The World is No Longer Mysterious: Part 5/5
Part 5
Blaine’s hands won’t stop shaking.
He’s sat on them, he’s curled them tight together and wedged them between his thighs, but it doesn’t help. Kurt is driving, his fingers so tight on the wheel that his knuckles strain white against his skin.
“Kurt -“ he tries, but Kurt just shakes his head. “Not now. Please.”
“But -“
“Blaine, please.”
“Okay.”
His throat hurts. He still can’t draw a full breath through it without it burning and rasping painfully. His mind keeps replaying Kurt standing over the body, his body, and firing that last shot.
When they pull up to Blaine’s house it’s the same as he left it, the front door left open a crack. His ankle buckles as he gets out of the car but Kurt’s already pushing open the door. Mouse comes shooting out and knocks him down onto the floor, licking sloppily all over his face.
“Ugh, Mouse, stop,” Blaine mumbles, pushing weakly at his chest, “No, don’t. Stop it.”
Kurt’s footsteps crunch back over the gravel and he shoos Mouse out of the way, hauling Blaine upright. “Get your act together, idiot,” he says, but the jibe holds none of its usual friendly bite.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, and tries not to put too much weight on Kurt’s shoulder as they hobble towards the door.
Mouse follows them upstairs, his nails clicking loudly against the wooden boards until they reach the bathroom and he backs off, whining and settling to the floor just outside it. Kurt shoves Blaine down on the seat of the toilet and starts opening cupboard doors.
“The first-aid is under the sink,” Blaine croaks, and Kurt nods in his direction and pulls out the green box, cracking it open and dumping various things in the sink. He crumples something into his hand and drops to his knees, easing Blaine’s boot off his foot and tossing it over his shoulder. Blaine winces at the ugly scuff mark it leaves on the wall. Kurt tugs the sock off too and then rolls up his jeans, propping Blaine’s foot up on his knee.
“What are you doing?” he asks, and Kurt holds up the rumpled ACE bandage. “It’s probably just a strain, but this should help before I grab you some painkillers.”
“Thanks,” Blaine rubs at his throat and grimaces at the ache. Kurt stands and Blaine’s foot thumps to the floor, making him wince. “Oh, shit - crap, I’m sorry, I - do you want some water? I can get you some water, and something to eat as well, sorry, I should have asked -“
“Kurt,” Blaine says, and pushes himself up onto his feet, “Okay, just, wait, just. We both stink of sewer, me even more so, and before you do anything I think we both need to shower.”
Kurt sighs heavily. “Okay. Do you need a hand getting in?”
“I’ll be fine,” Blaine smiles, “You can use the guest bathroom, it’s just down the hall.”
“Are you -“
“I’m sure. Kurt, go on, I’m fine.”
Blaine shoos both Kurt and Mouse out of the doorway and shuts it firmly behind them, leaving it unlocked in case that he passes out in the shower and has to be rescued.
He finds the bottle of pine shower gel that he bought after their last sewer excursion and scrubs until he can’t smell the sewer anymore. Then he just stands in the shower and breathes in the steam until the urge to break down into tears goes away again.
Kurt must have been in at some point because there’s a pile of clean, folded clothes on the floor and his discarded ones have been taken away. He does some pretty impressive balancing and manages to get into the sweatpants without giving himself another concussion, and he’s pretty sure the shirt he’s wearing is about three sizes too big but he can’t bring himself to care.
When he opens the door Kurt is hovering there, looking nervous. “I borrowed some of your clothes, I hope that’s okay?”
Blaine nods, smiling half-heartedly as he hobbles past into his bedroom, holding onto the dresser and armchair for support. Kurt is already kneeling by the time he sits down, pushing the leg of his pants up in order to get at Blaine’s ankle.
“It’s swelling,” he says helpfully, “But it’s not too bad, and the bruising isn’t horrible either. If you wrap it up it should be fine in a couple days. I’ll get you some painkillers, and -“
“Kurt,” Blaine reaches out and smoothes his hair off his forehead, “Kurt, stop.”
“You need painkillers,” Kurt ignores Blaine, shaking his head and reaching for the ACE bandage, “And I’ll wrap up your ankle, and then you should probably get some sleep, I’ll make sure -“
Blaine grabs Kurt’s hands and presses them against his knees, staring into his eyes. “Kurt. Stop.”
Kurt deflates, his shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Blaine tugs his hands until he sits next to him, “It’s fine, I promise. I just want to know what’s wrong.”
Kurt takes a shaky breath. “I just. I hate those things, I hate them so much.”
“Can I ask why?” Blaine asks tentatively and Kurt sighs. “They scare me. They - Blaine, if you hadn’t called first, it would have called me down to the sewers and killed me, and it would have taken your place and - just like Lily.”
“Lily?”
“She travelled with us for a little while,” Kurt says, “and she - she was killed by a shifter. I found her body, it left it under her car. It’d been with us for days and I hadn’t noticed a thing.”
“Kurt,” Blaine doesn’t know what to say, “You couldn’t have known.”
“But it wasn’t just that,” Kurt sniffs, “It was afterwards, god. I was so lonely. She was the only one who ever let me feel like I was actually normal for once, like I wasn’t some kind of girly freak, and after she... after she was gone I didn’t have anyone to talk to about liking to sing or draw without being told it was gay or faggy or that I should be less girly. And. And I couldn’t let it happen to you because - because you make me feel like that too. Like I’m normal. And so I can’t lose you, I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”
Blaine’s heart is somewhere in his throat and tears are stinging his eyes. “You won’t,” he says thickly, “I promise you, you won’t lose me.”
Kurt throws his arms around Blaine’s neck and Blaine hugs him back, as tight as he can, and Kurt buries his face in Blaine’s neck and his breath hitches softly. Blaine closes his eyes against his threatening tears and whispers “You won’t lose me, Kurt, I promise you.”
They cling to each other for nearly half an hour, finding comfort in each other’s presence, before Kurt inches away and wipes his eyes with a watery smile. “Shall I wrap your leg now?”
“That would be fantastic,” Blaine chuckles, surreptitiously dabbing at his eyes with his handkerchief as Kurt props his heel on his knee and starts slowly wrapping the bandage around his bruising ankle.
Once Blaine’s taken his painkillers they boot up his laptop and call Mouse up to join them to watch Singing in the Rain, quietly trying to forget the exhausting events of the evening. Neither of them say anything, but the sight of the dog lying quietly beside Blaine’s bed makes them both feel just that tiny bit safer. Blaine can’t quite help but sit up a little every time the house creaks, but Kurt’s hand in his is enough to persuade him to let the stress drain out of his body. Eventually, the movie draws to an end and Kurt turns to him, says softly as the credits play “You okay?”
The light from the laptop casts an eerie glow over his face, making him look ethereal and almost otherworldly.
“I’m crazy about you,” Blaine breathes, and Kurt’s eyes widen the tiniest amount before he slides off the bed and snaps the laptop shut.
“Shit,” Blaine says, replaying his idiotic confession in his mind, “Oh god, Kurt, I’m sorry, I didn’t - it wasn’t supposed to come out like that, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Wait, no - no, I did mean it, I just didn’t mean to say it, but -“
“Blaine,” Kurt says tightly, “It doesn’t matter, okay? It’s fine. I’m fine. Just let it go.”
Blaine slumps back against the headboard, his throat aching. “Sorry,” he mumbles, and Kurt shrugs, placing the laptop on his desk. “I should probably head home. My dad will be worrying.”
“But Kurt, your dad’s -“
“See you soon, Anderson.”
“ - on his honeymoon,” Blaine finishes lamely as Kurt shuts his bedroom door behind him. He sighs heavily, wincing at the rasp of his throat and as he face-plants into the pillow beside him, instantly regretting it as the scent of leather and cologne washes over him.
Mouse whines and a few seconds later a wet nose pushes against the back of his neck. Blaine ruffles his ears blindly and hopes the alarm is set, because he doesn’t think he can face going downstairs right now.
**
His friendship with Kurt in the weeks after Blaine’s convoluted confession is strained, to say the very least. Blaine tries to rein in all urges he gets to touch Kurt, or make eye contact with him, or say anything that he thinks is funny but is probably stupid by Kurt’s standards. They sit next to each other at the newly minted New Directions Weekly Bowling Excursion once and Blaine holds himself straight and unmoving so he doesn’t accidentally brush up against Kurt’s arm or his shoulder. Kurt slumps back in his chair, his legs stretched out in front of him so Rachel trips whenever she skips back from her turn.
“So,” Blaine ventures, “How’s life?”
“Fine,” Kurt says, “You?”
“I’m good,” Blaine nods slowly.
Kurt doesn’t reply and they spend the rest of the evening sitting in awkward silence.
So when Blaine gets the group email from Finn (sams leaving bbq @ my house this Saturday bring food nd ur games!!!!!!) the first thing he thinks is I get to see Kurt!, quickly followed by oh god, I have to see Kurt, oh god.
“Cooper!” he yells from the couch, and Cooper shouts “What?” from the kitchen.
“Accompany me to a barbecue in a couple days?”
“Sorry, bro, I’m going back home tomorrow,” he comes to stand in the doorway, drying his hands with a dishtowel, “Why?”
“No reason,” he sighs, “No reason at all.”
The barbecue creeps up on him too fast and soon Blaine’s calling his goodbyes to a house that won’t reply. Sighing, he clips Mouse’s lead on and leads him to the beat-up old car his father had loaned him for the time being, letting him have the backseat to himself.
He sits for five minutes outside Kurt’s house, tapping at the wheel, until someone raps on his window.
“Dude, you gonna come in, or...?”
Mike waits as Blaine climbs out of the car and shoulders his bag of food, patting his thigh to encourage Mouse along.
“You okay?” Mike nudges him, “You look glum.”
“I’m fine,” Blaine nods, “Great, even. Fantastic.”
“Oh really?” Mike hip-checks him out of the way as he tries to reach the bolt at the top of the back gate, “You look terrible.”
“I’m tired,” Blaine yawns unconvincingly, “Long night.”
“Right,” Mike slides back the deadbolt and opens the gate, “Sure you did.”
Blaine unclips Mouse’s lead and shoots Mike a glare, stalking past him into the backyard. Most of the New Directions are already there, lounging on chairs or on the grass. Finn is working over the barbecue, the scent of grilled vegetables wafting over.
“Blaine!” Rachel calls, rushing over, “I brought my karaoke machine, you have to accompany me later, I have the perfect song -“
“Rachel,” Sam says, “Give the guy some space.”
She backs off and Blaine smiles at Sam, who promptly body-slams him with a hug. “Gonna miss you, man,” he says, and Blaine worms his arms out of his grip to hug back.
“I’ll miss you too, Sam. But Facebook, right?”
“Duh,” Sam squeezes him so hard Blaine thinks some of his ribs might have cracked, “Like I’ll miss out on that.”
He lets Blaine drop to the floor and moves on to Mike, ruffling his hair furiously. Blaine sighs and moves forwards to dump his bag of junk food by the barbecue, waving to Finn as he goes. Turning to find Mouse, he comes face to face with Kurt.
“Oh,” he swallows, “Hey, Kurt.”
Kurt smiles. “Hey. How you doing?”
“I’m, uh, I’m fine,” he forces a grin, “Uh, I just, I gotta, um, use the bathroom! Yeah. So. Sorry, uh, yeah.”
He disappears into the house, fighting down the urge to turn around and throw himself into Kurt’s arms or something equally idiotic. Instead, he hightails it into the house and drains a glass of water, pinches his arm and forces himself to leave the house.
Kurt is standing with Finn, now, snarking about the barbecue, and Blaine has almost slipped past when Finn says “Hey, bro, do me a favour?”
“Oh, sure,” Blaine tries to keep walking and talk to Finn too, “What is it?”
“The shed at the bottom of the garden, I think the rest of the coal’s there. Mind grabbing it for me?”
“Oh, sure,” Blaine nods towards the shed, “Be right back.”
The shed is rickety and old, and when Blaine opens the door he finds a small china tea set, knocked on its side by a large bag of coal. Groaning, Blaine inches forwards, ducking under the cobwebs, and grabs the bag, shuddering at the size of the spider webs criss-crossing the table.
As he turns something large and dark moves in the corner of his eye. He glances sideways and screams at the size of the spider dangling beside his face, stumbling back and tripping over the tea set. With a crunch, he feels one of the delicate mugs break under his feet.
“Shoot,” he hisses, trying to gather up the pieces while simultaneously keeping an eye on the leisurely spinning spider and making sure he doesn’t slice his hands open.
“Hey, you okay?”
Blaine jumps and then sighs. “God, you scared me.”
“Sorry,” Kurt grimaces at the spider and grabs a book from a filing cabinet, quickly squashing it between the pages, “Oh no, what happened?”
“I’m sorry,” Blaine says, tipping the shards into another cup, “I didn’t mean to break it, I tripped.”
“It’s fine,” Kurt smiles, shrugging, “I forgot I even had this old thing anymore.”
“It’s yours?”
“It was,” Kurt sighs and rights the table the set had been sitting on, carefully replacing the tea set.
Blaine brushes off the teapot and sets it in the middle, catching Kurt’s eye for a moment before he looks away hastily and clears his throat. “Um, Kurt, I just wanted to apologise about what I said the other day. I know it made you uncomfortable, and I should have been more considerate. I’m really sorry.”
Kurt shakes his head. “No, don’t apologise. I overreacted, and I shouldn’t have. C’mon, let’s get out of this gross shed.”
He grabs the bag of coal and hauls it out, shifting away to let Blaine close the door behind him. Putting the bag back down on the floor, he shoves his hands in his pockets and sighs.
“Blaine.”
“Yes?” Blaine pauses, and Kurt bites his lip.
“Um, I have a question for you?”
“Sure, fire away,” Blaine brushes the cobwebs off the bag, “Anything you want.”
“Okay,” Kurt takes a deep breath, “Would you go on a date with me?”
“Wh-what?”
“Um,” Kurt blushes a pretty shade of pink, “Would you, uh, would you go on a date? With me?”
Blaine’s mouth drops open. “You want to go on a date? With me?”
“Well, obviously,” Kurt’s cheeks go even darker, “I said I wanted to date you.”
“Date me? Not just go on a date?”
“God, Blaine! Do you want dinner and a movie or not?”
“I - yes!” Blaine grins, “Yes, yes, yes, please, I do, I do very much,”
Kurt scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “Really?”
“Of course I do!” Blaine has to dig his fingers into his palms to stop himself from flying at Kurt, “If you - I mean, I thought I was way out of your league, but - yes. Yes, I would like to date you. Very much.”
Kurt runs a hand through his hair. “Me, out of your league? Are you crazy?”
Blaine nearly says ‘crazy for you’ but thinks that might be a little over the top.
“So,” Kurt says awkwardly, “Um, this Tuesday? I’ll pick you up at five?”
“Tuesday,” Blaine grins and nods, “Can’t wait.”
Kurt tries to hold back his smile but can’t, his face splitting into a huge grin. “Okay. Tuesday.”
Blaine glances at the coal. “We should probably get that to Finn.”
“Oh, yeah,” Kurt grabs the coal, “You coming?”
Blaine nudges their shoulders together. “Of course I am.”
They’re almost inseparable for the rest of the evening, and Blaine’s pretty sure Santana has clocked what’s going on but he can’t quite bring himself to care. At the end of the night Blaine stands on the porch with Mouse at his side and says “I’ll see you on Tuesday?”
“Yes, you will,” Kurt grins and then bobs forwards and kisses him on the cheek, “Text me when you get home, okay?”
“Okay,” Blaine’s voice comes out as a sort of squeak, “Yes. I will.”
“Sleep well, Blaine,” Kurt smiles and shuts the door.
Blaine can’t quite help doing a victory dance as he walks towards his car.
**
14th June, 2011
Blaine’s phone jolts him out of sleep, the shrill tone making him clap his hands over his ears and groan.
“What?” he grumbles, and an cheerful voice says “Hi, is this Blaine?”
“Hi, Chelsea,” Blaine rolls his eyes, “Any reason you’re calling at this ungodly hour?”
“Blaine, it’s eleven o’ clock in the morning.”
“Oh, right,” Blaine vaguely remembers staying up until three, trying to find an outfit for his date.
His date. Because he has an actual, honest-to-god date with Kurt freaking Hummel in six hours.
“Believe me, I wouldn’t be calling if it wasn’t important, but there’s something wrong with Archie and you need to come down.”
Blaine sits up hurriedly. “What? What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know, but he won’t eat his breakfast and he keeps trying to lie down. It might be colic, but I’m just going to call the vet an ask.”
“Okay,” Blaine kicks off his covers and tumbles out of bed, “I’m on my way, be there as soon as possible.”
He stumbles across the floor blearily, shoves his glasses onto his face and struggles into his clothes from the day before, grabbing the cinnamon toast left in the kitchen and resolving to text Cooper his apologies at stealing both his breakfast and his car as soon as he gets a free moment.
He makes it to the stables in half an hour and parks as neatly as he can beside the truck that never seems to move from its space. Shrugging on his sweatshirt as he goes, Blaine trots through the barn and comes to a halt in front of Archie’s stall.
“Hi Chelsea, I came as fast as I could,” he peers over the top of the stable door, “Is he okay?”
“I’ve called the vet, he does think it’s colic but he can’t tell us which type until he gets here,” his riding teacher sighs heavily, “He’s not well.”
“What can I do?” Blaine asks, opening the door and slipping inside, running his hand over Archie’s nose, and Chelsea straightens, sighing. “The vet says just walk him up and down until he gets here, and then he’ll work out what’s wrong.”
“Okay,” Blaine unknots Archie’s lead rope and knocks the stable door open with his hip, “C’mon, boy, let’s go.”
Archie follows him, head hanging low. Blaine scratches through his forelock nervously, checking his watch. It’s only quarter to twelve.
“Chelsea,” he calls, “When did the vet say he’d get here?”
She doesn’t answer, and Blaine sighs and starts to lead Archie up and down the stretch of dirt in front of the school.
Hours later, the vet still isn’t there and Blaine’s legs are weary. Archie keeps trying to lie down and Blaine’s arms are aching from tugging him up again and again.
On what must be their forty-somethingth circuit of the yard Blaine trips and nearly loses his balance, and Archie takes the opportunity to lower himself to the floor.
“No, Archie,” Blaine tugs at the lead rope, but 135 pounds of boy against 1100 pounds of horse doesn’t shift him at all. Reluctantly, Archie tosses his head against the insistent tugging and clambers back to his feet, sighing heavily and clopping after him. Blaine hopes the vet is going to get there soon, or his arms might fall off.
It’s another hour before the vet draws up in his van, waving and calling out apologies. Blaine sighs in relief, slowing his pacing.
“Hi, Blaine,” Dr. Weatherby says, “So, I’m guessing Archie has the problem here?”
“Yes,” Blaine says, “Yes, he’s - , I don’t know what’s wrong. Chelsea said you think it’s colic.”
“Alright, pass him over,” Blaine hands over the lead rope and then stumbles a little, his legs shaking.
“You look exhausted,” Dr. Weatherby clucks, “Go and sit down, I’ll talk to Chelsea instead.”
“But sir -“
“You’re of no use to Archie swaying on your feet,” the vet shoos Blaine away, “Go sit down for a minute, I’ll deal with this.”
Blaine drags himself to the break room and slumps down on one of the seats, sighing. His legs feel like they’re going to fall off and his feet are aching from walking all day. When he checks the clock it’s nearly quarter past five and he yawns, letting his head clunk against the table. After a moment he groans sitting up and trying to work out the soreness in his shoulders and legs, but before he can Chelsea yells for him and he jumps to his feet.
“What’s the verdict, doc?” Blaine asks, taking Archie’s lead rope and patting his nose gently, “Fixable?”
Dr Weatherby smiles. “It’s tympanic colic, painful but treatable. I’ll have to pop back home to grab some mineral oil and a nasal gastric tube, but -“
“Wait, what?” Blaine holds up a hand, “A nasal what? What are you doing?”
“It’s a very simple procedure,” the vet says, “Tympanic colic is just a buildup of gas in the digestive system. I’ve already given Archie some painkillers, but the mineral oil will just help speed up the treatment.”
“I’ve seen it done, it’s completely safe,” Chelsea pats Blaine’s arm, “Why don’t you keep him walking and I’ll just talk with Dr. Weatherby.”
“Okay,” Blaine says reluctantly, but tugs at Archie’s lead rope and starts leading him back up and down the stretch of dirt. After his short rest, his legs feel even worse and he silently hopes that whatever Dr Weatherby wants to do, it will happen quickly. He feels like keeling over and falling asleep, but Archie is still sick, and he needs Blaine.
“Not an option, Anderson,” he says sternly to himself, and keeps on walking.
By the time Dr Weatherby has gone home, come back, carried out the mineral oil pump - undoubtedly one of the most traumatic things Blaine has ever experienced, and he wasn’t the one having oil put in his stomach through his nose - and has explained the next steps they need to take and what to do if it gets worse, it’s been nearly two more hours and Blaine is dead on his feet. He insists on waiting a little while longer to get Archie settled and comfortable, before Chelsea tells him he looks like a mess and forces him to go home.
Blaine drives on autopilot, stops at a corner shop to buy a bottle of coke to give him enough energy to make it down the home stretch. He parks the car as well as he can, pulls his phone out of his pocket to find that it’s dead and covered in straw. Sighing, he trudges down the driveway and pushes open the door to the house.
Blaine flops down at the kitchen table and groans, his whole body aching as he reaches out and plugs in his phone, sighing in relief as the charging sign lights up the screen. He grabs one of the glasses in the middle of the table and drains the water, moaning as it soothes his parched throat.
“Blaine.”
“Hey Coop,” he says tiredly, “Not right now, I’m kind of tired.”
Cooper puts his phone on the table. “I think you should listen to your messages.”
“What? Coop, I’m exhausted, can I just sit for a moment?”
“Blaine, just do it. Seriously.”
“Fine, geez,” Blaine unlocks his phone and dials his voicemail tiredly.
You have. Five new messages.
“What?
Message one. Today, five-fifteen PM.
“Hey, Blaine, it’s Kurt. Um, I don’t know if you forgot or something, but we had an arrangement for this evening, and I just wanted to remind you, ‘cause I’m kind of. At your house. Yeah, so, call me back when you get this message! Thanks.”
Blaine feels the blood drain from his face. “Oh shit. Oh, shit, shit, shit, fuck.”
“Yep,” Cooper says, examining his nails, “But keep listening, they get better.”
Message two. Today, five twenty-three PM.
“Um, hi there Blaine. It’s Kurt again, sorry, I was just wondering if you got my last message. I don’t mean to be clingy, but you know, the movie tickets are for five forty-five and I promised to buy snacks, so I want to get there on time. Text me if you want to meet there? Okay, bye.”
Blaine bites his thumbnail. “I’m an idiot. I’m a massive, stupid, dumb idiot.”
Message three. Today, five thirty-two PM.
“It’s Kurt, sorry. I just, um, I’m starting to get worried? Are you okay? Could you call me when you get this, or call Cooper or - or anyone if you don’t want to call me, just tell me you’re okay? Please?”
Message four. Today, five forty-seven PM.
“Hey, Blaine, I guess you’re not that bothered about the movie [nervous laughter], but I figured if you still wanted to grab a bite to eat - um, I mean, if you wanted dinner I’d be paying and I could pick you up, if you want? I seriously don’t mind if you’re a little bit late. I mean, uh, it would be really fan - it would be great if you could make it. Okay, uh, see you then?”
“Cooper, I -“
“No, you should really listen to the last one, it’s the best,” Cooper says sharply, eyes cold, “Seriously. Some real entertainment, right there.”
Message five. Today, six twenty-nine PM.
“I, um, I guess you don’t want dinner either. I’m really sorry if I annoyed you or something, I just...I really thought you wanted to go out with me?” Kurt’s voice is wobbly and thin and Blaine feels sick, “I don’t know, I just - you said you were, um, crazy about me or, you know, that, so I just thought it was mutual, but -“ his breath hitches audibly and Blaine feels like slamming his head against the table “You really didn’t have to stand me up, okay? You could have said no, I would have understood, I mean, you’re way out of my league anyway. But I thought you were kinder than - I don’t know, making me wait here for an hour and a half with your brother holding a bouquet of flowers like a complete idiot. So -“ Blaine can hear the catch and release of his breath and realises that Kurt’s crying, Blaine made him cry and dear god, Blaine feels like the biggest asshole on Earth. “So thanks, I’ve learned my lesson, I’ll leave you be next time. Sorry for bothering you. Um, b-bye.”
“He bought you the biggest goddamn bunch of flowers I have ever seen in my entire life,” Cooper says, “And he was dressed for a fucking evening at the opera, not dinner and a movie. So why the fuck did you stand him up, asshole?”
Blaine lets his head fall into his hands. “God, I just - I lost track of time, with Archie being sick, and -“
“Well, okay, I understand about Archie, but Blaine. That was a massive mistake. He was crying when he left. He threw the freaking flowers in the trash and he went home in tears, you absolute dick. I swear to god, I have pulled some pretty low moves, but that kid was so excited when he got here I wanted to pinch his cheeks and wrap him up in a blanket but -“ Cooper makes a frustrated shrieking noise and waves his arms, then points at Blaine. “Fix this. Right now. Or you sleep in the stables.”
“Cooper, I’m a mess -“
“Nope. Go. Fix it. Or stables.”
Blaine pushes himself to his feet, “Coop -“
“Go!”
Blaine just has enough time to grab his phone and wallet before Cooper shoves him out of the door.
Standing on the doorstep, he looks down at his outfit. Ragged jodhpurs, a stained Joules polo, a worn sweatshirt and scuffed jodhpur boots. His hair is unstyled and he smells like horse and mineral oil.
“I need to find a flower shop,” he says to himself.
The closest one is a twenty minute walk, but Blaine discovers that that’s equal to a eight minute sprint. He does a quick google search and asks for a bouquet of purple hyacinths. The ones he receives are slightly sad-looking but he takes them anyway and sets off towards Kurt’s house as fast as he can run on legs that feel like they’re made of jelly.
The door, when he conjures up the courage to ring it, is opened by Burt.
“Blaine,” he says curtly, nodding. Blaine, leaning against the doorway and panting for breath, says “Good afternoon, sir.”
“You know what, I’d say it’s evening,” Burt says calmly, “Any reason you’re around?”
“Is Kurt here?” Blaine asks hopefully, and Burt purses his lips. “Wanna tell me why I should let you in?”
Blaine thrusts the bouquet out in front of him. “I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t mean to stand him up and I really need to see him. Please, sir.”
Burt stands aside reluctantly and Blaine wobbles past him on unsteady legs, slips on the tiles as he walks through the kitchen and stops at the top of the basement stairs.
“Okay,” he breathes, and opens the door.
“Dad, I’m not hungry,” a voice calls as soon as his foot hits the creaky top step and Blaine’s heart both skips a beat and hurts at the rough crack of Kurt’s voice. He pads down the stairs, holding the considerably more worse for wear flowers behind his back.
Kurt is curled up under the covers, his back to the door. Blaine clears his throat quietly and says “Kurt?”
Kurt shoots up so quickly it might have been funny in different circumstances. His hair is messy, falling out of its styling, and his face is blotchy and pink from crying. He’s wearing a rumpled button-up with a bow-tie and he looks amazing.
“Hi,” Blaine says stupidly.
“What do you want?” Kurt asks, “Because I got it, okay? I got you don’t want to date me. It was clear.”
“No, no, no, Kurt, that wasn’t - my horse, okay, he got colic, and I forgot because - I thought he was dying, and I - I got back late but I didn’t mean to stand you up, I just -“ he sticks out the flowers and then actually looks at how wilted and gross they are. “Oh, god, never mind, I - these were to apologise but they’re hideous, I’m so sorry.”
Kurt’s mouth fall open. “You - you bought me flowers?”
“I don’t know if these count as flowers,” Blaine says lamely, “Um, I can go buy more -“
“Shut up,” Kurt says, “You asshole.”
Blaine shuts his mouth, and then opens it to say “I’m really sorry -“
“Shut up!”
“Okay.”
Blaine realises he’s shaking and sits down, his legs folding uncooperatively underneath him. Kurt watches him, his fingers curled tightly together on his lap.
“I thought you liked me.”
“I do. I do, Kurt, I like you so much, I wasn’t lying when I said I’m crazy about you, I am. You are - amazing, seriously, I just - you’re amazing,” he sighs and stares at his hands.
Kurt is quiet for a little longer. Blaine licks his lips and then says timidly “Can I have another chance?”
“Wh-what?”
“Can I make it up to you? The fair is in town, we could, um, we could go. If you wanted to. If you would let me.”
“You want to? Go on a date with me?”
Blaine laughs. “Kurt, I’ve wanted to go on a date with you since we became friends, since you first talked to me, I’m just. You know. An idiot. And I promise I will spend the rest of the summer making this up to you.”
Kurt’s legs swing off the bed and he moves to kneel in front of Blaine, hesitantly sliding their hands together. Blaine squeezes tight and smiles hopefully.
Kurt takes a deep breath.
“Pick me up at seven tomorrow?”
Blaine lets out an ecstatic whoop and throws his arms around Kurt, accidentally knocking them both back onto the floor. Slowly, Kurt’s arms come around his waist and he tucks Blaine tight against his body, burying his face in his neck.
“Thank you,” Blaine says, his chest tight with joy, “Thank you, I promise you I will make it the best day ever.”
“You better,” Kurt says, and pinches his ribs.
He holds Blaine in his arms for another moment and then lets go, sitting back. “So, is your horse okay?”
Blaine rubs his hand over his face. “He’s fine, it wasn’t fatal. I really am sorry, I just - I’ve had Archie for seven years, and he’s getting old, and I don’t know. I worry about him, sometimes.”
“He’s a horse, Blaine.”
Kurt bites his lip like he’s said something wrong. Blaine snorts. “No, I know. But he’s my horse, and I’m stupidly emotionally attached to him.”
“Well, I’m glad he’s better,” Kurt says, and squeezes Blaine’s hand. He sounds genuine, and Blaine’s heart catches and swells with too much emotion.
When he gets home Blaine checks in the trash and finds a huge bouquet of chrysanthemums, carnations and roses, still in their plastic wrapping and resting on a layer of newspaper. He doesn’t even think about taking them inside and placing them in his mother’s crystal vase, giving them a prime spot on his windowsill.
**
At six fifty the next day, Blaine stands on the Hummel’s doorstep holding a bunch of peach roses and wiping his hands repetitively on his pants. He went with the red chinos and black polo to stand out, but had only realised halfway to Kurt’s house that the pants were actually way too short and exposed his ankles, which means he now finds himself at Kurt’s front door wearing a pair of pants that are too short and a shirt that’s slightly too tight.
“You coming in, kid?”
Blaine nearly falls off the step in surprise. “Mr Hummel!” he yelps, “Um, hi!”
“Those flowers for Kurt?” Burt asks, and Blaine tucks them behind his back hurriedly. “Uh, no. Nope, they’re -“
“It’s okay, son, I know,” Burt turns and heads back into the house, “Come on in.”
Blaine shuts the door behind him but keeps his shoes on because he hadn’t thought to bring socks. He has a cardigan in his bag, but it’s a hastily added item that doesn’t really match with anything he’s wearing.
He wipes his feet on the mat and walks through nervously, holding the flowers behind his back. Burt is seated on the couch, flicking idly through the channels. Blaine clears his throat. “Can I help with anything, sir?”
Burt looks at him like he’s an idiot. “You’re here to take Kurt out on a date, am I right?”
“Well, yes -“
“So sit and wait. He’ll be down in a second.”
“Dad, who are you talking to -“
Blaine turns and freezes as Kurt comes down the stairs tying a scarf around his neck, his boots clomping against the wood. He stumbles when he spots Blaine and puts out a hand to steady himself.
“Wow,” Blaine says, staring out his outfit. It’s like nothing he’s ever seen Kurt wear before, a tight-fitting vest with a silvery scarf looped around his throat. His jeans are probably the tightest jeans Blaine’s ever seen and they’re tucked into his trademark DMs.
“You look,” Blaine has to swallow hard, “You look amazing, Kurt.”
Kurt blushes, and glances at his dad. “You don’t look too shabby yourself, Anderson.”
“Um, I bought you these,” Blaine thrusts the flowers out in front of him, “They, um, I thought they were appropriate.”
Kurt’s blush intensifies and he trots down the stairs to gather them from Blaine’s grasp, dipping forwards like he wants to kiss Blaine on the cheek but pulling back at the last second.
“I’m just going to go put these in water,” he says, looking at his dad again and then slipping past into the kitchen.
Blaine isn’t really aware that he has the biggest, most stupid smile on his face until Burt says calmly “So, I have a shotgun that I keep in the basement, and I just thought I should let you know that if you pull another stunt like yesterday I will not hesitate to get it out and chase you with it.”
Blaine feels the blood drain from you face. “Mr Hummel, I am so sorry about that. I know it was inexcusable behaviour and I plan to make it up to Kurt as soon as I can.”
“Still,” Burt says, glaring, “Shotgun. Watch it.”
He shoves off the doorframe and walks into the kitchen, and Blaine hears him say “I’ll take care of this, son. You go on your date.”
And then Kurt is walking back through the door with a bag over his shoulder, smiling nervously. “All set?”
“Yep,” Blaine grins and then realises it’s slightly manic and tones it down a little, “Let’s go.”
The drive to the fair is quiet, the radio playing softly to fill the silence. Kurt leans over to direct him into a shortcut a couple of times, and five minutes later Blaine reaches over and hopefully slides their hands together.
“Okay?”
Kurt turns and smiles. “Of course.”
Now the silence has been broken questions keep crowding to the front of Blaine’s mind. “Um,” he says, “Your dad wasn’t surprised when I said that I was picking you up for a date.”
“Oh,” Kurt squeezes his hand absentmindedly, “I told him, yesterday?”
“You did?” Blaine grins, “Kurt, that’s great!”
“Yeah,” Kurt smiles, “He took it really well, too. I was expecting a lot more that’s not how I raised you, but he said that he knew.”
“He knew?”
“I think so. I was spending a lot of time with you. Plus, I started wearing scarves and tight jeans...”
“I wear tight jeans!” Blaine says, affronted, and Kurt looks at him. “Blaine.”
“Oh,” Blaine ducks his head, “Okay, yeah.”
“I was going to text you, but then I thought I’d tell you during our date as well, but that didn’t work out,” Kurt trails off into a mumble and Blaine squeezes his hand tight.
“I am so sorry -“
“Oh, be quiet,” Kurt says, curling his legs up onto the seat, “It’s fine. Talking of my dad, you looked terrified when I came to get you.”
“Oh, god,” Blaine laughs, “He threatened me with bodily harm if I stood you up again.”
“He what?” Kurt groans, “I am actually going to murder him, ugh. He keeps treating me like a little kid, it’s so frustrating. It’s like, I’m eighteen, Dad. I can take care of myself.”
“I think it’s sweet,” Blaine says, “Once you get past the intense terror, he’s just looking after you.”
“I guess,” Kurt sighs and then sits up, “Hey, turn left here. We’re almost there.”
The ground is packed hard by hundreds of feet so Blaine’s open-topped shoes don’t sink into a quagmire like he’d worried. There’s a pair of boots in the trunk, but nothing detracts from an outfit better than a muddy, old, ugly pair of boots.
The fair is filled with couples, the families having already left. They’re all so wrapped up in their own little worlds that they barely notice the two boys drifting past, holding hands and pointing at the stalls as they walk. Kurt buys a cone of cotton candy and Blaine’s cheeks take on a permanent tinge of pink when he licks the remnants off his fingers.
Kurt wins Blaine the most adorable little golden retriever toy with big, sad eyes and floppy ears at the toy shooting range, sending the pile of cans skittering across the floor. Blaine names it Margaret and tucks it into his bag, and attempts (but fails) to win Kurt a tiger with big paws and shiny glass eyes. Kurt presses a fleeting kiss to his cheek and wins it for himself.
Blaine insists on buying Kurt a funnel cake after that, covering it in strawberries and whipped cream and almost dropping it when Kurt links their arms. They find a quiet corner and lean up against each other, and Blaine (without thinking) tears off a bit of cake and holds it to Kurt’s lips.
Kurt’s eyes blow wide and then his lips curve up into a smile and he leans forward, closing his mouth around Blaine’s fingertips. Blaine swallows hard and glances back down at his shoes.
“Thank you,” Kurt says softly, “You’re sweet.”
Blaine blushes hard and shifts closer to Kurt, hooking his ankle over Kurt’s and looking up at the sky.
“It’s going to be clear tonight,” Kurt says, “I was wondering if you’d want to accompany me to the field after we leave?”
Blaine pretends to think about it. “I don’t know, is it a full moon?”
Kurt looks confused. “What on earth does that have to do with it?”
“Well, you never did tell me how to protect myself against werewolves -“
Kurt elbows him in the ribs and grumbles “You’re horrible,” as Blaine laughs, struggling to balance the paper plate on his legs as he tries to evade Kurt’s jabbing fingers.
Once they’ve finished cleaning sticky hands Kurt slides their fingers together again and says “Want to ride the Ferris wheel?”
Blaine is a little afraid of heights but he agrees anyway, grinning as Kurt swings their hands between them as they walk. The queue for the Ferris wheel is huge, but they manage to score a capsule alone, and Blaine might squeeze Kurt’s hand as tight as he can as the wheel starts to move.
“Blaine,” Kurt says, “Are you afraid of heights?”
“Maybe a little?” Blaine squeaks, “Not much!”
Kurt shifts his weight, making the wheel rock precariously. “Oh my god, stop,” Blaine yelps, grabbing the worn yellow leather for safety and Kurt laughs, wrapping his arm around Blaine’s waist. “I’m just kidding around, we’re barely even off the ground. I’m sorry.”
“You suck,” Blaine mumbles, swatting him on the leg, and Kurt giggles and kisses his cheek lightly, his lips lingering for a moment longer than anticipated. Blaine leans his head against Kurt’s shoulder as the wheel cranks higher and higher, groaning softly with exertion. The sounds of the fair below them fade away, replaced by the creak of the wheel and the faint sounds from the carriages above and behind them.
“Blaine?”
“Hm?” Blaine looks up and smiles, “Are you...okay?”
“I’m perfect,” Kurt says softly, and kisses him.
Blaine inhales sharply and then brings his hand up to cup Kurt’s jaw, closing his eyes. Kurt keeps the kiss chaste, his mouth closed, but he nips lightly at Blaine’s bottom lip when he pulls back.
“Was that a sufficient distraction?” he asks, and Blaine grins bashfully, blushing, and blurts “Kurt, will you be my boyfriend?”
Kurt blinks and then starts laughing. Blaine’s smile fades and he shifts back, ducking his head. Stupid.
“Blaine, you idiot,” Kurt says, “I’m on a date with you, I asked you out first. Of course I do.”
His smile comes back full force and Blaine launches forwards, pressing their mouths together haphazardly. Kurt’s mouth is curved into a smile under Blaine’s and he slides his arms around Blaine’s shoulders, pulling him even closer. Blaine makes a noise in the back of his throat and shifts so he can almost settle over Kurt’s lap, his hands settling against Kurt’s waist.
Kurt tastes sweet like cotton candy and strawberries, and Blaine opens his mouth for Kurt when his tongue presses against the seam of his lips. Kurt hums softly and tilts his head sideways to kiss Blaine deeper, his tongue sliding in over Blaine’s and making him shiver at the sensation of the bearing in Kurt’s tongue skidding over the roof of his mouth.
Neither of them notice when the wheel stops and they’re left stranded in midair.
Fin
**
Despite how long this asshole fic has gotten, there is in fact more to tell. Hopefully I’ll have the sequel done soon! Anyway, thank you so much for reading and I really hope you enjoyed it :)
Blaine’s hands won’t stop shaking.
He’s sat on them, he’s curled them tight together and wedged them between his thighs, but it doesn’t help. Kurt is driving, his fingers so tight on the wheel that his knuckles strain white against his skin.
“Kurt -“ he tries, but Kurt just shakes his head. “Not now. Please.”
“But -“
“Blaine, please.”
“Okay.”
His throat hurts. He still can’t draw a full breath through it without it burning and rasping painfully. His mind keeps replaying Kurt standing over the body, his body, and firing that last shot.
When they pull up to Blaine’s house it’s the same as he left it, the front door left open a crack. His ankle buckles as he gets out of the car but Kurt’s already pushing open the door. Mouse comes shooting out and knocks him down onto the floor, licking sloppily all over his face.
“Ugh, Mouse, stop,” Blaine mumbles, pushing weakly at his chest, “No, don’t. Stop it.”
Kurt’s footsteps crunch back over the gravel and he shoos Mouse out of the way, hauling Blaine upright. “Get your act together, idiot,” he says, but the jibe holds none of its usual friendly bite.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, and tries not to put too much weight on Kurt’s shoulder as they hobble towards the door.
Mouse follows them upstairs, his nails clicking loudly against the wooden boards until they reach the bathroom and he backs off, whining and settling to the floor just outside it. Kurt shoves Blaine down on the seat of the toilet and starts opening cupboard doors.
“The first-aid is under the sink,” Blaine croaks, and Kurt nods in his direction and pulls out the green box, cracking it open and dumping various things in the sink. He crumples something into his hand and drops to his knees, easing Blaine’s boot off his foot and tossing it over his shoulder. Blaine winces at the ugly scuff mark it leaves on the wall. Kurt tugs the sock off too and then rolls up his jeans, propping Blaine’s foot up on his knee.
“What are you doing?” he asks, and Kurt holds up the rumpled ACE bandage. “It’s probably just a strain, but this should help before I grab you some painkillers.”
“Thanks,” Blaine rubs at his throat and grimaces at the ache. Kurt stands and Blaine’s foot thumps to the floor, making him wince. “Oh, shit - crap, I’m sorry, I - do you want some water? I can get you some water, and something to eat as well, sorry, I should have asked -“
“Kurt,” Blaine says, and pushes himself up onto his feet, “Okay, just, wait, just. We both stink of sewer, me even more so, and before you do anything I think we both need to shower.”
Kurt sighs heavily. “Okay. Do you need a hand getting in?”
“I’ll be fine,” Blaine smiles, “You can use the guest bathroom, it’s just down the hall.”
“Are you -“
“I’m sure. Kurt, go on, I’m fine.”
Blaine shoos both Kurt and Mouse out of the doorway and shuts it firmly behind them, leaving it unlocked in case that he passes out in the shower and has to be rescued.
He finds the bottle of pine shower gel that he bought after their last sewer excursion and scrubs until he can’t smell the sewer anymore. Then he just stands in the shower and breathes in the steam until the urge to break down into tears goes away again.
Kurt must have been in at some point because there’s a pile of clean, folded clothes on the floor and his discarded ones have been taken away. He does some pretty impressive balancing and manages to get into the sweatpants without giving himself another concussion, and he’s pretty sure the shirt he’s wearing is about three sizes too big but he can’t bring himself to care.
When he opens the door Kurt is hovering there, looking nervous. “I borrowed some of your clothes, I hope that’s okay?”
Blaine nods, smiling half-heartedly as he hobbles past into his bedroom, holding onto the dresser and armchair for support. Kurt is already kneeling by the time he sits down, pushing the leg of his pants up in order to get at Blaine’s ankle.
“It’s swelling,” he says helpfully, “But it’s not too bad, and the bruising isn’t horrible either. If you wrap it up it should be fine in a couple days. I’ll get you some painkillers, and -“
“Kurt,” Blaine reaches out and smoothes his hair off his forehead, “Kurt, stop.”
“You need painkillers,” Kurt ignores Blaine, shaking his head and reaching for the ACE bandage, “And I’ll wrap up your ankle, and then you should probably get some sleep, I’ll make sure -“
Blaine grabs Kurt’s hands and presses them against his knees, staring into his eyes. “Kurt. Stop.”
Kurt deflates, his shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Blaine tugs his hands until he sits next to him, “It’s fine, I promise. I just want to know what’s wrong.”
Kurt takes a shaky breath. “I just. I hate those things, I hate them so much.”
“Can I ask why?” Blaine asks tentatively and Kurt sighs. “They scare me. They - Blaine, if you hadn’t called first, it would have called me down to the sewers and killed me, and it would have taken your place and - just like Lily.”
“Lily?”
“She travelled with us for a little while,” Kurt says, “and she - she was killed by a shifter. I found her body, it left it under her car. It’d been with us for days and I hadn’t noticed a thing.”
“Kurt,” Blaine doesn’t know what to say, “You couldn’t have known.”
“But it wasn’t just that,” Kurt sniffs, “It was afterwards, god. I was so lonely. She was the only one who ever let me feel like I was actually normal for once, like I wasn’t some kind of girly freak, and after she... after she was gone I didn’t have anyone to talk to about liking to sing or draw without being told it was gay or faggy or that I should be less girly. And. And I couldn’t let it happen to you because - because you make me feel like that too. Like I’m normal. And so I can’t lose you, I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”
Blaine’s heart is somewhere in his throat and tears are stinging his eyes. “You won’t,” he says thickly, “I promise you, you won’t lose me.”
Kurt throws his arms around Blaine’s neck and Blaine hugs him back, as tight as he can, and Kurt buries his face in Blaine’s neck and his breath hitches softly. Blaine closes his eyes against his threatening tears and whispers “You won’t lose me, Kurt, I promise you.”
They cling to each other for nearly half an hour, finding comfort in each other’s presence, before Kurt inches away and wipes his eyes with a watery smile. “Shall I wrap your leg now?”
“That would be fantastic,” Blaine chuckles, surreptitiously dabbing at his eyes with his handkerchief as Kurt props his heel on his knee and starts slowly wrapping the bandage around his bruising ankle.
Once Blaine’s taken his painkillers they boot up his laptop and call Mouse up to join them to watch Singing in the Rain, quietly trying to forget the exhausting events of the evening. Neither of them say anything, but the sight of the dog lying quietly beside Blaine’s bed makes them both feel just that tiny bit safer. Blaine can’t quite help but sit up a little every time the house creaks, but Kurt’s hand in his is enough to persuade him to let the stress drain out of his body. Eventually, the movie draws to an end and Kurt turns to him, says softly as the credits play “You okay?”
The light from the laptop casts an eerie glow over his face, making him look ethereal and almost otherworldly.
“I’m crazy about you,” Blaine breathes, and Kurt’s eyes widen the tiniest amount before he slides off the bed and snaps the laptop shut.
“Shit,” Blaine says, replaying his idiotic confession in his mind, “Oh god, Kurt, I’m sorry, I didn’t - it wasn’t supposed to come out like that, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Wait, no - no, I did mean it, I just didn’t mean to say it, but -“
“Blaine,” Kurt says tightly, “It doesn’t matter, okay? It’s fine. I’m fine. Just let it go.”
Blaine slumps back against the headboard, his throat aching. “Sorry,” he mumbles, and Kurt shrugs, placing the laptop on his desk. “I should probably head home. My dad will be worrying.”
“But Kurt, your dad’s -“
“See you soon, Anderson.”
“ - on his honeymoon,” Blaine finishes lamely as Kurt shuts his bedroom door behind him. He sighs heavily, wincing at the rasp of his throat and as he face-plants into the pillow beside him, instantly regretting it as the scent of leather and cologne washes over him.
Mouse whines and a few seconds later a wet nose pushes against the back of his neck. Blaine ruffles his ears blindly and hopes the alarm is set, because he doesn’t think he can face going downstairs right now.
**
His friendship with Kurt in the weeks after Blaine’s convoluted confession is strained, to say the very least. Blaine tries to rein in all urges he gets to touch Kurt, or make eye contact with him, or say anything that he thinks is funny but is probably stupid by Kurt’s standards. They sit next to each other at the newly minted New Directions Weekly Bowling Excursion once and Blaine holds himself straight and unmoving so he doesn’t accidentally brush up against Kurt’s arm or his shoulder. Kurt slumps back in his chair, his legs stretched out in front of him so Rachel trips whenever she skips back from her turn.
“So,” Blaine ventures, “How’s life?”
“Fine,” Kurt says, “You?”
“I’m good,” Blaine nods slowly.
Kurt doesn’t reply and they spend the rest of the evening sitting in awkward silence.
So when Blaine gets the group email from Finn (sams leaving bbq @ my house this Saturday bring food nd ur games!!!!!!) the first thing he thinks is I get to see Kurt!, quickly followed by oh god, I have to see Kurt, oh god.
“Cooper!” he yells from the couch, and Cooper shouts “What?” from the kitchen.
“Accompany me to a barbecue in a couple days?”
“Sorry, bro, I’m going back home tomorrow,” he comes to stand in the doorway, drying his hands with a dishtowel, “Why?”
“No reason,” he sighs, “No reason at all.”
The barbecue creeps up on him too fast and soon Blaine’s calling his goodbyes to a house that won’t reply. Sighing, he clips Mouse’s lead on and leads him to the beat-up old car his father had loaned him for the time being, letting him have the backseat to himself.
He sits for five minutes outside Kurt’s house, tapping at the wheel, until someone raps on his window.
“Dude, you gonna come in, or...?”
Mike waits as Blaine climbs out of the car and shoulders his bag of food, patting his thigh to encourage Mouse along.
“You okay?” Mike nudges him, “You look glum.”
“I’m fine,” Blaine nods, “Great, even. Fantastic.”
“Oh really?” Mike hip-checks him out of the way as he tries to reach the bolt at the top of the back gate, “You look terrible.”
“I’m tired,” Blaine yawns unconvincingly, “Long night.”
“Right,” Mike slides back the deadbolt and opens the gate, “Sure you did.”
Blaine unclips Mouse’s lead and shoots Mike a glare, stalking past him into the backyard. Most of the New Directions are already there, lounging on chairs or on the grass. Finn is working over the barbecue, the scent of grilled vegetables wafting over.
“Blaine!” Rachel calls, rushing over, “I brought my karaoke machine, you have to accompany me later, I have the perfect song -“
“Rachel,” Sam says, “Give the guy some space.”
She backs off and Blaine smiles at Sam, who promptly body-slams him with a hug. “Gonna miss you, man,” he says, and Blaine worms his arms out of his grip to hug back.
“I’ll miss you too, Sam. But Facebook, right?”
“Duh,” Sam squeezes him so hard Blaine thinks some of his ribs might have cracked, “Like I’ll miss out on that.”
He lets Blaine drop to the floor and moves on to Mike, ruffling his hair furiously. Blaine sighs and moves forwards to dump his bag of junk food by the barbecue, waving to Finn as he goes. Turning to find Mouse, he comes face to face with Kurt.
“Oh,” he swallows, “Hey, Kurt.”
Kurt smiles. “Hey. How you doing?”
“I’m, uh, I’m fine,” he forces a grin, “Uh, I just, I gotta, um, use the bathroom! Yeah. So. Sorry, uh, yeah.”
He disappears into the house, fighting down the urge to turn around and throw himself into Kurt’s arms or something equally idiotic. Instead, he hightails it into the house and drains a glass of water, pinches his arm and forces himself to leave the house.
Kurt is standing with Finn, now, snarking about the barbecue, and Blaine has almost slipped past when Finn says “Hey, bro, do me a favour?”
“Oh, sure,” Blaine tries to keep walking and talk to Finn too, “What is it?”
“The shed at the bottom of the garden, I think the rest of the coal’s there. Mind grabbing it for me?”
“Oh, sure,” Blaine nods towards the shed, “Be right back.”
The shed is rickety and old, and when Blaine opens the door he finds a small china tea set, knocked on its side by a large bag of coal. Groaning, Blaine inches forwards, ducking under the cobwebs, and grabs the bag, shuddering at the size of the spider webs criss-crossing the table.
As he turns something large and dark moves in the corner of his eye. He glances sideways and screams at the size of the spider dangling beside his face, stumbling back and tripping over the tea set. With a crunch, he feels one of the delicate mugs break under his feet.
“Shoot,” he hisses, trying to gather up the pieces while simultaneously keeping an eye on the leisurely spinning spider and making sure he doesn’t slice his hands open.
“Hey, you okay?”
Blaine jumps and then sighs. “God, you scared me.”
“Sorry,” Kurt grimaces at the spider and grabs a book from a filing cabinet, quickly squashing it between the pages, “Oh no, what happened?”
“I’m sorry,” Blaine says, tipping the shards into another cup, “I didn’t mean to break it, I tripped.”
“It’s fine,” Kurt smiles, shrugging, “I forgot I even had this old thing anymore.”
“It’s yours?”
“It was,” Kurt sighs and rights the table the set had been sitting on, carefully replacing the tea set.
Blaine brushes off the teapot and sets it in the middle, catching Kurt’s eye for a moment before he looks away hastily and clears his throat. “Um, Kurt, I just wanted to apologise about what I said the other day. I know it made you uncomfortable, and I should have been more considerate. I’m really sorry.”
Kurt shakes his head. “No, don’t apologise. I overreacted, and I shouldn’t have. C’mon, let’s get out of this gross shed.”
He grabs the bag of coal and hauls it out, shifting away to let Blaine close the door behind him. Putting the bag back down on the floor, he shoves his hands in his pockets and sighs.
“Blaine.”
“Yes?” Blaine pauses, and Kurt bites his lip.
“Um, I have a question for you?”
“Sure, fire away,” Blaine brushes the cobwebs off the bag, “Anything you want.”
“Okay,” Kurt takes a deep breath, “Would you go on a date with me?”
“Wh-what?”
“Um,” Kurt blushes a pretty shade of pink, “Would you, uh, would you go on a date? With me?”
Blaine’s mouth drops open. “You want to go on a date? With me?”
“Well, obviously,” Kurt’s cheeks go even darker, “I said I wanted to date you.”
“Date me? Not just go on a date?”
“God, Blaine! Do you want dinner and a movie or not?”
“I - yes!” Blaine grins, “Yes, yes, yes, please, I do, I do very much,”
Kurt scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “Really?”
“Of course I do!” Blaine has to dig his fingers into his palms to stop himself from flying at Kurt, “If you - I mean, I thought I was way out of your league, but - yes. Yes, I would like to date you. Very much.”
Kurt runs a hand through his hair. “Me, out of your league? Are you crazy?”
Blaine nearly says ‘crazy for you’ but thinks that might be a little over the top.
“So,” Kurt says awkwardly, “Um, this Tuesday? I’ll pick you up at five?”
“Tuesday,” Blaine grins and nods, “Can’t wait.”
Kurt tries to hold back his smile but can’t, his face splitting into a huge grin. “Okay. Tuesday.”
Blaine glances at the coal. “We should probably get that to Finn.”
“Oh, yeah,” Kurt grabs the coal, “You coming?”
Blaine nudges their shoulders together. “Of course I am.”
They’re almost inseparable for the rest of the evening, and Blaine’s pretty sure Santana has clocked what’s going on but he can’t quite bring himself to care. At the end of the night Blaine stands on the porch with Mouse at his side and says “I’ll see you on Tuesday?”
“Yes, you will,” Kurt grins and then bobs forwards and kisses him on the cheek, “Text me when you get home, okay?”
“Okay,” Blaine’s voice comes out as a sort of squeak, “Yes. I will.”
“Sleep well, Blaine,” Kurt smiles and shuts the door.
Blaine can’t quite help doing a victory dance as he walks towards his car.
**
14th June, 2011
Blaine’s phone jolts him out of sleep, the shrill tone making him clap his hands over his ears and groan.
“What?” he grumbles, and an cheerful voice says “Hi, is this Blaine?”
“Hi, Chelsea,” Blaine rolls his eyes, “Any reason you’re calling at this ungodly hour?”
“Blaine, it’s eleven o’ clock in the morning.”
“Oh, right,” Blaine vaguely remembers staying up until three, trying to find an outfit for his date.
His date. Because he has an actual, honest-to-god date with Kurt freaking Hummel in six hours.
“Believe me, I wouldn’t be calling if it wasn’t important, but there’s something wrong with Archie and you need to come down.”
Blaine sits up hurriedly. “What? What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know, but he won’t eat his breakfast and he keeps trying to lie down. It might be colic, but I’m just going to call the vet an ask.”
“Okay,” Blaine kicks off his covers and tumbles out of bed, “I’m on my way, be there as soon as possible.”
He stumbles across the floor blearily, shoves his glasses onto his face and struggles into his clothes from the day before, grabbing the cinnamon toast left in the kitchen and resolving to text Cooper his apologies at stealing both his breakfast and his car as soon as he gets a free moment.
He makes it to the stables in half an hour and parks as neatly as he can beside the truck that never seems to move from its space. Shrugging on his sweatshirt as he goes, Blaine trots through the barn and comes to a halt in front of Archie’s stall.
“Hi Chelsea, I came as fast as I could,” he peers over the top of the stable door, “Is he okay?”
“I’ve called the vet, he does think it’s colic but he can’t tell us which type until he gets here,” his riding teacher sighs heavily, “He’s not well.”
“What can I do?” Blaine asks, opening the door and slipping inside, running his hand over Archie’s nose, and Chelsea straightens, sighing. “The vet says just walk him up and down until he gets here, and then he’ll work out what’s wrong.”
“Okay,” Blaine unknots Archie’s lead rope and knocks the stable door open with his hip, “C’mon, boy, let’s go.”
Archie follows him, head hanging low. Blaine scratches through his forelock nervously, checking his watch. It’s only quarter to twelve.
“Chelsea,” he calls, “When did the vet say he’d get here?”
She doesn’t answer, and Blaine sighs and starts to lead Archie up and down the stretch of dirt in front of the school.
Hours later, the vet still isn’t there and Blaine’s legs are weary. Archie keeps trying to lie down and Blaine’s arms are aching from tugging him up again and again.
On what must be their forty-somethingth circuit of the yard Blaine trips and nearly loses his balance, and Archie takes the opportunity to lower himself to the floor.
“No, Archie,” Blaine tugs at the lead rope, but 135 pounds of boy against 1100 pounds of horse doesn’t shift him at all. Reluctantly, Archie tosses his head against the insistent tugging and clambers back to his feet, sighing heavily and clopping after him. Blaine hopes the vet is going to get there soon, or his arms might fall off.
It’s another hour before the vet draws up in his van, waving and calling out apologies. Blaine sighs in relief, slowing his pacing.
“Hi, Blaine,” Dr. Weatherby says, “So, I’m guessing Archie has the problem here?”
“Yes,” Blaine says, “Yes, he’s - , I don’t know what’s wrong. Chelsea said you think it’s colic.”
“Alright, pass him over,” Blaine hands over the lead rope and then stumbles a little, his legs shaking.
“You look exhausted,” Dr. Weatherby clucks, “Go and sit down, I’ll talk to Chelsea instead.”
“But sir -“
“You’re of no use to Archie swaying on your feet,” the vet shoos Blaine away, “Go sit down for a minute, I’ll deal with this.”
Blaine drags himself to the break room and slumps down on one of the seats, sighing. His legs feel like they’re going to fall off and his feet are aching from walking all day. When he checks the clock it’s nearly quarter past five and he yawns, letting his head clunk against the table. After a moment he groans sitting up and trying to work out the soreness in his shoulders and legs, but before he can Chelsea yells for him and he jumps to his feet.
“What’s the verdict, doc?” Blaine asks, taking Archie’s lead rope and patting his nose gently, “Fixable?”
Dr Weatherby smiles. “It’s tympanic colic, painful but treatable. I’ll have to pop back home to grab some mineral oil and a nasal gastric tube, but -“
“Wait, what?” Blaine holds up a hand, “A nasal what? What are you doing?”
“It’s a very simple procedure,” the vet says, “Tympanic colic is just a buildup of gas in the digestive system. I’ve already given Archie some painkillers, but the mineral oil will just help speed up the treatment.”
“I’ve seen it done, it’s completely safe,” Chelsea pats Blaine’s arm, “Why don’t you keep him walking and I’ll just talk with Dr. Weatherby.”
“Okay,” Blaine says reluctantly, but tugs at Archie’s lead rope and starts leading him back up and down the stretch of dirt. After his short rest, his legs feel even worse and he silently hopes that whatever Dr Weatherby wants to do, it will happen quickly. He feels like keeling over and falling asleep, but Archie is still sick, and he needs Blaine.
“Not an option, Anderson,” he says sternly to himself, and keeps on walking.
By the time Dr Weatherby has gone home, come back, carried out the mineral oil pump - undoubtedly one of the most traumatic things Blaine has ever experienced, and he wasn’t the one having oil put in his stomach through his nose - and has explained the next steps they need to take and what to do if it gets worse, it’s been nearly two more hours and Blaine is dead on his feet. He insists on waiting a little while longer to get Archie settled and comfortable, before Chelsea tells him he looks like a mess and forces him to go home.
Blaine drives on autopilot, stops at a corner shop to buy a bottle of coke to give him enough energy to make it down the home stretch. He parks the car as well as he can, pulls his phone out of his pocket to find that it’s dead and covered in straw. Sighing, he trudges down the driveway and pushes open the door to the house.
Blaine flops down at the kitchen table and groans, his whole body aching as he reaches out and plugs in his phone, sighing in relief as the charging sign lights up the screen. He grabs one of the glasses in the middle of the table and drains the water, moaning as it soothes his parched throat.
“Blaine.”
“Hey Coop,” he says tiredly, “Not right now, I’m kind of tired.”
Cooper puts his phone on the table. “I think you should listen to your messages.”
“What? Coop, I’m exhausted, can I just sit for a moment?”
“Blaine, just do it. Seriously.”
“Fine, geez,” Blaine unlocks his phone and dials his voicemail tiredly.
You have. Five new messages.
“What?
Message one. Today, five-fifteen PM.
“Hey, Blaine, it’s Kurt. Um, I don’t know if you forgot or something, but we had an arrangement for this evening, and I just wanted to remind you, ‘cause I’m kind of. At your house. Yeah, so, call me back when you get this message! Thanks.”
Blaine feels the blood drain from his face. “Oh shit. Oh, shit, shit, shit, fuck.”
“Yep,” Cooper says, examining his nails, “But keep listening, they get better.”
Message two. Today, five twenty-three PM.
“Um, hi there Blaine. It’s Kurt again, sorry, I was just wondering if you got my last message. I don’t mean to be clingy, but you know, the movie tickets are for five forty-five and I promised to buy snacks, so I want to get there on time. Text me if you want to meet there? Okay, bye.”
Blaine bites his thumbnail. “I’m an idiot. I’m a massive, stupid, dumb idiot.”
Message three. Today, five thirty-two PM.
“It’s Kurt, sorry. I just, um, I’m starting to get worried? Are you okay? Could you call me when you get this, or call Cooper or - or anyone if you don’t want to call me, just tell me you’re okay? Please?”
Message four. Today, five forty-seven PM.
“Hey, Blaine, I guess you’re not that bothered about the movie [nervous laughter], but I figured if you still wanted to grab a bite to eat - um, I mean, if you wanted dinner I’d be paying and I could pick you up, if you want? I seriously don’t mind if you’re a little bit late. I mean, uh, it would be really fan - it would be great if you could make it. Okay, uh, see you then?”
“Cooper, I -“
“No, you should really listen to the last one, it’s the best,” Cooper says sharply, eyes cold, “Seriously. Some real entertainment, right there.”
Message five. Today, six twenty-nine PM.
“I, um, I guess you don’t want dinner either. I’m really sorry if I annoyed you or something, I just...I really thought you wanted to go out with me?” Kurt’s voice is wobbly and thin and Blaine feels sick, “I don’t know, I just - you said you were, um, crazy about me or, you know, that, so I just thought it was mutual, but -“ his breath hitches audibly and Blaine feels like slamming his head against the table “You really didn’t have to stand me up, okay? You could have said no, I would have understood, I mean, you’re way out of my league anyway. But I thought you were kinder than - I don’t know, making me wait here for an hour and a half with your brother holding a bouquet of flowers like a complete idiot. So -“ Blaine can hear the catch and release of his breath and realises that Kurt’s crying, Blaine made him cry and dear god, Blaine feels like the biggest asshole on Earth. “So thanks, I’ve learned my lesson, I’ll leave you be next time. Sorry for bothering you. Um, b-bye.”
“He bought you the biggest goddamn bunch of flowers I have ever seen in my entire life,” Cooper says, “And he was dressed for a fucking evening at the opera, not dinner and a movie. So why the fuck did you stand him up, asshole?”
Blaine lets his head fall into his hands. “God, I just - I lost track of time, with Archie being sick, and -“
“Well, okay, I understand about Archie, but Blaine. That was a massive mistake. He was crying when he left. He threw the freaking flowers in the trash and he went home in tears, you absolute dick. I swear to god, I have pulled some pretty low moves, but that kid was so excited when he got here I wanted to pinch his cheeks and wrap him up in a blanket but -“ Cooper makes a frustrated shrieking noise and waves his arms, then points at Blaine. “Fix this. Right now. Or you sleep in the stables.”
“Cooper, I’m a mess -“
“Nope. Go. Fix it. Or stables.”
Blaine pushes himself to his feet, “Coop -“
“Go!”
Blaine just has enough time to grab his phone and wallet before Cooper shoves him out of the door.
Standing on the doorstep, he looks down at his outfit. Ragged jodhpurs, a stained Joules polo, a worn sweatshirt and scuffed jodhpur boots. His hair is unstyled and he smells like horse and mineral oil.
“I need to find a flower shop,” he says to himself.
The closest one is a twenty minute walk, but Blaine discovers that that’s equal to a eight minute sprint. He does a quick google search and asks for a bouquet of purple hyacinths. The ones he receives are slightly sad-looking but he takes them anyway and sets off towards Kurt’s house as fast as he can run on legs that feel like they’re made of jelly.
The door, when he conjures up the courage to ring it, is opened by Burt.
“Blaine,” he says curtly, nodding. Blaine, leaning against the doorway and panting for breath, says “Good afternoon, sir.”
“You know what, I’d say it’s evening,” Burt says calmly, “Any reason you’re around?”
“Is Kurt here?” Blaine asks hopefully, and Burt purses his lips. “Wanna tell me why I should let you in?”
Blaine thrusts the bouquet out in front of him. “I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t mean to stand him up and I really need to see him. Please, sir.”
Burt stands aside reluctantly and Blaine wobbles past him on unsteady legs, slips on the tiles as he walks through the kitchen and stops at the top of the basement stairs.
“Okay,” he breathes, and opens the door.
“Dad, I’m not hungry,” a voice calls as soon as his foot hits the creaky top step and Blaine’s heart both skips a beat and hurts at the rough crack of Kurt’s voice. He pads down the stairs, holding the considerably more worse for wear flowers behind his back.
Kurt is curled up under the covers, his back to the door. Blaine clears his throat quietly and says “Kurt?”
Kurt shoots up so quickly it might have been funny in different circumstances. His hair is messy, falling out of its styling, and his face is blotchy and pink from crying. He’s wearing a rumpled button-up with a bow-tie and he looks amazing.
“Hi,” Blaine says stupidly.
“What do you want?” Kurt asks, “Because I got it, okay? I got you don’t want to date me. It was clear.”
“No, no, no, Kurt, that wasn’t - my horse, okay, he got colic, and I forgot because - I thought he was dying, and I - I got back late but I didn’t mean to stand you up, I just -“ he sticks out the flowers and then actually looks at how wilted and gross they are. “Oh, god, never mind, I - these were to apologise but they’re hideous, I’m so sorry.”
Kurt’s mouth fall open. “You - you bought me flowers?”
“I don’t know if these count as flowers,” Blaine says lamely, “Um, I can go buy more -“
“Shut up,” Kurt says, “You asshole.”
Blaine shuts his mouth, and then opens it to say “I’m really sorry -“
“Shut up!”
“Okay.”
Blaine realises he’s shaking and sits down, his legs folding uncooperatively underneath him. Kurt watches him, his fingers curled tightly together on his lap.
“I thought you liked me.”
“I do. I do, Kurt, I like you so much, I wasn’t lying when I said I’m crazy about you, I am. You are - amazing, seriously, I just - you’re amazing,” he sighs and stares at his hands.
Kurt is quiet for a little longer. Blaine licks his lips and then says timidly “Can I have another chance?”
“Wh-what?”
“Can I make it up to you? The fair is in town, we could, um, we could go. If you wanted to. If you would let me.”
“You want to? Go on a date with me?”
Blaine laughs. “Kurt, I’ve wanted to go on a date with you since we became friends, since you first talked to me, I’m just. You know. An idiot. And I promise I will spend the rest of the summer making this up to you.”
Kurt’s legs swing off the bed and he moves to kneel in front of Blaine, hesitantly sliding their hands together. Blaine squeezes tight and smiles hopefully.
Kurt takes a deep breath.
“Pick me up at seven tomorrow?”
Blaine lets out an ecstatic whoop and throws his arms around Kurt, accidentally knocking them both back onto the floor. Slowly, Kurt’s arms come around his waist and he tucks Blaine tight against his body, burying his face in his neck.
“Thank you,” Blaine says, his chest tight with joy, “Thank you, I promise you I will make it the best day ever.”
“You better,” Kurt says, and pinches his ribs.
He holds Blaine in his arms for another moment and then lets go, sitting back. “So, is your horse okay?”
Blaine rubs his hand over his face. “He’s fine, it wasn’t fatal. I really am sorry, I just - I’ve had Archie for seven years, and he’s getting old, and I don’t know. I worry about him, sometimes.”
“He’s a horse, Blaine.”
Kurt bites his lip like he’s said something wrong. Blaine snorts. “No, I know. But he’s my horse, and I’m stupidly emotionally attached to him.”
“Well, I’m glad he’s better,” Kurt says, and squeezes Blaine’s hand. He sounds genuine, and Blaine’s heart catches and swells with too much emotion.
When he gets home Blaine checks in the trash and finds a huge bouquet of chrysanthemums, carnations and roses, still in their plastic wrapping and resting on a layer of newspaper. He doesn’t even think about taking them inside and placing them in his mother’s crystal vase, giving them a prime spot on his windowsill.
**
At six fifty the next day, Blaine stands on the Hummel’s doorstep holding a bunch of peach roses and wiping his hands repetitively on his pants. He went with the red chinos and black polo to stand out, but had only realised halfway to Kurt’s house that the pants were actually way too short and exposed his ankles, which means he now finds himself at Kurt’s front door wearing a pair of pants that are too short and a shirt that’s slightly too tight.
“You coming in, kid?”
Blaine nearly falls off the step in surprise. “Mr Hummel!” he yelps, “Um, hi!”
“Those flowers for Kurt?” Burt asks, and Blaine tucks them behind his back hurriedly. “Uh, no. Nope, they’re -“
“It’s okay, son, I know,” Burt turns and heads back into the house, “Come on in.”
Blaine shuts the door behind him but keeps his shoes on because he hadn’t thought to bring socks. He has a cardigan in his bag, but it’s a hastily added item that doesn’t really match with anything he’s wearing.
He wipes his feet on the mat and walks through nervously, holding the flowers behind his back. Burt is seated on the couch, flicking idly through the channels. Blaine clears his throat. “Can I help with anything, sir?”
Burt looks at him like he’s an idiot. “You’re here to take Kurt out on a date, am I right?”
“Well, yes -“
“So sit and wait. He’ll be down in a second.”
“Dad, who are you talking to -“
Blaine turns and freezes as Kurt comes down the stairs tying a scarf around his neck, his boots clomping against the wood. He stumbles when he spots Blaine and puts out a hand to steady himself.
“Wow,” Blaine says, staring out his outfit. It’s like nothing he’s ever seen Kurt wear before, a tight-fitting vest with a silvery scarf looped around his throat. His jeans are probably the tightest jeans Blaine’s ever seen and they’re tucked into his trademark DMs.
“You look,” Blaine has to swallow hard, “You look amazing, Kurt.”
Kurt blushes, and glances at his dad. “You don’t look too shabby yourself, Anderson.”
“Um, I bought you these,” Blaine thrusts the flowers out in front of him, “They, um, I thought they were appropriate.”
Kurt’s blush intensifies and he trots down the stairs to gather them from Blaine’s grasp, dipping forwards like he wants to kiss Blaine on the cheek but pulling back at the last second.
“I’m just going to go put these in water,” he says, looking at his dad again and then slipping past into the kitchen.
Blaine isn’t really aware that he has the biggest, most stupid smile on his face until Burt says calmly “So, I have a shotgun that I keep in the basement, and I just thought I should let you know that if you pull another stunt like yesterday I will not hesitate to get it out and chase you with it.”
Blaine feels the blood drain from you face. “Mr Hummel, I am so sorry about that. I know it was inexcusable behaviour and I plan to make it up to Kurt as soon as I can.”
“Still,” Burt says, glaring, “Shotgun. Watch it.”
He shoves off the doorframe and walks into the kitchen, and Blaine hears him say “I’ll take care of this, son. You go on your date.”
And then Kurt is walking back through the door with a bag over his shoulder, smiling nervously. “All set?”
“Yep,” Blaine grins and then realises it’s slightly manic and tones it down a little, “Let’s go.”
The drive to the fair is quiet, the radio playing softly to fill the silence. Kurt leans over to direct him into a shortcut a couple of times, and five minutes later Blaine reaches over and hopefully slides their hands together.
“Okay?”
Kurt turns and smiles. “Of course.”
Now the silence has been broken questions keep crowding to the front of Blaine’s mind. “Um,” he says, “Your dad wasn’t surprised when I said that I was picking you up for a date.”
“Oh,” Kurt squeezes his hand absentmindedly, “I told him, yesterday?”
“You did?” Blaine grins, “Kurt, that’s great!”
“Yeah,” Kurt smiles, “He took it really well, too. I was expecting a lot more that’s not how I raised you, but he said that he knew.”
“He knew?”
“I think so. I was spending a lot of time with you. Plus, I started wearing scarves and tight jeans...”
“I wear tight jeans!” Blaine says, affronted, and Kurt looks at him. “Blaine.”
“Oh,” Blaine ducks his head, “Okay, yeah.”
“I was going to text you, but then I thought I’d tell you during our date as well, but that didn’t work out,” Kurt trails off into a mumble and Blaine squeezes his hand tight.
“I am so sorry -“
“Oh, be quiet,” Kurt says, curling his legs up onto the seat, “It’s fine. Talking of my dad, you looked terrified when I came to get you.”
“Oh, god,” Blaine laughs, “He threatened me with bodily harm if I stood you up again.”
“He what?” Kurt groans, “I am actually going to murder him, ugh. He keeps treating me like a little kid, it’s so frustrating. It’s like, I’m eighteen, Dad. I can take care of myself.”
“I think it’s sweet,” Blaine says, “Once you get past the intense terror, he’s just looking after you.”
“I guess,” Kurt sighs and then sits up, “Hey, turn left here. We’re almost there.”
The ground is packed hard by hundreds of feet so Blaine’s open-topped shoes don’t sink into a quagmire like he’d worried. There’s a pair of boots in the trunk, but nothing detracts from an outfit better than a muddy, old, ugly pair of boots.
The fair is filled with couples, the families having already left. They’re all so wrapped up in their own little worlds that they barely notice the two boys drifting past, holding hands and pointing at the stalls as they walk. Kurt buys a cone of cotton candy and Blaine’s cheeks take on a permanent tinge of pink when he licks the remnants off his fingers.
Kurt wins Blaine the most adorable little golden retriever toy with big, sad eyes and floppy ears at the toy shooting range, sending the pile of cans skittering across the floor. Blaine names it Margaret and tucks it into his bag, and attempts (but fails) to win Kurt a tiger with big paws and shiny glass eyes. Kurt presses a fleeting kiss to his cheek and wins it for himself.
Blaine insists on buying Kurt a funnel cake after that, covering it in strawberries and whipped cream and almost dropping it when Kurt links their arms. They find a quiet corner and lean up against each other, and Blaine (without thinking) tears off a bit of cake and holds it to Kurt’s lips.
Kurt’s eyes blow wide and then his lips curve up into a smile and he leans forward, closing his mouth around Blaine’s fingertips. Blaine swallows hard and glances back down at his shoes.
“Thank you,” Kurt says softly, “You’re sweet.”
Blaine blushes hard and shifts closer to Kurt, hooking his ankle over Kurt’s and looking up at the sky.
“It’s going to be clear tonight,” Kurt says, “I was wondering if you’d want to accompany me to the field after we leave?”
Blaine pretends to think about it. “I don’t know, is it a full moon?”
Kurt looks confused. “What on earth does that have to do with it?”
“Well, you never did tell me how to protect myself against werewolves -“
Kurt elbows him in the ribs and grumbles “You’re horrible,” as Blaine laughs, struggling to balance the paper plate on his legs as he tries to evade Kurt’s jabbing fingers.
Once they’ve finished cleaning sticky hands Kurt slides their fingers together again and says “Want to ride the Ferris wheel?”
Blaine is a little afraid of heights but he agrees anyway, grinning as Kurt swings their hands between them as they walk. The queue for the Ferris wheel is huge, but they manage to score a capsule alone, and Blaine might squeeze Kurt’s hand as tight as he can as the wheel starts to move.
“Blaine,” Kurt says, “Are you afraid of heights?”
“Maybe a little?” Blaine squeaks, “Not much!”
Kurt shifts his weight, making the wheel rock precariously. “Oh my god, stop,” Blaine yelps, grabbing the worn yellow leather for safety and Kurt laughs, wrapping his arm around Blaine’s waist. “I’m just kidding around, we’re barely even off the ground. I’m sorry.”
“You suck,” Blaine mumbles, swatting him on the leg, and Kurt giggles and kisses his cheek lightly, his lips lingering for a moment longer than anticipated. Blaine leans his head against Kurt’s shoulder as the wheel cranks higher and higher, groaning softly with exertion. The sounds of the fair below them fade away, replaced by the creak of the wheel and the faint sounds from the carriages above and behind them.
“Blaine?”
“Hm?” Blaine looks up and smiles, “Are you...okay?”
“I’m perfect,” Kurt says softly, and kisses him.
Blaine inhales sharply and then brings his hand up to cup Kurt’s jaw, closing his eyes. Kurt keeps the kiss chaste, his mouth closed, but he nips lightly at Blaine’s bottom lip when he pulls back.
“Was that a sufficient distraction?” he asks, and Blaine grins bashfully, blushing, and blurts “Kurt, will you be my boyfriend?”
Kurt blinks and then starts laughing. Blaine’s smile fades and he shifts back, ducking his head. Stupid.
“Blaine, you idiot,” Kurt says, “I’m on a date with you, I asked you out first. Of course I do.”
His smile comes back full force and Blaine launches forwards, pressing their mouths together haphazardly. Kurt’s mouth is curved into a smile under Blaine’s and he slides his arms around Blaine’s shoulders, pulling him even closer. Blaine makes a noise in the back of his throat and shifts so he can almost settle over Kurt’s lap, his hands settling against Kurt’s waist.
Kurt tastes sweet like cotton candy and strawberries, and Blaine opens his mouth for Kurt when his tongue presses against the seam of his lips. Kurt hums softly and tilts his head sideways to kiss Blaine deeper, his tongue sliding in over Blaine’s and making him shiver at the sensation of the bearing in Kurt’s tongue skidding over the roof of his mouth.
Neither of them notice when the wheel stops and they’re left stranded in midair.
Fin
**
Despite how long this asshole fic has gotten, there is in fact more to tell. Hopefully I’ll have the sequel done soon! Anyway, thank you so much for reading and I really hope you enjoyed it :)