A/N: Hi everyone! It's been FOREVER, but the Klaine/Finchel apartment fic is finally updated! Thank you so much to every single person who favorited, alerted, or reviewed. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and that you'll be kind enough to keep reviewing! Much love!
Kurt first got suspicious on the day he smelled the cedar.
It was a faint scent, sure, but Kurt's olfactory senses had been honed by a lifetime of dissecting top notes from heart notes in the search for the perfect cologne, and he prided himself on his ability to pick up even the faintest vestige of woodsy musk. He followed the smell, frowning slightly, to the edge of the kitchen counter and crouched to find a handful of cedar shavings scattered across the linoleum.
"Blaine?" he called, scooping the shavings up in one hand. No answer. "Blaine!"
"Yeah, Kurt?"
"Are you playing Boggle on your phone again?" There was silence again. "Blaine!"
"Eon! Hell yes, no one ever gets eon - Sorry, Kurt, what?"
"I said are you - oh, never mind, I know the answer. But stay with me a second here. Do you have any idea why there are wood chips all over the floor?"
There was another silence and Kurt popped up from behind the granite, expecting to find his boyfriend bent over and pecking wildly at his little iPhone screen. But the iPhone was lying forgotten on the countertop and Blaine was staring at him, all deer-in-the-headlights, with a rosy blush creeping into his cheeks.
"Ohhhkay, that is a frightening expression. What did you do?"
Blaine's eyebrows shot skyward. "Nothing, Kurt. Why would you even susp -" He quieted at Kurt's bitch face. "Umm, okay, I'm sorry, I really didn't want to say anything but you know how Finn's gym bag smells up the whole living room?" Kurt gave him a "go-on" nod, one immaculately plucked eyebrow arched. "Well, I offered to show him how to make a cedar sachet, as a fun craft, you know? And then I convinced him to stick it in his duffel bag. It should keep the stench down and I know your sensitive nose will appreciate that!"
Kurt nodded cautiously. " And Finn spilled shavings in the middle of your little art project?" he asked.
"He must have. Sorry I didn't clean up after him properly. It's a full-time job, you know," Blaine said fondly. Kurt was seized with a sudden desire to kiss his boyfriend for taking such good care of both his brother and him.
This desire was killed when Blaine groaned. "Man, somebody else got eon while we were talking..."
Kurt found his suspicions roused again a few days later. It was late - Blaine had had a recital, which meant all four of them pretty much had to go out for celebratory ice cream afterwards - and they had just settled into bed for the night when he heard it.
Blaine was draped over Kurt, his curls tickling the small triangle of chest exposed by Kurt's silky pajama top. Blaine always fell asleep first, and his breath was already even and slow, his entire body rising and falling with each of Kurt's steady inhales. Kurt loved these moments before his own sleep overtook him, loved watching the man that meant the world to him so peaceful or listening to the unerring thunk of his heartbeat, when their positions were reversed. He was raking his fingers through Blaine's hair - they both found it incredibly comforting - but when he heard the loud squeaking noise, they knotted in the curls hard enough that Blaine jerked awake, a murderous look on his face.
"What the hell are you doing, Kurt?" he hissed.
Kurt waved away Blaine's sleep-induced bitchiness - he was used to it, Lord knows. "Do you hear that?"
Blaine didn't even cock his head to listen. "What I HEAR is you having a random-ass need to pull my hair which, don't get me wrong, is one of the best things you do in some situations but when a man is trying to sleep -"
Kurt flinked him in the nose - not hard, just enough to get his attention. "Listen, drama queen. Do you hear that weird squeaking noise?"
"I've told you before, the only sexy part of listening in on Finn and Rachel is that note she hits at the end. I have no interest in listening to the mattress creaking as Finn -"
"OK! Do not go any farther with that scenario! Lord, you worry me when you talk about these things like you've spent time imagining them. And anyway, that is not 'bed-rocking' squeaking. If you would shut up and listen -"
Blaine finally did as he was told. The noise was faint, but it was there, a regular and insistent "squeak-squeak-squeak."
"I'll go check it out," Blaine said, his just-woken-up angst receding. He peeled himself away from Kurt and out of the bed, tucking the covers back around his boyfriend as he slipped through the door into the living room.
Kurt lay blinking in the darkness of their room. The squeaking continued. He heard what sounded like a muffled whisper and the noise stopped for a moment, then started again. A door - Finn and Rachel's - opened and closed. The squeaking stopped.
Blaine slid back into the bed, his hands snaking around Kurt as he wiggled back into his earlier position.
"What was it?" Kurt asked when it was clear Blaine wasn't offering his own explanation.
"Turns out I was right. Your brother and best friend were totally getting it on, and man were they -"
"OK! Good night then!"
Blaine giggled a little at Kurt's panic and snuggled harder into his chest. "I love you."
"Yeah, yeah, I love you too. Now go to sleep, you creepy little voyeur."
"Your pet names are always so endearing," Blaine mumbled against Kurt's skin.
Kurt just tangled his fingers in Blaine's hair once more and gazed down at the beautiful boy entwined around him.
It wasn't even Kurt that found the third suspicious clue. It was Rachel. She had drafted Finn and Blaine for a marathon session of gift wrapping - she was presenting each of her Company castmates... and the entire orchestra... and the crew... and set designers... with gold star keychains - and she took a brief break from rewrapping every one of Finn's packages when Blaine sucked in a breath and started shaking his finger.
"Blaine?" she questioned, looking up with concern.
"Oh, I just caught my finger on the tape dispenser," he whined, wincing but waving her away even as she dropped her scissors and climbed gingerly over the sheets of wrapping paper to kneel beside him.
"Hand," she commanded, and when Blaine didn't immediately offer it, she grabbed anyway. She turned his palm over to study the cut better and frowned. "Umm, Blaine?" He looked up at her, a too-innocent grin stretched across his features. "Finn has the exact same kind of cuts on his fingers, don't you, honey? Finn!"
There was a ripping noise as Finn snapped to attention, tearing the package he was holding in his haste. He held up both hands in self-defense, revealing Hello Kitty bandaids on every finger.
Rachel brushed a thumb along the scabs of Blaine's fingertips. "I swear, they almost look like tiny bite marks. What did you say yours were from, Finn?"
"Uhh, posterboard cuts?"
Blaine gave him an incredulous look from behind Rachel, mouthing out a "SERIOUSLY?" He struggled to put his innocent mask back on as the brunette spun to face him. "Oh, yeah, Rachel, I was helping Finn with his… science project…" he stammered, struggling not to roll his eyes at his own story and shrugging slightly when Finn threw the look of incredulity back at him.
"While I truly appreciate whatever help you give Finn, you shouldn't be hurting yourself doing it! You won't do me much good as a wrapper if you're bleeding all over the packages. I'm going to bandage you up properly – I'm surprised Kurt hasn't already done it himself –" Her words trailed off as Rachel disappeared into the bathroom. A few minutes later, she reappeared with a grin and a metal bandaid box in the shape of a cat's head. Blaine groaned, but – much like Finn – secretly loved the idea of having kittens gazing back at him all day long.
Kurt only found out about the incident later that day, when Rachel scolded him for letting his boyfriend's wounds go untended. "They looked like bite marks?" he asked again, urging Rachel to expand.
"Yes but he was helping Finn with a science project and they both got posterboard cuts -"
"Have you SEEN this science project?" Kurt asked.
There was a moment when he was sure Rachel was right with him on seeing through the web of lies. Then she scoffed. "No, but I'm sure they did it while we were at rehearsals. Or shopping. They wouldn't hide anything from us - would they?"
Kurt just inclined his head in answer.
"What do you think it is, Kurt? What do you - oh Lord, Kurt, you don't think they've joined a fight club, do you?"
"What? No -"
"You don't understand, the week and a half Finn was in a fight club was the most terrifying period of my life. He'd drag through the door with blood spilling out his nose -"
"Are you sure he hadn't just blown his nose too hard again?"
"-and I had to give him backrubs every night for two months because he pinched a nerve -"
"How is it that you were class salutatorian and yet you believe every story my dim brother tells you?"
"- and one time he - wait, what?"
"They're not in a fight club, Rachel. If you'll listen to me for just a minute, I will tell you my theory!"
She fell silent, her lips working slightly with the effort of being quiet. "OK."
Kurt glanced toward the living room. Chainsawing noises were spilling out, accompanied by jubilant whoops, as the boys in question got their X-Box fix. He gestured Rachel up and led her into his room.
Rachel sat, frowning and nodding, on the end of the bed as Kurt paced and explained - first about the cedar shavings. Rachel literally bounced. "Yes, I saw Finn throwing away an almost-full bag of cedar shavings a few days ago."
"Did he explain what they had been for?"
"Well, he got sort of red and tried to tell me that he and Blaine were doing something with them, but I was overwhelmed that he was throwing away a perfectly compostable material -"
Kurt pressed the base of his palm to his temple. "We live in an apartment in New York City, we don't even - " He sighed. "Anyway, a few nights ago, I heard this loud squeaking noise, and Blaine thought -" Kurt's cheeks were abruptly peachy. "Blaine thought maybe you and Finn were..."
Rachel squinted. "Thought we were what?"
"You know..." Kurt waved a hand that was supposed to be nonchalant. "...'bed-rocking.'"
Rachel actually snorted in response. "Honestly, Kurt, we're both adults here, I'd think you could talk about intercourse without getting uncomfortable!" She doubled over, still gasping out giggles.
"See, you calling it 'intercourse'? Way worse," he muttered.
"In answer to your unasked question, I heard this squeaking noise a few nights ago, too. Actually Finn kept trying to convince me that you and Blaine were enjoying one another's attentions, but I know your mattress doesn't make that kind of noise."
"So it wasn't either one of - wait, what? How do you know what kind of noise my mattress makes?"
"Nope, none of if was us. So you must have a theory, Kurt. You said you did."
"I - you haven't answered my question!"
Rachel flipped her hair over one shoulder. "That's OK. I've assembled the clues myself. Cedar shavings, squeaking noises in the night, paperboard cuts on their fingers and general secretiveness -"
"I think they're hiding a hamster," Kurt blurted out.
"That is not where I was going, but that actually makes a lot of sense."
"Come on. Confrontation time." Kurt grabbed Rachel's hand and pulled her off his bed, through the kitchen and into the living room. Neither of their boyfriends looked up as they stormed into the room. Kurt stepped in front of the TV - there was a loud squishing sound and animated blood splashed onto the screen behind him.
"Kurt, we're almost done." Blaine's voice was soft and pleading.
"Oh my gosh, I'm dying, I'm dying Kurt get out of the way -" Finn continued to mash buttons blindly until Kurt inched his foot back and, without looking, used his big toe to press the power button. Finn threw the controller at the floor hard enough that it bounced, and Rachel scolded him for his immaturity until Kurt gave her a silencing glare.
When Kurt had all three roommates' undivided attention, he let out a lengthy breath and just came out with it. "Are you guys hiding a hamster?"
Blaine covered immediately - "what in the world would make you think that?" - but Finn gave them both away by sliding down into the couch, guilt written all over his face.
"Where is it, Finn?"
"Where's what?" Finn choked.
"The hamster."
Blaine, too, was shrinking into the couch cushions now. The two boys looked at each other and each bit their lips, wincing with anticipation but refusing to speak.
"Only you two could hide a hamster in an apartment this size. Now where have you stuffed the poor thing? And why do you even have a hamster?"
"They were going to experiment on him!" Finn suddenly wailed. "He was the experiment hamster in my zoology class and I – I couldn't let them inject him with steroids and stuff, I just couldn't. So I rescued –" The rest of Finn's words were obscured as Rachel flung herself on top of him, peppering him with kisses.
Blaine curled up on himself even more as he was suddenly the sole recipient of Kurt's attention. "Blaine, baby, where's the hamster?" Kurt simpered sweetly, dangerously.
"It's uh, it's - it's – just let me show you," he sighed, pushing himself up.
Kurt followed him into the kitchen worriedly. His apprehensions were not assuaged when Blaine opened one of the bottom cabinet doors and revealed, in a clearing of pots and pans, a small metal cage, lined with wood shavings and mounted with a big plastic wheel. Sleeping soundly in the middle was a downy grey hamster, its nose twitching slightly.
Blaine braced himself for the explosion: "YOU'RE LETTING THIS RODENT LIVE WHERE WE KEEP OUR COOKING UTENSILS? DO YOU KNOW WHAT KIND OF DISEASES THEY CARRY? WE COULD ALL HAVE DIED! THIS IS THE MOST UNSANITARY THING I HAVE EVER WITNESSED –"
But Kurt only poked a finger through the cage bars, straining to pet the soft-looking fur. As his skin finally made contact, the hamster popped awake and turned on a dime, teeth bared. Kurt yanked back just in time, flexing his saved digit. "Yeah, Hammy's kind of a biter," Blaine said apologetically, wiggling his own bandaged fingers.
"Hammy?"
"Finn named him, I am not responsible."
"Well, I guess we should just be thankful it's not Drizzle," Kurt snickered softly. The disgruntled hamster pressed its nose against the bars and Kurt had to actively restrain himself from tickling it. "He's kind of sweet, really."
Blaine giggled. "Finn or Hammy?"
Kurt snorted and pointed into the cage. "Well, let's bring him out here. If we're going to keep him we can't very well leave him in the cupboard."
"Keep him?" Blaine asked, eyebrows rising.
"You heard Finn, they were going to experiment on him. And Rachel would probably be prostrated at the idea of selling him to a pet shop –"
Blaine hugged Kurt unexpectedly and then ducked to pull the cage out from under the cabinet, jarring Hammy, who chittered unhappily.
They found Finn and Rachel still on the couch. "Hey, hey, not in front of innocent eyes!" Blaine called.
"Your eyes are far from innocent," Rachel said without moving.
Blaine held up the cage, and Finn, finally seeing, pushed Rachel off of him. "He's talking about Hammy."
"Hammy?"
"Your boyfriend named him," Blaine said defensively for the second time.
The other couple peered into the cage Blaine had set on the coffee table. "Oh, he's too cute," Rachel squealed, reaching out tentatively to touch the hamster's nose through the bars.
"WAIT!" all three boys yelled in unison. "He's a biter!"
While there were moments when Hammy's life was threatened (the day the "no pets" clause in their rental agreement was questioned, the time he bit Blaine's fingers right before a major classical guitar performance, and every single night when that wheel went "squeak-squeak-squeaking" into oblivion), there was never any question of where the hamster belonged. He was part of the family, now.
