Fic: Calculus is of the Devil, Part 2
Kurt reached to straighten the tie of Blaine’s tuxedo. “Stop bouncing. Please, for two seconds. Blaine!”
Blaine had entered performance mode the second he slipped on his jacket, and his game face was firmly in place.
“How much time? It’s almost time, right? Man, I’m ready to do this.” He continued bouncing.
“Less than ten minutes.” Kurt stepped back and crossed his arms. The tie was a lost cause.
“Did you remember the camera?”
“Yep, and the camcorder. I gave the girls specific instructions. Don’t worry. I’ve got things under control.” He straightened his own tie for the fifth time in as many minutes, then reached for his phone to check the time.
“Do you ever not have things under control?”
“Well, I can’t seem to control your feet.” He gave Blaine a once-over and shook his head. Blaine’s particularly insane pre-show rituals were something Kurt would never understand, and he’d long since given up trying.
Blaine reached for Kurt’s hands. “Bounce with me. It’s fun.”
“And risk this hair? You’re out of your mind.” He sucked in his cheeks and struck a dramatic pose, and Blaine let out a throaty laugh.
Places were called then, and the ensemble shuffled around them, nervous energy palpable.
“We should go.” Kurt cocked his head toward the stage.
“Not just yet.” Blaine stopped bouncing and reached for the lapels of Kurt’s jacket, pulling him in close. Rising up to his tiptoes, he leaned in and whispered, “Wish me luck?”
Kurt hummed in response and pressed his lips to Blaine’s. “Luck,” he breathed, sliding his arms around Blaine’s waist and stepping closer.
“Uh, gentlemen?” The director cleared his throat, and hooked a thumb toward the stage. “Show time.”
Kurt placed a final quick kiss to Blaine’s lips. “Knock ‘em dead out there.”
“That’s the plan.” Blaine bounced a few last times, and rubbed his hands together. “Let’s do this.”
***
When the curtain fell, whoops of excited relief went up from a few members of the group and Blaine was immediately swallowed up in a sea of tuxedos. Kurt stood back and watched as each group member in turn offered Blaine hearty congratulations and slaps on the back.
Leaving Blaine to his fawning crowd, Kurt slipped away to gather their things. He changed quickly, then collected their cameras and a few extra programs for their parents.
When the crowd around him finally dissipated, Blaine caught sight of Kurt seated toward the back of the empty auditorium, camera in hand, thumbing through pictures from the show. He jumped off stage and started down the aisle, a noticeable swagger in his step.
“That,” he said, reaching Kurt, eyes big with excitement, “was fun.”
Kurt nodded. “And you were amazing. Amazing! My boyfriend, ladies and gentlemen.” Kurt made a dramatic sweeping gesture to a pretend audience, then applauded heartily. Blaine pulled a serious face and bowed deep at the waist.
“Thank you, thank you. Please, hold your applause.”
Kurt set the camera down and stood, stepping toward Blaine. “Seriously, you were…”
“A little flat?”
“Eh…” Kurt waffled.
“I was not. I was perfect. Now c’mere and congratulate me.” He hooked his fingers through Kurt’s beltloops and closed the gap between them as Kurt slipped his hands inside Blaine’s jacket and clasped them behind his back.
“You were perfect.” He pulled Blaine closer and held him tight, feeling the nervous energy still buzzing through him. Blaine pressed a hand to the small of Kurt’s back as the other hand swept across his cheek.
“Thank you. And thank you for earlier. For today.”
Kurt shrugged. “S’part of my job.”
“Well, then you deserve a raise.” Kurt choked back a laugh and Blaine poked at his ribs. “You have a filthy mind.”
“Only because someone corrupted me.” Kurt fixed him with a pointed look.
“Mmhm,” Blaine said, rolling his eyes, “I accept full responsibility.”
“As you should. Besides, you like my mind.”
“I do. Along with the rest of you.” Blaine angled in for a kiss, but Kurt threw up a hand between them.
“Oh, no. No no no. Don’t even try to charm me out of this after party. After the week I’ve had, I deserve a little fun.”
“What, and I’m not fun?”
“Aw,” Kurt pouted his lip in mirror of Blaine. “Of course you’re fun, Mr. Poutyface. But I wanna dance. Now hurry up and change. Hop to!”
“Fine.” He stepped away from Kurt and grabbed his bag. “This’ll go faster if you hang stuff up for me.” He knew full well that Kurt would check his bag anyway, to make sure everything was neat. He was like his own personal choir mom, only much better looking. Blaine grinned at the thought.
Kurt rolled his eyes in acquiescence. “Come on, you. Seriously, what would you do without me?”
Blaine reached for his hand and gave it a quick squeeze. “Be very, very wrinkled, I imagine.”
Blaine had entered performance mode the second he slipped on his jacket, and his game face was firmly in place.
“How much time? It’s almost time, right? Man, I’m ready to do this.” He continued bouncing.
“Less than ten minutes.” Kurt stepped back and crossed his arms. The tie was a lost cause.
“Did you remember the camera?”
“Yep, and the camcorder. I gave the girls specific instructions. Don’t worry. I’ve got things under control.” He straightened his own tie for the fifth time in as many minutes, then reached for his phone to check the time.
“Do you ever not have things under control?”
“Well, I can’t seem to control your feet.” He gave Blaine a once-over and shook his head. Blaine’s particularly insane pre-show rituals were something Kurt would never understand, and he’d long since given up trying.
Blaine reached for Kurt’s hands. “Bounce with me. It’s fun.”
“And risk this hair? You’re out of your mind.” He sucked in his cheeks and struck a dramatic pose, and Blaine let out a throaty laugh.
Places were called then, and the ensemble shuffled around them, nervous energy palpable.
“We should go.” Kurt cocked his head toward the stage.
“Not just yet.” Blaine stopped bouncing and reached for the lapels of Kurt’s jacket, pulling him in close. Rising up to his tiptoes, he leaned in and whispered, “Wish me luck?”
Kurt hummed in response and pressed his lips to Blaine’s. “Luck,” he breathed, sliding his arms around Blaine’s waist and stepping closer.
“Uh, gentlemen?” The director cleared his throat, and hooked a thumb toward the stage. “Show time.”
Kurt placed a final quick kiss to Blaine’s lips. “Knock ‘em dead out there.”
“That’s the plan.” Blaine bounced a few last times, and rubbed his hands together. “Let’s do this.”
***
When the curtain fell, whoops of excited relief went up from a few members of the group and Blaine was immediately swallowed up in a sea of tuxedos. Kurt stood back and watched as each group member in turn offered Blaine hearty congratulations and slaps on the back.
Leaving Blaine to his fawning crowd, Kurt slipped away to gather their things. He changed quickly, then collected their cameras and a few extra programs for their parents.
When the crowd around him finally dissipated, Blaine caught sight of Kurt seated toward the back of the empty auditorium, camera in hand, thumbing through pictures from the show. He jumped off stage and started down the aisle, a noticeable swagger in his step.
“That,” he said, reaching Kurt, eyes big with excitement, “was fun.”
Kurt nodded. “And you were amazing. Amazing! My boyfriend, ladies and gentlemen.” Kurt made a dramatic sweeping gesture to a pretend audience, then applauded heartily. Blaine pulled a serious face and bowed deep at the waist.
“Thank you, thank you. Please, hold your applause.”
Kurt set the camera down and stood, stepping toward Blaine. “Seriously, you were…”
“A little flat?”
“Eh…” Kurt waffled.
“I was not. I was perfect. Now c’mere and congratulate me.” He hooked his fingers through Kurt’s beltloops and closed the gap between them as Kurt slipped his hands inside Blaine’s jacket and clasped them behind his back.
“You were perfect.” He pulled Blaine closer and held him tight, feeling the nervous energy still buzzing through him. Blaine pressed a hand to the small of Kurt’s back as the other hand swept across his cheek.
“Thank you. And thank you for earlier. For today.”
Kurt shrugged. “S’part of my job.”
“Well, then you deserve a raise.” Kurt choked back a laugh and Blaine poked at his ribs. “You have a filthy mind.”
“Only because someone corrupted me.” Kurt fixed him with a pointed look.
“Mmhm,” Blaine said, rolling his eyes, “I accept full responsibility.”
“As you should. Besides, you like my mind.”
“I do. Along with the rest of you.” Blaine angled in for a kiss, but Kurt threw up a hand between them.
“Oh, no. No no no. Don’t even try to charm me out of this after party. After the week I’ve had, I deserve a little fun.”
“What, and I’m not fun?”
“Aw,” Kurt pouted his lip in mirror of Blaine. “Of course you’re fun, Mr. Poutyface. But I wanna dance. Now hurry up and change. Hop to!”
“Fine.” He stepped away from Kurt and grabbed his bag. “This’ll go faster if you hang stuff up for me.” He knew full well that Kurt would check his bag anyway, to make sure everything was neat. He was like his own personal choir mom, only much better looking. Blaine grinned at the thought.
Kurt rolled his eyes in acquiescence. “Come on, you. Seriously, what would you do without me?”
Blaine reached for his hand and gave it a quick squeeze. “Be very, very wrinkled, I imagine.”