Fic: Nobody But Yourself. Kurt/Blaine NC-17 (1/1)
Media: Fic
Title: Nobody But Yourself
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Never Been Kissed, Furt, Special Education, A Very Glee Christmas
Warnings: Sex, swear words, brief but very offensive homophobic language.
Word count: ~7,300
Disclaimer: All of the characters in this story belong to FOX. Except for Kurt & Blaine; they belong to each other.
Summary: Kurt's the only one who knows the real Blaine.
A/N: Picks up from where Furt left off, runs through Special Education and then goes AU from there. It was started before 2x09, but only a few minor things got jossed, unfortunately. (This story was always going to be cage!Dalton, because I kind of saw that coming, but I was secretly hoping it would be jossed and we'd actually get Gay Hogwarts.)
This is essentially just my head canon written down. It's only the second fic I've ever written. If it sucks, feel free to tell me so, I don't fancy myself a writer so I won't be offended in the least, I promise.
Also, due credit: The BICO gif is thanks to onyx_capricorn. The title is from a quote by e.e. cummings:
To be nobody-but-yourself -- in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else -- means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight, and never stop fighting.
***
Kurt clears out his locker as quickly as he can, half expecting Finn or Mercedes to follow him out of the choir room. He's barely keeping it together as it is; he can't deal with Mercedes' heartache on top of his own right now. It's too much. Too much weight on his shoulders for too long, not enough strength or hope or courage to lighten the load. He throws his textbooks carelessly into a cardboard box and thinks I'm done. I give up.
He takes a shuddering breath, runs his fingers over carefully placed magazine letters-- courage-- before he pulls them off the door, crumples them in his fist. He tried. He failed. His empty locker mocks him, all traces of him erased, like he was never here, and Kurt feels nothing but alone. He slams the door closed and falls against it, sobs falling quietly into his hands.
He feels arms wrap around him and thinks no, Mercedes, please, I can't, doesn't have the breath to voice the words. When he opens his eyes, though, Carole is there, holding him up, holding him together, and Kurt finally lets go; he buries his face in Carole's shoulder, holds on tight, and lets himself fall apart.
He cries like he hasn't since That Day ("Kurt. It's your Mom. There was an accident..."); huge, gulping hiccups, like a child, like someone who doesn't care who sees him because he isn't coming back here anyway. Kurt cries until he can't anymore, and Carole doesn't say anything, just holds him until the sobs slow, and finally stop, and then she wipes his eyes with her scarf and kisses his forehead, her own eyes shining with unshed tears. When he looks up his dad is there, and so is Finn, and he thinks, it's this. The wedding was perfect, but this is what makes them a family.
*
They drive to Westerville right away, the four of them in Burt's pickup, Finn and Kurt squished in the cramped backseat with a cardboard box holding the remains of Kurt's life at McKinley High between them. Kurt doesn't look back as they leave the parking lot, tries not to watch the passing scenery like a movie of his life (the barber where he got his first haircut; the old movie theatre where his mom took him to see The Princess Diaries; that seafood place where he and Mercedes got food poisoning; his favourite restaurant, bookstore, cafe; a road sign: YOU ARE NOW LEAVING LIMA).
He pulls out his phone when they get to Lakeview, carefully composes a text to Blaine, deletes it and starts again. He types and deletes eight different messages between Bellefontaine and Westerville, dials Blaine's number once but doesn't press call. He slips his phone back into his pocket as they drive into the Dalton Academy parking lot and still doesn't know what he's going to say to Blaine. He feels like he failed; doesn't want Blaine to be disappointed in him.
Kurt wonders for a second if Blaine won't want him here at all, if their friendship is built solely on pity for the poor bullied gay kid. He lets that thought go when he remembers the way Blaine smiled at him over a table at The City Club, the last notes of Seasons of Love still echoing in their heads.
They head straight for the administration building, and Kurt watches Finn hang back awkwardly as his parents talk with a soft-spoken woman from the admissions office about bullying, grades, tuition. Kurt doesn't say much, just nods in the right places and agrees to be at the admin building early on Sunday afternoon to pick up his class schedule and have someone show him to his dorm room.
"Welcome to Dalton Academy", the woman smiles at him, and Kurt smiles back reflexively, nods his thanks. "I think you're going to fit in well here." Kurt thinks that the idea of him fitting in anywhere, much less at this expensive school for preppy rich boys, should be laughable, but then he remembers the way Blaine grinned and sang Katy Perry to him in front of a hundred other boys, and Kurt can't help believing, a little bit, that maybe he might learn to belong here. It feels a bit like hope.
*
Kurt heads outside while his dad and Carole fill out forms, fork over their combined savings to buy his safety without a second thought to the plane they should be catching now, on their way to a hotel in Hawaii. He shuts that thought down-- doesn't want to cry again-- and nods for Finn to follow him as he passes.
Outside, they are greeted by a sea of blue blazers, dotted by the occasional grey or brown suit-and-tie ensemble that Kurt thinks must be the unofficial uniform of the teachers here. Unbidden, an image of his chemistry teacher at McKinley comes to mind, frizzy red ponytail bouncing as she strides down the hallway in those bright neon green rain boots she wore with everything. The thought of her here almost makes him laugh, and Finn raises an eyebrow questioningly.
Kurt sobers instantly, shakes his head nevermind, opens his mouth to say something, though what he wants to say he doesn't know yet. What comes out is "I'm sorry." He doesn't know exactly what he's apologizing for. For abandoning glee club a week before sectionals, maybe, and for taking Finn's mother's hard earned money so he can run away, and for leaving Finn at McKinley to deal with the slushies and maybe worse that Karofsky will dole out as punishment for being connected to Kurt.
Finn shakes his head, and his eyes go soft the way they do sometimes when he's looking at Rachel, or when he's about to say something completely non-douchey. Kurt looks at him and doesn't feel any of the things he used to feel around Finn. He looks at Finn and sees his brother, and can't remember why he even wanted them to be a couple in the first place. Finn doesn't like shopping or fashion or even musical theatre. He'd be a terrible boyfriend, Kurt thinks.
"It's okay, man," Finn says, shrugging one shoulder. "I get it. This is the right thing to do. Don't worry about it, okay?"
He doesn't make a bad brother, though.
*
Kurt doesn't know what to say, so he just nods, whispers "thank you", and wonders why Finn's blessing suddenly makes him feel so much lighter, like he wanted Finn's permission to do this.
He doesn't have too long to think about it, though: a hand on his shoulder, spinning him around, and there's Blaine. Kurt's stomach flips the way it always does in Blaine's vicinity, and he's smiling before he rememers why he's here, remembers that he never did work out what he was going to say to Blaine, remembers that he's been chased out of his old life in Lima and into a new one here and he's terrified, and oh god what does he say to this boy who told him to have courage; how does he tell Blaine that he ran away? He's floundering--
"I... Blaine... I..."
-- and he feels moisture gathering in his eyes again but he's determined not to cry, he needs words damn it, not tears, he needs to tell Blaine, to explain--
"Kurt..."
Only then it turns out that he doesn't need words at all, he doesn't need to explain, because Blaine knows, Blaine is hugging him like he understands, because he does, of course he does, and Kurt fists his hands in the back of Blaine's jacket and holds on.
"Blaine..." his voice shakes and Blaine grips him tighter.
"Shhh," he says, "it's okay. It's gonna be okay, Kurt."
*
As it happens, Blaine ends up getting most of the story of the last couple of days from Finn. A lot of it, like the wedding, he already knows from Kurt's texts, but he listens without speaking, one arm still draped loosely over Kurt's shoulders, and Kurt thinks he should feel self-conscious standing so close to a boy he likes in front of Finn and anyone else who happens to walk by, but mostly he just feels calm, like he hasn't in weeks.
His dad and Carole show up while Finn and Blaine are talking about Dalton, and Blaine pulls away to greet them. Kurt instantly misses the warmth at his side, and he blushes when Finn gives him a knowing smile and a thumbs up, but doesn't deny the implication. Everyone seems to think that Blaine is his boyfriend, and sometimes Kurt likes to pretend that's true.
They don't have time to stick around. There's still the drive back to Lima, and Kurt only has two days to pack-- for freaking boarding school, that will never not be weird-- so there isn't a minute to lose. Still, Kurt wants to stay, wants to have the conversation with Blaine he's pretty sure they've been dancing around since he first spoke the words "Can I ask you a question? I'm new here." He wants to get to the part that comes after. Kurt really, really wants to kiss Blaine.
He definitely doesn't want to have that conversation or that kiss in front of his dad, though, so he gives Blaine a quick hug and heads for the car before he can say something stupid. He doesn't look back, but he can see Blaine's reflection in the window of the administration building, so he doesn't miss the way Blaine smiles.
It's funny how three hours ago he didn't want to leave McKinley, and now he has to force himself to leave Dalton.
*
He texts Mercedes as they're leaving Westerville, asks her if she wants to come over tomorrow since he leaves for Dalton on Sunday, and spends the drive home making a mental list of things that need to be done before then. By the time they pass the sign welcoming them to Lima, Ohio, Kurt has already planned exactly what he's going to pack. It's only then that he realizes he never got a response from Mercedes.
He texts again when they stop for gas, and again when they stop for takeout. He hits speed dial 1 and listens as his call goes to voicemail, doesn't leave a message. She'll call when she's ready; Kurt just has to give her time to realize that this is the way it has to be.
They eat sushi for dinner, clean the kitchen, he and Finn harmonizing along with the radio as they stack the dishwasher. It's nice, normal, and for a while Kurt forgets that anything has changed. He's halfway through a tirade about Mr. Schue's truly appalling song choices on their setlist for sectionals when he realises that he won't be singing those songs, now. He falls silent mid-sentence, and Finn looks stricken, like he's only now realised that Kurt didn't just leave McKinley, he left New Directions as well. Kurt leans heavily on the kitchen counter, rests his head on his arms, and hates Karofsky more than he's ever hated anyone in his life.
He leaves Finn in the kitchen and retreats to his bedroom, wishing he could call Mercedes. His suitcase is sitting empty on his bed, but he can't quite bring himself to start putting things into it, so he does the only thing he knows will make him stop feeling like the world is ending.
Blaine answers on the first ring, greets him with a laugh. "I was seriously just dialling your number."
They talk for two hours, and Kurt smiles the whole time.
*
Sunday morning dawns bright and clear, and too soon for Kurt's liking. He looks around his darkened bedroom, thinks about saying goodbye to his dad today, and doesn't want to get out of bed. He's leaving his friends, his school, his house, his wardrobe, his family, his life. He wonders if maybe he's leaving himself.
Kurt feels his hands start to shake a little as he thinks about it. This is one of the scariest things he's ever done, right up there with coming out to his dad, and he half considers staying in bed and calling the whole thing off. He could take the glee guys up on their offer of a security detail and go back to McKinley, back to New Directions.
He thinks about the way Karofsky looked at him, about the feeling of terror between every class, about dark purple bruises, about the ice cold humiliation of a slushie to the face, about "don't sit near me, faggot, I don't want to catch AIDS".
Courage, he thinks, and gets out of bed.
He drives to Dalton by himself because he doesn't want a dramatic goodbye scene in the parking lot of his new school. He cries the whole way, because it feels like the end of something.
*
Blaine spends the weekends with his family in Kenton, so Kurt is shown to his dorm room by a lacrosse player with closely cropped hair and a swagger. He doesn't seem to mind being roped into showing around the new kid, just introduces himself as James and points out areas of interest on the way to Kurt's room-- the library, the auditorium, the senior commons. Kurt smiles to himself and doesn't mention that he's already seen the latter.
Kurt spends the rest of the afternoon exploring-- the place is like a freaking castle-- until he gets a text from Blaine to come meet him at the fountain.
Which one, he writes back, I've seen seven today.
Where are you?, reads the reply. I'll come get you.
Kurt hits reply and then realises he has absolutely no idea. There's a gigantic statue of... Robin Williams wearing a bathrobe?
He doesn't get a reply right away, and he gets distracted watching a meeting of ten or so students in Dalton uniforms-- on a Sunday, Kurt thinks to himself-- not far from where he's standing. He can't hear what they're saying, but he watches as they nod and shake hands like business partners rather than fellow students or friends. It's kind of weird, he thinks, but then none of them are shoving him into a locker so he's not really complaining.
"That statue," says a familiar voice behind him, "is John Dalton, and I believe he's wearing academic dress robes."
Blaine's voice is laced with amusement, and when Kurt turns around he's wearing that smile, the one that makes his eyes crinkle up in the corners and makes Kurt's stomach do backflips.
Uprooting his life might just be worth it, he thinks, if he gets to see that smile every day.
*
His first day at Dalton doesn't really go like he thought it would.
It's different to McKinley, of course. There's no real social heirarchy here: no jocks to avoid between classes or cheerleaders giggling behind their hands. No one throws a football in the hallway; there's no graffiti in the bathrooms. There are no slushies or spitballs or rubber bands snapped in his face, and nobody calls him Curtsey or Lady or Fagboy. James, the lacrosse player who showed him the way to his room yesterday, high-fives him every time they pass each other on the way to class. His teachers call him Mr. Hummel, and some guys on the football team say hello to him as he passes them on the way to fifth period Chemistry. It's weird.
It's not bad, just different, and it's not that he isn't enjoying the fact that he can walk from Homeroom to Spanish without collecting any new bruises; he is loving that. It's just that everyone is so politely detached. It's like no one is really friends with anyone else; they're all just colleagues who happen to go to school in the same building.
And then there's Blaine. Blaine is different, here. Kurt is used to the easy smiles, the casual glances, the animated way he talks with his hands sometimes when he really gets into a topic. But there's a wall around him here, a politely formal way of speaking and behaving that distances him from Kurt. Around the other Warblers, he doesn't talk about Katy Perry or Project Runway or the new Halo, or any of the things he still talks excitedly about with Kurt when they eat lunch off campus. At school, he talks about sailing and tennis and how he'll be spending the summer at his Aunt's villa in the south of France. And Kurt wouldn't mind, really, he'll listen to anything that interests Blaine, except that he talks about these things with a buttoned up kind of formality that makes Kurt want to shake the real Blaine loose.
Because he knows that this isn't the real Blaine he's seeing now. Blaine forgets himself sometimes. Every now and again Kurt will look over in time to catch Blaine looking at him the way he does when it's just the two of them, or see him stifling a laugh at a joke none of the other Warblers apparently see the humor in. Blaine gets him, Kurt knows it. He just doesn't know why Blaine tries to hide it.
*
Mercedes is still avoiding him, so he goes to see Rachel for help with his solo audition. He doesn't get the solo, but he does learn a few things. At McKinley, fitting in was all about standing out. It's all a fight to be the most beautiful, the most popular, the most talented. At Dalton, fitting in is exactly the opposite. It's about being like everyone else; another cog in a well-appointed wheel. Same dress, same manners, same smile. It's about not being too passionate or too loud. It's about not being too Kurt.
If he's honest, he's not sure he can be the watered down version of himself that they want.
If he's really honest, he knows he doesn't want to.
Being around Blaine helps, because Blaine isn't like the rest of the cardboard cutouts here, even if he tries to hide it. They get each other, appreciate the same humor, like the same things. Kurt sees Blaine, the real Blaine, and Kurt's starting to get good at drawing him out of the Dalton shell he wears to school.
They win sectionals, sort of, and Mercedes mostly forgives him for leaving her alone at McKinley. She understands why he had to, in any case, and admits that she kind of felt like he ditched her for Blaine.
"Oh honey, it wasn't about Blaine," he tells her honestly, and she raises an eyebrow teasingly. "I will admit, though," he concedes, "that he is a definite bonus."
She giggles and ducks her head, throws an arm over his shoulders and hugs him tight against her side. "I'm happy you're happy," she says, and means it, and Kurt rests his head on her shoulder and sighs. "I wouldn't really call it happy," he tells her, "but at least I'm safe."
And then he tells her everything about Dalton; all the reasons he loves it, and all the reasons he hates it, and Mercedes rests her cheek on the top of his head and listens.
*
In the end, it's the bird that does it. It's the sadness in Blaine's voice when he talks about liking his cage.
Kurt doesn't like his cage, not really, and he knows Blaine doesn't either. Blaine is as much a prisoner of this school as he is; Kurt sees it every time they leave the campus.
They eat lunch at the same place almost every day, a little out of the way tea house in uptown Westerville that serves a delicious roasted curry apricot chicken salad. Kurt loves the drive to the Blue Turtle because he gets to watch Blaine come alive, turn back into his Blaine. It's like watching Pinocchio turn into a real boy.
Lunch is always filled with easy conversation, and when Blaine looks at Kurt over the rickety iron table, his smile actually reaches his eyes.
The drive back, though, is always filled with a weird tension as Blaine steps back, tones downs, dilutes himself back into the Blaine Dalton demands that he be if he wants to fit in here. And fitting in is important to Blaine, even more so than Kurt, so Kurt doesn't call him on it.
They've never acknowledged it. It's an unspoken thing between them, kind of like how they never talk about the casual touches that linger too long to be strictly friendly, or the way they sometimes catch each other staring. There's an unwritten rule that Blaine can show Kurt the parts of himself that Dalton never sees, and trust that Kurt won't expose his Dalton mask for the fraud that it is. It's a subject they perpetually dance around and never touch.
It's when Blaine starts using Pavarotti as a metaphor that Kurt thinks to hell with this.
*
"Blaine, wait."
Blaine's almost out the door, but he turns around, eyebrow raised in question.
"I need to talk to you," Kurt tells him seriously, and Blaine moves to sit beside him with a nod, smiling encouragingly in that faintly condescending way that Kurt's come to associate with Blaine's Dalton persona.
"What is it?"
Kurt shakes his head. "No. I need to talk to you." He catches Blaine's eye, drops a hand onto his shoulder because he's found touch is often the best way to draw Blaine out. Nobody really touches each other, here.
"Kurt, I don't know what--" Blaine tries for denial, can't even get the words out.
"You do," Kurt tells him gently. He would really like to let Blaine off the hook here, if only to erase that heartbreaking look of terror in his eyes, but Kurt also knows that this conversation needs to happen, and that Blaine is never going to be the one to initiate it.
He takes Blaine's hand, something they haven't done since the first time he came to Dalton as the world's worst spy, and he doesn't miss the hitch in Blaine's breath. "Could you just tell me why?" Blaine doesn't look any less afraid for the gentleness in Kurt's voice, but his grip on Kurt's hand tightens and Kurt knows he's listening. "Why is fitting in here so important that you hide yourself to do it?"
Blaine takes a shaky breath, head bowed as if in prayer, and doesn't answer for a long time. Kurt doesn't say anything else, just waits for Blaine as patiently as he knows how, and when Blaine speaks it's in a whisper so quiet that Kurt almost misses it.
"Because there's nowhere else."
*
The dam seems to have broken. Blaine stands, paces restlessly, so unlike the stillness of his usual mask that Kurt wants to cry. In sadness or relief, he isn't sure. He just knows that there's something broken in Blaine, and now that Blaine's finally letting him see it, Kurt will do anything to help him fix it.
"Dalton is all I've got, Kurt," Blaine is saying, his eyes darting around the room like a frightened animal. "And I'm only here because I got a full ride scholarship. The sailing and the money and the trips to Europe, it's all a lie. I made it all up. " He sits heavily on the settee opposite Kurt and drops his face into his hands.
"Why?" More than anything, Kurt just wants to keep Blaine talking. He needs this catharsis, has obviously been holding himself in for longer than Kurt realized.
"Because that's what everyone talks about here. And that's how it works. Everyone is treated the same because everyone is the same. You act exactly like everyone else, or you don't fit in. And I promised myself I'd do whatever it took to belong here." His voice goes quiet, pleading for Kurt to understand. "I need to fit here, Kurt. I have to. I don't have anywhere else to go."
"Your family..."
Blaine laughs humorlessly. "My dad died when I was thirteen. My Mom spends half her time drinking and the other half sleeping it off. I don't have anybody."
Kurt can't let that one go. He moves to sit on the other sofa, pulls Blaine against his side and takes his hand again. He doesn't say "you have me", because that would be a horrible cliche, and besides, he doesn't need to. He just holds Blaine's hand and lets him say all the things he hasn't been able to since he started at Dalton.
*
Blaine has his mask firmly back in place by the next morning, but Kurt can see right through it now. He spends third period study hall texting Blaine inane commentary about everything from the quality of the food in the commons (Is this stuff even real food? Seriously, it tastes like steamed rubber) to the quality of other students' personal fashion choices (You'd think with the size of his trust fund he could afford a better haircut). Blaine doesn't text back-- he's in class, after all-- but when they pass each other on the way to fourth period Blaine gives him that smile.
The Warblers have a meeting during fifth period to discuss song selections for their Christmas concert, and they quietly debate the merits of White Christmas versus Winter Wonderland as if they were discussing possible solutions for ending world poverty. The council leaders finally rule on White Christmas, and Kurt presses his leg to Blaine's in silent communication as Wes gravely bangs his gavel. Blaine's face doesn't change, but Kurt can feel his shoulders trembling with silent laughter.
They go to the Blue Turtle for lunch, and Kurt furrows his brow at Blaine's classic BMW as he climbs into the passenger seat, wondering how to ask.
Blaine reads his mind, as usual. "It was my Dad's baby," he explains. "We fixed her up together before he died. I know it's probably dumb to hold on to it when--"
"It's not dumb," Kurt breaks in, thinking of his Mom, of all the things he wouldn't part with even if they were worth a million dollars.
Blaine looks at him the way he does sometimes, holds his gaze for a long moment before keying the ignition, and dear god one of them is going to have to make an actual move here soon because Kurt is losing his ever loving mind.
*
They sit outside at a table in the sun, talk about maybe seeing the new Johnny Depp movie next weekend while they wait for their salads. When the cheque comes, Kurt reaches for it first, and their eyes catch and hold. Blaine's always paid before and it's never been an issue, but things are different now.
"It's okay, Kurt," Blaine motions for him to hand over the cheque. "I got a settlement from my old school, plus I wait tables on weekends; I'm not broke or anything."
Kurt just shakes his head. "Neither am I," he argues. "I only let you buy me lunch all the time because I thought you were rolling in money, but since you conveniently forgot to mention that that's not true, I think it's probably my turn."
Blaine holds up his hands in mock surrender and throws Kurt a grin that makes his toes curl. "So will you still like me now that you know I'm not swimming in thousand dollar bills?"
Kurt bites back a laugh, feigns reluctance. "I guess I can probably tolerate you."
*
They make it back to school well before the end of lunch break, sit in the car in the parking lot because neither of them really wants to go back inside with the Stepford students.
The silence isn't awkward, but Kurt finds he wants to fill it anyway; it's become habit to try to keep Blaine talking, try to keep him from going back into his shell as soon as they drive through the school gates. He opens his mouth to ask if Blaine wants to come watch movies in his dorm room tonight, but Blaine speaks first, cutting him off.
"I'm really glad you came here, Kurt." Blaine's voice is hushed, but his eyes are screaming for Kurt to understand him. "I mean I'm sorry for the circumstances; I'm sorry that you had to leave your friends. I'm sorry that this school doesn't appreciate you. But I'm glad you're here."
Kurt turns to sit sideways, tucks a leg under him so he can face Blaine directly. "So am I," he says, taking Blaine's hand off the gear shift and boldly lacing their fingers together. Blaine sighs, strokes his thumb over the back of Kurt's hand, and Kurt's heart is racing triple time in his chest as his focus narrows to that one touch. "I'm not miserable here," he tells Blaine, wants to make sure he understands. "It's a lot to get used to, and some parts of it are kind of stifling, but on the other hand I'm not getting thrown into lockers and I get to see you every day. It evens out."
Blaine grins, and Kurt loves to see that smile, so he continues. "And as for the other students here, they've probably never met anyone as fabulous as me in their lives. They will come to appreciate my genius, it's only a matter of time."
Blaine's grin turns into a laugh, and Kurt honestly couldn't keep from kissing him right now if the fate of the world rested on it. Blaine whimpers softly and kisses him back, the hand not grasped in Kurt's a hot brand on the back of his neck. Blaines' thumb strokes lightly over a patch of skin just below his ear that makes him shudder and gasp, and Kurt thinks he might just die from this, it's so good. Blaine's mouth opens under his and Kurt's tongue darts out of its own accord, eager to taste and claim and jesus fuck this is the best moment of Kurt's life. Blaine tastes good, he feels good, and Kurt can't help it; he tugs his hand free from Blaine's and buries both hands in Blaine's hair, turns the kiss greedy, almost frantic.
Blaine growls-- fucking growls-- into Kurt's mouth and presses as close as he can get without actually crawling into Kurt's lap and really, Kurt wouldn't mind a lap full of Blaine right now. He tries to communicate that idea through nips and moans and tugging at Blaine's hair, because he'll be damned if he's going to stop attacking Blaine's mouth for something as inane as speaking, but his attempts at non-verbal communication seem to be having the opposite effect because Blaine is pulling away, and why is Blaine pulling away?
Kurt is pretty sure his whine of protest could be classified as embarrassing but he can't find it in him to care, can't help it, he just wants. Blaine still has his hands pushed up under Kurt's blazer, but his head is turned away, panting quietly into the car seat cushion and oh, right. They're still in the car, in the parking lot at Dalton, and lunch break ended a few minutes ago. Also, there's a teacher heading their way from across the lot. He's pretty sure they've been spotted and if they don't move now there's going to be a detention in his future. Well, fuck.
Kurt squeezes his eyes shut and thumps his head back against the headrest a few times, wonders if the universe hates him as he climbs out of the car and straightens his clothes. Then he looks over at Blaine and thinks that no, the universe freaking loves him.
*
Predictably, the afternoon drags. Every time Kurt looks at the clock to see if class is nearly over, he finds it's only been a minute since he last looked.
Blaine's not in any of his classes, which is fortunate, because in a contest between 19th century American literature and Blaine, Kurt's pretty sure he knows which would win his full attention, and that's on a normal day. Today is anything but normal, and right now Kurt isn't even sure which class he's in, let alone what he's supposed to be concentrating on.
He feels his phone vibrate halfway through the lesson, glances around to make sure he's free of prying eyes before he whips his phone out of his pocket in a practiced move and drops it into his lap.
Is it just me, or is this period going incredibly slowly? I literally just read the same page of this book 7 times.
Kurt hides his grin in his hand and looks at the clock for the fourteenth time in two minutes. It's not just you., he types, his eyes mostly trained on the teacher giving a lecture at the front of the room. Kurt's pretty good at surreptitious texting; he and Mercedes have got it down to an art. Do you know what class I'm in right now? Because I have no idea. I thought about asking someone but I don't think that would go over well.
He tries to focus on the lesson, but he only catches a few words before his phone is vibrating again. I think you're in history. Try to focus. Don't think about the bruise I'm going to suck into that spot on your neck when this class is over.
Kurt's breath catches. He gives up looking at the teacher and stares directly at the clock, willing it to go faster as his fingers tap out a reply. I hate you.
No you don't.
No, I don't.
*
Kurt is trying to unlock his dorm room door and dial Blaine's number at the same time when he feels arms slide around his waist, breath on his neck below his ear. Blaine's teeth nip gently in warning and then he's sucking the sensitive skin into his mouth, and Kurt keens, pressing himself back into Blaine's solid body. He fumbles with the keycard, tries to slide it in upside down before he finally gets it right, and then he's stumbling through the door, narrowly avoids tripping over Pavarotti's cage, with Blaine still plastered to his back.
He twists in Blaine's arms, nuzzles his face into his neck as Blaine's fingers thread through his hair. "I'm pretty sure I'm falling in love with you." Kurt's hands clutch at Blaine's jacket as he whispers the words into Blaine's skin. "You're okay with that, right?"
Blaine makes a soft noise in the back of his throat, pulls Kurt in even tighter. "I'm pretty sure I've already fallen, so yeah."
Blaine's lips on his are whisper soft, brushing lightly and they're mostly just breathing together until Blaine cradles Kurt's face, tilts his head at the perfect angle and kisses him deeply. Kurt gets entirely lost in the feeling of Blaine's tongue in his mouth, loses track of everything else, and when Blaine pulls back to breathe Kurt chases him, draws him back. "Don't ever stop kissing me," he pleads, gets a hold of Blaine's tie and pulls him in, opens Blaine's mouth with his tongue.
Blaine moans helplessly and the kiss turns desperate, Kurt's fingers fumbling blindly at the buttons of Blaine's jacket because he needs it off, needs to taste Blaine's skin, and then Blaine's moving him, pushing him gently backwards and he's on the bed, Blaine's weight pressing him into the mattress and oh god that's Blaine's erection pressing into his hip. Kurt strangles a moan and arches helplessly up into the pressure of Blaine's body covering him, cries out as Blaine pins his hips to the bed with his hands and grinds against him, then does it again, and again, and this about to be over if Kurt can't think of a way to--
"Yeah, that's it, come on," Blaine's thrusts get faster, his voice ragged and thready as his hands clench in the comforter on either side of Kurt's head.
Kurt can't take this; he doesn't want it to be over already but there's no way he can hold out, not with Blaine over him, saying his name in that high pitched desperate little whine, and Kurt's whimpering, sucking in frantic little gulps of air as his body goes taut--
"C'mon baby," Blaine's panting, "let it go, I got you," and Blaine calling him 'Baby' is pretty much what does it; he cries out loudly and arches off the bed as his orgasm crashes over him in a tidal wave, his whole body spasming until he lets out a breath and collapses, boneless, Blaine stroking his hair and murmuring nonsense into his ear as he shudders with aftershocks.
*
Kurt comes back to himself in increments, and when he finally opens his eyes Blaine is grinning at him, brighter than the sun. "You," he says, dropping a quick kiss to Kurt's mouth, "are fucking gorgeous."
Kurt blushes, shifting restlessly, and doesn't miss the hitch in Blaine's breath as he moves against the erection still pressing insistently into his hip.
Well then. Kurt doesn't miss a beat, just arches an eyebrow and rolls Blaine onto his back so he can straddle his thighs. Blaine gasps quietly, arches his neck, and Kurt doesn't miss the opportunity to lean down and suck a love bite to match his own into the skin below Blaine's ear, loving Blaine's startled groan.
He slides a hand down Blaine's still blazered chest; he never did get the jacket off. Maybe next time they do this they'll remember to take off their clothes. Kurt thrills a little at that thought, because there will be a next time, and a time after that, and he's going to get to see Blaine naked in the very near future. He has Blaine now, can touch him whenever he wants; he doesn't have to hold back anymore.
Blaine is shifting restlessly beneath him and Kurt moves a hand to the waistband of his slacks, pops open the button. Blaine stops him, holds him by the wrist as he studies Kurt's face searchingly. "You don't have to," he starts, his voice low and strained with arousal, and Kurt rolls his eyes. Such a fucking gentleman. As if Kurt would be doing this if he didn't want to.
Kurt doesn't say anything, just slips a hand into Blaine's pants and grips him firmly, stroking root to tip. He smirks happily as Blaine's eyes roll into the back of his head. "You were saying?", he asks, and Blaine opens his eyes, meets Kurt's laughing ones.
"Nothing," Blaine breathes reverently, "absolutely nothing."
Kurt grins, adds an extra twist to his wrist and swipes his thumb over the tip of Blaine's weeping cock. "That's what I thought," he laughs as Blaine moans helplessly and arches into Kurt's hand.
"Kurt," he whispers, "Oh, jesus, fuck, Kurt."
Kurt thinks there can't possibly be anything better than this; hearing Blaine, usually so put together and articulate, flying apart under his hands, reduced to this incoherent mess of profanities and Kurt's name, because of him. No solo, no trophy, no standing ovation has ever given him this feeling.
"C'mon Blaine," Kurt encourages, speeding up his strokes as Blaine starts to buck wildly. "Go over for me."
Blaine's body tenses, drawn tight as a bowstring. "Kurt," he pants, "kiss me", and Kurt does, tongue slipping easily into Blaine's mouth to capture the muffled shout as he comes all over Kurt's hand and his own perfectly tailored Dalton uniform.
*
"Hey, Kurt?"
They're lying face to face on Kurt's bed, slotted together like puzzle pieces. Kurt nuzzles his nose against Blaine's cheek in lieu of an answer, and Blaine wraps his arm tighter around Kurt's middle. "Would you do something for me?" he asks, and Kurt makes a noncommittal sound, too smart to agree to a favor without knowing what it is first.
"Would you sing for me?"
Kurt's eyes widen with surprise. "Sing what?" Kurt is suddenly nervous. Nobody has ever asked him to sing just for them, before.
"Anything. I don't care. I just want to hear you."
He sits up, legs crossing as he faces Blaine on the bed. "You've heard me sing." Kurt doesn't like the stricken way Blaine looks at him, but he can't help the note of bitterness that creeps into his voice. "I try too hard, remember?"
Blaine scrambles to sit up, takes Kurt's hand and twines their fingers together. "No, Kurt." He sighs, studies the ceiling as though it can tell him how to say what he wants to say. "I mean yes, you did, if you wanted the solo. You won't get a solo here singing like that." He shakes his head angrily. "They won't give you a solo until you're one of them. It's kind of ironic, really. You have to blend in before they'll let you stand out. And you... they could never sing like that, Kurt."
Kurt sucks in a breath and Blaine cradles his face in one hand, thumb stroking over his cheekbone. "You didn't miss out on the solo because you came up short," Blaine says quietly, and Kurt didn't even realize how much he needed to hear this, until now. "They didn't give you the solo because you stood too tall for them to reach."
Kurt presses his face into Blaine's palm, closes his eyes for a minute and just breathes. He hadn't realized how much he's been second guessing himself since that day, and now he lets it go. Blaine lays back down on the bed, fingers still threaded through Kurt's, and waits for Kurt to say something.
"I don't think I'll ever be able to be what they want me to be," Kurt tells him quietly, as though it's a secret. He doesn't say anything for a while after that, though, because Blaine surges upright and kisses him hard on the mouth.
"You don't get it," Blaine whispers when they come up for air, and Kurt loves the feeling of Blaine's breath on his lips. "That's what I love about you." Blaine pulls back to meet his gaze. "You're so fucking brave, Kurt. I don't know why you didn't laugh in my face at the thought of me telling you to have courage. You're just exactly who you are, all the time. Me, I came here and started changing myself to fit their mold from my first day, because I'm a fucking coward. But you..."
"Don't," Kurt says, taking Blaine's face in his hands, forcing Blaine to meet his eyes. "Stop it. You're not a coward. First of all, that's utter crap, and second of all, that's my boyfriend you're talking about, so shut up."
Blaine gives him that smile, and Kurt leans forward, presses their foreheads together. "Seriously, it isn't fair to hold me up as the standard for courage at this school, Blaine."
Blaine nods, lets his arms fall over Kurt's shoulders in a loose embrace. "It is a pretty high standard," he agrees.
Kurt rolls his eyes, shakes his head in exasperation. "No, you idiot, because I had help. When you first came here you were completely alone. I had you".
*
When they come up for air again, Kurt starts to sing. He doesn't stick to one song, meanders in and out of musical theatre numbers, pop ballads, whatever takes his fancy. After a while Blaine joins in, and they find that their voices fit together as easily as their bodies, harmonizing almost effortlessly. Kurt's pretty sure he's not the only one thinking about possible duet options for the Warblers' Christmas concert.
They sing together for over an hour, but when Blaine starts in on Teenage Dream, Kurt decides he has to have his hands on Blaine now, so that puts an end to the singing, unless you count Blaine's loud moans as Kurt puts his mouth to other uses.
So, Dalton isn't the perfect sanctuary that Kurt dreamed it would be. At the moment, he doesn't really care. He's got Blaine, Blaine has him, and the rest they'll work out as they go.
Title: Nobody But Yourself
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Never Been Kissed, Furt, Special Education, A Very Glee Christmas
Warnings: Sex, swear words, brief but very offensive homophobic language.
Word count: ~7,300
Disclaimer: All of the characters in this story belong to FOX. Except for Kurt & Blaine; they belong to each other.
Summary: Kurt's the only one who knows the real Blaine.
A/N: Picks up from where Furt left off, runs through Special Education and then goes AU from there. It was started before 2x09, but only a few minor things got jossed, unfortunately. (This story was always going to be cage!Dalton, because I kind of saw that coming, but I was secretly hoping it would be jossed and we'd actually get Gay Hogwarts.)
This is essentially just my head canon written down. It's only the second fic I've ever written. If it sucks, feel free to tell me so, I don't fancy myself a writer so I won't be offended in the least, I promise.
Also, due credit: The BICO gif is thanks to onyx_capricorn. The title is from a quote by e.e. cummings:
To be nobody-but-yourself -- in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else -- means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight, and never stop fighting.
***
Kurt clears out his locker as quickly as he can, half expecting Finn or Mercedes to follow him out of the choir room. He's barely keeping it together as it is; he can't deal with Mercedes' heartache on top of his own right now. It's too much. Too much weight on his shoulders for too long, not enough strength or hope or courage to lighten the load. He throws his textbooks carelessly into a cardboard box and thinks I'm done. I give up.
He takes a shuddering breath, runs his fingers over carefully placed magazine letters-- courage-- before he pulls them off the door, crumples them in his fist. He tried. He failed. His empty locker mocks him, all traces of him erased, like he was never here, and Kurt feels nothing but alone. He slams the door closed and falls against it, sobs falling quietly into his hands.
He feels arms wrap around him and thinks no, Mercedes, please, I can't, doesn't have the breath to voice the words. When he opens his eyes, though, Carole is there, holding him up, holding him together, and Kurt finally lets go; he buries his face in Carole's shoulder, holds on tight, and lets himself fall apart.
He cries like he hasn't since That Day ("Kurt. It's your Mom. There was an accident..."); huge, gulping hiccups, like a child, like someone who doesn't care who sees him because he isn't coming back here anyway. Kurt cries until he can't anymore, and Carole doesn't say anything, just holds him until the sobs slow, and finally stop, and then she wipes his eyes with her scarf and kisses his forehead, her own eyes shining with unshed tears. When he looks up his dad is there, and so is Finn, and he thinks, it's this. The wedding was perfect, but this is what makes them a family.
*
They drive to Westerville right away, the four of them in Burt's pickup, Finn and Kurt squished in the cramped backseat with a cardboard box holding the remains of Kurt's life at McKinley High between them. Kurt doesn't look back as they leave the parking lot, tries not to watch the passing scenery like a movie of his life (the barber where he got his first haircut; the old movie theatre where his mom took him to see The Princess Diaries; that seafood place where he and Mercedes got food poisoning; his favourite restaurant, bookstore, cafe; a road sign: YOU ARE NOW LEAVING LIMA).
He pulls out his phone when they get to Lakeview, carefully composes a text to Blaine, deletes it and starts again. He types and deletes eight different messages between Bellefontaine and Westerville, dials Blaine's number once but doesn't press call. He slips his phone back into his pocket as they drive into the Dalton Academy parking lot and still doesn't know what he's going to say to Blaine. He feels like he failed; doesn't want Blaine to be disappointed in him.
Kurt wonders for a second if Blaine won't want him here at all, if their friendship is built solely on pity for the poor bullied gay kid. He lets that thought go when he remembers the way Blaine smiled at him over a table at The City Club, the last notes of Seasons of Love still echoing in their heads.
They head straight for the administration building, and Kurt watches Finn hang back awkwardly as his parents talk with a soft-spoken woman from the admissions office about bullying, grades, tuition. Kurt doesn't say much, just nods in the right places and agrees to be at the admin building early on Sunday afternoon to pick up his class schedule and have someone show him to his dorm room.
"Welcome to Dalton Academy", the woman smiles at him, and Kurt smiles back reflexively, nods his thanks. "I think you're going to fit in well here." Kurt thinks that the idea of him fitting in anywhere, much less at this expensive school for preppy rich boys, should be laughable, but then he remembers the way Blaine grinned and sang Katy Perry to him in front of a hundred other boys, and Kurt can't help believing, a little bit, that maybe he might learn to belong here. It feels a bit like hope.
*
Kurt heads outside while his dad and Carole fill out forms, fork over their combined savings to buy his safety without a second thought to the plane they should be catching now, on their way to a hotel in Hawaii. He shuts that thought down-- doesn't want to cry again-- and nods for Finn to follow him as he passes.
Outside, they are greeted by a sea of blue blazers, dotted by the occasional grey or brown suit-and-tie ensemble that Kurt thinks must be the unofficial uniform of the teachers here. Unbidden, an image of his chemistry teacher at McKinley comes to mind, frizzy red ponytail bouncing as she strides down the hallway in those bright neon green rain boots she wore with everything. The thought of her here almost makes him laugh, and Finn raises an eyebrow questioningly.
Kurt sobers instantly, shakes his head nevermind, opens his mouth to say something, though what he wants to say he doesn't know yet. What comes out is "I'm sorry." He doesn't know exactly what he's apologizing for. For abandoning glee club a week before sectionals, maybe, and for taking Finn's mother's hard earned money so he can run away, and for leaving Finn at McKinley to deal with the slushies and maybe worse that Karofsky will dole out as punishment for being connected to Kurt.
Finn shakes his head, and his eyes go soft the way they do sometimes when he's looking at Rachel, or when he's about to say something completely non-douchey. Kurt looks at him and doesn't feel any of the things he used to feel around Finn. He looks at Finn and sees his brother, and can't remember why he even wanted them to be a couple in the first place. Finn doesn't like shopping or fashion or even musical theatre. He'd be a terrible boyfriend, Kurt thinks.
"It's okay, man," Finn says, shrugging one shoulder. "I get it. This is the right thing to do. Don't worry about it, okay?"
He doesn't make a bad brother, though.
*
Kurt doesn't know what to say, so he just nods, whispers "thank you", and wonders why Finn's blessing suddenly makes him feel so much lighter, like he wanted Finn's permission to do this.
He doesn't have too long to think about it, though: a hand on his shoulder, spinning him around, and there's Blaine. Kurt's stomach flips the way it always does in Blaine's vicinity, and he's smiling before he rememers why he's here, remembers that he never did work out what he was going to say to Blaine, remembers that he's been chased out of his old life in Lima and into a new one here and he's terrified, and oh god what does he say to this boy who told him to have courage; how does he tell Blaine that he ran away? He's floundering--
"I... Blaine... I..."
-- and he feels moisture gathering in his eyes again but he's determined not to cry, he needs words damn it, not tears, he needs to tell Blaine, to explain--
"Kurt..."
Only then it turns out that he doesn't need words at all, he doesn't need to explain, because Blaine knows, Blaine is hugging him like he understands, because he does, of course he does, and Kurt fists his hands in the back of Blaine's jacket and holds on.
"Blaine..." his voice shakes and Blaine grips him tighter.
"Shhh," he says, "it's okay. It's gonna be okay, Kurt."
*
As it happens, Blaine ends up getting most of the story of the last couple of days from Finn. A lot of it, like the wedding, he already knows from Kurt's texts, but he listens without speaking, one arm still draped loosely over Kurt's shoulders, and Kurt thinks he should feel self-conscious standing so close to a boy he likes in front of Finn and anyone else who happens to walk by, but mostly he just feels calm, like he hasn't in weeks.
His dad and Carole show up while Finn and Blaine are talking about Dalton, and Blaine pulls away to greet them. Kurt instantly misses the warmth at his side, and he blushes when Finn gives him a knowing smile and a thumbs up, but doesn't deny the implication. Everyone seems to think that Blaine is his boyfriend, and sometimes Kurt likes to pretend that's true.
They don't have time to stick around. There's still the drive back to Lima, and Kurt only has two days to pack-- for freaking boarding school, that will never not be weird-- so there isn't a minute to lose. Still, Kurt wants to stay, wants to have the conversation with Blaine he's pretty sure they've been dancing around since he first spoke the words "Can I ask you a question? I'm new here." He wants to get to the part that comes after. Kurt really, really wants to kiss Blaine.
He definitely doesn't want to have that conversation or that kiss in front of his dad, though, so he gives Blaine a quick hug and heads for the car before he can say something stupid. He doesn't look back, but he can see Blaine's reflection in the window of the administration building, so he doesn't miss the way Blaine smiles.
It's funny how three hours ago he didn't want to leave McKinley, and now he has to force himself to leave Dalton.
*
He texts Mercedes as they're leaving Westerville, asks her if she wants to come over tomorrow since he leaves for Dalton on Sunday, and spends the drive home making a mental list of things that need to be done before then. By the time they pass the sign welcoming them to Lima, Ohio, Kurt has already planned exactly what he's going to pack. It's only then that he realizes he never got a response from Mercedes.
He texts again when they stop for gas, and again when they stop for takeout. He hits speed dial 1 and listens as his call goes to voicemail, doesn't leave a message. She'll call when she's ready; Kurt just has to give her time to realize that this is the way it has to be.
They eat sushi for dinner, clean the kitchen, he and Finn harmonizing along with the radio as they stack the dishwasher. It's nice, normal, and for a while Kurt forgets that anything has changed. He's halfway through a tirade about Mr. Schue's truly appalling song choices on their setlist for sectionals when he realises that he won't be singing those songs, now. He falls silent mid-sentence, and Finn looks stricken, like he's only now realised that Kurt didn't just leave McKinley, he left New Directions as well. Kurt leans heavily on the kitchen counter, rests his head on his arms, and hates Karofsky more than he's ever hated anyone in his life.
He leaves Finn in the kitchen and retreats to his bedroom, wishing he could call Mercedes. His suitcase is sitting empty on his bed, but he can't quite bring himself to start putting things into it, so he does the only thing he knows will make him stop feeling like the world is ending.
Blaine answers on the first ring, greets him with a laugh. "I was seriously just dialling your number."
They talk for two hours, and Kurt smiles the whole time.
*
Sunday morning dawns bright and clear, and too soon for Kurt's liking. He looks around his darkened bedroom, thinks about saying goodbye to his dad today, and doesn't want to get out of bed. He's leaving his friends, his school, his house, his wardrobe, his family, his life. He wonders if maybe he's leaving himself.
Kurt feels his hands start to shake a little as he thinks about it. This is one of the scariest things he's ever done, right up there with coming out to his dad, and he half considers staying in bed and calling the whole thing off. He could take the glee guys up on their offer of a security detail and go back to McKinley, back to New Directions.
He thinks about the way Karofsky looked at him, about the feeling of terror between every class, about dark purple bruises, about the ice cold humiliation of a slushie to the face, about "don't sit near me, faggot, I don't want to catch AIDS".
Courage, he thinks, and gets out of bed.
He drives to Dalton by himself because he doesn't want a dramatic goodbye scene in the parking lot of his new school. He cries the whole way, because it feels like the end of something.
*
Blaine spends the weekends with his family in Kenton, so Kurt is shown to his dorm room by a lacrosse player with closely cropped hair and a swagger. He doesn't seem to mind being roped into showing around the new kid, just introduces himself as James and points out areas of interest on the way to Kurt's room-- the library, the auditorium, the senior commons. Kurt smiles to himself and doesn't mention that he's already seen the latter.
Kurt spends the rest of the afternoon exploring-- the place is like a freaking castle-- until he gets a text from Blaine to come meet him at the fountain.
Which one, he writes back, I've seen seven today.
Where are you?, reads the reply. I'll come get you.
Kurt hits reply and then realises he has absolutely no idea. There's a gigantic statue of... Robin Williams wearing a bathrobe?
He doesn't get a reply right away, and he gets distracted watching a meeting of ten or so students in Dalton uniforms-- on a Sunday, Kurt thinks to himself-- not far from where he's standing. He can't hear what they're saying, but he watches as they nod and shake hands like business partners rather than fellow students or friends. It's kind of weird, he thinks, but then none of them are shoving him into a locker so he's not really complaining.
"That statue," says a familiar voice behind him, "is John Dalton, and I believe he's wearing academic dress robes."
Blaine's voice is laced with amusement, and when Kurt turns around he's wearing that smile, the one that makes his eyes crinkle up in the corners and makes Kurt's stomach do backflips.
Uprooting his life might just be worth it, he thinks, if he gets to see that smile every day.
*
His first day at Dalton doesn't really go like he thought it would.
It's different to McKinley, of course. There's no real social heirarchy here: no jocks to avoid between classes or cheerleaders giggling behind their hands. No one throws a football in the hallway; there's no graffiti in the bathrooms. There are no slushies or spitballs or rubber bands snapped in his face, and nobody calls him Curtsey or Lady or Fagboy. James, the lacrosse player who showed him the way to his room yesterday, high-fives him every time they pass each other on the way to class. His teachers call him Mr. Hummel, and some guys on the football team say hello to him as he passes them on the way to fifth period Chemistry. It's weird.
It's not bad, just different, and it's not that he isn't enjoying the fact that he can walk from Homeroom to Spanish without collecting any new bruises; he is loving that. It's just that everyone is so politely detached. It's like no one is really friends with anyone else; they're all just colleagues who happen to go to school in the same building.
And then there's Blaine. Blaine is different, here. Kurt is used to the easy smiles, the casual glances, the animated way he talks with his hands sometimes when he really gets into a topic. But there's a wall around him here, a politely formal way of speaking and behaving that distances him from Kurt. Around the other Warblers, he doesn't talk about Katy Perry or Project Runway or the new Halo, or any of the things he still talks excitedly about with Kurt when they eat lunch off campus. At school, he talks about sailing and tennis and how he'll be spending the summer at his Aunt's villa in the south of France. And Kurt wouldn't mind, really, he'll listen to anything that interests Blaine, except that he talks about these things with a buttoned up kind of formality that makes Kurt want to shake the real Blaine loose.
Because he knows that this isn't the real Blaine he's seeing now. Blaine forgets himself sometimes. Every now and again Kurt will look over in time to catch Blaine looking at him the way he does when it's just the two of them, or see him stifling a laugh at a joke none of the other Warblers apparently see the humor in. Blaine gets him, Kurt knows it. He just doesn't know why Blaine tries to hide it.
*
Mercedes is still avoiding him, so he goes to see Rachel for help with his solo audition. He doesn't get the solo, but he does learn a few things. At McKinley, fitting in was all about standing out. It's all a fight to be the most beautiful, the most popular, the most talented. At Dalton, fitting in is exactly the opposite. It's about being like everyone else; another cog in a well-appointed wheel. Same dress, same manners, same smile. It's about not being too passionate or too loud. It's about not being too Kurt.
If he's honest, he's not sure he can be the watered down version of himself that they want.
If he's really honest, he knows he doesn't want to.
Being around Blaine helps, because Blaine isn't like the rest of the cardboard cutouts here, even if he tries to hide it. They get each other, appreciate the same humor, like the same things. Kurt sees Blaine, the real Blaine, and Kurt's starting to get good at drawing him out of the Dalton shell he wears to school.
They win sectionals, sort of, and Mercedes mostly forgives him for leaving her alone at McKinley. She understands why he had to, in any case, and admits that she kind of felt like he ditched her for Blaine.
"Oh honey, it wasn't about Blaine," he tells her honestly, and she raises an eyebrow teasingly. "I will admit, though," he concedes, "that he is a definite bonus."
She giggles and ducks her head, throws an arm over his shoulders and hugs him tight against her side. "I'm happy you're happy," she says, and means it, and Kurt rests his head on her shoulder and sighs. "I wouldn't really call it happy," he tells her, "but at least I'm safe."
And then he tells her everything about Dalton; all the reasons he loves it, and all the reasons he hates it, and Mercedes rests her cheek on the top of his head and listens.
*
In the end, it's the bird that does it. It's the sadness in Blaine's voice when he talks about liking his cage.
Kurt doesn't like his cage, not really, and he knows Blaine doesn't either. Blaine is as much a prisoner of this school as he is; Kurt sees it every time they leave the campus.
They eat lunch at the same place almost every day, a little out of the way tea house in uptown Westerville that serves a delicious roasted curry apricot chicken salad. Kurt loves the drive to the Blue Turtle because he gets to watch Blaine come alive, turn back into his Blaine. It's like watching Pinocchio turn into a real boy.
Lunch is always filled with easy conversation, and when Blaine looks at Kurt over the rickety iron table, his smile actually reaches his eyes.
The drive back, though, is always filled with a weird tension as Blaine steps back, tones downs, dilutes himself back into the Blaine Dalton demands that he be if he wants to fit in here. And fitting in is important to Blaine, even more so than Kurt, so Kurt doesn't call him on it.
They've never acknowledged it. It's an unspoken thing between them, kind of like how they never talk about the casual touches that linger too long to be strictly friendly, or the way they sometimes catch each other staring. There's an unwritten rule that Blaine can show Kurt the parts of himself that Dalton never sees, and trust that Kurt won't expose his Dalton mask for the fraud that it is. It's a subject they perpetually dance around and never touch.
It's when Blaine starts using Pavarotti as a metaphor that Kurt thinks to hell with this.
*
"Blaine, wait."
Blaine's almost out the door, but he turns around, eyebrow raised in question.
"I need to talk to you," Kurt tells him seriously, and Blaine moves to sit beside him with a nod, smiling encouragingly in that faintly condescending way that Kurt's come to associate with Blaine's Dalton persona.
"What is it?"
Kurt shakes his head. "No. I need to talk to you." He catches Blaine's eye, drops a hand onto his shoulder because he's found touch is often the best way to draw Blaine out. Nobody really touches each other, here.
"Kurt, I don't know what--" Blaine tries for denial, can't even get the words out.
"You do," Kurt tells him gently. He would really like to let Blaine off the hook here, if only to erase that heartbreaking look of terror in his eyes, but Kurt also knows that this conversation needs to happen, and that Blaine is never going to be the one to initiate it.
He takes Blaine's hand, something they haven't done since the first time he came to Dalton as the world's worst spy, and he doesn't miss the hitch in Blaine's breath. "Could you just tell me why?" Blaine doesn't look any less afraid for the gentleness in Kurt's voice, but his grip on Kurt's hand tightens and Kurt knows he's listening. "Why is fitting in here so important that you hide yourself to do it?"
Blaine takes a shaky breath, head bowed as if in prayer, and doesn't answer for a long time. Kurt doesn't say anything else, just waits for Blaine as patiently as he knows how, and when Blaine speaks it's in a whisper so quiet that Kurt almost misses it.
"Because there's nowhere else."
*
The dam seems to have broken. Blaine stands, paces restlessly, so unlike the stillness of his usual mask that Kurt wants to cry. In sadness or relief, he isn't sure. He just knows that there's something broken in Blaine, and now that Blaine's finally letting him see it, Kurt will do anything to help him fix it.
"Dalton is all I've got, Kurt," Blaine is saying, his eyes darting around the room like a frightened animal. "And I'm only here because I got a full ride scholarship. The sailing and the money and the trips to Europe, it's all a lie. I made it all up. " He sits heavily on the settee opposite Kurt and drops his face into his hands.
"Why?" More than anything, Kurt just wants to keep Blaine talking. He needs this catharsis, has obviously been holding himself in for longer than Kurt realized.
"Because that's what everyone talks about here. And that's how it works. Everyone is treated the same because everyone is the same. You act exactly like everyone else, or you don't fit in. And I promised myself I'd do whatever it took to belong here." His voice goes quiet, pleading for Kurt to understand. "I need to fit here, Kurt. I have to. I don't have anywhere else to go."
"Your family..."
Blaine laughs humorlessly. "My dad died when I was thirteen. My Mom spends half her time drinking and the other half sleeping it off. I don't have anybody."
Kurt can't let that one go. He moves to sit on the other sofa, pulls Blaine against his side and takes his hand again. He doesn't say "you have me", because that would be a horrible cliche, and besides, he doesn't need to. He just holds Blaine's hand and lets him say all the things he hasn't been able to since he started at Dalton.
*
Blaine has his mask firmly back in place by the next morning, but Kurt can see right through it now. He spends third period study hall texting Blaine inane commentary about everything from the quality of the food in the commons (Is this stuff even real food? Seriously, it tastes like steamed rubber) to the quality of other students' personal fashion choices (You'd think with the size of his trust fund he could afford a better haircut). Blaine doesn't text back-- he's in class, after all-- but when they pass each other on the way to fourth period Blaine gives him that smile.
The Warblers have a meeting during fifth period to discuss song selections for their Christmas concert, and they quietly debate the merits of White Christmas versus Winter Wonderland as if they were discussing possible solutions for ending world poverty. The council leaders finally rule on White Christmas, and Kurt presses his leg to Blaine's in silent communication as Wes gravely bangs his gavel. Blaine's face doesn't change, but Kurt can feel his shoulders trembling with silent laughter.
They go to the Blue Turtle for lunch, and Kurt furrows his brow at Blaine's classic BMW as he climbs into the passenger seat, wondering how to ask.
Blaine reads his mind, as usual. "It was my Dad's baby," he explains. "We fixed her up together before he died. I know it's probably dumb to hold on to it when--"
"It's not dumb," Kurt breaks in, thinking of his Mom, of all the things he wouldn't part with even if they were worth a million dollars.
Blaine looks at him the way he does sometimes, holds his gaze for a long moment before keying the ignition, and dear god one of them is going to have to make an actual move here soon because Kurt is losing his ever loving mind.
*
They sit outside at a table in the sun, talk about maybe seeing the new Johnny Depp movie next weekend while they wait for their salads. When the cheque comes, Kurt reaches for it first, and their eyes catch and hold. Blaine's always paid before and it's never been an issue, but things are different now.
"It's okay, Kurt," Blaine motions for him to hand over the cheque. "I got a settlement from my old school, plus I wait tables on weekends; I'm not broke or anything."
Kurt just shakes his head. "Neither am I," he argues. "I only let you buy me lunch all the time because I thought you were rolling in money, but since you conveniently forgot to mention that that's not true, I think it's probably my turn."
Blaine holds up his hands in mock surrender and throws Kurt a grin that makes his toes curl. "So will you still like me now that you know I'm not swimming in thousand dollar bills?"
Kurt bites back a laugh, feigns reluctance. "I guess I can probably tolerate you."
*
They make it back to school well before the end of lunch break, sit in the car in the parking lot because neither of them really wants to go back inside with the Stepford students.
The silence isn't awkward, but Kurt finds he wants to fill it anyway; it's become habit to try to keep Blaine talking, try to keep him from going back into his shell as soon as they drive through the school gates. He opens his mouth to ask if Blaine wants to come watch movies in his dorm room tonight, but Blaine speaks first, cutting him off.
"I'm really glad you came here, Kurt." Blaine's voice is hushed, but his eyes are screaming for Kurt to understand him. "I mean I'm sorry for the circumstances; I'm sorry that you had to leave your friends. I'm sorry that this school doesn't appreciate you. But I'm glad you're here."
Kurt turns to sit sideways, tucks a leg under him so he can face Blaine directly. "So am I," he says, taking Blaine's hand off the gear shift and boldly lacing their fingers together. Blaine sighs, strokes his thumb over the back of Kurt's hand, and Kurt's heart is racing triple time in his chest as his focus narrows to that one touch. "I'm not miserable here," he tells Blaine, wants to make sure he understands. "It's a lot to get used to, and some parts of it are kind of stifling, but on the other hand I'm not getting thrown into lockers and I get to see you every day. It evens out."
Blaine grins, and Kurt loves to see that smile, so he continues. "And as for the other students here, they've probably never met anyone as fabulous as me in their lives. They will come to appreciate my genius, it's only a matter of time."
Blaine's grin turns into a laugh, and Kurt honestly couldn't keep from kissing him right now if the fate of the world rested on it. Blaine whimpers softly and kisses him back, the hand not grasped in Kurt's a hot brand on the back of his neck. Blaines' thumb strokes lightly over a patch of skin just below his ear that makes him shudder and gasp, and Kurt thinks he might just die from this, it's so good. Blaine's mouth opens under his and Kurt's tongue darts out of its own accord, eager to taste and claim and jesus fuck this is the best moment of Kurt's life. Blaine tastes good, he feels good, and Kurt can't help it; he tugs his hand free from Blaine's and buries both hands in Blaine's hair, turns the kiss greedy, almost frantic.
Blaine growls-- fucking growls-- into Kurt's mouth and presses as close as he can get without actually crawling into Kurt's lap and really, Kurt wouldn't mind a lap full of Blaine right now. He tries to communicate that idea through nips and moans and tugging at Blaine's hair, because he'll be damned if he's going to stop attacking Blaine's mouth for something as inane as speaking, but his attempts at non-verbal communication seem to be having the opposite effect because Blaine is pulling away, and why is Blaine pulling away?
Kurt is pretty sure his whine of protest could be classified as embarrassing but he can't find it in him to care, can't help it, he just wants. Blaine still has his hands pushed up under Kurt's blazer, but his head is turned away, panting quietly into the car seat cushion and oh, right. They're still in the car, in the parking lot at Dalton, and lunch break ended a few minutes ago. Also, there's a teacher heading their way from across the lot. He's pretty sure they've been spotted and if they don't move now there's going to be a detention in his future. Well, fuck.
Kurt squeezes his eyes shut and thumps his head back against the headrest a few times, wonders if the universe hates him as he climbs out of the car and straightens his clothes. Then he looks over at Blaine and thinks that no, the universe freaking loves him.
*
Predictably, the afternoon drags. Every time Kurt looks at the clock to see if class is nearly over, he finds it's only been a minute since he last looked.
Blaine's not in any of his classes, which is fortunate, because in a contest between 19th century American literature and Blaine, Kurt's pretty sure he knows which would win his full attention, and that's on a normal day. Today is anything but normal, and right now Kurt isn't even sure which class he's in, let alone what he's supposed to be concentrating on.
He feels his phone vibrate halfway through the lesson, glances around to make sure he's free of prying eyes before he whips his phone out of his pocket in a practiced move and drops it into his lap.
Is it just me, or is this period going incredibly slowly? I literally just read the same page of this book 7 times.
Kurt hides his grin in his hand and looks at the clock for the fourteenth time in two minutes. It's not just you., he types, his eyes mostly trained on the teacher giving a lecture at the front of the room. Kurt's pretty good at surreptitious texting; he and Mercedes have got it down to an art. Do you know what class I'm in right now? Because I have no idea. I thought about asking someone but I don't think that would go over well.
He tries to focus on the lesson, but he only catches a few words before his phone is vibrating again. I think you're in history. Try to focus. Don't think about the bruise I'm going to suck into that spot on your neck when this class is over.
Kurt's breath catches. He gives up looking at the teacher and stares directly at the clock, willing it to go faster as his fingers tap out a reply. I hate you.
No you don't.
No, I don't.
*
Kurt is trying to unlock his dorm room door and dial Blaine's number at the same time when he feels arms slide around his waist, breath on his neck below his ear. Blaine's teeth nip gently in warning and then he's sucking the sensitive skin into his mouth, and Kurt keens, pressing himself back into Blaine's solid body. He fumbles with the keycard, tries to slide it in upside down before he finally gets it right, and then he's stumbling through the door, narrowly avoids tripping over Pavarotti's cage, with Blaine still plastered to his back.
He twists in Blaine's arms, nuzzles his face into his neck as Blaine's fingers thread through his hair. "I'm pretty sure I'm falling in love with you." Kurt's hands clutch at Blaine's jacket as he whispers the words into Blaine's skin. "You're okay with that, right?"
Blaine makes a soft noise in the back of his throat, pulls Kurt in even tighter. "I'm pretty sure I've already fallen, so yeah."
Blaine's lips on his are whisper soft, brushing lightly and they're mostly just breathing together until Blaine cradles Kurt's face, tilts his head at the perfect angle and kisses him deeply. Kurt gets entirely lost in the feeling of Blaine's tongue in his mouth, loses track of everything else, and when Blaine pulls back to breathe Kurt chases him, draws him back. "Don't ever stop kissing me," he pleads, gets a hold of Blaine's tie and pulls him in, opens Blaine's mouth with his tongue.
Blaine moans helplessly and the kiss turns desperate, Kurt's fingers fumbling blindly at the buttons of Blaine's jacket because he needs it off, needs to taste Blaine's skin, and then Blaine's moving him, pushing him gently backwards and he's on the bed, Blaine's weight pressing him into the mattress and oh god that's Blaine's erection pressing into his hip. Kurt strangles a moan and arches helplessly up into the pressure of Blaine's body covering him, cries out as Blaine pins his hips to the bed with his hands and grinds against him, then does it again, and again, and this about to be over if Kurt can't think of a way to--
"Yeah, that's it, come on," Blaine's thrusts get faster, his voice ragged and thready as his hands clench in the comforter on either side of Kurt's head.
Kurt can't take this; he doesn't want it to be over already but there's no way he can hold out, not with Blaine over him, saying his name in that high pitched desperate little whine, and Kurt's whimpering, sucking in frantic little gulps of air as his body goes taut--
"C'mon baby," Blaine's panting, "let it go, I got you," and Blaine calling him 'Baby' is pretty much what does it; he cries out loudly and arches off the bed as his orgasm crashes over him in a tidal wave, his whole body spasming until he lets out a breath and collapses, boneless, Blaine stroking his hair and murmuring nonsense into his ear as he shudders with aftershocks.
*
Kurt comes back to himself in increments, and when he finally opens his eyes Blaine is grinning at him, brighter than the sun. "You," he says, dropping a quick kiss to Kurt's mouth, "are fucking gorgeous."
Kurt blushes, shifting restlessly, and doesn't miss the hitch in Blaine's breath as he moves against the erection still pressing insistently into his hip.
Well then. Kurt doesn't miss a beat, just arches an eyebrow and rolls Blaine onto his back so he can straddle his thighs. Blaine gasps quietly, arches his neck, and Kurt doesn't miss the opportunity to lean down and suck a love bite to match his own into the skin below Blaine's ear, loving Blaine's startled groan.
He slides a hand down Blaine's still blazered chest; he never did get the jacket off. Maybe next time they do this they'll remember to take off their clothes. Kurt thrills a little at that thought, because there will be a next time, and a time after that, and he's going to get to see Blaine naked in the very near future. He has Blaine now, can touch him whenever he wants; he doesn't have to hold back anymore.
Blaine is shifting restlessly beneath him and Kurt moves a hand to the waistband of his slacks, pops open the button. Blaine stops him, holds him by the wrist as he studies Kurt's face searchingly. "You don't have to," he starts, his voice low and strained with arousal, and Kurt rolls his eyes. Such a fucking gentleman. As if Kurt would be doing this if he didn't want to.
Kurt doesn't say anything, just slips a hand into Blaine's pants and grips him firmly, stroking root to tip. He smirks happily as Blaine's eyes roll into the back of his head. "You were saying?", he asks, and Blaine opens his eyes, meets Kurt's laughing ones.
"Nothing," Blaine breathes reverently, "absolutely nothing."
Kurt grins, adds an extra twist to his wrist and swipes his thumb over the tip of Blaine's weeping cock. "That's what I thought," he laughs as Blaine moans helplessly and arches into Kurt's hand.
"Kurt," he whispers, "Oh, jesus, fuck, Kurt."
Kurt thinks there can't possibly be anything better than this; hearing Blaine, usually so put together and articulate, flying apart under his hands, reduced to this incoherent mess of profanities and Kurt's name, because of him. No solo, no trophy, no standing ovation has ever given him this feeling.
"C'mon Blaine," Kurt encourages, speeding up his strokes as Blaine starts to buck wildly. "Go over for me."
Blaine's body tenses, drawn tight as a bowstring. "Kurt," he pants, "kiss me", and Kurt does, tongue slipping easily into Blaine's mouth to capture the muffled shout as he comes all over Kurt's hand and his own perfectly tailored Dalton uniform.
*
"Hey, Kurt?"
They're lying face to face on Kurt's bed, slotted together like puzzle pieces. Kurt nuzzles his nose against Blaine's cheek in lieu of an answer, and Blaine wraps his arm tighter around Kurt's middle. "Would you do something for me?" he asks, and Kurt makes a noncommittal sound, too smart to agree to a favor without knowing what it is first.
"Would you sing for me?"
Kurt's eyes widen with surprise. "Sing what?" Kurt is suddenly nervous. Nobody has ever asked him to sing just for them, before.
"Anything. I don't care. I just want to hear you."
He sits up, legs crossing as he faces Blaine on the bed. "You've heard me sing." Kurt doesn't like the stricken way Blaine looks at him, but he can't help the note of bitterness that creeps into his voice. "I try too hard, remember?"
Blaine scrambles to sit up, takes Kurt's hand and twines their fingers together. "No, Kurt." He sighs, studies the ceiling as though it can tell him how to say what he wants to say. "I mean yes, you did, if you wanted the solo. You won't get a solo here singing like that." He shakes his head angrily. "They won't give you a solo until you're one of them. It's kind of ironic, really. You have to blend in before they'll let you stand out. And you... they could never sing like that, Kurt."
Kurt sucks in a breath and Blaine cradles his face in one hand, thumb stroking over his cheekbone. "You didn't miss out on the solo because you came up short," Blaine says quietly, and Kurt didn't even realize how much he needed to hear this, until now. "They didn't give you the solo because you stood too tall for them to reach."
Kurt presses his face into Blaine's palm, closes his eyes for a minute and just breathes. He hadn't realized how much he's been second guessing himself since that day, and now he lets it go. Blaine lays back down on the bed, fingers still threaded through Kurt's, and waits for Kurt to say something.
"I don't think I'll ever be able to be what they want me to be," Kurt tells him quietly, as though it's a secret. He doesn't say anything for a while after that, though, because Blaine surges upright and kisses him hard on the mouth.
"You don't get it," Blaine whispers when they come up for air, and Kurt loves the feeling of Blaine's breath on his lips. "That's what I love about you." Blaine pulls back to meet his gaze. "You're so fucking brave, Kurt. I don't know why you didn't laugh in my face at the thought of me telling you to have courage. You're just exactly who you are, all the time. Me, I came here and started changing myself to fit their mold from my first day, because I'm a fucking coward. But you..."
"Don't," Kurt says, taking Blaine's face in his hands, forcing Blaine to meet his eyes. "Stop it. You're not a coward. First of all, that's utter crap, and second of all, that's my boyfriend you're talking about, so shut up."
Blaine gives him that smile, and Kurt leans forward, presses their foreheads together. "Seriously, it isn't fair to hold me up as the standard for courage at this school, Blaine."
Blaine nods, lets his arms fall over Kurt's shoulders in a loose embrace. "It is a pretty high standard," he agrees.
Kurt rolls his eyes, shakes his head in exasperation. "No, you idiot, because I had help. When you first came here you were completely alone. I had you".
*
When they come up for air again, Kurt starts to sing. He doesn't stick to one song, meanders in and out of musical theatre numbers, pop ballads, whatever takes his fancy. After a while Blaine joins in, and they find that their voices fit together as easily as their bodies, harmonizing almost effortlessly. Kurt's pretty sure he's not the only one thinking about possible duet options for the Warblers' Christmas concert.
They sing together for over an hour, but when Blaine starts in on Teenage Dream, Kurt decides he has to have his hands on Blaine now, so that puts an end to the singing, unless you count Blaine's loud moans as Kurt puts his mouth to other uses.
So, Dalton isn't the perfect sanctuary that Kurt dreamed it would be. At the moment, he doesn't really care. He's got Blaine, Blaine has him, and the rest they'll work out as they go.