Fic: Sparks Fly 9/12
Title: Sparks Fly 9/12
Author: gameboycolor
Pairing/Characters: Kurt Anderson/Blaine Hummel
Spoilers: none
(Overall) Warnings: Bullying, violence, homophobia (and underaged drinking for this part)
Rating: R overall (subject to change)
Length: ~1400 / 13300
Summary: Season 2 AU, Kurt/Blaine character swap. Written for this prompt on the GKM.
A/N: Thank you idoltina, ctrlofwhatido, and blueb1rd for your help! And all of my lovely readers - your comments mean the world!
Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine
Things always look different in the morning. The darkness has a way of masking the cracks, the ones that are plain as day in the proper light.
It starts with Kurt’s sleeping snuffles giving way to a mumbled greeted of - “So, about last night...”
“Yeah, things got a little crazy there for awhile,” Blaine says around a yawn. “Wanna go back to sleep for a bit? I’m not ready to face the world yet.”
The sleepover in itself had been tame. Blaine had insisted that Kurt take the bed, which ended up being one of the better decisions he made that evening. When his Dad came up to check on them in the morning, the sleepover looked perfectly innocent. Not at all the result of two boys drunkenly stumbling back into a bedroom.
“Uh, crazy, yeah,” Kurt echoes. “You don’t think we should talk, though?”
“About what? You locking lips with Sam Evans?” He holds up his hand to the edge of the bed, so Kurt can reach. “Delayed high five for that.”
No, Blaine doesn’t feel much like talking.
Kurt’s kiss with Sam had been tame, much like the rest of the spin the bottle kisses. Quick presses of lips that had resulted in giggles.
Kurt presses his hand to Blaine’s in a lazy imitation of a high five and he gives him a weak smile. “Yeah, I could use some more sleep.”
Blaine’s hand lingers for a moment, reluctant to withdraw from the small contact. “Me too.”
-
”We only have to stay for a few minutes,” Blaine assures him. “I just have to make an appearance. Then we can go grab dinner and a movie, okay?”
“You just want to show me off,” Kurt says, nudging Blaine’s shoulder. Before Blaine can say anything, he assures him that he was only kidding.
Blaine doesn’t tell him that he’s kind of right. It’s not just about Kurt, of course. He wans to show off his life post-McKinley. He’s happier, more confident. He has friends who don’t see him as some sort of obligation. He doesn’t need any of these people anymore.
A five minute appearance, Blaine reminds himself. Not a minute longer.
-
They’re seated across from each other at a greasy spoon diner in Lima. Blaine’s sticking to coffee just to be on the safe side. His stomach hasn’t felt quite right since last night.
“Waffles are good for hangovers.”
“Do you have a lot of hangovers?” Blaine asks.
Kurt ducks his head and stabs at the syrup soaked piece of waffle. Blaine finds himself staring at the way his fingers are wrapped delicately around the utensil. His hands are so much larger than Blaine’s, but they still hold a sort of grace that makes Blaine feel hopelessly awkward in comparison.
His hands are wide and warm against Blaine’s back. He can feel the heat through his cardigan. It’s one of his favorite cardigans, a deep red and incidently perfect for hiding wine stains.
That doesn’t hide the red that stains his lips of course.
But that’s getting ahead in the story.
-
“I don’t,” Kurt insists. “No more than any other unsupervised prep school boy, anyway.”
Blaine just smiles and lets the conversation fade out. He feels comfortable in Kurt’s presence, as always. There’s no reason to fill the void with silly words.
That’s what he tells himself, anyway.
-
Kurt kisses Sam and Blaine feels something spark inside of him. Not jealousy, exactly. He has no claim on Kurt. He wouldn’t claim him, even if Kurt let him. Kurt is too precious to be tamed. He’s not a damned stallion, for crying out loud. He’s a person.
The spark is something more like curiosity, working its way down his shirt collar and nestling somewhere in his belly. Two gorgeous boys are kissing in front of him, and Blaine wants to know what it’s like to be kissed.
They pull apart, and Kurt’s eyes are sparkling. But this is the part Blaine clings to. He’s not looking at Sam, he’s looking right at Blaine.
The bottle spins and spins and spins, and it never lands on him. He tries to concentrate on it when it nears, wills it to stop, but nothing happens.
So when the circle breaks apart and Kurt heads outside the get some air, Blaine decides he’s going to making his own moment happen.
-
They ride back to Dalton together, and Blaine naps most of the way. Sleeping on a floor is never comfortable, worth the sacrifice or not. Kurt is singing softly to the radio, and it’s almost a perfect moment.
“Are we just going to pretend it never happened?”
Blaine lets out a forced chuckle. “What? You knowing all of the words to that Justin Bieber song? I’d prefer to.”
Kurt swerves the car, but just barely. Still, it’s enough to make the rumble pads on the side of the highway collide with the tires, making a sickening sound. Blaine jumps in his seat and tries to keep himself from completely losing it. “Kurt! That isn’t funny.”
His friend’s temper is nothing new.
“You’re right, Blaine,” he says. “It’s the farthest thing from funny. Please tell me you remember, or this is going to be a very different conversation.”
-
Blaine finds Kurt outside playing with an unlit cigarette.
“You smoke?”
He wishes he had a lighter or something. It feels very old Hollywood meet-cute. He could light up the cigarette and offer some smooth little line, and just kiss him.
There was the tiny detail about rum and smoke breath, but --
“No, I took it from that Lynn girl’s bag.” Kurt shrugs. “Sometimes I like to take things.”
Quinn. He means Quinn. Blaine doesn’t correct him, because he’s not supposed to care about these people. He’s not supposed to notice that Santana seems more jealous of Brittany and Artie than the fact that her supposed boyfriend has managed to kiss almost every person at the party. He’s not supposed to see how strained things are between Finn and Rachel. These people are part of his past, a soon to be faded yearbook photo.
“Do you?”
“Yeah.” He kicks a few rocks off the edge of the patio. Then, he giggles. “I don’t remember what we were talking about. I hope it wasn’t anything important.”
It probably is, but Blaine has other ideas. He leds Kurt over to the deck chairs, grabbing an empty beer bottle along the way.
He places it between them, and spins.
Because the universe seems to hate Blaine Hummel that much, it points between them.
But Kurt leans in and kisses him anyway.
-
“You kissed me,” Blaine states with a hint of smugness, because he had been convinced up until now that it had been the other way around.
“You orchestrated a movie moment!” Kurt huffs. “I was powerless.”
“And we were drunk,” he says slowly.
Kurt drums his fingers on the steering wheel. Thankfully, he is no longer taking out his anger on their wellbeing. “So I suppose it doesn’t really even count.”
-
Blaine presses in eagerly,licking messily at the seam of Kurt’s lips. He wants so much and he doesn’t know how. It’s laughably bad, but Kurt doesn’t tease him.
It’s cold outside and he wants to be as close to Kurt as possible. Before he knows it, he’s halfway out of his chair in a hunched position. Kurt is giggling and tugging him into his lap.
Kurt breaks the kiss and presses his palm to Blaine’s cheek, holding him still. When Blaine tries to lean back in, Kurt stops him. “Slow, okay?”
Blaine nods.
This time, their lips slot together in a way that feels a little more natural. Teeth don’t clack and tongues brush instead of probe. They’re shivering against each other and Blaine is sure one of them is going to catch a cold.
He had expected that kissing Kurt at a party would be something chaotic and wild. Maybe a little grinding in a secluded room, or wandering hands fueled by alcohol and pent up tension.
Instead, it ends up being something soft and sweet.
-
So why doesn’t Blaine speak up? Why doesn’t he plead for a sober kiss, just to see if the spark is still there.
“I suppose it doesn’t,” he agrees.
He looks over at Kurt, and finds himself oddly disappointed to see his eyes trained on the road ahead.
Author: gameboycolor
Pairing/Characters: Kurt Anderson/Blaine Hummel
Spoilers: none
(Overall) Warnings: Bullying, violence, homophobia (and underaged drinking for this part)
Rating: R overall (subject to change)
Length: ~1400 / 13300
Summary: Season 2 AU, Kurt/Blaine character swap. Written for this prompt on the GKM.
A/N: Thank you idoltina, ctrlofwhatido, and blueb1rd for your help! And all of my lovely readers - your comments mean the world!
Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine
Things always look different in the morning. The darkness has a way of masking the cracks, the ones that are plain as day in the proper light.
It starts with Kurt’s sleeping snuffles giving way to a mumbled greeted of - “So, about last night...”
“Yeah, things got a little crazy there for awhile,” Blaine says around a yawn. “Wanna go back to sleep for a bit? I’m not ready to face the world yet.”
The sleepover in itself had been tame. Blaine had insisted that Kurt take the bed, which ended up being one of the better decisions he made that evening. When his Dad came up to check on them in the morning, the sleepover looked perfectly innocent. Not at all the result of two boys drunkenly stumbling back into a bedroom.
“Uh, crazy, yeah,” Kurt echoes. “You don’t think we should talk, though?”
“About what? You locking lips with Sam Evans?” He holds up his hand to the edge of the bed, so Kurt can reach. “Delayed high five for that.”
No, Blaine doesn’t feel much like talking.
Kurt’s kiss with Sam had been tame, much like the rest of the spin the bottle kisses. Quick presses of lips that had resulted in giggles.
Kurt presses his hand to Blaine’s in a lazy imitation of a high five and he gives him a weak smile. “Yeah, I could use some more sleep.”
Blaine’s hand lingers for a moment, reluctant to withdraw from the small contact. “Me too.”
-
”We only have to stay for a few minutes,” Blaine assures him. “I just have to make an appearance. Then we can go grab dinner and a movie, okay?”
“You just want to show me off,” Kurt says, nudging Blaine’s shoulder. Before Blaine can say anything, he assures him that he was only kidding.
Blaine doesn’t tell him that he’s kind of right. It’s not just about Kurt, of course. He wans to show off his life post-McKinley. He’s happier, more confident. He has friends who don’t see him as some sort of obligation. He doesn’t need any of these people anymore.
A five minute appearance, Blaine reminds himself. Not a minute longer.
-
They’re seated across from each other at a greasy spoon diner in Lima. Blaine’s sticking to coffee just to be on the safe side. His stomach hasn’t felt quite right since last night.
“Waffles are good for hangovers.”
“Do you have a lot of hangovers?” Blaine asks.
Kurt ducks his head and stabs at the syrup soaked piece of waffle. Blaine finds himself staring at the way his fingers are wrapped delicately around the utensil. His hands are so much larger than Blaine’s, but they still hold a sort of grace that makes Blaine feel hopelessly awkward in comparison.
His hands are wide and warm against Blaine’s back. He can feel the heat through his cardigan. It’s one of his favorite cardigans, a deep red and incidently perfect for hiding wine stains.
That doesn’t hide the red that stains his lips of course.
But that’s getting ahead in the story.
-
“I don’t,” Kurt insists. “No more than any other unsupervised prep school boy, anyway.”
Blaine just smiles and lets the conversation fade out. He feels comfortable in Kurt’s presence, as always. There’s no reason to fill the void with silly words.
That’s what he tells himself, anyway.
-
Kurt kisses Sam and Blaine feels something spark inside of him. Not jealousy, exactly. He has no claim on Kurt. He wouldn’t claim him, even if Kurt let him. Kurt is too precious to be tamed. He’s not a damned stallion, for crying out loud. He’s a person.
The spark is something more like curiosity, working its way down his shirt collar and nestling somewhere in his belly. Two gorgeous boys are kissing in front of him, and Blaine wants to know what it’s like to be kissed.
They pull apart, and Kurt’s eyes are sparkling. But this is the part Blaine clings to. He’s not looking at Sam, he’s looking right at Blaine.
The bottle spins and spins and spins, and it never lands on him. He tries to concentrate on it when it nears, wills it to stop, but nothing happens.
So when the circle breaks apart and Kurt heads outside the get some air, Blaine decides he’s going to making his own moment happen.
-
They ride back to Dalton together, and Blaine naps most of the way. Sleeping on a floor is never comfortable, worth the sacrifice or not. Kurt is singing softly to the radio, and it’s almost a perfect moment.
“Are we just going to pretend it never happened?”
Blaine lets out a forced chuckle. “What? You knowing all of the words to that Justin Bieber song? I’d prefer to.”
Kurt swerves the car, but just barely. Still, it’s enough to make the rumble pads on the side of the highway collide with the tires, making a sickening sound. Blaine jumps in his seat and tries to keep himself from completely losing it. “Kurt! That isn’t funny.”
His friend’s temper is nothing new.
“You’re right, Blaine,” he says. “It’s the farthest thing from funny. Please tell me you remember, or this is going to be a very different conversation.”
-
Blaine finds Kurt outside playing with an unlit cigarette.
“You smoke?”
He wishes he had a lighter or something. It feels very old Hollywood meet-cute. He could light up the cigarette and offer some smooth little line, and just kiss him.
There was the tiny detail about rum and smoke breath, but --
“No, I took it from that Lynn girl’s bag.” Kurt shrugs. “Sometimes I like to take things.”
Quinn. He means Quinn. Blaine doesn’t correct him, because he’s not supposed to care about these people. He’s not supposed to notice that Santana seems more jealous of Brittany and Artie than the fact that her supposed boyfriend has managed to kiss almost every person at the party. He’s not supposed to see how strained things are between Finn and Rachel. These people are part of his past, a soon to be faded yearbook photo.
“Do you?”
“Yeah.” He kicks a few rocks off the edge of the patio. Then, he giggles. “I don’t remember what we were talking about. I hope it wasn’t anything important.”
It probably is, but Blaine has other ideas. He leds Kurt over to the deck chairs, grabbing an empty beer bottle along the way.
He places it between them, and spins.
Because the universe seems to hate Blaine Hummel that much, it points between them.
But Kurt leans in and kisses him anyway.
-
“You kissed me,” Blaine states with a hint of smugness, because he had been convinced up until now that it had been the other way around.
“You orchestrated a movie moment!” Kurt huffs. “I was powerless.”
“And we were drunk,” he says slowly.
Kurt drums his fingers on the steering wheel. Thankfully, he is no longer taking out his anger on their wellbeing. “So I suppose it doesn’t really even count.”
-
Blaine presses in eagerly,licking messily at the seam of Kurt’s lips. He wants so much and he doesn’t know how. It’s laughably bad, but Kurt doesn’t tease him.
It’s cold outside and he wants to be as close to Kurt as possible. Before he knows it, he’s halfway out of his chair in a hunched position. Kurt is giggling and tugging him into his lap.
Kurt breaks the kiss and presses his palm to Blaine’s cheek, holding him still. When Blaine tries to lean back in, Kurt stops him. “Slow, okay?”
Blaine nods.
This time, their lips slot together in a way that feels a little more natural. Teeth don’t clack and tongues brush instead of probe. They’re shivering against each other and Blaine is sure one of them is going to catch a cold.
He had expected that kissing Kurt at a party would be something chaotic and wild. Maybe a little grinding in a secluded room, or wandering hands fueled by alcohol and pent up tension.
Instead, it ends up being something soft and sweet.
-
So why doesn’t Blaine speak up? Why doesn’t he plead for a sober kiss, just to see if the spark is still there.
“I suppose it doesn’t,” he agrees.
He looks over at Kurt, and finds himself oddly disappointed to see his eyes trained on the road ahead.