Fic: Glee: Between the Lines (Kurt/Blaine, G)
Non-Glee-friends, it was the season finale last night, so I will possibly stop being quite so obsessed week after week and can write in some other fandoms again, too. Or not.
Title: "Between the Lines" 1/1
Author: flaming muse
Fandom: Glee
Pairings: Kurt/Blaine
Rating: G
Word count: 1800
Summary: The texts started almost as soon as Kurt reached the airport.
Spoilers: set before, during, and after 2x22 (“New York”)
Disclaimers: The characters belong to various corporate Powers That Be. I make absolutely no profit from playing with them.
Distribution: Please ask.
Feedback is lovely!
The texts started almost as soon as Kurt reached the airport.
I’ve read that people used to get dressed up to fly. These days are long gone, the first one read, and Blaine clicked on the picture to see Puck sprawled out in a chair in a disreputable tank top and a pair of sweats with holes in them.
You’d put them to shame even if they did, Blaine texted back, fond and kind of sad all at once, because he couldn’t be there to see it. Kurt had gone through his entire unpacked wardrobe yet again on the phone the previous night, brimming with so much excitement that the phone was all but vibrating in Blaine’s hand, and so even though Blaine could barely keep up with the pros and cons of each outfit he knew whatever Kurt had picked was fabulous.
Of course. Another text came in a minute later, this one without words; it was a picture of Kurt sitting with perfect posture on one of those uncomfortable airport chairs, his hands hooked on his crossed legs and one eyebrow raised like he knew just how great he looked. And of course he did look great in a pair of dark skinny jeans and some sort of navy jacket Blaine hadn’t seen before. A striped silk scarf in navy and white was knotted around his neck, and he had a hat perched on his head.
Blaine smiled; the scarf had been his good luck parting gift for the trip, and apparently it had met Kurt’s approval.
Boarding now, turning off my phone to placate Mr. Schue, came before Blaine could reply to the picture.
Safe trip, he sent anyway, because he meant it even if Kurt wouldn’t see it until he got to New York.
Later that day, Blaine didn’t need to look at the clock to figure out when Kurt landed. His phone vibrated so many times in succession in his pants pocket that he nearly flung it to the library table like a dangerous animal when he managed to get it out. His leg continued to tingle as he thumbed through picture after picture: Kurt and Mercedes together, his arms tight around her as he leaned against the airplane window behind him, a close-up of Kurt’s boarding pass with the tip of his finger pointing at the destination, a shot of Finn drooling as he slept on Sam’s shoulder, and a blurry picture of the distant city skyline as taken through an airplane window.
Smiling to himself, Blaine texted back So excited for you! and went back to studying for his upcoming history exam.
On the way back to his dorm a couple of hours later, his brain mushy with names and dates, he got I am rooming with the girls. Happy to have a clean bathroom, but will have a cage fight for the mirror.
My money is on you, Blaine wrote back. He waited for fifteen minutes until he decided that no reply was forthcoming, and then he went to go find another cup of coffee.
He didn’t hear anything from Kurt for the rest of the day, but when his alarm woke him in the morning there were two pictures of what had to be Central Park waiting for him. There was also a shot of Kurt perched on the edge of a fountain wearing a jacket with what appeared to be fur epaulets. Blaine remembered Kurt telling him about it, and of course it suited him perfectly. That wasn’t a surprise, even if Blaine thought it had to be kind of warm for the fur.
He held his phone in his lap and mooned over the picture for a while, his chest aching just a bit, before taking a picture of his room and sending it with the caption Your view is way better.
Blaine’s phone buzzed again mid-morning, just once, but he was good and didn’t look until he was out in the hallway after English was over. The picture was of Kurt and Rachel, clearly taken at arm’s length by Kurt, their eyes both shining with tears and their smiles so big and brilliantly happy that Blaine’s breath caught. Behind them was - wait - was that the Wicked set? Were they on stage?
Blaine stopped dead in the middle of the busy hallway, and Thad walked right into him.
“Hey, you okay?” Thad asked.
“Sure,” Blaine said with an automatic smile, even though he couldn’t decide if he wanted to whoop with joy on Kurt’s behalf or get quietly sick in the corner. It wasn’t that Blaine didn’t want Kurt to have the amazing experiences he was having, obviously, and he knew that they’d go back to New York together, but part of him still wished that he could be there for Kurt’s first time and do it all with him. If nothing else, he wished he could have been there to see Kurt’s expression the second he stepped onto that stage. He knew what a dream it was.
Waving off Thad’s concern, Blaine moved out of the flow of students and into the shelter of a window alcove.
Is that what I think it is? I can’t wait to hear all of your stories, he texted back, which was true. He kept the rest to himself.
There’s so much to tell! Kurt replied.
He knew Kurt was busy and that the group must be stressed trying to write new music at the last minute (which Blaine was still having trouble believing they were doing), so although he might have wished differently he wasn’t really surprised that there was nothing from Kurt before the performance besides a Here we go! in reply to Blaine’s Break a leg.
A simple, uncapitalized we didn’t place followed some hours later.
I’m sorry. The judges are fools. I’m sure you guys rocked it, Blaine texted back. Kurt didn’t respond.
The next morning when his phone was still devoid of texts, he sent a quick Have a safe trip home and hoped that the disappointment of not winning Nationals hadn’t robbed Kurt of the joy of the rest of his visit.
An hour later, he got The girls’ clothing has apparently multiplied in the night; I have spent far too many hours this morning helping them get their suitcases closed. A picture of a tower of luggage, with Tina sprawled in a theatrical swoon at its base, soon followed.
The things you do for your friends, Blaine replied.
Well, they wouldn’t let me pick what they should leave behind.
A few hours after that, Blaine got a text from Rachel. Opening it, he found a picture of Kurt and Mercedes slumped against each other at the airport, their eyes closed. I thought this was too cute not to share, Rachel’s text said. Blaine admired the graceful bend of Kurt’s body for longer - and more wistfully - than he would have liked to admit before he sent off a thank you. His body felt cold where he wanted Kurt to be resting against him.
Blaine wanted Kurt to have other friends and to do fabulous things. There was no question about that. It still hurt a little, though, to have to watch from the outside when the rest of Kurt’s friends were just there. They fit, and he kind of... okay, it wasn’t that Blaine didn’t fit; he was simply on the outside of Kurt’s life now that Kurt had left Dalton. He had to get used to it. Kurt was worth it, and if Blaine sometimes had to wait on the sidelines while Kurt lived his life and appeased his obligations to his boyfriend with a few text messages then he would do it.
He decided to go sit outside and study; the air in his room felt stifling, and the silence of the library would probably kill him. So he lay on the grass, looking up at the clouds floating past in the sky, and told himself to stop being stupid. Kurt was coming back, and it was almost summer. They’d have plenty of time to spend together. And they’d have time apart, too, which was good, because he wasn’t going to hold Kurt back from anything that made him happy.
Sometimes being mature really sucked... especially when some days all he wanted was to orbit Kurt like a moon around a shining sun and bask in his glow. But that was kind of creepy, he had to admit, so he wasn’t going to do that. He sent Looking forward to hearing about everything instead, like a good boyfriend, and tossed his phone on the grass beside him.
On the plane, turning my phone off, Kurt texted a bit later. Another one followed: Can’t wait to talk to you.
And another, a minute later: Wish you were here.
Me, too, Blaine managed to type, his heart suddenly in his throat. Maybe Kurt’s texts hadn’t just been to appease him, after all. Maybe they had been a way of sharing the experience with him because Kurt had wanted him there as much as Blaine had wanted to be there. Maybe Blaine was really that stupid to have thought otherwise.
It took him a while after that to be able to focus on his work.
They didn’t talk for more than five minutes after Kurt got home, because Burt and Carole (probably mostly Carole) had gone all-out decorating the house with dozens and dozens of balloons in celebration of their return, and Finn and Kurt were whisked away to Breadstix and family movie night almost as soon as they got in the door.
Seriously, so many balloons, Kurt texted when Blaine was getting into bed. The accompanying picture showed the Hummel-Husdon front hall nearly completely filled with the things.
It’s sweet, Blaine replied.
There were twenty in my room. And Finn has been sucking so much helium he nearly passed out. Ugh. See you at coffee tomorrow.
I’ll be the one with the balloon bouquet and the funny voice.
Blaine laughed when he got a picture of Kurt, his hair delightfully mussed and circles under his eyes, glaring at him in response.
Sweet dreams, he typed, but his heart was pounding in his chest so fiercely that he had trouble finding his own rest for quite a while.
The next evening he hummed to himself as he walked into his dorm room, high on having spent the afternoon with Kurt and having talked about so much: Kurt’s trip, their summer plans, their feelings. It all felt right, and he was so happy that he wanted to shout his joy for everyone to hear.
Instead he picked up his phone.
I meant it, he typed with a fierce determination, because he really, really wanted to tell him again.
I did, too, Kurt wrote back a minute later.
And in reply, Blaine sent a picture of himself grinning like a fool.
~end~
Title: "Between the Lines" 1/1
Author: flaming muse
Fandom: Glee
Pairings: Kurt/Blaine
Rating: G
Word count: 1800
Summary: The texts started almost as soon as Kurt reached the airport.
Spoilers: set before, during, and after 2x22 (“New York”)
Disclaimers: The characters belong to various corporate Powers That Be. I make absolutely no profit from playing with them.
Distribution: Please ask.
Feedback is lovely!
The texts started almost as soon as Kurt reached the airport.
I’ve read that people used to get dressed up to fly. These days are long gone, the first one read, and Blaine clicked on the picture to see Puck sprawled out in a chair in a disreputable tank top and a pair of sweats with holes in them.
You’d put them to shame even if they did, Blaine texted back, fond and kind of sad all at once, because he couldn’t be there to see it. Kurt had gone through his entire unpacked wardrobe yet again on the phone the previous night, brimming with so much excitement that the phone was all but vibrating in Blaine’s hand, and so even though Blaine could barely keep up with the pros and cons of each outfit he knew whatever Kurt had picked was fabulous.
Of course. Another text came in a minute later, this one without words; it was a picture of Kurt sitting with perfect posture on one of those uncomfortable airport chairs, his hands hooked on his crossed legs and one eyebrow raised like he knew just how great he looked. And of course he did look great in a pair of dark skinny jeans and some sort of navy jacket Blaine hadn’t seen before. A striped silk scarf in navy and white was knotted around his neck, and he had a hat perched on his head.
Blaine smiled; the scarf had been his good luck parting gift for the trip, and apparently it had met Kurt’s approval.
Boarding now, turning off my phone to placate Mr. Schue, came before Blaine could reply to the picture.
Safe trip, he sent anyway, because he meant it even if Kurt wouldn’t see it until he got to New York.
Later that day, Blaine didn’t need to look at the clock to figure out when Kurt landed. His phone vibrated so many times in succession in his pants pocket that he nearly flung it to the library table like a dangerous animal when he managed to get it out. His leg continued to tingle as he thumbed through picture after picture: Kurt and Mercedes together, his arms tight around her as he leaned against the airplane window behind him, a close-up of Kurt’s boarding pass with the tip of his finger pointing at the destination, a shot of Finn drooling as he slept on Sam’s shoulder, and a blurry picture of the distant city skyline as taken through an airplane window.
Smiling to himself, Blaine texted back So excited for you! and went back to studying for his upcoming history exam.
On the way back to his dorm a couple of hours later, his brain mushy with names and dates, he got I am rooming with the girls. Happy to have a clean bathroom, but will have a cage fight for the mirror.
My money is on you, Blaine wrote back. He waited for fifteen minutes until he decided that no reply was forthcoming, and then he went to go find another cup of coffee.
He didn’t hear anything from Kurt for the rest of the day, but when his alarm woke him in the morning there were two pictures of what had to be Central Park waiting for him. There was also a shot of Kurt perched on the edge of a fountain wearing a jacket with what appeared to be fur epaulets. Blaine remembered Kurt telling him about it, and of course it suited him perfectly. That wasn’t a surprise, even if Blaine thought it had to be kind of warm for the fur.
He held his phone in his lap and mooned over the picture for a while, his chest aching just a bit, before taking a picture of his room and sending it with the caption Your view is way better.
Blaine’s phone buzzed again mid-morning, just once, but he was good and didn’t look until he was out in the hallway after English was over. The picture was of Kurt and Rachel, clearly taken at arm’s length by Kurt, their eyes both shining with tears and their smiles so big and brilliantly happy that Blaine’s breath caught. Behind them was - wait - was that the Wicked set? Were they on stage?
Blaine stopped dead in the middle of the busy hallway, and Thad walked right into him.
“Hey, you okay?” Thad asked.
“Sure,” Blaine said with an automatic smile, even though he couldn’t decide if he wanted to whoop with joy on Kurt’s behalf or get quietly sick in the corner. It wasn’t that Blaine didn’t want Kurt to have the amazing experiences he was having, obviously, and he knew that they’d go back to New York together, but part of him still wished that he could be there for Kurt’s first time and do it all with him. If nothing else, he wished he could have been there to see Kurt’s expression the second he stepped onto that stage. He knew what a dream it was.
Waving off Thad’s concern, Blaine moved out of the flow of students and into the shelter of a window alcove.
Is that what I think it is? I can’t wait to hear all of your stories, he texted back, which was true. He kept the rest to himself.
There’s so much to tell! Kurt replied.
He knew Kurt was busy and that the group must be stressed trying to write new music at the last minute (which Blaine was still having trouble believing they were doing), so although he might have wished differently he wasn’t really surprised that there was nothing from Kurt before the performance besides a Here we go! in reply to Blaine’s Break a leg.
A simple, uncapitalized we didn’t place followed some hours later.
I’m sorry. The judges are fools. I’m sure you guys rocked it, Blaine texted back. Kurt didn’t respond.
The next morning when his phone was still devoid of texts, he sent a quick Have a safe trip home and hoped that the disappointment of not winning Nationals hadn’t robbed Kurt of the joy of the rest of his visit.
An hour later, he got The girls’ clothing has apparently multiplied in the night; I have spent far too many hours this morning helping them get their suitcases closed. A picture of a tower of luggage, with Tina sprawled in a theatrical swoon at its base, soon followed.
The things you do for your friends, Blaine replied.
Well, they wouldn’t let me pick what they should leave behind.
A few hours after that, Blaine got a text from Rachel. Opening it, he found a picture of Kurt and Mercedes slumped against each other at the airport, their eyes closed. I thought this was too cute not to share, Rachel’s text said. Blaine admired the graceful bend of Kurt’s body for longer - and more wistfully - than he would have liked to admit before he sent off a thank you. His body felt cold where he wanted Kurt to be resting against him.
Blaine wanted Kurt to have other friends and to do fabulous things. There was no question about that. It still hurt a little, though, to have to watch from the outside when the rest of Kurt’s friends were just there. They fit, and he kind of... okay, it wasn’t that Blaine didn’t fit; he was simply on the outside of Kurt’s life now that Kurt had left Dalton. He had to get used to it. Kurt was worth it, and if Blaine sometimes had to wait on the sidelines while Kurt lived his life and appeased his obligations to his boyfriend with a few text messages then he would do it.
He decided to go sit outside and study; the air in his room felt stifling, and the silence of the library would probably kill him. So he lay on the grass, looking up at the clouds floating past in the sky, and told himself to stop being stupid. Kurt was coming back, and it was almost summer. They’d have plenty of time to spend together. And they’d have time apart, too, which was good, because he wasn’t going to hold Kurt back from anything that made him happy.
Sometimes being mature really sucked... especially when some days all he wanted was to orbit Kurt like a moon around a shining sun and bask in his glow. But that was kind of creepy, he had to admit, so he wasn’t going to do that. He sent Looking forward to hearing about everything instead, like a good boyfriend, and tossed his phone on the grass beside him.
On the plane, turning my phone off, Kurt texted a bit later. Another one followed: Can’t wait to talk to you.
And another, a minute later: Wish you were here.
Me, too, Blaine managed to type, his heart suddenly in his throat. Maybe Kurt’s texts hadn’t just been to appease him, after all. Maybe they had been a way of sharing the experience with him because Kurt had wanted him there as much as Blaine had wanted to be there. Maybe Blaine was really that stupid to have thought otherwise.
It took him a while after that to be able to focus on his work.
They didn’t talk for more than five minutes after Kurt got home, because Burt and Carole (probably mostly Carole) had gone all-out decorating the house with dozens and dozens of balloons in celebration of their return, and Finn and Kurt were whisked away to Breadstix and family movie night almost as soon as they got in the door.
Seriously, so many balloons, Kurt texted when Blaine was getting into bed. The accompanying picture showed the Hummel-Husdon front hall nearly completely filled with the things.
It’s sweet, Blaine replied.
There were twenty in my room. And Finn has been sucking so much helium he nearly passed out. Ugh. See you at coffee tomorrow.
I’ll be the one with the balloon bouquet and the funny voice.
Blaine laughed when he got a picture of Kurt, his hair delightfully mussed and circles under his eyes, glaring at him in response.
Sweet dreams, he typed, but his heart was pounding in his chest so fiercely that he had trouble finding his own rest for quite a while.
The next evening he hummed to himself as he walked into his dorm room, high on having spent the afternoon with Kurt and having talked about so much: Kurt’s trip, their summer plans, their feelings. It all felt right, and he was so happy that he wanted to shout his joy for everyone to hear.
Instead he picked up his phone.
I meant it, he typed with a fierce determination, because he really, really wanted to tell him again.
I did, too, Kurt wrote back a minute later.
And in reply, Blaine sent a picture of himself grinning like a fool.
~end~