Fic: Letter to a G.I. (4/6)
Title: Letter to a G.I. (4/6)
Pairings/Character(s): Kurt/Blaine, Marley Rose, Burt Hummel
Rating: NC-17
Summary: AU. Cast opposite the successful actor and performer Blaine Anderson as a romantic lead in a historic drama Kurt, a relative newcomer to the screen, has to learn to navigate his relationship with his character - and with his co-star.
Warnings: Death as a thematic literary element, if that's a thing? See here for more.
Total word count: 60,000 overall, this part 8,500.
Earlier parts: LJ | Tumblr | AO3
*
Around hour eight, Kurt starts to lose track of how much time they’ve spent in the air and at airports. After hour twelve, he stops wanting to try. The whole flight home dissolves into a travel-coma blur; too-small seats and airport bathrooms and bottled water and a messy stack of boarding passes. In Paris Kurt doesn’t even try to get out to see the city during their layover. Blaine stretches out next to him across three uncomfortable plastic terminal seats, and twitches restlessly in a half-sleep until Kurt puts a hand on his shoulder.
As they get closer and closer to home Kurt starts to worry, old habit and anxiety and they still haven’t really talked about this, and Kurt’s not used to the idea that they might not even need to. But Blaine shows no signs of wanting to even stray from Kurt’s side, the few times they get a chance to, and when they’re at their last layover - three hours at JFK, and the familiarity of the place is so homy after so long away, and Kurt is so tired, that it makes Kurt teary with relief when they walk off the gangway - Blaine tugs his hand to get him to stand from where they and the rest of the crew had stashed their carry-ons.
“Where are we going?” Kurt asks, as he follows Blaine down the concourse.
The grin Blaine gives him is tired and a little nervous, but warm and familiar. “I just wanted to get you alone.”
“You didn’t get enough of me last week?” Kurt means it to be joking, and Blaine’s grin slips even more anxious, but he shakes his head and pulls Kurt into a quiet corner. He doesn’t quite look Kurt in the eye when he says, “I’ll never get enough of you.”
Blaine kisses him up against the pillar behind a bank of flight-arrival screens. The place is noisy and smells like airport and Kurt is grungy and nearly hungover from travel-weariness. But Blaine’s mouth is warm and tastes like coffee and orange and him, and Kurt closes his eyes and lets himself melt into it, into Blaine’s mouth and Blaine’s hands where they’re gripping his arms, and the heat of his body, not touching, but close.
Blaine pulls back and rests his forehead against Kurt’s. Kurt makes himself breathe to slow his racing heart; he feels soothed and excited all at once by the touch of Blaine’s mouth, of his lips, and maybe it’s too soon but he wants it, so he clears his throat and then asks, “When we get back to L.A. - I don’t know if you want to just go and be by yourself and just crash out for a year, but - if you want to, I would - really like it if you came home with me.”
Blaine leans back so that they’re no longer touching, and Kurt looks up nervously at him. It’s the most he’s said, in words at least, about how much he’s come to want Blaine in his life.
“Kurt,” Blaine reaches out a hand and brushes Kurt’s hair off his forehead, looking awed and a little relieved. “I’d love to.”
“Really?” Kurt can’t keep the excited bounce out of his voice; there is relief, of course, but over the the knowledge that Blaine is not going to leave him on the Los Angeles tarmac is the deeper joy - and it is joy, through the relief and the stirring, exhausted arousal - that he will not be going home alone, that in just a few hours he will have Blaine in his own bed.
“Of course. Kurt.” Blaine kisses him again, and his name on Blaine’s lips sounds baffled, and happy, and relieved.
*
The last flight passes in a blur like the earlier ones had; exhausted, Kurt even manages to doze on Blaine’s shoulder for an hour as they’re flying over the Rockies. By the time they plane begins its final descent the energy level in the cabin is starting to pick back up, at least among the crew. After so many weeks away they’re almost home, and everyone is eager to see spouses and kids and familiar food.
Kurt and Blaine don’t raise many eyebrows when they leave from the baggage claim to catch a taxi together, and the cab ride home is quiet. Kurt holds Blaine’s hand across the empty seat between them and watches the too-familiar streets pass by outside. Not much has changed in the last two weeks, and it feels strange that his neighborhood should look so familiar when everything Kurt’s done has been anything but.
It feels less significant than it should, maybe, when Kurt unlocks his door and holds it open for Blaine to come in behind him. He’s never had a guy sleep over before that he wasn’t dating, and though he’s fairly sure that whatever he and Blaine are right now would qualify as dating, they still haven’t said it, and uncertainty isn’t something Kurt Hummel has ever let into his love life before. Still, there isn’t much room for doubt when Blaine stacks his bag neatly by the arm of Kurt’s couch and then pulls Kurt into a hug, wrapping him up tight and burying his face in the crook of Kurt’s neck.
Kurt pulls his fingers through Blaine’s hair and closes his eyes just to take in the moment - Blaine, in his arms, in his house, not a fleeting dream but something real, and something maybe, someday, something really solid. “Do you want to go to bed?” Kurt asks after several minutes have passed and they’re no longer so much holding each other as holding each other up.
Blaine nods into his shoulder, though his arms curl tighter around Kurt’s waist. “I don’t know how much - energy I’m going to have, though.”
Kurt smiles, though Blaine can’t see it. “That’s just fine. I just want to sleep with you.”
They leave their bags where they are and make their way upstairs; at the top of the stairs Kurt takes Blaine’s hand to lead him down the hallway, and Blaine squeezes his fingers back.
Blaine’s been in Kurt’s house before but never upstairs, and never in his bedroom, so while Kurt makes sure the bathroom is stocked for the very long, very hot shower he’s going to need when they wake up, Blaine sits on the bed and looks around curiously. From the bathroom doorway, Kurt stands and watches Blaine as he skims the titles on the bookshelf under the window.
“Twain?” Blaine arches an eyebrow as Kurt walks towards him, and stops to stand between his knees.
“He was angry, sarcastic, and years ahead of his time,” Kurt smirks, and rests his hands on Blaine’s shoulders.
“A role model of yours, then?” Blaine tips his head up to smile at him.
Kurt lets the smirk soften, and strokes his thumb across the join of Blaine’s shoulder and neck.
Blaine catches one of his hands and holds it between his. “Why are you angry?”
Kurt lets his hand tighten at the neck of Blaine’s shirt. There are so many ways he could answer that - so many ways he has answered it, over the years. But no one had ever asked outright, and Kurt had gotten so used to screaming the answer in their faces that he doesn’t know what to say with the question put to him directly.
“It was a long time ago,” he finally says, and slips his hand around to the back of Blaine’s neck to tip his face up for the kiss.
Kurt’s practically woozy with exhaustion by the time they finally pull back the covers and slip underneath them. He curls an arm around Blaine’s stomach and, face tucked safely into the back of Blaine’s neck, slides quickly into sleep.
*
When Kurt wakes up again it’s dark outside, and he squints at his clock to see if it’s late at night or early in the morning. Early morning - they’ve been asleep for about ten hours, and Kurt feels rested but in desperate need of a shower. He crawls out of bed to use the bathroom, but when he’s washing his hands he hears Blaine’s voice, sleep-fogged, call “Kurt?” from the bed.
“Right here, baby.” Kurt sits on the edge of the bed and brushes the hair back from Blaine’s face. “Sleep well?”
“Mhmm.” Blaine buries his face in his pillow and wriggles under the covers. “I like your bed.”
“I like you in my bed,” Kurt curls his fingers in Blaine’s hair and then hesitates. But Blaine just raises his head enough to crack an eye and give him a sleepy smile, and Kurt resumes his gentle stroking.
“I was thinking about taking a shower,” Kurt says, tracing the curve of Blaine’s ear with his finger. “Would you like to join me?”
“Do I have to get out of bed?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Alright.” Blaine pouts, but he shuffles up until he’s on his knees. “But only because you’re really gorgeous.” He lets his hand slide up Kurt’s bare hip, and smirks a little when Kurt shivers. “And I’m really gross.”
“Such a romantic,” Kurt smiles, and Blaine grins and kisses him.
*
Afterwards, in clean pajamas - Kurt digs a clean pair of flannel pants out of his drawer, and an extra pair for Blaine - they make coffee and toast and carry it back upstairs to eat in bed. There are things Kurt needs to do; the unpacked bags in the living room make him twitchy when he walks past them on his way to the kitchen, there is laundry to do and mail to sort and any number of minute tasks he has to do before they go back to work on Monday. But he just can’t find it in himself to care, not when Blaine slings a leg over his and nestles into his side as they sit in Kurt’s bed and drink coffee. He kisses Blaine’s forehead and then sets his mug aside, snuggling back down into the blankets. Work can wait.
“Going back to sleep?” Blaine’s smile is small, sweet, and he sets his own mug aside to settle down next to Kurt.
“Maybe.” Kurt hides a yawn in the edge of the blanket. “I thought I was awake, but then I got back into bed -”
Blaine wraps a warm arm around Kurt’s waist. “Sorry about that.”
“No you’re not.”
“I’m really not.” Blaine kisses his forehead, and then settles his head down on the pillow next to Kurt’s. For a long moment he just lies there, looking at Kurt. After everything they’ve done together it shouldn’t make Kurt flush but it does, that frank, open, assessment, like Blaine can look his fill because they don’t have any secrets between them.
But they do have secrets, or at least things they haven’t told or talked about, and as they lie there Kurt can feel the energy shifting around them as the sun starts to come up outside. It’s time. He’s just not sure how to start.
Finally, Blaine catches Kurt’s hand under the blankets, and presses a kiss to the back of it. “I’m not great at romance,” he says, and it’s the silliest and yet most honest kind confession, and Kurt has to kiss him for it.
“What do you mean?”
Blaine plays with Kurt’s fingers, and doesn’t look at his face. “I used to want it, when I was a kid. Big sweeping gestures, serenades, holding hands in the park, till-death-do-us-part. Every cliche you can imagine.” He grins, and it’s self-deprecating, but there’s an edge to it, something old and still hurting. “I just mean that - the hookup thing, the fling thing, it wasn’t something I set out to do.” Blaine’s picking at Kurt’s fingers with his thumb, and Kurt’s not sure what to ask, so he stays quiet while Blaine works out what to say next.
“It was fine when I was in high school, because high school romances don’t really last forever and there wasn’t anyone I was interested in, anyway. But that was fine, I was busy with school and the Warblers and I just figured - when I got out, when I got to college, that’s when I’d find my love story.
“And - lo and behold, my first week at UCLA. I met Alex.” Blaine’s smile is fond, reminiscent, and Kurt smiles to see it. “He was everything I’d ever dreamed about in high school - he was hot, he was smart, he was so kind, and he was as romantic as I was. Even more, maybe. Blaine’s eyes flick from their tangled hands to Kurt’s eyes, and there’s honesty there, but there’s also a little bit of fear. “He was a little like you, actually.”
“Mm.” Kurt smiles and tucks his head more comfortably into their shared pillow. “So what happened?”
“Freshman year was amazing. It sucked to leave him at the end of the year, but it was just going to be for the summer, and long-distance relationships are fun if they’re not for that long. We wrote so many love letters”. Blaine’s mouth is wry, old amusement at his younger self. “But Alex was a year older than me, and he ended up doing an internship his junior year, somewhere overseas, fuck, I don’t even remember where. Not that it really matters.” He swallows, and Kurt can see the muscles in his throat bob. “I took it - poorly. I hated being lonely; I resented him being gone; I was not good at keeping myself busy.” His mouth twists, and Kurt wants to kiss him on the unhappy frown of it, but Blaine is on a roll. “Until I found the perfect distraction.” He doesn’t look up this time, just keeps his eyes on their hands, and Kurt rubs his thumb over the heel of Blaine’s palm until he starts talking ago. “His name was Jason. Alex found out about it - of course he did, I was an idiot about the whole thing - and that was it, just like that, it was over. Goodbye romance. And I had no one to blame but myself.” Kurt’s heart clenches painfully; he knows just how stupid young-and-stupid can get, and how long it can hurt for.
Blaine goes on. “It turned out that there weren’t many guys interested in handholding in the park. There were a lot of guys who were interested in me for the night or for a weekend, though. And - I knew, maybe, that I shouldn’t, knew that I’d been patient once and I’d gotten Alex out of it, so maybe I should try to be patient again. But I’d fucked that up, and I didn’t trust myself not to fuck up something like that in the future, so. Fake IDs and college parties and one-night-stands it was, then.”
Blaine’s voice gives a little just a little hitch, and Kurt scootches closer, and tucks an ankle between Blaine’s feet. “It turns out that flings are not great for your self-esteem. Or, maybe they are for some people’s. They weren’t for mine.” Blaine blinks, and holds Kurt’s hand tighter. “After a while I figured I wasn’t good enough for anything else - nobody seemed to want anything else from me anyway, and I have always been.” He swallows, and there’s a look on his face that Kurt can’t read, something resigned and proud and sad. “I have always been good at being what other people want me to be.”
Kurt doesn’t know what to say to that, so he just holds Blaine’s hand tighter, but something painful is twisting from his heart down into his lungs, scraping at the inside of his ribs.
“And then I met you.” Blaine finally looks up at Kurt again, and Kurt’s breath catches in his chest. “And you were everything I used to want, you are gorgeous and talented and so so sure of who you are and what you want, and I just - I couldn’t help it. I was gone.”
“Really.” Kurt can’t help the smile, this is a serious moment but the muscles of his face can’t help it, and something warm is bubbling inside him.
“Really. But it had been so long and I was out of practice at romance, I didn’t know how to get you. So I was an idiot, again, and you walked away.”
“Blaine -” Kurt begins, but Blaine shakes his head.
“No, it’s okay. It was a wakeup call and I needed it. Thank you for yelling at me at that party, by the way.”
Kurt scrunches his nose. “I didn’t yell.”
Blaine raises an eyebrow. “No, not exactly. You just turned up that nose of yours and called me out and I felt about as big as a bug.”
“I really am sorry about that.”
“Yeah, well.” Blaine lifts a shoulder. “It’s not like I didn’t deserve it. And it got me Jamie, and maybe I hadn’t been good enough for a romance with you, but I was good enough for a romance with him, the first one since Alex, and just - it changed everything. Made me think I might actually have a shot with you after all.” He smiles, gentle and happy and relieved, behind his eyes, and Kurt can’t believe it, hearing Blaine say these things. He’d wanted him for so long, and had had no idea.
And he’s not sure what to say, what to give Blaine now that Blaine has given him so much, so he just says, “more than a shot, really,” and wraps his arms around Blaine’s shoulders when he rolls over him.
*
When they wake up again it’s late morning, and between the jetlag and the going on twenty hours of sleep now Kurt actually feels like he might be able to face the day, so they get up and shower again, sticky from sex and sweaty from being tangled together under the blankets. Blaine offers to make them lunch, so he moves around Kurt’s kitchen while Kurt puts in loads of laundry and starts to sort through his accumulated mail, and thinks.
Normally, by the end of a trip like this - not that he’s ever been away on location for work like this, but still, the principal applies - he is sick of everyone and everything and needs to just hide from the world and everyone in it for a while. But when he carries a basket of clean laundry in to fold at the kitchen table while Blaine makes pasta sauce at his stove, he can’t imagine kicking Blaine out.
The afternoon wears on, though, and they have work again tomorrow and Blaine’s going to need to go back to his house at some point, and Kurt can’t stand the thought of letting him go yet. Finally, after they have dinner and wash the dishes and put the leftovers away and Kurt sees Blaine glance at the time, he reaches across the table and takes Blaine’s hand in his.
“So, I know I invited you over here to begin with, and you might be really sick of me by now, but - if you needed, you know, help with your laundry or something -?”
“With my laundry.”
“Well, you never know-”
“You have so little faith in me.” Blaine circles around the table, and stands between Kurt’s knees, hands still clasped together. “I really don’t think I’m going to get sick of you, Kurt Hummel. At least not before you get sick of me.”
“Oh.” Kurt smiles, and Blaine leans down to kiss him. “Good, then.”
*
Blaine does his own laundry, and Kurt snuggles into his side when they turn on the TV while he waits for the dryer to finish. It’s dark outside, again, and Kurt’s given up on trying to keep track of his body clock or the time here. During a commercial, Blaine picks up the remote and mutes the volume.
“So, work tomorrow.”
Kurt sighs and settles more comfortably against Blaine’s shoulder. He’s looking forward to going back to work - even a day away makes him miss Dave and that world - but he knows they’ve started the smallest kind of shitstorm, and he’s not sure he wants to face the scrutiny of the rest of the cast and crew yet. “Yeah.”
“Do you - want to. Hide it?”
“What?” Kurt sits up. “No. Why would I want that?”
Blaine shrugs uncertainly, and takes Kurt’s hand where it’s resting on his leg. “I know you’re big on privacy. I couldn’t even get much information out of Marley about you.”
Kurt smiles. “You were digging for information about me?”
Blaine shrugs, and there’s just a touch of color on his cheeks. “I was confused and just a little bit desperate. And you weren’t exactly forthcoming on what you wanted. I’m - sorry if that was weird.”
Kurt shakes his head and nestles back against Blaine. “No, I think it’s sweet. Sorry about that, I just - well. Most of the time it’s easier if I don’t give too much away.”
“...which is why I asked. I understand if you want to keep it private. This isn’t something that’s going to go unnoticed, if we don’t try to make it be. But we can, if you want it to be.”
“I think it might be a little late for that already,” Kurt says, and strokes his thumb over Blaine’s wrist, the lighter band of skin where Brian’s watch band rests. “Pat knows. Well, the rest of the Oran crew, actually, and I know Marley does. Despite Marley’s loyal discretion, I think the cat might be too far out of the bag already. But - even if it weren’t,” he says, carefully but determinedly, watching Blaine’s face. “I wouldn’t want to keep it secret. Dave and Brian have to hide and - we don’t.”
“God, Kurt,” Blaine says, and there’s a look on his face that Kurt can’t decipher, awe and surprise and something too-deep to translate. “Where were you - well. Where have you been my whole life?”
Kurt can feel the blush, and he ducks his head into Blaine’s shoulder to hide it. “And you say you’re not good at romance.”
“I’m getting better.” The hand that’s not holding Kurt’s comes up and strokes through Kurt’s hair, gentle and soothing and sending lazy sparks through his skin. “I’ve got a really good teacher.”
Kurt hums, and it turns into a yawn, and Blaine chuckles and wraps his arm around Kurt’s shoulder and pulls him into a tight half-hug. “Well, if we’re not hiding it, then there’s no reason for you not to stay over?” His eyes are bright and hopeful, and since they left Kurt’s house Kurt has had no intention of letting this night end any other way.
“No reason at all,” he says, and Blaine kisses him on his smile.
*
They take separate cars to the lot - Blaine has another meeting for one of his projects that afternoon, and Kurt desperately needs to go grocery shopping, so carpooling, tempting as it is, isn’t going to be practical. They park next to each other, though, and walk through the lot hand-in-hand.
They’re intercepted by Johnny, walking in from his own car. He gives their linked hands a raised eyebrow, and then looks between them.
“So this is really a thing, now, is it.”
Blaine flushes and looks at Kurt, and it’s like being in New York answering his dad’s questions about who is this guy who’s in all these facebook pictures, Kurt? all over again.
“Yeah.”
“Well. Continue being non-idiots, and I’m happy. Don’t let the rest of the guys psych you out, giving you a hard time is part of their job description.”
Kurt’s just beginning to shape the words “Thanks, Johnny,” and a smile when he puts a hand up and smirks. “And keep the sex out of the trailers. Save that stuff for your own time.” And then he winks and walks away, leaving Kurt sputtering and Blaine beet red next to him.
*
They do get a hard time, but there really isn’t any malice behind it. Marley runs up to them and squeals and hugs them both and demands to be filled in on Everything, oh my god, Kurt, Blaine, why didn’t you tell me? It’s good to see her, and the rest of the crew, and be back on the familiar soundstage and familiar trailers, even though Kurt blushes all the way through his hairstyling trying not to think about what Johnny (or anyone else) might think they get up to left on their own.
Today is a bit of a rewind, and it’s a relief after the intensity of Algeria to slip back into something light and easy and fun. It’s easy in their relationship, Dave and Brian’s, and all they want is some time alone together...
*
It’s easy to find the time to be together - easy as anything to sit in each other’s tents or in a jeep and talk and talk and talk. It’s harder to be alone, in the way they are quickly learning they very much want to be alone, without any chance of interruption. There are too many people, too many things to do, and too much suspicion to arouse if they aren’t careful.
So they plan. Opportunities are everywhere, they must be, all they have to do is find them -
It’s easy, once they get down to it. Brian is a notorious lightweight, and when he starts to get sloppy one night out with everyone everyone rolls their eyes and lets him get on with it. They’re far more glad than suspicious when Dave offers to get him back to his tent, get him out of the way, he’ll just cause trouble left like this -
Brian is giggling drunkenly when Dave scoops an arm around his waist to “help” him walk back to his tent. He sounds so happy that Dave can’t help but to join in, and they must sound like a pair of loons. Neither of them are actually drunk but by the time they reach Brian’s tent Dave feels like it, careless and light and happy as they stagger through the flap together and fall onto Brian’s cot, laughing into each other’s shoulders while their hands catch and hold.
Brian’s hands find his face, and then they’re kissing, fierce and hot and fast because they have time, yes, but not forever, and damn if they’re going to let any of it go to waste.
Dave’s hand flails, though, when Brian starts to push him backwards, down onto the cot, and he catches his own weight and blinks hot and dazed up at Brian.
“What are you -”
“It’s okay,” Brian lifts a hand and brushes fingertips across his cheek. “Have you ever -”
Dave knows what he’s being asked, and the blood rushes hot to his face, and to, and to -
“No,” his voice is small in his own ears. Brian brushes his thumb over his eyebrow.
“It’s okay,” he whispers, and kisses him again, and it’s easy as anything to lose himself in his mouth, in his touch. “Let me show you.” He pushes again, and this time Dave lets both of their weights fall.
*
They’d left the lot separately, at different times - Kurt to go grocery shopping, Blaine for another meeting for one of his endless projects - and so Kurt doesn’t expect to see him until tomorrow on set. He’s just deciding what movie to watch to keep himself awake until it’s a decent time to go to bed when his phone buzzes with a text.
So, I don’t mean to be presumptuous, but...
Kurt’s heart flips as he texts back. Come over whenever you want. I’m just watching movies :)
The answer comes back almost immediately. Well, I *really* don’t mean to be presumptuous, but... And then there’s a knock on Kurt’s door.
Blaine is standing there, looking sheepish and a little shy. Kurt stands there with one hand on the door, and looks at him while Blaine looks back, a little nervous.. Kurt reaches out a hand, and touches the collar of Blaine’s shirt, and then runs his fingers over Blaine’s shoulder.
“Come in, stranger.”
Blaine kisses him in the entryway, soft and sweet, and Kurt fumbles to lock the door before he lets his hands wander where they want, across Blaine’s shoulders, down to his waist.
“You don’t ever have to feel presumptuous about coming over,” he says softly when Blaine finally pulls back. Blaine just smiles, and leans in, and kisses him again.
*
After that they don’t even pretend to try to spend nights apart. Whether they carpool or whether they meet up separately after Blaine’s done with what Kurt’s started calling his extracurriculars for the day, there is always a late dinner or drink or even hot chocolate together as the weather takes a turn for the cool again, and then nights together tangled together in one or another of their beds.It was one thing to talk in vague terms about being together in L.A. once they got home from Algeria; it’s another thing to actually be together, to look forward to seeing Blaine at home every night, to plan meals together and cook together, to get their clothes so mixed up that they don’t even bother trying to keep separate drawers at each other’s houses and skip right to jumbling laundry and invading closet space.
Maybe it’s moving too fast, but Kurt can’t bring himself to slow it down. One weekend Blaine is away for a recording session, and Kurt spends it bouncing around his own empty house. It was always enough for him before, but now it feels cold and empty without Blaine’s energy and warmth to fill it up. When Blaine gets back late Sunday night Kurt pushes him against the door for the kiss, and then takes him straight to bed. Blaine doesn’t remotely seem to mind.
Work is getting even harder, longer hours and longer weeks. Kurt had always thought that having a boyfriend was something that made having a job harder - someone else making claims on his time, always hard decisions to make about who got his evenings, his boy or his job - and it probably makes things easier that they do actually work together. But on the days they both stagger home too tired to even think about cooking there’s a warm body next to him in bed, a cool hand to smooth over his forehead and strong fingers to work the kinks of the day out of his muscles, and everything is easier, because Blaine is there.
They finally go to the farmer’s market together, and spend a glorious Sunday morning browsing through fruit and bread and everything else there is to explore, and when they get back to Kurt’s house Kurt chops fruit for salad and Blaine makes coffee and warms up the molasses cookies. They eat out on the porch and then crawl back into bed, where Kurt spends a long time mapping out Blaine’s body with his mouth and his hands until Blaine is stretched out and panting beneath him. Kurt slicks both of them and then straddles Blaine’s hips and rides him while Blaine pants and flails a little beneath him, hands clutching hips while Kurt’s back bows forward, like his body can’t stand to be farther away from Blaine than it has to be.
Afterward Blaine kisses Kurt and pulls the blankets up around Kurt’s shoulders before he crawls out of bed to grab his tablet. Kurt tries not to pout, but it’s hard, they’ve been working eleven-hour days and have hardly even had the time to make out in bed before they fall asleep.
Blaine must see the look on his face, because he hesitates with a knee up on the bed, his tablet in one hand. “Not today?” Kurt asks. He knows Blaine has deadlines, knows he worries and does too much and never feels like he does enough. But they rarely have time and he hopes that maybe Blaine needs the time they do have together as much as Kurt does.
Blaine frowns, but then he puts the tablet aside and slides under the covers with Kurt, rolls Kurt’s body under his and presses his face into Kurt’s chest. “Not today.”
Kurt strokes his fingers through Blaine’s hair, and wonders just how far they’ve come, and how far they have to go.
*
“I think we should tell her.” Brian’s voice is steady, but he’s very obviously making it be steady.
“Tell who?”
“Helen.”
“...why?”
Brian’s hands catch Dave’s hands when he goes to pull away. “But why? Brian? Why? No! It’s dangerous no she can’t know, no one can know-”
“Dave!” Brian strokes across the back of Dave’s wrists, and the effect is instantaneous, calming. “She suspects something already. And we need an ally - somebody who can cover for us. She could do that.”
“But -”
“But what?”
“She’s your -” He can’t bring himself to say the word “fiancée,” it hurts to much, what of Brian he’ll never have.
Brian catches his hands, leads him back to sit down on his cot, still rumpled. “She’s not,” he says, and it takes Dave a moment to catch on.
“What?”
“We’re not engaged. My parents think we are, her parents think we are, but. We’re not. We’re friends - close, but, friends. It was easier for both of this way, though.” He pulls at Dave’s hands, and Dave doesn’t know what to say. It doesn’t change anything, he knows, it doesn’t let them be anything more than they are, and it certainly doesn’t mean Brian and Helen are any less than anything they ever were, but -
“Would she understand?” he asks, his voice small.
Brian laces their fingers together, traces the bare length of Dave’s with his thumb. “I think she already does. She knows - well.” He smiles, and it’s a little rueful, a little scared. “There aren’t that many reasons for us not to be engaged. And she’s a smart girl.”
“Do you ever wish -” Dave starts, but the question chokes in his throat, stings his eyes.
“What?” Brian asks gently.
“Do you ever wish you - could - be engaged to her? Everything would be - so much easier -”
Brian’s quiet a long time, and when Dave finally works up the courage to look at him his eyes are soft and too-bright. “I used to,” he says, and lifts a hand to brush Dave’s cheek. Dave nuzzles into it, warmth and callouses on his skin like comfort and electricity. “But then I wouldn’t have you.”
“I love you.” It’s the first time either of them have said it, even though Dave knows it’s true, has seen the look in Brian’s eyes for weeks now and known what it meant.
Brian drags a thumb over Dave’s cheek, swiping away the tears of too-much-feeling that are falling. “I love you too,” he says, and the kiss is gentle, and welcoming, and home.
*
”Hey, Kurt!”
“Hi, Dad.” Kurt keeps his voice low, and scratches his fingers through Blaine’s hair. They’d had plans to watch a movie tonight, but Blaine had passed out on the couch right after dinner and Kurt hadn’t had the heart to wake him up again.
“How you doing, kiddo?”
“Tired. Good, but tired.” As if to emphasize the point, Kurt has to hide a yawn before he keeps going. “Our hours are getting crazy, but things are going really well. How’s Ohio?”
“Oh, same as always, you know how it goes. The snow is finally starting to melt, so Carole’s started digging up her garden again.”
Kurt looks out the window, to where his shrubs are flowering; being on the west coast is still profoundly weird, in so many ways.
“Are you guys still planning on coming out for Easter?”
“I am, yeah. And maybe Finn, but Carole’s going to have to work, they’re short-staffed at the hospital again. Think you’ll be ready for us?”
Kurt smiles into the phone, and wraps a curl at Blaine’s temple around his finger. “For you? Always. If Carole was coming I’d have to get my cleaning supplies out of deep storage and actually disinfect the bathroom.”
“You say that like you don’t clean your house every week anyway.”
“Yeah, yeah. Actually, um. There’s - something I want to tell you.”
“Anything, Kurt.” Kurt has to smile, at the easy affection there, at the way his dad hardly braces himself at statements like that anymore, because there hasn’t been any need to for a long, long time.
“Blaine and I, we -” It’s not like his dad doesn’t know about Blaine; Kurt could hardly have kept that a secret from his dad, and maybe Burt is wary about Kurt dating a Hollywood co-star but he hasn’t said a word against it, and Kurt appreciates more than he can say not having to hide anything from his dad. Well, almost anything... “Um. When you’re here. Blaine might be around alot, he - we -”
“Kurt?”
“Yeah?” Kurt’s voice squeaks, just a little,and he tugs tug a bit too hard on Blaine’s hair. Blaine gives a sleepy grunt and Kurt’s afraid he’s woken him, but he just nuzzles his face further into Kurt’s thigh.
“Spit it out, buddy.”
“Right. Um. Well. We’re - living together. Sort of.”
He can hear the wry amusement in his dad’s voice, and it’s so much better than any brand of hesitation or disapproval. “Sort of?”
“I mean it’s not - official, he still has his house and I still have mine but we. Yeah,” he concludes lamely, and can hear his dad’s thoughtful hum on the other end of the line. “I hope - I wanted you to know before you came out here.”
“He making you happy?”
“So happy, Dad,” Kurt says, and he strokes a thumb across Blaine’s cheek, creased from the pattern of the couch, and so dear. He feels so lucky and so full, of family and love. His life really is incredible.
“Then you tell him I’m looking forward to meeting him. In the meantime, take care of yourself, Kurt. I’ve seen your schedule, don’t go running yourself ragged.”
“I’m doing my best.”
“You always do. Love you, Kurt.”
“Love you too, Dad, G’night.”
After he ends the call Kurt sits there on the couch, watching the quiet street outside the window and petting gently through Blaine’s hair until he wakes up enough to grumble and roll onto his other side, draping an arm across Kurt’s knees.
“Welcome to the world, sweetheart,” Kurt says, and smiles when Blaine frowns and cracks an eye open against the dim lighting of the living room.
“Is’t time to go to bed?”
“Just about. Do you have everything ready for tomorrow?”
Blaine squints and pushes himself upright on the couch. “I think so - yeah.” He seems to be thinking through it. “Yeah. I just need to grab the proofs from my place, but I can do that on the way in tomorrow.”
“You’ve still got that meeting tomorrow night?”
“Yeah.” Blaine yawns, and slumps back into Kurt’s shoulder. “Sorry. I know I haven’t been around that much recently.”
“It’s okay.” Kurt resumes his gentle stroking through Blaine’s hair; it’s so soft and thick and he doesn’t think he could resist touching it if he tried. “Things won’t be this crazy forever.”
“Yeah. Weird to think about. I can’t imagine not being Brian.”
Kurt hums an agreement; they still have weeks and weeks of filming left, but they’re past the halfway point already, and it’s truly bizarre to think of a day when he’ll wake up and just not be Dave anymore.
“It’s like that on every project, though,” Blaine says. “You get so - immersed into it, it takes over your life, and you can’t imagine being anywhere else, and then one day - it’s over. And you go back to square one and start again.”
“On - every project?” Kurt asks, because he’s mostly sure but he does still have his doubts, and Blaine’s offhand comment is stirring every one of them awake.
Blaine nods, but catches Kurt’s jaw in his hand so he has to look at him. “You’re not a project, though.”
“Even though -”
“It’s over when we want it to be, Kurt,” Blaine says firmly, but even his voice catches a little on “over.” “Enough of my life is on a schedule - I’m not putting you on one, too. Now,” he says, sitting back on his heels while Kurt just blinks up at him and has no idea what to say, everything too full and too felt. “Let’s get into bed before I pass out on you again.”
Kurt nods, because he doesn’t trust his voice, and takes Blaine’s hand to help him up when he offers it.
*
Endicott Beach, Marley’s text to both of them reads. Seven o’clock. Blaine, bring your guitar. Kurt, bring Blaine.
It’s been awhile since they’ve gotten to take a break, as a whole crew, and as they lug coolers and instruments across the sand (Blaine, apparently, is not the only guitar player of the bunch) the party atmosphere has already begun, with shouting and laughter drifting out across the open water.
It’s the first time Kurt’s been near the water since Algeria, and on the drive over he’d worried, a little, that it would dampen the fun, the water and what it had come to mean to Dave. But then Blaine had twisted up the radio and held Kurt’s hand across the console, and Kurt had felt silly for worrying.
Standing on the cool sand, though, as the sun goes down behind the dunes, Kurt wonders if he was right to worry after all. The sea is so big, not the placid Mediterranean but the vast rolling Pacific, and it feels even more infinite than it had in Algeria. He feels almost agoraphobic, so aware of the vast water and the endless sky, until Blaine slips his arms around Kurt’s waist and rests his chin on his shoulder while he’s talking to Cassie and Max, and grounds him again.
After the sun sets they light a fire and the flames shrink the dark, reduce it to just a shell just outside of their little circle. There’s laughter and drinks passed around and Kurt leans against Blaine’s knee where he’s sitting on a cooler with his guitar and relaxes into it, cool air off the water and the warmth of the fire, the happy energy of the group and Blaine, warm and solid under his hands.
A little later Blaine passes Marley his guitar and nudges Kurt’s shoulder gently. “Want to take a walk?”
Kurt wraps the blanket around his shoulders like a cloak - it’s cold outside the nest he’s made for himself- and Blaine wraps an arm around his shoulders and pulls him close to his side while they walk down to the water’s edge. They’re just above the line of the tide when stops and tugs him down again to sit on the sand, and wraps his arms around Kurt to hug him to his chest.
“If you were cold, you know, you could have brought your own blanket,” Kurt grumbles, when Blaine unwraps him to wrap it around them both.
“Yeah, but you’re much warmer.” Blaine presses a kiss to the back of Kurt’s neck, and catches his hands where they’re holding the blanket tight.
“Blaine?” Kurt asks, after a long moment has passed. The sounds of the rest of the group are drifting over the sand, and they’re alone for now but he’s not sure how long that will last, and he wants to have this conversation before there’s anyone else around to hear, or distract.
“Mmm?” Blaine lifts his head off of Kurt’s shoulder. It sounds like he’d almost fallen asleep.
“Why’d you bring me here?”
“Did you ever read A Separate Peace?”
“Is that the one about the boarding school from the fifties where the one kid is totally in love with the other kid, and tries to kill him?”
“...close enough, yeah,” Blaine chuckles. “Somehow I got through all of high school without catching onto that particular subtext.”
“Really.”
Blaine wraps his arms tighter around Kurt’s middle. “Yeah. Anyway though, remember the bit where they sleep overnight on the beach, and Gene wakes up and watches Finny and thinks about how he’s like Lazarus?”
“Vaguely.”
“Well.” Blaine tucks his chin over Kurt’s shoulder, and looks out at the rolling waves with him. “I wanted you to know - without the vaguely sadistic, homicidal undertones - that you will always be my Lazarus.”
Kurt’s vision is suddenly blurry, and he has to turn his head to scrub his eyes on the blanket. Blaine keeps talking, his voice a warm comforting hum that Kurt can feel, pressed all along his back the way he is. “I know we haven’t talked about it, and I know that it can be hard. And - it’s probably going to get harder.” His palms press more firmly into Kurt’s stomach, like Kurt is grounding Blaine as much as Blaine is Kurt. “I’m not letting you go anywhere. Okay?”
Kurt nods, because his throat isn’t working properly anymore, and everything is glittering through the dampness in his eyes. “Okay.”
“And - Kurt?” Blaine’s voice is so small that Kurt can barely hear it.
“Yeah?”
“Please don’t let me go anywhere either.”
Kurt’s eyes suddenly sting, and he grips Blaine’s hands tightly. “I won’t.”
*
When Kurt wakes up, Blaine’s side of the bed is empty. There’s light in the hallway drifting up from downstairs, though, and the soft sound of a piano.
Kurt wraps a robe around himself and finds Blaine at the piano bench, hands curled around the keys, eyes closed as he picks out notes in the stillness. He checks the clock on the bookshelf - well past midnight.
“Your burst of inspiration couldn’t wait until morning?”
Blaine jolts out of whatever reverie he’d been in, and gives Kurt a tired smile over his shoulder. “Oh, hey. I didn’t mean to wake you up, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Kurt sits down on the bench next to Blaine, which scootches over to make room for him. “What are you working on?”
“Credits song,” Blaine presses a few keys, and lets the notes hang suspended in the air for a few seconds before he takes his foot off the pedal. “I wish it was a burst of inspiration. It was more a lack of inspiration keeping me up - I’m starting to worry I won’t finish this in time.”
“Of course you will.” Kurt flips a page over on the stand. “You’ve made so much progress already.”
“Yeah, but -”
“Shh, no buts.” Kurt knows how Blaine can get, when he gets stuck in his head, determined that something he’s been working on for weeks and months just isn’t going to work, and he doesn’t want to lose Blaine down that spiral tonight. “Where are you stuck?”
Blaine sighs, and his shoulders slump. “I just can’t get the chorus right. The verses are fine, but if the chorus doesn’t work the whole thing is going to be off, and -”
“Hey, hey.” Kurt picks up a pencil and starts sketching notes on the page. “You were humming this in the shower the other day. Why aren’t you using it?”
Blaine watches Kurt’s hand on the page, frowning. “You listen to me in the shower?”
Kurt just gives him an arch look, and spots of color actually appear on Blaine’s cheeks. Yes, Kurt listens to Blaine in the shower, and not just when he’s mindlessly singing, and they both are well aware of the fact. Blaine clears his throat and goes on. “Well, I, um. Wasn’t sure if it would work. And it doesn’t fit with some of the stuff I had earlier, and Jaya really liked that, so I don’t want to scrap it.”
“Which bits?”
“At the beginning, there -” Blaine points, and Kurt scratches Xs through the verses. “Hey! Kurt!”
“Relax, if you hate it you can always go back and add it back in, but, here -” Kurt gives up on writing in the notes, it’s taking too long, so he nudges Blaine further down the bench so he can center himself on the keyboard and starts playing, their thighs pressed together. “You want it to be like - this.”
He presses the keys, experimentally at first and then more surely, as he works what’s on the page in with what he knows has been in Blaine’s head, and some of what’s been in his own. It’s slower than what Blaine has written, deeper and a little sadder, a little angry, and Kurt knows that it’s right for the characters even if it’s not what the studio would have in a million years chosen. “There,” he says, ending in a little happier flourish, and turns to face Blaine. It’s always the music. “What about that?”
“How did you - Kurt.” Blaine is staring at Kurt, at his hands, like he’s never seen him before. But - no, that’s not quite right, because then Blaine drags his eyes up to Kurt’s, and those eyes have seen Kurt before, they know him. “Kurt, “he says again, like a question, like an answer, and Kurt’s not sure how to react.
“Is - it okay? It’s a little intense, but -”
“I love you.” The words fall of Blaine’s mouth, like he’s been saving them, like he’s just been waiting for a moment like this to realize, to see -
Kurt knows how he feels, sees his happy surprise, the soul-deep crack in his chest opening up, flooding in with light and warmth, because he’s feeling it too, and everything in his heart right now is mirroring back to him in Blaine’s wide-shocked eyes. Kurt lets himself smile, feels it threaten to crack his face with how wide it is. His hands trembling on the keys; he curls them in his lap. “I love you too.”
“Play it again for me?” Blaine’s voice is a little scratchy. He picks Kurt’s hands up and puts them back on the keys, but keeps his own hands there, too, his fingers resting along the backs of Kurt’s.
“Okay.” Kurt smiles, takes a breath, and starts to play.
*
Part 5 posting Thursday, February 28th