Stop Loss: Chapter 18, Part One
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine, Rachel/Jesse, mentions of Jesse/Kurt
Rating: NC-17, a terrifying thought.
Warnings: Sexuality, violence consistant with canon, mild drug/alcohol use, mental/emotional themes (depression, anxiety, etc), dysfunctional family situations
Summary: AU. Kurt Hummel never went to McKinley. Instead, his father sent him to Carmel, where he flourished as a member of Vocal Adrenaline under the watchful eye of Jesse St. James. Everything was falling into place for him, until the day that Blaine, a beautiful, damaged transfer student with his own set of issues, throws his world upside down.
It had taken far too much sleep, and more orange juice than any one person should ever be forced to consume, but Kurt was finally feeling better. Which was fortunate, because Blaine was feeling worse.
Not that Kurt had accidently infected him with the plague; as far as he could tell, Blaine remained resolutely, stubbornly healthy. However, in the week and a half since Blaine had argued with his mother in front of Kurt, the tension in the Anderson house had redoubled, and the progress they had reportedly been making since Blaine had transferred to Carmel had…regressed, somewhat.
"It's like last fall all over again," Blaine had confided gloomily. "Like they're not quite sure what to do with me, but they're afraid that if we talk about anything real, I might have some sort of meltdown." When Kurt asked him if he had said as much to his parents, Blaine had merely shaken his head.
"That would fall under the category of actually communicating, remember?" he'd pointed out wryly. "Besides, how do I know they're not right? If I think for too long about the way things have been, or how they got that way, I either want to cry like a baby or punch something. Not exactly a stable, adult reaction."
After witnessing, however covertly, Mrs. Anderson's reaction to a 'platonic friend' in Blaine's room, Kurt wasn't sure any suggestion he could think of would be remotely helpful. Instead, he began going out of his way to be an extra-good, super-supportive boyfriend: bringing Blaine coffee in the morning when he had time, leaving bags of the chewy cinnamon candies he knew Blaine loved in his locker on the days he had to go to therapy, helping him with his math homework without having to be asked each time. Doing Blaine's physiotherapist-prescribed stretches with him before and after rehearsal (Blaine's flexibility had apparently only been in the 40th percentile of their age group, which put him markedly below average in Vocal Adrenaline). Doing his best not to be smothering and clingy when Blaine had to go home early, or was too tired to hang out with him. Being outwardly not jealous when Bohemian Rhapsody was the first completely finished, polished number in contention for Regionals, or when Dakota Stanley thanked Blaine and Ryleigh for not sucking as much as the rest of the talentless hacks he was resigned to working with that semester.
The last one was especially hard, given that only deep inner calm (and daydreams of garroting Dakota in his sleep) had kept Kurt from reacting badly the day before when Stanley had torn his own number to shreds.
Despite-or perhaps because of-all of his best efforts, Kurt couldn't help but feel a little guilty as he drove to school on Tuesday morning, less than two weeks before the Winter Ball. As much as he wanted Blaine to be happy, he knew that his recent efforts to be the perfect boyfriend for Blaine had been at least partially selfish:
He wanted Blaine to be happy, absolutely. But more than that, he wanted Blaine to be happy with him.
Growing up with a single parent, Kurt knew what it was like to desperately crave parental approval. He knew his dad was flawed-one taste of his cooking was enough to confirm that-but hearing him say that he loved Kurt, that he was proud of his son… There was nothing like it, and Kurt would have done just about anything in order to hear it. And he was lucky: he and Burt might not always agree on things, and they definitely didn't always understand each other, but Kurt had never really been afraid that his dad didn't love him.
Blaine clearly didn't have the same faith in his own parents, and Kurt didn't know them well enough to know whether or not they had earned his mistrust and wariness. Still, Kurt knew that Blaine was like him, in that he still wantedand needed to know that he was loved, regardless of what he might say or how he might act.
Adding to that pressure was the looming onus of the upcoming dance, which Kurt still didn't entirely understand the significance of. And the fact that his parents still didn't know about their relationship, which Kurt was a little afraid he did understand the significance of. Because when it came down to it, if Blaine was feeling pressured from all sides until something had to give, or ever felt like he needed to break up with Kurt in order to earn his parents' love and approval…
Kurt knew that was a battle he'd lose every time. The only thing he could really do was to make sure that Blaine felt secure and loved enough in their relationship that it never felt like a burden or a liability, and hope for the best.
He glanced at the second travel mug of coffee in the cup holder of his Navigator.
He really, really hoped.
Blaine was slumped over on his desk when Kurt arrived in History that day, his eyes worryingly blank as he stared ahead at nothing in particular. Kurt sat down in front of him and carded his fingers through Blaine's hair. "I couldn't find you this morning," he told Blaine, going for casual but sounding concerned instead. "Is everything okay?"
Blaine shrugged, not bothering to sit up. "I overslept and missed first period," he admitted. "My parents were up late last night, discussing what they should do with me this summer."
Kurt's hand stilled for a moment, then resumed stroking. "Do you get a say in any of it?" he asked dryly, looking down at Blaine.
Blaine shrugged again. "You would think so," he quipped, "but as I was not invited to join their conversation, I couldn't tell you."
Kurt stared. "Wait, they didn't even ask you what you wanted?" Kurt responded, confused. "They're not…sending you to Straight Camp or anything, are they?"
Blaine smiled weakly. "Nothing like that," he sighed. "More like 'Dad's planning to call Grandma today and see if I could stay with her for longer than my usual two weeks this year', sort of planning." He shook his head. "It's just so out of character for them," he added, sounding hurt. "They've never just made decisions for me before."
Kurt thought about it. "Maybe they were just discussing options," he suggested slowly. "Maybe they just want to make sure you could stay with your Grandma if you wanted to, before they offer you the choice."
Blaine nodded, but he didn't look convinced. Kurt smiled at him. "What are you doing for Spring Break?" he asked, hoping to cheer him up. "Less than a month to go, and then we don't have to go to school for nine whole days."
The bell rang before Blaine could answer, and Kurt rolled his eyes, smiling sadly at Blaine before turning around to take out his notebook.
Kurt himself was unfortunately resigned to spending the break in Ohio. His dad usually took his two weeks of vacation during the summer, so that they could go somewhere without having to pull Kurt out of school. This year, he'd scheduled his time off for the last two weeks of August. "It'll give you a couple of days to rest after getting back from that Academy camp," he'd reasoned, shaking his head dismissively when Kurt pointed out that his getting in was hardly a sure thing.
"If you do, you do," he'd said simply, "and if you don't, well, we'll have that much more money to put toward our trip. Maybe go all the way to New York or California, this time; see some colleges."
Kurt had liked that idea. He enjoyed travelling, both with his dad and with Vocal Adrenaline, but there were drawbacks to each: either working too hard and getting dragged out of bed at four in the morning on competition trips, or staying in bland hotel rooms in less lavish locations (or Mildred's guest room, which smelled so strongly of booze that he swore he spent his visits secondhand-drunk) on family vacations. A trip to a more exciting city with his dad would be the best of both.
Whatever was happening in the summer, though, wouldn't matter for months. Instead, Kurt turned his mind back to Spring Break. He really hoped that Blaine was staying in town as well-the whole 'we fell asleep watching movies and now it's too late to let Blaine drive home, guess he'll just have to stay here all night' scenario that he hoped to pull off in the near future would simply fall to pieces if Blaine wasn't actually in town.
Giselle had been back for two weeks, and Kurt was already ready to hit her with another car and send her back to her rehabilitation clinic in New Mexico.
Kurt was well aware of the fact that he was probably being unfair: except for her tendency to bitch about how cold the auditorium was-acclimated to the Southern heat, she'd often wear a thin hoodie for the first hour of rehearsal while everyone else was in t-shirts-she was actually a lot more pleasant than she had ever been. She hadn't singled out any of the underclassmen for verbal abuse, nobody else Kurt knew about had been victim to her social machinations, and she had yet to accidently-on-purpose trip a rival and send him or her flying across the stage. By all appearances, Giselle was nothing more than a normal girl, settling back into school and activities after a prolonged absence.
Except.
Except every once in a while, Kurt would catch her staring, at him or someone else, with a look of calculated dislike. And if she noticed him noticing, she'd smile, a dangerous, oily expression that was clearly meant to let Kurt know that not only was she onto him, but that she was merely biding her time. Kurt found the passive-aggressive tactic even more unnerving than her previous outright cruelty had been.
Especially when, after being back in rehearsals long enough to have picked up the majority of the choreography from Ben-who was working with her exclusively while Andrea covered everyone else-she set her sights on Blaine.
"What do you think it means when someone thinks you're 'interesting'?" Blaine asked him one afternoon, while they were having coffee at On That Note before Blaine had to leave to see Dr. Ramirez.
Kurt paused, his mug halfway between the table and his mouth. "I think it would depend on who was saying it, and in what context," he said carefully, thinking uneasily about Jesse's description of Blaine, way back before either of them really knew him. "Who called you interesting?"
Blaine shook his head, smiling disbelievingly. "Giselle sat with me at lunch for a little while today," he confessed. "She said she was curious about me, since she hadn't met me yet and everyone else seemed to like me." He blushed as he spoke. "She wanted to know how the two of us met," he continued, "and how we got together."
"Did you tell her?" Kurt asked, mouth suddenly dry. Giselle, for all her outward reformation, never asked questions just to be polite. In fact, she reminded him of Jesse, in that she nearly always had an agenda-with either of them, there was no such thing as an innocent question.
And after what had happened the year before, the last thing he wanted was Giselle asking Blaine questions about him.
Blaine shrugged. "I didn't have a reason not to," he pointed out. "It's not a secret that we're dating, and I think everyone knows that we got together the weekend of Sectionals." He frowned. "I know you said she's kind of horrible, but I just don't see it, Kurt," he admitted. "I haven't spent as much time with her as you have, obviously, but she's been pretty nice to me so far. Was she different before the accident?"
Kurt frowned back. He couldn't blame Blaine for questioning his description of Giselle as an evil harpy-compared to the old Giselle, the new version was practically an angel. Had Blaine been the one telling him about her, he would have been skeptical as well. "I suppose it's possible that the accident knocked some of the meanness out of her," he allowed, not really believing it. "She has been markedly less hostile since her return."
Blaine smiled. "You were definitely right about her and Andrea, though," he said, eyes sparkling. "Giselle was only gone for about two minutes before Andrea found me and started asking about what we talked about. I don't even think she was in the cafeteria when Giselle and I were together; it was like she just knew."
Kurt nodded sagely-that sounded fairly typical of Andrea and Giselle. "And did you tell her?" he asked again, already fairly certain that he knew the answer.
Sure enough, Blaine nodded. "I left out the part at the end where she called me interesting, though," he confided. "It felt more private."
Kurt smiled and nodded, but felt sick with dread on the inside. Giselle was clearly interested in his and Blaine's relationship, which meant that Andrea would be as well, even if she didn't necessarily know what had sparked Giselle's curiosity. Either way, now that Jesse was gone, the girls were the two people at Carmel that Kurt least wanted interested in anything he and Blaine did.
And worst of all, there was absolutely nothing he could do about any of it.
Blaine glanced at his watch. "I have to go," he said regretfully. "Are you going to stay and finish that?"
Kurt looked down at his still warm, half full mug of coffee. "I probably will," he decided, thinking of the pile of homework in his bag, most of which he could do without his computer.
"I'll say goodbye here, then," Blaine replied, and kissed Kurt over the table before standing up and sliding into his coat. He paused after putting on one of his gloves. "I bought a flower, for your suit this weekend," he told Kurt, smiling gently. "I didn't know if that was A Thing at the Ball, or Carmel, or if people only did that in the movies."
Kurt smiled back. "It's not a Carmel thing," he admitted, "but I'd love to wear it anyway. Two more days?"
Blaine sighed, managing to smile despite the anxiety apparent on his face. "Two more days," he confirmed. "Let's hope I'm ready."
Kurt had shared Jesse's dinner offer with Blaine a few days after Jesse had extended it, making it very clear that he was absolutely fine with whatever Blaine wanted. In the end, worried that Blaine wouldn't be able to change his mind in front of Jesse and Rachel if he needed to, they had decided to forgo the restaurant. Instead, Blaine arrived at Kurt's a couple of hours before the Ball with his suit in tow ("If my parents ask you, we're having a Dress Rehearsal/Team Bonding event," he'd told Kurt) and had dinner with Kurt's dad before getting ready.
Kurt had been avoiding refined carbs and sodium for a few days (and had done a quick set of crunches while Blaine was getting dressed in his bathroom) and the last minute tricks had helped: he looked positively fabulous in his suit. His skin was clear, his shoes were shined; even his hair was cooperating, despite the minimal amount of hairspray he had used (wearing too much hair product and then sweating was a mistake that Kurt only intended to make once; God, his eyes). Stepping closer to the mirror on the back of the closet door, Kurt adjusted a single stray hair that had fallen out of place.
Perfect.
"Wow. Kurt, you look…incredible." Kurt turned away from the mirror-Blaine had opened the bathroom door without him noticing, and was standing on the edge of the tiling, bracing himself with one hand on each side of the doorframe. The position was causing his shirt to come untucked, but Kurt barely noticed. Instead, his eyes were drawn to Blaine's face: Blaine was looking at him with big, soft eyes, staring at him with an expression that was almost like awe.
Kurt didn't think anyone had ever looked at him like that before.
Smiling somewhat bashfully, Kurt looked down, straightening the lapels of his suit. "I do clean up well," he said slyly, looking back up when he heard Blaine's quiet laugh of approval. "So do you, by the way," he added, raking his eyes over Blaine with a grin. "Even more handsome in person."
Blaine looked confused for a moment, before glancing down at his suit and looking back up with a smile of recognition. "It's the same one as Christmas, you're right," he confirmed, tucking his shirt into his pants more carefully. He nervously straightened his bow tie (Kurt had initially been skeptical, but he had to admit it was a good look for Blaine). "Do you want to take pictures?" he asked shyly.
Kurt nodded eagerly. "Let's take them ourselves, though," he said quickly, thinking of all the blurry, halfhearted photo albums stacked on one of the shelves upstairs. "Let me get my camera."
They took a number of photos in front of the fireplace in the living room, starting out with formal, traditional poses before devolving into creative, sillier shots. When Blaine nearly knocked him over trying to get back into the shot and kiss his cheek before the timer went off and the camera took the picture, Kurt figured that Blaine was as relaxed as he was going to be, and that they should probably head out before Blaine actually knocked him over. They stopped upstairs to say a quick goodbye to Kurt's dad-who gruffly declared that Kurt got handsomer and more grown up every year-grabbed the envelope with their tickets off of the counter where they'd been sitting for a week, and walked out of the house, into the cold.
Blaine was quiet on the drive to the dance, and Kurt had the sense that anything he said to Blaine at that moment would go unheard. It had snowed lightly that afternoon and Kurt needed both hands to drive, but he took Blaine's hand at every red light, squeezing softly and brushing his thumb over Blaine's knuckles to provide his boyfriend with reassurance in a way that might reach him. Once they'd reached the school and were waiting in a short line of cars to turn into Carmel's parking lot, Kurt chanced a glance at Blaine, whose profile was washed in red from the taillights of the cars and trucks in front of them. His expression worried Kurt-it wasn't the despair of a man being sent to the gallows, perhaps, but the weary resignation on his face wasn't much better.
The parking lot was crowded, and Kurt pulled into a spot in the last row before turning to Blaine, engine still running. "We don't have to do this," he reminded Blaine, watching him carefully as he sat stiffly in the passenger's seat. "We can go home, if you want to. Or to the movies; we didn't get to see Sherlock Holmes over Christmas because I got sick, and I know you wanted to go. I don't even have to turn the car off right now, if you don't want me to."
Blaine took a shuddering breath. "I don't want to do this," he admitted, eyes closed as he shook his head slowly. "But I need to. Let's just-let's just get inside. Okay?"
Kurt nodded. "Okay," he repeated, shutting off the engine and unfastening his seatbelt.
The walk across the parking lot was short. Blaine walked slightly faster than usual, keeping a death grip on Kurt's hand that Kurt would have balked at under normal circumstances, but his face remained resolutely calm and steady as Kurt opened the double doors leading into the school. Already, he could hear the sounds of music, shrieking, and laughter coming from down the hall, and he smiled at Blaine, whose hold on him was inexplicably starting to relax as they got closer to the dance itself.
They handed over their tickets and coats at the long tables outside the gym, guarded by two of Carmel's security guards, took one last look at each other (Kurt 's reassuring, Blaine's still painfully stoic), and walked hand in hand through the open doors leading into the Winter Ball.
The GSA had gone all out this year. The overhead lights in the room had been shut down, and colorful nets of holiday lights had been strung up everywhere, intermixed with flashing strobe lights that made the glittering streamers hanging all around the room shimmer and sparkle. A live band was playing in the far corner of the room, and a huge display of snacks and punch was set up immediately to the left of where Kurt and Blaine stood. One row of bleachers and a smattering of chairs, strewn around the room, had been left out for people to sit down, but the majority of the gym had been dedicated to the dance floor, which was packed with students.
Kurt let go of Blaine's hand and slid an arm around his waist. "Do you want to watch for a while?" he suggested, looking at Blaine as he stared at the dance floor, the tension in his features dissolving a little. "Ease yourself into it?" Blaine nodded, and Kurt tugged them along to get some punch, hoping that nobody had spiked it yet.
Rating: NC-17, a terrifying thought.
Warnings: Sexuality, violence consistant with canon, mild drug/alcohol use, mental/emotional themes (depression, anxiety, etc), dysfunctional family situations
Summary: AU. Kurt Hummel never went to McKinley. Instead, his father sent him to Carmel, where he flourished as a member of Vocal Adrenaline under the watchful eye of Jesse St. James. Everything was falling into place for him, until the day that Blaine, a beautiful, damaged transfer student with his own set of issues, throws his world upside down.
It had taken far too much sleep, and more orange juice than any one person should ever be forced to consume, but Kurt was finally feeling better. Which was fortunate, because Blaine was feeling worse.
Not that Kurt had accidently infected him with the plague; as far as he could tell, Blaine remained resolutely, stubbornly healthy. However, in the week and a half since Blaine had argued with his mother in front of Kurt, the tension in the Anderson house had redoubled, and the progress they had reportedly been making since Blaine had transferred to Carmel had…regressed, somewhat.
"It's like last fall all over again," Blaine had confided gloomily. "Like they're not quite sure what to do with me, but they're afraid that if we talk about anything real, I might have some sort of meltdown." When Kurt asked him if he had said as much to his parents, Blaine had merely shaken his head.
"That would fall under the category of actually communicating, remember?" he'd pointed out wryly. "Besides, how do I know they're not right? If I think for too long about the way things have been, or how they got that way, I either want to cry like a baby or punch something. Not exactly a stable, adult reaction."
After witnessing, however covertly, Mrs. Anderson's reaction to a 'platonic friend' in Blaine's room, Kurt wasn't sure any suggestion he could think of would be remotely helpful. Instead, he began going out of his way to be an extra-good, super-supportive boyfriend: bringing Blaine coffee in the morning when he had time, leaving bags of the chewy cinnamon candies he knew Blaine loved in his locker on the days he had to go to therapy, helping him with his math homework without having to be asked each time. Doing Blaine's physiotherapist-prescribed stretches with him before and after rehearsal (Blaine's flexibility had apparently only been in the 40th percentile of their age group, which put him markedly below average in Vocal Adrenaline). Doing his best not to be smothering and clingy when Blaine had to go home early, or was too tired to hang out with him. Being outwardly not jealous when Bohemian Rhapsody was the first completely finished, polished number in contention for Regionals, or when Dakota Stanley thanked Blaine and Ryleigh for not sucking as much as the rest of the talentless hacks he was resigned to working with that semester.
The last one was especially hard, given that only deep inner calm (and daydreams of garroting Dakota in his sleep) had kept Kurt from reacting badly the day before when Stanley had torn his own number to shreds.
Despite-or perhaps because of-all of his best efforts, Kurt couldn't help but feel a little guilty as he drove to school on Tuesday morning, less than two weeks before the Winter Ball. As much as he wanted Blaine to be happy, he knew that his recent efforts to be the perfect boyfriend for Blaine had been at least partially selfish:
He wanted Blaine to be happy, absolutely. But more than that, he wanted Blaine to be happy with him.
Growing up with a single parent, Kurt knew what it was like to desperately crave parental approval. He knew his dad was flawed-one taste of his cooking was enough to confirm that-but hearing him say that he loved Kurt, that he was proud of his son… There was nothing like it, and Kurt would have done just about anything in order to hear it. And he was lucky: he and Burt might not always agree on things, and they definitely didn't always understand each other, but Kurt had never really been afraid that his dad didn't love him.
Blaine clearly didn't have the same faith in his own parents, and Kurt didn't know them well enough to know whether or not they had earned his mistrust and wariness. Still, Kurt knew that Blaine was like him, in that he still wantedand needed to know that he was loved, regardless of what he might say or how he might act.
Adding to that pressure was the looming onus of the upcoming dance, which Kurt still didn't entirely understand the significance of. And the fact that his parents still didn't know about their relationship, which Kurt was a little afraid he did understand the significance of. Because when it came down to it, if Blaine was feeling pressured from all sides until something had to give, or ever felt like he needed to break up with Kurt in order to earn his parents' love and approval…
Kurt knew that was a battle he'd lose every time. The only thing he could really do was to make sure that Blaine felt secure and loved enough in their relationship that it never felt like a burden or a liability, and hope for the best.
He glanced at the second travel mug of coffee in the cup holder of his Navigator.
He really, really hoped.
Blaine was slumped over on his desk when Kurt arrived in History that day, his eyes worryingly blank as he stared ahead at nothing in particular. Kurt sat down in front of him and carded his fingers through Blaine's hair. "I couldn't find you this morning," he told Blaine, going for casual but sounding concerned instead. "Is everything okay?"
Blaine shrugged, not bothering to sit up. "I overslept and missed first period," he admitted. "My parents were up late last night, discussing what they should do with me this summer."
Kurt's hand stilled for a moment, then resumed stroking. "Do you get a say in any of it?" he asked dryly, looking down at Blaine.
Blaine shrugged again. "You would think so," he quipped, "but as I was not invited to join their conversation, I couldn't tell you."
Kurt stared. "Wait, they didn't even ask you what you wanted?" Kurt responded, confused. "They're not…sending you to Straight Camp or anything, are they?"
Blaine smiled weakly. "Nothing like that," he sighed. "More like 'Dad's planning to call Grandma today and see if I could stay with her for longer than my usual two weeks this year', sort of planning." He shook his head. "It's just so out of character for them," he added, sounding hurt. "They've never just made decisions for me before."
Kurt thought about it. "Maybe they were just discussing options," he suggested slowly. "Maybe they just want to make sure you could stay with your Grandma if you wanted to, before they offer you the choice."
Blaine nodded, but he didn't look convinced. Kurt smiled at him. "What are you doing for Spring Break?" he asked, hoping to cheer him up. "Less than a month to go, and then we don't have to go to school for nine whole days."
The bell rang before Blaine could answer, and Kurt rolled his eyes, smiling sadly at Blaine before turning around to take out his notebook.
Kurt himself was unfortunately resigned to spending the break in Ohio. His dad usually took his two weeks of vacation during the summer, so that they could go somewhere without having to pull Kurt out of school. This year, he'd scheduled his time off for the last two weeks of August. "It'll give you a couple of days to rest after getting back from that Academy camp," he'd reasoned, shaking his head dismissively when Kurt pointed out that his getting in was hardly a sure thing.
"If you do, you do," he'd said simply, "and if you don't, well, we'll have that much more money to put toward our trip. Maybe go all the way to New York or California, this time; see some colleges."
Kurt had liked that idea. He enjoyed travelling, both with his dad and with Vocal Adrenaline, but there were drawbacks to each: either working too hard and getting dragged out of bed at four in the morning on competition trips, or staying in bland hotel rooms in less lavish locations (or Mildred's guest room, which smelled so strongly of booze that he swore he spent his visits secondhand-drunk) on family vacations. A trip to a more exciting city with his dad would be the best of both.
Whatever was happening in the summer, though, wouldn't matter for months. Instead, Kurt turned his mind back to Spring Break. He really hoped that Blaine was staying in town as well-the whole 'we fell asleep watching movies and now it's too late to let Blaine drive home, guess he'll just have to stay here all night' scenario that he hoped to pull off in the near future would simply fall to pieces if Blaine wasn't actually in town.
Giselle had been back for two weeks, and Kurt was already ready to hit her with another car and send her back to her rehabilitation clinic in New Mexico.
Kurt was well aware of the fact that he was probably being unfair: except for her tendency to bitch about how cold the auditorium was-acclimated to the Southern heat, she'd often wear a thin hoodie for the first hour of rehearsal while everyone else was in t-shirts-she was actually a lot more pleasant than she had ever been. She hadn't singled out any of the underclassmen for verbal abuse, nobody else Kurt knew about had been victim to her social machinations, and she had yet to accidently-on-purpose trip a rival and send him or her flying across the stage. By all appearances, Giselle was nothing more than a normal girl, settling back into school and activities after a prolonged absence.
Except.
Except every once in a while, Kurt would catch her staring, at him or someone else, with a look of calculated dislike. And if she noticed him noticing, she'd smile, a dangerous, oily expression that was clearly meant to let Kurt know that not only was she onto him, but that she was merely biding her time. Kurt found the passive-aggressive tactic even more unnerving than her previous outright cruelty had been.
Especially when, after being back in rehearsals long enough to have picked up the majority of the choreography from Ben-who was working with her exclusively while Andrea covered everyone else-she set her sights on Blaine.
"What do you think it means when someone thinks you're 'interesting'?" Blaine asked him one afternoon, while they were having coffee at On That Note before Blaine had to leave to see Dr. Ramirez.
Kurt paused, his mug halfway between the table and his mouth. "I think it would depend on who was saying it, and in what context," he said carefully, thinking uneasily about Jesse's description of Blaine, way back before either of them really knew him. "Who called you interesting?"
Blaine shook his head, smiling disbelievingly. "Giselle sat with me at lunch for a little while today," he confessed. "She said she was curious about me, since she hadn't met me yet and everyone else seemed to like me." He blushed as he spoke. "She wanted to know how the two of us met," he continued, "and how we got together."
"Did you tell her?" Kurt asked, mouth suddenly dry. Giselle, for all her outward reformation, never asked questions just to be polite. In fact, she reminded him of Jesse, in that she nearly always had an agenda-with either of them, there was no such thing as an innocent question.
And after what had happened the year before, the last thing he wanted was Giselle asking Blaine questions about him.
Blaine shrugged. "I didn't have a reason not to," he pointed out. "It's not a secret that we're dating, and I think everyone knows that we got together the weekend of Sectionals." He frowned. "I know you said she's kind of horrible, but I just don't see it, Kurt," he admitted. "I haven't spent as much time with her as you have, obviously, but she's been pretty nice to me so far. Was she different before the accident?"
Kurt frowned back. He couldn't blame Blaine for questioning his description of Giselle as an evil harpy-compared to the old Giselle, the new version was practically an angel. Had Blaine been the one telling him about her, he would have been skeptical as well. "I suppose it's possible that the accident knocked some of the meanness out of her," he allowed, not really believing it. "She has been markedly less hostile since her return."
Blaine smiled. "You were definitely right about her and Andrea, though," he said, eyes sparkling. "Giselle was only gone for about two minutes before Andrea found me and started asking about what we talked about. I don't even think she was in the cafeteria when Giselle and I were together; it was like she just knew."
Kurt nodded sagely-that sounded fairly typical of Andrea and Giselle. "And did you tell her?" he asked again, already fairly certain that he knew the answer.
Sure enough, Blaine nodded. "I left out the part at the end where she called me interesting, though," he confided. "It felt more private."
Kurt smiled and nodded, but felt sick with dread on the inside. Giselle was clearly interested in his and Blaine's relationship, which meant that Andrea would be as well, even if she didn't necessarily know what had sparked Giselle's curiosity. Either way, now that Jesse was gone, the girls were the two people at Carmel that Kurt least wanted interested in anything he and Blaine did.
And worst of all, there was absolutely nothing he could do about any of it.
Blaine glanced at his watch. "I have to go," he said regretfully. "Are you going to stay and finish that?"
Kurt looked down at his still warm, half full mug of coffee. "I probably will," he decided, thinking of the pile of homework in his bag, most of which he could do without his computer.
"I'll say goodbye here, then," Blaine replied, and kissed Kurt over the table before standing up and sliding into his coat. He paused after putting on one of his gloves. "I bought a flower, for your suit this weekend," he told Kurt, smiling gently. "I didn't know if that was A Thing at the Ball, or Carmel, or if people only did that in the movies."
Kurt smiled back. "It's not a Carmel thing," he admitted, "but I'd love to wear it anyway. Two more days?"
Blaine sighed, managing to smile despite the anxiety apparent on his face. "Two more days," he confirmed. "Let's hope I'm ready."
Kurt had shared Jesse's dinner offer with Blaine a few days after Jesse had extended it, making it very clear that he was absolutely fine with whatever Blaine wanted. In the end, worried that Blaine wouldn't be able to change his mind in front of Jesse and Rachel if he needed to, they had decided to forgo the restaurant. Instead, Blaine arrived at Kurt's a couple of hours before the Ball with his suit in tow ("If my parents ask you, we're having a Dress Rehearsal/Team Bonding event," he'd told Kurt) and had dinner with Kurt's dad before getting ready.
Kurt had been avoiding refined carbs and sodium for a few days (and had done a quick set of crunches while Blaine was getting dressed in his bathroom) and the last minute tricks had helped: he looked positively fabulous in his suit. His skin was clear, his shoes were shined; even his hair was cooperating, despite the minimal amount of hairspray he had used (wearing too much hair product and then sweating was a mistake that Kurt only intended to make once; God, his eyes). Stepping closer to the mirror on the back of the closet door, Kurt adjusted a single stray hair that had fallen out of place.
Perfect.
"Wow. Kurt, you look…incredible." Kurt turned away from the mirror-Blaine had opened the bathroom door without him noticing, and was standing on the edge of the tiling, bracing himself with one hand on each side of the doorframe. The position was causing his shirt to come untucked, but Kurt barely noticed. Instead, his eyes were drawn to Blaine's face: Blaine was looking at him with big, soft eyes, staring at him with an expression that was almost like awe.
Kurt didn't think anyone had ever looked at him like that before.
Smiling somewhat bashfully, Kurt looked down, straightening the lapels of his suit. "I do clean up well," he said slyly, looking back up when he heard Blaine's quiet laugh of approval. "So do you, by the way," he added, raking his eyes over Blaine with a grin. "Even more handsome in person."
Blaine looked confused for a moment, before glancing down at his suit and looking back up with a smile of recognition. "It's the same one as Christmas, you're right," he confirmed, tucking his shirt into his pants more carefully. He nervously straightened his bow tie (Kurt had initially been skeptical, but he had to admit it was a good look for Blaine). "Do you want to take pictures?" he asked shyly.
Kurt nodded eagerly. "Let's take them ourselves, though," he said quickly, thinking of all the blurry, halfhearted photo albums stacked on one of the shelves upstairs. "Let me get my camera."
They took a number of photos in front of the fireplace in the living room, starting out with formal, traditional poses before devolving into creative, sillier shots. When Blaine nearly knocked him over trying to get back into the shot and kiss his cheek before the timer went off and the camera took the picture, Kurt figured that Blaine was as relaxed as he was going to be, and that they should probably head out before Blaine actually knocked him over. They stopped upstairs to say a quick goodbye to Kurt's dad-who gruffly declared that Kurt got handsomer and more grown up every year-grabbed the envelope with their tickets off of the counter where they'd been sitting for a week, and walked out of the house, into the cold.
Blaine was quiet on the drive to the dance, and Kurt had the sense that anything he said to Blaine at that moment would go unheard. It had snowed lightly that afternoon and Kurt needed both hands to drive, but he took Blaine's hand at every red light, squeezing softly and brushing his thumb over Blaine's knuckles to provide his boyfriend with reassurance in a way that might reach him. Once they'd reached the school and were waiting in a short line of cars to turn into Carmel's parking lot, Kurt chanced a glance at Blaine, whose profile was washed in red from the taillights of the cars and trucks in front of them. His expression worried Kurt-it wasn't the despair of a man being sent to the gallows, perhaps, but the weary resignation on his face wasn't much better.
The parking lot was crowded, and Kurt pulled into a spot in the last row before turning to Blaine, engine still running. "We don't have to do this," he reminded Blaine, watching him carefully as he sat stiffly in the passenger's seat. "We can go home, if you want to. Or to the movies; we didn't get to see Sherlock Holmes over Christmas because I got sick, and I know you wanted to go. I don't even have to turn the car off right now, if you don't want me to."
Blaine took a shuddering breath. "I don't want to do this," he admitted, eyes closed as he shook his head slowly. "But I need to. Let's just-let's just get inside. Okay?"
Kurt nodded. "Okay," he repeated, shutting off the engine and unfastening his seatbelt.
The walk across the parking lot was short. Blaine walked slightly faster than usual, keeping a death grip on Kurt's hand that Kurt would have balked at under normal circumstances, but his face remained resolutely calm and steady as Kurt opened the double doors leading into the school. Already, he could hear the sounds of music, shrieking, and laughter coming from down the hall, and he smiled at Blaine, whose hold on him was inexplicably starting to relax as they got closer to the dance itself.
They handed over their tickets and coats at the long tables outside the gym, guarded by two of Carmel's security guards, took one last look at each other (Kurt 's reassuring, Blaine's still painfully stoic), and walked hand in hand through the open doors leading into the Winter Ball.
The GSA had gone all out this year. The overhead lights in the room had been shut down, and colorful nets of holiday lights had been strung up everywhere, intermixed with flashing strobe lights that made the glittering streamers hanging all around the room shimmer and sparkle. A live band was playing in the far corner of the room, and a huge display of snacks and punch was set up immediately to the left of where Kurt and Blaine stood. One row of bleachers and a smattering of chairs, strewn around the room, had been left out for people to sit down, but the majority of the gym had been dedicated to the dance floor, which was packed with students.
Kurt let go of Blaine's hand and slid an arm around his waist. "Do you want to watch for a while?" he suggested, looking at Blaine as he stared at the dance floor, the tension in his features dissolving a little. "Ease yourself into it?" Blaine nodded, and Kurt tugged them along to get some punch, hoping that nobody had spiked it yet.