Short fic: Unattainable, Kurt/Blaine, PG
Title: Unattainable
Author: littlemrstom
Fandom: Glee
Pairing(s): Kurt/Blaine
Rating: PG
Warnings: Possible crack, Gaga-centric, one very mild reference to “Funeral”.
Word Count: 1250
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction; I own nothing but the plot. I especially do not own Glee. Sad times.
Summary: In which Blaine is worried, Kurt is M.I.A and Finn is a little less than helpful. And where does Gaga come into this, again?
Author Notes: The new Gaga album leaked (and is fantastic!), I got the idea and I couldn't resist, so I rolled with it. For the purpose of this (not very canon) fic, Kurt still goes to Dalton but lives at home.
Blaine doesn’t think he’s ever seen Kurt move so fast before. As soon as the bell rings signalling the end of the day, Kurt’s jumping up and diving out of his seat, his bag already packed in his lap and his coat already zipped up to his chin.
Blaine pauses, reactions delayed, before he, too, jumps up and follows Kurt’s tracks out of the room. “Hey, hey, Kurt!” he yells down the corridor, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Kurt!”
“Can’t talk, gotta go!” is Kurt’s warbled reply, but that’s all Blaine can hear before Kurt is skidding around the corner in the direction of the car park, keys jangling in his hand.
“Wait, Kurt!” he yells again-but to no avail. His voice becomes lost in the hustle and bustle of the corridor as students begin piling out and splitting, and Kurt is gone, having left only black lines of polish from his Doc Martens in his wake.
Blaine blinks and frowns, finding himself still stood at the door to the classroom he just came from, bag only just hanging onto his shoulder. What the hell had that been? And what the hell had been Kurt’s problem?
---
Blaine groans, pressing keys on his phone before lifting it to his ear for the fourth time in a row.
And for the fourth time he is greeted by Kurt’s smiling voice. Kurt’s smiling, recorded voice.
“Hi, there! You’ve reached Kurt Hummel. Unfortunately I’m not able to answer your call right now, either that or I have more important things to do. Leave a message after the tone if you want and if I care enough, I’ll get back to you. Bye!”
“Jesus, Kurt,” Blaine grumbles as he shuts his phone before the tone has time to sound. He’s back in his dorm, pacing up and down the length of his room repeatedly as he continues to stab the keys on his phone, probably a little too hard to be safe.
He’s sent seven texts to Kurt now and he hasn’t had a single delivery report on any of them. He’s rung Kurt four times, wait, make that five, and still, his boyfriend hasn’t answered.
He’s even rung the Hudmel household, but all he got was Finn who was too distracted by his own love depression to be of any help.
Blaine is beginning to worry.
---
Two hours later and Blaine is still none the wiser. His legs ache from all the pacing he’s put them through and he’d be concerned that his brow might stick in the frown it’s been in for the past few hours if he wasn’t so concerned about Kurt.
Over the past couple of hours, Blaine has texted Kurt another thirteen times and rung him on approximately eleven more occasions.
If his legs could cheer, he’s sure they would as they begin to tingle when he drops down onto his bed, feet dangling off the edge as he sits and stares hard at his phone, as if willing it to ring. If he were in his right mind, Blaine would probably realise that sitting around aimlessly, staring at his phone is a waste of time and that he has homework he could be doing, but he’s sure he wouldn’t be able to concentrate.
If Kurt would just let him know that everything was okay and-fuck it, Blaine decides brashly. He leaps from his bed and grabs his car keys from his desk, nearly impaling his palm on them in the process. They rattle in his firm grip and bash against the wall as he steps roughly into his shoes, leaving a lengthy scratch that his dorm advisor is probably going to murder him for, but Blaine doesn’t even stop to look at it. He stomps out of the dormitory, ignoring Wes as he walks up to greet him, and heads straight for his car.
He’s waited around long enough. If Kurt won’t come to him, he’ll just have to take himself to Kurt.
---
As soon as Blaine steps up to Kurt’s front door, his fist is pounding repetitively against the wood. He doesn’t think about what’ll happen if Burt opens it, or Carole, but before the thought can enter his mind, Finn opens up, a large tub of ice cream in his hands and a blank expression on his face.
“Blaine?” he asks, but Blaine is pushing his way into the house before he’s invited. “Come in, then…”
“Where’s Kurt?”
“Hi to you, too, Blaine. Yes, I’m wonderful, thanks for asking, how are you? Want some ice cream?”
“Finn,” Blaine says, voice strained, doing his best to control his it. “Where is Kurt? Is he in?”
“Well his car’s here so I presume so. Why?”
“Thanks, man,” Blaine says, slugging Finn on the arm before flying past him, his destination the basement he’s spent so much time in recently. “Kurt,” he calls as he knocks on the door three times before pushing it open frantically. He’s expecting the worst-Kurt not there, Kurt unconscious in the bathtub, Kurt having slipped and cracked his head open, but what greets him is something he never expected.
Ever.
“…Kurt?”
Kurt’s in his room, alright. Kurt’s also completely conscious and upright, headphones over his ears, dancing clumsily in circles around his room. Currently his back is to Blaine, his ass shaking to a beat that Blaine can’t hear, but when he spins around and his eyes land on Blaine, he yells loudly enough that it echoes off the white walls and he nearly does fall then, having to grasp his bedpost to keep himself standing.
“Blaine!” he gasps, hand over his heart in the dramatic way only Kurt can do. “What the hell, you scared me! What are you doing here? Is everything alright?”
Blaine raises his eyebrows. “Is everything alright?” he echoes. “Kurt, I thought something was wrong. What happened today after class? You just-I’ve never seen you move so quickly!”
At that, Kurt snorts and reaches up to take the headphone out of his ears. As he does, Blaine is able to hear the thump thump of dance music escaping the miniature speakers and his right eyebrow rises higher still.
“Um.” Kurt rocks on his toes, taking in Blaine’s pink face and noting how he’s out of breath. He glances guiltily down at the earphones hanging out the top of his t-shirt and lifts one up slightly. “Don’t laugh at me,” he says quietly.
“Kurt.”
“Gaga,” Kurt offers, and when Blaine’s expression turns from exasperated to confused, Kurt continues. “Her new album leaked. I wanted to hear it as soon as possible. I figured since I already have it on pre-order it wouldn’t be bad if I downloaded it so I got home as quick as possible and-”
Blaine cuts Kurt off with his lips, kissing him forcefully and pushing him down until they’re laying on Kurt’s bed, limbs tangled. He pauses for a second. “Do you have any idea how worried you had me? I thought someone had died or something! You didn’t think to check your phone at all?”
“Why?” Kurt asks, digging his hand into his pocket. “Did you call…oh. Sixteen times. And twenty texts. It was on silent.”
Blaine just groans, half in incredulity and half in relief, but he kisses Kurt again, butting his forehead against his boyfriend’s in mock frustration.
Kurt just giggles and slips in one of his earphones again.
Author: littlemrstom
Fandom: Glee
Pairing(s): Kurt/Blaine
Rating: PG
Warnings: Possible crack, Gaga-centric, one very mild reference to “Funeral”.
Word Count: 1250
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction; I own nothing but the plot. I especially do not own Glee. Sad times.
Summary: In which Blaine is worried, Kurt is M.I.A and Finn is a little less than helpful. And where does Gaga come into this, again?
Author Notes: The new Gaga album leaked (and is fantastic!), I got the idea and I couldn't resist, so I rolled with it. For the purpose of this (not very canon) fic, Kurt still goes to Dalton but lives at home.
Blaine doesn’t think he’s ever seen Kurt move so fast before. As soon as the bell rings signalling the end of the day, Kurt’s jumping up and diving out of his seat, his bag already packed in his lap and his coat already zipped up to his chin.
Blaine pauses, reactions delayed, before he, too, jumps up and follows Kurt’s tracks out of the room. “Hey, hey, Kurt!” he yells down the corridor, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Kurt!”
“Can’t talk, gotta go!” is Kurt’s warbled reply, but that’s all Blaine can hear before Kurt is skidding around the corner in the direction of the car park, keys jangling in his hand.
“Wait, Kurt!” he yells again-but to no avail. His voice becomes lost in the hustle and bustle of the corridor as students begin piling out and splitting, and Kurt is gone, having left only black lines of polish from his Doc Martens in his wake.
Blaine blinks and frowns, finding himself still stood at the door to the classroom he just came from, bag only just hanging onto his shoulder. What the hell had that been? And what the hell had been Kurt’s problem?
---
Blaine groans, pressing keys on his phone before lifting it to his ear for the fourth time in a row.
And for the fourth time he is greeted by Kurt’s smiling voice. Kurt’s smiling, recorded voice.
“Hi, there! You’ve reached Kurt Hummel. Unfortunately I’m not able to answer your call right now, either that or I have more important things to do. Leave a message after the tone if you want and if I care enough, I’ll get back to you. Bye!”
“Jesus, Kurt,” Blaine grumbles as he shuts his phone before the tone has time to sound. He’s back in his dorm, pacing up and down the length of his room repeatedly as he continues to stab the keys on his phone, probably a little too hard to be safe.
He’s sent seven texts to Kurt now and he hasn’t had a single delivery report on any of them. He’s rung Kurt four times, wait, make that five, and still, his boyfriend hasn’t answered.
He’s even rung the Hudmel household, but all he got was Finn who was too distracted by his own love depression to be of any help.
Blaine is beginning to worry.
---
Two hours later and Blaine is still none the wiser. His legs ache from all the pacing he’s put them through and he’d be concerned that his brow might stick in the frown it’s been in for the past few hours if he wasn’t so concerned about Kurt.
Over the past couple of hours, Blaine has texted Kurt another thirteen times and rung him on approximately eleven more occasions.
If his legs could cheer, he’s sure they would as they begin to tingle when he drops down onto his bed, feet dangling off the edge as he sits and stares hard at his phone, as if willing it to ring. If he were in his right mind, Blaine would probably realise that sitting around aimlessly, staring at his phone is a waste of time and that he has homework he could be doing, but he’s sure he wouldn’t be able to concentrate.
If Kurt would just let him know that everything was okay and-fuck it, Blaine decides brashly. He leaps from his bed and grabs his car keys from his desk, nearly impaling his palm on them in the process. They rattle in his firm grip and bash against the wall as he steps roughly into his shoes, leaving a lengthy scratch that his dorm advisor is probably going to murder him for, but Blaine doesn’t even stop to look at it. He stomps out of the dormitory, ignoring Wes as he walks up to greet him, and heads straight for his car.
He’s waited around long enough. If Kurt won’t come to him, he’ll just have to take himself to Kurt.
---
As soon as Blaine steps up to Kurt’s front door, his fist is pounding repetitively against the wood. He doesn’t think about what’ll happen if Burt opens it, or Carole, but before the thought can enter his mind, Finn opens up, a large tub of ice cream in his hands and a blank expression on his face.
“Blaine?” he asks, but Blaine is pushing his way into the house before he’s invited. “Come in, then…”
“Where’s Kurt?”
“Hi to you, too, Blaine. Yes, I’m wonderful, thanks for asking, how are you? Want some ice cream?”
“Finn,” Blaine says, voice strained, doing his best to control his it. “Where is Kurt? Is he in?”
“Well his car’s here so I presume so. Why?”
“Thanks, man,” Blaine says, slugging Finn on the arm before flying past him, his destination the basement he’s spent so much time in recently. “Kurt,” he calls as he knocks on the door three times before pushing it open frantically. He’s expecting the worst-Kurt not there, Kurt unconscious in the bathtub, Kurt having slipped and cracked his head open, but what greets him is something he never expected.
Ever.
“…Kurt?”
Kurt’s in his room, alright. Kurt’s also completely conscious and upright, headphones over his ears, dancing clumsily in circles around his room. Currently his back is to Blaine, his ass shaking to a beat that Blaine can’t hear, but when he spins around and his eyes land on Blaine, he yells loudly enough that it echoes off the white walls and he nearly does fall then, having to grasp his bedpost to keep himself standing.
“Blaine!” he gasps, hand over his heart in the dramatic way only Kurt can do. “What the hell, you scared me! What are you doing here? Is everything alright?”
Blaine raises his eyebrows. “Is everything alright?” he echoes. “Kurt, I thought something was wrong. What happened today after class? You just-I’ve never seen you move so quickly!”
At that, Kurt snorts and reaches up to take the headphone out of his ears. As he does, Blaine is able to hear the thump thump of dance music escaping the miniature speakers and his right eyebrow rises higher still.
“Um.” Kurt rocks on his toes, taking in Blaine’s pink face and noting how he’s out of breath. He glances guiltily down at the earphones hanging out the top of his t-shirt and lifts one up slightly. “Don’t laugh at me,” he says quietly.
“Kurt.”
“Gaga,” Kurt offers, and when Blaine’s expression turns from exasperated to confused, Kurt continues. “Her new album leaked. I wanted to hear it as soon as possible. I figured since I already have it on pre-order it wouldn’t be bad if I downloaded it so I got home as quick as possible and-”
Blaine cuts Kurt off with his lips, kissing him forcefully and pushing him down until they’re laying on Kurt’s bed, limbs tangled. He pauses for a second. “Do you have any idea how worried you had me? I thought someone had died or something! You didn’t think to check your phone at all?”
“Why?” Kurt asks, digging his hand into his pocket. “Did you call…oh. Sixteen times. And twenty texts. It was on silent.”
Blaine just groans, half in incredulity and half in relief, but he kisses Kurt again, butting his forehead against his boyfriend’s in mock frustration.
Kurt just giggles and slips in one of his earphones again.