Title: The book of love (6/?)
Author: heloula / helaluvE
Warning: expect lots of fluff with a side of angst.
Fandom/Pairing: glee/ Kurt&Blaine/ Finchel and lots of other
Summary: There are things you cannot forget. Blaine and Kurt are about to find that out. Future fic includes all the glee clubbers and their kids .
Just a reminder that this story was started and planned out in the middle of s2 when Blaine was still a senior, when Samcedes wasn’t even an option, when the show still made sense. So, this time line is my own.
Also, and this is probably the most important: Sasha, you are my sunshine. Thank you for being the best beta/friend/amazing person I could have hoped for.
Previous chapter can be found here:
Disclaimer: glee does not belong to me, although sometimes, we kinda think it does. Don’t we, klainers?
A/N: I really liked working on this chapter. I find a bit harder to write from Blaine’s point of view but it was strangely liberating. I hope you’ll like it. Leave me a few words.
Special and heartfelt thanks to my lovely beta, anddreamylifeaway. Sasha, you made this a thousand times more fun.
PART VI: Of meddling and rediscovery.
The limo was waiting for them outside the Hudson-Berrys’ residence; they hurried inside it. The evening was chilly and the women’s attires, though divine, were not weather-proof. After some grumbles, adjustments and threats - “Wrinkle my suit Lopez and I will make you suffer in unspeakable ways,” Kurt glared causing Santana to roll her eyes. “Oh, yeah? What will you do, Ladypants? Hiss at me until I melt?” she smirked. The look on Kurt’s face caused Finn to grab Santana and forcefully deposit her next to Mercedes before Kurt could reach her. Soon they were on their way towards Manhattan’s traffic.
Blaine felt nervous, which was quite expected considering he was headed for one of his mother’s events, but he also felt edgy and somewhat impatient. That, he didn’t expect to feel. He figured it had a lot to do with the way Kurt’s shoulder pressed against his own, the almost brush of their thighs and the way his ex-boyfriend smelled. To this day, Blaine couldn’t smell citrus without having his heart ache or heat pool in the bottom of his stomach. Sometimes it was both. It wasn’t exactly an ideal moment to remember that fact. He couldn’t escape the fact that Kurt looked more handsome than any other man had the right to. He’d always done this to Blaine, pulled him under and made him feel alive and important, just by being near him. He didn’t know much about Kurt’s life but if there had been hardship (and Blaine was sure there had been), his face had retained that vitality, strength and innocence Blaine had loved so powerfully.
He averted his eyes (which had been stuck on a patch of Kurt’s neck), looking out the window and trying to think of anything but lemon and soft skin. Unfortunately, his thoughts turned to what he had overheard just a few minutes ago and his chest tightened with more unwanted emotions.
Prince Porcelain and Prince Caramel-Eyes.
It was so sweet; he would smile if it wasn’t so heart-breaking as well. He’d gone upstairs to find the bathroom but he’d been drawn to Kurt’s soft voice down the hall and he had unrepentantly eavesdropped.
Prince Porcelain saw him and his whole life changed.
He kept hearing that sentence over and over and every time his stupid heart contracted sweetly. He’d turned back to the staircase when he heard Kurt say good-night for the second time and had pretended he was just coming up the stairs. He was fairly sure Kurt had believed him and he was glad about it. He needed time to digest this. This whole being friends with the person he had loved the most and who had hurt him like no one else had since was trickier than he would have imagined.
He wasn’t even sure he wanted to talk about it. Not that Kurt seemed eager to talk about anything right now. He sat stiffly next to Blaine, a tight smile on his lips, looking as comfortable as a Warbler without his blazer.
Blaine sighed, feeling the weight of the broken past and the unclear future keenly on his shoulders.
“So, Frodo, what should we expect tonight?” Santana broke into his thoughts. Grateful, he smiled crookedly at her.
“Well, Lady Godzilla, we are headed for a Marie-Anne Anderson event so you should get yourself ready for anything from pure boredom to utter mortification.”
“A healthy dose of condescension, too,” Kurt added and his eyes widened in shock. Clearly, he had not meant to say that out loud. Before he could apologize (which Blaine was sure he was about to do), Blaine laughed.
“That too,” he said smiling at Kurt whose cheeks had begun to turn pink in a most fetching way. “Thankfully, my sister will be there as well. She always does a great job of serving as a buffer between Mother Dear and the rest of the world.” If it was possible, the mention of Bea made Kurt’s body tense up even more.
Rachel, however, received the news of Bea’s attendance with much more warmth.
“How is Bea?” she asked grinning.
And suddenly Blaine remembered that Rachel and Beatrice had liked each other quite a lot. Both girls had had a hard time getting along with other girls, which, ironically, had brought them closer. Blaine had sudden flashes of sleepovers, movie marathons, shopping trips and concerts were Rachel and Bea were the main characters or guest stars to his and Kurt’s memories.
Odd how he’d forgotten that over the years. There were so many things about Rachel he remembered, he could literally write a book about her, but he had forgotten something as personal as a friendship between her and his sister. The shock of the memory made him lose track of the conversation for a bit but he quickly recovered. Those particular memories didn’t hurt. In fact, before the break up, there were very few memories that hurt. It was more the loss of those days and all they had all shared together that hurt. The knowledge that it was over and even if they were trying to build something new, it could never be like that again. It was very bittersweet, the thought of those wonderful crazy days, like a pinch to the heart that healed quickly as warmth invaded him.
“Bea is doing great… wonderful, actually. She’s married with a kid and quite happy,” he supplied after he regained his ability to speak.
“Will and Melisande met Sonia this afternoon. I think Will was quite taken with Sonia,” Kurt smiled and Blaine was glad to see he was finally starting to relax. He breathed a little easier himself.
“So you noticed, too, huh?” Blaine asked, one eyebrow raised in amusement.
Kurt snorted. “Of course I noticed, silly! I was thinking a June wedding at the Plaza, a few years down the road.”
“How pedestrian. I’m calling a winter wedding back home,” Blaine challenged.
“And I’m pedestrian,” Kurt said with a dainty snort. “Puh-lease, that’s a disaster in the making!”
Blaine faked a frown. “You’re the disaster in the making,” he retorted hardly able to repress his smile. It felt surprisingly good, being able to banter back and forth with Kurt like this. It still seemed unreal that there was any kind of interaction at all let alone pleasant ones. Although pleasant might be a bit of a shallow term for the bubbly happiness inside him demanding to be expressed. It was quite an achievement on his part that he managed to maintain a straight face. The feeling was only intensified when he felt Kurt’s shoulders shake with silent laughter. Blaine’s heart squeezed again.
Prince Porcelain saw him and his whole life changed.
The thought was sobering but with a still beaming Kurt beside him it was hard to stop smiling. He caught Santana’s amused expression and decided to distract her before she did or said something tear-inducing.
“So, She-Devil, how come you’re still in New York?”
“Oh, Shorty, you’ve been trolling the internet for nicknames, haven’t you?” she mocked.
He laughed. “I try my best. Now answer the question.”
Santana rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over the chest. She suddenly radiated reluctance as if she had a juicy secret that she was dying to share but wasn’t sure of the reception it would get. This, of course, made it Blaine’s goal in life to make her confess.
“Why don’t you shut your gob and mind your own business, Male-Berry,” Santana drawled with a heat-less glare. Blaine winked at a smiling Rachel in response to Santana’s pique.
“Did you and Britt have a fight?” Finn asked.
She rolled her eyes. Evidently the idea of a fight between the two of them was unconceivable. “No. I’m just taking a holiday.”
“Without Brit?” Kurt asked in surprise.
Santana sighed and threw her hands in the air. “Brit is in New York as well, Leeches. Mercedes needed a Plus One for tonight since Richard had to fly back to L.A for work,” she explained without really saying anything.
“Ah, the trepidations of being married to a Lit teacher,” Mercedes sighed heavily. “It never stops.”
Kurt shook his head in mock sympathy. “Poor ‘Cedes. All those papers to grade. The constantly changing educational system. Those complaining and bitchy parents…,” he put a hand to his heart while he pretended to wipe a tear with the other.
Blaine’s lips were twitching despite his best efforts to keep them straight.
“Not to mention all those younger and eager teenage girls slavering to get his attention,” Santana added. The smirk on her face would have made the devil squirm.
Mercedes’ smile dropped and she turned to hiss at Santana, “Who told you?”
Kurt and Blaine chocked. They looked at each other, the warmth of the moment catching them both off guard.
“What?” Rachel asked in disbelief.
“One student is sending anonymous love letters,” Mercedes elaborated, obviously annoyed. Turning another glare toward Santana, she demanded to know how she heard about it.
“Actually, I haven’t but it was a reasonable assumption.” Santana tilted her head to the side, the better to taunt Mercedes and added, “God knows, even I feel a bit tingly looking at your husband.”
Mercedes shook her head, muttering to herself but it was clear it was all an act. Even in high school they lived to tease, taunt and torment each other but if it wasn’t what they loved, why would they still be doing it long after their lives had taken each of them on their own path. Blaine once again found himself torn between longing for a past he never had and hope for a future that was still too blurry.
Kurt’s voice brought him to the present. “When I first met him, I was tempted to write a few notes myself,” he teased Mercedes and Blaine saw her lips tremble with contained laughter. He wished he could feel the same. He did not want to hear that Kurt found other guys attractive. Even if that guy was a good friend’s husband and it was all in jest. And that did NOT make him jealous; it made him human. Who wants to hear about their exes lustful thoughts towards other people? No one. So… There! He wasn’t jealous. And the sour taste in his mouth wasn’t jealousy either. Furthermore, the fact that he had to convince himself of the fact didn’t make him jealous either.
No, clearly, it makes you an idiot.
“But, wait! I’m still confused,” Finn interrupted. Blaine smiled as he was reminded of the many times in the past when Finn’s confusion had served to break the tension. “Why are you and Brittany still in New York?”
Santana exhaled in resignation. “Fine! We’re moving here. Happy?”
Finn frowned and Blaine braced himself for the silliness that would surely spew out of his mouth. He wasn’t disappointed. “What about the kids?”
Rachel slapped his arm and rolled her eyes.
“They’re here with us, cretin!” Santana replied shaking her head as if she still couldn’t believe the depth of Finn obliviousness.
“Can we get back to the part where you’re coming to live here?” Rachel asked practically lighting up the limo with the force of her beaming smile.
“It’s not a big deal,” Santana huffed. Blaine recognized the expression on her face. He was suddenly reminded of the seventeen year-old who had so stubbornly fought herself and had no defense against the world but mocking smiles and harsh words.
“You’ve got some nerve,” Kurt muttered starring at Santana until she shrugged. Blaine didn’t understand the meaning of the tense look they exchanged. He tried not to feel left out; he guessed after only a couple of weeks he couldn’t know all their stories yet.
“Explain,” Mercedes demanded.
Blaine watched as Santana locked her jaw; she seemed to be struggling with words. She still hated talking about herself, it seemed. She’d rather rely on her sharp tongue to cut people than to share anything meaningful. Very few people had that privilege. After a few moment of silence, she finally relented. They were those very few people after all and it delighted Blaine that he was included.
“I’ve decided to put my law degree to use,” she crossed her arms defiantly but she wasn’t scowling when she took in their smiling faces. “I have to pass the New York state Bar of course but I think I’d love to be a lawyer and help more people here. Plus Brit and the kids love it here. And, it will be easier for you guys,” she mentioned to Kurt and Rachel with her perfectly manicured hand, “since rehearsals started to have Brit here.”
Rachel actually squealed then and even Santana had no defenses against the grin on her face. Santana’s own smile was delighted, proud and full of eagerness.
“Hm mm. Yeah, so that’s the story. We’ve been living here with Tike,” Blaine had to laugh at the use of their old high school couple name and Santana’s nose scrunched up in the cutest way at the sound and suddenly Blaine felt grounded and connected and so happy he felt a lump rise in his throat. The past was he past. He could lament on it and get stuck in it or he could let go of it. Let the present heal his wounds. There was no reason why he shouldn’t let himself simply be with his friends. Be happy with and for them, because they were his friends. He might not know everything but he knew enough and he loved them enough. He took a deep breath and grinned when both Finn and Mercedes grabbed each of Santana’s hands. “Don’t be too harsh on them; we made them promise not to say anything until I got a job.”
“Congratulations, Santana,” Finn said with a proud smile of his own.
“I still can’t believe you managed to keep this under wrap. I mean, how did you and Tina, the biggest gossips to ever grace the planet, keep it to yourself?” Kurt asked.
Santana’s smile turned a bit wicked at that and Blaine felt Kurt stiffen next to him.
“Well, gee, Kurt, I wonder what could have distracted you so much that you missed something so huge,” she asked tapping her index finger against her chin. Blaine’s shoulder snapped up and he found sudden interest in the shape of his nails. He heard Kurt’s sharp breath intake and old habits took over. Before he realized what he was doing, he took hold of Kurt’s hand. The need to comfort was more important than his fear of rejection. It didn’t stop his heart from thumping loudly against his ribcage as he felt Kurt squeeze his fingers closer. He turned to look at Santana and he found her rubbing a spot in her arm while she glared at Mercedes. He smiled, guessing at what had happened. You always had to get through Mercedes to get to Kurt. He loved her for that.
Rachel grabbed Kurt’s arms and commandeered his attention. Blaine watched him as he chattered with his co-director about rehearsal plans, calling Mike, and the kids’ reception of the news. He looked so happy, so beautiful, so relaxed that Blaine felt his lips tug upward again. He felt happy, too. At that moment, surrounded by true friends, with Kurt’s hand still wrapped in his, warmed over by laughter and the feeling of belonging, he decided to let go. He stopped overthinking; remembering past aches and just let himself be happy for his friends, and maybe for himself as well.
The red carpet leading to the gala/charity/whatever was his mother thinking? Was, and there was no other way to describe it, outrageous. Blaine knew of his mother’s relations; he was aware that she knew everyone and was known by all. He just didn’t realize that everyone included Anne Hathaway and Andrew Garfield. Blaine had just avoided bumping into Ellen and Portia (he had blushed and stammered and fled while the two stars smiled at him). Two minutes ago, he had shook hands with Adam Levine (who ‘adored’ Mercedes). And was that Adele? (“Yes, Blaine, it’s her. I’ll introduce you later,” Kurt had smiled indulgently and pushed him forward with both hands on his shoulders.)
He’d tried getting out of it, explaining to the rest of the group that he could just go in through the other door (he had relations after all) but they had just laughed and almost dragged him after them. It was just a lot to take in. The camera flashes, the shouts, all those smiling celebrities, Blaine felt well out of his depth.
It took a little while but after almost an hour of interviews (not that he was interviewed but Rachel and Mercedes often pulled him along, introducing him, kissing him and generally treating him like he was a new born and the press was the eager relatives, dying for a peak of him) and camera poses and shouting ‘Chanel tux and Dior shoes’ they were finally inside.
Blaine sighed in relief but they had barely found their table when he fervently wished to be back on the red carpet.
He tried not to flinch but the way she had said it, so sweet and so loud, hurt his ears and his soul in equal measures. He turned around and he was proud of himself for the smile that appeared on his face.
“Hi, Mom,” lame as it sounded, it seemed enough. What he said wasn’t of much interest for her; he’d learned that a long time ago.
She looked perfect. Perfect dress (a vintage Alexander McQueen of deep amber), perfect hair, perfect smile, perfect make-up… Perfect all over and Blaine resented it. She kissed his cheek (or at least she brushed her cheeks against his in what felt like everything but a motherly kiss) and then appraised his company. Her eyes delightfully latched on Rachel, Mercedes and Santana but when they fell on Kurt, the smile finally turned hard and false. He couldn’t help it, Blaine felt himself prickle all over in defiance and hurt.
“Mom, you remember Finn, Rachel, Mercedes, Santana and of course, Kurt,” he smiled but he knew his eyes were cold.
“Why, of course, darling. Your friends from Lima,” she gave a jerky sort of nod that made her look like a Muppet. “What a lovely surprise. Please, do sit. I hope you’ll have a lovely time,” she turned to Blaine, obviously done with that. “Blaine, sweetheart, don’ tell me you came alone,” he didn’t miss the edge in her tone.
She wasn’t happy about Kurt. She’d never been happy about Kurt. Blaine had understood a long time ago that it was the reason why his relationship with his mother had gone astray over the years. She’d never liked the only person he had loved more than life itself. At first, he’d thought that she was simply against the whole ‘boyfriend’ part of the equation but the more time passed, the more he realized that it was Kurt, the person that she disliked. She’d never said anything about it; she was too well-mannered for that but her eyes always turned cold and her movements were stiffer around Kurt. His suspicions were confirmed when he overheard her once comparing Kurt to a peasant’s son to his dad. And that summarized his darling mother in a nutshell. She put people into boxes and it wouldn’t be so bad if she at least chose the right boxes. She had judged Kurt and his background without really knowing him. If she had listened she would have known that Kurt was the most wonderful person he had ever met and there wasn’t anyone who could say otherwise. At least, not people who really knew him.
How can a mother/son relationship function under those terms? It couldn’t and it didn’t matter that he wasn’t with Kurt any more (or hadn’t been for years); he never really recovered from the blow. After the break-up, she had kept on repeating how it was time for new and better things. She’d been so cheerful. Sometimes, in his darkest times, Blaine thought he’d never forgive her for being so happy when he had been so devastated. It had been one of the reasons why he’d been glad to be all the way across the country at the time.
So it was with a bit of mean satisfaction that he smiled at his mother and declared, “Kurt is my date, Mom.”
Marie-Anne’s smile turned positively rigid and her eyes glittered icily but she wisely kept her mouth shut. It wouldn’t do to cause a scene, of course.
“Have a nice evening and don’t forget to donate for the cause,” she told everyone around the table and promptly left. A stunned silence followed her departure and Blaine was already regretting his actions. This was exactly why he tried to avoid his mother as much as possible. She had the knack for turning him into a monster. A bitter, needy, sad, idiocies-spewing monster.
“Wow,” was Finn’s articulate exclamation.
“You weren’t kidding about your mother,” Mercedes said, her eyebrows so high on her forehead, they almost disappeared under her hairline.
Blaine, however, didn’t have anything to say. He was looking at Kurt; ashamed and anxious. Kurt smiled sadly at him, mouthing ‘It’s okay’.
It wasn’t. Of course, it wasn’t but it will soon be. Just a few more hours and they’d all be free.
As the friends settled down and conversation finally started flowing Kurt offered to go to the bar and order drinks. There were plenty of waiters waltzing around the tables but he needed the excuse. He needed a few moments to himself to just breathe and not have Blaine just a distance away. The skin of his hand was still tingling from the ghost of Blaine’s touch. Just the thought of it made his breath hitch in his throat.
The situation was getting stickier by the second. Taking into consideration everything that had been happening all day long, he was quite proud of himself for not seeking a quiet place, rolling into the fetal position and rocking himself back and forth until he could breathe again. There was the fact that fifteen years had not lessened the attraction; Blaine Anderson was still the most beautiful thing he had ever beheld. Add to that their (deluded) friends’ involvement, Mrs. Anderson’s dirty looks (some things really never changed, did they? Oh! How he had enjoyed the look on her face when Blaine called him his date. Of course, he knew Blaine was just antagonizing his mother and it was technically not a date but he had liked the sound of that more than he should have), the fact that Blaine looked particularly delectable in a tux (always have and probably always will) and Kurt knew he was in trouble. His fluttering stomach was in knots and his heart seemed to be permanently lodged somewhere around his Adam-apple. In other words, Kurt was back to being seventeen; back when every little emotion was linked to an over-gelled boyfriend of his.
He ordered the drinks and let Jennifer Moonsy’s (a young and rising star of the music industry) sweet and husky voice settle over him as he waited for them. Someone came up to him but he ignored them.
“You look exactly like someone who’s attending a Marie-Anne Anderson party should,” a familiar voice drawled next to him. Kurt smiled despite himself. Leaning against the bar, drinking a bloody Mary, and eyeing him warily was one of his favorite people in the world. She looked gorgeous and alive and so dear; his heart ached.
“And what is that, Beatrice?”
She tilted her head in a thoughtful manner. “Miserable, a little frightened and a lot mortified,” she replied.
The more he looked, the more beautiful she got. She always had that effect on people. She just lit up any place she was in. The Anderson curse he used to call it. It had been one of his favorite parts of being in a relationship with Blaine. Kurt could make this kind of outrageously flattering comments and never worry that his boyfriend would get a big head. The way Blaine would always smile sheepishly and blush softly afterwards used to make his heart melt.
Kurt wanted to launch himself at Bea and hold her until the wariness disappeared from her eyes but he knew that it wasn’t possible. What she said next only confirmed his thoughts.
“Not that you don’t deserve it,” her tone was hard and unyielding. Kurt’s back stiffened in response. He deserved it, of course, but it still cut him through like a sharp knife to the guts. He wanted to explain, make her understand but what was the point? Sometimes, he wasn’t sure he understood either. He’d been driven by fear (something he was still ashamed of) that day; it had blinded him. Of course he had regretted it but his wishful thinking didn’t change the past.
However, there was still something he wanted to say.
“I’ve missed you, you know?” She nodded. “I’m sorry.”
She nodded, again. “I should probably tell you something lame and cliché like: ‘It’s not me you should be apologizing to,’” Kurt almost laughed at her dramatic tone. “But the truth is: you did hurt me, too.” His anguish must have shown on his face because her eyes softened. “I had so many plans for us and for the two of you. It broke my heart.” Kurt’s throat dried at her words. He’d had so many plans, too.
She must have been waiting for a chance to say all this to him because despite her thoroughness in crushing his spirits, she wasn’t done yet.
“And you chose to break-up with him the week before he had to leave for college on the other side of the country which means he had to go through it all alone. That was particularly cruel,” Bea’s tone was flat which made her reproachful (and truthful) words hurt that much more.
“I didn’t mean to be cruel. I never wanted to leave him. I… I don’t know… I just didn’t want it to end bitterly,” he tried to explain, his voice as hollow as his heart.
There was pity in Bea’s eyes, then. He wasn’t sure which he hated the most; her accusation or her pity.
“You know what’s really sad about this? In the end, you didn’t really know him. He would have gone through it. For you, he would have done it all.”
Kurt’s chest suddenly feels too tight, the pain inflicted upon him almost too sharp and too huge to bear. The fact that he was still standing was a testimony to his self-control and his many years of work on Broadway. He knew Blaine. He knew Blaine better than he knew himself and no one, not even Bea, had the right to say otherwise. How could he call her out, though? His past actions were his only proof and his last act towards Blaine had been cruelly selfish. He had no defense.
His heart shaking and his voice barely above a whisper, he asked, “How do you know? You have no way of knowing what would have become of us. No one does.”
She took a sip of her cocktail and then looked at him as if he was dim-witted. It was a look he often saw Rachel give Finn and the thought wasn’t flattering.
“You’re an idiot.”
Despite his misery, Kurt felt a bubble of laughter climbing up his throat. It felt strange and uncomfortable and amazingly good.
“Oh, I know,” he said with a small smile and for the first time since this horrible conversation started, he saw warmth in her beautiful hazel eyes.
“He’s still the same, you know? He’s still the same boy you fell in love with.”
“I don’t know about that,” he argued because for all the similarities between teenage Blaine and Doctor Anderson, Kurt had seen many differences. Blaine stands taller (not literally, though because Blaine’s last growth spurt happened when he was fourteen, he’d often lamented), there’s a bit more defiance to him, a little less sweetness and even though Kurt knew he probably had changed in the same ways and even if he had no right to, he still mourned his eager-to-please, sweet-smiling boyfriend.
Bea shakes her head with an enchanting small smile. “His skin is a little bit tougher and he doesn’t finance hair-gel companies any more but his heart hasn’t changed.”
Kurt felt tears prickle behind his eyelids. She surprised him by taking hold of his hand. She squeezed reassuringly and Kurt was able to take a deep breath. He didn’t choke on the depth of emotions which was trying to dislodge his heart like he’d been afraid to.
“You’re killing me,” he whispered because this was everything he feared and everything he never dared to hope. (That wasn’t true, though. No matter what bullshit he keeps repeating himself, he’d always hoped for Blaine, even if it was just in small ways.)
Bea leaned her head against his shoulder in an old, familiar gesture that twisted his insides. “He’s still yours.”
He lost the battle. Tears started to fall and he had the scary thought that they might never stop. Bea took charge, then. She asked a passing waiter to bring the drinks to their tables and led Kurt to the ladies room. She waited quietly while he freshened up.
“Better?” she asked when he felt more human.
“Yes, thank you.”
“This doesn’t mean that you have been forgiven,” she said her eyes twinkling.
“Will a new pair of Louboutin do?”
“It would certainly help.”
The evening seemed to be a success. After a few poignant, heart-felt speeches about equality and support and hope for a better world (Blaine had tried really hard not to roll his eyes when his mother had said that but when he caught Bea’s eyes across the table, he gave in and rolled his eyes so far back in his head it almost hurt and it had felt good) and a copious dinner, music started again and people started dancing.
Adam Levine was on stage, belting out Misery and Blaine had to smile because of course he’d sing that song. And then, he was being pulled out of his chair by Santana and Mercedes. He saw Rachel pull Bea and James to their feet as well and in a matter of seconds the whole group was on the dance floor dancing their asses off. Adam Levine made place to Florence + The Machine who brought the house down with The Dog Days Are Over. By then Blaine was having the time of his life. It didn’t seem to matter anymore that he was at one of his mother’s ‘parties’ and that he had sworn to get out of there as soon as was humanely possible. All that mattered was his friends and how they formed a circle and how they laughed and hugged and rubbed inappropriately against each other and how his sister was in Kurt’s arms while James was shaking his ass against Mercedes and that she was laughing like she had never laughed before. He was sweating and he was thirsty but his heart was full and his soul seemed to have become alive again. There was a pause while Adele (‘Jesus! Adele!’ He’d yelled in Kurt’s ear and Kurt had laughed and patted his shoulder indulgently and Blaine felt so happy he was pretty sure he could fly) prepared on stage and the friends went back to the table to get drinks. The men dropped their jackets on the back of their chairs. Blaine knew he wouldn’t be dancing because Adele’s music was more appropriate for slow dancing but he didn’t mind. He was glad to just sit and watch Bea and James or Rachel and Finn. Mercedes and Santana took the opportunity to go to the bathroom and Blaine almost scowled at their sacrilege because, Hello! Adele was on stage, but he suddenly realized that he was now alone with Kurt and the thought eclipsed any other. Even Adele.
Blaine felt alive. It was an odd thought to have during a gala, but it was nonetheless true. Life was coursing through his veins in a rush that felt strangely like music and he just wanted to stare at Kurt profile and if that made him strange than, yes, he was strange. Kurt was watching the performance with a small smile on his face and he looked ethereally beautiful despite the redness of his eyes. The discussion he had with Bea at the bar didn’t escape Blaine and he hoped she hadn’t shaken Kurt up.
He sighed because it was Bea so, of course, she had.
“I hope Bea wasn’t too harsh,” he said.
Kurt’s sudden tension was palpable. “She didn’t say anything I didn’t need to hear.”
“It’s all right, don’t worry,” Kurt finally turned his head to smile at him. “I know she means well.”
“The roads to hell…,” Blaine drawled and Kurt chuckled.
“Even if I believed in Heaven and Hell I could never accept that Beatrice Anderson could end up in Hell.”
“You didn’t grow up with her,” Blaine dead-panned and when Kurt laughed, his heart swelled to three times its size. “But, seriously though, is everything okay?”
Kurt nodded. “Yeah,” his voice was soft and tender. “Everything is okay.”
Kurt looked back to the stage, eye glinting in the dim light. What did it say about Blaine that he was surrounded by super stars, a once in a lifetime opportunity to sneak a hug on Ellen or talk music with Michael Bubble but he remained seated, watching a face he knew so well, he could draw it with his eyes closed.
“I had no idea your mother was so… influential,” Kurt broke the silence.
“Well, being the devil surely has its perks,” Blaine replied.
“Your mother isn’t the devil,” Kurt rolled his eyes.
“She works for him, then?”
For a moment, it looked like Kurt wanted to say something else but Mercedes and Santana were suddenly there, dragging them to their feet while Adele started her classic selection and the first few notes of Make You Feel My Love were heard.
Blaine put an arm around Santana and they swayed to the heart-melting song.
“Christ on a bike Lopez, how high are your heels,” Blaine mumbled with a frown when his curly head barely reached Santana’s nose. It caused Santana to laugh so much, she had to stop dancing.
“Oh, Anderson,” she said with a shake of her head when she calmed down. She smiled, almost sweetly, before pulling him back to her and it was more of a moving hug than actual dancing but Blaine felt too good to complain.
At the end of the evening, which was closer to very early morning, the first person to be dropped off was Blaine. Everyone got out of the car which was a feat on its own considering the level of alcohol, giddiness and tiredness of everyone involved. Blaine assured them that he was only tipsy but he kept saying how ‘awesome’ everyone was and how much he wanted them to be happy so… yeah, not so much tipsy as foxed out of his wits.
They all hugged. Literally, in the middle of a New York sidewalk, all six of them hugging and giggling and stumbling.
“You guys are awesome,” Blaine said once again causing Finn to snort.
“Mama Anderson might be a cold bitch but she knows how to throw a party!” Santana laughed.
“Preach,” Mercedes concurred.
“Okay, enough,” Kurt intervened. He grabbed Blaine by the shoulder and gently but sternly led him towards his front door.
“You’re the most awesome,” Blaine grinned idiotically and Kurt shook his head, trying valiantly to hide a smile but failing.
“You’re the most drunk. Now, gimme your keys,” Kurt asked.
Blaine’s confusion at that moment was probably the most adorable thing Kurt had ever seen in his life. “Your keys, Blaine, so I can get you inside,” Kurt explained, pointing to the door.
“Hey, that’s my home,” Blaine grinned.
“How astute, Drunky. Now give me your keys before my fingers get frost bitten.”
Blaine started looking through his pockets and after a few dangerous drunken swaying, he finally got them out. Kurt decided to put his arm around Blaine, just to prevent any accidents, that was all. If his heartbeat went through the roof at the feel of Blaine’s firm and warm body against his own, it was a secret he would be more than happy to keep for himself.
Blaine pointed to his apartment, which thankfully was on the ground floor, and Kurt led them to the door. The hallway window was open and their idiot friends were still outside, laughing and making a general nuisance of themselves.
“Geddit Hummel!” Santana yelled and Kurt groaned out loud. She was already on his list for her earlier comment in the limousine. Kurt went to the window and leaned out of it.
“You better shut it, Santana or I will shove those monstrosity you call shoes down your throat.”
The only reply he got was a wink. As if that would make sense.
“Shut up!” he said again, unable to let her have the last word and then, he went back to the still smiling Blaine.
“You’re a good friend,” Blaine said softly, bringing his hand floppily to Kurt’s shoulder in a gesture that was surely meant affectionately. As a mean of distraction, Kurt grabbed the keys from Blaine’s hands and tried a few of them before he found the correct one.
Later, he’d probably regret not getting a better look at Blaine’s place but in that moment he was more focused on getting Blaine safely to bed (Oh, the field day Santana would have with this) than anything else.
“Bedroom?” he asked and rolled his eyes at the saucy smile Blaine gave him. “If I was mean, I’d take a picture of that stupid smile and blackmail you with it for the rest of your life.”
“But you’re not mean, Kurt Hummel.”
“I could be.”
“No, you couldn’t.” Blaine went to the couch and simply flopped down on it. A few seconds later, he was gone to the world. Kurt smiled fondly at the image he presented. He took a picture then, another secret between him and himself. There were some temptations that were meant to be yielded to. He thought about rousing him to at least take his tux jacket off but he knew from experience that it wouldn’t be happening. Instead, Kurt took off Blaine’s shoes, draped the couch afghan over Blaine and before he could think better of it, he dropped a kiss on his forehead.
He froze when he felt Blaine shift.
“Good night, Kurt,” he mumbled sleepily, eyes still closed while Kurt’s heart was fighting its way out of his ribcage. “Thank you for being my date, tonight.”
The moment was almost too surreal for Kurt’s tired brain. “You’re quite welcome. Sweet dreams, Blaine,” he whispered back. He stayed for a few more minutes, sitting on Blaine’s coffee table, watching him sleep. Calm settled over him and he had the irrational wish that time could just stop and let him enjoy this serenity forever. He thought about all Bea had said earlier and how desperate it made him. Desperate for a past that was long gone and desperate to have this man (this wonderful, absurdly gorgeous, undeniably flawed yet perfect man) in his life for as long as he could. He thought about the silly evening they just had and the many more they could share. He thought about all his past mistakes and how none of them compared to the pain of losing Blaine. He thought that if he let himself, he’d fall in love again as easily as it was to breathe.
The honking of the limo outside brought him back to reality. He was almost out of the door when he saw a notepad and a pen on a table in the hallway.
Sorry about the tux. I hope it’s not ruined.
Call me if you need the name of a good dry cleaner.
Kurt aka The Most Awesome.
Maybe he could stop being desperate and just be happy.
A/N: I must apologize for the delay. I had to rewrite this chapter a couple of times to get it where I wanted it to go. I feel comfortable with this and I hope you enjoyed.