June 1993
"I wish I could go to Neverland. I'd teach that ol' Captain Hook a thing or two," Blaine said, eyes darting between the piece of paper in his hand and Dani.
"I'm sure you would, John. Now, if you don't mind, Michaela and I are reading," Dani replied, her eyes darting between her own piece of paper, tucked into the old law text book on her lap, and Blaine. She laughed. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It's just you're holding a paper towel role like you're ready to charge into battle."
Blaine looked at his out stretched arm and flushed. He dropped it a little closer to his side. "I'm… I'm just trying to get into character."
"You're doing good B," Kurt said fondly appearing at his side and giving him a peck on the cheek.
"Unlike some people," Blaine continued to Dani.
"You tell her, B."
"Oi, Peter! You're supposed to be all over Wendy, not John. Or is this some sort of reimagining?" Sam asked from where he was leaning against Dani.
"Okay, okay, back at it guys. I only got two more weeks." Kurt relented, extracting himself from Blaine's side and walking back to the other side of the couch, their designated off stage. "So, from Dani's line. And action!"
"Now if you don't mind, Micheala and I are reading," she managed without incident this time.
"I want to see," Sam said leaning over her shoulder.
"You can see just fine," Dani replied with a little too much snark than Blaine thought entirely appropriate for Wendy but which certainly captured the actress sitting cross legged on the floor in a grey beanie and stud nose ring.
"No. I want to uh, I want to see the uh… What does that say?" Sam fumbled as he lost his place and then squinted at the hand written script.
"Shadow," Kurt called from behind the couch.
"Oh. I want to see the shadow."
Blaine almost laughed at the proud grin on the blonde's face when he got through the line. He bit the inside of cheek to contain himself though. It had taken them a pathetic forty minutes to get through the first scene and he knew Kurt needed to practice. He looked over to where Kurt was wincing, pressing a few fingers to his temples. He caught his eye and gave him the best sympathetic smile he could muster. Kurt gave him an eye role in return but smiled eventually and Blaine watched as his shoulder's visibly relaxed while almost missing his line.
"… he can claim it."
"If he comes back," Blaine rushed, nervous about his almost mistake. "I'm going to ask him to take me to Neverland."
"I want to go to Neverland," Sam said, turning to him with the most enthusiastic grin that Blaine almost thought that Sam had forgotten that this was a play and actually believed in the magical land of eternal youth.
"All right then," Kurt called without a script, hopping up on the back on the couch, hands on his hips like Super Man, with a grace and agility that caught Blaine off guard. "What's keeping you?"
They managed to get through three more scenes before hunger set in and ridiculousness of everyone except Kurt playing multiple parts became too much. At that point, pizza was ordered and beers were passed around.
"So aren't you like out of a job now that the people finally came to their senses and ousted the Republicans?" Dani asked, curled up in an arm chair, beer in one hand, pizza in the other.
Blaine chuckled at her obvious disapproval. He had been around Kurt and his friends for long enough now that political jabs more or less rolled off his back. The scene in front of him was a typical Friday through Sunday night at his house these days and they always came with a certain dialogue. "Well no," he answered. "A party doesn't just disappear when the other gets the presidency. We still hold seats in congress and they all want to keep them so they still give me a pay cheque."
"The whole thing doesn't really seem right. How political parties can just cherry pick who gets to vote for who."
"Exactly," Blaine grinned. "That's precisely what I prevent." Dani gave him a sceptical look. "Should I show you the I-85 district we defeated? It was totally handpicked."
Sam was sitting cross legged on the floor, his blonde head whipping back and forth between the two. Kurt groaned from he was perched on the on the arm of the couch next to him. "Please don't. Dani, please don't encourage him. I thought we were done with this."
"When people paint me like the bad guy I'm going to defend myself," Blaine shrugged because although he'd gotten used to the questions and misconceptions and had learned to drop the defensive tone, he wasn't just going to let them win. "And really, people call us racist by breaking up an African American district that was seriously constructed house by house but isn't it more racist for the Democrats to just assume that all African Americans are going to vote the same way."
"Okay," Kurt said putting a hand on his shoulder. "Let's maybe not discuss this while you're a little drunk and still very much white."
"I'm sure it wasn't just race they all had in common," Dani continued despite Kurt's hesitance and giving Blaine a pointed look. "I'm sure they all had similar class upbringings and living conditions. Similar education."
"Okay, okay, fair enough. But like I told the judge, none of that matters. And it doesn't. Not in the eyes of the law anyway. The only thing that matters is that the district was constructed house by house and that, my friends, is illegal. Because African Americans aren't the only under represented group in this country. Women, Native Americans, the gay community, atheists. And then you can say that everyone in politics is a lawyer so where are all the doctors, scientists, phycologists, teachers? And so if we say the I-85 district is okay then where will it stop? We'll have districts that are one house on this block and then maybe two on the next. Entire apartment buildings will be split up unit by unit. And so we need to keep districts in square, evenly populated blocks. Like a grid."
"Slippery slope," she chimed. Almost unaware of it, a small smile crept on to Blaine's face while Sam asked for clarification. Blaine already understood perfectly the implication of her words though. "His argument," Dani answered Sam. "It's the slippery slope argument and there's nothing less stable than the slippery slope argument."
Blaine's smiled grew. She was right and she was smart enough to know it. He had always had a soft spot for women who could hold their own in this world. He brought his beer to his lips to hide his approval because he knew from experience that women who could hold their own typically didn't appreciate the approval of their intelligence from the man they were arguing with.
He pulled the bottle from his lips and shrugged. "Some slopes are steeper than others." Blaine hated resorting to slippery slope arguments. By definition, you were starting yourself off on thin ice but he believed in the grid and the I-85 district wasn't a simple step down a ten degree grade. It was a step off a cliff into oblivion.
"I see," Dani said taking a sip of her beer. "So what are you working on now?"
"A similar case in Louisiana."
"So this is literally all you do."
"Yup. As Kurt so kindly put it once, I just fucking play with maps all day. But Quinn and I are just consulting on this one. We're not the trial lawyers."
"You talk about Quinn a lot."
"She's his work wife," Kurt added. "She's blonde."
"Ooh. Like me," Sam piped up. Blaine gave him a nod hoping the conversation could steer more towards hair colours and away from his apparent employment with the devil. He could talk about the colour of Kurt's hair for days and he suspected Dani could do the same about her own blue locks.
"Oh, you know her?" Dani asked Kurt, squashing his hope.
"Well I know who she is. But that's more than I know about anyone else he works with."
"They know about you?"
Kurt huffed out an unamused laugh beside him. "Quinn does."
"I see," Dani said shooting Blaine another one of her dirty looks.
"Excuse me," Blaine said, getting up from the couch, his right side left cold without Kurt's body heat pressing against it. He gathered up a few empty beer bottles and the empty pizza box and took them into the kitchen. He could hear hushed conversation behind him and he knew that if he stopped and tried to listen he would probably be able to but he didn't want to. He sorted the empties into the recycling and then made his way upstairs and into the bathroom. Looking into the mirror he tried to recreate the disapproving looks he'd been on the receiving end of. It was difficult. It was cold and questioning without being ugly. Dani still managed to look cute beneath her scowl which gave him hope that although she made no pause about judging others, her verdict could be swayed in the future if the right argument was presented. It was getting harder to muster that fight though which scared him in a way. There was a part of him that liked how protective Kurt's friends were though. Because, after all, at the end of the day that's what most of the commotion was. They were all just concerned that Kurt had shacked up with some closeted nut case who was composed entirely of internalized homophobia that would seep out of every crevice and take every opportunity to make its hate known. They were all wrong of course but it was amazing how right they were too. It wasn't any sort of internal hate that threatened Kurt. It was the virus, the virus that was ceasing more and more territory within him with every breath.
He opened the cabinet and picked up the first of the six little orange bottles.
"You okay?"
Blaine looked up from the trial papers he was going over. He hadn't felt up to rejoin the gathering. Kurt was standing in the door way, his beer traded in for two mugs of tea. "Nauseas but I think we're in the clear." He was on minute thirty one and hadn't thrown up his dinner yet. Usually that meant his stomach would let him keep it down.
"Good," Kurt smiled. "They headed out," he added walking into the room and taking a seat beside him on the bed and handing Blaine a mug.
"Thanks," he said taking a sip of the peppermint tea. He had his reservations as to the anti-nausea effects of the drink but Kurt bought it and brewed it for him anyways. Blaine even found a box in his work bag one day. And it was warm and tasted good so he drank it. Blaine sometimes suspected that it helped Kurt more than it helped him. "I'll just be minute."
"Okay," Kurt said, picking up his script.
Blaine glanced over and smiled at all the notes Kurt had made in the margins. It was so marked up that it could have been one of his depositions.
They sat in silence until well after their tea had been drunk and their eyes were growing weary of black font on white pages. He didn't know if he was being paranoid or not but Blaine couldn't help but feel that he grew tired quicker these days. It could be all in his head or it could be just from age but every time he blinked away the sleep or had to go back over the line he had just read, he started to question. Eventually it became too unsettling and he set his work aside. Kurt was still reading, the cap on his pen off and in his mouth so the ink was ready to go. He leant his head onto Kurt's shoulder and closed his eyes. It was raining outside. The pitter patter on the windows was steady and sharp. He hadn`t noticed it before but it was soothing now.
He felt a kiss pressed to the top of his head. "Sorry for the third degree."
He shrugged. "I'm used to it."
"You shouldn't be."
Blaine felt Kurt's arm move and heard the familiar scratch of pen on paper. "Well my job may be the problem but it's also afforded me many years of preparation. You looked really good tonight," he continued absentmindedly, moving his hand to rest against the bottom hem of Kurt's shirt. "You had all your lines down and you were really convincing."
"Yeah?" Kurt asked.
Blaine hummed in response and then it was quiet again. Still too. No scribbling. No turning pages. Then Blaine felt Kurt lean away. He winked open an eye to and saw him setting his script and pen on his night stand and then he was leaning back, scooting down the bed a little so he capture Blaine's lips with his.
"I could make it up to you." His tone was playful now, the seriousness seemingly put away for the night with his work.
"What? The interrogation?"
"Mhmm."
"Well that seems a little unnecessary," he laughed as Kurt continued to kiss him, his lips moving to his neck as he talked. "But I'm not protesting."
Kurt quickly climbed on top of his hips, his hands resting on either side of Blaine's head. Blaine could feel his index fingers toying with ends of his curls out from the gel. Their lips connected again, not too pleased at being parted and stayed busy with each other as Kurt's hips worked down in a perfected circular motion on top of his. Blaine placed his hands firmly against his hips but did nothing to guide their movements. Kurt knew what he was doing and did it all too well.
"What did you have in mind?" Blaine asked when his cock was starting strain a little too much against his pants.
Kurt sat up a little, stilling his hips. He looked him hard in the eye. And Blaine knew before the proceeding head nod towards his bedside table where the unused condom from the doctor's office had ended up. He shook his head.
"Okay," Kurt nodded in understanding although Blaine couldn't help but wonder how much he could truly understand and how long they could continue this little dance before something snapped. But his thoughts floated away as Kurt's resumed their motion and his lips returned to his briefly before continuing south.
"Okay so we got Sam, Dani, Elliot, and you," Kurt said. Blaine steered him through oncoming pedestrians and sign poles as he counted each name on his fingers, while holding his morning coffee in his other hand. Once he had successfully determined his count to be four and raised his head again, Blaine relaxed and took a sip of his own coffee.
"Uh, what is that?" he said, moving his tongue around at the sugary and certainly not coffee flavour in his mouth while staring perplexed at the white, paper cup as if it would tell him.
Kurt stopped and looked at him, taking a sip of his own. "Mine's fine. It's a caramel latte."
"A what?"
"A caramel latte. There's caramel and steamed milk in it. They're all the rage on the West Coast. Try it again. It's good."
Blaine gave him a skeptical look but took another sip. After getting past the initial shock of the lack of bitter punch is was quite good. He licked some of the milk foam from his lips and turned back to Kurt. Before he could voice his approval though he was met with a bright grin and a quick kiss. It was over and Kurt was continuing down the street before he could begin to panic about being in public.
"Well that was nice," he said when he had caught up. Kurt smiled and gave him a nod. "This is nice too," he said holding up his cup.
"Yeah, James recommended it the other day."
"James?"
"Dread locks. Form Seattle."
"Oh yeah." Blaine remembered him from the St. Patrick's Day party. Mostly because he hadn't seen too many white guys with dread locks in his life.
"Yeah, he says there's some coffee shop there that specializes in these things. He says they're even better than this. He said they've expanded into Canada and along the coast too. So maybe it'll pop up here one day."
"Interesting." Blaine spoke more about Kurt's enthusiasm than the caramel coffee or the shop that promised more. Kurt just had that ability, to indulge his inner child and let his excitement shine without fear of judgement. If fairy tales existed and Blaine could have his own he would spend his long life learning everything he could about Kurt, like his butt wigging and which coffee he deemed acceptable – which he suspected, highly sweetened concoctions with caramel would now have to be added to the list – but most importantly, which things brought him enough joy to ramble in speech and bounce in stride. For the last five months Blaine had more or less watched Kurt fuss over him and it was nice to see that other, more pleasant, things still filled his mind. It gave him hope that when this virus finally won, Kurt wouldn't die alongside him. If it was other way around, Blaine was fairly certain he'd be in the ground the next day. "Well if it does I'll have to take you."
"Promise?"
"The day it opens."
Kurt beamed at him and he beamed back.
"Okay, so back to tickets. There's four of you but I can get six. I was thinking maybe you'd like to invite Quinn."
"Oh," Blaine said, shocked at the suggestion. Although he tended to bring stacks of paper home with him, the people at the office were never invited over. The drive to work in the morning was only twenty minutes but sometimes it felt like he was traversing two completely different worlds. And these worlds may revolve around the same sun but they approach it from different angles and receive its light in different ways. It wasn't just the highway that kept these worlds separate and he did not want to be the one in the crossfire if they were ever to be brought together. Quinn, although accepting in theory, would find herself in shock when presented with it all, loud, and flamboyantly in person. And Kurt who was initially drawn to his courtroom status would finally crumble after years of unsteady ground under Quinn's inevitable laps in composure. He would break up with him and Quinn would turn around and spill the secret she had kept for years around the office and he would be fired. He could see it in his mind clear as day. The union would be as monstrous as the I-85 district and it was his job to strike it down. "Uh, I don't… I just don't really know why I would."
"Do you need a reason?" Kurt asked with a smirk. "The world isn't broken up into little isolated compartments. Everything's already connected. It's like a grid."
