Fic: Glee: Near Misses 7b/16 (Kurt/Blaine, NC-17)
Chapter 7a.
It wasn't until Sunday that Blaine gave in to the urge to look at the Facebook page. He loved the Warblers, and he really wanted to see them all, but his memories were tainted enough by the drama around Sebastian that he kept putting off his decision around going to the reunion until the texts and e-mails from Wes, David, Trent, Nick, and others were beginning to reach critical mass. So he took his laptop to a quiet corner of the library to get away from Rob, who was vibrating with caffeine and a late paper deadline, and went to look.
At first, he smiled at the rows of familiar faces in their matching uniforms. It was amazing how quickly he'd gotten used to seeing his classmates in college in regular clothes; the jackets and ties of Dalton looked a little stiff and strange in comparison, though they'd been as normal to his eyes as ratty t-shirts and shower shoes in class were now. He flicked through the pictures one by one, scrolling quickly past the formal club shots to linger on the candid ones. He found a few from his first year in the group; he couldn't believe how young he looked, all big eyes and even bigger smile. But he looked happy, too, and that's what he remembered the most from joining the Warblers, how happy he'd been to find a place where he not only didn't stand out in a bad way but was accepted and admired for his abilities. He'd been not only welcomed but respected.
There were competition videos and stills with them on stage performing or all posing with trophies afterwards. Blaine's breath caught at one where he was being hugged by the rest of the group; it had been his first competition solo, and they'd easily won. It had been a great day; he'd ridden that high for a week afterwards.
But then as the photos went on chronologically, Blaine's smile slowly died. In his junior year, Sebastian had joined, and the pictures soon shifted from Sebastian being a part of the group to being out front dancing to being at Blaine's side in every candid shot. Blaine's own face in those pictures shone with adoration toward him.
He had adored Sebastian. He had loved him. He shouldn't be ashamed of that fact.
But he remembered why his hair was so messy in that party shot, because Sebastian had dragged him off to the bathroom to get them off fast and hard once the drinks had made Blaine loose enough not to care too much what the others thought about it. He shut away the shame in that memory as quickly as it stirred, bitter and oily, in his gut. He'd made his choices, and he'd wanted it, too. Sebastian had made him want a lot of things he wasn't going to let himself regret now.
He remembered how hard Sebastian had fought to do a duet with him at Sectionals and all of the angling for a solo he did afterwards, which made the triumph in his eyes in the shot of them singing together on stage take on a whole new meaning. At the time, Blaine had thought it had been about the glory of singing with his boyfriend, about their love and connection. Now he knew better.
And when he saw a formal picture of the graduating seniors from his year, he remembered the way Sebastian had refused to retreat and let the Warblers heal after their split, so Sebastian was front and center on the couch, his smile broad and his whole body relaxed, while Blaine stood stiffly in the back and gave the camera the company smile his parents had drilled into him for years. He remembered how quickly he'd left the room once the portraits were finished.
He clicked over to the Wall. The pictures were the past. That was all over. It had been nearly six months since they graduated. What had happened had happened. He might have wished his time there had ended on a better note, but it was water under the bridge.
But there among the debates between Jeff and Nick about what kind of beer they should get and between Thad and Wes about whether it counted as an impromptu sing-along if Wes e-mailed out music beforehand was a little comment from Sebastian about having learned some great new moves in his group at Georgetown that they should all try out before they got too plastered to stand. A bunch of the younger Warblers had replied with the same fawning enthusiasm they'd always held for him, and as much as he knew that from anyone else the comment would have also gotten him excited about the prospect of pulling together a new song among the group, Blaine only felt sick.
Sebastian and his friends were going to be there, and too little was going to have changed. Sebastian would be laughing, drinking, dancing, flirting, telling stories and making snide comments, cutting him down with a smile on his face under the guise of sharing favorite stories, the same guy he'd always been since long before Blaine had figured it out.
This wasn't going to be a return to his first amazing year in the Warblers, no matter how many alumni were there; it was going to be the very same thing it had turned into by the time he graduated.
He knew he should go to the party. He knew he should go and show that he was a bigger man than all of the drama he and Sebastian had brought to the group. He knew he should go for the sake of healing whatever wounds might still be there. He knew he should go to prove that it was all behind him. He knew it was the right thing to do, the mature thing.
But to have to force himself to smile all night, to have to watch how much he drank so he didn't get too open with his feelings, to have to smile at Sebastian like he hadn't ripped out Blaine's too-soft heart and tarnished his standing among the group he admired so much... he couldn't.
He just couldn't.
Blaine shut his laptop with a snap. He had to get out of the stifling silence of the library so that he could find some air to breathe. He felt like he was being suffocated by silence and memories. He felt like his lungs, his heart, and his head were filled with nothing but dust.
Pushing open the main doors, Blaine stumbled down the front steps into the quad, squinting against the blinding sunlight, and nearly collided with someone at the bottom, a pair of strong hands on his biceps the only thing keeping him from tripping off the last step.
"Blaine?"
He knew that voice. Of course it was Kurt. Of course, the person to see him like this, when he still had pictures of Sebastian behind his eyes and barely knew which way was up, would be Kurt.
Blaine cleared his throat and pasted on the best smile he could. "Hey, Kurt. I'm just - " He gestured in a random direction.
Instead of releasing him, Kurt's fingers dug more tightly into Blaine's coat. "Are you all right?"
Blaine nodded, blinking himself out of the past as best he could. He focused on Kurt's worried face. "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you."
Kurt slowly let him go, but his eyes were sharp with concern even as he drew back. "You don't have to tell me the specifics," he said. "But if you're going to lie I suggest you work on your acting."
"I'm not - " Blaine started to protest, but of course he was lying, even if it was for the sake of politeness. "I'm sorry."
"You don't have to apologize, either." Kurt tilted his head and studied him for a long moment. "I was just about to go get a cup of coffee," he said carefully. "Would you let me buy you one?"
As much as Blaine didn't want to be alone with his thoughts, he couldn't impose upon Kurt, who had clearly been on his way to - "You weren't going to get coffee; you were going to the library," he said, gesturing to the steps behind him.
Kurt huffed out a laugh. "Fine, yes, but at least you caught my lie through logic and not through my tone of voice," he said and then added more gently, "Come have coffee with me. You look like you could use it."
There was something about the kindness in his voice that touched the desperate misery in Blaine's chest and made him say, "Okay. Thank you."
They walked in slightly awkward silence around the edge of the building toward the street, and then Kurt started telling stories about the various other performances in the Review, nothing so engaging that Blaine had to pay close attention but amusing enough that he could laugh and nod in the right places as he pulled himself a little bit back together. He had to; he couldn't stay like this.
By the time they were in line in the chain coffee shop down the block, he felt enough like himself that he could smile at the barista when he gave his order: non-fat latte, extra shot, extra foam.
"Hmm," Kurt said thoughtfully after he ordered his own mocha and handed the barista a few bills to pay for their drinks.
"Hmm, what?"
Kurt shrugged one shoulder. "Nothing, really. I wouldn't have pegged you for a complicated drink order kind of guy. Not that it's that complex, but..."
"Oh." Blaine's stomach fell as it always did when he was judged and came up lacking. "My ex turned me onto it," he said, because he was too raw to come up with a better explanation.
"Oh." Kurt stepped forward toward the end of the counter where their drinks would come out. "Well, at least you didn't order one of the ones with sprinkles or seasonal flavorings. Rachel likes those."
"I can just see her with one of those huge ones with gingerbread syrup, whipped cream, sprinkles, and a drizzle of caramel on top," Blaine said, though his amusement faded some at the memory of Sebastian calling the holiday flavorings provincial and only fit for overweight Americans.
He had to stop thinking about Sebastian.
"I could never prove it, but in high school I think she used to color-coordinate her horrible animal sweaters with the sprinkles on her drinks. Although," Kurt mused, smoothing the lapel of his dark wool coat, "given her sense of fashion that's probably giving her too much credit. Ah, here we are." He took their drinks from the barista and turned to consider the room. "That one looks quiet." He pointed with his elbow and then led the way to the far corner to a small table with two comfortable leather chairs flanking it.
Kurt placed their drinks on the table, set his bag on the floor, and carefully unwound the incredible steel grey scarf from around his neck. It was soft and almost fluffy, but the way it was knit it looked almost like a heavy chain; the detail of it was almost hidden when looped around itself, but as Kurt unfurled it the pattern of the knit was clear. Blaine, as always, was impressed by his exceptional sense of style. And then Kurt slipped off his coat to reveal a neat charcoal sweater over a crisp white shirt and tight black jeans, and Blaine had to look away because he wasn't blind to how stunning he was in that outfit, and it wasn't right for him to notice those kinds of things about someone who didn't particularly like him.
Blaine sat, dropping his bag and pulling off his own scarf and pea coat with far less finesse, and fiddled with his cup as Kurt got settled. He should have declined the offer to go here with him, because the hurt from the Warblers wasn't going away, and it was bleeding into the hurt he felt about Kurt, because Blaine knew he hadn't done anything so wrong that Kurt should hate him. Even though they were much friendlier than they were there was a wariness to them both that didn't have to be there. Blaine knew it didn't, because he'd slept with Peter and other guys and didn't have that at all with them.
But even with as much time as they were spending together, Kurt still didn't look at him like he did his other friends, and if Blaine was being honest it hurt. It really fucking hurt to be rejected and held at a distance even within the group. He'd lived it before, and he hated that he was having to do it again.
He didn't know if it was because of their past together or just because Blaine wasn't someone Kurt would ever like, but he didn't know if it mattered. It was still what was happening. Kurt hugged Angelica, played with Tina's hair, and bumped Ethan with his elbow when he wasn't moving fast enough, but he always kept Blaine at arm's length, both literally and figuratively. He talked with Blaine, but he barely laughed with him or even smiled at him, not in the genuine way he did the others.
He knew Kurt could laugh with him and smile that wide, unguarded smile of his he gave out so rarely, because he'd done it before, that night, and now he didn't. He just didn't.
It shouldn't have been a problem for Blaine, because he knew people weren't always going to like him no matter what he did, but with the scars from Dalton fresh in his heart it made the low level ache turn into something much, much worse.
"Blaine?" Kurt asked softly, breaking into his thoughts. He was leaning partway across the table, his eyes so very warm and concerned.
"I'm fine," Blaine replied, so automatic he didn't even think before the words were out of his mouth.
"Remember what I said earlier about learning how to lie?"
"I'm sorry."
Kurt sighed and sat back in his chair. "And here we go with the apologies."
"Sor- " Blaine stopped himself before apologizing again. He scrubbed his hand over the back of his neck. "I am sorry," he said. "I'm really not fit for company."
Kurt watched him for a moment, his expression slowly cooling like a mask hardening over his face. "Okay, then we'll chat about nothing in particular while we have our coffees, and you can go wherever you need to be." He toasted with his cup and took a sip. "Do you have any plans for Thanksgiving break?" he asked, all polite, distant interest and making Blaine want to curl his arms around himself in the chill.
Blaine shook his head, not able to trust his voice; that feeling of all of the air rushing from the room was returning. He couldn't go to Trent's party. It didn't matter if it was the right thing to do.
"I have my usual busy weekend planned," Kurt said breezily when Blaine didn't have more of a reply. He spoke with the air of someone who was determined to carry on through a difficult situation, and Blaine's feelings of guilt flared, because he knew how to talk to anyone, he'd been taught that from an early age, and yet here he was utterly failing at it. "Thursday is the meal, of course, followed by my dad and Finn yelling at the television no matter how many times I remind them that the players can't actually hear them, and then Friday is my annual Black Friday shopping trip with Rachel and our friend Mercedes, with a sleepover at Rachel's that night. We'll sleep late and recover from the marathon shopping there on Saturday, possibly with some other of our friends, and then Sunday is another day for my family." He met Blaine's eyes at the end of the last sentence and lifted his eyebrows, as if handing off the conversational ball to him.
Blaine knew he should say something about his own schedule for the weekend, although it was far less exciting than Kurt's, but the distance in Kurt's eyes, in his voice, the chilly precision that had returned to his movements... it was all too much with the memories of other rejections so fresh in his mind.
"Kurt, can I ask you a question?"
Kurt nodded a bit warily, crossing one leg over the other and linking his fingers over his knee.
Blaine took a deep breath and put down his coffee. "I don't want to upset this thing between us, because I like working with you, but I need to know. When we - after that dance, did I do something wrong? Because I'm pretty sure you were upset with me. And maybe still are."
Some of the color drained from Kurt's face as his expression shifted from shock to resignation to sadness, but his eyes stayed steady on Blaine's as he spoke. "No, it wasn't you," he said quietly.
"But - "
"I wanted to blame you, and I did for a while, but it wasn't your fault. It was me."
Blaine was sure he should have felt better with just that much, but he didn't. "I don't understand."
"I shouldn't have done it. Not because of you, but because of me." Kurt took a deep breath, like it was hard to get the words out, but his voice remained even if soft. "I'm not made for something casual. I know that. But I did it anyway, and it hurt."
"Kurt - "
"It's not your fault," Kurt repeated. "Okay? You really didn't do a single thing wrong." He smiled just a hair, more sad than anything. "Honestly, you were wonderful. Thank you."
It took a moment before Blaine could put words together, because it was upsetting to know that he'd been the cause of Kurt hurting - because even if Kurt had made a choice that had wounded his own heart he'd made that choice with Blaine, and Blaine had been the one to make the offer in the first place - but also because there was such intense relief to know that he hadn't done something wrong, he hadn't missed some obvious signal or made some horrible mistake beyond a few basic missteps here or there. He hadn't been selfish. He hadn't been rude. He had not actually done the opposite of everything he wanted to do. It took him a second to be able to take a breath around how huge and releasing that knowledge was.
"You were - " Blaine didn't think he could possibly tell Kurt just how remarkably perfect he'd been, how just thinking of that night took his breath away because Kurt had made him feel special and cared for, and he could see in that memory how Kurt had been yearning for a deeper connection than two strangers could have. No wonder it had been so different. "You, too. Thank you."
Kurt's shoulder twitched, not quite a shrug. "I'm sorry I took my issues out on you. I do that sometimes."
"It's okay. I understand."
Picking up his cup, Kurt swirled his coffee around and around. "I know that wasn't what you were looking for that night. Or any night. So I apologize for dragging you into it when you were just wanting to have some fun." He frowned thoughtfully to himself. "Another thing I should have known better about."
"No, Kurt, it's fine," Blaine insisted, because the bitterness coloring Kurt's words twisted in his own heart. It had been a good night; he didn't want Kurt to regret it. "I mean, now that the cold shoulder treatment is over... It's over, right?"
Kurt looked up, startled. His eyes were so clear and beautiful. "Of course."
"Then we're okay. Aren't we?"
After a moment, Kurt nodded. "I'd like us to be. I mean, we do seem to be spending a lot of time together." His voice dropped and turned ironic, like he wasn't sure of how the next sentence would be received, maybe even by himself. "And I actually am fairly certain I like you."
It was Blaine's turn to be shocked. He rocked back in his chair. "You do?"
Kurt blinked at the disbelief clear in Blaine's response. "Yes? Is that all right?"
"Yes, I - " Blaine laughed, another huge weight lifting off of his chest and leaving him feeling a little giddy. "I thought you didn't."
"Probably because for a while I refused to consider it, and then I was annoyed that you were charming all of my friends, and then I was annoyed you were being sweet to my friends," Kurt said with a grin and something like hope in his voice despite the snarky edge to it. "But I'm getting over it."
"Liking me?"
"Being annoyed."
"Oh." Blaine felt a smile blooming across his face.
Kurt's mouth curved up in an answering smile, and there - finally - was the smile Blaine remembered from their night together and even more remembered from Kurt giving it to his friends. It was warm, happy, and intimate, not in a sexual way but as an expression of a shared, welcome moment between them. "Of course," Kurt said with a quirk of his eyebrow, "this may all be moot."
Blaine sat up straighter. "Moot? Why?"
"Well, you haven't said anything about liking me," Kurt said, bouncing the foot on his crossed leg. "So this friendship could be dead in the water before it even gets out of the dock."
"No," Blaine said. He reached out with his foot and dared to bump Kurt's with his own. "We're going to be friends." He loved the sound of that sentence floating between them. Kurt was undoubtedly special, and to be friends with him would be an honor and a pleasure.
"Not if you keep scuffing my boots." Despite the warning, Kurt bumped Blaine's foot in return, and the gnawing something that had been worrying at Blaine's heart for months finally disappeared. They could be friends. It was a gift, not just because it was an affirmation that Blaine hadn't been doing something wrong with the guys he'd met in college but also because Kurt was clever, witty, and thoughtful, and Blaine really liked that. He really liked him. Blaine had a lot of friends, but Kurt seemed like an especially good one to add to his list.
"So," Kurt said easily, leaning back in his chair, "what are you doing for Thanksgiving break?"
"Oh." Blaine looked down, his good mood evaporating like it had never existed. "Spending it with my family, I guess."
"You only guess? It's in a few days. Don't you have plane tickets already?"
Blaine nodded. "Yes. Yes, I'm flying home Tuesday night. I - " His hands flexed helplessly. He really didn't want to talk about the Warblers, but suddenly there they were front and center in his mind again. "I guess I'm weighing my options about my time when I'm there."
"Do tell. You've already heard about my whirlwind social calendar. What's on yours? I bet it isn't mud masks and deep discounts at the mall." Kurt actually looked like he wanted to know.
"It's not that interesting," Blaine hedged.
Some of the light in his eyes dimming, Kurt said, "All right." He tipped up his cup and drained the last of his coffee. "I'm finished. Are you? We can just go."
Blaine knew he should agree and let Kurt go on his way, but if he was alone then everything was going to tumble back on top of him. Just thinking about it made his stomach clench with misery. "Would you like another one?" he asked. "My treat."
Kurt searched his face for a moment before settling back and saying, "Sure. Tall non-"
"Tall non-fat mocha," Blaine told him, and Kurt smiled in response like he was pleased.
"That's right."
"I pay attention."
Blaine used the diversion of going up to the counter and ordering to take a few deep breaths. He didn't want to talk about the Warbler party, but it might help him to get a little of it out. Kurt of all people would understand the rivalries and jealousies of show choir. If Blaine kept the conversation as neutral as he could, didn't talk about things that pointed to his own failings... maybe it wouldn't jeopardize their burgeoning friendship.
And if it did, well, Blaine was used to Kurt not liking him. He knew how to live with it, as much as he didn't want to.
So when he handed Kurt his cup and sat back in his own seat, Blaine bit the bullet and said, "There's a Warbler party over the long weekend. That's the big event on my calendar."
"That's - " Kurt began brightly, but then he took in whatever was showing on Blaine's face and finished the sentence with a slower confusion. " - not nice? I thought you loved being a Warbler."
"I did," Blaine was quick to say. "It was the best part of Dalton, and that's saying a lot because I loved Dalton. The Warblers were - are - great guys, and I love to sing, so..." He shrugged.
"So...?" Kurt prompted.
This was harder than Blaine had thought it would be. He didn't want to dredge up all of the old drama, because he didn't want Kurt to think less of him for it, but it was a part of everything that was making him uneasy about going to the party. "I mentioned that I had a boyfriend."
Kurt made a little sound of acknowledgement. "He who hates simple coffee orders."
"That's the one," Blaine said, the description surprising a little smile out of him. "Sebastian. He was also a Warbler."
Kurt shifted in his seat, re-crossing his legs and drawing his hands in from the arms of the chair onto his lap. "And you're worried about seeing him at the party?"
"No, I - it's more complicated than that. I mean, it ended badly, and we're not friends. But then I'm not sure we ever were. So it's more than that."
"You weren't friends with your boyfriend?" Kurt asked, sort of squinting at him like he was out of focus. Maybe he was just trying to understand.
"That sounds really bad when I say it out loud," Blaine realized. Still, looking back with eyes not blinded by love, it was true. He and Sebastian had shared a lot in common, at least on the surface, had spent a lot of time together, and had enjoyed exploring their sexuality with each other, but they'd never been friends, not with the selfless caring and companionship he saw in rare couples like Mike and Tina. Sebastian had tolerated at best and more often laughed at Blaine's interests outside of the Warblers, like fashion or old movies or makeover shows, and he'd certainly shown by the end how much he valued his own happiness over anyone else's, including - and maybe especially, a voice inside of him whispered - over Blaine's.
Kurt made another noise of agreement. "Yes, it does."
"Is it any better if I thought we were at the time?"
"I would hope you did," Kurt said. "I mean, why would you date someone you didn't like?"
"You'd have to ask him that," slipped out before Blaine could stop it. He snapped his mouth shut, but it was too late.
Kurt tilted his head, his eyes going soft with sympathy. Or maybe it was pity. It didn't really matter; Blaine shouldn't have said it.
"Anyway, it kind of blew up at the end," Blaine said, soldiering on, "and the way it happened got some of the Warblers involved. If I go to the party, those tensions might resurface. I respect the Warblers too much to want to bring any drama back into the group."
Much to Blaine's surprise, Kurt turned his face into his hand and let out a laugh.
Blaine's heart fell; he was opening up about this difficult situation, and Kurt was laughing? "What?"
"I'm sorry," Kurt said, waving his hand in front of him. "I know this is important to you. But if we didn't have drama in New Directions we'd never have had anything to sing."
Mike and Tina seemed calm enough, but from what Blaine knew of Kurt and Rachel that actually made a lot of sense. "That's not how the Warblers work," Blaine said. "We pride ourselves on being gentlemen of Dalton." Of course, not everyone was, but that they went against the basic assumption of the group was one of the reasons why Blaine had been so caught off guard by Sebastian's actions.
"Mmm. No wonder we beat you." There was a distinct twinkle in Kurt's eyes as he said it.
Blaine knocked his foot against Kurt's in response; he wasn't quite sure about where the line for teasing back lay yet.
"So it will be awkward," Kurt prompted.
"Yes." Blaine could imagine conversations dying when he walked by, the fake plastic smile he'd need to keep fixed on his face, the way he'd have to be aware of Sebastian's location at every minute so that they didn't come face to face without him having some warning, the way every Warbler who talked to him would be thinking about their relationship in the back of his head. He could imagine being greeted with open arms by only some of the guys there instead of all of them the way he used to be, the party not a refuge with friends but rocky shoals to be carefully navigated. He could imagine having to laugh like it didn't matter at the barbs and embarrassing stories being sent his way. He could imagine having to sing in the background when Sebastian stepped forward to lead a song. He could imagine ending up sitting quietly in the corner as the party got rowdier and rowdier and not daring to join in with the drinking for fear of what anger might rise in him if he wasn't in complete control of himself.
He remembered all of that from his last months in high school.
Kurt shrugged. "It can't be more awkward than having crush after crush on straight boys and one of them becoming your brother," he said.
"What?"
"That's a story for another day," Kurt said with a wave of his hand. "You don't want to go to this party because the guy you weren't friends with is going to be there, and you don't think you can act like an adult even this long after?"
"No," Blaine said, something snapping in his chest at the blasé - and incorrect - way Kurt summarized the situation. It wasn't him. He could be an adult. He always tried to act that way, even when it hurt. "I don't want to go to this party because the guy who broke my heart and tarnished my standing and reputation in the Warblers is going to stir up all of the old problems within the group and make everyone's night miserable just because he can, and no matter what I do and how mature I am I can't stop him." He cut himself off too late, breathing hard.
Kurt's eyes went wide, the shock at Blaine's outburst turning his usually expressive face blank. It cemented Blaine's decision not to go to the party; if he couldn't control himself talking about it, what hope did he have being there?
"I'm sorry," Blaine said, putting down his cup and getting ready to stand up. "I should - "
His chin lifting, Kurt stuck out his hand as if to offer a handshake. Blaine blinked at it for a moment before looking back up at him.
"Well, hello, Blaine Anderson," Kurt said. "It's a pleasure to meet you finally."
"What?" Blaine automatically shook Kurt's soft, strong hand, but he didn't understand what was going on at all.
"I've been wondering what's behind that polished exterior of yours."
"I - "
"Blaine," Kurt said more gently, "contrary to whatever you may have learned singing in lockstep in unfortunate uniforms at that stuffy prep school of yours, you're much more interesting if you actually let yourself have feelings about things."
"I have feelings about things," Blaine protested.
"And yet your first instinct was to leave the second you got upset."
Blaine wanted to object, but it was true. "It's called having manners."
"Putting your napkin in your lap and knowing how to use an escargot fork are manners," Kurt said. "Having feelings is being human."
"And keeping them under control is back to being polite," Blaine told him. He knew that was right.
Kurt leaned back and studied him for a moment, like he was weighing his words and the new peace between them. He looked serious, maybe even concerned, but finally he lifted his shoulders in a little shrug that felt almost like he was giving up. It didn't feel good, even though it meant he was letting Blaine off of the hook.
"Okay," Kurt said. "Anyway, I can see why you're torn about the party."
It was hardly a more comfortable topic of conversation, but it did at least stop the tension between them. "Yeah," Blaine said. "I really can't go."
Kurt bounced his foot thoughtfully. "I don't know. You could always go with the plan to ruin the night for him. Turn the tables. Surround yourself with your friends and be so above it all he can't touch you. It might drive him crazy."
There was a shining second where the idea shimmered with temptation for Blaine, but then reality intruded. He couldn't do that. Even if he wanted to, even if he were willing to put the Warblers through that, neither of which was true, he didn't have the skill to hurt Sebastian like that. He wasn't important enough to Sebastian for him to be hurt like that.
If he had been, things would have gone a lot differently.
"No," Blaine said with a shake of his head. "That's not me. I'll just..." He cast around for an idea to spend the day beyond sitting at his house with his parents and their guests. "I heard there are good deals at the mall the day after Thanksgiving."
Kurt leaned forward, all seriousness. "Oh, Blaine. No. Going to the mall on Black Friday is like skiing a double black diamond trail; novices should stick to the bunny slopes and online shopping."
"How do you know I'm a novice?"
Kurt just waved a hand at Blaine's simple striped crewneck sweater. "Please. Those are not the clothes of an expert shopper."
Blaine tried not to take too much offense at that; he certainly didn't take sartorial risks the way Kurt did. He'd put together enough laughable outfits in high school that he'd learned to keep it simple. But the comment still rankled deep inside, and he pushed it down so that it didn't show on his face. "Okay, I'll do something else." He didn't know what, given that all of his friends would be at Trent's party, but that wasn't Kurt's problem. He tried to disguise his sigh with a sip of his coffee.
"I'm sure you're capable of managing your own time, but..." Kurt began, tugging at the cuff of his shirt sleeve until it lay just so over the fine bones of his wrist. "My weekend is already booked solid, but I know for a fact that Tina is always looking for an excuse to get away from her family and, more importantly, Mike's." He looked back up into Blaine's eyes. "You should text her. They usually go to the movies with a bunch of friends on Friday to escape. It won't be much calmer than the mall, but there's some safety in numbers."
"I wouldn't want to - "
"You're not imposing," Kurt said with a roll of his eyes. "Or intruding or any other of a dozen worries. I mean, you might be offended if you happen to meet Puck, but you'd be welcome. In fact - " He pulled out his phone and tapped out a quick message. "There, now Tina knows you're free."
"You just - "
Kurt lifted his eyebrows as if daring Blaine to continue to protest; despite his misgivings about Kurt's methods, Blaine quieted. "I bet you'll hear from her in the next hour. And then you can tell the Warblers you're spending the day with friends instead." He hummed thoughtfully. "Maybe see if you can get Mike to take a picture of you with his shirt off for your Facebook; those abs'd make anybody jealous."
"But he's Tina's boyfriend. And straight."
"So?"
Blaine laughed and shook his head; that was definitely a step too far. "Thanks, Kurt," he said, warmed by Kurt's concern and the kind if unorthodox way he offered it. "For that and for this." He gestured to indicate the corner of the shop they were sitting in and all their conversation had encompassed.
Kurt's voice was soft but sounded genuine when he replied. "You're welcome."
Blaine's phone trilled with an incoming text. It was probably one of the Warblers, so he left it in his pocket.
"I'll bet you another coffee that's Tina," Kurt said.
"You're on." Blaine pulled out his phone and laughed when he saw her name there. "Your usual again?" he asked, his head spinning with a mixture of delight and relief that he really, truly hadn't gotten things wrong with Kurt and maybe was actually getting a few things right.
Kurt sat back in his seat, a smug smile on his face. "Yes, please."
~ end chapter seven ~
Chapter eight.
I am almost entirely unspoiled for season four and would desperately like to remain that way. PLEASE do not tell me ANYTHING, even if you think everyone in the world already knows. I mean it. Please.
It wasn't until Sunday that Blaine gave in to the urge to look at the Facebook page. He loved the Warblers, and he really wanted to see them all, but his memories were tainted enough by the drama around Sebastian that he kept putting off his decision around going to the reunion until the texts and e-mails from Wes, David, Trent, Nick, and others were beginning to reach critical mass. So he took his laptop to a quiet corner of the library to get away from Rob, who was vibrating with caffeine and a late paper deadline, and went to look.
At first, he smiled at the rows of familiar faces in their matching uniforms. It was amazing how quickly he'd gotten used to seeing his classmates in college in regular clothes; the jackets and ties of Dalton looked a little stiff and strange in comparison, though they'd been as normal to his eyes as ratty t-shirts and shower shoes in class were now. He flicked through the pictures one by one, scrolling quickly past the formal club shots to linger on the candid ones. He found a few from his first year in the group; he couldn't believe how young he looked, all big eyes and even bigger smile. But he looked happy, too, and that's what he remembered the most from joining the Warblers, how happy he'd been to find a place where he not only didn't stand out in a bad way but was accepted and admired for his abilities. He'd been not only welcomed but respected.
There were competition videos and stills with them on stage performing or all posing with trophies afterwards. Blaine's breath caught at one where he was being hugged by the rest of the group; it had been his first competition solo, and they'd easily won. It had been a great day; he'd ridden that high for a week afterwards.
But then as the photos went on chronologically, Blaine's smile slowly died. In his junior year, Sebastian had joined, and the pictures soon shifted from Sebastian being a part of the group to being out front dancing to being at Blaine's side in every candid shot. Blaine's own face in those pictures shone with adoration toward him.
He had adored Sebastian. He had loved him. He shouldn't be ashamed of that fact.
But he remembered why his hair was so messy in that party shot, because Sebastian had dragged him off to the bathroom to get them off fast and hard once the drinks had made Blaine loose enough not to care too much what the others thought about it. He shut away the shame in that memory as quickly as it stirred, bitter and oily, in his gut. He'd made his choices, and he'd wanted it, too. Sebastian had made him want a lot of things he wasn't going to let himself regret now.
He remembered how hard Sebastian had fought to do a duet with him at Sectionals and all of the angling for a solo he did afterwards, which made the triumph in his eyes in the shot of them singing together on stage take on a whole new meaning. At the time, Blaine had thought it had been about the glory of singing with his boyfriend, about their love and connection. Now he knew better.
And when he saw a formal picture of the graduating seniors from his year, he remembered the way Sebastian had refused to retreat and let the Warblers heal after their split, so Sebastian was front and center on the couch, his smile broad and his whole body relaxed, while Blaine stood stiffly in the back and gave the camera the company smile his parents had drilled into him for years. He remembered how quickly he'd left the room once the portraits were finished.
He clicked over to the Wall. The pictures were the past. That was all over. It had been nearly six months since they graduated. What had happened had happened. He might have wished his time there had ended on a better note, but it was water under the bridge.
But there among the debates between Jeff and Nick about what kind of beer they should get and between Thad and Wes about whether it counted as an impromptu sing-along if Wes e-mailed out music beforehand was a little comment from Sebastian about having learned some great new moves in his group at Georgetown that they should all try out before they got too plastered to stand. A bunch of the younger Warblers had replied with the same fawning enthusiasm they'd always held for him, and as much as he knew that from anyone else the comment would have also gotten him excited about the prospect of pulling together a new song among the group, Blaine only felt sick.
Sebastian and his friends were going to be there, and too little was going to have changed. Sebastian would be laughing, drinking, dancing, flirting, telling stories and making snide comments, cutting him down with a smile on his face under the guise of sharing favorite stories, the same guy he'd always been since long before Blaine had figured it out.
This wasn't going to be a return to his first amazing year in the Warblers, no matter how many alumni were there; it was going to be the very same thing it had turned into by the time he graduated.
He knew he should go to the party. He knew he should go and show that he was a bigger man than all of the drama he and Sebastian had brought to the group. He knew he should go for the sake of healing whatever wounds might still be there. He knew he should go to prove that it was all behind him. He knew it was the right thing to do, the mature thing.
But to have to force himself to smile all night, to have to watch how much he drank so he didn't get too open with his feelings, to have to smile at Sebastian like he hadn't ripped out Blaine's too-soft heart and tarnished his standing among the group he admired so much... he couldn't.
He just couldn't.
Blaine shut his laptop with a snap. He had to get out of the stifling silence of the library so that he could find some air to breathe. He felt like he was being suffocated by silence and memories. He felt like his lungs, his heart, and his head were filled with nothing but dust.
Pushing open the main doors, Blaine stumbled down the front steps into the quad, squinting against the blinding sunlight, and nearly collided with someone at the bottom, a pair of strong hands on his biceps the only thing keeping him from tripping off the last step.
"Blaine?"
He knew that voice. Of course it was Kurt. Of course, the person to see him like this, when he still had pictures of Sebastian behind his eyes and barely knew which way was up, would be Kurt.
Blaine cleared his throat and pasted on the best smile he could. "Hey, Kurt. I'm just - " He gestured in a random direction.
Instead of releasing him, Kurt's fingers dug more tightly into Blaine's coat. "Are you all right?"
Blaine nodded, blinking himself out of the past as best he could. He focused on Kurt's worried face. "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you."
Kurt slowly let him go, but his eyes were sharp with concern even as he drew back. "You don't have to tell me the specifics," he said. "But if you're going to lie I suggest you work on your acting."
"I'm not - " Blaine started to protest, but of course he was lying, even if it was for the sake of politeness. "I'm sorry."
"You don't have to apologize, either." Kurt tilted his head and studied him for a long moment. "I was just about to go get a cup of coffee," he said carefully. "Would you let me buy you one?"
As much as Blaine didn't want to be alone with his thoughts, he couldn't impose upon Kurt, who had clearly been on his way to - "You weren't going to get coffee; you were going to the library," he said, gesturing to the steps behind him.
Kurt huffed out a laugh. "Fine, yes, but at least you caught my lie through logic and not through my tone of voice," he said and then added more gently, "Come have coffee with me. You look like you could use it."
There was something about the kindness in his voice that touched the desperate misery in Blaine's chest and made him say, "Okay. Thank you."
They walked in slightly awkward silence around the edge of the building toward the street, and then Kurt started telling stories about the various other performances in the Review, nothing so engaging that Blaine had to pay close attention but amusing enough that he could laugh and nod in the right places as he pulled himself a little bit back together. He had to; he couldn't stay like this.
By the time they were in line in the chain coffee shop down the block, he felt enough like himself that he could smile at the barista when he gave his order: non-fat latte, extra shot, extra foam.
"Hmm," Kurt said thoughtfully after he ordered his own mocha and handed the barista a few bills to pay for their drinks.
"Hmm, what?"
Kurt shrugged one shoulder. "Nothing, really. I wouldn't have pegged you for a complicated drink order kind of guy. Not that it's that complex, but..."
"Oh." Blaine's stomach fell as it always did when he was judged and came up lacking. "My ex turned me onto it," he said, because he was too raw to come up with a better explanation.
"Oh." Kurt stepped forward toward the end of the counter where their drinks would come out. "Well, at least you didn't order one of the ones with sprinkles or seasonal flavorings. Rachel likes those."
"I can just see her with one of those huge ones with gingerbread syrup, whipped cream, sprinkles, and a drizzle of caramel on top," Blaine said, though his amusement faded some at the memory of Sebastian calling the holiday flavorings provincial and only fit for overweight Americans.
He had to stop thinking about Sebastian.
"I could never prove it, but in high school I think she used to color-coordinate her horrible animal sweaters with the sprinkles on her drinks. Although," Kurt mused, smoothing the lapel of his dark wool coat, "given her sense of fashion that's probably giving her too much credit. Ah, here we are." He took their drinks from the barista and turned to consider the room. "That one looks quiet." He pointed with his elbow and then led the way to the far corner to a small table with two comfortable leather chairs flanking it.
Kurt placed their drinks on the table, set his bag on the floor, and carefully unwound the incredible steel grey scarf from around his neck. It was soft and almost fluffy, but the way it was knit it looked almost like a heavy chain; the detail of it was almost hidden when looped around itself, but as Kurt unfurled it the pattern of the knit was clear. Blaine, as always, was impressed by his exceptional sense of style. And then Kurt slipped off his coat to reveal a neat charcoal sweater over a crisp white shirt and tight black jeans, and Blaine had to look away because he wasn't blind to how stunning he was in that outfit, and it wasn't right for him to notice those kinds of things about someone who didn't particularly like him.
Blaine sat, dropping his bag and pulling off his own scarf and pea coat with far less finesse, and fiddled with his cup as Kurt got settled. He should have declined the offer to go here with him, because the hurt from the Warblers wasn't going away, and it was bleeding into the hurt he felt about Kurt, because Blaine knew he hadn't done anything so wrong that Kurt should hate him. Even though they were much friendlier than they were there was a wariness to them both that didn't have to be there. Blaine knew it didn't, because he'd slept with Peter and other guys and didn't have that at all with them.
But even with as much time as they were spending together, Kurt still didn't look at him like he did his other friends, and if Blaine was being honest it hurt. It really fucking hurt to be rejected and held at a distance even within the group. He'd lived it before, and he hated that he was having to do it again.
He didn't know if it was because of their past together or just because Blaine wasn't someone Kurt would ever like, but he didn't know if it mattered. It was still what was happening. Kurt hugged Angelica, played with Tina's hair, and bumped Ethan with his elbow when he wasn't moving fast enough, but he always kept Blaine at arm's length, both literally and figuratively. He talked with Blaine, but he barely laughed with him or even smiled at him, not in the genuine way he did the others.
He knew Kurt could laugh with him and smile that wide, unguarded smile of his he gave out so rarely, because he'd done it before, that night, and now he didn't. He just didn't.
It shouldn't have been a problem for Blaine, because he knew people weren't always going to like him no matter what he did, but with the scars from Dalton fresh in his heart it made the low level ache turn into something much, much worse.
"Blaine?" Kurt asked softly, breaking into his thoughts. He was leaning partway across the table, his eyes so very warm and concerned.
"I'm fine," Blaine replied, so automatic he didn't even think before the words were out of his mouth.
"Remember what I said earlier about learning how to lie?"
"I'm sorry."
Kurt sighed and sat back in his chair. "And here we go with the apologies."
"Sor- " Blaine stopped himself before apologizing again. He scrubbed his hand over the back of his neck. "I am sorry," he said. "I'm really not fit for company."
Kurt watched him for a moment, his expression slowly cooling like a mask hardening over his face. "Okay, then we'll chat about nothing in particular while we have our coffees, and you can go wherever you need to be." He toasted with his cup and took a sip. "Do you have any plans for Thanksgiving break?" he asked, all polite, distant interest and making Blaine want to curl his arms around himself in the chill.
Blaine shook his head, not able to trust his voice; that feeling of all of the air rushing from the room was returning. He couldn't go to Trent's party. It didn't matter if it was the right thing to do.
"I have my usual busy weekend planned," Kurt said breezily when Blaine didn't have more of a reply. He spoke with the air of someone who was determined to carry on through a difficult situation, and Blaine's feelings of guilt flared, because he knew how to talk to anyone, he'd been taught that from an early age, and yet here he was utterly failing at it. "Thursday is the meal, of course, followed by my dad and Finn yelling at the television no matter how many times I remind them that the players can't actually hear them, and then Friday is my annual Black Friday shopping trip with Rachel and our friend Mercedes, with a sleepover at Rachel's that night. We'll sleep late and recover from the marathon shopping there on Saturday, possibly with some other of our friends, and then Sunday is another day for my family." He met Blaine's eyes at the end of the last sentence and lifted his eyebrows, as if handing off the conversational ball to him.
Blaine knew he should say something about his own schedule for the weekend, although it was far less exciting than Kurt's, but the distance in Kurt's eyes, in his voice, the chilly precision that had returned to his movements... it was all too much with the memories of other rejections so fresh in his mind.
"Kurt, can I ask you a question?"
Kurt nodded a bit warily, crossing one leg over the other and linking his fingers over his knee.
Blaine took a deep breath and put down his coffee. "I don't want to upset this thing between us, because I like working with you, but I need to know. When we - after that dance, did I do something wrong? Because I'm pretty sure you were upset with me. And maybe still are."
Some of the color drained from Kurt's face as his expression shifted from shock to resignation to sadness, but his eyes stayed steady on Blaine's as he spoke. "No, it wasn't you," he said quietly.
"But - "
"I wanted to blame you, and I did for a while, but it wasn't your fault. It was me."
Blaine was sure he should have felt better with just that much, but he didn't. "I don't understand."
"I shouldn't have done it. Not because of you, but because of me." Kurt took a deep breath, like it was hard to get the words out, but his voice remained even if soft. "I'm not made for something casual. I know that. But I did it anyway, and it hurt."
"Kurt - "
"It's not your fault," Kurt repeated. "Okay? You really didn't do a single thing wrong." He smiled just a hair, more sad than anything. "Honestly, you were wonderful. Thank you."
It took a moment before Blaine could put words together, because it was upsetting to know that he'd been the cause of Kurt hurting - because even if Kurt had made a choice that had wounded his own heart he'd made that choice with Blaine, and Blaine had been the one to make the offer in the first place - but also because there was such intense relief to know that he hadn't done something wrong, he hadn't missed some obvious signal or made some horrible mistake beyond a few basic missteps here or there. He hadn't been selfish. He hadn't been rude. He had not actually done the opposite of everything he wanted to do. It took him a second to be able to take a breath around how huge and releasing that knowledge was.
"You were - " Blaine didn't think he could possibly tell Kurt just how remarkably perfect he'd been, how just thinking of that night took his breath away because Kurt had made him feel special and cared for, and he could see in that memory how Kurt had been yearning for a deeper connection than two strangers could have. No wonder it had been so different. "You, too. Thank you."
Kurt's shoulder twitched, not quite a shrug. "I'm sorry I took my issues out on you. I do that sometimes."
"It's okay. I understand."
Picking up his cup, Kurt swirled his coffee around and around. "I know that wasn't what you were looking for that night. Or any night. So I apologize for dragging you into it when you were just wanting to have some fun." He frowned thoughtfully to himself. "Another thing I should have known better about."
"No, Kurt, it's fine," Blaine insisted, because the bitterness coloring Kurt's words twisted in his own heart. It had been a good night; he didn't want Kurt to regret it. "I mean, now that the cold shoulder treatment is over... It's over, right?"
Kurt looked up, startled. His eyes were so clear and beautiful. "Of course."
"Then we're okay. Aren't we?"
After a moment, Kurt nodded. "I'd like us to be. I mean, we do seem to be spending a lot of time together." His voice dropped and turned ironic, like he wasn't sure of how the next sentence would be received, maybe even by himself. "And I actually am fairly certain I like you."
It was Blaine's turn to be shocked. He rocked back in his chair. "You do?"
Kurt blinked at the disbelief clear in Blaine's response. "Yes? Is that all right?"
"Yes, I - " Blaine laughed, another huge weight lifting off of his chest and leaving him feeling a little giddy. "I thought you didn't."
"Probably because for a while I refused to consider it, and then I was annoyed that you were charming all of my friends, and then I was annoyed you were being sweet to my friends," Kurt said with a grin and something like hope in his voice despite the snarky edge to it. "But I'm getting over it."
"Liking me?"
"Being annoyed."
"Oh." Blaine felt a smile blooming across his face.
Kurt's mouth curved up in an answering smile, and there - finally - was the smile Blaine remembered from their night together and even more remembered from Kurt giving it to his friends. It was warm, happy, and intimate, not in a sexual way but as an expression of a shared, welcome moment between them. "Of course," Kurt said with a quirk of his eyebrow, "this may all be moot."
Blaine sat up straighter. "Moot? Why?"
"Well, you haven't said anything about liking me," Kurt said, bouncing the foot on his crossed leg. "So this friendship could be dead in the water before it even gets out of the dock."
"No," Blaine said. He reached out with his foot and dared to bump Kurt's with his own. "We're going to be friends." He loved the sound of that sentence floating between them. Kurt was undoubtedly special, and to be friends with him would be an honor and a pleasure.
"Not if you keep scuffing my boots." Despite the warning, Kurt bumped Blaine's foot in return, and the gnawing something that had been worrying at Blaine's heart for months finally disappeared. They could be friends. It was a gift, not just because it was an affirmation that Blaine hadn't been doing something wrong with the guys he'd met in college but also because Kurt was clever, witty, and thoughtful, and Blaine really liked that. He really liked him. Blaine had a lot of friends, but Kurt seemed like an especially good one to add to his list.
"So," Kurt said easily, leaning back in his chair, "what are you doing for Thanksgiving break?"
"Oh." Blaine looked down, his good mood evaporating like it had never existed. "Spending it with my family, I guess."
"You only guess? It's in a few days. Don't you have plane tickets already?"
Blaine nodded. "Yes. Yes, I'm flying home Tuesday night. I - " His hands flexed helplessly. He really didn't want to talk about the Warblers, but suddenly there they were front and center in his mind again. "I guess I'm weighing my options about my time when I'm there."
"Do tell. You've already heard about my whirlwind social calendar. What's on yours? I bet it isn't mud masks and deep discounts at the mall." Kurt actually looked like he wanted to know.
"It's not that interesting," Blaine hedged.
Some of the light in his eyes dimming, Kurt said, "All right." He tipped up his cup and drained the last of his coffee. "I'm finished. Are you? We can just go."
Blaine knew he should agree and let Kurt go on his way, but if he was alone then everything was going to tumble back on top of him. Just thinking about it made his stomach clench with misery. "Would you like another one?" he asked. "My treat."
Kurt searched his face for a moment before settling back and saying, "Sure. Tall non-"
"Tall non-fat mocha," Blaine told him, and Kurt smiled in response like he was pleased.
"That's right."
"I pay attention."
Blaine used the diversion of going up to the counter and ordering to take a few deep breaths. He didn't want to talk about the Warbler party, but it might help him to get a little of it out. Kurt of all people would understand the rivalries and jealousies of show choir. If Blaine kept the conversation as neutral as he could, didn't talk about things that pointed to his own failings... maybe it wouldn't jeopardize their burgeoning friendship.
And if it did, well, Blaine was used to Kurt not liking him. He knew how to live with it, as much as he didn't want to.
So when he handed Kurt his cup and sat back in his own seat, Blaine bit the bullet and said, "There's a Warbler party over the long weekend. That's the big event on my calendar."
"That's - " Kurt began brightly, but then he took in whatever was showing on Blaine's face and finished the sentence with a slower confusion. " - not nice? I thought you loved being a Warbler."
"I did," Blaine was quick to say. "It was the best part of Dalton, and that's saying a lot because I loved Dalton. The Warblers were - are - great guys, and I love to sing, so..." He shrugged.
"So...?" Kurt prompted.
This was harder than Blaine had thought it would be. He didn't want to dredge up all of the old drama, because he didn't want Kurt to think less of him for it, but it was a part of everything that was making him uneasy about going to the party. "I mentioned that I had a boyfriend."
Kurt made a little sound of acknowledgement. "He who hates simple coffee orders."
"That's the one," Blaine said, the description surprising a little smile out of him. "Sebastian. He was also a Warbler."
Kurt shifted in his seat, re-crossing his legs and drawing his hands in from the arms of the chair onto his lap. "And you're worried about seeing him at the party?"
"No, I - it's more complicated than that. I mean, it ended badly, and we're not friends. But then I'm not sure we ever were. So it's more than that."
"You weren't friends with your boyfriend?" Kurt asked, sort of squinting at him like he was out of focus. Maybe he was just trying to understand.
"That sounds really bad when I say it out loud," Blaine realized. Still, looking back with eyes not blinded by love, it was true. He and Sebastian had shared a lot in common, at least on the surface, had spent a lot of time together, and had enjoyed exploring their sexuality with each other, but they'd never been friends, not with the selfless caring and companionship he saw in rare couples like Mike and Tina. Sebastian had tolerated at best and more often laughed at Blaine's interests outside of the Warblers, like fashion or old movies or makeover shows, and he'd certainly shown by the end how much he valued his own happiness over anyone else's, including - and maybe especially, a voice inside of him whispered - over Blaine's.
Kurt made another noise of agreement. "Yes, it does."
"Is it any better if I thought we were at the time?"
"I would hope you did," Kurt said. "I mean, why would you date someone you didn't like?"
"You'd have to ask him that," slipped out before Blaine could stop it. He snapped his mouth shut, but it was too late.
Kurt tilted his head, his eyes going soft with sympathy. Or maybe it was pity. It didn't really matter; Blaine shouldn't have said it.
"Anyway, it kind of blew up at the end," Blaine said, soldiering on, "and the way it happened got some of the Warblers involved. If I go to the party, those tensions might resurface. I respect the Warblers too much to want to bring any drama back into the group."
Much to Blaine's surprise, Kurt turned his face into his hand and let out a laugh.
Blaine's heart fell; he was opening up about this difficult situation, and Kurt was laughing? "What?"
"I'm sorry," Kurt said, waving his hand in front of him. "I know this is important to you. But if we didn't have drama in New Directions we'd never have had anything to sing."
Mike and Tina seemed calm enough, but from what Blaine knew of Kurt and Rachel that actually made a lot of sense. "That's not how the Warblers work," Blaine said. "We pride ourselves on being gentlemen of Dalton." Of course, not everyone was, but that they went against the basic assumption of the group was one of the reasons why Blaine had been so caught off guard by Sebastian's actions.
"Mmm. No wonder we beat you." There was a distinct twinkle in Kurt's eyes as he said it.
Blaine knocked his foot against Kurt's in response; he wasn't quite sure about where the line for teasing back lay yet.
"So it will be awkward," Kurt prompted.
"Yes." Blaine could imagine conversations dying when he walked by, the fake plastic smile he'd need to keep fixed on his face, the way he'd have to be aware of Sebastian's location at every minute so that they didn't come face to face without him having some warning, the way every Warbler who talked to him would be thinking about their relationship in the back of his head. He could imagine being greeted with open arms by only some of the guys there instead of all of them the way he used to be, the party not a refuge with friends but rocky shoals to be carefully navigated. He could imagine having to laugh like it didn't matter at the barbs and embarrassing stories being sent his way. He could imagine having to sing in the background when Sebastian stepped forward to lead a song. He could imagine ending up sitting quietly in the corner as the party got rowdier and rowdier and not daring to join in with the drinking for fear of what anger might rise in him if he wasn't in complete control of himself.
He remembered all of that from his last months in high school.
Kurt shrugged. "It can't be more awkward than having crush after crush on straight boys and one of them becoming your brother," he said.
"What?"
"That's a story for another day," Kurt said with a wave of his hand. "You don't want to go to this party because the guy you weren't friends with is going to be there, and you don't think you can act like an adult even this long after?"
"No," Blaine said, something snapping in his chest at the blasé - and incorrect - way Kurt summarized the situation. It wasn't him. He could be an adult. He always tried to act that way, even when it hurt. "I don't want to go to this party because the guy who broke my heart and tarnished my standing and reputation in the Warblers is going to stir up all of the old problems within the group and make everyone's night miserable just because he can, and no matter what I do and how mature I am I can't stop him." He cut himself off too late, breathing hard.
Kurt's eyes went wide, the shock at Blaine's outburst turning his usually expressive face blank. It cemented Blaine's decision not to go to the party; if he couldn't control himself talking about it, what hope did he have being there?
"I'm sorry," Blaine said, putting down his cup and getting ready to stand up. "I should - "
His chin lifting, Kurt stuck out his hand as if to offer a handshake. Blaine blinked at it for a moment before looking back up at him.
"Well, hello, Blaine Anderson," Kurt said. "It's a pleasure to meet you finally."
"What?" Blaine automatically shook Kurt's soft, strong hand, but he didn't understand what was going on at all.
"I've been wondering what's behind that polished exterior of yours."
"I - "
"Blaine," Kurt said more gently, "contrary to whatever you may have learned singing in lockstep in unfortunate uniforms at that stuffy prep school of yours, you're much more interesting if you actually let yourself have feelings about things."
"I have feelings about things," Blaine protested.
"And yet your first instinct was to leave the second you got upset."
Blaine wanted to object, but it was true. "It's called having manners."
"Putting your napkin in your lap and knowing how to use an escargot fork are manners," Kurt said. "Having feelings is being human."
"And keeping them under control is back to being polite," Blaine told him. He knew that was right.
Kurt leaned back and studied him for a moment, like he was weighing his words and the new peace between them. He looked serious, maybe even concerned, but finally he lifted his shoulders in a little shrug that felt almost like he was giving up. It didn't feel good, even though it meant he was letting Blaine off of the hook.
"Okay," Kurt said. "Anyway, I can see why you're torn about the party."
It was hardly a more comfortable topic of conversation, but it did at least stop the tension between them. "Yeah," Blaine said. "I really can't go."
Kurt bounced his foot thoughtfully. "I don't know. You could always go with the plan to ruin the night for him. Turn the tables. Surround yourself with your friends and be so above it all he can't touch you. It might drive him crazy."
There was a shining second where the idea shimmered with temptation for Blaine, but then reality intruded. He couldn't do that. Even if he wanted to, even if he were willing to put the Warblers through that, neither of which was true, he didn't have the skill to hurt Sebastian like that. He wasn't important enough to Sebastian for him to be hurt like that.
If he had been, things would have gone a lot differently.
"No," Blaine said with a shake of his head. "That's not me. I'll just..." He cast around for an idea to spend the day beyond sitting at his house with his parents and their guests. "I heard there are good deals at the mall the day after Thanksgiving."
Kurt leaned forward, all seriousness. "Oh, Blaine. No. Going to the mall on Black Friday is like skiing a double black diamond trail; novices should stick to the bunny slopes and online shopping."
"How do you know I'm a novice?"
Kurt just waved a hand at Blaine's simple striped crewneck sweater. "Please. Those are not the clothes of an expert shopper."
Blaine tried not to take too much offense at that; he certainly didn't take sartorial risks the way Kurt did. He'd put together enough laughable outfits in high school that he'd learned to keep it simple. But the comment still rankled deep inside, and he pushed it down so that it didn't show on his face. "Okay, I'll do something else." He didn't know what, given that all of his friends would be at Trent's party, but that wasn't Kurt's problem. He tried to disguise his sigh with a sip of his coffee.
"I'm sure you're capable of managing your own time, but..." Kurt began, tugging at the cuff of his shirt sleeve until it lay just so over the fine bones of his wrist. "My weekend is already booked solid, but I know for a fact that Tina is always looking for an excuse to get away from her family and, more importantly, Mike's." He looked back up into Blaine's eyes. "You should text her. They usually go to the movies with a bunch of friends on Friday to escape. It won't be much calmer than the mall, but there's some safety in numbers."
"I wouldn't want to - "
"You're not imposing," Kurt said with a roll of his eyes. "Or intruding or any other of a dozen worries. I mean, you might be offended if you happen to meet Puck, but you'd be welcome. In fact - " He pulled out his phone and tapped out a quick message. "There, now Tina knows you're free."
"You just - "
Kurt lifted his eyebrows as if daring Blaine to continue to protest; despite his misgivings about Kurt's methods, Blaine quieted. "I bet you'll hear from her in the next hour. And then you can tell the Warblers you're spending the day with friends instead." He hummed thoughtfully. "Maybe see if you can get Mike to take a picture of you with his shirt off for your Facebook; those abs'd make anybody jealous."
"But he's Tina's boyfriend. And straight."
"So?"
Blaine laughed and shook his head; that was definitely a step too far. "Thanks, Kurt," he said, warmed by Kurt's concern and the kind if unorthodox way he offered it. "For that and for this." He gestured to indicate the corner of the shop they were sitting in and all their conversation had encompassed.
Kurt's voice was soft but sounded genuine when he replied. "You're welcome."
Blaine's phone trilled with an incoming text. It was probably one of the Warblers, so he left it in his pocket.
"I'll bet you another coffee that's Tina," Kurt said.
"You're on." Blaine pulled out his phone and laughed when he saw her name there. "Your usual again?" he asked, his head spinning with a mixture of delight and relief that he really, truly hadn't gotten things wrong with Kurt and maybe was actually getting a few things right.
Kurt sat back in his seat, a smug smile on his face. "Yes, please."
~ end chapter seven ~
Chapter eight.
I am almost entirely unspoiled for season four and would desperately like to remain that way. PLEASE do not tell me ANYTHING, even if you think everyone in the world already knows. I mean it. Please.