Hi guys! I promised weekly updates, so here it is. :) It got away from me a little, so this isn't the entirety of Silly Love Songs, and I'm sorry for that. But I wanted to show that there was at least somewhat of a reason for Jeremiah to happen, and that's why it got a little more...extended than I'd planned. Also, there's no Neff, because I couldn't fit it in without it being too random.
Remember, my ask box is always open to drabble requests, and as always, a thousand thanks for your support. *huggles wonderful people*
AND THANK YOU TO INFAMMOUS, WHO IS TRANSLATING "NO REGRETS" INTO PORTUGUESE FOR ME. YOU'RE AMAZING. :)
Want to go to the Lima Bean for coffee?
Blaine had texted it to Kurt right when he woke up, suspecting that his friend would already be awake; but he'd been dressed for a while, dawdling over getting ready, and his phone remained stubbornly silent. Deciding that he couldn't wait any longer if he wanted to have any hope of getting the caffeine fix he so desperately needed, he went to knock on Kurt's door.
"He's in the shower," Paul reported. "Apparently Pavarotti snuck out of his cage in the middle of the night and somehow managed to turn off Kurt's alarm, so he overslept."
"Oh. Okay. Thanks, Paul."
"No prob. Did you want me to tell him something?"
"No, it's okay. I'll just see him in class." He smiled. "Thanks, though."
He saluted. "I'll see you."
When the door had shut, Blaine sighed and checked his phone. He'd have to hurry if he didn't want to be late.
Unfortunately for him, he'd only had his drink for a few minutes before someone slammed into him from behind, spilling his overfilled cup everywhere. "I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, fine," he muttered, grimacing and shrugging out of his coffee-soaked blazer. He'd have to find time to take it to the dry cleaner's now. This was not shaping up to be a good day.
"Well, I- -wait, Blaine?"
He looked at the person for the first time, and his jaw fell open slightly. "Jeremiah?"
He'd met the good-looking blonde about a month ago, at the mall. Wes's parents had conned their son into taking his sister to the mall, and he'd begged Blaine to go. He'd gotten distracted at the music store and ended up accidentally running into some stranger. They'd gotten to talking, and hit it off immediately- -Jeremiah had been smooth and completely friendly, and when he'd asked for Blaine's number, Blaine hadn't thought twice about giving it to him. They'd been texting pretty regularly for the past couple of weeks, and they'd even gone out for coffee once. But even though Jeremiah had admitted that he was gay, Blaine hadn't bothered hoping that anything would happen between them; Jeremiah was older- -ironic, and charming, and completely self-confident. And Blaine just couldn't imagine what interest someone like that could have in a prep-school boy like himself.
"Hi," Jeremiah smiled. "I can get you a new one, if you want. Do you have time?"
"Unfortunately not," he sighed regretfully, "but it's really okay. I appreciate the offer."
"What about tonight?" He lifted one eyebrow, lips curving up in a charming half-smile. "I feel really bad. Besides, then we can catch up."
Blaine's heart flipped. "I'd like that."
"I'll meet you here at seven," he said, and then walked out, leaving a dumbfounded Blaine to stare after him, trying to figure out what had even just happened.
"I think I have a date tonight."
Wes choked on his water; David dropped his pen. "Excuse?"
"I think I have a date tonight," Blaine repeated, completely unfazed by their obvious lack of enthusiasm.
"With who?" Wes demanded, abandoning the worksheet he'd been rushing through in the few minutes they had before first block.
"Jeremiah," he answered promptly, a bright grin lighting his face.
"Who the hell is Jeremiah?"
That brought Blaine up short. "I told you about him! Don't you remember? Right before school, at the mall with your sister?"
"...you have literally never told us about that," David commented. "You've got to change your blazer in the next five seconds, unless you want to walk around covered in coffee all day."
"I have, too," Blaine protested, taking the jacket that Wes offered him. It wasn't his size, but it would have to do, because he so wasn't in the mood to run back to his room.
"Okay, fine, you did. I claim amnesia caused by my sister's complete insanity, and you probably told David while he was playing Call of Duty or something."
"Probably," Blaine agreed, still too happy at the idea of his first date in way too long to bother protesting.
"He never mentioned anything about this kid, did he?" David muttered, when they had separated to go to class.
"Nope," Wes sighed, flopping heavily into a chair. "And you know what the worst part is? We can't even point out how ridiculous he's being, because he's managed to delude himself into thinking he actually has a thing for the guy. So now we have to pretend to be supportive."
"We do," David whispered, surreptitiously taking out his phone and firing off a quick text, "but Jim doesn't."
"You are a genius."
"So they tell me."
"So, roomie, where you off to?" Jim asked nonchalantly later that evening. "Also, why does it smell like a coffee shop exploded in this room?"
"Long story," Blaine replied distractedly, picking invisible lint off his sweater. "Does this look okay?"
"...why are you asking me? When did I ever give any indication of being good at that shit?"
"Why are you so pissy?"
"Not pissy. Do we still have cookies in here somewhere? I'm starving."
"Yeah, in my desk. What time is it?"
"...5:30. Going somewhere?" He lifted his head, stopping his search for his Oreos, and arched an eyebrow. We'll get to the point eventually.
"Lima Bean," he answered, grinning widely. "In half an hour."
"Considering that this room smells like an enormous coffee bean, do you really need more caffeine, Blainey?"
"Why does everyone keep calling me that?" he complained. "Besides, it's not that bad in here."
"I'm just busting on ya," he laughed, getting up for the sole purpose of ruffling Blaine's hair. "Also, I'm concerned about the extreme caffeine addiction you apparently have now."
"I'm meeting Jeremiah," he answered, with some pride.
Jim's eyebrows shot up. "Who the fuck?"
"None of you remember me telling you about him!"
"...because you didn't."
"Well, whatever," he replied cheerfully. "I've got to go in a few minutes."
"Wait, is this like, a date situation?"
"I don't know. I hope so."
"You're an idiot, you know."
"What?"
He groaned. This was not going to end up anywhere pleasant. "You know what, forget it. I'll talk to you when you get back."
"No, what?"
"I've seen the way you look at Kurt, you know? I get that you're, like, having issues accepting it or whatever, but chasing after some random-ass guy isn't going to help you get the hell over it."
Stung, Blaine recoiled. "Not everything is about Kurt. I really think I could like this guy!"
"You don't know him."
"What, you're Mr. Maturity now?" he demanded. "I've been talking to him for weeks. It's not like he's some stranger."
"This is why I didn't want to talk about this before you left. I'm so not in the mood to fight with you right now."
Blaine shook his head. "I'm just gonna go. I'll see you later."
He sat heavily on his bed, closing his eyes. "Have fun, then." Once Blaine had been gone for a few minutes, Jim stuffed a cookie into his mouth, figuring he'd desperately need the energy, and banged on the wall. "Open the door, I'm coming over."
"From what I heard, that didn't go too well."
"The correct answer is 'fucking mess,' actually." He shoved a pile of clothes off the foot of Wes's bed and sat. "Here's the thing, though. I think I figured this out. A little over a week ago, they came back from Lima, and Kurt just...fell apart. It was bad. And I have no idea, 'coz I figured it was none of my damn business, but I think that's why this bullshit Jeremiah thing is even happening. Because I was talking to him a few days later and he mentioned something about Kurt needing to take time and heal. Seemed really worried about it."
"Oh, shit, he's doing the self-sacrifice thing and convincing himself he doesn't want what he wants." Wes facepalmed. "See, this is why we always have to get involved. Because if we didn't, he'd try to be noble all the time and never stop screwing himself over."
Jim grimaced. "Whatever, I guess all we can do is hope the date sucks."
"As bad as that sounds, it might be the best thing that could happen." David sighed. "Til then, we just have to make sure he doesn't accidentally break Kurt's heart."
Except that when Blaine came back, he was completely starry-eyed. "He's so mature," he announced, throwing himself onto his bed and grinning dopily up at the ceiling. "And independent, and...cool. I have no idea what he sees in me...I feel like such a naive, prep-school kid compared to him."
"...and this is what you consider a good date?" Jim asked skeptically.
"Well, he doesn't look down on me or anything. He was just so great. He has all these fascinating opinions about things, and he was a complete gentleman, and...ugh, I can't explain it right. We just...clicked. You know what I mean?"
No, I don't. You're being insane. "So did he kiss you?"
The light in Blaine's eyes dimmed a little. "No."
"Did he mention anything about going on another date?"
He wilted further. "Not...exactly. But he was really sweet, and he said he'd text me, so I think maybe there's a chance. Oh!" Brightening considerably, he snapped his fingers. "When we were talking, it came up that he usually doesn't like to make the first move! So maybe he's just hoping that I'll do something." His mind was made up, and Jim recognized that nothing he was going to say was going to make a hint of difference.
Blaine spent the majority of his free time over the next few days trying to figure out what he should do, and by the week before Valentine's Day, he was pretty sure he had decided on something. But this was hardly the sort of thing he was used to doing, and there was no way he was going to be able to do it on his own. He needed to talk to someone who would give him an honest opinion.
He needed Kurt.
"Okay, I'm all for flair, but these Valentine's Day decorations are just tacky. I mean, what the hell is this supposed to be?" Kurt groused, snatching up a pillow adorned with two cuddling stuffed puppies, wearing an expression eerily similar to the time he'd caught Blaine wearing shoes from Target. Damn, he'd almost managed to forget that Valentine's Day even existed this year, but apparently the employers of the Lima Bean had decided, sometime in the last twenty-four hours, that he needed a reminder.
"It's clearly puppy love." Blaine grinned, tugging the pillow free of his grasp and looking fondly down at the plushies. "It's cute. Come on."
Kurt pulled a disgusted face and reached out gingerly- -as Blaine deposited it back into his hands, his finger brushed some hidden button, making the ridiculous-looking puppies bounce, squeaking, "I wuv you!" His eyes widened. "Oh. Okay, this is creepy."
Blaine, for some reason that he would never understand, was still beaming happily at the toy. "Adorable," he contradicted.
Kurt shuddered. He didn't hate Valentine's Day, per se, but it wasn't as though he'd ever had a particularly good one, either. And anyway, why did there have to be a day whose only purpose seemed to be to make single people feel even worse about their perpetual aloneness? "It's just a simple excuse to sell candy and greeting cards on a holiday," he objected, dropping the plushes as though they were burning.
"Not true," Blaine protested. "People have been celebrating Valentine's Day for centuries. And call me a hopeless romantic, but it's my favorite holiday."
"Really." Kurt arched an eyebrow. That was probably the last thing he'd expected.
Blaine bounced a little on the balls of his feet. Cynic or not, he was going to get Kurt's opinion on this epic plan. "I think there's something really great about a day where you're encouraged to just lay it all on the line and say to somebody..." he held Kurt's gaze, eyes bright "...I'm in love with you."
Kurt all but choked on his own tongue. Oh, God, if only.
But Blaine was too wrapped up in his own ideas that he didn't notice Kurt's preoccupation. "You know? And this year I want to do something really radical, so I want your opinion on this." Kurt leaned in, hoping that doing so would be enough to imply that he had no intention of letting his attention waver. Because he still hadn't quite managed to catch his breath yet, and his heart was still beating just a little too fast for him to actually be able to use his words.
"There's this guy I sort of...like," Blaine admitted, abruptly nervous adjusting his blazer for the sake of having something to do with his hands. "I've only known him for a little while, but I want to tell him that I'm starting to think that my feelings are starting to change into something...deeper.
"So I have to ask: do you think it's too much to sing to someone on Valentine's Day?"
"Not at all," Kurt breathed, after a deeply lengthy pause during which he tried to figure out if he was dreaming, dying, or unconscious and inventing the entire thing in his comatose stupor, because oh my God. Blaine was...he was basically admitting...
It was too much. His heart was going to explode and then he was going to die before Blaine could even sing to him.
"What can I get you?" the barista asked, effectively shattering Kurt's trance.
"A medium drip, and a nonfat mocha for this guy," Blaine replied, smiling charmingly at her. Kurt's mouth fell open as Blaine shot him a playful look and added, "And maybe I can convince him to split one of those Cupid cookies."
"...you know my coffee order?" Kurt managed, brain still stuck on the casual way Blaine had said it, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, as though of course he would know such small, mundane things about Kurt's life. The Cupid thing hadn't even registered yet.
"Of course I do," Blaine answered, echoing Kurt's thoughts and looking at him like, duh.
"That'll be $8.40," the barista announced, looking amused.
Kurt reached for his messenger bag to dig for his wallet, but Blaine shook his head. "Don't even bother, dummy, this one's on me." He handed the girl a ten dollar bill, smiling again. "Keep the change." And he breezed away with his drink, leaving Kurt to beam at the barista.
"I do believe I have a new favorite holiday."
"You two are adorable," she murmured conspiratorially, handing him his drink and the cookie.
Kurt practically floated over to the table Blaine had chosen, and almost before he could sit down, Blaine was speaking again. "You really don't think it's a stupid idea?"
"Singing? Of course not." He handed Blaine the cookie, smiling enormously. "What were you thinking of doing?"
He shrugged, breaking the cookie in half and holding the slightly bigger piece out for Kurt. The countertenor tried to wave him off, but he pouted. "C'mon, please? I know you didn't eat breakfast, and I don't want the whole thing."
"How d'you know I didn't eat anything?"
"I'm psychic." He laughed, giddy. "Actually, I don't know, will you help me pick a song?"
He wants to make sure it's a song I like, Kurt thought happily, finally taking the cookie and breaking off a piece without even paying attention to what he was doing. "Sure. But, I mean...it really depends on how you feel, you know? It's about the message that you want to send."
"That I like him. A lot," Blaine answered promptly, stuffing half his cookie into his mouth at once.
Kurt's heart skipped a beat. "I think I got that part," he said playfully, nudging Blaine's foot under the table.
Eyes dancing, Blaine kicked him lightly back. "Kurt Hummel, are you trying to play footsie with me?"
"Maybe," he answered, daring to be bold.
Blaine just grinned and sipped his coffee. "Seriously, though, if it were you...what would you want someone to sing?"
Kurt choked on his coffee. "Wh-what?" he spluttered, when he'd cleared the mocha from his lungs.
Blaine reddened slightly. "I was just wondering if I should go with something cute and romantic, or maybe, like, fun and sexy. But like I said, I don't know this guy very well, so I don't know what he'd like."
"Well," Kurt began, regarding Blaine archly through his lashes even as his heart hammered so hyperactively in his chest that he was almost sure Blaine could hear it, "if it were me, I'd probably want you to lean more toward cute and romantic." But if you want to sing something sexy, you feel free. By all means.
He seemed to be contemplating this, and he nodded slowly. "Cool. Thanks."
Kurt had never been the type to cover his notebooks with lovesick doodles. But maybe that was just because he'd never had a real crush (he'd decided that Finn so didn't count), because he had totally just spent the last fifteen minutes covering the free pages of his French notebook with variations of Kurt & Blaine forever. At the moment, he was working at an enormous doodle of a heart with their names in the middle, wearing a silly grin that he couldn't have wiped off his face even if he'd wanted to.
"Hey."
Shit. Startled, he slammed the notebook shut before Blaine could look. Fortunately, he seemed too excited to pay much attention to Kurt's twitchiness. "Whatcha doing?"
Oh, you know. Just planning our future. His face was burning- -he probably looked like a firetruck for God's sake. But he couldn't even care, because the conversation from that morning was still fresh in his mind, and... and what if this was the moment? Blaine looked so excited. Maybe it really was about to happen! "Nothin'," he replied cheerfully. "Just, uh, daydreaming. Planning weekend outfits." Or maybe I'm thinking about how perfect it's going to be when you serenade me.
"Well, c'mon," Blaine coaxed. "You're gonna want to see this. I called an emergency meeting of the Warblers council."
"Sounds serious," Kurt replied, working hard to squash the flock of gleeful butterflies rising in his stomach.
The moment he stood, Blaine grabbed his shoulders and quite literally steered him down the hallway. "Let's hope not. I just have to ask the council a tiny, little favor." Kurt could hear the enthusiasm in his voice, and it made a smile spread across his own face.
"Does this have anything to do with your plot to...to sing to your crush?" Oh my God, it's about to happen. He's called a special meeting just for this!
"Possibly," Blaine answered coyly. "I think I've picked the song, but I can't do it on my own."
He didn't seem to notice or care that he hadn't let go of Kurt yet as they entered the choir room- -but then again, neither did the rest of the Warblers. Most of them were too wrapped up in trying to figure out what they were all doing there; and as Blaine led him to an empty spot on the couch, Kurt noticed that Nick and Jeff were sitting even closer together than usual, their fingers just barely brushing. He made a mental note to ask Jeff about it later and then settled on the edge of his seat, hands folded, the very picture of composure. Yeah. Right.
Wes banged the gavel. "This emergency meeting is called to order," he announced, and the room gradually silenced. "Junior member Blaine Anderson, the floor is yours."
Kurt's delight spilled over, and he clapped excitedly as Blaine stood; a few of the others shot him strange looks, so he stopped, all but quivering with expectation.
"Esteemed council, I'll be brief," Blaine began. "Simply put...I'm in love."
Kurt could not, for the life of him, have stopped the ridiculous, infatuated grin from taking over his face. He was certain that his entire countenance had changed in that moment, and dammit, he didn't care. Because Blaine said love. He loves me! The other Warblers whooped happily, and even David piped up, "Congrats."
Kurt had no way of knowing, but in that moment, under the table, Wes stomped hard on David's foot in a what are you doing, idiot? gesture. David shot him an almost imperceptible glare- -calm the hell down, we have to at least pretend to be supportive- -and went back to watching Blaine, who was still groping for words. "I'm not really good at talking about my feelings. I'm much better at singing them," Blaine confessed, looking a little embarrassed. "But still, I could use a little help. Which is why I'm asking the Warblers to help serenade this individual...off campus." Kurt blinked, surprised, as the Warblers exploded into angry denials. Not that that wouldn't be absolutely amazing, he thought, a little dreamily, but if they're objecting so strongly, he could do it right here, right now, and I'd be just as happy.
Wes was practically attacking the desk with his gavel, glaring daggers at Blaine. It seemed a major overreaction to Kurt, but Blaine didn't look overly surprised- -disappointed, frustrated, yes. Surprised, no. "I know what I'm asking is slightly unusual- -" he tried, but Wes cut him off.
"The Warblers haven't performed in an informal setting since 1927, when the Spirit of St. Louis overshot the tarmac and plowed through seven Warblers during an impromptu rendition of 'Welcome to Ohio, Luck Lindy,'" Wes snapped, and David pressed his fingers into his wrist in silent approval. They could still stop this before anything got irreparably damaged.
"I firmly believe that our reticence to perform in public nearly cost us a trip to regionals!" Blaine exclaimed, switching tactics in his desperation. "We're becoming privileged porcelain birds perched on a shelf!"
"I don't have to listen to this," David put in, leaping to his feet for dramatic effect. Some of the others were joining in, too, though both Wes and David suspected that most of them really did take issue with the idea of performing outside of a competition setting. And dammit, Blaine was still one of their best friends, so as he began to look more and more downtrodden, Wes banged the gavel again. "Thad, David, I will have order!" he commanded, and David sunk down next to him.
Kurt's patience had long since dissipated. If Blaine really wanted to sing to him in public, why stop him? And he looked so sad...Kurt put his hand in the air, actually rocking back and forth in his eagerness to speak. "May I please say something?" Dread rising, Wes signaled to him with the gavel, and he stood. "With respect, I believe Blaine has a point," he began, meeting his friend's hopeful, grateful gaze. "The Warblers are so concerned with image and tradition that I feel like sometimes we miss out on opportunities to step outside our comfort zones." They were starting to look vaguely interested now, and he brought out the big guns. "When I was in New Directions, we performed for hostile crowds pretty much everywhere we went. I mean, mattress stores, shopping malls...I had a cat thrown at me in a nursing home once." Sadly, not an exaggeration. But to his delight, a few of the Warblers laughed, and even David had to work hard to hide a smile.
"It gave us confidence," he finished earnestly, returning his focus to Blaine, who was practically glowing now. "It kept us loose."
Fuck. "And where would this performance take place?" Wes asked wearily, sending a mental SOS to David.
"The Gap," Blaine answered promptly, and Kurt blinked. "At the North Hills mall."
What? Why? Kurt kept smiling, though; maybe he was just trying to be ironic or something. He certainly knew Kurt well enough to be aware that he never shopped at the Gap. Or maybe he was trying to throw Kurt off his trail so he'd be surprised when the song really was for him. "I'd like to call it the Warblers' Gap Attack," Blaine continued, starting to regain some of his usual flair along with his confidence. The Warblers laughed, apparently starting to get used to the idea, and Kurt's question burst from his lips before he could hold it back.
"Why the Gap?"
"Oh, the guy I like is a junior manager there."
And then the world ended.
Wes and David exchanged wide-eyed looks; Jim let out a badly muffled, "Fuck." But Kurt didn't notice. Because all that time, he'd been kidding himself. What Blaine had asked him this morning, what he'd seen as concrete confirmation that he was going to finally know what it was like to have your feelings returned...it was for some random guy. All those things Blaine had been saying, all those secretive looks and delighted smiles...they weren't for him.
They weren't for him.
"Those in favor?" he heard Wes asking, dimly, and managed to raise his hand a little. Because if he didn't, Blaine would know. And then he'd really be fucked, and he so couldn't handle this. He didn't even have it in him to look around and see how the vote turned out. All that mattered was that the motion passed, and he was pretty sure he was going to be sick.
"What do you want to sing?" David queried, and Blaine twisted his fingers together.
"I...I thought about it for a long time, and I decided...if we're going to do this, why not go all the way? I mean, what's the point in doing it half-assed?" he asked, laughing nervously. "So I picked 'When I Get You Alone,' by Robin Thicke. Remember the version we did last spring?"
"Bold choice," Jim put in dryly, from where he sat reclined with his hands folded behind his head. Kurt would have wondered at it- -he was Blaine's roommate, did he really not know anything about this?- -if he wasn't so busy trying to keep it together. "Is that really the message you want to send?"
Blaine glared at him. "I think he'd like it. I really want to do this, alright?"
He shrugged. "Sure. I mean, I don't care, 's a good arrangement. I was just checkin'."
"Wes, do we still have copies of the music?" Blaine asked, and Wes nodded.
"Jeff, could you pass those out for us?"
And maybe Kurt was hallucinating, but he thought that as Jeff handed him his music, his eyes lingered sympathetically for just a moment. He didn't have time to think about it, though, before they actually started rehearsing. The song...it talked about sex toys. Blaine. Was going to sing about sex toys. In public. To some random guy who worked at the fucking Gap. Kurt had thought that football game had been difficult, but this. This was like getting stabbed in the heart with every word, and there was no way to escape.
Except then, finally finally finally, Wes checked his watch and made a face. "Okay, Warblers, we've got to call it a day for now or we'll be late for afternoon classes. And to make this easier for all of us, I think it would be best if we moved the rest of these rehearsals to the evening. We can extend our regular time by half an hour or so, and we should be ready by this weekend. Most of us have already sung this in performance, anyway." He smiled slightly. "See you tonight for our regularly scheduled rehearsal."
Kurt didn't even bother to move from the couch, though this time, though, he knew for sure that Jeff cuffed him lightly on the shoulder as he breezed past, a silent gesture of solidarity. Everyone else walked out ahead, leaving him alone.
He didn't even consciously think about taking out his phone or dialing, but Mercedes picked up on the third ring. "Hi, baby, I'm in class," she whispered. "Can I maybe give you a call in a few?"
"I- -I really need to talk to you," he choked out, digging his fingers into the soft, buttery leather of the couch. "Please?"
A pause. "Give me thirty seconds," she whispered. There was a blast of static, presumably as she hid her phone, some incoherent mumbling, and then she was back. "What happened? Do I have to get up there and backhand a bitch?"
"No," he mumbled, sniffling.
"Honey, you have to talk to me. You're scaring me."
"It's so sexy," he wailed, losing his cool entirely. "And it's not for me, but he asked me, and I told him what...and he's not...but the Gap!"
"I can't figure out what that means," she said sympathetically. "Take a few deep breaths first, okay?"
He obliged, then tried again. "He was t-talking about serenading someone for Valentine's Day, someone he hasn't known very long. So then I got really excited, but it's not me, and now I have to go to the Gap and help him sing a really sexy song to some stranger." He finished with a wail. "I wanna come home."
"Aw, hell to the fucking no," Mercedes growled. "Baby, you want to come home, you do it. You hear me? Rachel's dads are going away this weekend, and she doesn't want to be alone. We'll go there, have a girls' night, and help you drown your sorrows."
Sniffling, he wiped his eyes. "Are you sure?"
"Don't be an idiot," she scoffed. "Come. It'll make you feel better, and we miss you like crazy anyway." She sighed. "Dang, I really gotta go, honey, I'm sorry. See you tonight."
The next thing Kurt knew, Blaine was wandering back into the room, looking vaguely concerned. "Are you not coming to class?"
"What?" He blinked. "Oh. I guess I spaced out. What time is it?"
"Almost two. Are you okay? You look really pale."
"I'm just really tired. It's been kind of a long day."
"Oh." Brow furrowed, Blaine moved closer. "If you want to go take a nap, I'll get your work."
He didn't even think about it. "That'd be great. Thanks." Faking a yawn, he stretched. "I think I'll do that."
"Okay." Blaine bit his lip, rocked forward. "Hug?"
Kurt laughed dryly. "If you help me up."
Smiling, Blaine extended a hand. "Always." A shuddering sigh escaped Kurt, and he closed his eyes, resting his cheek against the slightly rough material of Blaine's blazer; and Blaine whispered, lips close enough to Kurt's ear to make him shiver, "Thank you. For helping me, I mean. They probably would have vetoed it if it hadn't been for you."
Kurt's lips curved up in a tremulous half-smile, even as his heart clenched painfully. Great. Fucking great. "What are friends for?"
He didn't sleep. Instead, he batted around the idea of calling his dad to tell him he was coming home, but that would mean questions that he couldn't bear to answer. True, having somewhere to escape to made the whole thing a little easier to deal with, but he didn't think he had it in him to tell his father about it, of all people.
That would make it too real.
And when Blaine came over to deliver his assignments, he looked inexplicably sheepish. "Come to dinner?"
"I can't." Thank God. I don't think I could've handle it. "I promised the girls I'd meet them at six."
"Wait, you're going home this weekend?" Blaine looked disappointed. "But we were going to rehearse tomorrow."
Kurt barely managed to hide his flinch. Is that all that matters to you now? "Oh, don't worry, I'll learn it."
Blaine pulled back a little, brow knitting. "It's not just that. I mean...I'll miss you."
Kurt swallowed hard. "I, um...I'll see you Sunday night."
He hadn't even rung the Berrys' doorbell yet, and Rachel was flying through the door and clinging to him tightly. "Kurt! Come inside, we're gonna order a pizza, and Mercedes got ice cream, and we can even watch Mean Girls if you want!"
He snorted. "I'm guessing she filled you in."
"Duh, white boy," she answered, appearing behind Rachel and tugging the back of her t-shirt gently. "Rach, babygirl, let him breathe, okay?"
"Sorry." Sheepish, she released him. "Did you eat at home?"
"No," he admitted, and his stomach gave an appropriately-timed growl.
Mercedes narrowed her eyes. "Did you eat lunch?"
"Not...exactly?"
"Did you eat breakfast?"
"Yes." His stomach twisted. "Blaine made me. What were you saying about ice cream?"
The girls exchanged a loaded look, wound their arms around him, and led him quickly into the family room. "Here, baby, Rocky Road," Mercedes murmured, pushing the pint and a spoon into his hands. "Does this mean you're not ready to talk about it yet?"
He shook his head rapidly. "No. No no no. Can we not talk about boys at all? Can we just watch Lindsay Lohan be an idiot and make comments about how distressingly similar Gretchen and Karen are to Santana and Britt?"
Rachel, who had just pried the lid off her chocolate chip cookie dough, nearly upended it all over the carpet as she shrieked with laughter. "How have I never noticed that?"
"Oh, baby, you wait. Kurt and I will hook you up," Mercedes cackled, bouncing to her feet. "Where is this DVD?"
"Right under the TV, in the cabinet," she answered, gesturing with her spoon.
By the time the movie had ended, they had recast the entire movie with members of New Directions, eaten their way through all the ice cream, and somehow ended up on one love seat, limbs completely entangled.
"It's getting late," Rachel noticed, sounding kind of lazily surprised. "We should order the pizza."
"My hips should object, but you know what, I don't care," Kurt announced defiantly. "I am perfectly entitled to eat my feelings."
"Damn right you are," Mercedes replied, ruffling his hair.
"We're here for you, when you're ready to talk," Rachel added as she dialed. "I mean, I obviously understand the pain of ruined Valentine's Day plans."
Kurt whimpered quietly and snuggled closer to Mercedes. "No, make it go 'way," he mumbled, half exaggerating.
"Aw, baby," she crooned, petting his hair gently. "It's gonna be okay, I promise you."
"I'll tell you about it when the pizza gets here," he continued for Rachel's benefit, closing his eyes and nuzzling against Mercedes's shoulder. "God, I miss you guys."
The pizza arrived quickly. But then again, maybe that was just because he was dreading facing reality and telling his friends about what had happened.
"You know what we should do?" Rachel asked, bouncing up and down as she set the pizza on the kitchen table. "We should take everything upstairs and put on our pajamas so that we can get all cozy. You want to?"
Kurt shrugged. "What the hell, why not?"
"Yay!" she squealed. "I've never done this before, I'm so excited!"
Mercedes smiled enormously. "Oh, girl, you are too adorable. Let's do this."
"Can someone braid my hair?" Rachel added as they bounded up the stairs.
"I will. It has been far too long," he answered, smiling slightly. "Can we play Gaga?"
"We can play whatever you want, honey."
After a little 'Bad Romance' and a French braid for Rachel, Kurt was feeling courageous enough to talk about the Gap Attack disaster. He blurted the story in a few quick sentences, hoping that the faster he spoke, the less it would hurt. It wasn't true, but at least it wasn't dragging on forever. "I was absolutely devastated," he finished with a little relief, folding his pizza slice in half and taking a savage bite.
Rachel furrowed her brow worriedly. "Did he ever actually say you two were dating?"
He flinched and spoke around his mouthful. "Not in so many words..."
Mercedes looked up. "Well, did he ever put the moves on you?" Implied was the and you never told me? Because for the most part, he'd been keeping her very much updated, and she knew it.
Damn, it's like taking a bullet. "No," he admitted in a small voice. "But we were always singing duets, and he was always smiling at me." When the girls just kept watching him in silent sympathy, a lump of embarrassment rose in his throat. "Oh, God, I made up the whole thing in my head, didn't I?"
"Listen, we've all been there," Mercedes began comfortingly. "At least, I have. With you."
He winced apologetically, but before he could reply, Rachel jumped in. "I know exactly what you mean! If Finn thinks he's just going to walk out of my life, he's wrong." She spun around, abruptly enthusiastic; Kurt backed off a little. Whenever she got that gleam in her eye, there was about to be some serious crazy. And sure enough... "Because I am going to walk up to that kissing booth tomorrow with a hundred dollar bill, and he's not going to be able to make change, and then he'll be forced to kiss me one hundred times. And when his lips touch mine, I'm telling you, he is going to feel it- -"
"Okay, we're supposed to be giving Kurt advice, remember?" Rachel blushed slightly, looking down, and Mercedes smiled in spite of herself. "You are going to the Gap Attack, right?" she added to Kurt.
"Should I?" he asked pathetically.
"Yes," she replied emphatically; Rachel nodded in agreement from behind her. "Scope out the competition. See what this guy's like!" She watched them for a moment. "You know, you are both so guy crazy."
Kurt stared. Rachel dropped her stuffed animal in surprise.
"Yeah. Look at me. I don't have a date for Valentine's Day, and I could give a rip," she reminded them. "The three of us are divas! Look at our idols- -Whitney, Barbra, Patti...they all became stars while they were single." She was completely wrapped up in her own speech now. "They took all their pain and loneliness and put it in their music. People could relate to it. Everyone feels lonely...harnessing that pain is why they became legends!"
Kurt picked uncertainly at the crust of his pizza, but Rachel seemed enraptured. "Why has this never occurred to me?" she demanded, and Mercedes shrugged.
"Sometimes you have to choose between love and talent. As far as I'm concerned, we all need to fly solo for a while."
He had to admit, it didn't sound so bad. Actually...it made a lot of sense. "It's so nice to be around girls for a change."
"Aww," Mercedes crooned, beaming at him.
Rachel crawled over and cuddled up next to him, clutching her stuffed monkey to her chest. "It's so nice to have you back."
The time immediately following the sleepover was infinitely easier. Not easy, per se, not by any means, but definitely more bearable. And, as time tends to do when you just want it to freeze, it sped up, propelling Kurt to the North Hills mall the Saturday before Valentine's Day, waiting for his crush to serenade another guy.
"Can I ask you something?" Kurt ventured, twisting the bottom of his tie around his fingers. What the hell, it wasn't as though he had anything left to lose. And he might as well ask before Jeremiah swooned at Blaine's feet and he had to deal with disgusting displays of coupledom all over the place.
"Sure." He was actually bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet as he scoured the parking lot. "Where are Nick and Jeff? They are coming, aren't they?"
"Yes," Kurt answered patiently. "I told you, Nick texted me that they're running a little late, but they should be here in about five minutes."
"Right, right. Sorry." He graced Kurt with a brief smile. "I'm just nervous. But anyway, your question?"
"Why did you ask me what I would've wanted? You pretty much went with the exact opposite of what I said."
A pause. "I don't know," he replied finally, looking pensive. "I wanted ideas, I guess. But you and he are really different, so I'm hoping it's okay." He looked at Kurt again, apparently not aware that he had just basically carved Kurt's heart out of his chest and pulverized it. "Do you think it will be okay? Do you think I should have picked a different song? Because maybe this isn't the best- -"
"Blaine," Kurt interrupted firmly, putting his hands on his friend's shoulders. You cannot break my fucking heart and then not even have the guts to see if you have a chance at being happy with this guy. Because if you don't have closure, I won't have a shot in hell at finding it either. "Courage, okay? You picked this song because it...spoke to you." About sex toys. Oh God. "And you are going to go in there and sing it for him, and it's going to be fantastic. And no matter what happens, you'll know you went for it, and you'll never have to wonder 'what if?' Okay?"
And then, all of a sudden, he was being smothered in a tight hug. "You are the absolute best," Blaine murmured fervently into the fabric of his blazer.
"Yes, well, I try," he replied primly. "Nick and Jeff just pulled in, let's go."
The rest of the Warblers had been filtering into the Gap at well-timed intervals; Kurt and Blaine were the last, other than Nick and Jeff. Wes shot Blaine a surreptitious thumbs-up from where he was pretending to argue about a pair of jeans with David, and Blaine tried to smile. His nervousness was becoming even more apparent, and Kurt sighed, tucking his arm through Blaine's and towing him toward the first rack of clothing he saw. "We can't just stand in the middle of the store," he reminded Blaine quietly. "That is the wrong side of conspicuous."
But Blaine didn't seem to be listening; his attention had been captivated by someone several feet away. "That's him," he hissed, flipping through a rack of clothes without even bothering to glance at them "The blonde one folding sweaters."
Kurt, who had been pretending to examine some random, heinous article of polyester-blend clothing, abandoned it immediately to follow Blaine's line of vision. The guy was blonde, alright. Blonde, and tall, and kind of weirdly hipster-rugged. I think I'd have preferred if Jim was his type, Kurt thought miserably. Because this guy? He had absolutely nothing in common with Kurt. "I can see the appeal," he forced out, with as much sarcasm as he could muster. "That's quite a head of hair."
"His name's Jeremiah," Blaine announced dreamily, apparently oblivious to Kurt's obvious disapproval. "If we got married, the Gap would give me a fifty percent discount."
There were so many things wrong with that statement that Kurt didn't even know where to begin. Finally, he managed to demand, "Are you serious?", but Blaine was already on the move. Kurt fell back a little to watch as he drew a deep breath, strode to the middle of the floor, and then signaled to Wes. As the opening chords rang out across the store, he closed his eyes, steeling himself- -whatever happens, you'll know you went for it- -and pasted on his best show face.
And then he was on the prowl. "Baby girl, where ya at? Got no strings, got men attached. Can't stop that feelin' for long, no..." Zeroing in on Jeremiah, he stalked forward, letting himself smirk just a little when his intended audience caught on to what was happening. But Jeremiah just frowned and walked quickly away. The nervousness returned tenfold, and he clenched his fists and forced it back. He couldn't, wouldn't, give up yet.
Kurt, meanwhile, was in agony. He'd already abandoned any attempt to smiling, and was glowering at the douchewagon who couldn't even seem to spare Blaine a cursory glance. Yet, somehow, Blaine remained undeterred. He practically trotted after Jeremiah, dogging every step the older boy made, and singing with such earnestness that it was practically tactile. A treacherous lump clogged Kurt's throat, strangling his voice, and he swallowed hard, still mouthing the lyrics as though he was totally fine.
"...and I want you so bad," Blaine announced, finally succeeding in immersing himself in show mode, strolling around the store as though he owned it. The Warblers, as promised, backed his every step. It was as though once Blaine had been able to convince himself that he could do this, his luck changed for the better- -some of the shoppers were actually swaying, beaming, even recording the performance. It didn't even bother him that Jeremiah seemed to be purposely avoiding eye contact with him, nor that he'd taken refuge behind the cash register. Maybe he was just shy. True, he'd never seemed to be before, but there were an awful lot of strangers here. That was probably it.
The attack of secondhand embarrassment that Kurt was suffering only increased as Blaine leapt onto a nearby table, apparently all confidence all of a sudden, and sang, "You can keep your toys in the drawer tonight!" Kurt's jaw fell open slightly- -after the first rehearsal, Blaine had changed that particular line to something more PC. But now- -
Oh, I don't think I can do this. He sagged against the mannequin that was conveniently right next to him, bizarrely grateful for its presence. Because Blaine was staring starry-eyed at this stupid, ungrateful boy wearing a pout that Kurt had only ever before seen...while they were singing "Baby It's Cold Outside." He blinked rapidly, trying to stop the burning in his eyes before it could manifest itself as he feared it might.
To be honest, he wasn't even sure if he was singing at this point. He might very well have started vocalizing again on autopilot, but at the moment, his focus was more on remaining vertical and not breaking down in front of dozens of people. It didn't help that this was one of the strongest performances the Warblers had given in a long time, and that there was an energy to Blaine's performance in particular that Kurt didn't think he'd ever seen.
The next thing he knew, the song was over, and there was a rather beefy, intimidating-looking man booming, "Alright, that's enough. Now I suggest you all get out of here, unless you'd like security to escort you out."
He might not have actually moved, had Jim not seized his hand and pulled him bodily out of the store. "Pull it together," the redhead muttered out of the corner of his mouth. And that was enough to snap him out of it, just enough.
"Excuse me?"
"I'm not trying to be an asshole. I'm just saying, you need to be able to function for another, like, hour, and then you can mope all you fuckin' want."
As much as Kurt hated to admit it, he had a point. "Thanks," he sighed, and then promptly realized that he'd basically just admitted to his rather embarrassing infatuation on Jim's roommate. "Wait, I mean- -"
"I'm not going to tell him, calm down." Rolling his eyes, Jim finally released him. "I am going to go prevent Wes from murdering him, though. You gonna be okay?"
"Yeah."
Wes was practically having a coronary, railing at a still goofily grinning Blaine, and Kurt sighed, slipping out the door unnoticed. He sunk onto an unoccupied bench, grateful for the icy air that sliced through the fog inhabiting his head. But unfortunately, Jim's calming tactics seemed to have been successful, because he'd only been there about a minute before Blaine was joining him. "Hey."
"Hi."
Blaine moistened his lips, looking troubled. "So...what'd you think?"
"You sounded amazing," he sighed. "You know that. You always sound amazing."
"Thanks," he managed. "But, I mean...what do you think he thought of it?"
It was like getting kicked in the face. "I don't know. If I'd ever met him, I might have been able to judge better, but I can't really say." And by that I mean I don't want to tell you that he didn't seem to care. Because it would kill you. And then I'd probably be wrong anyway.
He didn't seem comforted. "I think it was too much," he muttered anxiously. "Was it too much?"
Kurt just lifted an eyebrow. No, Blaine, it's perfectly socially acceptable to sing about sex toys in public locations, and to chase boys who are trying to get away from you. Perfectly. Fine.
"It was too much," Blaine mumbled, fidgeting.
Thank God, the door opened before Kurt had to come up with something else to say. Blaine was on his feet in a moment; Kurt kicked the ground and focused all his energy on shriveling up and disappearing.
"Jeremiah!" Blaine exclaimed, practically scurrying forward. "Hey!"
Jeremiah's expression was almost disdainful as he yanked his hood over his wild hair. "What the hell were you doing?"
Kurt, who had been trying to figure out if he could escape unnoticed, straightened.
"What?" Blaine asked, too cheerfully.
"I just got fired," Jeremiah snapped. Blaine blinked, some of the hope draining from his face. "You can't just bust a groove in the middle of someone else's workplace."
Kurt was practically holding his breath, his eyes swiveling from one boy to the other. "But they loved it," Blaine protested, sounding like a wounded puppy. And damn it all to hell, but Kurt couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him.
"Well, my boss didn't. And neither did I," Jeremiah stated bluntly. Blaine's face fell, and he stared down at his feet. Kurt's lips twitched, just a little, and he immediately felt like a horrible person. "Nobody I work with knows I'm gay."
And that was the last straw. True, Kurt was over the damn moon that Jeremiah didn't seem to care about Blaine, but there was no reason to take his anger out on someone for caring about him. And seeing Blaine so torn up was almost as bad as experiencing it himself. "Can I be honest?" he blurted out, and didn't wait for a response. "With that hair, I think they do."
Jeremiah just rolled his eyes and went back to ignoring Kurt's existence. "Blaine, let's just be clear here," he said, his tone overly calm, and practically dripping condescension. "You and I got coffee twice. We're not dating." Blaine blinked rapidly, looking hopelessly confused, but Jeremiah wasn't finished. "And if we were, I'd get arrested. Because you're underage." And, patting Blaine's shoulder once, he trudged back into the mall.