Songbird
Summary: Blaine's a young songwriter who's stuck in a rut. Kurt's an independent cyborg with music software installed. Blaine knows that Kurt could totally be his meal ticket if he'd just freaking cooperate for once. Kurt just wants Blaine to understand that he's not just a machine, even if that means sitting back and letting him flounder. AU, Klaine.
Disclaimer: LOL what. No.
AN: Thank you for all of the feedback last chapter! I'm thrilled that the overall response was good. I'm sorry to tell you, but this chapter is the second to last, so we're coming to an end up in here. I really hope that this chapter makes you happy, because it was certainly fun as hell to write. I'm not sure what it is, but somehow, everything ends up coming back to food. Maybe it's because food is a social unifier, or maybe it's just because I'm a shameless, shameless foodie.
By the way, I'm so sorry that I'm been horrible about answering reviews lately. Real life has been kicking my butt and throwing all sorts of stuff at me, including but not limited to intense laptop issues.
Tl;dr: I'm a nerdy foodie and scum for not answering my reviews properly.
Chapter Eleven: Bright Eyes
"Oh my god."
"Kurt, calm down."
"No, no, 'Cedes, you don't understand-"
"I understand that you need to calm down before you hurt yourself. It's dinner, not a marriage proposal."
Kurt was pacing his bedroom, back and forth, back and forth. His bed looked like the Bermuda Triangle of where clothes came to die, covered in a mountain of shirts and pants and scarves and coats and for all he knew there were probably some hats hidden in there too.
He had absolutely nothing to wear.
As if sensing his thoughts, Mercedes sighed on the other line.
"Do you need me to come over there and help you?"
"No!" he exclaimed, scrutinizing a pair of dark wash jeans, "I can do this. Besides, we're supposed to leave in a half hour—oh god I only have thirty minutes—"
"Kurt Hummel, I don't care where you are right now. Sit your ass down and breathe for a minute."
Wordlessly, the boy obeyed, sitting down in a heap right in the middle of a pile of socks.
"You listen to me. That boy likes you. You could probably wear a burlap bag and he'd be happy. So just pick something or I'll text Puck and tell him to call you and 'help'."
"Please don't." For a few moments they were both silent, until Kurt spoke again. "Okay, I think I'm calm –or at least a little calmer- now. Thank you, 'Cedes, you've always been my best girl." He couldn't see her, but he could feel her smile through the headset, "I'm going to go now and pick something to wear. I'll call you when I get home?"
"You'd be in big trouble if you didn't, boy. I'll talk to you later. Blow his mind."
"Absolutely. Talk to you later, sweetheart."
"Later, honey. Good luck!"
Kurt ended the call and surveyed his room again, sighing when he realized the kind of mess he'd have to deal with when he got home that night. Finally, he walked over to one of the piles and pulled out a pair of charcoal grey skinnies that had once been described as, in Puckerman's charming words, tighter than spandex on a fat kid. Terrifying image aside, he couldn't really go wrong with them, at any rate.
Twenty seven minutes and 24 seconds later, he was pacing up and down his living room, fully clothed now but now even more nervous than before.
Was he too dressed up? Not enough? Staring at the cluster of daisies on the table, he wondered if it was weird to give the date-asker flowers, then decided he didn't care if it was.
A knock sounded on the door and he jumped, floundered for the flowers and nearly dropped them, before throwing the door open. His breath caught in his throat.
Blaine stood on the doorstep, tugging nervously on the collar of the dusty red button-up under the warm brown short coat, and brown jeans tucked into a pair of boots that were probably actually meant to be worked in, unlike Kurt's. He didn't put a drop of gel in his hair. Hazel eyes looked Kurt up and down in the same way that Kurt was staring at him, and a ridiculously goofy smile spread over his face.
"Wow, you look awesome. And hi."
Kurt beamed.
"Hi, you look pretty damned good yourself. And here!" Nervously, he thrust out the flowers and Blaine stared for a few second before taking them and sheepishly pulling his other hand behind his back, revealing a small bouquet of blue hydrangea blossoms tied together with a ribbon.
"And for you as well," he replied, bringing the daisies to his nose and sniffing delicately.
"Do you mind if I run back and put them in some water?" Kurt asked quickly, unable to keep from smiling at the flowers in his hands. Blaine shot him a thumbs up.
"Only if you don't care if I take thirty seconds to do the same. I'd hate for them to die on me."
Exactly one minute and thirteen seconds later, Blaine reached out and laced his fingers with Kurt's, still amazed that yeah, he could totally do this now.
"You like Chinese?" he asked conversationally, leading the way out to his car, "I know a really nice place about twenty minutes away. It's small and quiet and they have a dim sum special four pages long right around this time." Kurt's eyes lit up.
"Dim sum is perfect. Funny, I would have thought you'd be a more of an Italian kind of guy."
"I am a mystery. My sole purpose in life is to be unexpected and inexplicable in a way that cannot be anything other than the epitome of sexy."
"Oh, definitely," Kurt replied, trying his hardest not to laugh as he buckled his seat belt. "You're not quite Antonio Banderas, because really, who is? But about as close as I can get to Latin flair in this town without looking at the other gender." Unable to resist, Blaine made a purring sound, making the other boy lose it just a little bit, shaking with laughter.
"How about Filipino flair?"
"Filipino flair is absolutely fantastic," Kurt declared. He was feeling better about this by the second and he could feel his nerves slipping away and being replaced by normalcy. This was Blaine. Just Blaine, who he liked very, very much, but had been good friends with first. And they were still good friends, but now they could hug and hold hands and cuddle and kiss at some point in the near future whenever they wanted to if this date went well, and that was awesome and way more than he ever expected for himself.
The stacks of steamers were almost reaching over their heads by now and Blaine thought that the waiters were at the point of taking bets on the two of them. Eating was almost as much fun as watching Kurt eat, deftly handling the chopsticks as he verbally debated with himself on whether he wanted to eat the turnip cake or the barbeque pork bun because there was only one left of both and he had refused to let Blaine give him both, despite the fact that they could always order more.
And had already.
Twice.
"Come on, seriously. It's no big deal to ask for another order of them."
"It's the principle of the thing," Kurt replied, brushing a bit of his hair out of the way. In his frantic urge to find clothing for the night he'd completely forgotten to do something with his hair, but the second they pulled into the parking lot, Blaine had reached over and run his fingers through it, so he couldn't really complain. "I don't like eating the last of things, it makes me feel like a pig."
The sheer amount of food that Kurt needed was more than average (read: impressive) and his frame made him seem as if he didn't eat much at all and it was all the more obvious now. Maybe that was why the waiters were staring wide-eyed.
Or maybe they were jealous, Blaine thought smugly.
"Here, then," he said eventually, reaching out with a chopstick and slicing each piece in half. Or rather, he tried and gave up on the pork bun, eventually just giving in and pulling it in two, taking one half of each. "There, now both of us take the last."
"And yet, neither of us take the last," Kurt finished, a pleased smile curling at his lips. He felt like he hadn't been able to stop smiling all evening. Flowers, a wonderful meal, a fantastically fun, well-dressed date… it kind of couldn't get any better. Or so he thought, until a steamer of Shanghai soup buns was placed on the table along with a shallow saucer of chili oil. "Ooooh, I love these things."
"I don't remember ordering those… Hell, I don't even know what they are," Blaine muttered, glancing around for the waiter who'd brought them. He caught the man in the corner, met his eyes, and raised an eyebrow.
The guy merely straightened his tie and shot him a thumbs up, before gesturing with a subdued smile to Kurt, who was ignoring the entire exchange in favor of taking a bite in such a way that he neither dropped it nor let the soup inside spill everywhere. Blaine returned the smile after a glance and took one for himself, examining it curiously.
"What are these things?" he asked absently.
"They're soup buns. Whoever cooks them makes a broth aspic gel and wraps it up in the skin with meat and scallions and stuff, and then when it gets cooked, the gel melts into liquid soup." Kurt explained with a flourish, finishing off his first one with a contented smile. "Be careful, they're insanely hot and will scald the daylights out of you if you're not careful."
Properly wary, Blaine took a bite and realized that in no way was Kurt kidding about the temperature. His tongue burned but it was totally worth it, he realized, savoring the combination of soup, meat chunks, and tender dumpling skin.
"Oh my god, that is delicious," he muttered half with his mouth full, watching as Kurt gleefully snatched up another dumpling, popping it into his mouth and shivering in what was unmistakable food bliss. "You should make these."
The other boy snorted.
"Oh no, no, no, no," he denied immediately, "There is one thing that I am not nearly ballsy enough to attempt and that is aspic. Not once in my life have I ever gotten one to set properly, and I think it's some sort of deity telling to please just stop and move on with my life."
"Come on, you know you want to."
"No. It only leads to pain and anguish."
"Please? I'll praise you forever."
"Tempting, very tempting, but no," The taller boy said with finality, trying and failing to wipe the grin off his face. It really, really wasn't working. "I think it's better if we just come back here next time we want them." He froze, suddenly, and began to backpedal, "I mean, if you still want to go out with me by the end of this."
"Kurt, are you crazy? I'm totally going to want to go out with you again. Here, somewhere else, one of the apartments, anywhere. Not that I think I think that we're going to have dates at night in the apartments because that's now just implying that we're gonna— b-b-but I wouldn't be adverse to that at some point in the far future and- oh god, I need to shut up. Please stop me, I am so sorry—" Blaine didn't have a choice but to stop talking when Kurt began to laugh, voice light and airy as if infused with clouds or something equally metaphorical and fluffy.
"Oh my gosh, you are adorable," he gasped out when he could speak again, color high on his cheeks and beaming as if he'd never stop. "You are so cute I can't stand it."
Blaine wasn't sure if it was the residual embarrassment or the flattery but he could nevertheless feel the telltale heat radiating out from his face and he covered it much like a cat groomed after falling off the couch: he grabbed another soup bun and ate it as if it held the secrets to the universe. Finally, he peeked up, the side of his lips quirking to the sky.
"Cute enough to try making these?"
"Not a chance, boy. Not even puppies with wings are that cute."
"There is nothing better than a park in winter at night. You must be magical," Kurt commented later after about three more steamer orders and a very large tip to the waiters.
"That's me," Blaine replied, "Magic to the core."
The air was frigid and brisk and a cold wind blew just hard enough to get snowflakes down their collars. The normally inky sky was covered with dark, grey-purple clouds and the park lights were hazy with frost, softening the glow. There wasn't anyone else walking around at this hour, and the only sounds that could be heard were their voices and the crunching of the snow under their feet.
Kurt shivered and reached out to take Blaine's hand, giving it a brief squeeze before sticking them both in his coat pocket, fingers laced together.
"How are you staying so warm?" the shorter boy asked amiably, using his other hand to brush frost off of his hair.
"Happiness," Kurt replied with another squeeze. "And a good scarf. And you're helping too."
"I've got a better idea."
Hesitating slightly, Blaine removed his hand from Kurt's pocket and wrapped his arm around his shoulder instead, drawing the younger boy close enough to sidle up against him. Kurt's arm found its way to his waist and settled on his hip, fingers absently twining into his belt loops.
"Better?" he asked, and promptly caught a please smile in response.
"Oh no, absolutely horrible," Kurt teased, leaning in just a tiny bit closer, "I've never been more offended in my life, really."
"Oh? Funny way of showing it, that," Blaine smiled to show teeth, halting where they were and side-stepping so he faced the other boy instead of keeping him at his side. "Can I be just a little more offensive?"
The words and tone were light, there was a seriousness in his eyes and it was clear that it came through loud and clear, as Kurt cocked his head to the side before inching slightly closer.
"Are you going to show me your ankles too?" he asked and took half a step more to encircle Blaine's waist with his arm, pulling him in for a hug. As easily as if he'd grown up doing it, the other boy returned the hug, Kurt fitting into his arms perfectly as if he belonged there, holding him tightly in the middle of a snowfall.
"Can I kiss you?"
Blaine's breath came warm and unexpected in Kurt's ear and the younger boy shivered in a way that didn't come from the cold in the slightest, inhaling shakily and feeling the tension in Blaine's back under his hand. Kurt didn't trust himself to answer, choosing instead to nod silently, pulling away just enough to look Blaine in the eyes. A hand came up to cup his cheek and trace the edge of his jaw and blue eyes closed by instinct.
Kurt always thought that people must have been kidding or just being overdramatic whenever they spoke about fireworks in a kiss, and his mind wasn't changed when Blaine leaned up and brushed his lips to his, waiting for the favorable reaction of Kurt kissing him back before applying more pressure. Fireworks didn't hold a candle to the feeling that shot through him, something shivery and warm that felt like comfort and video games at three in the morning and cheesy ballads and splitting the last dim sum and home. Experience didn't count for as much as he thought that it might (it was one of the things he'd worried about in the first place) because he was positive that he wasn't the best kisser in the world but Blaine was beaming into his lips anyway. The last thing on Kurt's mind was how much kissing Blaine had done himself because he was here now, kissing Kurt, and being someone's first kiss didn't hold a candle to the possibility of being the last one.
He pulled back slightly, though his grip on the other boy didn't loosen.
"You are wonderful," Kurt told him firmly, "And I'd like to be yours as long as you'll have me."
Blaine almost laughed with relief. Almost. He certainly didn't shiver into the kiss that followed, not at all.
"Good thing," he murmured lowly, "Because that goes double for me and I don't see myself getting over you anytime soon."
AN2: AND THERE YOU GO. It's a little short and I apologize, but I didn't want to stuff it with filler that didn't really matter. And really, what's the best ending note to a chapter but two adorable boys kissing in a park in the snow at night? Really. Just think about that and tell me that it doesn't make you happy. Anyway, as always, please leave a review! I really love to read everything you have to say