Nothing's So Loud (2/10)
Title: Nothing's So Loud (2/10)
Media: Fic
Author: a_glass_parade (GlassParade)
Rating: PG-13 to mild R in the future.
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine, reference to past Quinn/Finn and current Rachel/Finn
Genre: Romance, AU, Movie Adaptations
Warnings: Mentions of attempted suicide.
Spoilers: While events and references from all three seasons of Glee may be adapted and worked into the story occasionally, it's otherwise fully AU.
Word Count: Currently 7,700+
Summary: Blaine Anderson is the easy going skateboarding slacker who's carried a torch for sheltered class Valedictorian Kurt Hummel for the last year. On the day they graduate from high school, he decides to do something about it. There's no way they should work. Everything will conspire against them. Can this unlikely pairing prevail?
Additional Notes: gameboycolor and naderegen wanted 90's Klaine. I suggested updating Cameron Crowe's iconic movie "Say Anything" to 1998 and make Blaine and Kurt into an analogue of Lloyd and Diane's star-crossed romance. This very loose adaptation, for better or for worse, is the result. Title is from the song "All I Want" by Toad the Wet Sprocket.
“I'm home.” Blaine shoved the door to his sister's apartment open, dropping his cap and gown down onto the couch that doubled as his bed.
“Blaine, I'm sorry.” Constance hurried out of the back bedroom, her dark curls exploding out of the scrunchie that tried in vain to hold them back. “There was an emergency appendectomy I had to help out on, and then Jason's daycare called me and said he was feeling sick. Your big day and no one came.”
Blaine shook his head. “Nah, it's cool. I called Mom and Dad on the phone card from Quinn's place and told them all about it, so it's kind of like they were there.” He grinned as his nephew emerged from his room, a woebegone expression on his little face. “Hey, Jase. Under the weather, huh?”
“Yeah.” The four year old clambered up onto one of the stools at the breakfast bar, ably assisted by his uncle, who ruffled his fluffy hair with affection. “Tummy hurts.”
“Tough break, kid. Connie, how come you didn't page me? I would have gone to get him, you didn't have to leave work.” Blaine roamed over to the fridge and pulled out sandwich fixings. Constance frowned.
“I'm not calling you away from your graduation, Blaine, please. You do get to be a teenager sometimes, okay?” She came to peer over his shoulder at the sandwich he was making. “Except for now. Ew, Blaine. There is no food in that food.” Poking at the pack of lunch meat he was using, she shuddered at the jiggle.”I'm a nurse, I feel like I shouldn't condone this meal. And didn't you say you were going to get lunch with Quinn and Jeff?”
“We did go.” He smoothed mustard onto the bread and threw the sandwich together, taking a huge bite before grinning and speaking again. “Then we went to the skate park for an hour, so I'm hungry again.”
“Teenagers. You're bottomless pits.” Constance reached to give him a hug, but recoiled when she realized his shirt was soaked in sweat. “Blaine. Gross. Go shower.”
“Aye aye, Cap'n.” Waving his sandwich in a jaunty salute, Blaine headed for the apartment's tiny pastel bathroom, scooping up the Lima phone book and the household cordless along the way. He wanted to make a call, and the bathroom was the only place he could ensure his privacy.
Burt Hummel, spelled out the tiny print of the listing on the tissue-thin paper of the Lima White Pages. Next to it, the number that Blaine was willing himself to call. He tore off another bite of his sandwich and chewed mechanically as he stared at the page. You can do this, he told himself. To hell with whatever Quinn and Jeff say.
It had been the gentle ribbing of his friends that had steered Blaine to where he was now, gaping blankly at the phone book while eating lunch in the cream and lavender flowered bathroom of his sister's apartment. They'd had a field day teasing him at the skate park, and Blaine let them since it seemed to be cheering Quinn up. He was all for anything that pulled her out of her bad moods, even if - usually especially if - it was at his expense.
But even Blaine had his limits. “Fine,” he'd snapped to Quinn while Jeff took a last run on the half-pipe. “I'm going to do it. You don't believe I'm going to, but when I get home? I'm asking Kurt out on a date.”
And he was going to. He was so going to. Just as soon as he could breathe in and out.
The thing was, Blaine had been crushing on Kurt since the beginning of their senior year, and it had hit him over the head like a ton of bricks. During their freshman year, they'd had one class together - P.E. Blaine remembered a quiet, smallish kid still puppy-fat pudgy around the edges who didn't like the class, who endured it rather than enjoying it as Blaine had done.
That year, Blaine was only just understanding what “gay” meant and that he was fairly sure it applied to him. No one was on his radar, and when he moved to England with his parents for two years, he'd been too busy arguing with them to send him back home to do much other than admire a few cute guys from afar.
When he returned to McKinley this year, his first glimpse of Kurt had shocked him speechless. No baby fat to speak of anymore, Kurt had undergone an enviable growth spurt and discovered the joys of vintage clothing shopping. Blaine watched him glide through the halls of their high school, still quiet but more at ease in his skin somehow. Catching sight of Kurt wrapped in tight Diesel jeans and an undoubtedly designer pinstriped vest over a soft white button-down made Blaine very, very glad he himself preferred the convenient bagginess of skateboarding shorts.
More and more frequently as the months went by, thoughts of Kurt's intriguing color-changing eyes would interrupt Blaine's concentration on skateboarding or homework. Fantasies of threading his fingers through the other boy's thick, immaculate hair and pulling him in for kisses kept Blaine wide awake at night, fully aroused and generally unable to do anything about it, sleeping as he was on his sister's couch. And on the occasions that Blaine got close enough to hear Kurt speak, his soft, clear voice haunted Blaine's dreams for days.
It had been a brain-scrambling experience for Blaine, who had no idea whatsoever how to deal with his first crush and even less idea of who he could talk to about it other than Jeff or Quinn, who were no help at all. Quinn was far too damaged to even consider the possibility of love for herself, let alone her friends. And Jeff simply didn't care - late bloomer that he was, Jeff never even noticed that he had actual pseudo-groupies, girls who gathered at the skate park just to watch him and flirt awkwardly.
He'd thought about asking his sister, but Connie's divorce from her husband was too fresh, the wound from him turning around and immediately marrying another woman much too raw. Besides that, she was constantly overworked and trying to raise Jason on her own. Blaine didn't want to burden her with his problems.
And talking to his parents was out of the question. They were tolerant, but still clueless about what it meant to have a gay son. Not to mention the costs of overseas phone calls.
So Blaine was left on his own to decide how to handle this. He could spend the rest of his life wondering what it might have been like to try and win Kurt Hummel's affections, or he could spend it knowing he had at least tried. As the days ticked down closer to graduation, he realized his time to do anything was running out, because wherever Kurt decided to go to college, it wasn't going to be Ohio State. So in the fall, he would be gone far, far away.
All that was left to Blaine now was the summertime.
Reaching for the cordless phone, he clicked it on and began to dial.
Burt picked up the downstairs extension when it rang, guiltily swallowing the bite of club sandwich he wasn't supposed to be eating. A quick check of the Caller ID box told him it wasn't Kurt calling from the garage, thank goodness. But who was Constance Anderson? “Hummel residence.”
“Hello, Mr. Hummel,” came a polite, unfamiliar voice. “I was wondering if I might speak to Kurt?”
“I'm sorry, he's not home right now,” Burt replied, setting down his plate to retrieve a pen and paper. “Who's this, is it Thad?”
“Um, no -”
“Oh, are you the guy with the Mustang?” He waited, pen poised over the message pad. On the other end of the line, it sounded like whoever was calling was growing increasingly flustered.
“No, no, I drive a Volvo, sir. Um, actually, you don't know me, I'm Blaine Anderson. I go to school with your son?” The boy's voice went up a bit at the end, almost questioning, as if he was unsure. Burt chuckled.
“Well, hey, Blaine. Listen, I'm real sorry Kurt's not here, but I can take a message and give it to him when he gets back.” He waited for a response, amused by the verbal flailing going on. When Kurt had announced that he was gay, Burt had briefly mourned that he would never get the chance to judge whatever girls he brought home. He'd never considered the possibility that he'd get to torment boys. Wow, this could be kinda fun.
“Yes, sir. If you'll just tell him it's Blaine Anderson, we, um, we ate together at Lima Mall. Well, sort of. Quinn would tell me to be honest and say we ate near each other, anyway, this was the other day and, so, yes, if he'll just call me back, please.”
Burt couldn't stop grinning as he took down the message. “Sure thing, Blaine. You got a number I can give him?”
“Um, yes, sir, I do. It's 419-587-2312. That's 419-587-2312.” He paused. “419-”
“I got it, kid. I'll give this right to Kurt.” He tore the tiny sheet off and stuffed it into his pocket, setting the pad and pen down. “Bye, now.”
“Bye, sir.”
Chuckling some more to himself, Burt put the phone down and retrieved his lunch. Whoever that kid was, he hoped Kurt brought him home sometime. He sounded like he'd be fun to pick on.
No sooner had he taken another good bite of his sandwich than the phone rang again. “Damn it,” he muttered, putting the plate back down. This had to be some kind of punishment for eating bacon and mayo against Kurt's strict orders. But he'd put it on that weird bumpy whole grain bread Kurt had started insisting he eat...”Hummel residence. No, he's not here. Can I take -”
Not five minutes later, Burt was bolting out the door, sandwich entirely forgotten as he hopped into Kurt's car and sped for the garage. A fifteen minute drive took far, far less than it should have as Burt threw speed limit adherence out the window, grateful that the local cops liked him enough to turn a blind eye to the rare occasions that he broke driving laws. He had no time to be pulled over and ticketed, the news he'd just received was too important for delays.
When he arrived at the shop, he hurled himself out of the CRX and into the back office, not even bothering to greet his bewildered mechanics. Kurt looked up when Burt shoved the door open, a puzzled frown on his face as his father pulled the ledger he'd been working on right out of his hands. “Dad? Is everything all right?”
“Good, you're sitting down already. No, stay there.” He waved Kurt away and turned to close the blinds covering the windows that looked out on the production floor. “I had a phone call.”
“Dad, what is it? Tell me.” Kurt jumped to his feet, heedless of his father's admonition. Burt came back around the desk and gently forced his son back into his chair. “Dad, please, was it your doctor? Is it your -”
“No, it was not my doctor, Kurt. I'm fine. Will you calm down?” He ruffled the boy's hair, ignoring the yelp of protest that Kurt let out. “It's about you, kid. Kurt, you got it - the Gielgud fellowship. You won.”
“I what?” Kurt was stunned. “I won? Me?”
“You.” Burt beamed as his son slithered so low in his chair, he nearly fell to the floor. “You're going to the best acting school in the world, just like you've been telling me since you were ten years old. The best one in the world, Kurt. Didn't you tell me there were, like, fifty kids going for that one place? And you won it!” He pulled Kurt back upright in his seat, grabbing his hands and grinning so wide he thought his face might split in two. “It's all coming together kid, just like you wanted. Good job.”
Kurt looked up at his father's smiling face and covered his own with one hand, sinking down in his chair again. “But, London. Ugh. I'll have to fly there. On a plane. You know I hate planes.”
“Aah, you'll be fine, whatever, we'll get you Valium or something.” Burt waved his hand carelessly before hauling Kurt to his feet, enveloping him in a bear hug. “Point is, you did it, Kurt. You're gettin' out of here. Now will you admit that you're something special?”
“Well, yeah, it is pretty good...” Kurt was still in shock, trying to take it all in. “I won,” he whispered to himself, a tiny smile beginning to curl up his mouth. “I won.”
“You won,” Burt confirmed. “And I think this calls for a celebration. Wanna order pizza tonight?”
“We really shouldn't...oh, why not.” Kurt hugged his father in delight. “I'll even let you get sausage on your half. No double cheese, though, okay?”
“Oh, all right. Veggie on your half?”
“Yes, please.” He looked down at his hands, unable to wipe the smile off of his face. “I can't believe it.”
“Well, you better get on that, because it happened. It's all happening for you, Kurt.” Burt shoved his hands into his pockets, jumping a little when he touched unexpected paper. “Oh, hey. In all the excitement, I forgot about this.” He pulled the little slip out and wiggled it teasingly. “A boy called.”
“A boy?” He snatched the paper away from his father, mystified. “Who?”
“Blaine somebody.” Grinning, Burt shrugged. “He mentioned a girl named Quinn. Didn't you know a Quinn in Glee Club? Anyway, he says you two ate at the mall together the other day.”
“But I didn't eat lunch with anyone at the mall, I was alone.” Kurt frowned at the paper as if it could explain. “I don't think I know who this is.”
Burt didn't care, as long as Kurt brought the kid over at least once. He wanted to see what kind of guy could get so worked up and flustered over his son. “Well, call him back anyway. He sounded nice.”
“Did he? Well, okay.” Shoving the paper into his own pocket, Kurt reached down for his bag and his keys. “Let's go home and celebrate!”
Blaine was out in the parking lot, holding his nephew up on his skateboard when Constance appeared at her door with the cordless in her hand and a puzzled expression on her face. She covered the mouthpiece with her free hand before she spoke. “It's a...Kurt Hummel?”
It took a moment for her words to sink in, but once they had, Blaine snatched Jason up under one arm and his board under the other, racing for the door as his nephew giggled. He swapped child for phone and tried to shove past his sister to get to the bathroom, but Connie had other plans. She simply set Jason back down in front of him, blocking his path, and sprinted for the bathroom herself. “I got it, I got it, I got it, it's mine,” she whooped in triumph from behind the closed door. “Too bad.”
Standing stock still to gather his thoughts, Blaine glanced around the tiny apartment for anywhere else to go. Nothing. He looked down at his nephew. “Not one word, you got it? Not a single sound.” At Jason's solemn nod, he lifted the phone to his ear. “Hello?”
“Hi, this is Kurt Hummel. You called me?”
“Yes! Yes, I did. Hello, thank you.” Blaine heard himself babbling and cringed, willing himself to pull it back. “You probably don't remember me, we sort of ate together at the mall the other day.”
“Yes, that's what my father said.” Kurt's tone was gently amused, yet Blaine didn't feel as though he were being mocked. “And I am sorry to say that I really don't remember you.”
“That's okay.” Blaine had expected this, so while disappointment at being unmemorable stung at his heart a bit, he was able to rally. “Listen, I heard about your fellowship. Big day for you, huh?” The evening paper had arrived before he'd gone outside with Jason, and it already had a blurb about Kurt's accomplishment. He'd been right - Kurt was definitely not staying in Ohio. Blaine had picked the last possible minute to make his move.
“Yeah, big day. How did you manage to hear about that?” Kurt laughed. “I only got the news myself about an hour ago.”
“You've lived here your whole life, you know the gossip mill is efficient,” Blaine teased.
A humming noise of agreement from the other end of the line. “It's true. You could light the entire city of Lima for a year on the energy it generates.”
“Yeah.” Silence fell for a moment. “Anyway, Kurt, I wanted to say congratulations on that, first thing. Really awesome for you.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.” Kurt sounded genuinely pleased at this, and Blaine smiled at being the cause of it. It gave him the boldness to proceed with the real reason for his reaching out to Kurt Hummel.
“So, listen, I think we should go out.”
Kurt made a muffled noise of surprise. “Come again?”
“Let's go out. See, I lived in England for a couple of years, my parents are in the military, right?” He rushed to get the words out, wishing he could see Kurt's face to gauge how it was coming across. Left without that useful guide, he steeled himself to stick to the plan before he lost his nerve. “Anyway, since I lived there, and you're going to live there, I thought we could get together some time and I could give you tips? I have many tips. English tips.”
“I don't know...” Kurt murmured, his apprehension clear for Blaine to hear.
“Or no tips. Tips are off the table. We can just hang out. Or go to Puck's party tonight.” But Blaine could already hear the rejection coming down the line.
“I'm just, I really have my hands full,” was Kurt's apologetic response. “It's a lot to do, getting ready to go, and I only have a few weeks. I have a ton of arrangements to make. Plane tickets, packing, passports, many things that begin with the letter P.”
“Come on, Kurt,” Blaine coaxed, hoping he was hiding his mild panic. “I was listening to your awesome speech this morning. You said you didn't know anyone because you'd spent so much time studying. I can't let you run off to England without trying to help you rectify that.”
There was a rustling on the other end of the line, like Kurt was shifting the phone from one ear to another. “You actually paid attention to my speech?”
“Of course I did.”
The next silence stretched on long enough for Blaine to worry that the other boy had hung up on him. Finally, Kurt spoke again. “So let me get this straight. You're asking me out on a date?”
Blaine shrugged, momentarily forgetting that Kurt couldn't see him. “It doesn't have to be if you don't want it to be,” he answered. “But I really couldn't let you leave the country without at least letting you know there was interest. From me.”
A surprised chortle burst out of Kurt before he reined it in. “All right. I'll go with you to Puck's party.”
“Really? You will?” Hearing how eager he sounded, Blaine shook his head and tried again. “I mean, that's awesome. I'll pick you up at eight. Is that enough time?” He couldn't stop grinning like an idiot.
“Eight sounds fine.” Kurt's voice clearly conveyed the fact that he was smiling, which in turn made Blaine smile wider and dance in place a little. “I'll see you then.”
“Great, yeah, okay. Okay then. Um, bye for now, then,” Blaine babbled.
“Bye.” With that, Kurt hung up, leaving a dial tone buzzing in his ear.
Excellent. Clicking the phone off, Blaine chucked it down on the couch and reached down to high-five his nephew, who had remained obediently silent and was watching him with wide eyes. “Good job, Jase. Thanks, little buddy.” Straightening up, Blaine cranked the CD player in the corner to blast Better Than Ezra and picked up Jason to dance him around the living room, singing at the top of his lungs.
Connie emerged from the bathroom. “Not too loud! The red line's on there for a reason.”
“Who cares! I'm in a great mood!” He swung around the room, making Jason giggle at his ridiculous antics. “Set him up to let him fall, turn him over in your hands...”
“The neighbors care. Hence the red line on the volume knob.” But Connie was grinning as she leaned against the wall, watching her younger brother be the happiest she'd seen him in a while. “I take it your call went well?”
Blaine's answering smile was infectious. “It's been a good day to be Blaine Anderson, yeah.”
...Chapter Three...
Media: Fic
Author: a_glass_parade (GlassParade)
Rating: PG-13 to mild R in the future.
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine, reference to past Quinn/Finn and current Rachel/Finn
Genre: Romance, AU, Movie Adaptations
Warnings: Mentions of attempted suicide.
Spoilers: While events and references from all three seasons of Glee may be adapted and worked into the story occasionally, it's otherwise fully AU.
Word Count: Currently 7,700+
Summary: Blaine Anderson is the easy going skateboarding slacker who's carried a torch for sheltered class Valedictorian Kurt Hummel for the last year. On the day they graduate from high school, he decides to do something about it. There's no way they should work. Everything will conspire against them. Can this unlikely pairing prevail?
Additional Notes: gameboycolor and naderegen wanted 90's Klaine. I suggested updating Cameron Crowe's iconic movie "Say Anything" to 1998 and make Blaine and Kurt into an analogue of Lloyd and Diane's star-crossed romance. This very loose adaptation, for better or for worse, is the result. Title is from the song "All I Want" by Toad the Wet Sprocket.
“I'm home.” Blaine shoved the door to his sister's apartment open, dropping his cap and gown down onto the couch that doubled as his bed.
“Blaine, I'm sorry.” Constance hurried out of the back bedroom, her dark curls exploding out of the scrunchie that tried in vain to hold them back. “There was an emergency appendectomy I had to help out on, and then Jason's daycare called me and said he was feeling sick. Your big day and no one came.”
Blaine shook his head. “Nah, it's cool. I called Mom and Dad on the phone card from Quinn's place and told them all about it, so it's kind of like they were there.” He grinned as his nephew emerged from his room, a woebegone expression on his little face. “Hey, Jase. Under the weather, huh?”
“Yeah.” The four year old clambered up onto one of the stools at the breakfast bar, ably assisted by his uncle, who ruffled his fluffy hair with affection. “Tummy hurts.”
“Tough break, kid. Connie, how come you didn't page me? I would have gone to get him, you didn't have to leave work.” Blaine roamed over to the fridge and pulled out sandwich fixings. Constance frowned.
“I'm not calling you away from your graduation, Blaine, please. You do get to be a teenager sometimes, okay?” She came to peer over his shoulder at the sandwich he was making. “Except for now. Ew, Blaine. There is no food in that food.” Poking at the pack of lunch meat he was using, she shuddered at the jiggle.”I'm a nurse, I feel like I shouldn't condone this meal. And didn't you say you were going to get lunch with Quinn and Jeff?”
“We did go.” He smoothed mustard onto the bread and threw the sandwich together, taking a huge bite before grinning and speaking again. “Then we went to the skate park for an hour, so I'm hungry again.”
“Teenagers. You're bottomless pits.” Constance reached to give him a hug, but recoiled when she realized his shirt was soaked in sweat. “Blaine. Gross. Go shower.”
“Aye aye, Cap'n.” Waving his sandwich in a jaunty salute, Blaine headed for the apartment's tiny pastel bathroom, scooping up the Lima phone book and the household cordless along the way. He wanted to make a call, and the bathroom was the only place he could ensure his privacy.
Burt Hummel, spelled out the tiny print of the listing on the tissue-thin paper of the Lima White Pages. Next to it, the number that Blaine was willing himself to call. He tore off another bite of his sandwich and chewed mechanically as he stared at the page. You can do this, he told himself. To hell with whatever Quinn and Jeff say.
It had been the gentle ribbing of his friends that had steered Blaine to where he was now, gaping blankly at the phone book while eating lunch in the cream and lavender flowered bathroom of his sister's apartment. They'd had a field day teasing him at the skate park, and Blaine let them since it seemed to be cheering Quinn up. He was all for anything that pulled her out of her bad moods, even if - usually especially if - it was at his expense.
But even Blaine had his limits. “Fine,” he'd snapped to Quinn while Jeff took a last run on the half-pipe. “I'm going to do it. You don't believe I'm going to, but when I get home? I'm asking Kurt out on a date.”
And he was going to. He was so going to. Just as soon as he could breathe in and out.
The thing was, Blaine had been crushing on Kurt since the beginning of their senior year, and it had hit him over the head like a ton of bricks. During their freshman year, they'd had one class together - P.E. Blaine remembered a quiet, smallish kid still puppy-fat pudgy around the edges who didn't like the class, who endured it rather than enjoying it as Blaine had done.
That year, Blaine was only just understanding what “gay” meant and that he was fairly sure it applied to him. No one was on his radar, and when he moved to England with his parents for two years, he'd been too busy arguing with them to send him back home to do much other than admire a few cute guys from afar.
When he returned to McKinley this year, his first glimpse of Kurt had shocked him speechless. No baby fat to speak of anymore, Kurt had undergone an enviable growth spurt and discovered the joys of vintage clothing shopping. Blaine watched him glide through the halls of their high school, still quiet but more at ease in his skin somehow. Catching sight of Kurt wrapped in tight Diesel jeans and an undoubtedly designer pinstriped vest over a soft white button-down made Blaine very, very glad he himself preferred the convenient bagginess of skateboarding shorts.
More and more frequently as the months went by, thoughts of Kurt's intriguing color-changing eyes would interrupt Blaine's concentration on skateboarding or homework. Fantasies of threading his fingers through the other boy's thick, immaculate hair and pulling him in for kisses kept Blaine wide awake at night, fully aroused and generally unable to do anything about it, sleeping as he was on his sister's couch. And on the occasions that Blaine got close enough to hear Kurt speak, his soft, clear voice haunted Blaine's dreams for days.
It had been a brain-scrambling experience for Blaine, who had no idea whatsoever how to deal with his first crush and even less idea of who he could talk to about it other than Jeff or Quinn, who were no help at all. Quinn was far too damaged to even consider the possibility of love for herself, let alone her friends. And Jeff simply didn't care - late bloomer that he was, Jeff never even noticed that he had actual pseudo-groupies, girls who gathered at the skate park just to watch him and flirt awkwardly.
He'd thought about asking his sister, but Connie's divorce from her husband was too fresh, the wound from him turning around and immediately marrying another woman much too raw. Besides that, she was constantly overworked and trying to raise Jason on her own. Blaine didn't want to burden her with his problems.
And talking to his parents was out of the question. They were tolerant, but still clueless about what it meant to have a gay son. Not to mention the costs of overseas phone calls.
So Blaine was left on his own to decide how to handle this. He could spend the rest of his life wondering what it might have been like to try and win Kurt Hummel's affections, or he could spend it knowing he had at least tried. As the days ticked down closer to graduation, he realized his time to do anything was running out, because wherever Kurt decided to go to college, it wasn't going to be Ohio State. So in the fall, he would be gone far, far away.
All that was left to Blaine now was the summertime.
Reaching for the cordless phone, he clicked it on and began to dial.
Burt picked up the downstairs extension when it rang, guiltily swallowing the bite of club sandwich he wasn't supposed to be eating. A quick check of the Caller ID box told him it wasn't Kurt calling from the garage, thank goodness. But who was Constance Anderson? “Hummel residence.”
“Hello, Mr. Hummel,” came a polite, unfamiliar voice. “I was wondering if I might speak to Kurt?”
“I'm sorry, he's not home right now,” Burt replied, setting down his plate to retrieve a pen and paper. “Who's this, is it Thad?”
“Um, no -”
“Oh, are you the guy with the Mustang?” He waited, pen poised over the message pad. On the other end of the line, it sounded like whoever was calling was growing increasingly flustered.
“No, no, I drive a Volvo, sir. Um, actually, you don't know me, I'm Blaine Anderson. I go to school with your son?” The boy's voice went up a bit at the end, almost questioning, as if he was unsure. Burt chuckled.
“Well, hey, Blaine. Listen, I'm real sorry Kurt's not here, but I can take a message and give it to him when he gets back.” He waited for a response, amused by the verbal flailing going on. When Kurt had announced that he was gay, Burt had briefly mourned that he would never get the chance to judge whatever girls he brought home. He'd never considered the possibility that he'd get to torment boys. Wow, this could be kinda fun.
“Yes, sir. If you'll just tell him it's Blaine Anderson, we, um, we ate together at Lima Mall. Well, sort of. Quinn would tell me to be honest and say we ate near each other, anyway, this was the other day and, so, yes, if he'll just call me back, please.”
Burt couldn't stop grinning as he took down the message. “Sure thing, Blaine. You got a number I can give him?”
“Um, yes, sir, I do. It's 419-587-2312. That's 419-587-2312.” He paused. “419-”
“I got it, kid. I'll give this right to Kurt.” He tore the tiny sheet off and stuffed it into his pocket, setting the pad and pen down. “Bye, now.”
“Bye, sir.”
Chuckling some more to himself, Burt put the phone down and retrieved his lunch. Whoever that kid was, he hoped Kurt brought him home sometime. He sounded like he'd be fun to pick on.
No sooner had he taken another good bite of his sandwich than the phone rang again. “Damn it,” he muttered, putting the plate back down. This had to be some kind of punishment for eating bacon and mayo against Kurt's strict orders. But he'd put it on that weird bumpy whole grain bread Kurt had started insisting he eat...”Hummel residence. No, he's not here. Can I take -”
Not five minutes later, Burt was bolting out the door, sandwich entirely forgotten as he hopped into Kurt's car and sped for the garage. A fifteen minute drive took far, far less than it should have as Burt threw speed limit adherence out the window, grateful that the local cops liked him enough to turn a blind eye to the rare occasions that he broke driving laws. He had no time to be pulled over and ticketed, the news he'd just received was too important for delays.
When he arrived at the shop, he hurled himself out of the CRX and into the back office, not even bothering to greet his bewildered mechanics. Kurt looked up when Burt shoved the door open, a puzzled frown on his face as his father pulled the ledger he'd been working on right out of his hands. “Dad? Is everything all right?”
“Good, you're sitting down already. No, stay there.” He waved Kurt away and turned to close the blinds covering the windows that looked out on the production floor. “I had a phone call.”
“Dad, what is it? Tell me.” Kurt jumped to his feet, heedless of his father's admonition. Burt came back around the desk and gently forced his son back into his chair. “Dad, please, was it your doctor? Is it your -”
“No, it was not my doctor, Kurt. I'm fine. Will you calm down?” He ruffled the boy's hair, ignoring the yelp of protest that Kurt let out. “It's about you, kid. Kurt, you got it - the Gielgud fellowship. You won.”
“I what?” Kurt was stunned. “I won? Me?”
“You.” Burt beamed as his son slithered so low in his chair, he nearly fell to the floor. “You're going to the best acting school in the world, just like you've been telling me since you were ten years old. The best one in the world, Kurt. Didn't you tell me there were, like, fifty kids going for that one place? And you won it!” He pulled Kurt back upright in his seat, grabbing his hands and grinning so wide he thought his face might split in two. “It's all coming together kid, just like you wanted. Good job.”
Kurt looked up at his father's smiling face and covered his own with one hand, sinking down in his chair again. “But, London. Ugh. I'll have to fly there. On a plane. You know I hate planes.”
“Aah, you'll be fine, whatever, we'll get you Valium or something.” Burt waved his hand carelessly before hauling Kurt to his feet, enveloping him in a bear hug. “Point is, you did it, Kurt. You're gettin' out of here. Now will you admit that you're something special?”
“Well, yeah, it is pretty good...” Kurt was still in shock, trying to take it all in. “I won,” he whispered to himself, a tiny smile beginning to curl up his mouth. “I won.”
“You won,” Burt confirmed. “And I think this calls for a celebration. Wanna order pizza tonight?”
“We really shouldn't...oh, why not.” Kurt hugged his father in delight. “I'll even let you get sausage on your half. No double cheese, though, okay?”
“Oh, all right. Veggie on your half?”
“Yes, please.” He looked down at his hands, unable to wipe the smile off of his face. “I can't believe it.”
“Well, you better get on that, because it happened. It's all happening for you, Kurt.” Burt shoved his hands into his pockets, jumping a little when he touched unexpected paper. “Oh, hey. In all the excitement, I forgot about this.” He pulled the little slip out and wiggled it teasingly. “A boy called.”
“A boy?” He snatched the paper away from his father, mystified. “Who?”
“Blaine somebody.” Grinning, Burt shrugged. “He mentioned a girl named Quinn. Didn't you know a Quinn in Glee Club? Anyway, he says you two ate at the mall together the other day.”
“But I didn't eat lunch with anyone at the mall, I was alone.” Kurt frowned at the paper as if it could explain. “I don't think I know who this is.”
Burt didn't care, as long as Kurt brought the kid over at least once. He wanted to see what kind of guy could get so worked up and flustered over his son. “Well, call him back anyway. He sounded nice.”
“Did he? Well, okay.” Shoving the paper into his own pocket, Kurt reached down for his bag and his keys. “Let's go home and celebrate!”
Blaine was out in the parking lot, holding his nephew up on his skateboard when Constance appeared at her door with the cordless in her hand and a puzzled expression on her face. She covered the mouthpiece with her free hand before she spoke. “It's a...Kurt Hummel?”
It took a moment for her words to sink in, but once they had, Blaine snatched Jason up under one arm and his board under the other, racing for the door as his nephew giggled. He swapped child for phone and tried to shove past his sister to get to the bathroom, but Connie had other plans. She simply set Jason back down in front of him, blocking his path, and sprinted for the bathroom herself. “I got it, I got it, I got it, it's mine,” she whooped in triumph from behind the closed door. “Too bad.”
Standing stock still to gather his thoughts, Blaine glanced around the tiny apartment for anywhere else to go. Nothing. He looked down at his nephew. “Not one word, you got it? Not a single sound.” At Jason's solemn nod, he lifted the phone to his ear. “Hello?”
“Hi, this is Kurt Hummel. You called me?”
“Yes! Yes, I did. Hello, thank you.” Blaine heard himself babbling and cringed, willing himself to pull it back. “You probably don't remember me, we sort of ate together at the mall the other day.”
“Yes, that's what my father said.” Kurt's tone was gently amused, yet Blaine didn't feel as though he were being mocked. “And I am sorry to say that I really don't remember you.”
“That's okay.” Blaine had expected this, so while disappointment at being unmemorable stung at his heart a bit, he was able to rally. “Listen, I heard about your fellowship. Big day for you, huh?” The evening paper had arrived before he'd gone outside with Jason, and it already had a blurb about Kurt's accomplishment. He'd been right - Kurt was definitely not staying in Ohio. Blaine had picked the last possible minute to make his move.
“Yeah, big day. How did you manage to hear about that?” Kurt laughed. “I only got the news myself about an hour ago.”
“You've lived here your whole life, you know the gossip mill is efficient,” Blaine teased.
A humming noise of agreement from the other end of the line. “It's true. You could light the entire city of Lima for a year on the energy it generates.”
“Yeah.” Silence fell for a moment. “Anyway, Kurt, I wanted to say congratulations on that, first thing. Really awesome for you.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.” Kurt sounded genuinely pleased at this, and Blaine smiled at being the cause of it. It gave him the boldness to proceed with the real reason for his reaching out to Kurt Hummel.
“So, listen, I think we should go out.”
Kurt made a muffled noise of surprise. “Come again?”
“Let's go out. See, I lived in England for a couple of years, my parents are in the military, right?” He rushed to get the words out, wishing he could see Kurt's face to gauge how it was coming across. Left without that useful guide, he steeled himself to stick to the plan before he lost his nerve. “Anyway, since I lived there, and you're going to live there, I thought we could get together some time and I could give you tips? I have many tips. English tips.”
“I don't know...” Kurt murmured, his apprehension clear for Blaine to hear.
“Or no tips. Tips are off the table. We can just hang out. Or go to Puck's party tonight.” But Blaine could already hear the rejection coming down the line.
“I'm just, I really have my hands full,” was Kurt's apologetic response. “It's a lot to do, getting ready to go, and I only have a few weeks. I have a ton of arrangements to make. Plane tickets, packing, passports, many things that begin with the letter P.”
“Come on, Kurt,” Blaine coaxed, hoping he was hiding his mild panic. “I was listening to your awesome speech this morning. You said you didn't know anyone because you'd spent so much time studying. I can't let you run off to England without trying to help you rectify that.”
There was a rustling on the other end of the line, like Kurt was shifting the phone from one ear to another. “You actually paid attention to my speech?”
“Of course I did.”
The next silence stretched on long enough for Blaine to worry that the other boy had hung up on him. Finally, Kurt spoke again. “So let me get this straight. You're asking me out on a date?”
Blaine shrugged, momentarily forgetting that Kurt couldn't see him. “It doesn't have to be if you don't want it to be,” he answered. “But I really couldn't let you leave the country without at least letting you know there was interest. From me.”
A surprised chortle burst out of Kurt before he reined it in. “All right. I'll go with you to Puck's party.”
“Really? You will?” Hearing how eager he sounded, Blaine shook his head and tried again. “I mean, that's awesome. I'll pick you up at eight. Is that enough time?” He couldn't stop grinning like an idiot.
“Eight sounds fine.” Kurt's voice clearly conveyed the fact that he was smiling, which in turn made Blaine smile wider and dance in place a little. “I'll see you then.”
“Great, yeah, okay. Okay then. Um, bye for now, then,” Blaine babbled.
“Bye.” With that, Kurt hung up, leaving a dial tone buzzing in his ear.
Excellent. Clicking the phone off, Blaine chucked it down on the couch and reached down to high-five his nephew, who had remained obediently silent and was watching him with wide eyes. “Good job, Jase. Thanks, little buddy.” Straightening up, Blaine cranked the CD player in the corner to blast Better Than Ezra and picked up Jason to dance him around the living room, singing at the top of his lungs.
Connie emerged from the bathroom. “Not too loud! The red line's on there for a reason.”
“Who cares! I'm in a great mood!” He swung around the room, making Jason giggle at his ridiculous antics. “Set him up to let him fall, turn him over in your hands...”
“The neighbors care. Hence the red line on the volume knob.” But Connie was grinning as she leaned against the wall, watching her younger brother be the happiest she'd seen him in a while. “I take it your call went well?”
Blaine's answering smile was infectious. “It's been a good day to be Blaine Anderson, yeah.”
...Chapter Three...