Something To Sleep To [12/?]
Title: Something To Sleep To
Chapter: 12/?
Author: wishof_wings
Betas: Becky, Izzy, & Em
Rating: R
Pairing: Klaine
Word Count: 2600
Summary: What started as a volunteer gig at Lima Memorial is slowly turning into a fairy tale for Kurt Hummel. Except Kurt is pretty doubtful that a kiss is going to wake his Prince Charming from his coma.
Spoilers: None
Warnings: AU, homophobia related violence, boy lovin'
Author's Notes: Oh my goodness, this chapter killed me. Super thanks to both Izzy and Em who, due to one of my betas needing a month to deal with real life, have stepped in and aided me and been absolutely amazing about it. Welcome to the first crescendo, folks, and I hope you enjoy it.
Go back to the beginning.
“I’m sorry,” Kurt and Mercedes blurt at the same time, surprise flashing across their faces. Kurt holds in a smile while Mercedes has no problem letting hers shine through.
“Me first,” Kurt says, pressing the palm of his hand to his chest. Aside from the single text he’d sent her Friday night, Kurt hasn’t spoken to Mercedes since Thursday. But that’s not the reason he feels guilty. “I haven’t been a very good friend lately, and after all of that…” He leaves it hanging. He doesn’t want to admit that he’d been blind to the issues Mercedes herself has been suffering through, too ashamed to admit how invested in his own life he’s been.
“Kurt, if we’re giving bad friend speeches, you should’ve let me go first.” She steps forward and hugs him, and he hugs her back tightly. Mercedes might not understand him all the time, but he cares about her. They’re friends, and he can’t imagine attending McKinley without her by his side. “Look, you’ve been happier lately. And if Blaine is the reason for that, I’m not gonna mess with it.”
Even if I don’t understand it. It lays unspoken, but Kurt already knows it. Mercedes doesn’t understand it, but he appreciates her acceptance of it at least.
“Are you going there today?” she asks as they step apart.
“Yeah, actually. We don’t have practice, so.” He bites his lip. It’s nice that Mercedes wants to be supportive, but now talking about Blaine with anyone but Carole feels… Strange. Like he’s divulging some sort of secret.
“You should let me come sometime.” He doesn’t respond, just gives her a tight smile as he gathers his things. That seems to pacify her. Kurt knows that she’s trying, that she thinks this is what she should be doing. Maybe it is. But Blaine is… He blinks rapidly, shaking the sudden possessive inclination that has bubbled up. His. Blaine is not his.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” she asks before they split for their respective locker rooms. Kurt just gives a nod as Mercedes reaches over and squeezes his arm. His smile becomes more natural. “Remember, don’t miss another practice. I covered for you on Friday, but you heard Coach Sylvester.”
Oh, Kurt remembered alright. She’d made it quite clear that if he misses another practice, he’ll be kicked off the team. Well, said a little more colorfully, perhaps. But patronizing nicknames aside, and some sort of metaphor about Monica Lewinsky that Kurt is trying his best to forget, that had been the gist of it.
He gives Mercedes a final wave before slipping off to shower, thankful when the locker room is empty except for him.
Last Friday aside, this is the earliest Kurt has been at the hospital since his first visit. He walks with a slight spring in his step, excited to see Blaine now that he’s cleared up the mess with Mercedes and has decided not to hate Carole. It’s a good feeling.
He can hear Carole before he gets to the room, moving around and talking to Blaine so softly that he can only hear the murmur and not the actual words. It makes him smile, remembering their conversation, and Kurt finds himself grateful that out of all the nurses at Lima Memorial, Blaine ended up with Carole.
A greeting is on his lips when he enters the room, but it quickly crawls back into his mouth and dies there. Kurt’s shoulders drop in shock because Blaine is propped up on the bed and very, very shirtless. He’s pretty sure his mouth is hanging open, but if he has any motor control left, it’s focused on keeping him upright.
“Kurt!”
He’d completely forgotten that Carole was in the room at all.
“You’re here earlier than usual.” He just gives a small nod, resisting the urge to let his eyes drift back over to Blaine. Blaine. Shirtless Blaine. Kurt has never really looked at a shirtless boy in person before. Shirtless. Blaine is shirtless.
“I. Pep rally today, so. No practice,” he manages, and Carole just smiles.
“Well, perfect timing. I was just putting Blaine in his new pajamas.”
After their mall trip on Saturday, Kurt had given the pajamas to Carole to take with her. It’s not like he could come and present Blaine with the pajamas like he would on a regular occasion. They were something Kurt bought for Blaine because, well, doesn’t everyone deserve nice pajamas while they’re in a coma?
What he hadn’t expected was being there while the changing was actually going on and oh my god what if Blaine isn’t wearing pants?
“I just finished doing the pants, but would you like to help me with the top? It can be tricky with all the wires.” Carole’s voice is so nonchalant it’s almost like she’s talking about something mundane, like laundry or dishes. She is talking about touching Blaine. While Blaine is shirtless. Blaine is shirtless.
Kurt’s mouth flounders for a few moments and his hands flap a bit uselessly.
“Am I-Is it okay for me to do that?”
“It’s not like I’m asking you to redo his IV, Kurt.” She grins at him. “I just need you to hold him up.”
Kurt quickly imagines himself doing something ridiculous, like looping his arms around Blaine’s waist so that he doesn’t topple over, or somehow fitting in behind him. Both ideas make him want to melt into the floor in embarrassment.
Carole’s touch to his hand almost makes him fall backwards, he’s so unprepared for it.
“You don’t have to, you know.” She levels a gaze at Kurt but he finds that he can’t quite meet it, not with those thoughts in his head, and stares over her shoulder instead.
“No, I. It’s fine.” When did his mouth get so dry?
Carole stares at him a few moments longer, a look in her eyes that Kurt doesn’t recognize, before she guides him to one side of the bed. Kurt can feel his breath huffing out in short puffs as he realizes how close he is to Blaine. Shirtless Blaine. Blaine is shirtless.
“It’s okay to touch him, you know. He’s clean. He just had his bath.”
Kurt is not going to think about that right now.
He just nods and sees Carole’s movement in the corner of his eye, but he can’t look away from Blaine now that he’s looking, even though it feels wrong, like he’s invading something. Kurt knows that he wouldn’t want someone ogling him while he was shirtless and unconscious and… No. Should he close his eyes? Would that be weird?
“Kurt?”
Oh. Right.
“Just keep his back away from the mattress for a minute or so.”
Kurt isn’t even sure how to go about doing this. After all, he doesn’t want to hurt Blaine. He’s healing well, and where Kurt is sure there had been horrible bruises before, there are only just spider webs of yellow discoloration. There are still bandages wrapped around him, underneath his arms, over his-oh. His ribs.
His eyes can’t stop now. They trail down the bandage on his chest to the dark curls of hair that taper lower, across a stomach that, while not insanely toned, is… Nice. Kurt always thought he was into those abs that could be seen from space, but Blaine’s are soft and real and there. Down, down, disappearing beneath the waistband of Blaine’s pajamas pants and-Kurt’s eyes snap to the ceiling, his face so red he’s sure it must be glowing.
“Kurt.”
Right.
His hands and arms move indecisively, inches from Blaine’s body, as he tries to figure out where to put them. One closes over the juncture of Blaine’s neck and shoulder and oh god I am touching a shirtless boy. The other moves behind Blaine, fingers splaying low on his back.
It’s different from the last time he touched Blaine, when the thin cotton had at least been separating their skin. But now it is so obvious, the way his skin gives and shifts beneath Kurt’s palms. There are firm muscles that hold their ground to Kurt’s touch-strong muscles that shift as he inches Blaine forward.
Kurt’s eyes are roaming and he really wishes he would stop looking at Blaine with Carole right there. There is no way she doesn’t know that Kurt is looking. And maybe, maybe, Kurt could have looked away before touching him. But now he can’t. He is fascinated by the way his hands look on someone else, on another boy, and wow, he is so gay. His throat feels dry and he can’t help but swallow, the noise seeming so much louder than it should be.
Blaine’s chest moves, just barely, the steady rhythm of breathing. Kurt wants to press his hand against Blaine’s stomach and feel it rise and fall, wants to settle it over Blaine’s chest and feel the beat of his heart. Oh god when did I get so creepy?
He doesn’t. He would never. But that doesn’t stop the fact that he wants to. That he wants to press his hands to every inch of Blaine that he can see, to map his back and his chest, to feel the hair trailing down his stomach against his hand.
When did it get so hard to breathe?
He is shocked out of his weird entrancement with Blaine’s chest by the brush of fabric against his hands, surprised to look up and see that Carole is already done putting the shirt on. Well, at least Kurt had been right about the fact that the subtle stripes would look rather amazing on Blaine.
“Ease him back down and do the buttons?” Carole meets his eyes and Kurt just nods. There is no way he can speak just yet.
It feels so gentle, and strangely intimate, to ease him back onto the mattress. He is reminded, briefly, of the time he’d helped Carole turn him. But that is nothing compared to this moment. The electricity in his veins at that moment had been sparks compared to the electricity that courses through him now.
With Blaine resting down again, Kurt adjusts the collar of the pajamas, fingers touching fleetingly against the stubbly skin of Blaine’s neck.
Okay. Buttons. He can do this.
He hesitates for just a moment before straightening the shirt out and beginning at the bottom. Oh god, maybe he can’t do this. His hands are shaking as he slips the first button closed. This should be easy, he buttons up shirts on a nearly daily basis, so why is this so hard?
But Kurt knows the answer. He knows it’s because it’s another boy, another boy that he’s touching. The backs of his fingers are brushing over the warm skin low on another boy’s stomach, on Blaine’s stomach. The hair is softer than he had thought it would be, and Kurt imagines himself raking his fingers through it, up Blaine’s chest, gripping Blaine by his shoulders and-
His breath catches and suddenly his fingers are flying, closing button after button after button. He nearly jumps away from the bed and quickly begins gathering his things.
“Kurt?” Carole looks at him uncertainly, and Kurt knows it’s hopeless to wish he wasn’t blushing as much as he knows he is.
“I just remembered that I was supposed to meet a study group, and I.” He swallows, turning away. He can’t look at Carole right now. “I’ll be back tomorrow, okay? Bye Carole, bye Blaine.”
His voice is so high it’s embarrassing, but he needs to get out of there, he needs to get out of there now. His fingers are still tingling with the heat from Blaine’s skin as he pulls his bag awkwardly in front of his body.
The skin beneath his hands is warm and unyielding. His palms drag over the subtle definition of abs, fingers catching on chest hair and tugging until a groan sounds from the body beneath him. He brushes over ribs, grasping at them as his lips trace over a hip bone, mouth clamping down and sucking at the sweaty skin.
Strong hands work through his hair, fingernails scratching against his neck before fingers clamp down against his arms. Kurt drags his mouth up from hip to waist, hands splaying wide until his thumbs catch nipples and crush against them until they harden. Another groan and Kurt grins, kissing up over each individual rib as quickened breaths make muscles pulse under his lips.
Fingers drag down his back, pulling the skin roughly and following the shape of his backbone. Kurt gasps, arching into it, pressing chest against chest and sucking in air too quickly. Hands push low on his back, forcing their bodies back together and Kurt runs his tongue along a collarbone, grazing it lightly with his teeth.
The touch disappears and Kurt thrashes around for it wildly, needing it, twisting, scrambling against bedding until he’s being pushed against it. Those same hands cup his neck as Kurt throws it back, moving in gentle teasing brushes down his chest until they brush against his nipples. He whimpers as the touches keep moving, almost tickling down his abdomen and then rubbing circles by his hips and-
“Please, please, please,” he gasps, hips twisting up, seeking friction. He’s so hard and hot all of a sudden, even the slide of sheets against his back seems to increase his arousal.
The brush of fingertips is flirty, teasing, and Kurt wants to sob, wants to beg, when a sure hand curls around the base of his cock and he cries out.
“Please, please, please,” he says more urgently, hips moving until a hand pins them down and Kurt whimpers. The touch moves tantalizingly slowly up his shaft, too dry and warm and so, so good. Kurt tries to thrust up again, but he’s still being held down.
There’s breath against his neck, flutters of it, hinting at words that he can’t hear. He wants to feel lips, tongue, teeth, strains his neck in search for them.
“Touch me, touch me, touch me.”
The breath is against his thigh now, stubble pressing against his skin in a way that shouldn’t feel so good but does. His hands grip shoulders as fingers swipe over the head of his cock, gathering the precome and then dragging back down in a way that makes Kurt groan deep in his chest.
There’s no more teasing then. The hand moves faster and Kurt finds he can suddenly thrust up into the fist, too tight around his cock and catching the crown of his head deliciously. He can hardly keep his eyes open with the way they keep rolling back is his head, that promising, tortuous pressure building and building as his breathing grows heavier. He’s close, so, so close, but he doesn’t want it to end, god, please don’t let it end. But then he’s coming, hands gripping tightly into skin as he shakes and gasps through wave after wave of pleasure.
“Blaine.”
Kurt is breathing heavily when his eyes flash open, his lungs struggling to take in air and making him feel lightheaded and dizzy even though he’s lying down. He feels spent and relaxed and-
the front of his pajama pants is wet.
The front of his pajama pants is wet and sticky.
Oh fuck.
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