with every move [kurt angst; anti-klaine]
title: With Every Move
rating: G
fandom/pairing: Glee. Kurt angst with established Kurt/Blaine and Sam/Mercedes; slight implication of Kurt/Sam if you want.
spoilers: S02E22
warnings: Pseudosecond person; iffy Kurt voice because I just cannot get that flawless mofo down, still.
summary: Blaine says I love you. Kurt stalls.
words: 622
disclaimer: I do not own Glee, or Ke$ha's "Dancing with Tears in My Eyes".
A deep breath; don’t make any rash decisions that could reflect poorly on you in retrospect.
You blink at him. You’re acutely aware of your heart beating in your chest, and the usually comforting timing of the proof of your existence sounds like it’s judging you. You think you probably deserve it, considering that you have a habit of judging others on a regular basis.
Still. You’ve never considered yourself to be particularly cruel, not like this punishment. It sounds like not ready; not ready; not ready. At least, to you, it does. It would most likely sound like nothing to anyone else; to Blaine.
He’s still staring back at you, eyes lidded and expression sleepy. You tell yourself it’s charming, you tell yourself it’s so sweet that it’s so easy for him to say it even while your own mental functions are slowly shutting down, one by one, because you’re not ready, not ready, not ready.
The taste of coffee is bitter in your mouth. Inexplicably, you can’t recall what it was that you ordered - what it was that you always order, every time you go out with Blaine, because the two of you always go to the Lima Bean - but you know that you don’t like it. It’s bitter, in a lingering kind of way, and yes, you definitely dislike it. You wonder if you ought to change your regular order, or if you should only keep yourself out of uncomfortable situations.
“I,” you start to answer, and the voice doesn’t sound like your own. You don’t know where the word came from, you couldn’t say what’s possessed you to say it. You’d be more upset if it weren’t for the fact that it lets you stall a little longer, just a moment or two. I.
It hangs heavy in the air, pregnant with all the possibilities that seem worse and worse fits for the situation with every moment that passes. It’s not silent - the background chatter of the other patrons in the establishment makes sure of that - but you still feel the deafening heaviness of emptiness hanging over your table like a Sword of Damocles.
You swallow hard against the dryness, the bitterness, the unease in your throat, and smile at Blaine. His expression is the same; still staring, still smiling, still looking as though he’s two minutes away from falling asleep. “Love you too,” you finish, your voice lilting into an implication you don’t want Blaine to pick up on.
He doesn’t, just keeps smiling, and that’s that then. No discussion, no heartfelt I’m so glad you said it backs - nothing. You feel disappointed, but you can’t find it in yourself to direct that disappointment at Blaine. It’s not his fault; he was only speaking his feelings, and you should be more grateful that you have such an honest boyfriend.
People approach your table, and you look away from Blaine instantly. Their presence makes the heaviness dissipate, and things feel light and easy again. You smile broadly, gratefully, up at Sam and Mercedes, and pretend that you buy the excuse of We just ran into each other in the parking lot.
You feel disappointed, but it’s more of an abstract feeling, and it’s directed only towards yourself.
Sam and Mercedes leave, and over Blaine’s shoulder, you see their hands clasp together. Blaine mentions wanting to do a Nicki Minaj song at 6 Flags over the summer, which startles you back into attention, because
“Are you sure the park will be all right with that? Children go there, Blaine.”
He waves off your protests with a dismissive, “I’m sure it’ll be fine - censoring, right?” and smiles at you.
You smile back, and try to ignore that it feels fake.
rating: G
fandom/pairing: Glee. Kurt angst with established Kurt/Blaine and Sam/Mercedes; slight implication of Kurt/Sam if you want.
spoilers: S02E22
warnings: Pseudosecond person; iffy Kurt voice because I just cannot get that flawless mofo down, still.
summary: Blaine says I love you. Kurt stalls.
words: 622
disclaimer: I do not own Glee, or Ke$ha's "Dancing with Tears in My Eyes".
A deep breath; don’t make any rash decisions that could reflect poorly on you in retrospect.
You blink at him. You’re acutely aware of your heart beating in your chest, and the usually comforting timing of the proof of your existence sounds like it’s judging you. You think you probably deserve it, considering that you have a habit of judging others on a regular basis.
Still. You’ve never considered yourself to be particularly cruel, not like this punishment. It sounds like not ready; not ready; not ready. At least, to you, it does. It would most likely sound like nothing to anyone else; to Blaine.
He’s still staring back at you, eyes lidded and expression sleepy. You tell yourself it’s charming, you tell yourself it’s so sweet that it’s so easy for him to say it even while your own mental functions are slowly shutting down, one by one, because you’re not ready, not ready, not ready.
The taste of coffee is bitter in your mouth. Inexplicably, you can’t recall what it was that you ordered - what it was that you always order, every time you go out with Blaine, because the two of you always go to the Lima Bean - but you know that you don’t like it. It’s bitter, in a lingering kind of way, and yes, you definitely dislike it. You wonder if you ought to change your regular order, or if you should only keep yourself out of uncomfortable situations.
“I,” you start to answer, and the voice doesn’t sound like your own. You don’t know where the word came from, you couldn’t say what’s possessed you to say it. You’d be more upset if it weren’t for the fact that it lets you stall a little longer, just a moment or two. I.
It hangs heavy in the air, pregnant with all the possibilities that seem worse and worse fits for the situation with every moment that passes. It’s not silent - the background chatter of the other patrons in the establishment makes sure of that - but you still feel the deafening heaviness of emptiness hanging over your table like a Sword of Damocles.
You swallow hard against the dryness, the bitterness, the unease in your throat, and smile at Blaine. His expression is the same; still staring, still smiling, still looking as though he’s two minutes away from falling asleep. “Love you too,” you finish, your voice lilting into an implication you don’t want Blaine to pick up on.
He doesn’t, just keeps smiling, and that’s that then. No discussion, no heartfelt I’m so glad you said it backs - nothing. You feel disappointed, but you can’t find it in yourself to direct that disappointment at Blaine. It’s not his fault; he was only speaking his feelings, and you should be more grateful that you have such an honest boyfriend.
People approach your table, and you look away from Blaine instantly. Their presence makes the heaviness dissipate, and things feel light and easy again. You smile broadly, gratefully, up at Sam and Mercedes, and pretend that you buy the excuse of We just ran into each other in the parking lot.
You feel disappointed, but it’s more of an abstract feeling, and it’s directed only towards yourself.
Sam and Mercedes leave, and over Blaine’s shoulder, you see their hands clasp together. Blaine mentions wanting to do a Nicki Minaj song at 6 Flags over the summer, which startles you back into attention, because
“Are you sure the park will be all right with that? Children go there, Blaine.”
He waves off your protests with a dismissive, “I’m sure it’ll be fine - censoring, right?” and smiles at you.
You smile back, and try to ignore that it feels fake.