Fic: Every word - Glee; Kurt/Blaine
Chapter 4
Kurt eyes himself in his full length bedroom mirror. Raf slips a hand around his waist and lets it rest on his spine.
“You are very handsome as always, gordito” he says.
Kurt refuses to be baited by the undoubtedly fallacious pet name. “Coco Chanel says you should look in the mirror and take one thing off before you leave. But I think she might have been giving advice to amateurs.”
“Absolutely,” says Raf. “Though I can think of more than one thing I’d like you to take off.
Kurt smiles, adjusts his filigree scarf pin and turns to kiss Raf. “You’re affectionate tonight,” he says mildly.
Raf wraps his arms around him. “You’re leaving me. What were you expecting?”
Kurt feels something squeeze in his chest. “I’ll be gone eight weeks. You’ll be in Chile playing soccer for three of them.”
“It’s too long,” says Raf. “Seriously, do we have to go out there? We can’t just stay and-?”
“It’s ostensibly my farewell, Raf. I think they’d miss me if I didn’t show.”
Raf groans but sidesteps neatly as Kurt opens the bedroom door.
It’s nine pm so the party hasn’t really started yet. A few of the NYADA crew have turned up early, which is sweet. Though it could just be that they’re impoverished performers and can be sure Kurt spent most of the day cooking.
“The man of the hour!” Rachel squeals as Kurt walks into the living room.
Santana hands him a mixed drink of dubious color. She nods toward Rachel. “She started early. You’ll need this.” She hands another glass to Raf.” Here you go Pele. Drink up!”
She sashays away to wrest control of the music from Rachel. Kurt widens his eyes at the near catastrophe and mouths a thank you.
Rachel’s boyfriend Elan is here, leaning against a table and discussing aesthetic sensibilities with some of the designers.
By ten thirty things are warming up. The apartment is too small for a party, realistically, and only a few of the windows open. Everyone looks sweaty and buzzed. Santana brushes past, holding hands with a blonde girl Kurt doesn’t know. “Limey’s arrived,” she says, raising her eyebrows toward the door.
Kurt scans the room. “Adam! Benji!” He heads over to Adam and his boyfriend.
“Hey buttercup.” Adam crinkles a smile at him. He’s given Kurt the same little smile for years. Adam is a close friend. Their break up wasn’t acrimonious, just bittersweet. They had sex a few times afterwards, easy and laughing with each other, but not in the year since Adam met Benji.
Kurt looks up at Benji, who is 6 foot something ridiculous. “We heard you’re going to be a star, sweetheart.”
“Oh god,” says Kurt. “Please don’t jinx me. Was it Rachel?” he asks Adam.
Adam nods “She says Blaine wrote you a musical,” he says more quietly. Weeks after he and Kurt had broken up, Adam said, without heat, “I never had a chance.”
“Hardly,” Kurt laughs. “Blaine wrote a musical and there happens to be this role that works for me.”
“A starring role. I imagine he had a lot of other talented countertenors in mind when he wrote it.”
Adam raises his eyebrows but Kurt shakes his head a little.
“I’m pleased for you, Kurt.”
Kurt smiles and hugs him.
A hand runs up Kurt’s arm. “Can I get you a drink, baby?”
Kurt turns. “Raf! You remember Adam and Benji?” They have only met a couple of times. Raf’s not quite as into theater as Kurt would like and he’s busy coaching during the afternoons when Kurt tends to meet Adam for coffee or courtyard cocktails at Gala Bar. They all smile politely.
“We were talking about Kurt’s show,” says Benji. “He’s going to be a star, your boyfriend.”
“Of course he is,” says Raf. He keeps his hand on Kurt’s arm.
“Hush,” says Kurt to Benji. “The show hasn’t even started yet. And we’re starting small. There’s no way to say if it will even be noticed. I’m just happy to have another job in the industry. Two more months that I don’t have to work as a function waiter holding trays of champagne glasses. I have delicate wrists.”
He looks at Raf. He’s trying not to let every conversation be dominated by talk of the show. He is aware that when something is new and exciting the intensity of his focus can leave people in his life feeling abandoned.
“How are the cats?” he asks Benji and leans to admire the pictures when Benji pulls out his phone. Some classic Beyonce comes on over the speakers. “Ooh, this song is in the show,” says Kurt before he can help himself. Raf smiles, though, and laughs with the others as Kurt does a little shimmy dance of happiness.
Much later most people have gone. Rachel and Elan are bundled into the arm chair and Kurt is lying with his head on Raf’s lap and his feet draped over Santana’s legs. She’s ended the night mysteriously date free. The windows are still open to New York’s night sky. “When you wish upon a star,” Kurt hums to himself.
“I’m going to miss you so much,” says Raf. “And you’ll be in San Francisco with every other gorgeous gay boy at your feet.”
“You have entirely nothing to worry about, baby.” Kurt runs his hand across Raf’s muscular thigh. “Maybe I should worry, though. You’ll have the whole Chilean soccer squad hitting on you.”
Santana snorts. “It’s not so hot to be Chilean in Chile,” she says. “It’s crammed full of little twins of Diego here.”
Rachel looks over at Raf and says, “Kurt is very reliable.” She nods as though it’s profound. “You are, honey. You’d never cheat; you’re not that person.”
Kurt sighs and shifts his head to look up at Raf.
“Come to bed, baby, it’s our last night,” says Raf. “I have plans for you.”
“Of course.” Kurt lifts his head and spins his legs to the floor. As he stands he wobbles a little. It’s been a big night and he has no idea what was in the drinks Santana kept handing him.
Santana smirks. “Hold your horses there Ronaldo. By the look of Lady K, those plans might need to wait until morning.”
While Raf heads into the bathroom Santana touches Kurt’s arm. “I won’t see you in the morning. I’m opening at the Playhouse.”
Kurt tips his head. She’s sort of become his favorite, though he’d never tell her. “I’ll see you in two months, then?”
She stands and stretches magnificently, then looks at him with the full force of a Santana glare. “You come back, you hear.”
“Of course,” he says. He hugs her closely and smiles into her hair. “This is New York.”
**
Kurt has arranged to sublet a room in an Edwardian terrace in Dolores Heights. Two couples share the rest of the house. Marita and Dee on the second floor draw directions to the grocery store in the air and give him take-out menus. “We’ve cleared a shelf for you in the fridge,” says one of them. “It’s really important not to take my organic almond milk,” says the other. “It costs, like, six dollars a carton.”
There are four flights of narrow stairs. Kurt has far too many bags. It’s a nuisance but he truly couldn’t have opened his second show without a full selection of impeccable outfits. And that requires fourteen pairs of skinny jeans and eighteen scarves. Also all of these boots.
Once everything is in a kind of order he perches on the bed. The house is walking distance to the Castro and Haight Ashbury, but the neighborhood is quiet. It’s just right for someone with a job to do and a boyfriend at home in New York.
He misses, well, everything.
To Dad: Safely here. Stay fit and well or you won’t be able to climb the hills when you come visit.
To Santana: I am relying on you. Don’t let anyone touch the things I left in the apartment. Especially you. (Did I tell you that I’m going to miss you?)
To Raf: Miss you baby! Hope Jacob’s party is good and everyone asks after me. Call me when you can.
From Santana: New roomie is hotter than you and a little bit butch so I let her borrow your McQueen tux.
From Santana: p.s. You too principessa.
From Dad: Remember to kerb your wheels, kid.
To Dad: I don’t even have a car, dad.
From Dad: Yeah well just remember that I’m proud of you then.
From Dad: Carole sends hugs.
To Dad: You made me cry. Now I need to fix my make-up. (That was a joke. I only wear waterproof). Love to you both.
From Dad: You give it a couple of days and there won’t be time to be sad. We love you Kurt.
From Raf: Miss you beautiful!
The next day’s fog is impressive primarily for its inevitability. The moisture in the air isn’t ideal for Kurt’s hair, but he has excellent products so nothing goes awry. The fog burns off by mid-morning and Kurt can see the pretty boxy houses and crazy hills of his short term neighbourhood. He spends the day reading the libretto in coffee shops and the park, singing in his room, and trying to arrange wifi access so he can download the last of the songs he needs.
He also buys groceries and packs them carefully on his shelves. Someone (probably Dee) has labelled the shelves to make it all crystal clear. He cooks and eats and Jen and Jeremy come home and move around him smilingly.
“First day tomorrow?” asks Jen.
“Mm-hmm. Then we’re in rehearsal for three weeks.”
“I heard you singing,” she says. “I was impressed.”
“Thank you. I uh- hope I didn’t bother you.”
“Oh no,” she laughs.
“She was singing along,” says Jeremy. “Which was worse.”
Later in his room upstairs Kurt looks out the window over the district and hums to himself while he moisturises carefully. He isn’t nervous about rehearsal. But he is tired, everything is new, and his chest is a little tight. He doesn’t call Raf for affection or Rachel for advice or Santana for nerve. He doesn’t call his dad, either. He will be fine.
Chapter 5
Kurt eyes himself in his full length bedroom mirror. Raf slips a hand around his waist and lets it rest on his spine.
“You are very handsome as always, gordito” he says.
Kurt refuses to be baited by the undoubtedly fallacious pet name. “Coco Chanel says you should look in the mirror and take one thing off before you leave. But I think she might have been giving advice to amateurs.”
“Absolutely,” says Raf. “Though I can think of more than one thing I’d like you to take off.
Kurt smiles, adjusts his filigree scarf pin and turns to kiss Raf. “You’re affectionate tonight,” he says mildly.
Raf wraps his arms around him. “You’re leaving me. What were you expecting?”
Kurt feels something squeeze in his chest. “I’ll be gone eight weeks. You’ll be in Chile playing soccer for three of them.”
“It’s too long,” says Raf. “Seriously, do we have to go out there? We can’t just stay and-?”
“It’s ostensibly my farewell, Raf. I think they’d miss me if I didn’t show.”
Raf groans but sidesteps neatly as Kurt opens the bedroom door.
It’s nine pm so the party hasn’t really started yet. A few of the NYADA crew have turned up early, which is sweet. Though it could just be that they’re impoverished performers and can be sure Kurt spent most of the day cooking.
“The man of the hour!” Rachel squeals as Kurt walks into the living room.
Santana hands him a mixed drink of dubious color. She nods toward Rachel. “She started early. You’ll need this.” She hands another glass to Raf.” Here you go Pele. Drink up!”
She sashays away to wrest control of the music from Rachel. Kurt widens his eyes at the near catastrophe and mouths a thank you.
Rachel’s boyfriend Elan is here, leaning against a table and discussing aesthetic sensibilities with some of the designers.
By ten thirty things are warming up. The apartment is too small for a party, realistically, and only a few of the windows open. Everyone looks sweaty and buzzed. Santana brushes past, holding hands with a blonde girl Kurt doesn’t know. “Limey’s arrived,” she says, raising her eyebrows toward the door.
Kurt scans the room. “Adam! Benji!” He heads over to Adam and his boyfriend.
“Hey buttercup.” Adam crinkles a smile at him. He’s given Kurt the same little smile for years. Adam is a close friend. Their break up wasn’t acrimonious, just bittersweet. They had sex a few times afterwards, easy and laughing with each other, but not in the year since Adam met Benji.
Kurt looks up at Benji, who is 6 foot something ridiculous. “We heard you’re going to be a star, sweetheart.”
“Oh god,” says Kurt. “Please don’t jinx me. Was it Rachel?” he asks Adam.
Adam nods “She says Blaine wrote you a musical,” he says more quietly. Weeks after he and Kurt had broken up, Adam said, without heat, “I never had a chance.”
“Hardly,” Kurt laughs. “Blaine wrote a musical and there happens to be this role that works for me.”
“A starring role. I imagine he had a lot of other talented countertenors in mind when he wrote it.”
Adam raises his eyebrows but Kurt shakes his head a little.
“I’m pleased for you, Kurt.”
Kurt smiles and hugs him.
A hand runs up Kurt’s arm. “Can I get you a drink, baby?”
Kurt turns. “Raf! You remember Adam and Benji?” They have only met a couple of times. Raf’s not quite as into theater as Kurt would like and he’s busy coaching during the afternoons when Kurt tends to meet Adam for coffee or courtyard cocktails at Gala Bar. They all smile politely.
“We were talking about Kurt’s show,” says Benji. “He’s going to be a star, your boyfriend.”
“Of course he is,” says Raf. He keeps his hand on Kurt’s arm.
“Hush,” says Kurt to Benji. “The show hasn’t even started yet. And we’re starting small. There’s no way to say if it will even be noticed. I’m just happy to have another job in the industry. Two more months that I don’t have to work as a function waiter holding trays of champagne glasses. I have delicate wrists.”
He looks at Raf. He’s trying not to let every conversation be dominated by talk of the show. He is aware that when something is new and exciting the intensity of his focus can leave people in his life feeling abandoned.
“How are the cats?” he asks Benji and leans to admire the pictures when Benji pulls out his phone. Some classic Beyonce comes on over the speakers. “Ooh, this song is in the show,” says Kurt before he can help himself. Raf smiles, though, and laughs with the others as Kurt does a little shimmy dance of happiness.
Much later most people have gone. Rachel and Elan are bundled into the arm chair and Kurt is lying with his head on Raf’s lap and his feet draped over Santana’s legs. She’s ended the night mysteriously date free. The windows are still open to New York’s night sky. “When you wish upon a star,” Kurt hums to himself.
“I’m going to miss you so much,” says Raf. “And you’ll be in San Francisco with every other gorgeous gay boy at your feet.”
“You have entirely nothing to worry about, baby.” Kurt runs his hand across Raf’s muscular thigh. “Maybe I should worry, though. You’ll have the whole Chilean soccer squad hitting on you.”
Santana snorts. “It’s not so hot to be Chilean in Chile,” she says. “It’s crammed full of little twins of Diego here.”
Rachel looks over at Raf and says, “Kurt is very reliable.” She nods as though it’s profound. “You are, honey. You’d never cheat; you’re not that person.”
Kurt sighs and shifts his head to look up at Raf.
“Come to bed, baby, it’s our last night,” says Raf. “I have plans for you.”
“Of course.” Kurt lifts his head and spins his legs to the floor. As he stands he wobbles a little. It’s been a big night and he has no idea what was in the drinks Santana kept handing him.
Santana smirks. “Hold your horses there Ronaldo. By the look of Lady K, those plans might need to wait until morning.”
While Raf heads into the bathroom Santana touches Kurt’s arm. “I won’t see you in the morning. I’m opening at the Playhouse.”
Kurt tips his head. She’s sort of become his favorite, though he’d never tell her. “I’ll see you in two months, then?”
She stands and stretches magnificently, then looks at him with the full force of a Santana glare. “You come back, you hear.”
“Of course,” he says. He hugs her closely and smiles into her hair. “This is New York.”
**
Kurt has arranged to sublet a room in an Edwardian terrace in Dolores Heights. Two couples share the rest of the house. Marita and Dee on the second floor draw directions to the grocery store in the air and give him take-out menus. “We’ve cleared a shelf for you in the fridge,” says one of them. “It’s really important not to take my organic almond milk,” says the other. “It costs, like, six dollars a carton.”
There are four flights of narrow stairs. Kurt has far too many bags. It’s a nuisance but he truly couldn’t have opened his second show without a full selection of impeccable outfits. And that requires fourteen pairs of skinny jeans and eighteen scarves. Also all of these boots.
Once everything is in a kind of order he perches on the bed. The house is walking distance to the Castro and Haight Ashbury, but the neighborhood is quiet. It’s just right for someone with a job to do and a boyfriend at home in New York.
He misses, well, everything.
To Dad: Safely here. Stay fit and well or you won’t be able to climb the hills when you come visit.
To Santana: I am relying on you. Don’t let anyone touch the things I left in the apartment. Especially you. (Did I tell you that I’m going to miss you?)
To Raf: Miss you baby! Hope Jacob’s party is good and everyone asks after me. Call me when you can.
From Santana: New roomie is hotter than you and a little bit butch so I let her borrow your McQueen tux.
From Santana: p.s. You too principessa.
From Dad: Remember to kerb your wheels, kid.
To Dad: I don’t even have a car, dad.
From Dad: Yeah well just remember that I’m proud of you then.
From Dad: Carole sends hugs.
To Dad: You made me cry. Now I need to fix my make-up. (That was a joke. I only wear waterproof). Love to you both.
From Dad: You give it a couple of days and there won’t be time to be sad. We love you Kurt.
From Raf: Miss you beautiful!
The next day’s fog is impressive primarily for its inevitability. The moisture in the air isn’t ideal for Kurt’s hair, but he has excellent products so nothing goes awry. The fog burns off by mid-morning and Kurt can see the pretty boxy houses and crazy hills of his short term neighbourhood. He spends the day reading the libretto in coffee shops and the park, singing in his room, and trying to arrange wifi access so he can download the last of the songs he needs.
He also buys groceries and packs them carefully on his shelves. Someone (probably Dee) has labelled the shelves to make it all crystal clear. He cooks and eats and Jen and Jeremy come home and move around him smilingly.
“First day tomorrow?” asks Jen.
“Mm-hmm. Then we’re in rehearsal for three weeks.”
“I heard you singing,” she says. “I was impressed.”
“Thank you. I uh- hope I didn’t bother you.”
“Oh no,” she laughs.
“She was singing along,” says Jeremy. “Which was worse.”
Later in his room upstairs Kurt looks out the window over the district and hums to himself while he moisturises carefully. He isn’t nervous about rehearsal. But he is tired, everything is new, and his chest is a little tight. He doesn’t call Raf for affection or Rachel for advice or Santana for nerve. He doesn’t call his dad, either. He will be fine.
Chapter 5