IT'S AN EFFING MONSTER-CHAPTER, YOU GUYS. I DON'T EVEN KNOW.
Also, the season finale of Glee comes on in 38 minutes. And I'm proud of myself, because it was my goal to get it up before said finale. *dances*
Quick note: I'm going to follow canon all the way up through the end of the season (probably. If I mess with it, there won't be major changes), but then, if y'all are still interested, I'm going to do my own version of season 3. It'll be one of my summer projects! (Provided I FINISH THIS FIRST, dammit.)
Enjoy!
"I did it."
Jim's head snapped up. "You better not be fucking with me about this."
Blaine blinked. "What?"
"Did what?" he demanded. "Because I'm almost positive we're not talking about the same thing right now."
"I took your advice. I rehearsed with Kurt."
"I'd say something along the lines of, 'Oh, that's what we're calling it these days?', if I wasn't sure you were actually telling the truth." He heaved a despairing sigh and tossed his physics book carelessly over his shoulder, turning his full attention to the matter at hand. "And?"
Blaine crossed the room on slightly shaky legs and sank down on the edge of his bed. "And it was...amazing. He is incredible."
"Maybe we are talking about the same thing," Jim smirked. "In the commons, Blaine? How undapper of you."
"The song," Blaine clarified, shooting Jim a dirty look. "The song was amazing."
"Apparently. He's reduced your IQ so much that it's almost impossible to have a conversation with you."
"I hate you."
"So you've mentioned." He yawned exaggeratedly. "Let me guess. You stood twenty feet away at all times and undressed each other with your eyes without bothering to get close enough to actually do anything about it?"
Blaine opened his mouth to make a snippy comment, but his brain was otherwise engaged, as memories of Kurt's coy smiles and playful teasing assaulted him. "You- -no," he managed instead. "No, we didn't."
"Ooh, didn'tyou? So what did you do? I'm intrigued."
"We- -we just..." flirted. A lot. And I didn't stop him, because it was really hot.
Wait. No.
Not okay.
"Did you tell him his lips looked delicious?" Jim lowered his voice to what was apparently supposed to be a seductive growl, but actually came out really creepy. "Actually, no, scratch that. Did his lips look delicious?"
Yes. "N-what?"
"Oh, please, I know you looked. You were in fucking mistletoe wonderland. How could you not?" His eyes lit up. "Oh my God, did you kiss him?"
"Jim!" Blaine exploded, burying his ridiculously flushed face into his pillow. "Seriously?"
"Of course you didn't, what the hell am I talking about? You wouldn't even be functional right now if you had. Goddamn, I was so excited, too..."
"I absolutely hate you."
"Ooh, your lips are delicious," Jim crooned in response, and cackled hysterically even as Blaine's other pillow suddenly flew across the room and smacked him in the face.
"Must you torment me so mercilessly?"
"Technically, no, but it's a hell of a lot more interesting than anything else I could be doing," Jim admitted, smirking. "You order the monogrammed linens yet? As his Christmas present, maybe?"
"You do not amuse me."
He fluttered his lashes exaggeratedly. "I'm hilarious, don't lie."
"Whatever."
"No, but seriously, are you getting him a Christmas present?"
Blaine sat up so quickly he gave himself a head rush. "Oh my God, Christmas."
"...yes. Please don't tell me you forgot about Christmas."
"I didn't, but..." His eyes widened. "What do I even get him?"
"So many jokes could be made in this moment. It's just not worth it to try to choose one." Jim sighed loudly. "I swear, Anderson, you are hopeless. Just think about what he likes."
Blaine pondered for about thirty seconds before it occurred to him. He was on his laptop in a moment.
"Come to King's Island with me." It was a few days later, and they were sharing the same couch they'd sung on, attempting to study, when the words slipped unbidden from Blaine's lips.
The book slipped off Kurt's lap and thudded loudly to the ground. "Wh-what?"
Heat pooled in Blaine's cheeks immediately. Jesus, Anderson. Presumptuous, much? But he couldn't bear to take it back now, and Kurt was staring at him, face completely inscrutable. He'd have to play it up. "Please?" He batted his lashes playfully. "It will be so much less painful if I have friends with me."
"What about Wes and David?" Kurt queried uncertainly, his heart racing. If it was just going to be him and Blaine, did that mean- -
"What about us?"
"Ah...are you going to Blaine's King's Island gig?" How they had the innate ability to appear- -together, no less- -completely out of nowhere any time they were mentioned was still way beyond him.
They exchanged a loaded look. "Can't. Sorry, Blainey," Wes replied, bouncing over to pat him on the head. "I have to go to a thing."
"What thing?" Blaine asked suspiciously, swatting him away.
"Uh...family thing!" he improvised wildly. "For my sister!"
David nodded wisely. "I've already promised to go with him. You know how much she loves me. It's my Christmas present to her."
Wes jabbed him hard in the ribs. "Oi. Still my sister."
"Oh, whatever, you get my point."
"Okay, true," he conceded, rolling his eyes. "Dunno what the hell she sees in you."
"Either way, sorry, Blaine! Looks like it's just you and Kurt," David finished with an innocent smile. "But yeah, we have to go now, so bye!" And, with absolutely no ado whatsoever, he grabbed Wes's hand and towed him away.
"I think they've finally lost it," Blaine marveled, shaking his head. "I think the stress has finally gotten to them, and they just snapped."
"What, just now? Please. They were goners long ago." He smiled slightly. "Look, Blaine, I...I'd really love to come see you sing, but I've got so much work..." and it might feel too much like a date, and I might not be able to handle that.
"Oh, come on. You work too hard. You've earned a break," Blaine pressed hopefully, and Kurt toyed with a loose thread on the cuff of his sleeve. "I'll can help you study. I have a system and everything."
And Kurt still hadn't quite mastered the art of Blaine + the word "no" = a possible response, so he nodded.
Which was how he found himself in Blaine's car way too early on Saturday morning, nursing a latte, with his feet surrounded by books. Blaine himself looked uncharacteristically ruffled- -in fact, Kurt was pretty sure his shirt wasn't buttoned correctly. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah. Yep. Fine." Except that he was drumming frenetically on the steering wheel, which, y'know, was just so convincing.
"Blaine, are you nervous?"
"No." Braking at a red light, he closed his eyes briefly and sighed. "I'm sorry I'm so...off today. I'm just...you know how I left practice early yesterday to go rehearse with this girl?"
"Mmhmm?"
"Apparently when my dad told her I'd sing with her, he managed to make her believe that a duet translated to a date."
Kurt made a sympathetic noise in the back of his throat. "Oh, God, that's awful. What'd you do?"
"Explained that while she was a lovely girl, I'm not actually into double-x chromosomes." He shook his head, smiling a little at Kurt's snort. "She took it fine, but it's kinda going to make today awkward."
"Yeah, I can imagine," Kurt murmured, wincing. "Don't let it stress you out, okay? You're so ready for this. You're fantastic, Blaine. And if you have to...just pretend it's not her you're singing to." It was a risky thing to say, for him, and his breath caught at his own recklessness. But either Blaine didn't notice the hidden meaning, or he really, really did, because he answered without thinking.
"God, I wish I could just sing it with you."
Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh. My. God.
Breathing. Breathing was good. Breathing meant life.
He just had to remember how to do it.
When he had finally regained his motor functions, Kurt inhaled tremulously and managed to reply, "Yeah, me too."
Blaine caught his eye in the rearview mirror and smiled so widely that Kurt's heart spluttered. "Maybe one day."
His call was early, obviously. Much earlier than anyone else would bother showing up, unless, of course, they happened to be Kurt Hummel. "Blaine, wait," he blurted out before his friend could disappear into the wings, leaving him to choose a seat and wait around with no one but his books for company.
"What's up?"
"Your shirt's buttoned up wrong," he pointed out, and apparently he'd gone completely insane, because the next thing he knew, he was fixing it. His hands ghosted lightly over the fabric as he carefully undid the top few buttons and fastened them properly, hoping to God that Blaine couldn't feel his fingers trembling.
As it turned out, he didn't have to worry about Blaine noticing anything amiss, because Blaine was actually a little busy trying to remember what oxygen was. He was so aware, almost too aware of every touch, every time Kurt accidentally skimmed his skin. And then all of a sudden, the countertenor was backing up (why? Too much space, why was there so much space between them now?) with an uncertain smile. "There. Now you're perfect."
And then Blaine was hugging him tightly, face kind of buried in Kurt's shoulder, and he probably wouldn't even have remembered that he had a performance to do if someone hadn't called, "Hey, Blaine?"
"Break a leg," Kurt managed breathlessly, and Blaine graced him with another brilliant smile.
"Thanks. For everything."
And then he disappeared.
'Baby, It's Cold Outside' was right in the middle of the program. The house wasn't quite full, and Kurt had managed to stake out a seat a little away from the masses (luck, he guessed, considering he'd been there first); he leaned forward eagerly as Blaine and a pretty blonde came onstage.
He was good- -great, even. But still, Kurt couldn't help but notice that there was something...different about this performance. And it wasn't just that the girl was decidedly less fabulous than he, he thought, allowing himself the briefest moment of smug triumph. There was something different about Blaine. He couldn't quite pinpoint it, or maybe he couldn't let himself put a name to it, but he felt like, just maybe, Blaine had done better singing with Kurt.
Still, when the performance was over and Blaine bounded out into the audience to look for him, he wrapped his friend in another tight hug and exclaimed, "You were fantastic! See, I told you you'd be fine!"
And Blaine just laughed, still kind of high on post-performance adrenaline, thanked him, and whispered, "I liked singing with you better."
Kurt had absolutely no idea how he survived finals week. He suspected, having not actually tested this theory, that were he to get injured in some sort of weird, school supplies related incident, he'd bleed coffee. There was no doubt in his mind that he hadn't gotten more than three hours of sleep any night this week, and that was with the help of Blaine, Paul, Wes and David. He shook his head bemusedly and continued packing. At least at home, he'd be able to rest...
He may or may not have been slightly zoned in front of his suitcase when there was a gentle rap on the door, and Kurt turned, slightly startled. "Blaine! Only you would knock when the door is propped open," he teased lightly, laying the sweater he'd been holding in his suitcase and crossing the room to pull his friend inside. "What's up?"
"Actually..." He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I wanted to give you your Christmas present before you left for home."
"Oh, fantastic, I have something for you, too!"
"You do?" Looking pleased, Blaine walked the rest of the way into the room and sat on the edge of Kurt's bed. "You didn't have to do that."
"Neither did you," he pointed out, smirking and digging through his closet for the craftily wrapped box.
Blaine grinned. "Actually, I kinda did. You'll understand when you see what it is." And, as Kurt finally re-emerged with his gift, he fanned himself playfully with the small envelope. "You know what they say...sometimes good things come in small packages."
"Like you?" Kurt suggested with a saucy wink, and Blaine's jaw literally fell open.
"Guh," he replied eloquently, and Kurt snorted.
"Here. Merry Christmas, Blaine."
"Merry Christmas, Kurt," he replied, taking the box from his friend and replacing it with the envelope. Keen to make sure that Blaine truly liked his gift, Kurt carefully set it off to the side and watched excitedly as the other boy dug into the wrapping paper. "Oh, wow," he breathed as he unearthed the sweater. "This is so nice."
"Really?" he asked hopefully. "If you don't like it, it's really okay. I just saw it and thought maybe- -"
"No, no, I love it," he marveled, running his hand over the luxurious fabric. "Kurt, my God. You didn't have to do that!"
"It just made me think of you. I thought it might bring out your eyes," Kurt admitted, smiling. "It just makes me really happy that you like it."
"It's beautiful," Blaine reiterated. "I mean, I knew you had legendary fashion sense from the few times that I actually got to see you in street clothes...also, facebook. But wow." He grinned brightly. "Thank you so much. Now open yours, silly!"
Inside the envelope were two small pieces of paper. Kurt's brow furrowed as he removed them, and Blaine held his breath, eagerly awaiting his reaction. And he certainly wasn't disappointed; Kurt actually let out a shriek and fell back onto his bed. "Oh my God, Blaine. What the hell did you do?"
"Do you like them?" he asked, not even attempting to squash his huge grin.
"You did not buy me Lady Gaga tickets. You did not," he gasped, still staring at them as though he expected them to disappear at any given moment.
"I did, actually," he replied gleefully, and Kurt quite literally launched himself off the bed and into Blaine's arms.
"Ohmygodyouaresoamazing," he rambled delightedly. "Thank you so, so much!" Blaine laughed.
"I couldn't not get them. I saw them and I knew they were perfect."
"That's so much though." He pulled away just enough to glare at Blaine. "Seriously, you shouldn't have spent so much. I feel like a total- -"
"Do not," Blaine interrupted, narrowing his eyes. "I swear to you, I swear, I didn't spend a ridiculous amount of money on these. So just enjoy them, 'kay?"
"Ugh, I love you so much right now," Kurt blurted out, too wrapped up in the ecstacy of actually owning Lady Gaga concert tickets to even think about what he was saying.
"It's no problem at all," Blaine assured him, still grinning like an idiot.
"Come with me." Kurt had gotten to his feet again, and he bounced up and down on the balls of his feet enthusiastically as he awaited Blaine's response.
He blinked. "I would love to, but...what about Mercedes, or one of your other friends from McKinley? Don't you want to go with one of them?"
"None of them appreciate Gaga like I do," he sniffed. The truth was, Mercedes probably would have liked to go with him; but he knew her well enough to know that once she found out where he'd gotten the tickets, she'd probably order him to go with Blaine. "Besides, by giving me two tickets, you're saying I can invite whoever I want to come with me. And I'd like to go with you, if you're interested." He lifted a playful eyebrow. "Besides, I suspect that you still have an alarming fondness for Katy Perry, and I'm hoping that seeing the Fame Monster in concert will rectify this horror."
He burst out laughing. "Alright, alright. I'd like that a lot."
"That's what I thought." He narrowed his eyes playfully. Before either of them could say anything else, though, Kurt's phone rang loudly. "Hello?"
"Hey, kiddo, I'm outside. Let me in and we'll get your stuff out to the car."
"Sure, just a sec," he replied, voice tinged with the barest hint of regret.
"Your dad here?" Blaine asked, and maybe Kurt was imagining it, but he seemed slightly sorrowful as well.
"Yeah. He's outside."
"Oh, here, I'll help you with your stuff."
He probably should have protested, but the truth was, he wasn't ready to say goodbye to Blaine just yet. So instead, he tucked the envelope with the Gaga tickets reverently into his messenger bag, and shot Blaine a quick grin. "Are you sure?"
"Absolutely." He grabbed one of Kurt's suitcases. "Besides, this way we don't have to say goodbye yet. That's the only thing that really sucks about holiday breaks, y'know?"
Kurt's throat had gone suddenly dry, and he forced himself to swallow, hard. He's not just talking about you, idiot. He has friends. Calm the hell down. "Yeah, absolutely. But, um...you never know, we might end up seeing each other. Right?"
That would be really nice. I've gotten used to having you around all the time. "Totally. And we'll talk. We'll definitely talk."
Kurt's entire face lit up as he nodded, and he snagged his key off the desk. "C'mon, I think my dad's out front."
Burt Hummel was, in fact, out front. And Burt Hummel was not expecting his son to walk out of his dormitory with a boy. Especially not a boy who was more than okay-looking, and who was standing just a little too close and smiling a little too brightly at Kurt for comfort. He narrowed his eyes slightly and cleared his throat. "Hey, Kurt."
"Hi, Dad!" Kurt all but beamed as he took his suitcase from Blaine and carefully loaded it into the back of the car. "This is Blaine."
Burt blinked. "Hi," he replied warily, shaking the kid's outstretched hand. "Kurt's, uh, told me a lot about you." Which was true, which was why Burt really didn't like the wide smile that bloomed on Blaine's face at the words.
"Dad," Kurt hissed, nudging him hard in the side and going kind of pink.
"It's great to finally meet you," Blaine answered, still smiling brightly. He wanted to say something more, maybe tell Mr. Hummel how great his unconditional acceptance of his son was, but it felt a lot like overstepping a boundary, especially considering he'd only met the man about ten seconds ago. Finally, he settled on, "Kurt's one of my best friends."
"That's...great," Burt managed, curving his lips up into a half-smile. This Blaine kid did seem like he genuinely cared about Kurt, which was comforting. "Thanks for helping with his stuff."
"It's no problem at all," Blaine assured him, and then turned to Kurt with a slightly awkward, uncertain grin. "Have a great holiday, Kurt, and thanks for the sweater. I'll talk to you soon."
"Definitely," Kurt affirmed, and surprised Blaine by pulling him into a quick hug. He murmured another fervent "thank you" in his ear before he let go, and, with one last smile, climbed into the car.
"So what was all that about?" Burt asked artlessly the moment they were out of sight of Dalton.
"Nothing," Kurt replied immediately. "Absolutely nothing. He's my friend, and he volunteered to help me bring everything to the car. So yeah."
Burt nodded slowly. "You like him?"
"What?"
"Oh, come on, Kurt, you talk about him all the time. I'm just askin'."
"I...yeah," Kurt admitted. "Not that he likes me back, so it's not like it matters."
"Who said he doesn't like you?" Burt demanded immediately, and his son groaned.
"I say so. Can we not? Can we maybe talk about something less awkward?"
"Alright," Burt relented. "But, uh...did he get you anything for Christmas? 'Coz I remember you said something about some sweater you found, and I was just wondering if you ended up giving it to him." Translation: I hope this kid appreciates you as much as you appreciate him, because if he doesn't, I will kick his ass. Besides, he'd heard Blaine mention the gift, but it was probably a good idea to at least pretend he hadn't been blatantly listening to their conversation.
Kurt's excited ramblings about Lady Gaga were enough to get them a good portion of the way home, and as his son chattered on, Burt couldn't help but be thankful that at least he had a crush on a kid who seemed to have actually taken the time to get to know him.
"He got you what?" Santana demanded several hours later, catching a popcorn kernel in her mouth. "Damn. You go, boy."
"You are taking him with you, aren't you?" Mercedes demanded, narrowing her eyes.
"Of course. I mean, I would've, uh..."
"Oh, please, do not even play the excuse game," she snorted. "I would've killed you if you didn't take him, and you know it."
"Where are you going?" Brittany asked vaguely, tangling her legs with Kurt's.
"To a concert, boo," he replied easily, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"With your boyfriend?"
"Get it," Puck whooped from several feet away, where he and the rest of the glee boys (and Lauren) sat playing a rousing round of RockBand.
"Whoa, what?" Finn asked, head whipping around to stare at Kurt. "What boyfriend?"
"No boyfriend," Kurt snapped, rolling his eyes. "I don't have a boyfriend, Finn, chill."
"Oh, whatever, he bought you fucking concert tickets for Christmas. How'd you repay him for that, Kurtie?"
"Santana," he groaned, facepalming. "You are such a perv."
"Wait, he got you what?" Finn demanded, abandoning the bass entirely.
"Gaga tickets," Kurt replied casually, still petting Brittany lightly.
"That's so cool," Tina exclaimed. "Are you gonna hang out with him over break?"
"I don't know."
"You should," she said wisely, sweeping her hair back from her forehead. "You should invite him to Mercedes's thing."
"Okay, can someone please explain to me why every single time we get together, my nonexistent love life is all we talk about?"
"Because we want you to be happy, and he seems to make you happy," Quinn replied sensibly, popping a chip into her mouth.
"And it's a thousand times more interesting than talking about how Finn finally got rid of the hobbit, which is why this night is so blissfully non-irritating."
"I was wondering why Rachel wasn't here." He furrowed his brow. "Since when does breaking up with Finn mean she can't even come hang out with the rest of us?"
"She said she couldn't face him," Mercedes whispered, leaning close so Finn couldn't hear; Kurt nodded empathetically. "She's not ready to deal with it yet."
"Why do you care?" Santana demanded.
"Uh, because she's our friend?" he pointed out, narrowing his eyes at her.
"Whatever," she scoffed. "It's not like that's some big shock, anyway. We'd rather talk about you getting laid than something that we all knew was going to happen anyway."
Finn made a choking sound, and Mike snorted. "Santana, I'm pretty sure you're going to kill him."
She rolled her eyes dismissively. "Eh, he'll be fine."
"Okay, one last thing and then we'll change the subject," Mercedes promised. "Do bring him to my place on New Year's. We wanna meet him for real. And it'll be fun, anyway."
"Can we open presents now?" Brittany asked impatiently, sitting up and only succeeding in getting herself even more tangled with Kurt (who she'd attached herself to the minute the rest of the guys had decided they'd rather play video games than talk). Since it was almost Christmas, they'd all decided to invade the Hudmel house to exchange gifts, therein why everyone (save Rachel) was currently crammed into the basement, stuffing themselves with food.
They exchanged looks, and then Quinn shrugged. "Sure."
As though the idea of getting new stuff had some kind of power that was impossible to ignore, the game was paused within seconds, and the boys charged over, Lauren close behind. "Presents?" Sam asked, eyes wide and hopeful.
"Oh, sure, now you care we exist," Tina groused, glaring teasingly at Mike; he just grinned and pecked her on the lips.
Kurt laughed and settled comfortably in for the gift exchange.
...except it was New Directions, and he'd kind of forgotten how crazy they could all be, so the wrapping paper fight that followed the unwrapping took him a little by surprise. Somehow, he ended up lying flat on his back on the couch, wearing a bright pink bow on his head, ribs aching with the effort of laughing. The rest of them were sprawled out in all over the basement, in similar condition.
"Oh, these pictures are so going on facebook," Lauren wheezed, when she could finally breathe again.
Being able to spend the holiday at home was absolutely glorious. He spent hours on end helping Carole cook and bake in preparation for Christmas, and even watched a few football games with his dad and Finn (read: flipped through the new Vogue while sitting on the couch with them and occasionally glancing up to make a snide comment about something that was happening on the screen). And even though he was staunchly atheist, he had to admit that there was something just the right side of magical about Christmas time with the family. He'd kind of forgotten how nice it was to have a woman in the house, and even though Carole wasn't his mom, she wasn't trying to fill her shoes, either. She was just...herself. And she was an absolute sweetheart.
And then before he knew it, Christmas was over, and the next thing to look forward to was Mercedes's party. Brittany had taken to texting him every few hours to ask him random questions about his "boyfriend," and Mercedes had reminded him at least five times to remember to invite Blaine, so...well, he really didn't have a choice, did he? (HA. HA.)
"What are you doing New Year's Eve?" Kurt asked, balancing the phone between his ear and his shoulder and injecting a playful note into his voice, daring Blaine to comment on the song reference.
Sure enough, he hummed the song for a few seconds before answering. "Actually, my parents aren't going to be around. So, nothing, as far as I know, because Wes and David are both on vacation this year."
His heart leapt and he readjusted his position, clutching the phone tightly to make sure he wouldn't drop it. "You're not going to watch the ball drop or anything?" His words came out much more artlessly than he'd intended, but it couldn't be helped now.
Blaine shrugged, forgetting for a moment that Kurt couldn't see him. "I'll probably just end up watching on my couch with some food."
"By yourself?" Kurt exclaimed, dismayed.
"It's really okay," Blaine assured him, even though talking about his complete lack of plans made him feel a lot more pathetic than he'd originally thought it would. "I mean, it's not like my parents are on vacation without me or something. It's a business thing, so I can't exactly...complain."
"Do you want to come to Mercedes's New Year party with me?" Kurt offered, suddenly grateful they'd opted to talk on the phone instead of skype for once. His face was absolutely burning, and he was sure that if Blaine could see him right now, his cover would be irreparably blown. "I-I mean, I hate the idea of you ringing in the New Year by yourself if you don't have to."
A brief pause. "Are you sure they won't mind?"
"Of course they won't," Kurt assured him quickly, texting Mercedes to tell her what was going on.
"That would be amazing," Blaine admitted, beaming. "I really didn't want to be alone."
Kurt suppressed an excited squeal. "Yay! This is going to be really fun, I promise."
"I'm really looking forward to it." He grinned, even though he knew Kurt couldn't see him. "So what exactly are the details?"
"Well, Dad and I have spent New Year's with the Joneses for the past couple of years, and then last year it somehow became a glee party, but my Dad was still invited because Mrs. Jones likes being a mother hen." He smiled fondly at the thought. "This year he's got Carole, so he said the two of them are going to leave a little after midnight, and the rest of us are going to sleep over- -you don't have to, if that makes you uncomfortable, but I promise, it's totally not awkward." His phone vibrated then, and he coughed to stifle his laugh as he read it: dont forget to invite him to spend the night! ;)
"I don't mind if they won't. That sounds like a lot of fun."
"Please, they've been dying to meet you. Oh, and on that note, don't listen to a word Santana or Puck says. Trust me. It will only end in horror."
Blaine cracked up. "Duly noted."
"Cool." Relieved, Kurt pressed valiantly on. "If you want, you can just leave your car here and go with us to get to Mercedes's. We usually go for dinner, around 6:30. Is that okay, or did you have plans?"
"I quite literally have no plans," Blaine admitted ruefully, "so this whole thing sounds completely amazing."
"So...so I'll see you then?" Kurt asked, literally unable to hide his delight.
"You'll see me then."
When Blaine arrived on his front porch, Kurt's first thought was, holy Gaga, I was so right about that sweater.
His second thought was, ...he's wearing the sweater. Yes.
"You're looking good," he said playfully, backing up to let him in. "That sweater's a good look for you. Where'd you get it?"
"Oh, y'know, just some guy," he answered, winking and hugging Kurt quickly.
"You're in the habit of taking gifts from strange guys, huh?"
"Just this one," Blaine answered coyly. "You'd understand if you met him."
"Oh, yeah? What's so great about him?"
"He's pretty incredible," Blaine murmured lowly, hand kind of, not so accidentally brushing Kurt's.
"R-really?"
"Hey, you guys, why are you just standing in the hallway?" Finn asked, clomping loudly up the stairs. "We're leaving in like two seconds."
Great. Thanks.
"You guys ready?" Burt asked, lifting a slightly suspicious eyebrow as he wandered over.
"Uh huh," Kurt replied, taking a deep breath. "Let's go."
Mercedes's door was unlocked, and once they walked in, Brittany let out a delighted squeal and launched herself into Kurt's arms. "Baby!" she trilled. "It makes me happy when we get to see you, because we miss you a lot at school. That's why Christmas break is my favorite."
It seemed to be her new life goal to tell her this absolutely every time she saw him; not that he minded. He just laughed. "Brittany Pierce, I will never, ever stop loving you," he informed her.
"Kurt's here!" Mercedes shrieked from the middle of the family room, and, with all the grace of a rampaging herd of elephants, the entirety of New Directions stampeded into the hallway and dragged him (and, by extension, Blaine) bodily the rest of the way into the house.
"You guys," he laughed, "you're acting like I haven't seen you in weeks! Good gracious, let me breathe!"
"Well, we don't get to see you every day anymore. We're making the most of it when we can," Rachel replied warmly, hugging him.
"Wait, we're ignoring Kurt's friend," Santana announced, giving him a completely unsubtle once-over. "Hel-lo, Blaine Warbler. Have you popped our boy's cherry yet?"
Oh God. "Santana, he's not used to your level of depravity yet, can you not scare him away before he's even been here five minutes?" Kurt snapped. Blaine, meanwhile, was just staring at her, looking sort of confused, but also smiling uncertainly.
"Uh..."
"You don't have to talk to her," Kurt added, squeezing Blaine's hand and ignoring Santana's completely unconvincing go-die glare. "Have you officially met everyone yet?"
"Just in passing," Blaine replied, his smile never wavering. "But I'm sure we'll have plenty of time to talk. It's great to see you all again."
"Dude," Sam exclaimed suddenly, rescuing him. "We're gonna do a Backstreet Boy song on karaoke. You in?"
Blaine's answer came immediately. "Absolutely."
"Kurt, you wanna sing with us?" Mike offered, and for a split second, Kurt was confused. He absolutely loved the boys, of course, but it wasn't like he usually participated in the 'guy' stuff that they did.
"You know what...sure," he replied decisively, and Mercedes whooped loudly.
"Yes! Blaine, have you ever heard this boy's low voice?"
"Low voice?" Blaine's eyebrow inched up. "No, can't say I have."
Tina's eyes lit up immediately. "So I'm guessing you don't know about the John Mellencamp thing?"
"The what?"
"Tina," Kurt growled warningly.
"I think I have video!" Quinn exclaimed, digging in her bag for her phone.
"What?" he howled. "Quinn, no, do not. I swear by all things Gaga, I will end you."
"Found it!" she exclaimed triumphantly, passing it over to Blaine.
"No, no, what about the Backstreet Boys?" Kurt half-whimpered. "I thought we were singing! I was excited!"
Puck was staring over Blaine's shoulder at the tiny screen, snorting with poorly suppressed laughter. "I forgot how fuckin' hilarious this was, man. Good times."
Kurt moaned and buried his face in Tina's shoulder. "Look what you started..."
"At least we didn't tell him about the Cheerio thing," she murmured, petting his hair gently. "That, I won't do."
"Thank you."
"Hey, Kurt?" Blaine now, mirth evident in his voice.
"Mmph," he replied, refusing to look over at him.
"I didn't know you had such a...well-developed low range."
He glared. "Shut up."
"No, seriously!" He snorted. "Plaid, though? Was this some kind of phase?"
"I hate you all."
"Oh, c'mere." He reached for Kurt, grinning. "I'm not even judging you. Promise."
"It was a dark time, alright? I followed it up with 'Rose's Turn' when I finally came to my senses."
"That's actually really impressive," Blaine grinned, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as Tina relinquished him. "Hey, no worries. I solemnly swear that I won't mention this ever again if you don't want me to."
"I wore a trucker hat, Blaine. Of course I don't want you to mention it again."
"Duly noted," he answered cheerfully. "Now c'mon, let's go sing!"
After allowing the boys one Backstreet Boy number and a few more suitably manly songs (during which Kurt sat on the sidelines and braided Quinn's hair and/or painted Mercedes's nails an appropriately sassy shade of shocking pink), the girls (and Kurt) took over with some Gaga.
Watching Kurt interact with his old glee club was both wonderful and painful. He was so much more alive when he was with them- -that much was clear from the bright gleam in his eye every time he spoke to one of them, the casual way they touched him, the playful, teasing quips that traveled among them so effortlessly it was as though they were instinct. But at the same time, it was alarmingly clear to Blaine that, while Kurt was undoubtedly safer at Dalton...he didn't belong there. He wasn't quite himself there; he thought for a long time before he spoke, edited himself, had to dull himself down to fit in.
It was no wonder it had been so hard for him at the beginning, if this was what he was used to.
The time was flying by; New Directions managed to incorporate Blaine almost seamlessly into their group (though it certainly helped that Kurt was right there with him). But then, at some point, he got caught up in a deeply entertaining conversation with Brittany, and when he looked beside him again, Kurt was gone.
"Britt? Do you know where Kurt is?" he asked, once he had the opportunity.
She shook her head. "You should find him. He needs a midnight kiss, you know."
He flushed. "I, uh...I'll be right back."
Kurt wasn't anywhere in the house, and Blaine was just starting to get worried when, on a hunch, he ventured outside. And there he was, standing on the porch, bracing himself on the banister and staring blankly off into space. Blaine watched him for a moment, trying to understand, but Kurt's expression never wavered, never hinted at what he might be thinking.
"Hey," he murmured, crossing over to him. "Are you okay? You just kind of disappeared."
"Huh?" He blinked, starting slightly. "Yeah. Yeah, fine. Sorry. I didn't mean to abandon you."
"It's fine, your friends are great. But..." Blaine inched closer, furrowing his brow. "There're only five minutes to midnight, you know. You're going to miss watching the ball drop if you stay out here." Kurt's wan attempt at a smile wasn't fooling him for a moment, and he shoulder-bumped him lightly. "Talk to me?"
"I'm just..." He gestured halfheartedly toward the house. "I just miss them, you know? And I know it's stupid for me to be wasting time out here when I should be spending every possible second with them, but...it's hard. Because I can't help but realize that no matter how hard they try to keep me in the loop, there're always going to be things I miss. And what if- -what if one day, they start to forget about me?" He kicked the ground. "It's stupid. Forget it."
Blaine's heart stung, and he twisted his fingers together uncertainly. Kurt needed some assurance right now, and Blaine wanted desperately to help him. He only hoped that whatever he was about to say would turn out less disastrously than his Karofsky advice. "Kurt..."
The countertenor lifted his eyes briefly. "Never mind. Do you want to go back in? It's cold."
"Hey, no, c'mere," Blaine protested, reaching out to take Kurt's hand. "Don't downplay your feelings like that."
"I'm being ridiculous," Kurt shot back, shaking his head. "And I really don't want to ruin New Year's for you, so let's just go back inside."
"You're not ruining anything." Blaine squeezed his hand gently. "And you're not being ridiculous. What you've done, Kurt...leaving all your friends and family...it's not easy. Not by any means. Of course you'll still miss them, and of course it will be difficult for you not to be as big a part of their lives as you used to be. But." Slowly, almost tenderly, he reached out and lifted Kurt's chin, forcing him to stop staring at the ground. "Now that I've met all your friends for real, I can promise you that they will never forget you. They adore you, Kurt. As they should. And you mean far too much to them for them to let a few miles come between you."
"Thank you," he whispered, wrapping his arms tightly around Blaine and exhaling shakily into his cashmere-clad shoulder.
At that precise moment, there was a huge commotion inside, Mercedes' shriek rising above the rest of the chaos: "Finn Hudson, don't you dare- -!"
The door flew open before she could finish, and Finn was crowing, "You guys, come inside there's less than a min- -oh. Sorry." And, sheepishly, he disappeared again.
Kurt laughed for real this time. "I swear, he has the people skills of a five-year-old."
"He's well-intentioned," Blaine replied amusedly, and promptly towed Kurt inside and into the Jones' family room just in time to see the ball fall. The room exploded with still more merriment; somewhere, a cork popped and there was a burst of adult laughter. As Santana giggled hysterically (because she had apparently managed to convince herself that it was absolutely necessary for her to kiss as many people as she possibly could- -Blaine suspected she'd broken into the champagne stash long before midnight without the parents noticing), he tapped Kurt lightly on the shoulder. He turned, raising a quizzical eyebrow, and Blaine leaned forward before he could remind himself of all the reasons it would be a bad idea, and pressed his lips to Kurt's cheek, just next to his lips. "Happy New Year, Kurt."
"Happy New Year," Kurt echoed dazedly, powerless to stop the ridiculous grin that was spreading across his face.
"BLAINE WARBLER," Santana trumpeted, springing forward to attack; he fielded her with an awkward half-laugh, barely managing to turn his head enough to keep her from kissing him full on the lips. She didn't seem to notice or care, and just as Kurt was trying to decide whether to be entertained or irritated with her for ruining the moment, Mercedes hurled herself into his arms.
"Happy New Year, white boy!" she exclaimed, and he laughed, spinning her around and pecking her lightly on the lips.
"Happy New Year, gorgeous!"
"Sorry, baby," she added in a stage whisper. "I tried to stop Finn from interrupting y'all's moment, but you know how he is."
"Do I ever." He rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "It's okay."
"I saw that kiss, by the way," she added, winking. "And just what was that?"
"It was...I...do not know," Kurt admitted, blushing madly and instinctively touching his cheek in the exact place that Blaine's lips had.
She giggled. "Well, just keep it PG tonight, yeah? Remember that my parents are gonna be here."
"Mercedes!" he shrieked, whacking her on the arm and covering his face with his hands. "We are not going to be doing any of- -of that."
"Mmhmm," she hummed, laughing and ruffling his hair. "Go rescue him from Santana's clutches or you'll never get him back."
The thought of Santana refusing to relinquish Blaine from her bright red talons was so unacceptable that Kurt, completely on instinct, spun around and exclaimed, "Hey, Blaine, dance with me!"
"As you wish," Blaine replied cheerfully, disentangling himself from Santana's drunken grasp and bogeying playfully over to him.
"Oh, look, a conveniently timed slow song!" Mercedes called over to Puck, who was currently DJ-ing.
He shot her a weird look, but complied. Kurt froze immediately, only capable of glaring laser beams at his soon-to-be-deceased best friend. She just winked, cackling wickedly, and accepted Sam's proffered hand with a slightly surprised smile. Blaine stopped and extended a hand, giving him the opportunity, should he want it, to walk away.
As if I ever could.
"Have you ever slow-danced before?" Blaine whispered as he pulled Kurt close, his lips accidentally brushing Kurt's ear; Kurt worked to suppress a shiver.
"Not with a boy," he admitted, reddening.
"Are you nervous?"
Yes. Oh, God, yes. But at the same time... "N-not really. I don't know."
"Don't be. It's only me," he murmured, still leading as though this was nothing, as though being so close to Kurt like this didn't make his pulse race and his breath quicken.
"I know," he whispered, and somehow, as the song continued, he found the courage to lay his head on Blaine's shoulder (because he was too tall to rest against Blaine's chest). Blaine's arms tightened around him, and he smiled.
Much like Kurt and Mercedes, Nick and Jeff had their own set of New Year's traditions. Since neither of their families had ever cared much about the pomp and circumstance of the evening, they never bothered to go to parties or anything, and typically ended up flipping on the TV with mild interest only a few minutes before the ball dropped.
Nick had always appreciated the symbolic nature of the night, and Jeff just thought it was cool, so they'd decided years before that if their parents weren't going to do anything, they'd just make their own celebration. This particular New Year's Eve found them sprawled out on Jeff's bed, surrounded by snacks and laughing hysterically over the results of the video game they'd just finished playing. Nick's amusement faded quickly as he caught sight of the clock, his stomach flipping in a sudden burst of fear. He'd promised himself he wouldn't keep this secret from Jeff into the new year. It wasn't fair to Jeff, and it was tearing him up, anyway. "Hey, look, it's almost midnight," Jeff commented, deftly flipping a few switches so that the TV was showing them live coverage of the crowds in Times Square.
"Yeah..." Nick clutched nervously at a handful of Jeff's comforter and let out a gusty sigh. "I- -can I talk to you about something?"
"Yeah, 'course." The TV was muted in a second, and Jeff turned to face him, brow furrowed in concern. "You okay?"
"Yes. No. I don't know."
"What's wrong?"
Just say it. He closed his eyes, but the words wouldn't come. "Um."
If he'd been looking, he'd have noticed Jeff move closer, would have noticed the increasing worry in his eyes. "Hey, come on. You're freaking me out."
"Sorry, sorry." He exhaled, but couldn't bring himself to open his eyes. "I'm okay."
"So what's wrong?" Jeff pressed, a little impatiently. "You can't just not tell me now, I'll just assume it's worse than- -"
"I'm gay." And you're in love with him. You're not finished until you admit to that.
"Oh!" He let out a short burst of relieved laughter. "God, Nick, you scared the hell out of me. I thought something had happened to you."
Ican'tdothis. "No, I'm...I'm okay," he managed, forcing a smile. "Just that."
"Geez, idiot, you didn't have to freak out about it by yourself! Why didn't you just tell me?"
"I just did," he pointed out, ignoring the splintering pain of heartache and trying to focus on breathing. It hadn't gotten any easier. Why wasn't it getting any easier?
"Seriously." Jeff's face was unusually solemn. "Did you actually think it would make a difference to me?"
Even though he knew Jeff had meant them as a good thing, Nick flinched at the words. "Of course not. I was just...having some trouble dealing with it."
"That's what you have me for," Jeff rebuked him gently, opening his arms. "To help you with this shit. You're not allowed to forget that anymore, y'hear? Now c'mere and give me a hug."
"Aye aye, captain," Nick replied, with as much sarcasm as he could muster.
He wasn't quite sure when the tears came, but the next thing he knew, he was clutching the back of Jeff's sweater and struggling to cry without making any noise, as though that would keep his friend from knowing what he was doing. He wasn't even sure whether he was crying out of relief or disappointment- -disappointment that even though he'd had the strength to reveal one of his biggest secrets, the other was still there, and never far enough from the forefront of his mind.
"Are- -are you crying?"
"Sorry," he choked out, and Jeff just rubbed his back gently. He wasn't used to seeing Nick so torn up; in fact, he was pretty sure he'd never seen him like this. It was...awful.
"Don't apologize," he whispered sympathetically, tightening his grip just a little. "It's gonna be okay. I promise. Just let it out."
"Thanks," he managed when his tears had finally slowed. "I don't really know why I just lost it like that."
"Don't even worry about it," Jeff assured him. "Are you feeling any better?"
"Yeah," he half-lied, forcing himself to meet Jeff's eyes and smile.
Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven! Six! Five...
"By the way," Jeff added softly, "happy New Year."
"What?"
"Happy New Year," he repeated with a gentle smile.
"Happy New Year," Nick echoed, and then, before he could even think about what he was doing, he added with a snort, "My cousin always throws these ridiculous parties and then freaks out if she doesn't get kissed at midnight. Insists it's bad luck."
"Oh, yeah?" Jeff lifted an amused eyebrow. "Can't risk that, can we?"
"We probably shouldn't," Nick agreed, voice trembling just slightly.
"Hey, it's just me," Jeff murmured, misunderstanding his friend's nervousness. "Just me. You're my best friend, y'know? This doesn't have to mean anything if you don't want it to."
Pain. So much pain. He wanted so badly to say that it did mean something, that it would mean everything, but he couldn't.
He just couldn't.
"Okay," he forced out instead, trying to smile.
Jeff's thumb skimming lightly along Nick's cheekbone as he wiped away one final tear. And then, gently, so gently, he pressed their lips together.