Fic: Something to Cling To
Title: Something to Cling To
Author: lookninjas
Fandoms: Glee
Pairing/Character(s): Kurt/Blaine, Mr. Anderson
Rating: PG
Warnings: Angst, brief descriptions of post-partum depression
Word Count: About 1200
Spoilers: None
Standard-Issue Short-Form Disclaimer: I do not hold copyright to Glee, make no claims to such, and am not profiting from this.
Summary: Blaine's father isn't surprised to find that the boys have fallen asleep while watching a movie; he is, however, surprised by what it reminds him of.
Author's Notes: This is what happens when the cuddle-fics somehow manage to combine with That Fic Where Blaine's Dad is Played By Ben From Lost. I don't understand my own brain some days. I really don't.
Blaine has always needed something to cling to, at least while he's sleeping.
When he was small -- when he was very, very small, newly born and fragile and in need of so many things -- his tiny fists would reach out and hold fast to Ben's shirt, as if he was afraid of what would happen if he ever let go. Ben often wondered if Blaine knew, somehow; if, in some dim, instinctive way, he was aware that some days his mother could barely stand to look at him; that it was all Ben could do just to get her to hold the bottle for a little while during feedings; that she would rather sit in the car for an hour than set foot in the doctor's office during Blaine's well-child visits. He wondered if Blaine knew that when he cried at night, Miranda sobbed, saying over and over again that she couldn't, she couldn't, she just... couldn't; her words, the ragged sounds pouring from her, following Ben as he carried his son out to the living room to rock him back to sleep.
Of course, those were difficult days, with Miranda so depressed and Blaine so fragile and new and everything so precarious, like one wrong move could shatter the entire family. And any fear of abandonment was probably more Ben's than his son's. Still, he made a point of holding his son as much as he could, even on the good days -- he carried him in the sling at the grocery store and walked him through the house for hours and sometimes spent the night on the sofa with his son cradled closely to his chest. It was something he did for Miranda, for Blaine, but also for himself. So he would know that when Blaine reached out in his sleep, there would always be someone there for him to cling to.
He misses those days, sometimes. As difficult as everything was, it was all so very simple. Nothing is simple anymore.
Well. Perhaps nothing is something of an exaggeration.
Ben isn't totally surprised to find that Kurt is still in his son's room, even with curfew drawing near and a long drive ahead of him, nor is he really surprised to find that the two of them are fast asleep -- it's not something the boys have made a habit of, but it's not the first time either. He's not even really surprised to see that Blaine has turned into Kurt's chest, clutching at his sweater as if he's afraid of what will happen if he lets go.
It is, however, a little surprising to see how Kurt has wrapped his long arms around Blaine's torso, the way those arms tighten their hold as Ben steps into the room, pulling Blaine protectively close. Kurt is delicate-looking, with gentle manners; it's easy to forget that he's actually taller than Blaine, and nearly as broad. That he could, if he so chose, defend Blaine as quickly as Blaine has rushed to defend him.
Kurt stirs as Ben reaches to turn off Blaine's tv (the movie long since over, the title screen playing on a loop), rubs his cheek against Blaine's hair and mumbles something incoherent, and Ben thinks: Maybe. Maybe this boy would defend his son, if it came down to it. Certainly, he doesn't seem the sort to take advantage.
And even if he was, he's obviously not about to do anything tonight.
"Mizzuh An'son?" Kurt's voice, slurred with sleep, catches Ben as he reaches for the lightswitch; he turns to see Kurt pushing himself up against the headboard, Blaine still clinging to him. "Time 'zzit?"
"It's late," Ben replies, watching as Kurt tries half-heartedly to disengage himself from Blaine's grasp. "Too late for you to be on the road."
Blaine mumbles in his sleep, fingers twisting in Kurt's absurdly long sweater, and Kurt's hands stop pushing at him, coming to rest on his shoulders. "'Mmm allrigh'," Kurt protests, although his eyes are already falling shut again. "Jus' gimme moment."
Ben sighs. "Go back to sleep, Kurt," he says. "I'll call your father for you. I'm sure he'll understand." And he thinks that, at least in this, he can be sure; he doesn't know Burt Hummel particularly well, but they've spoken under similar circumstances, and they've agreed that while it's preferable that the boys stick to their curfews, it's better for them to stay somewhere safe than risk their necks out on the roads in the middle of the night. Particularly if they're too exhausted to form complete sentences.
"Don't want Blaine to get in trouble," Kurt says. It's the clearest sentence he's managed so far, but his head is tipped to the side a little and his eyes only stay open for a second before closing again.
"He's not in trouble." Ben allows himself a small smile. "Although you might be if you fall asleep sitting up like that." Kurt blinks at him, obviously confused, and Ben sighs again, crossing back to the bed. "Lie down, Kurt. Here, let me..."
He pulls at Blaine until he finally lets go of Kurt's sweater, still muttering to himself, and settles Blaine's weight against his own chest, letting Blaine cling to his shirtsleeve and chant nonsense into his collar while Kurt, still dazed, fumbles to pull the blankets back and slide underneath them. Once Kurt is settled, Ben shifts Blaine a little further off the bed, enough to pull the covers out from under him so he can slide him back down, tuck him in.
It's a familiar routine -- Blaine has never met a homework assignment he couldn't fall asleep on, and Ben is invariably the one called upon to perform tuck-in duty -- and Blaine only stirs once during the process, his eyes fluttering open for a second, his grip finally loosening. "Dad?" he asks, staring glassy-eyed at Ben's shoulder.
"Right here," Ben whispers, and kisses Blaine's forehead before pulling the covers up. Blaine clutches at the blankets, smiling and mumbling happily to himself, and Ben pulls back with a certain amount of reluctance.
When he finally looks away from his son, he sees Kurt Hummel's wide blue eyes watching him. There's something disconcerting in his expression, something Ben can't quite name. The two of them look at each other for just a few moments, and Ben thinks, a little whimsically, that it's like they're meeting each other for the first time.
"Good night, Kurt," he says, quietly, and turns to leave the room.
This time, he's actually got the lights turned off before Kurt speaks. "Thank you," he says, quietly.
Ben turns back; he can't see Kurt in the dim light, but he suppose that the boy is probably lying on his back by now, or even turned away from Blaine, playing chaste. It doesn't matter, really. What's important is that he's there if Blaine needs someone to cling to. "You're welcome," he replies.
He closes the door behind him as he leaves the room.
Author: lookninjas
Fandoms: Glee
Pairing/Character(s): Kurt/Blaine, Mr. Anderson
Rating: PG
Warnings: Angst, brief descriptions of post-partum depression
Word Count: About 1200
Spoilers: None
Standard-Issue Short-Form Disclaimer: I do not hold copyright to Glee, make no claims to such, and am not profiting from this.
Summary: Blaine's father isn't surprised to find that the boys have fallen asleep while watching a movie; he is, however, surprised by what it reminds him of.
Author's Notes: This is what happens when the cuddle-fics somehow manage to combine with That Fic Where Blaine's Dad is Played By Ben From Lost. I don't understand my own brain some days. I really don't.
Blaine has always needed something to cling to, at least while he's sleeping.
When he was small -- when he was very, very small, newly born and fragile and in need of so many things -- his tiny fists would reach out and hold fast to Ben's shirt, as if he was afraid of what would happen if he ever let go. Ben often wondered if Blaine knew, somehow; if, in some dim, instinctive way, he was aware that some days his mother could barely stand to look at him; that it was all Ben could do just to get her to hold the bottle for a little while during feedings; that she would rather sit in the car for an hour than set foot in the doctor's office during Blaine's well-child visits. He wondered if Blaine knew that when he cried at night, Miranda sobbed, saying over and over again that she couldn't, she couldn't, she just... couldn't; her words, the ragged sounds pouring from her, following Ben as he carried his son out to the living room to rock him back to sleep.
Of course, those were difficult days, with Miranda so depressed and Blaine so fragile and new and everything so precarious, like one wrong move could shatter the entire family. And any fear of abandonment was probably more Ben's than his son's. Still, he made a point of holding his son as much as he could, even on the good days -- he carried him in the sling at the grocery store and walked him through the house for hours and sometimes spent the night on the sofa with his son cradled closely to his chest. It was something he did for Miranda, for Blaine, but also for himself. So he would know that when Blaine reached out in his sleep, there would always be someone there for him to cling to.
He misses those days, sometimes. As difficult as everything was, it was all so very simple. Nothing is simple anymore.
Well. Perhaps nothing is something of an exaggeration.
Ben isn't totally surprised to find that Kurt is still in his son's room, even with curfew drawing near and a long drive ahead of him, nor is he really surprised to find that the two of them are fast asleep -- it's not something the boys have made a habit of, but it's not the first time either. He's not even really surprised to see that Blaine has turned into Kurt's chest, clutching at his sweater as if he's afraid of what will happen if he lets go.
It is, however, a little surprising to see how Kurt has wrapped his long arms around Blaine's torso, the way those arms tighten their hold as Ben steps into the room, pulling Blaine protectively close. Kurt is delicate-looking, with gentle manners; it's easy to forget that he's actually taller than Blaine, and nearly as broad. That he could, if he so chose, defend Blaine as quickly as Blaine has rushed to defend him.
Kurt stirs as Ben reaches to turn off Blaine's tv (the movie long since over, the title screen playing on a loop), rubs his cheek against Blaine's hair and mumbles something incoherent, and Ben thinks: Maybe. Maybe this boy would defend his son, if it came down to it. Certainly, he doesn't seem the sort to take advantage.
And even if he was, he's obviously not about to do anything tonight.
"Mizzuh An'son?" Kurt's voice, slurred with sleep, catches Ben as he reaches for the lightswitch; he turns to see Kurt pushing himself up against the headboard, Blaine still clinging to him. "Time 'zzit?"
"It's late," Ben replies, watching as Kurt tries half-heartedly to disengage himself from Blaine's grasp. "Too late for you to be on the road."
Blaine mumbles in his sleep, fingers twisting in Kurt's absurdly long sweater, and Kurt's hands stop pushing at him, coming to rest on his shoulders. "'Mmm allrigh'," Kurt protests, although his eyes are already falling shut again. "Jus' gimme moment."
Ben sighs. "Go back to sleep, Kurt," he says. "I'll call your father for you. I'm sure he'll understand." And he thinks that, at least in this, he can be sure; he doesn't know Burt Hummel particularly well, but they've spoken under similar circumstances, and they've agreed that while it's preferable that the boys stick to their curfews, it's better for them to stay somewhere safe than risk their necks out on the roads in the middle of the night. Particularly if they're too exhausted to form complete sentences.
"Don't want Blaine to get in trouble," Kurt says. It's the clearest sentence he's managed so far, but his head is tipped to the side a little and his eyes only stay open for a second before closing again.
"He's not in trouble." Ben allows himself a small smile. "Although you might be if you fall asleep sitting up like that." Kurt blinks at him, obviously confused, and Ben sighs again, crossing back to the bed. "Lie down, Kurt. Here, let me..."
He pulls at Blaine until he finally lets go of Kurt's sweater, still muttering to himself, and settles Blaine's weight against his own chest, letting Blaine cling to his shirtsleeve and chant nonsense into his collar while Kurt, still dazed, fumbles to pull the blankets back and slide underneath them. Once Kurt is settled, Ben shifts Blaine a little further off the bed, enough to pull the covers out from under him so he can slide him back down, tuck him in.
It's a familiar routine -- Blaine has never met a homework assignment he couldn't fall asleep on, and Ben is invariably the one called upon to perform tuck-in duty -- and Blaine only stirs once during the process, his eyes fluttering open for a second, his grip finally loosening. "Dad?" he asks, staring glassy-eyed at Ben's shoulder.
"Right here," Ben whispers, and kisses Blaine's forehead before pulling the covers up. Blaine clutches at the blankets, smiling and mumbling happily to himself, and Ben pulls back with a certain amount of reluctance.
When he finally looks away from his son, he sees Kurt Hummel's wide blue eyes watching him. There's something disconcerting in his expression, something Ben can't quite name. The two of them look at each other for just a few moments, and Ben thinks, a little whimsically, that it's like they're meeting each other for the first time.
"Good night, Kurt," he says, quietly, and turns to leave the room.
This time, he's actually got the lights turned off before Kurt speaks. "Thank you," he says, quietly.
Ben turns back; he can't see Kurt in the dim light, but he suppose that the boy is probably lying on his back by now, or even turned away from Blaine, playing chaste. It doesn't matter, really. What's important is that he's there if Blaine needs someone to cling to. "You're welcome," he replies.
He closes the door behind him as he leaves the room.