EVERYONE, thank you so much for all of your support, including the reviews, the alerts, all that jazz. I'd say the next chapter should be out around the 25th or the 26th. Hit me up on tumblr (flirtykurty there too)! Without further ado, here's chapter six.
Disclaimer: It's not true, so don't sue.
"You didn't have anything in your apartment to eat so I went to Whole Foods to get some things."
Blaine nodded mutely, simply watching Kurt putter around the kitchen. The man cracked a stalk of celery off and began chopping it finely.
"You didn't have a slow-cooker, either, so I brought the Crockpot." Kurt quickly swept the entire amount of celery into the pot and capped it with the clear lid. "It's been stewing for a while now, but you want the celery to stay crisp, you know. Soggy celery is just awful."
He's stalling.
"And you know, when you boil vegetables and drain the water, they lose a lot of the nutrients. So by slow-cooking -"
"Kurt," Blaine interrupted quietly. "You're stalling."
Kurt looked at him indignantly. "And why do you think that?"
"I'm a master at it."
At that, Kurt's shoulders slumped and his eyes darted back to the slow-cooker. His hands slid into his back pockets and he sighed heavily.
"I am, just a bit," Kurt responded, his voice reticent. It was silent between them briefly, before Kurt reached for a ladle and began spooning out a helping into a bowl for Blaine. He passed it to the curly-haired man, who took it without a word.
Blaine sipped it from the spoon carefully. The crisp celerydid make a difference.
"We need to talk," affirmed Kurt, and Blaine nodded once more. Kurt pulled up the footstool that he had been using as a chair. Blaine was horribly embarrassed that it was the only chair that he had in his apartment, but this wasn't the time.
They took a moment to let the silence settle over them a final time. Blaine carefully observed his stew, stirring it slowly. He heard Kurt inhale in a steady, prolonged breath, and he looked up to watch him speak.
"I never meant to hurt you," Kurt began deliberately. "I know that's a shit excuse, if you'll pardon my French." Blaine didn't reply. Kurt cleared his throat cautiously. "Before I came to work the first day, Dr. Krugman warned me that there were some patients that were androphobic, and I didn't want to make anyone uncomfortable." He ran a quick rake of his fingers through his bangs, which had slightly drooped after the steam rising from the Crockpot.
Blaine took another spoonful of soup and chewed thoughtfully. He looked upwards at Kurt, who was looking more and more nervous as the seconds passed. How the tables had turned.
He sighed and held the porcelain bowl carefully between his hands.
"I'm having... trouble," he started. "I don't know if I should be angry at you..."
"You have every right to be -"
"-or grateful, because I wouldn't have talked to anybody if it hadn't been for you."
That struck Kurt completely speechless. His mouth opened slightly, his jaw bobbing before he snapped it shut. He pressed his lips together finely.
"That's your personal strength, Blaine, that's not me," he said quietly, echoing his previous sentiments. Blaine shook his head vehemently.
"It's completely you."
"You don't think you've gotten stronger?"
"I've gotten stronger because of you."
Again, Kurt couldn't say a thing. A rouge blush tinged the pale boy's ears as he looked downwards, mirroring a past Blaine. Blaine smiled at the comparison.
Quite honestly, in a few hours he expected that he'd panic and realize just how smooth he'd been in talking with Kurt, and overanalyze every word he said.
But for now, it was natural, organic and fluid.
"I'm not going back to Nora, though," Blaine said, changing the subject abruptly, causing Kurt's eyes to dart upwards towards him.
"Why's that?"
"I... I'm not sure I can forgive her as easily," Blaine said slowly, feeling a bit embarrassed at the thought. "I see her reason. I hate her methods."
"My methods."
"Those, too, but I... I find it very, very hard to stay mad at you."
Kurt's mouth twisted into a heartbreaking smile at that point and he laughed softly. "I know what you mean, Blaine," he said compassionately, pacing his forgotten bowl of soup on Blaine's counter. "I don't know if I'm capable of getting mad at you."
"We're in a pickle then."
"An impassé. But you know, I prefer it like this," Kurt mused. "As long as you still want to keep me around. I'll stay as long as I'm welcome."
"Stay as long as you can," Blaine muttered, knowing that he was probably sounding... untoward, but Kurt didn't seem to mind. "As long as you want to."
Kurt glanced towards the table, which sat in the corner and was mostly forgotten. They'd simply been sitting in chairs. "Your apartment is very bare of furniture," he commented, and Blaine nodded.
"I don't have a lot of company."
"That's no excuse for a lack of furniture. You don't have to have a person per item of furniture in the apartment, you know."
"It's more efficient," Blaine replied, and Kurt rolled his eyes.
"That's awful. Just awful. I'm going to buy you good furniture. A dining set."
"Why would I need a dining set?" asked Blaine incredulously. "I don't... dine."
"But you could," Kurt pointed out. "And if everything is out in the open between us now, then I think I'll be over here quite a lot."
Blaine contemplated this shortly.
He wasn't panicking even though Kurt was very clearly male. It was hard to ignore now. How had he missed the Adam's apple? Not to mention Kurt's jawline, not quite broad but enough to ensure masculinity. And the whole lack-of-breasts situation.
He didn't feel the spine jitters or that instinct building in his feet telling him to run.
"Blaine?"
Blaine glanced towards Kurt, who was looking at Blaine worriedly. "Is everything all right?"
"Why are you different?" Blaine wondered, his voice low. "Why do I not mind you?"
Kurt seemingly chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment. "I don't know, Blaine."
"I'm normally so good with genders."
"I'll trust you on that."
"Maybe the reason I thought you were..." He swallowed heavily. "The reason I thought you were Kurtney was because I wasn't afraid of you."
Kurt's breath hitched visibly and his gaze on Blaine grew wider.
"And..." Kurt raked his fingers through his thoroughly tousled bangs. "A-and that's...?"
"That's new," Blaine breathed. "But good new."
The smile on Kurt's face was incredible, and extraordinarily contagious.
The Crockpot stew grew soggy and Kurt admitted that he wasn't the best hand at cooking ("Baking's my strong suit, sorry about your kitchen").
Blaine didn't have a TV, which Kurt was slightly horrified about, but he did have a pocket radio, and there was the light crooning of some oldies singer in the background as Kurt fussed around Blaine's home.
Together they opened every window in the apartment, the briskness of the autumn night air making the rooms crisp.
They sat on the edge of the window, their legs dangling in the wind, four stories up. They spooned organic ice cream lazily as they watched the bustle of the Los Angeles street below them die.
A warm weight rested itself on Blaine's shoulder. He turned slightly and chestnut-brown hair obscured his vision. A sudden waft of Kurt's scent infected his senses: vanilla and cleanliness and just Kurt. Sighing contentedly, Blaine let his head in turn fall onto Kurt's, and they relaxed, supporting one another.
"I'm sorry that I lied to you," Kurt said softly.
Blaine didn't reply to that, but he knew Kurt felt his shoulder slump minutely.
"I just want to leave all of that behind us," Blaine responded gently, finally. Kurt nodded.
"I'm fine with that," the blue-eyed man murmured. "We don't have to forget that it happened. But we can stay in the moment for as long as we'd like." Blaine liked the sound of that.
"I don't know if this is too much to ask," Blaine began quietly after a moment. Kurt's head tilted towards him and gave Blaine a view of those eyes that still found their way into Blaine's every thought. "Could you stay tonight? Just one last night."
"I told you earlier," Kurt reprimanded half-heartedly, his eyes drifting closed. "I'm staying as long as I'm welcome." Blaine smiled at that, just a hint of a crook at the edge of his lips. "By the way, you've gotten a lot more suave just over the weekend. You're smooth now."
"Smooth?"
"Sure."
"I..." Blaine shook his head. "To be plain, I guess... I think I'm just tired of being uncomfortable around you. I might just relapse later."
"Please don't. And honestly, Blaine, is that how things work with you?" Kurt asked, tone full of disbelief. "I thought you were going to say something corny, you know, like you've grown up, seen the error of your ways... tiredofbeinguncomfortable, my fucking word..."
Blaine laughed loudly, making a neighbor below screech at them to go to sleep. "Screw you!" Kurt yelled down, laughing when they slammed their window shut.
"I'll take the chair," Blaine said, standing up and holding out a hand to help Kurt. Kurt took it graciously and Blaine marveled for half a second at just how soft Kurt always was.
"That's not happening," Kurt deadpanned, sending a glare towards Blaine. "I absolutely refuse to take your bed, that's sorude."
"I'll take the floor beside the bed," Blaine tried to reason, smiling weakly. "I'll be right there."
"That's not necessarily the problem..."
"Kurt."
Kurt rolled his eyes once more, making Blaine snicker and shake his head. "Fine, Mr. Gentleman. I'll fold to your heathenish rules." Kurt strode ahead of Blaine, walking into Blaine's bedroom.
"What a relief," Blaine replied, quickly following him.
"You actually sleep in a double bed," Kurt said, disbelievingly. "Isn't it small?"
"It's fine for me."
"I honestly should have expected a twin."
"Probably."
Kurt fell backwards onto Blaine's bed, spreading his arms out. The image caused Blaine to chuckle once more because his wrists and ankles hung off the sides. Forcing his head up slightly, Kurt raised an eyebrow at Blaine.
"It's not my fault your bed is tiny, Blaine," he retorted. Blaine pulled a pillow gently from below Kurt's head, letting it fall to the floor beside the bed. "Take the down, too."
"The -"
The foreign comforter from earlier was thrust into his arms, and he took it gratefully.
"Good night, Kurt."
"See you in the morning, Blaine."
A sharp, stinging slap, and a rough blow to the shoulder.
He's sent reeling backwards, and a sturdy grip pulls him back.
Musk. The sharp nose of wine.
A scrape of unshaved stubble against his jaw. A harsh drag of uncut fingernails against his arm, prickling, drawing blood.
A violent rush to the head, and a crash.
There were hands on him when he bolted upwards, his entire being covered in sweat. He felt the panic attack coming on before it happened. His chest tightened, each breath harder than the last, becoming impossible to exhale...
"Blaine."
The hands caressed his face gently and he opened his eyes to find the silhouette of Kurt's face. He felt his breath catching in his throat, the gaze of Kurt's eyes completely hypnotic.
"Blaine, it was a dream," soothed Kurt, his voice lethargic.
Blaine's heartbeat kept racing but he slowly was able to regain his breathing. He kept his eyes completely locked upon Kurt's, unwilling to look away. He nodded slowly, his head still held sogently by Kurt's caring hands.
"Would you like to talk -"
He shook his head almost frantically, and Kurt nodded his understanding. He held his arms out towards Blaine, comforting and welcoming. Every barrier that Blaine felt in that moment was completely stripped.
He didn't feel awkward, or stumbling, or irritating. He didn't know anything else in that moment other than that Kurt's embrace looked sodamnwonderful right then that he couldn't think of anything else.
Blaine launched himself towards Kurt, the force of his pace knocking Kurt backwards slightly. He felt Kurt envelop him with his arms and he rested against Kurt's torso, willing his heartbeat to slow. He nestled his head in the crook between Kurt's head and shoulder, and let his arms wrap around Kurt's chest. If he pressed his head tight enough to Kurt's neck, he could feel the steady rate of Kurt's pulse.
They didn't say a word to each other, and let their collective warmth keep them calm and steady. Kurt leaned them back a bit more so they were resting upon the pillows.
They slept.