11

Fumbling in the Dark

"What? Can he do that?" Nick asked, confused.

"It doesn't break any rules," David said, skimming through the graffiti covered handbook.

"It's says no one can see any of our practices during the weeks before competition-"

"Yeah," Wes said, cutting Thad off. "See. Blaine's dating that blind kid, remember?"

"What?" Sebastian spat, standing. "That's what this is about? Blaine's dating a fucking blind-"

"Watch it, Smythe," Jeff warned. Thad glared at him. "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all, or Blaine'll beat your chipmunk face in."

"At least that's what he told us," David amended. "We don't really give a shit, but I don't want to piss Blaine off." The others shook their heads.

Sebastian shook his head, sitting down, pouting. "He ditched me at a party for a fuckin' cripple," he whispered. "What the fuck does he see in him?"

"Blaine, I don't know if this is a good idea," Kurt said nervously.

"Don't worry, nothing's gonna happen. You're with me, remember?" Blaine assured, squeezing his hand as he lead him down the staircase.

"If we're basing this off of the last time I saw them…"

"They won't do anything, I swear. They're barks are a hell of a lot worse than their bites. Except Wes. Pretty sure Wes'll kill someone with his bare hands," he chuckled. Kurt wasn't any more at ease than he was before. "Kurt, trust me. These guys are my friends. Besides, after this, you can go back to Nude Erections and tell everyone how hard you need to work at Sectionals," he teased. Kurt swatted his arm.

"In your dreams, Gargler," he smirked. Blaine laughed, pushing the door open to the choir room.

The other Warblers turned when he came in, Sebastian immediately sizing Kurt up. "Don't be douche bags, alright?" Blaine warned.

"Aw, but Blaine, we're lovable douche bags, aren't we?" Nick said, batting his eyes. Blaine shook his head, showing Kurt to the couch.

"Just be respectful like your nannies taught you," he advised.

"You gonna spank us like they do too?" Jeff said, waggling his brows. Blaine winked.

"Just you, Jeff. Now shut up and sing."

Kurt was certainly impressed, to say the least. He listened to all six harmonies, plus one voice beat-boxing in the background. And then there was Blaine. His sweet, pure a cappella voice was like honey, sending goosebumps down his spine, causing him to stifle a shiver. He continued to listen, entranced. His heart fell a little when they stopped, simply because his ears had never been graced with a sound such as that before. He smiled and applauded nevertheless, truly amazed.

Blaine sauntered over to him, taking his hands in his. "Now," he whispered, mouth beside his ear while the others griped about errors in the piece, "that wasn't our Sectionals number, but-"

"I hope not," Kurt snorted, teasing. Blaine chuckled.

"You're lucky you're cute," he said. He kissed him full on the mouth, tongue and all. Kurt cried out, briefly turning to jelly before pushing him away, blushing and smiling in embarrassment.

"Blaine," he hissed, stifling giggles. "There's a lot of people in here, we-"

"Let 'em look," he said, smiling against his lips and kissing him again. Sebastian glowered in their direction, despite how pointless it was.

He can't fucking see you, remember? He snarled to himself. He's not even that cute. Put a wig on him and he's an ugly girl.

"Hey!" Wes barked, breaking the couple apart with his outburst. "Stop sucking face and get your ass over here and help the Baritones!"

"Watch your mouth," he snapped, patting Kurt's shoulder before he rejoined his choir members. Sebastian swaggered his way over, still looking Kurt over.

"Hi," he said, sitting beside him. Kurt looked toward him, slightly startled by the sudden presence. "Sorry, Sebastian Smythe." He held out his hand, smirk turning smug when Kurt didn't respond. "So you really are blind, huh?"

"Yes," Kurt said, cheeks reddening once he'd realized what had just happened. "You must have missed that memo gelling your hair in the bathroom for what I assumed was hours on end." Sebastian cocked his head.

"Cute little sense of smell you have. Like a dog, huh?" He asked. "So, how long have you and Blaine been together?" Kurt kept an even tone and an anything but real smile in place.

"We just got together today, actually. How long has he known you?" He shot, venom dripping from his controlled words.

"A month or two. We're pretty close," he assured.

"Funny," Kurt said, touching his chin. "For being such good friends, he's never mentioned you."

"Maybe there's a reason for that."

"Oh, don't worry," Kurt said, tone condescending, patting his knee. "You're not as forgettable as you think you are. Blaine just doesn't think you're important enough to mention, I guess."

Sebastian felt a wave of anger wash over him. He clenched his fists, taking a breath before speaking again. "So, you're certain this isn't part of some community service thing Blaine has to do after his last trip to juvie, right?"

"Excuse me?"

"Are you sure Blaine isn't dating you out of pity? Because God knows I can't think of anyone that would want to date someone who can't even see me. And Blaine's so…"

"So what?" Kurt growled, the composure still perfectly placed on his face.

"Well, let's face it, gay-face, he's too good for you," Sebastian chuckled, ever-still smirking.

"Or maybe," Kurt offered, that waspish sharpness taking over his voice and his expression, "Blaine actually pays attention to me and not your desperate attempts for affection. And let's face it, Craigslist, I'm much better looking than you."

"You-"

"Are tired of hearing your stupid mouth? Yes, thank you for asking," he snapped. "I didn't ask for your opinion, nor do I give a damn about what you think of me or Blaine. Just because I'm blind doesn't mean I can't rip you apart, and let you remember that the next time you want to act like you're better than me because you can see. I can too, and let me tell you, what I see when you speak isn't very attractive."

"Kurt, you okay?" Blaine asked, joining the conversation, protective hand on Kurt's shoulder.

"I'm fine," he smiled. "Just having a little…chat with Sebastian here." Sebastian nodded, returning the same fake, cheeky grin.

"Yeah," the Warbler replied. "Just talking." He turned his attention to Blaine, ignoring Kurt as if he wasn't even there. "So, Blaine, did you hear Cyclone of Death and Candor are having a concert Friday night?"

"I thought they didn't go on tour until April?" He said, obviously excited. Kurt frowned, looking up at him.

"'Cyclone of Death and Candor'?" He asked.

"Oh, you don't know?" Sebastian said, once again overly condescending. "They just so happen to be one of Blaine's favorite bands, and it just so happens that I found out about the secret show they're doing Friday night right here in Westerville."

"Where?" Blaine demanded.

"Eleventh and Roe," he said. "Ten o'clock sharp. They lock the doors at ten-oh-one."

"We'll be there," Kurt said immediately, putting his hand over Blaine's.

"Kurt, you don't have to go if you don't want to. Their music isn't for everyone," he said.

"If it's something you like, then I'll support you," he said, smiling.

"You sure, Kurt?" Sebastian intervened. "Blaine and I could always go and you could stay home and knit… Can you people knit?"

"Hey—"

"We'll be there," Kurt said again, much more firm this time. "Now, if you'll excuse me." He stood, stalking away, dragging Blaine along with him, who followed, unsure of which emotion he was going to stick with just yet.

"Kurt. Kurt, slow down!" he said, trying to tug back and slow him down. Instead of staying with him, Kurt shook him off and kept walking. Blaine continued to jog after him, rounding a corner too late to see him fall flat on the marble staircase. He ran to him, holding his elbow to ease him up.

"I can do it!" He spat, tugging away from him, losing his balance and falling on his butt, looking defeated. Blaine sat beside him, looking at him, trying to figure out what to do. "I can do everything a normal person can! Except drive. I can't fucking drive."

"Kurt—"

"I know, I know it shouldn't bother me by now. Almost ten years of the same shit over and over again; I should be used to it but…" He shook his head, tears in his eyes. "Why are you with me, Blaine? You could have someone like Sebastian. Someone normal that's better looking, I'm sure," he laughed ruefully, bitter about his lack of sight for the first time since Blaine had met him. "Wait, I don't know, do I? How the fuck can I know? I don't even know what I look like, how the fuck can I compare myself to anyone, I—" He broke off…then broke down, right there on the stairs.

"Hey, hey," Blaine said, taking him into his arms, running his fingers through his hair. "Kurt, it's alright. It's okay." Neither of them spoke for awhile, Kurt letting out some long pent-up energy, Blaine simply holding him, being there for him.

He waited until he'd calmed down before gently pressing his forehead into his hair, speaking softly, smiling gently. "Hey, Daredevil," he whispered. Kurt broke into his own smile. "You don't need to see to love someone, do you?" Kurt looked up, leaving both of their foreheads to press together.

"No," he said, sniffing. Blaine kissed him gently.

"You're perfect like this, okay?" He assured, touching his cheek, showing more of himself than he had ever dared before, allowing tenderness to seep from himself to Kurt, knowing that he needed this. "And you really don't have to go to that concert if you don't want to. I won't go either—"

"Oh, I'm going," he said darkly. "I'm not about to let that little brat get five minutes alone with you."

"Hey," Blaine said, soothing his anger with a single touch, softer than he'd ever allowed himself to be. "You want me to take you home?" Kurt nodded, ignoring that there were probably other people around and wrapping his arms around him, feeling safe.

"Do you ever get tired of smelling like cigarette smoke?" He teased, smiling at him. Blaine smiled back, taking his hand and helping him stand.

"I'll quit." He pushed the cane that Kurt had neglected to take back minutes before into his palm, smoothing his hair behind his ear. "You're perfect, Kurt." He blushed, turning redder when Blaine pecked his cheek, squeezing his hand.

"What kind of concert?" Burt asked, looking over the paper at him.

"The kind you listen to music at?" He said, tone snarky. "It's just a concert, Dad. It's not on a school night, I won't be out too late and I'm eighteen years-old." Burt looked at him.

"And it's all the way in Westerville?"

"If something happens I'll call you, okay?" He promised.

"I want to talk to Blaine first," he said firmly.

"Why now?" He wondered.

"Because I haven't talked to him face to face before," he said. "I'll just talk to him when he comes to pick you up, okay?"

"Uh, okay," he said, bopping up the stairs adding this to his list of worries, which included the biggest conundrum: what was he going to wear tonight?

He obviously didn't have any Tornado of Hate and Misery –or whatever they were called— paraphernalia to don himself with and he was really at a loss as to what someone wore to a concert, seeing as he'd never been to one before. At least, not in person. He'd watched several on VH1 but he got the feeling it wasn't the same.

He went through every shirt and pants combination he could think of in his wardrobe, twice and still could find nothing deemed suitable to wear on such a date. He always tried to look his best when he was with Blaine…which was a little hard to do, considering.

He sighed and went through his newer clothing, finding a pair of pants he'd yet to wear yet. In this instance, black and white-striped pants that stuck to his legs like almost all his others did. He picked out a shirt; a red button up that was just a little too tight in the right places. That coupled with his boots and a leather tie hopefully made him presentable for the rest of the world.

Now was the tricky part. His hair.

Blaine rang the doorbell at exactly nine o'clock, fussing with his unruly curls one more time before the door opened.

However, the Hummel that looked back at him wasn't the one he was there to take out. "Um, I, uh, I'm here to pick up Kurt," he tried to say firmly, keeping eye-contact with the parent.

"Yeah, I know," he said, taking a step back. "He's not ready yet. Why don't you come have a seat?"

Blaine swallowed a little. This guy didn't like him. He looked at him the same way every other adult on the planet did. He could see the displeasure on his face, almost hear his thoughts as he took a seat on the couch.

Punk. Worthless. Lowlife. Loser. Bad kid. Bad influence. Not good enough. Never amount to anything. Yes, he knew those looks all too well.

"So, Blaine," he said, sitting down in his recliner, "how did you meet Kurt?"

"He got turned around at the park, so I walked him home," he said simply, excluding the part where his friends harassed him.

"That was awfully nice of you," he said, expression blank. "Helpin' out a handicapped kid."

"I don't think Kurt's handicapped," he said truthfully, never breaking away from his gaze, determined to show him he wasn't scared.

"Oh? You don't think my blind son is handicapped?"

"Kurt's really independent," Blaine said. "I don't call anyone that can do nearly everything a normal person can handicapped. He can't see, that doesn't mean he can't live." Burt studied him for a moment.

"You ever been arrested, Blaine?" He asked sternly.

"Yes," he said, teeth clenching. Here it was, the part where the parent sees what a naughty, naughty boy their child has been caught up with and needs to hide their child away from such a terrible influence immediately.

"For what?" He pressed. Blaine scoffed.

"Mr. Hummel, no offense, but I think you're asking me questions you already know the answer to," he said, leaning forward and smirking. Burt set his jaw, eyes hard.

"I just wanna know what a punk like you wants with my son," he demanded.

"Honestly?" Blaine said, quirking an eyebrow. "All I want from Kurt is to be his boyfriend. I want to be there for him when he needs me, know when to give him space when he doesn't. I want to be with him, not get with him, which is exactly what you've thought of me since I brought him home. Yeah, I've got a history, yeah, I wear leather and drive a motorcycle, yeah I've got some bad habits. But trust me man— sir, there isn't one of 'em I wouldn't kick for Kurt in a heartbeat. Because I want to be with him. I've already screwed up twice. I'm not about to let it happen again.

"What's the two—"

"Dad," Kurt said, finishing his descent down the stairs. "Blaine'll have me home by one, okay? That's when the concert's over, right?" He said, turning to Blaine, who nodded.

"Yeah, I think that's what Sebastian said," he said, doing his best not to drool over this boy. Kurt grabbed his coat, which Blaine helped him ease on, and took Blaine's hand, leading him out the door. "'Bye, Dad!"

Blaine sighed when the door shut behind them, rubbing his temples.

"He means well," Kurt assured, touching his cheek.

"I just…really don't like talking to parents," he admitted. "I'm screwed no matter what I say, ya know?" Kurt kissed him, trying to distract him and succeeding.

"Let's go to the concert. I really would rather not talk about my dad right now, alright?" He said, smiling. Blaine smiled back, kissing him again, shoving his hands inside his coat just to touch him for a minute. Kurt sighed, slightly taken aback by the touch but allowed it all the same.

"You look fucking amazing," Blaine breathed, lips beside his ear. Kurt blushed all the way up to them, chewing his lip.

"I try," he said, trying to sound nonchalant and failing. Blaine kissed him again, a little rougher and much deeper this time.

"Gonna be really hard to keep my hands off you," he growled, voice low and quiet. Kurt grinned, kissing down his jaw-line to his neck, something he'd yet to do until now. Blaine's breath hitched, still amazed that Kurt could make him feel like this when all the others he'd been with couldn't come close.

"You'll just have to see how strong you really are, Mr. Anderson," he smirked, sucking at his pulse.

"Tease," Blaine growled. Kurt giggled, pulling away much too soon, pecking him on the lips.

"Only for you," he winked, sauntering over to the bike and putting on his helmet. Blaine shook his head, lowering his blood pressure and breathing slowly, thinking –not for the first or last time— that Kurt Hummel would kill him.