Media: Fic
Title: Six Hundred, Fifty-Seven Thousand, Four Hundred Thirty-Five and Nine Hundred Fifty-Eight Thousandths Minutes (Jonathan Larson Is a Musician, Not a Mathematician) [Chapter 1/5]
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1241/1241
Warnings/Spoilers: Past episodes that no longer count as spoilers under comm rules. Y'all betta catch yoselves up if you ain't seen SLS yet. Also, WHAT. WHAT. NO ANGST? THIS IS A NIGHT OF FIRSTS ALL AROUND.
Summary: A year (and a quarter) in the life of two boys, measured in street lights and impromptu singalongs and tears and jokes about personal style.
A/N: I was initially going to utilize this for the Klaine Big Bang but decided that there were better concepts that would last much longer for that, and instead decided to make this a shorter five-part. Sorry the title is so monstrously long but I couldn't help it.
SUMMER
The burning heat of midday sun would laze its way into cooler, oppressive night heat. They spent those nights in empty parking lots and walking down heavily trafficked roads just because they could. Blaine would laugh, loud and long, his mouth wide and his face tipped towards the moon, high with the heady taste of freedom, and Kurt would watch, eyes wide and wanting, even after all of the mistakes they'd both made, all of the almost-lovers they'd never really had.
"You know what reminds me of summer?" Blaine asks excitedly, turning to Kurt, hazel eyes bright with excitement. Kurt's eyes, a curious shade of green in the hazy yellow light of the streetlamp, are equally intense but with interest. "Relient K and Yellowcard. They're just... summer bands." Kurt rolls his eyes.
"You are such an ironic hipster and I should disown you," he jokes fondly, spinning away from Blaine to leap gracefully onto a crumbling parking block. "Let's sing. I'm sure I know something you know that we haven't sung a thousand times."
"Katy Perry!" chirps Blaine excitedly.
Kurt levels a glare at him. "I am sick to death of Katy Perry," he scoffs. "'Hot and dangerous. If you're one of us then roll with us 'cause we make the hipsters fall in love when we’ve got our hot-pants on and up," he sings, smirking at Blaine.
Blaine, for once, doesn't rise to the bait of Ke$ha songs and instead yanks Kurt off the parking block and into his arms, cradling him closer than he usually does. His eyes close as he drops his head onto Kurt's shoulder and ignores Kurt's protest that it's far too sticky and hot for hugging.
"Shh," Blaine says, turning his head into Kurt's neck and inhaling.
"That's kind of creepy," Kurt protest softly, biting his lip hard enough to keep from shivering, despite the heat.
"You're right," Blaine breathes softly, dragging his head from Kurt's shoulder to look him in the eyes. "But you don't care."
"No, not really," Kurt admits, his heart racing. "Is this the part where we decide risking everything we already have to have something more is the best idea we've ever had?"
"No," Blaine says. When Kurt's face falls, he smiles softly. "But it is where we decide it's at least worth a shot."
Blaine could catalogue every nuance of Kurt's reaction - the slow raise of his head and the confused frown before the edges of his mouth tip up into a confused smile and his eyebrows furrow. His head tips to the side before understanding dawns on his face and the small smile grows into a grin - the kind where his teeth peek out from underneath his lips and he's honestly, truly happy in a way people don't get to see often, and Blaine is proud (and a little scared) that he seems to be able to get this reaction out of Kurt.
Sometimes it seems, especially in these dark, endlessly empty nights, that he is Kurt's whole world, and Kurt is his, and this sudden change in their orbits and gravitational pull seems natural, like Blaine was fighting nature all along.
He wonders if he'll see fireworks when he kisses Kurt. He wonders when he'll find out. Not long, he supposes, since Kurt is examining his lips with a thinly veiled interest.
"So it's just occurred to me," Blaine whispers, tilting his head up those ten or so degrees that he needs to look Kurt in the eyes, "that neither of us has ever really had a real kiss to speak of."
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Kurt asks, leaning in.
And then he hiccups.
They freeze and stare blankly at each other before giggling like schoolgirls, pulling away. "Well, there's a lost moment," Blaine manages through his laughter. Kurt nods hopelessly, too breathless with hiccups and laughter to form words.
They manage to get the giggles under control, but not the hiccups until Blaine asks Kurt very seriously if he's ever seen a purple elephant. Kurt is taken aback, but answers yes after only a beat, causing more giggles before he sits bolt upright and shrieks that his hiccups are gone. Blaine crows loudly, fist pumping in a spastic imitation of Dan, because after Kurt admitted that watching the freshman fist pump to Katy Perry was one of the most amusing things he'd ever seen, Blaine couldn't help but imitate it at every opportunity.
"This is Facebook worthy," Kurt vows, clutching at Blaine's arm with one hand as he scrabbles for his phone to type an update. Blaine's beeps a few moments after Kurt presses send and drops the phone back into his pocket. "Blaine, you have me on status update?" Kurt asks, fluttering his eyelashes and swooning. "That's so creepily romantic."
"Actually," Blaine mutters, blushing furiously in the general direction of the ground.
"Oh. You really did," Kurt says, taken aback. "I was kidding."
"I am being kind of creepy," Blaine winces.
"Well, it's because you have a crush on me, right?" Kurt asks, unable to stop himself from grinning with unadulterated pleasure at the thought. "Then we have that crush-behavior in common. And since it's reciprocated, you can expect similar creepiness from me, as well. I, for one, have had you on status update since you approved my friend request," Kurt confesses. Blaine smiles weakly before Kurt lays down on the tar carelessly. "It's jean shorts and a t-shirt and it's summer," he says by way of explanation when Blaine raises an eyebrow. "I deserve one season a year of not giving a single freaking damn about anything."
Blaine lies down so that their heads are side by side but their bodies are oriented in opposite directions.
"Glad to see you're lightening up a little," Kurt says quietly, smiling softly to himself.
"Glad to see I've come to my stupid senses," Blaine adds. "Jeremiah was..."
"A bullfrog?" Kurt supplies helpfully, only to be batted gently on the top of the head by Blaine.
"Not my type. Even though he was a hipster," Blaine allows. "I also like Vogue and football and Beyonce and HEY WE CAN SING BEYONCE!" Blaine shouts.
Kurt winces. "My face is literally an inch away from yours, Blaine," he reminds him.
"Sorry," Blaine says at a more reasonable volume. "It's just - we both like Beyonce. We could totally sing a Beyonce song."
"And what would we sing? 'Ego'?" Kurt asks, snorting.
"If you wanted to," Blaine says softly, biting his lip.
"I kind of want to," Kurt tells him, turning his head. "Hello, moment, I thought you died when my hiccups started," he says softly, staring at Blaine's lips.
"I'm not even good at this right side up," Blaine informs Kurt. "Maybe we should do this sitting up to save us both some embarrassment." Kurt wordlessly sits up and turns his head to look at Blaine, only to find Blaine mirroring him. They turn towards each other awkwardly, no longer in sync, and nearly collide at the last few inches of space.
"Sorry," they both whisper, as Kurt's left hand lands on Blaine's calf and Blaine almost headbutts Kurt in the shoulder. That same hand then hesitantly reaches for Blaine's face and tips it up; Blaine searches Kurt's eyes and finds the same uncertainty that was there in that coffee shop last February, and with a deep breath, chases it off with a gentle press of his lips to Kurt's.
No fireworks. Yet. But there's a warm feeling in his chest, and he's pretty sure it's not the humidity. From Kurt's smile, he can tell Kurt probably felt it too.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1241/1241
Warnings/Spoilers: Past episodes that no longer count as spoilers under comm rules. Y'all betta catch yoselves up if you ain't seen SLS yet. Also, WHAT. WHAT. NO ANGST? THIS IS A NIGHT OF FIRSTS ALL AROUND.
Summary: A year (and a quarter) in the life of two boys, measured in street lights and impromptu singalongs and tears and jokes about personal style.
A/N: I was initially going to utilize this for the Klaine Big Bang but decided that there were better concepts that would last much longer for that, and instead decided to make this a shorter five-part. Sorry the title is so monstrously long but I couldn't help it.
SUMMER
The burning heat of midday sun would laze its way into cooler, oppressive night heat. They spent those nights in empty parking lots and walking down heavily trafficked roads just because they could. Blaine would laugh, loud and long, his mouth wide and his face tipped towards the moon, high with the heady taste of freedom, and Kurt would watch, eyes wide and wanting, even after all of the mistakes they'd both made, all of the almost-lovers they'd never really had.
"You know what reminds me of summer?" Blaine asks excitedly, turning to Kurt, hazel eyes bright with excitement. Kurt's eyes, a curious shade of green in the hazy yellow light of the streetlamp, are equally intense but with interest. "Relient K and Yellowcard. They're just... summer bands." Kurt rolls his eyes.
"You are such an ironic hipster and I should disown you," he jokes fondly, spinning away from Blaine to leap gracefully onto a crumbling parking block. "Let's sing. I'm sure I know something you know that we haven't sung a thousand times."
"Katy Perry!" chirps Blaine excitedly.
Kurt levels a glare at him. "I am sick to death of Katy Perry," he scoffs. "'Hot and dangerous. If you're one of us then roll with us 'cause we make the hipsters fall in love when we’ve got our hot-pants on and up," he sings, smirking at Blaine.
Blaine, for once, doesn't rise to the bait of Ke$ha songs and instead yanks Kurt off the parking block and into his arms, cradling him closer than he usually does. His eyes close as he drops his head onto Kurt's shoulder and ignores Kurt's protest that it's far too sticky and hot for hugging.
"Shh," Blaine says, turning his head into Kurt's neck and inhaling.
"That's kind of creepy," Kurt protest softly, biting his lip hard enough to keep from shivering, despite the heat.
"You're right," Blaine breathes softly, dragging his head from Kurt's shoulder to look him in the eyes. "But you don't care."
"No, not really," Kurt admits, his heart racing. "Is this the part where we decide risking everything we already have to have something more is the best idea we've ever had?"
"No," Blaine says. When Kurt's face falls, he smiles softly. "But it is where we decide it's at least worth a shot."
Blaine could catalogue every nuance of Kurt's reaction - the slow raise of his head and the confused frown before the edges of his mouth tip up into a confused smile and his eyebrows furrow. His head tips to the side before understanding dawns on his face and the small smile grows into a grin - the kind where his teeth peek out from underneath his lips and he's honestly, truly happy in a way people don't get to see often, and Blaine is proud (and a little scared) that he seems to be able to get this reaction out of Kurt.
Sometimes it seems, especially in these dark, endlessly empty nights, that he is Kurt's whole world, and Kurt is his, and this sudden change in their orbits and gravitational pull seems natural, like Blaine was fighting nature all along.
He wonders if he'll see fireworks when he kisses Kurt. He wonders when he'll find out. Not long, he supposes, since Kurt is examining his lips with a thinly veiled interest.
"So it's just occurred to me," Blaine whispers, tilting his head up those ten or so degrees that he needs to look Kurt in the eyes, "that neither of us has ever really had a real kiss to speak of."
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Kurt asks, leaning in.
And then he hiccups.
They freeze and stare blankly at each other before giggling like schoolgirls, pulling away. "Well, there's a lost moment," Blaine manages through his laughter. Kurt nods hopelessly, too breathless with hiccups and laughter to form words.
They manage to get the giggles under control, but not the hiccups until Blaine asks Kurt very seriously if he's ever seen a purple elephant. Kurt is taken aback, but answers yes after only a beat, causing more giggles before he sits bolt upright and shrieks that his hiccups are gone. Blaine crows loudly, fist pumping in a spastic imitation of Dan, because after Kurt admitted that watching the freshman fist pump to Katy Perry was one of the most amusing things he'd ever seen, Blaine couldn't help but imitate it at every opportunity.
"This is Facebook worthy," Kurt vows, clutching at Blaine's arm with one hand as he scrabbles for his phone to type an update. Blaine's beeps a few moments after Kurt presses send and drops the phone back into his pocket. "Blaine, you have me on status update?" Kurt asks, fluttering his eyelashes and swooning. "That's so creepily romantic."
"Actually," Blaine mutters, blushing furiously in the general direction of the ground.
"Oh. You really did," Kurt says, taken aback. "I was kidding."
"I am being kind of creepy," Blaine winces.
"Well, it's because you have a crush on me, right?" Kurt asks, unable to stop himself from grinning with unadulterated pleasure at the thought. "Then we have that crush-behavior in common. And since it's reciprocated, you can expect similar creepiness from me, as well. I, for one, have had you on status update since you approved my friend request," Kurt confesses. Blaine smiles weakly before Kurt lays down on the tar carelessly. "It's jean shorts and a t-shirt and it's summer," he says by way of explanation when Blaine raises an eyebrow. "I deserve one season a year of not giving a single freaking damn about anything."
Blaine lies down so that their heads are side by side but their bodies are oriented in opposite directions.
"Glad to see you're lightening up a little," Kurt says quietly, smiling softly to himself.
"Glad to see I've come to my stupid senses," Blaine adds. "Jeremiah was..."
"A bullfrog?" Kurt supplies helpfully, only to be batted gently on the top of the head by Blaine.
"Not my type. Even though he was a hipster," Blaine allows. "I also like Vogue and football and Beyonce and HEY WE CAN SING BEYONCE!" Blaine shouts.
Kurt winces. "My face is literally an inch away from yours, Blaine," he reminds him.
"Sorry," Blaine says at a more reasonable volume. "It's just - we both like Beyonce. We could totally sing a Beyonce song."
"And what would we sing? 'Ego'?" Kurt asks, snorting.
"If you wanted to," Blaine says softly, biting his lip.
"I kind of want to," Kurt tells him, turning his head. "Hello, moment, I thought you died when my hiccups started," he says softly, staring at Blaine's lips.
"I'm not even good at this right side up," Blaine informs Kurt. "Maybe we should do this sitting up to save us both some embarrassment." Kurt wordlessly sits up and turns his head to look at Blaine, only to find Blaine mirroring him. They turn towards each other awkwardly, no longer in sync, and nearly collide at the last few inches of space.
"Sorry," they both whisper, as Kurt's left hand lands on Blaine's calf and Blaine almost headbutts Kurt in the shoulder. That same hand then hesitantly reaches for Blaine's face and tips it up; Blaine searches Kurt's eyes and finds the same uncertainty that was there in that coffee shop last February, and with a deep breath, chases it off with a gentle press of his lips to Kurt's.
No fireworks. Yet. But there's a warm feeling in his chest, and he's pretty sure it's not the humidity. From Kurt's smile, he can tell Kurt probably felt it too.