Kinn fic
God, I'm so rusty, I cannot...anyway, due to the twin's awesome influence, I've been able to write and finish a fic today. For once!! I just wanted to end 2011 with a bang, obviously. I'm at my rustiest writing-wise these days, but it just feels good to be productive in anyway.
So here it is, a fic I've owed starsandgutters for the longest time and inspired by the end scene of Glee's I Kissed A Girl (&Kurt's constant craving).
Fandom: Glee
Title: Strength
Pairing: Kurt/Finn
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I claim no part of these characters as they will never be my own.
Summary: First love never remains buried in the past, does it?
Warnings: Rambliness, teenage feelings, rust.
“Don’t.”
The word falls between them, curled around the edges with fear and pleading but lacking in strength. With the wall behind him and with Finn so close to him, too close to him, Kurt can feel his cheeks burning as he stares at the floor. He bites his lip, fighting for control on his thoughts, the blunt pain doing nothing to distract him.
“Why?”
Kurt almost laughs, because it’s the worst question, and yet the most fitting one. The question is like a whirlpool in his mind, a constant quivering chant of whywhywhy, framing his cascading feelings, the rush of his emotions. He doesn’t know why. There is no answer for this, for why he suddenly finds himself in the same place he was in years ago, awestruck, lovestruck, dumbstruck. A silly, foolish boy with the mind of a ten-year old girl with a crush, and Finn is so close, too close, closer than he’s ever been. Bitter laughter bubbles in Kurt’s chest, and he almost looks skyward with all the Broadway flair in the world, the ironic drama of the timing of this moment hitting him with the sharpness of a slap.
He becomes aware of the erratic pattern of his breathing, of the dizzying speed of his heartbeat. He keeps his eyes on the floor, because he’s much too aware of Finn’s body, so close, without seeing his face, his lips, his eyes. Finn walks closer still, nothing between them now, and Kurt’s hand rises, unbidden, pressing to Finn’s flank open-palmed, not pushing away but warding off. It’s a mistake, but he realises it too late. Finn’s breath hitches at the touch, and Kurt is almost torn apart by the knowledge that he can feel the echo of that breath, the knowledge that he’s touching Finn. The gesture is too intimate, too much, and Kurt’s poker face has never been good, but he used to play on Finn’s ingenuity, he used to have some power of conviction. Not anymore.
“You can’t just...look, you have to move away, Finn. It’s late, and I have a date with my boyfriend. I’m sure you should be going to Rachel.”
He tries to move his hand away, but before he can make his body listen, Finn’s fingers wrap around Kurt’s wrist, and the grip reminds him of Finn being a quarterback, of the strength hidden beneath the dopey layer. Kurt shivers, despite himself, when Finn guides Kurt’s hand higher, until Kurt can feel Finn’s heartbeat. For a second, Blaine’s name tugs at his consciousness; for a second, he remembers how Finn broke his heart, he remembers that Rachel is his best friend, he remembers that Finn is straight, he remembers all the hurtful words, all the nights lying bed, staring at the ceiling, the taste of tears on his lips. For a second, all the reasons in the world fall on him at once, and he says them out loud, a mumbled torrent of words. For a second, he is sane, a grown-up. Finn lets go of Kurt's wrist, and Kurt still can't take his hand away from Finn's chest, and the rhythm of Finn's life, beating like drums in Kurt's blood, pounding in his temples.
And then Finn's hand cups Kurt's cheek, and the second of sanity is lost. Kurt looks up, finally meets Finn's eyes, and he can't remember Blaine's face. He can't remember the sound of Rachel's voice. He can't remember what year it is, or how many months it's been, or how over this he allowed himself to think he was. He can only see the intensity in Finn's eyes, the eyes that seem so dark now. He can only feel Finn's heartbeat against his palm, and the sweet agony of it, the burn where Finn's skin is pressed against his own. It shouldn't be happening. He's not Finn's toy, he's not Finn's to play with. He should be enraged that Finn would dare, after all that Finn's said to him back when Kurt used to love him with all the ridiculous strength of a first love. He should push Finn away and leave, he should...
A tear is burning the corner of his eye, and he can't do this. He can't. He chokes on his words and Finn doesn’t move away, won’t move away.
"I don't know what you're trying to do here, Finn, but this has been over for a while, so you can't just do this, you made it clear back then and I'm over you, Finn, I'm over you, I'm happy with-"
The name is cut short by Finn's finger on his lips. The realisation that he's so close to tasting Finn's skin for the first time is almost blinding, but he blinks, his free hand curling into a fist, trying to control his instincts, trying to bottle up all the feelings that are escaping. He buried this love, he buried the silly boy he used to be. Months and months of painstaking progress are unravelling in front of him, and he can't put a stop to it. He's as weak as he's always been and he's been a fool to think otherwise.
"I never wanted to hurt you. I didn't know, Kurt, I had no idea back then, I was too scared to realise, too scared to see. But every time I see him, every time he looks at you, it's just. I don't know how to say it. It hurts. I don't want it to go on like this."
The rage that was absent is suddenly there, tasting like poison on Kurt's tongue, and he's finally in control of his body again. He moves his hand and slaps Finn's away, and ignores the lost puppy look Finn tries to give him.
"You're an asshole. I'm not your property, Finn, not there to come running whenever you feel like it. Don't touch me. I'm so tired of you and your superiority complex, just because I'm finally happy you think you can just pull this crap and I'll just be your number one groupie again. I said don't touch me, don't put your hands on me, I hate you."
Finn doesn't listen. He never does. He pulls Kurt into a hug and Kurt tries to fight it off, tries not to notice how well he fits here, how right Finn's arms feel around him.
"You're not over it. He's not who you want, Kurt. He's just the available option. I don't know if I'm better for you, but I know you're not happy with him and that's enough. You're not yourself. You're not the Kurt I know. You’re trying to keep that Kurt locked away and that's wrong. I'm sorry I hurt you, but this isn't the right solution."
"Don't try to be a philosopher, Finn, it doesn't suit you."
The words lack bite and Finn just holds him. Kurt's hands, which had been hanging limp at his sides, settle on Finn’s hips. He can feel the rough quality of the denim, and almost scoffs at Finn's inability to shop in the right places. He wonders what triggered this, how Finn managed to read his face correctly, for once, earlier, when Finn and Burt were celebrating, and Kurt could only focus on the joy on Finn's face and not the sympathy on Blaine's. It's been a rough day, and Blaine is waiting for him somewhere, and Rachel is probably waiting for Finn, and this isn't how it should be, it's too late now, too late for this dream.
Finn holds him tighter, and Kurt realises that he's shivering, and he can feel Finn’s fingers sprawled over his back, and for once he doesn’t care about wrinkled clothes.
"We shouldn't be here."
Finn holds him, a murmur of assent on his lips, and it's enough. The room is dimly lit and the school is quiet and it's just the two of them, just the two of them in the whole world, alone, stuck in this moment, safe. There's a tension in their bodies, uncoiling, and Kurt shifts in Finn's arms, meeting Finn's eyes again, daring to look at Finn's lips. They move against each other slowly, the pace of a dream, and Finn meets him halfway, and their lips touch and Kurt would be content enough with just this brush of mouth on mouth, but then Finn's lips part and there's no time for hesitating, no time for the dangerous intrusion of reason.
They don't move in sync, not at first, and there's a huff of laughter from both of them when their noses brush against each other, but then Kurt tilts his head and it's good, it's so good, and he's glad to have done this before, but he also regrets that he didn't have this first. It's not like this with Blaine, and Kurt knows it makes sense that it's not, because his heart was never Blaine's, and it was always Finn's. And Kurt knows, even while being here in a dimly lit room in a quiet school, with the cleaning ladies not far off and the smell of bleach penetrating the safety of their embrace, he knows that it will hurt, that it will be agony. He knows that Finn most likely still has no idea what he wants, he knows there will be a multitude of conflicts, he knows it's going to be bad before it will be good, if it will ever be good, but it's worth it, it's worth it for the taste of Finn and the feel of Finn and the smell of Finn's expensive cologne, the one Kurt got for him, and the wet sound of Finn's lips on his.
The dreamlike quality of everything doesn't end when the kiss does, but Kurt can feel it fading around him, and he doesn't think he'll ever be ready for the harsh brightness of reality. He has to text Blaine to postpone their date, he has to sit through a family dinner with Finn next to him, pretending that his lips aren't redder because of Finn's kiss, pretending that he doesn't know what Finn tastes like, pretending that everything's as it should be and that he's not trapped in a fantasy.
Finn smiles at him, soft and sweet and intoxicating, and Kurt allows their fingers to tangle together, allows Finn to lead him out of the room by the hand. Reality beckons, but he has the strength of this dream, the strength of Finn's arms and the strength in his eyes.
So here it is, a fic I've owed starsandgutters for the longest time and inspired by the end scene of Glee's I Kissed A Girl (&Kurt's constant craving).
Fandom: Glee
Title: Strength
Pairing: Kurt/Finn
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I claim no part of these characters as they will never be my own.
Summary: First love never remains buried in the past, does it?
Warnings: Rambliness, teenage feelings, rust.
“Don’t.”
The word falls between them, curled around the edges with fear and pleading but lacking in strength. With the wall behind him and with Finn so close to him, too close to him, Kurt can feel his cheeks burning as he stares at the floor. He bites his lip, fighting for control on his thoughts, the blunt pain doing nothing to distract him.
“Why?”
Kurt almost laughs, because it’s the worst question, and yet the most fitting one. The question is like a whirlpool in his mind, a constant quivering chant of whywhywhy, framing his cascading feelings, the rush of his emotions. He doesn’t know why. There is no answer for this, for why he suddenly finds himself in the same place he was in years ago, awestruck, lovestruck, dumbstruck. A silly, foolish boy with the mind of a ten-year old girl with a crush, and Finn is so close, too close, closer than he’s ever been. Bitter laughter bubbles in Kurt’s chest, and he almost looks skyward with all the Broadway flair in the world, the ironic drama of the timing of this moment hitting him with the sharpness of a slap.
He becomes aware of the erratic pattern of his breathing, of the dizzying speed of his heartbeat. He keeps his eyes on the floor, because he’s much too aware of Finn’s body, so close, without seeing his face, his lips, his eyes. Finn walks closer still, nothing between them now, and Kurt’s hand rises, unbidden, pressing to Finn’s flank open-palmed, not pushing away but warding off. It’s a mistake, but he realises it too late. Finn’s breath hitches at the touch, and Kurt is almost torn apart by the knowledge that he can feel the echo of that breath, the knowledge that he’s touching Finn. The gesture is too intimate, too much, and Kurt’s poker face has never been good, but he used to play on Finn’s ingenuity, he used to have some power of conviction. Not anymore.
“You can’t just...look, you have to move away, Finn. It’s late, and I have a date with my boyfriend. I’m sure you should be going to Rachel.”
He tries to move his hand away, but before he can make his body listen, Finn’s fingers wrap around Kurt’s wrist, and the grip reminds him of Finn being a quarterback, of the strength hidden beneath the dopey layer. Kurt shivers, despite himself, when Finn guides Kurt’s hand higher, until Kurt can feel Finn’s heartbeat. For a second, Blaine’s name tugs at his consciousness; for a second, he remembers how Finn broke his heart, he remembers that Rachel is his best friend, he remembers that Finn is straight, he remembers all the hurtful words, all the nights lying bed, staring at the ceiling, the taste of tears on his lips. For a second, all the reasons in the world fall on him at once, and he says them out loud, a mumbled torrent of words. For a second, he is sane, a grown-up. Finn lets go of Kurt's wrist, and Kurt still can't take his hand away from Finn's chest, and the rhythm of Finn's life, beating like drums in Kurt's blood, pounding in his temples.
And then Finn's hand cups Kurt's cheek, and the second of sanity is lost. Kurt looks up, finally meets Finn's eyes, and he can't remember Blaine's face. He can't remember the sound of Rachel's voice. He can't remember what year it is, or how many months it's been, or how over this he allowed himself to think he was. He can only see the intensity in Finn's eyes, the eyes that seem so dark now. He can only feel Finn's heartbeat against his palm, and the sweet agony of it, the burn where Finn's skin is pressed against his own. It shouldn't be happening. He's not Finn's toy, he's not Finn's to play with. He should be enraged that Finn would dare, after all that Finn's said to him back when Kurt used to love him with all the ridiculous strength of a first love. He should push Finn away and leave, he should...
A tear is burning the corner of his eye, and he can't do this. He can't. He chokes on his words and Finn doesn’t move away, won’t move away.
"I don't know what you're trying to do here, Finn, but this has been over for a while, so you can't just do this, you made it clear back then and I'm over you, Finn, I'm over you, I'm happy with-"
The name is cut short by Finn's finger on his lips. The realisation that he's so close to tasting Finn's skin for the first time is almost blinding, but he blinks, his free hand curling into a fist, trying to control his instincts, trying to bottle up all the feelings that are escaping. He buried this love, he buried the silly boy he used to be. Months and months of painstaking progress are unravelling in front of him, and he can't put a stop to it. He's as weak as he's always been and he's been a fool to think otherwise.
"I never wanted to hurt you. I didn't know, Kurt, I had no idea back then, I was too scared to realise, too scared to see. But every time I see him, every time he looks at you, it's just. I don't know how to say it. It hurts. I don't want it to go on like this."
The rage that was absent is suddenly there, tasting like poison on Kurt's tongue, and he's finally in control of his body again. He moves his hand and slaps Finn's away, and ignores the lost puppy look Finn tries to give him.
"You're an asshole. I'm not your property, Finn, not there to come running whenever you feel like it. Don't touch me. I'm so tired of you and your superiority complex, just because I'm finally happy you think you can just pull this crap and I'll just be your number one groupie again. I said don't touch me, don't put your hands on me, I hate you."
Finn doesn't listen. He never does. He pulls Kurt into a hug and Kurt tries to fight it off, tries not to notice how well he fits here, how right Finn's arms feel around him.
"You're not over it. He's not who you want, Kurt. He's just the available option. I don't know if I'm better for you, but I know you're not happy with him and that's enough. You're not yourself. You're not the Kurt I know. You’re trying to keep that Kurt locked away and that's wrong. I'm sorry I hurt you, but this isn't the right solution."
"Don't try to be a philosopher, Finn, it doesn't suit you."
The words lack bite and Finn just holds him. Kurt's hands, which had been hanging limp at his sides, settle on Finn’s hips. He can feel the rough quality of the denim, and almost scoffs at Finn's inability to shop in the right places. He wonders what triggered this, how Finn managed to read his face correctly, for once, earlier, when Finn and Burt were celebrating, and Kurt could only focus on the joy on Finn's face and not the sympathy on Blaine's. It's been a rough day, and Blaine is waiting for him somewhere, and Rachel is probably waiting for Finn, and this isn't how it should be, it's too late now, too late for this dream.
Finn holds him tighter, and Kurt realises that he's shivering, and he can feel Finn’s fingers sprawled over his back, and for once he doesn’t care about wrinkled clothes.
"We shouldn't be here."
Finn holds him, a murmur of assent on his lips, and it's enough. The room is dimly lit and the school is quiet and it's just the two of them, just the two of them in the whole world, alone, stuck in this moment, safe. There's a tension in their bodies, uncoiling, and Kurt shifts in Finn's arms, meeting Finn's eyes again, daring to look at Finn's lips. They move against each other slowly, the pace of a dream, and Finn meets him halfway, and their lips touch and Kurt would be content enough with just this brush of mouth on mouth, but then Finn's lips part and there's no time for hesitating, no time for the dangerous intrusion of reason.
They don't move in sync, not at first, and there's a huff of laughter from both of them when their noses brush against each other, but then Kurt tilts his head and it's good, it's so good, and he's glad to have done this before, but he also regrets that he didn't have this first. It's not like this with Blaine, and Kurt knows it makes sense that it's not, because his heart was never Blaine's, and it was always Finn's. And Kurt knows, even while being here in a dimly lit room in a quiet school, with the cleaning ladies not far off and the smell of bleach penetrating the safety of their embrace, he knows that it will hurt, that it will be agony. He knows that Finn most likely still has no idea what he wants, he knows there will be a multitude of conflicts, he knows it's going to be bad before it will be good, if it will ever be good, but it's worth it, it's worth it for the taste of Finn and the feel of Finn and the smell of Finn's expensive cologne, the one Kurt got for him, and the wet sound of Finn's lips on his.
The dreamlike quality of everything doesn't end when the kiss does, but Kurt can feel it fading around him, and he doesn't think he'll ever be ready for the harsh brightness of reality. He has to text Blaine to postpone their date, he has to sit through a family dinner with Finn next to him, pretending that his lips aren't redder because of Finn's kiss, pretending that he doesn't know what Finn tastes like, pretending that everything's as it should be and that he's not trapped in a fantasy.
Finn smiles at him, soft and sweet and intoxicating, and Kurt allows their fingers to tangle together, allows Finn to lead him out of the room by the hand. Reality beckons, but he has the strength of this dream, the strength of Finn's arms and the strength in his eyes.