Author's Notes
Yes, I AM this cheesy posting on an ACTUAL Monday and Tuesday. You'll grasp from this, and if you follow me on tumblr, that I have a THING for Hummelberry and Furt. I can hardly RESIST writing them so I'm praying I managed to get their voices right. This part is VERY heavily focused on Kurt so that's a heads up.
Chapter 8 is in 3 parts. I'M WRITING AND IT'S JUST GROWING. I promise that Chap 9 onwards are single parts.
8A- Monday Evening
8B- Tuesday morning at the Lima Bean (the part everyone's waiting for!)
8C- Regionals
Thank you to the ever lovely ccmskatechick / suchalilyofthevalley for helping with eradicating my Britishisms and generally being wonderful!
THANK YOU to those who have left the most crazybeautiful reviews and recc-d this at various places. It means so much to me.
Monday Evening
"Oh hell no, Mr Schue. That song kicks butt and you know it," Mercedes hollered, diva snapping with each syllable, "I worked so hard on that song and at least it's not about Sam and his lips or Berry's headbands. Come on!"
Kurt laughed to himself. He'd endured enough of the crazy to know that Mercedes didn't stand a chance. Mr Schue would never give the go ahead to a song entitled ' Hell to the No' regardless of how catchy the chorus seemed to be.
They'd finalised one song. 'Loser Like Me' was their 'anthem'. It was hardly Joni Mitchell but they'd written it based on Coach Sylvester and a multitude of crap they'd endured so it seemed to hit the spot message wise and, of course, that was what Mr Schue loved – inspirational messages.
Rolling his eyes, Kurt played with a buckle on his bag and phased out. Tina was clearly bored too as she'd taken interest in Mike's fingers and sat idly picking them up one by one and running her own down the length of them in the softest way. Mike seemed to be indifferent, except on closer inspection, Kurt could see the tiny contented smile on his face.
Kurt took a breath and wondered what it felt like. His heart wasn't used to feeling full or fluttery. He wasn't used to being touched, especially not in a tender and gentle way. He felt like a chaste maiden, resigned to looking at love and romance through a sheet of glass and a lifetime of suppressed wanton. He knew what it looked like; he knew what it was supposed to feel like because songs were pretty expressive in that regard but he had nothing personal to go off.
He hadn't told Mercedes about Blaine. She'd been a little crushed to find out that writing to a total stranger gave him more comfort than anyone he was close to in certain areas of his life. It was difficult for anyone to understand really.
"Kurt?"
Turning to his left, Rachel sat, lips pouted precisely and eyes as expectant as always.
"Rachel."
He turned back to Mr Schue. Maybe she'd get distracted.
"Kurt. I'm going to keep talking because I know you're ignoring me but my dads are out of town this weekend and I checked my diary. I have an opening after my Saturday morning ballet class so I wanted to extend an invitation to you." Sucking in a breath, Kurt turned to her, holding it before raising his eyebrows for her continue. "I, um, well, I thought we could have a sleepover, you know, like your birthday."
"Rachel, that was only a few days ago."
"I know," she sighed, "but it was fun." She frowned, seemingly unsure as to why Kurt didn't just accept right out.
The emotions were written all over her face, so much so that Kurt could help but huff out a laugh. "Come on, Rachel, what's your real reason for inviting me?"
"Honestly, I just thought it would be something nice for the two stars of New Directions to have some fun and down time after the stress of Regionals. That's all."
With her final words, she shook her head, her curls bouncing. A look of pure petulance crossed her face until it died away and Kurt saw her true feelings. She was as guarded as he was at times and he knew why – he understood.
"Rachel, was my birthday sleepover your first sleepover?"
She shuffled in her seat, placing her hands demurely and pointedly on her crossed knees. "You declined my offer, Kurt, and I'm trying to listen to Mr Schue. We have important preparations to focus on."
"Don't give me that," Kurt urged, copying her stance intentionally. It'd get to her. She'd hate the similarity, recognise Kurt's stubbornness and retaliate as always.
"Well, if you must know," she hissed, her eyes never leaving the front of the choir room, "yes. Yes, Kurt it was my first sleepover. Happy now?"
She was impossible. Rachel Berry was not the easiest person to spend large amounts of a day with but when she was 'Rachel Berry the human being' instead of 'Ms Rachel Berry the forever indulged, psychotic starlet', she was kind of adorable.
He mapped the way her eyes twinkled with moisture more than they usually did and the forced jut of her dainty chin. She was upset and masking it perfectly – she was an expert just like Kurt.
"I can bake something."
She flinched, head snapping to look him in the eye. Something softened and her lips curved into a miniscule smile – visible but only to those who truly knew how to read subtlety in emotion. Finn couldn't read Rachel with a map and an instruction manual. He needed the world spelling out to him, slowly and in plain English; it wasn't that he was an idiot (all of the time) it was just that he took the world at face value and if anyone required insight it was Rachel Berry.
"Bake?" she asked, eyes wide like a baby rabbit.
"Yes, Rachel. With flour and water. I can bake something to bring to your house."
"Oh," she breathed out, smiling now. Her shoulders now noticeably relaxed. "I have an extensive DVD collection. All of the typical movies people watch at sleepovers and we have a drawer in our freezer full of ice cream. Although, I did wonder if you might like to watch the new Les Mis Anniversary Cast recording DVD. My dads bought it for me."
It was then that Kurt knew for sure that no matter what she did, no matter how hard she pissed him off, they'd be friends. The world was cruel but he knew that anyway - being actual friends with Rachel Berry wasn't the worst it could get.
The songs were almost ready; Mr Schue was naively optimistic as always regardless of Coach Sylvester's incessant need to find out what they were up to. Kurt had heard – through the grapevine – that she'd assaulted someone or at least attempted to in her scheme to make them all suffer so, as always, McKinley was a flurry of madness.
Returning home after a full day of classes in which he'd found himself plagued with stupidity was tiring. Being paired with Brittany wasn't a normal occurrence as she usually found herself in a different set but instead she'd spent the majority of math turning the shapes they were discovering the angles for into animals – mainly cats. Kurt had watched as she had drawn whiskers and begun naming them before quickly scribbling the answers – the quicker they were completed, the quicker the escape!
"Dude! I'm totally acing this cooking thing!" Finn greeted him from the kitchen archway as Kurt placed his bag down beside the front door.
"Please tell me someone's in there with you and you aren't alone with my knife set because Finn Hudson, I swear to god if they're blunt or you hav-"
"Woah," Finn shouted, waving his hand about causing Kurt to notice the novelty apron he was sporting, "my mom's teaching me and I haven't touched any knives. I've been scraping carrots."
"Well, um," Kurt began, "that's lovely."
Finn just grinned, his face almost splitting. "Told you. I'm gonna kick Jamie Oliver's ass, dude. He's got nothing on me."
With that, Finn disappeared into the kitchen. Kurt laughed to himself as Carole voice could be heard shouting in a manner which only indicated her boiling stress levels – "No no no, not don't touch that, Finn!"
It was nice, Kurt mused. The family environment was new but it was something he knew he could get used to. He hadn't chosen his new brother nor had he handpicked his new step mother – well, not specifically anyway as it had been more of a 'oh Dad look there's a single widowed mother of the boy I'm kind of in love with, why don't you date her'. Regardless of social conventions and the norm, they were apparently a family now and Kurt couldn't help but linger a little longer to eavesdrop on the talking from the kitchen.
Monday nights were always as crazy and in some twisted way, it worked for them.
"Kurt!"
He'd been shouting for a good ten minutes. Kurt knew this but it wasn't as if he was going to respond because Finn shouting only meant one of a short list of things: he'd done something wrong and needed bailing out, he wanted Rachel Berry advice, he needed feeding or he was bored and this was the worst option because it meant Finn in his room and being a pest.
"Kurt!"
It was loud, so much so that it was unavoidable.
"What, Finn? Because I honestly don't know what could possibly be so important to warrant you screeching from your room!" Kurt shouted back with just the perfect injection of disdain.
"I'm bored."
Typical.
Kurt turned and glared as Finn appeared in the doorway.
"Entertain yourself then," he huffed, throwing yet another sweater into the growing pile on the floor.
"What's this?" Finn asked, leaning against the door frame with a smirk.
"What does it look like to you?"
Kurt was stressed. He knew he was and it wasn't helping that time seemed to be spinning by far too quickly. He still had so much to do: iron whatever ensemble he decided upon, nightly routine, pack a bag for Regionals, charge his iPhone and plan a playlist for the bus trip (listening to 'Rachel Berry: The Collection on her pink spangled iPod was just not a valid option). No part of his list of jobs included entertaining Finn Hudson.
"A pile of clothes," Finn said simply, his voice rising slightly at the end of his words, a little confused in case it was a trick question.
"Give the boy a medal. Wonderful deduction."
"Hey, I'm only being nice."
Kurt glanced up mid-breath with a handful of scarves and sighed roughly. "I'm sorry, you're right," he breathed out, throwing the accessories into a separate pile by his nightstand. "Come in then if you're staying."
Finn smiled softly and closed the door behind him, claiming a spot on the bed for himself amidst the frantically thrown piles of material.
"So, what's going on? It's not another charity drive because last time I hardly any clothes left and I need my clothes."
Laughing wryly, Kurt shook his head as he dug another arm full of garmets out of his closet, sorting through them one by own with a crinkled brow. "No charity drive. I'm just choosing an outfit."
"What for? Another royal wedding?" Finn laughed to himself.
It was sweet, really. Kurt couldn't help but smile. He knew Finn had absolutely no interest in anything monarchy related, nor did he have any knowledge of designers, fashion or the very specific art of accessorising yet he'd sat for the entirety of Will and Kate's wedding and endured it. There were freshly baked cookies and Pippa Middleton's fantastic figure involved but a small part of Kurt knew that they weren't the only reason Finn had stuck around so long. He was trying.
Since then he'd dropped small hints every now and then. Every time it happened, Kurt could hear Finn's inner monologue and suddenly nothing could annoy him any longer. He was attempting to bond, trying to share something and, god bless him, it was blatant but really quite thoughtful for a guy who prayed to a grilled cheese sandwich to touch a girl's boob.
"As impressed as I am that you made the reference," Kurt began, attempting to keep a straight face but failing instantly, "I'm meeting a friend before Regionals tomorrow and I thought I'd prepared the perfect outfit but it's not quite right so I'm choosing a new one. Happy?"
"It's not Rachel is it because she kinda loves you, dude, but I don't think you need to make as much of an effort for her. It's only Rachel."
Kurt stopped mid fold and attempted to wade through the many things so wrong with that one sentence. "First of all, she's your girlfriend so she's a little more than 'only Rachel'. Secondly, when do I not make an effort when I leave the house, Rachel Berry or no? Thirdly, since when does Rachel Berry love me? We mutually dislike yet respect one another and finally, it's not for Rachel. It's a different friend."
Kurt watched as Finn's brain cogs turned trying to work out who it could possibly be. He hadn't told anyone about meeting Blaine except Mercedes. Kurt knew he was safe, knew Blaine was real and not a creep middle aged desperado and was certain it would all be fine but he'd seen the news every once in a while and wasn't going to be one of those people who didn't take precautions.
"So if it's not Rachel then who is it because, not being rude, dude, but you haven't got any other friends except for us Glee club guys."
Slotting a studded shirt over his chair, Kurt rolled his eyes. "Well, thank you for pointing that out to me, Finn, but you're in fact wrong. I do have other friends."
Finn frowned. "Like who? You've never mentioned anyone."
"I don't tell you everything, Finn."
"Oh."
Kurt held a handful of bow ties, each draped in a line, close to the shirt, tilting his head at each in turn. He could positively feel Finn's desperation to dig but no way was he going to spill. Blaine was separate from everything and, for now, it was one of the special things about their friendship. Blaine wasn't complicated. He was neutral and kind and supportive even from a distance and that was the most sacred thing.
"How about we have warm milk again? If you leave me to choose my outfit, I'll meet you downstairs in ten. Yes?"
Finn beamed. "Sounds awesome," he swallowed, his eyes searching for Kurt to speak further. When silence took over, he added, "And whoever this guy is, I, erm, I hope you're careful because there are some weirdos out there so if you need someone to keep watch or whatever then I can do that. It's what brothers do, right?"
Kurt stopped, his arms full of potential jeans. "I didn't tell you it was a guy."
"Didn't have to, dude. I know you're super anal," Finn blushed but carried on, "...I mean, super particular about your clothes but you're never this bad and plus, I'm not stupid. I know you've been writing to someone but it's cool. If he makes you smile."
Kurt held his trapped breath at the back of his throat. Finn wasn't one to shock people, except when they realised how very little common sense he had, but Kurt was speechless. Not only was Finn offering to play the protective and rather adorable big brother, he had also been astute enough to actually see past the end of his nose. The best thing though was his acceptance.
"I don't think it'll be necessary for you to come," Kurt offered, his voice startled but soft, "but thank you, Finn. That's really nice of you."
"Yea, well." Finn shrugged with a lopsided smile before disappearing downstairs.
It took Kurt only a few more minutes to decide finally upon an outfit. His room was finally neat once more except for a pair of his favourite deep navy skinny jeans, a patterned monochrome shirt with a thin knit grey waistcoat, which was to be worn open with a loose red McQueen skull scarf. Perfect.
He hadn't spoken to Blaine since their phone call and his birthday but it was normal for them. Their contact had always been sporadic, which – in a way – made it that bit extra special when they did connect because not only was it hoped for but it was a surprise.
Kurt steadied his breathing as he filled his sink with warm water. Swirling it around with his fingers, he thought about what it would be like to sit opposite Blaine, to hear his voice in person, to look into his eyes when they spoke, to actually be in the same room and close to him. It wasn't a surprise that his heart had been hammering consistently all day, teamed with slightly sweaty palms and his mind cycling through a constant stream of possible topics to turn to in case conversation dried up.
They'd talked about so much, shared so much and connected from a distance but there was always a worry that the dreaded small talk would take over and they'd avoid any form of actual communication.
Blaine was interesting; he was cultured and intelligent so there wasn't a worry that they'd run out of mutual interests as Kurt knew he could learn from Blaine and also teach him a few things too. They both shared enough in common that their interests sparked discussion about things they didn't necessarily share – in a way, Kurt concluded as he scrubbed his washcloth over his face in a perfected motion, they were a pretty perfect fit.
As he leaned back and patted his face dry, he frowned in his bathroom mirror and wondered how much of the redness on his cheeks was from the rough exfoliation and how much was sheer nerves and a tiny bit of blush.
He liked Blaine – like liked him. That was obvious and shamefully Blaine was fully aware but there was something in the written words Kurt had been reading over the months that told Kurt that Blaine might be confident and sure of himself in many ways but he might not quite believe the hype.
There was also the fact that Kurt knew he'd sworn to himself that there would never be a rehashing of the previous year. He'd never fall head over heels and stupidly in love with someone without sensible reason to regardless of his heart's desperate wish to feel what it would be like and if the songs had been right all along.
Blaine didn't even think of him in that way so there was absolutely a reason to hold steady and remind himself to be rational and logical. They were friends. Only.
As strange as it was knowing a 'stranger' so deeply, Kurt smiled to himself as he fastened the buttons of his deep red pyjamas, pulling a loose black sweater over his head and sliding his feet into velour slippers – Blaine didn't feel like a stranger at all. Next to Mercedes and, god forbid, Rachel Berry, he was one of the first people Kurt thought of when he felt down. The New Directions would always be the dysfunctional family they'd shown themselves to be and experience had shown how strongly they cared about one another but it was something to treasure when another person, completely unrelated to him without any ties or any allegiances, cared enough to stick around.
Blaine had been the little ray of sunshine during the dark Winter but now... now he was going to be sitting a metre away and Kurt, with a racing heart and teasing smile, wasn't quite sure how he was going to deal with that.
Blaine flopped down on his bed, phone in hand and took a deep breath. In front of him, hanging neatly on a hanger at the front of his wardrobe, was his chosen outfit and beside it, his Dalton uniform. He knew he'd have to find somewhere to get changed for the competition as the other guys would be travelling in their blazers but the thought of meeting Kurt in navy and red was disconcerting.
He knew Kurt well enough to know that he'd be suitably fabulous and it didn't seem right to deny him the effort in return.
Blaine was nervous.
In a way, it was like meeting Kurt for the first time regardless of their letters. He'd be different in real life. As saturated as his letters were with his personality, biting wit and enormous compassion, Blaine knew he'd get to know the real Kurt. He'd be so very close by and potentially a shock in real life. He'd have tone of voice, mannerisms, timing and it'd be spontaneous and scary all at once.
Thinking back to their first letters, Blaine smiled, remembering how formal he'd been and how utterly desperate he'd felt.
He was still the same guy on a day-to-day basis: a Warbler, a well presented Dalton Prefect and a son, but something had changed. Before Kurt and his completely embraced self, Blaine knew he hadn't expressed himself in the way his heart needed him to. He'd longed to just speak his mind and bare his soul for so long and as terrifying as it had been with Kurt, he'd done it.
He hadn't masked himself nor had he been forced to pretend he was something different – he wasn't perfect.
He had a short fuse sometimes. He tried a little too hard. He had very specific raging insecurities. He was pretty damned clueless when it came to a lot of things but he knew himself well enough to be sure that anything he ever did wrong or anytime he ever disappointed someone, he'd try with every ounce of energy to put it right.
He knew that mistakes had been made and they'd continue to be made but Kurt wasn't perfect either and that was the refreshing reality.
He didn't have to pretend to be anything other than himself. Kurt had the courtesy to do the same and so, out of mutual respect and a serious need to be honest, they'd both adopted each other as their outlet.
Blaine knew, as he found Kurt's number in his phone and began to type out a short message, that regardless of their unconventional meeting, they were good to one another and were, in a sense, exactly what they had been looking for in what seemed like forever.
Hey Kurt! It's Blaine. I know I'm breaking so many rules (again) but I just wanted to make sure you were still ok for tomorrow morning? I can't wait. Sleep well :) Love, Blaine xx
Don't be ridiculous, of course I'm still coming! I caved and made Finn cookies and warm milk so I may have some left over to bring. For you. 9am sharp, I'll be there. Sweet dreams, Kurt x
~tbc
[Please note: I am going to try my VERY best to get Part 8B- 'Tuesday' up tomorrow, on actual Tuesday, but I have a dentist's appointment in the morning and I have a MAJOR phobia of needles so the impending doom of getting one and also having work done may mean it's delayed. Just know that it'll be up as soon as I can : ) ]