A Note about the Interruptions: Quite a few of you have asked me why I write the Interruption chapters the way I do, and I thought that was a very good question, so I figured I'd post the answer in an author's note here (be prepared for a long and boring story).
So, I'm a big science fiction fan, and when I was younger my dad gave me a book that really changed my understanding of what a novel could do: Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card. Throughout the book, there are several mysterious conversations held between two mysterious people, with only dialogue and space to indicate what was going on-no indicators or tags to tell you who was speaking or how they spoke. At the end of the book, you find out who was talking and realize what they were actually talking about, and I loved that I could go back and reread those sections and have a whole new understanding of what was happening in the story. Even more, I loved that Card had developed a way to keep a reader completely in the dark; we have no idea what these people look like or what's really going on until Ender meets them and we recognize their names. All we have is the equivalent of a black screen and some voice over (but even less than we'd be given with a film or a tv show, because we don't even know what their voices sound like).
I modeled the Interruptions after this because I wanted the glimpses into Blaine's past to be equally murky and confusing (and hopefully, later, enlightening). There's a ton of information and clues imparted in each interruption, but we're plopped right in the middle of each scene, without any prose to explain what we missed, and so it's hard to figure out what is going on exactly-which lets Kurt's slow discovery of what really happened to Blaine at Dalton just as enlightening to us as it is to Kurt, while still allowing me to slip in a little occasional reminder that what really happened to Blaine at Dalton is a very important part of the story, even though right now we're focused on the present and on how Blaine is affecting Kurt's life right now.
FFnet doesn't let me use empty paragraph spaces for some reason, so I've had to fill in the pauses with little ellipses (sadly; I think they make those chapters a little more confusing than they would be had I used only spaces). I've tried to reformat them a little, so if you want to go back and reread them [try and find some of those clues ;)] hopefully they'll be slightly more coherent!
A/N: All this sexual tension is starting to drain on my sanity! Kurt, Blaine, kiss already! This chapter has an inordinate amount of fluff in it, so proceed with caution. Thank you so much, again, for those lovely comments last chapter–they really keep me going, and force me to write much faster than if I were just writing this for myself.
P.S., I just found out that one of my favorite artists, muchacha11, reads this fic. I pretty much freaked out. Wow wow wow. I feel like she's such a staple in the Klaine community, and I'm so honored she's enjoying this fic so far! Thank you all for reading and letting me share this story with you!
"What's going on with you and Blaine?"
"What do you mean?" Kurt asked. Or rather, he would have asked that, if he hadn't looked up first and instead let tumble out: "Dear god, take that flannel off before I set it on fire."
Finn blinked rapidly before taking off the bright yellow long sleeve, standing awkwardly in his olive t-shirt (and Kurt sincerely hoped Carole wasn't the one responsible for teaching this boy the color wheel, because he was going to have a very stern talking-to with the person who was). After a moment of contemplation, Finn balled up the shirt in his hands and threw the flannel out the door. That done, he moved to sit down on Kurt's bed.
"You and Blaine," he stated in his no-nonsense voice. "Spill it."
Kurt glanced back down at his assignment for Jane Eyre before reluctantly placing his bookmark and shutting the tome. "What about me and Blaine?" Kurt asked imperiously, sitting up.
Finn looked at him expectantly. "You guys are always hanging out together," he said. "I don't think I've seen you apart since I found him on our couch that one morning. I mean. Except now."
Kurt frowned. Well, that wasn't true.
…Was it?
After all, Kurt had to go to school. And Blaine spent time in the shop with Dad sometimes, and played videogames with Finn and Puck, or sometimes had inexplicably long conversations with Rachel Berry on Kurt's cell phone (Blaine hadn't explained that one to Kurt yet, and Kurt wasn't sure he wanted to know) and… And okay, so ever since the day he'd told Kurt about that girl, Blaine had started hanging out with Kurt during Kurt's free period, and he was always there waiting for them in the choir room, and, sure, they went to the Lima Bean after class, or explored the outer areas of the town together over the weekend, and Kurt had taken it upon himself to educate Blaine on all of the mindless entertainment he had missed out on during his formative years… but it wasn't like they were always together.
…Right?
Except that maybe they were. He and Blaine were in different rooms of the house right now, and for some reason Kurt's room felt empty without Blaine there. Kurt couldn't remember the last time he'd done something without asking Blaine if he wanted to join in. The only reason they were apart right now was because Blaine had some big surprise in mind and was downstairs preparing it in secret. He'd been adamant that Kurt remain upstairs and unspoiled until whatever he was doing was ready. (His secrets were rather poorly kept, though, because Carole had let slip to Kurt that she was helping Blaine with dinner tonight. After four weeks of watching carefully as Kurt made heart-healthy meals for the family, Blaine had apparently decided he'd wanted to try his hand at cooking something as a surprise for Kurt. Kurt smiled at the thought—because really, what could be more adorable?)
"Dude," Finn crossed his arms, "you're not getting away with the silent treatment. Talk."
Kurt blinked rapidly to refocus and looked at Finn. "I don't know what you want me to say," he shrugged. "We're friends."
"You sure?" Finn raised his eyebrows. Kurt tilted his head.
"Yes," he said slowly, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. "Why?"
"Puck and I are friends," Finn stated. "We don't hang out as much as you and Blaine do—even when Puck used to stay at my house." Kurt fidgeted with the edges of Charlotte Bronte's novel, taking this in. "Blaine is like, always with you. And Mercedes was telling Quinn in the choir room the other day that she never sees you outside of glee club. Maybe you guys started off as friends, but for the past week it's like you and Blaine have become correspondent on each other."
"Codependent," Kurt corrected, a slow smile tugging his lips.
"Yeah, that," Finn nodded. "So, bro talk time. What's up with you two?"
Kurt's fingers came up to toy with the edges of his lips, feeling the curve in them. So it wasn't just his imagination, then. There was something happening between him and Blaine.
"Are you guys dating?" Finn asked, apparently impatient with Kurt's thoughtful silence. "I mean, is he gay? Do you like him?"
"No," Kurt's fingers dropped from his mouth. Finn looked confused. "No, we're not dating," Kurt clarified. Then, thinking of the whole debacle with Sam earlier this year, added defiantly: "Yes, he's gay."
Finn looked at him pointedly. "Okay, so do you like him?" he pressed. "I mean, he's kind of got that cute old school thing going on, right? That's kind of your type." Finn adjusted himself on the bed to be more comfortable, and Kurt was struck dumb at the motion.
Wait, hold on.
Finn was trying to talk with him about his love life. Finn was legitimately interested in his love life.
"…Guys can be cute, right? Or is it like, they're just handsome? Do you even have a type? I don't really have a type, but I know some guys do."
Kurt stared as Finn continued his awkward rambling. "Why do you want to know?" he interrupted warily. "Why do you care all of a sudden?"
Finn blinked at him.
"I'm curious," he shrugged. "And we're brothers now, and … I don't know, you've just been really happy lately. Have you noticed we haven't fought once in the past two weeks?" Kurt hadn't noticed, actually. "We used to fight all the time before Blaine came along. And I know that I was kind of a dick with the whole Sam thing this year, but… I just want you to know that I support you. I'm here for you, as your bro… and besides, Blaine's a good guy."
Kurt studied him, measuring his sincerity. A ball of warm tears rose up inside his chest, and he placed a hand against his skin to feel it. "…Thank you," he said quietly.
Finn smiled. "Don't need to thank me, man. It's part of being a good brother." Kurt smiled, blinking away the wetness in his eyes. Finn gave him a moment. Then: "So… do you like him?"
A snort of laughter escaped Kurt, and he collapsed sideways onto the bed, hiding his face in his pillow.
"YesIlikehim," he mumbled into the fabric, face heating up. His shoulders drew up around his ears in a feeble attempt to protect the words inside the cocoon of his body.
"…Dude, totally didn't get that."
"I like him!"
"Oh! Good!" Finn bounced on the mattress once for emphasis. "You won't be awkward with him, then."
Kurt's forehead crinkled and he brought his head up. "What do you mean?"
Finn looked at him like he had grown a second head. "You mean you haven't noticed?"
An impossible hope climbed up the walls of Kurt's ribs. "Noticed what?" he asked breathlessly.
Finn opened his mouth to answer and—
Just Kurt's luck, the subject of their conversation appeared in the doorway.
"It's ready!" Blaine exclaimed, a broad grin on his face. His enthusiasm was infectious, and Kurt found his smile mimicking it. Carole must have been in a good mood during the cooking, which meant Blaine couldn't have screwed it up too badly. Blaine gave an incredibly ridiculous and yet somehow charmingly smooth bow, gesturing for the two boys on the bed to exit the room. "Dinner is served," he said proudly.
"Cool!" Finn jumped up, heading out the door. He glanced at Blaine before looking back at Kurt with a significant look. "I'll just leave you two alone," he said pointedly, grinning, as he left the room. Kurt groaned, and his embarrassment once more found refuge in his pillow.
"What was that?" Blaine radiated amused confusion. Kurt mumbled something into his pillow that could have been an explanation (he wasn't sure), his words slurring with a groan. Blaine chuckled by the door, and Kurt sat back up to look at him.
"I'm guessing due to your suspicious lack of appropriate shock that Carole told you my cunning plan for the evening," Blaine said, sounding slightly disappointed. Kurt sent him an apologetic smile.
"Secrets don't last long in this house," he said. Then he realized who he was talking to. Blaine gave him a knowing grin, and Kurt snorted. "Well, most secrets," he amended. Blaine mimed tipping a hat and clicked his tongue before letting his smile settle more comfortably on his lips. "What did you make?" Kurt asked him curiously. He straightened from his casual lean against the door, holding out a hand for Kurt.
"Oh no you don't. I'm determined to keep some of the surprise. You'll have to come down and see."
Kurt got up off the bed and grabbed Blaine's hand. They're fingers interlaced, and Blaine led him downstairs to the dining room, his happiness bleeding out of his palms. As had been happening more and more frequently this week, Kurt felt a buzzing start up in his head. He squeezed Blaine's hand slightly in response to see if it would clear itself up a little, like it had this past Thursday in the choir room, but it remained muffled.
Kurt knew the strange sound had something to do with the boy in front of him; it only happened when he was around Blaine. Occasionally, the buzzing would turn into an emotion—fear was the most common, although there was also happiness, anticipation, worry—and at those moments, it was like someone had drilled a hole into Blaine's head and let Kurt place his ear against it to try to discover what was inside. It was a tiny hole, more like a pinprick, and anything he heard-felt (because he still couldn't describe what it was) was faint or stifled in some way. But Kurt knew it was Blaine. There was something inherently—Blaine—about the sound-feelings.
They arrived in the dining room just as Kurt's dad did.
"And… voila!" Blaine extended his hand in a broad, sweeping gesture that encompassed the table in front of them. Kurt looked closer at the dish, and a bubble of delight tickled his throat.
"Is that…?"
"Vegetarian lasagna," Blaine bumped shoulders playfully. "A certain somebody's favorite dish, if I'm remembering correctly."
Kurt couldn't stop his grin. "Look at you, going all Paula Dean on me!" He nudged Blaine's elbow. "We'll have to get you a job on the Food Network."
"I would be honored to share my cooking expertise with my adoring public," Blaine said with affect. He pulled out Kurt's chair for him, and Kurt graciously sat down. "But save the good reviews for later. Like after you actually taste it."
Kurt laughed and Blaine reached over to serve him a carefully-cut slice of lasagna, the heat from his body warming Kurt's back.
Carole came in from the kitchen with a bowl of salad, setting it next to the plate of sliced bread on the table.
"Looks great!" Finn exclaimed, coming out of the kitchen with a drink pitcher.
"You've really gone all out here, kid," Kurt's dad said, sounding impressed. Blaine smiled one of those adorably embarrassed smiles Kurt had begun to adore.
"Carole helped with a lot of it," he deflected.
"Oh, don't be coy, it was mostly this boy here," Carole grinned, side-hugging Blaine. He let out a surprised laugh.
"It was the least I could do," he protested. "With everything you guys have done for me…"—Blaine looked over at Kurt and it was like he was speaking only to him—"really, I don't know how to thank you," he finished softly. Kurt felt his cheeks heat.
"Well, you've been a joy to have," Carole smiled at him as she sat down. Blaine finished serving everyone the lasagna and took his seat next to Kurt.
"What Carole said," Burt nodded. "You're welcome here until you decide you don't want to stay."
Kurt's smile stretched wide across his face as Blaine looked at Burt in surprise. "Thank you," Blaine said, eyes shining and earnest. Kurt crept his fingers surreptitiously around Blaine's, and Blaine squeezed them gently.
"Hopefully we won't change our mind after we get a taste of this," he joked, triumphantly getting another laugh out of Blaine.
"Oh no," he cried, "If I'd known my future was reliant on my cooking, I would have had you do all the work for me!"
"Dude, don't worry," Finn said as he brought up a forkful of lasagna. "If mom's given you the seal of approval, you're good to go. We all know who's really in charge of the house here."
That comment led to a blushing Burt Hummel and a table full of laughter, which led to Carole and Burt talking about a particular date they'd been on, which led to Blaine asking the story of how they met, which led to an uproarious clamor as each person tried to tell their version of events. All of which inevitably led to a blushing Kurt Hummel and a table full of laughter.
In the grand scheme of family dinners, Kurt decided, covering his rose-red cheeks with his hands, the night was one of the warmest they'd had in a while. He glanced around the table, at faces that had been stressed, tense, and edgy only last month—now glowing with contentment. Finn, Carole, his dad. Blaine. For the first time since the prospect of the new marriage, Kurt felt like he was part of a family.
His family.
His heart felt swollen inside his chest, and he tightened his hold on Blaine's fingers as tears pricked his eyes. He knew Blaine wasn't doing anything to affect the mood of the room, but he was also positive that this moment had something magical about it. It couldn't have been a coincidence that the minute Blaine had appeared, things had started to change for the better. This boy, who had just barged into his life in the middle of the night, had healed bruises Kurt hadn't even known he'd carried.
Blaine turned to look at him, curious, and Kurt gave him a watery smile. Thank you, he mouthed.
A rush of comfort warmed up his hand from Blaine's fingers, and a sound that felt like gratitude tickled his brain.
"If I'd known my cooking was that bad, I would have ordered in," Blaine leaned in to whisper in his ear. A laugh fizzed up Kurt's throat and he let it spill into the room.
Yes, this was definitely one of the best Friday night dinners they'd had in a while.
—-
They'd decided to watch Holiday Inn, because it was only five days until Christmas Break (seven until Christmas proper) and Finn had wanted something seasonally-appropriate to start off the weekend. While Kurt wasn't half as excited about little baby Jesus' fake pagan birthday as Finn was, he was loathe to ruin the mood dinner had set, and so had readily agreed to a little Fred Astaire and Bing Crosby (Finn was apparently up to compromising too, because he didn't even protest the oldness of the movie when Kurt picked it). The three of them sat snugly on the couch together while Carole and his dad shared the lazyboy chair. The adults only stayed for a few minutes before going upstairs, but Kurt liked the feeling of unity their presence had granted during the time they were there.
And he certainly wasn't complaining about the lack of space on the couch. Blaine's right thigh and arm were pressed flush against his own because of it, and Kurt's heart was beating in sixteenths.
"I'll capture your heart singing," Bing Crosby crooned.
Blaine's lips hovered near his ear. "I'd absolutely go for Fred Astaire," he whispered. "Just look at him move. He's obviously the cuter one."
Kurt shivered as Blaine's breath brushed his neck. "She has no chance with either one of them," he responded, all breath. "They're about to go offstage and do some 'dancing' together. I think we all know what that means. Honestly, these movies are so gay I'm surprised it's taken this long for the general public to catch on."
Sure enough, Bing and Fred danced offstage together within the next two minutes, causing Blaine to crack up loudly next to Kurt's ear. Finn shot them a weird look before turning back to the movie, and Kurt and Blaine traded guilty smiles.
"That was your fault," Blaine accused softly.
"Please," Kurt scoffed. "You're the one who can't control his urges." Blaine snickered in his ear. His left hand came to rest gently on Kurt's arm, fingers drawing little patterns in his skin (speaking of not controlling his urges). Kurt couldn't focus on anything but their gentle teasing.
"This is nice," Blaine murmured contentedly. "My family never really did things like this."
"Family movie nights?" Kurt dragged out of his mouth.
"Family movie nights, family dinners… we did things together, and they cared about me. I felt it. But they were always so frightened. It never felt like this."
Kurt hummed, trying to get himself to focus on the words coming out of Blaine's mouth and not the tingling accompanying Blaine's wandering fingers. His eyes slipped briefly closed as Blaine burrowed closer.
"This house is so full of love," he whispered like a secret, lips brushing lightly against Kurt's ear. "Sometimes I feel like I'm drunk on it."
At some point (because Kurt certainly wasn't watching the movie anymore), Blaine's head came to rest on Kurt's shoulder. Kurt glanced down to see his eyes were closed—or at least heavily-lidded (it was hard to tell from his angle). The fingers continued their soft patterning of the skin of Kurt's forearm. It would have been amazingly perfect… had Finn not been intent on shooting Kurt numerous knowing looks throughout the movie. Kurt tried to avoid catching Finn's gaze and stared intently at the TV screen, focusing on the comfortable weight of Blaine's body; the relaxed, lazy cursive Blaine's fingers traced into his arm.
It was around the time Crosby started singing "Be Careful, It's My Heart" that Finn got up off the couch.
"Think I'm going to go to bed, man," he said, very obvious faking a yawn. "You two enjoy the rest of the movie!" He gave Kurt a ridiculously large wink and a not-as-subtle-as-he-thought-it-was thumbs-up before trotting happily upstairs.
Kurt wanted to shout out in triumph.
Finn was the best step-brother in the history of step-brothers. Brody Jenner didn't hold a candle to Finn. Elvis wished he had stepbrothers like him. Kurt was going to buy him piles and piles of neon-orange clothing for this.
He relaxed against the couch as the movie played on, content to cuddle into Blaine's soothing warmth. Now that they were alone, he didn't feel nearly as self-conscious, and he let Blaine's tingling fingers lull him into a delicate chrysalis of clandestine sweetness.
He didn't know when it happened, but eventually he must have fallen asleep… because the next thing he knew he was waking up very suddenly to a repeating menu screen glowing dimly into the dark black of the room, Blaine a comforting and solid weight against him.
He glanced around, looking for whatever it was that had woken him up—before he heard it. A slightly muffled feeling humming in his ears. He shifted closer to Blaine (was he awake or asleep?), but it didn't clear up.
Blaine looked up at him (awake, then), hazel eyes peeking out from under dark lashes, shimmering in the light of the TV. Fingers once more picking up their tracing on his skin.
Mouth parted slightly… only one bold move away from Kurt's own.
Maybe now…
Kurt felt rather than heard the hitch in Blaine's breath. His fingers dug into Kurt's arm slightly, pressing harder into the patterns he was drawing in his flesh, his eyelids falling shut as his head tilted up and Kurt didn't breathe—
That fear again, this time loud in its contained cage, a stifled scream in his head and a gasp falling upon his ears as Blaine tore himself away, seizing the remote control and turning off the TV before Kurt could see his face. Kurt reeled from the sudden change in mood.
"What–?" he started, but Blaine interrupted him.
"It's late, you should probably get up to bed."
His words were terse, controlled. Kurt stared, lost as to what to do, how to proceed. That had definitely been another moment. They had been about to kiss, again, and Blaine had pulled away. Again. Was it Kurt, was he pushing things too fast? But no, that couldn't be: Blaine had been the one about to kiss him in the first place!
This wasn't fair. It didn't make sense. It wasn't fair! Things had been going so wonderfully and now…
What was going on?
"Blaine," he reached for Blaine's hand, eyes trying to adjust to the dark of the room, but Blaine quickly moved it away from his grasp. It was like a punch to his stomach. The glimpse he'd somehow been granted into Blaine's mind was vacillating between a rising panic and a white noise, and Kurt didn't understand.
What are you so scared of?
He stared hard through the dark, trying to make out Blaine's face, to find Blaine's eyes, but he couldn't. He wanted to cry, or scream, or shake the boy in front of him and make him tell him what was wrong. They had been so open with each other this past week, and this felt too much like Blaine was shutting him out, like he was hiding things again. This wasn't fair.
"Goodnight," Blaine said purposely.
Kurt swallowed against an encroaching rush of righteous tears.
…Fine.
He stood up gracefully, walking across the room with his chin high and his back straight.
"Sleep well," came Blaine's quiet voice, but Kurt didn't bother to respond.
Two could play at this game. If Blaine wanted to shut him out, then Kurt would shut Blaine out. He'd done it before. He could do it now.
He was up in his room when he heard it again: fear, still rising. His heart stuttered. This was the first time he'd heard something from Blaine when Blaine wasn't right next to him. Kurt shivered, climbing quickly into his bed and foregoing his usual skin routine. He needed this day to be over. He needed to just re-do this day over. Or let it be tomorrow already. Please.
Muffled but mutedly persistent in his head, Blaine's growing fear lulled Kurt into an uneasy sleep.