There Comes You 2/7
Title: There Comes You
Author: lovedarrencriss (tumblr) or escape4ever16 (LJ)
Rating: T/PG-13
Warnings: A notice: I wrote this story before Cory's death and in this story Finn stayed in the army. Finn does not die in this story. That being said, there is an emotional moment in this story where Kurt is shaken up by the idea of Finn possibly dying in the line of fire. Again, I did not write this after Cory's death. I have re-considered many things, but I've decided not to change what I wrote. It may be more emotional now, than I originally intended, but I'd like to keep that small part in there for the sake of my story.
Word Count: 15,427
Summary: Blaine Anderson has always worked backstage, but he's got a little black book full of secrets and one of them is that he's in love with the star of the show; Kurt Hummel. There's only one problem. Kurt is already engaged to a handsome lawyer-to-be. When Santana steps in to play matchmaker things go upside down. Kurt re-discovers himself and Blaine treads a fine line between just friends and something more. Also, Papa Bear Hummel always knows the right thing to say.
Author's Note: A HUGE thanks to my lovely beta chaseandcatch (livejournal) who did some fantastic work in a very short amount of time! <3 And I couldn't have been more fortunate than to have dorathebrit (livejournal) animateglee (tumblr) as my artist who made my story come to life before my eyes! Thank you so much! <3
“You look dead.”
Lifting his head slowly, trying to avoid catching a glimpse of one of the stage lights, Blaine looks up into the face of the only person he is positive wouldn’t hesitate to punch someone who gave her the wrong look.
“Hi, Santana,” he mumbles, sorely tempted to just duck his head back into his arms.
“Did someone stay out too late last night?” Santana asks, miming drinking with her hand, smirk evident on her lips.
“It’s not what you think,” Blaine says with a sigh. “I couldn’t sleep.”
Santana arches an eyebrow. “Totally.”
“I’m not kidding, I just couldn’t sleep.” Blaine absently runs his hands through his hair before freezing, moving his hands through his hair again quickly, eyes widening in panic. “My hair.”
“That’s what I’m saying, Hobbit; that sex hair mixed with the obvious walk of shame when you came in earlier, and the fact that you haven’t been able to look in direct light all day,” Santana says with a tsk. “Obviously not just a night of no sleep,” She adds gleefully.
“I forgot to do my hair,” Blaine mumbles in amazement. He tugs at one of the stray curls hanging over his forehead, pulls it until it’s a straight strand before letting it go, feeling it bounce back into place.
“I like the curls,” a familiar voice says from behind Blaine, making him turn around, eyes widening even more as he comes face-to-face with Kurt. “You should keep your hair like that more often.”
Kurt’s eyes are sparkling slightly as they look at Blaine, a small smile curling the corners of his mouth up.
“I-I-”
Blaine’s sleep-deprived mind short-circuits. Without another word Blaine quickly walks away, grabbing his bag as he leaves, hurrying to the men’s bathroom to start applying gel to his untamed curls.
“Is he okay?” Kurt asks Santana, concerned with Blaine’s response; he’d looked absolutely terrified.
Santana snorts delicately. “Of course not, he’s in love with a man who’s engaged and said man just told him he likes his natural hair. I’m pretty sure you just broke him,” she smirks, “he probably won’t be able to talk from now on.”
“Santana!” Kurt scolds. “He’s not in love with me. We’re just friends.”
“Right. Keep telling yourself that.”
She sways gracefully in place before turning and walking away to start stretching for the dance portion of rehearsal for the day. She doesn’t see the way Kurt looks over at the men’s bathroom, confusion written all over his face.
Blaine spends the rest of rehearsal hiding his face from almost everyone, and rather than using what time he can to converse with the actors or technical crew like he usually does, he finds himself physically unable to leave his corner where the sound board sits due to sheer embarrassment.
He’d choked earlier. It was like a cat literally had his tongue; not even a sound. Blaine keeps replaying that moment over and over again in his head, torturing himself into a state of permanently red cheeks. Not only is he embarrassed, but also somewhat ashamed. That was the complete opposite of how a gentleman should have behaved. God, what Kurt must think of him.
Blaine has been praying for time to move faster so he can just leave and go home to huddle under his comforter and pray that the world will just swallow him up whole. So when rehearsal finally ends, he’s only a couple feet from the doorway when he hears his name being called. “Blaine!”
Blaine freezes.
“Kurt!” he says, plastering a smile on his face as he turns around, hoping the panic on the inside isn’t seeping through.
Kurt jogs his way over to Blaine, brow covered in a light sheen of sweat from the dance rehearsal. “Hey,” he says breathlessly when he stops a couple feet in front of Blaine.
“Hi,” Blaine yelps, too high, cursing himself in his head. He’s talked to Kurt before, but after his stunt earlier it seems like all his confidence and manners have left the building.
“So a bunch of us are going to head out for drinks,” Kurt offers, “I was wondering if you wanted to come along.”
By some miracle, Blaine finds it in himself to reply coherently, because in all the shows he and Kurt have worked on, he’d never asked him out for drinks. Sure, there were the cast parties that Blaine usually went to, but nothing like a random get-together after a rehearsal.
“Oh, um… I’d love to,” Blaine says with a quick, jerky nod.
Kurt’s face breaks out in a smile. “Awesome, okay, I’m just going to go change really quickly,” he says cheerfully, “The others should be coming out in a little bit so just hang around; we’re only going up the street.”
“Sounds good,” Blaine manages, nodding again with maybe a little bit too much enthusiasm.
And then Kurt is disappearing back into the dressing rooms to change and Blaine is left all alone in theater, waiting. He lets out a short breath, amazed that he is actually back to being able to talk to Kurt normally again. Nervously, he runs his hands over his hair, making sure there are no hairs out of place. He straightens his shirt a bit and frowns, a little bummed that he will be stuck in his usual dark jeans and t-shirt and absolutely no opportunity to show Kurt that he knows how to dress himself properly for a social outing. His hand brushes over the strap of his bag and he frowns when he realizes he can’t take that with him to the bar, unless he wants to lug it around all night. He contemplates heading to his apartment really quickly to drop it off and possibly change his clothes, but just as he is about to do it the door opens and a few of the actors trickle out from the dressing rooms, all dressed much more fashionably than himself.
Blaine, being the charismatic guy that he is, knows the actors fairly well and doesn’t have much fear in asking them if there is some place he can put his bag so he won’t have to carry it with him. They let him know that most of them keep their stuff back in the dressing room so that they can just drop by on their way back home to get their stuff. Blaine nods his thanks and makes his way back to the dressing rooms.
He picks the first dressing room door he sees and feels his jaw drop when the door swings open to reveal Kurt just as he is buttoning up his shirt, but still with a large amount of chest in sight.
“Hey, Blaine, is everyone waiting on me? I’m almost finished,” he says as he finishes with his shirt and reaches for his boots, the ones that reach up nearly to Kurt’s knees. Blaine knows them quite well.
“U-uh, no, I was just,” Blaine fumbles and lifts up his bag before setting it on a nearby table. “I needed a place to put my bag until we come back, they told me to head in here,” his voice trails off slightly at the end, really taking in how Kurt looked.
With men like Kurt walking around New York City, Blaine can see how someone like himself would definitely not be top on the list of potential boyfriends. Sure, Blaine can pull off the dapper, schoolboy look of innocence pretty well, but Kurt is in a league of his own; he oozes sex appeal, all the way from the soles of his McQueen shoes to the tips of his coiffed hair.
“Ready?” Kurt asks, donning his jacket and scarf as he makes his way past Blaine and out into the hallway.
Blaine scrambles after him quickly.
***
“So what exactly do you do?” Kurt asks as he leans across the tiny table they’d found at the bar towards Blaine.
“Kurt, you know what I do,” Blaine answers back with a smile, “You’ve known me for almost two years now.” He’s glad they aren’t at a bar that has intensely loud music blasting through the whole place. Half the bar is more of a small restaurant while the dance floor is near the back, providing enough space for actual conversation.
Two drinks in and Blaine is feeling more confident about talking to Kurt, but he paces himself. After all, he is not about to get drunk and barf all over Kurt’s shoes. Kurt would probably kill him for something like that.
“Yeah, but…I don’t know anything about that fancy equipment that you use,” Kurt says, tilting his head to the side, waiting for a more detailed answer.
Blaine smiles into his drink as he takes a sip before laughing. “You really want to know about that stuff?”
“Absolutely!” Kurt nods earnestly.
“Alright, well it’s pretty simple,” Blaine says, still smiling, “You have your mic and I control how loud or quiet it is, but it gets tricky because there’s always interference from somewhere and sometimes you have to change channels at the last minute. Other than that, you know, I play tracks for special effects.” Blaine shrugs, “It’s not the most exciting thing in the world, but I think it’s fun.”
Kurt seems to know that Blaine is giving him the shortened description of his job. “So, how did you get into this line of work?” Kurt questions.
“Well, I went to college for the arts and I’ve done some acting and things like that, but I decided to stick with the behind the scenes stuff,” Blaine says with another shrug. “It just felt… right.”
“What about you and acting, how did that happen?” Blaine asks, curious.
“Oh, I’ve always wanted to be working in live theater, ever since my mom told me that something like Broadway existed.” Kurt grins as he speaks, obviously happy thinking of how far he’s come, “I nearly switched to fashion at one point though, high school was hard on me and the kids were cruel, but I didn’t give up and I’m really glad I didn’t.”
“I am too,” Blaine says without thinking.
Kurt smiles and looks slyly at Blaine, his eyes asking without him having to say a thing.
“I-I just meant because, you know,” Blaine stutters, “then I wouldn’t have had the chance to meet you and see you on stage.”
“That’s sweet of you,” Kurt replies, eyes glinting. “I have to say I’m glad I met you too, you’re a good friend.”
Blaine smiles and takes another, bigger sip from his drink as he tries to ignore the painful twang in his chest. It’s a strange feeling; being happy that he’s Kurt’s friend, but sad about it at the same time.
"Kurt!” a voice calls from behind Blaine. They both look up, and Kurt grins widely as Blaine’s heart sinks.
"Hi, honey,” Kurt says as he stands and kisses his fiancé.
Blaine plasters on a fake smile, shaking Cayden’s hand and not even batting an eye as he sits down beside Kurt, arm wrapping around his waist.
He lasts about five minutes before he excuses himself to go get another drink.
Just after Blaine orders another drink Santana appears next to him.
“How’re you holding up, Midget?” she asks. She orders a couple of shots.
“What are you talking about?” Blaine asks, trying to sound oblivious.
“Cut the crap. Mr. Perfect Hair’s perfect life is driving you crazy and you want to rip that laywer-to-be’s face off,” she says.
Blaine’s nose wrinkles up. “No, I don’t.”
With an annoyed sigh Santana pushes one of the shots over towards Blaine.
“I’m not doing shots with you,” Blaine says.
“You’re right, you’re not,” Santana says, placing the second shot beside the first, “You are doing shots while I watch.”
Blaine shakes his head.
“Listen, Blainers,” Santana says, moving to grip Blaine’s shoulders and spin him around, pointing towards where Kurt and Cayden are sitting. “You know how you’re in love with, Kurt? Well there is absolutely no chance of you two getting together-“
“-Is this supposed to make me feel better?” Blaine interrupts with a frown.
“If,” Santana emphasizes, louder, noticeably annoyed by the interruption, “he’s still got that fiancé on his arm.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“You are not doing anyone any favors by sitting around looking like a kicked puppy while Kurt floats around in a lovely bubble of engaged happiness.”
“Are you trying to rub it in?” Blaine’s frown deepens and he tries to get away from Santana’s grasp.
“Will you just listen?” Santana snaps, turning him towards her. “Show him what he’s missing, idiot. He’s not going to give up that fiancé unless he sees something better. Stop acting like you’ve already lost the fight. Buck up and be a man! Go after him!”
“Santana, what-” Blaine’s cut off as Santana turns him back to the bar where the two shots are waiting.
“Take the shots,” she encourages, “Don’t worry about getting home. I’ll take care of it. I’ll be over to your place first thing in the morning. Do it!”
Blaine never had a chance of standing up to Santana, but he thought it through anyway before deciding a little help to just calm down couldn’t hurt. The next thing he knows he’s downing the shots and taking his other drink with him as Santana leads him back over to where Kurt and Cayden are, her hand firm on his elbow.
Author: lovedarrencriss (tumblr) or escape4ever16 (LJ)
Rating: T/PG-13
Warnings: A notice: I wrote this story before Cory's death and in this story Finn stayed in the army. Finn does not die in this story. That being said, there is an emotional moment in this story where Kurt is shaken up by the idea of Finn possibly dying in the line of fire. Again, I did not write this after Cory's death. I have re-considered many things, but I've decided not to change what I wrote. It may be more emotional now, than I originally intended, but I'd like to keep that small part in there for the sake of my story.
Word Count: 15,427
Summary: Blaine Anderson has always worked backstage, but he's got a little black book full of secrets and one of them is that he's in love with the star of the show; Kurt Hummel. There's only one problem. Kurt is already engaged to a handsome lawyer-to-be. When Santana steps in to play matchmaker things go upside down. Kurt re-discovers himself and Blaine treads a fine line between just friends and something more. Also, Papa Bear Hummel always knows the right thing to say.
Author's Note: A HUGE thanks to my lovely beta chaseandcatch (livejournal) who did some fantastic work in a very short amount of time! <3 And I couldn't have been more fortunate than to have dorathebrit (livejournal) animateglee (tumblr) as my artist who made my story come to life before my eyes! Thank you so much! <3
“You look dead.”
Lifting his head slowly, trying to avoid catching a glimpse of one of the stage lights, Blaine looks up into the face of the only person he is positive wouldn’t hesitate to punch someone who gave her the wrong look.
“Hi, Santana,” he mumbles, sorely tempted to just duck his head back into his arms.
“Did someone stay out too late last night?” Santana asks, miming drinking with her hand, smirk evident on her lips.
“It’s not what you think,” Blaine says with a sigh. “I couldn’t sleep.”
Santana arches an eyebrow. “Totally.”
“I’m not kidding, I just couldn’t sleep.” Blaine absently runs his hands through his hair before freezing, moving his hands through his hair again quickly, eyes widening in panic. “My hair.”
“That’s what I’m saying, Hobbit; that sex hair mixed with the obvious walk of shame when you came in earlier, and the fact that you haven’t been able to look in direct light all day,” Santana says with a tsk. “Obviously not just a night of no sleep,” She adds gleefully.
“I forgot to do my hair,” Blaine mumbles in amazement. He tugs at one of the stray curls hanging over his forehead, pulls it until it’s a straight strand before letting it go, feeling it bounce back into place.
“I like the curls,” a familiar voice says from behind Blaine, making him turn around, eyes widening even more as he comes face-to-face with Kurt. “You should keep your hair like that more often.”
Kurt’s eyes are sparkling slightly as they look at Blaine, a small smile curling the corners of his mouth up.
“I-I-”
Blaine’s sleep-deprived mind short-circuits. Without another word Blaine quickly walks away, grabbing his bag as he leaves, hurrying to the men’s bathroom to start applying gel to his untamed curls.
“Is he okay?” Kurt asks Santana, concerned with Blaine’s response; he’d looked absolutely terrified.
Santana snorts delicately. “Of course not, he’s in love with a man who’s engaged and said man just told him he likes his natural hair. I’m pretty sure you just broke him,” she smirks, “he probably won’t be able to talk from now on.”
“Santana!” Kurt scolds. “He’s not in love with me. We’re just friends.”
“Right. Keep telling yourself that.”
She sways gracefully in place before turning and walking away to start stretching for the dance portion of rehearsal for the day. She doesn’t see the way Kurt looks over at the men’s bathroom, confusion written all over his face.
Blaine spends the rest of rehearsal hiding his face from almost everyone, and rather than using what time he can to converse with the actors or technical crew like he usually does, he finds himself physically unable to leave his corner where the sound board sits due to sheer embarrassment.
He’d choked earlier. It was like a cat literally had his tongue; not even a sound. Blaine keeps replaying that moment over and over again in his head, torturing himself into a state of permanently red cheeks. Not only is he embarrassed, but also somewhat ashamed. That was the complete opposite of how a gentleman should have behaved. God, what Kurt must think of him.
Blaine has been praying for time to move faster so he can just leave and go home to huddle under his comforter and pray that the world will just swallow him up whole. So when rehearsal finally ends, he’s only a couple feet from the doorway when he hears his name being called. “Blaine!”
Blaine freezes.
“Kurt!” he says, plastering a smile on his face as he turns around, hoping the panic on the inside isn’t seeping through.
Kurt jogs his way over to Blaine, brow covered in a light sheen of sweat from the dance rehearsal. “Hey,” he says breathlessly when he stops a couple feet in front of Blaine.
“Hi,” Blaine yelps, too high, cursing himself in his head. He’s talked to Kurt before, but after his stunt earlier it seems like all his confidence and manners have left the building.
“So a bunch of us are going to head out for drinks,” Kurt offers, “I was wondering if you wanted to come along.”
By some miracle, Blaine finds it in himself to reply coherently, because in all the shows he and Kurt have worked on, he’d never asked him out for drinks. Sure, there were the cast parties that Blaine usually went to, but nothing like a random get-together after a rehearsal.
“Oh, um… I’d love to,” Blaine says with a quick, jerky nod.
Kurt’s face breaks out in a smile. “Awesome, okay, I’m just going to go change really quickly,” he says cheerfully, “The others should be coming out in a little bit so just hang around; we’re only going up the street.”
“Sounds good,” Blaine manages, nodding again with maybe a little bit too much enthusiasm.
And then Kurt is disappearing back into the dressing rooms to change and Blaine is left all alone in theater, waiting. He lets out a short breath, amazed that he is actually back to being able to talk to Kurt normally again. Nervously, he runs his hands over his hair, making sure there are no hairs out of place. He straightens his shirt a bit and frowns, a little bummed that he will be stuck in his usual dark jeans and t-shirt and absolutely no opportunity to show Kurt that he knows how to dress himself properly for a social outing. His hand brushes over the strap of his bag and he frowns when he realizes he can’t take that with him to the bar, unless he wants to lug it around all night. He contemplates heading to his apartment really quickly to drop it off and possibly change his clothes, but just as he is about to do it the door opens and a few of the actors trickle out from the dressing rooms, all dressed much more fashionably than himself.
Blaine, being the charismatic guy that he is, knows the actors fairly well and doesn’t have much fear in asking them if there is some place he can put his bag so he won’t have to carry it with him. They let him know that most of them keep their stuff back in the dressing room so that they can just drop by on their way back home to get their stuff. Blaine nods his thanks and makes his way back to the dressing rooms.
He picks the first dressing room door he sees and feels his jaw drop when the door swings open to reveal Kurt just as he is buttoning up his shirt, but still with a large amount of chest in sight.
“Hey, Blaine, is everyone waiting on me? I’m almost finished,” he says as he finishes with his shirt and reaches for his boots, the ones that reach up nearly to Kurt’s knees. Blaine knows them quite well.
“U-uh, no, I was just,” Blaine fumbles and lifts up his bag before setting it on a nearby table. “I needed a place to put my bag until we come back, they told me to head in here,” his voice trails off slightly at the end, really taking in how Kurt looked.
With men like Kurt walking around New York City, Blaine can see how someone like himself would definitely not be top on the list of potential boyfriends. Sure, Blaine can pull off the dapper, schoolboy look of innocence pretty well, but Kurt is in a league of his own; he oozes sex appeal, all the way from the soles of his McQueen shoes to the tips of his coiffed hair.
“Ready?” Kurt asks, donning his jacket and scarf as he makes his way past Blaine and out into the hallway.
Blaine scrambles after him quickly.
***
“So what exactly do you do?” Kurt asks as he leans across the tiny table they’d found at the bar towards Blaine.
“Kurt, you know what I do,” Blaine answers back with a smile, “You’ve known me for almost two years now.” He’s glad they aren’t at a bar that has intensely loud music blasting through the whole place. Half the bar is more of a small restaurant while the dance floor is near the back, providing enough space for actual conversation.
Two drinks in and Blaine is feeling more confident about talking to Kurt, but he paces himself. After all, he is not about to get drunk and barf all over Kurt’s shoes. Kurt would probably kill him for something like that.
“Yeah, but…I don’t know anything about that fancy equipment that you use,” Kurt says, tilting his head to the side, waiting for a more detailed answer.
Blaine smiles into his drink as he takes a sip before laughing. “You really want to know about that stuff?”
“Absolutely!” Kurt nods earnestly.
“Alright, well it’s pretty simple,” Blaine says, still smiling, “You have your mic and I control how loud or quiet it is, but it gets tricky because there’s always interference from somewhere and sometimes you have to change channels at the last minute. Other than that, you know, I play tracks for special effects.” Blaine shrugs, “It’s not the most exciting thing in the world, but I think it’s fun.”
Kurt seems to know that Blaine is giving him the shortened description of his job. “So, how did you get into this line of work?” Kurt questions.
“Well, I went to college for the arts and I’ve done some acting and things like that, but I decided to stick with the behind the scenes stuff,” Blaine says with another shrug. “It just felt… right.”
“What about you and acting, how did that happen?” Blaine asks, curious.
“Oh, I’ve always wanted to be working in live theater, ever since my mom told me that something like Broadway existed.” Kurt grins as he speaks, obviously happy thinking of how far he’s come, “I nearly switched to fashion at one point though, high school was hard on me and the kids were cruel, but I didn’t give up and I’m really glad I didn’t.”
“I am too,” Blaine says without thinking.
Kurt smiles and looks slyly at Blaine, his eyes asking without him having to say a thing.
“I-I just meant because, you know,” Blaine stutters, “then I wouldn’t have had the chance to meet you and see you on stage.”
“That’s sweet of you,” Kurt replies, eyes glinting. “I have to say I’m glad I met you too, you’re a good friend.”
Blaine smiles and takes another, bigger sip from his drink as he tries to ignore the painful twang in his chest. It’s a strange feeling; being happy that he’s Kurt’s friend, but sad about it at the same time.
"Kurt!” a voice calls from behind Blaine. They both look up, and Kurt grins widely as Blaine’s heart sinks.
"Hi, honey,” Kurt says as he stands and kisses his fiancé.
Blaine plasters on a fake smile, shaking Cayden’s hand and not even batting an eye as he sits down beside Kurt, arm wrapping around his waist.
He lasts about five minutes before he excuses himself to go get another drink.
Just after Blaine orders another drink Santana appears next to him.
“How’re you holding up, Midget?” she asks. She orders a couple of shots.
“What are you talking about?” Blaine asks, trying to sound oblivious.
“Cut the crap. Mr. Perfect Hair’s perfect life is driving you crazy and you want to rip that laywer-to-be’s face off,” she says.
Blaine’s nose wrinkles up. “No, I don’t.”
With an annoyed sigh Santana pushes one of the shots over towards Blaine.
“I’m not doing shots with you,” Blaine says.
“You’re right, you’re not,” Santana says, placing the second shot beside the first, “You are doing shots while I watch.”
Blaine shakes his head.
“Listen, Blainers,” Santana says, moving to grip Blaine’s shoulders and spin him around, pointing towards where Kurt and Cayden are sitting. “You know how you’re in love with, Kurt? Well there is absolutely no chance of you two getting together-“
“-Is this supposed to make me feel better?” Blaine interrupts with a frown.
“If,” Santana emphasizes, louder, noticeably annoyed by the interruption, “he’s still got that fiancé on his arm.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“You are not doing anyone any favors by sitting around looking like a kicked puppy while Kurt floats around in a lovely bubble of engaged happiness.”
“Are you trying to rub it in?” Blaine’s frown deepens and he tries to get away from Santana’s grasp.
“Will you just listen?” Santana snaps, turning him towards her. “Show him what he’s missing, idiot. He’s not going to give up that fiancé unless he sees something better. Stop acting like you’ve already lost the fight. Buck up and be a man! Go after him!”
“Santana, what-” Blaine’s cut off as Santana turns him back to the bar where the two shots are waiting.
“Take the shots,” she encourages, “Don’t worry about getting home. I’ll take care of it. I’ll be over to your place first thing in the morning. Do it!”
Blaine never had a chance of standing up to Santana, but he thought it through anyway before deciding a little help to just calm down couldn’t hurt. The next thing he knows he’s downing the shots and taking his other drink with him as Santana leads him back over to where Kurt and Cayden are, her hand firm on his elbow.