Happy Saturday! Hope you all had a wonderful week.
Thanks for all the great comments and the support. You guys make my days, truly.
Thanks to Christine for the priceless help on getting this chapters ready.
Cuddles for Sofi.
Enjoy!
A bratty child had spilled milkshake all over the table and it was leaking down to the floor. As Santana tried to wipe it clean, the little monster continued to scream and throw a tantrum, and she told herself it wouldn't make her life any better if she killed him – she would only end up in jail. At least it was a consolation that there were worse things than working at Spotlight.
"Could you bring him a new one, please?" The mother asked and Santana looked up at her and wished she could strangle her and her evil spawn.
"Of course," she said in a sweet, poisonous voice. The smile on her face probably looked unnatural. She couldn't bring herself to care. "Just a second. Let me finish cleaning this up. We wouldn't want you or your cutie to slip on it, break your neck and die a horrible, painful death, right?"
The child stopped crying and looked at Santana with wide, scared eyes.
Fuck. She probably shouldn't have said that. The mother looked like the kind of woman who would want to get her fired.
Just in case the woman was planning to start yelling at her, Santana cleaned the rest of the milkshake as quickly as she could and walked away. She went into the small closet where they kept the cleaning supplies and closed the door. It was certainly an irony that her only escape in this situation was to slip into the closet for some peace and quiet, but she ignored it. She closed her eyes, leaned her forehead against the closed door and breathed.
Hell would freeze over before anyone would see Santana Lopez cry.
Last night, taking advantage of the empty loft – Rachel was in rehearsal and Kurt was always with his boyfriend lately – she had called her mother and finally spilled everything she had been feeling, all the horrible things that had happened these past couple of months. Her mom had been really understanding, even when Santana said she was thinking about going back home for a while, until she figured out what she wanted to do. New York had supposed to be a dream, and it had turned into a nightmare.
Knowing she couldn't stay in the closet much longer – again, another irony – she took one last deep breath and straightened her uniform. She made sure her bitch face was in place before she opened the door. She headed straight to place the order for the brat's new milkshake and when she turned around, she saw that Blaine was standing near the door, looking around the diner.
Santana leaned against the counter to watch him. She arched an eyebrow when his eyes fell on her and he came towards her. "If you're looking for Hummel, he's not here."
"No, no, Kurt's still at work," Blaine said with a kind smile. Santana could see the appeal of him – the lovely, kind eyes, the grey hairs at his temples, the laugh lines, the dark hair always styled away from his face. If she had liked dick, she would have probably gotten herself a sugar daddy just like this one.
"Well, if you're here for coffee, there's a better place around the block. Ours is cheap and disgusting," Santana said in a hushed tone, not wanting Gunther to hear. "Or you could use that fancy machine you surely have at home. Thanks for the one you got for Kurt, by the way. It's been the only good thing in my currently pathetic and awful life. So, just so you know, when you and Kurt finally shack up, I'm keeping it. You are not taking it away from me."
Blaine seemed a little dizzy with her tirade, but was still smiling politely, warmly. "That's fine. I'm sure Kurt wouldn't mind you keeping it," he said, and she noticed he didn't say it was too soon for them to live together or that he hadn't even thought about it. "And I'm not here for coffee, either. I was hoping to get to talk to you for a bit?"
"What do you want to talk about?" She asked, curiously. She liked Blaine just fine, but they weren't exactly friends, and they didn't see each other often. Mostly, she guessed, because he and Kurt were too busy having sex to hang out with other people.
Blaine sat on one of the stools at the counter. "I don't know how much Kurt's told you, but… I stopped working for my brother a couple of months ago."
"A wise decision, as he is an unbearable bastard," Santana muttered.
Blaine's eyes softened. "I get that he hurt you, but I promise he's not a bad guy. He feels really bad about it. Cooper's… complicated. His life looks perfect but it's been anything but. I'm not saying this to force you to forgive him, but I just want you to know that he's not as bad as he's made people believe in the past. And he's trying really hard to be better, to get better, now."
Santana couldn't completely shake off the bitterness, but she'd heard a bit from Kurt about it – she knew about what their father had done to them, mostly to Cooper, about all the years of abuse and exploitation. Part of her wanted to feel bad for him. He had seemed so broken when he had come to see her and apologize. But she still thought that a grown ass man should have dealt with it differently, instead of ruining her life.
"Well, if you're looking for a new job, I'm sure I can talk to Gunther for you, but I honestly think you'd be better off picking up garbage," she said.
"I'm not here to ask for a job, I'm here to offer you one," Blaine said simply and Santana's brain short-circuited.
"You… what?" She mumbled, confused.
"Again, I don't know if Kurt's told you this, but ever since I stopped working for Cooper, I've been trying to figure out what I want to do. It took me a while to get things started, but this week I finished all the paperwork and I founded my own company," Blaine explained, and the pride in his voice was evident.
"Well, that's good. I'm happy for you. So, what do you need? A receptionist? If you say a cleaning lady, I will kick you in the nuts," Santana said sharply, pointing a menacing finger at him.
Blaine rolled his eyes at her but kept smiling. "No, Santana. It's a record label. I want you to be my first signed artist. I'm offering you a recording contract."
Santana gasped. Out of all the things she had expected to happen today, this was certainly not it. "What are you talking about?"
"As soon as I came up with the idea, all I could think about was your audition for the show. It was… amazing. I've seen thousands of people audition throughout the years, but no one's ever taken my breath away like that. You have such a raw, wonderful kind of talent… I'd hate it if it didn't get to shine." Blaine paused, watching her intently, and Santana wondered if this was what felt like to have an aneurysm. "I can't promise things will be smooth from the very start. I have connections, but you'd be my very first artist, so we would need to work hard to book gigs, to get support…"
"Wait, wait, wait," Santana muttered, feeling a lump in her throat. She absently noticed that they were calling her from the kitchen, but she ignored them. "You want me to make an album."
"Yes," Blaine said simply, like this wasn't the craziest shit that had ever happened to her. "I have a few songs written that I think would fit you like a glove, but if they're not your style, we can find another songwriter, or you could try to write your own stuff…"
"Wait," she said again, her voice breaking. "If this is a joke…"
"It's not a joke, I promise," Blaine said earnestly. When she could only gape at him, speechless, he leaned in a little, a gentle little smile on his face: "How about this? Take all the time you need to think about it, and when you're ready to sit down and talk, you give me a call." He slipped a business card across the counter at her. "We can meet and go over your contract and I'll answer any questions you have before you sign it."
Santana stared at the business card. Anderson Records, it said. "Did… did your brother put you up to this?" She asked.
"No," Blaine replied. "I did mention it to him when I told him about me wanting to start a new business, and he thought it was a great idea to get you on board. But he's not involved, and I promise it wasn't his suggestion." There was a quiet sadness in his eyes, as he added: "But I really do hope you two can make amends, someday."
She ignored that last comment because she wasn't ready to deal with it. Instead, she focused on the business card. Her heart was thumping so hard against her chest that it was making it hard to breathe, to think, to function. She had been ready to use the meager tips she got at this dump to get a ticket back to Lima, had imagined herself back in her childhood bedroom, directionless, lost, defeated.
And now here was Blaine, offering her everything she had ever wanted.
"Okay," she whispered, and she felt her eyes filling with tears. She looked back up at Blaine. "Okay, I'm in."
Blaine beamed at her. "You are?"
"Yes" she wiped her tears away and went around the counter to where Blaine was. Maybe hell had finally frozen over, because she felt a sob clawing its way up her throat. "Yes. Thank you."
Blaine was visibly surprised as she threw her arms around his neck to hug him, but he immediately wrapped his own arms around her and squeezed tightly. "I'm really excited about getting to work with you."
She allowed herself to hide her face in his shoulder for a moment. "Me, too."
He rubbed her back. "Give me a call and we'll meet to talk things over, okay?"
"I will," she promised as she pulled away. She snorted out a quick laugh. "Not gonna lie, I'll probably call you in an hour or so. Don't tell anyone this because I'll deny it, but I'm desperate to get started."
Blaine laughed, too. "Then why don't you just meet me at my house tomorrow morning? We can look over the contract and discuss everything in detail."
"Okay," Santana agreed. She felt like she could breathe again for the first time in forever. Part of her told her to be careful, that it could go away in the blink of an eye, but another part of her felt like she could truly trust Blaine. Kurt trusted him implicitly, after all, and Kurt was her family.
Blaine squeezed her shoulder gently. "I'll see you tomorrow, then. Thanks, Santana. You won't regret this, I promise."
She watched him walk out of the diner, pausing at the door for one last quick wave over his shoulder, and hoped she wouldn't.
They screamed at her from the kitchen again, so she turned on her heels and went to retrieve the new milkshake for the kid. It was a testament of just how happy and hopeful she suddenly felt, that she didn't even think of spitting into it.
Today was a good day, after all.
After his stop at Spotlight diner to talk to Santana, Blaine took a little walk. The sun was slowly sinking in the horizon, turning the sky into shades of orange and pink. He couldn't explain what he was feeling – for the first time in his life, he had made the decisions, had chosen what he wanted, and he was going to go for it. It was exciting and scary.
He knew Santana was the perfect artist to get his record label started. She was the perfect example of what his brand was going to stand for: he wanted to give a chance to people who had felt like quitting their passion was their only option, who had faced uncomfortable or even violent situations when meeting with producers and had lost all faith in the industry, who had given up because they thought it couldn't be any other way.
Maybe, if he was lucky, he would get to change the industry from within. Or, at least, he would make it a safe environment for the people who worked with him.
He finally headed home, feeling light and excited for what was to come. As soon as he opened the front door, his heart thumped hard against his chest – Kurt's jacket was hung in the entryway.
"Kurt?" He called into the house. "Are you here?"
"In the living room!" Kurt replied.
This was the very first time that Blaine came home and Kurt was already there. Ever since he had given him the key, Kurt had used it but Blaine had been there already, or they had arrived together after catching a movie or going out for dinner. But this…
This was different.
Kurt was sitting on the couch, his laptop on his thighs, a look of concentration on his face. He had changed into more comfortable clothes, and it didn't take long for Blaine to realize he was wearing his clothes – a soft hoodie with a faded logo in the front, and sweatpants that were too short on him. He looked so at home, like he belonged right there, like there was nowhere else he would rather be…
Blaine loved him so much, sometimes he thought he was about to burst, unable to contain everything he felt for this gorgeous, marvelous, kind-hearted man.
"Hey," he said, the little word coming out of him almost in a breathless gasp.
"Hi, you," Kurt said, as he typed something. "Dinner's in the oven. I just need to send a few emails and we can eat. How was your day?"
This. This was what Blaine wanted. Just a normal, day-to-day, loving, committed relationship. Coming home to someone. Coming home to Kurt.
He walked to the couch and leaned in to press a kiss to the top of Kurt's head, not wanting to distract him from his work. "It was really good. I'll tell you over dinner. Yours?"
"Mm, a bit insane, but what else is new?" Kurt said absentmindedly. "Isabelle asked me to help her plan a photoshoot for the next issue, so it's only going to get crazier for the next two weeks or so." He finished typing and sent the email, before he looked up at Blaine, a smile blossoming on his lips. "You look really happy. I like that."
"And you look super cozy. I like that, too," Blaine said with a laugh. "What's for dinner?"
"Chicken casserole. Should be done in about five minutes," Kurt murmured, returning his attention to his computer.
"Okay. I'll go set the table and wash my hands," Blaine said.
As he walked to the bathroom, he came across a book that belonged to Kurt, left on a side table in the hallway. In the sink, there was a moisturizer from a brand he knew his boyfriend used. In the kitchen, he found Kurt's travel mug, and in the fridge, food Blaine hadn't bought.
Their lives had become so intertwined, gradually, naturally, that Blaine hadn't even realized it. He knew that if he went upstairs to his bedroom (their bedroom?), he would find some of Kurt's clothes in the closet, his favorite shampoo in the master bathroom, a hand cream on the nightstand. He dreamed of the day he couldn't recognize what belonged to Kurt and what belonged to him, when their books would be together on the same shelf, when their shirts would get mixed in the closet, never remembering if this pair of socks was his or Kurt's.
He had just finished setting the table when Kurt came into the kitchen and opened the oven, the smell of homemade food making Blaine's stomach grumble and his chest fill with warmth. Blaine headed towards him, wrapping his arms around him from behind, kissing the back of his shoulder.
"I love you," he said, because he felt overwhelmed with it.
He could see the edge of Kurt's smile. "I love you, too," he whispered.
Blaine let his hands sneak under his hoodie, touching the perfect skin underneath. Kurt leaned back against him, and didn't say anything, just let Blaine hold him as much as he wanted. He tilted his head and kissed the long, pale column of Kurt's neck. "Do you want to move in with me?"
Kurt gasped, and Blaine truly hadn't planned to say that, but now that he had… he knew it was right. He knew he wanted it. He knew he wanted to wake up next to him every single day for the rest of his life, to come home to him every evening, to share everything he had and everything he was with him.
"It's fine if you feel like it's too soon," Blaine murmured calmly, placing one more kiss to the edge of Kurt's jaw before he moved away, reluctantly pulling his hands out of the hoodie so he could lean on the counter next to Kurt and look at him. "Just thought I'd put it out there, that I want to."
Kurt's smile was bright and beautiful as he threw his arms around his shoulders to bring him into a proper kiss. "Yes," he said against his lips. "I'd love to live with you."
"Really?" Blaine asked, and his heart was steady.
"Yes," Kurt said again, no hesitation in his voice. "I really, really do." He kissed him once more and then rested their foreheads together. "I need to talk to the girls. I don't know if they can afford rent on their own. Santana has been particularly quiet lately, so I don't know what her plans are…"
"Speaking of Santana," Blaine beamed at him. "I have news."
"Do tell," Kurt said, as he went back to their dinner, as if nothing extraordinary had just happened.
They sat down to eat and Blaine caught him up on what had happened that day, telling him about Santana's excitement and their meeting the next morning. Kurt was happy for his friend, and thanked him for giving her a chance, before telling Blaine about his day.
Yes, Blaine thought. This was what he wanted. And never in a million years would he have thought he'd be lucky enough to have it.
Never in a million years would he have imagined someone like Kurt.
And yet here he was. Better than a dream. Better than anything Blaine could have expected.
And all his. Just like Blaine was Kurt's.
A step closer to forever.
Kurt climbed the steps two at a time, leaving the stuffiness of the subway station behind and coming up to a sunny late morning. It was a beautiful Saturday and Kurt was heading over to Blaine's place (he was heading home) after spending Friday night with his girls. It had been a while since they had hung out, just the three of them, and with Santana about to start her music career and Kurt about to move out of the loft… well, they knew things would never be the same soon. They had to squeeze in as much time together as they could.
He took the key out of his pocket as soon as he arrived, opening the front door and slipping inside. This really was home, he thought, as he dropped the keys in the bowl on the side table and shrugged out of his light jacket. Spring was in full swing, soon there would be no need for layers at all.
Kurt knew Blaine was home, but the house was quiet, no sign of his boyfriend anywhere. With a frown, Kurt headed to the kitchen and when he found it empty, he continued down the hallway. It was only then that he heard the rhythmic thump-thump-thump coming from what he knew was Blaine's home gym.
The door was ajar, and he only had push at it slightly to look into the room. It took about one second for Kurt's mouth to go dry at the view.
Blaine was hitting the boxing bag hanging from the ceiling, wearing nothing but shorts and those big, padded gloves. His back was covered in sweat, his hair curling with it, and he was panting with exertion.
His boyfriend was fine.
Kurt leaned against the doorway to watch. Blaine was so focused that he didn't even notice he wasn't alone anymore. It allowed Kurt a moment to just take him in, the shifting of his muscles, the strength of his body, the shape of his ass in those tiny green shorts. Kurt felt his cock twitching in interest. He ignored it for now.
It wasn't until he paused to reach for his bottle of water that Blaine realized Kurt was there. He startled slightly and laughed, smile taking over his face.
"Hey, baby. Didn't hear you come in," he said, chugging water almost desperately. Kurt's eyes went down to his taut, taut stomach, and then up to his chest, where the dark hairs were plastered to his skin with sweat. "Did you have a nice night with the girls?"
"Yeah, I did," Kurt replied vaguely.
"I'll finish here in a minute and I'll take a shower," Blaine said, putting his water down before turning back to the bag. "There's a new bistro two blocks from here, I thought we could have lunch there, try it out?"
"Sure," Kurt murmured, and he could have been agreeing to burning down a building – he honestly hadn't heard a single word Blaine had just said. He pulled away from the wall and slowly made his way towards his boyfriend, pausing right behind him. He could feel the heat coming off from him.
Blaine looked over his shoulder. "What are you doing?"
Instead of replying, Kurt leaned in and bit Blaine's shoulder, his tongue lapping at the sweat there.
"Kurt," Blaine groaned. "I'm all disgusting."
"You're so hot," Kurt said as he licked his way up Blaine's neck, hands finding his perfectly tapered and compact waist and turning him around. "Who gave you the right to be this hot?"
"You're one to talk," Blaine chuckled, and then looked at Kurt with an arched eyebrow, curious. "Are you serious? This is doing it for you?"
Kurt simply thrust against his thigh so he could feel his hardening cock. "You tell me."
They kissed – it was dirty and open mouthed right from the start, too much tongue. Kurt let his hands trail over the muscles in Blaine's arms, his chest, his stomach. He wanted to touch him everywhere. There was something so primal, so urgent about seeing Blaine like this, about the way his body seemed to call to him. He loved him, all of him, and knew he was the only one who got to see proper, dapper, charming Blaine Anderson like this.
"Let me blow you," he blurted out, hand pressed to his chest, already pushing him back so he would lean against the wall.
Blaine's eyes were wide and dark with arousal. "Do you honestly think I would say no to that?"
Kurt immediately dropped to his knees, too desperate to delay this, and hooked his fingers on the waistband of Blaine's little green shorts. As he pulled them and his underwear down in one smooth motion, Blaine took his gloves off, letting them fall on the floor carelessly.
"Fuck, Kurt," Blaine said, his head hitting the wall, his hand falling on Kurt's head. Kurt opened his mouth and swallowed him down, feeling him hardening against his tongue. "Shit. Okay. That's… okay."
Kurt stopped once he felt the head hitting his throat and breathed deeply through his nose. Blaine smelled great right now, and it was making him a special kind of hungry. Kurt had never had a thing for sweaty guys, but he guessed he just had a thing for Blaine, period. He would take him in every way he could.
He bobbed his head a few times, enjoying the way Blaine quickly fell apart, and only pulled away when he needed air. He kissed his thighs as he stroked his cock, looking up at him and finding him looking down.
"You're so hot," Kurt said again, because he couldn't believe it, sometimes. "I love your body. It's so strong."
"I bet I could pick you up and fuck you against the wall," Blaine said with a hoarse voice.
Kurt moaned and licked at the slit, gathering the pre-come with his tongue. "Really?"
"Come here and I'll show you," Blaine muttered.
Kurt stood up so quickly he felt a little dizzy, but he forgot all about it as soon as Blaine kissed him, thrusting his tongue into his mouth. Blaine didn't waste a second, fingers already working at undoing Kurt's clothes, and it didn't take long before he was standing there as naked as Blaine, and Blaine was turning them around so he could be the one with his back against the wall now.
Blaine lifted him up, grabbing him by the thighs, and Kurt wrapped his legs around his waist, their cocks aligning perfectly. Kurt couldn't stop touching him as Blaine thrust his hips – his arms, his back, his chest – feeling the muscles shift as he held him up. Blaine's hands shifted to his ass, parting his cheeks, one finger sliding between them to touch his entrance, just a teasing little brush that drove Kurt insane.
It was all very fast. Kurt came first, biting into Blaine's shoulder, and then lifted his head to kiss him as Blaine continued to move his hips, searching for the perfect friction that would tip him over the edge. When he finally did, they just panted into each other's mouths for a moment, trying to catch their breaths, before Blaine lowered him gently.
"So," Kurt said conversationally, as if his chest wasn't covered in their come, fingers buried in Blaine's sweaty curls. "Do you exercise at this hour every day or…?"
Blaine chuckled. "Why? Are you going to come home and catch me at it every time?"
Kurt shrugged nonchalantly. "It's tempting, I'm not going to lie."
They showered together, trading little kisses as they washed their hair, and got dressed. It wasn't until they were out in the street, walking hand in hand to the new bistro for lunch, that Kurt remembered there was something he had been looking forward to mentioning to Blaine.
He bit his lip and said: "My dad called last night. He's coming over for my birthday to visit me."
"Oh," Blaine tried to pretend he didn't deflate at the words and failed horribly. "That's good, that you'll get to see him."
Kurt squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry. I know he makes you nervous."
Blaine smiled and nudged him with his shoulder. "It's fine. I know you miss him, and you don't get to see him often enough. We'll just do something for your birthday some other day…"
Kurt frowned. "What are you talking about? I want you to meet him. Properly, this time."
Blaine's eyes widened adorably. "Really?"
"Blaine, we're moving in together. We're building a life together. I don't want you two to avoid each other forever," he said, as they reached the bistro and went in. "I just want him to see how happy you make me. Then I promise he'll never say another bad thing about you ever again."
Blaine took a deep breath, as if he was getting ready to plunge into deep waters, not knowing exactly when he'd get his next gulp of fresh air. "Okay."
Kurt bit his lip as they sat at an empty table in the corner. He immediately reached for Blaine's hand to squeeze it. "I don't want you to do anything that would make you uncomfortable. If you really don't want to join us, then we can give it a shot next time."
"Darling." Blaine lifted Kurt's hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to his knuckles. "I'm crazy about you."
Kurt tried to hold back his excitement. "So, is that a yes…?"
"Yes," Blaine said softly. "Yes. I'd love to properly meet your father."
Kurt had to bite back the little squeal that tried to push its way out of him.
He just hoped his father kept his promise and gave Blaine a real chance.
Breathing in, breathing out. And once more. And one last time for good measure, every breath carefully calculated, hoping it would help him calm down.
It didn't really have the desired effect.
Blaine took one look at himself in the mirror, making sure his clothes were impeccable, and then went down to the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of water and drank it in one big gulp.
Okay, so. He was panicking.
Burt Hummel had arrived that morning for Kurt's birthday weekend. Blaine had decided to give them space, letting them spend the day together just the two of them, promising to join them that night for dinner. Part of him had done it because he knew Kurt didn't get remotely enough time with his father, but the truth was that he hadn't been ready to face the one man that Blaine felt had the power to destroy the happiness that they had managed to build together.
Blaine knew he was important to Kurt. Kurt loved him, and he demonstrated it daily, with small and big gestures. But he couldn't help thinking back to that terrible morning when Burt had walked in on them in the loft and, with just a handful of words, wrecked everything. They had been so close to losing each other...
What if Mr. Hummel took one look at his son's life and still thought he deserved better than a man who was almost twice his age?
A forty year old perv.
Those words were still buried deep within him, a knife he couldn't quite untwist and remove from his chest.
Everything could change after tonight.
Being late to dinner with his boyfriend's father who already didn't like him wouldn't really help matters, so Blaine put the empty glass in the sink and left the house. He couldn't help feeling that, with every step he was taking, he was going towards some sort of death sentence. He should have kissed Kurt more that morning, he thought, should have pulled him back into bed and held him there for as long as possible. Had he told him he loved him before he left to pick up his dad? Maybe he should have made sure he remembered, that the words were fresh in his mind...
He was being an idiot, Blaine told himself as he hailed a cab. Kurt loved him. Kurt knew he loved him. There was no reason to panic.
A forty year old perv.
He just really, really wanted Burt Hummel to like him.
As the cab made its way through the Manhattan traffic, Blaine found himself thinking about his own father. He had stopped needing him, had stopped caring about what he thought. There was no longer an empty hole in his soul where his love and support should have been. But it didn't mean that, after all this time, he had stopped wondering why he had never been enough for him. And if the man who had been supposed to love him through everything couldn't give a fuck about him... why would Burt Hummel?
He rolled the window down, let some of the spring breeze into the car, and tried to breathe.
As the cab stopped in front of the restaurant Kurt had chosen for the evening, Blaine saw him and his father walking down the block, chatting. He hurried to pay and got out of the car, standing at the restaurant entrance to wait for them.
His hands were sweaty. God, why did they have to be sweaty right now?
When Kurt looked up and saw him already there, his face lit up, smile growing instantly, eyes going so bright they put to shame every single light in this city. Blaine felt the knots inside of him start to loosen up – when Kurt looked at him like that, how could he ever believe anything could go wrong?
"Hi!" Kurt exclaimed, closing the distance between them quickly. "Have you been waiting long?"
Blaine's eyes found Burt's just as Kurt was leaning in to kiss him, his face unreadable. In a panic, he tilted his head to the side so Kurt's lips could press on his cheek instead. He didn't miss the way Kurt frowned in confusion at him as he pulled away. "No, just got here, don't worry," he said, and cleared his throat, forcing himself to stand tall and show no fear though there was plenty in him still. "Mr. Hummel, I hope you had a nice flight?" He hesitated, and didn't offer his hand. Last time, Burt hadn't taken it.
It was him who offered it this time, though, even if there was still a serious look on his face. Blaine shook it gratefully. "It was good. How are you doing, Blaine?"
Kurt winced. "Are you guys going to be weird all night?"
"I'm just asking your boyfriend how he's doing, Kurt," Burt retorted with an eye roll. By the slight annoyance in the tone of his voice, Blaine guessed Kurt had given him an earful about how to behave tonight. He was suddenly filled with a rush of warmth – no one had ever been as protective of him as Kurt. "I thought that was allowed."
It was Kurt who rolled his eyes now, and it was very striking, just how similar both men looked. "Let's just go inside."
Kurt let his father go first and hung back a little, his arm threading around Blaine's and walking close to him, his presence already calming. Blaine felt foolish – he was a grown ass man. He knew Kurt was all in with him. They were moving in together. Why was he so scared of Burt Hummel?
"Are you okay?" Kurt whispered discretely. "You're really tense."
"I'm sorry," Blaine said with a sigh. "I don't want to be awkward. It's just... I want this to go really well. I know how important it is to you..."
"Blaine, I'm going to love you even if my father doesn't," Kurt said simply, and how did he always know exactly what Blaine needed to hear? "And, honestly? He would be insane not to love you. I would have him checked," he teased, clearly trying to get him to laugh. "You're the most charming, loveable guy I've ever met."
"I appreciate that, darling, but..." Blaine took another deep breath. He had lost count of them already. "Fathers aren't my area of expertise. I wouldn't blame him if he didn't like me."
Kurt smiled sadly at him, and looked like he was about to say something, but they had reached their table, so he just squeezed Blaine's hand, a silent show of support. Blaine pulled the chair for him, before he took his own seat.
Burt's gaze was fixed on him. It was unnerving. But before Kurt could try to break the ice, his father cleared his throat and leaned a little across the table to get closer to them.
"So, Blaine. My boy here has been talking my ear off about you the entire day," he said. "And I can tell you're nervous as all hell. So, let me just say this..." He paused, and it was the longest second in Blaine's life. "You don't have to worry. I may not have been thrilled when I first learned about your relationship – you clearly remember it, and I'm sorry for being so rude – but I don't think you're a bad guy. And you've proven, in the past few months, to be really good for Kurt. I know you took care of him when he needed it. I know you've been there for him. I just... I guess there's nothing else I can ask for."
Blaine felt as if his entire body suddenly turned into a bowl of jelly. "Mr. Hummel..." he muttered, his voice earnest. "I know this is probably not what you wanted for your son. I didn't plan for this either..." He glanced quickly at Kurt, and he still couldn't believe he was lucky enough to be his. "I just know that my life is better because he's in it. It was... it was nothing before him, it wasn't a life, really. So I just want to make sure his is better because he let me be a part of it. I love him. It's as simple and as complex and as wonderful as that: I love him."
Kurt placed his hand on his thigh under the table, his eyes bright with unshed tears. "I love you too," he murmured, and leaned in to press a brief kiss to the corner of Blaine's mouth.
Burt nodded slowly. "All I've ever wanted was for Kurt to be as happy as you make him. I would be a really bad father if now that he finally has what he deserves, I stood in his way. So just relax, okay? You don't need to be worried. And..." Burt stopped, looked at Kurt briefly, and added: "And I certainly don't know your old man, or the whole story, but a man who doesn't support and love his son through thick and thin is generally not a man I would respect."
Blaine inhaled sharply. He hadn't expected him to say that.
"So," Burt continued, after clearing his throat awkwardly. "Make sure not to grab my son's ass while I'm around and we'll get along just fine, okay?"
Kurt groaned as Blaine's face went red. "Dad. Will you let that go already?"
Burt chuckled. "Alright, alright. I'm just messing with you guys. How about we order?"
And just like that, the tension was gone. Blaine still wanted to make a good impression, but it was as if the weight he had been carrying around was suddenly lifted. This had been the very last obstacle, and they had sorted it.
Dinner was filled with conversation and good food, the perfect combination for people who were getting to know each other. Burt was kind enough to ask about Blaine's new company ("Kurt tells me you signed Santana up. That was really nice of you."), and about Blaine's family, even asking to see pictures of his godchildren.
Afterwards, they took him back to his hotel, enjoying the lovely spring night and the warmer temperatures. Burt was tired from his trip and the day out and about, so they decided to keep the plans for the next day, Kurt's birthday, rather simple.
"We were thinking..." Blaine said, glancing at Kurt for confirmation. "How about you come over for brunch? We'd love for you to come see the house, now that Kurt's moving in..."
"Oh, yes, dad, you have to!" Kurt said excitedly, grabbing his father's arm. "It's so much better than the loft, and so close to work! No more late commutes for me! And the size of the closet..."
"I knew you only said yes because of the closet..." Blaine teased, nudging his shoulder. "Remember half of the closet space is mine..."
Kurt patted his cheek condescendingly. "Sure, dear. Keep telling yourself that."
"That sounds nice," Burt said, ignoring their banter, as they arrived at his hotel. "Let me know if I should bring anything."
Blaine smiled. "Nothing at all. I'm glad you like the idea, Mr. Hummel..."
"Please, call me Burt. We're closer in age than you and Kurt are, after all..." Burt said, and Blaine froze for a moment, until Burt laughed. "Fine. Too early for the age jokes. Got it."
"Very funny, dad," Kurt said sharply, but there was a little smile on his lips. He leaned in to kiss his father's cheek. "We'll see you tomorrow, then?"
"Of course," Burt nodded. He hugged his son and then gave Blaine a friendly pat on the back.
It was more than he had expected at the beginning of the evening. So much more.
They watched him go inside, and then Kurt turned to him, a little grin on his face.
"See? He's not so bad. There was nothing to worry about," he said.
Blaine shook his head in disbelief. "Nothing to worry about? Don't get me started," he muttered, and then reached for Kurt's hand to pull him in the direction of their place. "But I'm glad tonight went well. He's an amazing guy, Kurt. I can see why he's so important to you."
"He really is," Kurt said, and stood still, forcing Blaine to stop walking. "And so are you."
Blaine smiled into the kiss, just a brief touch of their lips.
"And you know what the best part is?" Kurt asked, a smirk growing on his face. When Blaine just looked at him curiously, he added: "He's not here anymore, so you can grab my ass."
Blaine's laughter echoed in the busy Manhattan streets. "You're incorrigible, Kurt Hummel. What am I going to do with you?" He murmured, but he wrapped his arms around him and let his hands settle right above his ass.
Kurt rolled his eyes and placed a noisy kiss on his cheek. "Just take me home, old man." Their hands intertwined once more, Kurt started to walk again. "You know? It's been a wonderful, wonderful few months."
Blaine's smile softened as he looked at him, illuminated by the moonlight and the sempiternal lights of New York City. "With you in it? A wonderful life," he whispered, and he lifted Kurt's hand so he could kiss his knuckles.
They walked home hand in hand, without ever looking back.
A lot of things you guys were waiting for happened in this chapter – I can't wait to know what you think of it!
Can't believe there's only one more left.
I'll see you on Wednesday for the end.
THANK YOU!
L.-
