So the Heart Grows Fonder (1/?)
Kurt walked briskly out of the local Lima Starbucks, low-fat ice-cold frappucino in hand. His white Brogue Oxford shoes hit the sidewalk pavement with a rhythmic click-clack - Kurt was taking a break from tap dancing practice - as he strut to the obviously most adorable car in the parking lot. The cold Ohio winter breeze bit at his exposed pale neck, and Kurt tugged at his fashionable lip print Alexander McQueen silk chiffon scarf. The flimsy material did little to warm the poor soprano, however. Kurt momentarily cursed his affinity to the cold - the frappucino seemed a good idea in the toasty café. Damn them and their warm armchairs and confusing cup sizes.
A sudden vibrating and muffled Lady GaGa chorus jerked him out of his reverie, and Kurt set the freezing cup onto the hood of his car. Reaching into his skinny jeans, Kurt met a momentary struggle as he attempted to fit his hand into the tight pocket without stretching the denim. Sighing, he tried not to think of the damage he was doing to his favorite pair of jeans as he hastily shoved his hand into the pocket and retrieved the offending iPhone.
Annoyed, he glanced at the screen with little interest and was met with the familiar oncoming call screen accompanied with the caller ID - a smug raised eyebrow and full upturned lips made Kurt gasp. Fumbling with the phone for a second, Kurt took a deep breath and pressed the accept call button, bringing the phone to his ear. The familiar deep rumble of his boyfriend’s voice augmented by his boisterous tone made Kurt’s lips morph into a small smile.
“Hey babe, we still on for 6 tonight?” Kurt could imagine the slight nod of Noah’s head and expectant smile that was, undoubtedly, plastered onto his sexy face.
“Of course, wouldn’t miss it for the world. Oh, no pizza this time Noah. You know how I feel about that stuff.”
The last time Kurt had stayed over at Noah’s house for dinner, his mom had been out and Noah opted to order pizza for Kurt and his little sister, Denise. Denise had decided to take the greasy, onion covered foodstuff to her room. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do~” she had called out to the two gleeks as she bounded upstairs. True to her words, the two shared minimal physical contact that night in fear that she might come back down the stairs and watch them, perched comfortably on the stairs like a owl watching her prey with large, intent eyes.
According to Noah, he wouldn’t be surprised if his mom had asked her to spy on them. Thankfully, Kurt was fairly sure that wiping the grease off his pizza with a disposable napkin wasn’t anything for Noah’s mom to panic about.
“Yeah yeah, I know!” Noah laughed for a second, recalling the awkward moment. “Well, I have to go pick up the fried chicken now. See ya at 6!”
Kurt flinched at the mention of fried chicken - obviously, Noah didn’t understand that grease + Kurt = breakouts.
But before Kurt could politely vehemently refuse the chicken dipped in hot grease, a click from the iPhone told Kurt that Noah had already hung up and the date was set. Sighing at his boyfriend’s hasty disposition, he pocketed his phone and picked up the frappucino, his hands dampening from the wet cup. He fished his keys out of his back pocket, unlocked the car door, and stepped inside, setting his chilled drink into the cup holder and starting the car.
As Kurt backed up and set out on his way back home, his thoughts wandered to his boyfriend of two months. It had been seven months since Quinn’s baby had gone public, and the air between Noah and the rest of the Glee club had settled down to an uneasy truce. These days, Noah mostly kept to himself but at the very least he could hold a civil conversation with Finn. Granted, most of the aforementioned conversations had something to do with either Glee or school and had, frankly, seemed a bit forced on Finn’s part. But it was something, and Kurt was grateful.
Two months ago, Kurt would have never seen himself eating greasy foods, forget eating them with Noah of all people. But one day, the jocks felt extra brutish and had been harassing Kurt to no end, slush-afying him every passing period and throwing him in the dumpster in the morning, during lunch, and after school. The mean streak had extended to the next day, and the jocks had intercepted Kurt as he tried to sneak into school unnoticed. Kurt had struggled as one of the particularly muscled jocks hoisted his lithe form above his head and prepared to chuck him into the foul, dingy dumpster. Just as Kurt had shut his eyes tight and braced himself for an oncoming impact, a menacing “KURT!” had stopped the jock in his tracks. Setting Kurt aside for the moment, the jock turned around to face Noah, scarlet-faced, his muscles bulging in anger.
One look from the enraged Jew was enough to send the football team running, yelling obscenities at the ‘two fucking faggots’ as they ran away, tail between their legs.
That incident, as Kurt recalls, was what probably started the relationship. A few weeks of getting closer to Noah had ended with Noah making the relationship official with a sweet, chaste kiss between the two during a Glee club rehearsal. Despite a few jealous stares, the Glee club whistled and applauded the two and Kurt had never felt more happy and confident in his entire life.
Kurt pulled into his roomy driveway and carefully stepped out of his car, sipping his chilly drink. Stepping into his house and not hearing the newest Tivo recorded ‘Deadliest Catch’ episode from the living room, Kurt deemed the house empty and walked into his roomy basement abode.
He set his frappucino on his plaster bedside table and crashed on his comfortably gargantuan king sized white bed. Though Kurt hated to take a cat nap in his good clothes, Mr. Schue’s weekend tap dancing lessons were even more tiring than the ones he gave during school hours. There was an upcoming musical number that required some proficiency in tap dancing, and Kurt was ashamed to admit he had only dabbled in that particular dance form until now. The other two members of the particular number, Noah and Quinn, were thankfully even more clumsy than he was in tap dancing. Mr. Schue had been pushing Kurt and Noah, but had been lax on the pregnant Quinn, evidence of the baby now stretching her blouse to new limits. No matter how nice Mr. Schue was to Quinn, however, the complex tap dancing of ‘Good Morning’ from the musical ‘Singin’ in the Rain’ wasn’t going to learn itself.
Speaking of the baby, how long would it be until it was due? Kurt’s mental calculations were, however, interrupted by his phone ringing once again, this time from his bedside table. He rolled over onto his stomach and answered the phone. A grave voice met his ears.
“I think we need to cancel our plans tonight, Kurt.”
A sudden vibrating and muffled Lady GaGa chorus jerked him out of his reverie, and Kurt set the freezing cup onto the hood of his car. Reaching into his skinny jeans, Kurt met a momentary struggle as he attempted to fit his hand into the tight pocket without stretching the denim. Sighing, he tried not to think of the damage he was doing to his favorite pair of jeans as he hastily shoved his hand into the pocket and retrieved the offending iPhone.
Annoyed, he glanced at the screen with little interest and was met with the familiar oncoming call screen accompanied with the caller ID - a smug raised eyebrow and full upturned lips made Kurt gasp. Fumbling with the phone for a second, Kurt took a deep breath and pressed the accept call button, bringing the phone to his ear. The familiar deep rumble of his boyfriend’s voice augmented by his boisterous tone made Kurt’s lips morph into a small smile.
“Hey babe, we still on for 6 tonight?” Kurt could imagine the slight nod of Noah’s head and expectant smile that was, undoubtedly, plastered onto his sexy face.
“Of course, wouldn’t miss it for the world. Oh, no pizza this time Noah. You know how I feel about that stuff.”
The last time Kurt had stayed over at Noah’s house for dinner, his mom had been out and Noah opted to order pizza for Kurt and his little sister, Denise. Denise had decided to take the greasy, onion covered foodstuff to her room. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do~” she had called out to the two gleeks as she bounded upstairs. True to her words, the two shared minimal physical contact that night in fear that she might come back down the stairs and watch them, perched comfortably on the stairs like a owl watching her prey with large, intent eyes.
According to Noah, he wouldn’t be surprised if his mom had asked her to spy on them. Thankfully, Kurt was fairly sure that wiping the grease off his pizza with a disposable napkin wasn’t anything for Noah’s mom to panic about.
“Yeah yeah, I know!” Noah laughed for a second, recalling the awkward moment. “Well, I have to go pick up the fried chicken now. See ya at 6!”
Kurt flinched at the mention of fried chicken - obviously, Noah didn’t understand that grease + Kurt = breakouts.
But before Kurt could politely vehemently refuse the chicken dipped in hot grease, a click from the iPhone told Kurt that Noah had already hung up and the date was set. Sighing at his boyfriend’s hasty disposition, he pocketed his phone and picked up the frappucino, his hands dampening from the wet cup. He fished his keys out of his back pocket, unlocked the car door, and stepped inside, setting his chilled drink into the cup holder and starting the car.
As Kurt backed up and set out on his way back home, his thoughts wandered to his boyfriend of two months. It had been seven months since Quinn’s baby had gone public, and the air between Noah and the rest of the Glee club had settled down to an uneasy truce. These days, Noah mostly kept to himself but at the very least he could hold a civil conversation with Finn. Granted, most of the aforementioned conversations had something to do with either Glee or school and had, frankly, seemed a bit forced on Finn’s part. But it was something, and Kurt was grateful.
Two months ago, Kurt would have never seen himself eating greasy foods, forget eating them with Noah of all people. But one day, the jocks felt extra brutish and had been harassing Kurt to no end, slush-afying him every passing period and throwing him in the dumpster in the morning, during lunch, and after school. The mean streak had extended to the next day, and the jocks had intercepted Kurt as he tried to sneak into school unnoticed. Kurt had struggled as one of the particularly muscled jocks hoisted his lithe form above his head and prepared to chuck him into the foul, dingy dumpster. Just as Kurt had shut his eyes tight and braced himself for an oncoming impact, a menacing “KURT!” had stopped the jock in his tracks. Setting Kurt aside for the moment, the jock turned around to face Noah, scarlet-faced, his muscles bulging in anger.
One look from the enraged Jew was enough to send the football team running, yelling obscenities at the ‘two fucking faggots’ as they ran away, tail between their legs.
That incident, as Kurt recalls, was what probably started the relationship. A few weeks of getting closer to Noah had ended with Noah making the relationship official with a sweet, chaste kiss between the two during a Glee club rehearsal. Despite a few jealous stares, the Glee club whistled and applauded the two and Kurt had never felt more happy and confident in his entire life.
Kurt pulled into his roomy driveway and carefully stepped out of his car, sipping his chilly drink. Stepping into his house and not hearing the newest Tivo recorded ‘Deadliest Catch’ episode from the living room, Kurt deemed the house empty and walked into his roomy basement abode.
He set his frappucino on his plaster bedside table and crashed on his comfortably gargantuan king sized white bed. Though Kurt hated to take a cat nap in his good clothes, Mr. Schue’s weekend tap dancing lessons were even more tiring than the ones he gave during school hours. There was an upcoming musical number that required some proficiency in tap dancing, and Kurt was ashamed to admit he had only dabbled in that particular dance form until now. The other two members of the particular number, Noah and Quinn, were thankfully even more clumsy than he was in tap dancing. Mr. Schue had been pushing Kurt and Noah, but had been lax on the pregnant Quinn, evidence of the baby now stretching her blouse to new limits. No matter how nice Mr. Schue was to Quinn, however, the complex tap dancing of ‘Good Morning’ from the musical ‘Singin’ in the Rain’ wasn’t going to learn itself.
Speaking of the baby, how long would it be until it was due? Kurt’s mental calculations were, however, interrupted by his phone ringing once again, this time from his bedside table. He rolled over onto his stomach and answered the phone. A grave voice met his ears.
“I think we need to cancel our plans tonight, Kurt.”