Happy Saturday, peeps!
Can't thank you all enough for the wonderful comments. We're already more than halfway through this fic, can you believe it? It sure flies by.
Thank you to Christine, queen of betas, for her help with this chapter and all the others. I would be lost without her.
Shoutout to Sofi for the support.
Enjoy!
"And then Isabelle shrieked so loudly the entire floor turned to stare at her office. I'm pretty sure they thought she was getting murdered," Kurt said as his hands moved down Blaine's sides. "But she was so, so happy…"
"Of course she was happy," Blaine said, smiling up at him in a way that looked too sweet, too much of contrast to how he was lying on the bed, legs spread, cock so hard it looked painful. "She gets to keep you. I can relate."
Kurt glanced down at him, eyes softening. He leaned in to kiss him, just a brief brush of their lips before he was pulling away. "Oh, you." He reached for the lube that had gotten tangled in the sheets and poured some on his fingers.
Kurt had come to Blaine's place straight from his shift at the diner after letting Gunther know he was quitting. He felt euphoric and happy and free in a way he hadn't felt in a very, very long time. Blaine had been more than ready to help him canalize that euphoria, and hadn't protested at all when Kurt grabbed his hand and dragged him upstairs to his bedroom.
"So are you feeling better now?" Blaine asked, and gasped at the coldness of the lube as Kurt's fingers trailed over his balls and back. "More relaxed, more prepared for what's coming?"
"I think so, yeah," Kurt said, and pushed past the first ring of muscles with one finger. "I'm excited, mostly. And Isabelle said she's fine with me keeping up with NYADA while I figure that out… I mean, I won't be able to take as many classes because my hours at Vogue will be longer, but… at least it's not a decision I have to make right away."
"Well, that's really great of her. Just remember not to overwork yourself to the point of exhaustion," Blaine reminded him, and tilted his hips up. "Another one."
Kurt complied, thrusting in with two fingers and leaning down to kiss Blaine's obnoxiously taut stomach. "I promise I'll take care of myself. I'm just happy I can delay that a bit, you know? It feels so final."
Blaine groaned when Kurt crooked his fingers, brushing slightly against his prostate. "At least the diner is out of the equation. I bet you're relieved. When's your last day?"
"I have to work once I come home after Christmas and then I'm done, right before the new year," Kurt replied, and he bit on Blaine's sharp hipbone, eliciting another groan.
"Do you get to keep the uniform?" Blaine asked, arching up a little, as if trying to get him deeper.
"Blaine Anderson," Kurt teased, smiling up at him, just a couple of inches away from where Blaine was hard and becoming a little desperate. "Do you have something kinky in mind?"
"With you down there? I have all kinds of kinky things in mind, darling," Blaine choked out.
Kurt kissed along the shaft in such a slow, tender way, it seemed completely out of place. "I'll see what I can do about the uniform," he said, and then sunk down, taking most of him in his mouth at the same time he pushed a third finger in.
Blaine moaned brokenly and threw his head back, arching against the bed, not knowing if he needed to get closer to Kurt's mouth or his fingers. "You're going to be the death of me," he muttered, but he didn't sound like he minded at all.
The airport was a little crowded, which was to be expected during the holiday season. Everyone seemed eager to get to their families, to their friends, to whatever loved ones were waiting for them across the country or even across the globe.
And here was Blaine, who for once didn't scoff at the sight of a Christmas tree, who for once felt a hint of holiday spirit trying to rise inside of him, Kurt's hand in his, as he wished he didn't have to let go. But Kurt was leaving to spend Christmas with his family – with the father who thought Blaine was a pervert trying to take advantage of him, something that still made him feel sick whenever he thought about it. And he didn't want to admit it, not even to himself, but he was a bit worried that, while Kurt was in Ohio, his father would convince him that seeing Blaine wasn't the best thing for him.
What if Burt Hummel was right? What if Kurt could do so, so much better than a guy almost twice his age who wasn't as brave as he was, as talented as he was, as incredibly outstanding as he was?
Kurt turned around as they reached his gate, his blue eyes immediately fixing on Blaine's, his fingers squeezing his hand like he, too, was having trouble letting go, and Blaine forgot all about his doubts, all about his insecurity. He had never really known what people meant when they said they could get lost in someone's eyes.
And then he had met Kurt.
"It kinda sucks that I won't get to see you for Christmas," Kurt muttered, nose scrunched adorably in what looked like regret.
"It really does," Blaine whispered, stepping a little closer to him to get out of the way of a very numerous family that spoke in a language Blaine couldn't identify. "But I bet your family is really looking forward to having you back..."
Kurt sighed, hands reaching to grab onto Blaine's coat, pulling him even closer, forehead coming to rest against his, and Blaine truly wanted this moment, these few seconds, to last forever. "Yeah. I really miss them. But I'm going to miss you, too."
Blaine smiled, unable to stop himself. It felt nice to be missed, he guessed. "You'll be back before you know it. I'll come pick you up, if you want." He moved in to press a kiss to Kurt's cheekbone. "We can have our own little Christmas when you come back."
Kurt's eyes lit up, so Blaine guessed he had said something right. "Really?"
"Really," Blaine nodded. When had he last felt like this, needy for the touch, restless for the kisses, aching for the proximity? "Now go before you miss your flight. Or I change my mind and kidnap you."
Kurt's laughter was a startled, precious sound. He pulled away, and Blaine watched him as he rearranged his scarf. He was wearing the Burberry coat Blaine had given him. It sent a pang of longing through Blaine, despite the fact that he was still here, within touching distance.
"Text me when you land?" Blaine asked.
"I will," Kurt promised. He cupped Blaine's face and brought him into a kiss that threatened to turn Blaine's knees to jelly. "Have a nice Christimas, okay?"
"You too, baby," Blaine said, allowing himself to hold him a little tighter before he absolutely had to let go. "I'll see you soon."
He watched Kurt go, and wished he could follow.
Kurt waved through the crowds at the airport in Ohio, one hand on his suitcase, his phone in the other one, as he texted Blaine to let him know he'd made it and was on his way to find his dad. His whole body shivered with the memory of the way Blaine had held him as they said goodbye at his gate, like he didn't want to let go.
It had almost made him want to stay and never leave New York again, just so he wouldn't have to be too far away from him ever. But, alas, he did miss his family, even if part of him was still slightly mad at his dad for the way he had behaved on his last visit.
It was impossible to miss the towering figure glancing over the heads of the rest of the passengers, looking for him, the way the brown eyes lit up with recognition, the adorably goofy way in which Finn waved at him, trying to get his attention, as if he was somehow worried Kurt wouldn't see him.
Kurt walked straight into the embrace, let his brother wrap his arms tightly around him. It had been too long since he had seen him. He couldn't even remember when it had been the last time.
"Hi, Finn," he said, smiling against his shoulder. He patted his back. "It's so good to see you."
"You too, little brother," Finn said, pulling away, a crooked grin on his face. "I hope you don't mind I came to pick you up instead of your dad. He was helping Mrs. Adelmann. Her car broke down again."
"Does she still drive that ancient Volvo?" Kurt asked. "She had it already when I was born."
"Well, Burt's been trying to get her to trade for a newer model, but she's stubborn," Finn shrugged and reached for Kurt's suitcase, prying it away from his grasp easily. "Let me carry this for you. You look like you haven't had a decent meal in a month."
"Why, thank you, kind sir," Kurt glared at him. "I'm fine. I'm healthy."
"Mom will fatten you up in no time," Finn said as he guided him out of the terminal and towards the parking lot. "She's been cooking for like three days. There's so much food in the house, and she hasn't allowed me to eat any of it…"
Kurt couldn't help rolling his eyes. "You haven't changed at all."
Kurt had always worried that staying in Lima would mean Finn thought he wasn't good enough to get out, that it would mean he was giving up before he even tried. But it turned out that his brother was building himself a life he was pretty happy with – he was in college, hoping to be become a teacher one day, and when he wasn't working at the tire shop with his father, he was helping out at their old high school, coaching the Glee club alongside Mr. Schuester. He looked good, confident, relaxed, like he had grown into himself in the past couple of years.
Kurt was really proud of him.
The first couple of minutes, as Finn drove them towards Lima, they mostly argued about who got to choose the music. Kurt only won because he was faster and he didn't have to keep his eyes on the road to avoid an accident. Once he had successfully managed to swat Finn's hand away and the car was filled with Madonna's voice, they began to catch up, Finn telling him about school and how the McKinley Glee club had won sectionals last month and how Mr. Schue was letting him choose one of the numbers they'd be doing at regionals.
"I'll be entirely in charge of that number, so I need it to go well," Finn said. He had begun to bob his head along with the music, which Kurt considered a win. "Finals went well, and now I'm happy to just sit and do nothing for the next few days. With the exception of helping Burt out at the garage, of course."
"That's great, Finn," Kurt said honestly. "You sound really happy."
"I am," Finn nodded, smiling. "Life's good." He cleared his throat. "How's… how's Rachel?"
Oh, Kurt would never understand their complicated history and how they still held on to each other despite how incompatible their lives were… Finn didn't want to leave Ohio and Rachel belonged in New York. He had no idea why they didn't allow themselves to move on already.
"She's good, Finn. She's happy. You know she's thriving," Kurt said calmly. "She has that off-off- Broadway play she's doing and she has NYADA and the diner… she keeps busy. We all do."
Finn nodded slowly, and it looked like he wanted to ask more, but seemed to decide against it. Instead he said: "And what about you? What's new with you? Congratulations on the Vogue thing by the way, man. I know much you love that stuff."
Always so eloquent, Kurt though, shaking his head fondly. "Thank you. I'm very happy." He paused, and watched his brother's profile for a moment. He thought back to how Blaine had picked him up at the loft that morning, how he had pressed a kiss to his cheek, looking sleepy and tired, so handsome in his worn jeans and thick sweater, and all Kurt had wanted was to drag him inside the apartment and take a nap with him. Just hold him. He touched his cheek to the same spot Blaine had kissed, and said: "I also met someone."
Finn turned briefly towards him, just long enough to flash him a smile. "That's great, Kurt. Tell me about him. What's he like?"
He remembered a time when Finn had been so awkward and uncomfortable around him, like he didn't know exactly how to treat Kurt, like they were different species all together. Even once things had gotten better, once their parents had gotten married and they lived together, Kurt still felt like Finn had no idea how to interact with him, even if he had the best intentions. He was glad those days were over, was glad to have a true brother on his side.
"His name is Blaine," Kurt said, and just saying it filled him with so much warmth. "And he's amazing, honestly. One of the most generous, down-to-earth, kindest, sweetest guys in the world." He stopped again. If Finn rejected Blaine just like his dad had… "He's actually… he's a bit older. Dad met him very briefly when he visited me on Thanksgiving and he really doesn't approve, so… I'm hoping to talk to him about it while I'm home."
"Burt doesn't approve?" Finn said, bewildered. "That's strange. He's always so open and trusting when it comes to you. He never stands in your way."
"Well, Blaine is…" He took a deep breath. Why was a number such a big deal? "Blaine's thirty seven. So the age difference is kind of…"
"Holy shit, thirty seven?" Finn repeated, eyes a little wide. "Wow, Kurt."
"I know, I know what it sounds like," Kurt muttered tiredly. He massaged his temples. Why did everyone care about it when they didn't? "But he's… he's wonderful, Finn. I've never felt like this with anyone else. I just… I don't want dad to have a heart attack over it, but I also can't say goodbye to Blaine."
Finn was quiet for a moment, simply driving through increasingly familiar streets, until he said: "It's cool, Kurt. I mean, if you're happy, if he's a good guy… it shouldn't matter, right?"
Kurt's heart was suddenly ready to burst with love for his brother. "Right."
"Plus, you've always been smart. I trust you know what's good for you," Finn shrugged. Kurt was tempted to ask him to stop the car so he could hug him. "If you need backup while talking to Burt, then I'm your guy."
Kurt smiled. "Thank you. But I think it's best if it's just the two of us. I need to have a very honest conversation with him."
Finn nodded. "That sounds good." He turned a corner and was silent for a minute, before he asked: "So when do I get to meet him?"
Kurt pressed his fingertips against his lips to keep the smile in check. He was suddenly flooded with images of Blaine coming to Ohio with him for the holidays, sitting with his family for dinner, becoming a part of them. Oh, he was in so deep… "I don't know. Soon, I hope."
The Hummel-Hudson house was silent for the first time since Kurt had stepped into it that morning with Finn. Since he had arrived, every moment had been filled with conversation and laughter, as they caught up, held each other, cooked together and generally spent the entire day enjoying the fact that the whole family was back together under one roof.
After lunch, Carole had whisked him away to show him some dresses she had bought and expecting his seal of approval, and then Kurt had spent several hours advising her on how to combine each one, which shoes to wear with each of them. Carole held him afterwards and kissed his cheek, as she said: "Oh, it's so nice to have you back. I missed you," and Kurt knew Carole loved all three of her boys, that Kurt was the only one she could talk about these things with, who listened to her when it came to things the others didn't find important at all.
Kurt was glad to be home. He had missed them all so much, and he wished he could come back more often. But at the same time... he looked down at his phone. On the screen, there was a picture Blaine had sent him a couple of hours ago – he'd actually gone out after dropping Kurt at the airport and bought a small Christmas tree and decorated it. Kurt knew it was a big deal, they had talked about it. Blaine didn't care about the holidays. His Christmas spirit had been shot down a long time ago, even if Kurt wasn't entirely sure why. But he'd gone and got a tree and took the time to fill it with lights and ornaments and then sent a picture to him, saying everything's ready for our little Christmas when you come back and Kurt's heart had thumped so loudly, it was a miracle his father hadn't heard it from where he had been sitting in his armchair a few steps away from him.
From the Christmas tree in the corner came the only light in the living room. As Kurt sat there, he could see the ornaments his mother had bought what felt like a million years ago, mixed with the ones Carole and Finn had brought with them when they moved in, and the ones they had all bought together as a new family. The old welcoming the new, many styles blending in together, and Kurt thought that it wasn't a particularly pretty tree – nothing seemed to match, there was no theme, no color coordination – but it was perfect, because this was who they were as a family. Four people who didn't seem to belong together, and yet, they made so much sense.
"Can't sleep?" Came a voice from behind him. Kurt looked over his shoulder and found his father standing in the doorway, watching him. He shrugged as only response, and Burt let out a tiny little smile. "Yeah, I get that. I can't sleep very well sometimes. Especially since you got mugged…"
Kurt's face softened. "Dad. I'm fine. It won't happen again."
"You don't know that. That big city…" Burt shook his head and walked into the living room. Instead of heading to his armchair, he sat on the couch next to him. "I'll never understand the appeal, but I'm glad you made a home there. I just need you to let me know you've made it home safe so I can sleep a bit better."
"I can do that," Kurt said, squeezing his hand. "But just know I'm safe unless you hear otherwise, okay?"
Burt rolled his eyes, and Kurt wished he hadn't picked that from him. It really was annoying when they did it to you. "So, wanna tell me about that new fancy job of yours?"
Kurt smiled, unable to stop himself. He felt such a huge pride and gratitude and joy when he thought that he would be starting at Vogue officially in just a few days. Part of him felt like this wonderful, unexpected thing had fallen on his lap and what if he hadn't earned it? What if he fell short? What if he was way out of his depth? But then another part of him, the part that was so, so aware of how his muscles ached once he finally crawled into bed after stretching himself thin trying to get it all done, the part that couldn't ignore the frustration, the humiliation, the loneliness, the exhaustion and everything else he had gone through since he had arrived in New York… he knew he did deserve it. He knew that. He had earned every word of praise Isabelle had ever said to him.
Burt listened to him patiently, his own pride reflected in his clear eyes. Even if he had no idea what Kurt was talking about, even if he couldn't understand exactly why Kurt loved that job and that world this much, or why it mattered what someone wore or what a magazine published, he understood that it was a big deal to him. To Burt Hummel, that was more than enough.
He patted his knee, grinning and proud. "That's so great, kiddo. I'm glad you got this opportunity."
"Yeah, I still can't believe it," Kurt laughed incredulously.
"I can. Of course she was going to choose you," Burt said, gesturing at him as if that should explain everything. "You're the best."
"Well, you have to say that," Kurt was the one to roll his eyes now. "You're my dad."
"And I'm pretty damn happy that I get to be your dad," Burt nodded, with another pat. They paused, both looking at the tree for a moment, before he asked: "So what about school, then? You dropping out?"
"No," Kurt said warily. This was the only part he was still troubled with. "Not yet, at least. I'm going to try to balance things out, hopefully. Isabelle was very supportive, so I'm going to stay in school while I figure it out."
"Just take care of yourself," Burt said sternly. "I know how you get when you're stressed. Take it easy, alright? And if you need to drop out or quit or do whatever it is you feel you need, you go right ahead and you do that, okay? No shame in it, and no shame in telling me about it. I will support you, always, whatever decision you make. All I want, Kurt, is for you to be happy."
The words hung between them for a moment. In the quietness of the house, Kurt realized this might as well be his one and only opportunity to talk to his dad alone.
"Well, I'm glad to hear you say that," he muttered softly. He was so nervous, his hands were shaking. "That you want me to be happy."
Burt frowned. "Of course. Was that ever in question? That's all I ever wanted, Kurt."
Kurt wrapped his fingers around his phone, needing to hold on to something. He held on so tightly, it was a miracle the screen didn't crack. "When you visited me a few weeks ago, it didn't look like it."
Burt's face darkened, like he was already replaying the memory in his head. "I'd say it was more obvious than ever."
"Well, I disagree," Kurt said firmly, and he saw the surprise in his dad's eyes. "It really hurt me what you did, Dad. And the only thing you accomplished was making me miserable."
Burt sighed heavily. "I'm sorry. I don't want you to be miserable, Kurt. I'm just looking out for you."
"No, you're letting your prejudices get in the way instead of listening to me and giving me a chance to explain," Kurt retorted, as calmly as he could when he felt this desperate and this nervous. He turned a bit on the couch so he could look at his dad in the dimness of the room, the sparkling Christmas lights shining on his face. "You didn't even wait a second, you didn't ask a single question, you just kicked him out like I was just a silly kid sneaking guys into his room after school. You had no right to come into my apartment and do that, dad."
"Okay, I get that. I'm sorry. But you have to see things the way I do, Kurt," Burt said, leaning forward a bit, as if he needed the closeness to make Kurt understand. "That guy…"
"His name is Blaine," Kurt interrupted, again the firmness in his voice. "And I need you to see things the way I do, dad."
"It kinda sounds like you're still seeing him," Burt commented, suspiciously.
Well, this is it, Kurt thought. "I'm seeing him again," he clarified. "Because I spent two weeks away from him because of what you said and what you did, and they were probably two of the worst weeks in my entire life, and you know that's saying something."
He couldn't read the expression on his father's face. "Kurt, I think…"
"No," Kurt cut him off, kindly, but steadily. He squeezed his father's hand again. He needed him to understand this. "Maybe it's time you hear what I think, instead."
It looked like Burt wanted to protest but, fortunately, he just sat back, showing Kurt he had his attention.
Kurt took a breath, deep and slow. This was his moment. He didn't want to screw it up and risk his father never approving of Blaine. He needed him to see Blaine the way he did…
Well, maybe not exactly the way he did.
"First, I need you to know that he was as conflicted as you about the age difference," Kurt explained. "If we hadn't run into each other again, I probably wouldn't have seen him again, but I guess… I don't know, it feels like it was meant to be. And it doesn't bother me, dad. It's not some dark, torrid affair with an older man. It's a healthy, really wonderful relationship that we're building little by little and that I would truly like to see where it goes. Because it feels… it feels like it could be the real deal, you know?"
"Kurt, don't you think you're rushing into it?" Burt asked, the concern clear in his eyes. "I just don't want you to get hurt if this ends up being something that you didn't expect…"
"Do you want to know when exactly I was sure that this was what I wanted and what I needed?" Kurt asked instead, softly. His father nodded, reluctantly. "That night I got mugged."
It seemed it wasn't what Burt had expected him to say. "Why?"
"Because it was two weeks of not seeing him, of trying to keep myself busy enough not to miss him, until I was near the end of my rope. And when it happened, the only thing I could think of was that I needed him. He was the only safe place I could think of in that very moment."
Something changed in Burt's face then, but Kurt couldn't identify what it was. Maybe some sort of stupor.
"So I ran to his place in the middle of the night, while it snowed, without a coat on, because I knew that if I saw him, everything would be alright. And you know what? It was. He took care of me, and helped me calm down, and took me to the police station. He got me this phone," he said lifting it up, "so I would be able to let him know when I made it home safely after work. He calmed me down and protected me and… he made everything better, dad. Instantly. And when I saw him, it felt like I was finally, finally able to breathe after two weeks of gasping for every bit of air. And he had been just as miserable as me. But he didn't go find me, he didn't call me, he gave me space, because he was freaking out about what you said. He was worried I believed you were right."
Burt ran a hand over his bald head, and Kurt could see just how conflicted he was. "It's not that I want to believe he's a bad guy… I'm just… how can you ask me not to worry, Kurt?"
"I'm not asking you not to worry," Kurt replied, leaning in to look him in the eyes. "I'm asking you to trust me."
Burt sighed. "You've always been too mature, too smart for your age. You've always been good at identifying what was good for you and what wasn't."
"Exactly. You raised me to be my own person, to not shy away from what I believed in and what I wanted." Kurt paused and smiled a bit. "Can you trust me to be smart about this, too?"
"It's hard, Kurt," Burt grumbled. "What do you think I felt, walking into your apartment and seeing him touching you like that?"
"Dad, that doesn't have anything to do with his age or whether or not he's good for me," Kurt said, and willed his cheeks not to redden. "You walked in, unannounced, into your adult son's apartment and interrupted a moment of intimacy that you weren't supposed to see. It could have been Blaine, or it could have been anyone else. I've had boyfriends in the past, it's not the first time someone's grabbed my ass. You just didn't see it. Because you're not supposed to. Those moments aren't meant for you, or anyone else, just us."
Burt muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like "good point."
"Plus, walking into the loft without knocking? Not a good idea. I can't tell you how many times I've walked in on Santana doing things I wish I could bleach away from my mind," Kurt said, with a teasing little tone, hoping it would help diffuse the tension. "You saw that, okay, I'm not saying you have to like it. But it's not… it's not all about that, you know? He knew I was sad because I wasn't going to come home for Thanksgiving so he came to see me, and he invited me to spend the holiday with his friends. He… he cares about me, dad."
"Fine, I guess that the more things you say about him, the least I dislike him," Burt said gruffly. "I'll just… have to get used to the idea, if you think he'll be in your life for a while."
Kurt bit his lip, hesitating. It felt like a big deal, to admit this, but if he wanted his dad to understand, he needed to be completely honest. "I think he'll be in my life for longer than a while, dad. I think I'm falling in love with him."
Burt leaned against the back of the couch heavily, all the fight finally leaving him. "Well. There's that, then."
"Really?" Kurt whispered, hope igniting in his chest.
"If you love him, there's not much I can do, right? I'm not going to chain you in your childhood bedroom to keep you from seeing him. You've been seeing him for a while and I didn't know about it. You will clearly do what you think is best and I have two choices: I can be against it and tell you all the reasons why I think this might be a bad idea, and you will probably stop telling me things until I end up not really being a part of your life anymore, or I can accept that you're an adult, a man I'm proud of, who's never done a single thing to make me think you don't deserve my trust, and hope for the best," Burt said. "And I choose having you in my life and being a part of yours, always."
Kurt practically threw himself at his dad, wrapping his arms around him tightly. "Thank you. It means a lot to me. It kills me, you know? Disappointing you."
"You could never disappoint me, kiddo," Burt reassured him, rubbing his back in a soothing way. "Just keep being smart, and if he ever does something out of line…"
"He won't," Kurt said, not a single doubt in his mind. "I think you would really like him, if you gave him a chance."
Burt nodded slowly. "Then… make sure to bring him along next time. Just tell him to keep his hands away from your butt while I'm around, okay?"
Kurt laughed, relief washing over him. "Deal."
He let his dad pull him to his side, and they watched the lights of the Christmas tree without saying another word.
There were only two details in Cooper's apartment that acknowledged it was the holiday season – the first one and most obvious one was the garland hanging on the mantel of his fireplace, a show of goodwill and a brave attempt at having some Christmas spirit for the first time in decades. It seemed that, since he wasn't travelling and he had decided spending the holidays with his brother, Cooper wanted to put in some effort. Blaine appreciated it, because he knew Christmas made Cooper as uncomfortable as it made him.
The second detail was the mistletoe hanging by the front door. Blaine had no idea who Cooper was trying to catch there, and he honestly did not want to ask.
Christmas Eve was a quiet and kind of odd affair. Cooper had put on some music in the background, instrumental versions of holiday songs, and once again Blaine recognized that as him putting in the effort to turn this into a reason for celebration, and not one for looking back at all the failed holidays they had shared in the past.
A glass of whisky appeared in front of Blaine's face, breaking the trance in which he had been staring at the crackling fire, ice-cubes tinkling against each other and the thin crystal. He grabbed it before Cooper dropped down on the couch next to him, his own whisky clasped in his hand. He took a little sip and smacked his lips, like it was one of life's greatest pleasures.
"So, what are you thankful for this year?" Cooper asked, sprawled on the pristine white couch in his pajamas.
Blaine smiled a bit against his glass as he went to take a sip of whisky. "That's Thanksgiving, Coop."
"Whatever," Cooper shrugged. "They're all the same. You get together with family you can't stand to see the rest of the year, you eat food until you throw up, someone gets drunk and is incredibly inappropriate, and you exchange presents with people to hide the fact that you don't really like each other. Bonus points if the present is something super passive aggressive."
"Well, now I'm kind of scared to see what you got me," Blaine scoffed. He watched his brother's profile for a little while, and then added: "You know, you really didn't have to stay here for me. I know the holidays bring out some bitter memories..."
Cooper made a little waving gesture, like maybe he could actually make the memories disappear like that. Blaine wondered what exactly he had been thinking of – the Christmas holidays on the road, the tour bus too crowded, everyone too tired to even care what date it was, the endless performances in malls and crowded little venues when the band was just getting started, and then the biggest, more demanding ones once they got some fame. There was never a Christmas tree or a family moment to at least pretend they cared about it.
When he had been younger, one of Blaine's biggest dreams had been to have one of those Hallmark-looking Christmas, with a big tree, lots of laughter and cookies, and the smell of gingerbread all over the house. But the holidays were always busy when you were in the entertainment industry – even during his brief career, Blaine had been taken from one side of the country to the other to perform, and once everyone else went home to spend the holidays with their families, he was just tossed back on the road so he could be in time for his next performance.
And Cooper had done that for years. He couldn't blame him for not caring about Christmas, or Thanksgiving, or any of it.
"Well, for what it's worth," Cooper said, and downed the rest of his whisky. "You're the one thing I'm grateful for."
Blaine stopped and stared at him. It was an oddly vulnerable and nice thing to say. "Thanks, Coop," he said, truly touched. "You're one of mine, too."
"One of yours?" Cooper frowned, like he didn't understand. "How am I not at the top of this list?"
Blaine rolled his eyes and relaxed against the back of the couch. He drank a bit of whisky, the smoothness and slight burn mixing perfectly as it brushed his tongue and went down his throat. "Well, I do have godchildren, you know. And Tina and Mike are family to me. And… well, there's Kurt now."
Saying Kurt's name felt exactly like that sip of whisky. It was a pleasurable little buzz that filled him with instant warmth.
Cooper gave a quick little nod and looked down at his empty glass, the ice cubes looking lonely. "He's not the kind of guy I pictured you'd go for," he commented.
The warmth froze, like flowers in a garden when the first snow comes. Blaine's fingers tightened for a moment. He tried to ignore the tiny, low voice in the back of his head that kept tolling: a forty year old pervert, a forty year old pervert, a forty year old pervert.
He cleared his throat and pushed it away, his face always quick to turn into a mask that hid how he really felt inside. "I know he's a little young…" he started, but Cooper interrupted him with a scoff.
"What? No, that's not what I meant. The younger the better," he said, and Blaine turned to look at him with a slightly horrified and concerned glare. "As long as it's legal. God, Blaine. Don't be disgusting…"
"I'm the disgusting one?" Blaine muttered, but Cooper just kept talking over him, as he always did.
"I don't know if I mentioned this, but last summer I was with this gorgeous nineteen year old who… damn, Blaine, she knew stuff."
Blaine didn't want to know what stuff was, and he wished he could just go bleach his ears.
"I'm just saying. You were never one for the casual adventure with the gorgeous young ingénue," Cooper shrugged.
Blaine ran his hand across the armrest of the couch, watching the motion intently, purposefully not looking at Cooper. "What if it's not a casual adventure?"
Cooper arched an eyebrow as he turned his face towards his brother. "What do you mean?"
Blaine sighed and finally turned to look at him, too. "I really like him."
"Well, yeah, I also liked that nineteen year old – did I mention she had a tongue ring? – but I wasn't going to get serious about her. And I know you, you like the serious stuff. Can you truly see yourself with this guy for a long time?" Cooper asked and he hesitated before he added: "And how do you know he's with you for the right reasons? I mean, it's happened before…"
There was so much heaviness in Blaine's stomach all of a sudden. "He's not like that," he said, and he was sure of it, but the way Cooper said it… "I mean, you saw him, Coop. You talked to him. He's really fantastic."
"I guess," Cooper said slowly. "I'm just looking out for you. I don't want you to be heartbroken again."
Oh, Blaine didn't want that, either. "I know," he whispered.
Cooper reached out and squeezed his knee, a big grin on his face. "Just allow yourself to have fun. You don't have to marry the guy," he laughed. "I mean, he's in school. He's probably not going to be thinking about marriage for another decade, and by then you'll be near your fifties."
"You're one to talk," Blaine said, because he needed Cooper to stop talking. "When are you going to get serious with someone? You can't keep playing around forever, you know."
If Blaine was good at putting a mask on, so was Cooper. Anyone who didn't know him as well as Blaine did would have missed the way it slipped on, but he knew his brother.
"That's not for me. Us Anderson men aren't great at the whole family-man thing," Cooper murmured nonchalantly.
Blaine frowned. "You know, we… we never really talk about dad," he said, and Cooper turned his head towards him so fast, Blaine wondered if his neck hurt. "Or about our mothers."
"There's nothing to talk about," Cooper said, his tone of voice sharp like a knife. "They haven't been part of our lives for a very, very long time. There's no point in looking back."
Blaine turned back to the fireplace. If they didn't look back, how would they learn not to make the same mistakes in the future?
"I'll go get another drink. Want one?" Cooper asked, obviously trying to change the subject and dissipate the sudden tension. Blaine shook his head lifting his glass to show he still had some whisky in it.
The fire was crackling and popping and Blaine closed his eyes. He wished he could remember the Christmases up until he was five years old. He wondered if his mother had done anything special, if she'd had any family traditions she was hoping to uphold with her own child. He realized he couldn't even remember her face, and it only made him sadder.
Cooper had taken his side when things with his father escalated, when he realized he couldn't keep living in the shadows, that he needed to be who he really was. By then, Oscar Anderson didn't see any use in Blaine, whose career had flickered out in the blink of an eye, but he still didn't want his lifestyle choices affecting the family goldmine, which was Cooper's career. But Blaine was on the edge of a much darker place, and he got scared, so he put his foot down for the first time in his life and told their father he was walking out. After a very heated argument, Cooper had stood by him and it had been the very last time they ever saw their father.
Sometimes Blaine wondered if Cooper regretted it, if he wished he had stayed with their dad, if maybe Oscar could have done a lot more for Cooper's life, his career, his success than Blaine ever had.
He had felt so guilty over the years, had felt like he couldn't fail Cooper now, not when he had given it all up for him. And so Blaine had given up on going after what he wanted – he couldn't even remember what that looked like anymore, it had been so long – to stay with him, to take care of him.
When Cooper came back, the mask was so perfectly in place, not even Blaine could see it. He smiled broadly and said: "Will it be too un-Christmassy of me if we ordered some pizza?"
Blaine smiled back, because it was what he had learned to do, and grabbed his phone to order.
The morning was spent surrounded by the scent of hazelnut coffee and bright wrapping paper. Kurt smiled fondly at Finn, who still sat crosslegged on the floor as he did every year, making grabby hands at the presents as if he was a child.
Afterwards, Carole went into the kitchen and Burt headed upstairs for a shower. Finn pretended he was going to put away his presents, but Kurt knew him well – he was probably going to take a nap. Waking up early was still one of those things Finn failed spectacularly at.
Kurt took advantage of everyone's distraction and went into his room. He closed the door and dropped down on the bed, phone already pressed to his ear as he waited...
"Hello?"
The sound of Blaine's voice sent a rush of joy and longing all through him. He had to close his eyes for a moment to control the rise of emotion.
"Merry Christmas, Blaine," he whispered.
He could hear the quiet exhale of breath, as if Blaine was putting down a heavy weight and relaxing. "Kurt," he said, like his name was a precious little thing he needed to articulate carefully. "Merry Christmas. How are you?"
"I'm good," Kurt replied, pressing the phone a little harder to his ear, as if he could bring Blaine closer by doing that. "You?"
"Well, I'm great now," Blaine murmured in a sweet tone. "I'm making coffee. I'm still at Coop's, but I'll be heading over to Tina's in a bit."
"Did you and Cooper have a nice Christmas Eve?" Kurt asked as he got comfortable against the pillows.
There was a slight hesitation in Blaine's voice when he said: "Yeah, it was okay."
"Want to talk about it?" Kurt offered softly.
Blaine sighed, his little puff of breath turning into a short, staccato chuckle, like he was surprised. "You know me too well." He paused and Kurt didn't say anything, giving him the space to continue if needed. "It really was okay, it's just that Coop and I aren't big on the holiday cheer. We don't really know what to do with ourselves. It's just another day, I guess."
"Is he going to join you at Tina's?" Kurt said, as he tried to imagine what the holidays were truly like for Blaine. He thought back to when it was just him and his father, and even though it had been lonely, it had still been nice, because his dad always make sure to uphold the traditions he had started with Kurt's mom. It had made things easier, steadier, and they both had put in the effort to make it special even if there was no one else. They had each other. It had been more than enough.
"God, no," Blaine laughed. "I mean, I would love it if he came along, but he would be bored out of his mind, and annoyed at the kids, so…"
"That's a pity. Is he just going to be by himself?" Kurt asked sadly. He couldn't imagine being alone today.
"Looks like it, yes," Blaine replied. "But enough about my brother. Tell me about you. How's your family?"
Kurt told him about everything they had done since the moment he had arrived, and Blaine laughed wholeheartedly at some of Finn's occurrences.
"I…" Kurt bit his lip, heart beating so loud it almost hurt. "I also told my dad about you. About us."
Blaine's inhale was sharp in Kurt's ear. "Oh. You did?"
"I don't want to go behind his back," Kurt explained calmly. "He's everything to me and it kills me that he doesn't see things the way I do."
"I get that," Blaine said, and cleared his throat awkwardly. "And… and what did he say?"
"I think he understood," Kurt said. It hadn't exactly been perfect and he knew his father wasn't going to be totally on board with it for a while, at least. "He wants to meet you. Properly this time."
He swore Blaine gulped in the other end of the line. "He does?"
"Yes. I think his exact words were 'without his hand on your butt this time' so…" Kurt said and laughed, but Blaine did not join in. "Blaine. It's fine. He was just joking."
"Yeah, I know," Blaine said tensely.
Kurt took a moment and the way his heart had been pumping excitedly seemed to slow down to dread. "Are you… Should I not have said anything to him?"
"No, no, I'm glad you did," Blaine reassured him at once. "I just… I know how important it is to you to have your father's approval, and I'm already in huge disadvantage. He's going to already have all these preconceived notions about me…"
"He won't," Kurt said, and hoped he wasn't lying. "I think he saw how happy you make me. I think he'll do his best to erase whatever prejudices he has and start anew."
"Okay," Blaine muttered, not sounding very convinced.
"But you don't have to worry about it, it's not going to happen tomorrow," Kurt hurried to say, eager to dissipate the tension. "And I'm sorry if I shouldn't have said anything…"
"Kurt," Blaine interrupted, his voice soft and warm like a caress. "I'm glad you did. It makes me happy you did. It makes me happy that you think this is something big enough to tell your dad about it."
Kurt smiled into the phone and, not for the first time, he wished he was back in New York, within touching distance, so he could pull Blaine into his arms and hold him there.
"God, I miss you," he blurted out, unable to stop himself.
"I miss you too, baby," Blaine whispered.
In the two years that Kurt had lived away from home, it had always felt like he was torn – he loved the city, but his heart seemed to have been left stuck in Ohio, with all the people he loved.
It was the first time he felt like his heart had stayed back in Manhattan instead. Maybe the only thing missing in his life to make him feel like he truly, truly belonged in New York had been Blaine.
Blaine's fingers flew over the keyboard, playing random melodies, not really letting any of them build before he moved on the next. This was what he usually did when it felt like his brain was too full of thoughts – he dumped them all on the piano until he felt light enough to go on.
It was weird to have time off – he was so used to running after Cooper all day, every day, that when he had a few days to himself, he never really knew exactly what to do. He thought back to that conversation he'd had with Kurt some time ago, about what he wanted to do. Something so simple, and yet it had had such a huge impact on him, because he hadn't allowed himself to think about it in a very long time, and he had no idea what he could possibly want anymore. It felt like it was too late now. Too late to start over.
And what would Cooper do without him?
His fingers sped up a bit, eliciting something that was a mixture of a classical piece and a very energetic pop song, just when the doorbell rang. The sound ended so abruptly, the silence left behind was almost deafening.
He headed to the door and pulled it open, only to see Kurt standing on the stoop, blue Burberry coat wrapped around his body as if it had been made for him, a matching scarf, a few snowflakes in his hair, eyes bright as the dawn and a soft smile on his lips. Next to him, there was a suitcase.
"Kurt!" Blaine exclaimed, surprised, and immediately felt the grin growing on his face. "What…? I thought you were coming back tomorrow!"
"Surprise?" Kurt offered sheepishly, and Blaine grabbed his hand and pulled him in, until he collided against his chest, arms instantly going around him. Kurt threw his own arms around his neck.
"I was going to pick you up at the airport," Blaine chuckled. "But this is much, much better."
Kurt didn't say anything, simply let one of his hands cup the back of Blaine's head so he could lead him into a kiss, deep and slow, the tip of Kurt's cold nose digging against Blaine's, lips sliding easily, a hint of tongue that threatened to already set Blaine on fire.
God, he had missed him.
"God, I missed you," he murmured as they parted. He realized the door was still open, letting in the winter chill. Without letting go of Kurt, he reached to get the suitcase inside and kicked the door closed.
"Me too," Kurt said, pressing sweet kisses in quick succession all over Blaine's face. "I realized I had to be at the diner tomorrow night, and if I came back at noon, it would give me no time to actually see you, so…"
"Well, I'm very happy with this change of plans," Blaine smiled. "Can you stay? At least until tomorrow? Or as long as possible?"
Kurt beamed at him, and nodded. "Of course. I could ask one of the girls to get my uniform at home and drop it here on their way to work or leave it at the diner."
It felt as if something inside of Blaine that had been all scrambled suddenly shifted back into place, balance restored.
It was one of his most favorite things, when Kurt stayed.
The next few days were idyllic.
They started by celebrating their own little Christmas that night. Blaine insisted on cooking everything from scratch, saying he rarely had the luxury to spend enough time in the kitchen to do that, and Kurt sat at the breakfast bar and watched him, enamored, while he danced from one counter to the next. No one had ever cooked for him – with the obvious exception of his dad or Carole. Neither of his previous boyfriends had known how to even boil an egg, and the most Kurt had been able to expect from them was that they would order food at one of his favorite restaurants. But this… it felt so special, so nice.
They stayed in their pajamas all day and didn't even bother changing for dinner. They cuddled on the couch for hours, just talking, talking, talking: about Kurt's days in Ohio, about Cooper's weird mood the past few days, about how much Blaine's godchildren had loved the presents he got them. They hadn't spent this much time just talking since the first night they met. Only now they weren't shy about wanting to reach for each other, about pausing for a little kiss between words, about holding each other's hands, about shifting until they were glued together like puzzle pieces meant to fit.
They hadn't moved until they were hungry and Blaine had decided to cook. Despite Kurt's offers to help, Blaine kept shushing him out of the kitchen. "Can't a guy cook dinner for his boyfriend? Now get out of here or stay put and let me work."
And Kurt's heart stopped only to begin beating more wildly, because this was the first time Blaine called him his boyfriend.
To pretend Blaine hadn't just shaken his entire world, Kurt stood up and wandered out to the living room. The piano bench was askew – like Blaine had gotten up and forgotten all about it. Kurt had heard the gentle echoes of the piano playing as he was about to ring the doorbell earlier. It had been the first time he had heard Blaine playing music of any kind, and it had made emotion swim in his chest, something he couldn't quite pinpoint.
He sat down and let his fingers run over the white ivory. It felt cool to the touch. Kurt had never been big on playing instruments but he knew the basics, enough to be able to practice on his own when he needed to get a number ready for school or an audition. He played a little scale, just a C Major, as his thoughts turned to school – he was incredibly unprepared for the new semester. He hadn't even sung in the shower in the past couple of weeks.
He played a soft melody, a slow version of the beginning of Bring Him Home from Les Misérables. He began to sing under his breath. He adjusted his pitch before he let himself get a little louder. He really needed to practice more.
"… he is young, he's afraid…" he sang, fingers fumbling a little on the keys. It was difficult to play and sing at the same time. "Let him rest, heaven blessed…"
He could hear the violins in his head, but his own version felt lacking as he tried to play the next few notes.
Suddenly, Blaine was right next to him, something bright and lovely in his eyes, and he was sitting on the bench next to him, pressing close against his side and taking over for him, easily, as if it was second nature.
Kurt smiled, sheepish but grateful, as the melody became more sure and seemed to fill the living room. It felt like it was pulling Kurt's voice from deep within him, trying to complete it. So Kurt sang, letting his eyes fall close as he focused on his breathing.
He held the last note for as long as he could, and Blaine stopped playing, letting him soar. He kept his eyes closed for a few more seconds once he was done, and then opened them and turned to his boyfriend.
(Boyfriend, boyfriend, boyfriend).
Blaine's lips were slightly parted, eyes a little wide, pupils a little blown. He let his hand fall from the keyboard to Kurt's knee, a warm, perfect weight that felt like home.
"You are…" Blaine muttered and shook his head, as if he couldn't find his voice. "You are the most talented, beautiful man I've ever seen."
Kurt felt as if his chest had burst open, his heart having grown too big to be held anymore. He turned on his side so he could face Blaine, cupped his cheek and tilted their foreheads together. "Oh, Blaine. The things you say…"
"Just the truth," Blaine whispered, lips brushing softly against his, not quite a kiss yet. "I feel… overwhelmed by you. In all the best ways."
Kurt had been mocked for his voice for so long, whenever someone complimented it, he had a hard time believing it, he read into every word, he expected to find an insult hidden. Not this time. This time, he believed.
"Thank you," he said, and kissed him.
Blaine pulled away reluctantly after a few seconds, his thumb brushing circles on Kurt's hipbone through his pajamas, a hypnotic little touch. "I don't want dinner to burn, but I'm very tempted to take you to bed right now."
Kurt smiled and kissed the spot behind Blaine's ear, the one he had learned drove him a little crazy. "Later," he promised.
Instead of sitting at the dining room table, they sat on the floor in the living room, legs stretched under the coffee table, side by side, trading bites of homemade gnocchi and Bolognese sauce as if they both didn't have the same thing on their own plates. The small Christmas tree that Blaine had gotten for them a few days ago twinkled gleefully with its tiny multicolored lights.
Everything was so perfect, it seemed like a dream.
Afterwards, Kurt managed to convince Blaine to let him take care of the dishes, which proved nearly impossible because Blaine kept interrupting him to kiss him – but Kurt wasn't about to complain. It took a little longer than necessary, but then they were finally back in the living room, sitting on the floor again, right in front of the tree to exchange presents.
Kurt had been saving every single tip he got at the diner for a while to be able to get Blaine nice presents. He had bought a really nice designer sweater that Isabelle had helped him pick from one of the many, many catalogues she had in her office. Most of Kurt's budget had been used for that, but he also knitted him a scarf and made him a bowtie from some leftover fabric he'd had from a previous project. As he watched Blaine open them, he was nervous, feeling like maybe it wasn't enough, but Blaine's eyes lit up with each one, and gave him a really lovely, sweet kiss as he thanked him, throwing his new scarf around Kurt's neck to pull him closer.
Blaine, of course, had gone overboard with the presents. Kurt tried to protest, but failed spectacularly – there were the new Balenciaga boots he had been drooling over for weeks, and a gorgeous black and gold brooch shaped like a cup of coffee.
"Because of the night we met?" Kurt asked, voice shaking slightly.
Blaine pressed a kiss to his temple, smiling into the spot there. "Because of the night we met."
That would have been more than enough (he was sure the boots cost at least a month of rent, if not more), but Blaine pushed another box towards him, wrapped in glowing red paper with a green bow on top.
"Blaine…" he began to protest.
"Just open it, okay?" Blaine said, with a knowing smile.
Kurt's eyes were wide and his mouth felt a little dry as he peeled the paper away. "Oh no. Oh no, you didn't…"
Blaine only grinned, looking pretty proud of himself.
And there was a gorgeous new Keurig coffee maker, a silver beauty with a digital screen, ready to feed Kurt's coffee addiction whenever he wanted. Blaine had even got him a couple boxes of coffee pods in different flavors.
"I can't accept this…" Kurt said, biting his lip.
"You sure can," Blaine said, leaning in to kiss his cheek, as if that sealed the deal. "You've always wanted one. And you can share it with Rachel and Santana at the loft."
Kurt was climbing onto his lap before Blaine even finished talking, kissing his face all over and making happy little giddy noises that he would have been embarrassed of if it wasn't because he was so excited right now.
"Let's go upstairs," Kurt practically growled in his ear. "I need to show you in a very, very specific way just how grateful I am."
Blaine didn't need to be told twice. He scrambled to his feet and offered his hand to Kurt to help him up as well.
Kurt accepted his boyfriend's hand and let him guide him to his bedroom.
This one was a very special chapter, so I hope you all enjoyed it and I can't wait to see what you think!
Thanks for reading, and I'll see you again next Saturday :)
L.-
