Kurt slipped in a few more French phrases on the way to their apartment- and he was very glad no one passing by could understand him. Elliot dawdled behind with a stupid grin on his face, having no idea what Kurt was saying but still walking with a half-hard erection in his pants.
"I know you are already well acquainted with my apartment and my room." Kurt said, his back up against the apartment door. He wanted the sexual tension to last just a little bit longer before they jumped each other's bones. Elliot pressed himself up against Kurt, sandwiching him against the door. How was Elliot so warm? Practically radiating fire.
"Are you going to let me in?" Elliot asked.
"Do you know the password?" Kurt teased, his hand on the doorknob and the other hooked from Elliot's belt loop.
"Let me guess, it's something in French: voulez vous coucher avec moi?" Elliot grinned, singing that stupid song. Kurt scowled,
"As much as I loved the musical, Moulin Rouge had reduced the French language down to one stupid, miss-used phrase."
"Oh, I'm pretty sure I'm not miss using it." Elliot ground up hard again Kurt and bit down on his earlobe. "Are you going to let us in, or do you want to make a scene in the corridor?"
"Hold on moment." Kurt pushed Elliot back, jiggled the lock in the door and slowly pushed the door open a fraction. No one in the living room.
"Come in," Kurt whispered, just in case Rachel had returned home early. Elliot snuck in, slapping Kurt's ass.
"Kurt is that you?" there was a rummage of pots and pans in the kitchen.
Dammit Berry!
Footsteps! She was approaching.
"Hide." Kurt shoved Elliot down behind the couch and stood there as Rachel, puffy eyed and miserable came in holding a steaming kettle.
"Do you know where my lemons are?" Her voice was croaky too- oh crap, this was not good.
"No, I haven't seen them." Kurt placed his hands in front of his hips, his erection was quickly receding, but still- hiding the evidence is better. It didn't help that from the corner of his eyes here was Elliot on the floor doing some obscene pelvic thrusting like a moron.
"I'm getting a tickle in my throat, actually more than a tickle, I need strict rest, which means you are going to have to do everything for me and you can start by getting me lemons. Please. My vocal coach will kill me if I don't look after my voice." Rachel was croaky, very croaky, and she did say please- even if everything before that was a demand.
"Why don't you check again for the lemons." Kurt said. Great now Elliot was miming sucking cock, poking his tongue against his cheek. So juvenile. "I'll be right out."
As soon as Rachel was back in the kitchen, he reached down and pulled Elliot by the collar and shoved him into the bedroom.
"Does this mean we have to be really quiet?" Elliot had already fallen onto Kurt bed, making himself at home. "Because I can't make any promises."
"No, it means you have to stay here for a while." Kurt said, rummaging through one of his draws. "While I go down and get some stupid lemons that you can only get from a certain store downtown."
"You're not going all that way?" Elliot looked upset and he brushed the back of Kurt's neck gently.
"Of course not," Kurt huffed, "I buy a lemon from the corner shop and take off the label. Rachel can't tell the difference.
"Won't she know you aren't gone for very long?"
"Rachel has no sense of time when she is sick." Kurt pulled out what he was looking for and before Elliot knew what was happening, Kurt had slapped a handcuff to his wrist and the other to the bed post.
"What the?"
"I don't want you snooping through my things when I'm gone." Kurt shrugged as if it were obvious.
"Kurt you can't tie me up and leave me, what if the apartment catches on fire."
"Are you planning to set my room on fire?"
"I am now."
"I won't be gone long. Don't make a sound."
"I'm just surprised you own a set of handcuffs." Elliot muttered, examining his wrist. "Like these are going to stop me snooping!" Elliot called as loud as he dared, as the door closed behind him.
Kurt let out a sigh, ran back into the kitchen, pulled Rachel onto the couch, and got her a glass of water and told her to close her eyes. Then, he raced down to the corner store and grabbed a bunch of lemons, peeled off their stickers and grabbed some drowsy cold and flu tablets.
"Rachel, I'm back." Kurt called, Rachel moaned somewhere on the couch.
"I'll put a movie on for you."
"Moulin Rouge?" she begged.
"No," Kurt said, already hearing that dumb song play in his mind. "Here, watch this." Kurt didn't even look at what he picked.
"Pricilla Queen of the Desert? Really Kurt? Those Australian accents are so grating."
"Your voice is also grating but I still listen to you." Kurt poured the kettle and squeezed a bunch of lemons and dolloped honey in the mug.
"Take this." He handed her her favourite star mug and two pills.
"What are these?"
"Vitamins." Kurt lied. Rachel downed them and fell back onto her couch.
"Thank you, Kurt." Kurt patted her head. A sick Rachel was sometimes a sweet Rachel or perhaps the delirium was just taking over.
"I'm going to be practicing some lines for rehearsal in my room so if you hear any sounds, they're ah, just ah, vocal exercises, no need to check on me, get some rest." Kurt increased the volume just in case and prayed the cold tablets would work their magic.
That's when he returned to his bedroom to find Elliot had escaped his handcuffs.
"Elliot, what are you doing?" Elliot was sitting on the floor cross legged. In front of him was an old shoe box. Kurt's heart disappeared from his chest. That box was filled with Blaine- photos of them together, little love notes, mementoes, everything Kurt couldn't bear to throw away.
"I thought it was a sex box." Elliot said, a note in his hand. Kurt began to fume, no he began to shake in pure rage.
"How. Dare. You."
"Sorry Kurt, I shouldn't have, if you've still got feelings for him-"
"Get out." Kurt didn't know what his feelings were, they were a mess, a massive shit storm. Why the hell was he keeping everything about Blaine under his bed when seconds before he wanted to straddle Elliot right on top of that very same bed?
"Kurt, I'll put it back, I'm sorry." And Elliot tenderly replaced the letters and photos while Kurt stood there, unsure what to do, what was the big deal? It was just a box, a box of everything that could have been but wasn't.
"I want you out." Kurt pointed to the door. "How dare you go through my things; how dare you touch Blaine's box."
"Why didn't you tell me you still loved him?" Elliot began to look just as hurt as Kurt did.
"I don't!" Kurt cried shrilly. "I don't love him; I hate him I hate him just as much as I hate you!" Kurt put his hands on Elliot's chest and pushed him back. Elliot fell onto the bed which made Kurt even angrier because part of him wanted to crash on the bed with him.
"I don't hate you." Elliot said gently but Kurt wasn't listening. He was pacing up and down his room muttering incoherently in French. "Kurt, hey, calm down, it's alright." Elliot tried to sooth him by placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Don't touch me."
"Kurt, I'm here for you if you want to talk through things."
Elliot being kind made it so much worse! Why couldn't Kurt just be normal, why couldn't he just do what Santana suggested and leave old ghosts behind? Why was that so hard to do?
"Kurt tell me what you need."
"I need you to get out of here."
"You're having a panic attack; I can't leave you like this." Kurt was panicking, he was panicking hard. The room was too small, felt clammy, he felt like everything was too close. He could feel Elliot's hands try and calm him down which only made things worse.
"Just get out." What Kurt did next, he was not proud of, he didn't know what happened. He balled up his fist, swung his arm back and punched Elliot right in the nose. Blood rushed everywhere; Elliot gave a yelp then swore.
"Elliot, I'm so sorry." Kurt stared at the man who was tilting his head back, his face pouring with blood. "I'm so sorry, I don't know what happened. Sit down, let me stop the bleeding, Elliot."
But it was too late, Elliot was already out the door, dripping dots of blood on the floor as he left.
Kurt sat in his room for the rest of the evening, that stupid shoe box still on the floor.
"Kurt why is there blood on the floor?" Rachel yawned, finally waking up from her sleep.
"Just stubbed my toe." Kurt sighed, not looking up. He had fucked things up, fucked things up big time, not only did he blow his shot with someone he liked, he probably ruined the band too. He would have to resign from the band, it was the least he could do, the band could go on without him, they could find a new member.
"That's a lot of blood." Rachel said, still in the doorway- she was barely awake. "I'm going to take a shower."
"Don't fall." Otherwise there would be more blood.
"I might take a bath."
"Don't drown."
Rachel waved away his concerns with a dismissive hand and a yawn. He was kind of glad Rachel was too dopey to realise he was upset. Kurt couldn't handle a Berry lecture right now. The bath was still filling up when the front door opened and shut again.
"What the hell, Hummel!" The fury of Santana raged into his bedroom. Kurt didn't stand, he just sat there on the edge of the bed, staring at that stupid shoe box. Why did it still have a hold on him? "You broke his nose!"
"I'm sorry."
"Oh, sorry isn't going to cut it, how dare you lay a hand on someone else like that!"
"I wasn't myself."
"No excuses."
"Don't worry, I'll leave the band, so you don't have to put up with some deranged unstable lunatic."
"Deranged unstable lunatic?" Santana repeated, with her hands on Kurt's shoulders. She was trying to meet his eyes, but he was still looking down.
"I'm sure that's how Elliot would have described me."
"Actually, he called me and said you were having a panic attack and needed a friend."
"Oh."
"And then asked if one of us could drive him to the hospital."
"Oh."
"Danny's with him now."
"I'm sorry. I tried listening to your advice San." Kurt said. "I really did, but then…" Kurt threw his hands down at the box.
"You theatre kids are so dramatic, with your butchered belts and black shoeboxes." Santana shoved Kurt's head into her bosom once more.
"I just thought it was true love, you know?"
"I know you did."
"And if that wasn't true love what hope do I have in finding something like that again?"
"Have you been watching Moulin Rouge again?"
"And what if we get back together? What if it is meant to be, I don't want to lose all these old memories."
"Kurt, stop. You're hurting people. I need you to pluck out your stupid, romantic doe eyes and throw them in that box. Do you want to get back together with Blaine?"
"No." Kurt knew that for certain. That panic attack he had just had, he was having them every week with that long-distance stuff. The stress, the waiting for phone calls, it changed them both, they weren't the same people anymore.
"So really, what's in this box is an idea, not a person. In that box is romance, not Blaine."
Kurt shrugged, it wasn't much of an answer, then added, "Where else am I going to find romance? Elliot's not romantic, what if I never get to experience that again?"
"What ever happened to that French word? L'amore something, that sound pretty romantic to me. Danny and I don't have some fancy French word, but we do this thing where we she gets her legs and-"
"La-ha-ha," Kurt stuck his fingers in his ears before Santana could use her hands to describe what ever sex act she was thinking off.
Kurt picked up that shoebox and handed it to Santana.
"Here, take it. Your right. I need it gone."
"As in gone-gone?"
"I don't need to know. Whatever you do with it is your business just don't tell me." Kurt dropped the box in Santana's lap. It felt like a weight had been released.
"I can do that. So, what are you going to do now?"
"I have to apologise to Elliot."
"Does this mean the sex is going to be less hot now that you don't hate each other?" Santana asked. Kurt raised an eyebrow incredulously.
"Really? You think sex someone that looks like that could not be hot?"
"Just don't break any other appendages." Santana called as Kurt left.
Kurt didn't go to Elliot's right away. He made a few stops first, then he wondered if he should just go back home and let Elliot recover on his own. Then he thought about how Rachel always wants someone around when she is sick- and broken nose is sort of like sick, right? Besides, he had already bought the apology card and the liquor. The last stop was the soup place, he figured soup would be the easiest thing to eat with a broken nose, and the place he went to bake their own fresh bread. He didn't know which soup Elliot liked, so he got three different kinds.
He wrote in the apology card in French, not to annoy Elliot, but because he found things easier to say when he figured no one could understand it. But then he decided that perhaps the card was overkill and slipped it in his back pocket, deciding not to give it. It had been more therapeutic more than anything.
He knocked on Elliot's door and waited.
"Danny, I said I'm fine- oh." Elliot stared down, his eyes swelling with bruises and his nose taped across the ridge and some cotton moustache thing under his nostrils to catch the dregs of blood. "What are you doing here?"
"To say sorry." Kurt presented his tray of soup and rusty bread rolls. "A peace offering."
"And the alcohol?" Elliot eyes the brown bottle tucked under Kurt's arm.
"That too." Elliot opened the door a little wider and allowed Kurt to step in.
"How are you feeling."
"Like crap."
"Can I get you any pain medication?"
"Not that sort of crap." Elliot sighed, staring at Kurt from across the kitchen island. He didn't elaborate any more.
"Well, at least you won't need to apply your smoky eyeliner for a few days."
"Too soon Kurt." Elliot chose the pumpkin soup and ripped apart his bread roll.
"Sorry." Kurt coughed, looking around awkwardly, should he go? It really did sound like Elliot hated him now, despite what Santana had said.
"I can leave if you want, I just ah, wanted to make sure you were ok, that you had some food, and pain relief." Kurt gestured to the alcohol. Elliot raised an eyebrow, chewing gingerly on his soaked bread.
"You don't have to go." He said, soaking up the pumpkin soup.
"After the way I acted, I figured you would never want to see me again."
"I've had worse."
"You probably deserved it."
"I'm hurt, you're not allowed to kick a man while he's down."
"Fine, but only for the next twenty-four hours."
"Until the bruising goes down."
"Still better than your usual makeup." Kurt grinned, sipping his soup- cauliflower and blue cheese.
Elliot took his soup and bread and rose from the kitchenette.
"Come." He said and plunked himself on the couch. "Put a movie on."
"What?"
"Well, when Rachel is sick, she gets fancy lemons, a movie and some hard-hitting drugs, I've got my soup, my alcohol and now I want a movie." Elliot pointed to the stack of DVDs on the shelf.
"Who has DVD's anymore?"
"Someone who spends more on his wardrobe than his streaming services."
Kurt looked at Elliot's collection, they all had flea market stickers on them for ten cents, sometimes a dollar, and they were all horror, well most of them, all the b-grade movies that you wouldn't find on line except maybe for SBS.
"Horror?"
"Yeah."
"I don't like horror." Kurt said.
"Let me guess, sappy rom-com kinda guy?"
"And musicals."
"You just haven't watched horror movies with the right person." Elliot said. "They are a lot of fun."
"I might take you up on that offer, later. For now, how about a compromise." Kurt flashed the DVD and Elliot tried to grin without wincing. Kurt grabbed a blanket and tucked Elliot into the couch then sat on the other side. It wasn't a big couch, but the distance felt huge. Kurt tucked his legs up underneath him as the movie began to play.
"You know, I can never get through this movie without dancing to Time Warp." Elliot said.
"I don't think you should dance right now, might bust a blood vessel."
"You'll have to dance for me." Elliot said.
"I'm not dancing to Time Warp again."
"But I thought you liked musicals, wait, again?"
"We performed it in Glee. One of the boys, Sam, was Rocky, and he wore those little gold tights that were so tight, and I could not concentrate at all. I still can't watch this movie without getting an erection."
Elliot sputtered on his soup as he laughed. "Do you need a pillow for your lap?"
"I need a pillow to smother you with." Kurt wasn't very good at keeping to his 'no teasing' promise. Elliot stuck his tongue out.
"You can come closer if you want. Get under the blanket." Elliot offered Kurt the end of the blanket to tug. Kurt's heart raced a little at the thought of their bodies snuggled close together, something wholesome, not in the throes of sex and passion, dare he say it was romantic?
He didn't even realise he was doing it, didn't realise until Elliot fidgeted a little, but Kurt had rested his head onto Elliot's shoulder at some point in the movie. He had even snuggled in closer, his knees up against Elliot's thighs. Elliot smelt strange, like blood and hospital disinfectant, but underneath that was the spice of aftershave.
"Uh, I'm starting to drip again." Elliot grumbled, his nose running, being caught by the plugs up his nostril. "Sorry."
"Don't be sorry." Kurt soothed, "Tilt your head back, here," Kurt shuffled to the end of the couch, "maybe if you lie down it will help?"
"It should stop soon." Elliot did what Kurt suggested, he lay down along the couch, Kurt was behind him and they lay back together with Elliot's head against Kurt's chest. Kurt began to stroke Elliot's hair while Elliot dabbed his nose.
"Better?"
"I like it here." Elliot rolled his head under Kurt's hand.
"What, between my legs?" And yeah, Elliot was technically between Kurt's legs, he had one leg on the couch and the other dangling over the edge, and right between them was Elliot's stupidly long body.
"You ok with this?"
"Yeah, I am." Kurt grinned a little, he was ok with this, this was warm and cosey and romantic. Maybe he had missed the romance more than he thought.
They watched the end of the movie like that, no one got up to dance to Time Warp, and neither of them ended up cracking the bottle of apology alcohol. Kurt patted Elliot's hair like a cat and Elliot took Kurt's spare hand and wrapped it up in his own on his chest.
"I'm so sorry Elliot, I've screwed everything up."
"No, you haven't." Elliot sighed in half sleep; his eyes closed. "Stop apologising, it's getting annoying."
Kurt grinned a little, then bent his neck down to place the gentlest of kisses to Elliot's temple. Elliot turned then, looking up with his bruised eyes.
"You know the doctor said I shouldn't be doing any strenuous exercise."
"Just kiss me, please." He was sure Elliot could feel how fast his heart was racing, he was sure Elliot could see the flush of red to his cheeks. Kurt felt like he was being swept away, like his heart had thudded so hard it had given his mind brain damage.
Elliot paused for just a second, then twisted a little so they were face to face. Kurt wasn't sure whether Elliot was being gentle because of his nose, or because he knew this is the sort of kiss Kurt wanted. It was soft, coaxing, Elliot's bottom lip brushing up along Kurt's. Kurt could feel the graze of tape against his own nose and how Elliot wasn't able to move his upper lip very much at all. Kurt opened his mouth a little, letting Elliot gently work his lips across Kurt's. Kurt didn't want to hurt Elliot again, didn't want to move too much, but he let his tongue flick gently, let his mouth open, his jaw jutting forward to try and catch more of Elliot's kiss.
"Stay with me tonight." Elliot breathed. "Please."
"Elliot I-" He what? Had to go home? Why? To tend to the sniffly Rachel Berry? To make sure he didn't freak out again? So, he could wallow in self-pity and cry into Santana's boobs?
"I would really like that." Kurt decided.
"Perfect, but no funny business." Elliot said, sitting up, "I'm on strict doctor's orders to rest."
"I find lying on my back very restful." Kurt teased, taking Elliot's hand to stand. Neither of them noticed the apology card slipping out of his pocket. Elliot kissed him again, on his cheek so his nose didn't get knocked.
"Strictly sleep tonight." Elliot pulled Kurt into his bedroom. Kurt smiled a little, seeing all the details he didn't see first time around, the tatters on the posters- as if they had been around for years, the collection of shoes in the far corner, the gym gear on the floor and a stack of CD's in the other- all with flea market stickers on them.
Elliot shrugged off his shirt and began to tug down his track suit pants.
"Strictly sleep?" Kurt raised an eyebrow.
"What? I sleep better in the nude. Fine, I'll keep them on. Only because I know how you can't help yourself. I'll wake up tomorrow with someone's mouth around my cock." Elliot pulled open a draw and tossed Kurt a set of pyjamas. Kurt stripped down, doing it nice and slowly, while Elliot sunk under the covers.
"You're right, I really can't help myself." Kurt said, pulling down his underwear, exposing himself, completely nude, taking his time to unfold the pyjamas Elliot has given him.
Elliot stared at him, watching as if trying to work something out.
"What?" Kurt asked as he pulled on his pants and slipped himself into bed beside Elliot.
"Nothing, just pondering the great confusing mess that is Kurt Hummel."
"Confusing mess pretty much sums me up right now." Kurt let Elliot pull him into his chest.
"It's a problem for tomorrow." Elliot yawned then hissed, then pulled up one of his pillows so he was more upright. Then, once he settled, he pulled Kurt back into his chest and held him like a rea-life plush toy. It wasn't particularly comfortable, his spine a little twisted, but Kurt felt so warm and wanted he didn't care.
"Kurt?" Elliot asked, half asleep. "If we start getting along, does that mean the sex isn't going to be as hot?"
"Why does everyone keep worrying about that?" Kurt twisted his spine and hooked a leg over Elliot's hips, much more comfortable.