aside his Kindle, and drew Kurt's feet into his lap. A contented grin passed over Kurt's lips when he started a foot massage. Whether because of the foot rub after a day of wearing his impossible shoes or because he neared the end of the lighthearted romance, Blaine wasn't sure. Finally, Kurt looked up with that same beatific grin.
"I should deny you sex for making me read this book," he said nonchalantly.
Blaine laughed. "I heard you laughing, Kurt. You love this book, and you love my idea to only review Christmas-themed novels this month."
"I don't know about either of those things, but …." Kurt leaned across the narrow room and kissed Blaine sweetly. "I do love you. I just can't stand sappy romance."
Blaine pressed his lips together to hold back a raucous laugh that would wake Rachel who had an early day of classes in the morning.
"Irony. Incongruity between reality and the accompanying words or actions."
"Hmm. Your memorization of the dictionary is sexy, but it would really get me going if you could use it in a sentence."
Blaine pretended to think. "It's ironic that we're talking about being sexy in our library when we could be acting sexy in our bedroom."
Kurt laughed brightly. "Well, someone certainly learned their examples of irony from Alanis Morissette. Honey, that's not irony. That's unfortunate and correctable … as soon as Tina goes to sleep."
"But she's writing," Blaine pouted. "She'll be awake until the sun comes up. I can be quiet."
"Irony," Kurt mocked. "Incongruity between reality and the accompanying words or actions."
Blaine nudged Kurt's thigh with his toe. His cheeks turned light pink. Kurt picked up his Kindle again and scrolled to the next story in the book.
"So are you ready to review the first short story?"
"Oh, yes," Kurt said. He tapped his temple. "The zingers are piling up."
"Okay, but you should actually finish reading the whole book first."
"Uh huh."
"Kurt, are you reading the next story?"
"Hmm."
Blaine rolled his eyes and said in a sing-song voice, "You're going to look like an idiot if you review it without finishing the book."
"Whatever you say honey."
"I don't want to have to say 'I told you so', but if your review is going to be like what I think it is …."
"Blaine, honey, you're nagging."
"I'm not nagging."
"You are a little bit."
Blaine put his palms up and went back to the book he and Kurt had agreed to read together, which they obviously weren't anymore because Kurt had put on his stubborn I-don't-read-YA-romance-even-though-my-boyfriend-wrote-a-YA-romance-that-I-loved hat.
"All right. I won't say anything more until you post your review."
Kurt's toes wiggling under Blaine's thigh for warmth brought a happy sigh from Blaine. He relaxed into the comfort of the familiar touch and left himself be sucked back into a literary winter wonderland.
LITERATI
"If literature isn't everything, it's not worth a single hour of someone's trouble." —Jean-Paul Sartre
"THE JUBILEE EXPRESS" from LET IT SNOW
Author: Maureen Johnson
Publisher: Speak
Pages: 352
Publication Date: 10/22/2008
Genre: Young Adult
An ironically named teenage girl is involved in a series of life-threatening mishaps that inexplicably results in a lighthearted Christmas romance.
Jubilee's parents, already established as quirky and zany by naming their daughter Jubilee, are arrested during a shopping riot while attempting to purchase a ceramic Elf Motel to complement their already staggering collection of elf village abodes that calls their mental health into question along with their parenting skills. Rather than calling Child Protective Services, Jubliee's grandparents are called and she is shuffled off to the train station in the middle of a snowstorm. The train never reaches Florida because, against all laws of physics and logic, it crashes into a snowbank leaving Jubilee stranded in Small Town, North Carolina along with fourteen cheerleaders, a Native American stranger, and a Waffle House full of unsupervised hormonal teenaged employees, all of whom seem important and yet turn out be loose threads in this pile of yarn. While at the Waffle House, Jubilee bonds with yet another random stranger, Stuart, and surprise of surprises, this thread actually forms a lumpy, misshapen sweater as they bond over potential frostbite, hypothermia, Stuart's pimp/mother, and the hyperbolic angst that is failed teenage romance. Jubilee crashes the Jewish family's Christmas celebration by inviting herself to stay at the home of complete strangers which must be either the start of a murder/kidnapping thriller or a romcom. Unfortunately for readers, this story is the significantly less interesting latter.
The whole romance takes, as Jubilee says, twenty-three minutes. Too bad the story takes substantially longer to read.
Posted by Kurt Hummel
6 December 2017 | 451 replies
literati-blaine replied: Hello again, Brick Wall. If you had FINISHED THE BOOK like I told you to, you would know that THE STORIES ARE INTERCONNECTED and all these "LOOSE THREADS" are wrapped up in the next two stories.
literati-kurt replied: OH REALLY!? Because I DIDN'T GET THAT from the 10,000 OTHER RESPONSES TO this review SO THANK YOU FOR enforcing THAT POINT, BUT why must you DO SO IN SUCH an annoying manner?
cooper-anderson replied: BECAUSE HE'S AN INTENSE BLOGGER!
literati-blaine replied: Coop, you promised not to comment on my blog. Ever.
cooper-anderson: THIS ISN'T YOUR BLOG IT'S KURT AND RACHEL'S.
atlassucked replied: wait wait wait wait. Cooper Anderson – THE Cooper Anderson – is related to Blaine?
nemoswhale replied: Who is Cooper Anderson?
atlassucked replied: Oh my God! Have you never read his Khajiuklar Sage Chronicles? They're choose-your-own-adventure fantasy novels!
nemoswhale replied: Jesus God. I'm sorry I asked.
Blaine walked into the bedroom with a pout on his lips. Kurt had already disappeared beneath the heavy comforter, electric blanket, and flannel sheets and turned off his bedside lamp. He ducked beneath the covers entirely when he saw Blaine's pout, but his laughter rustled the bedclothes.
Blaine closed their door, cutting off Tina and Rachel's drunken rendition of Sisters, Sisters from White Christmas, toed off his slippers, and darted into the toasty blanket cocoon with a shiver.
"Come here, honey. I'll keep you warm."
Nonplussed as he was by getting made fun of online by his boyfriend – Blaine had to capslock because replies didn't allow italics for emphasis, and Kurt knew that – the chilly air hitting his face sent another shudder up his spine, and he rolled into Kurt's embrace. He gasped when the warm, firm body wrapped around him.
"Kurt! Are you naked?"
"Told you I'd keep you warm," Kurt said huskily.
"Baby, you have to put on some pajamas!"
Blaine panicked. He threw off the covers and braved the chilly air and cold floors to hop over to their dresser and pull out Kurt's thickest monogrammed flannel pajamas.
"This apartment is so drafty, and it's supposed to get really cold tonight. You have final papers due and witty, flippant retorts to sincere opinions to post online, and you know how you get when you have a cold. We're going back to Ohio soon too, and it takes you forever to get over a –"
Blaine's mouth formed a surprised O when he turned around. Blaine's special sex pillow – the one he was allowed to grind into and come on because it was liquid-repellant and the pillowcase easily washable – lay on his side of the bed. Kurt crooked a finger to beckon him back into bed. Blaine looked down at the pajamas in his arms.
"So … you don't want these?"
Kurt narrowed his eyes. "This is because of my 'witty, flippant retort'? Because you know it wasn't personal, baby."
"No, no, I – Can I get back in bed, please?"
Kurt moved the sex pillow, and Blaine shuffled under the covers. His toes felt like ice, and he dug them into the sheets under Kurt's warm leg. He never understood how Kurt could be so warm all the time. Kurt started at the cold against his flushed skin – he swore the comforter, electric blanket, and flannel sheets combo would roast him alive one day – but he didn't pull away, and he wouldn't until Blaine was warm enough that he could flip off the electric blanket and cool off enough to sleep.
"No, it's not about the post."
"Then why," Kurt asked, ducking his head to kiss Blaine's jaw, "am I holding," down his neck, "the sex pillow," his collarbone, "over my hard on?"
"Because the girls are awake."
Kurt released a frustrated groan. "All right. After they pass out."
Blaine kissed him lightly and waved the pajamas over him. "No way we'll stay up longer than them. It's too warm and comfortable in here."
"And whose fault is that?"
Kurt let Blaine wrestle him into the pajamas, pulled his boyfriend tight against his chest, and kissed his hair.
"I cannot believe you capslocked me with an I-told-you-so," Kurt murmured sleepily.
It really was so warm and comfortable cuddled up with Blaine.
"I can't believe you sassed me."
"Really, Blaine? You can't believe I sassed you?"
"Nope." Blaine snuggled into the warm body wrapped around him. "'Cause everyone knows I'm the sassy one."
Kurt chuckled softly. "You're right. I'll keep my comments bitchy from now on."
Blaine yawned. "That's all I'm asking."
Rachel and Tina held the last, long note of White Christmas with their arms wrapped around each other and empty mugs of eggnog tipped towards the carpet. They collapsed onto the couch when they ran out of air. After several minutes, they managed to untangle their limbs sufficiently to sit without crushing each other and giggling madly over the whole affair.
"Oh my God. You have a terrible voice," Tina giggled.
"Shut up! Never had lessons. So do you anyway."
"I don't think that made sense?"
The girls slipped into happy silence for a few minutes, content to watch the credits roll on the screen and bask in the warm, rum-glow of the eggnog Kurt had made for them.
"Tina," Rachel slurred. "Are we drunk enough to cuddle each other and not talk about it tomorrow or ever again?"
"What?" Tina laughed.
"It's been sooooo long since I've cuddled anything but my vibrator."
Tina cackled madly, but clapped a hand over her mouth when Rachel flashed her sad eyes. "Ssh. Don't laugh at Rachel."
"And it's Christmas –"
"But you're Jewish?"
"And Blaine is making us all read Let It Snow and there's so much Christmas magic in the air that, like, everyone in the book finds happiness. Even the kind of sleazy characters get a happily ever after, and I'm like, 'But what about Rachel?'"
"Is there a Rachel in the book?"
Rachel burst into tears. "No! Because no one loves Rachel."
"Aww." Tina opened her arms and gestured for Rachel to come closer. She stroked Rachel's hair and rested her cheek on top of Rachel's head. "Talk to me, girlie. You broke up with what's-his-face-horrific-writer how long ago? So what brought this on?"
Rachel sat up and dried her eyes with the ends of her sleeves. "We got our invitations to Dean Tibedeaux's annual Christmas Party, and I RSVP-ed with a plus one, but I don't have a plus one!" She started to cry again, more hysterically this time. "And Kurt and Blaine will go together again, and they'll be the star couple because Dean Tibedeaux is in literary love with Kurt and Blaine is a published author – of young adult fiction, but whatever – and no one will care about stupid me who is stupid alone at the stupid stupid stupid party."
"Ssh. Don't cry. I'll be your plus one."
Rachel scrubbed her cheeks with the ends of her pajamas balled up in her fists. "You would go to a Columbia party with me? I think Kurt only gets Blaine to go by bribing him with sexual favors. No offense, but I don't want to give you sexual favors."
Tina stuck out her tongue. "I don't want your sexual favors. I have busted-my-knee-can't-dance-anymore-so-I'll-write-a-book-about-dancers boy in my writing group, remember?"
"Oh, yeah. Have you talked to him yet?"
"Not talking about me." Tina pointed to herself and clumsily rotated her wrist to point at Rachel. "Talking about you."
"Because I'm sad."
"Right. Is that why you're interfering with Kurt and Blaine?"
Rachel nodded and puffed herself up like she had something profound to announce. Instead, she said, "Yup. More eggnog?"
"Yes! But, hey, are you taking me as your plus one?"
"Oh." Rachel giggled. "Yes. But we have to take a prom picture so I can post it on Facebook and tag all my ex-boyfriends and be like 'Look who has a hot girlfriend, bitches!'"
Tina shook her head. "I don't think that made sense or that you should do it. But, yeah, prom pictures are awesome! I don't have a prom picture, though, because no one asked me to prom because I wore plastic spider necklaces and had a fake stutter in high school."
Rachel's lip trembled again. "Tina!"
"Ssh. No crying. Drunk. Too happy to cry. Let's shop for dresses online!"
"Oooh! Wait, wait, wait! I'll get my emergency credit card so we can actually buy something."
"That's probably not a good idea."
"Doing it anyway because it's Christmas!"
"It's Christmas!"
They hugged and danced around the living room until Kurt appeared in the living room, hair mussed from sleep (or Blaine's hands) with his arms crossed over his chest and a frown on his lips. The girls put fingers to their lips and shushed each other.
"You are not buying party dresses online," Kurt stated. "We'll go shopping in the morning."
Blaine stomped his feet on the welcome mat, shook off what snowflakes he could dislodge from his peacoat without a brush, and ducked inside the toasty apartment. Kurt looked up from the couch with a faint smile playing around the corners of his mouth. Blaine shrugged off his coat, toed off his boots, and curled up with Kurt.
"How was the Iditarod?"
Blaine chuckled. "I wasn't gone that long."
"The sun rose and set while you were gone."
"Blame daylight savings time. And writer's block."
"Ah, baby." Kurt ran his fingers through Blaine's wet curls. The falling snow now melting in his hair had ruined his careful styling. "You don't even believe in writer's block."
"It's a figure of speech for my inability to change a single word in my story even though I can see Artie has perfectly valid points about the flow and consistency. Kurt … I don't know if I can make this deadline."
"Ssh." Kurt kissed his boyfriend's temple. "You'll meet the deadline, and your rewrites will be brilliant and your editor will dance with joy."
"Artie's in a wheelchair."
"Oh." Kurt grimaced. "Uh … figuratively, then."
Blaine snuggled further into Kurt and pouted against his chest. Kurt knew the absolute dejection of having a story bottled up in his brain, like a dam of words that his eyes could see, but his fingers couldn't type. There was nothing he could do but tighten his hold on Blaine.
"What are you looking at?"
Blaine examined the handsome leather photo album perched on Kurt's lap. Gold script on the rich brown cover read "Our Family" with a fainter drawing of a Christmas tree behind the words.
"Oooh. Did Marley's ghost come to visit while I was gone?"
"Not exactly. More like the Ghost of Christmas-Yet-To-Come, but without the ominous wardrobe, whip, and general eeriness."
Blaine furrowed his brow, not quite understanding. Kurt flipped open the album and pointed at a handwritten note on the hard cover. It was short, but brought tears to Blaine's eyes.
"Wow, Kurt." He swiped at the moisture. "I can see where you got your writing talent from."
Kurt was misty-eyed too. "Who knew my dad could be such a romantic? He really loved my mom. He bought her this album when he knew –" his voice broke "– when he knew they'd be together for the rest of their lives."
As Kurt flipped through the pages, Blaine watched the Hummel family change. Each heavy cream page had a year written in the upper left corner in the same script as the cover and exactly one picture in the center – the Hummel's annual Christmas portrait. For several years, there was only Burt and Elizabeth, and then Burt and Elizabeth with a baby boy that grew with each turn of the page. And then there were only two people again, and Blaine did start to cry because he felt Kurt's irregular breathing and shaking shoulders. For so many years, there was just Burt and Kurt, and then suddenly the pictures were full again, and they went on that way until they came to the blank page for 2017. The album wasn't even halfway full; the pages reached far into the future because Burt had expected to live a long, happy life with the woman he'd called the love of his life.
"Carole called today to tell me when our portrait session is scheduled, and I've been thinking all afternoon about how to block the picture."
The corner of Blaine's mouth lifted even as he dashed away the last of his tears with his forefinger. "Hmm. Yeah, do you line up Burt, you, Finn, Carole? Or do you go Burt, Finn, you, Carole?" Kurt shoved his shoulder lightly. "Or do you do the classic pose with the kids sitting in front and parents standing behind? And do you all look to the left or the right or face front?"
"Stop it!" Kurt laughed. He poked Blaine's ticklish sides for emphasis. "Actually …" Kurt's finger traced the gold 2017. "Actually, blocking the picture might be a little difficult this year. I've never arranged a portrait with five people before."
Blaine's heart flipped over in his chest, but he tamped down the emotion until he knew for sure he understood Kurt right. "Five?"
"Uh huh. If … I mean, if you want to be in the picture."
"In your family picture."
"Right. In my family."
Blaine gazed up at Kurt who looked so nervous and sincere. Blaine felt so much love and happiness, like his heart would beat out of his chest, that he couldn't find any words. So he just sighed contentedly, blinked slowly, and nodded.
LITERATI
"If literature isn't everything, it's not worth a single hour of someone's trouble." —Jean-Paul Sartre
"A Cheertastic Christmas Miracle" from Let It Snow
Author:John Green
Publisher:Speak
Pages:352
Publication Date:10/22/2008
Genre:Young Adult
Tobin, JP, and the Duke (Angie) are enjoying their James Bond marathon when they get a call from their good friend Keun informing them that fourteen cheerleaders are in the Waffle House and there's only enough room for one more carful of guys. Spurred by their desire to play Twister with cheerleaders, they make the treacherous drive in near blizzard conditions to the Waffle House. Along the way, they crash into a snowbank, are twice chased by twins hellbent on getting to the Waffle House first, and dodge college guys using their beer keg as a weapon. During their feats of derring-do, Tobin realizes that he doesn't really care about their destination. It's the adventure that he loves. And maybe the Duke too.
As a former teenage guy, reading this story felt like stepping back in time and watching one of a thousand nights with my friends. Everything from the way they speak to each other to their ill-conceived attempt at getting to the Waffle House might have been me, the Warblers, and Westerville, Ohio circa 2011. It's the finest form of literary sketch comedy. And like Tobin and JP, I had quite the thing for cheerleaders too. Just not the ones who wore skirts. ;)
This story was written for teenagers, but I think adults will love it too. Christmas is a time of nostalgia. I feel very fortunate that when I think about Christmases past, the memories warm my heart. This story gave me the same happy, safe, content feeling that chestnuts roasting on an open fire and sleigh bells and boughs of holly give me.
The slang may have changed since your teenage years, the locations might be different, but love at Christmas is universal.
Posted by Blaine Anderson
15 December 2017 | 290 replies
literati-kurt said: Did you seriously use a winky face in a book review?
literati-blaine said: That's what you got from that review? My winky face?
literati-kurt said: Was there something else of import in this review? Because all I read was sentimentality and author loyalty.
literati-blaine said: What's wrong with author loyalty? John Green has written flawless novels, and now a flawless short story.
literati-kurt said: Do mine eyes deceive me? Has the high horse Blaine Anderson has been riding on for years bent its knee in submission to the publishing world? Has the champion of the bargain books lowered his standard? What's wrong with author loyalty, Blaine, is that it makes writers and editors sloppy. Authors are humans; they are susceptible to conceit, and given sales figures and media attention, can make ridiculous demands that curtail editors' pens leading to poor quality books that are nonetheless purchased and made bestsellers simply on the merit of their past genius. And even if the author keeps their head on their shoulders, publishers are susceptible to greed and pressure editors to quickly churn out the next big hit from an established author which also leads to a poorer quality books. Not to mention that this kind of blind loyalty makes it incredibly difficult for new authors to get published. You should know that better than most.
literati-blaine said: *whistle* That was QUITE the rant, Kurt. If I ever give up my high horse and standard for the bargain books of the world, you seem ready and eager to take up the mantle.
literati-kurt said: *silence*
literati-blaine said: IIII IIII III
"How are hash marks even an appropriate response to that?" Kurt asked, peering over the top of his computer.
Tina chuckled darkly. "Blaine should be home in an hour. You should pop some popcorn and make more eggnog. I'm sensing a marathon tonight."
"No," Kurt moaned. "Not another one of his sci-fi marathons. I still haven't recovered from the clusterfuck that was Farscape. Seriously, Tina, what the fuck even happened on that show? And do not – do not – get me started on Smallville."
Tina stood up from her computer and stretched her back. As she made her way into the kitchen, she patted Kurt's shoulder.
"Relax, Kurt. And besides, you'll learn something else tonight. I suggested River as the name of our blog because it's a publishing term. Blaine, being the lovable dork that he is, liked it for a completely different reason."
Kurt growled faintly. "Fine. I'm intrigued enough, I guess. But there better not be unfulfilled homoerotic subtext that gets my hopes up and dashes them on the spike forest of the writers' pens."
Tina laughed again. "Careful, Kurt. Championing underdog authors and bitching about TV shows' writing teams? You're starting to sound an awful lot like me and Blaine."
"Blaine and I," he argued glumly. "And, no, I don't. He's rubbed off on me plenty, but he has not corrupted my literary purity."
"Me and Blaine," Tina insisted. "I wouldn't have said, 'You're starting to sound an awful lot like I.' And, yes, he has, Kurt. You're not the same blogger you were a year-and-a-half ago. Neither is he. You've changed each other. It's kind of disgustingly sweet."
Kurt tipped back in his chair and pondered that. He had changed; he could see it when he read his previous reviews and in the fiction he wrote now. What he'd once genuinely meant was now only posturing for his audience. He just wasn't sure if he was comfortable with who he had become.
Chandler Kiehl (a) betweenthelines
As promised, the live blogging of Dean Tibedeaux's Christmas Party continues. (a) kurthummel and (a) blaineanderson are here together. #businessorpleasure
Dean Tibedeaux's Christmas party was scheduled for the Friday after finals. She opened her home to her handpicked favorites, of which Kurt was on the top of the list every year. He knew he had Blaine to thank for that. Blaine had taught him to take literary risks and not be ashamed of his tastes, and it had paid off in a big way with Dean Tibedeaux.
Kurt looped his arm through Blaine's as they made a circuit around the room, appreciating the holiday décor and searching for Kurt's Columbia friends. Blaine snagged them two champagne flutes from a passing waiter, and they took a few moments to admire the wall of accolades and awards. The frames and plaques reflected the white fairy lights, making it seem as if there was another Christmas party beyond their surfaces.
"Those have been spit-shined," Blaine remarked.
"I'll make sure to thank my maid."
"Oh! Dean Tibedeaux!" Kurt said. His faint laugh held only a hint of hysteria, he was pleased to note. "What a lovely party."
"Thank you, Mr. Hummel. I'm glad you could come. Mr. Anderson, it's wonderful to see you again this year. I trust you have some literary opinion up your sleeve that will cause scandal and outrage amongst my students."
"I do," Blaine promised.
"I look forward to reading their reactions online."
Carmen graciously moved on to another group of guests. Kurt opened and closed his mouth twice.
"Did she just insinuate that she follows our blogs?" Kurt asked.
"I'm afraid so," Blaine chuckled.
"Oh God."
Blaine tugged on his elbow. "Come on. Let's go find your friends. I have a whole speech about why E.L. James should be author of the year planned out, and I want to give someone a permanent eye-twitch with it."
Kurt side-eyed his boyfriend as they joined a group of his friends in a heated discussion in front of the windows overlooking the bright nighttime lights of New York. Cameron stepped aside reluctantly to make room for them.
"Kurt, it's wonderful to see you," Cameron said effusively. His smile dropped completely. "Blaine."
Blaine hid his self-satisfied smirk behind his champagne flute. Kurt did the same. He loved that his boyfriend hated all this pretension because, secretly, so did he. He managed to wait patiently until the conversation came around to this year's bestsellers, as it always did at these parties.
"Personally, I think Mitch Albom was robbed," Blaine said wanly.
Kurt almost choked on his drink. He cast a fond smile in his boyfriend's direction while the rest of the group blinked stupidly.
"Well, that's … a very Blaine opinion. So he's your vote for author of the year?"
Kurt didn't know the speaker. He looked like a sophomore or junior, dressed very nicely in a Marc by Marc Jacobs ensemble, and wore hipster glasses that must have endeared him to Blaine. The comment took Blaine aback for a moment, but he recovered himself.
"Actually, I have to cast my vote for E.L. James." Kurt's classmates shouted in fury. "You have to admit, she inspires reading like no author since J.K. Rowling."
The comparison enraged everyone who couldn't read the teasing light in Blaine's eye. Kurt couldn't hold in his laughter any longer. He cleared his throat, forced the grin off his lips, and took Blaine's champagne glass.
"I'll … go get us fresh drinks."
He started laughing the second he turned his back and tried to disappear in the crowd so no one would see his shaking shoulders. By the buffet table, he leaned against the wall and gave into his humor.
"Likewise." The well-dressed blond with the hipster glasses had followed. "I think they just don't get Blaine's sense of humor. I'm Chandler."
"Kurt."
"I know. I'm a huge fan. I'm betweenthelines. I don't review books, but I'm a book blogger."
Kurt never quite knew how to react when meeting a fellow blogger in real life or suspecting he'd met one. He'd never had the nerve to bring up shoelaces, but now he didn't need to.
"Yeah. You do the commentary on the classics. I follow you back."
Chandler preened. "I know! It made my week when I got that notification. I'd love to talk about literature in person sometime. Can I get your number?"
Kurt was brought up short. His eyes darted over to where Blaine baited his classmates and back to Chandler.
Chandler Kiehl (a) betweenthelines
Business.
Blaine suspected his phone would blow up at any moment from the way it buzzed in his pocket. He politely excused himself from the literary snobbery and stepped into the hallway to see who needed him so urgently. He'd received about forty e-mails in the space of five minutes. Oddly, they were all ask notifications, and he'd turned those off ages ago. Unless he'd switched it back on when he was messing around in the settings earlier.
He should have turned off his phone and dealt with it later, but his curiosity got the better of him. He opened the latest notification e-mail and read.
atlassucked asked: Kurt – what did Chandler mean by that? Are you two an item? I think you'd be so cute together.
Blaine's brow furrowed. He didn't know any Chandler. He opened another e-mail and another and another.
bookwhoremore asked: Chandler Kiehl, Kurt? Seriously? And here I thought Blaine had made you a better man not too high and mighty to delve into the bargain book bin on occasion. I hope you won't break up the dynamic duo, though. I love watching you and Blaine on the book club livestreams. You have such chemistry.
riverati-klaine asked: :c
nemoswhale asked: I expect a lot of people are upset right now because there's a large portion of your followers who never believed the blowjob joke back in June was actually a joke. If it wasn't, and you and Blaine aren't together anymore, then I'm very sorry to hear that. I hope this won't change the professional relationship we've all come to love so much.
Anger spiked in his blood. He put his phone on silent and went back into the party to find Kurt. He located his boyfriend talking to one of Cameron's friends.
"Oh, Blaine. Have you met Chandler?"
It took everything Blaine had to muster up a pleasant smile and shake Chandler's hand. "Not officially. I'm sorry, but can I borrow Kurt for a minute?"
Out in the hallway, Blaine handed his phone to Kurt. His boyfriend scrolled through several of the e-mails, the blood draining from his face and his Adam's apple bobbing harshly.
"Blaine, I'm so sorry."
"These things are a dime a dozen with our followers, but we need to talk about how to handle other bloggers who make up rumors or insinuate whatever Chandler insinuated. He can't just make stuff up out of thin air and post it online and not have any consequences."
"I gave him my number," Kurt blurted. "He said he was a big fan, and he wanted to talk about the classics, and then he asked for my number, and I panicked. I didn't know what to say. He's one of our followers. If I told him we were dating, he'd tell everyone, and …. I wasn't going to talk to him or lead him on or whatever."
Blaine's eyes slipped closed, and he turned away. "I don't understand, Kurt. I love you so much I want to shout it from the rooftops. Why don't you want to tell the world about us? Are you – are you ashamed of me?"
Kurt sucked in a breath. "No, Blaine. Baby, no."
He reached out, but Blaine avoided his hands.
"Then why?"
Kurt chewed his bottom lip. He watched a group of women returning to the party from the bathroom and waited to say anything until they'd passed.
"You're always saying you're afraid you're going to screw this up. I'm not, Blaine. You and me, we're solid. We're so good together it's like a dream sometimes. I'm afraid of the world screwing us up. I don't want to let them in; I don't want to give them that power over us."
Blaine regarded Kurt for a long moment, as if he might sort through Kurt's thoughts and understand him if he stared intently enough.
"You think we can't survive it."
He sounded so sad it broke Kurt's heart to hear. The affirmation in the silence stretched between them like invisible hands pushing them apart. After a moment, Blaine squared his shoulders, fixed his bowtie, and held his arm out for Kurt.
"We've been gone from the party too long," Blaine said, forcing a thin smile.
"I never want to hurt you." Blaine's brave face slipped. "And I never want to be without you. I can't –" Kurt took a breath, blinked against the building tears, and gestured with the phone still in his palm. "I can't survive … this. An insinuation has been out there for five minutes and everyone is jumping down my throat about it. I've dealt with enough public scorn in my life. Books are where I go to escape it. I can't invite it back into my life. I know you're disappointed we can't be that cutesy couple in public –"
Blaine scrambled for Kurt's hands. "No, Kurt. I mean, I was disappointed, but I didn't get it before. I went to Dalton where no one was allowed to ridicule me, and then I came to New York where it's not such an issue. I've been so lucky to only hear about these things secondhand. I understand now. If you need more time, then you do. If you can't survive it, then we can't, and if we can't, I can't."
Blaine lifted Kurt's hand to his lips and kissed his fingers. Kurt melted into the light touch. He wrapped his free arm around Blaine's neck and bent his forehead to Blaine's. He sounded bone weary.
"Take me home, Blaine."
Rachel glanced sidelong at Tina and bounced on the balls of her feet until she couldn't hold in her criticism about her friend's texting addition any longer. She opened her mouth to gently chastise, but Tina held up a hand to shush her. She sent one more text and stowed her phone in her clutch.
"Sorry, Rachel. I have to go. Blaine asked me to make sure Chandler Kiehl chokes on a candy cane."
Rachel cocked her head to the side. "Blaine? Our Blaine wants to cause bodily harm to someone?"
"Apparently Chandler did something to upset Kurt."
"Oh. That makes sense then," Rachel said seriously.
Tina skipped off towards the windows leaving Rachel to find a new conversation partner. She didn't have to wait very long. The man who approached her had a confident air about him, as if nothing and no one could knock him off his pedestal. One look, and Rachel wanted to stand straighter, smile brighter. He was magnetic. His words riveted her every Sunday in the New York Times Book Review, but she had no idea his presence could do the same.
"Hello, Mr. St. James. I'm Rachel Berry."
"Call me Jesse. And I know who you are," he said, cutting off the rest of her introduction. "A book reviewer as famous as you needs no introduction. I've wanted to meet you for some time, and when Carmen said you'd be here …."
Rachel's cheeks flushed with pride. "Oh! I didn't think any real reviewers followed my silly blog."
"It's not silly when you review. Kurt and Blaine get most of the attention because they're bickering for laughs, but your reviews are the hidden gems. I think maybe one day you could be the book critic that I am now, and authors will fall all over themselves to win your praise and curl up in the corner and sob if they don't get it. That last part is particularly rewarding. Someone told me Baldacci locked himself in his room for days after my last review."
"It was very good," Rachel said breathlessly. "I mean, not your assessment of the book, but the way you wrote it. I'm really flattered, Jesse, but I don't want to be a book critic. I'm a writer."
A pained expression flashed across Jesse's face for a moment. "Aren't we all?"
Rachel considered her champagne flute. She was set to graduate in May, if she could finish and edit her novel manuscript before then. It wasn't looking very good. While Blaine had published a novel and written a second, Tina had queried agents, and Kurt had finished his first manuscript, Rachel hadn't reached even the halfway point in her first draft. The fact was, failure loomed on the horizon.
"You know, I do love reviewing books, though. Even if it's just a hobby right now maybe it could be a good career."
It put a pit in her stomach to admit she needed a fallback. She tried to tell herself it was only realistic, but the words sounded hollow.
"Then I'd better introduce you to the right people."
Jesse held out his arm for Rachel, but instead of making a turn around the room, he stopped just three steps forward. He gestured up at the ceiling. A mobile of silver bells on red ribbons danced and chimed in the artificial breeze of the heating vent. Between the bells, muffling their music, were sprigs of mistletoe.
"Every time a bell rings, a new author gets published," Jesse said.
Rachel laughed, "I thought an angel got their wings."
"And a pretty girl gets kissed."
"Are you Jewish? Because you're really not up on your Christmas myths."
Jesse answered with a kiss, and that was just fine with Rachel.
The hot water pounding on Kurt's back felt amazing after walking home in the cold night. He ducked his head and let his tension swirl down the drain. When the water turned tepid, he stepped out into the steamy bathroom and wrapped a towel around his waist. Blaine waited in the bedroom with a pair of sweats and a slice of cheesecake in a plastic carry-out container from his favorite little diner down the street.
"You spoil me."
"I take care of you."
Kurt skipped the sweats and climbed under the toasty blankets. As he'd expected, Blaine had already turned on the electric blanket. The plastic container crinkled when Blaine popped it open, and next moment Kurt had a forkful of cheesecake waiting for him.
"I see where this is going," Kurt teased.
"I am just doing my duty as a good boyfriend to make sure you are one hundred percent relaxed after a bad day. Cheesecake and handjobs is the least I can do."
"Handjobs? Plural?"
"Well, I sort of had a bad day too."
Kurt laughed around a mouthful of cheesecake. He leaned forward and gave Blaine a sweet kiss that turned dirty when Blaine licked the taste of the cheesecake off his lips. Kurt responded quickly to his touch. Blaine knew just what he needed and how to give it to him so perfectly.
Blaine abandoned the cheesecake on the nightstand. He threw a leg over Kurt's lap and plundered his mouth with kisses while Kurt pushed his shirt off his shoulders. He gave a muffled sound of surprise when Kurt flipped them over and wrestled him free of his silk pajamas.
"I love you so much," Kurt panted. "I'm so sorry."
"This is not make-up sex," Blaine insisted.
"We had a fight. It's make-up sex."
They lined up just right and whined into their kiss. Kurt reached a hand between them, found his grip, and worked his hips against Blaine's.
"We did not have a fight. I was never mad at you."
"No, you just thought I didn't love you as much as you love me. Then you went back out in the cold to buy me cheesecake from a diner you hate. I have some making up to do."
Blaine shifted into a better position, and Kurt's head fell onto his shoulder. He groaned into Blaine's neck and moved faster.
"I went to get you cheesecake and wanted to give you a handjob because I've been arrogantly making this issue all about me for months now when I should have been talking to you and supporting you. If anyone is making up for anything, it's me."
"Yes, Blaine. Months passed without me telling you this, which makes our fight my fault."
"It wasn't a fight, and our … colloquy wasn't your fault."
"You have a colloquy after a fight. But, more importantly, you shouldn't be able to think up words like colloquy right now. I'm not doing a good enough job."
Kurt decided to correct that mistake. He swelled with pride when Blaine pushed his head back into the pillow and arched up to meet him. He followed Blaine over the edge a minute later and settled back on his side of the bed. They lay facing each other, blinking sleepily and kissing softly while their breathing quieted.
"You know, I think we disagreed more about whether we had a fight than we did during the actual fight," Kurt said around a yawn.
"Hmm. Because it wasn't a fight."
"If you say so, honey. It's your turn to get the washcloth."
"No, it's not. I got up last time," Blaine pouted.
"No, I did."
"I did."
They stared at each other through half-lidded eyes. Slowly, deviously, Blaine stuck out his lower lip and turned on his big puppy dog eyes. Kurt gave an exasperated cry, but there was laughter in his voice too.
"Admit we had a fight, and I'll get up."
"Okay. We had a fight."
"Thank you."
Blaine waited until Kurt was out of bed before adding, "About who got up last time."
Kurt huffed and shook his head at Blaine's delighted little head bob that he found so endearing. When he came back, Blaine had the cheesecake balanced in his palm and ate while Kurt wiped off his stomach.
"Am I the butler now?"
"Don't be silly, Kurt. Butlers don't wait on people; valets do that. I thought you watched Downton Abbey."
Kurt huffed at his boyfriend again, settled down next to him, and accepted the last bite of cheesecake. Much as he hated being wrong, even about something trivial, he relished the teasing that meant tonight hadn't damaged anything between them; it had strengthened them.
The white midsized sport wagon was not what Kurt had requested when he made the car rental reservation, nor was it was he wanted to spend twelve hours in with four adults on the drive back to Ohio, nor was it the kind of car that did particularly well in the snowy mountains of Pennsylvania or slushy backroads of Ohio, all of which they would be driving through today. But the rental agency swore they had nothing else left, and eventually Kurt decided to accept the sport wagon before he got kicked out of Avis and got no car at all.
"This is great, Kurt," Blaine insisted when Kurt pulled up to the curb. "There's room for our suitcases, we'll save on gas, and we won't single-handedly kill the environment."
"I don't think Mother Nature can be murdered in twelve hours."
"I don't know about that. I saw The Day After Tomorrow."
A grin pulled up the corner of Kurt's mouth and he shook his head. "You are so adorable."
The girls came down with their suitcases then and interrupted a kiss with their cooing. It took some creative packing to fit four suitcases and all of their Christmas presents into the trunk, but they managed it. With the gifts sitting on top of the suitcases, the back of the station wagon looked like Santa's sleigh.
They decided that Kurt would drive first since he had more experience driving in the city, and then Tina would take over and drive to her parents' house in Pittsburg. From there, Blaine would drive to his parents' house in Westerville, and then Rachel would drive herself to Lima. Kurt would be staying at the Anderson's until Christmas afternoon when he and Blaine would borrow Cooper's car and drive to the Hummels.
"Before we leave, we need to talk about something very important," Blaine said seriously. He petted the dashboard. "What do we name our baby?"
"Eleanor of High Octane," Tina blurted out.
"Carthra," Blaine said. "Or … wait! Millennium Wagon! Can we please call our baby the Millennium Wagon?"
Rachel burst out laughing, and even Kurt grinned at his silly boyfriend. He put the car into drive and eased out onto the street crowded with morning traffic. They'd thought they could leave New York around ten o'clock on a Thursday and avoid rush hour, but traffic never really let up in the city, especially not around Christmas.
No one said much while Kurt navigated the heavy traffic, but once they hit the New Jersey highway, they cranked up carols on the radio and impressed each other with their off-key, voice-straining renditions of the Christmas classics. Kurt and Blaine held hands on the center console during romantic songs. Rachel nudged Tina's foot and jerked her head towards the front seat significantly.
"Rachel thinks it's my turn to drive," Tina said, although she knew very well that was not what Rachel wanted her to say.
"Already? We've only been on the road for an hour. We should switch after lunch."
Rachel pulled out her phone and texted Tina.
(11:03)
I want to find out how my plan is going.
(11:04)
Your stupid plan to make them tell the world about their relationship?
(11:04)
It's not stupid!
(11:04)
Well, it's not working, so I wouldn't qualify it as brilliant.
(11:05)
When did you get so mean?
(11:05)
When I moved in with you.
"Umm … Are you texting each other?" Blaine asked. He twisted around in the front seat to look at the girls. "I don't know if you've noticed, but your text message tones are pretty obvious."
Rachel grinned sweetly. "Just doing my duty as a blogger for River today and making some plans. Just one more text and then we'll be done. Promise."
Tina waited for a text message that never came. Rachel flashed her a smug smile that made her nervous. She brought up River on her phone, but found no new posts. She checked Twitter and Facebook, but still found nothing. Then her phone beeped with a Twitter notification, but not from Rachel's account.
Chandler Kiehl (a) betweenthelines
Pleasure. #correction #mymistake
Blaine bounced on the balls of his feet and shoved his gloved hands deep into his pockets. The noon sun overhead melted off the frost still clinging to the grass, but his breath misted in front of him, turning the world foggy in puffs. Only a few cars parked at the rest stop. A few people walked dogs or darted between their cars and the vending machines. A bus full of senior citizens had pulled in a few minutes ago, however, and the line to the restrooms spilled out the doors.
"I'm freezing my balls off," Blaine complained.
Kurt peered over his shoulder with laughter in his eyes. "Please keep them warm. I'm quite fond of your balls."
Blaine grunted. He lifted his shoulders to his ears and huddled up close to Kurt's back. Kurt stiffened rather than turn and envelope Blaine in a warm hug like he wanted. He edged a little closer, but Kurt stepped forward, breaking contact and leaving Blaine colder than before.
"Not here," Kurt murmured.
Blaine watched Kurt's eyes dart around furtively. He'd told Blaine what he'd gone through in high school with nothing and no one except books to save him from the bullies, but he had to have tempered his retelling, and it made Blaine sad to think someone – or a series of someones – had hurt Kurt so badly he couldn't bring himself to talk about it almost a decade later with the person he trusted most in the world. One day, maybe, he would hear everything. But not at Christmas, not when just being in Ohio made Kurt so jittery.
"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. I just want them to hurry up so my balls don't fall off."
A smile appeared in the corner of Kurt's mouth. "Be a little patient. They're old. It takes them a long time to go."
"Yeah, but my balls are young and virile, and I have a hot boyfriend to satisfy. We should definitely be allowed to cut on those grounds."
Kurt chuckled. "One day, our balls are going to be old and young whippersnappers will try to cut in front of us. We should be respectful."
"Will you still love my balls when they're old?"
Kurt tapped his lips and pretended to think. "Yes. No guarantees about the rest of you, but yes, I'll always love your balls."
"I'm really glad that we can be honest with each other about how important our balls are in this relationship," Blaine said, making Kurt shake his head and turn around to face front again. "I don't know if I could be with someone who didn't value my balls as much as I do."
Blaine wanted so badly to kiss Kurt around their smiles, but that would shatter the sense of calm that had settled over Kurt again, so he kept his kiss hidden in the corner of his mouth, like Wendy Darling, for some other time.
"I'm sorry. Am I boring you?" Rachel demanded.
Kurt looked up slowly from his phone and peered into the backseat, as if he hadn't realized Rachel had been speaking a moment ago. She huffed and laid aside her tablet. Blaine cast him a look full of scolding and judgment.
"No, of course not, Rachel," he said unconvincingly.
"Please continue, Rachel," Blaine said, glancing in the rearview mirror. "It'll make Columbus traffic easier to bear."
Kurt rolled his eyes in disagreement. He would rather watch the sea of red taillights on the highway than listen to more of Rachel's overblown literary style. The literati would swoon for her once she got published, and normally Kurt adored her writing, but three days out from Christmas, he wanted happy and lighthearted.
"Oh. What's the use," Rachel moaned. "I'm never going to get published because I'm never actually going to finish writing a novel. I've had a year and a half in grad school, and I'm not even halfway done, so I'm not going to graduate and no one will take me seriously. No offense, Blaine."
"Umm … how was that not offensive?" Blaine asked.
Kurt touched his shoulder, and he stewed in silence while Kurt handled her.
"You will get published, Rachel. Just because you write slowly doesn't mean you have nothing to say. Audrey Niffenegger took seven years to write her first novel. You're allowed to take as long as you need to put the words on paper."
"I know, I'm just …."
Rachel trailed off. She slumped in her seat and stuck out her lower lip. She didn't have to say anything for her friends to understand.
"… in the middle of your novel," Kurt said consolingly. "You'll get your second wind. I promise."
"I'm being stupid."
"No, I don't think so," Blaine said. "This second draft has been kicking my ass. It's sucking up all of my time and … I don't even want to write it anymore. I am so sick of this story and feeling like a complete failure because everything I write is flat and lifeless."
"Yes!" Rachel yelled. "Exactly!"
"What?" Kurt cried, looking between his best friend and boyfriend. "Why is everyone so depressed right now?"
"Because the sun goes down at forty-thirty," Rachel said knowingly.
"Because I have to get a job," Blaine answered. "Like a real, nine-to-five job. My savings is completely gone, I have to start paying back my student loans in January, and as proud as I am of Sadie Hawkins, it's not exactly a cash cow."
Kurt shook his head. "Honey, we talked about this. You get a year off just to write, and after I graduate, I get a year. We'll re-evaluate after that. My student loans can cover our rent."
"And I'll buy more groceries," Rachel chimed in.
Blaine shook his head. "That was all predicated on my novel bringing in some royalties, and let's face it, it's not anymore. I've been relegated to the bargain book bin that I buy out of. And I'm not saying I'm upset about that. I don't care how much I make from my books as long as someone is reading them, but … it does mean that I'm essentially penniless."
"Blaine –"
"I appreciate what you're saying, Kurt, but I can't be a kept man."
Kurt stuck out his lower lip and hooked his chin on Blaine's shoulder. "But I've enjoyed being your Sugar Daddy."
Rachel politely looked out the window at the Christmas lights illuminating Columbus while they kissed. When she felt she'd given them sufficient time to nuzzle their noses or whatever cutesy things they did when no one was looking, she jumped back into the conversation.
"I just feel like so much is changing, you know? Blaine and Tina graduated, we all moved in together, we swapped blogs, you two made grown up plans about splitting Christmases between your families …. I haven't felt this sadly nostalgic since Christmas freshmen year. I can't help but think nothing will be the same in January."
"Me too," Blaine said quietly.
Kurt looked between curiously. "Really? Because I feel like something incredible is about to happen."
When Kurt was greeted at the Anderson's, pretty much all he could do was stand there and accept the effervesce of Cooper's bear-hug because he had a suitcase in one hand and a sack of presents in the other.
"Oh … my. What a greeting."
"You must be Kurt. At least I hope you're Kurt or this just got very awkward."
Now in the Anderson's kitchen perched on a barstool at the island while Cooper made them a late-night snack of grilled cheese sandwiches, Kurt appreciated the show of affection in a house that was stark and devoid of warmth except in the banter between the brothers.
"Mom and Dad are still at the company Christmas party. They said they'd be home before one, and that I should try not to burn the house down. At least that gives you time to settle in before you have to meet the parents."
Kurt considered that phrasing carefully 'have to meet the parents' as if he shouldn't want to. He didn't comment on it as he accepted the first of the sandwiches, cut it in half, and presented one side to Blaine. Cooper gave him a strange look, but turned back to the stove with a grin.
"I think we'll hold off until tomorrow on that," Blaine said. "We've been in a car too long, and I'm exhausted."
"We still have a review to post, Blaine. We can't mess up the posting schedule."
Blaine groaned and laid his head on his arms crossed on the island. "But I'm tired," he whined into the granite. "I haven't even written the review."
"What?" Kurt demanded. "Blaine!"
"I'm sorry," he said miserably.
"Hey, hey," Cooper interjected. "It's Christmas. There's no need for stress and panic unless you haven't gotten everyone's gift yet. I'll tell you what. As a gift from me to both of you … I'll write your review for you."
Silence followed the proposal.
"I wouldn't want to impose, Coop. It's already eleven, and you haven't read the book yet, so –"
"No, I have," Cooper said excitedly. "After your review about the cheerleaders, I read the book. I have some pretty strong thoughts on the third short story –"
"Oh God," Blaine murmured.
"– and I can type them up in no time. Just make me a guest account, and then you guys can go relax or sleep or whatever" he winked lasciviously "and I'll take care of the review."
"I really don't think that's a good idea," Blaine argued. "Mixing professional interests and family is just asking for problems."
"You guys do it. And I promise, I will be a total saint."
In hindsight, Kurt really wished he'd listened to Blaine. But what's a guy to do when his boyfriend's brother accepts him as part of his family when there's no vows or rings yet, like it's inevitable, and he can see that without being told?
nemoswhale said: What the hell is going on over at Litearti? First that "review" and now the reblogging of pointless crap? Since when does Litearti reblog anything?
atlassucked said: Aw. But the corgi puppies in Santa hats are cute.
bookwhoremore said: Um … are those text posts a choose-your-own-adventure style of blogging? Because I cannot fathom any other way they're being set up. Like, what the actual fuck is going on here? And is it wrong that I want them to keep going? Because I've gotten really involved in making the choices at the end of these posts, and I kind of want to see where I end up.
hairyhairypotter said: At least they're reblogging good audio for us while we watch Literati meltdown.
riverati-klaine said: Maybe Kurt and Blaine got drunk and are having a really good time together? They are reblogging A LOT of my gif sets of their book clubs and adding some, uh, colorful commentary.
bookwhoremore said: Oh my.
atlassucked said: No. No, they didn't …
bookwhoremore said: Yup. They just revived the deceased post with the screencap of the blowjob 'joke' from this summer.
riverati-klaine said: … … … … kal;dskjlao'dsjf'lsdklajf;sdklajf; I TOLD YOU GUYS! I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU! "BLOWJOBS ARE NOT A JOKING MATTER"
Blaine woke to the whirring of a laptop fan by his face. He blinked away the sleep and peered up at Kurt, already awake and painted with a halo by the eastern light streaming in through the window.
"Morning," Blaine said around a yawn. He kissed Kurt's hip good morning. "Blogging this early? I think we need to talk about Internet addiction."
"Cooper …" Kurt said faintly. "I …"
He gestured with the laptop, and Blaine pushed himself into a sitting position. He accepted the computer and balanced it on his knees. The words blurred together so early in the morning, but he caught the gist of the "review" his brother had posted last night.
LITERATI
"If literature isn't everything, it's not worth a single hour of someone's trouble." —Jean-Paul Sartre
The Patron Saint of Pigs by Lauren Myracle
I'm not going to give you citation information for this story, because you shouldn't read it so you don't need to find it in a bookstore.
If there is one thing I hate, it is a character who LEARNS A LESSON that they didn't need to learn in the first place. Addie is not self-absorbed, and she didn't need to learn how to be selfless. Her friends and her boyfriend needed to learn how to support Addie better, and clearly the way to do that was to give her more positive attention, not harp on her to put THEM first; THAT'S selfish.
NONE OF THIS CONFLUENCE OF EVENTS WAS ADDIE'S FAULT. If you're a Starbucks barista and there's a water main break, you're not going to walk out from behind the counter, go to the pet store, and get a miniature pig for your friend, are you? NOT HER FAULT. If you think a teenage girl shouldn't do things she thinks are fun simply because her boyfriend is shy, I WILL UNLEASH AN EMOTION TORNADO ON YOU. NOT HER FAULT. I mean, hell, why not blame the entire train crash on Addie's self-involvement? I was expecting it by the end of the story.
TL;DR – Don't read this story. It's not very good.
Posted by Cooper Anderson
23 December 2017 | 2679 replies
Blaine stared open-mouthed at the post. "It's worse than I thought. I'll post a retraction."
"Don't bother. It's already been screencapped and reblogged. We're stuck with it."
"I'm really sorry, Kurt."
Kurt patted his leg fondly. "Not your fault, honey. I'm the one who caved."
"Then I'll talk to him."
"No. No, I don't want to cause tension at Christmas. Just leave it. There's already animated falling snow, Santa hats on avatars, and Christmas music on autoplay on Literati. We'll never get our glowing reputation back again anyway."
A smile pulled at the corners of Blaine's mouth as Kurt climbed out of bed to take the first shower.
"You're surrounded by Andersons."
"I am indeed."
Kurt bent down to kiss him as he left the room, and Blaine pulled up a fresh text post to write up a Merry Christmas Eve to their followers. And that was when he saw the infamous blowjob tweets, resurrected and commented upon by his brother.
"Are you out of your mind?"
Cooper looked up from his bowl of cereal. He arched an eyebrow at his little brother.
"I like the intensity that you're bringing to the moment, but if you really wanted to make a statement, you'd point too."
"This isn't funny, Cooper!" Blaine snapped.
He banged down his iPad so forcefully on the kitchen counter that Cooper cringed. Literati, full of Cooper's magnificent posts from last night, winked up at him with the JavaScript fairy lights flashing like lightning along the border of the blog.
"You don't like my review."
"I don't like you making jokes about my relationship with Kurt. You basically told the whole world that we're together."
"But you are."
"But Kurt doesn't want them to know. I told you that. We've talked about it."
Cooper regarded his brother closely for several moments. He'd never seen Blaine so fired up. Gone was the little boy who'd let his big brother push him around. Somewhere between Dalton and Brooklyn College, he'd found himself. Cooper liked what he saw, but not what he heard. He laid down his cereal spoon and rubbed the back of his neck.
"I just … Blainey … you can't let another man hide you." The fight left Blaine in a huff of air. "You know that's why dad sent you to Dalton, right? You know why he let you board when he could have dropped you off on his way to work every morning."
"Yeah, I know," Blaine mumbled. He'd never admitted that out loud before, and it hurt to say it.
"Then why are you letting Kurt get away with this? Unless … it's not like daddy iss –"
"No," Blaine said so forcefully Cooper didn't dare disbelieve him. "It's not about being hidden. It's about respecting my boyfriend's wishes. He needs more time to get comfortable with the idea of being in the public eye – however small our public will be – so we're going to give him more time. And you are going to talk to my publicist about issuing an apology."
Blaine held out his cell phone. Cooper eyed it while he weighed his brother's words. He opened his hand and let its weight drop into his palm.
In the hallway, Kurt listened with his fingers pressed to his lips and a heavy weight in his chest. He hadn't known, he told himself, he couldn't have known. But now he did.
Blaine and Kurt said goodbye to the Andersons just after Christmas lunch. Kurt felt guilty about not sticking around to help with the dishes, but it was already after one o'clock, and they had a two hour drive to Lima. Blaine just wanted to be done with his family obligations for the year (minus the 'Anderson Brothers Birthday Weeks' in Chicago and New York).
"So … that's my family," Blaine sighed.
Kurt heard the exhaustion and stress. He quirked a sympathetic smile.
"So am I."
Blaine rolled his neck and blinked slowly with a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. "I love you so much."
Kurt would have kissed him if he wasn't driving down the highway still wet from last night's flurries and the backwash of many tires. Instead, he covered Blaine's thigh with his hand. Blaine rubbed the back of his hand with his thumb.
"I do feel kind of bad about taking Cooper's car and stranding him at your parents'."
"Don't be. He owes us."
Kurt lifted a brow, but Blaine didn't elaborate. He'd overheard half a conversation, but didn't pretend to know what the first half had been about. Maybe the review; maybe the Corgis in Santa hats (which, honestly, Kurt thought was kind of cute). He ducked his head to hide his laugh, but Blaine pulled a face.
"What?"
"Nothing. Just … thinking about how much you've rubbed off on me."
"In a good way, I hope."
Kurt considered. When he thought back on his life before Blaine, he remembered happiness – Broadway shows with Rachel, working in the tire shop with his dad, bonding with Finn in unexpected ways. But now he could see something missing from his life back then: a certain type of love he'd only known with Blaine. A type of love that smoothed his prickly edges and made his heart swell and left him feeling warm and safe. When he thought about his life in that context – when he stopped thinking and let himself feel – he didn't know how he could ever question whether he liked this person he'd become.
"The very best."
Kurt stood over the stove gently stirring the nutmeg into the warming milk. Everyone else in the Hudson-Hummel house had gone to bed long ago. The fireplace insert had been turned off, the tree unplugged, the candles that smelled like Christmas cookies snuffed out. Only the icicle lights blinked whiteness in through the dark windows.
"I figured it was you or the strangest burglar ever," Burt said flatly. "You got enough for two?"
Kurt nodded. "Are you not sleeping well again? Have you had your thyroid checked lately?"
"Relax, kid. Perfect bill of health. I just have a wife who snores." He pointed at Kurt. "Don't you dare tell her I said that."
Kurt held up his palms in surrender and went back to tending the milk. Burt took a seat on one of the barstools at the island.
"What's got you up in the middle of the night? I thought everything was coming up roses in New York. There something going on you haven't told me about?"
Kurt stared at the whirlpool in the milk for a pregnant moment. He deliberately poured the warm milk into two mugs and took a seat beside his dad before answering. He fiddled with the snowman-shaped mug, rolling it between his cold hands, as he talked. He told his dad everything – about the blowjob tweets (minus the word itself), the pressure he felt to go public, his fears about it, what he overheard at the Andersons.
"I always thought Sadie Hawkins was fiction or some kind of exaggeration of what I've told Blaine about Karofsky, but it's not at all. It's about not being hidden and how anything – anything – is better than feeling like the people who love you are ashamed of you. I can't believe I didn't see that before."
Burt rubbed over his bald pate before answering. "I'm not into reading messages in books the way you kids are, so I'll take your word for it that that's what it's about. I thought it was about some magical kids who everyone envies because they're, well, magic. But whatever."
Kurt ducked his head to hide his smile. They both knew Burt read a lot more into symbolic gestures and messages than he'd admit.
"I know my first Congressional campaign scared you. The press made a lot of hay about our family, and we've had to hear some unpleasant things ever since. But, Kurt, I wouldn't take it back for the world. I got into the race to stop Sue from banning books, and she hasn't banned a single one at McKinley since. Not only have I gotten to put a stop to that, but I've had the privilege of fighting censorship, discrimination, inequality. Putting up with her insanity has absolutely been worth it."
"You don't know if it'll be the same for us, though."
"No, I don't. I'll say this, though, Kurt. If you're against going public because you're not sure it's going to last or you guys can't agree on how much of your private life to share, then I say, keep quiet until you've talked more. But if you're against it because you're scared of what other people will say about you, then, Kurt, something's changed. You used to know that no one can make your feel inferior without your consent."
"Eleanor Roosevelt," Kurt said softly.
"I was gonna say that princess movie you made me watch when you were a kid, but okay. Eleanor Roosevelt."
Kurt smiled into his cup. Comfortable silence stretched while they finished their milk. Burt put his mug in the sink, clapped Kurt on the shoulder, and began padding back to his bedroom. Kurt called him back softly.
"He's my soulmate, Dad. He's my one."
Burt fought to keep his mouth neutral, but lost. He beamed at Kurt.
"I know."
Kurt's laugh echoed off the walls of his mug. "How do you always know my big secrets before I tell you?"
Burt shrugged. "You'll figure it out. Give it twenty years and a kid you've raised."
"With Blaine," Kurt said around a smile that stretched so wide it hurt his cheeks.
"Whenever you ask him, tell him I said welcome to the family."
Kurt sat in the kitchen for a long time staring into his empty mug. He felt strange, like he was tingling all over. Thoughts he couldn't grasp raced through his mind like water through fingers, and then settled into a single, dizzying truth.
"Oh my God. I'm going to ask Blaine to marry me."
riverati-klaine asked: I hope your Christmases were as good as mine and you got everything you wanted (thank Cooper for the fangirl cannon fodder). Any interesting stories to share?
literati-kurt said: We spent Christmas with our families. I had a really good heart-to-heart with my dad. I always thought I would need him less as I got older, but it turns out I need him as much as I ever did. I can't speak for Blaine, but it was one of the best Christmases I've ever had. My family expanded so much this year. There's never been so much love in my life. I could have gotten Crocs and the Dune series and been as happy as I am now.
literati-blaine replied: If you had spoken for me, it would have been 100% true for me too.
bookwhoremore asked: Now that Christmas is over, are you going back to reviewing non-Christmas books? I don't want to sound like I'm complaining, but we didn't get many holiday-themed reviews.
literati-blaine said: I know. I feel terrible about that because I have about five Christmas books on my Kindle, and I didn't get to read them all. I do have one more review of The Stupidest Angel that I'm going to post this afternoon (Ssh! Don't tell Kurt. It's not on his posting schedule). I'm also about three-quarters done with The Gift, which I'll review as well. I really am sorry about the delay. I meant to be a better guest blogger. :c
nemoswhale asked: When Blaine joined Literati, I expected a lot of glowing reviews of trashy books on here simply because he could. He's added a new depth to this blog, though. As much as I enjoy Kurt's bitchiness and Rachel's criticism for laughs, it's nice to have someone so upbeat and sincere around. The JavaScript snow has even grown on me. I guess what I'm saying is that I'm sad Blaine will be leaving at the end of the week.
literati-kurt said: So am I, nemoswhale. I wasn't sure us blogging together would work out, but I think you're right. Blaine isn't exactly my complement, because we're not opposites, but he's my balance and my anchor in all the right places. I'm going to miss having him around too. But the JavaScript snow has not grown on me.
hairyhairypotter asked: Blaine, any chance you'll do more readings/book signings in the near future? I just discovered Sadie Hawkins and your blog, and I'm really sad I missed your appearances.
literati-blaine said: I've submitted the final draft of the sequel to my editor. All things going smoothly, the book should come out winter 2018. I don't know how many appearances I'll make or where, but I hope I get to see you at your local bookstore or library.
atlassucked asked: New Year's Resolutions? Can all four of you answer? Pretty please?
literati-kurt said: Graduate with a complete manuscript, take a real vacation with plane tickets and luggage and no Internet, read as much out of the bargain bin as the bestseller list, use the last of my savings on that important thing I've been thinking about so much lately.
river-rachel replied: Explore new opportunities presented to me, stop meddling in my friends' lives so much (since my plans never work out anyway), write every day even if it's only one perfect word.
river-tina replied: Research indie publishing, write that other novel kicking around my brain, read 100 novels, actually save the princess in Mario Brothers.
literati-blaine replied: Start graduate school, finish writing the Sadie Hawkins trilogy, read as much off the bestseller list as the bargain bin, never take for granted or push away the love in my life.
(09:37)
What's the important thing?
(09:42)
A surprise.
(09:42)
KUUUUURT
(09:42)
BLAAAINE
(09:47)
Seriously? You won't tell me? You haven't mentioned anything, though. Why haven't you told me about it?
(09:59)
Are you ignoring the question?
(10:15)
Kurt?
(10:16)
Yes.
(10:16)
Yes?
(10:17)
Yes, I'm avoiding the question.
(10:21)
I feel … uneasy? about this.
(10:21)
Why are you ignoring me?
(10:27)
Because I don't know if you'll like it.
(10:27)
I think you will, but there's a chance you'll hate it.
(10:28)
So we should talk about it first.
(10:34)
We have.
(10:34)
? I am so confused.
(10:34)
It's something for me?
(10:36)
… Yes.
(10:37)
… ?
(10:37)
Sounds like it's actually something for you that you're pretending is for me.
(10:41)
I would say that's accurate.
(10:41)
It's for you, technically, but I'm definitely getting a lot more out of it that you will.
(10:45)
?
(10:47)
Are we getting a puppy?
(10:47)
Yes, Blaine, we're getting a puppy.
(10:47)
That absolutely makes sense given everything I've said.
(10:48)
What kind is it?
(10:49)
Oh my God.
(10:51)
I've never had a dog before.
(10:53)
Have you talked to the girls about this?
(10:53)
What if it pees on their stuff? They'll be so mad.
(10:55)
What if it pees on our stuff? Are you sure you've thought this through?
(10:56)
We don't have dog food. Do you want me to pick some up on my way home?
(11:00)
Blaine.
(11:01)
Yes?
(11:03)
Your sarcasm is not appreciated.
(11:05)
So what's the important thing?
(11:06)
An Easy Bake Oven
(11:10)
Kurt.
(11:10)
Yes?
(11:11)
Your sarcasm is not appreciated.
(11:12)
Just … go back to writing your novel.
(11:12)
I'm in the middle of something important.
(11:12)
Meet me for lunch?
(11:13)
Yup. Where are you? I'll come to you.
(11:15)
Fifth Avenue
(11:16)
Well, that's specific.
(11:17)
Fifth Avenue and 57th Street
(11:18)
Having breakfast at Tiffany's with Rachel again?
(11:18)
I bet you look fabulous in the scarf and suede snow boots I got you for Christmas.
(11:20)
Yes, I'm with Rachel. And Tina.
(11:21)
And, yes, you did good this year.
(11:21)
Have fun! See you at lunch.
Rachel held out her hand across the table. Tina frowned at the gesture.
"Do … you want to hold my hand?"
"No. I want the ten dollars you owe me."
"For what?" Tina demanded.
Rachel shook her hair behind her shoulders and corrected her posture. "For being right about Kurt and Blaine. They're getting married, Tina. They'll have to go public, which means I won our bet."
"One, that's absolutely insane to think your scheming had anything to do with them getting married. Two, we didn't place bets. You meddled, I psychoanalyzed you, the end."
Rachel pouted. "But I need ten dollars to pay for my lunch."
Tina growled in frustration. "I will be so glad when you and Kurt aren't students anymore and can actually earn some money when you're not writing pretentious purple prose. But, of course, since Blaine is going back in the fall, nothing will really change."
"Maybe it will," Rachel said softly. "Maybe I already have something lined up. You know I've kind of been seeing Jesse St. James, right? Well, he's introduced me to some people, and there's a public relations company interested in hiring me to blog about the literati. They're going to send me to parties and conferences and … Oh my God, Tina, I'm so excited!"
"Wow. I don't know what to say. We went ring shopping and turned you into a literati Gossip Girl in one day. Congratulations!"
They squeezed hands across the table while Rachel gushed about this new opportunity. It was a paid job with a generous salary and a schedule that would give her plenty of time to do her own writing during the day.
"The thing is, they want me to bring Literati and all of our followers with me," Rachel admitted. She picked at the remains of her cucumber sandwich. "I don't know how to tell Kurt that I want a divorce and full custody of our baby."
"Luckily, Kurt will very soon be marrying into a family who would be thrilled to have him."
"You …. Really? Bring Kurt on board at River?"
Tina shrugged. "Why not? Our followers hardly distinguish between us anymore. The four of us are one big group of reviewers who never agree on anything, but are best friends anyway. And who's to say you can't keep reviewing on River too? Take the Literati name, but keep the hobby."
"And that way, if I fail epically, at least I'll still have River."
"Don't talk that way, Rachel. Have more faith in yourself. That's what the season is about, right?"
"Uh … I think it's about having faith in someone else."
"You're going to be a brilliant Gossip Girl."
"Thank you, Tina," Rachel said. "All right. Let's present the divorce settlement to Kurt and Blaine."
"But let's not call it a divorce settlement. It's more like … well, a marriage. We're taking what we had before and making something better together."
Kurt shook out his shaking hands and expelled a deep breath as he stared at his pale reflection in the mirror. Through the door, Blaine slept off the pleasant buzz from last night's party. He would be awake soon and ready for the breakfast in bed Kurt had prepared for him. He turned away from the hall mirror and adjusted everything just so on the tray. Eggs, bacon, coffee, orange slices, and a hardback edition of The Princess Bride.
"Morning," Blaine hummed sleepily when Kurt entered their bedroom. "Aw. Kurt, you made me breakfast."
"I thought we should kick off 2018 the right way."
"Snuggled up in bed together, immersed in our love of words?"
"Precisely."
Blaine scooted into a sitting position, and Kurt set the tray across his legs. Blaine gestured for him to climb back into bed and tugged on Kurt until he lay cuddled up by Blaine's side. They kissed softly around smiles.
"Will you read to me?" Blaine asked as he sipped the coffee.
"As you wish."
Blaine tossed Kurt an adoring look.
Kurt picked up the book, and when he opened it, a paper sculpture full of knights, towers, dragons, oceans, and ships sprang to life. A fairytale adventure made of words just for Blaine. And in the center, a Tiffany blue box with two identical engagement rings.
Blaine's breath stuck in his throat. His heart and his world flipped upside down and righted itself again, like that paper ship tossed about on that paper ocean in Kurt's hands.
"Blaine Anderson, will you make me the happiest man in the world?"
Kurt Hummel (a) kurthummel
(a) BlaineAnderson said yes #andtheylived #happilyeverafter #theend