Things That Straight People Don't Have to Understand - Part IV
Title: Things That Straight People Don't Have to Understand - Part IV
Rating: PG
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine
Summary: At this point he'd accepted that, when it came to him and Blaine, nothing that should be terrifying really was.
Word Count: 1259
Author's Note: Part four of four. The timeline doesn't work now because of 3.02, but I kind of don't care. It's cute, and cute doesn't have to be totally accurate, right?
It wasn’t until his college psychology class - taken at the ripe old age of 20 - that Kurt realized he wanted to have children. Not just a child, but children. They’d been discussing theories about the importance of birth order, and he’d thought to himself, “at least our kids won’t have to worry about being an only.”
Two words in that sentence really should have freaked him out, but neither did. And that should have freaked him out too, but at this point he’d accepted that, when it came to him and Blaine, nothing that should be terrifying really was.
They’d only been together a few months when they started talking about where they’d move for college. And they’d barely managed to get through orientation before they were talking about what their first apartment would look like. At Kurt’s 20th birthday party, Blaine had casually mentioned something about when they got married, and not a single person who heard him had batted an eye. They were inevitable. Like Rachel and bad fashion, they were meant to be together.
Kurt knew it would all happen eventually. In a couple of months, Blaine would turn 21 and get access to a ridiculous trust fund that would let them buy one of those adorable, tiny apartments they’d been eyeing in Chelsea. Blaine would buy a completely unnecessary and huge leather couch, because you could take the boy out of prep school, but you couldn’t take the prep school out of the boy. And Kurt would roll his eyes and somehow manage to decorate around it.
A year after that, they’d both graduate. Kurt would design and perform and be generally fabulous. Blaine would probably end up in law school, because even though he denied it, he wanted to save the world, and that would be a perfect way for him to do it. They’d fight and make up. They’d stay out too late and then go out to elaborate brunches in the West Village. And one day, a few years after that, one of them would mention marriage as more than just a future inevitability.
They’d get married because that’s what people do. Because they could, and because they were meant to be, and because as counter-culture as Kurt sometimes liked to think of himself, the Hummels were the marrying kind. They’d get married because they wanted each other forever, and they wanted everyone to know.
And that was as far as Kurt had bothered to contemplate. Because Blaine would be his for always, and that was enough. Or it had been, until that ridiculous sentence, with its presumptuous “our kids” had appeared in his head in the middle of his psych lecture. And now, damn it all, he had a whole lot more to think about.
He was uncharacteristically silent through the rest of class, as he poked and prodded the new thoughts appearing in his head, trying to figure out where the hell they had come from. He was pretty sure Blaine wanted kids, if the way he smiled at the parents pushing strollers in the park was any indication. But they’d never really talked about it, and Kurt had never really thought about it, beyond it being something that straight people tended to do when they grew up and got married.
If he were totally honest with himself, he had thought about it, sort of, when he’d first come out to himself many years ago. Like all other kids, he’d just sort of figured that one day he’d have his own children. And then he’d figured out he liked boys, and he’d understood enough about the mechanics of things at that point to realize that he probably wouldn’t be having any children, at least not the traditional way. (The face he’d made at the thought of doing that with a girl had made his dad ask if he’d put sugar instead of salt on the mac and cheese again. He’d quickly schooled his face into a more normal expression and resolved not to think about things like that at the dinner table anymore.)
Of course, now he knew that there were other options. There was surrogacy and adoption. Gay couples made it work all the time. But he’d only ever thought about it in the abstract, so contemplating children as they might relate to him and Blaine was sort of startling. His mind flipped instantly to blurry images of a little girl with his blue eyes and a little boy with Blaine’s riot of curls. It was a good thing that class ended at exactly that moment, because he knew he had a goofy grin on his face.
He wandered out of the classroom and down to his favorite coffeeshop, two blocks over. Blaine found him there twenty minutes later, sitting at a table in the corner and aimlessly stirring his cooling coffee.
“Hey, you. How was class?” Blaine smiled at him curiously.
“It was…interesting.” Kurt wasn’t sure there was a better way to describe it.
“Yeah?” Blaine studied him, his expression open and curious. Kurt loved how he always had Blaine’s full attention.
“Yeah.” And because they always said everything, even when it might be difficult or impossible or insane, he went on. “How do you feel about children?”
“Children? As in ‘hey, kid, get off my lawn,’ or…” Here Blaine took a deep breath, and his gaze sharpened. “Or as in having them? Together?”
“Yeah, that last one.” Kurt’s voice was thin and quiet. He looked down at his coffee, feeling suddenly shy.
“Kurt, I love you.” Blaine unwound Kurt’s fingers from his coffee cup and wrapped them in his own. When Kurt finally looked up, Blaine’s heart was in his eyes. “So much. And I would love to share that with children. Our children. I can’t think of anything better.”
“Really?” Kurt was reminded forcibly that Blaine really was the perfect man. And he was going to cry all over his perfect man in a damn coffee shop if he didn’t pull himself together.
“Absolutely.” Blaine grinned, and then turned serious again. “But only if you want to?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I want to. With you. Only with you.” Kurt knew he was babbling, but he kind of didn’t care. Because Blaine, his Blaine, was smiling at him with so much joy that he thought one or both of them might just combust or melt or somehow cease to be in this plane of reality.
It didn’t matter that they were sitting in a coffee shop in the middle of the afternoon. It didn’t matter that they were only 20, and what they were discussing wouldn’t be happening for years. It didn’t matter that it might be difficult or complicated or just plain weird to figure out all the details when the time came. They’d do it together, and it would be perfect, because it would be them. Them and a child - no, children - who would be theirs.
Kurt squeezed the hand that had slipped into his own and looked into the pretty hazel eyes he intended to wake up to for the rest of his life.
“I love you,” he whispered. And that was enough to seal the promise they were making to each other, with this conversation and a million others that had come before and would come after.
They grinned at one another foolishly, laughing a little. And then Kurt launched into a story about his morning design class, and Blaine got up to get them both fresh coffees. And life - their life - went on.
Rating: PG
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine
Summary: At this point he'd accepted that, when it came to him and Blaine, nothing that should be terrifying really was.
Word Count: 1259
Author's Note: Part four of four. The timeline doesn't work now because of 3.02, but I kind of don't care. It's cute, and cute doesn't have to be totally accurate, right?
It wasn’t until his college psychology class - taken at the ripe old age of 20 - that Kurt realized he wanted to have children. Not just a child, but children. They’d been discussing theories about the importance of birth order, and he’d thought to himself, “at least our kids won’t have to worry about being an only.”
Two words in that sentence really should have freaked him out, but neither did. And that should have freaked him out too, but at this point he’d accepted that, when it came to him and Blaine, nothing that should be terrifying really was.
They’d only been together a few months when they started talking about where they’d move for college. And they’d barely managed to get through orientation before they were talking about what their first apartment would look like. At Kurt’s 20th birthday party, Blaine had casually mentioned something about when they got married, and not a single person who heard him had batted an eye. They were inevitable. Like Rachel and bad fashion, they were meant to be together.
Kurt knew it would all happen eventually. In a couple of months, Blaine would turn 21 and get access to a ridiculous trust fund that would let them buy one of those adorable, tiny apartments they’d been eyeing in Chelsea. Blaine would buy a completely unnecessary and huge leather couch, because you could take the boy out of prep school, but you couldn’t take the prep school out of the boy. And Kurt would roll his eyes and somehow manage to decorate around it.
A year after that, they’d both graduate. Kurt would design and perform and be generally fabulous. Blaine would probably end up in law school, because even though he denied it, he wanted to save the world, and that would be a perfect way for him to do it. They’d fight and make up. They’d stay out too late and then go out to elaborate brunches in the West Village. And one day, a few years after that, one of them would mention marriage as more than just a future inevitability.
They’d get married because that’s what people do. Because they could, and because they were meant to be, and because as counter-culture as Kurt sometimes liked to think of himself, the Hummels were the marrying kind. They’d get married because they wanted each other forever, and they wanted everyone to know.
And that was as far as Kurt had bothered to contemplate. Because Blaine would be his for always, and that was enough. Or it had been, until that ridiculous sentence, with its presumptuous “our kids” had appeared in his head in the middle of his psych lecture. And now, damn it all, he had a whole lot more to think about.
He was uncharacteristically silent through the rest of class, as he poked and prodded the new thoughts appearing in his head, trying to figure out where the hell they had come from. He was pretty sure Blaine wanted kids, if the way he smiled at the parents pushing strollers in the park was any indication. But they’d never really talked about it, and Kurt had never really thought about it, beyond it being something that straight people tended to do when they grew up and got married.
If he were totally honest with himself, he had thought about it, sort of, when he’d first come out to himself many years ago. Like all other kids, he’d just sort of figured that one day he’d have his own children. And then he’d figured out he liked boys, and he’d understood enough about the mechanics of things at that point to realize that he probably wouldn’t be having any children, at least not the traditional way. (The face he’d made at the thought of doing that with a girl had made his dad ask if he’d put sugar instead of salt on the mac and cheese again. He’d quickly schooled his face into a more normal expression and resolved not to think about things like that at the dinner table anymore.)
Of course, now he knew that there were other options. There was surrogacy and adoption. Gay couples made it work all the time. But he’d only ever thought about it in the abstract, so contemplating children as they might relate to him and Blaine was sort of startling. His mind flipped instantly to blurry images of a little girl with his blue eyes and a little boy with Blaine’s riot of curls. It was a good thing that class ended at exactly that moment, because he knew he had a goofy grin on his face.
He wandered out of the classroom and down to his favorite coffeeshop, two blocks over. Blaine found him there twenty minutes later, sitting at a table in the corner and aimlessly stirring his cooling coffee.
“Hey, you. How was class?” Blaine smiled at him curiously.
“It was…interesting.” Kurt wasn’t sure there was a better way to describe it.
“Yeah?” Blaine studied him, his expression open and curious. Kurt loved how he always had Blaine’s full attention.
“Yeah.” And because they always said everything, even when it might be difficult or impossible or insane, he went on. “How do you feel about children?”
“Children? As in ‘hey, kid, get off my lawn,’ or…” Here Blaine took a deep breath, and his gaze sharpened. “Or as in having them? Together?”
“Yeah, that last one.” Kurt’s voice was thin and quiet. He looked down at his coffee, feeling suddenly shy.
“Kurt, I love you.” Blaine unwound Kurt’s fingers from his coffee cup and wrapped them in his own. When Kurt finally looked up, Blaine’s heart was in his eyes. “So much. And I would love to share that with children. Our children. I can’t think of anything better.”
“Really?” Kurt was reminded forcibly that Blaine really was the perfect man. And he was going to cry all over his perfect man in a damn coffee shop if he didn’t pull himself together.
“Absolutely.” Blaine grinned, and then turned serious again. “But only if you want to?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I want to. With you. Only with you.” Kurt knew he was babbling, but he kind of didn’t care. Because Blaine, his Blaine, was smiling at him with so much joy that he thought one or both of them might just combust or melt or somehow cease to be in this plane of reality.
It didn’t matter that they were sitting in a coffee shop in the middle of the afternoon. It didn’t matter that they were only 20, and what they were discussing wouldn’t be happening for years. It didn’t matter that it might be difficult or complicated or just plain weird to figure out all the details when the time came. They’d do it together, and it would be perfect, because it would be them. Them and a child - no, children - who would be theirs.
Kurt squeezed the hand that had slipped into his own and looked into the pretty hazel eyes he intended to wake up to for the rest of his life.
“I love you,” he whispered. And that was enough to seal the promise they were making to each other, with this conversation and a million others that had come before and would come after.
They grinned at one another foolishly, laughing a little. And then Kurt launched into a story about his morning design class, and Blaine got up to get them both fresh coffees. And life - their life - went on.