Thank you all so much for your lovely lovely LOVELY response. It means a lot! I'm so pleased you're enjoying it so far. This is more of an attempt to sort out the mess of "Special Education" but HEY we CLEARLY don't need to worry ... as everyone already seen the clip of BICO for next week.
Me being a HUGE Christmas girl, especially of old fashioned Christmasses, the fact that BICO is so beautifully vintage and filled with classic romance, over the top flirting and a setting so Christmassy it HURTs...well, I died and went to heaven. Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye would have been proud (aka White Christmas!). I can hardly stand their cuteness.
Anyway, this is a bit of everything and quite a bit longer (had the laziest day ever!) but the end... oh the end. How I loved writing that. Thank you all again and PLEASE enjoy :D
PS: some people commented on the height of Kurt/Blaine- I know Kurt's a teeny bit taller but I think that was the point of what I was trying to say. They were just joking about it, but don't worry, I'm sorry if I confused people :D
A week later
Kurt loved Winter. As a prime excuse to out his most beautiful scarves and awesome collection of hats, he cherished the beauty that was the Christmas months. He coveted the feeling of waking up to a cold room but knowing you have a perfect expanse of a day ahead and a few hours still cocooned in bed to enjoy. The snow was falling and he sat, hot chocolate in hand, nestled in a window seat in the Dalton common room. He wasn't alone, some kids were working on a project on the corner table and a lone figure sat with his nose buried in a good book. As the bell rang, Kurt sighed heavily, positioning his silk red scarf around his neck and making his way to class.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
"So, you all have your instructions for next week, please begin working on your individual projects and I expect to see some progress by next class. That's all for today, you may make your way our quietly... oh and Mr Hummell could you stay behind for a second please?"
Kurt was startled, the bubble of nerves in his tummy.
"You been a naughty boy, new kid?" Wes asked. Kurt wondered when he'd stop being so 'new'.
"I have no idea what this is about."
"Kurt?" Mr Peterson asked, signalling for the remaining students to leave the classroom.
"Yes Sir?"
"Kurt, I've noticed of late that your dress has been somewhat inappropriate."
Kurt felt himself shake a little. "I'm sorry sir, I don't understand."
"Kurt we're a boarding school priding ourselves on hundreds of years worth of tradition and I'm afraid to say but silk scarves, brooches and cravats are certainly not part of our dress code."
It was embarrassing. Kurt could feel himself blush, his heart hammering at the sheer injustice.
"I'm sorry, I just didn't realise that things were so strict around here."
"They are certainly not strict if you obey the few rules we have here. Our rules are finite but easy and accessible. We appreciate individual talents and a student's unique spirit, however, to allow one student to... accessorise... well, I'm afraid that's out of the question. The uniforms are there for a reason."
"Yes Mr Peterson," Kurt replied, his ears beetroot and cheeks on fire. This was not fair.
"Thank you Kurt, you may go."
Once outside, Kurt wasn't sure what he wanted to do next – smash the pretentious looking vase on the 'far-too-expensive' sideboard in the hall or scratch the eyes of one of the creepy paintings hanging on the walls. Instead he chose strong coffee, Celine Dion at maximum volume and singing... lots of singing. After he'd kicked his bed, thrown a pillow or two, he slumped in his desk chair and let his head fall to his hands.
It wasn't that he didn't like Dalton, he did, he would even go as far to say that he loved it but something was niggling and fighting at Kurt from the inside out and he couldn't put his finger on what it was.
He let his mind drift back to McKinley and the many show stopping numbers he'd been fortunate to be a part of. It seemed like another world, a volatile technicolour existence filled with vibrant moments of shining brilliance. Dalton was different. It wasn't colourful or sparkling, it was warm and melodic, safe and rhythmic... it was all one unit, nothing out of place or standing out. Kurt wasn't sure which he preferred, he cherished both and their equal negatives seemed to be their distinction. Karovsky and the Neanderthal football players were never far from Kurt's mind when he thought of McKinley, the smell of the trucks he was thrown into religiously from day one and the sting of a cascade of ice in your face.
Dalton wasn't scary and Kurt was sure he'd never once been on edge but it was suffocating. He felt stifled and he was sure that his designer clothes were crying out and sobbing from the other side of his closet door. It wasn't so bad when he was with The Warblers ... Kurt was learning about them and their odd ways but they seemed to have opened their arms and accepted him instantly, therefore, it meant he could shine. They'd even considered, after a few weeks of being wary of Kurt's brazen attitude, his ideas and come to love Kurt for the way he was.
Then there was Blaine- the elephant in the room when Kurt was alone. He was a constant source of care, warmth and humour but there was something under the surface there too. It was as if, since arriving in Dalton, he'd stepped into a different universe... maybe they were all robots ala Stepford Wives, maybe they all just liked living under the constraints of boarding rules or maybe they were just all as scared as Kurt. Whichever it was, Kurt was sure he would never understand it. Most of the time, all of this didn't bother him but Mr Peterson, well, he'd tipped the balance.
"Argh!" Kurt shouted, jamming his finger against the stop button on his iPod dock. Not even Celine could help.
As his finger lingered over the option of Ga-Ga or Streisand, he felt a presence behind him.
"Bad day?"
Blaine stood, his legs crossed and leaning against the wooden door frame. As usual, and quite irritatingly, he was enough to stop your heart, Kurt thought.
"You could say that," Kurt spat, slumping down onto his bed with a huff," Peterson told me I couldn't wear my scarf and basically insinuated I look ridiculous compared to all of the rest of you."
Blaine moved to sit to the right of Kurt, who felt the bed dip but kept staring at his hands. "We're big on uniforms here, it's a Dalton trademark. The teachers can be a bit strict about it I guess."
This wasn't good enough. "Strict? Blaine it's not as if I 'd slashed a hole in my blazer and fastened it with a safety pin, it's not as if I wore a fur stole or a god damned beret but I may as well have."
"Kurt..." Blaine offered, looking up to try to gain eye contact, "I know your old school was different and you could do and wear what you chose to, but here, it's not like that. You're not inhibited from being yourself, it's just an attempt to create a harmony, that's all."
Kurt sighed roughly. "That is me though, I am all about standing out and wearing what I want and how I want. That's how I've always been. I watched Pretty in Pink as a kid and fashioned an outfit out of my grandmother's curtains. That is me."
Blaine smiled, nodding a little. "I get it, I do, but you'll see in time that you don't have to change, that's the last thing Dalton wants but it's a school... the reason we're all made to look the same is so we're respected in a way that makes it easier to be free to be ourselves."
Kurt shook his head. "I just don't feel right."
It was all Blaine could do to stop himself reaching out to touch but it was appropriate. Kurt was angry and frustrated and no amount of comfort was going to solve his problem. Only time.
"Look, I'm making this worse. I'll leave you to your thoughts. If you need any of us, you know where we are." With that, Kurt watched as Blaine left the room carefully and without a sound.
It hurt. It was all too clear that things were getting to him. He hadn't really had time to sit and think about his life and how quickly and drastically it had changed in such a short time. Nothing was familiar anymore, nothing felt like home and the stark differences were now even more prominent. He sighed again, reaching for his algebra homework. Maybe abusing some numbers could tease out the nuisance of his brain.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
"Where've you been?" Wes asked, swivelling in his chair with a smile, "bothering the new kid?"
Blaine frowned. "He doesn't want to be bothered."
Wes scooted his chair closer and sat, intently looking at his despondent roommate.
"What's going on?"
"I don't think he's happy here, that's all. I don't think I'm doing a good job of this mentor thing."
Wes rolled his eyes, leaning in to bump shoulders with Blaine. "Dude, you're a freakin' saint for this kid. He knows that and it's the reason his eyes are practically supernovas whenever he looks at you so don't start with the lost sheep thing because I don't think I can deal with it."
"I'm anything but a saint," Blaine groaned, "I know what I felt like and he's feeling the same. Remember when I got here?"
Wes scoffed. "Yea and you tried to get us to sing numbers from Bare?"
Blaine had to cringe, he remembered those days. "Bare got me through some tough times."
"I know. We all came here under different circumstances but look at us all, we have fun right?"
Blaine looked up at his roommate, his eyes sad. "Right."
"See... and you're The Warblers front man, which is awesome. Right?"
"Right."
"We've all got to cut back a bit and reign stuff in but that's part of being in school, being a boarder and it's just ... Dalton. Doesn't mean we lose who we are, right?"
Blaine let out a wry laugh and rolled his tired eyes. "Right Wesley, Right. You think you're so clever don't you?"
"I know I am," Wes replied, bumping their shoulders again and smiling. Blaine was sensitive yet he'd learned how to fashion the facade the best out of everyone.
"With Kurt, it's like I'm looking in a mirror. I was so angry and scared. I didn't want to hide myself because that's the very thing I'd had beaten into me. When you're hated and taunted for being you, you find the strength to be you all of the time, to let yourself shine and to throw it in their faces. When you're told to dampen that, to put that away and to be someone else ... it hurts. It's sensible but it's like you're fighting with yourself."
Wes listened intently. He felt bad for Blaine, knowing what he did about the circumstances in which he came to Dalton but he'd boarded at Dalton for long enough to see the good it can do.
"You like this kid don't you?" Wes asked, keeping his eyes on Blaine's. There was the slight blush, starting under the rough curls over Blaine's ear and teasing itself over to his cheekbones.
"He's... I mean, he's nice."
"Nice as in 'I want to share a coffee every now and again' or nice as in 'I want to jump your bones'?"
Blaine sighed and closed his eyes, feeling the weight of them fully. "Nice as in, I don't know."
"I've seen the way you look at him."
"I look at everyone the same, Wesley, ok?"
Wes laughed and jumped away in mock horror. "Dude, if you looked at me like that I'd be sleeping with one eye open."
Blaine punched him hard and had to laugh. "Shut up idiot. I wouldn't touch you with a ten foot pole and you know it." Their comfort with each other shone through, both laughing with a real sense of friendship.
"I know people feel like we're stuffed shirts and we can't have fun and shake loose but Kurt will get to know us in time. Maybe he's just overwhelmed. Maybe he just needs someone to stick by him like they've been doing all along?"
"Me?" Blaine asked, looking up under his eyelashes.
"Yes moron, you."
Blaine wasn't sure if he should go further, let Wes in on what he was feeling but they were close so his spontaneous streak won out.
"I can't let myself get too close."
Wes grinned with a hint of superiority, knowing he was seeing the real Blaine, teasing out the truth. "Then don't."
Blaine's laugh rushed out roughly as he ran his hands over his face. "Not as easy as you think."
"Why can't you? He's gay, you're gay, you like him, he likes you... clearly. What's stopping you?"
"The fact he can't deal with that right now. The fact that I can't let myself slip. I don't think I can cope with all of that on top of everything else ..."
It was all very honest and Wes couldn't quite believe that Blaine, after so long, was letting this side show again.
"You're a strong dude. You know yourself. When was the last time someone made you feel... something?"
Blaine frowned, feeling a little self conscious. "I don't know, I feel all kinda of things when I watch Neil Patrick Harris on a weekly basis. Does that count?"
Wes spat out his laugh and let his eyes roll back. "Oh yea and don't I know it. I worry for his safety if you ever meet him but I mean, in reality..."
"Ok a long time."
"Exactly," Wes added with a grin, "you're not going to fall apart just because you might have feelings for someone and Kurt's a big boy, I'm sure he'll be fine in time. Just don't do what you always do and hide behind your freakin' issues. We all have them."
"Ok Dr Phil."
"Shut up and go deal with stuff." Wes nodded, clearly pleased with himself, and tapped a small pat of reassurance on this roommate's knee.
"Thanks," Blaine mumbled with a half smile, "I think."
"Ok go see David because if you had forgotten, it's DVD night and he's agonizing. It's his choice this week remember?"
With a smile, natural and easy, Blaine found himself laying his hand on Wes' shoulder briefly before wandering down the corridor to find his stressed-out friend. He was still confused, still worried and still sure that he couldn't bear to get too close to Kurt and let himself open up because... well, he didn't know how to deal with all of that. He had a finely balanced equilibrium and it'd never been tipped.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
"Hey new kid?" Kurt looked up from his homework and smiled at Wes standing in his doorway.
"Hi."
"So, you busy?" he asked, walking forward and removing the pen from Kurt's hands and closing his maths book. Kurt just watched himself being manhandled.
"Erm, I suppose not," he offered slowly, eyeing up Wes with a sideways glance.
"Good. You're coming with me then, it's our block's DVD night. It's time for you to join in with our traditions."
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
Kurt could hardly believe his eyes stepping into the senior commons. It was the cosiest set-up he'd ever seen. The boys had lit the log fire and scattered cushions and the odd futon on the floor. The main source of light was the grand fireplace, heat billowing out in steady blasts and the odd candle flickering. Kurt's day had been terrible, frustrating and beyond irritating but this was something else.
He could feel the emotions and pent up feelings wane and dissolve a little in that moment. The other boys were all dressed in ordinary clothing, their individual personalities shining through. One guy wore ripped jeans and a t-shirt with some cool slash print, one wore a preppy bottle green sweater with a checked shirt underneath. It was surprising and made Kurt feel much more at home in his cream cashmere sweater and dark beige tight jeans.
As he stood there, a little stunned, he noticed that Blaine and David had one half of the large plush couch in front of the television. Blaine seemed different, he wasn't smiling or joking as Kurt was used to seeing, he sat with his eyes transfixed on the adjacent window watching the snow fall, his mind clearly elsewhere. Suddenly Kurt felt a twinge of regret, wishing he hadn't been so openly annoyed and taken it out on his true confidant.
"Hey new kid, there's a spot on the couch if you want it," Wes called, throwing Kurt a blue velvet cushion from across the room. Kurt jumped, blinking alert, before tentatively making his way over to his spot. He felt surrounded by good humour, everyone was relaxed. Some were cracking jokes, one guy even wrestled his friend to the ground in a mock fight and there were some drinking tea or handing round sweets and popcorn.
"Hey Kurt!" David called out with a beaming smile. Kurt could barely recognise some of the guys now they were out of their uniforms. Blaine turned his head sharply, his eyes widening when they fell on Kurt.
"Hi," Kurt offered, suddenly feeling acutely aware of himself, "you mind if I sit here?" he asked, signalling to the spot beside Blaine.
"No sit, the movie's about the start," David replied before turning to Wes and complaining that you can't watch Marty McFly in anything other than widescreen with the correct volume pitching.
Kurt tucked his left leg under him as he sat down. He positioned the blue cushion to his side, noticeably shy and oddly unable to breathe out. Blaine was still silent. Kurt couldn't stand it. He was desperate for Blaine to turn and smile, for him to set his eyes on Kurt and for their blinding kindness to soothe him... anything but silence.
"Is this a weekly thing?" Kurt asked quietly, hoping Blaine would hear. He did.
"Pretty much," Blaine mumbled, letting his eyes fall on Kurt's at last. They were tired but warm and all encompassing in a way that made Kurt's tummy swim with all sorts of gorgeous things.
"I'm sorry about before Blaine."
"There's no need to apologise. I understand. I made Wes come get you so you could get a taste of Dalton when it's not... stuffy," Blaine explained with a small secret smile. Kurt felt himself breathe eventually, his heart beating more steadily as he realised Blaine wasn't angry with him after all.
"Thank you for that," Kurt whispered as the opening credits rolled and the sound of Huey Lewis blasted from David's now-perfected speakers.
Kurt shuffled himself further into the cushions whilst being painfully aware of how close Blaine was sitting. He wasn't the usual Blaine, he was softer and a little apologetic in his countenance. There was something open about him that made Kurt's heart ache. He'd seen Blaine as this pillar of strength, this perfect statue of a guy who was unwavering in his confidence and ability. This Blaine, the Blaine sitting beside him in a midnight blue sweater (that Kurt simply wanted to fondle and coo over) and jeans, was so real and frighteningly normal.
"David loves Back to the Future," Blaine explained, his eyes brightening as he realised Kurt had been staring.
"They're classics," Kurt replied, his eyelashes fluttering a little as he spoke.
"There's a reason we ended up with 'Johnny be Good' on our set list last year." Blaine laughed a little, his eyes giving away a little more than he obviously intended. He was nervous.
"I'd have paid good money to see that," Kurt smiled, sinking further into the cushions as David and Wes began a rocking duet to the Power of Love, "although I wouldn't be too ashamed, we did a Journey medley for Regionals last year. Mr Schue's a bit of an 80's guy."
Blaine laughed, the light from the fire reflected in his eyes. Kurt almost gasped. "Are you kidding? Journey are awesome. I mean 'Don't Stop Believing', it's a go to air guitar song."
"Yea," Kurt smiled, storing an image of Blaine air guitaring in his mind for later, "it was kind of our Glee club staple."
"You guys had taste. No way would I be able to persuade these philistines to do anything like that although Teenage Dream was my idea. No amount of pouting and sweet eyes could persuade them to pull off the stuff you guys used to though."
They fell into a comfortable silence after that. Marty Mcfly was rifling through a phonebook trying to find Doc's address as Kurt felt his eyes droop. He was tired to his bones, so aware of how warm the fire made the room and how little time he had before he fell asleep. The warmth from Blaine was intoxicating too, an experience Kurt had never had before. He usually hugged himself to sleep or dreamt of someone putting their arms around him. It'd never happened though, not for real.
He wanted to tangle himself up in Blaine's arms, wrap himself around him and drown in the sheer touch of another person. It was a feeling so powerful that he could barely think straight. Nothing seemed to matter. Blaine had been there since day one, looking out for him, comforting him, thinking of him first, taking his strop on the chin and trying to remedy his bad day. Kurt was so aware of the new Blaine beside him and wondered if he was just as confused and just as laden with issues as everyone else. Maybe he wasn't as perfect and solid as Kurt had thought.
It only made Kurt sigh harder. Blaine was distinctly human in the firelight and Kurt only wanted to tell him how grateful he was, how much he owed Blaine for his efforts. As his brain groaned in desperation, he felt Blaine move beside him. He was noticeably tired too, so much so that he laid his head on the back of the couch and sighed. Kurt couldn't take his eyes off his hair. It wasn't tied down anymore with product, it looked deliciously soft and too tempting. Kurt wasn't used to being so close to guys, especially one he couldn't stop thinking about.
Before he knew what he was doing, he'd twisted in his seat so he mirrored Blaine's position. He let his head lean down, inching closer to Blaine's shoulder with his heart hammering in his throat. At the last second he panicked and pulled back, his eyes screwing shut in embarrassment. He was just so nervous and so damn sure Blaine would freak out knowing that the new kid had a painfully obvious crush. As he mentally slapped himself for being so forthcoming and allowing himself to be open to ridicule ala Finn, he felt Blaine snuggle down into the softness and turn his head.
The look was unmistakeable. It was almost filled with amusement but masked with comfort. Kurt blinked back in the dusky light and didn't know what to do. It wasn't until Blaine tugged his arm from beside him and sneakily extended it as an invitation for Kurt to move closer. With his pulse racing and head swimming, Kurt leaned closer and felt Blaine's arm wrap around his waist. The heat blanketed him immediately, his eyelids fell heavily as he smiled into the wool of Blaine's jumper. He smelled like fire smoke and musk. Kurt barely moved out of shock but as Blaine shuffled and melded himself into the position, he sighed into the hug and nuzzled his head comfortably. He wanted to cry, he wanted to laugh and he wanted to sleep so tight and warm in that moment that as he felt Blaine's chin rest softly on the top of his head, he was sure it was the best first cuddle that anyone had ever experienced.