IT'S A MONSTER CHAPTER, YOU GUYS! I'm so sorry, I know it took forever. :( I've been so stressed out lately, there are no words. And I was majorly angsting earlier in the week, so I wrote an AU follow-up of WIGYA. You could check it out if you want, I'm considering incorporating it into this.
Happy reading, beautifuls! (Oh, and it's majorly unbetaed. I literally just finished it right now. So please excuse stupid errors.
Shit. Closing his eyes for the briefest of moments, Kurt attempted, as quickly as humanly possible, to decide the best course of action. A very large portion of his brain was screaming something that sounded a lot like STOP BEING SUCH A DOUCHE AND CANCEL YOUR DAMN PLANS, because he could tell that Mercedes really had been looking forward to bowling. And he hated when she was sad (especially when it was kind of his fault). So it wasn't like this would be a difficult decision to make.
"I can't. Blaine asked me to hang out."
...fuck. That wasn't what I was going to say. What the hell.
Mercedes's expression dropped even further, and she looked so horribly disappointed that his heart gave a pang in response. But it wasn't as though he could take it back now that he'd actually said it (yes you can, and you should), so instead, he heaved the tiniest of sighs and tried to paste a completely normal-looking expression onto his face.
(He wasn't going to lie, the rest of the conversation went by in a bit of a blur, because he was still attempting to wrestle his obviously failing moral values into submission and force himself to cancel his plans with Blaine. It didn't end up happening, and he suspected that he'd been rather colder to Mercedes than he'd intended to be. Again, shit. He pushed it out of his mind by picking another random date and informing her that he'd be all hers then.)
"I gotta go, love you," he added quickly as he caught sight of a letterman's jacket from somewhere behind Mercedes (and too far away for him to be able to tell who it belonged to). And before she could question him, he scurried off.
"So what do you want to do?" Blaine queried a few hours later, balancing the phone between his ear and his shoulder and quickly typing a few concluding words on his English essay.
Anything, as long as you're there. Kurt dropped his head lightly onto his desk at the thought. God, how unforgivably cheesy. "I don't know." He guessed that it was what he'd been thinking before he spoke that made his tone so horridly snappish, and in that one moment, he couldn't decide whether it was better or worse that Blaine couldn't read his mind and know that Kurt wasn't pissed about something. As quietly as he could, he banged his head against the desk again, hoping to maybe knock some common sense back into his brain. Seriously, stop being an idiot.
Blaine's eyebrow inched up. Did I say something wrong? What...?
But then Kurt was speaking again. Rambling, actually. "Sorry. It's just that Finn just walked it," and the fact that this couldn't possibly have been more of a lie probably should have bothered him, but dammit, he needed an excuse. And his basically-stepbrother was as good a scapegoat as any. "...and he was giving me that, 'Kurt, who are you talking to? Kurt. Hey. Kurt. Hey. Hey Kurt,' look and poking me incessantly." He would have felt bad about the lie, if that exact thing didn't have a disturbing tendency of coming true on a weekly basis. Thus, it was totally conceivable, and, Kurt noted with delight, it had come out sounding convincing. Which, you know, was always good.
"Oh." And, that quickly, Blaine relaxed. "You scared me for a second. I thought I offended you somehow."
Kurt actually snorted. "You're kidding, right?"
"...wait, what?"
"Blaine, I'm pretty sure you're not even capable of offending me. You're unfairly charming. It's actually a bit intimidating." Why, why, why had his brain-to-mouth filter just nose-dived off the nearest cliff with absolutely no warning? Thatwas the very definition of unfair.
Blaine, meanwhile, was gawping unattractively into middle distance as his brain desperately tried to figure out what to make of that. Sadly, his thought process looked something like: eauhsdnzxckjf/awehti;e?charming?
"Close your mouth, you're drooling," Wes announced as he exploded through the door, cheerfully tapping on Blaine's chin and making the other boy jump so much that he tumbled backward out of his chair. "WES, WHAT THE HELL?" he exploded, and Kurt laughed so hard that he actually started to cry.
"Do I even want to know what just happened?"
"Are you physically incapable of knocking?" Blaine railed on, completely oblivious to Kurt's question as he attempted to disentangle himself from the legs of his chair.
"Tell Kurt hi!" Wes sang, tugging Blaine to his feet with absolutely zero effort. "Kurt, darling, I don't know what you said, but when I walked in, Blaine was totally-"
"Wesley Craven, I swear to God-"
"That's not very nice," Wes interjected poutily. "It's not my fault that your entire face changes every time anything even remotely involving Kurt happens and everyone in a twenty mile radius can tell who you're thinking about..."
"No, it does not," Blaine gritted out, shooting Wes the kind of look that was typically translated to mean things like, 'I have every intention of sneaking into your room in the dead of night to castrate you with a rusty spoon. Now get the hell out.'
Kurt, meanwhile, felt kind of like he was going to explode. Because it was one thing to imagine that something like that could be possible, but hearing it from Wes was...so different. Because Wes actually knew what he was talking about. More than Kurt did, anyway. He hoped, desperately, that Blaine didn't expect him to say anything remotely coherent any time soon, because it simply wasn't going to happen.
Fortunately, Blaine was distracted by Wes laughing hysterically (and as loudly as possible to ensure that Kurt could hear him), and then dancing out of the room singing "Bad Romance" at the top of his lungs. Blaine pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, fighting the sudden dull ache in his head. "I'm sorry that my association with heathens forces you to have to deal with them, too."
Still having no idea where to even begin with this whole thing, Kurt settled for the first thing that popped into his head. "Um. I didn't think that Wes was..."
"So obnoxious? You lived in a happy bubble of oblivion for a while. I envy you." Blaine laughed a little. "He seems very civilized when you first meet him, but I threatened him and David with bodily harm so they'd be on their best behavior when they met you. Typically, between those two, an average of five things gets broken per week."
Kurt snorted. And then his brain caught up with Blaine's words, and he kind of choked. "Wait, why did you threaten them with bodily harm? You didn't even know me."
Blaine swallowed. "I just...didn't think you needed to deal with their insanity. I mean. Um. I could kind of tell that you had your own stuff going on, so...yeah." It was true. Sure, Blaine couldn't help but notice how adorable Kurt was (and how very obviously not a Dalton student), but after he'd finished singing (and okay, it was effing fantastic to have such a cute guy to sing to), it had occurred to him that something might really be bothering the other boy. (It was like he had a sixth sense about these things.)
"Oh." And why was he so disappointed? "Um, yeah. Good...idea, there."
"I...thanks."
"BLAINE, I NEED A FAVOR!" David yelped, bursting through the door, then doing a double-take. "Oh. Hey, Kurt!"
"How the hell do they do that?" Kurt burst out, not quite sure whether he should be annoyed with the constant interruptions, or grateful to know that talking to him obviously affected Blaine in some noticeable way. (Provided, of course, that it wasn't just a coincidence, and that Wes and David weren't just conveniently teasing Blaine for no actual reason.) Dammit. This was so not good for his brain.
"I have no idea," Blaine replied, groaning. "What, David?"
"Never mind, I can wait 'til you're done," he answered serenely, and bounced out of the room.
"I think they do it just to annoy me," Blaine complained.
Kurt laughed despite himself. "They just love you, is all. And...maybe have no respect for your privacy."
"I should start locking my door," he mused, and then abruptly realized that hello, Kurt probably had no interest in talking about this. "Anyway. About tomorrow."
Kurt twisted his fingers together anxiously. For some reason, ever since they'd agreed that they would hang out at the end of the week, the only place he could imagine it taking place was at his house. Damn Cosmo had made him obsessed with the idea of Blaine seeing his room. (Well, that, and the fact that seeing Blaine's room had basically convinced Kurt entirely that the other boy was perfect. And he was maybe hoping that the same sort of thing would happen for Blaine.) "I...I mean, you could come over. If you wanted. To like...see my house and stuff. Or I could meet you somewhere closer to Dalton, if you don't want to drive that far. Because. Um. My house is kind of boring, I guess, so we..."
Blaine grinned despite himself. "Why do you sound so nervous? I'd love to see your house." The ridiculously long drive, to be perfectly honest, hadn't even occurred to him as an issue. Instead, he was just excited at the prospect of learning more about Kurt; because as much as they'd talked over the past few days (and they certainly had done plenty of talking), Blaine couldn't help feeling like there was still so much about him that he didn't know. So many things that made Kurt the strong, courageous boy that he was.
"Are you sure? It's so far..."
"Trust me, it'll be nice to get away from Dalton for a while," Blaine assured him. "It gets a little repressive around here sometimes."
"Oh." Kurt blinked repeatedly. "It does?"
Blaine shrugged even though he knew the other boy couldn't see him. "Mmhmm. We're very traditional around here, and it gets to be a bit much sometimes. I mean, weekends loosen up a lot, but...still. What time do you want me?"
Um, always? Shut up. Groaning quietly, Kurt blurted, "Finn's going out with Rachel at like 5:30. And I highly doubt that you meeting her is a good idea right now. She'll be all up on you about spying. So. Six?"
"Sounds great," Blaine answered sincerely. "Hey, I should go find out what David wanted. If he's left untended too long, something's bound to get broken. See you tomorrow!"
"Yeah," Kurt managed dumbly into the silence.
Oh, it is going to be a long night.
"So, um, this is my...room," Kurt managed, silently cursing his slightly trembling voice and still basically facing the hallway. Because Blaine. Was in. His room. And no one else was home, nor did they have any intention of being home pretty much all night, and God this was not a good thought process to be having right now, because...because Blaine was right up behind him, chuckling slightly as he closed the door.
"It's nice," he murmured not even bothering to look around before gently steering Kurt around to face him, his eyes half-mast as he gazed at the other boy. And then, slowly, ever so slowly, Blaine moved forward brought his hand up to cup Kurt's cheek.
A slight gasp escaped Kurt, and he stuttered, "Wh-what..."
"Shhh." His thumb was caressing Kurt's cheekbone so gently that it didn't even feel real as his other arm wound its way around Kurt's waist. Instinctively, Kurt, who was already pressed up against the door, slid down slightly to let Blaine be the taller one, so that he could look up at him through the thick fringe of his lashes. Blaine's lips danced slowly, tantalizingly, over his skin, barely touching him and making Kurt unconsciously arch his back toward Blaine to close the already miniscule distance between them. His breath was coming in short gasps, and he was pretty sure Blaine could actually see his heart beating through his chest. Or, well, he would have been able to see it, if his eyes weren't so fixed on Kurt's face (which was so unbelievably sexy that Kurt just couldn't even think right now). Blaine's lips parted ever so slightly, and he leaned his forehead against Kurt's, his face betraying a hint of uncertainty for the first time. "Kurt," he managed, a little breathlessly, "if you don't want...we...we don't have to..."
But Kurt was so going to explode if this just ended right here. So he twined his arms around Blaine's neck, bringing their faces even closer together, and breathed, "Blaine...please."
And if that wasn't the absolute hottest thing that Blaine had ever heard ever, he didn't know what was. And finally, finally...
Kurt woke up with a gasp, sheets twisted hopelessly around his legs, and glanced desperately around the room. Where...where was...? "Fuck."
Finn paused in the doorway as he wandered by, blinking sleepily. "...um?"
He sighed heavily. "Morning, Finn."
"Mm," Finn mumbled. "You 'kay?"
"Fine, fine." Because seriously, he was so not going to go into this with Finn, of all people. "Just go take a shower."
"Kay."
Blaine sat bolt upright, shooting a betrayed glare at his cheerily buzzing alarm clock and letting out a frustrated groan. Seriously, could it not have waited five more minutes? Or three? Or anything?
Shouldn't you be freaked out for entirely different reasons, Mr. There's-Nothing-Between-Me-and-Kurt? asked a voice somewhere in the back of Blaine's mind that sounded a lot like David. (Blaine wondered about his sanity when his first thought was, "Wait, where's Wes?" instead of "Oh, God, not again.) Annoyed, he hurled his pillow toward the clock and flopped backward to burrow back under his covers.
Well, shit.
"What the hell's your problem?" Wes asked a few minutes later, sounding entirely bored. "Did you have another sex dream about Kurt?"
"What do you mean 'another sex dream?'" Blaine demanded instinctively, not even realizing how bad it would sound until it was already out of his mouth.
"So you have dreamt about him!" David crowed triumphantly (even though, seriously, how anybody could jump to that conclusion was so far beyond Blaine at this point that it wasn't even funny. Then again, he was a little sleep deprived).
"No, I haven't," he lied, trying valiantly to ignore his treacherously burning cheeks.
"Bullshit," Mercedes replied promptly, rolling her eyes. "White boy, do not even play with me. I know you better."
"Whatever." Kurt groaned and actually had to fight the urge to bury his face in his hands (because that would wreck havoc on not only his hair, but his moisturizing routine. And no one was worth that, dammit). "Nothing's going to happen, Cedes, so it doesn't even matter."
"Pessimist," she teased, hip-bumping him playfully. "Might I remind you that yet again, he is going to spend three hours in a car for the sole purpose of seeing you?"
"Meh," he replied, suppressing a grin. "You should not be letting me get my hopes up like this."
She opened her mouth to argue, then thought better of it. Because what if he was right? So finally, she settled on, "Yes, well. If he hurts you, I will cut him."
Laughing despite himself, he slung an arm around her shoulders. "Thanks, babygirl."
"You know it."
"Blaine!" Wes barked, for what had to have been the tenth time in the last hour. "Would you focus?"
Blaine heaved an irritated sigh. Council!Wes and everyday!Wes were completely different people, and to be perfectly truthful, council!Wes could be a total asshole sometimes. "I am focused, Wes," he replied evenly. "Let's just take it from the top of the page."
As Wes banged his gavel in agreement, Blaine snuck a wistful look at the clock. There were still twenty minutes left of rehearsal, unfortunately. He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, centering himself, and then nodded to let everyone know he was ready.
When rehearsal had finally ended, he had to exercise genuine effort not to just grab his stuff and bolt off. It had been an incredibly long, stressful day, and he was looking forward to the opportunity to relax. (He tried not to think about how ironic it was that that relaxation was going to happen with a boy he barely even knew, instead of his two best friends.) "I'll see you guys later," he called to said best friends, shouldering his bag and wandering toward the door.
"Hey, hold up!" Wes replied, tucking his gavel into his own bag somewhat reverently and jogging after him. "I'm sorry about earlier. You know how I get sometimes."
Blaine snorted. "Don't worry about it. Make it up to me by covering for me if I'm late for curfew?"
"And why would you be late for curfew, hmm?"
He rolled his eyes. "Seriously."
"Of course." Wes sounded mildly offended that Blaine would doubt him. "Have fun, Anderson. Drive safe."
"Thanks." Blaine beamed, quickly clapped Wes on the back, and walked off.
He was halfway to Lima when he realized that he'd actually left way earlier than he'd needed to. Kurt had texted him with his address this morning, and his GPS was happily informing him that he'd be there in less than forty minutes. The problem with this, of course, being that it was only four thirty. He pulled into the first random parking lot he could find and sent Kurt a quick text:
Where do I go if I want food in Lima?
Kurt, who was currently trying on and discarding absolutely everything he owned in the hopes of finding the perfect "this is so not a date, but if you want, it can be" outfit (which was a lot harder than it sounded), nearly jumped through the ceiling when his phone vibrated against his hip.
What do you mean? You're not here already?
I may have hurried out of Warblers practice without checking the clock. It's been one of those days.
His immediate mental response was to be a little disappointed that Blaine hadn't been motivated by a desperate desire to see him, but he scoffed quietly at himself and quickly typed, Want to talk about it?
Blaine smiled despite himself at the characteristically caring words. Kurt had probably had to deal with a pile and a half of crap at McKinley today, and yet he was asking about Blaine's day. Nah, nothing major. Just the usual insane whirlwind of work, y'know?
Kurt let out a breath of relief that he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Blaine had always said Dalton had a strict no-harassment policy, but it didn't stop the other boy from worrying about him sometimes. After all, his life couldn't be entirely perfect...could it? About the food, there's Breadstix, but that's a bit datey. Would probably be way depressing to go alone.
Want to come with? Blaine erased it instantly, cursing his stupid impulses. He didn't even like Kurt that way, the last thing he wanted to do was encourage some sort of crush. (Wevid laughed disbelievingly in the back of his mind, and he groaned. Eh, I'll figure it out. Thanks though! :)
You could come over early, if you wanted. His stomach flipped just a little, even though it wasn't really a risky text to send-and then, of course, just as his phone gave a comforting little buzz in response, Finn burst into the room. "Kurt, you have to help me!"
He rocketed to his feet. "Who's dying and where are they?"
"No, no, I totally fucked up, Rachel's gonna kill me!"
"..." Slowly, Kurt returned to his chair. "Please tell me you're joking."
"I don't even know what I did but she's really really mad."
"Don't say it, Finn Hudson, do not say it. I have plans tonight, and I cannot..."
"Please. Kurt seriously, just this once, I really really really-"
"Finn, I don't have time to bake your girlfriend apology cookies. Make them yourself!"
"You know I'm not allowed near the oven when Mom and Burt aren't home," Finn whined. "Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease. Pretty please?"
"Oh my God. Finn, are you six?"
"It's going to be the last time, I promise! I just don't want her to be mad at me and-"
"You keep saying it's going to be the last time and it never is. Forgive me for being less than likely to believe you," Kurt answered primly, flipping open his phone.
Are you sure that would be okay? I found a place, so I'm eating now, but... I kind of want to hang out with you more, he allowed himself to finish mentally.
Yeah, of course. Unfortunately, Finn's date got cancelled, but he won't be overly irritating. I hope. Which, of course, left Kurt with only one alternative. "Dammit, Finn, this is the last time."
"Yes! Thank you so, so much. You're the best, bro!" Finn exclaimed triumphantly, bounding out of the room and upstairs with far too much enthusiasm for a guy who had just had what sounded like a pretty massive fight with his girlfriend. (Then again, it was Rachel, so it wasn't like these were particularly unusual occurrences.)
Blaine found himself standing on Kurt's front porch about half an hour later, trying to work up the courage (again, how painfully ironic) to go through with ringing the bell. Not that it was even a big deal. Because it wasn't; it was absolutely not a date. He was just...a little uncertain about the possibility of meeting Finn for real. Because of everything Kurt had told him about him.
Yeah.
Totally.
Maybe if you hadn't left Dalton insanely early, this wouldn't be an issue. (Shut up, he told himself firmly, and pressed the doorbell.)
"I got it!" Someone who was absolutely not Kurt shouted, and there was a series of loud thuds as said person bounded toward the door.
"No!" Horrified, Kurt (who had taken the opportunity to fix his hair once the cookies were safely in the oven) hurled his can of hairspray toward his stepbrother, dragged the comb through his bangs one more time, and speed-walked (because he was afraid that full-out sprinting would get him all sweaty and gross, and that was so not okay) up the stairs.
"Dude, you're hair's sticking up all funny," Finn snickered, dodging Kurt's makeshift projectile easily and using his almost-stepbrother's momentary hesitation to lope past him.
"No it is not, Finn Hudson!" Kurt screeched, redoubling his efforts to overtake him. "I swear by all things GaGa, do not answer that door!"
"Or what?" Finn called back, far too cheerfully for Kurt's liking, and proceeded to fling open the door. Blaine jerked back just slightly, surprised, and tried to smile as charmingly as possible to make up for it.
"Hi. I'm Blaine Anderson."
"I figured. I met you on skype that time, remember?"
"'Kay, Finn, could you maybe be civilized and let him in?" Kurt demanded. "It's cold outside."
"Oh, right. Sorry, dude," Finn apologized quickly, backing up and letting Blaine walk past him into the house.
"Sorry," Kurt reiterated, gently grabbing Blaine's wrist to pull him into the kitchen. "Do you want anything? I'm just finishing baking apology cookies for Rachel. Don't even ask- -Finn can be annoyingly persuasive when he wants to be."
"Hey!" said boy protested, pouting, and Kurt rolled his eyes.
"Seriously? Stop screwing up enough to have to fix it with baked deliciousness. It's making my life ridiculously difficult to have to find baking supplies every five seconds. Out." As Finn disappeared (which, Kurt was not going to lie, was a complete surprise. He'd expected a lot more of a fight), he shot a quick, apologetic grin at Blaine. "I'm really sorry. Finn wouldn't stop poking me. This is how he gets people to do things, unfortunately. But anyway, it should only be a few more minutes. And at least you get a cookie?" His voice lifted just a little at the end, and Blaine grinned.
"You are so ad-"
Kurt spun around so quickly that he almost lost his balance. "Hmm?"
"Ah...nothing," he answered quickly. "What are you, um, baking?"
"Chocolate chip I'm-sorry-I'm-a-douchebag cookies from Finn for Rachel. What were you going to say?"
Well, damn. He'd been hoping he could avoid that, but Kurt was insanely perceptive. Which sucked, since he seemed to lose his mental filter every time Kurt was around. "Just...you guys are adorable. You seem like you're really close."
Kurt turned to focus on the oven so that Blaine couldn't see the disappointment on his face. "We are now. Things were way hairy for a while."
"Really? That's kind of surprising," Blaine mused, and Kurt's shoulder twitched up in a half shrug.
"Eh. It took a hell of a long time to get over that crush, but now I couldn't be any less interested." He shuddered delicately. "How the scent of his socks didn't turn me off immediately, I will literally never know."
"Wait. Whoa." Blaine's hands flew up instinctively in a stopping-traffic gesture. "You...and Finn?"
"I had a deeply pathetic crush on him, yeah." Kurt blushed slightly, grabbing a potholder off the counter and promptly sticking his head in the oven.
"That cannot be safe," Blaine observed concernedly as Kurt emerged, donned the potholder, and went for the gold.
"Probably not," he admitted, laughing and setting out the steaming tray. "Oh my GaGa, I am a baking genius. These smell amazing."
"They really do," Blaine agreed. "But if you think you're going to get away with throwing something like that out there and not elaborating, you have got another think coming, mister."
"Hey, I don't ask for stories about your ex-crushes," Kurt protested, but then an absolutely evil spark came into his eyes, and he grinned. "On second thought...tell me a story about one of your ex-crushes, and I'll tell you what happened with Finn."
"What? Unfair, I asked first!"
And his tone was so unintentionally childish that they both couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, c'mon. I tell you stories all the time." (It was actually true. They'd talked every day this week, and Blaine felt as though he'd come to know each member of New Directions like they were his friends, too.) "Besides, this one's embarrassing. And kind of emotionally damaging. I demand blackmail material of my own before I proceed." He was joking, but Blaine's brow creased.
"If you don't want to tell me, it's really-"
"Are they done?" Finn demanded, busting into the kitchen with all the grace of a hippopotamus and bounding over to the stove.
"They're cooling, Finn, don't touch," Kurt admonished, without even really thinking about it. "Have you called her?"
"Not yet," he confessed, glancing longingly at the cookies.
"Finn Hudson, what was the point of making me bake them now if you aren't going to bring them to her tonight? Because I'm fairly certain that I only did it because you convinced me it was an emergency."
"...maybe I just wanted one?" Finn offered, reaching out.
Kurt groaned. "Whatever. One."
"Yes!" Triumphant, Finn seized a cookie, apparently not even noticing how hot it was, and stuffed it whole into his mouth.
Kurt carefully slid another cookie onto a plate and offered it to Blaine. "Let's go downstairs." Blaine trailed after him obediently, clutching his plate like a lifeline.
"Aren't you going to eat any?"
"Not hungry," Kurt replied dismissively. "Please don't mind Finn's mess. I highly doubt I'll ever succeed in convincing him that hygiene is a good thing."
Blaine wandered in just behind Kurt, eyes already darting everywhere, trying to take everything in all at once. Even if Kurt hadn't said which side of the room belonged to his almost-stepbrother, it would have been completely obvious. There was a poster of a bikini-clad model on one wall, with a picture of Finn and a girl who must have been Rachel taped to the corner. The plaid comforter was rumpled, half-falling off the bed, and there was athletic equipment and random clothing piled haphazardly all over the floor. Finn's backpack had been thrown in a corner and obviously abandoned, and there was a random magazine lying on top of it (it looked like something suitably manly, and Blaine didn't really have any desire to venture closer and find out what it was).
"I got rid of the empty pizza boxes and nasty cereal bowls," Kurt announced. "You're welcome."
But he had already been so distracted by the rest of the room that he didn't even hear Kurt's words. There were floaty, silky-looking curtains covering the window, and the room was lit with antiquey-looking lanterns that hung from the ceiling. The overall design of the room simply exuded class and elegance. In a far cry from Finn's half of the room, everything was perfectly organized, and on the stretch of wall above Kurt's bed, he had an enormous collage that kind of reminded Blaine of his own corkboard...except completely different. It was almost entirely dominated by photos of New Directions: Kurt and Mercedes, arms slung around each other as they laughed hysterically, apparently unaware that a picture was being taken; Finn in a hideous red dress that looked like it was made of a shower curtain (he'd have to ask about that one one day); Kurt and a man wearing plaid and a trucker hat who could only be his father (he looked vaguely terrifying, but goodhearted); Kurt in plaid and a trucker hat, with his arm around a very pretty blonde (again, something he would have to ask about sometime in the very near future); Kurt, Mercedes, a gorgeous Latina, and the same very pretty blonde, all in matching-what the hell?
"Kurt, is that a...cheerleading uniform?"
Kurt's eyes grew to epic proportions. "Um. Yes. It was a phase."
But Blaine's mind was running away with him, and all he could think of were high kicks and pyramids and...high kicks. "Gruh," he managed eloquently.
"It was terrible. Ignore it. Look, there's one of Quinn and Sam...don't you know Sam?"
Blaine shook his head experimentally. "Ah, yeah. He was my roommate before Jim...oh my God, he's so blonde."
"I knew it wasn't natural!" Kurt rejoiced, almost tempted for a moment to text Sam and tell him his secret had been revealed. But it seemed entirely too dramatic, and he kind of just wanted his attention to stay on Blaine. "Y'know I actually thought he batted for our team for the longest time."
"Me too," Blaine admitted, sighing "Never actually crushed on him, though, thank God. He's way too obsessed with boy bands for my liking."
"The stereotypical evidence continues to mound," Kurt sighed, shaking his head. "I stand by my conviction that one day, Sam Evans will confess his closeted homosexuality."
Blaine laughed. He couldn't help it. Kurt's overly dramatic tone was just so...so captivating.
"Gracious, I'm telling you all my secrets and I still know practically nothing about you. What is this?" Kurt bemoaned, and Blaine gave in.
"You wanted to know about an ex-crush?" Kurt nodded eagerly, so he continued, forcing himself to look away from all the pictures. "Okay. So, like...gah." Flushing slightly, Blaine dropped his head into his hands. "This is so embarrassing."
"Blaine, I used to be in love with the guy who may very well end up becoming my stepbrother. Seriously, do not even play the embarrassing card."
"I had a thing for my roommate," Blaine confessed, a blush creeping slowly up his neck. "And Jim really couldn't be much straighter if he actually tried to be."
Kurt sat up a little straighter. "I'm liking how this sounds so far."
"...I'm not sure if I should be offended or not."
Laughing, Kurt batted a pillow at him. "Oh, don't even. Just speak."
"Are we gonna go there? I'm pretty sure you don't wanna test me on this," Blaine challenged playfully, wrestling the pillow free of Kurt's grasp. "Your hair will so not survive."
"My hair? Blaine, I'm fairly certain a cyclone wouldn't budge your hair. I plead no contest, if that's what this competition's about to be."
"You judge unfairly, sir. If you saw what my hair looked like without all this gel, you would understand."
"You've triggered my curiosity now."
"Never. Never, ever going to happen."
"I will find a way, Blaine Anderson."
"Over my dead body, Kurt Hummel."
"I hope not." Kurt smirked, snatching the pillow back. "No pillow fights, they're distracting you from telling me about your life."
"Wah." Blaine pouted. "Fine, but there's not even much to tell. As if it wasn't enough that I had to room with him, he was on the football team, so I saw him in the locker room basically every day, which was incredibly awkward because he's never been the shy type." He blushed despite himself at the admission, and Kurt's jaw dropped.
"Hold up, you played football?"
"Just for one season. I love it and everything, but I'm not good enough to really play. I mostly just rode the bench. Besides, then the collective force that is Wevid made me try out for the Warblers, and you really can't do both. There's not enough time."
Kurt nodded, trying to reconcile his mental image of football players (i.e. assholian goons) with Blaine. What came out instead of something logical was, "Do you have pictures?"
He laughed, blushing even more deeply. "Wes and David might."
"I'll keep that in mind," Kurt chuckled. "You were saying?"
"Do not ask them. Please. It's just awkward. But anyway, outside of football, I just made embarrassing moony-eyes at him and burned him CDs on iTunes claiming that I needed to, quote, 'broaden his musical horizons,' but actually, I was just putting incredibly cheesy love songs on playlists."
Kurt hid a smile (halfheartedly). "Do continue."
"He would never have figured it out if I hadn't walked in on him with a girl one night."
"Oh, no."
"Oh, yes." Blaine laughed a little, shaking his head. "I couldn't behave like a normal person and just back out of there with my eyes shut. No, no. I had to let out this extremely awkward and unmanly squeak, stare at her like she was an axe murderer for the better part of thirty seconds, then stutter something completely unintelligible and run away."
"You poor thing," Kurt sympathized, touching Blaine lightly on the shoulder.
"It was terrible. I was a mess for days," he confessed. "But finally, Jim talked to me, apologized for freaking me out, and promised he wouldn't have girls in our room anymore. He never actually addressed my excessively obvious crush, but I'm pretty sure it's better that way."
"So how'd you get over him?"
Blaine shrugged. "I think I was a little mentally scarred from what I'd seen, so with a little time, I was fine. How'd you get over Finn, though? It's not like you really have the option for space."
"It's my own damn fault, too." Kurt groaned. "This is a whole mess of drama. I don't know if you're gonna want to hang out with me after I share all this baggage."
"Unless you killed someone, that's entirely impossible," Blaine announced, with the kind of grin that did things to Kurt's heart. So he told the story, a lot less eloquently than he'd intended (because dammit, Blaine kept making these quiet sympathetic little sounds and it was so bad for Kurt's focusing skills).
At some point, thundercloud crossed Blaine's face, and it took a second for Kurt to recall what he'd just said. "He called you a what?" '
"Um. Yeah. But it was just that one time," Kurt hurried on, instinctively attempting to defend Finn. "And I know that doesn't make it right-God do I know. But...it was harder for Finn back then. For me, too, but there are certain stories that are not being told tonight. Later, yes. But not right now."
"Okay," Blaine agreed readily, grinning at the adorable flush lighting Kurt's cheeks. "I mean, I can wait."
The implied promise in his words left both of them coughing uncertainly and glancing away. Finally, Kurt, eyes still fixed very carefully on the couch cushion, asked, "Want to watch a movie or something?"
"Sure. You can choose, if you want."
"My go-to movie of the moment is The Little Mermaid" (and no, that had nothing to do with the fact that Eric kinda sorta a little bit reminded Kurt of Blaine) "so I'm pretty sure you should pick."
"I'm pretty sure a Disney movie would be amazing, actually. Wes and David never let me watch them. It's deeply upsetting."
"Oh gracious." Clucking his tongue, Kurt launched into action. "Eat your cookie, I'm going to go make popcorn, and you should think about which one you want to watch. They're short."
By the time Kurt had returned, carrying a heaping bowl, Blaine was completely awed. "Kurt. That was the most amazing cookie. There are no words."
The other boy scoffed, trying not to look as pleased as he felt. "I'm glad you liked. Did you get the chance to pick a movie?"
"D'you have Hercules, by any chance?"
"Of course! It's classic."
They sat together on the couch after Kurt had set up the DVD player, perhaps a little closer than was absolutely necessary. Blaine convinced himself that doing so just made it easier to share the popcorn.
Maintaining that train of thought got harder, though, when Kurt's head dropped onto his shoulder about halfway through The Little Mermaid. Instinctively, he readjusted himself so that Kurt would be more comfortable, and somehow his arm ended up around the other boy's waist.
Kurt, meanwhile, was far too comfortable and sleepy to overthink anything. "Sorry," he slurred as he nestled a closer to Blaine. "I didn't sleep."
"Me either," Blaine confessed. "It's okay."
And when Finn Hudson walked down the stairs two hours later, he found Kurt fast asleep with his arm flung loosely (and unintentionally) across Blaine's body. Kurt's head rested on the other boy's chest. Blaine, too, was sleeping, and right before Finn crept quietly back up the stairs, he realized that their fingers were intertwined.
