Wow. Talk about an influx of reviews. Some of them seriously are the NICEST comments anyone has made about my writing before. I simply LOVE telling stories. I don't like to be too self indulgent etc, I just like writing moments and feelings and I am SO unbelievably happy that it comes across well and you all like it.I can really understand Kurt weirdly which is why I wanted to write them in the first place – plus the fact that I bloody ADORE Glee and I've always been a Kurt girl. (Darren's another topic for another day though... ;) )
I KNOW it's slow burn. It's the way I want it to be. NOBODY in Kurt's position would be ABLE to jump into a relationship and nobody with a head on their shoulder would push him. Don't worry though... this isn't simply a friendship story ;) Takes time.
I can't thank you enough for your SUCH incredibly kind words – the following people especially:
xbleedinglotusx, Spite the Wufei Worshipper, Leriana, Golden Perception, madeline1410, shareitwithme, babelogue, JP Wings, BonesGurl81, Nittyismyname, Stacytasia, Lemonade Mouth (again!) and a big cuddle for paintpurple who wrote the CUTEST comments the other night on every chapter. This is not exhaustive but I wanted to say thank you after these 12 chapters for such KIND words.
I hope you enjoy this one...
Kurt turned over, his sheet wrapping itself around his legs, and yawned. There had been some sort of commotion outside in the corridor for around an hour but Pavi was still sleeping, his head tucked under his wing and Kurt wasn't about to untuck himself from his cocoon of warmth.
He thought of the night before - Thomas, the dancing, drunken Wes and the fact he'd completely crashed on his bed minus any nightly ritual or any pajamas. It was all a blur until his brain reached Blaine's kiss. It was confusing and wonderful all at once. He snuggled down into his sheets to remember every detail, the way Blaine's lips felt, the cute way he'd tugged at his fingers, how close he'd been and the look in his eyes before he'd walked away. Kurt felt his brain tangle in protest. Nothing was concrete, nothing was written in stone and expressed but that didn't stop Kurt wishing that Blaine would simply crawl into bed with him and kiss him stupid. Damn brain, he cursed, shut up.
-.-.-.-.-
Blaine was sure he'd over stepped the mark but simply did not care. He looked into Kurt's eyes daily and knew them like second nature now, the way they teared up so easily, the way they sparkled in awe, the way they sharpened and struck cold ready to fight, the way they widened in mischief and he'd all but tattooed to memory the way they'd looked as he'd leaned in to kiss him. Kurt was lonely. Blaine almost felt it when he spent time with Kurt, he felt how Kurt would press slightly to him or shuffle closer to someone or drag conversations on that little bit longer. He was his own person and stronger than anyone else he knew but if Blaine was sure of anything, he was sure that Kurt protected his heart. He was never going to fight that, not even a little bit, as Blaine knew exactly how steadfastly he used to guard himself from being hurt. Kurt's mother, his father's illness, his less than pleasant experiences at school and the way his friends had seemed volatile at the best of times – Kurt knew nothing of solid stability. Kurt was his own stability in life. His routines, his traditions, his need to control and plan, his confident streak aiming only to perfect and better himself... Blaine understood.
He tossed off the covers, hearing Wes and David approaching, and tugged a hand through his hair in an attempt to look less dishevelled.
"Thornton! Get your ass out of bed," David yelled through the crack in his door. Blaine laughed, throwing a sweater over his head and straightening his plaid pjs, as he heard Wes' low groan. Their epic breakfast was going to be fun this year.
"Morning," Blaine sang sarcastically as he yanked open the door causing Wes to frown and curl inwardly.
"Let me just ask one thing," Wes pleaded, his eyes screwed shut, "we keep the volume down to a minimum." Blaine and David considered it for a second, their eyes playful, before chorusing an agreed 'noooo' and dragging Wes off to Kurt's room.
-.-.-.-.-.-
"Hummel now it's your turn to get your ass out of bed!" David shouted, clearly in ritual.
Kurt all but lept out of his blankets as he heard Blaine's voice softly explaining to Wes that his horrific headache was purely self inflicted and it was perfectly acceptable to tease him about it because he'd acted like an irresponsible three year old in the first place. Even Pavi seemed to flutter awake, pecking frustrated at his own ruffled feathers in protest.
"Oh god," Kurt mumbled, frantically attempting to find his pale grey cardigan in his closet, "oh god please don't open the door." He wasn't a big fan of emerging into public unless he'd assured himself he appeared presentable. Right at this very second, Kurt was sure his hair was sticking up pineapple-like and his face had pillow imprints.
"Hummel, unless you're at this door in five seconds, we're coming in. Get your ass up!" David boomed again, only causing Kurt to panic more.
He glanced in the mirror, clawing his fingers through his hair and attempting to re-position his swept back look. His white t-shirt was crinkled but his black pants were decent enough. It wasn't bad but it certainly was not good, especially not when he knew Blaine was standing on the other side of the door no doubt the picture of handsome dishevelment. Damn him.
"Ok come in," Kurt called back, trying to seem calm and collected as his heart tangoed in his chest.
The door swung open to reveal, yes, as Kurt thought, a rather beautifully handsome Blaine in his chunky knit, the kind Kurt only wished to snuggle up against and remove all at once. Next to Blaine was Wes who looked as if he was slowly dying and then David who was surprising alert and smiling- far too wide for the time of morning.
"Kurt, it's time for you to experience a Dalton epic breakfast," David announced, clearly proud of himself. Blaine smiled, rolling his eyes and then letting them rest on Kurt. It wasn't awkward or tense but simple and easy. Kurt felt himself relax immediately, his concerns and worries flood away as Blaine grinned again.
"What David means is, we have this tradition where we eat breakfast together before we go home for Christmas break and we have everything on the menu. It's kind of a highlight for David. I don't know if you'd noticed his enthusiasm."
Kurt giggled, watching as David hopped on the balls of his feet. "Kurt, you're going to love it."
"I don't think I can do this," Wes whined, clutching at his stomach, his eyes closing at the same time, "I really think I need to go back to bed."
It carried on in much the same vain until they reached senior commons. Kurt could already smell the pure bliss that was a mixture of bacon and pancakes. He felt his hand involuntarily touch his face, his brain mentally mapping the damage the food would do to his skin, but adhered to his rumbling tummy as they pushed open the large wooden doors.
Kurt would have fainted if David hadn't slapped him on the back before skipping to the table. Dozens of Dalton boys, all in pjamas, littered the large room and milled around the gigantic table set up in the centre. Isla, who Kurt had come to learn a great deal about and love in equal measure, was prancing about positioning plate after plate of what appeared to be delicious options.
Blaine caught Kurt's eye and smirked. "If you don't eat something, David will, and I know from personal experience, pin you down and force you."
Kurt nodded, seemingly unable to speak, and took his own plate.
-.-.-.-
"So what about you new kid, what are your plans for Christmas break?" Wes asked, now a little more alert with a few dozen blueberry pancakes inside of him.
Kurt found himself positioned in-between a now comatosed David and Blaine who was enjoying his second cup of coffee. Kurt was trying to concentrate, he really was, but things were different now and he could feel himself much more receptive to every single move that Blaine made, every noise and every single word he spoke. It was becoming ridiculous. As Blaine shuffled on the couch, the cushions bowing slightly, Kurt's spine tingled. When Blaine sipped his coffee, the smell diffusing over to where Kurt sat, he felt his eyes roll and when Blaine decided he'd tease Kurt about his unsuccessful attempt at rectifying his bed hair by reaching out and combing a strand back, Kurt was sure his heart was going to burst.
So as Wes asked him a simple, clear question, Kurt wasn't even sure he knew his own name. "Um, I, um, well," he started, his eyes flickering to Blaine then back to Wes, "I guess it's our first Christmas as a new family. It's always just been Dad and I before and now it'll be Carole and Finn too."
Wes nodded, obviously reluctant to pry further. "Nice. Thornton, your folks away again?"
Kurt watched as Blaine's eyes dropped. "Yea, think it's Sydney this year so I'll be off to Vermont for Christmas day and then back here for New Year again."
"You staying with Sylvie in Vermont?" Wes asked as Kurt listened intently, noting the change in Blaine's voice as he spoke.
"Yep, Grandma loves having me for Christmas," Blaine chuckled, his eyes wistful, "but she's away for New Year with my Aunt Harriet so I guess I'm a lone ranger again. What can you do?" he answered, brushing over the meaning behind his words with well rehearsed ambivalence.
As Wes's attention turned to David and George, Warbler beat boxer extraordinaire, Kurt let his eyes study Blaine. It was odd realising the very little that he actually knew about his life and anything outside of Dalton. Kurt felt himself panic once again. Was he just infatuated again regardless of really getting to know Blaine? Was it another case of, 'this guy's nice to me so I like him'? He thought back to Finn and the underlying reason that he began to see him in a different light – Finn had bullied him less, stood up to Puck and sometimes let him remove his expensive and coveted holdall before a dumpster toss. It was at that moment that Kurt's stomach dropped and he wanted to cry.
"You ok?" Blaine whispered with a slight nudge to Kurt's shoulder. Always the perceptive one, Kurt mused inwardly.
Kurt knew his eyes were watery and cheeks had turned paler. It wasn't easy to control his emotions especially when he'd suddenly come to the realisation that he was tragic, so very painfully tragic that he was willing and blinded by simple kindness. Blaine wasn't in love with him anymore than Finn was. Blaine was compassionate and open hearted, gentle and fun but he was also a stranger and still an utter mystery to Kurt.
"I'm fine," Kurt whispered back, attempting a smile.
"You don't look fine. Is this all a little much for you?" Blaine replied, keeping his voice low and turning slightly to angle the other Warblers out.
"How do you always know how I'm feeling? How can you sense it?"
Blaine seemed taken aback. "I guess it's your eyes. They talk without you even needing to speak."
Kurt looked up to Blaine slowly. "I don't really know you," was all he said and all he could say. It was as if he'd spent the past month in a rose tinted daze.
Blaine frowned, his eyes intent upon Kurt's obviously trying to read him. "You don't feel like you know me?"
Kurt could feel himself growing more and more uncomfortable, his cheeks darkening and ears beginning to burn. He turned away from the other Warblers too, suddenly wishing Blaine was the only other in the room.
"When you talked about your family, I realised I don't know you. I don't know anyone here, not really."
Blaine heavily sighed, placing his coffee cup down on the carpet and turning to face Kurt on the floor. "You don't need to know that my Grandma lives in Vermont or that I have an Aunt Harriet or that my parents travel to really know me Kurt. I guarantee you know more of the real me than most of the guys in this room. There's a reason that uniform changes me."
Kurt could see it – the honesty. Blaine wasn't lying or pretending to be anyone other than himself in the moment. He watched as the other boy shuffled a little uncomfortably, obviously concerned.
"I'm sorry Blaine," Kurt began, "I just still feel so brand new here and you've been so kind. You're like Paul from Breakfast at Tiffany's, you're so damn honourable and on this mission."
Blaine seemed to groan but smiled nonetheless. "Kurt, I'm sure you see me as some sort of superhero still. I assure you I am not but I do care. I care a lot and if that's not coming across then that's my issue to rectify."
Kurt felt his throat thicken. He glanced around to ensure nobody could overhear him and swallowed hard. "I don't know ... I have never had anyone like you before."
Blaine's eyes intensified, the air between them closing tight. "Caring for you?"
Kurt swallowed again, his chest aching and eyes stinging. "My dad cares. He does and he's the most important thing to me. Apart from him, when I thought I was going to lose him, I was terr-"
At this, Kurt felt his throat fail him, his chest resist the pressure it held inside and a single tear rolled down his cheek. Blaine seemed to move all at once.
"Guys, keep us some of the bacon when it comes out, I'm just going with Kurt to the First Aid stand. He's not feeling too good. I'll see you back here."
Kurt felt a warm hand on his back and before he knew it he was in the corridor, walking and turning a corner before two arms encircled him and pulled him close. He cried. He knew he couldn't keep it in and it'd been a long long time since he'd let his tears just flow, big and choked and honest.
"You need to cry. I think I cried for two weeks solid when I arrived here. You lasted way longer than me," Blaine murmured into Kurt's hair, his arms wrapping tighter, "Don't worry about the sweater, my Grandma knits me a new one every year. This one can be yours from now on seeing as it's going to felt from all of your tears," Blaine teased, whispering.
Kurt laughed, coughing a little as throat caught, his head resting on Blaine's shoulder. "When my dad fell ill, I thought that if I lost him that I'd be alone and I was right. I wouldn't have anyone at all. It put everything into perspective for me. I'm not religious. I don't have a God I can turn to. I don't really have anyone. I can take care of myself but sometimes-" he sniffed, the tears rising in his throat once more.
"Sometimes you wish you didn't have to be so good at being alone?" Blaine asked, quiet and close.
It was as if he could see inside Kurt's head, reading his mind and soothing each worry that flickered through it. Kurt felt his arms tighten around Blaine's waist, pressing himself closer and needing the warmth and comfort more than he ever thought possible.
"I don't want you to pity me. I don't want you to think I'm broken because I'm not," Kurt finally whispered low into Blaine's shoulder.
The other boy chuckled lightly. "Kurt you're anything but broken. I was the very personification of the word when I arrived here. Believe me, I do not pity you. I'm not standing here because I feel obliged to or because I feel sorry for you."
"Then why are you?"
Blaine drew a slow and steady breath. "Because I need you to understand that you're not alone in this. You may not know my mother's name or the colour of my bedroom walls but ever since I met you, it's like you see me. For me. I want you to understand that I know exactly how you're feeling and I need you to know that I am here. If nobody else is then that's the way of the world and it's their loss but I am. You don't need to know pointless irrelevant details to know that."
If Kurt was religious he would have called that moment an epiphany. If he was even remotely good at science he'd describe it as axis shifting. Regardless, he felt himself drain of energy entirely and hold tighter to another person than he had ever done before with a desperate need to believe every word Blaine spoke.