Fic: Hands
Title: HandsRating: PG
Warnings: Brief mentions of a hate crime (Sadie Hawkins), minor brain injury
Word Count: 905
Summary: Blaine's hands are never quite the same.
A/N: This was inspired by this headcanon. Basically, after the Sadie Hawkins dance, Blaine is left with brain damage affecting the motor skills in his hands.
I wrote this in about an hour, didn't edit it, never planned on posting it. But people on tumblr seemed to enjoy it so I thought I'd post it here just for fun. So excuse the quality. And the horrifically cheesy ending.
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Blaine used to be right handed. He used to be a lot of things. He used to play tennis. He used to murder at chess tournaments.
But then he turned fourteen. He came out. He was shy and unsure but he loved and trusted so much and he got beat down for it.
Now.
Now he sits on his hands in class. In group projects he makes up excuses that his pen doesn’t work, he forgot his pencils at home. If the barista doesn’t put his lid on at the Lima Bean, he drinks his coffee without it. He talks to draw attention away, and really, no one notices. Kurt’s a year above and they don’t share any classes except French and it only takes a compliment or two on his perfect penmanship and Kurt’s eager to write everything for them.
But.
But then there’s glee club. Glee club where everyone is happy (well…) and the music is infectious and everyone is dancing and clapping and sometimes Blaine forgets. He dances along with everyone else, he claps, fingers stiff and uncoordinated, until he catches himself, fisting his pants and looking around nervously, to see if anyone noticed. No one does.
Until.
Until one day. Everyone is getting ready to leave, but Brittany stands in front of him, eyebrows furrowed. Perplexed.
“Are you a baby?”
Blaine blinks. Kurt frowns.
“What?”
“Are you a baby?” Brittany repeats, like it’s the most reasonable question in the world. “My aunt just had a baby, and she claps just like you.”
Blaine feels the blood drain from his face. McKinley was his chance. His chance to get away from everything, where no one knew, no one would treat him like he was special, damaged. And now it is ruined because he let his guard down. Because he forgot.
But then, this is Brittany. No one understands what she’s saying half the time, and the other half, no one really listens. So he forces himself to smile, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“Don’t be silly, Brittany,” Kurt says, resting a hand on Blaine’s back. “Blaine claps perfectly fine.”
Blaine doesn’t say anything and Brittany just shrugs and bounces away and they leave it at that.
Later.
Later that night, homework spread out across the floor of Kurt’s bedroom, it won’t leave Blaine alone. Kurt’s working on his stats homework, lip caught between his teeth, brow creased in thought. Blaine’s been staring at the same page of The Great Gatsby for ten minutes, and he pushes it away with a sigh.
“She was right,” he says.
“Who was?” Kurt says, not looking up from his homework, pencil scribbling down numbers.
“Brittany.” Blaine shifts nervously. He figures it’s only a matter of time until Kurt figures out…and maybe, with Kurt on his side, no one else would have to find out.
“Brittany was right about something?” Kurt asks, finally dragging his eyes from his paper, bouncing the eraser of his pencil on his textbook.
“About me,” Blaine says, eyes fixed on his hands.
“What?” Confusion laces Kurt’s voice. “You don’t clap like a baby, Blaine.”
Blaine’s mouth feels dry.
“Haven’t you ever wondered why we never really hold hands? We kind of just…rest them together.”
Kurt frowns.
“And how you always write our assignments? That I hold my fork in a fist, instead of like a normal person?”
Kurt is silent for a moment.
“I just thought…that’s what you did. I didn’t really…”
Blaine reaches across the sea of white papers, taking Kurt’s hands in his. Kurt looks at him inquisitively and Blaine nods.
“You can try to bend them.”
Kurt turns his attention to Blaine’s hands, smoothing his finger’s over Blaine’s, down to the knuckles. Blaine feels the resistance as Kurt bends them, Kurt’s eyebrows raising in surprise.
“What…?” Kurt’s eyes shift upwards, meeting Blaine’s. Blaine gives his fingers a wiggle, the movement stiff and jerky.
“Sadie Hawkins,” Blaine says, not liking the look that crosses Kurt’s face and god why did he decide to tell him this? “When I was…they hit me a lot. In the head.”
He shrugs, like this is no big deal.
“Brain damage. That’s what the doctors said. I lost most of my fine motor skills. It’s a lot better now, you mostly can’t tell, but my hands…”
Kurt doesn’t say anything for a moment.
“Why…why didn’t you tell me?”
Blaine looks down.
“I didn’t want you to think of me differently. Everyone…they treat me like I’m a kid or something. Like I need help. I just want to do things on my own.”
Kurt traces his thumbs across the back of Blaine’s hands, before giving them a tight squeeze.
“I wouldn’t… I don’t think of you differently.” Kurt leans, papers crinkling under his knees, finger’s still twined with Blaine’s, as he presses a kiss to his lips. And suddenly Blaine wonders why he was ever nervous in the first place. “I’m glad you told me.”
Whatever Blaine is about to say is forgotten as Kurt presses into him, lips parting to swallow Blaine’s words.
“You don’t mind,” Blaine says when he finds his voice and Kurt sits back, cocking his head slightly in confusion. “That I can’t…you know…use my hands…for…” He can feel the red creeping into his cheeks, embarrassment washing through him.
“With a mouth like yours…” Kurt says, breath hot against Blaine’s skin and Blaine lets his eyes flutter closed.
“Trust me…I don’t mind.”