Author's Note: ...hi. *guilty wave*
You know what? Just read. Real life author's note to follow. :)
The time immediately following New Year's Eve was even more difficult for Nick than back when Jeff had been in the dark about his sexuality. His traitorous mind insisted on replaying every godforsaken detail of that night- -the way Jeff had kind of smiled against his lips, hand warm and steady on his cheek. The way his eyelashes had brushed lightly against Nick's skin and the kiss lingered just a little longer than platonic, what-the-hell-why-not kisses should.
Then again, was kissing ever really platonic?
He groaned, rolling over to press his face into his pillow. In a decidedly anticlimactic fashion, they had followed up their midnight kiss by watching a movie, and Jeff had kept up a steady stream of their typical commentary. Nick had managed to interject every once in a while, to keep Jeff from noticing that he still wasn't really okay.
They hadn't really talked since then; Jeff kept texting him just to chat, but he couldn't really bring himself to respond. Except that he was starting to run out of reasons that they couldn't hang out, or couldn't have a real conversation beyond the bare necessities. And now they had been back at school for about a week, and there was no way to avoid him anymore.
And speaking of...a key turned in the lock, and Nick winced, burrowing deeper under his comforter. "Hey, you!" Jeff sang, and paused. "Uh, are you okay?"
"Just tired," Nick muttered, rubbing his eyes and avoiding Jeff's gaze.
"...it's only six o clock."
"I know. I think I just need a nap or something."
"You've been really tired lately, though," Jeff murmured, sitting on the edge of Nick's bed. "Are you sure you're not getting sick or something?"
Nick shrugged, toying with a loose thread in his sheet.
"O...kay." Uncertain, Jeff got up again. "If...if you need anything, just let me know, then."
"Okay," he replied, trying for a grin. "Thanks."
For Kurt, returning to school was difficult for an entirely different reason. He had begun to resign himself to being confused about Blaine forever, so the half-flirtations and lingering looks, while still angst-inducing, weren't the true cause of his ennui. No, instead, being at home for just short of two weeks, he'd managed to fall back into the routine of living at home- -of being able to talk to his dad, or Carole, or Finn, whenever the urge struck him. Of being able to go pick up Mercedes for a random, post-holiday mall-hopping excursion (the sales were always the best just after the holidays), or go get coffee with Britt. And now he was back at Dalton, and it almost felt like it had at the very beginning.
It didn't help that since he'd been back, something major had apparently happened on the New Directions front; Carole kept dropping little whispered comments about Finn and football and glee every time they skyped, but apparently she didn't have the details. And he kept trying to wheedle them out of Finn whenever they talked, but all his stepbrother would tell him was that by some absolute miracle, the football team had managed to make it to the championship, which was coming up. But the jocks had been forced to join glee (which would similarly never make sense to Kurt ever), and they were being even more unbearable than usual, so the game was probably going to be epically disastrous anyway. The very thought of his tormentors invading what had been his safe zone made Kurt shudder; but when he tried to ask for more information, Finn would just shake his head, looking wan, and ask if maybe they could talk about the Warblers instead.
He'd kept the family drama to himself; it wasn't that he didn't think Blaine would be helpful but...he just really didn't want to talk about it if he didn't have to.
Meanwhile, though, the council had decided (however inadvertently) to do something that would cheer Kurt up, for once. When Wes started handing out a new arrangement with the cheerful order, "Sightread!" Kurt realized that something very strange was about to happen.
"What- -" Befuddled, he glanced down at the pages in his hand, and his face lit up immediately. "Destiny's Child, Wes? Since when is that in our wheelhouse?"
The other boy just shrugged, laughing. "Since now. You wanted showbiz panache, right? Found this yesterday and thought it might be fun. Everybody ready?"
"Wait, where's Blaine?"
"We've got it covered," Aaron replied, jerking his head in Nick's direction and smirking. "He's preparing for his grand entrance."
"Of course he is." Kurt snorted and joined a few of the others on the couch. "Let's do this, then."
He shouldn't have been surprised, he supposed, that Blaine could pull off singing a girlpower song as though it had been written for him. The rest of the Warblers seemed equally unshocked, if the easy way that they jumped in with whatever random choreography popped into their heads without so much as blinking was any indication.
"And now you ask to use my car," Blaine continued, his music long since abandoned as he hopped up on the arm of the couch right next to Kurt. Kurt barely managed to suppress his surprised giggle, tipping his head back to watch Blaine stroll across the back of said couch. "Drive it all day and don't fill up the tank; but you have the audacity to even come and step to me; ask to hold some money from me until you get your check next week..."
This really shouldn't have been as hotas it was, Kurt mused, letting go of his inhibitions entirely and just grooving. And then all of a sudden Blaine was back, kneeling next to Kurt with this unbearably sexy look on his face as he sang, "Silly me, why haven't I found another?"
What was singing, again? What were words? What was breathing, for the love of God, he was so not going to be able to recover from this.
He abandoned his part entirely for the sake of trying to stay alive, managing to get up to watch some of the more gymnastically talented Warblers dance. Jeff and Nick in particular seemed to steal the stage in that regard, and he couldn't help but wonder if they were trying to communicate something to one another as they moved.
And then, all too soon, the song was over, and a triumphant Blaine was laughing, "I'd say we're ready for regionals!"
Cheers and catcalls erupted, and a breathless, elated David whooped, "Damn right we are!"
"What'd you think, Kurt?" Wes added, nudging him lightly. "Flashy enough for you?"
"Actually, I'm really impressed," Kurt laughed. "We pulled it off!"
"Can we do it again?" Jeff asked eagerly, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. "If we can get it a little more together, I think we could totally do this for regionals!"
Thad, Wes, and David all exchanged looks and nodded as one. "From the top, then, gentlemen," Wes yelled, attempting to be heard over the gleeful, excited chatter of the others.
They ended up getting out of rehearsal a little early, which turned out to be a good thing; they hadn't been done practicing longer than a few minutes before Kurt's phone started ringing.
"Hello?" he said absently, rummaging through his bag for his key.
"Hi baby."
He paused. "Honey, you sound exhausted, are you okay?"
"Actually...do you think you can meet me for coffee tomorrow?" Mercedes asked. "Things're seriously crappy over here, and I kinda just want to get away from it all, y'know?"
"Yeah, absolutely," Kurt promised. "If you don't want to wait, I can leave now and be at the Lima Bean in like an hour." Blaine paused halfway out the door and turned to face Kurt, furrowing his brow in concern. "Mercedes," he mouthed, holding up one finger. Blaine nodded, leaning against the doorframe to wait.
"No," she sighed, "I don't think so. I'm pretty exhausted, so I'm probably gonna go to bed as soon as I'm done with all my homework and shit. But tomorrow after glee okay with you?"
He had been planning to help Blaine study for his French exam, but she sounded worse than he'd heard her in a long while. Shit. "I, um...yeah."
"Kurt."
"No, it's fine," he assured her hastily, hating the fact that she could read him so well even over the phone.
"If you have plans, it's not a problem," she answered, except that he could hear in her voice that it kind of was. She'd been really hoping for this, probably thinking about it on and off all day; which was why he shot the still-clueless Blaine an apologetic look before he replied.
"Seriously, Mercedes. I'll be there, I promise you."
She was quiet for a moment. "You can bring Blaine, you know."
A surprised laugh escaped him. "What are you talking about?"
"Baby, you wouldn't sound so guilty if you hadn't been considering blowing me off for your boy toy. Bring him with, I don't mind."
"What- -I wouldn't've- -he's not my- -"
She snorted. "Calm down, honey. I gotta go, I've got so much to do. But I'll see you both tomorrow. Love you!"
"Love you too." He hung up, tucked the phone away, and turned to look at Blaine, who was still patiently standing exactly where he'd been when he took the call. "Hi."
"Hi," Blaine answered, quirking an amused eyebrow. "Everything okay?"
"She's really upset," he replied, twisting his fingers together nervously. "And I know I promised I'd help you get ready for that test, and I still will, but I've got to go meet her tomorrow. I want to make sure she's alright."
"I totally understand," Blaine assured him. "I can bumble through on my own for a few hours before you get home."
"Actually, that's the thing. Mercedes kind of invited you, too, if you want to come. We can drill vocab in the car." He nudged Blaine gently, grinning. "Interested?"
He looked surprised. "Sure! Really?"
"She wouldn't have said it if she didn't mean it. Promise."
"Oh. Well, in that case, I'd really like that."
"I'm driving," he added, narrowing his eyes. "You spend too much gas money driving me places." Blaine opened his mouth to argue, and Kurt's glare grew poisonous. "Blaine Anderson. I'm serious."
"Alright, I give," he promised, holding up his hands in surrender.
"Good," he grinned. "I figure we'll leave right after practice. That okay?"
"Sounds fantastic."
"So what's everyone so upset about?" Blaine asked the next day, as Kurt drove them to the Lima Bean.
"Oh, God, it's such a story." Kurt shook his head, then did his best to recap the whole nightmare in five minutes or less. "...and I'd have told you about it sooner, but I didn't want to get into it before I knew the whole story. But Rachel texted me this morning and told me she's coming, so it's looking like we're both going to get all the information we could ever want."
"Well, you are going to see them, aren't you?" he challenged. "It sounds like this is a pretty big deal."
Dammit, he knows me so well. "I...don't know."
"But it's your brother, and some of your best friends, playing in the championship!" Blaine protested. "And don't you want to see them all sing?"
"Of course. God, I'd love to go support them. It's...it's about Karofsky."
"Kurt..." Blaine bit his lip. "Your parents are going, right?"
"Well, yeah."
"They're not going to let anything happen to you," he whispered. "I promise you that. And Karofsky will be too wrapped up in the game to even think about trying anything."
Kurt twitched one shoulder, mouth turning down in the corners. "Maybe."
"Do you want me to come?" he offered. "I'll be another pair of eyes, make sure he doesn't get anywhere near you." He let himself grin. "Plus, I wouldn't mind an excuse to go to a game."
Kurt smiled despite himself. "Would you really do that?"
"Absolutely."
"I'll think about it," he relented, pulling into the spot right next to Mercedes's car. Blaine didn't respond, just followed him into the coffee shop. The girls greeted Kurt with the usual barrage of squeals and hugs (further cementing in Blaine's head the notion that seeing Kurt interact with them was always nothing short of adorable), and Mercedes hugged Blaine, grinning.
"Good to see you, boy. Wish we weren't such a mess right now, though." She rolled her eyes. "Did Kurt fill you in?"
"I got the cliff notes version," he replied, grinning back. "Sounds really rough."
"And now we don't even have the Cheerios!" Rachel was wailing in the meantime, clutching at Kurt. "All three of them bailed on us!"
"Britt told me on facebook the other day, I think," Kurt replied, wincing. "Look, Rachel, sweetie, wasn't the point to get away from all the annoyance? Why don't we order and just hang out for a while?"
"Okay," she agreed, "I suppose that makes sense."
She and Blaine ended up going on ahead to order, and Mercedes smiled and slung her arm around Kurt's shoulders. "Dish."
"Dish what? There's nothing to dish!"
"Do you see the way he looks at you, boy? Nothing to dish..." She huffed. "You'll see. I'll prove it to you somehow."
"Mercedes," he warned, "don't do anything ridiculous."
"When have you ever known me to do anything ridiculous?" she asked, batting her lashes innocently. "All I'm going to do is see how he reacts to a couple of things." And she stepped up to place her order before he could protest.
"Now, I don't want to sound cocky or anything, but you guys had better be pulling out all the stops for regionals. The number we just rehearsed is so off the hook it's dangerous," Blaine teased once they had all gotten their assorted snacks and drinks, smiling playfully at the girls as he selected a table.
"Seriously, people should wear protective headgear when they watch it," Kurt agreed, dropping gracefully into the seat beside him. Neither girl laughed; his own grin vanished in response. "Guys...we're kidding."
"Yeah, well, it's just hard to laugh with everything going on at McKinley," Rachel replied flatly, pulling the lid off her cup and staring moodily into its depths. Kurt glanced at Mercedes, hoping she'd be willing to explain further, but she looked equally downtrodden.
"I mean, look at us. The stars of two rival show choirs are sitting down for coffee. Our school is so messed up that we can't even get our own football team to stay together."
She had a point; the chances of Rachel Berry willingly fraternizing with the enemy- -especially after the Jesse St. Jackass fiasco- -should have been less than zero. Yet here she was, not even darting suspicious glances toward Blaine as he sipped his coffee or trying to con him into leaking the setlist. This was serious. Kurt bit his lip sympathetically.
"It's so sad, you guys," she piped up suddenly. "Coach Beiste and Mr. Schue were so close to getting everyone in the school together."
The thought of Karofsky being in any way 'together' with the glee club made Kurt's blood run cold; but this moment wasn't about him, and he knew it. So he quickly pushed his own emotions aside and tried to focus on his friends. "Why hasn't Finn told me anything about this? I mean, I know we technically don't live together anymore, but we video skype every night while I'm drinking my warm milk. You'd think it would've come up."
Mercedes nearly choked on her frappuccino; Blaine winced, halting with a piece of biscotti halfway to his mouth. "Warm milk? Really?"
"It's delicious!" Kurt protested.
"Finn's too proud to complain," Rachel cut in, her whole tone changing now that it was safe to talk about Finn. "He feels like he has to be strong for everyone, but I know it's just killing him inside." Kurt treaded lightly on Mercedes' foot under the table, trying to maintain his poker face; she caught his gaze and half-rolled her eyes. Rachel, meanwhile, seemed to be just getting warmed up. Already well aware that neither Kurt nor Mercedes wanted to hear her wax poetic about how much she wished Finn would give her another chance, she had zeroed in on Blaine. "I hope he realizes that if he and I were back together, I could make him feel a lot better, you know?"
Blaine, ever tactful, just continued chewing on his biscotti, but Kurt winced. Oh, God. "Let it go, Rachel."
She sighed and sagged back against her chair. "I just wish there was a way we could help."
"Yeah, and the worst part is how down the guys are," Mercedes agreed. "I mean, they already suffer enough abuse just for being in glee. I think winning the game might ease some of the pressure, at least for a little while."
Blaine furrowed his brow confusedly and asked, around a mouthful of biscotti, "Wait, so the whole team quit?"
"Everybody not in glee," Mercedes confirmed. "But you can't play football with five guys, and one of them's in a wheelchair."
"Yeah, Coach Beiste put a signup sheet for people to join. I think they'll take anyone at this point," Rachel continued ruefully. Blaine straightened slightly, leaning forward; Kurt recognized it as his 'I am about to earnestly inform you of something that I hope will be helpful to you' expression.
"Well, the good news is you only actually need four more guys to play," he began, and Kurt's eyes widened slightly. Yes, Blaine had said guys, but there was already a deeply frightening gleam in Rachel's eye that hadn't been there a second ago. And Blaine was still talking. This had the potential to go very badly, very quickly. "High school regulations actually let you play a few guys short if you want to. But if they figure out a way to make it work, you can bet we'll be there to cheer them on." He turned to Kurt, smiling, the meaning in his eyes clear. You are going to this game.
"Oh, totally," Kurt relented, eyes fixed on Blaine. You win. "Blaine and I love football."
The boy, who the hell do you think you're trying to fool look on Mercedes's face, paired with the who are you and what have you done with Kurt Hummel expression Rachel was wearing brought him up short. "Well, Blaine likes football. I like scarves." Mercedes's lips twitched for the first time all afternoon, and he jumped at the opportunity this provided. "Let's talk about something more exciting. We're here to cheer you up, right?"
"I could use some cheering up," Rachel agreed, stealing a piece of Mercedes's muffin.
Kurt clapped excitedly, and they immediately launched into as many stories about Warbler rehearsals (usually involving Wes or David's inadvertently amusing antics).
At some point, Mercedes treaded lightly on his foot, smirking, and asked, "Speaking of Warblers, white boy, didn't you go out with somebody the other day?"
His eyes widened. What are you doing? But her smile just widened. "Uh...yeah."
"Wait, what?" Rachel shrieked. "Why does no one ever tell me anything? What date?"
"It was not- -" He groaned. "Okay, this guy Jeff asked me out a while ago...it was not the other day, Mercedes. We just went to go get coffee."
"Is he cute?" Rachel demanded. "Do you have pictures?"
"Uh..." I hate you, Mercedes. "He's pretty cute, yeah, but I don't have pictures, Rach. It's not like he's my boyfriend."
"Are you going out with him again?"
"No."
"Whaaaaat?" Rachel whined. "Why not?"
"Because." He sighed. "I just think we work better as friends."
"Was it not a good date?" she asked wisely, as though she was the very expert of crappy dates. "You might want to consider giving him another chance. Because sometimes if they're really nervous- -"
"Rachel!" he interrupted, half-glancing at Blaine, who was toying with a piece of biscotti and staring at the table. "It was a good date. It was a great date, actually- -" he wasn't quite sure why he was saying that, because while it had been fun, it hadn't felt much like a date...well, he supposed he was just trying to be fair to Jeff. "- -but there just wasn't a spark, y'know?"
"Oh, totally," she replied, nodding eagerly.
"Can we talk about something else now?" Kurt asked, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "I still feel kind of bad about the whole thing."
"I've actually gotta go, baby," Mercedes cut in, getting up and looking way too happy about this whole situation. "But I'll see you both at the game, right?"
"Yeah, totally," Kurt replied, grinning back and accepting her hug. "Explain later," he ordered in a low voice, and she laughed.
"Duh, boy."
"We should go, too," Blaine added, sounding suddenly weary. "Is that okay, Kurt? It's just, I just remembered that I have this huge project..."
"No, of course, no problem!"
"Aww, okay," Rachel pouted, getting up and pulling Kurt into a massive hug. "Bye!"
"Bye, sweetie," Kurt replied, kissing the top of her head.
Blaine hugged both girls, and then trailed quietly after Kurt. The other boy didn't comment on Blaine's strange shift in mood until they'd been in the car in complete silence for about twenty minutes. "Blaine?"
"Hmm?"
"What's wrong?"
"I'm..." strangely bothered by that whole "date" conversation "just stressed. I really do have a project that I totally forgot about."
But Kurt's eyes narrowed. "Excuse me, but bullshit."
"What?"
"You can trust me, you know, Blaine. If something's bothering you, just tell me." He caught Blaine's eye in the rearview mirror and held it as long as he dared. "I want to be there for you. Like you always are for me."
Blaine sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. What the hell was he supposed to even say? "I...I don't know. I'm just a little upset, I guess. I don't really know what's going on with me. Haven't you ever felt like that?"
"Well, yeah." Kurt glanced over again, still not sure if he was buying it. "But Blaine...if you ever do want to talk about anything, you know I'll listen, don't you?"
"I know." He smiled slightly. "Thanks. But hey, look, I don't want to ruin the evening with my ridiculous angsting."
Kurt braked at a red light and put his hand on Blaine's knee. "Don't downplay your feelings like that."
It was an echo of what he'd said to Kurt on New Year's, and the fact that he remembered it to repeat it weeks later was enough to brighten Blaine's mood considerably. "Want to go see a movie or something?"
"I think you're just trying to avoid studying." Kurt winked. "When's your test?"
"Not until the day after Finn's game."
"I guess I can allow that, then," he teased. "We just going to see what's playing when we get there?"
Blaine shrugged. "Sure. Unless you want to do something else. I don't really care what we actually do, I just don't really want to go back to Dalton yet, either." It occurred to him once he'd stopped speaking that he'd just screwed himself over. He'd pulled Kurt away from his friends saying tat he had to get home and do work, and now he was practically begging not to go back? Probably not too wise; but if Kurt noticed, he didn't say anything.
"I like the idea of a movie," he said instead. "Haven't been able to just zone out and watch something in a while."
The only movie that was playing anytime in the vicinity of when they arrived at the theatre was some ridiculously cheesy-looking romantic comedy. "Why not?" Kurt asked, spots of color high on his cheeks. "If nothing else, we can just make fun of it the whole time."
Blaine used "But you drove!" as an excuse to pay for Kurt's ticket, and Kurt insisted on paying for refreshments, "because you try to pay for everything all the damn time." The theatre was half-empty, for which Kurt was absurdly grateful. Being surrounded by macking couples was not something he could have handled. But somehow, even though the atmosphere was still couple-y, it wasn't awkward. They sat with their heads close together, snickering and making occasional scathing comments. True, the requisite makeout scenes were...interesting; but as long as Kurt didn't look at Blaine, or think too much about what he was witnessing, he was fine.
And Blaine seemed much happier as they left the theatre. "That movie was awful," he laughed as they got back into Kurt's car.
"It really was," Kurt agreed, snickering. "Good call on going to the movies, Blaine. Good call."
Whatever had been plaguing Blaine that night, he didn't mention it again, and before Kurt knew it, it was the day of the game.
"I like scarves." Blaine probably should have been alarmed about the fact that Kurt's voice, clear as a bell, had just popped into his head. Instead, he just smiled and wound the brightly-colored material around his neck.
Paul answered when he knocked, and greeted him with a bright smile and a wave. "C'mon in, Kurt's almost ready."
"Hi Blaine!" the boy in question exclaimed, still half-buried in his closet. "Just...one...second."
"What're you doing?" Paul asked, obviously entertained, peeking over at him.
"I don't know how these damn gloves ended up all the way up here," he huffed angrily, still straining to reach them.
"Here, move. I'll get them, I've got like two inches on you."
"Thanks," he answered, grinning and scuttling into view. "Nice scarf, Blaine."
"This them?" Paul piped up, holding out the scraps of material. Kurt nodded and bounced over to take them.
"Thanks, roomie!"
"Anytime," Paul laughed. "I'll see y'all around, I gotta go. Have fun at your game."
"Bye!"
The door clicked closed. "Are those fingerless gloves?" Blaine's eyebrow inched up. "You do realize it's like thirty degrees outside?"
"I know." He sniffed, pulling them on. "I'll be fine. Look how well they match."
"You are going to freeze."
"Oh, shut up. We're gonna be late if we don't get going, c'mon!"
"I have this sneaking suspicion that I'm never going to see you this eager about anything sports-related ever again," Blaine teased. "I feel like I should be reveling in this."
Truth was, Kurt was sort of terrified. But at the same time, he knew it meant a lot to Finn and his friends that he'd be there to see them play/perform, so dammit, he was going to be there come hell or high water. "You're probably right," he said instead. "Do you have a study guide for that test so I have some idea of what to quiz you on?"
"Yeah, I'll just give it to you. You okay with me driving?"
"Is there any point to me trying to give you gas money?"
"Nope," he replied cheerfully. "Just give me five seconds to go get my keys and stuff. Are we going right to McKinley?"
"Actually...if you don't mind too much, I think Dad and Carole wanted us to stop by first, and I- -I think I'd feel safer if we rode with them. It's not about...I mean, I just don't want to risk anything happening to you, and I wouldn't put it past them to recognize the car or something."
"Okay, no, I totally understand. It's no problem. Here, I'll be right back, and then we'll go."
Testing Blaine probably should have been seriously distressing, but it was actually kind of hilarious. "Have you even been going to class?" Kurt demanded through hysterical giggles. It was a little distracting, that laugh. His whole face lit up when he was happy- -he glowed. It was a sight Blaine was pretty sure he'd never get tired of seeing.
"I...try to?" Blaine offered, trying for a winning smile. "Why, was that wrong?"
"Blaine, you said, 'I want the penguin to eat my ice cream,'" Kurt wheezed, completely doubled over as he laughed.
Blaine choked on his tongue. "That's definitely not right."
"She's asking you to be able to translate sentences using only the vocab from the unit. Where the hell did you even get penguin from?"
"Ah...not sure, actually. Can we maybe try conjugating instead?"
"Sure. How well do you think you remember the subjunctive."
Uh oh. "Um?" Kurt snorted again, and as he opened his mouth to speak, his phone went off- -Aretha Franklin's "Respect," a ringtone Blaine had long since identified as Mercedes's. "So I've got an idea. You talk to her, I'll start thinking about subjunctive verbs."
"Good stalling tactic," Kurt teased as he flipped open the phone. "Hi, baby." A pause, and the mirth drained slowly from his face. "Why do I already not like the sound of this?" Blaine shot him a worried look, but he had turned to stare out the window.
"What in the actual fuck are you talking about?" Kurt all but shrieked into his phone. Blaine jumped, both from the sudden volume and the uncharacteristic profanity, and tried to focus on not getting them into an accident. Still, he couldn't help but watch Kurt's face peripherally, hoping it would help him understand what was happening; the countertenor's expression was darkening so rapidly that it was actually frightening. "Mercedes, are you insane? Do you have a death wish?"
Blaine could hear her voice, though her words were incomprehensible, but it was obvious that she was attempting to placate Kurt somehow. Based on his friend's unchanging expression, it wasn't working. "You are going to get yourselves killed," Kurt fumed. "And then I swear to God, I will...I will bring you back to life and kill you again!" Another pause. "I'm serious! Why did you not tell me about this earlier so I'd have time to talk sense into all of you?" It was starting to dawn on Blaine now, what might have been happening; he hoped he was wrong, if only for Kurt's sake. Whatever this was, he looked dangerously close to losing it.
"Are you- -" He groaned. "Just...will you please be careful? Yes, whatever, just be careful!" A gusty sigh; his free hand curled into a tight fist, so hard that Blaine could see the tendons straining against the skin. What the hell are you doing, Anderson? Drive, for God's sake. Focus. On. The driving. "Yes, good luck, baby. Give everybody hugs and kisses for me and for the love of Gaga, tell them to stay the hell alive! ...okay. Yeah. Bye, honey, I love you." He heaved a gusty sigh and hung up. "I can't even believe them."
"Are they okay?" Blaine ventured, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible in the hopes that doing so would help calm Kurt down.
No such luck. "They, and by they I mean Rachel and the girls, got it into their heads that the only way to save the championship would be to play! Blaine, I don't think I can handle this game. I am seriously going to have a heart attack and die the instant something happens to one of them," he ranted, flailing a little.
"Wait, wait, the girls are playing in the championship?"
"Yes." He narrowed his eyes. "See, Blaine, this is why you have to monitor yourself in front of Rachel at all times. Because once she gets something in her head, you're screwed."
"Okay, but this isn't my fault, is it?" he asked nervously.
"Not exactly," Kurt relented. "Can we just go back to talking about French things? You still haven't taken your test, and I'd really rather not think about this."
"I don't blame you." He took one hand off the wheel and wound his fingers through Kurt's . "Don't stress, though. They'll be okay- -the guys'll do whatever they need to to protect them."
"I know." He heaved a sigh and let his head fall forward. Goddammit, he had just wanted to go see this game without having any issues with Karofsky and his merry band of assholes. Now he got to worry about the possibility of one of his completely athletically oblivious friends getting maimed, paralyzed or killed on the field? Cool. "To play a game in the subjunctive. Go."
Blaine bumbled his way through, and they passed the rest of the ride drilling verbs. It was oddly soothing for Kurt, and while it wasn't quite as much fun for Blaine, he did get a few laughs out of his own blunders (and Kurt's resultant amusement). And, of course, Kurt knew what he was doing, so that was definitely helpful.
Blaine supposed he shouldn't have been all that surprised that Kurt's parents were one hundred percent unsurprised and welcoming when they found him on their doorstep with their son. "Oh, sweetie, I didn't know you were coming!" Carole exclaimed, hugging him tightly. "It's so good to see you again!" (Because he'd seen her the day he'd helped move Kurt in; he couldn't help but be astonished that she'd remembered him, much less hugged him like she'd known him for months.)
And Burt just offered a lopsided grin and said, "Hey, Blaine, how are ya."
"Doing well, thank you sir," he answered, smiling back.
Burt nodded, mumbled, "Good, good," and promptly asked if everyone was ready to go.
Once Kurt had gotten over the shock of a football game without the Cheerios, the whole thing turned into a sort of half-comprehensible blur. Kicking for all of one game hadn't done anything to aid his understanding of how it was played, and most of the times his father had tried to explain it to him, he'd ended up accidentally tuning out. Still, he knew which players belonged to him (so to speak) and which didn't, and he cheered loudly every time it seemed like they'd done something even remotely successful. These times, unfortunately, were distressingly few and far between; much like his experience from the previous year, being on the team didn't mean the girls actually had any idea how to play. Their strategy seemed to be that as long as they stayed low and didn't move, they wouldn't be killed, and while that was true, it wasn't particularly useful in terms of the actual game.
And then all of a sudden, the teams were practically on top of one another, and the ball was bouncing innocently away. Coach Beiste was shouting at the top of her voice for someone to get the ball, and..."Oh my God, Tina's got the ball," Kurt yelped, leaping to his feet and yanking Blaine with him. "Run, Tina! Run!"
"Go, go, go!" Burt urged beside him, leaning forward eagerly.
"She's almost there, she's almost there," Blaine chanted quietly, squeezing Kurt's hand tight- -and then one of the behemoths in green and white tackled her. Kurt let out a choked gasp, his grip on Blaine tightening so much that it was almost painful.
"She's not moving," he muttered desperately. "Oh, God, why isn't she moving?"
"She's going to be okay," Blaine assured him as the team medics hurried onto the field. But Kurt wasn't listening, and didn't even seem to breathe until he saw Tina struggle to her feet, Mike's arm firm around her for support. Only then did Kurt let out a soft groan, dropping heavily back onto the bleachers.
"I think that just took ten years off my life."
"Look on the bright side- -you'll be able to recover during the halftime show."
"True." Without thinking, he buried his face in Blaine's shoulder. "Can you just let me know if something exciting is going to happen?"
Blaine chuckled. "Sure."
Fortunately for both of them, though, absolutely nothing of note happened before halftime. "Oh, thank God," Kurt breathed, finally relaxing for the first time since the game started. "That was the longest hour of my life." He squinted. "...is that Santana? I thought they ditched!"
"They're starting!" Blaine exclaimed leaning forward.
"They mashed up 'Thriller'?" Kurt laughed proudly. "I shouldn't even be surprised."
"Oh my God," Blaine kept muttering, his jaw hanging open. "Oh my God, this is insane."
His friends were obviously in their element, and in looking out at the field, Kurt realized that yes, the Cheerio trio had dared to abandon Coach Sylvester right before nationals. It seemed to have brought them all together, because they were even better than usual. He beamed, swelling with pride- -and then he caught sight of a lone figure, yanking a football jersey over his head as he jogged onto the field.
"Is that- -"
"Karofsky," he mouthed, heart sinking. He'd been hoping his tormentor wouldn't show or something. But there he was, dancing and singing with most of the people Kurt loved most in the world, as though he hadn't a care in the world. And he looked...happy.
Blaine's hand found Kurt's, and Kurt tore his eyes away. No. Karofsky would not ruin this, too. He had done enough, and Kurt would not let him have this moment. He tore his eyes away, focusing on everyone else, and when the performance was over, he leapt to his feet and cheered as loudly as he could. And Blaine was right there with him, whooping and still looking a little shell-shocked. "They're ridiculous," he told Kurt, eyes shining. "That was phenomenal."
"I love them," Kurt answered simply, smiling.
To his relief, there was no repeat of the Tina situation in the second half of the game. But not too many good things happened, either, and toward the end of the game, a frustrated-looking Coach Beiste called McKinley's final time-out. "There's no hope, is there?" he asked, watching the team slink off to the sidelines.
"There's a chance," Burt put in, eyes glued to the players. "They're only behind by three."
He clutched Blaine's hand as the teams faced each other; and then, all of a sudden, he heard them start to moan. "What...?"
But he didn't have to wait long to find out. Their cries spread to the stands in moments, and before long, Kurt was yelling, "Brains! Braiiiiiiiiiiins!" with the rest of them. The opposing team looked as though they had quite literally no idea what was going on, and Kurt cackled as he heard his father, Carole, and Blaine joining in. And he was so focused on keeping the other team distracted that he didn't even realize McKinley had scored until the stands erupted around him. "They won!" Blaine yelled, jumping up and down as he cheered. "Kurt, they won!"
"Oh my God!" Kurt yelped, throwing his arms around Blaine completely on instinct.
The other boy laughed, holding him tight. "God, what a game."
"Let's go see them," Kurt commanded immediately, all but towing Blaine down the bleachers and onto the field. Apparently completely unfazed by the fact that every one of his major tormentors was present, he dove directly into the fray. Blaine was worried for a second, before he noticed how seamlessly New Directions incorporated them into their number, folding Kurt into a cocoon of warm hugs and exclamations of love.
They reveled in the triumph for a while, and then, at some point, someone decided the celebration needed to move to another venue.
"Victory party at Breadstix!" Santana yelled, and, as one, New Directions and the football team whooped delightedly. Kurt went pale and reached out for Mercedes at once. "Bye, beautiful, I'll call you later, okay?" he babbled quickly, pecking her on the cheek. "You guys were glorious, as expected, full discussion tomorrow after Warbler rehearsal."
She clucked her tongue sympathetically and practically smothered him in a hug; Finn, still glowing with triumph, whirled around. "Wait, dude, you're not coming? You have to come!"
"I'm too tired, I think," Kurt gritted out, glancing pointedly in Karofsky's direction.
"But babyyyy..." Brittany pouted, draping herself over his shoulder. "I haven't seen you in forever."
"It's been two weeks, Britt," he pointed out, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek, too, to make up for the slight edge in his voice.
"Please?" she wheedled, widening her eyes in her best puppy-dog expression. "Please please please? You can even bring your dolphin if you want to."
Blaine did a double take. "Your what?"
"She means you. Long story, I'll explain later. Thing is, boo, we carpooled with Dad and Carole," he hedged helplessly, and Puck tapped him on the shoulder.
"Dude," he muttered. "If it's Karofsky and those assholes you're worried about, don't. We're not even gonna sit with them or anything. Plus if any of them tries anything, it'll just give us an excuse to beat the shit out of them."
"And I can drive you!" Finn added, beaming.
Blaine, without even looking at Kurt, sensed his resolve wavering and murmured, "I'm game if you are. And if you're not, I can make some excuse and get us out of here, but either way, we'll be okay."
But Kurt was tired, incredibly tired, of living in fear. So he drew a deep breath and let the words out with the air. "Let's go to Breadstix."
Another huge cheer, this one from every member of New Directions. Kurt was too busy laughing at his friends' antics to notice a few of the football players glancing over. Blaine wasn't.
And, standing a few feet away, but still close enough to have heard his son's proclamation, neither was Burt. Sam had somehow ended up on the outskirts of the group, and, noticing the man's preoccupation, he edged closer. "Mr. Hummel?"
Burt blinked. "Yeah?"
"You don't have to worry," he said, a little awkwardly. "About Kurt tonight, I mean. We're not gonna let anything happen to him."
"I appreciate that," Burt mumbled gruffly. "But- -"
"Hey, Mom, Burt, we're all gonna go to Breadstix!" Finn exclaimed. "We won't be too late."
Burt groaned, and as, with one last tentative smile, the blonde kid who'd been talking to him disappeared into the crowd, he reached out and snagged Finn's sleeve. "Watch your brother," he warned. "I don't like this whole thing, but for some reason, Kurt wants to go. So keep an eye out."
"We will," Finn promised earnestly, with a lopsided grin. Burt glanced over at Kurt, who was laughing at Tina and Mike's exaggerated reenactment of Tina's epic moment of athletic stardom.
"Don't, don't, too soon," he managed, cackling and hugging Tina. "I swear, I thought I was going to have a heart attack!"
"So, cool?"
"Yeah," Burt replied distantly. "Cool."
"See you!" Finn exclaimed delightedly. "Kurt, we're leaving!"
"Dude, shotgun!" Puck yelped, loping across the entire parking lot in a few huge strides.
Kurt couldn't find it in himself to care- -actually, he was almost tempted to thank Puck for giving him a valid reason to sit in the back with Blaine. Not that he expected anything to happen, but...still.
His hand bumped Blaine's accidentally as he moved to buckle his seatbelt, and the other boy sucked in a breath. "God, Kurt, your hands are freezing."
"Yes, well, we suffer for fashion," he stated mock-primly, and Blaine snorted and reached out.
"C'mere, you."
He grinned despite himself and allowed Blaine to take his hands. "Thanks," he whispered, a little unsteadily, and Blaine just grinned.
"Hey, I have gloves, so I'm warm. Least I can do."
As it turned out, Kurt didn't really have to worry about what would happen at Breadstix. As Puck had promised, the non-glee jocks stayed far away, and the glee boys sat near Blaine and Kurt, creating a sort of protective barrier on the off chance that any of the bullies planned to try anything. He allowed himself to relax as much as he could and enjoy the company of his friends; and they kept him in stitches until he happened to check his phone and realize how late it really was.
"Hey, Finn? I don't want to be 'that guy' or whatever, but Blaine and I have to get back to- -to school," he faltered, stopping himself from mentioning Dalton by name just as Karofsky ambled by on his way to the bathroom. Blaine, observant as always, found his knee under the table and squeezed comfortingly.
"Oh, it's cool," Finn assured him, getting up. "Puck. Dude, you coming back with us, or what?"
"Nah, I think I'll hang out for a while. See ya." He saluted Kurt lazily, who just smirked and went about saying his goodbyes.
He sat in the back with Blaine on the way home again, and to his absolute astonishment, Finn didn't ask why he hadn't taken shotgun. "Are you coming in?" Finn asked, raising an eyebrow when they walked to the front door with him.
"Yeah, real quick. I just wanna say goodnight to Dad and Carole. Do you mind?" he asked Blaine.
"Not at all."
"Cool," Finn replied, grinning and swinging the door open. "Mom! Burt! We're home!"
"Did you have fun?" Carole called from the family room; Finn bounded in, tugging Kurt with him like an overexcited puppy. Kurt grabbed Blaine's sleeve to keep him from getting left out in the cold.
"Yeah, it was so amazing," he rambled. "I still can't believe we actually won. It's so crazy, you know?"
"We're real proud of you, Finn," Burt answered gruffly, smiling. "Real proud."
"Thanks," he answered, beaming and accepting his mother's embrace
Burt caught his son's eye and smiled slightly. "Scooter, if you two just want to stay the night, I can drive you back tomorrow morning."
You two. You two. His dad was actually offering to let Blaine stay over. And he was really tempted to take him up on it, but to get back for first block, that would mean leaving the house at around six. And Kurt just couldn't accept that. "I would love that, Dad, but I don't think I can deal with waking up that early."
"Thank you for the offer, Mr. Hummel. It's really not a problem for me to drive, though."
"Just be careful, alright?" Burt cautioned
"Of course, sir."
"I'll call you when we get there, okay? Don't worry, we'll be fine." And, with one last hug to each of his family members and one more hearty congratulations to Finn, he headed back to Dalton with Blaine.
They'd been in the car about five minutes before Kurt's phone rang. "Hello?"
"Hey, dude," Paul greeted him, sounding oddly guilty. "Uh, are you coming home tonight?"
"...yes. Why?"
"Uh. I just. Well. Just won- -"
"Paul," Kurt interrupted, lifting a suspicious eyebrow, "do you want me to stay with Blaine tonight?"
"Would you mind?" he asked, sounding endlessly relieved. "Because, I mean, if you mind, we can just...go to Maddie's- -"
"Lalalalala, too much information," Kurt sang, wincing. "Just...stay on your side of the room and I don't care what you do."
"Are you sure?"
"Quite."
"You are the best," Paul blurted fervently. "Seriously. I owe you huge."
"Don't worry about it. Just, uh...have a good...I'll see you tomorrow." He hung up without waiting for Paul to respond. "...I think I just got sexiled."
Blaine snorted. Loudly. "What?"
"Okay, yeah, I definitely just got sexiled."
"If you need a place to stay, my room's always open," Blaine offered laughingly. "Jim won't care."
"Are you sure?" He wasn't sure why he'd asked; if Blaine were, in a completely uncharacteristic moment, to change his mind, it wasn't as though he'd have somewhere else to go.
"Yeah, absolutely." He grinned. "My phone's in the glove compartment if you want to text him."
"What, from your phone?"
"Oh, God, wait, don't. He'll be an asshole if he thinks it's me...I mean, he really, definitely isn't going to mind, it's just, well. You've met him. He likes to torture me."
"So we'll just surprise him, then?"
"Yep. That's the best way to go."
"Cool." Silence fell for a while, and then Kurt muttered, "Thanks for coming with me."
"What, to the game? Please. You know how I feel about football. Besides..." he braked at a red light and caught Kurt's eye, "I wanted you to know that you'd be safe. I wanted you to be able to go see them."
Kurt worried his lower lip, closing his eyes for a moment. "I know, and I appreciate that."
Blaine smiled. "Don't worry, okay? You look like you're overthinking something."
"Maybe a little," Kurt admitted, sighing. "You know, I feel bad that you somehow always end up driving me everywhere." It was hardly the top of his list of concerns, but he felt like he needed to say something, and this wasn't the place to discuss what was really on his mind. "If you won't even let me give you gas money, can I at least drive every once in a while?"
Blaine arced an eyebrow. "You drove the other day, remember?"
"I know. But...eh."
"That's really what you were thinking about?"
"Partly."
"Kurt..." He paused, considering his next words carefully. "Anytime you want to do anything, just tell me, okay? It's fine."
The sincerity in his voice made Kurt's heart hurt. "Okay. I- -thank you."
When Kurt and Blaine walked into the room at one in the morning, looking uncharacteristically ruffled, Jim would have made an obnoxious comment- -in fact, one had already sprung fully-formed into his mind and was begging to be released. But the thing was, Kurt looked exhausted and overwhelmed and just generally sad; and Blaine was watching him with previously uncharted levels of concern. So he kept his mouth shut. "Thanks," Kurt muttered, still hovering kind of awkwardly near Blaine's bed (which would have been funny if he wasn't obviously under some kind of duress, because it wasn't like he and Blaine hadn't slept in the same bed before).
"No problem," he answered, shooting Kurt his most charming grin.
"I'm gonna go take a shower," Blaine piped up suddenly. "You can, um...my pajamas are on the second shelf of the closet if you want to borrow something." And before Kurt could even gather his thoughts enough to reply, he and his stuff had disappeared down the hall. Oh my God, I'm going to be wearing Blaine's clothes. This was a thing that Kurt had so not considered, and he was way more interested in it than he should have been, particularly considering his current mindset. He glanced over at Jim uncertainly, but the other boy was quite pointedly not looking at him. Comforted, Kurt tentatively chose a pair of sweatpants and the first random t-shirt his hand fell on. (First and only time Kurt Hummel would ever dress so carelessly, but he felt kind of awkward about digging through Blaine's stuff. Especially with Jim right there.) He changed quickly, hiding behind the closet door even though he trusted Jim entirely (the irony of his being in the closet was not lost on him, thanks), and then curled up on the end of Blaine's bed and called his dad.
"'Lo?"
"Hi Dad. We're back safe."
"Good." Burt cleared his throat. "You okay, kid? You sound a little upset."
Kurt swallowed hard. "I'm just tired. It's been a pretty busy day, so I think I'm just gonna go to bed."
"Alright. Good night. Hey, I love you, Kurt."
"Love you too, Dad," he managed, his voice cracking; and he hung up and closed his eyes tightly, trying to suppress the emotion.
Jim glanced over at him worriedly, wondering if he should say anything. He wanted to help, but he was kind of concerned that he'd only end up making it worse, so he bit his lip and kept silent. Blaine returned from the bathroom fully dressed- -another thing that Jim ordinarily would have made a snide comment about, considering that it almost never happened, but in this situation, it just felt like it would have been excessively douchey. "Hey, today wasn't so bad, was it? he coaxed softly, sitting down next to Kurt and putting a gentle hand on his shoulder.
Kurt's lips were pressed tight together, and he was blinking faster than normal; Blaine didn't press him to respond right away. He'd talk when he was ready. And sure enough, Kurt knew, absolutely knew, that if he tried to keep all this inside, it was going to destroy him. So he swallowed hard and blurted out, "I'm so tired, Blaine. I- -he- -he threatened to kill me, he made my life hell for months, and now..."
Hearing Kurt talk about his situation now, like this, hit Blaine like a jolt, even though he'd already heard about it. He fought the urge to just pull the other boy into his arms and just hold him- -but he couldn't, and he knew that well. He'd been where Kurt was enough times to realize that Kurt just needed to let it all out.
"...now that he's succeeded in chasing me out, there he is, partying it up with my friends like he never even did anything wrong. Meanwhile, I'm terrified to even go to my brother's first championship game because I'm afraid of what he'll do to me. How is this fair?" He shook his head, hard. "I'm- -I'm sorry, I don't mean to..."
"Hey, stop," Blaine interrupted tenderly. "You don't have to justify yourself, Kurt. It's me, remember? I'm the last person who's going to judge you."
But Kurt's eyes were damp, his breath coming in quick, short gasps; it occurred to Blaine that he was looking at someone who had gotten very good at suppressing his emotions. Since the first time they'd met, this was the closest Blaine had ever come to seeing Kurt cry- -even when Kurt had been struggling to adjust to life at Dalton, even after they'd confronted Karofsky on the steps of McKinley, he'd been more controlled than this. And seeing Kurt so defeated...it killed him. "C'mere," he whispered, opening his arms. Kurt went to him willingly, pressing his face into Blaine's shoulder. Blaine could feel him fisting handfuls of his t-shirt tightly and recognized it for what it was- -a last-ditch attempt to pull it together. "It's okay," he murmured, rubbing Kurt's back tenderly. "Just let it out, it's okay."
And for the first time in God knew how long, Kurt Hummel let himself cry.
For a while, Blaine just held him while he wept; at some point, over Kurt's shoulder, he noticed Jim get up and steal quietly out of the room. "Shhh," he whispered soothingly, still kind of massaging Kurt's back. "You're okay. You're gonna be okay."
It was days later, long after Kurt had calmed down and returned to his normal, collected self, that Jeff tracked his roommate down in the library. "You're mad at me, aren't you?"
Nick's head jerked up, and he glanced cagily around the commons. Now he wanted to talk about it? Now, in public, when he was finally starting to get okay at communicating with Jeff without letting the pain show?
"What are you talking about? Of course not."
"We haven't really talked since New Year's," Jeff protested lowly, and then it hit him. "Is this about...what happened? Because if it made you uncomfortable, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to, you know me better than that. If you didn't- -you should've just told me you didn't want to- -"
"I can't do this here," Nick blurted, shoving his chair back from the table and abandoning his stuff entirely in his quest to escape.
"Nick, come on," Jeff pleaded, trotting after him. "I really miss you, you know? Will you just talk to me?"
"Yes, okay? It's about what happened," he exploded finally, falling back against the wall and sliding down until he hit the floor.
"Look, I'm sorry! I just, I don't know, I wasn't thinking, I guess. But- -"
"That's what you don't get, though," Nick mumbled brokenly. "I wanted you to be thinking about it."
"Wh-what?"
Emotion clogged Nick's throat, and he dug his nails into his palms to try to suppress it. "I'm in love with you, you idiot." He had meant it to come out lighter, meant it to be almost playful, in a desperate attempt to conceal how close he was to coming apart at the seams. Except that it ended up coming out ragged, bitter.
A beat of silence, and then Jeff dropped heavily to the ground beside him. "How long?"
"Does it matter?"
"I guess not, but..."
"Can you just- -can I just ask you one thing?"
"I think I just need, like, a second," Jeff whispered, eyes fluttering closed. "And then you can ask me whatever you want. It's just...it's kind of a lot to take in."
Nick fell silent, bringing his knees up to his chest and resting his chin against them. Jeff drew a few low, steady breaths before he met his friend's gaze once more. "Okay. Sorry."
"Don't apologize. I just kinda blindsided you."
"Nick, thing is, I think...I think I fucked up."
Hope, so sudden that it left him breathless. "What do you mean?"
"You know what I talked about on my date with Kurt? You." His lips twitched up into a half smile. "How it was your shirt I was wearing. How you're my best friend." His voice dropped, low and earnest. "How I've been really worried about you lately because you've seemed...upset. But I didn't want to push you into talking about it unless you wanted to."
"What'd he say to you?"
"Told me not to give up on you." Gently, he put his hand atop Nick's. "I think he knew all along. And it took me until New Year's to realize, but...we could be something, Nick."
"Why didn't you say something back then?" His heart was ballooning, and he squeezed Jeff's hand, trying to temper the ecstacy, just in case this was all too good to be true and he was only moments away from waking up.
"Because I was afraid. Because you weren't talking to me, and I didn't want to risk losing you for good over it. It was killing me when we weren't talking." He was tracing little patterns in the back of Nick's hand, and it was getting really hard to focus.
"R-really?"
"Can you forgive me?" His voice was barely a whisper now. "Will you...will you take a chance with me?" These weren't the sorts of things they were used to saying, ever. It made him uncomfortable, saying them now, but he genuinely couldn't think of another way to express himself.
And Nick seriously couldn't even think straight right now, so he did the only thing he could think of. He kissed him.
2: See, something got resolved! Finally!
I'm really sorry these past few chapters have been such angst-fests, you guys. (Also, this one's friggin' monstrously long. I don't know what the deal is with that.) But I promise, there's a reason for it.
On the other hand though...I would be so happy if you guys would drop me some fluff!drabble prompts. All this drama is messing with my head. My tumblr ask box is always open! (And that way you'll get them faster than if you ask me via review or PM, because I check tumblr shameful amounts of times daily...)
AND THERE IS ANOTHER POLL ON MY AUTHOR PAGE. Check that out and be awesome, mmkay? :D
Much love.
