Blaine was obnoxiously proud of himself. He had Put Together A Look. And he looked awesome. His cardigan matched his shoes and coordinated with his plaid shirt. His jeans were new and fit better than any other pair of jeans he'd ever had. He had a charming "50's hipster without the irony" thing going on. Even Kurt was going to approve. The 50's were totally fashionable right now.
He turned around in the mirror a couple more times, wondering if he needed a belt before realizing that he had no idea if black or brown was appropriate with red shoes and that adding a belt was probably a more advanced maneuver than he was really ready for.
He untucked his shirt and retucked his shirt a couple more times before deciding that he was being silly, then went to the bathroom to deal with his hair. He was going to have to think of a way to ask Kurt about gel alternatives while simultaneously making it clear that he was not presenting a makeover opportunity. Because he was aware that it would eventually get too hot for him to gel his hair like he did for school, and that going au naturale was not an option, but he was also not stupid enough to think that Kurt would stop at his hair. And he loved Kurt, but he still wasn't going to let Kurt put him in a knee length sweater, or a silk shirt or something with weird spiky shoulders. He wetted his hair down and parted it.
He loved Kurt. He kept catching himself thinking it, and he liked the sound of it better every time. He'd loved Kurt for a while. Maybe even before "Blackbird", but he felt like someone like Kurt needed breathing room before getting his first real kiss and becoming someone's first real boyfriend. You didn't just throw "I love you" on top of that, especially with their first competition solo a week away.
Blaine had also wanted to make sure. He had, in the past, tossed around the L-word a little casually. "In Love" is how he had described his stupid infatuation with Jeremiah just because he was gay and he was older and they'd gotten coffee a couple times. "In love" had been scribbled in several of his notebooks and folders during his painfully extreme first crush on his student art teacher just because he had been so good looking and so nice to him and because Blaine had been thirteen and a bomb of hormones and the poor guy had been there.
When he said it, "love", to Kurt, he wanted it to be a big epically sincere and romantic thing. Because this feeling, the one he had for Kurt, was completely different from those other feelings. With the student teacher it had been awful, like an atomic bomb taking out a city, melting flesh into concrete, turning things he hadn't even known could burn into ash. With Jeremiah it had just been this stupid tingling, this happy candle flickering. With Kurt it was like a fire in a hearth. Warm and comfortable and something he could just stare at, warm and contented, for hours. And before he explained that to Kurt, he wanted to make sure it was totally true, and totally real.
But it was, and it only got more true when he said it to himself. "I love him, but I can't believe he thinks he'll really get Karofsky to start a PFLAG chapter." "Is he really wearing pants with skulls on them and a backless vest? I love him". The whole set up for Kurt asking him to Prom, the movie, dinner at Breadstix and the whole proposal factor of him asking had made that hearth glow burn so warm in Blaine that it had nearly slipped out with "I'm crazy about you".
But there was no hurry. They had time. Kurt's last full day of school was tomorrow and then they had the whole summer together. The perfect, big, epic, sincere, romantic moment would present itself. Blaine's reverie was broken by the click of the front door being unlocked.
Dammit.
He pushed his last wave into place and plastered it down, then grabbed his satchel out of his bedroom, dug his car keys out of it and shoved them in his pockets as he walked to the top of the stairs.
His parents were in the foyer, putting away their golf clubs and cleats. They had gotten home earlier than he'd planned on. He carefully toned down his "going to see Kurt" grin to something more reasonable and headed down the stairs trying not to look like he was in too much of a hurry.
His mom turned suddenly as he reached the midpoint of the stairs.
"Oh, hi, sweetheart," she said, just a touch breathlessly. She always sounded like that when she talked to him now, like she had accidentally walked in on him doing something mildly private, like folding his underwear or clipping his toenails.
"Hi," Blaine replied, clutching his satchel strap self consciously. "How was golf?"
"Oh the wind was a little high," his mother said, brushing a heavy black curl back from her face, "And the Carmichaels are a lot more… brisk than the Murphys. We got a little bit of a work out today."
"Oh."
"You look nice. Are you going out?"
Blaine cleared his throat, "Uh, yes. Kurt's back from New York."
"Oh. Kurt." His father's face, full of forced interest, fell just a fraction before the smile slid back into place.
"Right. He's back from New York." His mother's attempt at positive was a lot more successful, but still rang as fake. "How late are you going to be?"
"Umm… late. Carol already invited me to stay for dinner and Kurt's got pictures and stuff and he can get a little…meticulous about audition choices." He hates how stiff his parent's expressions get at the admission that he knows Kurt well enough to know what his audition habits are. Like he'd mentioned something so much more private than that. Like how Kurt's hair smells like strawberries, or how his skin tastes just a little sweet. "Like probably at curfew."
"Right," his mother said. "Well. Have a nice time at the Hummel's."
"Thanks," Blaine said through a now completely plastic grin. He nodded to his parents, turned and walked out the front door, digging his car keys out of his pocket as he did. He dropped into his car, dug out his ipod. spun it to his "Warblers '11" playlist and took off with "Raise Your Glass" blasting louder than strictly necessary.
His parents weren't taking the whole "boyfriend" thing very well. He knew they were trying, and he knew it could be so much worse. Every time he considered calling Taylor and instantly chickened out, he knew it could be so much worse.
He knew his parents loved him. They wanted him to be safe. They wanted him to be happy. They didn't really understand the music thing, but they wanted him to be successful.
They just wanted him to be straight too.
They would never say that, they weren't cruel people. It was just obvious. And when he had been thirteen and in panting puppy love with a student teacher who was probably the only person in the whole school who was nice to him, or at Dalton where there were no girls to talk or think about at all, his parents could write it all off as him just being confused, or lonely. But now there was Kurt. His Boyfriend. And that comfortable cushion that his parents had was getting pretty thoroughly blasted apart.
It hadn't helped that he hadn't told them right away. They'd known for a month. He and Kurt had been dating for just a little over three. But they had been having such a hard time getting their heads around the fact that Blaine had a gay best friend. And Blaine hadn't been entirely forthright in his descriptions of Kurt, either. But since he'd told them that Kurt was his boyfriend, he'd tried to be a little more honest. Instead of just saying that he and Kurt had watched a movie, he was now mentioning that Kurt had wanted to rent something French and artsy. Instead of saying that he and Kurt were late because they'd missed their dinner reservations, he laughed that it was because Kurt's outfit had been a little complicated. He'd set the Prom photo, with Kurt in the crown, and the flirty grin, and the kilt on his desk.
And he'd seen the awkward sideways looks that they both gave that photo whenever they popped their heads into his room to tell him that dinner was ready, or to ask him to do some chore.
They weren't hateful people, they were just a little ignorant, and they were trying…but sometimes it was just hard that they clearly weren't as easily accepting as Carol and Mr. Hummel. Blaine hated the thought of subjecting Kurt's beautiful face, his unique style, and his exquisite voice to the same type of scrutiny that the Kurt in the prom photo always got, and watch it all get broken down into the stereotypes and tropes that they could understand. He didn't think his parent's were ready for Kurt. And he certainly wasn't ready to answer any questions about Kurt.
When Blaine pulled up to the Hudmel house, Kurt was standing outside on the front porch carefully in the shade, dressed in his usual five or six layers, one of which was sea foam green pants. Blaine felt his grin, which had faded on the ride over, kick back in full force as he parked his car. Kurt was already heading toward him, and they met halfway up the walk, throwing themselves into a hug. Blaine was clutching Kurt like he'd been gone for years instead of a couple of days, taking in the sharp, spicy scent of all of Kurt's products mixed together.
"Hey," Kurt said quietly.
"Hey. I missed you," Blaine told him, squeezing him briefly before letting him go. Kurt leaned in for quick kiss.
"I missed you too. Come on, I have a million things to tell you and if Carol sees you and invites you in, we aren't going to get to the music store in time to really look everything over before they close."
"I like when Carol invites me in," Blaine said.
"That's because she always tells you that you look handsome and gives you something to eat. Like you're a stray puppy."
That was true. Nearly every time Blaine came over Carol told him some variation on "Don't you look handsome" or "Isn't it sweet how you always dress up for dates?" Then hugged him and gave him something to eat or a can of pop or something. Blaine loved Carol. And Kurt loved Carol. And Carol loved Kurt and Blaine. It was such a nice spot of simplicity in Blaine's life.
Kurt slid his hand into Blaine's, and Blaine felt that fireplace heat stoke up inside him, fortifying him against the slight chill of the day as Kurt started filling him in on his trip.
"Asian kiss?" Mike asked quietly popping out from behind Tina's locker. Tina smiled.
"Asian kiss," she agreed.
"So Finn's been hiding in the library all day," Mike told her as he took her hand in his and they headed out to her car.
"Really? How did he find it?" Tina snarked.
Mike gave her a pouting lip. "Come on, don't be like that."
"I'm just sick of Rachel and Finn's hormones screwing everything up," Tina sighed. "We all work too hard for their drama to always be our focus. Our lives would just be easier if Rachel and Quinn flipped a coin for Finn and the winner just got to keep him for a whole year. And I'm going to be really pissed off if this whole "making out onstage incident" doesn't affect next year's solo choices."
"You don't think it's at least a little romantic? We've gotten carried aware before."
"Yeah, but never onstage."
"What about last year at Asian Camp?"
"Asian Camp in front of a bunch of grade school kids who are too busy texting to pay attention is not the same as during the National's competition," Tina huffed.
"So does that mean it's okay if we get carried away again this year?"
Tina's stomach dropped suddenly as she slowed and turned to Mike, clutching her books a little closer to her chest.
"I decided not to work at Asian Camp this year."
Mike froze and dropped her hand. "What?"
"It's my last summer before college applications start and I thought I should try to do something a little more arts related and a little more professional. I want to go into an arts program. Probably on the east coast."
"We're in charge of the arts program at Asian Camp!" Mike told her, his voice rising.
"Which is the smallest program at a camp known for math and science programs."
"Well…what are you going to do instead?"
"Blaine sent me the information for Six Flags. I got an audition too."
"So…. What? Instead of working with your boyfriend this summer, you're going to work with Kurt's?"
"Are you seriously being jealous of Blaine right now?"
Mike bit his lip and leaned back against the bank of lockers they had stopped in front of. "No. I'm not."
"Mike," Tina grabbed his hand. "Please listen- this has nothing to do with you. I love you, and it's not that I don't want to be around you, or that I don't want to spend the summer at Asian Camp with you, it's just that… I need to start thinking about my future. We've only got a year of high school left."
"Am I in your future?" Mike asked, sulking.
"Of course you are," Tina said, leaning in to kiss him. He hesitated for a moment before kissing her back. "I just need you to understand that you aren't the only thing in my future."
Mike paused for a moment, looking over her lips before kissing her and stepping back. "You're right."
"Thank you."
Mike took her hand again and squeezed it.
"Asian Parking out at the quarry?" Tina suggested.
Mike smiled despite himself, "Absolutely."
It was probably a totally narcissistic thing to admit, even to himself, but Kurt loved the way that Blaine was staring at him. He'd been babbling for the last forty five minutes, an hour if you included in the car, about a trip that Blaine had wanted to go on, with people Blaine only kind of knew, and Blaine was listening to him with rapt attention. Blaine was looking at him like there was a spotlight on him. Which of course only made him keep talking, because, if he was being entirely honest with himself, Kurt knew he was a little bit of a narcissist.
"So we get back to the hotel, and Santana loses it," he told Blaine, attempting to imitate the tone of Santana screaming in Spanish, even though he had no idea what she had said outside of "Lima Heights Adjacent", which never boded well. "And, I mean, the plane ride home was completely silent. We all just sat there with our faces buried in our complimentary copies of Skymall."
"I don't get it. You don't seem that sad at all."
Kurt shrugged. "Well, it was still amazing. I flew in a plane for the first time in my life. I had Breakfast at Tiffany's," Blaine's head dipped happily as he clearly realized where Kurt had gotten that idea, "I sang on a Broadway stage." Even mentioning it again gave him shivers.
"I love you," Blaine said quietly.
It took Kurt a second to hear it.
And then it was like crack of lightning, right into the middle of The Lima Bean. A sort of terrible beauty shaking the walls. And no one else had seemed to notice that the world had just changed.
Kurt resisted the urge to choke all over the coat he'd bought on Madison Avenue, sucked his cheeks in and swallowed carefully, painfully aware that Blaine hadn't moved, that Blaine was just sitting there, smiling, staring at him like he was still talking, like he hadn't just said "I love you".
Kurt breathed, made sure he could still hear the echo of it in his head, and opened his mouth, hearing himself offer a shaky, "I love you too."
Blaine smiled at him, barely a twitch of the lips and Kurt's stomach clenched a little. What if Blaine didn't believe him? Well. Kurt was entirely sure he believed Blaine either, as much as he wanted to. Blaine had thought he loved Jeremiah too.
"You know, when you stop and think about it, Kurt Hummel's had a pretty good year." He said, moving on, they could come back to the whole "I love you" thing later, preferably somewhere a little more private and sometime when Kurt was expecting it, and wasn't dropping one shaking hand down into his lap where Blaine couldn't see it, or clenching the other around his coffee cup to still it.
Blaine smiled at him again, a warmer smile that looked a little bit more like he really felt it. And the shrill of ice through Kurt's stomach made him realize, that yes, that really had just happened between them.
Sam and Mercedes walked in and Kurt grasped the opportunity.
"Oh! Look who's here!"
Blaine turned in his chair, "Hey what are you guys doing here?"
"Uh just uh," Sam started and Kurt perked up a little at the tone. He was lying. He had used the exact same tone, swinging his arms the exact same way before had told Kurt and Blaine that he was just delivering pizzas so he could buy an amp for his guitar, "Getting a coffee."
"We ran into each other in the parking lot," Mercedes chimed in unnecessarily, adding a little over emphatic nod. She was lying too.
"We're on our way to get some sheet music, tomorrow's my audition for the summer show at six flags."
"Whereas I'm spending my summer composing "Pip Pip Hooray", the Broadway Musical about Pippa Middleton." Kurt could sense Blaine rolling his eyes, but it didn't matter. It was a brilliant idea and he would see that once Kurt had finished the number about hats, based only slightly on "Ascott Opening Day" from My Fair Lady.
"I have no idea who that is, but it sounds totally awesome," Sam smiled, his tone mocking, but good natured. Mercedes laughed too loud and hit him on the arm.
They were dating.
Kurt gave her a little smile, an "oh, you think you're so smooth smile."
"We'll see you in class," Mercedes said, obviously trying to end the conversation before Kurt figured out what he had just figured out and what would probably take Blaine a month and several unavoidable signs to figure out.
"Bye guys!" Blaine waved them off cheerfully.
Kurt wondered briefly why Mercedes hadn't said anything to him about this shocking blond development, but then Blaine turned back to him to talk about his audition, and his smile was warm, and the coffee was warm and Mercedes and Sam seemed happy.
And Blaine loved him.
And they had the whole summer ahead of them.
