A/N: For those who may have skipped the last chapter because of relationship angst, Blaine's director's name is Valerie.
This is an amalgamation of me having sad Little Numbers feelings, me feeling bad about leaving an angsty chapter alone, and me being sick and avoiding my homework. Meant to be fluffy and cute. Make-up-centric. And also to spoil Mytay. Who really should get back to her classwork. x
6. Twelve Nights
"Did anyone ever tell your director that she's a weirdo?" Kurt asked from his bed, laying on his stomach, head buried in downy pillows.
"I'm sorry?" Blaine turned, brow furrowed, blush heavy on his cheeks. Kurt lifted his head groggily and repeated the question.
"Probably. Any particular reason why you'd like to?"
"You're doing a run of Twelfth Night for twelve nights."
"I thought it was funny. Would you come fix my face? I can't get the ratio right." Kurt stared blearily at his boyfriend before rolling off the bed and walking over to the vanity.
"How is it that you can be so awake after last night?"
"I have an excellent constitution. Also, I was asleep halfway through Beauty and the Beast." Kurt snatched the brush from Blaine's hands and dipped a cotton ball in make-up remover. He surveyed the damage, before cocking his head.
"You picked the next three movies. How were you asleep?"
"I – mmf, yuck – I woke up when I heard the credit music long enough to have short conversations. Besides, you were half asleep anyway."
"I was doing my boyfriend duty by staying up and watching movies with your before your big night. If you'd wanted to sleep, you should've just said," Kurt grumbled, reapplying the foundation he'd wiped off lightly.
"Yes, but then we'd have to do the bedtime shuffle, and you were comfy." Kurt snorted, rubbing the foundation smoothly over Blaine's face.
"The bedtime shuffle?"
"Where you feel guilty – ehh, at least try to avoid my mouth – about us being in the same bed, and then give up because I'm so cute – ow! Kuurt – and then there's the shift until we can accommodate the space properly, and then we go to sleep. My way, I could just go to sleep. Because you're an awesome pillow. I like your pajamas. Where do you get them?" Kurt pushed away the blush and snapped open some thin bronzer, dabbing it high on Blaine's cheekbones.
"Online sales." Kurt yawned. "Next time, just say you're going to sleep. Or start sleep talking. Some indication would be lovely."
"Okay." Blaine's face became a prune as Kurt started to work around his eyes.
"Hold still."
"But my eyes."
"Blaine. Close them." Kurt resisted the urge to straddle Blaine's lap – the angle would've made this so much easier – in favor of keeping them both cool. They had an hour before they had to leave for Blaine' venue, and Kurt was driving him there, armed with gentle caffeine, lots of water, and kisses. Or maybe it was lots of kisses and just a regular amount of water. Kurt wasn't wholly clear on the ratio.
"Anyway, my director is a kind and wonderful woman who was happy to forget my complete and utter lack of talent that one time in favor of my awesome of the next ones."
"Stop it. You sound like Rachel."
"I like Rachel. She's nice to me. . . Ow! See? This is what I mean. Rachel wouldn't do that to me." Kurt smiled, ruffling Blaine's gel-less hair, and knelt in front of him.
"Open your eyes and look up." The angle was a little better, Kurt thought, but not perfect. He clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth, satisfied that it would be okay with a little cleaning up closer to the night.
"No mascara?" Blaine asked as Kurt pulled away, sweeping his thumbs under Blaine's eyes. Kurt frowned, surveying his work, smudging a bit here, dabbing with his fingers there.
"Your eyelashes are dark enough to go without," he muttered distractedly, still poking and prodding until he was satisfied with the evenness of the pigment, bent at the waist, his own face inches from Blaine's. "You're going to have a shadow halfway through the show, but that can't really be helped now. Tomorrow, shave before putting on the make-up." Blaine took the critique silently, breathing steadily through his nose. Kurt's eyes narrowed, snapping out of beautician and into boyfriend in seconds. "Are you nervous?"
"No! Maybe a little."
"Good. Because I might've been judging you. Just a little." Kurt winked at Blaine's comical sad face and pressed a kiss to the top of his head, careful not to smudge his hard work. He stepped back and began to gather Blaine's things; a mini-cooler full of water and gatorade, paper napkins, a granola bar, and padded socks. The second time Blaine had worn his character shoes, he'd noticed blisters growing on his feet. Not big, but he had a twelve-night run in front of him and Kurt wasn't taking any chances. "Did you want me to wrap your feet? I brought bandages and ointment, just in case." Blaine hummed, rising from his seat in front of the vanity.
"I think I'll be okay. If it gets bad at intermission, I'll deal with it, but I don't think it will. Mostly I just want to do something with my hair." Kurt smirked, crawling back onto the bed and curling up like a cat, watching Blaine pull it at odd angles out of the corner of his eye.
"Didn't Valerie say she wanted it loose?"
"Well, yes, but she couldn't possibly have meant it."
"What happened to her being a kind and wonderful woman?"
"You think I'm being a diva?"
"Yes. That, and I see through your sneaky little veiled attempts to get me to play with your hair."—Blaine's face turned pleading—"Which I am happy to do, if you ask nicely and bring me the leave-in conditioner."
Blaine snatched said bottle from the side and sat down on the rug in front of Kurt's bed, his back to Kurt. Kurt rolled onto his stomach and poured a liberal amount of the conditioner into Blaine's hair before handing he bottle back and slowly massaging the liquid into his scalp. Blaine hummed happily, tipping his head back, bliss etched into his face.
"Can you do this before every performance?"
"I'll run out of conditioner."
"I'll buy more. Lots more."
"I don't know. After a while, won't you just get used to it?"
"Nope. Never."
"Now don't get complacent. The second night's where everything goes wrong."
"I know. But we were awesome last night! I'm just so excited. Are you coming again?"
"I'm bringing the leave-in conditioner and everything."
"You're fantastic. So you said no to the blush?"
"Right. And only a little bronzer and eyeliner. Anything more and you'll look like a bad hooker from New York City."
"Ouch!"
"What I mean, darling, is that you're too pretty for make-up."
"Nice save."
"I thought so. See you in a bit."
"I love you!"
"Calm down. If you hyperventilate and pass out, I'm not there to drive you to the theater."
(Blaine): I still can't believe Rachel brought me flowers.
(Kurt): They were very pretty.
(Blaine): You're very pretty.
(Kurt): Is that a no to the free tickets for the rest of the run, then?
(Blaine): Actually, mom and dad bailed, so you can have one of theirs for tonight. Bring someone along, if you'd like.
(Kurt): Like a date? You know, I would, but my boyfriend's been neglecting me lately.
(Blaine): Ha ha.
(Kurt): I'll find someone to bring. Sorry about your parents.
(Blaine): They said they might be able to make it to the last performance, so no worries. See you there. x
On the fourth night, Blaine convinced Valerie that the cast needed Kurt to do their make-up. He had pictures of Jerome and Jake to prove it. The cast lined up in front of Kurt, shivering under the powerful fans of the dressing room, as he opened his case of various shades of powder, glitter for the girls, plain and flashy eyeliner and mascara. A hand-written request from the costuming director for each cast member was taped up onto the wall near the line of mirrors.
Watching Kurt work on other people pulled at Blaine, making him feel oddly proud. Kurt loved performing. He loved curtsying in front of a clapping audience. But somehow, Blaine didn't think he'd end up there, because the serenity on his face as he smoothed and dabbed, tilted his head and clicked his tongue, was unlike Blaine had ever seen. And he had a lot of time to watch; Blaine was last in line to ensure a stealthy goodbye kiss from him.
"Thank you, Kurt." His boyfriend smiled, scratched at the top of his head, and stood, packing his things.
"Happy to help. Break a leg."
The kiss was worth the wait.
(Blaine): Valerie's asking for you.
(Kurt): The security guard won't let me through the gate.
(Blaine): Trey's coming. Sorrysorry.
(Kurt): No problem. You forgot left your Gatorade in your car. I grabbed it for you.
(Blaine): When did you get keys to my car?
(Kurt): I'm a ninja. Don't question my ways.
"Hello, my darling! How are we?"
"Oh, owww. You know how you said I should've wrapped my feet after last night's performance?"
"You should've remembered that I'm always right."
"I did remember that. I just forgot to do it. I was tired."
"We're halfway through. Is it really awful?"
"Not sure. It feels worse than it looks."
"I probably have time to come over and work some magic before we have to leave for the show."
"You. Are. An. Angel. And I love you. A lot."
"Uh-huh. I love you too. Take two ibuprofen and soak 'em in warm water until I get there."
"Yes, sir."
"Kurt!" Blaine called from his adjoining bathroom, rummaging through various bottles his boyfriend had left there. "I think I'm out of that wondrous moisturizer that makes me feel all tingly. Where did you get it?"
Kurt slid off his boyfriend's bed and padded into the bathroom, scrutinizing the bottle.
"Oh, that can be replaced easily. It's on Amazon half-price, though, if you can wait a few days." Blaine pouted, placing the empty bottle reverently on the counter and staring at the other selections.
"But they don't make me feel tingly."
Kurt slipped his arms around Blaine's waist, looking at him through the mirror.
"We've got an hour. I can think of other ways to make you feel tingly." Blaine's eyes darkened.
"Yeah?" he asked, breathless.
"Mmhm." Kurt pecked his shoulder. "But first you should moisturize. Y'know. In case we forget later."
"Oh god, last night was awful."
"No, it really wasn't."
"You're just saying that because you love me."
". . ."
"See? And it wasn't everyone else. It was just me. What's wrong with me, Kurt?"
"I . . . It might be stamina. Have you ever done a performance run this long?"
" . . .No. How do I fix this? Valerie just looked disappointed whenever she saw me."
"Well, I've got this medium drip with an extra shot of espresso that I'm not drinking. And a bottle of tingly moisturizer."
"You've got to stop spending money on me. I feel all inadequate."
"How about you give your best performance of the run tonight and we'll call it even?"
". . ."
"Also, you bought my fluffy new rug."
"Okay, deal."
(Blaine): Kurt, my dressing roommates don't like The Police. )'=
(Kurt): I know, life is hard. You really shouldn't text during intermission, though.
(Blaine): They shouldn't be listening to the things they are during intermission.
(Kurt): Blaine. Go get ready for Act Two. If you miss your cue, I will laugh. At you. Loudly.
(Blaine): xox
"Jake! If you steal the glittery eyeliner again I won't hesitate to forcibly remove it from you!" Kurt stood behind his case of supplies, glowering into the hall of closed dressing rooms.
"But it's so pretty!" came the muffled reply.
"It's also mine. Give it back," he replied sharply.
"Blaine! Your boyfriend is scary!"
"You ain't seen nothin' yet! Wait 'till he has to crawl around your dressing room looking for it after the show. That's scary." The door to the room that Blaine, Ian, Jerome, and Alexander shared, and Blaine emerged in a tank top and his character trousers. "Don't worry, sweetheart. I will return victorious," he murmured wickedly, smacking a kiss onto Kurt's cheek before barreling into Jake's room. Girly squeals that had heads poking out of the female-only rooms ensued.
But Blaine did escape with the glittery eyeliner.
The cast clapped for Kurt, Blaine, and Jeff's rendition of My Girl and Valerie for their director; the first, a group effort, the second was a Kurt-solo with Blaine and Jeff's improvised doo-wops in the background. Each of the three boys earned hugs an appreciative smiles from Valerie before she started barking out notes for specific cast members. Afterwards, Valerie came up to him as he was putting the finishing touches on Wren's face and hair, restraining the tangled curls into a smooth braid.
"Kurt, my dear, you should really consider auditioning next summer if you have the time. You've been a pleasure to have with us."
Just when Kurt thought he would burst with joy, Blaine winked and blew a kiss at him over Valerie's shoulder.
The director followed his gaze, and said wryly, "Blaine's a very lucky boy." Kurt grinned them.
"So am I, ma'am."
"I think I'm going to die. I can't do this."
"Yes, you can."
"Kurt, cast-withdrawal isn't supposed to happen this soon."
"Is that what Jake told you? Because Jake is a liar."
"I can't leave these guys, Kurt. I think I'm going to cry. Wren's already weeping in her dressing room."
"Well Wren won't miss her cues. And neither will you. The lights are dimming, Blaine, get to your place."
"Quick, Kurt, tell me something funny or I'm going to go out there with tear stains."
"Uhm. Okay. The past, the present, and the future all walk into a bar at the same time. . .It was tense."
"Oh my god—Ha—That's awful."
"Have you heard the latest construction joke?"
"No?"
"They're still working on it. Now go!"
"Bye."
"Break a leg!"