"Academic, social, or musical?" Blaine asked as Finn was searching the house for the books he had never opened for junior year. "Where do you want to start?"
"Well, I'm guessing the drama in the New Directions hasn't lessened..."
"If anything, it's gotten worse," Blaine interjected, because he hadn't been able to believe the amount of drama the New Directions had. The Warblers were way calmer. Then again, there were girls involved.
"And I'm getting enough headaches without adding any bursts of lyric memory to my poor head, so, I can't believe I'm saying this, but academics." Blaine chuckled. Kurt didn't actually hate school as much as he pretended to.
"All right. I guess we have to wait for Finn then." The boy in question was upstairs, and judging by the stomping above them, he was searching through his mess of a room. They had some time. "I was thinking about inviting Mercedes over tomorrow."
"Oh?" Kurt asked, trying to hide his excitement the way he did around people he didn't really trust. Blaine ignored how much the idea of Kurt not trusting him hurt.
"Yeah. No offense to your outfit, but I thought you could use some fashion catch-up, and neither I nor Finn could help you with that." Kurt laughed. God, he was pretty.
"Yeah, I think I could use some help navigating my new wardrobe. How much did I grow exactly?" Kurt was wearing one of his formerly-knee-length sweaters, which now came down to a little less than mid-thigh.
"Probably about four inches," Blaine replied with a laugh. "Plus, some shopping and familiar company could be nice. A little less... stressful."
Kurt stared at him for a long moment, like he was looking for something on his face, then he smiled. "I can see why I dated you."
"Oh?" Blaine asked, his heart skipping a few beats.
"You always know exactly what to say and do to make me feel better," Kurt said with a little smile.
"Was kind of my job," Blaine said, trying to ignore the sudden lump in his throat.
"I forgot that I haven't-"
"Found them!" Finn announced triumphantly as he carried some books down the stairs in his arms. The idea to stack them and then brace the stack between his arms hadn't occurred to him, so he dropped one every so often, and Blaine clenched his fists as he watched Kurt check out Finn's ass every time he leaned over to pick one up. "Please tell me we're doing this now."
"We are," Kurt said, those damn heart eyes pointed up at Finn again. Even if Kurt had decided against it earlier, he probably would have changed his mind at exactly that moment.
"Awesome. What should we start with?" Finn asked, turning towards Blaine with that stupidly-charming smile. Damn. He kept forgetting that he really couldn't blame Finn for the fact that Kurt liked him.
"Maybe English?" Blaine asked, grabbing a text book about literature out of Finn's arms as Finn sat down on the couch, jolting Blaine about. Kurt, subtle as always, rolled a little bit into Finn as the couch dipped, then blushed and apologized. Even when Kurt was literally in between them, he was closer to Finn. "It doesn't involve a lot of memorization, and he's probably going to need a lot of review in it."
"Sounds good. I kind of pay attention in English." Blaine sighed. It was going to be a long afternoon.
It was weird to think that this little unconventional family had worked so well, even though Kurt had really been the bonding agent between all of were like a well-oiled machine, Blaine and Finn completing each others' sentences and Carole turning on the vacuum only during lulls in conversation. It was weird to think that he had once been part of it. That he had caused it.
"I think that's enough for today," Blaine said once he had finished his quick summaries of plot and literary merit of each of the books on both Dalton's and McKinley's curricula. "His head has to be about ready to explode." Kurt didn't actually have a headache, but Blaine was right. It did feel a little like information overload.
"I'm good with that," Finn said, and they had significant eye contact for a moment. "I should go call Rachel and see if she's still full-crazy." Finn rushed out of the room like the way he had run away when he thought Kurt was about to ask him out, and the memory made Kurt's cheeks burn. Finn could be sweet, but he could also be an idiot.
One thing was definitely for certain: Blaine was not an outsider in his new family. Blaine made jokes at Finn's expense and carried on conversations with Dad and was fawned over by Carole. He was more a part of the family than Kurt was.
"Are you okay?" Blaine asked as Kurt scooted a little farther away from him on the couch. There were no longer three people on a two-and-a-half person couch, he didn't need to be so close to... he had no idea what to call Blaine. He always looked at Kurt with a mixture of emotions that the countertenor couldn't really figure out. Confusion, maybe, and heartbreak. Loneliness.
"What do you mean?" Blaine didn't roll his eyes at Kurt's defensive tendencies, instead just smiling in that ridiculously warm way he did whenever he was in Kurt's immediate vicinity.
"I know you better than that, Kurt. You looked like a lost puppy, and just because Finn can't see it, doesn't mean I can't."
"Stop... reading my mind, or whatever it is you're doing," Kurt snapped, a little frustrated, but nothing seemed to faze Blaine.
"I'm not reading your mind. I'm reading your beautiful blue eyes." Kurt flushed and looked away. Blaine made comments like that all the time, things about Kurt's looks and personality that no one had ever said (or thought, probably) about him before. It wasn't that it made him uncomfortable, because it didn't. He just... didn't know what to think of them, or of Blaine. His comments made little butterflies fly around his stomach, but no worse than being in a room with Finn tended to. "Too far?" Blaine asked, worried as always about Kurt's mental health, and Kurt shook his head.
"No."
"Good." Blaine's smile made those butterflies do freakin' backflips. "And I'm sorry for reading your mind," he added, tilting his head with that same slightly-shy smile, but Kurt knew he didn't really mean it.
"Forgiven." Blaine was leaning in again (he seemed to be doing so subconsciously), and the butterflies in Kurt's stomach were very persistent about the countertenor not stopping him. Blaine had told him that Brittany was his first kiss, but he couldn't remember that either, and in a weird way, he had a chance to start over. Not only with Blaine (he really didn't have a choice on that one), but with all the stupid decisions he had made in his life. Plus, there was his hopeless pursuit of Finn.
But Finn had been amazing lately, helping him and being very relaxed. He had clearly grown much more accustomed to Kurt's presence during the last year and a half, and he seemed considerably less likely to freak out about Kurt's feelings. His feelings didn't seem so hopeless. If Blaine was out of the picture...
Blaine was so close now that his eyes fluttered shut. Kurt almost leaned forward to meet him the ten percent he seemed to be waiting (how many times had this guy seen Hitch?), curious what it would feel like to let Blaine kiss him.
Kurt was so glad the decision was taken out of his hands.
"Hey... guys?" Finn's voice started out bright and bubbly, then paused, growing concerned. Blaine jerked away, flushing red and deliberately not looking at Kurt.
"Has..." Blaine had to clear his throat, his voice sounded scratchy, "has Rachel calmed down at all?"
"Not really," Finn said, still looking between them in confusion. "Um, so, I texted Sam. I was thinking it would be cool for him to stop by tomorrow, so Kurt could meet someone he'll have a fresh start with." A headache was starting to build up behind his temples.
"It doesn't really count as a fresh start if Sam remembers him and he has no idea who Sam is!" Blaine argued, and it sounded like he thought it was a stupid idea.
"Dude, it's not like they were close or anything."
"Oh, really? Kurt was one of the people who knew when Sam lost his house, he would have sang a duet with Sam had it not been for you, considering he was the first person to really reach out to Sam when he joined the New Directions, and he kind of had a crush on him. Remember?" When the hell had all of that happened? Kurt rubbed his temples. "You want some Advil?" Blaine asked, obviously noticing the gesture. Kurt nodded, then regretted it. His poor head.
"Dude, it's not like you were there," Finn argued.
"I'm Kurt's-" No one had to cut Blaine off. Blaine cut himself off, looking over at Kurt guiltily. "I was Kurt's…" Blaine trailed off. "You know that I know this, Finn." Blaine cleared his throat as he stood up and headed for the kitchen. "Besides, Kurt's hanging out with Mercedes tomorrow, and I have no idea how things ended between those two. Might not be the best combination for someone who gets a lot of headaches."
"I hate it when you're right." Kurt looked up at Finn, surprised by his harsh tone when he was normally so laid-back, and he was surprised to find him glaring at Blaine's back. What was going on there?
Dinner was almost guaranteed to be an uncomfortable affair. It wasn't that anyone held any grudges against anyone else (not counting Blaine's instinctual anger at Finn for being the subject of the Kurt's desires, and Rachel's occasional stares at Kurt for staring at Finn), but there was just tension. Everyone had no idea what to say to Kurt, and Kurt didn't seem to have anything to say to anyone else.
Carole was whistling as she cooked dinner, reading a recipe for vegan vegetable lasagna off her phone as she cooked because Rachel had joined them for dinner. They expected Burt home from the shop at any moment. Kurt was rolling his eyes at Finchel being cute, and his silence was pointed. Normally, he commented in a light-hearted and brotherly way. Now he just alternated between staring at Finn and glaring at Rachel.
Any open-minded person that couldn't feel the ambience would think they were the perfect family portrait. Blaine and Kurt were sitting on one side of the made table, with Finn opposite Kurt and Rachel opposite Blaine. The position at the head of the table was open, waiting for the loving but firm father to get home from work, and the doting mother was cooking dinner.
"How did your studying go?" Rachel asked, obviously taking in the awkwardness and doing what she did best... making things more awkward.
"Fine," Blaine answered when no one else did. Every time Finn looked over at Kurt, Kurt looked away, but the moment Finn was looking back at Rachel, Kurt was looking back at Finn. It was an incredible balancing act... that made Blaine want to punch a wall. "You were right. Kurt remembers quite a bit of his school work."
"Excellent." What Rachel's tone was really saying was 'of course I was right,' but Blaine ignored that. "Have you considered my offer?" What her tone was saying now was 'I'm right about other things too.'
"I think my answer is going to have to be the same," Blaine said coolly, and Rachel glared at him. Apparently he was more worth glaring at than Kurt.
"What's your plan then?" Rachel demanded, and she was starting to go full-crazy again.
"I don't know, Rachel. We'll have to see. It's not like things are normal right now." Blaine regretted it as soon as he said it. He could feel the atmosphere get more awkward as Kurt shrunk in on himself. Kurt had reverted back to the person he had been when they had met... or worse. "Kurt, I'm sorry," he said immediately, turning to look at Kurt. The countertenor was wringing his hands and staring down at them.
"It's fine," Kurt muttered. "I certainly hope this isn't the normal for family dinners, because I know everyone in this room is as uncomfortable as I am." There went the elephant in the room.
"Kurt, look at me," Blaine requested, turning around in his chair. Kurt, of course, didn't. "Kurt," he said a little bit more firmly, reaching over and lifting Kurt's chin up, "I'm sorry," he said gently, ignoring the sliver of his heart that cracked off at how bright Kurt's eyes were. "I know you hate this as much as we do."
Kurt smiled shakily, pulling his face out of Blaine's gentle grip without saying anything else. Blaine didn't try to stop him. "Dude, it's fine," Finn said gently, and Blaine practically cracked in half when Kurt brightened right up. He wanted Kurt to be happy, but it killed him that Finn made him happy instead of Blaine. That had once been Blaine's job. "It's not like you could have stopped your head from hitting that table."
The room froze, for just a few seconds. "Is that what happened?" It was a question that Blaine realized no one had addressed yet. Kurt knew that something had happened, but the Dr. Eastlake probably hadn't explained it to him, Dr. Sanchez was so frazzled from her internship that she probably didn't even remember, and Blaine was almost certain that Jess didn't know, since she had been nursing a shocked Blaine to health rather than watching as Kurt was given an initial exam by the doctors.
"We were out for ice cream-" Blaine started, but Finn cut him off.
"I got this, Blaine." His voice was almost as icy as Kurt's usually was. "Yeah, the New Directions were out for an end-of-summer ice cream party, and some... jackhole tripped you and your head bounced off a table." Finn didn't mention anything else, the way Puck had chased the guy down, the ambulance coming, those horrible hours when they thought that Kurt wouldn't make it... nothing. Blaine bit his tongue. Hard.
"Oh. I guess the general consensus of the nation towards the gays hasn't changed very much then?" Kurt asked with a raised eyebrow, and Blaine's water almost came out his nose.
"Well, now we can get married in D.C. and New York, and civil unions in Illinois, Hawaii, Delaware, and Rhode Island, as far as I'm aware," Blaine said with a roll of his eyes, "but the general majority of the nation... no. Not even a little bit."
"Great," Kurt said with a roll of his eyes as well, but he looked over at Blaine and smiled a little. It wasn't the way he smiled at Finn, but it was enough.
"I really am sorry," Blaine muttered, aware it was probably very audible in the near-silent room, but Kurt just shook his head.
"Hey, kiddos," Burt said as he came through the door, and they had all been so distracted with the conversation that they hadn't heard his truck pull up. At least, Blaine hadn't. "How ya doin', bud?" he asked his son, who smiled at him. Blaine had no idea what was going on with them, but Kurt seemed to have warmed up to his more-involved father a little.
"Fine, dad," was his answer, and Burt nodded. He clapped Blaine on the shoulder as he walked by the table to give his wife a kiss (making Finn stick his tongue out) and ask how long it would be until dinner.
"Five minutes, oh impatient one," Carole teased as she pushed him back towards the table.
"So, what's everyone been up to for the summer?" Burt wasn't exactly the most subtle man on the planet. This was his version of trying to fill Kurt in on what's been happening, and even Kurt realized this, rolling his eyes in a way that was almost affectionate. He really hadn't warmed up to anyone.
"Rachel's been torturing her neighbors through song, no doubt," Blaine said with a little grin at Rachel, who glared at him again. Apparently, she couldn't take a joke when she was mad.
"Actually, Rachel's been assistant directing at the local theatre," Finn pipped up. Judging by his slightly-sour expression, he was more trying to prove Blaine wrong than trying to stand up for his girlfriend.
"I used to do plays there when I was little."
"Rachel," Kurt cut in, "do remember that for me Sectionals 2009 was just about yesterday, and I distinctly recall us establishing that you never actually got any of the parts you auditioned for when you were a child." Finn looked like he was trying really hard not to laugh, but Blaine didn't get what was funny. He wasn't at all a part of the world that Kurt remembered.
He wished he had paid a little more attention when Kurt was telling hi the stories of his sophomore year, back before they had even been dating.
He couldn't believe that he missed those days.
"Who did you go up against at Sectionals last year?" Kurt asked him from across the table at the Lima Bean. It was the first time that week he hadn't been going on and on about the wedding, but Blaine didn't ask what was wrong. He had a feeling he knew, and his name started with F.
"Vocal Adrenaline," Blaine answered with a sigh. "According to Wes, for the last three years we've gone up against Vocal Adrenaline in the first round and gotten creamed. Good thing that's not happening this year."
"Of course not," Kurt said casually, and when Blaine looked at him in surprise, he was smirking. "You're going up against a threat far more formidable than Dustin Goolsby's automatons first round. However, you are partially right. You're definitely going to get creamed." Blaine cracked up laughing.
"Okay, the New Directions may be a challenge to the Warblers, and I'm not even entirely conceding that, but there's no way you guys are better than Vocal Adrenaline. The dancing alone puts them miles ahead of everyone else. Add Sunshine Corazon's amazing vocals, and no one has a chance."
"We almost had Sunshine Corazon, until Rachel, crazy as always, sent her to a crack house instead of telling her where the real auditions were."
"What?" Blaine asked, almost doing a spit-take with hot coffee.
"Well, we were recruiting at the beginning of this year..."
Blaine swallowed a lump of guilt at the fact that he couldn't remember the rest of the story. Not that Kurt remembered either that incident or the story he had been telling, but Blaine should have remembered both. He had so many treasured moments with Kurt that he threw away with inattention.
Before Blaine could wallow too deep in self-recrimination, Carole yelled out, "Dinner's ready! Finn, come help me serve," and Kurt's step-brother huffed as he was requested to perform a common family service. How selfish could one seventeen-year-old boy be?
"Smells delicious, Carole," Burt said hopefully, and Carole gave him a rather evil grin from where she was filling plates for Finn to serve.
"It's vegetable lasagna. No salt," she stressed as she ladled out a huge portion that was doubtlessly for Burt.
"Why not?" Kurt asked, and at first no one thought anything of it.
"You know I wasn't talking to you, sweetie," Carole said with her usual smile.
"But why can't Dad have salt?" Kurt asked. "He has salt on everything." Kurt sounded confused, and everyone kind of looked at each other awkwardly. This was another huge detail that they had overlooked in their initial analysis of 'what had Kurt missed.' It had been a significant event in each of their lives (it had even affected Blaine, because it had affected Kurt. Old Kurt), and Kurt had no idea it had happened.
"Kiddo..." Burt said slowly, looking around the table. Finn was staying in the kitchen, and Carole was doing the same thing rather than trying to stop her son. Rachel was looking down at her empty place setting and it was very clear that she was wishing to pull an Alice and fall out of the awkward situation into Wonderland. Plus, it would finally give her an excuse to sing Avril Lavigne that wasn't about Quinn.
Of course. That story he remembered.
"Dad, what?" Kurt asked, and he sounded both urgent and nervous. As he had a right to be. It wasn't like everyone was acting normally. They were actually kind of terrible at this.
"About a month after school started during your junior year, I had a heart attack," Burt said as calmly as possible, but Kurt still looked about ready to pass out.
"A hea..." Kurt's hand jumped up to cover his mouth as tears welled in his eyes. "Oh, you stupid idiot. I told you to be more careful about your health," Kurt said, but there was no vitriol to it. He just sounded completely distraught.
"Well, thanks to a healthy ass-whooping from my doctor- pardon my language-" he said quickly to Rachel, who smiled politely, "and constant supervision from both you and Carole," Burt never made the distinction between the person Kurt had been and the person Kurt was, "my heart is fine now, my diet is much healthier, and I'm doing much better."
"That doesn't make this okay!" Kurt said at a significantly-louder-than-normal volume. "Dad, you could have died, you almost... this isn't something you can brush off because it's all better now!"
"Kurt, calm down," Burt said, still remaining calm. "I know you've had a rough couple of days-"
"This isn't about me!" Kurt objected immediately, cutting Burt off and standing up from the table. "This is about the fact that you didn't take care of yourself and you almost..." Kurt suddenly doubled over, clutching at his head.
"Kiddo?" Burt asked immediately.
"Kurt?" Blaine asked, putting his hand on Kurt's shoulder only to have Kurt slap it away.
"Don't touch me," Kurt snapped. "And I... I..." Kurt let out a deep breath and it was like all the animation flowed right out of him. He went back to looking sickly pale like he had in the car, but Blaine still didn't dare touch him. Not if Kurt didn't want him to. "I'm not hungry," Kurt said decisively, pushing his chair away from the table, and snatching the Advil bottle from its spot next to the couch as he rushed upstairs.
"That went well," Burt said with a sigh, readjusting his baseball cap. Carole, always the doting wife, placed a beer in front of him. "Thanks, Carole," he said a little gruffly, taking a long swing of it. "I completely forgot that he didn't know about that."
"I think we all did," Carole said softly as she sat down at the table with her own plate, not daring to take Kurt's vacated seat.
"He didn't exactly handle it well," Burt said, but then he sighed again. "No, that's not true. That's exactly how he handled it the first time, when it was actually happening. I think I got the exact same, word-for-word lecture after I had been out of the hospital for about a week. That's why I called him my stress test. He gets unpredictable when he's stressed out."
"What was with the sudden dramatics?" Rachel asked, clearly not considering this a family affair like Blaine did. "I mean, not that I don't appreciate a sudden bend or even a genuflection while performing a dramatic monologue, but that was strange, even for someone with diva-like tendencies."
"He gets really bad headaches," Blaine muttered, feeling free to talk now. "That's what it looked like."
"Yes, but headaches build. They don't just suddenly attack your head," Finn pointed out, and now that Kurt was safely away from the man he was infatuated with, Blaine didn't have the same urge to kill him.
"It was odd," Carole agreed, taking a bit of her vegetable lasagna and winning the title of the first person to remember they had rapidly-cooling dinner in front of them. "He kept saying almost."
"I hate to be that guy that jinxes everything," okay, he still kind of had the urge to hurt Finn, "but it was almost like he kind of remembered it. Like, he was trying to say that you almost died, but he couldn't know that, because we didn't tell him."
"Well," Rachel pipped up, and Blaine had never realized how annoying her speaking voice was, "it is possible that his memory of traumatic events would recover the fastest. That's often what people remember most vividly, and I'm sure Kurt had some terrible memories of that time period." Rachel didn't seem concerned by how much pain her statements were causing Burt. "If he's going to remember anything, and that's a big if, it's probably going to be things that weren't very pleasant."
"Great. So we'll have our own walking, talking, amnesiac Edgar Allen Poe," Carole muttered. Suddenly, there were all laughing. Everyone at the table really needed to laugh.
Rachel had been sent home at Finn's curfew, but apparently they still didn't have the heart to send Blaine home, because he had been set up in the guest bedroom. It was probably around one in the morning, and Blaine was staring up at the ceiling, because sleep seemed perfectly unattainable.
It wasn't that Kurt had yelled at him. He was under a lot of stress, he was emotionally volatile (it was apparently a common symptom of amnesia), and he didn't like to be touched when he was upset anyway.
It wasn't that Kurt was crazy about Finn. That bothered him less when he wasn't actually witnessing it. Kurt's infatuation with FInn would be back to the forefront of his mind under the category of things driving him crazy in the morning. Kurt staring at Finn with heart eyes was one of the few things that could ruin pancakes, Blaine was willing to bet.
He didn't really know what it was that was preventing him from sleeping, but whatever it was, it was managing to keep him rather productive. He had spent a good two hours on Google only to find that Dr. Eastlake was right. There's no such thing as a common symptom, especially when it came to trauma-induced amnesia, and Blaine had no idea what to expect.
Okay, he was lying to himself. He knew exactly what was keeping him up. Hope. Plain and simple. It was the hope created in the deep recesses of his heart when Finn had proposed that Kurt was remembering. Albeit, Finchel thought that he was only remembering traumatic things, but it couldn't be all bad, right? If he remembered the bad, he would probably remember some of the good, and hopefully some of that good would involve Blaine.
It really sucked to be single.
There were three sharp raps on the door, and if Finn was waking him from his hypothetical beauty sleep, he really might commit homicide. "Come in," he called anyway.
Kurt was sleep-ruffled, his hair a perfect haystack, and he was dressed in pajamas that looked like they belonged on Richie Rich. He was possibly the most adorable thing Blaine had ever seen in his life. "Can I come in?"
"Of course." Blaine almost scooted to make room on the bed before he remembered that Kurt wouldn't want to cuddle. Kurt didn't want Blaine to touch him.
"I'm sorry I yelled at you," Kurt whispered as he closed to door behind him, not sitting on the edge of the bed, but just standing awkwardly in front of it. "I just-"
"Don't like to be touched when you're upset," Blaine filled in the rest of the sentence. "I know."
"You're reading my mind again," Kurt accused with a little smile.
"Sorry."
Kurt sat down on the end of his bed, still smiling, spinning to face Blaine and pulling his knees up to his chest. "What time is it?"
"It's like..." Fuck. "It's four in the morning."
"Doesn't feel like four in the morning," Kurt said, looking at the clock in surprise.
"Disorientation is a common symptom of amnesia." That much, at least, people seemed to agree on.
"I'm not disoriented," Kurt objected. "I just went to bed pretty early."
"Did you go to sleep right after you came upstairs?" Blaine asked. He was determined not to mention Kurt's little dramatic storm-out. It hadn't been that big a deal. Rachel still did it weekly.
"Yes," was all Kurt said, silently agreeing with Blaine's rule.
"How are you feeling?"
"Have you ever felt really woozy?" Kurt asked. "Like, you've been spinning and spinning and spinning, and the world stopped, but you're still spinning..."
"Every time I've tried to hit a piñata, ever," Blaine said with a smile, but Kurt was serious.
"That's how I feel. It's like I'm in the middle of my own private whirlwind, and I'm dizzy but the rest of the world is standing still, just flying by around me." Blaine desperately wanted to cuddle with Kurt now.
"Kurt, maybe you should go get checked out. If you're really feeling that-"
"Blaine," Kurt stopped him. "They told me that I'm okay, and I want to believe them, okay? If only for a little while." Blaine stopped to consider it, looking at how drained Kurt was, how pale, and decided he needed someone who was just on his side.
"Okay," he decided. "But I'm worried about those headaches of yours."
"Me too. The one I got earlier was the worst I've ever had, and I've stayed home from school because of migraines... but you know that," Kurt said with a sigh. "I have to stop telling you stuff about myself. You already know everything."
"Very true," Blaine said with a laugh. "And I know you well enough to know that you didn't take a bite of that delicious vegetable lasagna, and you must be starving."
"You really need to stop reading my mind," Kurt said with a laugh as Blaine clambered out of bed. "Where are you going?"
"Come on," Blaine said, pulling Kurt up. "Let's go get you some food."
"I don't think I've ever snuck around downstairs while my dad was asleep upstairs," Kurt whispered with a giggle as he led Blaine down the stairs.
"Careful on the third one," Blaine muttered. It wasn't that he had snuck around the Hummel-Hudson house a lot, of course, but he did know a little more about the creaky stair than Kurt did, considering he had no memory of the house.
"Clearly you've snuck around downstairs while my dad was asleep upstairs," Kurt whispered as he hopped over the creaky stair.
"I can't believe you haven't," Blaine whispered in return, and really, they were being silly. Not only would Burt not be woken up by the normal volume of their voices, but he would probably be happy that Kurt was eating. "Did you forget your childhood too?"
There were two possible reactions to Blaine's joke. Either Kurt would flip out again and yell at Blaine (which would definitely wake up Burt), or Kurt would laugh.
Kurt giggled. "Actually, it's about the only thing I remember clearly at this point," he teased in return as they snuck through the living room. At this point, they were probably only really being sneaky for their own amusement.
"I hope it was awesome then," Blaine teased as they reached the kitchen, probably not having woken anyone up.
"It was... for the most part," Kurt said quietly, and Blaine gave him a soft smile. He knew the story: Burt had bought him pretty much everything he wanted, but he had always been busy and distant, and the place they had spent the most time together was the shop.
Their relationship really had improved in the year and a half that Kurt didn't remember.
"So, I'm guessing you don't really want the vegetable lasagna?" Blaine asked, opening the fridge. There wasn't anything wrong with the vegetable lasagna, it had been great dinner, but it was still vegetable lasagna. As health-conscious as Kurt was (and Blaine had heard it was worse the farther back he went), he couldn't really want to eat that when there was more on hand and he wouldn't hurt Carole's feelings.
"I can't believe no one told me that my Dad had a heart attack," Kurt said quietly. There goes the elephant in the room.
"We didn't remember that you didn't know," Blaine said honestly.
"How could you not remember-" Kurt started angrily, but Blaine cut him off.
"Of course we remember the heart attack. It's just hard not to think of you as someone who was there because you were there. It's the same thing with moving. No one told you that your family had moved because you picked out this house, and you assigned the rooms, and you dealt with the contractors that made the house your own, and you scouted out interest rates on home loans for your father. You were there every step of the way, it's hard to think of you not remembering." That was the best way Blaine could explain it. This was the life they were used to, one where the Hudson-Hummel family was a family that lived in a new house, one where Burt watched his diet because of his heart attack from last year. It was weird to think not everyone lived in their reality.
"And you think this is easy for me?" Kurt demanded, but he didn't sound as angry now.
"Of course not. I think this sucks all around," Blaine said with a sigh, "but we're all dealing with it as best we can. Maybe... maybe while you're shopping with Mercedes tomorrow, we can put together a timeline, Rachel and Finn and I, and make sure we didn't forget to tell you anything else major. We told you about your dad's heart attack, and Burt and Carole getting married, about moving, you know about Dalton, and that you're back at McKinley-"
"Actually, I didn't know that," Kurt interrupted him. "And I'm still missing pieces of that story."
"Yeah, they're called the crazy people you met there, and I think they're a little much for you at the moment." They were too much for any sane person, never mind... whatever Kurt was. Not quite right, Blaine knew that much.
"Did I like Dalton?" Kurt asked curiously
"Why do you ask?" Blaine asked, kind of surprised that Kurt was wondering. Not that he expected Kurt to remember (he was getting better at that), but he couldn't imagine why Kurt would think he wouldn't.
"Because I'm back at McKinley," Kurt answered casually, "and I wouldn't have returned to McKinley, a place I vividly remember hating, if I had liked Dalton..."
"Kurt, McKinley isn't the same place as the one you remember. We went to Prom there and didn't get murdered or kicked out by Principal Figgins, there are people working towards gay rights... it's a whole different school. And as far as I'm aware, you liked Dalton, and you liked the Warblers, but you love the New Directions more than anything, and I'm willing to bet that was the same back then."
Kurt was looking rather dejectedly at the ground. "Actually, no. I mean, Sectionals, the one I remember, was amazing, but we were still childish and fighting and arguing about Driz... Beth and who was really at fault for that whole mess."
"Well, I'm sorry that's what you remember," and that would explain why he hadn't exactly been excited when Rachel and Santana came by the hospital, "but the New Directions is one big, crazy, incestuous family now, and I'm pretty sure they would trade anything for you to take your proper place in that family again." Blaine pulled out a surprisingly-not-gross freezer fettuccine alfredo. It was one of Kurt's guilty pleasures, and the perfect comfort food.
"I don't know them," was Kurt's miserable-sounding answer.
"You will," Blaine answered simply. "They know you, the way you were before and the way you are now, and they love you no matter what."
"Why do you love me?"
Blaine whirled around to look at Kurt in surprise, hitting several random microwave buttons as he did so, but Kurt appeared to be completely serious. "No."
"What do you mean, 'no?'" Kurt asked, sounding kind of angry.
"No, we're not talking about this."
"Blaine-"
"No," Blaine said more firmly.
"Blaine, tell me."
"Kurt, I already told you everything that happened between us, I already told you every moment we shared that was special and every stupid thing I did when I was too oblivious for words. I would pay to have a fresh start in this relationship, and I'm not missing this chance by saying something stupid."
"Who says you're going to say something stupid?"
"You really don't know me, do you?" Blaine asked with a self-deprecating chuckle.
"What if I promised you I won't judge you on what you say?"
"I would reply as follows: 'oh, come on. That's a cheap trick, even for you,'" Blaine said, with as much eye rolling and finger waving as he could put into it, making Kurt laugh.
"Blaine, why won't you just tell me?"
"Kurt, trust me. Love sounds absolutely crazy to people who aren't in it. You would think I was a total nut job, and possibly a stalker who's going to cut off your skin and wear it to my birthday party."
Kurt laughed. "I love that movie."
"I know," Blaine said with a smile. "It's one of the only wildly inappropriate movies you put up with. And the story's violent to boot."
"This story's about to get violent if you don't tell me why." Blaine snorted at that. Yes, he knew Kurt was stronger than he looked (it would be almost impossible not to be), but there was no way Kurt was stronger than him. "Don't doubt a Cheerio. Ever."
"And I wouldn't," Blaine said very seriously, "if we were talking about the degree to which they can separate their legs... and I'm not even making a dirty joke." Kurt looked like he was fighting a smile. It was that pout. The 'what you just said was funny, but I'm still annoyed with you' pout that Blaine was mildly-familiar with. Or extremely-familiar with. Either way.
"Blaine. Tell me."
"Maybe later," Blaine hedged. "Maybe when you're not feeling so woozy, and you've been re-introduced to the New Directions and the Warblers, and once we're back in school, and you don't have any more headaches."
"Is that a maybe or a promise?" Kurt asked very seriously, and Blaine sighed.
"A promise," he said, not entirely sure if he was being honest. "Who knows, maybe by that time, you'll feel the same way."
"I..."
"Kidding," Blaine lied. "You know, you asked me this question once, while we were dating."
"I don't suppose I can trick you by asking what you said?"
"Not a chance. But I have to say, my answer now is the same as it was then."
"Do we have a deal?" Kurt asked, and he held out a hand. Thankfully, the microwave beeped, and Blaine didn't have to shake it. Instead, he placed Kurt's dinner in it, checking first to make sure it wasn't too hot to touch.
"Deal. Bon appetit," he said with a smile as he grabbed two forks, and Kurt rolled his eyes. "What?"
"You're an overgrown child."
"That's far, far from the first time you've told me that."
"Not shocking." They sat down at the table and Kurt started in on his food like he was famished. Blaine only had to raise one eyebrow to ask. "What? Hospital food is disgusting, even the kind they give to the patients."
"I'm aware," Blaine said, and then realized he had slipped up. Kurt put down his fork for a moment, taking a long look at him.
"Why were you at Dalton?" Kurt asked, and he was more than willing to tell his story.
"Why do you assume it's not because I have a trust fund and a mansion?" Blaine asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Maybe because I didn't know either of those things about you," Kurt said, raising his eyebrow in return.
"Touché," Blaine said, using the fork he had taken from the drawer to steal a few of Kurt's noodles. Kurt, surprisingly, didn't object.
"Are we going to have some sort of Lady and the Tramp moment?" he asked, eyebrow still raised as Blaine continued stealing his food.
"Only if you want to," Blaine replied, done stealing Kurt's dinner. "We don't have any meatballs though."
"What happened to you?"
"Same thing that happens to every other gay kid in Ohio: gay-bashing. I got bashed, I ran away to a protective curtain of money, end of story."
"Then why are you coming to McKinley? And don't say it's because of me. I know it is, but I just... I mean why are you risking coming to McKinley?"
"Well, since you don't want me to say it's because of you, I'm going to have to go with the fact that I've grown up a lot since I was a freshman, and I think I'm ready to face the big, bad world again."
"Are you a senior?"
Blaine shook his head. "Junior."
"Wow." Blaine raised an eyebrow in his direction. "I never pictured myself for a cradle-robber." For some reason, that was the funniest thing both of them had ever heard, and Blaine wouldn't have been shocked if Burt and Carole had come tumbling down the stairs to yell at them (not Finn. He slept like the dead).
"Number one," Blaine started once they had both almost controlled themselves, but then Kurt let out another little puff of laughter, and they were both laughing again. "Number one," he tried again as Kurt stood up to get some water, "one year doesn't count as cradle-robbing."
"Sure it doesn't," Kurt said from the refrigerator.
"Number two," Blaine continued, ignoring that, "you can never really picture the person you've going to become."
"That's philosophical," Kurt replied.
"But if I get a say, and I always give myself a say, I know you're a pretty great one. And you'll figure out who that person is again, eventually."
Kurt didn't say anything, and for a long second there was silence. Then Kurt stood up from grabbing a water and turned to face Blaine. "Are you hitting on me?"
"I've actually been trying really hard not to," Blaine said honestly, but Kurt didn't seem to find that funny.
"You're not doing a very good job."
Blaine choked on his own spit at the bluntness of Kurt's statement. "I... hitting on you and complimenting you are two different things."
"Not when you're my... when we're in a situation like this," Kurt said, hesitating on Blaine's title the same way the tenor did mentally. "Look, I know this must be confusing for you-"
"'Confusing for me?' No, this is heartbreaking for me. It's 'confusing' for you, maybe, and you're certainly 'confusing' me, but I know exactly what has happened." He had no idea how they had gone from quietly arguing about love to fighting about compliments. He would use the phrase 'emotional roller coaster' if it weren't so cliched.
"Why are you angry?" Kurt demanded. "If anyone has a right to be angry, it's me. I lost a significant portion of my life, and everyone says it was a great one."
"You know why everyone says that?" Blaine asked, and oh God, this was such bad word vomit. He couldn't stop talking. Now he knew what it felt like to be Rachel. "Because you met me. Because you came to Dalton with me. Because you grew up and chilled out with me by your side. So don't you tell me I don't have a right to be angry." Why couldn't he stop talking? And why was he standing up?
"None of that means you have a right to be angry with me," Kurt said, storming across the room to face Blaine head on.
The room froze. There was one incredibly intense moment, all the hair standing up on Blaine's arms, and he had a feeling Kurt could sense the tension.
"If this was any other day, you would kiss me right now, wouldn't you?" Kurt asked, his whisper sounding all the more dramatic for the fact that they had been yelling at each other only a few seconds ago.
"Yes," Blaine answered honestly, because Kurt was stunning when he was angry, eyes a shiny blue and cheeks flushed with indignation.
"Do it." Blaine stared at Kurt in shock. If Brittany was my first kiss, and Karofsky was my second, that would make you my third." It was weird to see Kurt mention Karofsky and that incident without flinching, but considering he didn't actually remember and he only knew the story, it probably wasn't quite as traumatic. "Don't you want the chance to be my first?"
"You have no idea how badly I want that," Blaine whispered, leaning just a smidgen closer.
They jumped apart so fast when the lights suddenly turned on that they banged their foreheads.
"Oh, I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?" Carole asked from the doorway. She looked unfairly amused. "Shouldn't you two be sleeping?" She didn't even seem to disapprove of what had almost happened. She just seemed to be enjoying torturing them.
"I..." Kurt looked over at Blaine like he had just woken up from a dream. "I just came down to grab some dinner," he said, pointing awkwardly at the fetuccine alfredo dish still resting on the table.
"We were just... talking," Blaine added, suddenly feeling a lead ball of guilt in his stomach. "I'm just... gonna go upstairs." He ducked around Carole and her slightly-smug smirk, heading straight for the guest room and locking the door for good measure.
"Okay, new rule," he muttered to himself, not really caring anymore if he sounded like (or was) a crazy person. "No taking advantage of Kurt."
A/N: I'm sorry if this chapter seems... fragmented, but that's the way it was written, and I based an entire scene off a situation which I had already addressed earlier in the story (I'm glad I checked), but I liked the scene so I only half-rewrote it, and for the life of me I can't think of anything better. So, for the sake of turning writer's block into a game, try to guess which scene it is!
Um. Not much else to say. No idea how long it's been since I've updated this story, so I should probably apologize just in case. Statistically it's the safe thing to do.
No songs used. I don't know how to spell 'fetuccine aldredo,' according to my computer, and, as always...
Reviews are Love.
