Twitterpated 2/3 (PG-13)
Title: Twitterpated (2/3)
Rating: PG-13, for brief sexual humor
Word Count: 3057
Spoilers: nosireebob
Summary: Kurt was hoping for a quiet and intimate moment before leaving for the prom. Simple request, cracktastic result.
As the door slammed and the sound of Finn starting up his mom’s Mustang and pulling away from the house got fainter and fainter, Kurt took a deep breath and glanced at the alarm clock beside his bed. Five fifteen. Blaine would be here any minute to pick him up for the prom. The prom. Kurt still couldn’t quite believe this was happening, that he hadn’t fully imagined Blaine asking him, but Blaine had kept to his word about sorting out the details over texts the night he’d asked him, and followed up throughout the week. If Kurt somehow managed to hallucinate all of that, he probably had bigger issues than just sitting in his room dressed for a prom he’d never attend.
He was still surprised that Blaine had been so insistent about picking him up that night. “I wasn’t expecting you to meet me there, Kurt. I asked you because I thought we’d have fun together, and I think it’d be more fun to come get you than listen to the other guys talk about whose girlfriend was hottest, and I’d like to think you’d have more fun making the trip to Dalton with me than all alone. At least, I’d like to think so. Besides, it’s the prom. It’s special, you know? We always make the trip on our own or with our friends, so let’s have one night where we get to make that trip together, okay?” Dalton was well over an hour away, and the thought of Blaine making that round trip twice in one night just so they could arrive together made the butterflies in Kurt’s stomach flutter their wings into overdrive. He wasn’t as invested in social media as Rachel or Wes, but Kurt’s Twitter was most definitely pated.
That long distance was part of the reason Blaine was coming for Kurt so early. His dad worked until five thirty on Saturdays, Carole had her book club this weekend, and Finn was picking up Rachel at five so they could start making the rounds with the other glee members for pre-dance pictures. Kurt’s window was from about five fifteen to five forty-five, and he took comfort in the fact that Blaine was always prompt. It’s not that he was embarrassed so much as it was that he was nervous. Blaine had said “it’s a date,” and though Kurt was doubtful he meant it in the traditional sense, he had to admit there was a little glimmer of hope that tonight would be the night he’d always dreamed of, but never thought he’d get. Walking into an elegant ballroom on the arm of a handsome young man, dancing and laughing through the night until his feet and cheeks were sore from too much dancing and laughter. ”Stranger things have happened,” he thought to himself. “I mean, if gauchos could make a comeback...”
The familiar chime of the doorbell rang through the silence, and Kurt gave one last look in his full-length mirror. He gave a quick tweak to his hair and found himself growing suddenly nervous. ”What was I thinking, wearing this? Yes, Dalton is an all-boy’s school, but there’s no way that one of their girlfriends won’t catch on and say something. Next time, I’m leaving the nods to classic youth cinema at the door. If there is a next time. I hope there’s a next time.”
After a quick detour through the kitchen to dig out the small silver box he’d hidden behind the leftover sesame tofu from last night’s dinner, Kurt sprinted for the door, being careful to slow to a leisurely pace a few steps before coming into view of the window beside the door. ”Breathe, Hummel. Just breathe. Like Drew Barrymore in ‘Ever After’, only manlier,” he told himself, as he turned the doorknob and found…Tina.
“Tina, what are you doing here?” Kurt squeaked, his cheeks blazing hot.
“Nice to see you, too, Kurt.” Tina shot back, clearly annoyed at his lack of hospitality. “We finished up at Quinn’s early, so we thought we’d just head over and wait for Carole and your dad to get home in case they wanted to get some shots before we all go to dinner.” It was only after she finished talking that she narrowed her eyes and gave Kurt a serious once-over. “Kurt? I know you’re always just a few steps over the line of fabulous, but that’s kind of a lot of effort for a night by yourself. Did you change your mind about joining us?”
Kurt strained against the collar of his shirt. “Uh, no, I - “
“For the last time, Finn, I’m fine with it. It’s not what I would have expected, after telling you I was wearing cream, that’s all,” Rachel’s voice rang out from the back of the crowd slowly pushing their way into the Hummel-Hudson home, oblivious to Kurt’s mounting horror. As the crowd parted, Rachel entered the living room, with Finn close at her heels.
“No, Rachel, I’m sorry, I told you. That’s not what I ordered for you. There must have been a mistake at the florist’s, I swear. Look, just wait here, and I’ll go see if I can straighten this out,” moaned Finn, clearly distraught at Rachel’s disappointment. Noticing Kurt, still standing at the door with his hand on the knob, Finn shifted his focus to the small box in his step-brother’s other hand. “Kurt, is that?”
Wordlessly, Kurt extended his arm toward the nearest person, who happened to be Artie. Artie took the box, gave it a quick glance, and handed it to Santana, who handed it to Tina, who handed it to Brittany, who handed it to Finn. Fingers trembling, Finn lifted the lid and smiled as he saw the warm glow spread across his girlfriend’s face. “Oh, Finn,” she breathed, “it’s lovely.” Finn carefully removed the delicate corsage from its nest and pinned it to Rachel’s dress. A single Cala Lily, nestled beside a single petite white rosebud, surrounded by the slightest, most tasteful amount of greenery, tied with pale gold ribbon and the finishing touch - a small gold star charm affixed to the center of it all. No question about it, it was definitely perfect for her, and her eyes shone as she looked up from it and straight at Kurt. “Thank you, Kurt.”
Finn turned bright red as he stammered, “Wh-why are you thanking Kurt?“
Rachel cocked her head and gave him a “don’t play with me, Finn Hudson” look. “Finn, I love you, but there’s no way you’d have picked this out on your own. This has Kurt’s mark all over it,” she turned to look again at Kurt “and it means a lot to me, from both of you.”
Finn smiled, realizing that, though Rachel wasn’t foolish enough to believe he’d picked her corsage out herself, she was also smart enough to see why he’d enlisted Kurt’s help. It only took a second for this moment of comprehension to pass and be removed by another moment of confusion. “Wait, if this is your corsage, then what was this doing in the refrigerator?” he asked, gesturing to the small floral arrangement now held in Rachel’s hands.
“I don’t want to be presumptuous, but I think that’s supposed to be mine,” a voice uttered from just out of the doorway.
Kurt spun a quick 180 and found himself face to face (well, just above face, really, thanks to his shoes) with Blaine, looking better than Kurt had ever imagined him looking while still fully clothed. ”Great,” thought Kurt “I’m going to die of humiliation right here, right now, on prom night, with all my nearest and dearest in attendance. Fabulous. It could only be more complete if Dad were -“
“Well don’t you kids all look nice!” boomed Burt’s voice from the direction of the hallway. ”Oh dear Judy Garland, why do I jinx myself like this?” Kurt thought to himself as spun around again to see his father standing in the kitchen doorway, still in his greasy coveralls, and wiping his freshly washed hands on a small towel. “Your mom’s coming with the camera, Finn. She’s really happy she got home early enough to see all of you.” It took a moment for Burt to notice his son standing at the door, what little color his face normally had all focused in his cheeks. It only took half a minute more for him to take note of the handsome young man standing beside him. Burt knew all of Finn and Kurt’s friends, but he didn’t know who this kid was.
Sensing what was coming, Kurt gestured toward Blaine and nodded at his father. “Dad, this is Blaine. He goes to Dalton, over in Westerville. He’s also in glee; that’s how we met, just before Sectionals.”
“Blaine Andrews,” said Blaine as he smiled and reached forward to shake Burt’s hand after the man had made his way to his son. “Kurt’s told me a lot about you, Mister Hummel, and I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“Did that kid just say his name was Blaine?” Puck scoffed. “That’s a major appliance, not a name.”
“You did not just quote ‘Pretty in Pink,’ did you?” asked Santana, eyeing her date with much suspicion. It was then that Kurt squeezed his eyes shut and prayed to the gods of poor wardrobe choices to let him fall through the floor, back into his room, hopefully with a barricaded door.
Tina was the first to catch on. She laughed at Santana, then looked back at Kurt and her eyes grew wide. “Speaking of -“
“Duckie!” Mercedes’ voice rang out as she made her way to the door, Anthony trailing behind her. Her face was split in a big grin, her eyes shining with delight. “You look amazing, Kurt. Not what I would have expected from you, but still, really, really good! It takes a special kind to pull off threads like that.”
”Kill me now,” Kurt prayed to those deities. “I don’t care that I’ve yet to experience the tents at Bryant Park, just take me now before this humiliation goes any further.”
“Wait, so Kurt’s a ballad now?” asked Brittany. “That totally makes sense. He did kiss kind of like the guy in the Donald costume at Disneyland”
Blaine looked at Brittany, then Kurt, and back and forth again, until Kurt lifted a hand and shook his head in the universal gesture for “not now, please, but I promise I’ll explain as soon as we’re away from all these crazy people.” Getting the message, Blaine looked him in the eye and gave a short nod as he winked. “No, Brittany, Kurt’s not a duck, he’s just dressed like one,” he said, as he took in Kurt’s ensemble for the first time. A crisp white dress shirt with the collar points turned town, deep blue brocade dinner jacket with thin, black lapels, trim black trousers, and white shoes with buckles and thick, crepe-soled soles. Brothel creepers, he’d once heard someone call them. Kurt had forgone the round sunglasses, and had swapped the bolo tie for an ultra skinny tie of black raw silk, but there was absolutely no doubt as to the inspiration for his outfit. He’d even put his hair in a pompadour, though not anywhere near as grandiose a one as John Cryer had sported in the movie. “A really cute one, in fact,” he added, after a moment’s pause.
Kurt felt his cheeks burn even further, though this time out of pleasure more than embarrassment. “Well, girls have lots of iconic images to choose from when dressing for their proms. Guys aren’t quite so blessed. I just thought, if I wanted to have the full prom experience I should just go all the way and run with it.” Too late, he noticed his father’s reaction to the words “go all the way,” and was quick to do damage control. “I mean,” he said carefully, “when else might an outfit like this be appropriate?”
“Since when do you care about appropriate attire, Kurt?” asked Mercedes with a laugh.
“Since when do you and your boyfriend stay in the car for ten minutes while everyone’s waiting for you inside?” Kurt retorted. Mercedes shot him a look, followed quickly by a guilty smile, and he knew he was off the hook with her. They each gave as good as they got from each other, and that was why their friendship worked so well.
Mike was the first to bring up the elephant everyone had been ignoring. “I thought you weren’t coming to the dance, Kurt, and when I called the reservation in, I only told them we needed space for twelve. I can call and see if they can squeeze in a couple more seats, but-“
“Even if they can,” Quinn broke in, “you didn’t buy tickets for the dance. I’m sorry, Kurt, but they’re not selling them at the door.”
“Oh, no, we’re not going to the spring formal,” Kurt blurted quickly.
“It’s my fault,” Blaine interrupted smoothly. “See, Dalton’s junior prom is tonight, and I kind of guilted Kurt into coming with me. I was going to be the only one of the Warblers without a date, and Kurt didn’t want me to be left out. He said he’d have more formals at McKinley, but I’d only have one junior prom.”
Kurt started at Blaine’s lie. He knew very well that Kurt hadn’t wanted to go to the McKinley dance. Why was he lying for him? ”Idiot,” his inner voice chastised him, “he didn’t want your friends to feel bad about your not wanting to be with them tonight. He’s being a nice guy. Again. It’s kind of his schtick, you really ought to know this by now.” “That’s right,” he finally spoke up, looking around at his friends. “We have homecoming, and the winter formal, and our junior and senior proms together, but Dalton really only has their homecoming and proms, and since Blaine’s never been to any of his…I just wanted to help him out. Be a friend to him like he’s been to me.” ”That sounded pretty good. Almost convincing. I think. I hope.”
He wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw Mercedes and Quinn exchange knowing looks as Rachel made her way over to him, almost tripping on the hem of her long, flowing cream colored gown. She regained her composure effortlessly, and smiled up at Kurt as she offered him the flowers she held in her hand. “I think I know where these belong, now.”
Kurt smiled down at her and took the boutonniere from her before bending to give her a slight kiss on the cheek. “Finn really wanted to make you happy tonight, Rachel. Thanks for understanding that.” Rachel beamed at him, and in that moment, all the bad blood between them was forgiven. They’d gotten to know each other a little better since Finn had moved in, and much as it pained Kurt to admit it at times, they really did have a lot in common. Standing on tiptoe, Rachel gave him a small kiss just below the ear, then turned to give one to Blaine, though it appeared to take a little longer than Kurt thought it really should.
Kurt turned to pin the small bunch of violets to the lapel of Blaine’s creamy dinner jacket ”If I didn’t know better, I’d think he and Rachel had coordinated this, somehow. They’re practically a matched set,” he thought to himself as his fingers clumsily slid the pin through the fabric and into the tightly wound ribbon. He looked into Blaine’s eyes and whispered, “purple, for spirit. For courage.”
Blaine returned his gaze, and finally pulled his left hand from behind his back. “White, for hope, and dark red, for perfection,” he said softly, as he pulled a boutonniere from the box and pinned it to Kurt’s lapel. After the briefest pause, he continued, even quieter than before. “Together, they’re supposed to represent bonding and togetherness.” Kurt looked down at the two orchids Blaine had just pinned to his jacket. They had flawlessly white centers, thickly rimmed by a deep crimson. It was a combination not unlike Kurt’s complexion when flushed. Like he was now. He lifted his eyes from the flowers to Blaine’s, and the rest of the room fell away. Right then, in that moment, the two of them were the only two people in the world, and for all his worries over possibly disastrous fashion choices and the chaos of half of Lima invading what he’d been hoping would be a quick and intimate meeting before settling into Blaine’s ancient Mercedes Benz (no relation to Mercedes Jones, though she did frequently joke that it was a sign he and Kurt were meant to be, since they both relied on Mercedes to get them where they needed to go) for the drive to Westerville, not even the fact that they were now running impossibly late, seemed to matter. Blaine may have been the one whose prom they were attending, but tonight, Kurt knew, was his night to remember.
------
Later, as Finn and Rachel swayed to the music on the dance floor, Finn asked the question that had been on his mind all night long. “Hey, Rach? Just what was it you whispered in Blaine’s ear before he and Kurt left?”
The tiny brunette in his arms leaned slightly away from him and looked into his eyes, a sly grin on her face. “I told him that anyone with a shrewd eye could tell he was crazy about Kurt, and if he didn’t do something about it soon, I’d have my dads alert the gay mafia and revoke his blowjob privileges in perpetuity.”
“Ah,” said Finn, smiling and not missing a beat. “That must be why I’m still not getting any. If I’d only given in to Kurt’s pursuit last year, you and I would already be in the back of Mom’s car right now.” Rachel gave him a playful slap on the arm and they both began to laugh. ”Rachel may be crazy,” Finn thought to himself, ”but I kind of like her brand of it.”
herbal remedies
Rating: PG-13, for brief sexual humor
Word Count: 3057
Spoilers: nosireebob
Summary: Kurt was hoping for a quiet and intimate moment before leaving for the prom. Simple request, cracktastic result.
As the door slammed and the sound of Finn starting up his mom’s Mustang and pulling away from the house got fainter and fainter, Kurt took a deep breath and glanced at the alarm clock beside his bed. Five fifteen. Blaine would be here any minute to pick him up for the prom. The prom. Kurt still couldn’t quite believe this was happening, that he hadn’t fully imagined Blaine asking him, but Blaine had kept to his word about sorting out the details over texts the night he’d asked him, and followed up throughout the week. If Kurt somehow managed to hallucinate all of that, he probably had bigger issues than just sitting in his room dressed for a prom he’d never attend.
He was still surprised that Blaine had been so insistent about picking him up that night. “I wasn’t expecting you to meet me there, Kurt. I asked you because I thought we’d have fun together, and I think it’d be more fun to come get you than listen to the other guys talk about whose girlfriend was hottest, and I’d like to think you’d have more fun making the trip to Dalton with me than all alone. At least, I’d like to think so. Besides, it’s the prom. It’s special, you know? We always make the trip on our own or with our friends, so let’s have one night where we get to make that trip together, okay?” Dalton was well over an hour away, and the thought of Blaine making that round trip twice in one night just so they could arrive together made the butterflies in Kurt’s stomach flutter their wings into overdrive. He wasn’t as invested in social media as Rachel or Wes, but Kurt’s Twitter was most definitely pated.
That long distance was part of the reason Blaine was coming for Kurt so early. His dad worked until five thirty on Saturdays, Carole had her book club this weekend, and Finn was picking up Rachel at five so they could start making the rounds with the other glee members for pre-dance pictures. Kurt’s window was from about five fifteen to five forty-five, and he took comfort in the fact that Blaine was always prompt. It’s not that he was embarrassed so much as it was that he was nervous. Blaine had said “it’s a date,” and though Kurt was doubtful he meant it in the traditional sense, he had to admit there was a little glimmer of hope that tonight would be the night he’d always dreamed of, but never thought he’d get. Walking into an elegant ballroom on the arm of a handsome young man, dancing and laughing through the night until his feet and cheeks were sore from too much dancing and laughter. ”Stranger things have happened,” he thought to himself. “I mean, if gauchos could make a comeback...”
The familiar chime of the doorbell rang through the silence, and Kurt gave one last look in his full-length mirror. He gave a quick tweak to his hair and found himself growing suddenly nervous. ”What was I thinking, wearing this? Yes, Dalton is an all-boy’s school, but there’s no way that one of their girlfriends won’t catch on and say something. Next time, I’m leaving the nods to classic youth cinema at the door. If there is a next time. I hope there’s a next time.”
After a quick detour through the kitchen to dig out the small silver box he’d hidden behind the leftover sesame tofu from last night’s dinner, Kurt sprinted for the door, being careful to slow to a leisurely pace a few steps before coming into view of the window beside the door. ”Breathe, Hummel. Just breathe. Like Drew Barrymore in ‘Ever After’, only manlier,” he told himself, as he turned the doorknob and found…Tina.
“Tina, what are you doing here?” Kurt squeaked, his cheeks blazing hot.
“Nice to see you, too, Kurt.” Tina shot back, clearly annoyed at his lack of hospitality. “We finished up at Quinn’s early, so we thought we’d just head over and wait for Carole and your dad to get home in case they wanted to get some shots before we all go to dinner.” It was only after she finished talking that she narrowed her eyes and gave Kurt a serious once-over. “Kurt? I know you’re always just a few steps over the line of fabulous, but that’s kind of a lot of effort for a night by yourself. Did you change your mind about joining us?”
Kurt strained against the collar of his shirt. “Uh, no, I - “
“For the last time, Finn, I’m fine with it. It’s not what I would have expected, after telling you I was wearing cream, that’s all,” Rachel’s voice rang out from the back of the crowd slowly pushing their way into the Hummel-Hudson home, oblivious to Kurt’s mounting horror. As the crowd parted, Rachel entered the living room, with Finn close at her heels.
“No, Rachel, I’m sorry, I told you. That’s not what I ordered for you. There must have been a mistake at the florist’s, I swear. Look, just wait here, and I’ll go see if I can straighten this out,” moaned Finn, clearly distraught at Rachel’s disappointment. Noticing Kurt, still standing at the door with his hand on the knob, Finn shifted his focus to the small box in his step-brother’s other hand. “Kurt, is that?”
Wordlessly, Kurt extended his arm toward the nearest person, who happened to be Artie. Artie took the box, gave it a quick glance, and handed it to Santana, who handed it to Tina, who handed it to Brittany, who handed it to Finn. Fingers trembling, Finn lifted the lid and smiled as he saw the warm glow spread across his girlfriend’s face. “Oh, Finn,” she breathed, “it’s lovely.” Finn carefully removed the delicate corsage from its nest and pinned it to Rachel’s dress. A single Cala Lily, nestled beside a single petite white rosebud, surrounded by the slightest, most tasteful amount of greenery, tied with pale gold ribbon and the finishing touch - a small gold star charm affixed to the center of it all. No question about it, it was definitely perfect for her, and her eyes shone as she looked up from it and straight at Kurt. “Thank you, Kurt.”
Finn turned bright red as he stammered, “Wh-why are you thanking Kurt?“
Rachel cocked her head and gave him a “don’t play with me, Finn Hudson” look. “Finn, I love you, but there’s no way you’d have picked this out on your own. This has Kurt’s mark all over it,” she turned to look again at Kurt “and it means a lot to me, from both of you.”
Finn smiled, realizing that, though Rachel wasn’t foolish enough to believe he’d picked her corsage out herself, she was also smart enough to see why he’d enlisted Kurt’s help. It only took a second for this moment of comprehension to pass and be removed by another moment of confusion. “Wait, if this is your corsage, then what was this doing in the refrigerator?” he asked, gesturing to the small floral arrangement now held in Rachel’s hands.
“I don’t want to be presumptuous, but I think that’s supposed to be mine,” a voice uttered from just out of the doorway.
Kurt spun a quick 180 and found himself face to face (well, just above face, really, thanks to his shoes) with Blaine, looking better than Kurt had ever imagined him looking while still fully clothed. ”Great,” thought Kurt “I’m going to die of humiliation right here, right now, on prom night, with all my nearest and dearest in attendance. Fabulous. It could only be more complete if Dad were -“
“Well don’t you kids all look nice!” boomed Burt’s voice from the direction of the hallway. ”Oh dear Judy Garland, why do I jinx myself like this?” Kurt thought to himself as spun around again to see his father standing in the kitchen doorway, still in his greasy coveralls, and wiping his freshly washed hands on a small towel. “Your mom’s coming with the camera, Finn. She’s really happy she got home early enough to see all of you.” It took a moment for Burt to notice his son standing at the door, what little color his face normally had all focused in his cheeks. It only took half a minute more for him to take note of the handsome young man standing beside him. Burt knew all of Finn and Kurt’s friends, but he didn’t know who this kid was.
Sensing what was coming, Kurt gestured toward Blaine and nodded at his father. “Dad, this is Blaine. He goes to Dalton, over in Westerville. He’s also in glee; that’s how we met, just before Sectionals.”
“Blaine Andrews,” said Blaine as he smiled and reached forward to shake Burt’s hand after the man had made his way to his son. “Kurt’s told me a lot about you, Mister Hummel, and I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“Did that kid just say his name was Blaine?” Puck scoffed. “That’s a major appliance, not a name.”
“You did not just quote ‘Pretty in Pink,’ did you?” asked Santana, eyeing her date with much suspicion. It was then that Kurt squeezed his eyes shut and prayed to the gods of poor wardrobe choices to let him fall through the floor, back into his room, hopefully with a barricaded door.
Tina was the first to catch on. She laughed at Santana, then looked back at Kurt and her eyes grew wide. “Speaking of -“
“Duckie!” Mercedes’ voice rang out as she made her way to the door, Anthony trailing behind her. Her face was split in a big grin, her eyes shining with delight. “You look amazing, Kurt. Not what I would have expected from you, but still, really, really good! It takes a special kind to pull off threads like that.”
”Kill me now,” Kurt prayed to those deities. “I don’t care that I’ve yet to experience the tents at Bryant Park, just take me now before this humiliation goes any further.”
“Wait, so Kurt’s a ballad now?” asked Brittany. “That totally makes sense. He did kiss kind of like the guy in the Donald costume at Disneyland”
Blaine looked at Brittany, then Kurt, and back and forth again, until Kurt lifted a hand and shook his head in the universal gesture for “not now, please, but I promise I’ll explain as soon as we’re away from all these crazy people.” Getting the message, Blaine looked him in the eye and gave a short nod as he winked. “No, Brittany, Kurt’s not a duck, he’s just dressed like one,” he said, as he took in Kurt’s ensemble for the first time. A crisp white dress shirt with the collar points turned town, deep blue brocade dinner jacket with thin, black lapels, trim black trousers, and white shoes with buckles and thick, crepe-soled soles. Brothel creepers, he’d once heard someone call them. Kurt had forgone the round sunglasses, and had swapped the bolo tie for an ultra skinny tie of black raw silk, but there was absolutely no doubt as to the inspiration for his outfit. He’d even put his hair in a pompadour, though not anywhere near as grandiose a one as John Cryer had sported in the movie. “A really cute one, in fact,” he added, after a moment’s pause.
Kurt felt his cheeks burn even further, though this time out of pleasure more than embarrassment. “Well, girls have lots of iconic images to choose from when dressing for their proms. Guys aren’t quite so blessed. I just thought, if I wanted to have the full prom experience I should just go all the way and run with it.” Too late, he noticed his father’s reaction to the words “go all the way,” and was quick to do damage control. “I mean,” he said carefully, “when else might an outfit like this be appropriate?”
“Since when do you care about appropriate attire, Kurt?” asked Mercedes with a laugh.
“Since when do you and your boyfriend stay in the car for ten minutes while everyone’s waiting for you inside?” Kurt retorted. Mercedes shot him a look, followed quickly by a guilty smile, and he knew he was off the hook with her. They each gave as good as they got from each other, and that was why their friendship worked so well.
Mike was the first to bring up the elephant everyone had been ignoring. “I thought you weren’t coming to the dance, Kurt, and when I called the reservation in, I only told them we needed space for twelve. I can call and see if they can squeeze in a couple more seats, but-“
“Even if they can,” Quinn broke in, “you didn’t buy tickets for the dance. I’m sorry, Kurt, but they’re not selling them at the door.”
“Oh, no, we’re not going to the spring formal,” Kurt blurted quickly.
“It’s my fault,” Blaine interrupted smoothly. “See, Dalton’s junior prom is tonight, and I kind of guilted Kurt into coming with me. I was going to be the only one of the Warblers without a date, and Kurt didn’t want me to be left out. He said he’d have more formals at McKinley, but I’d only have one junior prom.”
Kurt started at Blaine’s lie. He knew very well that Kurt hadn’t wanted to go to the McKinley dance. Why was he lying for him? ”Idiot,” his inner voice chastised him, “he didn’t want your friends to feel bad about your not wanting to be with them tonight. He’s being a nice guy. Again. It’s kind of his schtick, you really ought to know this by now.” “That’s right,” he finally spoke up, looking around at his friends. “We have homecoming, and the winter formal, and our junior and senior proms together, but Dalton really only has their homecoming and proms, and since Blaine’s never been to any of his…I just wanted to help him out. Be a friend to him like he’s been to me.” ”That sounded pretty good. Almost convincing. I think. I hope.”
He wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw Mercedes and Quinn exchange knowing looks as Rachel made her way over to him, almost tripping on the hem of her long, flowing cream colored gown. She regained her composure effortlessly, and smiled up at Kurt as she offered him the flowers she held in her hand. “I think I know where these belong, now.”
Kurt smiled down at her and took the boutonniere from her before bending to give her a slight kiss on the cheek. “Finn really wanted to make you happy tonight, Rachel. Thanks for understanding that.” Rachel beamed at him, and in that moment, all the bad blood between them was forgiven. They’d gotten to know each other a little better since Finn had moved in, and much as it pained Kurt to admit it at times, they really did have a lot in common. Standing on tiptoe, Rachel gave him a small kiss just below the ear, then turned to give one to Blaine, though it appeared to take a little longer than Kurt thought it really should.
Kurt turned to pin the small bunch of violets to the lapel of Blaine’s creamy dinner jacket ”If I didn’t know better, I’d think he and Rachel had coordinated this, somehow. They’re practically a matched set,” he thought to himself as his fingers clumsily slid the pin through the fabric and into the tightly wound ribbon. He looked into Blaine’s eyes and whispered, “purple, for spirit. For courage.”
Blaine returned his gaze, and finally pulled his left hand from behind his back. “White, for hope, and dark red, for perfection,” he said softly, as he pulled a boutonniere from the box and pinned it to Kurt’s lapel. After the briefest pause, he continued, even quieter than before. “Together, they’re supposed to represent bonding and togetherness.” Kurt looked down at the two orchids Blaine had just pinned to his jacket. They had flawlessly white centers, thickly rimmed by a deep crimson. It was a combination not unlike Kurt’s complexion when flushed. Like he was now. He lifted his eyes from the flowers to Blaine’s, and the rest of the room fell away. Right then, in that moment, the two of them were the only two people in the world, and for all his worries over possibly disastrous fashion choices and the chaos of half of Lima invading what he’d been hoping would be a quick and intimate meeting before settling into Blaine’s ancient Mercedes Benz (no relation to Mercedes Jones, though she did frequently joke that it was a sign he and Kurt were meant to be, since they both relied on Mercedes to get them where they needed to go) for the drive to Westerville, not even the fact that they were now running impossibly late, seemed to matter. Blaine may have been the one whose prom they were attending, but tonight, Kurt knew, was his night to remember.
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Later, as Finn and Rachel swayed to the music on the dance floor, Finn asked the question that had been on his mind all night long. “Hey, Rach? Just what was it you whispered in Blaine’s ear before he and Kurt left?”
The tiny brunette in his arms leaned slightly away from him and looked into his eyes, a sly grin on her face. “I told him that anyone with a shrewd eye could tell he was crazy about Kurt, and if he didn’t do something about it soon, I’d have my dads alert the gay mafia and revoke his blowjob privileges in perpetuity.”
“Ah,” said Finn, smiling and not missing a beat. “That must be why I’m still not getting any. If I’d only given in to Kurt’s pursuit last year, you and I would already be in the back of Mom’s car right now.” Rachel gave him a playful slap on the arm and they both began to laugh. ”Rachel may be crazy,” Finn thought to himself, ”but I kind of like her brand of it.”
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