Fic: New York, New York | Part One: Road Full of Promise (8/13)
Title: New York, New York | Part One: Road Full of Promise (8/13)
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Kurt/Blaine, Rachel, mentions of Finn and various OCs/family members
Spoilers: Through 2x22 “New York”
Warnings: Underage drinking
Word Count: 4,051
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters. I’m just borrowing them for a little while.
Summary: Kurt, Blaine and Rachel celebrate Thanksgiving together at college: complete with a tofurkey, a little too much pinot grigio, and some funny country western accents.
Author’s Note: This chapter is inspired by a Thanksgiving dinner I had with some friends in the dorms my senior year of college. It was seriously one of the best Thanksgivings of my life. Enjoy this bit of fluff! (Although there's more than a few significant little nuggets thrown in along the way.) Oh, and apologies to any Finchel fans...
Previous chapters: Kurtain (prologue) | Admission (prologue) | Spark (one-shot) | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven
***
“Mustard and cranberry - not just for your Thanksgiving plate!”
Kurt frowned with dissatisfaction at the headline he’d just drafted for his latest blog post. He hit return, typing out another idea below the first one.
“Mustard and cranberry - from your Thanksgiving plate to your wardrobe!”
“That’s even worse,” Kurt muttered, picking up his fork and stabbing at his salad. He hoped his terrible headline writing skills wouldn’t spell doom for his budding editorial career.
Kurt snuggled deeper into his new wool sweater as he typed out idea after idea. The gray, cowl necked garment was his latest New York fashion acquisition; he’d staked out his favorite boutique for three weeks until it was marked down sixty percent. The cozy wool helped ward off the cold that had gripped New York as soon as October gave way to November - not to mention some of the loneliness he felt from eating dinner by himself in his room.
He and Blaine usually got dinner together on Thursday nights. But Blaine was at the theater tonight, auditioning for a role in the freshman class’s spring production of Oklahoma. Kurt sent another silent good luck wish up to the sky as he thought of his boyfriend on a big, empty stage, pouring out his soul for the chance to star in his first college production.
It was probably a good thing that he had a little bit of extra time to himself, anyway. Kurt was determined to complete everything on his blog to-do list tonight: researching other fashion blogs, writing this damn headline, drafting another post. (Thankfully, he’d already come up with a snappy title for that one: “The fashionista’s guide to surviving winter in style.”) Plus, he still had to edit three posts Ashleigh had written.
The petite, brash brunette had become his closest new friend at college, ever since the event Kurt now referred to as the sex incident on the first day of classes. After finding her note - and properly collecting himself - Kurt had gone straight to Ashleigh’s room, her red face mirroring his as she opened the door. They’d both stared at each other for a moment before bursting out laughing and hugging.
Now she was his blogging co-conspirator. Kurt had hired her to write a weekly column, photographing and interviewing people on the street about their style. He couldn’t pay her anything, of course, but she seemed thrilled at the opportunity to contribute. Kurt needed all the help he could get managing his burgeoning fashion blog while keeping up with a full course load at the same time.
He thought he’d finally struck headline gold - “Seven ways to borrow from your Thanksgiving plate for your fall wardrobe” - when a sudden, harsh knock pulled at his concentration. Then he heard the voice, muffled through his thick, wooden door. “Kurt?”
Rachel. Kurt sighed as he got up from his desk. Of course. He loved his best friend unconditionally, but she had the worst timing of anyone he knew.
Kurt plucked his copy of My Fair Lady from the TV stand on his way to the door. They’d been trading movie musicals back and forth all semester. He’d give her the DVD and shoo her away so he could finish his work as quickly as possible. After all, Kurt wanted to be able to properly celebrate Blaine’s first New York audition when he got back.
But when he opened the door, Kurt immediately forgot about Audrey Hepburn and his blog and even celebratory hand jobs. Rachel was a crying mess: fat tears streaming down her scrunched up face, her breath coming out in little hiccups.
“K-k-k-urt,” she stuttered, her chin trembling with barely held back sobs. Then she buried her face in her hands, succumbing to her tears.
“Rachel!” Kurt wrapped an arm around her hunched shoulders and ushered her into the room, closing the door behind them. He wrapped her in a tight hug, trapping her hands and face against his chest. “What happened?”
Oh, god, Kurt thought, his heart sinking. She didn’t get the lead in Oklahoma. She lost to Chelsea. We’re going to have to hear about this every day for the next four months…
“F-f-f-f-i-nnnnnn.” Her wail was muffled by the wool of Kurt’s sweater. “H-h-h-h-e…dumped me!”
Kurt’s mouth dropped open. Immediately, he remembered fall break and his candid, late-night conversation with Finn.
“She’s here and I’m there. She’s always going to be here.”
“Oh, Rachel.” Kurt dropped a kiss on the top of her glossy head. “I’m sorry.” He held her there for a few minutes, rubbing his hands up and down her back as she wept.
“Come here, sit down,” he said gently once her sobs started to die off. As he guided her to the bed, Kurt chanced a look at his prized new sweater. Wet drops clung to the wool, creating dark, damp splotches where her tears had sunk into the fabric.
There were only a handful of people in the world whom Kurt would tolerate messing up his clothes so severely. Thankfully, Rachel Berry happened to be one of them.
“He said he didn’t know how we could make it work,” Rachel bawled, her voice thick with tears. She loudly blew her nose into a tissue that Kurt offered, while Kurt used another to dab at the wet spots on his chest. “I thought we were making it work!”
Kurt pressed his lips together, thinking hard about what to say to her. He quickly decided not to reveal what Finn had told him during his visit. He was Kurt’s brother, after all. Although that didn’t mean Kurt couldn’t use the information to give Rachel his own little pep talk.
“Were you, though?” Kurt asked quietly. “Is a long-distance relationship with Finn really what you wanted?”
Rachel shifted her gaze to meet Kurt’s. “Of course I wanted it,” she answered, her eyes falling back down to her lap. “I love Finn.”
“I’m not doubting your love, Rachel. You guys were together for a long time. You experienced a lot together. But…you’re here now. You’re achieving everything you’ve ever wanted.” Kurt shifted on the bed, angling his body toward her so he could take one of her hands in his. “What did you tell me, when we snuck in to Wicked? That that was your true love: New York, the stage.”
“I know.” Rachel blew out a cleansing breath. “It is.”
“So tell me: now that you’re here, and you know what it’s like - compared to life in Lima - would you change anything?”
“No,” Rachel answered quickly, firmly. “I never want to be anywhere else.”
Kurt gave her a small, sympathetic smile. “And Finn’s never going to leave Ohio. You know that.”
“I know.” Her eyes started to get misty again. “It just hurts, though. Having a boyfriend is part of my dreams, too.”
“What, do you think Finn is the only guy who could ever be your boyfriend?” Kurt shot her a look, as if to say, Silly girl. “Rachel, there are millions of men in New York. You’re going to find somebody. And when it’s the right guy, you won’t have to choose between your dreams to be with him. They’ll all fit together. It’ll feel right.” He playfully nudged her leg with his knee. “Until then, you’re stuck with me.”
“If only you could be my boyfriend,” Rachel said jokingly.
Kurt made a face. “I promise I would have asked you out a long time ago if girls did anything for me.”
They both dissolved in laughter, Kurt still clutching her hand. When they finally calmed down again, Kurt gave her a warm smile. “You made it, Rachel. Boyfriend or not, you have it all.”
Rachel scoffed. “If only I could manage to get a part,” she mumbled. “Chelsea’s going to get Laurey. I know it. And Laurey has been one of my dream roles for years.”
Kurt thought it was an excellent sign that Rachel had moved on to discussing her theater prospects.
“Okay, okay. Let’s wait until the cast list actually comes out before I let you indulge in another pity party.” Kurt gave her hand a little shake, trying to clear away the glum air in the room. “Hey, what do you think about staying here for Thanksgiving with Blaine and me? Don’t go back to Lima. You’ll only torture yourself.”
“You’re really staying here?”
“Yeah. Blaine…” Kurt trailed off, not needing to elaborate any further.
“I get it. I’d love to stay with you guys.” Rachel sniffled one last time before giving Kurt as bright as smile as she could manage. “Thanks, Kurt. You’re the best.”
“Are you going to be okay?”
Rachel nodded. “I think so.”
“Can I send you back with My Fair Lady? I hate to do it, but I really have to finish up these blog posts. Ashleigh’s been waiting on my edits all week.”
“You’ve been hanging out with her a lot lately,” Rachel remarked quietly, looking down at their conjoined hands as she spoke. “Ashleigh.”
Kurt smiled as he thought about his new friend. “Yes. She’s really great. But, you!” He lifted Rachel’s hand to his lips, smacking a hard, noisy kiss to the back of it. “I love you.”
Rachel rewarded him with one of her trademark loud, happy laughs; although it was a little bit dimmer than usual. “You’re my best friend, Kurt,” she said passionately, gripping his hand in return. “I don’t know what I’d do without you here.” She paused to lean in a little, giving him a knowing look. “I’m not the only one who made it, you know. We both did. Together.”
Kurt smiled at her lovingly. “Together, always.”
***
When Blaine came in late that night, Kurt was alone again, reading in bed by the light of a single table lamp.
“So we have a guest for Thanksgiving,” he said in greeting, without looking up from his textbook.
Blaine didn’t even need to ask who would be joining them. “I thought she was going home?” His voice was hoarse with exhaustion, the result of a marathon day of classes and auditioning. All he wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep for hours. He started to undress: pulling off his shoes, then stripping out of his jeans.
Kurt glanced up from his reading; his eyes skimming up Blaine’s bare legs and lingering over the tight muscles in his thighs. “Finn broke up with her tonight.” He pouted a little when Blaine tugged on a pair of sweatpants.
Blaine grunted in response, lifting his sweater over his head. “Did you talk to him?” he asked, reaching to undo the buttons on his checkered shirt.
The book slipped out of Kurt’s hands onto the bed beside him as he watched Blaine unbutton his shirt. Kurt cleared his throat, making himself focus on their conversation. “I sent him a text, but he didn’t get back to me. Big surprise.”
Blaine’s button down dropped to the floor, alongside his discarded jeans and sweater. Kurt eyed the pile of worn clothes, but didn’t say anything. He’d tidy up in the morning, if Blaine didn’t get a chance before he rushed off to class.
“She’s kind of a mess right now, as you might imagine,” Kurt continued. “And she doesn’t think she’s going to get the lead in Oklahoma, either.”
Blaine hummed softly as he slid into bed. This was, without fail, his favorite part of each day: sinking into soft sheets and pillows, swaddled in Kurt’s scent and warmth; a brief respite from his hectic life as a first-year music theater student before he did it all again tomorrow.
“Everybody seems to think Chelsea’s going to get it,” Blaine said, his eyelids briefly sliding shut. “Personally, I think Rachel deserves it. But it’ll be one of them, that’s for sure. They’re miles ahead of the other girls in our studio.”
“It’s going to be Chelsea versus Rachel for the next four years, isn’t it?”
Blaine grimaced, recalling the snide looks and petty comments he’d witnessed from both of them as they battled for attention during songs and monologues in their classes. “Pretty much.”
Kurt slid down in bed so he was lying on his side, facing Blaine; not touching, but close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body. “So how’d your audition go, Curly?” he asked in a low, throaty voice, reaching his hand up to comb through the hair at the back of Blaine’s neck. He desperately needs a trim, Kurt thought absently, making a mental note to schedule an appointment for him during work the next day.
“I didn’t try out for Curly.”
Kurt threw him a scandalous look. “Why not? You’d be a perfect Curly! He’s so…happy and lovey-dovey.”
Blaine shrugged a shoulder, snuggling deeper into his pillow. “I wanted to try something different. I auditioned for Jud.”
“Oh. The dark and mysterious type, are you?” Kurt was definitely trying to flirt now. Blaine moaned regretfully. How and when, exactly, had sleep become more appealing than sex?
“Not exactly. I just get to play one in musicals. If I get the part, that is.”
“You’ll do it.” Kurt leaned down, placing an open-mouthed kiss onto the corner of Blaine’s mouth. It was hot and wet, and Blaine let out another moan of remorse. He was already having trouble focusing on anything. The sensation of Kurt’s fingers massaging into the back of his head had turned his thoughts to jelly. He could feel himself slipping away, deeper and deeper into darkness.
“The first high school relationship casualty,” Kurt mused, still rubbing small circles into Blaine’s scalp. He quietly pondered the fates of the other couples they knew from high school: Sam and Mercedes, Tina and Mike, Puck and Quinn. “I wonder who’ll be next.”
Blaine’s shadowed eyes were closed now. “Not us,” he mumbled. His eyes suddenly opened, unfocused, as a fleeting thought ran through his mind. “Wait. We’re still going to have turkey on Thanksgiving, right?”
Kurt tossed his head back, laughing lightly. “Yes. We’ll still have turkey. Rachel can find her own meat substitute this time.”
Blaine smiled, letting his eyelids slip shut again. “Thanks. I love you.”
I suppose we should save the celebratory sex for when he actually gets the part, anyway. For now, Kurt was fine settling for watching Blaine fall into a deep sleep, his face softening and his breath deepening in front of Kurt’s eyes.
“Not us,” Kurt whispered happily to his sleeping boyfriend.
***
Blaine’s anxiety had started creeping back sometime in late October, when everyone around him began talking about their plans for Thanksgiving break. Then, as if on cue, his mother had emailed him, asking if he’d like her to book him a flight home for the holiday.
“I can’t go back,” Blaine had murmured, shaking his head back and forth as he stared at her message on his computer screen.
Kurt had simply gotten up from his desk and walked over to Blaine, squeezing his shoulder in a display of love and support.
“Okay. I’ll tell my dad we’re going to stay here.” He’d leaned in, giving Blaine a kiss on the cheek and a mischievous smirk. “But I hope you realize I’m dragging you to the parade.”
***
Although Kurt missed his family desperately, the idea of making Thanksgiving dinner for him and Blaine in New York gave him a new kind of thrill; something he’d never quite experienced before in his young life.
He’d called his father from the cold streets of Manhattan early that morning, as he, Blaine and Rachel stood for hours bundled up in winter coats and huddled against each other. Kurt described each float that passed by, in the one in a million chance that Burt might spot his son in the crowd on the Hummel family’s television, six hundred miles away.
Kurt felt like such an adult, being here in the city with Blaine on a holiday. He could see the two of them hosting many more special occasions together in the future - especially when Blaine came up to him while he prepared dinner in the common kitchen, putting his hand on the small of Kurt’s back and watching his progress.
“Taste this.” Kurt held a spoonful of gravy to Blaine’s lips.
“Mmm...” Kurt’s eyes followed Blaine’s tongue as it left a wet trail along his lower lip. “Delicious.”
Kurt couldn’t help himself; he reached forward and kissed Blaine there - long, slow, brimming with love. “I’m so happy to be here with you today,” Kurt said when he finally pulled back.
The grin Blaine gave him in response could have lit New York City all night.
***
Kurt had arranged a gorgeous Thanksgiving spread on the blanket in their room; the same place they shared every dinner at home that semester. They weren’t supposed to have candles in the dorms, but Kurt couldn’t resist lighting some festive orange pillars he’d found on a recent Saturday excursion to a flea market. Just to be safe, he kept them on his and Blaine’s desks, high out of the way of their blanket and carpet.
“It’s so pretty!” Rachel gushed when she came down to join them. She gave Kurt a nod of approval. “Martha would be proud.”
Kurt couldn’t ask for a better compliment. Or a better friend. Or a better boyfriend. Certainly, not a better Thanksgiving.
“Rachel, I have something special for you.” He crouched down to lift foil off a small roasting pan. “I didn’t want you to feel left out, so…”
“Tofurkey!” she exclaimed, clapping with glee. She grabbed Kurt’s face in her hands and kissed him squarely on the lips. “Thank you, baby!”
“And I brought the perfect accompaniment,” Blaine added, popping the cork off a bottle of white wine.
“How did you get wine?” Rachel asked, looking incredulously at the two bottles of pinot grigio in front of him.
“My friend at work bought it for me. A thank you gift for covering her shifts the rest of the weekend so she could go home.” Blaine didn’t even care that he’d have to work like a dog for the remainder of Thanksgiving break; he’d have worked every day for the rest of the year if it meant he could spend the holiday here with Kurt, just like this.
“I would like to propose a toast,” Kurt announced once Blaine had finished pouring their drinks, standing and raising his glass ceremonially. “To my New York family - my love and my best friend. I’m so thankful and grateful for both of you every single day. May this be the first of many, many holidays we spend together!”
They each wore ear-to-ear smiles as they shouted all at once, “Cheers!”
***
“I wonder what fabulous beach my dads are on right now,” Rachel pondered between bites of tofurkey and ginger-glazed carrots.
“Sounds like they weren’t too heartbroken about you not going home for Thanksgiving,” Blaine remarked as he refilled their wine glasses.
“Oh, they were. That is, until their travel agent nabbed them a really great last-minute deal on a gay cruise to Mexico.” Rachel sighed. “That’ll be you guys someday. Cruising somewhere fabulous, leaving your poor children behind in the States.”
Kurt wrinkled his nose, taking another sip from his wine glass. “I don’t think cruises are my style. I’d burn to a crisp in the Caribbean.”
“How about Paris?” Blaine suggested, his smile matching his flirty tone. “Drinking coffee at an outdoor cafe while we gaze up at the Eiffel Tower.”
Kurt gave him a soft smile in return. The wine was already making everything feel so cozy, so fuzzy around the edges. “That sounds like a perfect holiday to me.” They got lost in each other’s eyes, oblivious to Rachel’s frown.
“And now I’m all alone,” she pouted. Then her face brightened. “Maybe I can come with you guys to Paris!”
“No!” Kurt and Blaine shouted in unison, just before their lips met in a sweet kiss.
***
It didn’t take much more pinot grigio before the three friends were in a rollicking good mood. Soon they had abandoned their dinner spread in favor of an impromptu performance from Oklahoma by Blaine and Rachel; their already terrible country western accents made worse by the alcohol.
Kurt was lying on his side on the floor, doubled over with laughter from their exaggerated drawls. He broke out in wild applause as they finished reciting the scene together - half the lines mumbled and slurred.
“Well, I see now why they chose you to play Laurey, Rachel!” Kurt declared, sitting up and brushing himself off as best he could through his drunken haze.
Rachel beamed. She’d gotten the lead after all. “They felt I expressed Laurey’s independent spirit best,” Rachel had told them when she burst into their room with the news. Chelsea would play the role of flirtatious Ado Annie.
Blaine ended up getting Jud - an accomplishment he and Kurt had celebrated late into the night, with more than just hand jobs.
“I have the soundtrack!” Blaine exclaimed, abruptly remembering his music collection. “I have the soundtrack,” he repeated, not quite as loudly, as he stumbled over to his desk and scrolled through his iTunes library. Music stared blaring from the tiny speakers on either side of his laptop. He grabbed Rachel’s hands, spinning her in a messy circle as they both sang.
Oh, what a beautiful mornin’
Oh, what a beautiful day
I’ve got a beautiful feelin’
Everything’s goin’ my way
Blaine let go of Rachel and made a beeline for Kurt, pulling him close and swaying out of time with the soaring melody. “Everything’s goin’ my way,” he repeated on a whisper, close to Kurt’s ear. Kurt wanted to sink into this warm feeling, to drown in it and never return to reality.
“Wait! So…wait!” Rachel held up both hands, trying to get them to listen to her. It didn’t work; Kurt and Blaine kept dancing, lost together in their own blissful world. “I forgot to tell you guys. I think I’m going to move in with Chelsea next semester.”
That got their attention. Kurt lost his balance and fell into Blaine’s side, as Blaine stopped dancing in mid-step to stare at Rachel in shocked, horrified confusion.
“What?” Kurt screeched, tottering over to Blaine’s laptop to turn down the volume. He couldn’t concentrate on anything with the music so loud.
“Chelsea’s roommate is transferring!” Rachel elaborated, a little too much excitement in her voice. “So she has an open spot in her room.”
“But you hate Chelsea.” Blaine was squinting at her, as if that would help him understand what she was saying.
“I mean…I don’t hate her…not all the time, anyway.”
“She definitely hates you.”
“But she asked me to move in with her!”
“Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer,” Kurt piped up from the floor, where he’d plopped back down to clumsily pour more wine into his glass, then Blaine’s.
“Come on, guys,” Rachel chided. “I just…I can’t stand living with Chloe anymore. At least Chelsea and I have the same interests, and similar schedules.”
“Sure. And maybe she’ll try to kill you in your sleep.”
“Blaine…”
“…or poison your mac and soy cheese,” Kurt chimed in.
“No!” Rachel waved her hands in front of her face, trying to sweep their words from the air. “It will be okay. I mean, Kurt and I used to hate each other.” She pointed an accusing finger down at Kurt.
“No, I hated you. You couldn’t see past your own self-absorption to actually hate anyone.”
Rachel hummed. “Yeah, that’s true. But, look! Look at us now. Best friends!” She reached down and threw her arms around his waist, falling to the floor as she squeezed him tightly. Kurt faked a choking noise, making her laugh with giddy pleasure.
“Best friends,” she repeated. “Celebrating Thanksgiving together. In New York!”
“All of our dreams coming true,” Kurt added, winking at her as Blaine sat down next to him.
Rachel picked her glass up off the floor, holding it up in a toast. “To the best Thanksgiving ever!”
“To the best Thanksgiving ever!” Kurt and Blaine repeated as the three glasses clinked hard, wine spilling onto the blanket below.
Continue to chapter nine
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Kurt/Blaine, Rachel, mentions of Finn and various OCs/family members
Spoilers: Through 2x22 “New York”
Warnings: Underage drinking
Word Count: 4,051
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters. I’m just borrowing them for a little while.
Summary: Kurt, Blaine and Rachel celebrate Thanksgiving together at college: complete with a tofurkey, a little too much pinot grigio, and some funny country western accents.
Author’s Note: This chapter is inspired by a Thanksgiving dinner I had with some friends in the dorms my senior year of college. It was seriously one of the best Thanksgivings of my life. Enjoy this bit of fluff! (Although there's more than a few significant little nuggets thrown in along the way.) Oh, and apologies to any Finchel fans...
Previous chapters: Kurtain (prologue) | Admission (prologue) | Spark (one-shot) | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven
***
“Mustard and cranberry - not just for your Thanksgiving plate!”
Kurt frowned with dissatisfaction at the headline he’d just drafted for his latest blog post. He hit return, typing out another idea below the first one.
“Mustard and cranberry - from your Thanksgiving plate to your wardrobe!”
“That’s even worse,” Kurt muttered, picking up his fork and stabbing at his salad. He hoped his terrible headline writing skills wouldn’t spell doom for his budding editorial career.
Kurt snuggled deeper into his new wool sweater as he typed out idea after idea. The gray, cowl necked garment was his latest New York fashion acquisition; he’d staked out his favorite boutique for three weeks until it was marked down sixty percent. The cozy wool helped ward off the cold that had gripped New York as soon as October gave way to November - not to mention some of the loneliness he felt from eating dinner by himself in his room.
He and Blaine usually got dinner together on Thursday nights. But Blaine was at the theater tonight, auditioning for a role in the freshman class’s spring production of Oklahoma. Kurt sent another silent good luck wish up to the sky as he thought of his boyfriend on a big, empty stage, pouring out his soul for the chance to star in his first college production.
It was probably a good thing that he had a little bit of extra time to himself, anyway. Kurt was determined to complete everything on his blog to-do list tonight: researching other fashion blogs, writing this damn headline, drafting another post. (Thankfully, he’d already come up with a snappy title for that one: “The fashionista’s guide to surviving winter in style.”) Plus, he still had to edit three posts Ashleigh had written.
The petite, brash brunette had become his closest new friend at college, ever since the event Kurt now referred to as the sex incident on the first day of classes. After finding her note - and properly collecting himself - Kurt had gone straight to Ashleigh’s room, her red face mirroring his as she opened the door. They’d both stared at each other for a moment before bursting out laughing and hugging.
Now she was his blogging co-conspirator. Kurt had hired her to write a weekly column, photographing and interviewing people on the street about their style. He couldn’t pay her anything, of course, but she seemed thrilled at the opportunity to contribute. Kurt needed all the help he could get managing his burgeoning fashion blog while keeping up with a full course load at the same time.
He thought he’d finally struck headline gold - “Seven ways to borrow from your Thanksgiving plate for your fall wardrobe” - when a sudden, harsh knock pulled at his concentration. Then he heard the voice, muffled through his thick, wooden door. “Kurt?”
Rachel. Kurt sighed as he got up from his desk. Of course. He loved his best friend unconditionally, but she had the worst timing of anyone he knew.
Kurt plucked his copy of My Fair Lady from the TV stand on his way to the door. They’d been trading movie musicals back and forth all semester. He’d give her the DVD and shoo her away so he could finish his work as quickly as possible. After all, Kurt wanted to be able to properly celebrate Blaine’s first New York audition when he got back.
But when he opened the door, Kurt immediately forgot about Audrey Hepburn and his blog and even celebratory hand jobs. Rachel was a crying mess: fat tears streaming down her scrunched up face, her breath coming out in little hiccups.
“K-k-k-urt,” she stuttered, her chin trembling with barely held back sobs. Then she buried her face in her hands, succumbing to her tears.
“Rachel!” Kurt wrapped an arm around her hunched shoulders and ushered her into the room, closing the door behind them. He wrapped her in a tight hug, trapping her hands and face against his chest. “What happened?”
Oh, god, Kurt thought, his heart sinking. She didn’t get the lead in Oklahoma. She lost to Chelsea. We’re going to have to hear about this every day for the next four months…
“F-f-f-f-i-nnnnnn.” Her wail was muffled by the wool of Kurt’s sweater. “H-h-h-h-e…dumped me!”
Kurt’s mouth dropped open. Immediately, he remembered fall break and his candid, late-night conversation with Finn.
“She’s here and I’m there. She’s always going to be here.”
“Oh, Rachel.” Kurt dropped a kiss on the top of her glossy head. “I’m sorry.” He held her there for a few minutes, rubbing his hands up and down her back as she wept.
“Come here, sit down,” he said gently once her sobs started to die off. As he guided her to the bed, Kurt chanced a look at his prized new sweater. Wet drops clung to the wool, creating dark, damp splotches where her tears had sunk into the fabric.
There were only a handful of people in the world whom Kurt would tolerate messing up his clothes so severely. Thankfully, Rachel Berry happened to be one of them.
“He said he didn’t know how we could make it work,” Rachel bawled, her voice thick with tears. She loudly blew her nose into a tissue that Kurt offered, while Kurt used another to dab at the wet spots on his chest. “I thought we were making it work!”
Kurt pressed his lips together, thinking hard about what to say to her. He quickly decided not to reveal what Finn had told him during his visit. He was Kurt’s brother, after all. Although that didn’t mean Kurt couldn’t use the information to give Rachel his own little pep talk.
“Were you, though?” Kurt asked quietly. “Is a long-distance relationship with Finn really what you wanted?”
Rachel shifted her gaze to meet Kurt’s. “Of course I wanted it,” she answered, her eyes falling back down to her lap. “I love Finn.”
“I’m not doubting your love, Rachel. You guys were together for a long time. You experienced a lot together. But…you’re here now. You’re achieving everything you’ve ever wanted.” Kurt shifted on the bed, angling his body toward her so he could take one of her hands in his. “What did you tell me, when we snuck in to Wicked? That that was your true love: New York, the stage.”
“I know.” Rachel blew out a cleansing breath. “It is.”
“So tell me: now that you’re here, and you know what it’s like - compared to life in Lima - would you change anything?”
“No,” Rachel answered quickly, firmly. “I never want to be anywhere else.”
Kurt gave her a small, sympathetic smile. “And Finn’s never going to leave Ohio. You know that.”
“I know.” Her eyes started to get misty again. “It just hurts, though. Having a boyfriend is part of my dreams, too.”
“What, do you think Finn is the only guy who could ever be your boyfriend?” Kurt shot her a look, as if to say, Silly girl. “Rachel, there are millions of men in New York. You’re going to find somebody. And when it’s the right guy, you won’t have to choose between your dreams to be with him. They’ll all fit together. It’ll feel right.” He playfully nudged her leg with his knee. “Until then, you’re stuck with me.”
“If only you could be my boyfriend,” Rachel said jokingly.
Kurt made a face. “I promise I would have asked you out a long time ago if girls did anything for me.”
They both dissolved in laughter, Kurt still clutching her hand. When they finally calmed down again, Kurt gave her a warm smile. “You made it, Rachel. Boyfriend or not, you have it all.”
Rachel scoffed. “If only I could manage to get a part,” she mumbled. “Chelsea’s going to get Laurey. I know it. And Laurey has been one of my dream roles for years.”
Kurt thought it was an excellent sign that Rachel had moved on to discussing her theater prospects.
“Okay, okay. Let’s wait until the cast list actually comes out before I let you indulge in another pity party.” Kurt gave her hand a little shake, trying to clear away the glum air in the room. “Hey, what do you think about staying here for Thanksgiving with Blaine and me? Don’t go back to Lima. You’ll only torture yourself.”
“You’re really staying here?”
“Yeah. Blaine…” Kurt trailed off, not needing to elaborate any further.
“I get it. I’d love to stay with you guys.” Rachel sniffled one last time before giving Kurt as bright as smile as she could manage. “Thanks, Kurt. You’re the best.”
“Are you going to be okay?”
Rachel nodded. “I think so.”
“Can I send you back with My Fair Lady? I hate to do it, but I really have to finish up these blog posts. Ashleigh’s been waiting on my edits all week.”
“You’ve been hanging out with her a lot lately,” Rachel remarked quietly, looking down at their conjoined hands as she spoke. “Ashleigh.”
Kurt smiled as he thought about his new friend. “Yes. She’s really great. But, you!” He lifted Rachel’s hand to his lips, smacking a hard, noisy kiss to the back of it. “I love you.”
Rachel rewarded him with one of her trademark loud, happy laughs; although it was a little bit dimmer than usual. “You’re my best friend, Kurt,” she said passionately, gripping his hand in return. “I don’t know what I’d do without you here.” She paused to lean in a little, giving him a knowing look. “I’m not the only one who made it, you know. We both did. Together.”
Kurt smiled at her lovingly. “Together, always.”
***
When Blaine came in late that night, Kurt was alone again, reading in bed by the light of a single table lamp.
“So we have a guest for Thanksgiving,” he said in greeting, without looking up from his textbook.
Blaine didn’t even need to ask who would be joining them. “I thought she was going home?” His voice was hoarse with exhaustion, the result of a marathon day of classes and auditioning. All he wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep for hours. He started to undress: pulling off his shoes, then stripping out of his jeans.
Kurt glanced up from his reading; his eyes skimming up Blaine’s bare legs and lingering over the tight muscles in his thighs. “Finn broke up with her tonight.” He pouted a little when Blaine tugged on a pair of sweatpants.
Blaine grunted in response, lifting his sweater over his head. “Did you talk to him?” he asked, reaching to undo the buttons on his checkered shirt.
The book slipped out of Kurt’s hands onto the bed beside him as he watched Blaine unbutton his shirt. Kurt cleared his throat, making himself focus on their conversation. “I sent him a text, but he didn’t get back to me. Big surprise.”
Blaine’s button down dropped to the floor, alongside his discarded jeans and sweater. Kurt eyed the pile of worn clothes, but didn’t say anything. He’d tidy up in the morning, if Blaine didn’t get a chance before he rushed off to class.
“She’s kind of a mess right now, as you might imagine,” Kurt continued. “And she doesn’t think she’s going to get the lead in Oklahoma, either.”
Blaine hummed softly as he slid into bed. This was, without fail, his favorite part of each day: sinking into soft sheets and pillows, swaddled in Kurt’s scent and warmth; a brief respite from his hectic life as a first-year music theater student before he did it all again tomorrow.
“Everybody seems to think Chelsea’s going to get it,” Blaine said, his eyelids briefly sliding shut. “Personally, I think Rachel deserves it. But it’ll be one of them, that’s for sure. They’re miles ahead of the other girls in our studio.”
“It’s going to be Chelsea versus Rachel for the next four years, isn’t it?”
Blaine grimaced, recalling the snide looks and petty comments he’d witnessed from both of them as they battled for attention during songs and monologues in their classes. “Pretty much.”
Kurt slid down in bed so he was lying on his side, facing Blaine; not touching, but close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body. “So how’d your audition go, Curly?” he asked in a low, throaty voice, reaching his hand up to comb through the hair at the back of Blaine’s neck. He desperately needs a trim, Kurt thought absently, making a mental note to schedule an appointment for him during work the next day.
“I didn’t try out for Curly.”
Kurt threw him a scandalous look. “Why not? You’d be a perfect Curly! He’s so…happy and lovey-dovey.”
Blaine shrugged a shoulder, snuggling deeper into his pillow. “I wanted to try something different. I auditioned for Jud.”
“Oh. The dark and mysterious type, are you?” Kurt was definitely trying to flirt now. Blaine moaned regretfully. How and when, exactly, had sleep become more appealing than sex?
“Not exactly. I just get to play one in musicals. If I get the part, that is.”
“You’ll do it.” Kurt leaned down, placing an open-mouthed kiss onto the corner of Blaine’s mouth. It was hot and wet, and Blaine let out another moan of remorse. He was already having trouble focusing on anything. The sensation of Kurt’s fingers massaging into the back of his head had turned his thoughts to jelly. He could feel himself slipping away, deeper and deeper into darkness.
“The first high school relationship casualty,” Kurt mused, still rubbing small circles into Blaine’s scalp. He quietly pondered the fates of the other couples they knew from high school: Sam and Mercedes, Tina and Mike, Puck and Quinn. “I wonder who’ll be next.”
Blaine’s shadowed eyes were closed now. “Not us,” he mumbled. His eyes suddenly opened, unfocused, as a fleeting thought ran through his mind. “Wait. We’re still going to have turkey on Thanksgiving, right?”
Kurt tossed his head back, laughing lightly. “Yes. We’ll still have turkey. Rachel can find her own meat substitute this time.”
Blaine smiled, letting his eyelids slip shut again. “Thanks. I love you.”
I suppose we should save the celebratory sex for when he actually gets the part, anyway. For now, Kurt was fine settling for watching Blaine fall into a deep sleep, his face softening and his breath deepening in front of Kurt’s eyes.
“Not us,” Kurt whispered happily to his sleeping boyfriend.
***
Blaine’s anxiety had started creeping back sometime in late October, when everyone around him began talking about their plans for Thanksgiving break. Then, as if on cue, his mother had emailed him, asking if he’d like her to book him a flight home for the holiday.
“I can’t go back,” Blaine had murmured, shaking his head back and forth as he stared at her message on his computer screen.
Kurt had simply gotten up from his desk and walked over to Blaine, squeezing his shoulder in a display of love and support.
“Okay. I’ll tell my dad we’re going to stay here.” He’d leaned in, giving Blaine a kiss on the cheek and a mischievous smirk. “But I hope you realize I’m dragging you to the parade.”
***
Although Kurt missed his family desperately, the idea of making Thanksgiving dinner for him and Blaine in New York gave him a new kind of thrill; something he’d never quite experienced before in his young life.
He’d called his father from the cold streets of Manhattan early that morning, as he, Blaine and Rachel stood for hours bundled up in winter coats and huddled against each other. Kurt described each float that passed by, in the one in a million chance that Burt might spot his son in the crowd on the Hummel family’s television, six hundred miles away.
Kurt felt like such an adult, being here in the city with Blaine on a holiday. He could see the two of them hosting many more special occasions together in the future - especially when Blaine came up to him while he prepared dinner in the common kitchen, putting his hand on the small of Kurt’s back and watching his progress.
“Taste this.” Kurt held a spoonful of gravy to Blaine’s lips.
“Mmm...” Kurt’s eyes followed Blaine’s tongue as it left a wet trail along his lower lip. “Delicious.”
Kurt couldn’t help himself; he reached forward and kissed Blaine there - long, slow, brimming with love. “I’m so happy to be here with you today,” Kurt said when he finally pulled back.
The grin Blaine gave him in response could have lit New York City all night.
***
Kurt had arranged a gorgeous Thanksgiving spread on the blanket in their room; the same place they shared every dinner at home that semester. They weren’t supposed to have candles in the dorms, but Kurt couldn’t resist lighting some festive orange pillars he’d found on a recent Saturday excursion to a flea market. Just to be safe, he kept them on his and Blaine’s desks, high out of the way of their blanket and carpet.
“It’s so pretty!” Rachel gushed when she came down to join them. She gave Kurt a nod of approval. “Martha would be proud.”
Kurt couldn’t ask for a better compliment. Or a better friend. Or a better boyfriend. Certainly, not a better Thanksgiving.
“Rachel, I have something special for you.” He crouched down to lift foil off a small roasting pan. “I didn’t want you to feel left out, so…”
“Tofurkey!” she exclaimed, clapping with glee. She grabbed Kurt’s face in her hands and kissed him squarely on the lips. “Thank you, baby!”
“And I brought the perfect accompaniment,” Blaine added, popping the cork off a bottle of white wine.
“How did you get wine?” Rachel asked, looking incredulously at the two bottles of pinot grigio in front of him.
“My friend at work bought it for me. A thank you gift for covering her shifts the rest of the weekend so she could go home.” Blaine didn’t even care that he’d have to work like a dog for the remainder of Thanksgiving break; he’d have worked every day for the rest of the year if it meant he could spend the holiday here with Kurt, just like this.
“I would like to propose a toast,” Kurt announced once Blaine had finished pouring their drinks, standing and raising his glass ceremonially. “To my New York family - my love and my best friend. I’m so thankful and grateful for both of you every single day. May this be the first of many, many holidays we spend together!”
They each wore ear-to-ear smiles as they shouted all at once, “Cheers!”
***
“I wonder what fabulous beach my dads are on right now,” Rachel pondered between bites of tofurkey and ginger-glazed carrots.
“Sounds like they weren’t too heartbroken about you not going home for Thanksgiving,” Blaine remarked as he refilled their wine glasses.
“Oh, they were. That is, until their travel agent nabbed them a really great last-minute deal on a gay cruise to Mexico.” Rachel sighed. “That’ll be you guys someday. Cruising somewhere fabulous, leaving your poor children behind in the States.”
Kurt wrinkled his nose, taking another sip from his wine glass. “I don’t think cruises are my style. I’d burn to a crisp in the Caribbean.”
“How about Paris?” Blaine suggested, his smile matching his flirty tone. “Drinking coffee at an outdoor cafe while we gaze up at the Eiffel Tower.”
Kurt gave him a soft smile in return. The wine was already making everything feel so cozy, so fuzzy around the edges. “That sounds like a perfect holiday to me.” They got lost in each other’s eyes, oblivious to Rachel’s frown.
“And now I’m all alone,” she pouted. Then her face brightened. “Maybe I can come with you guys to Paris!”
“No!” Kurt and Blaine shouted in unison, just before their lips met in a sweet kiss.
***
It didn’t take much more pinot grigio before the three friends were in a rollicking good mood. Soon they had abandoned their dinner spread in favor of an impromptu performance from Oklahoma by Blaine and Rachel; their already terrible country western accents made worse by the alcohol.
Kurt was lying on his side on the floor, doubled over with laughter from their exaggerated drawls. He broke out in wild applause as they finished reciting the scene together - half the lines mumbled and slurred.
“Well, I see now why they chose you to play Laurey, Rachel!” Kurt declared, sitting up and brushing himself off as best he could through his drunken haze.
Rachel beamed. She’d gotten the lead after all. “They felt I expressed Laurey’s independent spirit best,” Rachel had told them when she burst into their room with the news. Chelsea would play the role of flirtatious Ado Annie.
Blaine ended up getting Jud - an accomplishment he and Kurt had celebrated late into the night, with more than just hand jobs.
“I have the soundtrack!” Blaine exclaimed, abruptly remembering his music collection. “I have the soundtrack,” he repeated, not quite as loudly, as he stumbled over to his desk and scrolled through his iTunes library. Music stared blaring from the tiny speakers on either side of his laptop. He grabbed Rachel’s hands, spinning her in a messy circle as they both sang.
Oh, what a beautiful mornin’
Oh, what a beautiful day
I’ve got a beautiful feelin’
Everything’s goin’ my way
Blaine let go of Rachel and made a beeline for Kurt, pulling him close and swaying out of time with the soaring melody. “Everything’s goin’ my way,” he repeated on a whisper, close to Kurt’s ear. Kurt wanted to sink into this warm feeling, to drown in it and never return to reality.
“Wait! So…wait!” Rachel held up both hands, trying to get them to listen to her. It didn’t work; Kurt and Blaine kept dancing, lost together in their own blissful world. “I forgot to tell you guys. I think I’m going to move in with Chelsea next semester.”
That got their attention. Kurt lost his balance and fell into Blaine’s side, as Blaine stopped dancing in mid-step to stare at Rachel in shocked, horrified confusion.
“What?” Kurt screeched, tottering over to Blaine’s laptop to turn down the volume. He couldn’t concentrate on anything with the music so loud.
“Chelsea’s roommate is transferring!” Rachel elaborated, a little too much excitement in her voice. “So she has an open spot in her room.”
“But you hate Chelsea.” Blaine was squinting at her, as if that would help him understand what she was saying.
“I mean…I don’t hate her…not all the time, anyway.”
“She definitely hates you.”
“But she asked me to move in with her!”
“Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer,” Kurt piped up from the floor, where he’d plopped back down to clumsily pour more wine into his glass, then Blaine’s.
“Come on, guys,” Rachel chided. “I just…I can’t stand living with Chloe anymore. At least Chelsea and I have the same interests, and similar schedules.”
“Sure. And maybe she’ll try to kill you in your sleep.”
“Blaine…”
“…or poison your mac and soy cheese,” Kurt chimed in.
“No!” Rachel waved her hands in front of her face, trying to sweep their words from the air. “It will be okay. I mean, Kurt and I used to hate each other.” She pointed an accusing finger down at Kurt.
“No, I hated you. You couldn’t see past your own self-absorption to actually hate anyone.”
Rachel hummed. “Yeah, that’s true. But, look! Look at us now. Best friends!” She reached down and threw her arms around his waist, falling to the floor as she squeezed him tightly. Kurt faked a choking noise, making her laugh with giddy pleasure.
“Best friends,” she repeated. “Celebrating Thanksgiving together. In New York!”
“All of our dreams coming true,” Kurt added, winking at her as Blaine sat down next to him.
Rachel picked her glass up off the floor, holding it up in a toast. “To the best Thanksgiving ever!”
“To the best Thanksgiving ever!” Kurt and Blaine repeated as the three glasses clinked hard, wine spilling onto the blanket below.
Continue to chapter nine