(a/n) Apologies, apologies! I tried to get this up as fast as I could. Unfortunately, this means it's about five hundred to one thousand words shorter hen it'd normally be (or, I'd like it to be, anyway.)
I was just... so overwhelmed with the response this fic got. It really made my night - everybody who faved, alerted, or/and left a comment. I really can't explain how much this means to me. I won't go off on a mushy rant about it, but thank you. So much. I'm going to make an effort to continue to please you guys. That's all I really want to do, in the end.
I'm also glad that everybody likes this idea. I was a little hesitant, because my life is boring, and a more boring version of this happened. But all of you responded so enthusiastically. ASJANFSAFSLKA THANK YOU.
You make me feel like I actually know what I'm talking about. And, uhm... don't fall asleep in history class.
And the song. It had been stuck in my head when I wrote this. Don't judgeeeee. (especially because whenever I hear a Evanescence song, I can practically hear Chris Colfer singing it.)
"My dearest King..."
Kurt honestly didn't realize his voice could come out like that. All low and practically purring. He was pleased to see Blaine's eyes darken with appreciation. In the background, he heard Wes and David his in disapproval, calling him a cheater. How was he cheating? David sat in Blaine's lap for Gaga's sake!
"I think it's strange, that you wouldn't choose me again right away."
The brunette trailed around Blaine, letting a hand glide across his shoulders. Blaine shivered in response, goosebumps forming on the back of his neck, the exposed skin in which Kurt had touched. The junior allowed a smile to worm its way onto his face, twirling around until he was facing Blaine once more.
"I know it sounds... cocky of me." Kurt bit his lip, as if pondering what words he'd choose to speak next, staring at Blaine, who was having trouble... breathing, it seemed. Did he just cross his legs? Kurt went on with his speech, talking about how witty and charming Anne Boleyn had been and how it was the reason Henry VIII chosen her in the first place (even if he was still technically married to Catherine of Aragon.)
"I was new and exciting..." Kurt trailed off, leaning against the blackboard, careful not to get chalk dust on his uniform. He used his foot to hook the chair Blaine was sitting on and dragged it forward, towards him.
"I was... different, after all – three of your wives were named Catherine." Kurt joked, eliciting a chuckle from Blaine.
"Hey, my name is Anne!" Jeff spoke up, resulting in glares from Kurt (and Wes, but then again, when wasn't Wes glaring at Jeff?) and shushing noises from the professor (and Blaine.)
"Yes, but "she's" the pretty one, and you aren't, so shut up."
David slapped Jeff on the back of the head, bro-fisting with Wes.
Kurt focused back on Blaine, banishing images of him committing mass murder, and went on to say how Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn had met in secret and how apparent it was that Henry had cared for her and wanted her.
"You wrote me letters, tons and tons, even though you loathed writing. You turned the whole country upside-down just for a chance for my hand in marriage. If that isn't love... I don't know what is." He gave a coy smile, when an idea popped into his head. Kurt glanced around, noting the lack of interest in his classmates glazed-over eyes, until it fell back onto Blaine. Blaine, who was staring at him so intensely – and he heard the word, unspoken between them.
Courage.
"My hands are searching for you,
My arms are outstretched towards you."
Kurt started to sing, quite possibly surprising everybody in the room (including Blaine, who should've seen it coming). Said boy's hazel eyes widened in surprise (especially at Kurt's song choice – how in the world did Kurt even know about Flyleaf?) The brunette strode forward, grabbing Blaine's hands in his own.
"I feel you on my fingertips,
My tongue dances behind my lips, for you."
Kurt licked his bottom lip in testament, Blaine trying so very hard not to pull the boy down and-
"This fire rising through my being – burning,
I'm not used to seeing you."
Kurt dropped the senior's hands, the latter almost whining in a very ungentlemanly way at the loss of sweet, sweet contact.
"I'm alive, I'm alive!"
Kurt's hands clenched themselves, forming fists while he broke into the chorus.
"I can feel you, all around me,
Thickening the air I'm breathing,
Holding on to what I'm feeling,
Savoring this heart that's healing."
He stepped closer to the curly-haired boy, bracing his hands on the swivel chair's armrests. He leaned in close, lips sinfully near Blaine's skin, breath warm and moist against the older boy's ear.
"My hands float up above me,
And you whisper you love me."
The last part came out barely above a whisper, deep and raspy, making a pool of heat twist and churn with pleasure, wanting nothing more then to take this boy, this beautiful boy back to his room and do all things unpure and undapper to him- damnit! Keep your cool, Blaine! This is the second time within the hour you've thought of something dirty!
Kurt saw shock etching it's way onto Blaine's face, unnoticeable to anybody who wasn't studying that face like Kurt was. He mistook for him being the cause and made to pull back.
Blaine was quick to stop him.
Unfortunately, with Blaine's less than adequate mindset, this meant latching onto the pale boy's wrists and tugging.
And that's how Kurt fell, front first, into Blaine's lap. At the contact (more contact then either of them have ever indulged in with each other), both teenagers' breath hitched, stopping Kurt from singing.
"And that's," Kurt cleared his throat, trying to get it back to its effeminate timbre, after a few moments of silence (he realized somebody needed to speak), "that's why you should pick me to be your wife again. Because even though the others say they love you, I'm the only one who means it."
It dawned on Blaine, then and there, that Kurt wasn't talking about King Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn anymore. Blaine himself, could probably give a rat's behind about the two at this point.
"Kurt..." Blaine whispered, "I-"
"That was wonderful!" A sudden, unwelcome voice boomed, "Truly inspirational. Mr. Hummel, wherever did you learn to act like that?"
Kurt stood up, holding back a sigh of frustration and pasting on a clearly forced and strained smile.
"It's not acting if the feelings are true." he murmured, before sitting back down with the other "bachelorettes".
"Well," Professor Reinstein's cheery disposition was starting to annoy Kurt, "Now that everyone's settled into their seats, let's take a vote on who 'King Henry' should pick as his wife. When I call them out, they'll stand up, and the class will raise their hands to vote."
He looked around the room, disregarding the glazed expressions on some of his students' faces.
"Okay; Catherine of Aragon?"
Wes stood up, his hand out in a 'come hither' gesture, before raising it,
"Raise your hands, my loyal subjects!"
Near him, Kurt saw David starting to raise his hand, but caught Kurt's eye and quickly set it back into his lap.
"Sorry!" he whispered sheepishly, "He's so convincing."
After counting, it looked as if Wes had half the class voting for him.
"Next up, Catherine Paar!"
Thad stood up, dutifully raising his hand.
He got two votes. (The two, who were in his group.)
"Jane Seymour!"
David jumped up, grinning from ear to ear, popping his hand up.
When he only got four votes, he booed.
"Anne of Cleaves!"
Jeff stood, raising his hand.
No one else did. (Wes made cricket noises.)
"Catherine Howard!"
Flint stood, a smirk in place, both hands resting lazily on his hips, before one made its way above his head. He sent a smirk Kurt's way when he got five votes. (some of them being from Kurt's own group, the traitors.)
The look, however, faded, as soon as he saw Kurt wasn't even paying attention to him. He was off staring at-
Oh.
Blaine.
Who hadn't raised his hand yet.
"And lastly, Anne Boleyn!"
Kurt took is turn out of his seat, blushing when Blaine turned to face him. Kurt, of course, raised his hand, very pleased when Blaine did the same.
And Kurt suddenly ended up with seven votes.
After voting, all was forgotten (almost). Ike their class didn't just spend over half an hour playing a dating game. It wasn't forgotten by a certain countertenor, however. In fact, in his head, it was being replayed, over, and over, and over, and over-
Said daydreamer's phone buzzed not-so-subtly, jolting him from his revere.
Kurt was just thankful his teacher was so oblivious. (not like the classmates surrounding him, whose reactions varied from being amused, to thinking it scandalous.)
Blaine: Meet me outside Quincey House after class.
When Kurt looked back up from his iPhone, he found himself staring at Blaine (and the front side of his head, not the back.) Blaine, who had twisted the upper part of his body around, in order to face him. Flushing, Kurt could only nod his head a couple times, most likely making a fool of himself for some reason or another.
"Mr. Anderson, please turn back around!"
