Part Two – They Want
For about a week he doesn't hear from Kurt. He thinks maybe he imagines it – that moment of connection he'd been so sure had made Kurt trust him. He's almost relieved. While he does want to help the kid, he's constantly having to remind himself he is a kid.
But then, lying practically asleep at night, his phone buzzes with a new text and it gets his heart rate going a little faster. It's practically midnight – no one else would text him this late, unless Wes got inexplicably drunk. He only hesitates for a moment before he turns back towards his bedside table and turns his light back on.
Today I saw a decrepit old man feeding ducks at the park and I thought it was you. Maybe in two years. –K
Blaine blinks slowly and reads it over three times before he feels awake enough to understand it. He should probably remind Kurt that it's late and Blaine starts his days early.
Funny, that happens to me all the time when I go pick up Emmy from daycare. There's this kid who likes rubbing his very blonde hair on the chalk and the other day it was pink and I swear I almost said "Hi Kurt!"
Mine was funnier.
Okay.
So… I have a question. Is my dad supposed to know I'm your pet project now?
You're not my pet project. That sounds terrible. I just thought I could be your friend.
Okay. But is he supposed to know his (aggravating adjectives) doctor wants to befriend me? (I left some aggravating adjectives out of that question, btw)
I don't know. He knows I went to talk to you during his appointment the other day.
But he doesn't know you invited yourself to meet me at ten pm.
He doesn't.
Okay.
Blaine has never written and re-written a text so many times.
I don't mean it like he shouldn't know. I think it's up to you if you want to tell him. We're friends, nothing more. I don't see why he'd have a problem with that.
Okay.
Apparently the conversation ends there. Blaine has no idea what to text back to that, and Kurt doesn't say anything else. So eventually, Blaine drops his phone amidst his pillows and goes to sleep.
-x-
It's another three days before anything happens again. Emmy is being difficult with dinner. She's clamped her mouth shut and refuses to let even the tip of the spoon in. They should be well, well past this stage, but here he is, grabbing a box of matches and lighting one by one so she'll be distracted by the pretty fire and let her jaw relax a little (is Blaine raising a raging pyromaniac?). He's halfway through a box of matches and a quarter way through mashed potatoes and boiled fish (he can't really blame her, to be honest – as far as bland foods go, this is the blandest), when his phone pings.
He looks between the offending item and Emmy. Putting the box of matches in his pocket and the spoon in her hand he lowers to her eye level and says, "Eat, honey, please."
She smiles. As if.
There's a text from Kurt.
I'm having one of those instagram moments. Sitting at the abandoned factory just off the freeway, watching the sunset, and this is lame. But I can't stop thinking, once upon a time it wasn't lame at all.
Um. I don't know what you want me to say. Personally, I'd find that nice. There's a reason so many people would've instagrammed it, after all.
Do you think I should quit smoking?
I'm a doctor, Kurt. Yes.
Do you think I should start applying to colleges for the spring semester?
I think you need to talk to your dad about it. Lay it all on the table. I'm sure he'll help you do what's best.
Do *you* think I should start applying to colleges for the spring semester?
Yes.
Thanks. How's Oscar?
Refusing dinner.
What's dinner?
Mashed potatoes and boiled fish. I may have brought this upon myself. In fact, I'd be sure of it, if this wasn't exactly her reaction to approximately 70% of her meals. If she had her way she would live off ice cream and bananas.
Wanky!
Thanks for the imagery.
Are you going to be one of those shotgun-wielding dads? "Touch my daughter and I'll end you".
Hardly. I don't like violence. I despise guns. I'll look out for her, but I'll try to keep it healthy.
Wouldn't want her having daddy issues, now would we?
Kurt. You're very charming.
I strive so hard not to be, though.
Have you ever thought maybe that's your problem?
What?
Pretending to be someone you're not. Maybe you want to have instagram moments. Maybe you want to think they're pretty.
You don't know me that well, Dr. Phil.
I don't. But your dad does.
See? This talking behind my back makes me trust you less.
It was one of the first things he ever told me about you. Before I knew you. I promise there's been no more talking behind your back since then. I'm *just* his doctor. He doesn't even have an appointment scheduled for another three months. But, here, a peace offering.
(picture attached: Blaine grimacing slightly with a blotch of mashed potatoes on his collar, some of it on his cheek too)
I think she's jealous. She wants to be talking to me too.
Please! She only wants you for your hair.
As opposed to you, who only wants to use me to feel good about yourself. *pat pat on the back* "I'm such a good Samaritan"
Blaine frowns at the latest text from Kurt. He sighs as he drops the towel on the sink and heads out of the bathroom. Emmy is very carefully wiping the rest of the mashed potatoes off the floor with a napkin. It makes Blaine smile, even if she's spreading more than she's cleaning. He steps around her and grabs paper towels, coming back to kneel next to her. He hits the call button as he bends to join her efforts.
"That's not what this is about." He says as soon the ringing tone cuts off.
"What is it about then? What's in it for you?"
"I don't know…" Blaine sighs. "I just… I went through part of what you had to go through, just as alone. I didn't have an ailing dad, and my mom was well and alive. But being the only out gay kid in Ohio? I've been there. It sucked. Why would I want you to go through it alone?"
"Well, anyway, whatever your motives are… you're too late. High school's over. I made it through. Alone, but I did."
"And now you have battle scars."
"That is… incredibly lame."
"And incredibly true." Blaine shrugs, grunting as he pushes himself to his feet, napkins and paper towels all in a huge ball soiled paper. Emmy watches him throw it out with a sheepish look, so Blaine makes sure to give her a playful glare, but a glare nonetheless. "Listen, if you don't wanna talk to me, then don't. But you said your friends don't understand. I do."
"Yes, I know. We've been through t-"
"I guess, maybe I could use a friend, too." Blaine cringes as soon as he says it. It's not true, is it? He looks at his empty apartment, Emmy still sitting on the floor, wiping the already clean floor with her skirt. If he stops talking for a moment he can hear the complete, deafening silence. "I could use a friend in Lima…"
"Oh…"
"Emmy is…" he doesn't miss the way her head shoots up to look at him at the mention of her name. "Emmy is wonderful. I love her," she grins and finally stops scrubbing the floors, which makes him laugh. He lowers his voice and steps over to the corridor. "But I miss adult conversations… adult conversations that don't revolve around cholesterol levels, and blood pressure, and bowel movements." Kurt chuckles, and Blaine knows he should leave it that, but continues. "Or about my parents constantly offering to take Emmy if it's too hard on me. Or about people treating me with kid gloves because of my brother…"
Silence is the only answer he gets for the better part of a minute.
"Do you want to watch something shitty on TV and bitch about it over the phone together?"
Blaine startles and then laughs. "Yeah. I think I'd like that. Give me ten minutes to get Emmy in bed."
"Sure… I'll go find us something fucking awful."
They settle into a habit of doing that. Every other day, a couple of hours after dinner, Kurt will call Blaine and they'll watch the episode together – most often than not the conversation will derail, the episode left forgotten while Kurt vents about getting slammed into lockers and having his first kiss forcibly taken, or Blaine tells him about his childhood and parents that would never let him take the easy way out because it didn't teach you as much perseverance, or give you as much strength (and maybe because their easy way out, was always Blaine's hardest way out, which they would deny whenever confronted with the idea).
One Friday, when Emmy stays at her grandparents' and Kurt asks him if Blaine doesn't want to kindly provide him with something better to do than meet up with his high school friends to smoke and drink, Blaine drives down to the ice-cream shop again and they hang out till the wee hours, talking over ice-cream, driving around town listening to music (Blaine had offered to drive Kurt home, and they just kept driving from spot to spot, making excuses not to go to his street just yet).
And then there's the texting. That one is constant, and Blaine has never paid so much attention to his phone in his life. He knows it's ridiculous – he looks like an adolescent, discreetly checking his phone every time a patient looks away, but he has to admit, even if only to himself, it's been about the only thing (the only person) besides Emmy making him smile on a daily basis.
-x-
(picture of Burt grinning and giving two thumbs up, with a plate of French fries and burger in front of him)
Look what you've done!
Ahaha!
We settled on a bi-weekly cheat meal.
Sounds like a good plan to me. How very generous of you!
Right? I'm trusting your judgment, though. His stats better come back spotless in two months.
Kurt. I promise you, one fat meal every two weeks isn't going to do him much harm. I wouldn't have said so if I wasn't sure it'd be okay. And besides, I've got a close eye on him – anything that makes me so much as squint a little and I send him straight to the best cardiologist I can find.
I guess you did go to med school. That's gotta be worth something.
Exactly.
And you're super ancient and still in mildly good shape, so you probably know what you're doing.
I know that's supposed to be a joke, but I swear to god, my back is killing me and this shouldn't be happening this soon.
What happened?
Emmy had nightmares. I had to sing her to sleep every time she woke up. I ended up sleeping on the floor, next to her bed.
Oh. I'm sorry about Bafta. I hope she sleeps better tonight.
You and me both.
-x-
Just so you know, this friend thing doesn't really work if I'm the one constantly doing the reaching out. You're making me feel like the annoying loser.
Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't notice.
What gives?
I don't know. I guess I feel like I kind of pressured you into it, so it feels weird to be the one taking initiative.
Well… give it a go.
Blaine stares at his phone for a full minute. He'd been finishing up the last paperwork of the day before leaving when Kurt's first text arrived. He has no idea why he feels the need to check that his office door is closed and no one is watching, but he does.
I was just about to leave the office, pick Emmy up and go grocery shopping. It's not very interesting, but you can join us…
Because I have nothing better to do.
Right. Of course. I know it's stupid, but I have to do it, so. But I'll think of something else for the near future.
No. I meant that I will indeed join you, because I have nothing better to do. It's summer in Lima and my day off. Grocery shopping with the dinosaur doctor and a toddler mute sounds riveting.
Oh! Okay. I'll wait for you at the office?
5.
Blaine swallows in dry as he looks at his phone. He has this sudden sensation that he's just done something incredibly stupid. Still, he forces himself to stand and undo the white buttons of his white coat. He drapes it slowly over his chair, and grabs his bag, pulling the strap over his head. He kisses his receptionist on the forehead like always, but all the while, as he moves towards the exit, the strange, looming feeling in the pit of his stomach remains.
He sits at a bus stop bench by the entrance to the clinic and tries not to bounce his leg or bite his lip as he keeps his eyes attentive on the streets. It's been at least two weeks since the last time he saw Kurt. He realizes that the slow burning panic rising in him has everything to do with that, and how, at the prospect of seeing him, he seems to be remembering piercing blue eyes and broad shoulders.
With a sigh he rubs a hand over his face and shakes his head. He's not even going to entertain these thoughts, not even for a second.
As he pulls his hand away, that's when he sees Kurt a couple yards away, in all his usual black clad, pink haired glory. He smiles as he stands up and waves an awkward hello. Somehow he imagines Kurt is not the hugging type.
Kurt stops a couple of feet away with a strange, sort of amused smile. "Hey."
"Hey," Blaine replies, allowing himself one moment of bubbling panic, before he discards it all and smiles as easily as usual. "How are you?"
"Mostly bored." Kurt shrugs, and Blaine chuckles. "So, let's go pick up Berlin Bear."
Blaine doesn't move for another moment. "Do you worry you're going to run out of awards soon?"
Kurt shrugs and they start walking. "I've actually googled a list of entertainment and media awards… I have the next two years covered."
"How dedicated of you." Blaine rolls his eyes with a smile.
"Okay, that's not actually true. And yeah, I'll run out soon enough… I got what…? Obie…? Oscar…"
"You've already said Oscar. Have you said Tony?"
"I think so…"
"Well," Blaine shrugs, "at least it really was fun while it lasted."
"But really now, is she actually named after the award, or was that just a joke, and she's like Emily or whatever but Emmy for short."
"Emmy's an actual name," Blaine gives him an amused frown. "Doesn't have to be short for anything. But she's definitely named after the award. My brother's acting career wasn't very prosperous – he landed mostly commercials and small stuff, and when she came along he kind of shelved those dreams so she'd have some stability, but in return he gave himself the award he always wanted. Because that's exactly the kind of person he was."
Kurt keeps his silence for a moment and Blaine kind of wants to take it back and pretend like Emmy was just a pretty name like any other.
"You don't get to talk about him a lot, right?" Kurt asks, startling Blaine.
"Um, no… not to someone who'll talk back. Sometimes I'll talk to Emmy about him, but it's not like she's going to keep the conversation going. And my parents are the kind of people who like to pretend everything is always perfect. And we didn't really have many friends in common, so… no, there's not a lot of people I can talk to about him."
"I know… it's the same with my mom. I would try to talk about her with my dad when I was a kid, but I think he was hurting really bad, so he just didn't know how to help me… I don't blame him. But I really ended up having no one to talk to about it," he scratches his nose, and his movements are slow and hesitant. "So… huh, how did he die?"
"Car crash," Blaine tells him and Kurt's eyebrows raise at once, the way everyone's does.
"Was…?"
He nods. "She was in the car," he feels the tightness in his chest but pushes at it a little bit. "One of those miraculous things, you know? She got out unscathed, he was… um, killed instantly."
"Her mother?"
"Wasn't ever in the picture," Blaine shrugs. "He was doing it alone."
Silence falls back between them. It's not exactly awkward, but it's clear it stems from a lack of knowing what to say to each other. Blaine is kind of relieved when he sees the colorful doors of Emmy's daycare.
"We're here."
Blaine almost expects Kurt to stay outside and wait for them, but instead he follows Blaine right in, watching the small kids clamoring for attention – heads turning at once at the sound of the front door opening, each of them hoping that it's their parents coming through it. Emmy doesn't shriek or, in any audible way, celebrate Blaine's arrival. But she does put down her toys and stand up at once, walking over to him with a smile and already offering her hand. Blaine takes it, but bends over to kiss her soundly nonetheless and she returns the gesture.
"Hello, Kurt," she waves at him and makes no move to go any further than that in greeting him. Kurt waves back.
"Let's get your back pack, miss." Blaine smiles and they go over to the shelves, with the little cubicle drawers with each kid's names written in pretty handwriting and accompanied by not so pretty and charmingly childish drawings. Emmy drew (what looks like) butterflies and a smiling sun on hers, and, back then, it was the first time Blaine was sure she'd be okay.
He collects her bright pink bag, with brightly colored sequins and bright blue straps, from the drawer and hikes it over his shoulder.
"I can carry that." Kurt says.
Blaine frowns slightly at the offer, but smiles.
"You got your own bag, and you'll be doing the shopping. I can take it. It even matches my hair," he shrugs. Blaine's smile widens and he chuckles as he hands over the bag.
"Thanks."
He turns to find Emmy's teachers, to bid them goodbye, and stops short when he notices every single adult staring at him with frowns and apprehensive looks. He wants to roll his eyes and tell them to mind their own business.
"I'll see you tomorrow," he says instead, voice as cheerful as ever. He turns to Emmy and grins, "Do you want to walk? Or…?"
"Up!" She grins.
He laughs at her readiness and bends over to collect her into his arms, surprisingly long and thin legs wrapping around his waist at once, and gentle hands clutching his collar, fingers settling cool against his neck.
"Tomorrow I walk," she tells him, like usual. Apparently, she feels the need to compensate every day she chooses to be carried with assurance that she won't need it the next day. Blaine is 90% sure she overheard him discussing the pros and cons off babying her with Wes over the phone – carrying versus walking in particular. He thought she'd been playing in her bedroom, but maybe not. And while he knows three year olds don't exactly have the best memory or even understanding of that kind of conversation, she clearly took something out of it, so he's been extra careful to try and show her he has no problem with whatever mode of transportation she chooses.
He kisses the top of her forehead as she holds on a little tighter and starts to walk outside.
"Wow," Kurt says, as soon as he's eased the door closed behind them. "You came in and it was like Jesus coming to save them. I came in and it was like they didn't know what to do with their adoration for you."
Blaine chuckles. "They don't see many dads – let alone single dads. I can't count the amount of times I had to play dumb and pretend I didn't realize they were trying to either flirt with me or set me up on a date."
"Why don't you just tell them?" Kurt shrugs.
"I have." Blaine chuckles. "Now they all want to go to Scandals with me, or take me shopping with them. I'm not exactly keen on being the token gay in the single moms club – no matter how much I kind of could use a single parents club."
Kurt snorts. "Clearly they've never been to Scandals."
"I think they'd leave running after the first glance." Blaine smirks.
"I think you'd leave running after the first glance." Kurt teases.
"Ha! Almost. I wanted to. But I persevered and stayed for two hours."
"Maybe if you'd stayed two and half we'd have met earlier."
Blaine bumps their shoulders. "And then I really would've felt obligated to tell your dad you're…"
"Throwing my life away?" Kurt rolls his eyes, but his tone is light and easy, so Blaine knows his teasing was recognized.
"Exactly," he smiles. "Smoking, having pink hair and hitting on random alleged babysitters in the park is one thing. Frequenting that hellhole more than once and by free choice? That's a whole level of self-destruction I can't condone, Kurt. How much horror does one person have to be going through to voluntarily put themselves through that experience?!" he punctuates with a smile and a wink, so Kurt will know it's just a joke. Kurt twists his nose and scratches it with his middle finger. Blaine let's out a laugh and playfully covers Emmy's eyes. "I also just don't understand how it's 2015 and there's still no way to make an unfakeable ID."
"They just don't want to, Blaine. They like us kids faking our ID's and buying our cheap, god-awful beer, and filling up their crappy clubs because we don't have the money for the real deal. It's all in their interest."
Blaine pushes the door to the supermarket open, immediately closing his eyes and sighing at the air conditioning enveloping him in cool paradise. When he turns back to Kurt, the boy is smirking, and it makes Blaine kind of falter for a moment.
"So, you don't like beer?" he asks, once he's pulled himself back together and manages to ignore the way Kurt was looking at him.
"I'm more of a vodka guy myself," Kurt shrugs, still looking amused. Picking up a shopping basket before Blaine could. "You? Do you have a preferred poison?"
Blaine tilts his head side to side, as they head to the fruit aisle. "I kind of like anything, if it's mixed with enough juice or sugar," he grimaces with a self-conscious smile. "I never grew into the taste, you know?"
"Does anyone drink it for the taste, though?" Kurt wonders as he takes a bag of apples out of Blaine's hands to drop it into the shopping basket.
Blaine pauses in his movement of inspecting bananas. He's not quite sure if he should press the subject, ask Kurt what he wants alcohol for if it's not the flavor, or just go with it and pretend that it doesn't raise any red flags. They had agreed to friendship, not a constant psychoanalysis or, even worse, some idiotic, misguided pseudo-parenting from Blaine.
"But I guess beer is the exception for me. I love it," he bites his lip with a small, chuckled groan at the thought. "God, at the end of the day, with a game on TV… it's a little bit like heaven, Kurt."
Kurt quirks an eyebrow and looks at him with a wolfish grin. "And they didn't revoke your gay license?"
Blaine shrugs and shakes his head, feigning sudden confusion at the idea. "Maybe it's all the staring at their butts…"
Kurt laughs out loud, and Blaine wonders if it's the first time he's ever heard it.
"The tackling, Kurt… the tackling," he pretends to swoon, and Kurt laughs some more.
"I played for my school's team for a little while… I was their star kicker. I swear to god, on my first practice, those guys were so scared I'd turn them gay, but they were the ones patting each other's butts and prancing around stark naked," he laughs at the memory. "Andlet me tell you – not impressive."
Blaine hands him a bag of oranges before they start towards another aisle, and they continue on a long, easy conversation about high school, sports teams and each of their experiences in them. Emmy will sometimes pick up random items and put them in the basket (more than once actually, accidentally knocking Blaine in the nose with cans or small boxes), and Blaine just takes 90% of them out of the basket and leaves some without interrupting the conversation (except for when he has to stop, feel his nose and blink several times to make sure his nose is still intact, and then receive an apologetic kiss from Emmy). It doesn't stop until they're at the register and Blaine has to turn his attention to the cashier, while Kurt takes it upon himself to stuff things into bags.
Blaine pays and helps bag the last couple of items, suddenly returning back to reality – under the cashier's confused and attentive eyes – and realizing that he's a (mostly) grown man with a three year old girl perched on his hip, accompanied by a teenager dressed all in black with bright pink hair and facial piercings.
"It's so fu-freaking awkward to be this involved in other people's groceries…" Kurt says as he picks up the last bag, apparently oblivious to Blaine's little moment of self-consciousness. "You don't think it's weird that I know what brand of deodorant you use?"
Blaine can't help but smile at that, as he tries to balance as many bags in his arms as possible, while still keeping Emmy in place. "Let us thank god I didn't need to buy toilet paper or lube, right?" he mumbles with a chuckle, kind of regretting going that far as soon as he'd said it.
Kurt looks at him for a second – probably takes in the blush Blaine can feel settling into his cheeks. "Not condoms?"
Blaine bites his lip, and keeps himself from answering. He's saved from further awkwardness when a bag slides out of his hand and they busy themselves picking it up and making sure everything's better distributed.
"I walk now, daddy." Emmy says after that. "It's little to home only. It's okay. My tiny legs can do it."
Blaine breathes in relief and immediately bends lower and lets her squirm out of his hold. They start heading outside, blessedly getting out of sight from the cashier and everyone else, whose eyes Blaine can feel glued to the back of his neck
"That's the most I've ever heard her say." Kurt notes as they reach outside, and Blaine notices he's holding two bags as well as Emmy's back pack.
"Oh, I-" he shuffles his three bags to one arm and goes to grab Kurt's but then something stops him and what he finds himself saying is quite the opposite. "Do you want to come over? We're having spaghetti and meatballs for dinner."
Kurt seems to suppress some kind of smirk or comment before he shrugs and says, "It's not like you can carry this all by yourself."
Blaine pretends to glare. "It's not like you've got something better to do."
Kurt looks a little startled at that, even if pleasantly so, and laughs. "Touché."
-x-
Kurt helps him put the groceries away, teasing him about the apartment at every single chance he finds (and it's Kurt, so he always finds something to make fun of), while Emmy also tries to help (and gets mostly in the way, but it's adorable so Blaine always lets her).
When Blaine starts making dinner, Kurt sits on the counter to watch him, and Emmy brings her little playground blanket and lays it down on the kitchen floor (Blaine takes a minute to make sure it's not in his way, pulling everything over to a corner) and starts bringing over all of her toys. Blaine assumes, like most days, she'll just plop down and entertain herself while he's busy, but instead she goes over to Kurt, yanking at his jeans for his attention.
"Come play!" she beams, gesturing at her wonderful collection of toys.
Kurt stutters for a moment.
"You don't have to-" Blaine starts at once, but he's interrupted when Kurt simply slides off the counter and follows Emmy to her blanket, sitting down and letting her take the lead.
For a moment the only thing Blaine is aware of his how hard and fast his heart is beating, but after a second or two, even though he doesn't quite manage to shake the strange feeling, he goes back to chopping onions, all the while keeping all of his attention on the sounds of their quiet, calm voices. It's mostly Kurt doing the talking, and every now and then he will say some word that makes Blaine cringe, but mostly he just manages to follow her challengingly few worded lead into some sort of activity. Still, throughout all of that time, even though their conversation makes him smile and chuckle plenty of times, Blaine's chest is tight and he can't quite breathe.
By the time dinner is almost ready and Blaine starts setting the table, silence has mostly settled over the three of them. He stops short in his movements as he realizes Kurt is carefully and perfectly painting Emmy's nails a bright shade of pink. He chuckles to himself as he resumes grabbing two normal plates and Emmy's favorite, bright yellow plate.
"He do better than you, daddy," Emmy says in response.
"A person with Parkinson's does it better than me." Blaine laughs. "But is it going to be dry in time for you to eat, honey?"
She considers it for a moment before she starts ferociously blowing on the hand that Kurt's finished already. Blaine notices the smile that appears on Kurt's features and his chest tightens even further.
"He can do yours, daddy," Emmy pipes up – and Blaine considers for the first time that she may be convinced the only reason Blaine doesn't wear nail polish is his complete inability to put it on properly. She has a fair point.
"After dinner," he smiles.
"I choose color?"
"Of course," he tells her, ducking down on the way back to the table, to set the silverware, and kissing the top of her head swiftly.
"You will look more pretty," she grins up at him. "I promise."
"I know I will, honey. You have the best taste."
She goes back to blowing on her nails and Kurt looks between the two of them with amused awe.
"It's amazing…" he sighs. "It's like she has a maximum amount of words per minute, how she starts talking, just enough to get a point across, and then just stops."
Blaine doesn't reply to that – he doesn't like to comment on it too much, lest she feel pressure to talk more. He gives Kurt a tight smile, instead, and then just glances at Emmy to make sure she's not bothered by the comment. She's still making sure her right hand nail polish will be dry before dinner (but she is remarkably stiff, so he knows she was paying attention).
Blaine finishes setting the table and checks the spaghetti. It's not quite ready, so he settles for leaning quietly against the counter and watching the two of them for a minute. Kurt finishes with a flourish and the two of them take to blowing on the nails. He kind of wants to break the silence and the moment, but he doesn't, and so he just keeps feeling that weird weight on his chest.
"Do you not like talking?" Kurt asks, as brazen as usual. Emmy seems a little startled and even betrayed at the sudden break of their amiable silence.
She just looks at him and shrugs.
"Fair enough," he nods. "I kind of like this mysterious silence thing you got going on, to be honest."
Emmy just frowns a little, probably confused at the phrasing and looks up at Blaine. He smiles softly and winks, which never fails to make her smile in return. "He likes you, honey," he explains quietly, before he turns back around to check on the spaghetti again.
-x-
She chooses turquoise nails for Blaine and he must say they do look rather dashing with his polo for the day (he refrains from pointing out he will not be wearing that polo the next day, because that seems counter productive). Kurt doesn't really comment on how easily Blaine agreed to it, but he'd caught Kurt biting a smirk off his lips more than once. Or was it a genuine smile? Either way, he just paints Blaine's nails without protest, and all the while Blaine ignores the touch of Kurt's hand holding his own steady. Emmy sits between them on the couch, closely supervising the work so she can be sure to keep her promise, and somewhat ignoring the conversation that starts flowing between the two men at some point.
At nine thirty pm, Emmy throws the first temper tantrum in weeks when Blaine announces she has to go to bed. It's not like they'd been playing anything with her, but she'd been watching the two of them sitting on the couch, talking, while she dished out drawing after drawing, more than half of which for Kurt to take, naturally (but a considerable amount dedicated to Blaine so he wouldn't be jealous). Blaine carries her resolutely to her bedroom, and ignores most of her crying and protesting as he puts her pajamas on, and then brushes her teeth and sits in front of her, waiting for her to go pee-pee and keeping his laughter in check while she bawls her eyes out on the potty and un-gives all of her drawings. He documents most of it with his phone.
It takes him three songs to get her to sleep, where it usually takes him three verses (she prefers songs to books). Finally, though, he turns on the baby monitor, tiptoes out of the bedroom, and clicks the door closed as silently as possible.
When he reaches the living room he finds Kurt sitting on the couch with the TV on the same show they'd watched together the other night, and an uncapped beer waiting for him. Blaine's mostly surprised to notice the weight hasn't lifted off his chest.
He sits next to Kurt in silence and takes a sip of the beer.
"Is this a common occurrence? Or was it just a special show for me?"
Blaine smiles a little tiredly. "Just for you." He only pauses for a moment before he tilts the bottle towards Kurt, offering.
"Nah. I already tried it before you came, and it still tastes like piss."
"Classy."
"Tastes like detergent?"
"A little better." Blaine mumbles, allowing himself to turn and look at Kurt. He's sitting mostly towards Blaine, his legs folded under him and an arm over the back of the couch. "Isn't your dad worried about you?"
Kurt shrugs and shakes his head. "I told him I was having dinner at a friend's."
"Okay."
They kind of settle into watching the shitty show, sharing comments and jokes every now and then. Kurt's body doesn't turn to the TV and Blaine pretends that doesn't worsen the tightness in his own body. By the time he has finished the beer he's managed to at least get used to that feeling of crawling skin – even if he can't shake it off, he might as well learn to live with it. He doesn't get another beer, he's not into indulging on week nights, and certainly not while it can cloud his judgment in a situation he just barely cares to admit to himself might be problematic.
They're halfway through the second episode – Blaine purposefully avoiding his watch – when Kurt speaks in a serious tone that has nothing to do with his previous jokes.
"I sent in a bunch of applications last week."
Blaine turns to look at him, surprised at the sudden topic.
"The waiting might be the worst part."
Blaine can't exactly just reassure him mindlessly. He has no idea what kind of student Kurt was, and he doesn't want to jump to conclusions. "Yeah, it's kind of shitty. Do you have any idea what your chances are?"
Kurt shrugs. "They didn't ask for a full body picture, so they're kind of good," he pauses and looks at Blaine, trying to gauge his reaction. When Blaine fails to provide him with any, he quirks an eyebrow. "Surprised?"
Blaine offers him a teasing smile. "Did you want me to be surprised?"
Kurt rolls his eyes, obviously uncomfortable with his attitude being thrown back at him. "Whatever."
"I know you're more than the way you dress." Blaine murmurs with a smile before he turns back to the show.
From the corner of his eye he can see that Kurt is still looking at him, and he wishes he'd just kept teasing.
It's another long time before they speak again. The credits are rolling when Kurt mutters. "You have to promise me that my dad isn't gonna die, though."
Blaine startles. "What?"
"If I'm gonna leave Lima, he can't die anytime soon."
Blaine has no idea what to say to that. For a long time he just stares, mouth half open as words try to find their way out. Finally he sighs and shakes his head, "I can't actually promise you that, Kurt."
"He could be hit by a truck…?" Kurt offers with an acid smile.
"Or he could have a heart attack, or a stroke…"
Kurt frowns, "But you said-"
"His blood work and every test we've made have come back good. The prospect is very positive, but Kurt… There is always a margin for unpredictability."
There's a moment where they're both silent and still, as if frozen before Kurt lets out a long, heavy breath and lets his head fall back.
"I hate that you can't promise me that."
"I'm sorry, Kurt." Blaine murmurs, reaching out to squeeze his knee, slow and gentle. Kurt lays his cheek against the back of the couch as he looks at Blaine.
"I kind of trust you, you know? That's… that's why I… If you promised I would… I don't know…"
"I'm sorry I can't tell you what you want to hear."
Kurt just nods and looks away, eyes a little too bright.
"I shouldn't be this scared, should I?" Kurt breathes. "My mom died and… I was okay. So I should know it'll be fine if he dies too… I'll survive, I guess."
"Kurt, that's not how it works. Of course you'll survive. But your dad is important to you. You should be afraid to lose him. The problem with most of us is that we're never afraid to lose anyone… we go through life thinking we have forever with the people we love, and then we don't and we're left with all these things we wanted to say and no one to say them to. You're one step ahead. The only thing you can do is not wasting the chances to tell him what you want him to know."
"Easier said than done."
"I know." Blaine nods a little sadly.
"It didn't scare me this much, when it was my mom."
"You were young. Nothing is ever so scary when you're young." Blaine can't help glancing at Emmy's toys all over the floor. "Kids bounce back. Adults… not so much."
Kurt smiles, a little slow, but somehow still cheeky. "So I really am an adult, huh?"
Blaine chuckles and reaches forward to punch his leg a little lightly, "I can always change my mind…"
Kurt just laughs, small and quiet, before he rest his head back on the couch. "Were you and your brother very close?"
Blaine sighs. "We wanted to be," he rubs the back of his neck as he talks. "Growing up with Cooper wasn't easy – he liked the spotlight and he wasn't keen on sharing. And he was… a lot older. We didn't manage to really start… liking each other until I was in high school. But by then he was living on the other side of the country. We tried keeping in touch. He apologized for… a lot of things, I did too… I don't know. We were close in our own way. We had each other's backs, especially when the problem was our parents, but we didn't exactly talk every day, or even every week."
Kurt nods his understanding. "But you're still raising his daughter."
"He trusted me more than anyone else in his life," Blaine smiles. "I love him for it. I love him for a lot of things, too, but in great part for that. Without that, I'm not quite sure I would've managed to trust myself."
Kurt watches him for a moment more before he glances at the TV. "Holy shit, they manage to drag the drama out forever."
Blaine smiles as he settles back toward the TV, more than happy to drop the subject.
The little comments and jokes don't really return, though, and at some point Blaine's more asleep than awake. Of course, Kurt doesn't waste the opportunity to tease him about it, and Blaine just laughs and shoves right back at him.
"Some of us work, you know…"
"I work too!" Kurt shoots back with a smile, taking his wallet out of his pocket and pulling a card out. "I sell ice cream, as you very well know, and I also put in some hours at my dad's business. Hummel Lube and Tires! If you ever have any car troubles, just call us up. And aim for a Wednesday or a Friday, which are the days I work there."
Blaine takes it with a laugh. "My car is brand new. So, I hope it won't be a long time before I need to use this…"
Kurt shrugs, "So, I'll just have to keep inviting myself to your home…"
"You don't have to invite yourself, Kurt. The invitation comes from me," he smiles and pats Kurt's shoulder amiably.
"You totally want me to leave so you can go sleep, don't you?"
Blaine keeps himself from laughing and nods. "Not totally. But kind of, yeah."
"Fine…" with a grunt the remote is grabbed and the TV switched off.
The silence startles Blaine and leaves him disoriented. He stands for lack of something better to do, swallows before he forces himself to do or say something remotely logical. "How are you getting home? It's kind of late, I don't…"
"Relax," Kurt says as he moves towards the door and Blaine follows him. "I got my car right by your office. I'll be fine."
"Good," he nods. The crawling skin, and the heavy chest and breathlessness are all back, full force and impossible to ignore. His hand is shaking when he reaches to open the door. He dearly hopes Kurt doesn't notice, and keeps his eyes on the floor, watching Kurt's feet stepping forward.
"Sleep tight." Kurt says, triggering Blaine into looking up, despite his better judgment, and before he knows it, he's leaning forward and kissing Kurt. Pressing their lips together, feeling Kurt's barely there stubble under his finger tips as they graze Kurt's jaw, struggling not to grab and pull closer. He takes a deep breath and for that moment every thing else is gone – the crawling skin stops crawling, the heavy chest stops weighing, the breathlessness breathes.
He loses himself in it and in the way Kurt kisses him back, grabbing his hesitant hands and pressing them flat against his neck, wrapping an arm close and strong around Blaine's neck, pressing his body close.
He doesn't know exactly when reality crashes back, or what prompts it too, but he pulls back with a gasp and everything comes back to him twofold.
"I- oh my god- I-I'm so sorry! That- that was so inappropriate. I-I-I-Let me know when you get home safe. Good night, Kurt." He gets it through in one weak breath before he practically slams the door in Kurt's face.
"Shit…" he gasps, back pressing hard against the door, as if it was going to open itself and push him back against Kurt.
Obviously he doesn't sleep all night. Especially not after Kurt's text.
You can stop worrying. Home safe. Have a good night.
Not that there's anything in the text that makes him feel worse, but there isn't anything that makes him feel better either. He knows how easily Kurt affects casualness, and how often it's genuine – which is not often at all.
He types back "You too." before he all but throws the phone away, for fear that his fingers get a will of their own, like his lips did, and start typing things he never meant to say.
Things he never meant to want to say.
Like the kiss he never meant to want to give.
Maybe it's the exhaustion (of the last few months, of the long day, of the way he's relentlessly trying to keep himself from admitting that what crawls through his skin and weighs on his chest and stops his breath is how he does want), maybe it's the colossal mistake just now, maybe it really is how lonely he is all the time except when he has a new text from Kurt or his piercing, perceptive eyes on him. Suddenly, for whatever reason it might be, there are tears in his eyes.
Blaine should take it as a victory that it's the first time in months he's not crying about Cooper, but he just wants to put himself to sleep and stop the tears rolling off the side of his face, into his hair and ears. He stares at his dark ceiling and keeps himself still, willing sleep to come and everything else to disappear.
-x-
There's radio silence for a month. Blaine can't bring himself to call or text Kurt, not even to apologize again, and Kurt decides, apparently, that it's Blaine's turn to make a move. Either that or he definitely hates Blaine for that kiss.
Blaine's kind of resigned to the fact that he failed at something as simple as being an open, friendly ear for someone else. He expects the radio silence to go on forever now. For them to drift so completely apart that this will be nothing but a cringe worthy far-away memory, and a drunken "remember that time I almost fell for a teenager?!"
But at some point he just can't take it anymore.
I'm sorry about what happened, and the fact that I was a complete coward afterward. I didn't mean to kiss you. I know it's not what we're supposed to be about and I still can't believe I did that. I promise it won't happen again.
Um. Ok.
And apparently I kind of ruined the only friend I had in Lima. I guess I really will have to resort to the single parents club.
It's a self-pity party now? Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?
I don't know what to tell you…
For the record, I was never mad about the kiss. I'm mad you decided to pretend I didn't exist for a whole month, after telling me time and time again that you wanted to be there for me and making me trust you.
I know. I'm sorry.
I don't even understand why you thought I'd be mad at that. You were always the one who didn't want me, not the other way around.
You make it sound like I was some cruel jerk who rejected you for no reason. I just don't think it's appropriate.
Look, whatever. I don't care why you don't want it, or why you kissed me if you clearly think I'm such a bad option. I just actually kind of liked hanging out with you, and talking to you. My other friends never really understood me the way you did.
I know. I liked that too. I miss it.
You can say you miss me. I won't misinterpret it.
I miss you. Yeah.
Fine. But I'm not making any first moves any time soon.
Fair enough. My parents are spending the day with Emmy tomorrow. Do you wanna go catch a movie or something?
Okay.
-x-
"So, that was terrible," is the first thing out of Kurt's mouth once the credits started rolling.
Blaine laughs. "I'm sorry, I invited you before I checked what were the options."
Things are still kind of awkward, and in the five minutes it took to meet and buy the tickets it was clear to see conversation was stilted.
"You know," Kurt says as they reach the street after a lengthy silence. "They say that the best thing to stop a situation from becoming too awkward is to admit that it is, and then force it not to be."
Blaine hangs his head with a huff of laughter.
"So now that we've admitted to the awkwardness, let us force it away," Kurt smiles. "For instance, I can tell you right now that you look especially grandpa-ish today."
Blaine rolls his eyes and forces himself not to fidget with his cardigan.
"Are you actively trying not to look attractive? Because let me remind you, as surprising as it seems, you're the one who can't control the urges, not me."
Just like that, Blaine can feel is skin turning boiling hot. Kurt eyes him for a moment before his smile grows a little, turns into something verging on evil.
"Made it awkward all over again, didn't I?"
Blaine sighs and tries to smile as he nods. Kurt just keeps his eyes on him, as if he's trying to figure something out, and Blaine knows he must find a way to change the subject really, really soon. "So, how are the college applications?"
"Radio silence so far." Kurt shrugs. "But it's still soon."
"Right, of course. Don't worry. I'm sure you'll get in."
Kurt smirks at Blaine's rushed, empty reassurance.
"Do you know what you'll study when you go…?"
"Fashion design." Kurt nods. Blaine must look surprised, because he laughs and shrugs. "You don't think I look fashionable?"
Blaine tries not to go the awkward path again, and instead he smiles, "I'm sure you'll revolutionize the punk scene."
"I'm not punk." Kurt laughs.
"So, I really am old."
Kurt just smirks again, all teasing and glorious before he shakes his head. "No, I'm just… I don't know what I am, really. I don't have a label for this… I guess the darkness started winning out, and consumed my wardrobe or something."
"And the pink?"
"A memento from my colorful past." Kurt winks. "Nah, I'm just kidding. I always loved cutting edge clothes… But buying Mark Jacobs and Calvin Klein gets kind of impossible when there are hospital bills to pay," he shrugs. His voice doesn't sound all that bitter so Blaine doesn't offer him any voiced sympathy. "I found other ways to express my feelings in my clothes, and I also found that people were less likely to come to me and express their opinions on my person if I was dressed like this. I feel like this fits me – at least right now. But it doesn't mean it's the only thing I like."
"Tell me all about it, then…"
"About the people who expressed the opinions? It was mostly just fa-"
"No. About fashion design, and what you like," Blaine tells him with a smile. "We don't always have to talk about the crappy stuff."
Kurt looks at him for a moment, Blaine could swear his smile turned genuine and soft for a moment there, as he seems to ponder something before he nods and continues talking about his love of fashion and design.
The conversation doesn't end until 4 am in Kurt's car parked outside Blaine's apartment building. There's some sort of unspoken agreement that Kurt won't go up, but there's also one that they don't want to stop talking yet.
They have four weeks of conversation to catch up, after all – and even more years to talk about, to fill in the blanks of what their lives were, of what colors made the painting each of them found. Friday night becomes a fixture, and more then once, over the week, Kurt will come over for dinner and bad TV. And while the crawling skin, the heavy chest, and the breathlessness come back to Blaine, not even waiting until he sets his eyes on Kurt and his high held head and straight shoulder and coming to him first thing in the morning wihout leaving until sleep takes over (sometimes not even then), he does gets a little better at ignoring the feeling and knowledge of what it is and enjoying all the time he spends with Kurt.
-x-
I want to buy this bright blue shirt, but I don't want you getting a big head thinking you're bringing me back to life or whatever.
Ahahahah! 1- you could've just bought it and not said anything about it. 2- you suggesting that I would think I am, makes me wonder if I am. 3- it's been scientifically proven to be impossible for me to get a big head, don't worry.
1- but I also want to wear it tonight, to soften the blow of actually having agreed to go bowling with you. 3- oh my god, I do not want to know about your erectile dysfunction, old man.
1- I barely even had to insist. You're looking forward to it. 2- you ignored this point because maybe you can't handle admitting that it's true…? 3- eff you.
1- I'm looking forward to kissing your ass. 3- Emmy is not reading these! Stop being lame!
KICK
KICKING YOUR ASS.
I snorted milk through my nose, Kurt. My desk is covered in milk and my nose is burning like hell.
I'm proud of myself right now.
You're the meanest friend I've ever had.
You're the one who keeps me around, inviting me to things as incredibly lame as bowling.
Do you want me to disinvite you?
…No…
It's okay to say I'm "bringing you back to life", or however you wanna put it, Kurt. I think you're doing the same for me.
(picture of a bed covered in new articles of clothing – all of them are colorful, with bold patterns or interesting plaids, but they keep a sort of edge to them that fits Kurt)
-x-
"So…" Blaine starts smugly, as he spins on his heels, facing Kurt with his hands on his hips. "I believe you said you couldn't wait to kiss my ass."
Kurt scowls. "Ew, gross, old man. It's probably all wrinkly and saggy anyway."
Blaine laughs and refrains from correcting him, as he normally would. As proud as he is of his own ass, he's not comfortable encouraging Kurt to stare at it.
"Well, saggy and wrinkly as it may be, it just beat yours. So." He gives Kurt another smug smirk and takes an obnoxious little bow, to which Kurt rolls his eyes and stands up.
"You're buying me a milkshake and fries at the diner across the street."
Blaine lets his hand get grabbed and himself be dragged across the bowling alley, towards the exit. "Shouldn't it be the loser paying?"
"No, it should definitely be the winner, who has already gained something to celebrate today, and especially if said winner is a doctor and probably makes a shit ton of money to just sit around and listen to old people complain about how they haven't taken a shit in a week."
Blaine scoffs, and then groans as they step outside only to be blinded by the sudden sun and hit by suffocating heat. "I don't make that much money yet, and I don't think I could ever be paid enough to endure that."
"Well, you chose it!" Kurt shrugs in the least sympathetic tone ever. He starts jay walking across the street without a second glance, and Blaine hesitates, looking both ways, before he follows.
"I didn't choose this," Blaine frowns, catching up. "I came here because of Emmy. I had the perfect residency for what I really wanted before that happened. I'm making do, but this wasn't what I went to med school for."
"What was it?" Kurt asks, holding the door to the diner open. Blaine sighs in relief as always and Kurt just rolls his eyes at him. "Wait, don't tell me. Let me guess."
"Go ahead," Blaine shrugs, sliding into the first empty booth he can find.
Kurt all but throws himself in the seat opposite Blaine's and lays his arms on the table, bracing himself for something strenuous as he stares playfully hard at Blaine.
"I want to say something megalomaniacally heroic."
Blaine lets the corner of his mouth twist up as he just signals the waitress to come over and take their order.
"Trauma surgeon? That was like… the most awesome option on Grey's Anatomy, right? And it'd make sense with your backstory?"
Blaine sputters, laughing for a moment before he shakes his head. "My backstory? I'm not actually a character on a show. And no. Not trauma surgery."
The conversation is momentarily interrupted by the waitress' arrival. "Hello boys, what can I get you?" Blaine gives her a smile and then gestures for Kurt to go ahead. He just grabs the menu, looks it over for a moment and starts prattling off.
"Peach milkshake, waffle a la mode, with chocolate ice-cream, a plate of French fries and a cheesecake slice."
Blaine chokes on air and delves into a coughing fit, to which Kurt smirks.
"I like it when you buy me stuff," he tilts his head to the side, and bats his eyelashes.
With a steadying breath Blaine just shakes his head and sighs, "I'll have a peach smoothie. And you can bring two sets of silverware."
She smiles and nods. "Coming right up."
The moment she disappears Blaine squints at Kurt. "You're a hypocrite, you know that?"
Kurt shrugs and nods. "Neurosurgery?"
Blaine laughs. "How pretentious do you think I am? And seriously, there is more to medicine than Grey's Anatomy."
"Oh! Oh! I know! How did I not think of this before? You wanted to be a psychiatrist, probably specialized in teens."
Blaine does grin at that. "Well, it was a big option for me, I'll give you that. But no. Do you want me to go ahead and tell you now?"
"Ugh." Kurt throws himself back against his seat and pouts for a moment. "Fine. Maybe you're not that predictable."
"Pediatrics." Blaine grins.
"What?!" Kurt gasps. Picking up a bunch of napkins and throwing them at his face. "You told me to steer clear off Grey's Anatomy! You cheated! That is super predictable and it would've been my next guess! Fuck off, Anderson. You probably cheated at bowling, too."
"Grey's Anatomy had pediatric surgery – it's a whole different game." Blaine laughs. "And anyway, how could I cheat you into failing all of your throws?"
-x-
Kurt kurt kurt. How do you make a Kleenex dance?
Wtf?
Put a little boogie in it!
Wtf?
Sorry. I realized I don't actually know any good dad jokes. I had this patient with his son, and he was full of them (including that one), and suddenly it hit me. I need to study up on them, or else Emmy is going to grow up without being ashamed of me, which is the worst thing you can do to your kids. Those kids bond over shameful parents. The dad jokes are essential for kid bonding.
Blaine. I can't even right now.
Ugh. I hate it when you pretend like you're so above it all. You laughed at the joke, and you laughed at my rant.
I always laugh at you.
Do you think anyone would actually believe that I was the one to pursue this friendship…?
If it's any consolation, I'm sure that even without dad jokes Emmy is going to find plenty of things to be ashamed of you.
I'm torn between asking for examples or just giving up on being your friend altogether, Mr. Charmer.
The bowties. The way you eat literally everything with a knife and fork. The way you always say "bless you" even to the creepy old lady at the park that is clearly a ghost and even if the person has sneezed seven times in the last twenty seconds. The way you sympathize with the pigs. The way you always sing along to the song even if you don't know the lyrics.
But I'm proud of all of that.
The way that you're proud of those things…
Did I catch you in a bad mood?
I'm always in a bad mood.
That is true.
But it always cheers me up to mess with you.
As long as you genuinely, even if secretly and begrudgingly, enjoy my company.
I will admit to no such thing!
You already have, Kurt.
-x-
"Do you know what I regret the most?" Kurt asks, from where he's currently braiding Emmy's hair into a strange, intricate and not particularly that pretty hairdo.
Blaine looks up from his scrapbooking, struggling with a piece of paper that refuses to glue to anything besides his fingers. "What?"
"That we only met after I graduated," he announces. "Think of the opportunities missed. There I am, at your kitchen table, doing my homework while you cook dinner, and I lift my head and look at you and ask, Blaine, I feel like my History paper is too vague, can you tell me what it was really like back then?"
Blaine feels his lips stretch into a smile while he finishes the page for Emmy's latest tantrum – he likes to document them, mostly because he thinks it'll be funny to show it to her every couple of years.
"You'd have to be more specific than that. With all of these decades on me, I'd hardly know which of the many major historic events I've witnessed firsthand you were talking about."
He glances up and catches Kurt smiling. "You know, it's less fun when you play along."
Blaine refrains from pointing out it certainly doesn't look like it. Instead he just sighs. "Kids these days… play so many videogames and watch so many gore movies, they get addicted to conflict. Whatever happened to funny puppets singing songs? Those were the days…"
"I think this is even worse than that first day we met," Kurt snorts, referring to Emmy's hair. The girl frowns and pushes herself to her feet, speeding off to look in the full body mirror in Blaine's bedroom.
Kurt watches her go for a moment and then sighs and crawls over to Blaine's side of the room, where he's sitting surrounded by paper, glue, and glitter. Blaine keeps his eyes resolutely on his work and not on Kurt's hips and shoulders, moving slow and languid like a cat's.
For a moment Blaine expects him to say something snarky, maybe even a little rude. But after a while, where Kurt just sits there with his mouth a little open, quite possibly running witty comment over witty comment in his mind, he just sighs.
"I think you're shaping up to be a great dad, you know?" he flicks over a few of the pictures Blaine printed and had yet to glue. "Don't you dare give her to your parents."
Blaine can't help but be taken aback for a moment, but before he knows it he grins. He could be mean, he could kill the moment by being as obnoxious as Kurt always is, but instead he lets the satisfaction envelop him. "Thank you. I Won't."
"I should probably do the cutting, though. I don't think you know how to use scissors…" Kurt mumbles, his cheeks a little pink. "This is all wonky," he adds in a whisper.
"These scissors are for kids, Kurt…" Blaine smirks, as he pushes the offending item towards Kurt. "Of course you can use them better than me."
"You're getting better at those…" Kurt murmurs with a quirked eyebrow, leaning a little close to grab the scissors. Kurt's eyes flick downwards and Blaine feels his smile faltering.
"Horrible!" Emmy gasps, storming back inside, half of her hairdo already undone.
-x-
Do you wanna cook me dinner tomorrow? My dad has a date (?!), there's no real food in the house and I'll admit that your meatballs with spaghetti are super delicious (no innuendo intended).
Damn, I'd love to, but I can't. I already have plans.
Hot date as well?
Best friend visiting.
Oh cool. Have fun.
-x-
Blaine looks at his cell phone with a cold, uncomfortable feeling to his stomach. The polite thing to do would have been to invite Kurt over. It's not like Wes would be idiotic enough to comment on either Kurt's age or wardrobe choices right there in front of him. Afterwards, maybe, but that wouldn't really faze Blaine and he knows Wes wouldn't really mean most of it.
There's something else, though, lurking in the darkness of Blaine's mind, keeping him from inviting Kurt and Blaine doesn't want to tempt the creature out of hiding, for fear of what it might bring with it.
So, instead he has a nice weekend in Wes' company. Emmy, just as easily as with Kurt, falls in love with the new friend (they had met before, but she didn't remember him, as expected), and alternates between letting them have their adult conversations, and demanding some sort of attention. They talk a lot about Blaine's re-application to the residency, and it leaves him excited for when the applications finally re-open.
Blaine almost manages to shake the nagging guilt sensation off.
-x-
I'm sorry I didn't invite you over.
Blaine, it's four in the morning on a Sunday. This couldn't have waited till tomorrow?
Oh shit. I didn't notice. Sorry for waking you up. Will resume apology tomorrow.
It's fine, resume it now. But I'm not mad, okay? It's fine. We've been hanging out almost daily. You're allowed to hang out with your other friends. It's not likeyou signed an exclusivity contract.
Yeah. But it still felt weird. I wanted to.
You didn't and I didn't expect you to. It's fine. I know you're not exactly jumping with anticipation to show off your new friend. I get it. No worries.
What? It's not like that at all!
Look, I get it. You're telling yourself you weren't trying to hide me, but you were and I get it. You don't even have to admit it if you don't want to. I'm 18 and wearing combat boots. I see the way people look at you whenever they see you with me. I'm not clueless.
I don't care about that.
Don't you?
Of course not.
You're lying. But whatever.
I'm not. It's not about that.
What is it about then?
I don't know, but it's not that.
Right. Whatever. You're forgiven, don't worry. I have to go to sleep now, I wake up early tomorrow.
Yeah. I'm clearly forgiven…
Yeah. You really are. Good night.
Sleep well, Kurt.
-x-
Blaine's doorbell rings at three am on Wednesday. He frowns; already half scared at the prospect as he pads in his briefs to the front door, not even bothering to pull on a t-shirt or a robe.
As soon as he opens the door, though, there's Kurt standing there, looking exactly as he always did, except for the red cheeks, glassy eyes and the half empty bottle of vodka in his hands.
"Kurt." He gasps.
Kurt laughs rushing forwards and practically collapsing on Blaine, as he presses a clumsy finger to his lips and says, "Shhhhhh! You'll wake Emmy!"
He pushes against Blaine, until he's pressed against the wall, away from the door, and Kurt's stumbling inside the house. Crashing on the couch almost face first.
"Got in!" he says, voice slurred and too loud, and Blaine really does have to keep himself from shushing him.
"What?" he says walking a little bit closer.
"Got into college for the fall semester!" Kurt moves in languid, awkward movements until he's sitting and facing Blaine. "We have to celebrate!"
Blaine rubs a hand over his face and sighs. "Something tells me you already started on that."
Kurt giggles, and waves his hand around, in a so-so manner that looks more like… wild gesturing.
"Kurt, can I have that bottle, please?"
Kurt grins as he nods. "It's for you!" he offers it, "Happy father's day!"
Blaine frowns as he takes it, "It's not father's day."
"I know…" Kurt laughs, "But I needed an excuse to come here talk to you…"
"I… I'm just gonna go put this in the kitchen." He says as he leaves trying not to sigh too loudly.
"Do you think I should take it back to Scandals when it's over?"
Blaine closes his eyes and tries not to think about Kurt, in this sate, alone in that seedy bar. He pours the vodka down the drain before he returns to the living room.
"Kurt, were y-"
"You're naked." Kurt gasps, pushing himself to his feet and hurrying over.
Blaine crosses his arms over his chest at once and tries not to step back too much. "I was sleeping."
"With someone else?" Kurt frowns, turning towards the hallway. Blaine grabs his arm before he can go barging in through doors looking for Blaine's bedroom.
"No, alone. Actually sleeping," he directs Kurt back to the couch. "Kurt, were you… hum, you came from scandals?"
"Yes. It was practically empty though… just really, old ugly men so I stole the vodka and left. It's not as good when you only have the vodka, though. You're right. It's better with juice. I'm sorry I didn't bring the juice. I should've brought the juice."
"That's- it's fine. So you weren't drunk in scandals?" Blaine asks, already letting the relief pour over his body.
Kurt smirks and raises his hand, thumb and index finger very close together. "Mostly I just got drunk because I needed it to come find you."
Blaine swallows at that and tries not to let his eyes find Kurt's as he sits down next to Kurt.
"I'm gonna call your dad, okay?"
"No," Kurt shakes his head. Not the panicky way Blaine was expecting – just like someone who had a better idea. "I got into college and I wanna celebrate, and my dad can't take my virginity, so… Let's not call him, okay?"
"Can't take-what? Kurt?!"
"I just-" before Blaine knows what's happening, Blaine's got a lap full of Kurt, lips on his neck, and hands pressing all over his torso. "I know you think I only wanted sex, but it's okay, it's okay-"
"Kurt! No!"
He grabs Kurt's arms and pushes him away, but Kurt is surprisingly strong, pulls himself back in, swallowing Blaine's protests with an open-mouthed kiss and hands travelling too deep south. Blaine has to flip them, throwing Kurt back first against the couch. For a second that only seems to make Kurt cling harder, with a laughing squeal, but Blaine finally manages to squirm out of his hands and crosses his living room in less than a second, hastily pulling his briefs up where Kurt had tugged them halfway down.
"Kurt, what the hell!"
Kurt just stares at him for a full minute, a genuinely confused frown on his face, before it draws into anger, eyes bright, as he pushes himself to his feet and stalks towards the front door.
"I'm sorry, I thought maybe someone in this town didn't think I was repulsive or whatever."
"Kurt!" Blaine gasps, "That's not-"
He's interrupted by the slam of the door. It hits so hard that the frame hanging next to it crashes to the floor.
Blaine moves to follow, but by the time he gets over his momentary paralysis Emmy bedroom door is inching open. "Daddy?!"
He glances one last time at the front door, and the shards of glass right next to it, before he rushes over to the little girl, lest she come in barefoot and cut herself on the glass.
"Hey, baby, I'm so sorry. Daddy went to take out the garbage and there was a draft so the door slammed too hard. I'm so sorry I woke you, honey." He picks her up and takes her back to her bed, as she rubs her sleepy eyes.
"Okay?" she mumbles.
"Yes, baby, everything's okay. You can go back to sleep."
She nods and holds his hand extra tight. Blaine recognizes it as the sign that she wants him to sing her back to sleep, so he does. It's better than to think about what the hell just happened.
-x-
I don't think we're healthy for each other right now. I think we're both too lonely to deal with each other the way we should. I don't think we should see each other anymore or talk. I'm sorry.
You say each other, you mean you, you, you, you.
This has nothing to do with loneliness or lack of options. This is about you. I know you expected me to wake up today and stumble over my words apologizing and embarrassed about throwing myself at you last night, so we could pretend things could go back to normal, but I'm not. I'm not the one to blame.
I will apologize for continuing to force myself on you when you clearly said no – I'm sorry. But I don't apologize for going over, or for thinking that it was something you wanted too.
You just don't want to face any part of what you did here.
Why did you freak out when YOU kissed me? Why does it always feel like you're stopping yourself from doing it again when you say hello and goodbye every time we see each other? Why does it always feel like you're stopping yourself from doing it again whenever I move a little closer? Why do you move closer when I don't? I just can't believe that I made it up.
Am I wrong? Do you feel nothing like that for me?
I know I didn't make it all up in my head.
And I'm sick of pretending like you don't know I fell in love with you. All this time, you could have stopped it. You knew. I know you did, and you could have stopped it. But you kept encouraging it. So either you feel something back, or you're just the cruelest person I've ever met.
I can't have made this all up in my head. I just can't.
And you're being cruel ignoring me right now. Ignoring this every single time we meet. You're cruel and a coward, Blaine. That's what you are.
I just don't get why.
