The Case of the Kidnapped Kurt (part the ninth)
Kurt was out-of-sorts the whole morning. He nearly took Anthony's head off when the man tried to joke with him on the ride to school. In his second period class, Trigonometry, he took (and failed) a pop quiz, then ended up arguing with the teacher about how this would ever have anything to do with his life, which got him sent to the office for the second time in his life. By lunch time, all he wanted to do was go somewhere where he could be alone and scream. Or cry. Or hit something. Or just -- go to sleep, and forget about everything. He hadn't felt this out of control since he was being terrorized by Karkosffky, and it angered him. Being with Blaine -- being in love with Blaine -- was so easy. So simple. It wasn't supposed to make him feel like this.
Kurt sighed. Blaine'd said he was taking Kurt out to lunch, which probably meant Breadstix, but could also mean any number of other, fancier restaurants. Kurt really wasn't sure he wanted to deal with that. He wanted to see Blaine -- knew once he did, everything, even the fact that Blaine's *mother* had apparently decided that they were getting *married*, would seem more manageable.
They hadn't ever talked about it. Why would they? They're only in high school. It's not even legal in the state of Ohio.
They hadn't ever talked about it, but Kurt had always sort of vaguely known. How could he not? Blaine had *followed him to McKinley.* He said stupidly romantic ridiculous things, and *meant* them. But so long as they didn't talk about it, they could both pretend they didn't know. As long as they didn't talk about it, Kurt could take the part of his mind that said Blaine was the one and push it aside, hide it behind fashion trends and celebrity gossip, behind Glee club drama and what movie they were going to go see. As long as they didn't talk about it, it was safe.
Anthony followed Kurt to the parking lot, a huge, hulking shadow that both frustrated and reassured Kurt. Anderson bodyguards were noted for their discretion, so when Kurt finally saw Blaine, leaning up against his ridiculously expensive car, Anthony stayed a good ten feet behind him. Close enough to protect them if necessary, but far enough away to at least give the illusion of privacy. Kurt opened his mouth to greet Blaine, to say "Let's go to lunch!", but nothing came out. He saw Blaine look concerned and move toward him, but Kurt still couldn't speak. He didn't know what to say.
Then Blaine's arms were around him and he was warm and safe and loved and -- "I don't want to go to lunch," Kurt said quietly into Blaine's shoulder, voice slightly muffled by the cloth.
"Okay," Blaine said. He seemed calm, but Kurt could hear the worry underneath. "Then we won't go to lunch." Kurt closed his eyes and curled closer into Blaine, tucking his face into the soft skin of Blaine's neck. Dimly, he realized Blaine was talking again. "--okay? It was my mom, wasn't it? She's kind of intense, I know, and her giving you that gun must have -- I mean, when you told me, I know I was -- Just, tell me, Kurt. What can I do, baby? What do you need me to do?"
Kurt ignored the fact that Blaine had called him baby. He never had before, and in the back of his mind, Kurt felt as though he ought to find the endearment embarrassing, if not offensive. But somehow it sounded different -- natural, right -- said in Blaine's low voice. It sounded ... perfect. "I just want to go home," Kurt whispered. He knew he ought to go to class, but it seemed like far too much effort. "Please just take me home."
Kurt sighed. Blaine'd said he was taking Kurt out to lunch, which probably meant Breadstix, but could also mean any number of other, fancier restaurants. Kurt really wasn't sure he wanted to deal with that. He wanted to see Blaine -- knew once he did, everything, even the fact that Blaine's *mother* had apparently decided that they were getting *married*, would seem more manageable.
They hadn't ever talked about it. Why would they? They're only in high school. It's not even legal in the state of Ohio.
They hadn't ever talked about it, but Kurt had always sort of vaguely known. How could he not? Blaine had *followed him to McKinley.* He said stupidly romantic ridiculous things, and *meant* them. But so long as they didn't talk about it, they could both pretend they didn't know. As long as they didn't talk about it, Kurt could take the part of his mind that said Blaine was the one and push it aside, hide it behind fashion trends and celebrity gossip, behind Glee club drama and what movie they were going to go see. As long as they didn't talk about it, it was safe.
Anthony followed Kurt to the parking lot, a huge, hulking shadow that both frustrated and reassured Kurt. Anderson bodyguards were noted for their discretion, so when Kurt finally saw Blaine, leaning up against his ridiculously expensive car, Anthony stayed a good ten feet behind him. Close enough to protect them if necessary, but far enough away to at least give the illusion of privacy. Kurt opened his mouth to greet Blaine, to say "Let's go to lunch!", but nothing came out. He saw Blaine look concerned and move toward him, but Kurt still couldn't speak. He didn't know what to say.
Then Blaine's arms were around him and he was warm and safe and loved and -- "I don't want to go to lunch," Kurt said quietly into Blaine's shoulder, voice slightly muffled by the cloth.
"Okay," Blaine said. He seemed calm, but Kurt could hear the worry underneath. "Then we won't go to lunch." Kurt closed his eyes and curled closer into Blaine, tucking his face into the soft skin of Blaine's neck. Dimly, he realized Blaine was talking again. "--okay? It was my mom, wasn't it? She's kind of intense, I know, and her giving you that gun must have -- I mean, when you told me, I know I was -- Just, tell me, Kurt. What can I do, baby? What do you need me to do?"
Kurt ignored the fact that Blaine had called him baby. He never had before, and in the back of his mind, Kurt felt as though he ought to find the endearment embarrassing, if not offensive. But somehow it sounded different -- natural, right -- said in Blaine's low voice. It sounded ... perfect. "I just want to go home," Kurt whispered. He knew he ought to go to class, but it seemed like far too much effort. "Please just take me home."