A Touch of the Fingertips, Chapter 28
Title: A Touch of the Fingertips
Chapter: 28 - Jump In the Pool
Rating: PG-13 this part, NC-17 overall
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Homophobic language
Word Count: ~6,000
Summary: Kurt has barely ever made contact with anyone outside of his family because he is a faerie. However, this is not the small, winged creature you expect. It is a creature, or person, which makes a connection when it touches another. When Kurt accidentally meets Blaine Anderson, this becomes an even greater problem than Kurt ever predicted.
Author's Note: I have a word count problem. It's growing. Hopefully this is a good thing? I don't know. There's a lot of driving in this chapter. And sitting. A lot of sitting. Actually, most of this story seems to involve people sitting. Why do people sit so much? On a scheduling note, firstly I apologise for the delay; my internet went down so I basically lost a limb for a while. Secondly, I'm entering a period of exams which are extremely important, so if chapters get sporadic it's because I'm focusing on my future. Yay. *finishes housewife sweeping* Go forth and read, mes petites chouflettes.
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The past few days had been full of one thing: a great deal of cuddling. Blaine seemed determined to repay every minute of their silence with an hour of being wrapped around each other, breathing in sync and occasionally murmuring to each other. Kurt would have called him boring, but he didn’t want it to stop.
They were curled up on the sofa, legs stretching out to the other side, Blaine’s head resting on Kurt’s chest with his body between Kurt’s legs. Everything felt warm and slightly fuzzy and Kurt had closed his eyes a while ago. They snapped open at Blaine irritated huff and his jostling movement as he reached for the remote. Kurt looked up at the TV, sighing when he saw what was on the screen.
Three senators were giving the bill their vote.
“Why can’t they just write the damn thing up already? I’m sick of all this back and forth, I just want them to turn it around, send it on its way, and then we can go back to being happy.”
“Don’t wish for that,” Kurt murmured, stroking Blaine’s back to soothe him. Blaine flopped back onto his chest, leaving the news report on. “We don’t know what the result will be.”
“I’m only willing to think about one result. They are not putting it through.”
Kurt’s heart ached, but he kept silent. He knew Blaine was trying to remain optimistic, but with each piece of news Kurt’s hope of keeping his rights was diminishing. He looked away from the screen, over to the pile of campaign posters sitting on the coffee table. Burt had tried many different designs, all of which were pretty terrible, before Kurt told him he was taking over. He was proud of the result: eye-catching, but not gaudy, and (he thought) with just the right level of ‘sensible senator material’. Blaine had taken one home to stick on his wall, making Kurt laugh.
Burt’s campaign was slowly picking up; ears were pricking and people were taking notice. He had risen up in the polls and people seemed generally positive towards him. Kurt was waiting for the other shoe to drop. (It felt more like a whole closet, if he was being honest.) Every time he picked up the paper, he expected his name to be splashed across it: Kurt Hummel, Burt Hummel’s gay faerie son.
“…you should join a book group or something.”
Kurt blinked, realising Blaine had been speaking. “Book group? What are you talking about?”
Blaine tilted his head back, catching Kurt’s eye with a smirk. “You weren’t listening, were you?”
“I may have tuned out.”
Blaine smiled, kissing Kurt’s chest. “I was being serious, actually.”
“How novel.”
“Shut up. I was thinking about what you said the other day, about being lonely. I hate going to school and thinking of you being stuck here all day.”
“So you suggested a book group.”
“Okay, okay, it was a terrible idea,” Blaine whined, pressing his face into Kurt’s chest. “I’m trying.”
“I should just enrol at McKinley or something.”
Blaine looked up at him. He blinked up at the ceiling, then back down at Kurt, appearing to be deep in thought.
“Blaine, it’s not going to happen. I’d need to exist first.”
Blaine shifted again, settling back down against his chest. “How does it feel to know you’re not actually registered as existing?”
“I am.”
“What?”
“I am registered.”
Blaine pushed himself up off Kurt’s chest. Kurt wanted to whine and draw him back down into their cocoon of warmth, but Blaine was staring down at him, frowning. “But how do people not know about you?”
Kurt shifted around, moving them so they were sitting side by side. “When they figured out I was a faerie, my parents moved to a different area. They fell out of touch with all of their old friends, and everyone they met here thought they didn’t have any children. It’s kind of a miracle no one ever heard me cry, or saw me running in the garden or anything.” He shrugged. “Thank god for trees, I guess.”
“So you’re on record?”
Kurt nodded. “The school district has me down as homeschooled. I have this doctor - my parents researched it for ages, and they found a guy who would apparently keep quiet about any of his patients being faeries. He’s out of the regular hospital system, in a private practice a couple of towns over. I still don’t go often, but I have that.”
Blaine stared blankly at Burt’s campaign posters. “So you’re a person to the government, but no one in Lima actually knows you exist.”
“Something like that.”
Blaine frowned, shaking his head. “But… what about when you turn eighteen? What’s going to happen?”
“By the time I’m eighteen, either the world will be a better place and I will be living somewhere else, or I won’t have any rights anyway. Either way, I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”
“I just can’t believe someone can fly under the radar the way you have.”
“I guess I should cherish it while I still can,” Kurt said, pushing himself off the couch. “It’s only so long before a journalist digs me out. Then,” Kurt threw his arms, a painful joke on the freedom he couldn’t have, “well, I can join all the schools I like.”
**
The light edging around the walls of McKinley would start to fade soon; the sky was dipping into a sleepy grey, readying itself to darken. Kurt was prepared to wait, to try a little bit harder this time, but he was still unsure as to how his plan was going to work out. He knew Blaine was far from pleased about his decision to pursue David again - prejudice is just ignorance only went so far. Blaine had seen David for himself and Kurt knew how uncomfortable it had made him; his shoulders had still been drawn up towards his ears when he had entered the Hummel-Hudson household that afternoon.
Blaine had all but begged him not to try again. The way his hands were shaking, Kurt knew it wasn’t just about Kurt’s heart getting broken. It was Karofsky; his Letterman jacket, everything he represented. He was only just starting to understand it, because he couldn’t quite reconcile the Blaine he knew with the person Blaine had been, beaten and broken. The Blaine he knew seemed to have picked himself up, brushed himself off and moved on, with only a few scars to hold him back. Blaine was stronger than Kurt could ever imagine himself being.
The doors burst open with the rumble of feet and male voices. Kurt stopped himself from straightening up, maintaining his relaxed lounge into the bricks. Finn and a guy with a Mohawk (was that Puck? Puck had a Mohawk, right?) were near the front, tossing a football between the two of them. Kurt kept scanning, waiting until Finn noticed him, and found him. He was at the back of the group, hands shoved into the pockets of his Letterman, shoulders bunched up. There was an unexpected flip of fear in Kurt’s stomach - he hadn’t noticed before just how large he was. He had nearly knocked Kurt off his feet with just a brush, but an active shove would definitely leave him sprawling.
“Kurt!” Finn jogged over to him, football tucked under one arm. “Hey. You keep turning up, dude. I should just bring you to school with me.” He laughed, nudging Kurt’s arm slightly.
The guy with the Mohawk appeared at Finn’s shoulder, frowning down at Kurt as he continued to lean against the wall. Kurt blinked up at him, not really seeing him; the corner of his vision was still trained on Karofsky, huddled in a group with some of the other guys just outside of the doors.
“Puck,” Finn said, and Kurt gave himself a mental pat on the back. “This is my…” Finn faltered, mouth open, and Kurt shot him a glare. “My buddy, Kurt.”
“You go to that fancy gay school?” Puck said, looking Kurt up and down. Kurt crossed his arms over his chest.
“What?”
“Nah, Kurt’s homeschooled.”
Puck snorted, rolling his eyes at Finn. “How do you find these guys? Puckzilla,” he said to Kurt, holding a fist out in expectation of a bump. Kurt stared at it, throat drying out. He almost lifted a hand to return the gesture, but he wasn’t throwing another piece of his heart away.
“Nice to meet you,” he said, looking away from Puck and leaving him hanging, glancing back over to the group. They were breaking up now, some of the guys drifting off to their cars. Karofsky was still there, talking to a few people, bumping fists and shoulders with them. Kurt glanced back at Finn, then reached for the ball under his arm. “Give me that.”
“What? Oh, um.”
“Finn, give me the ball.”
Finn handed it over, watching Kurt’s hands warily, as though afraid he was going to puncture it with his fingernails. Kurt ignored him, instead watching Karofsky peel off from the group and start to walk in their direction. Kurt sidestepped Finn, lining himself up to toss the ball exactly over Finn’s shoulder. It bounced to the ground, exactly where Kurt wanted it: right in front of Karofsky’s feet. As it started to roll away, he stepped forwards.
“Hey, can you grab that for me?” he called out, heading over.
Karofsky bent down and retrieved the ball, only realising who had spoken when he straightened up to hold it out. His mouth dropped open a little, but Kurt just grinned at him, taking the ball from his hands.
“Thanks,” he said with a brief clap of his hand to Karofsky’s arm, the way he’d seen his dad do to Finn.
“Kurt?”
Kurt turned his head, grinning back at Finn. “Sorry, lost control of my throw.”
“Looked pretty in control to me,” Puck muttered.
Kurt turned back to Karofsky, smiling widely. He’d forgotten how good it felt to be in the presence of someone you’d only just started to love. Colours got a little bit brighter and the weather felt warmer. He held out a hand. “I’m Kurt, Finn’s friend.”
David frowned at him, but he shook Kurt’s hand. “Dave Karofksy. I’ve seen you before.”
Kurt stumbled towards him a little, dropping his hand. He whipped back to glare at Finn, who had knocked him, but found his brother staring at him with shock and something that looked like fear painted across his features. “Finn?”
Finn blinked a couple of times, then grabbed Kurt’s arm, dragging him behind him as he tossed a brief explanation over his shoulder. “Kurt and I have to go. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”
Kurt struggled against Finn’s hold all the way to the car, but he wasn’t released. He flopped into the passenger seat with a huff, crossing his arms as he waited for Finn to climb in the other side.
“What is your problem?” he snapped.
“My… My problem? Kurt, you just connected to some random guy on my football team!”
Kurt’s mouth paused around his fully prepared angry tirade. His stomach seemed to be sinking in on itself. He dropped his head. “I forgot.”
“You forgot you’re a faerie? Kurt, I’m pretty dumb, but I don’t think even I’d forget that.”
“No.” Kurt held in a snort of laughter, letting his head loll back on his neck. “No, Finn, I forgot that you didn’t know. I’m sorry I worried you like that.”
“I don’t really get what you’re saying.”
“I was already connected to him.” Kurt sighed, lifting his head and turning his gaze fully onto Finn. “A couple of weeks ago, I was feeling lonely and pathetic, and I let it get to me. I decided that pulling a Rachel would be the ideal cure, so I touched a random guy I didn’t know.”
“And that’s Dave?”
Kurt nodded.
“Does Blaine know?”
“Yes. He was upset that I did that to myself, but he’s okay.”
“He’s… he’s just accepted it?”
“I.” Kurt frowned. “I’m not following.”
“He’s cool with you being in love with another guy?”
Kurt’s mouth stretched into a little ‘oh’ of amused surprise. “Finn, no, I feel about Dave the way I feel about you. I mean, I love you more now, but it’s just friendship.”
“Oh,” Finn said. A grin started across his face and Kurt’s heart clenched with love for his brother when he realised that it was relieved. “Right. So you’re trying to, what? Be his friend?”
“Trying, yes.”
Finn turned to put the key in the ignition, revving the car to life. He was oddly silent for a while; Kurt watched him, curious as to what Finn was mulling over so intently. “Just - just look after yourself, okay? Karofsky’s cool sometimes, but I think he’s pretty homophobic, and I always kind of think he would beat me up if he felt like it. So be careful, yeah?”
Kurt reached a hand over the console, squeezing at Finn’s forearm, letting his hand linger there. “I’ll try. Thank you.”
Finn patted his hand only slightly awkwardly. Kurt drew it back into his lap, leaning into the window and staring out. There was silence for a few minutes, only the sound of Finn’s hands sliding across the wheel and his feet on the pedals slipping out into the car. Kurt watched the buildings. They looked a little more familiar now.
“Does Burt know?”
Kurt kept watching the buildings. Houses, houses, houses, a couple of shops. How had he never seen these shops before? One of them had looked like a haberdashery and Kurt was going to have to check their Sunday opening hours.
“Kurt, you’ve got to tell him. I will if you don’t.”
Kurt’s head snapped towards him. “I don’t see how it’s anything to do with you.”
“You’re my brother,” Finn replied, glancing away from the road for a moment. “Of course it’s to do with me.”
Kurt settled back into his seat, crossing his arms. “I’ll tell him when I’m ready to tell him. He’s really busy right now with the campaign and everything.”
“He’s never too busy for you. You know that, right? Burt is, like, the best dad there is. He’d drop everything for you.”
“I know,” Kurt said, voice soft. “I know that. Please. Just let me do this on my own.”
**
Kurt looked around the restaurant, at all of the other patrons dining in the dimmed evening lights. There were couples all around them, some of them gazing at each other over their plates of pasta, others avoiding eye contact as they crunched violently on breadsticks. He looked back to Blaine, who was holding his hand on the tabletop, head resting on one hand as he gazed at him, a soft smile on his face. They were just another couple on a date, and Kurt had no idea why they never did this before. He could never have been scared of this.
“Thank you,” Kurt said, giving Blaine’s fingers a squeeze.
“What for?”
“For taking me on my first ever date,” Kurt said with a grin. The waitress brought over their food and Kurt shifted out of the range of her arms. Blaine watched him push himself into the corner of the booth as though it was natural.
“I want to take you on a date,” Blaine had said shortly after he had finished giving Kurt a kiss hello a few days before. “A real date, in a restaurant, with candles and hand holding and making out in my car afterwards.”
“Blaine,” Kurt had said, glancing behind him with a laugh. “Shout it to the world, why don’t you?”
“I will. I’ll yell from the rooftops that I want to take my boyfriend on a date. So, Kurt Hummel, will you accompany me to Breadstix on Friday night?”
Kurt had grinned, looking down at where Blaine’s arms were still around his waist and trying not to blush too much. “I would love to.”
And so here they were, slotting themselves into normality and wondering at how well they fit. Kurt had taken Blaine’s hand and Blaine had wanted to flinch at the public blatancy of it, but he had refrained. Kurt had never been made aware of how dangerous that could be and Blaine didn’t want to enlighten him; not when Kurt was looking around the restaurant like he’d never seen a place more wondrous and stroking his thumb across the back of Blaine’s hand.
“Finn told me they’re not legally allowed to stop giving you breadsticks,” Kurt said, picking up one of the sticks and waving it around. Blaine took one of his own, biting into it and choking a little.
“I think they should be - these are terrible.”
Kurt giggled, biting into his own breadstick and wrinkling his nose. He held it out to Blaine, who tried to back away, but relented after a moment and bit into it. Kurt smiled at the little trail of stale crumbs it left on his cheek and reached across to brush it off, fingertips lingering on Blaine’s jaw as their eyes locked. He moved to cup Blaine’s cheek, but Blaine’s hand came up around his wrist, pulling it sharply away. Their hands broke contact, Blaine’s slipping away and leaving Kurt’s resting on the table.
“Sorry,” Blaine murmured, looking down at the tabletop. “I don’t want to ruin this. It’s just that it’s not safe for us, Kurt.”
“What are you talking about?” Kurt tried to reach for his hand again, but Blaine slipped it off the table and into his lap.
“We can’t be affectionate in public. This is Ohio. People here are… are small minded with not enough impulse control.”
“Not all of them,” Kurt said. “I’m not.”
Blaine tilted his lips up. “You know I didn’t mean that.”
Kurt sighed, reaching over the table to tug on Blaine’s arm, pulling his hand up and out of his lap. He threaded their fingers together, setting their joined hands definitively on the tabletop. “I don’t care. Let them look, Blaine. We can’t go through life being afraid of doing something that might make people angry when it’s perfectly right. If you don’t show everyone that it’s normal, how are you supposed to change anything?”
Blaine flexed his fingers against the back of Kurt’s hand, shaking his head infinitesimally and grinning. “You,” he said, looking up into Kurt’s eyes again, “are the most amazing person I have ever met.”
“Mr Anderson,” Kurt said in a hushed voice, leaning over the table a little. “How very forward of you. This is the only the first date, after all.”
Their waitress came to take their order. She glanced at their hands, but didn’t make any comment. Kurt stroked his thumb over Blaine’s, grinning at him.
After a while, Blaine got used to the feeling of Kurt holding his hand. His heartbeat settled down and he managed to eat with one hand. It felt normal, comfortable, and he barely noticed it by the time their dessert arrived. Kurt opened his mouth, smiling, and Blaine fed him a spoonful of cheesecake, smiling.
The door to the restaurant opened again and at first Blaine didn’t notice. It was only with the flash of red that he looked up. A group of McKinley jocks were standing by the door, glancing around and waiting for a waitress to make them up a table. Blaine snatched his hand back into his lap, ducking his head.
“Blaine?” Kurt reached out for him again, but Blaine shrank back into the seat. He saw Kurt twist, looking back at the door. “Oh.”
“Can we go?”
“Blaine, they don’t know us. They’re just guys.”
“Please, Kurt.”
Kurt laid his spoon down beside his half-eaten cheesecake with a sigh. He called a waitress over, paying before Blaine could try to protest, and within a few minutes they were out in the dark again, pulling open the doors to Blaine’s car.
“I’m sorry,” Blaine murmured once they were seated.
“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Kurt reached over and took his hand. “What happened to you was not your fault, not at all. You felt uncomfortable and I understand that. I wish you didn’t have to feel like that, but I don’t think any less of you for it.”
Blaine just gazed at him for a moment. “I love you so much.”
Kurt lifted their joined hands, kissing the back of Blaine’s. “I love you, too. Now,” he turned to face the windshield, “take me somewhere.”
**
Kurt tucked his head under Blaine’s chin, feeling sated and bit too warm in the muggy car. Blaine had cracked a window down to get some oxygen back in and was stroking a hand across Kurt’s back, looking out at the town lights in the distance. They were on the outskirts of Lima, somewhere they both would have thought of as skeezy if they weren’t so desperate to be together. Something had been different about Blaine this time. They’d taken their time, watched each other’s faces rather than their own hands. Blaine had held him tight, like he was a handful of water, pooled and tipping and slipping through the gaps. Kurt clung back just as fiercely; he wasn’t leaving, he wasn’t fragile.
“Don’t fall asleep on me,” Blaine’s voice hummed above him, the vibrations buzzing in his throat against Kurt’s forehead. The sound pulled Kurt back from the brink and he yawned widely. “Kurt,” Blaine said with a chuckle. “You’re hopeless.”
Kurt whined and nuzzled his face against Blaine’s neck. “Mean,” he mumbled.
“Come on,” Blaine said. “We can’t sleep here.”
“Want to.”
“No.” Blaine slapped his ass hard, making Kurt jump and blink his eyes open. “Much better.”
Kurt pushed himself up on Blaine’s chest, frowning down at him. “That’s your method?”
“Didn’t you like it?”
Kurt blushed, looking away and rolling his eyes. He slid his hands down Blaine’s chest and heaved himself off him, tumbling awkwardly back into the passenger seat. “Should have let me sleep,” he groaned, dropping his head against the window.
“And driven home with you in my lap? Bet your dad would have loved that.” Blaine started the car, reversing them out of their hidden spot and taking the small road that started their journey back into town. Kurt yawned, jaw cracking, and Blaine reached a hand over to him. There was silence for a while as Blaine drove and Kurt tried not to let the hum of the vehicle lull him to sleep. His mind was turning things over, bridging the gap between conscious and subconscious and mulling over thoughts he’d tried to avoid for the evening.
“I met Dave,” he murmured without realising.
Blaine’s fingers squeezed tight around his. “What?”
Kurt blinked, trying to come back to himself. He turned his head towards Blaine, finding him frowning at the road. “Shit.” His mouth was slowly starting to correct to his brain again. “Yeah. At McKinley.”
“Were you picking Finn up?”
Blaine was giving him an out and Kurt was so tempted to take it. To say yes and leave it that, pass it off as a brief chance encounter. But he couldn’t lie to Blaine that way. Not again. “No. I mean, I did. But I went to see him.”
Blaine let out a breath. “Okay. Did you talk to him?”
“I threw a football at him.”
Blaine blinked, eyes flicking to him briefly. “Are you serious?”
“So he’d pick it up for me. We didn’t talk exactly, but there was communication.”
“And he wasn’t a dick?”
“Blaine, stop it.”
“Kurt, last time you approached him he threw a homophobic slur at you. Forgive me for not being very sympathetic towards him.”
Kurt sighed, squeezing Blaine’s hand. “No, he wasn’t a dick. He didn’t get a chance to say anything, but he didn’t shove me or anything, so.”
“Victory,” Blaine muttered.
“Don’t be like that. It doesn’t suit you.”
Blaine went silent for a minute, concentrating on turning onto a larger road, merging lanes. “I just don’t want him to hurt you.”
“I know that. But I’m not a baby bird, Blaine. I’ve been handling my own heart for a long time now. If he hurts me, he hurts me, but if I have a chance to teach him and help him grow? I’m not going to walk away from that. If I get a chance to make him the friend he feels like to me, I’ll take the pain I go through to get there.”
“Your dad’s right about your martyr complex.”
Kurt’s lips twitched. “Isn’t that part of why you love me?”
“Mr Hummel,” Blaine gasped. “You are expressing love so soon? But we are only at the beginning of our courtship. A first date is surely too soon.”
Kurt let his grin free this time. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”
“Mr Hummel, this is scandalous!”
“And you’re easy, Mr Tighter, Kurt, tighter, faster, oh-” Kurt broke off with a laughing scream as Blaine thwacked him.
“Be careful or I’ll throw you out.”
“I’m quaking in my achingly stylish boots.” Kurt grabbed Blaine’s hand again, winding their fingers together. He kissed the inside of Blaine’s wrist. “Are you angry with me?”
“Angry?” Blaine said, glancing at him again. “You’re your own person, Kurt, I can’t tell you what you should and should not do. I’m grateful that you told me and I respect why you went to see him, so why would I be angry?”
Kurt shrugged. “Sorry. It’s just something Finn said.”
“Finn Hudson’s wisdom strikes again.”
“He has his moments.”
“That he does.”
**
Finn Hudson did have his moments. They could be few and far between, but they happened. Lately, though, those stunning periods of clarity felt untouchable. He felt like he was drifting, head thrown into tailspin by all of the conflicting ideas around him.
Girls.
Girls were a big problem. Quinn was great - she was always great, and they were even better on the second try, now that they could actually have sex. She’d been a bit uncomfortable at first and was still insane about protection, but Finn got that. Having done the thinking-he-was-a-dad thing once already, he was not going back there. So Quinn was amazing, and she was still hot (like, crazy hot). But she was always so driven. She was making plans for prom and their (“their”) plans to win their rightful crowns. Or something. Prom was still weeks away, so Finn didn’t really understand why Quinn was thinking so far ahead. He was pretty sure it was going to turn her crazy. Then lately, she’d started holding tight to his arm in the hallways, sitting right next to him at lunch; turning up outside all of his classrooms. He was starting to feel like she was collaring him. Or peeing on him to mark her territory. Or did only guy dogs do that?
Then there was Rachel. Where Quinn was a steam roller, Rachel was a hurricane. She was all bright smiles and longwinded speeches about stars and her voice and someone named Barbra. Finn wasn’t sure what was going on half the time. But he enjoyed it. Rachel could be sweet, wearing thin gloves inside just so she could touch Finn’s arm or hand him a plate of vegan cookies she’d baked. (Finn might have thrown those away. Maybe.) They’d spend Tuesday afternoons together, talking and just letting time go by. Finn came to love Tuesdays; the days when Quinn had some commitment she couldn’t miss - Finn was assuming it was a church meeting, but he didn’t dig. The only problem was Kurt always rattling around, shoving them apart and reprimanding them and shoving himself between them.
“Why isn’t Blaine here?” he’d asked one Tuesday, sick of Kurt forcedly separating them. Finn wasn’t stupid. He wouldn’t connect to Rachel without thinking about it first. He was grateful to Kurt for worrying about them, but sometimes he needed to know when to stop.
Kurt had given him a look he really didn’t understand, some strange mix of amused, pitying and irritated. “Blaine happens to have extracurriculars to keep up.”
Finn had huffed, but he’d left it at that.
The day Rachel had approached him at school had been the day it all started going truly downhill. She had appeared beside his locker, smiling at chatting and handing him another plate of cookies, cut out in star shapes and iced bright pink. Finn had been shocked at first, because Rachel didn’t speak to people in school. She just didn’t. Finn didn’t even see her in the halls, so for her to be standing beside him and talking like it was normal… well, it wasn’t surprising they were getting some strange looks.
It had been kind of amazing, oddly enough. Finn enjoyed talking to Rachel and there was something about her choosing - risking to come and speak to him specifically that made him want to smile. She’d squeezed his arm and he had tried not to jump, before realising that he was wearing his Letterman jacket, arms covered to the wrist. Rachel had stayed pressed tight to the lockers, sliding hurriedly out of the way of anyone who went to open a locker near her. It had its moments of reminder, moments of abnormality, but he had been enjoying their exchange until Quinn appeared.
Finn hadn’t been able to tell what she was thinking. She had that smile on her face, the one that was dead behind the eyes, and she had gripped his arm so hard her nails dug into the skin. Her voice, asking him to walk her to class, had been that dangerous silk that Finn had come to fear. As she lead him away, arm linked tightly into his, he had known he had done something terribly, terribly wrong.
**
“She has the audacity to speak to him in school, right in front of me. I’ve seen her, she doesn’t speak to anyone, and all of a sudden she’s up and chatting to my boyfriend? She gave him cookies, Blaine. Like a girl scout.”
“They were just talking, Quinn. It sounds pretty harmless.” Blaine knew it wasn’t harmless. He wanted to yell and rant with her, tell her that even if Finn didn’t realise it, he was forming an emotional connection with Rachel. He refrained.
“It doesn’t have to be physical to be cheating.”
Blaine nodded. “It’s worse when it isn’t.”
“Exactly,” Quinn said, taking a bite of the cookie she’d begrudgingly let Blaine buy for her. He’d insisted that she needed it. Smarties make everything better, Quinn, you know it’s true. “It’s like our whole relationship isn’t enough for him. Maybe we don’t talk the way he wants us to, or he doesn’t feel like he loves me enough, or maybe his connection with her is just better.” Blaine tried not to wince at the word choice. “It’s just that Finn’s the kind of guy who’ll fall in love with a girl without even realising it. And where does that leave me?”
“Talking to me?” Blaine smiled, trying to cheer her up. She just huffed.
“I’m sorry,” she said, waving off Blaine’s don’t be. She rested her chin on her hand. “I feel like I just unload everything on you and expect you to deal with it. You must think I’m awful.”
“You need to say these things to someone or you’d probably explode. I think the fact that you can’t say them to Finn is part of the problem. I can tell my boyfriend the things that are upsetting me. That’s why I don’t have to tell them to you.”
“Once again, Blaine has a perfect relationship.”
“It’s not perfect. It’s just functioning?”
“And mine isn’t?”
“Does it sound like it to you?” Blaine shook his head, stealing one of the Smarties that had fallen off the cookie. “If you can’t talk to Finn about what’s bothering you, you need to seriously rethink what you’re doing.”
Quinn nodded. “I can’t break up with him.”
“I wasn’t telling you to.”
“I know.” Quinn smiled. “You’d never tell me what to do.” She reached over and took Blaine’s hand. “What am I supposed to say to him?”
“Whatever you need to. Although you might want to tone it down a little. If you let it all out the way you do to me, I don’t think he’s going to be able to take it. You have the tendency to be the tiniest bit scary.”
Quinn raised her eyebrows at him. “Just the tiniest bit?”
“Maybe a large chunk.”
“Glad to know I can get to you, Blaine.”
“What are friends for?”
**
Kurt had started picking Finn up every time he had practice. Finn would hitch a ride with Puck in the morning, and Burt had cleaned up an old car from the shop for Kurt to have as his own. Going to the shop every time was becoming a problem of safety; he could only dodge the other employees for so long.
Kurt would slide into a space in the McKinley High parking lot a few minutes early, sitting in the car until a minute before the footballers’ usual exit time. He would be waiting in the same place when they came through the doors, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest and his face schooled into an impassive expression. Finn would come over to him, bringing Puck with him. Puck had learned early on not to try any bro fists or shoulder shoves with Kurt. It became an unspoken rule between them.
Finn always let them linger quite close to the other guys. For a while, Kurt didn’t try to make direct contact with Dave again. He was just present, making himself something expected, something normal. Only after a week did he actively make contact again.
They were walking to their cars, many of them heading in the same direction. Dave stopped beside his own, fumbling for his keys in his pocket. Kurt paused, looking the car over, then back at Dave, who was watching him.
“That’s a really nice car you’ve got there.”
“Great,” Karofsky muttered, retrieving his keys at last, “now I know my car gets the fairy boy stamp of approval.”
“What did you say?” Kurt took a step back, heart beating up into his throat. How had he been able to tell?
“Kurt,” Finn said, grabbing his arm and pulling away. Kurt followed, hand coming to grip tightly at Finn’s forearm.
“How does he know? Finn, what did I do? What do I do? How did he guess?”
“He didn’t mean that,” Finn said, opening Kurt’s door for him as he was too jittery to work the handle. He pushed Kurt slightly, making him get inside. Kurt barely registered that he wasn’t in the driving seat.
“What else could he possibly mean?” Kurt hissed as soon as Finn was in the car.
“Kurt, ‘fairy’ is an insult for gay people.”
Kurt sat back in his seat. “Oh.” Finn nodded, turning out onto the road. “So he doesn’t… he doesn’t know what I am. But he still hates me.”
“Don’t let it get to you,” Finn said. “Karofsky doesn’t know what he’s saying.”
“No, I think he does.” Kurt shook his head, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. He could see himself standing on an endless stretch of land, a long road winding from beneath his feet off into the distance. It was hot and dusty, and his feet were bare. Kurt tried to see a turn or a fork near the horizon, but there was none. He sighed, blinking his eyes open to the smell of newly upholstered leather and the quiet whir of a healthy engine.
He had a long way to walk.
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