A/N: You guys are all wonderful!
A few quick review replies:
Chrisch: Firstly, your earlier review from Chap 8 is a really great idea and I will be keeping it in mind. Glad to make your day! Santana is really the smart one out of them all. :] And of course they'll sort things out. I wouldn't have it any other way. Thank you for reviewing!
Annecpc: So happy to hear that you're enjoying the story and the adorableness that is Klaine. Thank you for reviewing too! :D
miksivad: I know this is calling it close, and if you're timezone is ahead of mine, I apologize for failing you.
Ugh this chapter was so much harder than it needed to be. Klaine just kept skirting around the issue and Rachel/Santana decided to keep meddling. Lots of dialogue and italics in this chapter.
And now to the story!
Blaine slumps in his seat, his eyes slipping closed as a ringing noise settles inside his head from the relative cacophony of his swirling thoughts. He methodically rubs at his temples to alleviate the sound, but it only increases in both volume and frequency.
Wait a minute...
Blaine pats down his thighs, crowing triumphantly when his hands come in contact with vibrating fabric. He pulls the cell phone out and glances at the screen. Kurt is calling. He almost drops the phone right then and there.
"Is it true?" he questions the second after he decides to tap the answer button.
"Hello, Blaine. I assume you've seen the article."
"Oh. Hi, Rachel." Should Blaine be worried? Or focus more on the confusion and doubt he's feeling? Who's he kidding - of course his worry for Kurt prevails.
"Is Kurt okay?"
"He's worried you hate him." No sympathy in her voice, just Rachel stating a fact.
"I don't," he says and it isn't until that moment he realizes how true the statement is.
"I sent him off to calm down and grab some coffee. In his hurry he happened to leave his phone in my office."
"You know the lock password? "Blaine wonders aloud.
"What sort of manager would I be if I didn't?" Rachel counters. "But my efficiency is not the point in question right now."
"Of course."
"He wanted to talk to you right away, but I convinced him to wait."
"Okay."
"It's for the best."
"Okay."
"Blaine?"
"Yeah?"
"He really loves you, you know."
The line clicks off before Blaine can voice any sort of response.
How is it that everyone else (well... Santana, Burt, and Rachel) sees this obvious connection between the two of them when Blaine himself hadn't even been sure of his feelings until just recently? It's annoying. He can just imagine Santana's i-told-you-so smirk if he ever gets up the nerve to say how he feels and find the feelings are returned.
A piece of paper rustles near his hand as he stands up. Curious, he grabs it and scans the words written there. It's a note from Santana.
Blainers
Couldn't just leave with the last word, so I decided to leave this note for you on my way out as to have the last word twice. This will be short and sweet.
Don't be stupid. Invite him here and talk it out in person. I'll be home later tonight and I expect to arrive to the sounds of you and Hummel getting your mack on.
Your best and favorite guardian angel,
Satan
Typical Santana, but Blaine appreciates it. He checks her bedroom to be sure she hadn't sneaked back in for some sinister plot. The room is empty.
I didn't even hear her leave. Blaine ponders as he slips into his own bedroom and falls onto the bed. When did she leave?
He lays atop the dark blue comforter, not feeling comforted in the least but instead slowly filling with a desperate anticipation. Does he wait for Kurt to call him or does he dismiss Rachel's information and call Kurt's phone anyway? He could leave a message if Kurt hasn't yet regained possession of his cell phone. Or maybe just send a text asking to meet up?
No, he should let Kurt make the call.
He's the one in the wrong here, thought Blaine, not me.
Blaine now sits with a pint of Cherry Garcia ice cream in his lap, his attention only partially focused on the movie playing on the television screen before him. Mostly it provides background noise to his wayward thoughts.
Will Kurt ever call? Is this friendship of theirs over because Blaine is too proud, too afraid to make first contact?
Is this what having your heart broken feels like?
Kurt taps his fingers impatiently against the granite counter of the pick-up station inside the coffee shop nearest to Rachel's office. He had passed by the Starbucks on the corner in favor of a more subdued location, but even here at Luann's the line is too long for his liking. His hand inches toward the pocket of his jeans before he remembers he has stupidly left his phone on Rachel's desk. He has no doubt she's hacked his phone and called Blaine by now. She's far too clever for anyone's good when she's determined to get something done her way.
He knows this from prior experiences.
"Mocha, extra whip," breaks through the maelstrom of his thoughts enough for Kurt to reach out his hand for the offered drink. He thanks the harried barista with a smile, drops a five dollar bill in the tip jar, and leaves the establishment after a quick soothing sip of his decadent treat. Usually any whipped cream in his coffee at all is a no-no, but today of all days he feels the need for a pick-me-up.
He's still yet to talk to Blaine and that factor alone hikes his anxiety level up to a solid 7. Add Rachel's inevitable unhelpful meddling to the mix and his range is nearer to 9.
I'll explain myself and he'll listen, if nothing else, Kurt assures himself on his return trip to The Pink Room. Once inside the building, past Sandy's desk, and back in Rachel's office, all words of encouragement fly out of his head. Because sitting there with a too innocent smile on her face is not the brunette diva Kurt expected. Instead, a certain fiery Latina meets his gaze, a mischievous smirk residing on her pretty face.
"5617 Wiltshire Avenue," she says, slowly and enunciating every word clearly. Kurt waits for an elaboration but none is forthcoming. After a few minutes of just standing there and waiting, he sighs and takes a seat on the couch just inside the doorway, pushing the frivolous pink throw pillows lying atop the cushions aside.
"He won't say it, but he's waiting for you."
With these few words of parting, Santana tosses Kurt his cell phone before sashaying past him, winking from the doorway and walking out without another word.
Kurt looks between the door and his phone in shock. Had he thought wrong? Perhaps Rachel had contacted Santana (but how?) instead? How else would she have known where to find him?
In a sort of trance he slides his finger across the screen of his phone, finding it already unlocked. He's slightly afraid of what he might find. He pulls up the recent calls list and at the top he sees Blaine's name. So he had guessed Rachel's actions correctly.
Who's worse: Rachel, the obvious stalker with no sense of personal boundaries or Santana, the cunning, secretive one?
Kurt wisely decides not to dwell on that question.
Before he has the chance to over-think anything, Kurt walks out to the sidewalk and hails a cab. He slides into the back seat, gives the cabbie the address Santana gave him, and sits back to pass the moments until he arrives at Blaine's place.
.`.`.`.
Kurt steps outside the shelter of the taxi about thirty minutes later, paying the fare and adding a five dollar tip out of habit. His mind is somewhere else. He just barely dodges a car suddenly speeding around the corner, its loud screech and subsequent honks falling on deaf ears.
Seeing the building, knowing that Blaine is right there, puts the designer in a sort of daze. All he sees is the steps leading up to the entrance door, leading up to Blaine. Nothing else matters now and there's no turning back. He's here to make things right, even if it's the last time he ever sees those hazel eyes again.
Because really, who could blame Blaine if he decided this one brush with fame and its consequences was more than enough for him? Not Kurt. Kurt knew firsthand what the tabloids and paparazzi could be like, and he would only wish it on his absolute worst enemy.
I wish we could have had more time together, Kurt laments. But he knows at the same time he wouldn't change anything even if he could, not really.
He nervously climbs the few concrete steps that stand between him and the intercom beside the door. He sees Santana's name among the listed residents, apartment three, and assumes that is where Blaine must be. A flood of nerves suddenly hits him like he's a crash dummy in a car thrown into a wall for a safety test.
This is it.
For a mere moment Kurt considers turning around, leaving, and never coming back. Anything would be easier than seeing Blaine for what could easily be the last time. But Kurt Hummel is no coward, and today is no exception. So he reaches out, presses the button beside Santana's name, and waits breathlessly to see what happens next.
A sudden beeping sound brings Blaine away from his melancholy thoughts and back to the present. He absently notes the title menu of The Wedding Date playing repeatedly on the screen but instead of doing anything about it he goes toward the door, curiosity taking precedence over prudence. Maybe Santana had forgotten something?
He holds the black square button down so his voice will come through and whoever is out there can respond accordingly.
"Hello?" He waits a few seconds, but no response comes. "Is someone there?" Still nothing but a static whoosh from the wind. "Santana isn't here and I'm not as easy."
A chuckle, quiet and barely audible, but Blaine knows that laugh. Unless he's imagining things. Kurt couldn't really be there, at his stoop right now, could he?
"Umm... Kurt? Is that you?" Blaine almost hits himself for how pathetic he sounds then, hopeful mixed with needy.
"Yeah," says a quiet voice now certain to be Kurt's. Blaine's so glad he hadn't imagined it. "It's me."
"What - what are you doing here?" Blaine hope he doesn't sound ungrateful, or worse... desperate.
"Could I come up?" Kurt sounds so meek and unsure, something so surreal it breaks Blaine a little. "I'd rather see you."
Don't be stupid. Talk it out in person.
Blaine really hates when Santana is right.
"Sure. I'll buzz you in."
Blaine hesitates for the slightest second before pressing against the black circular button that will admit Kurt's entrance into the building.
There's no turning back now.
The five minutes it takes Kurt to climb the few small flights of stairs (or maybe he had taken the elevator?) to the landing where Blaine is anxiously waiting behind the protection of the door is long and arduous, the longest five minutes of Blaine's life. But then the sounds of footsteps fills the hall and his nerves soothe themselves. Just the thought of seeing Kurt, of talking this out and putting it behind them, is therapeutic in its own way.
He waits for Kurt to knock (can't seem too stalkerish after all) and opens the door after a few seconds. The sight of Kurt after so many emotionally draining hours nearly takes his breath away. Long, lean legs swathed in black denim and a torso complimented by tailored pastel fabrics. But it's not even Kurt's glorious appearance that hits Blaine the hardest. That role is taken by Kurt's eyes; not just the misty blue of the irises, but the simple fact that they're so close and so easily looked into.
"Hi," Kurt says after his own moment of drinking Blaine in.
"Hi," Blaine replies, feeling just as breathless as he had when Kurt first looked at him in his family's coffee shop.
"Should I come in?"
Blaine nods, feeling a bit stupid for not thinking of inviting Kurt inside and moving to the right a bit so Kurt can slide through the doorway.
Blaine closes the door behind him and turns to find Kurt taking in his new surroundings. He looks impressed with the decor, something Blaine will be sure to tell Santana later. He then takes a seat on the same couch Blaine had occupied only just a moment ago, raising an eyebrow at the still repeating title menu.
"Really, Blaine? The Wedding Date?"
"What? Amy Adams is great in it," Blaine defends as he takes a seat on the same couch a safe distance away.
Kurt shakes his head. "Enchanted is so much better."
"Not The Notebook?"
"The Notebook is so... overplayed, I guess is the word? Like listening to the same song for seven hours in a row. Yes, it's wonderful, but there is a line."
"I guess we'll just have to agree to disagree."
They laugh and Blaine is so relieved by the lack of awkward tension that he doesn't mention how they're avoiding the subject at hand. He wants to just sit here and laugh with Kurt forever.
Kurt sighs, long and loud, and Blaine knows their brief moment of respite from the severity of the real world is over as quickly as it had started. "Blaine, we should talk."
"We are talking."
"About the article," Kurt pushes. "I... I'm sorry. We aren't together and we never discussed anything like that so while I haven't done anything wrong, I still... but we've grown close over the last weeks. I don't want to hurt you Blaine, intentionally or otherwise. I just want to say that Chandler means nothing to me. We have worked together in the past and even then he was insufferable for those two weeks. And now when we pass each other on the street he acts like this teenage girl who hasn't seen her best friend in five years, tight hugs and insanely loud squealing included. I guess my point is that I don't what you to get the wrong idea about him. Talking with you, knowing you, means so much more to me than he ever could."
"Kurt, wait. You're giving me mixed messages here."
"I am?"
Blaine can't help a little chuckle escaping despite the moment. Kurt looks so cute with his head tilted to the side. "You are. I can't tell what you're trying to say to me, other than saying Chandler sucks and I mean a lot to you. You kind of rambled."
"I don't want to lose you."
"Lose me? Why would you lose me? I was worried about losing you."
"Blaine, really? That's ridiculous! Why would I ever... How would you lose me?"
"I asked you first."
Kurt rolls his eyes, a quirk Blaine finds adorable more than anything. "You might not want anything to do with me ever again. That's why I thought I would lose you. Now answer me."
"I thought you'd find someone better to occupy your time. That's what I had imagined anyway."
"No, Blaine. There isn't anyone better than you."
"Oh." Is there a person alive on this planet who could have come up with a better response? Probably. But Blaine Anderson is not that person.
Realizing the tense turn this conversation could take if he didn't intervene (or maybe he randomly came up with an idea), Kurt broke the silence following his declaration."I think I have a solution to this."
"Do tell."
"Be my boyfriend."
A/N: Yup, that's where I'm ending it. Feel free to yell or scream or throw things (soft, fluffy things, not pointy, painful things).