Happy Wednesday! I hope you're all doing amazingly.
With each chapter, I'm in absolute awe of your comments, your support and your love. I'm very happy you like the story. Thank you for reading along!
Hugs for Christine, best beta in the whole fandom, and Sofi, for her help.
Enjoy!
They stepped outside and it was still drizzling. Blaine looked up at the grey sky and once again regretted not grabbing his umbrella, but there just hadn't been enough time. The afternoon had ended up being a success, he thought cheerfully, and glanced at Kurt to share a smile with him, only to find his face looked as serious as the storm that threatened the city.
He glanced away and saw Santana was already there, opening the backseat door for them.
"We'll drop you off at the boutique on our way back to the office," Kurt said in a monotone.
"That's all right," Blaine replied. "I'd rather walk. It's just a few blocks."
"It's raining," Kurt pointed out.
"I don't mind," Blaine said with a little shrug.
Kurt gave him a curt nod. "As you wish. I'll see you at home this evening."
Blaine bit his lip and reached out, placing his hand on Kurt's arm before he could get into the car. "Kurt, do you want to talk?"
Icy blue eyes roamed over his face. His lips were set in a tight line. "No," he said. "Not now."
Kurt looked truly upset, and Blaine wasn't sure it was a good idea to postpone this, but he had to go back to work and part of him was actually dreading whatever was going to happen. The perfect weekend together was still so fresh in his mind – he didn't want those memories ruined with the big argument they were sure to have.
Kurt got into the car before Blaine could say another word and shut the door rather forcefully. Even Santana flinched a bit, taking her hand out of the way just in time. She exchanged a quick, unexpressive look with Blaine that he was never going to be able to read, before she went around the car and into the driver's seat. They were gone in a matter of seconds.
Blaine stood there, in the rain, his heart beating wilder than necessary, before he started a brisk return towards the boutique. He tried to sneak under the awnings of different shops to avoid getting drenched, but by the time he went into Extravaganza, his hair was a mess. He grabbed a towel and tried to make himself as presentable as possible.
"What happened to you?" Tina asked, eyes wide as she stood at the bathroom doorway, watching how Blaine tried to put his curls back under control. "You ran out of here like a possessed man."
It was a lost cause. He sighed. "Everything's fine. I just needed to meet Kurt for an appointment."
Tina smirked. "A sexy appointment?"
Blaine rolled his eyes and threw the towel at her. "No, Tina, god. It was a business appointment."
"You can't blame me for asking, you have sex hair," she shrugged, throwing the towel back at him.
"How do you even know what my hair looks like after sex?" He retorted, as he folded the towel. "No, you know what? Let's just end this conversation right here and now. Any problems while I was gone?"
Tina didn't have much to say – the weather must have kept the clients away – so Blaine got back to work on what he had been busy with before Carole's phone call derailed the rest of his day.
Distracted, he almost managed to forget about what had happened with Leroy and Hiram, but he quickly remembered all about it as soon as he crossed the front door of their apartment later that evening. The silence inside was almost deafening. He would have guessed that no one else was home yet, but there was a heavy brooding quality that permeated the atmosphere that told him he wasn't alone. Someone else was home.
Home. How long had he been thinking of Kurt's apartment as home? He hadn't even realized it until now.
Kurt was, no doubt, going to be upset about what had happened that afternoon, but Blaine didn't know how he could have handled things any better. He was sure that, sooner rather than later, Kurt would realize that Blaine had been right all along. It was for the best, breaking peace with the Berry family.
Blaine left his coat and bag in the lobby before he moved further into the apartment. He paused in the kitchen doorway and was surprised that Santana wasn't there, making dinner, just like every evening Blaine had arrived home (home, that word again) from work.
"Santana?" He called, just in case, but there was no answer.
He took a deep breath and headed down the hallway, towards Kurt's study. Lately, whenever Blaine went to Kurt's study, he found the door ajar, as if his husband was waiting for him. He had found that to be a sweet little detail, a small change after the first few days of living together, like Kurt was telling him that no matter how busy he was, Blaine was always welcomed.
Today, the door was closed.
Blaine couldn't hide how annoyed he was by that. This was just another example of Kurt's poor communication skills that Blaine had thought were beginning to get better. But this just proved that Kurt was just as closed off and difficult as ever.
He opened the door and went into the study without knocking. If Kurt wanted to be difficult, then he could be too.
Kurt was sitting behind his desk, only his halogen lamp on, hands pressed together on the polished wooden surface. For some reason, Blaine's eyes fell straight on the golden gleam of the wedding ring in his finger.
He stalked right into the study and sat down defiantly on the armchair, not waiting for an invitation. He could be as stubborn and as much of a pain in the ass as his husband could. "Hi, Kurt."
"Good evening, Blaine," he said softly.
"Where's Santana?" Blaine asked.
"I sent her home early. We don't need her tonight," Kurt said, still in that velvety tone of voice of his that sent shivers down Blaine's spine for all kinds of different reasons.
"You're mad, aren't you?" Blaine said, even though it was very, very clear.
Kurt reclined back in his seat. His face was mostly in shadows, but his lips were still in the same tight line they had been earlier. It couldn't be a good sign. "Let's just say that I've been thinking a lot about this relationship."
Blaine winced. "Oh. You're truly pissed."
"That's putting it lightly, Blaine," Kurt murmured. "I have tolerated a lot from you, but today you went too far."
Blaine arched an eyebrow as he looked at him. "Tolerated? I didn't do anything."
He knew that wasn't technically true, but he wasn't about to admit defeat so early on.
"You interfered in a situation that was no concern of yours," Kurt said.
"I wouldn't say I interfered. I simply invited myself to have a cup of coffee with you and Rachel's dads," Blaine said with a quick shrug.
Kurt drummed his fingers on the desk once. "And why did you do that?"
Blaine didn't answer immediately. It still left a bitter taste in his mouth. "I suppose I was a little worried."
"About what?" Kurt prompted very softly.
Once again, Blaine took his time to find the right words. "I didn't want you to do anything you would end up regretting."
Kurt's lips moved, just a twitch, before they tightened again.
"Look, you've been carrying a grudge against them for a very long time. I do understand why – they should have been there for you when you were going through the worst, if they used to be like family to you. But I was worried you wouldn't be able to think clearly, that you would deal with it in the worst possible way. I thought maybe having someone else at the table would help diffuse the tension," Blaine explained. "And I was right, wasn't I?"
"You deliberately got involved in something that had absolutely nothing to do with you," Kurt retorted tersely.
"I just chatted a bit over coffee. It's not the end of the world, Kurt," Blaine said stubbornly.
Kurt didn't say anything, simply let the silence stretch between them until Blaine was shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
"Stop that," he exclaimed.
"Stop what?" Kurt asked.
"Stop trying to intimidate me," Blaine said. But he stood up and started pacing the study. "You can't use those tactics on me. I won't allow it."
"And I won't allow you to involve yourself in matters that are the sole concern of myself and my family," Kurt said, and though there wasn't enough light, Blaine still felt his eyes on him.
"Kurt, I am a part of your family," he reminded him, like he was being ridiculous. "I'm your husband."
"That status, according to your own words, is temporary," Kurt muttered, a bit abruptly.
Blaine stopped pacing. There was a sudden knot in his stomach, twisting painfully. "I know," he whispered.
"You're the one who wanted a marriage of convenience," Kurt told him, calmly. "But, to be honest, I didn't find it highly convenient to be married to you today, Blaine. So if you still want my help, you should probably stop…"
"I can't believe this," Blaine interrupted with a little gasp. "Don't you dare try to threaten me, Kurt."
"I am not threatening you, Blaine," Kurt said. "I'm just asking you that in return for my help saving Anderson Unlimited, you don't get involved in my personal matters. That is all."
"Wow," Blaine stood there, in the middle of the study, and stared at him. "Wow, I honestly can't believe this. I invite myself over for coffee and you act like I changed the course of history."
"You ruined everything."
"Did I? Did I, Kurt?" Blaine said, and he didn't like that he was yelling, but he couldn't stop himself. "You could have gone right ahead and blackmailed Hiram and Leroy if that was what you truly wanted. I wouldn't have been able to stop you. Or are you telling me that I hold that much power?"
"Blaine…"
"No one could have stopped you, if that's what you wanted to do," Blaine said. And then shook his head and went straight for the door. "The only reason you're pissed is because I made you think today, and you don't like that. You act like you have no regrets, like you're this powerful man with a heart of stone, but I know for certain that is not true. So don't blame me for what you chose to do. Or not to do, in this case. That was all you…"
Kurt stood up. "Blaine, where are you going?"
"I do not have that much power over you. How could I? After all, I'm just a business associate you happen to have been sleeping with lately," Blaine spat bitterly. "I'm not even a real husband…"
He went out to the hall and slammed the door closed after himself as loudly as he could. He started down the corridor towards the foyer.
The study door opened behind him. "Where are you going?" Kurt repeated.
Blaine grabbed his keys. "Out."
He heard the quick steps that meant Kurt was coming after him. "Are you walking out on me?" He asked, and Blaine was delighted that, right under the surface, he detected what he thought was a bit of fear and dismay.
Blaine turned to face him and lifted his chin. "No. I'm simply going downstairs to visit Santana."
Kurt paused, visibly dumfounded. "Santana?"
"Yes. So when you're ready to apologize to me, that's exactly where I'll be waiting," Blaine said, and didn't give Kurt another chance to say anything. He pulled the front door open and walked straight towards the elevator.
He was very aware of Kurt's eyes fixed on him as he waited for the silver doors to part in front of him. But he didn't look back. If Kurt was angry, then he had every right to be angry himself, too.
It wasn't until Blaine made it to the sixth floor and stood in the hallway that he realized he didn't know which apartment was Santana's. Unlike Kurt, who had the entire top floor to himself, the lower floors had several apartments. He looked around, not knowing what to do, but he didn't have to wonder what to do for very long, because the very last door at the end of the hallway opened and Santana stepped out.
Blaine smiled in relief as he made his way towards her. It was striking to see her outside of her usual monochromatic clothes: she was wearing a soft pink hoodie and pajama pants. Her face was free of make-up, fresh, and her dark hair pulled up into a messy bun.
"Mr. Hummel-Anderson said you were on your way down here," she said.
Blaine rolled his eyes. "Figures. I bet he'll call you back in a minute to make sure I made it here. Can I come in?"
She moved aside to let him in. "Yes." They had barely stepped into the apartment when there was a chime from the sophisticated electronic panel right next to the door. She pressed a button. "Yes, Mr. Hummel-Anderson?"
Kurt's voice sounded weird over the intercom. "Is he there?"
"Yes," Santana replied.
"Make sure he eats something. He hasn't had dinner yet," Kurt grunted.
"Of course, sir," Santana said and let go of the button before turning back to Blaine.
"See? I told you he would check I came here," Blaine sighed. He went further into the apartment, glancing around curiously. "This is a very nice place," he commented kindly.
It was odd, because it didn't look like the kind of place he imagined Santana living in. though, if he was fair, he had imagined she lived in a white, sterile room, where she could plug herself and sleep until Kurt needed her again in the morning. He felt guilty for that thought: he knew Santana had a history, a difficult one, and it wasn't nice of him to accuse her of being a heartless robot. This apartment was lovely, comfortable, with splashes of color here and there. There were fresh flowers on a side table and a bowl with vibrant yellow lemons on the breakfast bar that separated the living room and dining area from the kitchen. The windows offered a slanted version of the view Kurt enjoyed thirty floors above her.
On a desk against the opposite wall, there was a laptop open on some sort of audio software, headphones plugged in.
"What would you like for dinner?" Santana asked him.
"Nothing, thanks. I'm not hungry."
"Mr. Hummel-Anderson said I had to feed you," she insisted.
Blaine resented the way she phrased that, like he was a dog Kurt had left in her care. "Don't worry about it," he said, as he leaned in closer to look at the computer. "What are you working on? Some sort of spy job for Kurt?"
"No." Santana moved suddenly so she could block the screen. She closed the laptop rather abruptly. "I'm just working on a personal project at the moment. That's all."
But Blaine was frowning. He had seen enough to have his curiosity piqued. He looked up at Santana, eyes widening in awe. "That was a recording software, wasn't it? It looked like you were working on a song. I didn't know you were a musician, Santana."
"I'm not," she said quickly. "I just enjoy recording a few songs every now and then. That's all."
"You sing?" Blaine asked, grinning. "Oh, that's wonderful. I used to sing when I was in high school, too, but I sort of stopped doing it as I grew older. Now I only sing in the shower. I kinda miss it, though. What kind of music do you like?"
Santana hesitated for a moment, before she replied: "Pop. Rhythm and blues. Think Amy Winehouse and Alicia Keys…"
"That's so exciting!" Blaine exclaimed, without losing his smile. "Have you ever uploaded any of your songs online for people to hear?"
"No. I have a few finished songs, but I never thought it was worth it…" She said with a little shrug. "I'll fix you something to eat."
"I am really not hungry…" Blaine said.
"But Mr. Hummel-Anderson said…"
Blaine groaned. "Ugh. Fine. Whatever Mr. Hummel-Anderson wants, Mr. Hummel-Anderson gets. I'll take a beer and maybe potato chips or a pretzel or something to go along with it. No need for anything more elaborate."
"I don't have beer, but I can get you a glass of wine?" She offered, as she headed towards the kitchen. Blaine followed her.
"Sure, that sounds nice," he sat down on one of the stools at the breakfast bar and watched as she fetched a wine glass. "Santana, can I listen to some of your songs?"
She paused as she was about to pull the cork out of a bottle. "You want to listen to my songs?"
"I'd really love that," Blaine said sincerely.
"I don't know," Santana leaned against the kitchen counter and considered him. "No one's ever listened to them. And some of the lyrics are very personal…"
"It's okay if you don't want to, but if you ever want to get them out there, you'll have to be ready to share them, as personal as they might be," Blaine said. "I really haven't listened to enough music lately. I miss it."
Santana hesitated and then uncorked the bottle. She didn't say anything until she had filled the glass. "Will you be honest about them if they aren't good?"
Blaine mentally crossed his fingers behind his back. He wasn't inclined to lie, ever, but he also didn't want to discourage Santana's artistic expression if it was a healthy outlet for her. "Absolutely."
"Very well," Santana nodded. She grabbed a bowl and emptied a bag of potato chips in it. She passed it to Blaine, as well as the glass of wine. "But if you really don't like them, you can just stop listening and tell me the truth. Agree?"
"Of course," Blaine beamed and followed Santana back to the living room, wine and potato chips in hand.
She opened her laptop again and did a quick file search. She looked over her shoulder, frowning. "Why did you come down here?"
Blaine sighed. "Can't you guess? Kurt and I quarreled."
"So? Why come here?"
"You know Kurt," Blaine took a sip of wine. "He'd worry if I actually leave the building without telling him where I'm going. He would probably send you after me. This way, neither of us has to go out in this weather, and I get to listen to some good music while I wait for him to apologize."
Santana let out a little snort, very uncharacteristic of her. "Why would he apologize?"
"Because he's in the wrong, and he knows it," Blaine shrugged. "Don't worry, I won't be here all night. He'll come down to fetch me eventually. He might be stubborn as hell, but he's also a fair man."
Santana stepped away from the desk and gestured for Blaine to take the chair in front of it. He did just that, careful to place the wine and the chips away from the computer as not to make a mess.
"You don't know him very well yet, do you?" Santana muttered, as she handed him the headphones. "Mr. Hummel-Anderson plays to win. No, actually, you know what? I take that back. He doesn't play at all. He just goes to war."
Blaine hung the headphones around his neck and looked up at Santana. "He's changing. You'll see. Do you usually work on your music all night?"
"Sometimes."
"You know, Santana, I'm getting a whole new take on you," he said.
The corner of Santana's lips twitched like they wanted to pull up into a smile. "That makes two of us."
"How come you don't like me?" Blaine asked.
The question seemed to take her by surprise. "Who says I don't like you?"
"It's just a hunch, but a strong one," Blaine replied calmly. "Is it because you think I'll take advantage of Kurt? You really don't have to worry about that. He can take care of himself."
Santana gave him an odd look. "I'm aware of that."
"I won't get my greedy little hands on all his money, either," Blaine reassured her. "I don't care about that."
"No, you won't," Santana said without a doubt. "Not unless he wants you to get your hands on it."
"So what is it, then?" Blaine pushed a little. This was the longest conversation he'd ever had with her, and it seemed like she wasn't against giving him the answers he wanted.
"He's just… not used to dealing with people like you," Santana said carefully, as if measuring each of her words.
"What does that mean?" Blaine tilted his head in confusion.
"I'm afraid he may, on occasion, suspend his normally extremely sound judgement when you're involved," Santana said.
Blaine smiled a bit, amused. "You think I'm going to wrap him around my little finger?"
There was no smile on Santana's face. "I think you already have."
She grabbed a notepad and a pen and went to sit on the couch, everything in her attitude telling Blaine the conversation was over. Blaine turned back to the computer and pondered her words for a moment, but then he just shook his head and put the headphones on.
He drank his wine and pressed play.
Kurt released the intercom button and was surprised to discover that his hand was shaking. He glowered at the offending fingers as he flexed them, telling himself to calm down. He managed to find enough strength to crush down the incipient panic that had threatened to melt his insides.
Everything was fine. Blaine hadn't left him.
For a moment, when Blaine said he was going downstairs to Santana's apartment, he thought it was a blatant lie. He thought Blaine had finally seen enough flaws in him to walk away. He thought that not even needing him to save Cooper's company was going to save their marriage.
He felt like he hadn't breathed until Santana confirmed he was with her.
Kurt walked towards the large window that overlooked the city. New York looked almost ghostly behind the curtain of steady rain. He wondered what he was supposed to do next. He wasn't sure he had ever been at such a loss. Not that he remembered, at least.
The fact that his first instinct was to get into the elevator and go down to the sixth floor to retrieve his husband told him that he had come to depend on Blaine too much lately. His tendency towards rush, unpredictable behavior was rubbing off on him.
Blaine had invaded every corner of his life. He had gotten involved in family matters, in his home, in his carefully crafted-routine. He was causing him to do things Kurt would have never done if Blaine hadn't been around.
There was a voice in the back of his head: Is that such a bad thing? The voice sounded so much like his father's that Kurt shivered.
Nothing was going like he expected when he had accepted to marry Blaine. Every single day had been a surprise, a challenge.
He shook his head, needing to clear it. The thought of Blaine was like a fog, enveloping him, keeping him from seeing things as they truly were. He stepped away from the window and headed up to the roof, walking quickly across the terrace towards the greenhouse, as not to get drenched. He pushed a few buttons on the electronic panel at the door before he went inside, and he felt like he could breathe better as soon as he stepped into his personal haven.
The smell of wet earth and the sweetness of the flowers surrounded him. He headed to the back of the greenhouse, where he had a few trays with seeds he wanted to germinate. The process usually calmed him, but today he had to keep forcing himself to focus back on the task at hand. All he could think about was that Blaine was downstairs, waiting for him.
He couldn't believe that after ruining all of Kurt's plans, Blaine still expected him to apologize. Kurt had held that information about Rachel for a couple of years, waiting for the right moment to use it, and right when his time finally came… Blaine decided to get involved and throw it all down the drain. It was insane that he was angry when Kurt…
Kurt took a deep breath and cut off his line of thought in the same way he usually cut diseased leaves from his orchids. Blaine, who was sweet and kind, probably didn't understand the many, many ways in which revenge could help soothe some of the pain and the anger that Kurt had to carry inside every single day.
He worked on the seeds for a moment, but when he realized he wasn't paying any attention to what he was doing, he moved on to check the moisture of some of the other flowers. He stuck two fingers into the earth and then grabbed a small towel to wipe his hand. But all he wanted to do was throw it against the wall, so he put it down.
Kurt was nothing without his self-control. The only reason he had survived after Jordan left was because he willed himself to do it with an iron will. He had a family to take care of. He couldn't just give up. So the idea of being vulnerable, of letting his guard down terrified him more than he was ready to admit.
And yet, with Blaine… oh, it was so easy to let go with him.
That only scared him more.
There was a very real possibility that as soon as Blaine learned how to manage Anderson Unlimited on his own, or Cooper came back, he was going to file for divorce. And if Kurt allowed himself to be vulnerable, forgo his self-control and discipline, he wasn't sure he was going to be able to survive the humiliation and the pain of being left behind again.
Even admitting that, though it was just to himself and not aloud, made Kurt panic.
But wasn't there even a small chance that he would lose Blaine tonight, if he didn't go downstairs and apologize?
The problem with his relationship with Blaine was that it was becoming increasingly difficult to disappoint him. He didn't like the way Blaine looked at him when he did.
Kurt groaned in frustration as he turned on his heels. He marched right out of the greenhouse and down to his apartment. Going out the front door was one of the hardest and at the same time easiest things he had done in a long time.
Once he was on the sixth floor, he knocked on Santana's door with a bit more force than necessary. She opened the door only a handful of seconds later. She looked nothing like herself right now: not only were her clothes a softer color, there was something softer about her face, too.
"Where is he?" He asked.
"He's in the living room," she replied, and hesitated for a moment before she added: "He's listening to music."
Kurt crossed the small entryway into the living room. He found Blaine sitting on a desk chair, headphones on, his eyes bright as if he had been crying. There was a painful pang in Kurt's chest at the sight.
Blaine removed the headphones when he saw Kurt standing there. "Hi, Kurt. Did you know that Santana's an incredibly talented singer?" He said, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. "Her voice gives me chills. And her lyrics… don't even get me started, I feel like I'm going to be dehydrated from all the crying."
Kurt glanced at Santana, shocked to find her blushing. "I didn't know you sang."
"I haven't done it professionally," Santana retorted, with a little shrug, like it didn't matter.
"But not for long, I bet," Blaine chimed in from the desk. "If you put these songs online, I'm sure it's only a matter of time before some talent agent finds you. We could even send them to record companies. They're seriously that good."
The blushing on Santana's face intensified. Kurt glanced between them a few times and realized that whatever battle had existed between them was over. Another victory for Blaine. Santana was probably going to be putty in his hands from now on.
Kurt turned to Blaine. "Are you ready to go home?"
"Yes," Blaine said as he stood up. "Santana, would you send me the rest of these songs, please? I really want to finish listening to all of them."
Santana looked strangely disconcerted. "Of course."
"Thanks," Blaine beamed at her and then went towards Kurt. "Okay, let's go."
Kurt nodded at Santana as they went out the door, a silent thank you passing between them. He didn't say a single word, and neither did Blaine, until they were inside the elevator, going up.
"You know, Santana's honestly talented," Blaine murmured with a little smile. "She has some songs that are so raw and emotional… I'm going to take back all the awful things I said about her being a robot. She's probably one of the most intricate human beings I have ever met."
Kurt studied his husband's profile for a couple of seconds. Whatever anger he had found there before Blaine went down to Santana's apartment seemed to have faded. "Are you waiting for an apology?"
Blaine looked up at him. "You came down to get me. I figure that's probably as close to an apology as I'm going to get. Don't worry, I know you're sorry, otherwise you would never have come downstairs to fetch me home."
Home. Blaine said the word so easily, like that was exactly what Kurt's apartment was to him. The thought filled him with warmth, but he filed it away for another time.
"I'm not as inarticulate as you think I am, Blaine," he said instead, smiling wryly. "I apologize for what I said to you earlier. I shouldn't have been so hard on you. And despite the fact that you did interfere with my plans… it's probably a good thing that you did, although it pains me to admit it."
Blaine grinned at him widely, delighted. "What made you change your mind?"
"Today, at the restaurant…" Kurt shook his head. "I came face to face with a realization that I didn't really want to deal with."
"What's that?" Blaine asked curiously.
"I don't think Leroy and Hiram were the real targets of my revenge. They're just stand-ins, easier to get than the real one."
Blaine frowned as he looked at Kurt, and then he seemed to understand. "Oh. You mean Jordan."
Kurt told himself he shouldn't have been surprised for how quickly Blaine came to that conclusion. Maybe his husband was getting to know him better than he expected. "Yes."
"I understand," Blaine nodded. "You never had a chance to confront him about what he did. You never really got closure. So all you can do is take it out on the people who are left and also disappointed you. Is that it?"
"Part of it," Kurt murmured. "I hated him for what he did to my family. But I also hated him for what he did to me."
"For breaking your heart?" Blaine guessed, but Kurt shook his head.
"No, you can always mend a broken heart, even if it takes a while."
"Then what did he do to you?" Blaine tilted his head, regarding him.
Kurt watched the numbers go up on the little elevator screen as they got closer to their floor. He focused on them and refused to look at Blaine, as he finally voiced the one thing that had haunted him the past few years: "He turned me into a monster."
The elevator doors opened, and Kurt exited on their floor.
When Blaine didn't follow him out, Kurt looked over his shoulder and found Blaine still standing there, watching his husband dumbfounded, like he was having trouble processing the words he had just said. He only reacted when the doors started to close again, and he had to slide between them as not to be left behind.
"Kurt, are you crazy?" He asked, almost scandalized. "You're not a monster."
Kurt shook his head, not wanting to keep talking about this, and simply shoved the key into the door. He walked into the apartment, followed closely by Blaine.
"Kurt, come on…" Blaine insisted.
"Blaine, I'd rather not discuss this, if you don't mind," Kurt said quietly.
"Well, we're going to discuss it," Blaine said stubbornly. "This is not the time for you to slide into your faulty communication mode."
"Forget it, Blaine."
Blaine sped up until he was right in front of Kurt, turned around and got right in his path, forcing him to stop. "We're not going to forget it. We're going to talk about this."
Kurt looked down at him, his blue eyes filled with a deep brooding melancholy. "There's nothing to talk about."
"There most certainly is," Blaine said, poking his chest with a finger. "You might not be a perfect man, god knows there's a million irritating things about you, like the way you try to control everything and everyone around you, and how you always want to be right, even when you're spectacularly wrong. You make some questionable choices and those who don't know you might think you're even heartless…"
Kurt looked away, uncomfortable. "You're just proving my point here, Blaine."
"No, I'm not!" The finger Blaine had pressed to his chest didn't seem to be enough for him anymore to convey his point, because he grabbed fistfuls of Kurt's shirt instead. "For god's sake, Kurt, look at yourself. Look what you are."
His mouth curved humorlessly. "I've looked at what I am, Blaine. I don't like what I see."
"Then you're blind," Blaine said passionately. "Because for all your flaws, there's another million things about you that are wonderful. You're a fine, admirable man. You're protective and caring, and kind even when you have a very peculiar way of showing it. You have accomplished a lot in your life…"
"I made some money," Kurt retorted with a shrug. "That's nothing. Lots of people do that, and it doesn't mean they're good."
"The money isn't important. What's important is that you saved your family. Right at their worst, you decided to carry the heavy load and hold things together instead of letting them fall apart. Your brother and your step mother have a privileged life because of the sacrifices you made…"
Kurt sighed. "Blaine, I have work to do."
Blaine tugged on his shirt, as if trying to get him to pay attention. "You gave your family what they needed. You gave them security, a sense of strength. They knew they could count on you when everything was wrong and uncertain. Do you even know how big that is? Okay, so you've got some communication issues. Who doesn't? We can fix that."
"Excuse me," Kurt murmured, and grabbed Blaine's waist, lifted him, and set him to one side to clear the path to his study. He began to walk in that direction without looking back.
"Don't you dare walk out on me when I'm arguing with you!" Blaine exclaimed, frustrated.
Kurt would have laughed but he didn't feel much like it. "Didn't you do just that earlier?"
"That was different. I didn't leave you, I just went downstairs to see Santana," Blaine replied as he rushed down the hallway towards him. "Kurt, for the last time, you can be irritating, insensitive, downright difficult and thick-headed, but you are not a monster."
Kurt reached the door of his study. "You don't know what you're saying."
"Oh, yes, yes I do," Blaine said, and there seemed to be an edge of desperation, even fear in his voice. "Please, Kurt, just listen to me…"
"You've already said enough," Kurt said.
"I know you're not a monster," Blaine said. "I wouldn't have fallen in love with you if you were."
Kurt went absolutely still, his hand frozen on the doorknob.
It seemed that the world had come to a halt, Blaine seemed breathless, time had completely lost meaning. Kurt would have sworn he could hear the pounding of Blaine's heart – or maybe it was his own, which had begun to race. He turned, very, very slowly, so he could face his husband.
"What are you saying, Blaine?" He asked, rather warily.
Blaine licked his lips as if they were dry. He seemed to gulp. "I'm saying that I love you."
The words hung between them in the air. Kurt wasn't sure whether to trust his ears: it had been a very long time since someone had told him they loved him. It seemed too good to be true.
"You love me?" He murmured, needing the confirmation.
"Yes." Blaine smiled tremulously. "Don't tell me you didn't know."
"How would I have known?" Kurt searched his face. "You didn't tell me."
"I thought it was kinda obvious," Blaine said sheepishly.
Kurt closed the distance between them until he could feel the warmth of Blaine's body. "The only thing that was obvious was that you needed me to save Anderson Unlimited."
Blaine looked at him like he couldn't believe just how thick he was. "Let me be clear about something here, Kurt. I would never have proposed a marriage of convenience to any of Cooper's other investors and creditors."
"No?"
"Of course not. I think I started falling in love with you the night of Cooper and Joanna's engagement party. Honestly, I think the only reason I came up with the idea of a marriage between us to save the company was because I was already feeling something for you…" Blaine explained, the shivering in his voice telling Kurt how difficult it was for him to finally admit this.
"Blaine," Kurt felt raw, overwhelmed with an emotion he couldn't quite identify. He carefully reached up and cupped Blaine's face in his hands. Very slowly, he bent his head and kissed him.
It was immediate, the effect the kiss had on Blaine. He threw his arms around Kurt's neck, pulling him closer like he couldn't get enough.
"Blaine," Kurt said again, like it was the only word that made sense to him now.
"Yes," Blaine whispered, like it was the only reply he would ever give him, no matter the question.
There was nothing else to say as Kurt picked him up in his arms and carried him into the darkened bedroom. He kicked the door closed behind them and lowered Blaine onto the bed.
Kurt kissed him, every inch of him as he removed each item of clothing gently, slowly, savoring the moment, and thought that, maybe, if Blaine loved him, there was still hope for him.
Maybe he wasn't the monster he had believed he was.
BLAINE HAS DROPPED THE L BOMB! This is not a drill!
Can't wait to see what you guys think of this!
Have a wonderful week! Love,
L.-