ANOTHER CHAPTER YOU GUISE
I am not Ryan Murphy, or CP Coulter. I do not own Glee or Dalton.
Kurt flopped back on his bed, grinning uncontrollably. He should have been changing- New Directions and Blaine were coming over to celebrate, and his poor father wasn't going to be prepared at all. He just couldn't forget the look on Blaine's face as he got drenched with slushies, his shirt going clingy, his smile and the way he ran a finger down the side of his face to taste the combined flavors of orange, cherry and lime. "Delicious," he'd said, and Kurt couldn't help but laugh. They hadn't been able to focus for the rest of rehearsal, singing just randomly with Mercedes's boom box and Finn's collection of (admittedly horrible) CDs. And of course, Isaac had texted him with such uber-flirty things that his knees had been jelly for a while. Kurt was just a big happy mess by the time rehearsal was over.
Finally he gained enough control to jump up and change quickly into something more casual. Finn was upstairs setting out food and putting on Monty Python. Kurt double-checked his reflection, buffed his nails on his skinny jeans, shoved his phone in his designer button-down pocket, and emerged smiling from the basement to see Finn facedown on the floor.
"Finn! Oh my Prada, Finn, are you okay?"
Finn briefly rolled his face up off of the floor and groaned. Kurt knelt beside his stepbrother and turned him over so at least the floor wouldn't smother him. He pressed a slender hand to Finn's forehead.
"You're burning up. DAD!" Kurt hauled Finn's head onto his lap, and Burt clumped down the stairs.
"What's wrong? Wait, Kurt, you're okay?" Burt looked confused and Kurt sighed.
"I think Finn has the flu."
Burt made a noise through his teeth and hauled his stepson to his feet. "Is there anyone else in school who had it?"
Kurt fluttered anxiously up the stairs after them, replying hastily while ducking into the bathroom to get a cool cloth. "Lauren and Sam both got really sick a day or two ago. And Rachel was a little sniffly yesterday."
Burt grunted, laying Finn down on his bed, pulling Finn's sheets up to his chest. Kurt laid the compress on his stepbrother's head, and his dad fiddled around in the bathroom for a minute before emerging with a thermometer. He shoved it into Finn's mouth, eliciting a weak protest from the quarterback.
"102.5," pronounced Kurt, biting his lip. He huffed out a sigh and watched as his father exited the room again, presumably to call Carol. Finn rolled over to face the wall, and Kurt perched in the space left at the end of the bed. Within a moment or two he'd sent out a mass text, warning everyone about Finn and how they wouldn't be able to have a party tonight.
Ding-dong, went the doorbell, and Burt yelled up the stairs, "KURT!"
Kurt slipped off Finn's bed and clambered as gracefully as he could down the stairs. He didn't even bother peeping through the eyehole to see who it was, so imagine his surprise when he found-
"Blaine? What are you doing here?"
Blaine ran a hand through his hair, which was (now that Kurt noticed) distinctly fluffier and curlier than usual. His glasses were still on, and he was wearing a tight-fitting grey shirt and straight-legged jeans. He shrugged.
"I live farther away, remember? I only got your text thirty seconds ago, and my aunt's already gone." The new member looked uncomfortable, almost sheepish. Kurt leaned against the doorframe, raising his arms above his head. If he had been looking, he would have noticed Blaine's blush and the fact that a lesbian aunt's car was parked two houses down, spying on her favorite nephew. But of course, Kurt wasn't looking. He never looked.
"Well, you'd better come in then. But don't blame me if you get sick!" tossed Kurt airily over his shoulder as he led the way indoors. Blaine couldn't help looking around at Kurt's house. It was very sunny, in that the yellow in the living room and the kitchen brightened the whole place up. He'd never been in Kurt's house before, though Kurt had been in his. Kurt turned and gestured to the couch.
"Could you sit for a minute? We should probably get out of the house for a while; my stepmom's coming home and no doubt she'll be hysterical." Blaine looked at him with his head half tilted like a confused puppy and Kurt shook his head. "I'll be right back."
Kurt swept into the kitchen where Burt was just hanging up the phone. He raised an eyebrow at his father, a silent "well?"
"Carol's on her way home. She's a little… protective," Burt muttered, and Kurt laughed.
"So much for a girl's night out!" he quipped, and Burt shrugged.
"Anyway, who was at the door?"
"Blaine Anderson. He lives farther away and didn't get the message until it was too late. Could we go out and take a walk or something? I don't want to get sick."
Burt's brow wrinkled, and he peeked around the door to see Blaine humming to himself while air-guitarring all over the couch. Kurt watched his dad crack a smile, and he knew it was good news.
"I don't think a guy who air-guitars when he's alone is any threat to you," Burt smiled, and Kurt grabbed his Alexander McQueen coat off the coat rack, waving goodbye to his father. Blaine shot up eagerly from the couch.
"Where are we going?" he asked, following Kurt out his front door and to Kurt's car. Kurt shrugged.
"I don't know, where did you want to go?"
"I don't know," replied Blaine, shrugging and tilting his head to the side. Kurt looked at his face and sighed.
"I'm inventing a game," Kurt announced, pasting a smile on his face. Blaine raised an eyebrow and Kurt grinned. "Yes! It is called: Let's Drive Until We Find Something Interesting!"
"In Ohio?"
Kurt scowled. "Come, skeptic, into the car with you."
Blaine was only too happy to oblige.
'Something interesting' turned out to be a restaurant halfway down the interstate in which the staff danced around on roller skates and clambered on top of tables, singing old show tunes all the while. Blaine looked like he was about to die as he leaned over the table.
"I want to live here!" he gasped, watching the guy behind Kurt's head swivel his hips to an Elvis song. Kurt grinned.
"Only if you let me live with you. God, this place is heaven."
A waitress slid over to their booth, tossed them menus, and joined in on the chorus of the song in perfect harmony. Blaine tore open the menu and surveyed the options.
"Holy Wizard God, Kurt, look- MILKSHAKES."
Kurt let a small smile cross his lips at Blaine. Only a few months ago he had been one of the most caged, scared boys Kurt knew. Look now- geeking out over a milkshake. He really had come a long way.
"How about these salads?" Kurt asked, winking over at Blaine. Blaine felt a small flush rise to his cheeks but firmly replied, "No. Milkshakes. And cheeseburgers."
Kurt sighed. "You win!"
When they placed their order, Kurt got the idea. He stood up, ending their conversation with a smooth, "Bathroom break, Blaine," and waltzing over into the general area of the restrooms. While he was there he cornered a waiter, who was about two feet taller than him with his roller skates on.
"Could I request a song? Or possibly sing one?"
The waiter snorted. "You? Singing?"
Kurt drew himself up to his full height and hissed into the man's face, "I am the star countertenor of New Directions. Watch your mouth."
"Jeez- sorry! Wow, I loved you guys at Sectionals last year!" said the guy, and Kurt rolled his eyes. The man sensed his impatience and hurried to say, "It's our policy here not to let customers sing. But you could certainly request a song."
Kurt motioned for him to bend down, and whispered a song in his ear. The waiter looked surprised, but nodded and glided away to presumably write it down. Kurt smiled and glided as well back to the booth he shared with Blaine. Their food had arrived when he was gone, and Blaine was wolfing down a cheeseburger with everything on it. Kurt laughed.
"It'll be there if you take a breath, you know," he quipped, and Blaine looked up at him with desperate eyes.
"Iss so guhd, Khurt!" he said, and Kurt giggled at the way he covered his mouth with embarrassment. His salad disappeared as well, and as they chatted, Kurt felt totally comfortable and at peace, not whirling around himself like he did usually. Normally his head was such a terrible mess that he never got anything done for himself. Blaine was a precious gift in that he slowed that down and sped up all the calm and happy that resided deep within Kurt, and he appreciated the boy for it. And that was what he showed in about fifteen minutes, as they were finishing up the biggest freaking banana split Kurt had ever seen in his life. (Kurt mourned the fact that he wouldn't be able to fit into his skinny jeans for a week.)
The same waiter that Kurt had told his request to tapped on the microphone a few times and said, "Testing? Okay. So this is from the star countertenor of New Directions for Blaine, and it's called You've Got a Friend in Me."
Blaine gasped, putting one hand dramatically to his chest.
"Oh my god, Toy Story is my favorite, Kurt!"
Kurt grinned, as the opening chords started up. The guy walked lazily down the aisle, swinging his apron strings like an imaginary lasso.
You've got a friend in me…
Kurt couldn't help but stare at Blaine staring at the guy, completely enraptured. His hair really was curly, and he kept twirling a curl around his finger in time with the music. Kurt suddenly couldn't contain it anymore- he grabbed Blaine's hand and squeezed it, then let it go as quickly as possible. Lazily Blaine turned to Kurt and smiled.
And as the years go by, our friendship will never die…
Blaine looked over at Kurt, this amazing boy who'd shown him so much and decided, yes, okay, he loved him. But I'll stop trying to make him realize that. I'll stop yearning so much.
After all, Kurt Hummel was a great friend to have. But we should learn to love each other on our own.