Happy Anniversary (PG)
Title: Happy Anniversary
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1850
Spoilers: not in the slightest
Summary: From this prompt
When Kurt first tells Blaine what he wants to do on their six month anniversary, Blaine’s not sure how to react.
“Are you sure?” He asks, taking a step away. “That just seems like a really big step; and I want you to be sure you’re ready for that.” He pauses for a moment, as if considering his words. “If I’m perfectly honest, I think I have to admit that I’m not sure if I’m ready for that.” He holds his breath as he waits for Kurt’s response. It’s not as if he hasn’t thought about this; he’s thought about it a lot over the last six months, but he knows this is something Kurt’s never done with someone else before, and he wants to make sure he’s thought this through all the way.
Kurt’s face grows cold as he takes in Blaine’s answer. “Fine,” he says, “if you really feel that way, I’m not going to push you. I won’t lie and say I’m not disappointed, but I do understand, and I appreciate your honesty. I wouldn’t want to share this with someone who wasn’t comfortable with it.”
Blaine exhales slowly, and he takes a seat in Kurt’s desk chair. He rests his eyes on a lone picture frame and bites his lip. ”If you wait for the perfect moment, you’re going to miss your chance, and you don’t want to push this one away,” he tells himself. “Kurt - “ he’s already regretting what he’s about to say, “I’m scared, okay? I’ve never done anything like this before, and I just…” he bites his lip and puts his head in his hands, “don’t want to ruin what should be an important moment for you. If it’s really this important to you, I’ll do it, but I want you to know that I have my reservations.”
Kurt crosses his arms across his chest as he looks out the window. “It’s not going to be beautiful, Blaine. It never is. You understanding that already means that you’re more ready for this than you think.” He turns from the window and sits himself on the edge of the bed, directly across from Blaine. “I still want this to happen, but if you don’t think you can do it just yet, I can’t hold it against you. I’ll leave it up to you. You know where you can find me that day, and if you decide you’re ready, I’ll be waiting for you.”
-------------------
It’s three days later when Blaine drives his car down the narrow lane and brings it to a stop behind Kurt’s Navigator. It takes him a moment to find Kurt, hugging himself and rocking back and forth on a low marble bench. “Hey,” he says, kneeling in front of him.
Kurt looks up from the ground to meet his gaze. His eyes are wild and wet with tears, his face a mottled canvas of red blotches. “I can’t-“ he begins, his voice thick with tears, “I can’t find her.” He balls his hands into fists and rubs them against his eyes. “I thought she was here, near this bench, but I’ve looked and looked and I can’t-“ he chokes on a sob, and Blaine quickly takes him into his arms. “What kind of son am I, if I can’t even remember where she is? I haven’t even been to see her in years because I just-“ he raises his eyes to the sky, “can’t stand the thought of her being there. I can’t look at some patch of dirt and grass and see that as my mother. My mother was warmth, and love, and safety, and life, and-“ he breaks off and wipes his tear-streaked cheeks with the edge of his wrist. “She was the exact opposite of everything this place stands for.”
“Shh, shh…don’t-“ he buries his face in Kurt’s neck, “don’t beat yourself up about this. Let me help.” Carefully, he takes Kurt by the hands and wraps an arm around his waist. Kurt’s eyes are too wet with tears to be of much use, so Blaine works overtime to read the markers as they pass. They wander up and down the rows for about fifteen minutes before Blaine spots something that makes him pause.
“Kurt,” he whispers softly into his boyfriend’s ear, “I think I’ve found it.” Kurt kneels to examine the bronze grave marker, and gives a small nod. It’s become overgrown with weeds, but the name Hummel is more or less visible. “Wait here,” Blaine says, and he runs back to his car. A moment later, he returns with a small bucket holding an assortment of odds and ends. First thing he takes out is a small pair of pruning shears, and he uses them to cut away the growth covering the rest of the marker. Next comes a bottle of Armor-All and a small square of chamois. “I asked my mom what she takes to my grandfather’s when it needs cleaning. She let me take her bucket of supplies, just in case.” Finally, he takes a small trowel, and gently prods the ground just below the marker until it sinks the slightest amount. Carefully, he pushes it in, and uses the sharp edge of it to break through the roots that have grown over the small round hole meant to hold flowers and other gifts left behind. After returning the bucket to his car, he reappears with a bottle of water and a small bouquet of white roses.
“Those were her favorites,” Kurt says in mild astonishment. “How did you know?”
“The picture on your desk; the one of you on her lap. You’re holding them.” Blaine snips the ends of the flowers and places them in the small metal cup inside the cement holder. “I thought it was only right that I bring something.” Kurt doesn’t say anything, but Blaine can tell he’s pleased. Not just at the flowers, or that he knew which ones to get, but with everything that’s happened. Together, they look down at the marker, clean and shining from Blaine’s efforts.
Elizabeth Curtis Hummel
Beloved Wife, Mother, Daughter, Sister, Friend
Her song lives in our hearts
1970 - 2001
Kurt repositions himself beside the grave and traces her name with his fingers. “I was named for her, you know. Kind of, anyway.” Sensing Blaine’s confusion, he continues. “They’d meant to name me Julian, at first,” he gives a small smile, “but the nurse on duty when I was born was on her twenty-sixth hour of what was supposed to be an eleven hour shift, and she filled out the paperwork wrong. Instead of Julian Kyle, she misheard Mom’s name and wrote Curtis Elizabeth. They told my parents about it almost immediately, and my mom just laughed and said it was a good thing, because I looked more like a Curtis than a Julian. She loved Vonnegut, so she decided to change Curtis to Kurt, but otherwise…” he trailed off, “it stayed as it was. Curtis was Mom’s maiden name, and she was convinced no one really paid attention to middle names.”
Blaine gave a laugh before he could help himself. “Your middle name is Elizabeth?! How did I not know this about you?”
Kurt chuckled softly and looked at the bronze rectangle at his side. “Hear that, Mom? You were right. Not even my boyfriend had any interest in what my middle name is until I told him.” He raised his eyes to meet Blaine’s once more. “I know people think it’s silly when they find out about it, but I like my middle name. It makes me feel closer to her, somehow. Like part of her is still here.”
“She is.” Says Blaine, simply. “She’s in your smile, and the way you take care of everyone around you, and your need to drink every possible drop out of what life gives you-“
“Wait,” Kurt cuts him off, “how do you know any of that?”
Blaine considers making something up, but in the end, he has to be honest about this. “Your dad.”
“My dad?” Kurt asks, dumbfounded. “When did you and my dad ever talk about my mom?”
“Pretty often, actually. Not in depth, but little bits and pieces, here and there, when you leave the room or aren’t here yet when I arrive. It was kind of weird at first, but I like it; it makes me feel closer to you.” He pauses for a moment. “You don’t really talk about her, and I wanted to know what she was like.”
Kurt reaches out for his boyfriend’s hand and wraps his fingers around it. Slowly, he begins to open up about the woman who even now is always at the edge of his thoughts. How she smelled (like roses and rain), how she moved (elegantly, but not intimidating), how Kurt’s own knack for the perfect one-liner pales in comparison to hers, and more. Every so often, Kurt laughs, or addresses a comment to his mother, and Blaine doesn’t think he’s ever seen him look so incredible. There’s an intimacy to this that no amount of lovemaking could ever bring them, and if he hadn’t already known that he was in love with this amazing young man, there wasn’t any doubt about it now. Eventually, Kurt takes a deep breath, exhales slowly, and says that it’s almost time for the gates to close, and they should probably get going. He kisses the fingertips of his right hand and places them on the word “mother.” “Good-bye, Mom. Happy fortieth birthday, wherever you may be.” He extends an arm toward Blaine, but Blaine shakes his head.
“Can you give me a moment, Kurt?” Kurt nods slowly, and as he turns to walk to his car, Blaine runs his fingers softly through the grass upon which he rests. “Hey,” he starts with some hesitation. “I know you don’t know me, but my name’s Blaine, and I’m kind of in love with your son. I wish I could have known you, or that you could see what an incredible person Kurt is. It’s hard for him to come here, but I know that he thinks about you every day, and…” he feels a lump rise in his throat and tears tug at the corners of his eyes, “I just wanted to thank you for bringing him into this world, so that I could have the chance to know him. I never would have guessed that the biggest gift of my life would come from someone I’d never get to properly meet, but I couldn’t be here and not say something.” He kisses the tips of his left hand and touches them to the word “friend” before he rises to his feet and makes his way to where Kurt leans against his car. “Happy anniversary, Kurt.” He plants a kiss on the taller boy’s cheek. “I can’t think of a better way we could have spent the day.”
Truck Driving Schools
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1850
Spoilers: not in the slightest
Summary: From this prompt
When Kurt first tells Blaine what he wants to do on their six month anniversary, Blaine’s not sure how to react.
“Are you sure?” He asks, taking a step away. “That just seems like a really big step; and I want you to be sure you’re ready for that.” He pauses for a moment, as if considering his words. “If I’m perfectly honest, I think I have to admit that I’m not sure if I’m ready for that.” He holds his breath as he waits for Kurt’s response. It’s not as if he hasn’t thought about this; he’s thought about it a lot over the last six months, but he knows this is something Kurt’s never done with someone else before, and he wants to make sure he’s thought this through all the way.
Kurt’s face grows cold as he takes in Blaine’s answer. “Fine,” he says, “if you really feel that way, I’m not going to push you. I won’t lie and say I’m not disappointed, but I do understand, and I appreciate your honesty. I wouldn’t want to share this with someone who wasn’t comfortable with it.”
Blaine exhales slowly, and he takes a seat in Kurt’s desk chair. He rests his eyes on a lone picture frame and bites his lip. ”If you wait for the perfect moment, you’re going to miss your chance, and you don’t want to push this one away,” he tells himself. “Kurt - “ he’s already regretting what he’s about to say, “I’m scared, okay? I’ve never done anything like this before, and I just…” he bites his lip and puts his head in his hands, “don’t want to ruin what should be an important moment for you. If it’s really this important to you, I’ll do it, but I want you to know that I have my reservations.”
Kurt crosses his arms across his chest as he looks out the window. “It’s not going to be beautiful, Blaine. It never is. You understanding that already means that you’re more ready for this than you think.” He turns from the window and sits himself on the edge of the bed, directly across from Blaine. “I still want this to happen, but if you don’t think you can do it just yet, I can’t hold it against you. I’ll leave it up to you. You know where you can find me that day, and if you decide you’re ready, I’ll be waiting for you.”
-------------------
It’s three days later when Blaine drives his car down the narrow lane and brings it to a stop behind Kurt’s Navigator. It takes him a moment to find Kurt, hugging himself and rocking back and forth on a low marble bench. “Hey,” he says, kneeling in front of him.
Kurt looks up from the ground to meet his gaze. His eyes are wild and wet with tears, his face a mottled canvas of red blotches. “I can’t-“ he begins, his voice thick with tears, “I can’t find her.” He balls his hands into fists and rubs them against his eyes. “I thought she was here, near this bench, but I’ve looked and looked and I can’t-“ he chokes on a sob, and Blaine quickly takes him into his arms. “What kind of son am I, if I can’t even remember where she is? I haven’t even been to see her in years because I just-“ he raises his eyes to the sky, “can’t stand the thought of her being there. I can’t look at some patch of dirt and grass and see that as my mother. My mother was warmth, and love, and safety, and life, and-“ he breaks off and wipes his tear-streaked cheeks with the edge of his wrist. “She was the exact opposite of everything this place stands for.”
“Shh, shh…don’t-“ he buries his face in Kurt’s neck, “don’t beat yourself up about this. Let me help.” Carefully, he takes Kurt by the hands and wraps an arm around his waist. Kurt’s eyes are too wet with tears to be of much use, so Blaine works overtime to read the markers as they pass. They wander up and down the rows for about fifteen minutes before Blaine spots something that makes him pause.
“Kurt,” he whispers softly into his boyfriend’s ear, “I think I’ve found it.” Kurt kneels to examine the bronze grave marker, and gives a small nod. It’s become overgrown with weeds, but the name Hummel is more or less visible. “Wait here,” Blaine says, and he runs back to his car. A moment later, he returns with a small bucket holding an assortment of odds and ends. First thing he takes out is a small pair of pruning shears, and he uses them to cut away the growth covering the rest of the marker. Next comes a bottle of Armor-All and a small square of chamois. “I asked my mom what she takes to my grandfather’s when it needs cleaning. She let me take her bucket of supplies, just in case.” Finally, he takes a small trowel, and gently prods the ground just below the marker until it sinks the slightest amount. Carefully, he pushes it in, and uses the sharp edge of it to break through the roots that have grown over the small round hole meant to hold flowers and other gifts left behind. After returning the bucket to his car, he reappears with a bottle of water and a small bouquet of white roses.
“Those were her favorites,” Kurt says in mild astonishment. “How did you know?”
“The picture on your desk; the one of you on her lap. You’re holding them.” Blaine snips the ends of the flowers and places them in the small metal cup inside the cement holder. “I thought it was only right that I bring something.” Kurt doesn’t say anything, but Blaine can tell he’s pleased. Not just at the flowers, or that he knew which ones to get, but with everything that’s happened. Together, they look down at the marker, clean and shining from Blaine’s efforts.
Elizabeth Curtis Hummel
Beloved Wife, Mother, Daughter, Sister, Friend
Her song lives in our hearts
1970 - 2001
Kurt repositions himself beside the grave and traces her name with his fingers. “I was named for her, you know. Kind of, anyway.” Sensing Blaine’s confusion, he continues. “They’d meant to name me Julian, at first,” he gives a small smile, “but the nurse on duty when I was born was on her twenty-sixth hour of what was supposed to be an eleven hour shift, and she filled out the paperwork wrong. Instead of Julian Kyle, she misheard Mom’s name and wrote Curtis Elizabeth. They told my parents about it almost immediately, and my mom just laughed and said it was a good thing, because I looked more like a Curtis than a Julian. She loved Vonnegut, so she decided to change Curtis to Kurt, but otherwise…” he trailed off, “it stayed as it was. Curtis was Mom’s maiden name, and she was convinced no one really paid attention to middle names.”
Blaine gave a laugh before he could help himself. “Your middle name is Elizabeth?! How did I not know this about you?”
Kurt chuckled softly and looked at the bronze rectangle at his side. “Hear that, Mom? You were right. Not even my boyfriend had any interest in what my middle name is until I told him.” He raised his eyes to meet Blaine’s once more. “I know people think it’s silly when they find out about it, but I like my middle name. It makes me feel closer to her, somehow. Like part of her is still here.”
“She is.” Says Blaine, simply. “She’s in your smile, and the way you take care of everyone around you, and your need to drink every possible drop out of what life gives you-“
“Wait,” Kurt cuts him off, “how do you know any of that?”
Blaine considers making something up, but in the end, he has to be honest about this. “Your dad.”
“My dad?” Kurt asks, dumbfounded. “When did you and my dad ever talk about my mom?”
“Pretty often, actually. Not in depth, but little bits and pieces, here and there, when you leave the room or aren’t here yet when I arrive. It was kind of weird at first, but I like it; it makes me feel closer to you.” He pauses for a moment. “You don’t really talk about her, and I wanted to know what she was like.”
Kurt reaches out for his boyfriend’s hand and wraps his fingers around it. Slowly, he begins to open up about the woman who even now is always at the edge of his thoughts. How she smelled (like roses and rain), how she moved (elegantly, but not intimidating), how Kurt’s own knack for the perfect one-liner pales in comparison to hers, and more. Every so often, Kurt laughs, or addresses a comment to his mother, and Blaine doesn’t think he’s ever seen him look so incredible. There’s an intimacy to this that no amount of lovemaking could ever bring them, and if he hadn’t already known that he was in love with this amazing young man, there wasn’t any doubt about it now. Eventually, Kurt takes a deep breath, exhales slowly, and says that it’s almost time for the gates to close, and they should probably get going. He kisses the fingertips of his right hand and places them on the word “mother.” “Good-bye, Mom. Happy fortieth birthday, wherever you may be.” He extends an arm toward Blaine, but Blaine shakes his head.
“Can you give me a moment, Kurt?” Kurt nods slowly, and as he turns to walk to his car, Blaine runs his fingers softly through the grass upon which he rests. “Hey,” he starts with some hesitation. “I know you don’t know me, but my name’s Blaine, and I’m kind of in love with your son. I wish I could have known you, or that you could see what an incredible person Kurt is. It’s hard for him to come here, but I know that he thinks about you every day, and…” he feels a lump rise in his throat and tears tug at the corners of his eyes, “I just wanted to thank you for bringing him into this world, so that I could have the chance to know him. I never would have guessed that the biggest gift of my life would come from someone I’d never get to properly meet, but I couldn’t be here and not say something.” He kisses the tips of his left hand and touches them to the word “friend” before he rises to his feet and makes his way to where Kurt leans against his car. “Happy anniversary, Kurt.” He plants a kiss on the taller boy’s cheek. “I can’t think of a better way we could have spent the day.”
Truck Driving Schools