December 28th – part 2

Klaine calendar word: Part


Kurt is interrupted in his sun salutation by the doorbell. He stretches his arms even further towards the ceiling, standing on his toes, before shaking it out, and goes to open the door.

"Blaine, hi!" he exclaims surprised, and tries not to tug awkwardly at his tank top. He must look so bad, in yoga pants, a snug tank top from his younger days (but at least it doesn't hang in his way when he does yoga), flushed face and messy hair.

"Oh wow, I'm so sorry, you're obviously busy," Blaine rambles, and even takes a step back away from the door.

"Of course not; I was about to wrap it up," Kurt lies. He'd been working up a pulse and sweat through a hard set of squats, push-ups, the plank, deadbugs and crunches, and was about to calm down and stretch through yoga. But he'd rather hear why Blaine came over, unannounced. "Do you want to come in?"

"Are you sure?" Blaine murmurs, looking shy.

"No, I'm only being polite," Kurt rolls his eyes, and grabs Blaine's hand to tug him inside. "Please excuse how I look; I took advantage of an empty house." Before the yoga, he'd been playing music on a higher volume than necessary, just because he could with his folks at work.

"You look…" Blaine says carefully, hesitantly.

"I know that I look like a mess," Kurt shakes his head and laughs. "But I've been too lazy this Christmas and have to start thinking about work and keeping in shape again."

"You must have solid work ethics," Blaine says.

"It's a necessity in this business, Blaine. I won't make it with a half-assed effort. But do come in, we don't have to talk in the hallway, sorry, my brain is obviously not at its best today. Do you have time to stay? I was gonna make an early dinner after this," Kurt gestures at the living room where his yoga mat is still rolled out.

"Oh no, I…"

"Carole was called out to work and dad has a late meeting, so I have plenty," Kurt interrupts Blaine, thinking he knows why he hesitates.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. Do you have any allergies?"

"Not food-related, no," Blaine shakes his head and smiles sweetly.

"Great, then you can be in charge of fixing food while I take a quick shower." Kurt laughs at Blaine's startled expression. "On today's menu is a chicken stew from the freezer, so if you could monitor the microwave oven? It's with cashews, so I have to be certain that you can have nuts."

"Nuts and I go along fine," Blaine smiles genuinely, looking more relaxed. Kurt shows him the ins of the kitchen, before hurrying off for a shower, promising to be quick.

He would have loved to have at least an hour to scrub his skin, use a face mask, spend time with the conditioner for his hair, making it look right and pick a good outfit. But he doesn't want to keep Blaine waiting, and finds himself eager to see the young man again. He's not sure what's going on and is still feeling the disappointment that Blaine wasn't as excited about singing together as Kurt had been. But Blaine is here, and that's what counts. He has become somewhat of a friend during Christmas, and even if that wasn't the case, Kurt wouldn't want to be a terrible host living in the shower. It's bad enough that he made Blaine prepare the food.

When he returns to the kitchen, Blaine is seated by the table with a magazine, and the microwave is humming mechanically and lowly in the background.

"I hope you don't mind; I saw it on the counter," Blaine explains, and lifts Kurt's Vogue. "And I set the food to defrost on a slow program so it wouldn't dry up while you showered, so it isn't quite ready yet."

"Of course I don't mind. Did you find anything interesting to read?" he asks, resting a hand on Blaine's shoulder blade to peak at where he is in the magazine. Kurt hadn't had time to read it before leaving for vacation, so he brought it with him to read over Christmas.

"Lots of inspiration to dream from," Blaine sighs, and flips to the pages showing Christmas decorations, before continuing to the pages with inspirational last-minute Christmas gift-shopping. "That scarf," he murmurs, stroking a finger across the picture of a soft cashmere.

"I know," Kurt sighs… "Scarves are amazing."

The microwave dings, and he steps back to find plates and utensils for their food.

"Do you want to watch TV while we eat? I think the Home Alone-movies are running a marathon today."

"I'd love to watch a movie with you later, but first, could we perhaps just talk?"

"Of course!" Kurt thrills, and starts setting the kitchen table. It's cosier than the dining table when they're only two. "What do you want to drink?"

"Oh, let me help you," Blaine gets up and moves the magazine back to the kitchen counter. "And water is fine."

Together, they set the table and make sure the chicken stew is warm through and through and ready to be eaten.

"Thank you for inviting me for dinner even if I showed up unannounced," Blaine murmurs, and lifts his glass of water in a toast.

"And thank you for the nice surprise and keeping me company when I was home alone," Kurt smiles back, trying to keep it a little flirty, and clinks their glasses in a salute.

"Are you saying you aren't as creative and courageous as Kevin?" Blaine teases, and his eyes are shining.

"Oh, I'm sure I could have waltzed them out of the house," Kurt snorts, lifts his arms in the proper position, and thrills at the sound of Blaine giggling. "So why did you come over?" he finally asks, because he has been wondering, and he certainly doesn't mind, but he still wants to know why. Because his optimistic imagination keeps providing him with scenarios and alternatives that are too hopeful and too eagerly resonates with his heart. "Did Cooper kick you out of your nest?" he adds teasingly, to show he doesn't mean to interrogate.

"Oh God," Blaine groans, and hides his face behind his hands. "What are the chances you can just forget about that relic from my childhood?"

"Non-existent," Kurt nods gravely.

"I feared that would be your answer… So I came over… to bribe your memory!" Blaine laughs.

"Oh really?"

"Well, not really, but maybe two flies and one stone by happenchance?"

"Well, colour me intrigued, then," Kurt murmurs, and doesn't mind that it comes out so flirtatious.

Blaine scratches the back of his neck, looks intently at his lap, licks his lips, and then looks squarely at Kurt.

"You took me completely by surprise yesterday, with your kind-hearted suggestion that we sing at that potluck concert. I don't do well with surprises," Blaine huffs and shakes his head. But he looks at Kurt again. "And I'm sorry for not appreciating your thoughtfulness, your kindness. You remembered something we had only briefly talked about, and you found an opportunity for me to test the stage again. And instead of jumping at such a possibility, I was rude and hesitant. For that I am truly sorry. So I come bringing a peace offering," Blaine concludes, and starts rummaging in the satchel hanging over his chair.

He places a medium sized, square tin box on the table in front of Kurt. The red box has a lid, and the handle of the lid is shaped as a dark blue bow running around the box like a wrapped gift, big enough to give a good grip to get the lid off. Kurt tilts his head in curiousness, and carefully lifts the box. It's quite heavy.

"I forgot to ask if you have any food allergies, and I hope you don't, but if you do maybe Senator Hummel and your stepmom might enjoy them. I made them myself, but I promise they're good." Blaine exhales, and closes his eyes.

"Sometimes I have this inexplicable bad reaction to alcohol in large amounts, but no food allergies, no," Kurt murmurs, and curiously opens the lid of the box while Blaine snorts at him.

"I sometimes have the same intolerance," Blaine chuckles lowly, talking mostly to himself and not disturbing Kurt's investigation.

Kurt's nostrils are hit with delicious smells of chocolate, cream, butter, sweetness and spices when he opens the lid. Inside are several layers of portion-sized treats, separated by wax paper.

"You made me fudge?"

Blaine shrugs. "It's one of the few things I'm confident about making. And it seemed like a better option than cranberry sauce, even if I ace it."

Kurt laughs out loud at that, and easily agrees that a box of sweets probably is a better gift than a mug of cranberry sauce on most days.

"I was never upset with you," Kurt says, picks a sample to taste, and moans as he's hit with the most delicious taste of peppermint and chocolate. He chews it slowly, lets it melt a little in his mouth, but finally swallows so he can answer Blaine's unspoken question in his eyes. "Mmm… If you truly felt a need to apologize, I can only say apology so, so accepted, and keep 'em coming!"

It makes Blaine laugh, and his shoulders visibly lowers.

"I enjoy experimenting with flavours in fudge, so I gave you three varieties. That was the candy cane-inspired fudge, you have the gingerbread-inspired fudge, there's a raspberry fudge. Oh, and the plain standard, of course," Blaine explains eagerly, and it's just adorable to see him excited and enthusiastic. Kurt has a vision of cooking together in the kitchen, finding joy in exploring and creating new delicacies.

"That's four," Kurt says, and tries not to drool in the tin box.

"Math was never my strongest subject," Blaine shrugs playfully.

Kurt inhales audibly the wonderful scents from the box, before slowly, regrettably putting the lid back on.

"Okay, okay, we'll finish up dinner first, and then we can savour these with coffee while Kevin is home alone." Reluctantly, he places the box at the end of the table, out of sight, and he looks forlornly at the chicken stew.

"Thank you for enduring me," Blaine says softly, sadly, and Kurt looks at him with worry.

"There's nothing to endure."

"I just wish I could be more impromptu, spontaneous, careless, and not so hesitant to everything. I used to be more careless when I was younger…" he tapers off. "Anyway, I truly hope you got a spot to perform on the concert, and I'd love to be in the audience to hear you shine on stage, a true Broadway star," he gushes, and Kurt can't help but preen.

"As a matter of fact, they did ask me to do a solo number, hoping my name would attract an even bigger audience. They'd probably create more resonance with the neighbourhood if my Senator-dad was mentioned instead, but hopefully the Hummel has some pull regardless. Maybe people will think the organizers misspelled his first name!" Kurt laughs.

"That's great, Kurt! You are a star! What are you singing?"

"Undecided," he quickly waves the topic away. "But you should know that I still have booked a slot for the two of us duetting. I know they have a waiting list of performers willing to contribute, so I haven't cancelled our appearance, you didn't give me a definite no, so I guess I was allowing myself to hope for a day or two more."

"So… It's not too late?"

"No, not yet. If you want, we can introduce this country to your star quality, state by state, starting in Washington the day after tomorrow."

"You haven't even seen me perform before," Blaine objects.

"No. But I see you. There's something about you, something beyond a good voice. You are star quality, Blaine."

"Kurt…" Blaine murmurs touched, stretching his hand across the table. Kurt takes it in his.

"I believe in you."

"I would be honoured to sing with you on that stage," Blaine smiles. He's so helpless to this man's attention and would probably commit murder for him.

"We're doing this?" Kurt asks excitedly, squeezing his hand.

"We're doing this," Blaine nods eagerly.

"Spectacular! OK, we have to decide on a song; I have so many ideas, and we have to split parts, and correlate our outfits, and, Blaine, we have so much to do! Kevin will just have to wait. Finish your dinner, we have work ahead of us!" Kurt rambles off and digs in from his plate.

"Aye, aye, Captain," Blaine salutes, before eating his own dinner with far more mannerism.