A/N: Thank you all for your wonderful patience! I wasn't going to split this chapter into parts, but I felt so bad for the wait I figured splitting this up wouldn't hurt. This is Part A. Part B should be coming along shortly, as I have six hours to kill this weekend and access to a computer.
Blaine wanted to go to school with him.
He was adamant, insisting he'd keep close to Kurt at all times and follow him around to all of his classes—he'd do it silently—okay, he'd follow Finn around to all of Finn's classes—Puck?
"Puck never goes to class," Kurt said idly, washing out the salad bowl after dinner as Blaine hounded him. "No," he added as Blaine opened his mouth once more.
"Kurt, come on! I just want to check it out. Come on, please? I've never been!" Blaine leveled big eyes at him and Kurt almost melted. No one should be allowed to look that cute. He tightened his grip on the bowl and forced himself to look away (though not without appreciation for the effectiveness of Blaine's pleading techniques).
"You can pull that earnest puppy face out all you want, Sabrina," he said airily, "it won't get you any closer to McKinley."
Wryness dissolved Blaine's expression. "Melissa Joan Hart? Really?"
"I'm surprised you know who that is, considering your deprived childhood."
"Kiki's Delivery Service is an obscure animated movie no one except you has seen."
"It's a masterpiece of a children's film, and it's one of the few movies showcasing Kirsten Dunst before she became the bane of cinema," Kurt insisted coolly, "Everyone has seen that film."
"Whilst Kirsten Dunst's likeability is questionable, it's also beside the point. Something's going on with you there," Blaine's voice dropped low and soft, and it took Kurt a second to realize he had changed the subject back to school and was not actually making fun of his taste in movies. "Maybe I can help—"
He reached for Kurt's hand, and Kurt slipped it out of the way, quick as a rattlesnake.
"Don't think so," he glared. He brandished the rag in front of him like a shield. "No magic mood-changers can influence my decision. In fact: if you go? I will feel miserable the entire day," he threatened. Blaine froze, eyes wide. "Miserable," Kurt repeated. "Wallowing."
Then, for emphasis: "Indulgently." He would have continued, but the horrified expression coloring Blaine's face convinced him he'd gotten his point across. He turned back to the bowl.
"Don't be childish," Blaine began weakly behind him, but Kurt interrupted: "This conversation is over."
Blaine pressed his lips together and watched silently as Kurt dried off the bowl with a small towel. The silence was unbreakably awkward.
Until it was broken.
"Short dude!" Puck called loudly from the living room, and Finn corrected him, calling Blaine's actual name. "Duty calls!"
Kurt studiously examined his dish for any dirt he might have missed as Blaine walked out into the living room to kill enemy soldiers in a show of violent patriotism, forever dropping the subject.
Or so he'd thought.
"Finn, come on! Going to be late!" he called for the third time as he stood waiting at the bottom of the stairs. There was a loud crash and Finn (finally) stumbled down, pulling on his letterman jacket with rough fingers (Kurt would have protested such torturous treatment of fabric had he not hated that jacket and everything it symbolized with a passion that rivaled the heat of a hundred suns). Blaine came out of the kitchen where he had been sharing breakfast with Kurt, holding out a piece of toast to Finn.
"Thanks, man," Finn mumbled around the bread he had stuffed immediately into his mouth. A twinge of disgust skipped over him and Blaine glanced at Kurt in amusement. Kurt rolled his eyes and fought a smile.
"Time to go," he insisted, turning to head out to the car. He heard Finn grabbing a coat and turned in confusion when more than two feet followed him.
…Ha.
No.
His eyebrows raised in disbelief as he watched Finn hand Blaine a coat. A small, deprecating laugh escaped him.
"I'm sorry, what is this?" he asked. Blaine watched him carefully as Finn grabbed another winter coat from the closet.
"He's coming with us today!" Finn announced. Kurt's jaw dropped and he looked back over at Blaine, who matched his gaze with intense determination. That sneaky bastard.
"No," Kurt said firmly, eyes locked on hazel honey. "No, he is not coming with us today."
"I already said he could, dude," Finn tossed carelessly, shrugging.
"He is not coming with us today," Kurt repeated. Still, those honeyed eyes stayed intent.
"Um, Kurt—"
"Finn, get in the car," Kurt snapped. Finn didn't move, looking unsure between the two in front of him. Kurt snarled. "Now!" He jumped and sped out the door.
Blaine stood resolute in front of him. Unwavering, even as hot pokers of betrayal burned in Kurt's stomach.
"You're really something, you know that?" Kurt said softly. "I can't believe you."
Unrepentant. "I can help—"
"There's nothing to help with! But you know what you can do? You can stay here, and listen to me for once when I tell you no!" Blaine held that stupid, monstrously over-sized coat tighter and Kurt was seized with a sudden urge to rip it off his shoulders. He turned away, instead.
"You wake up and you're terrified to go to that school, and you come back and you're terrified from having been!" Blaine followed him, blocking his way as he turned to leave and since he couldn't escape, Kurt settled on glaring. "You can deny it all you want, hide it in anger and defensiveness, but you're scared all the time, Kurt."
Kurt crossed his arms, hugging his torso in a way not at all defensive, Blaine, fuck you. "And you know better than I do what I feel," he stated pointedly.
"I think I have access to a more objective assessment than you do, yes," Blaine replied, his hands up in front of him like he was calming some kind of pet. Kurt seethed.
"Has anyone ever told you how nauseatingly condescending you are?" he spit out venomously. Blaine's face broke open with hurt, and Kurt felt a thrill of vindictive victory. "You can manipulate people all you want, but you're not stepping foot inside that school!" Too pissed off to continue talking, he pushed past Blaine to get to the door. Blaine's hand latched onto his arm as he passed by, grip strong and painful, and Kurt froze, staring back at him with furious eyes (just try it, just you try to change how I feel about this and see what happens, you asshole!).
Blaine recoiled and let go as if he had been burnt, staring at Kurt with an expression Kurt couldn't identify. It made him look even smaller, shrunken into Finn's oversized jacket.
"Kurt, please," he said softly, warm eyes sweet and earnest in their beseeching. "You've done so much for me. Please, just let me help you."
Blaine was the picture of sincerity. Small. Beautiful.
Kurt slammed the door with a force that shook the whole house. He tore into his Navigator and drove furiously away from the boy in the living room before he did something stupid like let Blaine come with him.
Or punch him in the face.
…Even if the latter would be incredibly satisfying.