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Title: My Arms Won’t Free You, and My Heart Won’t Try
Rating: M
Word Count: 7,000
Characters: Kurt/Blaine
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Hot, steamy, in-public lake sex
Betas: The divine dazzlebug and judearaya
Summary: AU. Ten years after leaving Ohio for New York City, Kurt meets Blaine through an online dating site and they strike up a long-distance romance. This is the story of their first Fourth of July together.

A/N: This is part of a larger AU I’m writing about Kurt and Blaine meeting through an online dating site. So if you like this fic, make sure to follow me on Tumblr for updates on when I plan to post more in this ‘verse! Lyrics at the end and the fic title are from the song “The More I See You” (this version by Michael Bublé).

The lake scene is inspired by this beautiful artwork by the incredibly talented dreamingpartone for the kbl_reversebang!

Seven days. They’d only ever spent seven days together in the flesh. Seven glorious days exploring every inch of each other: the sound of their laughter, the dimples their smiles whittled into their cheeks, the foods they liked to prepare, the secret spots behind their ears and knees where they moaned and sighed when the other kissed him.Collapse )

Current Mood: accomplishedaccomplished

Title: The Noble Struggle
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,642 (although almost 300 of that is, of all things, the Gettysburg Address)
Summary: Kurt and Blaine take a weekend trip to Washington, DC, where they reflect upon civil rights in America.

Author’s Note: I started this so long ago – last summer, when I played tour guide for my family in downtown DC. I was inspired after reading a few famous quotes downtown at the monuments. Actually, when I saw this sign I knew I had to write something.

Finally inspired to finish this after watching tonight’s amazing performance of “8.” If you haven’t seen it, please watch it now! (Wellllll, read this first…then watch it!)


It was September when Blaine suggested a weekend vacation to Washington, DC. Kurt raised a dubious eyebrow at his idea – what could possibly be so important to see that wasn’t in New York? – until he remembered what was in the nation’s capital.Collapse )

Current Mood: sleepysleepy

Title: The Twelfth Rose
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine
Rating: M
Word Count: 3,667
Spoilers: Spoilers and (likely very wrong) speculation for 3x11 “Michael” and 3x13 “Heart”
Warnings: Language. Frottage. The very, very slightest dom!Kurt, sub!Blaine.
Summary: You didn’t think Blaine would only give Kurt eleven roses for Valentine’s Day, did you? Here’s what happens when Kurt gets his twelfth rose. Sequel to Eleven Roses. (You kind of need to read that first.)

Author’s Note: So, I had no intention of writing a sequel to Eleven Roses. But then some lovely commenters were wondering about the twelfth rose in the dozen, and my mind wandered and this happened. I don’t do smut very often, so I’ve sandwiched it around heaps of fluff.

Thank you to everyone who read and enjoyed Eleven Roses, and for all the comments and recs and reblogs! I <3 every single one of you.

(Also posted on Tumblr and Scarves & Coffee)


“You must know. Surely you must know, it was all for you.”Collapse )

Current Mood: curiouscurious

Title: Eleven Roses
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2,100
Spoilers: Spoilers/speculation for 3x11 “Michael” and 3x13 Valentine’s Day episode
Summary: Kurt isn’t looking forward to Valentine’s Day at school without Blaine. Little does he know that Blaine has devised an alternative plan to make up for his absence.

Author’s Note: I was reading spoilers and Tumblr speculation and, well…this just happened. Complete and utter fluff to placate my fellow Klainers about the potential of a Blaine-less Valentine’s Day episode. Also, this-is-how-I-would-include-Klaine-in-the-Valentine’s-Day-episode-if-one-of-its-stars-happened-to-be-on-Broadway-during-filming. (Sigh.) Enjoy!


Kurt frowned at himself in his bedroom mirror as he adjusted his tie. He’d picked a deep, silky red: festive and appropriate for the holiday, even though he didn’t feel like celebrating at all. Not when he had to spend Valentine’s Day without his boyfriend.Collapse )

Current Mood: accomplishedaccomplished

Title: New York, New York | Part One: Road Full of Promise (11/13)
Rating: R
Characters: Kurt/Blaine, Finn, Burt/Carole, assorted family members and OCs
Spoilers: Through 2x22 “New York”
Warnings: Description of a violent hate crime; adult language
Word Count: 6,004
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters. I’m just borrowing them for a little while.
Summary: The visual was strikingly similar to the last time they were in this room together. But Blaine could feel the difference in the air now: no longer rife with tension, but instead wistful, familial. It was like his father had been sitting there since August, waiting for his son to come home.

Author's Note: Is it pathetic that I’ve had this chapter drafted since September? (Don’t answer that.) Anyway, here is the long-awaited reunion between Blaine and his father. I thought long and hard about Blaine’s dad and what could have influenced the way he sees his son. Everybody has experiences that shape how they view the world and react to things. So Blaine learns a lot about his dad’s character and behavior here. All of this will be important way down the road in part three, too.

Also: The incident described in this chapter is completely fictional.

If you really want to get into it, listen to this song as you start reading the scene with Blaine's father. (The lyrics aren’t exactly the same, but this is the version I had on loop while writing this chapter.)

Previous chapters: Kurtain (prologue) | Admission (prologue) | Spark (one-shot) | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten


Unf,” Blaine groaned unintelligibly as he plopped down on the couch next to Kurt, nestling his face into Kurt’s shoulder.

“Sounds like somebody’s satisfied,” Kurt remarked in a smug tone, his arm snaking behind Blaine's waist to wrap him in a half-embrace. He rubbed gentle circles against the soft fabric at Blaine’s lower back as he continued flipping through Carole’s copy of Martha Stewart Living with his other hand.

“That was so good.” Blaine’s drowsy, satiated voice was muffled against Kurt’s sweater. “Promise you’ll always make that for Christmas Eve dinner, forever?"

Kurt turned his face toward Blaine’s head and placed a feather-light kiss on top of his gelled hair. “If that’s what you want, my dear.”

“Okay, boys,” Burt announced as he walked into the living room, Finn in tow. Blaine managed to straighten up a little at the sound of his voice, despite being stuffed to the brim with Kurt’s champagne-glazed ham. He’d grown comfortable at the Hummels’ home since arriving three days ago, but he wasn’t going to push his luck.

“Finn and I are going to the mall to do some Christmas shopping.” Burt moved into the foyer, pulling on his coat and grabbing his keys from the table by the door. “Anybody got any last-minute requests for Santa?”

Blaine looked between Burt and Finn, confused. “Wait. You leave your Christmas shopping till…” He trailed off as he looked down at his watch. “Six-thirty p.m. on Christmas Eve?”

Burt shook his head, mock disappointment in his expression. “I see you’ve recruited him to your side, Kurt.”

“It’s ridiculous.” Kurt threw Blaine a sideways glance, rolling his eyes, before turning his focus back to the magazine. “You do this every year. It’s a miracle you ever find anything, or make it out of there alive.”

Burt grinned. “Makes it more interesting, doesn’t it? It’s like a big game. How fast can I get in there, get through the lines and get the hell out?”

“I bet Carole had all her Christmas shopping done two weeks ago.”

“See, that’s part of the strategy, too. Always make your spouse look better than you.” Burt pointed an index finger between Kurt and Blaine. “That’s an important life lesson, boys.” He waved at them, calling back as he and Finn headed out the door. “Don’t stay up too late, or else Santa won’t come!”

As the door closed behind them, Blaine settled back into the couch cushions with a little laugh. “So, when do I get my Christmas present?” he asked in a low, flirtatious voice, turning to Kurt and giving him a roguish smirk.

Kurt opened his mouth to respond when the sound of Blaine’s ring tone pierced through the air between them. Blaine quickly dug his phone out of his pocket, staring at the single word on the screen for a moment before angling it so Kurt could read.


“Be right back.” Blaine’s heart was racing as he got up from the couch and walked out of the living room, ducking into the kitchen to answer the call. “Hi, Mom.”

“Blaine.” Her voice sounded warm, relieved. “Where are you, dear?”

“I’m at Kurt’s house. We just had dinner.”

“Oh.” There was a long pause. Blaine heard a slide of static, and then muffled voices in the background. “I’m just starting dinner now,” she said when she came back to the line. “I was hoping you would come over.”

“Mom…I don’t—”

“Please, Blaine. He…” she trailed off as the distant voice spoke again. This time, Blaine could clearly identify his father’s deep, rumbling tone, muttering something indistinct. “I think you should talk to each other.”

“He could call me if he wanted to talk.”

Enough, Blaine.” Blaine flinched at her sharp rebuke. “I do not want my family apart anymore. Not on Christmas.” She was quiet for a moment; then she laughed lightly, embarrassed. “Look what you stubborn, stubborn men do to me. Sweetheart, you need to come home.”

Blaine felt it again – that wave of yearning crashing over his body. “All right,” he mumbled. “I’ll be over there in twenty minutes or so.”

I’m going home, he thought anxiously as he hung up the phone. How many times had he imagined about this moment? Wondered if it would happen, when it would happen? The circumstances, the consequences?

By the time Blaine returned to the living room, Carole had joined Kurt; he could hear them gushing over their favorite Christmas spreads in Carole’s magazines as he approached. Kurt turned his attention to Blaine, looking up at him with wide, concerned eyes.

“I’m going home for a little while,” Blaine began, his quiet voice revealing his nerves. He fiddled with his phone, tossing it from one hand to the other to relieve the edgy sensation shimmering through his limbs.

Kurt nodded slowly. “Okay. Do you…want me to go with you?”

Blaine’s heart burst with love at Kurt’s sweet, tentative question. “I think I’ll be okay,” he answered bravely, offering Kurt a grateful smile. “I should…I need to be alone with them for a little while.”

“All right.” Kurt jumped up from the couch and shuffled over to the foyer. “Here,” he said, removing his keys from the table and pressing them into Blaine’s hands. “Take my car.”

He’d never driven Kurt’s car by himself, Blaine realized; the absent thought drifting somewhere in the far reaches of his mind. It was a silly little milestone in their relationship, but for some reason it helped comfort him.

“Thank you.” Blaine leaned in to kiss Kurt on the cheek, cognizant of Carole’s presence in the room. As they held each other, Blaine pressed his face tightly against Kurt’s, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to draw all the strength he could from their soft, intimate contact. “I don’t know when I’ll be back,” he murmured.

“That’s fine. I’ll be here. Just call me if you need me.”

With one last hopeful smile, Blaine walked out of Kurt’s house and headed home.


It felt so strange, Blaine thought, to knock on the door of his own home, as if he were an acquaintance, rather than a member, of the family who lived inside. But it felt even more unnatural to simply walk in as if nothing had happened. So he stayed in place on the front stoop, listening to the footsteps that grew closer.

When his mother opened the door, her familiar face brightened at the sight of her only son. “Blaine,” she cooed, reaching out to cup Blaine’s cheeks in her hands. “My baby.” Her hands slid down to his shoulders, then around, enveloping him in a secure, loving embrace.

Blaine breathed in the scent of her perfume; the tiniest bit of relief flooding his senses along with the gentle, flowery fragrance. “Hi, Mom.”

“I missed you so much, sweetheart.”

Blaine felt tears prick behind his eyes. “I missed you, too.”

She ushered Blaine into the house, fussing over him just the same way she always did; taking his coat and scarf and hanging them on his peg on the wall, alongside the rest of his family’s winter wear. She plucked invisible lint from his cardigan, then ran her hands down his arms.

“You’ve lost weight,” she observed, her forehead etched with concern.

“I’m fine, Mom. I’ve just been really busy. My schedule was intense—”

He was interrupted by a high-pitched shriek and the sound of feet thumping down the hall. Bridget.

Blaine huffed out a laugh as his little sister threw herself at him, nearly squeezing the breath out of his lungs.

“Blaine Blaine Blaine Blaine!”

“Oh my god, please don’t kill me. It’s Christmas!” Blaine joked, prying her arms from around his chest. “Get off, get off! Let me look at you!”

Bridget finally pulled back; her hazel eyes alight with joy over the return of her beloved brother. Blaine patted the top of her loose curls, cascading past her shoulders in dark, glossy waves. “Jeez, you’ve grown!”

“Almost two inches!” she boasted proudly. “I’m going to be taller than you soon.”

“Wow. I’ve been back home for approximately forty-five seconds, and you’re already insulting me.” Blaine gave her arm a light shove. “I feel so welcome.”

They gabbed excitedly for a few minutes about school and Bridget’s ballet and Blaine’s music, their mother looking on at her children with content happiness. As they talked, Blaine couldn’t help but let his eyes wander down the hall to the soft, pretty light spilling out from the living room doorway.

His mother followed his gaze. “Your father’s in the living room. Why don’t you go say hello?”

Blaine hesitated. “I—“

“Come on, Bridget.” His mother cut him off, taking her daughter by the hand. “We need to finish up dinner if you still want to bake afterwards.”

Bridget looked back at Blaine as she led her away. “She’s showing me how to make chocolate chip cookies!”

Blaine grinned. “I’m going to eat them all,” he teased after their retreating figures. He tried to hold on to his smile, but it slipped as soon as he was alone again. His fear was too big; his anxiety flowing red-hot through his veins.

He pressed his lips together tightly, biting them from inside his mouth as he forced himself to take one step forward, then another, toward the living room. With each quiet step on plush carpet, Blaine could feel his heart dance faster in his chest, hear his pulse race louder in his ears. When he finally reached the doorway, he stopped for a moment to take it all in.

The room was dim and golden, lit only by the tiny white lights on the Christmas tree and the electric candles glowing in each window. Blaine's heart lurched a little when his eyes fell on his father, sitting in his chair with a snifter of brandy in his hand; his face downturned and shadowed in the muted light.

The visual was strikingly similar to the last time they were in this room together. But Blaine could feel the difference in the air now: no longer rife with tension, but instead wistful, familial. It was like his father had been sitting there since August, waiting for his son to come home.

The sounds of clanging pans and happy, girlish voices wafted in from the kitchen, mixing with soft Christmas music that drifted from the speakers in one corner of the room.

Christmas future is far away
Christmas past is past
Christmas present is here today
Bringing joy that may last

Blaine finally stepped into the room; the single creaky floorboard underneath his feet giving away his presence. When his father looked up at him, Blaine stopped again. The two men stared at each other, silent and still, for a long moment.

Blaine swallowed hard, drawing upon his budding acting training to keep his expression carefully blank. He wasn’t about to reveal the weight of his fear in his gaze, or the shake of nerves rattling his teeth. It was so hard, though, the way his father looked at him with pained, anxious eyes.

“Blaine.” His father’s voice broke on the single syllable of his son’s name. He cleared his throat before continuing, gesturing over to the couch. “Sit down, son.”

Wordlessly, Blaine obeyed, settling into the worn, familiar brown leather, littered with colorful crocheted throw pillows his grandmother had taught Bridget how to make.

“Blaine,” his father began again. His voice sounded steadier this time; more like the steely lawyer Blaine knew. “Did I ever tell you about my first internship in law school?”

Are you serious? He’s really still trying to get me to be a fucking lawyer. “Dad…” Blaine trailed off, his voice a warning tone.

“Just—” His father raised a hand to silence him. “Just listen to me. Please.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “I’ve never told you this. I’ve never told anyone this. Only your mother.”

Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Let your heart be light
From now on our troubles will be out of sight

He took a long sip from his brandy, seemingly stalling for more time. Finally, he spoke again on a quiet exhale. “After my second year at Notre Dame, I got an internship with a top prosecutor in Indianapolis. I competed with a lot of people to get that job. It was an honor to be chosen.” His gaze skimmed over the Christmas tree, its bright lights twinkling cheerfully in the night.

“The first case I was part of was a murder trial. This high school kid out somewhere in…Muncie, I think it was. He and some other kids were accused of beating a fifteen-year-old boy to death. I…it was a hate crime, Blaine.” He suddenly met Blaine’s gaze again; his hard eyes misty with unshed tears. “The boy they were accused of killing was gay.”

Blaine blinked at him. Slowly, surely, the sick heat of realization seeped into his body, cell by cell.

“I saw the photos of the crime scene in court. They—” His father stopped short, cleared his throat. “They tied him up. Smashed his head in with a fucking hammer. The one kid’s fingerprints were all over the weapon. It was premeditated homicide, clear as day. God knows how long they’d been planning it.

“I’ll never forget the day the verdict came in. The kid we were prosecuting? Guilty of manslaughter.” He laughed bitterly. “Five years in prison. Five fucking years, Blaine. And another five years’ probation.” He shook his head, sneering at the memory. “His defense was that the gay kid had come on to him. Made him so uncomfortable that he cried in his room at night and stopped going to school. It was bullshit.” Another sharp sigh, another swig of alcohol.

“When you were assaulted, it was like my worst nightmare was coming true. All I could think was…that’s going to be my child.” His father pursed his lips, warring with the tears that threatened to spill over. “Some jury’s going to look at a photo of his dead body in a courtroom and decide his life wasn’t worth as much as a straight kid’s.

“So I – I wanted to change you, Blaine. I know that doesn’t make sense now. But some part of me thought I could. Thought that you could change. That if we went golfing and built the shed and worked on that car together, you might, I don’t know…tap into a different part of yourself.” He sighed again, trailing off. “At least you’d be doing something that wouldn’t make you a target.”

Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Make the yuletide gay
From now on our troubles will be miles away

Blaine gaped in disbelief; unable to wrap his mind around the broken, vulnerable version of the man that sat before him. Everything had seemed so black and white until now: his father’s discomfort with his sexuality and his musical ambitions, his disappointment that Blaine wouldn’t follow in his footsteps. Blaine had always attributed his behavior to simple pride and image – a need to impress those on the outside, concern over what others might think. Never had he imagined his father had these layers, these secrets hidden deep in his heart.

Blaine didn’t think much anymore about that night, so long ago now, that he spent splayed out on hard, rough asphalt. He could still bring the memories back if he let himself – the feel of tiny rocks and broken glass digging into the fresh cuts and bruises on his face, the sound of feet pounding on pavement, of hideous laughter as the bullies ran away.

So he didn’t. He’d come too far, grown too much since then. But apparently, the memories still haunted others more than he knew.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Blaine asked, his voice a hoarse whisper.

His father considered the question, shrugged a little in response. “Back then, I didn’t want to talk about it. We were all going through a lot at the time. I thought it would be easier to ignore it. If we sent you to a new school and urged you to follow a different path, everything would be okay. I knew you were going to have a difficult life otherwise. There were always going to be people who wanted to hurt you.”

Blaine's mind traveled back to all the times that his father had dismissed his dreams, made him feel guilty for being himself. The awkward bonding attempts, the stilted dinner conversations. The tension that had bubbled up and overflowed on that hot, angry night in August, and the resulting stress and loneliness that had sat like lead in his soul.

It was a different kind of bullying than the beating he’d received, or the brutal violence his father had been exposed to. But that’s what it had been, hadn’t it?

We lost so much time together, Blaine thought woefully. One tragedy beget another. Kurt was right, his mother was right – this needed to end.

Here we are as in olden days
Happy golden days of yore

“You were one of those people, Dad,” Blaine said quietly, idly twisting the bright fabric of a pillow in his hands as he spoke.  “Do you understand? You didn’t hurt me physically, but…you made me feel like I wasn’t worth as much as a straight kid.”

His father hung his head, staring into the deep amber pool of his glass. “I see that now.”

Blaine pressed on; the words flowing out of him easily. “Everybody has a hard life sometimes. The hardest thing about mine hasn’t been that I’m gay. It’s been the way you treated me. I felt worthless. You tried to mold me into what you thought was better instead of supporting me the way I am.” This is what he had wanted to say, really wanted his father to know – simple honesty, stripped of venom. “And this whole semester? I thought I’d lost my family. Do you know how hard that was? You said you didn’t want me to come crawling back here. As if I was doomed to fail. You never trusted me, or believed in me."

“You’re right.” His father nodded slowly, sadly, then let out a long sigh. “Son, all we want as parents is the best for our children. I thought I knew what that was for you. I let my own experience and fears get in the way of understanding you. And instead of being honest, I resorted to arguing and name calling.” He leaned forward in his chair, bringing himself as close as he could to Blaine; matching pairs of golden eyes staring at each other, unwavering, in the pale light. “I’m sorry.”

Faithful friends who are dear to us
Gather near to us once more

Blaine’s gaze faltered at the apology. He was physically unable to hold his father’s stare under the weighty awkwardness, the sheer amazement that this conversation was finally taking place between them. It was long overdue – but not too late, he realized. When Blaine looked up again, he nodded subtly, accepting his father’s sincere words of regret. But he wasn’t finished just yet.

“Going to New York with Kurt has been the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Dad.” Blaine’s voice grew thicker as he started to think about Kurt – about what they had and how steady it was, even when the rest of his world had turned upside down. “I feel like I’m on my way to achieving everything I’ve ever wanted in life. Yeah, it’s hard. It's always going to be hard. But…it’s what I was meant to do. I know it.”

His father sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, scrutinizing Blaine closely. Blaine could practically see the thoughts tumbling and feuding in his head. “I’ll tell you what, Blaine. I’m still not sure how I feel about this…music thing, but I admire the hell out of you for going after something you really want, and doing it the right way. And you were all on your own, too.”

“No.” Blaine shook his head vigorously. The emotions had caught up with him now: bursts of love, confusion, shock, relief, joy like punches to the gut, over and over again. “I wasn’t alone. I…Kurt. He’s…” Blaine trailed off, overwhelmed by the moment. Every word he tried to utter – my rock, my soulmate, my everything – got caught in his throat like a lump. All he could do was offer his father a shaky smile.

“Yeah.” His father cast an eye to the doorway, and the faint sound of Blaine’s mother in the kitchen. “I have one of those, too.” He turned his face downward, chuckling lightly. “She’s a smart one, your mother. I didn’t even know she was sneaking around, sending you money, emailing you. I only found out when we got the bill for your spring semester…she just grabbed the envelope from my hands and said, ‘I’ll take care of that.’ No discussion.” He chuckled again, lost in the memory of their private exchange.

“You put her in the middle of all this.” Blaine said it just as the realization dawned on him. His sweet, meek mother had been loyal to her husband to a fault: following his lead, internalizing his fears. It had taken an explosion, and Blaine leaving them behind, before she finally peeped out from under her shell.

His father looked at him guiltily. “I guess neither one of us is very good at talking about these things.”

Blaine quirked an eyebrow. He wasn’t quite sure how he could see the humor in this situation – but there it was, glimmering like a tiny Christmas light. “Apple doesn’t fall very far from the tree, does it?”

He hesitated before continuing. He wanted, needed to allay his father’s long-held fears: for his family, for himself, for their future. “You should know that I’m…I feel safer there, Dad.” He nodded at his own words, because he really felt it, really believed it was true. “I’m safe there. I promise. Nobody looks twice at Kurt and me when we’re out together. I don’t need protection anymore. I just need my family.”

Through the years we all will be together
If the fates allow
Until then we’ll have to muddle through somehow

“Even after everything that’s happened, you’ve always been so proud, Blaine. You never hid who you are. Just the opposite – you went after it, even when we discouraged you. You’ve really proven yourself a man.” His father scoffed at himself in disgust. “Much more than me.”

For the first time in his life, Blaine felt like the two of them were on the same level: no longer one below the other, but rather walking side by side. They were both adults, but that didn’t mean they still didn’t struggle to find their way, to deal with the messes the world threw at them.

“So no more anger. No more judging.” His father looked at him pointedly. “I respect you the way you are, and I’ll support you as long as you’re making an effort to do good with your life.”

They couldn’t go back in time and erase the years of shame, of sadness, of fear. But they could move on – facing new challenges with honesty and respect above all else. They could try, at least. All they could do was try.

Blaine nodded. “I’m going to show you,” he declared, a fervent timbre in his voice. “I’m going to make it.”

His father gave him the barest of smiles; but it was kind and confident. “I hope you do.”

So have yourself a merry little Christmas now

“Blaine? Daddy?”

They both looked up to see Bridget loitering tentatively at the doorway.  “Dinner’s ready.”

Blaine smiled at his sister, beautiful and young in the shadowy light. “Thanks, B. We’ll be right there.”

Blaine and his father both stood slowly; feet and eyes and minds lingering for a few beats longer. They weren’t yet ready to leave the hushed comfort of the room that had seen the best and worst of them – their falling out and their repentance.

His father shoved his hands in the pockets of his trim brown slacks and looked down at the rug below him. “After dinner, maybe you’d want to ask Kurt to come over for a little while. We’d like to…include him here.”

The dam finally broke. One tear, then another slid down Blaine’s cheeks. He quickly diverted his gaze, brushed the wetness away, cleared his throat. “Yeah. That’d be great. I’ll tell him to come by.” He only dared to glance up again when he finally felt like he wouldn’t dissolve at his father’s feet. “Thanks, Dad.”

His father patted his shoulder firmly, affectionately. He left his palm there – a light, reassuring warmth that Blaine could feel through layers of fabric – as the two walked out of the room together.


Kurt was still sitting with Carole in the living room, talking her ear off about some particularly successful New York shopping excursions, when his phone buzzed. He snatched it up from its perch beside his lap, where he’d kept it – close by and in plain sight – ever since Blaine left two hours ago. His heart lurched into his throat when he saw Blaine’s name on the screen.

“Parents asked if u want to come over for a while. It’s ok. Bridget made cookies.”

Kurt bit down on the smile that threatened to take over his entire face. “He wants me to go over there,” he announced as he stared at the message. “His parents asked for me to come.”

Carole’s hopeful expression reflected Kurt’s. “That sounds like good news.”

Kurt sent Blaine a quick reply: “Tell her I must go there and try some, then.”

Kurt bounded up from the couch, starting toward the foyer before stopping dead in his tracks. “Wait. He has my car.”

“You can take Finn’s truck, honey,” Carole offered. “You know where the keys are.”

Kurt barked out a laugh. “Oh, this should be good,” he remarked, plucking Finn’s keys from their spot on the table. “If Finn complains, tell him I’ll take better care of his truck than he ever has.”

As Kurt drove through the cold darkness to Blaine’s house – wincing when the truck hit every bump and pothole along the way – he thought back to all the times he’d made this same drive. It seemed like years, not months, ago that they were in high school: going to each other’s houses on weekends to watch movies, kissing and cuddling and whispering for as long as they could before one of them had to rush home to make curfew.

Everything here was still so familiar; yet it all felt smaller, quainter now. They’d vanished while everyone else had stayed, continuing to live their lives without them. Nothing had changed, really, but he still felt like he’d missed something.

When Kurt rang the Andersons’ doorbell, Blaine opened the door almost immediately. Without a word, he pulled Kurt inside by the hand and threw his arms around Kurt’s shoulders, clutching him tightly, almost desperately.

“Hey.” Kurt’s brow creased with concern when he leaned back to look at Blaine’s face and saw the shiny sparkle of tears welling in his eyes. Kurt reached up and caught one, warm and wet on the pad of his thumb, just as it escaped. “Everything’s okay, right?”

Blaine nodded, blinking back his tears before any more could fall. “I think so,” he murmured softly. “I’ll tell you later.”

He wouldn’t share the whole story until the next night, when they were safe and warm in Kurt’s bed together, surrounded by darkness; shedding tears of mourning for a young boy they never known, lost to hate so many years ago. But it was Christmas now, and there was too much hope brimming here to let any more hostility in.

Kurt held up a small duffel bag that he'd brought in with him. “I packed some stuff for you. I thought, maybe, if you wanted to stay here tonight.”

Blaine smiled gratefully, drawing him close again and tenderly kissing the soft skin at his temple. “I love you so much.”

Kurt smiled against Blaine’s hairline. “I love you, too.” He tipped his head back and looked down at Blaine, humor dancing in his eyes. “Want to know how much?”

Blaine arched an eyebrow in response; his silent way of asking, “How much?”

“Sooooo much that I, Kurt Hummel, drove my brother’s truck here to see you. The shoddy suspension system practically gave me whiplash.” Kurt smirked, then let out a little laugh. “Remember that fact if you ever question my dedication to you.”

Blaine laughed lightly as he took the duffel bag from Kurt’s hand, dropping it by the door and replacing it with his own hand. “I never, ever question your dedication to anything,” he said, tightly interlacing their fingers and bringing their joined hands up to his lips for a kiss. “Although the thought of you driving a truck is doing funny things to my brain right now.”

“Why, Blaine,” Kurt purred, angling his head so his words flowed straight into Blaine’s ear. “I didn’t know you had a…thing for boys in dirty pickup trucks.”

Blaine stifled a groan. “No, I have a thing for you in a dirty pickup truck.” He tugged at Kurt’s hand, leading him forward. “Come on. We have like, four dozen cookies in there. Let’s go eat until we explode.”

“If you don’t gain ten pounds by the time we go back to New York, I am going to be insanely jealous of your metabolism.” As they walked down the hall, Kurt couldn’t help but admire the Andersons’ home, decorated impeccably for the holiday: white lights twinkling through boughs of holly woven along the staircase, the smell of pine and cinnamon and cookies drifting through the air. Perfect as always, Kurt thought ironically as they entered the living room together, still hand in hand.

To his pleasant surprise, Kurt felt more welcome in Blaine’s home that evening than he ever had before – flanked by Blaine and Bridget on the couch, gorging themselves on cookies and making fantasy plans for shopping trips in New York come springtime.

Blaine’s parents didn’t add much to the conversation; instead just listening to the noisy, animated teens, and occasionally exchanging happy, private looks and hushed whispers between them. The simple fact that they were all together in the same room, smiling at Kurt and Blaine’s tales about classes and friends and favorite moments at college, spoke volumes. Kurt could have even sworn that he caught Blaine’s mother getting dewy-eyed when he talked about Blaine’s Christmas surprise.

Kurt knew for sure they’d turned a corner toward something better when Blaine leaned in and kissed him flush on the lips after Kurt presented him with part of his Christmas gift: a hand-sewn journal, bound in beautiful brown leather, to collect the lyrics he’d started composing for his Sunday performances. The kiss was quick and innocent, but a vast departure from the way they’d acted in front of his parents in the past. So were Blaine’s shining eyes and radiant grin, glowing more brightly than their pretty Christmas tree.

There was still something too formal, too polished in the way they all interacted; nothing like the casual, easy camaraderie of Kurt’s family. But they were being included without question and criticism: sharing stories and laughter, fingers tightly intertwined on the couch in plain sight. If this was their new reality, then they couldn’t really ask for more.

When it was time for Kurt to leave, he and Blaine loitered by the front door for nearly twenty minutes, kissing and whispering and giggling in the dark – a sweet flashback to their high school days, but without the glum, desperate air surrounding them. They knew they’d be back together soon; in the meantime, they were happy to hang on to home for a little while longer, now that they both could.


It was nearly midnight when Kurt returned home. He couldn’t help but smile adoringly at the familiar, comforting sight that welcomed him: Burt in his chair, reading the newspaper by dim lamplight as he waited up for his son.

“Sorry I’m so late,” Kurt apologized, careful to keep his voice low as not to disturb the sleeping house. “How’d shopping go?”

Burt’s newspaper crinkled lightly as he folded it in half and laid it on his lap. “Once again, Santa prevailed,” he quipped, gesturing toward the pile of shiny presents under the tree in the corner of the room. "Looks like you were good this year."

Kurt sunk down on the couch and curled his legs up underneath him. He was exhausted, but he’d been craving a quiet moment alone with his father ever since he returned to Lima. It was especially welcome tonight after his evening at Blaine's house. “I’m surprised you managed to stay awake this late,” he remarked, nestling his cheek into the soft cushions as he turned to face Burt.

“Yeah, well, I wanted to hear how things went with Blaine.”

“They made up,” Kurt said simply, his voice soft and sleep-filled. “I don’t know much more than that yet.”

Burt nodded, a pleased look on his face. “That’s good to hear. I’m glad they could put aside their differences and enjoy the holiday together.” He cocked his head, raised an eyebrow in contemplation. “Although I have to admit, I was enjoying having him around – and not just because of the extra set of hands around the house. He’s a good kid. I’m sorry we won’t get to see him on Christmas.”

Kurt beamed at his father; his heart melting at the way he spoke about Blaine. They were the two most important people in Kurt’s life: the only two people in the world he opened himself up to completely, the only two people in the world he had limitless love for. The experience of them coming together as one family brought Kurt a kind of pleasure he’d never felt before.

“Thanks, Dad. It means a lot to me that you let him stay here with us.”

Burt shrugged, lifting his palms toward the ceiling. “He’s part of the family now. Couldn’t get rid of him even if I wanted to.”

Kurt chuckled; the blissful, content feeling of love and home and family and right still flowing warm in his chest. “Well, don’t get too sad. He’ll be back tomorrow night, since all his stuff is over here.” He sighed longingly, twisting his head to look out the window at the light snow that had begun to fall during his drive home. “I wanted to spend Christmas with him too, but I’m happier that he made up with his dad. He was so…lost. It broke my heart.”

Burt studied Kurt closely as he spoke. Physically, Kurt was unchanged since leaving home; but underneath, he’d matured in a way he didn’t even realize.

“You know, Kurt,” Burt began. “I think one of the clearest signs of love is finding joy in someone else’s happiness, even greater than your own. You’ve really grown up a lot, haven’t you?”

Kurt angled his head back toward his father, just enough to see his proud, almost misty-eyed expression out of the corner of his eye. “I love him, Dad. So much.” Kurt returned his gaze to the window, mulling over his father’s words before speaking plainly, honestly. “I’m going to be with him forever.”

Burt smiled at his son. “Seems like it.” For once, he didn’t impart any words of wisdom; instead simply accepting Kurt’s statement as fact.

They let the love, the promise rest silently in the room with them as they welcomed Christmas Day together, watching pretty white flurries dance through the darkness beyond.

Current Mood: worriedworried

Title: New York, New York | Part One: Road Full of Promise (10/13)
Rating: R (for very brief shower sex)
Characters: Kurt/Blaine, Finn, Burt/Carole, mention of Rachel and various OCs/family members
Spoilers: Through 2x22 “New York”
Warnings: Blow jobs
Word Count: 4,782
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters. I’m just borrowing them for a little while.
Summary: “How did we go from kissing in the middle of Rockefeller Center to shoveling a driveway in Ohio in the span of ten days?”

Author's Note: Enjoy a little bit of Hudmel family awkwardness, a whole lot of Klaine fluff, the teeniest bit of shower sex, and a healthy dose of Blaine angst. Will Blaine and his dad finally work out their differences? You’ll find out in chapter eleven!

Previous chapters: Kurtain (prologue) | Admission (prologue) | Spark (one-shot) | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine


The anxiety was back. It settled in Blaine’s heart, unmoving – like an empty weight that made it hard to breathe or feel anything else – as soon as he saw the checkerboard Ohio landscape through the tiny airplane window.

They were home again.

Blaine blew out a deep breath, as if he could expel the heaviness from his chest through his lips. The sudden sound had Kurt looking over at him, brow furrowed with concern.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Blaine swallowed hard. “Nervous.”

Kurt put his hand over Blaine’s on the armrest and squeezed gently. “I’m here.”

It will be fine, Blaine thought as he gave Kurt a small smile of gratitude. He was staying with Kurt’s family. He had a new place to call home: somewhere with lots of love and happiness; where he was accepted and included, no questions asked.

But he wanted his home again: his own family, his childhood bedroom, the beautiful smells and music that always wafted through the air at Christmas.

What would happen if he went back? Would he get an apology, or more cutting words? Should he just show up? Or call to ask first? No. He wasn’t going to beg to come back. Not after the way his father treated him.

“Don’t think you can come crawling back here.” Would those words ever stop echoing in his brain?

If his father wanted to see him, he would let Blaine know. In the meantime, Blaine tried to focus on the warm weight of Kurt’s hand on his, reminding him where home really was.


An hour later, Kurt, Blaine and Finn were squashed together in the front seat of Finn’s truck: Blaine in the middle, and Kurt in the passenger seat, staring out at the absolute nothing of western Ohio as Finn drove them home to Lima.

Culture shock had smacked Kurt in the face as soon as they’d set foot in the Columbus airport. After four months in the gritty, glitzy city, they were back in bland Middle America. Ohio had never felt more suffocatingly small, even as they rolled past wide expanses of farmland, tilled and dead in winter.

All Kurt wanted to do was go home: home to his family and his bedroom and Christmas, where there was no schoolwork, no obligations, and a bathroom he didn’t have to share with thirty other guys.

Having Blaine there with his family was like a cherry on top of the already perfect thought of spending two weeks insulated in the warm, comfortable glow of home. He just hated the circumstances that led to it.

“So…where’s Rachel?” Finn’s voice interrupted Kurt’s thoughts. Only then did Kurt realize they’d all been dead quiet, lost in their own private musings.

“She flew in yesterday,” Blaine replied. “Her…classes ended before ours.” It was the truth; although Rachel certainly would have preferred to fly back home with them, had Finn not been the one picking them up from the airport.

“Oh.” They lapsed into silence again for a few seconds. “I’m kinda seeing this new girl. Anna.”

“Already?” Kurt turned away from the window to shoot Finn a critical glance.

Finn looked nervous. “She’s – she’s nice. She lives on my floor. She’s from Ashtabula. I think I might go visit her for new years.”

Kurt’s thoughts shifted from judgmental to joyful in an instant. He immediately started thinking of ways he could convince his parents to go out for New Years Eve so he and Blaine could have the house to themselves.

Kurt shifted his gaze to Blaine, trying to give him a smile and a wink about their potentially private New Years Eve celebration. But Blaine was staring straight ahead, watching the yellow lines disappear under the hood of the truck as it cruised along the highway.

Kurt’s face set in a frown. He knew what to do Blaine got sad, or angry. He could make him smile, or take his mind off things for a while with a kiss or a song. But when Blaine was distant like this, Kurt felt like there was no way he could offer any comfort. It made Kurt want to drive straight over to the Andersons’ house and scream at Blaine’s father: “Don’t you realize what you have? What you’ve done to him?”

It reminded Kurt of his conversation with his dad the previous weekend, when he’d called to ask if Blaine could spend winter break with them.

“Dad? Can Blaine stay with us over Christmas?”

“His dad, still?”


“Man, would I like to give that guy a piece of my mind.”

“You’ll have to get in line behind me, Dad.”


“Hey! There they are!”

Burt launched up from his chair and hurried over to the door when Kurt, Blaine and Finn trudged through, suitcases and duffel bags in tow. Burt grabbed Kurt, pulling him in for a tight hug before he could even put his shoulder bag down. “Welcome home, kiddo!”

“Dad!” Kurt laughed, squeezing his father tightly. “Wait, wait! Let me put my stuff down!” But Burt didn’t let go. Blaine couldn’t stop staring at them: their happy laughs, their ear-to-ear smiles, the tears that were welling up in Burt’s eyes. It only lasted a few seconds, but it felt like forever.

“Hi, Blaine.” Blaine tore his eyes from Kurt and Burt’s reunion to face Carole, who’d come over to greet him with a warm smile and an embrace. “We’re happy to have you here, honey,” she said, pulling away and laying a hand on his cheek.

Blaine smiled weakly at her in return. “Thank you. I appreciate it.” He liked Carole. She was motherly in a completely different way than his own mother: caring, rather than doting.

They all helped bring the boys’ luggage into the house, asking the obligatory questions about flights home and final exams. “Now listen,” Burt started as Finn dragged the last of his four laundry bags through the door. He pointed a finger between Kurt and Blaine. “You two may live together at school, but you’re under my roof now, and so you’ll live by my rules.”

“Oh, Burt,” Carole chided, smacking Burt lightly on the arm. “Let them be. They live together. They’re not going to try any funny business while they’re here. Right, boys?”

Blaine shifted uncomfortably, his face flushing. His eyes darted over at Kurt, who looked similarly pink-cheeked, but hopeful. “Right,” they both answered quietly.

“Come on, Blaine.” Kurt turned to him suddenly, rushing out the words. “Let’s bring our stuff upstairs. Now.”

“Hey,” Burt called after them as they quickly retreated up the stairs. “We’re starting dinner in half an hour! And keep the damn door open!”


That evening, they shared one of the most spirited, joyous Friday night dinners in Hummel-Hudson family history. Burt and Carole’s boys were back, and they were celebrating – properly, and loudly.

While Finn and Blaine conspired together on a music playlist, Kurt and Carole prepared dinner, whispering and laughing over something secret between them. Burt played grillmaster, singing along to Elvis and Springsteen as he flitted back and forth between the kitchen and the back deck.

“It’s snowing!” he announced as he returned from one trip outside, his cap and shoulders covered with a dusting of white.

“I can see that, Dad,” Kurt said sarcastically, reaching over to brush the snow off one shoulder. “Put a coat on.”

“I’m only gonna be out there for a sec.” Burt grabbed a plate of meat off the counter. “Hey, Blaine? How do you like your steak?"

Blaine could have cried with joy at the mention of red meat. “Rare. Please.”

Kurt peered over his father’s shoulder. “Are those the grass-fed ones? From the farm?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Burt waved him off.

“Because I’m going to be able to tell if they’re not.”

“They’re from the farm, Kurt!” Burt called over his shoulder as he slipped back outside.

When they all sat down to eat, Kurt told his parents about the dinners they’d had every Friday night at school to keep the Hummel family tradition going in New York City.

“That’s why Blaine’s so excited tonight,” Kurt explained, attempting to bring Blaine into the fold of their conversation. “All of our dinners have been vegan, with Rachel around.”

Burt raised an eyebrow at him from across the table. “That’s inhumane treatment, Kurt. No wonder he looks so damn skinny.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s because he subsists on coffee and Clif bars the rest of the week,” Kurt retorted, sending Blaine a knowing smirk. He was always keeping tabs on Blaine’s eating habits – which they both knew full well was the only way Blaine would remember to eat a proper meal on his busiest days.

“Or maybe because I have seven and a half hours of dance and movement class every week,” Blaine shot back, forking a huge chunk of steak into his mouth. At the rate he was going, he’d gain the weight back by the time they had to return to New York. “But we’d never do anything to exclude Rachel from our dinners. She’s like our family, too.”

There was an awkward silence for a few seconds as Blaine happened to look over at Finn, violently spearing at his dinner with his fork. Thankfully, Carole noticed, and filled the lull. “It’s so nice that you’re all still friends.”

Kurt nodded happily. “We couldn’t ever not be friends with Rachel.”

“Even if we wanted to,” Blaine added. They both looked at each other, sharing a little laugh.

They sat around for a while after they were done with dinner, chatting aimlessly while the playlist shuffled through hits by the Police and the Rolling Stones. It all felt so homey, so normal. Blaine started to let himself sink into it; to feel like he was really a part of this family.

He nearly jumped when his phone vibrated in his pocket. It was a text from Bridget. “When r u coming over herrrrrreeee?????”

Blaine slipped his arms under the table to discreetly tap out a reply. “idk if I am. Haven’t heard from dad.”

A few minutes later, Blaine got her response. “I just told him to call u. he went in his study and shut the door. Maybe hes calling now.”

Blaine waited, and checked, and double checked his phone for the next hour. But his father never called.


They all lingered in the living room late into the evening, watching the snow fall outside the picture window while they caught up on everything that had happened in Lima and New York since Kurt left in August. National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation droned in the background; Finn’s occasional laughs layering over the conversation and white noise.

The New York updates took up most of their time: Kurt and Blaine’s Thanksgiving together, Blaine’s Sunday afternoon coffee shop gigs, Finn’s fall break visit, the new friends they’d made, and the strangest things they’d seen while walking the streets of Manhattan.

“I mean, he had a cat on his head. What would you do if you were suddenly approached by a guy with a cat on his head?” Kurt laughed at the memory. “Remember that, Blaine?”

“Yeah,” Blaine agreed, his voice listless in spite of the humorous tale. Kurt watched him pull his phone out of his pocket for the hundredth time that night and check it for new notifications, sighing when he found none.

Kurt let out a big, loud yawn. He hoped it didn’t sound too fake. “Boy, am I exhausted. Let’s go to bed, Blaine. We had a long day.” Before Blaine could react, Kurt grabbed his hand, pulling him up off the couch. “Goodnight, everybody!”

A chorus of goodnights rang out in reply as they hurried up the stairs, hand in hand. Burt’s usual refrain of “Keep your door open!” was conspicuously absent – the result of Carole softly elbowing him just as he opened his mouth to say it.

Upstairs, Kurt closed the door soundly behind them. “What’s wrong?” he asked, turning around to face Blaine. He looked like he was about to burst into tears.

“Blaine, please talk to me.” Kurt stepped closer, placing his hands on Blaine’s arms to comfort him. “I can’t help you if you won’t tell me what you’re thinking.”

Blaine closed his eyes for a moment, steadying himself with a deep breath. “Bridget said my dad might call me tonight. But he hasn’t.”

“Okay,” Kurt said, trying to follow Blaine’s line of thought. “Maybe he’ll still call? You only just got back today. He might be…working up to it or something.”

“He’s not going to call!” Blaine burst out, making Kurt blink with surprise. “He’s made it very clear that he doesn’t want me around.” Blaine laughed bitterly. “Mom said he’d come around. Well, it’s been four months and he hasn’t, has he?”

“Do you want to go over there? We can. I’ll go with you.” Kurt squeezed Blaine’s shoulders. “You know you have me. I’m here for you.”

“Yeah, but you have all of this, too!” Blaine snapped, gesturing bitterly toward the living room below them, where Kurt’s family still sat together, talking and laughing happily.

Kurt gaped at him. Immediately, Blaine looked apologetic. “Kurt. I…I’m sorry. I just mean –”

He was cut off by Kurt’s frustrated sigh. “Don’t you understand, Blaine? They…” Kurt waved a hand downward, the same way Blaine had. “We want you here. You have them, too.” They were both quiet for a moment, letting the words rest in the air between them.

“I’m sorry, Kurt,” Blaine said again, dropping his head down to avoid Kurt’s gaze. “I just…I miss my own family. I miss Bridget, my mother. That’s my history, my whole life up to this point. And I’m the one responsible for messing it up.”

Kurt raised an eyebrow sharply. In all of their talks, Blaine had never said anything like this. He remained silent, letting Blaine talk out the terrible thoughts Kurt now realized he’d been keeping inside for the past four months.

“It’s my fault for pulling my family apart. There’s always going to be a rift now because of me. My mother and my sister having to choose sides, all because of the choice I made to go to New York.”

Kurt shook his head. “No. No. You –” Kurt punctuated the word by stabbing a finger into Blaine’s chest “– have nothing to be sorry about. This situation is not your fault. If you want to be sad about it, or angry at him, I understand that. But don’t you dare blame yourself.”

Kurt was furious now. For months, he’d been Blaine’s rock: soothing, comforting, understanding. It was past time he snapped.

He made this mess. You gave him more time and made more excuses than he deserved. Do not let the fact that he hasn’t spoken to you since allow you to second guess yourself. He’s nothing but a judgmental jerk who cares more about himself than his own children’s happiness.”

Kurt’s breaths were coming out in heavy pants. He paused, closing his eyes briefly, to let his anger subside. When he opened them again, Blaine’s head was still hanging down, focused on an invisible spot on the floor; or, more likely, what was just below the floor.

“Blaine.” Kurt’s voice softened. He reached for Blaine’s jaw, forcing him to look up. Kurt gave him a small, encouraging smile. "You’re one of the strongest people I know. He’s the coward. He’s the one who deserves to feel bad. Not you. Not ever.”

Kurt leaned forward to kiss him, right over the scratchy stubble growing near the corner of his mouth. He kissed him again, and again; willing Blaine’s troubles away with the sweet presses of lips to skin. After another kiss, then another, Kurt rested his face against Blaine’s cheek, holding him close and breathing him in.

“I want to help you settle things, once and for all,” he whispered. “This needs to end. I can’t bear to see you like this anymore.”

“I’m afraid.” Blaine’s voice sounded so small, so drained. “It’s like, I know what’s going to happen if I go there, and it’s even worse than living in this limbo.”

“You don’t know what’s going to happen, Blaine. He could be just as scared as you.” Although Kurt highly doubted that one. “Why don’t you give him until Christmas? If you don’t hear from him by then, I think you have the right to storm over there and tell him off.” He let out a low hum. “Then we’ll kidnap Bridget and bring her to New York with us. I’ll teach her how to manage comments on my blog, and she can deliver you meals between your classes.”

Blaine chuckled. Kurt thought the happy little sound was more beautiful than music. “I don’t know why, but I always picture her in New York with us someday,” he said quietly.

“It would be wonderful to have family there, wouldn’t it?” The words escaped out of Kurt’s mouth before he really thought them through. He pulled back a bit to look at Blaine sheepishly. “I guess I kind of think of her as my little sister sometimes, too.”

“She would love to hear you say that,” Blaine said, his whole face lighting up. “She adores you.”

Kurt preened a little. “Well, I am an excellent shopping guide. I’m like a girl’s dream gay big brother.”

Blaine scoffed. “I think I’m offended.”

“The only thing that’s offensive is that lavender sweater you told her to buy last winter.”

“Are you really not going to let that go?”

“Girls with her olive complexion cannot wear pastels, Blaine. It’s simple fact.”

Blaine gazed at him adoringly. “Once again, you’re wonderful."

Kurt wasn’t going to let their conversation slip toward melancholy again tonight. “How wonderful?”

“So wonderful that I’d like to try a little funny business with you behind your closed door.”

Kurt made a little noise of approval. “Why don’t we get ready for bed and then you can show me?”

But Blaine wrapped him in a tight hug instead. “Give him till Christmas,” he echoed Kurt’s words.

Kurt nodded against Blaine’s hair. “Until then, you’re going to let yourself enjoy some time with my family. They love you, and they want you here. I want you here. Forever.”

When they got in bed, they didn’t try any funny business after all; settling instead for sweet kisses and soothing words whispered well into the night, finally falling asleep wrapped up in each other while snow blanketed the world outside.


“Boys!” Burt bellowed up the stairs, rousing Kurt and Blaine from the depths of sleep. “Get down here and help me shovel the driveway. I need to go to work.”

Kurt moaned into his pillow. He dug his head deeper into Blaine’s shoulder, trying to block out his father’s voice and the annoying rays of early morning sunlight peeking through his blinds. “What time is it?”

Blaine peeled open a bleary eye, his neck creaking as he turned to read the clock on the night stand. “7:03.”

Kurt groaned again. “Oh, god.”

“How did we ever wake up so early in high school?” Blaine wondered aloud, dropping his head back down to the pillow with a muffled thud. “This time last year, we’d have already been at the Lima Bean by now.”

Kurt.” His father’s yell was louder, more insistent.

Kurt let out a strangled sigh. “Okay!” he shouted. He sat up quickly, jamming the heels of his hands into his eyes to rub them awake.

Blaine rose beside him, idly smoothing a hand over his back. “Come on. The sooner we finish, the sooner we can jump in the shower together to warm up.”

Burt was waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs when they shuffled down together. “Weather lady said we got eleven inches,” he said in lieu of a good morning.

“Can’t we have coffee first?” Kurt whined.

“No,” Burt said sternly. “You know where the shovels are.”

Kurt sighed, stomping over to the hall closet and yanking out an old, black peacoat. He tugged a gray knit hat over his head and shoved his hands into thick gloves before they trudged outside, grabbing show shovels from the garage on the way.

They shoveled behind Burt’s car first, making a clear path for his car out of the driveway. Finn was already hard at work, quickly clearing the sidewalk in front of the house while Burt gave Kurt and Blaine more orders.

“I want you boys to finish the rest of the driveway and the walkway, or else it’s all gonna freeze over tonight. Then when you’re done, I need you to go to the store and pick up the rest of the stuff on Carole’s list for Christmas dinner. It’s on the fridge.”

Burt waved and shot them a big grin as he backed his car out of the now-cleared driveway and onto the snowy street.

“Well, if this doesn’t convince you that you’re part of the family, I’m not sure what will,” Kurt said to Blaine as they watched Burt slowly drive away.

“He’s really enjoying the fact that he has all of us here to do his housework for the next two weeks, isn’t he?”

“I suppose I’d be resentful if it wasn’t for his health.” Kurt looked around suddenly. “Where did Finn go?”

As if on cue, Finn reappeared from inside the house, wearing clothes that were clearly not intended for yardwork. His keys jingled in his hand.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Kurt demanded.

“I gotta go see Puck and Sam,” Finn responded as he opened the door to his truck. “I already finished my part. You city folk can handle the rest.”

Kurt scowled at Finn’s truck as it followed the same path out of the driveway and away. Kurt and Blaine worked slowly to clear the rest of the wet, heavy snow: both tired and unaccustomed to heavy physical labor. The only sound between them was the continuous scrape of metal on pavement.

“What are you thinking about?” Blaine asked offhandedly, trying to fill the quiet.

“How we went from kissing in the middle of Rockefeller Center to shoveling a driveway in Ohio in the span of ten days.”

Blaine laughed. “Don’t tell the neighbors about our secret glamorous fantasy life.”

Kurt snorted at the joke. “You really are a nerd.”

Blaine paused for a moment to catch his breath, groaning as he flexed his increasingly sore arms. He found himself watching Kurt move: shoveling small scoops of snow off the ground, then awkwardly plopping them off to the side. He sniffled twice, stopping to press the back of his hand to his red nose. His hat was the kind with a fluffy pom pom on top and knit strings hanging from his ears. Blaine usually thought those hats were ridiculous; but on Kurt, it looked utterly adorable.


Kurt stabbed his shovel into the walkway with a heavy clink and leaned into the handle, jutting out a hip and blowing out a heavy breath. “What?”

Blaine dropped his shovel onto the ground and started walking toward him. Now that Kurt was facing forward, Blaine could see how his silly hat was slightly askew on his head, and how his bangs were poking out from underneath to rest on his forehead. His cheeks were impossibly pink, and his nose was still running – just a little.

Blaine smiled, slow and warm. It started in his eyes and spread to one corner of his mouth, then the other. “Do me a favor?”

“What?” Kurt sounded suspicious.

“Let me take a picture of you.”

“Oh, no.” Kurt shook his head back and forth, his eyebrow cocked in a warning. “Nooooo…”

“Come on. I want to give you a Christmas present.”

“You already gave me one. A huge one.”

“Well, this one is kind of for both of us. You’ll see.” Blaine reached over and teasingly tugged at one of the knit strings on Kurt’s hat, flashing him the most dazzling smile he could manage. “Just let me.”

Kurt sighed and stared at him. When he didn’t move for a few seconds, Blaine took it as silent approval. He quickly pulled off a glove and fished his phone out of his pocket.

Blaine grinned from ear to ear when the picture appeared on his screen. Kurt had rolled his eyes when the shutter snapped, adding even more personality to the portrait. “I’m making this your picture in my contacts, and I’m never changing it.”

“Do you want me to throw your phone out our window when we get back to New York?”

“You wouldn’t dare cause such injury to your poor boyfriend’s bank account.” Blaine nudged Kurt’s arm with his elbow. “Now hurry up and finish. It’s almost shower time.”


The water was hot, unbearably hot; burning Kurt’s pale skin red and melting the cold from his frozen limbs. But nothing could compare to the furnace that was Blaine’s mouth, tight around his cock.

They’d been doing this for twenty minutes now: alternating pressing the other boy’s body up against the shower wall, deliciously cool on their backs. Kurt’s hands scrabbled and scratched at the slick, wet tiles, desperate to grasp on to something as the tingling in his belly grew.

Scalding water mixed with slick saliva as Blaine sucked and licked a relentless rhythm up and down and around Kurt’s length. Kurt’s moans echoed through the heat and steam that cocooned them in a thick, drowsy fog of pleasure.

There are some perks to being home, I guess, was Kurt’s last, hazy thought before he finally slipped off the edge.


“Okay. Done!”

Blaine’s proclamation roused Kurt from his fuzzy, semi-conscious state. Kurt yawned and lifted his arms above his head, arching his back as he stretched his entire body out. His muscles still felt like jelly after shoveling snow and their hot shower. He’d never have been able to doze off otherwise – not with Blaine sitting beside him in bed, typing up a post for his blog.

“I can’t believe I let you do this,” Kurt muttered sleepily, still wary of whatever Blaine had just written.

“Trust me,” Blaine assured as he handed over the computer. “Your readers are going to love it.”

The first thing Kurt saw was the front page of his blog. His eyes immediately focused on the photo Blaine had taken that morning, embedded into a new post called “A Christmas morning with Kurt.”

“What…” Kurt trailed off as he skimmed the two comments that had already popped up at the end.

“AWWWWWW!!!! This is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen in my LIFE! Merry Christmas, Kurt and Blaine!”

“OMG, I want an invitation to you guys’ wedding someday, seriously. Best post ever. And Kurt, you always look fabulous, no matter what!”

“Just read it.” Blaine leaned back against the headboard, smiling as he watched Kurt scroll through his text.

Saturday, December 22, 2012

(This is a guest post by Blaine Anderson, boyfriend and love of Kurt Hummel’s life.)

I know Kurt always says “every moment of your life is a fashion opportunity” and all that. But today he missed an opportunity – opting instead for a look that may not be fashion forward, but stole my heart anyway.

I’ve been lucky enough to live with Kurt for the past several months, and so I’ve seen him…shall we say, unfiltered, on several occasions. This morning, for some reason, was really special. Maybe it’s because it’s Christmas, or because we’re home again after several months away, or I’m just stupidly, hopelessly in love with him. (…well, I know that’s definitely the case.)

I don’t think I’ll forget this moment for the rest of my life. And no, it’s not because you “looked a fright”(his words), Kurt. It’s because you were you: simple, real and unadorned. Red cheeks, runny nose, rumpled old winter coat – and rolling your eyes at me for wanting to freeze this image in time forever.

Later on tonight, we’ll have dinner with his family and he’ll be dressed to the nines, gorgeous as usual. I adore that Kurt. But I want everybody else to see him the way I do, too. Because these are the times when I fall in love with him all over again.

So Merry Christmas, Kurt. Thank you for being my biggest supporter and my best friend. You’re everything I could ever ask for in a partner, and I love you with all of my heart – no matter what you’re wearing.

Never closing the Kurtain on you,

<3 Blaine

Continue to chapter eleven

Current Mood: workingworking

Title: New York, New York | Part One: Road Full of Promise (9/13)
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Kurt/Blaine, mentions of various OCs/family members
Spoilers: Through 2x22 “New York”
Warnings: Sexy times
Word Count: 4,020
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters. I’m just borrowing them for a little while.
Summary: Blaine gives Kurt a special surprise for their first Christmas together in New York.

Author’s Note: I have been dying to finish and post this chapter for months. It is another one of my favorites in part one. I am pretty sure I can crank out chapter ten (another Christmas chapter!) this weekend, so stay tuned! Remember to check my Tumblr for updates and previews!

Previous chapters: Kurtain (prologue) | Admission (prologue) | Spark (one-shot) | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight


The holiday season rolled into New York in a blur of tests, term papers and final exams. By early December, everybody was so consumed with end-of-semester work that they barely seemed to remember that Christmas was a mere two weeks away.

Even Kurt was too busy to get into the holiday spirit – despite Blaine’s best attempts to nudge him along by playing Christmas music on the rare occasions they were both in their room together. “I’ve never had so much work to do in my life,” Kurt had groaned one night as he crawled into bed. Since Thanksgiving break, he’d spent nearly every free moment holed up in the library or their room, cranking out paper after paper, stopping only for food or coffee.

Blaine, on the other hand, knew it was Christmastime. He’d been whipping up candy cane mochas and gingersnap lattes at work since mid-November. Plus, he’d been counting down to a very important date in December for nearly two months now.

Blaine had thought long and hard during endless shifts at Mo’ Joe about what he wanted to get Kurt for Christmas. It had to be something special, something he’d never forget; although Blaine recognized that no gift could properly thank him for how wonderful – how patient, understanding, selfless – he’d been all semester. Kurt had done everything in his power to take care of Blaine; now Blaine couldn’t wait for the opportunity to give back.

When the day finally arrived, Blaine was bouncing with barely concealed excitement all morning long. He put his plan into action around noon; grinning as he stepped into the back room of the coffee shop to shoot Kurt a quick, casual text.

“Wanna go see the Christmas tree w me tonight?”

Blaine prayed Kurt would take the bait. Kurt had loudly, and repeatedly, mourned the fact that they hadn’t visited Rockefeller Center since the famous Christmas tree was lit. They’d agreed they probably wouldn’t have a chance to go until finals ended next Thursday – Blaine knowing all the while what his plans were for tonight.

His phone buzzed with a response almost immediately. Tonight? But you work on Wednesdays.”

I had to switch w somebody.” Only the had to was a lie, really. “I get off at 4:30.”

Blaine nervously tapped his foot as he waited for a reply. He could picture Kurt at his desk, methodically running through his to-do list to make sure he could spare a few hours away from his homework.

Thankfully, Kurt’s excitement overruled his practicality. “ok. But I can’t do anything else for the rest of the weekend. So stressed.”

“Deal. Meet me outside the bldg at 5?” Just as Blaine hit send, another thought struck him. He quickly composed a second message. “Wear that jacket I like. The gray one w the big buttons.” He risked giving away the surprise, but Blaine knew Kurt would be pissed if he wasn’t dressed properly.

Blaine smirked when he read Kurt’s text back. “Why am I suddenly suspicious of your motives?”

“Don’t know what ur talking about. gtg. See u at 5  <3 ”


At five o’clock on the nose, Kurt stepped out of their building into the cold New York dusk. Surprise registered on his face when he saw Blaine was already out on the sidewalk: casually leaning against the side of a cab, one ankle crossed over the other, staring at Kurt like he was the only thing in the world.

Blaine could see a smile tugging at the corner of Kurt’s mouth as he got close. “You look utterly dashing,” Kurt said, conspicuously eyeing Blaine up and down.

“You look beautiful as ever.” Blaine snaked an arm around Kurt's waist, pulling him close for a brief, but passionate kiss.

When they parted, Kurt gestured to the cab, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. “No subway?” They hadn’t been in a cab since their first week in New York: Blaine because he was still trying to save every penny, Kurt because he wanted to explore his new city inside and out – and the exercise didn’t hurt, either.

Blaine opened the back door of the cab and gestured for Kurt to get in. “Only the best for you.”

Kurt shot him another look as he sat down inside. “Cabs, special wardrobe requests? I’m on to you, Anderson.”

Blaine leaned into the car door, giving Kurt a sly, teasing smirk. “I guarantee that you’re not.”

Blaine circled around to the other side of the car and got in, sliding his hand across the bench seat to grab hold of Kurt’s as the cab took off. Kurt scooted himself over to the middle, curling into Blaine’s body and nuzzling the soft, red plaid scarf around his neck.

“You smell like coffee,” Kurt sighed on a deep exhale. “I always think of you when I smell coffee, no matter where I am.”

Blaine felt his heart swell with an emotion he couldn’t quite describe: something warm, happy and all consuming. “Maybe I should quit this whole college thing and just be a barista, then.”

“Don’t you dare rob the world of your talent.” Kurt laid his cheek on Blaine’s shoulder, watching bright streaks of light whiz by outside the window.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m excited to go back home for a while. I miss my family so much.” As soon as he said it, Kurt whipped his head up, his eyes huge and apologetic. “I’m sorry,” he rushed out, putting some space between them. “I didn’t mean to –”

“Hey, hey. It’s okay,” Blaine cut him off, managing a smile. “Don’t you ever apologize for that.”

Kurt searched his face, looking for any signs of tension. “Are you going to be okay at home?” he asked tentatively. “I’m worried about you.”

“I don’t know,” Blaine sighed. “I don’t know what’s going to happen if I go back there.”

When his mother had contacted him again about booking him a flight home – this time for his and Kurt’s two-week winter break – Blaine had asked her pointedly whether he was welcome back. Her response struck the same motherly, optimistic tone he was used to hearing.

“Of course, sweetheart. This is your home.”

Her words did nothing to alleviate Blaine’s renewed anxiety. He did want to go home: he missed her, he missed Bridget, and – if he was being honest with himself – he even missed his father. But in the nearly four months since he left home, Blaine hadn’t heard a word from his father: not a phone call, not an email – nothing to indicate he was sorry or regretful about what happened.

When Blaine mentioned this to his mother, her reply – tacked on to the itinerary for the flight home she’d scheduled for him – was less than sympathetic.

“You haven’t tried to contact him either, Blaine. My two men – both so stubborn. I can’t wait for you to come home, sweetheart.”

Kurt squeezed Blaine’s hand, bringing him back to reality. “Why don’t you come home with me? Stay with my family.”

Blaine automatically opened his mouth to protest, but Kurt wouldn’t let him speak. “Blaine, come on. There’s no way I’m going to let you be miserable at Christmas. You don’t need to spend your holiday with someone who’s going to judge you and make you feel guilty. Or worse, get into another argument with you. You don’t have to accept it.”

Kurt was looking at him with a bright, fierce gaze, as if nothing else in the world mattered at that moment. They weren’t in the back of a cab, speeding and weaving along the streets of Manhattan; it was just the two of them, doing everything in their power to show the other his unconditional love and support.

Maybe that was the indescribable emotion Blaine felt before. All he knew is that he wanted to live in this feeling forever. More importantly, he sensed that he could, and he would. They would, together.

“You are so amazing,” was all Blaine could manage to say. He pulled on Kurt’s hand, bringing him in for a slow, stirring kiss. Their lips lingered together: warm, wet, with the unmistakable taste of passion burning around the edges.

“You’re pretty amazing, too,” Kurt murmured when they finally pulled apart. “That’s why I want you around.”

“You have no idea just how amazing I am,” Blaine said with a wink as the cab slowed to a stop at their destination. He was more excited than ever to give Kurt his surprise.


The sky was already inky black with night, but the scene at Rockefeller Center was bright as day. Dozens of people – mostly families with children – glided and tottered in an endless loop on the ice skating rink, flanked by hundreds of gold and silver flags rippling in the cold December wind. Warm light bounced off the buildings all around them, encasing them in a magical, urban Christmas fantasy. At the center of it all was the huge, grand Christmas tree, awash in color and sparkling light.

“Was this worth taking a few hours away from your philosophy paper?” Blaine asked, his smile smug and knowing.

Kurt hummed his approval; too taken by the sight in front of him to come up with a sarcastic remark about Hobbes and Locke. “Sometimes it hits me all over again that we’re actually here. It doesn’t feel real right now.”

“It’s real,” Blaine affirmed, wrapping his arms around Kurt from behind. They stood there together for several minutes, absorbing the action and beauty around them while they listened to each other breathe. Kurt made Blaine play a game he made up on the spot: guessing where the tourists hailed from based on their clothing and accents, audible as they shouted to each other in the crowd.

“Where do you think they’re from?” Kurt asked, pointing toward a family in big, puffy coats, smiling for a stranger they’d happily handed their camera off to for a group shot.

“Probably nowhere where I can do this…” Blaine started placing little kisses on a tiny spot of skin below Kurt’s ear, left uncovered by his scarf.

“Blaine!” Kurt laughed, lifting his shoulder to his ear to escape the ticklish, albeit lovely, sensation.

Suddenly, Blaine pulled away. Even though they were wearing layers of outerwear, Kurt still whined at the loss of contact, turning halfway to shoot Blaine a questioning look.

“So, there’s a reason I wanted to bring you here tonight,” Blaine said, trying to keep his grin under control. He took one of Kurt’s hands in his, turning him around completely so they were face to face. “I have your Christmas present.”

Kurt furrowed his brow. “You didn’t need to get me anything, Blaine. You’re working so hard.”

Blaine shrugged as he reached into his coat pocket with his free hand. “Well, I wanted to. You deserve it, and it’s something special for our first Christmas in New York.”

He pulled out a plain white envelope and handed it to Kurt. “I saved all semester for this, but it was so worth it, because I know you’re going to love it. I can’t wait to see your face when you open it.”

“Now I’m afraid I’m going to have to put on my show face, or else you’ll be disappointed,” Kurt quipped, gingerly accepting the gift. With one last wary glance, Kurt opened the envelope.

His eyes grew huge when he peeked at its contents. “The Rockettes Christmas show! Tonight!”

Blaine let his grin loose when Kurt jumped up and down three times, his wide blue eyes shining with delight. “That’s quite the show face,” he teased. “Remind me again why you’re not in theater with me?”

“Shut up!” Kurt threw his arms around Blaine; the force pushing him back a few steps. They clutched each other tightly; their bright, happy laughs skipping through the cold, glittering air. “I mean, thank you!” he exclaimed before kissing Blaine unabashedly on the lips.

Blaine had a fleeting thought that they were probably putting on quite the show, kissing in the middle of a crowd at Rockefeller Center, decorated in all its glory for Christmas. He felt like he was in a movie; certainly not his life. No, it doesn’t feel real sometimes, does it?

“No, Kurt. Thank you. For everything.” Blaine pulled himself from Kurt’s grasp, taking both of Kurt’s hands in his own and holding them as tightly as he could manage. “You’ve sacrificed so much for me this semester, and I know it.”

“It’s not a sacrifice, Blaine.” Kurt shook his head. “Never. I love you.”

“Still. You’ve done a lot.” Blaine smiled in wonder as the list started to tick through his mind for the thousandth time. “Making dinner for me every Friday night. Spending Sundays with me at work. Staying here with me for Thanksgiving instead of going home to your family.” He paused, chuckling. “All those times we only had half an hour.”

“And we thought we were so grown up, pushing our beds together. Remember how nervous I was?” Kurt recalled, laughing at his naivety. He felt like he’d aged years since summer, rather than months.

“Well, maybe we don’t get to use it for…recreational purposes as much as we’d like. But I still love sleeping with you every night. I think about it all day long. It’s the best part of my day, every day.”

“I never want to sleep alone again,” Kurt said, shaking his head back and forth in a slow, exaggerated waggle. “Falling asleep with you every night means more to me than I ever dreamed it could.”

Blaine turned Kurt’s hands palm-side up and ran his fingers along Kurt’s fingertips, peeking out from woolen, fingerless gloves. The sigh that escaped Blaine’s lips was bittersweet. “It’s only going to get harder from here. For both of us.”

“I know.” Kurt curled his fingers into Blaine’s, seeking the warmth and connection there. “But we can make it. I want to be with you. No matter how tough it gets, you have me. You know that, right?”

Blaine smiled. He knew. “I know.”

Kurt raised an eyebrow; apparently musing on some unappealing fact. “Although your housekeeping does leave a bit to be desired.”

“I’m sorry,” Blaine said, his voice remorseful.

“And that houseplant you wanted so badly surely would have died without my tender, devoted care.”

“Clearly, I haven’t proven myself as a caregiver,” Blaine said on a laugh. His gaze suddenly turned serious; his tone softening as he continued. “I can, you know. I can take care of the things I love. I want to.”

Blaine’s eyes dropped down to Kurt’s striped scarf, fiddling with it a bit as he thought again about how much he wanted to give this boy. “It’s my turn to take care of you tonight,” he said, looking back up to meet Kurt’s adoring gaze. “Just…relax and let me?”

Kurt batted his eyelashes a bit. “I suppose I could be okay with that.”


Despite the cold, they sat outside on a bench overlooking Rockefeller Center, sharing a halal platter from a nearby food truck for dinner, oblivious to the bustling world around them.

As they walked the short distance to Radio City Music Hall, Blaine put his arm around Kurt’s shoulders. “You’re not still thinking about me, are you?”

“I could never stop thinking about you.”

“You know what I mean. Taking care of me things.”

“Oh, no,” Kurt said nonchalantly. He turned his face into Blaine’s ear, lowering his voice to a teasing, suggestive volume. “Unless you mean the ways I can take care of you during our half hours.”

“Now, Kurt,” Blaine said after a pause, his grip on Kurt’s shoulders tightening noticeably. “Don’t think I haven’t thought this entire night through.”


The show exceeded Kurt’s wildest dreams. He and Blaine were on a high all the way back to their dorm, laughing wildly as they harmonized to Christmas carols in the backseat of the cab – to the clear annoyance of their driver.

And when they finally returned home – exhausted, but euphoric from the evening’s activities – Blaine gathered Kurt in his arms, holding him tightly around the thick bulk of their winter coats.

“Let me take care of you,” Blaine breathed; the plea taking on a new meaning now that they were shrouded in darkness and privacy. “Please.”

Blaine quickly shed his own outerwear before starting on Kurt’s. His motions were slow, deliberate, methodical – unlike anything they’d had the chance to experience together in months.

Knit gloves were tugged away; the sensation of fingernails dragging along palms sending shivers up to Kurt’s cheeks and back down his spine. Next went his scarf: a soft, silky slide of fabric along the back of his neck, then a sudden rush of cool air on bare skin.

After that, his coat, and the jacket of Blaine’s choosing underneath. Blaine unfastened each button one by one, his movements lit only by the city lights from outside their window, glinting dimly against each circle of metal. Kurt was practically begging for more contact by the time Blaine slid the gray blazer off his shoulders. But under that was a turtleneck, and under that, a plain white t-shirt.

“So many layers,” Blaine murmured, humor dancing in his voice.

Kurt moaned softly when he finally, finally, felt the rough touch of Blaine’s hands on his bare skin. They slid down his chest and stomach to his belt buckle, tugging away the leather, then the denim below; jeans and briefs coming off in one fluid motion. Blaine was faster with his own clothes; sweater, shoes, socks, jeans were gone in a flash.

The barest of goosebumps had started forming on Kurt’s skin when Blaine reached for him again, edging them over to the bed. Both boys collapsed with a sigh into soft linens and fluffy pillows.

Blaine rolled himself on top of Kurt’s body, pressing warm, flat palms against his forearms. “Cold?” he asked, rubbing his hands up to Kurt’s shoulders, then back down; the friction smoothing away any trace of a chill. His voice was so low, like a rumble that Kurt could feel vibrating through his entire body.

“Not anymore.” Kurt’s eyes were wide open, but he could barely see; only feel. Skin, hair, lips, breath.

Blaine’s palms slid down again to tangle his fingers with Kurt's. He lifted their joined hands up to either side of Kurt’s head, gently pinning him there as he alternated loving whispers and wet, open-mouthed kisses everywhere he could reach: behind Kurt’s ears, down his neck, along the ridge of his collarbone.

“So beautiful.”
“I want you.”
“Let me. Kurt.”

Kurt was unable, unwilling to do anything but surrender to Blaine’s desperate pleas. Goosebumps prickled back to life along his arms and legs; the tiny shivers shooting all the way to the top of his head and down to his groin.

Blaine’s lips and tongue stroked over nipples and ribs, up to triceps and elbows, and down once more to give each spot another round of attention. Kurt writhed in pleasure under the hot, heavy weight pressing his hands and body deep into the mattress.

Tiny, gasping moans escaped from Kurt’s throat as Blaine’s kisses turned to gentle nips and swirling licks. The erotic sounds stoked the fire in Blaine’s belly, urging him to take more and more.

Blaine lifted himself up on quivering arms and leaned into their conjoined hands, binding Kurt even tighter to the bed. He rolled his hips once; then again; and again, Kurt meeting his thrusts this time. They moved together in the dark, blankets tangling around their bodies as damp skin slid over damp, velvety skin.

“Please,” Kurt heard himself gasp out. “Blaine.”

Blaine reached down for a kiss; their quivering lips gliding against each other in a slow, smooth dance before Blaine unraveled their fingers and moved away. Kurt’s hands lay motionless on either side of his head. He was too sated to move; still basking in the memory of Blaine’s strong grip holding him there.

Kurt heard the familiar sounds: Blaine rummaging through the drawer of their little plastic nightstand; a box opening; a bottle being uncapped. Then he felt: Blaine’s hand moving down, down; a wet, firm grasp briefly stroking his cock; a finger tracing a path back to his hole.

Blaine slowly circled around, over and over, with a feather light touch; torturously drawing out the sensation until Kurt was pleading for more. Gently, firmly, he pushed a single finger into the hot, silky tightness, holding it there for Kurt to get acclimated. Kurt’s breath hitched when Blaine slowly moved deeper, then back out, and in again. On the next draw out, Blaine added a second finger, working up to a steady pace. Tingling pleasure rolled through every part of Kurt’s body: fingers, toes, ears, throat, spine.

“I want to see you let go,” Blaine rasped into the dark. “I’m going to watch you.”

Please.” It was all Kurt could say, all he could think. Blaine had unraveled him so completely and thoroughly. He was laid bare for the taking.

Blaine withdrew his fingers, leaving Kurt empty for too-long moments until he felt the tip of Blaine’s cock pushing against his entrance. They groaned together as Blaine slowly worked his way in; the dark room and city sounds absorbing the noises.

When he was completely buried, Blaine dropped his slick forehead down to Kurt’s, grabbing his face in both hands and panting hot breaths against his cheek. Kurt reached up to thread his hands into Blaine’s hair, keeping their bodies pressed as close together as possible.

The emotions washed over them slowly: heat, love, lust exploding like fireworks in their heads and hearts and bellies. Kurt felt like if Blaine let go enough, he could dissolve right into Kurt’s body and they could become a single soul.

“Just melt into me,” Kurt murmured, his voice slurred with arousal and fatigue.

“I would,” Blaine breathed, scattering kisses across Kurt’s sweaty face. “I wish.”

Blaine’s thrusts were achingly slow at first; the glorious drag of his cock against Kurt’s rim nearly making them both cross-eyed with pleasure. They quickly increased their speed, setting a frantic rhythm. Blaine licked and sucked the salty skin of Kurt’s neck and jawline, taking everything he could from the moment and giving back just as much.

Too soon, everything started to feel like too much. Blaine pressed his cheek into Kurt’s; together, they held on to every jolt of raw need, listened to every whimper and moan and slap of skin on skin.

“Kurt.” Blaine suddenly lifted his head, his eyes boring into Kurt’s through the darkness. He reached a hand between them to stroke Kurt’s cock in time with his thrusts. “Come for me. Let me see you.”

Kurt gulped warm, thick air that smelled like them: Kurt and Blaine, together. The scents and sounds and touches and words were overwhelming. All of a sudden, Kurt was coming; falling off the edge of a beautiful world into something even more exquisite. His eyes were squeezed shut, but he could still feel Blaine above him, watching the orgasm bloom across the shadowy planes of his face.

Then Blaine was right there with him, tumbling forever into the same wonderful abyss. Blaine buried his face in Kurt’s smooth, trembling neck to muffle the groan of pleasure that tore from his lips.

They remained that way, paralyzed in the afterglow, for countless minutes afterward. Blaine stayed heavy on top of Kurt; one hand still clasped against his face. Kurt was content to lie there, pinned under Blaine, reveling in the feeling of one body, together.

Their breathing slowed, grew deeper. Kurt may have dozed off; all of a sudden, he felt Blaine pull himself off and out of his body. Blaine shifted over to Kurt’s side, enveloping him and pressing a lazy kiss to his damp hairline.

“You take good care of me, too,” Kurt whispered before succumbing to the hazy pull of sleep.

Continue to chapter ten

Current Mood: excitedexcited

Title: New York, New York | Part One: Road Full of Promise (8/13)
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Kurt/Blaine, Rachel, mentions of Finn and various OCs/family members
Spoilers: Through 2x22 “New York”
Warnings: Underage drinking
Word Count: 4,051
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters. I’m just borrowing them for a little while.
Summary: Kurt, Blaine and Rachel celebrate Thanksgiving together at college: complete with a tofurkey, a little too much pinot grigio, and some funny country western accents.

Author’s Note: This chapter is inspired by a Thanksgiving dinner I had with some friends in the dorms my senior year of college. It was seriously one of the best Thanksgivings of my life. Enjoy this bit of fluff! (Although there's more than a few significant little nuggets thrown in along the way.) Oh, and apologies to any Finchel fans...

Previous chapters: Kurtain (prologue) | Admission (prologue) | Spark (one-shot) | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven


“Mustard and cranberry – not just for your Thanksgiving plate!”
Kurt frowned with dissatisfaction at the headline he’d just drafted for his latest blog post. He hit return, typing out another idea below the first one.
“Mustard and cranberry – from your Thanksgiving plate to your wardrobe!”
“That’s even worse,” Kurt muttered, picking up his fork and stabbing at his salad. He hoped his terrible headline writing skills wouldn’t spell doom for his budding editorial career.
Kurt snuggled deeper into his new wool sweater as he typed out idea after idea. The gray, cowl necked garment was his latest New York fashion acquisition; he’d staked out his favorite boutique for three weeks until it was marked down sixty percent. The cozy wool helped ward off the cold that had gripped New York as soon as October gave way to November – not to mention some of the loneliness he felt from eating dinner by himself in his room.
He and Blaine usually got dinner together on Thursday nights. But Blaine was at the theater tonight, auditioning for a role in the freshman class’s spring production of Oklahoma. Kurt sent another silent good luck wish up to the sky as he thought of his boyfriend on a big, empty stage, pouring out his soul for the chance to star in his first college production.
It was probably a good thing that he had a little bit of extra time to himself, anyway. Kurt was determined to complete everything on his blog to-do list tonight: researching other fashion blogs, writing this damn headline, drafting another post. (Thankfully, he’d already come up with a snappy title for that one: “The fashionista’s guide to surviving winter in style.”) Plus, he still had to edit three posts Ashleigh had written.
The petite, brash brunette had become his closest new friend at college, ever since the event Kurt now referred to as the sex incident on the first day of classes. After finding her note – and properly collecting himself – Kurt had gone straight to Ashleigh’s room, her red face mirroring his as she opened the door. They’d both stared at each other for a moment before bursting out laughing and hugging.
Now she was his blogging co-conspirator. Kurt had hired her to write a weekly column, photographing and interviewing people on the street about their style. He couldn’t pay her anything, of course, but she seemed thrilled at the opportunity to contribute. Kurt needed all the help he could get managing his burgeoning fashion blog while keeping up with a full course load at the same time.
He thought he’d finally struck headline gold – “Seven ways to borrow from your Thanksgiving plate for your fall wardrobe” – when a sudden, harsh knock pulled at his concentration. Then he heard the voice, muffled through his thick, wooden door. “Kurt?”
Rachel. Kurt sighed as he got up from his desk. Of course. He loved his best friend unconditionally, but she had the worst timing of anyone he knew.
Kurt plucked his copy of My Fair Lady from the TV stand on his way to the door. They’d been trading movie musicals back and forth all semester. He’d give her the DVD and shoo her away so he could finish his work as quickly as possible. After all, Kurt wanted to be able to properly celebrate Blaine’s first New York audition when he got back.
But when he opened the door, Kurt immediately forgot about Audrey Hepburn and his blog and even celebratory hand jobs. Rachel was a crying mess: fat tears streaming down her scrunched up face, her breath coming out in little hiccups.
“K-k-k-urt,” she stuttered, her chin trembling with barely held back sobs. Then she buried her face in her hands, succumbing to her tears.
“Rachel!” Kurt wrapped an arm around her hunched shoulders and ushered her into the room, closing the door behind them. He wrapped her in a tight hug, trapping her hands and face against his chest. “What happened?”
Oh, god, Kurt thought, his heart sinking. She didn’t get the lead in Oklahoma. She lost to Chelsea. We’re going to have to hear about this every day for the next four months…
“F-f-f-f-i-nnnnnn.” Her wail was muffled by the wool of Kurt’s sweater. “H-h-h-h-e…dumped me!”
Kurt’s mouth dropped open. Immediately, he remembered fall break and his candid, late-night conversation with Finn.
“She’s here and I’m there. She’s always going to be here.”
“Oh, Rachel.” Kurt dropped a kiss on the top of her glossy head. “I’m sorry.” He held her there for a few minutes, rubbing his hands up and down her back as she wept.
“Come here, sit down,” he said gently once her sobs started to die off. As he guided her to the bed, Kurt chanced a look at his prized new sweater. Wet drops clung to the wool, creating dark, damp splotches where her tears had sunk into the fabric.
There were only a handful of people in the world whom Kurt would tolerate messing up his clothes so severely. Thankfully, Rachel Berry happened to be one of them.
“He said he didn’t know how we could make it work,” Rachel bawled, her voice thick with tears. She loudly blew her nose into a tissue that Kurt offered, while Kurt used another to dab at the wet spots on his chest. “I thought we were making it work!”
Kurt pressed his lips together, thinking hard about what to say to her. He quickly decided not to reveal what Finn had told him during his visit. He was Kurt’s brother, after all. Although that didn’t mean Kurt couldn’t use the information to give Rachel his own little pep talk.
“Were you, though?” Kurt asked quietly. “Is a long-distance relationship with Finn really what you wanted?”
Rachel shifted her gaze to meet Kurt’s. “Of course I wanted it,” she answered, her eyes falling back down to her lap. “I love Finn.”
“I’m not doubting your love, Rachel. You guys were together for a long time. You experienced a lot together. But…you’re here now. You’re achieving everything you’ve ever wanted.” Kurt shifted on the bed, angling his body toward her so he could take one of her hands in his. “What did you tell me, when we snuck in to Wicked? That that was your true love: New York, the stage.”
“I know.” Rachel blew out a cleansing breath. “It is.”
“So tell me: now that you’re here, and you know what it’s like – compared to life in Lima – would you change anything?”
“No,” Rachel answered quickly, firmly. “I never want to be anywhere else.”
Kurt gave her a small, sympathetic smile. “And Finn’s never going to leave Ohio. You know that.”
“I know.” Her eyes started to get misty again. “It just hurts, though. Having a boyfriend is part of my dreams, too.”
“What, do you think Finn is the only guy who could ever be your boyfriend?” Kurt shot her a look, as if to say, Silly girl. “Rachel, there are millions of men in New York. You’re going to find somebody. And when it’s the right guy, you won’t have to choose between your dreams to be with him. They’ll all fit together. It’ll feel right.” He playfully nudged her leg with his knee. “Until then, you’re stuck with me.”
“If only you could be my boyfriend,” Rachel said jokingly.
Kurt made a face. “I promise I would have asked you out a long time ago if girls did anything for me.”
They both dissolved in laughter, Kurt still clutching her hand. When they finally calmed down again, Kurt gave her a warm smile. “You made it, Rachel. Boyfriend or not, you have it all.”
Rachel scoffed. “If only I could manage to get a part,” she mumbled. “Chelsea’s going to get Laurey. I know it. And Laurey has been one of my dream roles for years.”
Kurt thought it was an excellent sign that Rachel had moved on to discussing her theater prospects.
“Okay, okay. Let’s wait until the cast list actually comes out before I let you indulge in another pity party.” Kurt gave her hand a little shake, trying to clear away the glum air in the room. “Hey, what do you think about staying here for Thanksgiving with Blaine and me? Don’t go back to Lima. You’ll only torture yourself.”
“You’re really staying here?”
“Yeah. Blaine…” Kurt trailed off, not needing to elaborate any further.
“I get it. I’d love to stay with you guys.” Rachel sniffled one last time before giving Kurt as bright as smile as she could manage. “Thanks, Kurt. You’re the best.”
“Are you going to be okay?”
Rachel nodded. “I think so.”
“Can I send you back with My Fair Lady? I hate to do it, but I really have to finish up these blog posts. Ashleigh’s been waiting on my edits all week.”
“You’ve been hanging out with her a lot lately,” Rachel remarked quietly, looking down at their conjoined hands as she spoke. “Ashleigh.”
Kurt smiled as he thought about his new friend. “Yes. She’s really great. But, you!” He lifted Rachel’s hand to his lips, smacking a hard, noisy kiss to the back of it. “I love you.”
Rachel rewarded him with one of her trademark loud, happy laughs; although it was a little bit dimmer than usual. “You’re my best friend, Kurt,” she said passionately, gripping his hand in return. “I don’t know what I’d do without you here.” She paused to lean in a little, giving him a knowing look. “I’m not the only one who made it, you know. We both did. Together.”
Kurt smiled at her lovingly. “Together, always.”

When Blaine came in late that night, Kurt was alone again, reading in bed by the light of a single table lamp.
“So we have a guest for Thanksgiving,” he said in greeting, without looking up from his textbook.
Blaine didn’t even need to ask who would be joining them. “I thought she was going home?” His voice was hoarse with exhaustion, the result of a marathon day of classes and auditioning. All he wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep for hours. He started to undress: pulling off his shoes, then stripping out of his jeans.
Kurt glanced up from his reading; his eyes skimming up Blaine’s bare legs and lingering over the tight muscles in his thighs. “Finn broke up with her tonight.” He pouted a little when Blaine tugged on a pair of sweatpants.
Blaine grunted in response, lifting his sweater over his head. “Did you talk to him?” he asked, reaching to undo the buttons on his checkered shirt.
The book slipped out of Kurt’s hands onto the bed beside him as he watched Blaine unbutton his shirt. Kurt cleared his throat, making himself focus on their conversation. “I sent him a text, but he didn’t get back to me. Big surprise.”
Blaine’s button down dropped to the floor, alongside his discarded jeans and sweater. Kurt eyed the pile of worn clothes, but didn’t say anything. He’d tidy up in the morning, if Blaine didn’t get a chance before he rushed off to class.
“She’s kind of a mess right now, as you might imagine,” Kurt continued. “And she doesn’t think she’s going to get the lead in Oklahoma, either.”
Blaine hummed softly as he slid into bed. This was, without fail, his favorite part of each day: sinking into soft sheets and pillows, swaddled in Kurt’s scent and warmth; a brief respite from his hectic life as a first-year music theater student before he did it all again tomorrow.
“Everybody seems to think Chelsea’s going to get it,” Blaine said, his eyelids briefly sliding shut. “Personally, I think Rachel deserves it. But it’ll be one of them, that’s for sure. They’re miles ahead of the other girls in our studio.”
“It’s going to be Chelsea versus Rachel for the next four years, isn’t it?”
Blaine grimaced, recalling the snide looks and petty comments he’d witnessed from both of them as they battled for attention during songs and monologues in their classes. “Pretty much.”
Kurt slid down in bed so he was lying on his side, facing Blaine; not touching, but close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body. “So how’d your audition go, Curly?” he asked in a low, throaty voice, reaching his hand up to comb through the hair at the back of Blaine’s neck. He desperately needs a trim, Kurt thought absently, making a mental note to schedule an appointment for him during work the next day.
“I didn’t try out for Curly.”
Kurt threw him a scandalous look. “Why not? You’d be a perfect Curly! He’s so…happy and lovey-dovey.”
Blaine shrugged a shoulder, snuggling deeper into his pillow. “I wanted to try something different. I auditioned for Jud.”
“Oh. The dark and mysterious type, are you?” Kurt was definitely trying to flirt now. Blaine moaned regretfully. How and when, exactly, had sleep become more appealing than sex?
“Not exactly. I just get to play one in musicals. If I get the part, that is.”
“You’ll do it.” Kurt leaned down, placing an open-mouthed kiss onto the corner of Blaine’s mouth. It was hot and wet, and Blaine let out another moan of remorse. He was already having trouble focusing on anything. The sensation of Kurt’s fingers massaging into the back of his head had turned his thoughts to jelly. He could feel himself slipping away, deeper and deeper into darkness.
“The first high school relationship casualty,” Kurt mused, still rubbing small circles into Blaine’s scalp. He quietly pondered the fates of the other couples they knew from high school: Sam and Mercedes, Tina and Mike, Puck and Quinn. “I wonder who’ll be next.”
Blaine’s shadowed eyes were closed now. “Not us,” he mumbled. His eyes suddenly opened, unfocused, as a fleeting thought ran through his mind. “Wait. We’re still going to have turkey on Thanksgiving, right?”
Kurt tossed his head back, laughing lightly. “Yes. We’ll still have turkey. Rachel can find her own meat substitute this time.”
Blaine smiled, letting his eyelids slip shut again. “Thanks. I love you.”
I suppose we should save the celebratory sex for when he actually gets the part, anyway. For now, Kurt was fine settling for watching Blaine fall into a deep sleep, his face softening and his breath deepening in front of Kurt’s eyes.
“Not us,” Kurt whispered happily to his sleeping boyfriend.


Blaine’s anxiety had started creeping back sometime in late October, when everyone around him began talking about their plans for Thanksgiving break. Then, as if on cue, his mother had emailed him, asking if he’d like her to book him a flight home for the holiday.
“I can’t go back,” Blaine had murmured, shaking his head back and forth as he stared at her message on his computer screen.
Kurt had simply gotten up from his desk and walked over to Blaine, squeezing his shoulder in a display of love and support.
“Okay. I’ll tell my dad we’re going to stay here.” He’d leaned in, giving Blaine a kiss on the cheek and a mischievous smirk. “But I hope you realize I’m dragging you to the parade.”

Although Kurt missed his family desperately, the idea of making Thanksgiving dinner for him and Blaine in New York gave him a new kind of thrill; something he’d never quite experienced before in his young life.
He’d called his father from the cold streets of Manhattan early that morning, as he, Blaine and Rachel stood for hours bundled up in winter coats and huddled against each other. Kurt described each float that passed by, in the one in a million chance that Burt might spot his son in the crowd on the Hummel family’s television, six hundred miles away.
Kurt felt like such an adult, being here in the city with Blaine on a holiday. He could see the two of them hosting many more special occasions together in the future – especially when Blaine came up to him while he prepared dinner in the common kitchen, putting his hand on the small of Kurt’s back and watching his progress.
“Taste this.” Kurt held a spoonful of gravy to Blaine’s lips.
Mmm...” Kurt’s eyes followed Blaine’s tongue as it left a wet trail along his lower lip. “Delicious.”
Kurt couldn’t help himself; he reached forward and kissed Blaine there – long, slow, brimming with love. “I’m so happy to be here with you today,” Kurt said when he finally pulled back.
The grin Blaine gave him in response could have lit New York City all night.


Kurt had arranged a gorgeous Thanksgiving spread on the blanket in their room; the same place they shared every dinner at home that semester. They weren’t supposed to have candles in the dorms, but Kurt couldn’t resist lighting some festive orange pillars he’d found on a recent Saturday excursion to a flea market. Just to be safe, he kept them on his and Blaine’s desks, high out of the way of their blanket and carpet.
“It’s so pretty!” Rachel gushed when she came down to join them. She gave Kurt a nod of approval. “Martha would be proud.”
Kurt couldn’t ask for a better compliment. Or a better friend. Or a better boyfriend. Certainly, not a better Thanksgiving.
“Rachel, I have something special for you.” He crouched down to lift foil off a small roasting pan. “I didn’t want you to feel left out, so…”
“Tofurkey!” she exclaimed, clapping with glee. She grabbed Kurt’s face in her hands and kissed him squarely on the lips. “Thank you, baby!”
“And I brought the perfect accompaniment,” Blaine added, popping the cork off a bottle of white wine.
“How did you get wine?” Rachel asked, looking incredulously at the two bottles of pinot grigio in front of him.
“My friend at work bought it for me. A thank you gift for covering her shifts the rest of the weekend so she could go home.” Blaine didn’t even care that he’d have to work like a dog for the remainder of Thanksgiving break; he’d have worked every day for the rest of the year if it meant he could spend the holiday here with Kurt, just like this.
“I would like to propose a toast,” Kurt announced once Blaine had finished pouring their drinks, standing and raising his glass ceremonially. “To my New York family – my love and my best friend. I’m so thankful and grateful for both of you every single day. May this be the first of many, many holidays we spend together!”
They each wore ear-to-ear smiles as they shouted all at once, “Cheers!”

“I wonder what fabulous beach my dads are on right now,” Rachel pondered between bites of tofurkey and ginger-glazed carrots.
“Sounds like they weren’t too heartbroken about you not going home for Thanksgiving,” Blaine remarked as he refilled their wine glasses.
“Oh, they were. That is, until their travel agent nabbed them a really great last-minute deal on a gay cruise to Mexico.” Rachel sighed. “That’ll be you guys someday. Cruising somewhere fabulous, leaving your poor children behind in the States.”
Kurt wrinkled his nose, taking another sip from his wine glass. “I don’t think cruises are my style. I’d burn to a crisp in the Caribbean.”
“How about Paris?” Blaine suggested, his smile matching his flirty tone. “Drinking coffee at an outdoor cafe while we gaze up at the Eiffel Tower.”
Kurt gave him a soft smile in return. The wine was already making everything feel so cozy, so fuzzy around the edges. “That sounds like a perfect holiday to me.” They got lost in each other’s eyes, oblivious to Rachel’s frown.
“And now I’m all alone,” she pouted. Then her face brightened. “Maybe I can come with you guys to Paris!”
No!” Kurt and Blaine shouted in unison, just before their lips met in a sweet kiss.

It didn’t take much more pinot grigio before the three friends were in a rollicking good mood. Soon they had abandoned their dinner spread in favor of an impromptu performance from Oklahoma by Blaine and Rachel; their already terrible country western accents made worse by the alcohol.
Kurt was lying on his side on the floor, doubled over with laughter from their exaggerated drawls. He broke out in wild applause as they finished reciting the scene together – half the lines mumbled and slurred.
“Well, I see now why they chose you to play Laurey, Rachel!” Kurt declared, sitting up and brushing himself off as best he could through his drunken haze.
Rachel beamed. She’d gotten the lead after all. “They felt I expressed Laurey’s independent spirit best,” Rachel had told them when she burst into their room with the news. Chelsea would play the role of flirtatious Ado Annie.
Blaine ended up getting Jud – an accomplishment he and Kurt had celebrated late into the night, with more than just hand jobs.
“I have the soundtrack!” Blaine exclaimed, abruptly remembering his music collection. “I have the soundtrack,” he repeated, not quite as loudly, as he stumbled over to his desk and scrolled through his iTunes library. Music stared blaring from the tiny speakers on either side of his laptop. He grabbed Rachel’s hands, spinning her in a messy circle as they both sang.
Oh, what a beautiful mornin’
Oh, what a beautiful day
I’ve got a beautiful feelin’
Everything’s goin’ my way
Blaine let go of Rachel and made a beeline for Kurt, pulling him close and swaying out of time with the soaring melody. “Everything’s goin’ my way,” he repeated on a whisper, close to Kurt’s ear. Kurt wanted to sink into this warm feeling, to drown in it and never return to reality.
“Wait! So…wait!” Rachel held up both hands, trying to get them to listen to her. It didn’t work; Kurt and Blaine kept dancing, lost together in their own blissful world. “I forgot to tell you guys. I think I’m going to move in with Chelsea next semester.”
That got their attention. Kurt lost his balance and fell into Blaine’s side, as Blaine stopped dancing in mid-step to stare at Rachel in shocked, horrified confusion.
What?” Kurt screeched, tottering over to Blaine’s laptop to turn down the volume. He couldn’t concentrate on anything with the music so loud.
“Chelsea’s roommate is transferring!” Rachel elaborated, a little too much excitement in her voice. “So she has an open spot in her room.”
“But you hate Chelsea.” Blaine was squinting at her, as if that would help him understand what she was saying.
“I mean…I don’t hate her…not all the time, anyway.”
“She definitely hates you.”
“But she asked me to move in with her!”
“Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer,” Kurt piped up from the floor, where he’d plopped back down to clumsily pour more wine into his glass, then Blaine’s.
“Come on, guys,” Rachel chided. “I just…I can’t stand living with Chloe anymore. At least Chelsea and I have the same interests, and similar schedules.”
“Sure. And maybe she’ll try to kill you in your sleep.”
“…or poison your mac and soy cheese,” Kurt chimed in.
“No!” Rachel waved her hands in front of her face, trying to sweep their words from the air. “It will be okay. I mean, Kurt and I used to hate each other.” She pointed an accusing finger down at Kurt.
“No, I hated you. You couldn’t see past your own self-absorption to actually hate anyone.”
Rachel hummed. “Yeah, that’s true. But, look! Look at us now. Best friends!” She reached down and threw her arms around his waist, falling to the floor as she squeezed him tightly. Kurt faked a choking noise, making her laugh with giddy pleasure.
“Best friends,” she repeated. “Celebrating Thanksgiving together. In New York!”
“All of our dreams coming true,” Kurt added, winking at her as Blaine sat down next to him.
Rachel picked her glass up off the floor, holding it up in a toast. “To the best Thanksgiving ever!”
“To the best Thanksgiving ever!” Kurt and Blaine repeated as the three glasses clinked hard, wine spilling onto the blanket below.

Continue to chapter nine

Current Mood: productiveproductive

Title: New York, New York | Part One: Road Full of Promise (7/13)
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Kurt/Blaine, Rachel/Finn
Spoilers: Through 2x22 “New York”
Warnings: None
Word Count: 5,220
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters. I’m just borrowing them for a little while.
Summary: Kurt stared dully at the blinking cursor on his computer screen. William Blake was the least of his concerns right now. How the hell could he have forgotten that Finn was coming?

Author's Note: Wow…so this chapter took way too long to write. I had to sit on it for a while before I got the inspiration I needed, and then RL kicked me in the ass. I’m so sorry about that, everybody. An enormous thank you to all who have waited patiently for this update! This chapter is super fluffy (welcome back, oblivious, cockblocking Rachel!), but some of its messages will be important down the road (ooh, foreshadowing). Chapters 8-11 are holiday-themed, so I am going to work my butt off to post them all by the end of the month.

Previous chapters: Kurtain (prologue) | Admission (prologue) | Spark (one-shot) | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six


The first month and a half of college flew by in a blur of papers, coffee and dance steps. Before Kurt and Blaine knew it, it was fall break: four magnificent days free of classes, rehearsals – everything. They could hit the pause button on their chaotic lives and revel in the glory that was October in New York.
They’d been planning it since the middle of September: Blaine would take Sunday off work, Kurt would schedule his blog posts in advance; and then they would both close their laptops, put their books away, and get lost in the city – and each other.
It couldn’t come soon enough. Their busy calendars didn’t allow them nearly enough alone time. They’d quickly learned that living together didn’t mean they had built-in time – or energy – for sex. More often than not, they had to try and fit it in somewhere between laundry, and homework, and naps, and calling home, and impromptu philosophical discussions with their floormates about current events and hometown quirks and the best pizza places in Greenwich Village.
They usually settled for a different kind of intimacy: lying side by side in bed, Blaine humming along to his sheet music while Kurt listened, color-coding his class notes in three different shades of fluorescent highlighter; Kurt helping Blaine run his lines for acting class over morning coffee; Blaine snuggling his head into Kurt’s side as he fell into a deep sleep, while Kurt blogged and wrote papers well into the night.
Fall break was their chance to make up for lost time. For the past two weeks, they’d been teasing each other in anticipation: shooting off suggestive texts during work and whispering to one another in low voices over dinner.
“I have to say, my dance classes are making me very…flexible.”
“I’m going to test that statement during fall break.”
“Can we spend an entire day in bed during fall break?”
“Just one day?”
But Rachel threw a giant bucket of cold water on their plans when she breezed into their room three days before break began, as Kurt was desperately trying to finalize his literature paper. It was due next Thursday, and he’d be damned if he was going to spend a single second of his break doing homework.
“Do you guys have an air mattress?” she asked casually.
“No…why?” Kurt asked inattentively as he scanned the small paperback book in his hands, too engrossed in stanzas of The Chimney Sweeper to fully process her question. Blaine looked up from his script, punctuating Kurt’s inattentive response with a polite shake of his head.
Rachel bit her lip, deep in thought. “Okay. I guess I have time to go buy one tomorrow.” She put her hands on her hips and studied their room; her eyes roaming across the small expanse of carpet between the door and the bed. “A queen would fit in here, right?” Blaine lifted his head again, narrowing his eyes at her in confusion.
A few of Rachel’s words finally penetrated through to Kurt’s consciousness. In here? He tore his eyes from the black and white lines of poetry. “Come again?”
“A queen size air mattress. I don’t want Finn to have to sleep on a twin.”
Kurt blinked at her. “Finn?”
Over on the bed, Blaine’s eyes suddenly grew huge as he realized what she was saying.
Yeeeesss.” Rachel drew out the word, as if she wasn’t sure why he was confused. “You guys said he could stay with you during break, remember?”
The memory slammed back to Kurt at once. “Finn can stay here with us.”

He’d made the offer so long ago – before classes had even started. Before their lives had gotten crazy. Before fall break had become an oasis in the distance that they’d been longing for, trudging toward; a much-deserved reward for their patience and hard work.
Oh my god, what was I thinking?
Kurt’s jaw dropped open. “Ohhhh…oh!” He quickly covered up his moan of regret with the interjection. “Yes. Right. Finn. Of course.” He forced a smile. “Of course,” he repeated, quieter now, as his and Blaine’s tantalizing dreams for break vanished before his eyes.
“So Chloe really won’t let him stay in your room?” Kurt could tell from the high pitch of Blaine’s voice that their trains of thought at the moment were identical.
“No!” Rachel stamped her foot indignantly at the mention of her loathed roommate. “She has some big project for…chemistry, or whatever, due the day after break is over. So she’s staying here the whole time.”
Kurt stared dully at the blinking cursor on his computer screen. William Blake was the least of his concerns right now. How the hell could he have forgotten that Finn was coming?
There’d certainly be no throwing Blaine down on the bed and screwing him senseless with his stepbrother hanging around. No long hours exploring Blaine’s newly toned, limber muscles, left hidden under clothing far too often lately...
“Kurt?” Rachel’s voice snapped him back from his indecent thoughts.
“What?” he answered quickly, cheeks pink with embarrassment and lust.
“I asked if you want to host dinner Friday night for all of us. I figured since Finn was in town, you’d like to make something special.”
“Dinner.” He’d been hoping to eat that Friday’s dinner directly off Blaine’s body. Guess I’ll have to rethink that presentation. “Yeah. Sure.”
Rachel gave them both a huge, bright smile. “Thank you so much, guys! You’re the best! We’re all going to have such a good time together!” And with that, she was gone, just as suddenly as she came.
Blaine blew out a breath, dropping his forehead down onto his script on the bed. “Damn.”
“Yeah.” Apparently, Kurt could still only speak in single syllables.
“I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’m happy to host Finn and help Rachel out and all that…” Blaine trailed off, realizing he didn’t need to explain himself any further. “But…damn.”
“I’m an idiot,” Kurt moaned, closing his eyes.
“Hey – no!” Blaine rolled off the bed and shuffled over to him, pushing himself onto the edge of Kurt’s chair. He curled his arm around Kurt’s shoulder so their bodies were pressed tightly together. “You did the right thing. It’ll be fine.”
“How, exactly? This was supposed to be our weekend together. It was going to be perfect.”

“We’ll just…” Blaine trailed off, shaking his head as desperately searched for the right words to make the situation better. “We’ll figure something out. I’m sure they’re not going to want to spend the entire time hanging out in here. We’ll still have plenty of time to ourselves.”
“Yeah, but all his stuff will be here. And his smell. That awful, straight boy smell, like socks or something.” Kurt wrinkled his nose in disgust. “It’ll ruin the mood.”

“Come on.” Blaine pulled the book out of Kurt’s hands, hoping to distract them both for a little while. “Let’s take a break. Half an hour?”
Kurt huffed out a breath. “We always only have half an hour.”
“I know.” Blaine’s voice was mournful.
“That’s why we’ve been planning our fall break sexcapade.”
Blaine chuckled, leaning in to nuzzle his nose against Kurt’s cheek. “Is that what you’ve actually been calling it?”
“No. I just thought of it now. But it’s a good name though, huh?”
“Mmmmhmmm.” Blaine was already kissing behind Kurt’s ear, lapping at the sensitive skin there with his tongue.
“I have to finish my paper.” Kurt’s protest was half-hearted, at best.
“It’s not due for a week.” Blaine reached his arm out in front of them, blindly closing the cover of Kurt’s laptop with a satisfying click. “You can work on it in half an hour.”
“What about your lines? You have class first thing in the morning.”
Blaine dragged his mouth over just slightly and began reciting his newly memorized lines directly into Kurt’s ear. His damp, rough whisper sent chills down Kurt’s spine.
"Doubt thou the stars are fire;
Doubt that the sun doth move;
Doubt truth to be a liar;
But never doubt I love.”

Kurt swallowed hard. “Sounds like you’re ready, Polonius.”
“Oh, I’m ready.” Blaine swung his legs over Kurt’s lap, lifting himself up so the warm weight of his body pressed against Kurt’s chest and thighs. “Can I get that half hour now?”

When Rachel led Finn into Kurt and Blaine’s room late Friday afternoon – an uncomfortable smile on his face and a duffel bag slung over his shoulder – all Kurt could think was how strange it was to see his stepbrother here.

They’d all been in New York together before, but now it was different: Kurt had begun to think of his life at college as completely separate from his life at home; as if they were occurring in different dimensions. Now, with Finn here, the two disparate worlds were colliding, and it was weird.
Finn was even bigger than Kurt remembered: tall, of course, but stronger, bulkier; likely the result of his daily football practices. Rachel had never looked smaller, or more incongruous, next to him.
“I’m going to go upstairs to shower and change. I had to leave straight from dance class to pick you up at the airport.” She lifted herself up on her toes for a kiss; Finn obliged, bending down to give her a peck on the lips. “I’ll be back before you can miss me!” She grinned at Finn as she left him alone with Kurt.
Finn’s gaze wandered around the room, taking in Kurt and Blaine’s books and photos and furniture. Kurt had to assume the ambiance was quite different than his own accommodations at Ohio State. “Thanks for letting me crash with you guys,” he finally said, giving Kurt a goofy smile as he set his bag down against a wall. “Where’s Blaine?”
“He works on Friday afternoons. Till seven,” Kurt answered. “I’m going to make dinner tonight for all of us once he gets home. Hope you don’t mind vegan.”
Finn groaned. “Man. I totally forgot about that.”
“Yes. Well, neither Blaine nor I have died of starvation yet, so you should be okay for one weekend.”
Finn warily eyed the big bed. “Are you sure it’s cool if I stay here? I don’t wanna, you know…” He awkwardly waved his hands in the direction of the bed. “Interrupt anything.”
“Oh, god.” Kurt felt his cheeks get hot. You have no idea. “It’s not…it’s fine, Finn. Any time.”

It turned out that Finn actually couldn’t survive the weekend – or even a single night – on a vegan diet. So Kurt found himself leading his stepbrother to the nearest pizza joint around midnight that evening, after Blaine and Rachel had crashed: Blaine on their bed, Rachel on the air mattress she’d immediately snuggled into once she’d set it up on their floor after dinner.
Kurt justified the extra meal by reminding himself that it was a special occasion, and that Finn would probably eat most of whatever they ordered, anyway.
The conversation between brothers over a large, greasy pepperoni pizza was much different than the mirthful words they’d all exchanged earlier that evening. Finn spoke frankly about life at OSU: how he’d already made some of the best friends of his life on the football team; how he was pretty sure he wanted to major in health promotion, even though he kept telling Rachel he was studying music education – and how the girls were, apparently, a dream.

It was the same for Finn, Kurt mused as he listened to his brother talk about his own new life. He, too, was struggling to reconcile those separate worlds of college and home that seemingly existed on different planes. Except Finn had a third world to juggle: that of his girlfriend, living here in New York.

“A lot of the other guys I’ve met have already broken up with their high school girlfriends.” Finn devoured half his slice in one bite, speaking around the food in his mouth. “Too much to think about, you know? School, football, parties. And other girls.” His mind wandered back to his dorm, hundreds of miles away, and the face of a pretty brunette who lived four doors down from him. “There’s a lot of girls there.”
“Are you trying to tell me you want to break up with Rachel?” Kurt asked, his voice flat and rushed. He winced as he braced himself for the answer.
“No!” Finn exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air in innocence. “No. I mean, I don’t know. Maybe?” He sighed. “I’m just a little confused. I feel…held back from something.”
Something being hookups with random girls?”
“It’s not like that!” Finn blew out a breath, frustrated by his inability to articulate what he was feeling. “It’s like, we’re holding on to something old. It’s not bad, it’s just not…what’s right for us anymore. You know?”
Kurt frowned. “I guess,” he mumbled, picking round slices of pepperoni off his share of the pizza. Maybe he was losing his taste for meat products, too. “All I know is that Rachel loves you, and that she hasn’t mentioned anything like this to me. Not about you, and not about any other guys.”

Finn dropped his head back against the booth with a groan. “I love her, too. We’ve been through a lot together. I just kinda feel like we’re not going the same places. She’s here and I’m there. She’s always going to be here.”
“But you’ve known that for a while. What makes everything different now?” Kurt could see Finn’s eyes darting across the ceiling, as if he were looking for answers in the stained, faded tiles above them.
“Because now it’s real. It’s not something we can put off, or forget about. It’s here.”

Kurt dumped his pepperoni onto Finn’s plate. “Look, Finn. You need to decide what means more to you: what you have with Rachel, and trying to make that work, or all these other possibilities you’re obviously thinking about.” He gave Finn a sympathetic look. “For now, just relax and try to enjoy this weekend. You guys haven’t seen each other for nearly two months. No wonder you’re so confused. Spend some quality time together, and then see how you feel. But…either way, be fair to her, please? She’s my best friend.”
Finn grabbed Kurt’s discarded pizza crust from his plate – “Carbs,” was all Kurt had said as he gestured for Finn to take it – and tore into it, deep in thought. “How do you guys do it?”
“Us guys?”
“You and Blaine.”

Kurt shrugged, even though his heart swelled at the idea that Finn was – sort of – asking him for relationship advice. “We just…do it. It’s what feels right. I don’t ever think that I’m missing out on anything by being with him. Quite the opposite, actually.” Kurt smiled to himself without even realizing it. “I don’t care about any other…options. I just want him. We’re making a life here, together.”

Finn was quiet for a moment, weighing Kurt’s words against his own feelings. They made him feel panicked; like he knew the answer to his worries, but he didn't want to let himself look at it. So he kept his blinders on, and instead focused his attention on Kurt.
“How’d you get Burt to let you guys live together?”
Kurt raised an eyebrow. “We had a discussion,” he replied vaguely.
“Sounds like fun.”
“It was a blast. Right up there with the talk.”
“Does he know you guys are, like…” Finn awkwardly trailed off. “Sleeping together?”
Are we actually talking about this? Although Kurt and Finn were stepbrothers, their differing sexualities had usually been a barrier between them when it came to discussions about intimacy.

“He deduced as much.” On a whim, Kurt decided to push his comments to the edge of their comfort zone. “But I feel like we might as well be sleeping separately, since we can’t take advantage of our big bed with you and Rachel crashing on our floor.”
Kurt burst out laughing as Finn suddenly looked up from his pizza; the expression on his face a mixture of shock, horror and panic.
“Oh, man. Now that’s all I’m gonna be able to think about when I’m in there.”
“Then do me a favor,” Kurt replied, still chuckling. “Do your best to not be in there as much as possible this weekend. Catch my drift?”
Finn turned bright pink. “Got it. I think I’ll let Rachel drag me wherever she wants tomorrow.”

Rachel was in full-on tour guide mode when she came back down to Kurt and Blaine’s room Saturday morning. It was her stated mission to show Finn everything while he was in New York – everything she thought he should see, anyway.
“So today I thought we’d do a loosely structured walk around Midtown. I definitely want Finn to see the Empire State Building and Times Square and the rest of the Theatre District. Radio City Music Hall, Rockefeller Center...”
Blaine raised an eyebrow at her loosely structured tour plans. “That’s a lot, Rachel.”
“Well, whatever we don’t see today, we can visit tomorrow!”
Excellent, Kurt thought happily as he leafed through a copy of Vogue. He wasn’t actually reading the magazine; just flipping page after page, ticking down the seconds until he and Blaine were finally alone.
Rachel looked over to him, loafing on the bed in jeans and chucks. “Are you guys all ready to go?”
Kurt’s gaze flicked up from his magazine. What? “We’re not going with you.”
Finn’s eyes darted over to Kurt, then down to the bed. “Rachel, they don’t have to come with us…”
“You don’t want to come?” she asked Kurt, cutting Finn off. Her brow wrinkled in confusion. “I thought we were all going to hang out together this weekend!”
Kurt opened his mouth to turn her down as gently, and quickly, as possible. But Blaine spoke first.
“Of course we are!” Kurt knew too well the grin he saw plastered on his boyfriend’s face: broad, polite, over-happy. “We’d love to spend the day with you guys.”
Kurt shot Blaine a deadly look, trying to communicate with his eyes. What the hell are you doing? But somehow, the message failed to reach its intended recipient.
Rachel grinned back at him. “Well, let’s go!”
“What the hell are you doing?” Kurt hissed to Blaine as Rachel led Finn out of the room.
“Let’s get out of here for a little while. We need to spend some time with your brother while he’s here.” He took Kurt’s hand, pulling him off the bed and out the door. “And besides, when was the last time we went out in the city together?”
Kurt’s sigh was long and exaggerated. Their sexcapade would have to wait a few hours more. “I hate that you’re right.”
They had no chance of visiting all the spots on Rachel’s list in one day. Whereas the three NYU students had already adopted the fast pace of city life – cruising along crowded sidewalks, weaving among throngs of people, tuning out the loud and strange – Finn was still a true-blue country boy.
He walked too slowly, getting caught behind similarly plodding, rambling groups of tourists. He stopped to stare at every taxi that blared its horn, at every homeless person sitting against the edge of a building, at every person who raised his voice.
It drove Kurt absolutely insane.
He wasn’t the only one. Rachel was clearly exasperated at Finn’s lack of interest in the sights she was hauling him to. She kept pointing things out (“That’s the Gershwin! Where Kurt and I snuck in to sing from Wicked!”), only to have him stare down at her blankly, as if he’d never heard of what she was talking about. Worse, he’d often get distracted by something far less important.
“Dude. McDonald’s delivers?”
Kurt looked at him, disgusted. “Everything delivers, Finn. It’s New York City. Nobody has a car.”
Kurt could already hardly recall a time when he’d never been to New York. It was only a year and a half ago that they’d come here for Nationals; now the city was his home. The scope of his world had broadened so rapidly in such a short amount of time that he barely remembered the day-to-day details of his former life: living in a small town, driving his car to school every day, surrounded by bland nothingness instead of incredible diversity and constant activity.
“This is not what I had planned for today,” Rachel whispered harshly to Kurt, glaring back at Finn and Blaine strolling casually behind them, chatting about football between bites of hot dogs. Finn had insisted they stop for lunch at a hot dog cart – an act that only served to irritate Rachel even more.
“Oh, trust me,” Kurt shot back, his voice full of annoyance. “The last thing I expected to be doing today was towing my stepbrother through Midtown while he and my boyfriend bond over nasty street food.”
When Finn and Blaine finally caught up with them, Rachel looped her arm through Finn’s and pulled him along the sidewalk, pointing toward the American Girl store across the street. “Oh! I had three of those dolls when I was a little girl…”
Kurt and Blaine fell into step behind them. Blaine could sense that Kurt was pissed off. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong, Blaine?” Kurt responded sarcastically. “We’re wandering aimlessly around the city when we should be—” he dropped his voice to a low tremor “—rolling around in bed, scr—”
“Okay, okay.” Blaine cut him off, hoping to forestall the visual Kurt was about to put in his mind – for now, anyway. “Don’t get exasperated. I gave Finn the name of a restaurant to take her out to tonight. We’ll be in the clear.” Blaine had suggested a fancy, romantic eatery – one that had delicious food, but incredibly slow service, according to multiple Yelp reviews.
“I can’t wait.” Kurt just hoped Finn didn’t drop his I’ve been thinking maybe we should see other people bomb on Rachel over dinner. He turned his attention to the food in Blaine’s hand. “A hot dog, Blaine?”
“What? Forgive me if I’m left wanting a little more than sprout pitas,” he said, wincing at the memory of the previous night’s dinner.
“It was the least sexy meal I could think of.”
“Plus, it’s the only wiener I can get right now,” Blaine added, frowning at Finn and Rachel’s backs.
Kurt spluttered, nearly choking on the water he’d just sipped on. Blaine clapped hard on his shoulder blades, biting back a laugh as Finn and Rachel turned around to make sure Kurt was okay.
“He’s fine.” Blaine waved them off with a smile as Kurt tried to collect himself, shooting Blaine a horrified look through watery eyes.
“You are such a nerd,” Kurt wheezed when he was finally able to talk, face red from coughing and complete mortification.
Blaine just grinned, throwing an arm around Kurt’s shoulders and crushing him close as they walked down the street. "Just trying to make you smile."
It took about two seconds after Kurt and Blaine saw the taxi door slam shut behind Finn from their vantage point at their eighth floor window that they were on each other, hard and fast.
It wasn’t the slow, lazy savoring of bodies they’d been looking forward to; but it was satisfying nonetheless, leaving them dizzy and panting. They lay together in bed afterward, tangled in wrinkled sheets and damp limbs. The only sound was their quiet breathing, in and out, as they watched the light in the room dim with dusk.
“We have to eat,” Kurt finally mumbled, breaking the quiet before his growling stomach had the chance.
The sound Blaine made was practically inhuman. “I am not getting up,” he moaned, curling his body closer to Kurt’s.
Kurt laughed softly, absently rubbing at Blaine’s naked thigh, warm and hairy underneath his hand. After a few more hushed moments, he suddenly picked his head up; his eyes bright with an idea. “Sushi?”
Yes, everything did deliver in New York, including sushi: Kurt and Blaine’s one consistent splurge since arriving in the city. Fifty minutes later, they were sitting up in bed, clad only in boxer briefs, trading sushi rolls and secrets.
“He said he feels like he’s holding on to something old,” Kurt said, spilling the details of his talk with Finn. “That it’s not right for them anymore.”
Blaine hummed in agreement. “I can see that. They’re in two different places. Literally and figuratively.”
Kurt poked at a tuna avocado roll, quietly contemplating Finn’s concerns. “Do you ever feel like you’re missing out on something by staying with me?” Kurt asked, his tone serious. “Should we be exploring or dating other people to get the full college experience?”
Blaine paused to pick up a tiny chunk of wasabi with the tip of one of his chopsticks. “Well, let’s see,” he began as he slathered the spicy, green paste on top of a California roll. “You make me laugh and smile. You take care of me when I need help – which is pretty much every day of my life. You make me dinner—” he gestured to the spread in front of them “—or remind me of really good alternatives to making dinner when I’m too exhausted to function.”
Blaine held the roll to Kurt’s lips, smiling when Kurt let him feed it to him. When he continued speaking, his voice was lower, more gravelly. “You treat me like I’m your family. And I’m madly in love with everything about you.” He chased the bite with a lingering kiss, pressed wet and firm against Kurt’s closed lips. “So I guess that’s my way of saying, yes, we should definitely experiment with other people.”
Kurt batted him on the knee, laughing. “Okay, okay, I get it. I’m being ridiculous.”
“Yes. You are being ridiculous.”
“I just wanted to check.”
Blaine grinned at him. These were the parts of living together Blaine had learned to love the most: seeing Kurt the way no one else ever saw him. Blaine seriously doubted Kurt would ever let anyone else feed him – while practically naked, and in bed, for goodness sake.
No, he never felt like he was missing out on anything with this boy by his side.
Their sweet dinner quickly descended into erotic play when soy sauce accidentally dripped onto the hand Kurt held under Blaine’s chin as he fed him a sushi roll. Blaine grabbed Kurt’s wrist, licking the dark drop off his palm with one long, slow stroke of his tongue.
A low moan rumbled in Kurt’s throat. “You know,” he purred. “This reminds me of what I had originally planned for dinner last night.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes. To kick off our sexcapade.”
Dinner ended quickly after that. Their kisses were deep and hungry; their touches hard digs, slow slides over every bit of skin they could reach. Kurt would never again be able to taste soy sauce without thinking of how it mingled with Blaine’s flavors: salty and smooth and manly and so hot.
They barely had time to fix their sheets, and their clothes, and their hair, before Finn was back; Rachel lingering by their door for so long that Kurt told her to just stay in their room for another night, already.
They turned the rest of break into a game: how long could they make out for when Finn went off to the shower? What excuses could they come up with – while trying to cause the other to break his straight face – for why they couldn’t join Finn and Rachel for a trip to the Guggenheim, or the Statue of Liberty, or dinner at Sardi’s?
(Kurt nearly lost it at the way Blaine said “dissection” when he fabricated a story about needing to complete an extra credit biology assignment.)
And when Finn and Rachel were gone, Kurt and Blaine finally spent their blessed day in bed together. Kurt took his sweet time exploring every inch of Blaine’s body; running his tongue along hard ridges and angular curves, committing his toned, tanned physique to memory. Blaine gave right back, pinning Kurt to the mattress by his hands, then his hips, then the backs of his knees, pouring everything he had into the tight contact between them.
They were so satiated that they didn’t even care when Rachel fell asleep on Finn’s air mattress again that night, and the next.
On Tuesday – the last day of break – they joined Finn and Rachel for a morning stroll through Central Park. Kurt and Blaine dawdled behind, sneaking surreptitious whispers and smiles, oblivious to the world around them. Fall break had left them rejuvenated, and more smitten with each other than ever before.
The four spent nearly an hour stretched out on blankets, chatting about anything and everything as they watched mothers and nannies push strollers along the park’s paved, winding paths.
“That will be me someday,” Rachel sighed, reaching for Finn’s hand as she gazed at a mother fussing over her baby.
“Really? You’d want to have kids in a city like this?”
“Of course!” she exclaimed. “There’s so much culture here. It would be an amazing place to grow up.”
Finn frowned. “I don’t know. What about playing outside in the backyard? Or football.”
Blaine rolled onto his side to face Kurt, turning his back to Finn and Rachel’s awkward conversation.
“What do you think?” Blaine prompted, leaning his head on his hand.
“About?” Kurt was reclining on his elbows, staring up into the impossibly blue October sky. He wanted to absorb all the warmth and peace of this day before they slid back into chaos tomorrow morning.
“Raising a family in the city.”

Kurt turned his head sharply, his gaze scrutinizing. “What do I think objectively, or –”
“Would you want to?” Blaine supplied, hopeful.
Kurt blinked at him, several times in rapid succession. They had never talked about this before. Had they? No. Surely, Kurt would recall if children had ever come up in their discussions about the future. Usually they were all about dream apartments, dream jobs and roles, dream dinner parties that were the envy of their fabulous friends.
In all honesty, Kurt was ambivalent about children. He tolerated them on the few occasions he came into contact with them, but he’d never really thought about having kids of his own. Not until this very moment, that is.
Because, as he turned to look out into the distance, he caught sight of a man throwing his laughing, toddling daughter in the air. All he could see was Blaine. The vision struck him like a freight train.
Kurt turned back to Blaine, offering him a small, tentative smile. “Only if you want to,” he answered. The grin Blaine gave him in response set his heart on fire.
Blaine settled back on his elbows, mirroring Kurt’s pose, and loosely wove the fingers of his left hand into Kurt’s right hand. “I want to,” he said, as they both watched the same father and little girl.

Continue to chapter eight

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