Carry Me Home (Tonight) (27/29 plus epilogue)
Title: Carry Me Home (Tonight) (27/29 plus epilogue)
Author: blasthisass / goldenwarbler
Rating: up to NC-17
Summary: As disagreements continue to rage in the Anderson household, Blaine is forced to spend his evenings behind a bar to pay his way through OSU. It’s not an ideal solution, but the money is good and he manages well enough. That may very well change, however, when the interested gaze of Kurt Hummel, self-proclaimed resident bad-boy, lands on him. And it seems that Kurt doesn’t have the word ‘no’ in his vocabulary.
Previous Chapters: Here
Disclaimers: No one is mine. Move along now.
Warnings: none for this chapter
Spoilers: None
“Blaine! Blaine, wait!”
He was midway down the hall when the clicking of heels caught up to him and there was a blur of blonde in front of him, blocking his path. He made to step aside, mind still pushing his body toward one goal, but the slim body before him moved easily with his own, thin, neatly manicured hands rising up to rest on his shoulders.
“Blaine!”
“I’m going to kill him!” he growled, trying to push his way past her but she stood firm, surprisingly strong. “I swear to God, when I find him I’m going to rip him limb from limb!”
“No, you’re not,” she replied calmly, a hand falling to the center of his chest. “Blaine-”
“Let me go, Quinn!” he growled, turning his gaze to her face for the first time.
She raised a thin eyebrow at him, her face molded into a picture of stoic patience, though her eyes glowed slightly with sympathy. He was struck by how pretty she was, not having had much of an opportunity to do so the last time they’d been in the same room. He could feel his anger being dulled by something like numb resignment. “Let me go, Quinn.”
She appraised him with a critical eye. “No, Blaine.”
“Quinn-”
“Please, hobbit, let’s get the baby gay off first before we worry about getting you off a murder charge.”
Blaine blinked, his brow furrowing as he glanced over his shoulder to where Santana was leaning against the wall near the doors through which he’d burst in his rush of adrenaline, her legs long and dark below the hem of her dress, her expression a far more intense one than Quinn’s.
He shook his head, the roar of the creature in his chest calming, but still filling him with a desperate, restless energy. “I just . . . this is so full of shit, I can’t just sit by and-”
Santana opened her mouth to say something-he could just see her forming a scathing, witty retort-but it was Quinn who spoke first and her voice was low and smooth like a lullaby. “Life’s not fair, I know-oh, don’t give me that!” she said, smacking him on the arm as he quite obviously resisted the urge to scoff at her words. “None of those thoughts about how I’m white and pretty and privileged and I have no idea what either of you could be going through, because I’m pretty sure that I’ve been through more shit than you have.” She eyed him, her gaze a challenge as though she were waiting for him to contradict her, but something in the defiant gleam of her eyes kept him silent. “I know how hard it must be for you to force yourself to sit quietly and do nothing, but I also know that the last thing you want to do is make things worse.”
He gazed at her, utterly perplexed before speaking, his voice barely above a whisper. “How is it that we’ve never even been properly introduced and you’re standing there right now, knowing me as well as you do?”
She laughed, soft and pretty like the ringing of a tiny bell and held out her hand casually. “Quinn Fabray, and I’m quite talented like that,” she informed him with a light smile breaking through her calm exterior.
Blaine cracked a smile at this, eyeing her curiously, but their small moment was interrupted by a groan from Santana, who rolled her eyes at the scene and stepped back toward the door to the courtroom. “As freakin’ charming as this is, let’s get back inside before I miss the showdown between Kurt and that asshole of a prosecutor.”
At her words, Blaine’s shoulders stiffened again, his eyes drifting to the door, where the light press of Santana’s weighted had eased it open a crack, revealing a sliver of the room inside and he suddenly felt the contents of his stomach shift, the ground under his feet tilting and he shook his head, walking toward her but collapsing on the bench near the door, leaning his head back against the wall as he tried to keep the room from spinning.
“You go,” he muttered, his eyes closed. “I can’t be in there right now.”
There was a surprising silence from Santana, with no witty comebacks or attempts to tell him to suck it up and stop being an idiot, but instead she stood quiet, watching as Quinn settled down next to him and crossed her legs neatly with a murmur of, “I’ll wait out here with you.”
Blaine glanced at her to find her staring pointedly at Santana, who rolled her eyes and flicked her long, raven locks over her shoulders, not making to close the door but also not moving further inside the adjacent room. She simply stood where she was, eyes watching Blaine without a particularly discernible expression, her head leaning toward the crack in the doorway that the pressure of her hand was still forming. He could hear the murmur of Cooper’s voice inside without focusing, but individual words were too difficult to discern and somehow, just its unintelligible presence was comforting enough.
They must have been sitting there for only a short moment in their silence, Santana still in the doorway and Blaine and Quinn shoulder to shoulder on the bench, when the doors down the hall burst open and Lexi rushed in, a sheet of paper in her hands. She slowed down when she saw the three of them, the bright grin on her face flickering a little and she slowed down her footsteps, stopping in front of them and looking back and forth between their faces in puzzlement.
“They haven’t sent the jury in to deliberate yet, have they?” she asked, eyes focusing on Blaine and he was surprised by the warm familiarity in them, mixed with her joy from moments ago.
“Not that I know of,” Blaine started as Santana angled her head at the door again and replied with a curt, “Nope.”
At both the negatives Lexi’s eyes lit up again and she grinned perkily at Blaine, looking like more of an excited schoolgirl than a lawyer older than his brother and he couldn’t help but crack a smile in her direction, her energy contagious.
“Awesome,” she grinned, starting to move toward the door.
“What is?” Quinn murmured, her brow furrowed in confusion as Santana stepped back with a raised eyebrow to let Lexi pass her.
The auburn-haired woman paused again, her hand on the door and her sparkling eyes directed at Blaine, as though he were the only one that she cared heard her news. “Looks like our friend David Karofsky has woken up,” she answered casually with a wink before sweeping into the room, her entrance dramatic and alerting everyone of her presence.
The door closed with a click and Santana simply stood staring at it for a beat before her gaze flickered to Quinn, who pursed her lips with astounding grace, like she was trying not to get too excited before she could fully comprehend what that information meant.
For a brief instant none of them moved, the silence filling the hall like something haunted, the kind that left them on edge and itching within the confines of their skin. It was Quinn who broke it, dropping it like a delicate thing that would shatter once it hit the ground. “Is that . . . that’s good isn’t it?” she asked softly, the pink of her tongue darting out to wet her lips before she looked at Santana briefly, her gaze coming to a rest on Blaine.
Blaine frowned a little, trying to figure out if it was. If it was good that Karofsky wasn’t going to kick the bucket-he had no sympathy for the man right now and couldn’t be bothered to phrase things delicately in his head-or bad because they could halt everything until he testified. But then there was the gleam in her eyes, the bounce in her step like a little girl in a candy store and he couldn’t help but smile again, couldn’t help but raise his eyes to meet Quinn’s with a new sort of light radiating from them.
“I think it is.”
***
He wasn’t sure how long they sat out in the hall as the trial continued on inside. He really ought to have, judging from the time he sat motionless, his mind racing and his eyes fixed at the clock on the opposite wall as the second hand crawled by, resting on each tick for what seemed an eternity. He could feel a headache building and he closed his eyes, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his face in the cupped palms of his hands as time slowly moved around him.
There was a part of him that itched to get back in there, the gripping anger that came with hearing of injustice possibly more welcomed than having to spend any more time in ignorance, but even as he was making up his mind the doors opened and people started leaking out, discussing things in low murmurs. It wasn’t everyone in the courtroom, mainly people from the side of the prosecution, but after a handful of them Rachel danced easily through their masses, her eyes meeting Blaine’s as she scurried over.
“What’s going on?” he asked, rising automatically to meet her.
“They sent the jury back to deliberate,” she replied, licking her lips as she approached. She stopped in front of him, glancing up at him with a crinkle of worry and concern in her brow. “Are you okay? I was worried when you didn’t come back in.”
He shook his head, scratching absentmindedly at his temple when he found that he needed something to do with his hands, something that would keep his simmering restless energy at bay. “Fine, I’m fine . . . I just . . . sorry, I just freaked out a little and I didn’t think I could go back in there.”
Rachel’s lips flattened into a long, thin line, her eyes crinkling with perfect sympathy. She glanced down at Quinn, who met her eye briefly before looking back down at her nails. “You didn’t know any of that stuff, did you?” she said finally, looking sad.
“Did you?”
“Not really,” she shrugged. “I mean, I knew Karofsky was giving him a hard time but I didn’t know any details.”
Blaine shook his head. “Me neither,” he murmured softly. He grimaced and wrung his hands together again, another jolt of restless anger flickering through him. “God, I should have,” he muttered, swearing softly under his breath. “I should have pieced it together, I-”
“Blaine, this isn’t your fault,” Quinn said sharply behind him, rising to her feet, her shoulder again brushing against his as she neared him. “You can’t blame yourself.”
Rachel nodded in agreement, her eyes dark and anxious and he tried to shake that feeling from his shoulders. Because they were right, of course they were but that didn’t change the fact that there had been so many pieces dangled in front of him but he’d still been unable to reach out and piece them together. Not even when Kurt had given in and opened his heart to Blaine.
He cleared his throat. This wasn’t about him. He didn’t need any of them worrying about him when there were more important things to worry about. When there were greater losses to be suffered if things fell apart this time. There was no part of him that wanted to be selfish with the care of people that barely knew him, but loved him because they could see that he cared about Kurt as much as they did. That Kurt had let his guard down and allowed himself to love him back.
He dropped back down in his seat and Rachel and Quinn followed suit, settling themselves down on the bench on either side of him, Rachel again scooping his hand up into her own and leaning against him, rubbing her thumb delicately over the curve of his own, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Quinn was a bit more reserved, body angled so that she was partially facing him but she leaned back against the wall, her bangs falling into her eyes and her knee just barely touching Blaine’s.
When he forced himself to focus, he realized that Rachel was busy recounting the details that they’d missed from the trial and his hand automatically clenched around hers, his grip so tight that she stuttered slightly over her own words.
“And the prosecutor was awful to Kurt, I could barely restrain myself from giving him a piece of my mind. He kept on going on and on, making these comments like Kurt was an idiot for defending himself and ‘violence is never the answer’ and it was just the most ridiculous thing in the world and you could tell that Cooper was afraid that Kurt was going to just lose it. Just, some of the things he was saying were so absurdly bigoted I’m surprised we all didn’t rise up fighting to smack some sense into him. But, God, there was a moment where he was insinuating that well, Kurt is gay and so he must enjoy sex and so he must have beaten up Karofsky for a different reason because if Karofsky was trying to have sex with him he wouldn’t turn it down and Kurt just snapped. Like, you could tell that he was literally trying to refrain from losing his cool because Cooper had warned him about it, but during that comment he just completely cracked down on him. Started yelling about what the hell kind of justice they were practicing if they were saying that he should just allow himself to be raped because he was gay and that must mean he likes sex in any way shape or form. That he was the one that was wrong for trying to defend himself from being violated, from something so utterly demeaning, like he wasn’t as human as the rest of them and . . . It was horrible, I thought he was going to cry. You could tell the moment he started yelling that Cooper wanted to stop him but he just let him go on and everyone in the room just felt so awkward, especially on the side of the prosecution. I mean, honestly, if after that they’re sitting in the jury room still wanting to convict him they’ve all got some serious issues. But one of my dads is serving jury duty today, thank God, and he once had an hour long flip-out at someone at the grocery store over Starlight Express of all things-though really if you think it’s anything but a joke you deserve the smack down that he’ll give you-so if anyone can convince them to let Kurt off it’ll be-”
“Rachel, please stop talking,” Blaine murmured wearily, his fist unclenching and pulling away from her grasp as he leaned back against the hardness of the wall, hands rising to his face and the pressure of the heels of his palms against his eyes working to calm him somewhat, to block out as much of his surroundings as he could. Next to him, Rachel’s mouth instantly clamped shut and she had the decency to look a little bit guilty at upsetting Blaine again.
He was suddenly glad that he hadn’t gone back in the room. Hearing Rachel recount was probably the most diluted way that he could have experienced that portion of the trial, but even that stung through him, stabbing straight through his center like a sword, pinning him to the wall behind him and leaving him to bleed dry. He didn’t think he could have taken sitting and watching Kurt breaking down.
He realized then that he’d never seen Kurt cry. That even in his most vulnerable moments he was all determined strength.
<***
“They’re in there a long time. . . . I can’t tell if that’s good or bad.”
“I guess it depends on the jury . . . if there are enough people on our side, they could be working on convincing those against us to see their side.”
“Even if there’s one person . . .”
Blaine sighed, starting to rub his eyes rather than point out that the length of jury deliberation didn’t necessarily mean anything in regards to the outcome, but before he could speak Lexi poked her head out into the hall, glancing around at all the various people scattered there and announced loudly, “The jury is coming back in.”
Rachel sucked in a quick breath and Quinn’s eyes widened. Blaine simply swallowed hard as Quinn rose quickly to her feet next to him, her gaze flickering anxiously down at him when he didn’t make any motion whatsoever. “Are you coming in, Blaine?”
Was he? He simply felt himself rooted in place, his stomach churning dangerously but his throat closing up so that the contents of his stomach could do nothing more than swirl and build inside of him. He shook his head quickly, leaning over his lap and pressing his face into his hands again. “I don’t know if I can . . .” he muttered. “I just . . . should give the jury a running start in case things go south,” he joked but his voice was rough and he knew they could hear it.
Quinn didn’t say anything but Blaine could sense Rachel dropping back down into her seat as the hallway emptied back into the courtroom, one of her arms wrapping around his and her head finding what had apparently become its place on his shoulder.
“I’ll wait with you,” she murmured quietly near his ear.
He was surprised by how short the wait was, really, before someone emerged from the room to tell them the news. It felt like ages, like the slow, desperate crawl through molasses when one was being chased by something monstrous not confined by the laws of viscosity. He felt as though the world had gone quiet around him except for the headache-inducing hum in his ear, like white noise on a television set that had gone dead. He was lost in it, not hearing anything until Rachel let go of his arm and leapt to her feet when the doors to the courtroom burst open and her boyfriend bounded out.
The first thing Blaine saw was his expression and it was like the chill around his heart shattered. Because Blaine knew very little about Finn, but if there was one thing he knew for certain was that, while perhaps not the brightest of Kurt’s acquaintances, Finn was the one that never had any trouble displaying every one of his emotions straight on his face.
And even as he tripped over his words trying to explain what had happened, the smile on his face was enough explanation of the situation.
“I don’t know exactly what’s up because they had a . . . umm . . . whatever it’s called when the jury can’t agree . . .”
“A hung jury,” Rachel supplied quickly, shifting her weight back and forth from one foot to another at a steady beat, appearing to be torn between looking anxious and impatient.
“Yeah, that, and my mom said that usually means that unless the judge overrules it and passes judgment, the trial basically gets postponed . . . .”
“So what happened?” Rachel prompted the instant Finn stopped talking, his face scrunched up in thought as he pondered this fact. “Has it been held off or-”
“Oh, she overruled it,” Finn said simply, looking between them as though he expected everything to be clear then, puzzlement flooding his face when he found his girlfriend staring at him with just as much eager confusion as she’d had when he’d come out to tell them what happened.
“But what did she rule, then?”
“She ruled for us . . .” Blaine said quietly, not quite daring to believe it, and Rachel jumped, as though she’d forgotten Blaine was there, her eyes widening as she stared at Finn for confirmation.
Finn’s eyes lit up further, a feat that Blaine hadn’t thought possible. “Yeah! She said something about . . . umm . . . hold on . . . something about how the battery was, like, super serious but after hearing both sides of testimony it was clear that it was justified or something . . . anyway, she said that the defendant-that’s Kurt, right?-wasn’t going to jail because the evidence was enough to prove it was self defense but that she was going to place him under lenient house arrest because no society should condone any violence going totally unpunished. But it’s only for, like, a couple of months and Puck said being under house arrest basically just means that he’s going to have to wear one of those crazy ankle bracelet things until graduation but-”
He cut off talking with a grunt as Rachel squealed loudly and flung her arms around his neck, almost knocking him over despite how tiny she was compared to him. He laughed, wrapping his arms around her waist as she squeaked happily into the skin of his shoulder before pulling back, her sparkling eyes searching for Blaine.
“Did you hear that, Blaine? We-” she started but he was gone before she could tackle him with her embrace, dodging around them and practically sprinting into the courtroom.
He didn’t know when it had emptied, when all those people had filed past him and Rachel and Finn, but there was a strange calm in the room. The other members of New Directions were still clustered in their little area, chatting happily now that the trial was over, but their gazes flew to him instantly. He ignored them, his footsteps echoing on the floor, bouncing off the walls like the energy that had somehow filled him. It was too good, too good to be true but the instant Kurt looked up from where he, the judge, Cooper and Finn’s mom were clustered around a table, he knew it was. Knew from the softness of Kurt’s expression and the warm glow of his eyes.
From the smile that he couldn’t help breaking out over his face and the way he leaned away from whatever was being discussed, his shoulder knocking against Cooper’s as he grinned at Blaine.
Blaine barely noticed Cooper turning to look at what had distracted Kurt, his eyes landing on Blaine before he rolled them and murmured something to Kurt, something that must have been a release because the instant he said it Kurt all but leapt away from him, taking three quick steps to the barrier between the audience and the main floor of the courtroom and past it until he was standing directly in front of Blaine.
Neither of them moved, both trying hard to control the breaths that were escaping them in short little bursts, like the adrenaline pounding both of their hearts. It was as though a layer had fallen away from Kurt and he stood before Blaine a little taller, the light in his eyes a little brighter and his face unable to hide the mix of emotions that was exploding within him.
“So,” Blaine started, his voice rough and a little breathless at the picture of the boy standing before him, still weighted down by everything that had happened to him in the past, but looking a little freer nonetheless. “I hear you’re not going to jail, then.”
“Apparently I’m going to be stuck in Lima for 3 months. Given my options, I think I’d prefer jail,” Kurt retorted quickly, but his hand curled into a light fist that rose up quickly to cover his mouth as he broke out into a grin, his eyes shining more than sunlight reflected off a calm sea on a sunny day. Blaine bit back his grin as Kurt’s shoulders shook as he tried to keep from laughing but in the end he couldn’t hold it back and without warning he barreled into Blaine, sending him stumbling back several paces with a laugh, allowing his joy to spill out as his arms wrapped around Kurt, holding him tight against his chest, hearts pounding so hard it felt as though the room around them were shaking.
Blaine laughed into the crook of Kurt’s neck, his arms bracing Kurt’s shoulders as they trembled with a rush of breathless relief, the boy’s face buried in the space between his arms and Blaine’s neck, his breath warm and infusing Blaine with a strange sense of life.
“I love you.”
Blaine’s laughter got cut off in a rough choking noise that only seemed to make Kurt laugh harder against his shoulder before pulling away, staring in slight shock at Kurt, whose expression dissolved into one that was slightly anxious, his eyes bright as he seemed to await an end to the good news of the day.
There was such openness in the expression that Blaine almost couldn’t resist the urge to roll his eyes even as his chest swelled like hot air being blown into a balloon, lifting his spirit up through the roof of the building and to the blue sky above.
He shook his head, not fighting his own affectionate smile as he raised a hand delicately to Kurt’s cheek, running his hands along the smooth skin there, marveling at the way Kurt’s lips parted at the contact and his chest rose gracefully under the tight stretch of his shirt. “I love you too, you idiot,” he murmured quietly as Kurt blinked in slight surprise before narrowing his eyes playfully.
He opened his mouth to speak when there was a hand on his shoulder and the woman that had been identified as Finn’s mom appeared by his side, smiling at the two of them with such kindness that Blaine couldn’t help but be wholly astounded. He didn’t know what he’d imagined from the woman-it wasn’t like Kurt had told him any sort of monstrosities about her, but somehow he couldn’t have imagined such a pleasant seeming woman as someone that Kurt could have walked away from, especially when it had seemed like kindness was the one thing that he had needed at that time.
“Kurt, honey,” she started, and Blaine almost expected Kurt to bristle at the term of endearment, but instead the boy gave him a weak smile before glancing at her, his eyes shining with slight familiarity, but also with the smallest sensation of awkwardness, as though he were remembering their last encounter as not being a pleasant one, “If you’re certain about coming to stay with me, we should finalize things with your . . .” she paused suddenly, biting her lip and her eyes filling with something akin to pity.
“Ankle monitor?” Kurt supplied. To Blaine’s surprise, he sounded more grateful than resentful of the punishment. “You can say it, Carole, it’s not going to wound me or anything. Better than the alternative.”
She exhaled in relief, her shoulders loosening as she nodded before glancing with a smile at Blaine. “I’m guessing you’re Blaine?” she asked kindly, extending a hand. “Your brother has mentioned you briefly. I’m Carole . . .”
“Finn’s mom,” Blaine acknowledged, taking her hand and marveling at how firm her grip was.
She looked surprised that he knew who she was, but the fact seemed to please her, as though she realized that it had come into his possession from Kurt rather than Cooper. She turned back to Kurt. “Kurt?”
Kurt opened his mouth and for the first time since Blaine had reentered the courtroom, he saw something saddening in Kurt’s eyes, as though he were torn between his own decisions. He looked between Carole and Blaine as though he were trying to decide what it was that he wanted more and when he finally settled on gazing at her and spoke, his voice was laced with so much apology that it was almost physically wounding to Blaine. Like he was remembering the way he’d reacted the last time the woman before him had reached out a hand to him, had offered to take him in after they both lost someone vitally important to them. “Actually, Carole, I-”
“If you’d like to live on your own, that’s completely fine,” she said instantly, her cheeks flushing and Blaine could feel a physical pain in his chest at the situation. “I think they just want to ensure some sort of legal guardianship while you’re under house arrest but if you don’t want to live with us-”
“I don’t want to go back to that apartment,” Kurt murmured quietly, his voice barely audible over her ramble.
“I . . . oh . . .”
“I, umm . . .” Kurt frowned, furrowing his brow, the pink of his tongue poking out from between his lips. “I was actually just . . . maybe hoping to spend the night at your place?” he muttered quickly, glancing at Blaine out of the corner of his eye.
Blaine was sure he looked as surprised as Carole at the request, but his only reaction was to exhale, his heart pounding in his chest. “I . . .” he started, finding himself at a loss for words. Kurt’s brow furrowed slightly but he didn’t move until Blaine had spoken. “I would have absolutely no problem with that,” he proclaimed softly, marveling at the way Kurt’s eyes lit up.
“I’ll come back to Lima tomorrow,” Kurt said quickly, glancing toward the table of lawyers and judges to see Cooper observing the conversation with a curious look on his face. “I just . . . I . . .”
“I understand, honey,” Carole reassured him, her voice warm and smooth. She smiled almost thankfully at Blaine before pulling Kurt back toward the group to discuss the option.
Blaine watched as they spoke with the group, Cooper waving his hands as he spoke and saying something that made a handful of people laugh and Kurt cough awkwardly, glancing back at Blaine as though to reassure himself that Blaine would remain where he was throughout the proceeding. Blaine smiled at him, sitting down in one of the rows nearest to him and waiting until they finished conversing and Cooper, Carole and Kurt made their way back to him.
“You missed my closing speech, squirt,” Cooper called out to him reprimandingly, his voice mockingly stern and his eyes twinkling with affection for his brother. “I’m pretty sure it rivaled some of the shit I came up with during my want-to-be-Hollywood-star days.”
“Jesus, if that’s true, I’m surprised you managed to pull this thing off at all,” Blaine countered smoothly, rolling his eyes when Kurt frowned at him questioningly.
He winced as Cooper smacked him playfully, raising a finger and jabbing it fiercely in front of Blaine’s face. “You should be nice to me or I can go right back and retract all my arguments in favor of your boyfriends 24-hour leave of absence from his punishment.”
Blaine could feel his eyes lighting up even as he tried to maintain a sense of mock seriousness when messing with Cooper. But his gaze flickered to Kurt, who looked like he was trying to maintain his own rough persona despite the grin that was forcing it’s way through the contours of his mouth. “Twenty-four hours?”
Cooper nodded. “Yup. I have to keep him under my supervision to make sure he’s not going to split-”
“I’m not going to-” Kurt started, sounding annoyed, but Cooper waved him off.
“Well, obviously, not when you’ve got a boyfriend as good-looking as my baby brother, though if you guys could keep it do . . . . down . . .” Cooper trailed off as Carole coughed lightly, eyeing him as only a mother could.
“Umm . . . Yes . . . Anyway, tomorrow at five they want to snap on your pretty little piece of jewelry, so you’re more or less free until then.”
Blaine rolled his eyes and looked very seriously at Kurt. “We’re never free if my brother is around,” he lamented sadly, ducking away from Cooper with a smirk and starting their exit out of the building. “Also, I applaud you for not pointing the whole time I was in the room, because I never would have been able to take you seriously.”
“Stop talking about that!” Cooper groaned.
Blaine smirked and turned gracefully on his heel, walking backwards out the building. “Are you talking to me, Coop?” he inquired mockingly. “Because I can’t tell if you’re talking to me if you don’t point your finger!” The end of the sentence was finished at a shout as Cooper made a disgruntled noise and started running after him out of the building, his lawyerly demeanor completely forgotten as the seriousness of the trial fell back into the past.
They made it to the car drawing a surprisingly small amount of attention to themselves and it was only with the solid metal of the vehicle between himself and his brother that Blaine realized that Kurt and Carole were walking slowly behind them, their amusement at their antics fading into something somber of conversation. Kurt had stuck his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket as they stepped out into the early February sunshine, his head bowed as he spoke to her in a low voice.
They’d paused near the top of the steps leading up to the courthouse, Kurt turning to face her, his bangs falling over his eyes and making him look so, so young again. His hand fiddled with something in his pocket and he only looked up when he withdrew it, holding the small box between two fingers and offering it to her with something of an apology shining in his expression.
Blaine could see her eyes furrowing in confusion and wondered if she knew. If Finn had ever told her about the ring, but even as Kurt looked like he was trying to apologize to her for things that maybe Blaine didn’t even know about, she swept him into a tight hug, his body stiffening in shock for a beat before his arms wound their way around her back, simply resting there, like he was trying to adjust to the sensation again.
He met Blaine’s eyes over Carole’s shoulder and smiled.
***
They’d barely crossed the threshold of his room when Blaine found himself against the wall with Kurt’s lips on his, the long line of his body against his and he couldn’t help but groan. His hands scrambled over Kurt’s body frantically, the realization that he’d been deprived of the ability to touch for weeks hitting him like a freight train.
Kurt swiped his tongue into Blaine’s mouth, the movement needy and desperate as his hands dug little bruises into Blaine’s hips through the fabric of his jeans, pulling him closer.
“So as much as I hate to interrupt, where do you want me, little brother?”
Kurt pulled away with an annoyed noise, his forehead dropping onto Blaine’s shoulder. Blaine leaned his head back, trying to catch his breath, before glancing at Cooper, who was leaning casually against the doorframe with a light smirk on his face.
“Guest room.”
When Cooper raised an eyebrow, Blaine rolled his eyes and added, “I’ll be there in a second.”
He glanced at Kurt as Cooper left, running a hand through his hair and leaning forward to press light kisses to his jaw line. “I’ll be right back,” he murmured, pulling away to look at Kurt, his brow furrowing at the slight sadness that dotted the specs of dark blue texturing his eyes. “You okay?” he murmured, fingers smoothing out the frown-lines sketched lightly over Kurt’s forehead.
Kurt gazed at him for a moment in silence before shaking his head, his smile small but genuine. “I just . . . it’s stupid. Nothing’s really changed but I . . . I feel more myself somehow. I don’t know, its-”
His voice was cut off by a light kiss and the quiet murmur of, “That’s not stupid,” against his lips, spoken using the air from his lungs, the words so close Kurt could feel them being embedded into his skin.
Blaine pulled away with a reassuring smile, his hand smoothing over the shoulders of Kurt’s shirt before he murmured, “Make yourself at home, I’ll be right back.”
He found Cooper flat on his back in the guest bedroom, his eyes directed at the ceiling. When he heard Blaine come in he shot up quickly with a reprimanding statement of, “You got rid of that poster of me. I’m wounded.”
“It was scaring my friends,” Blaine replied sternly, dumping a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt in front of Cooper and making his way back out of the room to find his brother some toiletries.
Cooper’s loud footsteps followed him into the bathroom and he resumed leaning against the doorway as Blaine fell into a crouch and started searching through the cupboard under his sink. “I can’t believe you threw that out, it was signed.”
“Because you’ve lost the ability to sign things?”
“Blaine, honestly, that could have been worth a lot of money someday, use your head,” Cooper informed him sternly, raising an eyebrow at him when Blaine turned to stare at him.
“Just sign another poster.”
“Blaine, did you know that posters can’t become vintage and worth a lot of money if people throw them out after three years? Have you never seen Pocahontas?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“How high can the sycamore grow, Blaine?”
Blaine snorted loudly, rising to his feet and placing an unopened toothbrush on the counter in front of him. “You can’t be serious right now,” he declared, staring at his brother with every bit of his incredulity written across his face.
Cooper’s mouth dropped open, his face forming into an exaggerated, wounded expression and he raised a hand over his heart. “‘Can’t be serious,’ I don’t even know what to say, Jesus, Blaine, I-of course I’m fucking with you.”
Blaine rolled his eyes. “You’re an idiot, I’m going to sleep.”
“No, you’re going to bed,” Cooper teased, jabbing a finger at his shoulder as he passed. “Hell of a difference, little brother.”
At the vague reminder that Kurt was still in his room and all the things that had occurred in the past couple of weeks, Blaine paused, his face softening as the jokes that passed between him and his brother seemed to fade into something serious and he turned to face Cooper, his earnestness seeming to shock the bold grin off his face.
“Thank you, Cooper.”
Cooper frowned curiously at him, his gaze passing between Blaine, the ajar door of his bedroom and the darkness beyond, looking as though he were trying to ascertain something. “You and him . . . ?” he started before cutting himself off, his gaze returning to rest on Blaine. Blaine tilted his head in puzzlement as Cooper continued to stare at him thoughtfully before shaking his head. “Never mind,” he murmured before smiling warmly. “You’re welcome.”
***
His room was still dark when he got back to it, the light never having been turned on.
He didn’t realize that Kurt was asleep at first, the long limbs of his body spread out over the bed, pale and silky in the strips of moonlight streaming in through the cracks in his blinds. He was on his back when Blaine came in but a moment later he made a soft grunt and shifted onto his side, his back to Blaine, the pale white of his shirt matching his skin.
Blaine swallowed thickly, watching him. Thoughts of what Cooper had wanted to ask hovered at the back of his brain, but they were discarded as easily as the shirt on his back and his jeans.
He eased himself into the bed, careful not to wake the still form of the sleeping boy in front of him, but he couldn’t help but raise a hand to his hair, smoothing the silky strands before he placed a soft kiss near Kurt’s temple.
“I love you,” he whispered, because it was true and because there was something about the way the words filled the air around him, sustaining life like oxygen.
His body slid in behind Kurt’s perfectly as he pulled his covers over them, casting an arm around Kurt’s stomach to pull him closer, lest he slip away like a wisp of cloud on the wind.
Author: blasthisass / goldenwarbler
Rating: up to NC-17
Summary: As disagreements continue to rage in the Anderson household, Blaine is forced to spend his evenings behind a bar to pay his way through OSU. It’s not an ideal solution, but the money is good and he manages well enough. That may very well change, however, when the interested gaze of Kurt Hummel, self-proclaimed resident bad-boy, lands on him. And it seems that Kurt doesn’t have the word ‘no’ in his vocabulary.
Previous Chapters: Here
Disclaimers: No one is mine. Move along now.
Warnings: none for this chapter
Spoilers: None
“Blaine! Blaine, wait!”
He was midway down the hall when the clicking of heels caught up to him and there was a blur of blonde in front of him, blocking his path. He made to step aside, mind still pushing his body toward one goal, but the slim body before him moved easily with his own, thin, neatly manicured hands rising up to rest on his shoulders.
“Blaine!”
“I’m going to kill him!” he growled, trying to push his way past her but she stood firm, surprisingly strong. “I swear to God, when I find him I’m going to rip him limb from limb!”
“No, you’re not,” she replied calmly, a hand falling to the center of his chest. “Blaine-”
“Let me go, Quinn!” he growled, turning his gaze to her face for the first time.
She raised a thin eyebrow at him, her face molded into a picture of stoic patience, though her eyes glowed slightly with sympathy. He was struck by how pretty she was, not having had much of an opportunity to do so the last time they’d been in the same room. He could feel his anger being dulled by something like numb resignment. “Let me go, Quinn.”
She appraised him with a critical eye. “No, Blaine.”
“Quinn-”
“Please, hobbit, let’s get the baby gay off first before we worry about getting you off a murder charge.”
Blaine blinked, his brow furrowing as he glanced over his shoulder to where Santana was leaning against the wall near the doors through which he’d burst in his rush of adrenaline, her legs long and dark below the hem of her dress, her expression a far more intense one than Quinn’s.
He shook his head, the roar of the creature in his chest calming, but still filling him with a desperate, restless energy. “I just . . . this is so full of shit, I can’t just sit by and-”
Santana opened her mouth to say something-he could just see her forming a scathing, witty retort-but it was Quinn who spoke first and her voice was low and smooth like a lullaby. “Life’s not fair, I know-oh, don’t give me that!” she said, smacking him on the arm as he quite obviously resisted the urge to scoff at her words. “None of those thoughts about how I’m white and pretty and privileged and I have no idea what either of you could be going through, because I’m pretty sure that I’ve been through more shit than you have.” She eyed him, her gaze a challenge as though she were waiting for him to contradict her, but something in the defiant gleam of her eyes kept him silent. “I know how hard it must be for you to force yourself to sit quietly and do nothing, but I also know that the last thing you want to do is make things worse.”
He gazed at her, utterly perplexed before speaking, his voice barely above a whisper. “How is it that we’ve never even been properly introduced and you’re standing there right now, knowing me as well as you do?”
She laughed, soft and pretty like the ringing of a tiny bell and held out her hand casually. “Quinn Fabray, and I’m quite talented like that,” she informed him with a light smile breaking through her calm exterior.
Blaine cracked a smile at this, eyeing her curiously, but their small moment was interrupted by a groan from Santana, who rolled her eyes at the scene and stepped back toward the door to the courtroom. “As freakin’ charming as this is, let’s get back inside before I miss the showdown between Kurt and that asshole of a prosecutor.”
At her words, Blaine’s shoulders stiffened again, his eyes drifting to the door, where the light press of Santana’s weighted had eased it open a crack, revealing a sliver of the room inside and he suddenly felt the contents of his stomach shift, the ground under his feet tilting and he shook his head, walking toward her but collapsing on the bench near the door, leaning his head back against the wall as he tried to keep the room from spinning.
“You go,” he muttered, his eyes closed. “I can’t be in there right now.”
There was a surprising silence from Santana, with no witty comebacks or attempts to tell him to suck it up and stop being an idiot, but instead she stood quiet, watching as Quinn settled down next to him and crossed her legs neatly with a murmur of, “I’ll wait out here with you.”
Blaine glanced at her to find her staring pointedly at Santana, who rolled her eyes and flicked her long, raven locks over her shoulders, not making to close the door but also not moving further inside the adjacent room. She simply stood where she was, eyes watching Blaine without a particularly discernible expression, her head leaning toward the crack in the doorway that the pressure of her hand was still forming. He could hear the murmur of Cooper’s voice inside without focusing, but individual words were too difficult to discern and somehow, just its unintelligible presence was comforting enough.
They must have been sitting there for only a short moment in their silence, Santana still in the doorway and Blaine and Quinn shoulder to shoulder on the bench, when the doors down the hall burst open and Lexi rushed in, a sheet of paper in her hands. She slowed down when she saw the three of them, the bright grin on her face flickering a little and she slowed down her footsteps, stopping in front of them and looking back and forth between their faces in puzzlement.
“They haven’t sent the jury in to deliberate yet, have they?” she asked, eyes focusing on Blaine and he was surprised by the warm familiarity in them, mixed with her joy from moments ago.
“Not that I know of,” Blaine started as Santana angled her head at the door again and replied with a curt, “Nope.”
At both the negatives Lexi’s eyes lit up again and she grinned perkily at Blaine, looking like more of an excited schoolgirl than a lawyer older than his brother and he couldn’t help but crack a smile in her direction, her energy contagious.
“Awesome,” she grinned, starting to move toward the door.
“What is?” Quinn murmured, her brow furrowed in confusion as Santana stepped back with a raised eyebrow to let Lexi pass her.
The auburn-haired woman paused again, her hand on the door and her sparkling eyes directed at Blaine, as though he were the only one that she cared heard her news. “Looks like our friend David Karofsky has woken up,” she answered casually with a wink before sweeping into the room, her entrance dramatic and alerting everyone of her presence.
The door closed with a click and Santana simply stood staring at it for a beat before her gaze flickered to Quinn, who pursed her lips with astounding grace, like she was trying not to get too excited before she could fully comprehend what that information meant.
For a brief instant none of them moved, the silence filling the hall like something haunted, the kind that left them on edge and itching within the confines of their skin. It was Quinn who broke it, dropping it like a delicate thing that would shatter once it hit the ground. “Is that . . . that’s good isn’t it?” she asked softly, the pink of her tongue darting out to wet her lips before she looked at Santana briefly, her gaze coming to a rest on Blaine.
Blaine frowned a little, trying to figure out if it was. If it was good that Karofsky wasn’t going to kick the bucket-he had no sympathy for the man right now and couldn’t be bothered to phrase things delicately in his head-or bad because they could halt everything until he testified. But then there was the gleam in her eyes, the bounce in her step like a little girl in a candy store and he couldn’t help but smile again, couldn’t help but raise his eyes to meet Quinn’s with a new sort of light radiating from them.
“I think it is.”
***
He wasn’t sure how long they sat out in the hall as the trial continued on inside. He really ought to have, judging from the time he sat motionless, his mind racing and his eyes fixed at the clock on the opposite wall as the second hand crawled by, resting on each tick for what seemed an eternity. He could feel a headache building and he closed his eyes, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his face in the cupped palms of his hands as time slowly moved around him.
There was a part of him that itched to get back in there, the gripping anger that came with hearing of injustice possibly more welcomed than having to spend any more time in ignorance, but even as he was making up his mind the doors opened and people started leaking out, discussing things in low murmurs. It wasn’t everyone in the courtroom, mainly people from the side of the prosecution, but after a handful of them Rachel danced easily through their masses, her eyes meeting Blaine’s as she scurried over.
“What’s going on?” he asked, rising automatically to meet her.
“They sent the jury back to deliberate,” she replied, licking her lips as she approached. She stopped in front of him, glancing up at him with a crinkle of worry and concern in her brow. “Are you okay? I was worried when you didn’t come back in.”
He shook his head, scratching absentmindedly at his temple when he found that he needed something to do with his hands, something that would keep his simmering restless energy at bay. “Fine, I’m fine . . . I just . . . sorry, I just freaked out a little and I didn’t think I could go back in there.”
Rachel’s lips flattened into a long, thin line, her eyes crinkling with perfect sympathy. She glanced down at Quinn, who met her eye briefly before looking back down at her nails. “You didn’t know any of that stuff, did you?” she said finally, looking sad.
“Did you?”
“Not really,” she shrugged. “I mean, I knew Karofsky was giving him a hard time but I didn’t know any details.”
Blaine shook his head. “Me neither,” he murmured softly. He grimaced and wrung his hands together again, another jolt of restless anger flickering through him. “God, I should have,” he muttered, swearing softly under his breath. “I should have pieced it together, I-”
“Blaine, this isn’t your fault,” Quinn said sharply behind him, rising to her feet, her shoulder again brushing against his as she neared him. “You can’t blame yourself.”
Rachel nodded in agreement, her eyes dark and anxious and he tried to shake that feeling from his shoulders. Because they were right, of course they were but that didn’t change the fact that there had been so many pieces dangled in front of him but he’d still been unable to reach out and piece them together. Not even when Kurt had given in and opened his heart to Blaine.
He cleared his throat. This wasn’t about him. He didn’t need any of them worrying about him when there were more important things to worry about. When there were greater losses to be suffered if things fell apart this time. There was no part of him that wanted to be selfish with the care of people that barely knew him, but loved him because they could see that he cared about Kurt as much as they did. That Kurt had let his guard down and allowed himself to love him back.
He dropped back down in his seat and Rachel and Quinn followed suit, settling themselves down on the bench on either side of him, Rachel again scooping his hand up into her own and leaning against him, rubbing her thumb delicately over the curve of his own, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Quinn was a bit more reserved, body angled so that she was partially facing him but she leaned back against the wall, her bangs falling into her eyes and her knee just barely touching Blaine’s.
When he forced himself to focus, he realized that Rachel was busy recounting the details that they’d missed from the trial and his hand automatically clenched around hers, his grip so tight that she stuttered slightly over her own words.
“And the prosecutor was awful to Kurt, I could barely restrain myself from giving him a piece of my mind. He kept on going on and on, making these comments like Kurt was an idiot for defending himself and ‘violence is never the answer’ and it was just the most ridiculous thing in the world and you could tell that Cooper was afraid that Kurt was going to just lose it. Just, some of the things he was saying were so absurdly bigoted I’m surprised we all didn’t rise up fighting to smack some sense into him. But, God, there was a moment where he was insinuating that well, Kurt is gay and so he must enjoy sex and so he must have beaten up Karofsky for a different reason because if Karofsky was trying to have sex with him he wouldn’t turn it down and Kurt just snapped. Like, you could tell that he was literally trying to refrain from losing his cool because Cooper had warned him about it, but during that comment he just completely cracked down on him. Started yelling about what the hell kind of justice they were practicing if they were saying that he should just allow himself to be raped because he was gay and that must mean he likes sex in any way shape or form. That he was the one that was wrong for trying to defend himself from being violated, from something so utterly demeaning, like he wasn’t as human as the rest of them and . . . It was horrible, I thought he was going to cry. You could tell the moment he started yelling that Cooper wanted to stop him but he just let him go on and everyone in the room just felt so awkward, especially on the side of the prosecution. I mean, honestly, if after that they’re sitting in the jury room still wanting to convict him they’ve all got some serious issues. But one of my dads is serving jury duty today, thank God, and he once had an hour long flip-out at someone at the grocery store over Starlight Express of all things-though really if you think it’s anything but a joke you deserve the smack down that he’ll give you-so if anyone can convince them to let Kurt off it’ll be-”
“Rachel, please stop talking,” Blaine murmured wearily, his fist unclenching and pulling away from her grasp as he leaned back against the hardness of the wall, hands rising to his face and the pressure of the heels of his palms against his eyes working to calm him somewhat, to block out as much of his surroundings as he could. Next to him, Rachel’s mouth instantly clamped shut and she had the decency to look a little bit guilty at upsetting Blaine again.
He was suddenly glad that he hadn’t gone back in the room. Hearing Rachel recount was probably the most diluted way that he could have experienced that portion of the trial, but even that stung through him, stabbing straight through his center like a sword, pinning him to the wall behind him and leaving him to bleed dry. He didn’t think he could have taken sitting and watching Kurt breaking down.
He realized then that he’d never seen Kurt cry. That even in his most vulnerable moments he was all determined strength.
<***
“They’re in there a long time. . . . I can’t tell if that’s good or bad.”
“I guess it depends on the jury . . . if there are enough people on our side, they could be working on convincing those against us to see their side.”
“Even if there’s one person . . .”
Blaine sighed, starting to rub his eyes rather than point out that the length of jury deliberation didn’t necessarily mean anything in regards to the outcome, but before he could speak Lexi poked her head out into the hall, glancing around at all the various people scattered there and announced loudly, “The jury is coming back in.”
Rachel sucked in a quick breath and Quinn’s eyes widened. Blaine simply swallowed hard as Quinn rose quickly to her feet next to him, her gaze flickering anxiously down at him when he didn’t make any motion whatsoever. “Are you coming in, Blaine?”
Was he? He simply felt himself rooted in place, his stomach churning dangerously but his throat closing up so that the contents of his stomach could do nothing more than swirl and build inside of him. He shook his head quickly, leaning over his lap and pressing his face into his hands again. “I don’t know if I can . . .” he muttered. “I just . . . should give the jury a running start in case things go south,” he joked but his voice was rough and he knew they could hear it.
Quinn didn’t say anything but Blaine could sense Rachel dropping back down into her seat as the hallway emptied back into the courtroom, one of her arms wrapping around his and her head finding what had apparently become its place on his shoulder.
“I’ll wait with you,” she murmured quietly near his ear.
He was surprised by how short the wait was, really, before someone emerged from the room to tell them the news. It felt like ages, like the slow, desperate crawl through molasses when one was being chased by something monstrous not confined by the laws of viscosity. He felt as though the world had gone quiet around him except for the headache-inducing hum in his ear, like white noise on a television set that had gone dead. He was lost in it, not hearing anything until Rachel let go of his arm and leapt to her feet when the doors to the courtroom burst open and her boyfriend bounded out.
The first thing Blaine saw was his expression and it was like the chill around his heart shattered. Because Blaine knew very little about Finn, but if there was one thing he knew for certain was that, while perhaps not the brightest of Kurt’s acquaintances, Finn was the one that never had any trouble displaying every one of his emotions straight on his face.
And even as he tripped over his words trying to explain what had happened, the smile on his face was enough explanation of the situation.
“I don’t know exactly what’s up because they had a . . . umm . . . whatever it’s called when the jury can’t agree . . .”
“A hung jury,” Rachel supplied quickly, shifting her weight back and forth from one foot to another at a steady beat, appearing to be torn between looking anxious and impatient.
“Yeah, that, and my mom said that usually means that unless the judge overrules it and passes judgment, the trial basically gets postponed . . . .”
“So what happened?” Rachel prompted the instant Finn stopped talking, his face scrunched up in thought as he pondered this fact. “Has it been held off or-”
“Oh, she overruled it,” Finn said simply, looking between them as though he expected everything to be clear then, puzzlement flooding his face when he found his girlfriend staring at him with just as much eager confusion as she’d had when he’d come out to tell them what happened.
“But what did she rule, then?”
“She ruled for us . . .” Blaine said quietly, not quite daring to believe it, and Rachel jumped, as though she’d forgotten Blaine was there, her eyes widening as she stared at Finn for confirmation.
Finn’s eyes lit up further, a feat that Blaine hadn’t thought possible. “Yeah! She said something about . . . umm . . . hold on . . . something about how the battery was, like, super serious but after hearing both sides of testimony it was clear that it was justified or something . . . anyway, she said that the defendant-that’s Kurt, right?-wasn’t going to jail because the evidence was enough to prove it was self defense but that she was going to place him under lenient house arrest because no society should condone any violence going totally unpunished. But it’s only for, like, a couple of months and Puck said being under house arrest basically just means that he’s going to have to wear one of those crazy ankle bracelet things until graduation but-”
He cut off talking with a grunt as Rachel squealed loudly and flung her arms around his neck, almost knocking him over despite how tiny she was compared to him. He laughed, wrapping his arms around her waist as she squeaked happily into the skin of his shoulder before pulling back, her sparkling eyes searching for Blaine.
“Did you hear that, Blaine? We-” she started but he was gone before she could tackle him with her embrace, dodging around them and practically sprinting into the courtroom.
He didn’t know when it had emptied, when all those people had filed past him and Rachel and Finn, but there was a strange calm in the room. The other members of New Directions were still clustered in their little area, chatting happily now that the trial was over, but their gazes flew to him instantly. He ignored them, his footsteps echoing on the floor, bouncing off the walls like the energy that had somehow filled him. It was too good, too good to be true but the instant Kurt looked up from where he, the judge, Cooper and Finn’s mom were clustered around a table, he knew it was. Knew from the softness of Kurt’s expression and the warm glow of his eyes.
From the smile that he couldn’t help breaking out over his face and the way he leaned away from whatever was being discussed, his shoulder knocking against Cooper’s as he grinned at Blaine.
Blaine barely noticed Cooper turning to look at what had distracted Kurt, his eyes landing on Blaine before he rolled them and murmured something to Kurt, something that must have been a release because the instant he said it Kurt all but leapt away from him, taking three quick steps to the barrier between the audience and the main floor of the courtroom and past it until he was standing directly in front of Blaine.
Neither of them moved, both trying hard to control the breaths that were escaping them in short little bursts, like the adrenaline pounding both of their hearts. It was as though a layer had fallen away from Kurt and he stood before Blaine a little taller, the light in his eyes a little brighter and his face unable to hide the mix of emotions that was exploding within him.
“So,” Blaine started, his voice rough and a little breathless at the picture of the boy standing before him, still weighted down by everything that had happened to him in the past, but looking a little freer nonetheless. “I hear you’re not going to jail, then.”
“Apparently I’m going to be stuck in Lima for 3 months. Given my options, I think I’d prefer jail,” Kurt retorted quickly, but his hand curled into a light fist that rose up quickly to cover his mouth as he broke out into a grin, his eyes shining more than sunlight reflected off a calm sea on a sunny day. Blaine bit back his grin as Kurt’s shoulders shook as he tried to keep from laughing but in the end he couldn’t hold it back and without warning he barreled into Blaine, sending him stumbling back several paces with a laugh, allowing his joy to spill out as his arms wrapped around Kurt, holding him tight against his chest, hearts pounding so hard it felt as though the room around them were shaking.
Blaine laughed into the crook of Kurt’s neck, his arms bracing Kurt’s shoulders as they trembled with a rush of breathless relief, the boy’s face buried in the space between his arms and Blaine’s neck, his breath warm and infusing Blaine with a strange sense of life.
“I love you.”
Blaine’s laughter got cut off in a rough choking noise that only seemed to make Kurt laugh harder against his shoulder before pulling away, staring in slight shock at Kurt, whose expression dissolved into one that was slightly anxious, his eyes bright as he seemed to await an end to the good news of the day.
There was such openness in the expression that Blaine almost couldn’t resist the urge to roll his eyes even as his chest swelled like hot air being blown into a balloon, lifting his spirit up through the roof of the building and to the blue sky above.
He shook his head, not fighting his own affectionate smile as he raised a hand delicately to Kurt’s cheek, running his hands along the smooth skin there, marveling at the way Kurt’s lips parted at the contact and his chest rose gracefully under the tight stretch of his shirt. “I love you too, you idiot,” he murmured quietly as Kurt blinked in slight surprise before narrowing his eyes playfully.
He opened his mouth to speak when there was a hand on his shoulder and the woman that had been identified as Finn’s mom appeared by his side, smiling at the two of them with such kindness that Blaine couldn’t help but be wholly astounded. He didn’t know what he’d imagined from the woman-it wasn’t like Kurt had told him any sort of monstrosities about her, but somehow he couldn’t have imagined such a pleasant seeming woman as someone that Kurt could have walked away from, especially when it had seemed like kindness was the one thing that he had needed at that time.
“Kurt, honey,” she started, and Blaine almost expected Kurt to bristle at the term of endearment, but instead the boy gave him a weak smile before glancing at her, his eyes shining with slight familiarity, but also with the smallest sensation of awkwardness, as though he were remembering their last encounter as not being a pleasant one, “If you’re certain about coming to stay with me, we should finalize things with your . . .” she paused suddenly, biting her lip and her eyes filling with something akin to pity.
“Ankle monitor?” Kurt supplied. To Blaine’s surprise, he sounded more grateful than resentful of the punishment. “You can say it, Carole, it’s not going to wound me or anything. Better than the alternative.”
She exhaled in relief, her shoulders loosening as she nodded before glancing with a smile at Blaine. “I’m guessing you’re Blaine?” she asked kindly, extending a hand. “Your brother has mentioned you briefly. I’m Carole . . .”
“Finn’s mom,” Blaine acknowledged, taking her hand and marveling at how firm her grip was.
She looked surprised that he knew who she was, but the fact seemed to please her, as though she realized that it had come into his possession from Kurt rather than Cooper. She turned back to Kurt. “Kurt?”
Kurt opened his mouth and for the first time since Blaine had reentered the courtroom, he saw something saddening in Kurt’s eyes, as though he were torn between his own decisions. He looked between Carole and Blaine as though he were trying to decide what it was that he wanted more and when he finally settled on gazing at her and spoke, his voice was laced with so much apology that it was almost physically wounding to Blaine. Like he was remembering the way he’d reacted the last time the woman before him had reached out a hand to him, had offered to take him in after they both lost someone vitally important to them. “Actually, Carole, I-”
“If you’d like to live on your own, that’s completely fine,” she said instantly, her cheeks flushing and Blaine could feel a physical pain in his chest at the situation. “I think they just want to ensure some sort of legal guardianship while you’re under house arrest but if you don’t want to live with us-”
“I don’t want to go back to that apartment,” Kurt murmured quietly, his voice barely audible over her ramble.
“I . . . oh . . .”
“I, umm . . .” Kurt frowned, furrowing his brow, the pink of his tongue poking out from between his lips. “I was actually just . . . maybe hoping to spend the night at your place?” he muttered quickly, glancing at Blaine out of the corner of his eye.
Blaine was sure he looked as surprised as Carole at the request, but his only reaction was to exhale, his heart pounding in his chest. “I . . .” he started, finding himself at a loss for words. Kurt’s brow furrowed slightly but he didn’t move until Blaine had spoken. “I would have absolutely no problem with that,” he proclaimed softly, marveling at the way Kurt’s eyes lit up.
“I’ll come back to Lima tomorrow,” Kurt said quickly, glancing toward the table of lawyers and judges to see Cooper observing the conversation with a curious look on his face. “I just . . . I . . .”
“I understand, honey,” Carole reassured him, her voice warm and smooth. She smiled almost thankfully at Blaine before pulling Kurt back toward the group to discuss the option.
Blaine watched as they spoke with the group, Cooper waving his hands as he spoke and saying something that made a handful of people laugh and Kurt cough awkwardly, glancing back at Blaine as though to reassure himself that Blaine would remain where he was throughout the proceeding. Blaine smiled at him, sitting down in one of the rows nearest to him and waiting until they finished conversing and Cooper, Carole and Kurt made their way back to him.
“You missed my closing speech, squirt,” Cooper called out to him reprimandingly, his voice mockingly stern and his eyes twinkling with affection for his brother. “I’m pretty sure it rivaled some of the shit I came up with during my want-to-be-Hollywood-star days.”
“Jesus, if that’s true, I’m surprised you managed to pull this thing off at all,” Blaine countered smoothly, rolling his eyes when Kurt frowned at him questioningly.
He winced as Cooper smacked him playfully, raising a finger and jabbing it fiercely in front of Blaine’s face. “You should be nice to me or I can go right back and retract all my arguments in favor of your boyfriends 24-hour leave of absence from his punishment.”
Blaine could feel his eyes lighting up even as he tried to maintain a sense of mock seriousness when messing with Cooper. But his gaze flickered to Kurt, who looked like he was trying to maintain his own rough persona despite the grin that was forcing it’s way through the contours of his mouth. “Twenty-four hours?”
Cooper nodded. “Yup. I have to keep him under my supervision to make sure he’s not going to split-”
“I’m not going to-” Kurt started, sounding annoyed, but Cooper waved him off.
“Well, obviously, not when you’ve got a boyfriend as good-looking as my baby brother, though if you guys could keep it do . . . . down . . .” Cooper trailed off as Carole coughed lightly, eyeing him as only a mother could.
“Umm . . . Yes . . . Anyway, tomorrow at five they want to snap on your pretty little piece of jewelry, so you’re more or less free until then.”
Blaine rolled his eyes and looked very seriously at Kurt. “We’re never free if my brother is around,” he lamented sadly, ducking away from Cooper with a smirk and starting their exit out of the building. “Also, I applaud you for not pointing the whole time I was in the room, because I never would have been able to take you seriously.”
“Stop talking about that!” Cooper groaned.
Blaine smirked and turned gracefully on his heel, walking backwards out the building. “Are you talking to me, Coop?” he inquired mockingly. “Because I can’t tell if you’re talking to me if you don’t point your finger!” The end of the sentence was finished at a shout as Cooper made a disgruntled noise and started running after him out of the building, his lawyerly demeanor completely forgotten as the seriousness of the trial fell back into the past.
They made it to the car drawing a surprisingly small amount of attention to themselves and it was only with the solid metal of the vehicle between himself and his brother that Blaine realized that Kurt and Carole were walking slowly behind them, their amusement at their antics fading into something somber of conversation. Kurt had stuck his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket as they stepped out into the early February sunshine, his head bowed as he spoke to her in a low voice.
They’d paused near the top of the steps leading up to the courthouse, Kurt turning to face her, his bangs falling over his eyes and making him look so, so young again. His hand fiddled with something in his pocket and he only looked up when he withdrew it, holding the small box between two fingers and offering it to her with something of an apology shining in his expression.
Blaine could see her eyes furrowing in confusion and wondered if she knew. If Finn had ever told her about the ring, but even as Kurt looked like he was trying to apologize to her for things that maybe Blaine didn’t even know about, she swept him into a tight hug, his body stiffening in shock for a beat before his arms wound their way around her back, simply resting there, like he was trying to adjust to the sensation again.
He met Blaine’s eyes over Carole’s shoulder and smiled.
***
They’d barely crossed the threshold of his room when Blaine found himself against the wall with Kurt’s lips on his, the long line of his body against his and he couldn’t help but groan. His hands scrambled over Kurt’s body frantically, the realization that he’d been deprived of the ability to touch for weeks hitting him like a freight train.
Kurt swiped his tongue into Blaine’s mouth, the movement needy and desperate as his hands dug little bruises into Blaine’s hips through the fabric of his jeans, pulling him closer.
“So as much as I hate to interrupt, where do you want me, little brother?”
Kurt pulled away with an annoyed noise, his forehead dropping onto Blaine’s shoulder. Blaine leaned his head back, trying to catch his breath, before glancing at Cooper, who was leaning casually against the doorframe with a light smirk on his face.
“Guest room.”
When Cooper raised an eyebrow, Blaine rolled his eyes and added, “I’ll be there in a second.”
He glanced at Kurt as Cooper left, running a hand through his hair and leaning forward to press light kisses to his jaw line. “I’ll be right back,” he murmured, pulling away to look at Kurt, his brow furrowing at the slight sadness that dotted the specs of dark blue texturing his eyes. “You okay?” he murmured, fingers smoothing out the frown-lines sketched lightly over Kurt’s forehead.
Kurt gazed at him for a moment in silence before shaking his head, his smile small but genuine. “I just . . . it’s stupid. Nothing’s really changed but I . . . I feel more myself somehow. I don’t know, its-”
His voice was cut off by a light kiss and the quiet murmur of, “That’s not stupid,” against his lips, spoken using the air from his lungs, the words so close Kurt could feel them being embedded into his skin.
Blaine pulled away with a reassuring smile, his hand smoothing over the shoulders of Kurt’s shirt before he murmured, “Make yourself at home, I’ll be right back.”
He found Cooper flat on his back in the guest bedroom, his eyes directed at the ceiling. When he heard Blaine come in he shot up quickly with a reprimanding statement of, “You got rid of that poster of me. I’m wounded.”
“It was scaring my friends,” Blaine replied sternly, dumping a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt in front of Cooper and making his way back out of the room to find his brother some toiletries.
Cooper’s loud footsteps followed him into the bathroom and he resumed leaning against the doorway as Blaine fell into a crouch and started searching through the cupboard under his sink. “I can’t believe you threw that out, it was signed.”
“Because you’ve lost the ability to sign things?”
“Blaine, honestly, that could have been worth a lot of money someday, use your head,” Cooper informed him sternly, raising an eyebrow at him when Blaine turned to stare at him.
“Just sign another poster.”
“Blaine, did you know that posters can’t become vintage and worth a lot of money if people throw them out after three years? Have you never seen Pocahontas?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“How high can the sycamore grow, Blaine?”
Blaine snorted loudly, rising to his feet and placing an unopened toothbrush on the counter in front of him. “You can’t be serious right now,” he declared, staring at his brother with every bit of his incredulity written across his face.
Cooper’s mouth dropped open, his face forming into an exaggerated, wounded expression and he raised a hand over his heart. “‘Can’t be serious,’ I don’t even know what to say, Jesus, Blaine, I-of course I’m fucking with you.”
Blaine rolled his eyes. “You’re an idiot, I’m going to sleep.”
“No, you’re going to bed,” Cooper teased, jabbing a finger at his shoulder as he passed. “Hell of a difference, little brother.”
At the vague reminder that Kurt was still in his room and all the things that had occurred in the past couple of weeks, Blaine paused, his face softening as the jokes that passed between him and his brother seemed to fade into something serious and he turned to face Cooper, his earnestness seeming to shock the bold grin off his face.
“Thank you, Cooper.”
Cooper frowned curiously at him, his gaze passing between Blaine, the ajar door of his bedroom and the darkness beyond, looking as though he were trying to ascertain something. “You and him . . . ?” he started before cutting himself off, his gaze returning to rest on Blaine. Blaine tilted his head in puzzlement as Cooper continued to stare at him thoughtfully before shaking his head. “Never mind,” he murmured before smiling warmly. “You’re welcome.”
***
His room was still dark when he got back to it, the light never having been turned on.
He didn’t realize that Kurt was asleep at first, the long limbs of his body spread out over the bed, pale and silky in the strips of moonlight streaming in through the cracks in his blinds. He was on his back when Blaine came in but a moment later he made a soft grunt and shifted onto his side, his back to Blaine, the pale white of his shirt matching his skin.
Blaine swallowed thickly, watching him. Thoughts of what Cooper had wanted to ask hovered at the back of his brain, but they were discarded as easily as the shirt on his back and his jeans.
He eased himself into the bed, careful not to wake the still form of the sleeping boy in front of him, but he couldn’t help but raise a hand to his hair, smoothing the silky strands before he placed a soft kiss near Kurt’s temple.
“I love you,” he whispered, because it was true and because there was something about the way the words filled the air around him, sustaining life like oxygen.
His body slid in behind Kurt’s perfectly as he pulled his covers over them, casting an arm around Kurt’s stomach to pull him closer, lest he slip away like a wisp of cloud on the wind.