New Horizons
Title: New Horizons
Rating: G
Summary: Blaine goes into politics. Kurt deals with being, or rather not being, "a political wife."
Warnings: None
Total word count: approx. 8,500
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Ryan Murphy and FOX Broadcasting Company. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's notes: Written for the klaine-endgame futurefest.
There is very little actual politics in this story but as my knowledge of US politics is based almost exclusively on the BBC and The West Wing this is probably a good thing.
My thanks to the original prompter rm - I had been toying with writing something along these lines already so when I saw the prompt I had to take it.
By far my longest completed Glee fic to date. Comments and con-crit gratefully received.
oOo
Kurt lay in bed savouring the silence. He knew it was early from the soft light shining around the edges of the curtains but that was okay. If they woke early enough he and Blaine could usually get a few minutes together before the whirlwind that was Blaine’s life now began again.
Smiling in anticipation, Kurt rolled over and stretched out his arm to wrap it around the warm, solid chest of his partner.
His smile faded as he encountered only cool cotton.
A weight settling in his chest Kurt reluctantly opened his eyes, closing them again quickly as his field of vision was filled with a sheet of bright yellow paper. Reaching up he grasped the paper and held it at arms length.
Train derailment near Akron. No one hurt but needed to go into the office.
See you at the gala tonight.
Have a good day.
B
Sighing Kurt crumpled the paper into a ball and, with an accuracy achieved by frequent practice, tossed it into the trash can beside his vanity on the far side of the room. He smiled thinly as the ball rattled briefly in the bottom of the can before pulling the duvet higher over his shoulders.
If he was honest, and he always tried to be honest, at least with himself, Kurt hated the people of Ohio. Not because they were homophobic though some still were. Not because they were fashion challenged and proud of it - though they most definitely were. He hated the people of Ohio because they had elected Blaine. They had elected Blaine not to the US Senate or Congress where he would at least have been close to New York. No, they had elected Blaine Governor. Governor of the state they had both left age eighteen vowing never to return. And now here they were living in the, admittedly very nice, Governor’s mansion in Columbus, f-ing Ohio. Even in his personal thoughts Kurt tried to filter out swear words, his mother had hated swearing, one of the many, many things that had attracted his father to her, but sometimes only swear words had the power to convey the emotions he needed to express.
Kurt tossed and turned as he tried to get comfortable in the too-big bed, flipping and pummelling the pillow into submission but to no avail.
Eventually, hours before he needed to, he pulled himself out of bed and mentally reviewed his clothing plans for another day of handshakes and fake smiles among a sea of names, faces and personal facts he would forget before the person was out of earshot.
oOo
Kurt studied the playbill for the gala studiously trying to avoid acknowledging the empty seats all around him. He felt more exposed than he had done in years. Resisting the urge to fidget he glanced at his watch. The show was due to start in a little over two minutes and if the text Kurt had received from Blaine's Personal Assistant Ronna was accurate he should be arriving any second.
Kurt hoped Blaine would arrive soon. They never seemed to spend any time together any more, at least not on their own. Here, under cover of darkness Kurt could pretend. When they did manage to snatch some time together they were always being interrupted by some problem or crisis. Blaine's advisors had assured them that the first one hundred days after the election would be the worst as they tried to put as many of Blaine's policies into action as possible. Now they were nine months into Blaine's term and, if anything, things were worse rather than better. The policies were now moving towards coming into effect but they had been replaced as the immediate focus by Blaine's first State of the State speech. And no one had mentioned it to his face yet but Kurt was convinced at least some of the staffers were thinking about Blaine's re-election campaign. He held back a shudder at the thought and forced himself to think of other things.
Just as Kurt began to debate with himself if the 16th Annual Governor's Charity Gala would go ahead without the guest of honour there was a flurry of activity behind him. As one man everyone in the theatre rose to their feet and the orchestra stuck up the state song as Blaine and his staff slipped into the empty seat around Kurt.
“Hey handsome,” Kurt whispered as audience re-took their seats and the lights went down.
“Hey yourself,” Blaine whispered back, his hand grasping Kurt's briefly in the gloom before letting go as the curtain began to rise.
Kurt was just starting to relax enough to enjoy the performance when, soon after the intermission one of Blaine's aides bent down and whispered in his ear. Blaine nodded curtly and stood up, the rest of his staff immediately following his lead. Kurt made to stand up too but Blaine laid a hand on his shoulder and bent down.
“You stay, babe,” he whispered, his breath tickling Kurt's ear. “It's just a work thing. Dom can give you a lift home okay?” Kurt nodded. Blaine squeezed his shoulder. “Don't wait up,” he added before following his staff out to the cars Kurt knew would be waiting at the entrance to the theatre, engines running.
After the final curtain Kurt tried to slip out of the theatre unobtrusively but one of Blaine’s lower ranking staffers, Bruno, caught his arm and gently but firmly directed him towards the theatre bar where the after-show party was just warming up.
“There’s some people here the Governor was supposed to meet,” Bruno explained. “Great supporters, gave big donations to the campaign and I mean big. They’ll be really disappointed they didn’t get the chance to meet him.”
Kurt swallowed. He could guess where this was heading. He disliked doing meet and greets at the best of times. Now, completely unprepared, when all he wanted to do was go home, it sounded like torture.
“Would you?” Bruno asked, breaking into Kurt’s thoughts. Kurt bit back a sigh and nodded. “Excellent. This is…” he continued without pausing. Kurt realised with a start that as they had been talking Bruno had been guiding him across the room. He was going to kill that man one of these days. Tuning back into the conversation just as Bruno disappeared into the throng Kurt's mouth went dry and his palms damp as the little circle looked at him expectantly.
“Em, hi,” Kurt managed with a little wave of him hand. Next to him a waitress gasped as Kurt's elbow caught the edge of her tray, rocking the glasses full of champagne.
“Oh God. I'm sorry,” Kurt apologised, helping the girl steady the tray and grabbing two glasses before she headed away throwing dirty looks over her shoulder.
Kurt turned to offer one of the glasses to Blaine before remembering he was alone with a group of strangers and his blush deepened.
“Can't take me anywhere,” he joked, downing a glass of champagne in one go when his attempt at levity was met with stony silence.
An hour and a half later Kurt was having more fun than he had had in a long time. The group he was talking in really seemed to be enjoying his snarky comments both about the show and the fashion choices of those around them.
“Oh I really shouldn't,” Kurt said as Joey? Johnny? passed him another glass of champagne. “I don't really drink, not after something that happened in high school.” The group looked at him encouragingly. “Well I suppose it won't do any harm, you being friends of Blaine's.” He looked around conspiratorially before leaning in and lowering his voice. “First you have to understand that our high school guidance counsellor had red hair and the most amazing big eyes...”
“Bambi! I love it,” Jason? Jack? barked, slapping Kurt on the back, as the rest of the group dissolved into giggles. High on the sound of his new friends laughter Kurt heard the opening bars of a familiar song come over the sound system. Without thinking he began pushing his way through the little groups dotted around the bar towards the piano in the corner.
“You think that's good watch this,” he called back over his shoulder. Standing on the closed lid of the piano, all eyes on him, he struck a pose and waited for the chorus to start again.
“All the single ladies...”
oOo
Kurt groaned as he rolled over in bed the following morning, his stomach rolling ominously. At the same time his head began thumping as though Finn was practicing the drums on the inside of his skull. He tried lying perfectly still but it did not help. Clutching his stomach in one hand and head in the other Kurt stumbled towards the kitchen of the little apartment where he could hear the TV murmuring softly.
He blinked against the sunlight streaming into the kitchen, the sudden sharp pain in his head and interesting counterpoint to Finn's drumming.
Without looking up Blaine placed a mug of coffee and a couple of tablets at Kurt's place at the table before going back to his paper.
At first Kurt was glad of the silence as the caffeine and painkillers began to take effect. Slowly he gradually became aware of the tension in Blaine's shoulders and the way he held the paper in front of his face as though he was placing a barrier between them.
Kurt felt confused and a little hurt. Blaine did not like either of them getting drunk, especially since he had gone into politics but he had not been that drunk - had he? A couple of glasses of champagne at the most. Disjointed images of places and people came into his mind but he could not pull them together into sequence. Concern starting to grip his insides he looked down at his hands and noticed with a start that his fingernails were painted with alternating baby blue and pink polish. What the...? How? When? He turned his hands over and over for clues but nothing presented itself.
He opened his mouth to ask Blaine as a familiar song began to play on the TV. One after another the memories of the previous night slotted into place. His stomach rolled and his hands shook as his voice joined the music.
“I always liked this song,” Blaine commented softly.
Kurt's stomach suddenly contracted and he dashed from the kitchen, hand over his mouth.
As Kurt returned to the kitchen a few minutes later he paused just outside the door as the TV announcer mentioned his name.
The Ohioan Chapter of the American League of Upright Womanhood have called for Mr Hummel to be replaced at the Governor's partner at all state events. A source had stated that if this is not implemented they will use their influence to obstruct the upcoming votes in what is already a hostile Congress. This could be catastrophic for Governor Anderson's plans for state reform couldn't it Geoff?” the announcer asked.
“Completely catastrophic Mark,” another voice agreed. “The ALUW is very influential...”
The rest of the comments were lost as Blaine switched off the TV.
“Great, just great,” Blaine muttered into the sudden silence.
Kurt slumped against the wall as he heard the door to their apartment open and close without any further words from Blaine. Once again he had done what he was so good at - he had screwed up. Blaine had wanted to get into politics since before they had met. They had lived on next to nothing through college (Kurt's wardrobe had never been so last season) whilst Blaine had studied pre-law and then law at NYU before going into politics full time. Being elected Governor under 40 was amazing. Doing it whilst also being an openly gay man was almost unheard of. Everyone had been so proud when Blaine had been elected. Blaine's parents had even come to the inauguration - the first time they had been willing to be seen in public with Kurt and now...
The weight of the potential consequences of what he had done pushing down on him Kurt slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, his arms wrapped round his knees. He tried not to give in to the tears building behind his eyes but eventually the dam of his self control gave way and once the first tear leaked out he let go and cried as though he was never going to stop.
Sometime later Kurt was awakened by the sound of the phone ringing. Stiff from sitting on the floor so long he gave up on the idea of walking and slowly crawled across the living room pulling the phone off the side unit by the cord.
“Hello?' he croaked, his mouth dry.
“Kurt? Kurt are you okay?”
Kurt tried to place the familiar voice but his brain was too fuzzy to be willing to work.
“Kurt? Are you still there? It's Quinn.”
Quinn. Of course it was.
“I just got the boys off the school and turned on the TV and saw... Are you okay? Do you want me to come over?”
Kurt swallowed. “I'm fine Quinn.”
“Somehow I doubt that. I'll be over in 20 minutes. Tell the guys at security I'm coming and get your backside into a warm shower.” Quinn's voice turned soft. “It'll be okay. Whatever happens, it'll be okay.”
Kurt was not sure how long he sat listening to the dial tone after Quinn hung up before he eventually pulled himself together enough to call the security desk and then forcing himself to his feet did as he had been told and shuffled towards the bathroom, shoulders hunched, arms wrapped tightly round his chest.
By the time he re-entered the kitchen Kurt was feeling slightly better, at least he was clean, but his headache was coming back, the throbbing a counterpoint to the ache in his chest.
He sighed in appreciation at the aroma of fresh coffee and pancakes that filled the room.
“I guessed you probably haven't eaten,” Quinn said, laying a mug of coffee and a plate of pancakes on the table closest to where Kurt was standing before sitting down opposite, her hands wrapped round another steaming mug.
Kurt dropped into the chair.
“Eat,” Quinn encouraged. “Whatever we have to face always seems worse on an empty stomach.”
Kurt reluctantly broke a small piece off the top pancake and put it in his mouth.
“Remember when you and Mercedes were on the Cheerios and Coach Sylvester wanted Mercedes to lose weight and she starved herself until she started seeing everyone around her as food?”
Kurt smiled at the memory. “She said Jesse was a hamburger and Rachel was a cupcake,” he added, tearing off another piece of pancake, suddenly aware just how hungry he was.
He and Quinn traded memories of fun times until the coffee and pancakes were finished. When Quinn moved to put the dishes in the sink Kurt's situation came into focus again and he buried his head in his hands.
“What have I done?”
Quinn came round the table and rested her hands on his shoulders massaging gently.
“Blaine hates me.”
“I'm sure that's not true,” Quinn assured him. “He loves you. He might be angry with you right now but he loves you.”
Kurt shook his head. “He left without saying anything. He hates me.”
Quinn sat down beside Kurt and slipped her hand under his chin forcing him to turn and face her. “He's just annoyed and frustrated. He loves you Kurt, don't try and convince yourself otherwise. You hear me?” Kurt tried to look away but Quinn held him in place. “You hear me?” she asked again more firmly this time. Kurt looked at her with red rimmed eyes seeing the Cheerio she had once been, totally sure of the world and her place in it. Not completely believing but knowing Quinn would not let him go until he agreed, Kurt nodded. “Say it.”
“He loves me.'
“Again.”
“He loves me.”
Quinn smiled as Kurt's voice grew more confident. “Again.”
“He loves me. He loves me. He loves me.” Smiling too now Kurt pulled her into a hug. “Blaine loves me,” he repeated. “Even if I am a complete fuck up at times.” Kurt's eyes went wide and he clapped a hand over his mouth as he realised what he had said.
“Language!” Quinn pulled back trying to look stern but failing as they both began to giggle. “Give him a few hours to cool down then go talk to him, okay?” Kurt nodded, his smile faltering slightly. “In the meantime you can help me find an outfit for the school board dance next Friday. Everything I've tried makes me look like a hooker or my mother.”
“Ah, retail therapy what would we do without it?”
oOo
Kurt held his head high as he entered the building downtown that housed the Governor's office, Quinn's words of encouragement still ringing in his ears. He waved as normal to Col, the security guard, as he passed his desk and did not miss the slightly guilty look that crossed his face before the older man returned the greeting.
As he left the lift Kurt's confidence began to falter slightly as the staff glanced up then looked away. He could not avoid seeing them exchange glances and muttering between themselves as he walked between the desks and towards the private offices beyond.
“So who will he choose do you think? Helen from Finance?” Ginger, one of the senior secretaries asked of the little gaggle of women who had gathered around her desk just outside Blaine's office.
“No she's too nervy. She'd have a panic attack if the Governor spoke to her much less a visiting dignitary,” a leggy blonde commented. “How about Dianna?”
“From the campaigns office?” a dark skinned woman asked mockingly. “You think she'd make a good Governors wife?”
“She's got a laugh like a braying donkey and can't hold more than two thoughts in her head at the same time...” Ginger broke off as the phone on her desk began ringing. She held up one finger to the others - hold that thought. “Governor Anderson's Office. How can I help you?...Oh, oh.” Ginger leaned over and looked round the leggy, blonde woman to where Kurt stood within earshot. “Thanks,” she added before hanging up.
“Is he free?” Kurt asked, gesturing to the door to Blaine's office as the circle of women around Ginger's desk tried to slip away as unobtrusively as possible.
“Um, no sir,” Ginger replied, looking anywhere but at Kurt. “He's not here. He's back at the mansion,” she continued, fidgeting with the papers on her desk. “Emergency meeting following the American League of Upright Womanhood's threat.”
“Oh,” Kurt replied, feeling his fragile confidence crumble to dust. On legs like jelly he turned away without another word, trying to get out of the building as quickly as possible before he broke down completely for the second time in the one day.
Maybe the ALUW were right, he reflected. Maybe he was not the right person to be the first gentleman of Ohio. Maybe he should graciously step aside and let someone else take his place at Blaine's side. He felt his heart contract at the idea that he was not good enough to be the one at Blaine's shoulder. But, he reflected, it was his actions that had brought them to this point. Sinking into the back seat of his official car Kurt sighed and closed his eyes, willing himself to be rational. If he had to choose someone to be Ohio's official hostess who would he choose? The smooth motions of the car as it slipped through the late afternoon traffic calmed him as he pictured as many of Blaine's staff as he could remember. Good, upright, intelligent people they may be but none of them had the spark he knew from experience an Official Hostess would have to have. Opening his eyes as the car stopped at the guard house outside the Governor's mansion he glanced down at the new scarf wrapped around his neck that he had bought earlier in the afternoon. Smiling sadly he realised he knew the perfect person.
oOo
The main meeting room of the mansion rang with voices as names were suggested, discussed and discarded.
“How about Bonnie Clark?” Martin suggested from his seat at the far end of the table.
“Doesn’t she work away from home quite a bit?” someone else commented.
“Oh, okay - Amber Maxwell?” Martin tried.
“As in your sister? Isn’t she about 22?”
“24”
“Guys, guys,” Blaine smiled, holding up a hand. “I appreciate the suggestions but I really don’t think me looking like someone’s sugar daddy will create the right image. We need someone older, more mature.”
“Quinn,” a quiet voice said from the open door.
Blaine and the others in the room looked up in surprise.
Seeing who it was Blaine jumped out of his seat, his heart in his throat. “Kurt… how long have you been standing there?”
“She’s beautiful and intelligent.” Kurt continued, ignoring Blaine’s question. “She’s the ideal image of a political wife. She’ll look great on your arm in photographs and on TV.”
Blaine reached out to Kurt but he pulled back. “You know I don’t want…”
“We both know this is the right thing to do,” Kurt said, his voice quiet and soft, not raising his eyes from the floor. “Quinn lives here in Columbus and she and Jonny need money for Aaron’s college fund so just promise me you’ll pay her well.” Kurt looked up at Blaine for assurance. Blaine desperately wanted to see the passion and vitality he loved so much but all he saw was resignation in Kurt’s red rimmed eyes. “Here’s her number,” Kurt continued at Blaine’s nod, handing a small piece of paper to Ronna where she sat just inside the door taking notes. “Sorry to have disturbed you,” Kurt finished, glancing round the room before turning on his heel, closing the door softly behind him.
The click as the door shut sounded loudly in the silence that greeted Kurt’s departure. After a second the room released a collective breath.
“Fuck,” Blaine muttered shaking himself from his revere before dashing for the door and wrenching it open, his shouts of his partner’s name echoing round the mansion.
oOo
A few weeks later Blaine bounced up the stairs to the private apartment in the Governor's mansion. Who knew official functions could be so enjoyable? He had not been on such a high since he had stopped singing. He loved politics but the wining and dining of dignitaries and supporters was the part he liked least.
He opened the door to the apartment.
“You should...”
He stopped as he realised the room was in darkness.
“Kurt?” he called softly, wandering through the darkened living room to their bedroom.
“Oh there you are.”
Kurt was sitting at his vanity, hair pulled back off his face with a towelling band, rubbing cream into his skin.
“You are a genius.” Blaine bounded across the room and slipped his arms around Kurt's waist, resting his chin on Kurt's shoulder and beaming at his partner's reflection in the mirror. “Quinn was wonderful. The French trade attaché was getting a bit handsy after a cognac or two and she cut him down with a look, just a look. Poor guy spent the rest of the evening following her around like a puppy. He's going to sign that deal on Monday that he's been prevaricating about for months.”
Kurt looked away from Blaine as he reached for another bottle of lotion. “I told you she'd be good.”
“Good - she was amazing.” Blaine stepped back, pulling off his jacket and tie, spinning around on the spot with glee. “I wish you could have been there,” Blaine continued, kissing Kurt's cheek before dancing towards the en-suite bathroom.
Kurt looked at Blaine's retreating back reflected in the mirror blinking back tears of self reproach.
“Yeah,” he whispered. “Me too.”
oOo
Kurt fingered the leaves and flowers delicately, relishing their scent, as he tried to look busy whilst actually having nothing to do but wait. He hated waiting. When you had to wait bad things happened. So long as you were moving you could duck and dive. But waiting was like being a sitting target. You gave your predator time to prepare.
He could not fully understand why he was even here in the rose garden of the mansion, surrounded by photographers, waiting for his brother and his family to arrive. Not that he was complaining about seeing Finn. They had grown close over the years but did not get to see each other too often. When Finn said he was closing the tire shop for the weekend and coming to Columbus for a few days so he and his family could attend a testimonial game for a football player Finn had played alongside in college the press office had gone wild. Finn was everything an Ohioan male was supposed to be - a hard working husband, a loving father, a pillar of his local community.
Everything I’m not, Kurt thought, feeling himself start to slip into a melancholia that lingered close to the surface these days.
He was pulled from his musings by a voice.
“Unc’urt! Unc’urt!”
Kurt turned to see his three year old niece coming running towards him at full speed, long braids streaming out behind her, arms outstretched.
“Unc’urt!”
Bending down Kurt grabbed her under the arms and, using her own momentum, lifted her high into the air making her scream with joy.
“Hi kiddo,” he greeted her as he settled her on his hip, planting a kiss on the top of her head. “Are you visiting on your own?”
“No silly, Mommy and Daddy were too slow.”
Kurt ignored the creases he knew she was putting into his shirt as she gripped the front with her hands and breathed in her unique smell.
“Daddy, Daddy, I found Unc’urt.”
Kurt flinched as the little girl in his arms proved she had lungs to rival Mercedes.
“So I see,” Finn agreed as he walked up, his wife and two sons at his side. “Here,” Finn opened his arms to take his daughter but she gripped tighter, her swinging legs catching in the trims on Kurt’s shirt and pulling it up at the back.
“No.”
“Come on sweetheart.” Finn knew from experience how careful Kurt was about his clothes.
“No!”
Behind him Kurt heard the photographers cameras clicking away, recording this not-quite Hallmark moment for posterity.
“Finn, it’s fine,” Kurt assured him, tickling his niece and making her giggle.
“Unc’urt look,” the little girl gasped as she tried to get her breath back, waving a finger in front of his face. Kurt grabbed her wrist to hold her hand still and saw the bandaid wrapped round one of her fingers.
“Oh sweetie does it hurt?”
She shook her head.
“Starting her early?” Kurt asked, noting the bandaid’s sports balls design.
“She chose it,” Finn protested. “She’s the sporty one. Oh, did we tell you these two have joined the glee club at their school?”
“No,” Kurt replied looking in wonder at the twin boys he had held in his arms the day they were born. Soon even Finn would have to look up to them if they kept growing.
“Good for you,” he congratulated them feeling his heart swell with pride. Before he could ask more he saw an aide out of the corner of his eye gesturing to her watch. Kurt stiffened having forgotten they were not alone. Finn smiled and threw his arm around Kurt’s shoulders turning him towards the lenses.
“Don’t stress dude. It’s fine. Photo’s first, then family stuff. Now smile.”
And, surrounded by his family, Kurt did smile for the camera even when his niece got bored and started playing with his perfectly styled hair.
oOo
Having seen Finn and his family off to the testimonial game, Kurt watched from the kitchen of the mansion as Blaine and Quinn worked the packed ballroom like the pros he supposed they were, moving easily between the groups - a compliment here, a joke there, winding everyone around their little fingers.
Kurt looked admiringly around the room. He had been responsible for choosing the colour scheme, the decorations, the deep maroon vests being worn by the waiting staff, the string quartet who played quietly in the background. For the first time in a long time he felt as though he had achieved something.
“They make a good team,” one of the waiting staff commented as he paused beside Kurt, nodding towards Blaine and Quinn as he loaded his silver tray with canapés ready to take back out. “Is it true he’s, you know?” Kurt opened his mouth to respond but the boy continued. “Cos I swear he’s flirting with her. Had his hand on her butt a minute ago. And she didn’t seem to mind. If you ask me there’s something going on there,” the guy finished, lifting his now full tray and disappearing through the doors into the ballroom.
Kurt looked at the door as it swung back and forth, the young waiter’s words resounding in his head. There could not be any truth in what he said - could there? He was just a spotty faced college kid from out of town brought in for the night to carry trays of canapés. What did he know? But Kurt could not stop himself from watching Blaine and Quinn as they interacted with each other. He watched as they touched and exchanged fleeting smiles and glances, laughed at each others jokes, even seemed sometimes to finish the others sentences. Kurt’s guts clenched.
Eventually Blaine stepped up onto the small platform beside the string quartet, the room falling silent as he took the mike.
“I just wanted to thank you all for coming and I hope you have had a great evening.” He paused as a ripple of polite applause went round the room. “Before we leave I would like to thank someone very special, someone who has made this evening something very special.”
Kurt took a deep breath, warmth and love flowing through him. All his time organising the evening, making sure everything was going to be perfect was about to be recognised. He straightened and looked down at his clothes, assuring himself that he looked decent in case he was called to the stage. He suspected his hair was a little floppy from having spent the evening in the warmth of the kitchens but his outfit was crease free.
On stage Blaine looked out over the guests, his smile wide.
“Ladies and gentlemen I give you Quinn Fabray-Henderson.”
The function room erupted in applause effectively drowning out Kurt’s gasp. He did not see Blaine encourage a blushing Quinn onto the stage as he ran through the kitchens, towards the back stair to their apartment, oblivious to the odd looks from the staff.
oOo
Kurt sat on the sofa in the living room of their Governor’s mansion apartment. With the curtains drawn the room was dim and gloomy, suiting his mood perfectly. His thoughts kept chasing each other round his head - he was not good enough for Blaine any more, that had been proved tonight when Blaine recognised Quinn instead of him, but who could blame Blaine for feeling that way when Kurt brought him nothing but embarrassment. The single ladies debacle was just the biggest and most recent in a long line of embarrassments he had, mostly inadvertently, caused Blaine since his election.
He was pulled from his wallowing in self pity by scuffling and voices from outside the door.
“You do it,” a voice said.
“No, you,” a different voice replied.
“You’re more senior.”
“God, give it here. I’ll do it,” a third voice said, immediately followed by a knocking at the door.
Kurt tried to ignore it.
The knocking paused then started again.
“Mr Hummel, are you in there? We need to speak to you.”
Sighing Kurt pushed himself off the sofa.
Blinking rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the bright light in the corridor he saw three young interns. The one closest to him held out a couple of newspapers.
“We thought you should see these,” he said.
Kurt looked down at the front pages and his blood ran cold. The Governor and the Tramp, the headline on one screamed. The first slut of Ohio? another asked above a photograph of him from the back, Finn’s daughter’s foot caught in his shirt exposing the small of his back and the butterfly tattoo he had had for so long he mostly forgot it was even there.
Hands shaking so badly he nearly dropped the papers Kurt shut the door in the faces of the interns. He leaned his back against the door, banging his head on the smooth wood.
“Mr Hummel,” he heard one of the interns ask. “Are you okay?”
He snorted. No I’m not okay! he wanted to scream. How can I possibly be okay when I keep messing up people’s lives?
Out loud however he managed a choked “I’m fine.” He looked around the apartment, seeing all the things that reminded him of Blaine, the only man he had ever truly loved, and felt his lungs contract. Can’t breathe. He stumbled to the window and threw it open. Music and the rumble of voices all talking at once in the ballroom below filled the air. Instead of being able to breathe more deeply Kurt felt his lungs contract further. Need to breathe. Need air. Kurt started to feel dizzy. In the distance he saw a straight white trail across the sky and suddenly he knew what he needed to do.
Breathing easier now, he picked up the internal phone.
“Bring a car to the back door. Don’t disturb the Governor,” he told the security controller before hanging up.
Minutes later, bag and jacket in hand, he paused, hand on the door handle, and looked back. Shaking his head he grabbed a pad and pen from the desk and wrote quickly. Tearing the sheet from the pad he propped it against the bowl in the middle of the coffee table where it could not be missed.
This time he left the apartment without a backwards glance. Behind him one of the troopers from his security detail spoke softly into his mike.
“Pinnochio is on the move.”
He was not going to miss his codename.
oOo
An hour later Blaine came up to the residence smiling, happy but exhausted. He had not been sleeping well between the pressures of the job and Kurt kicking and talking in his sleep. Kurt had even started sleepwalking, something he had not done since he had finished his final exams at college.
Blaine looked around the living room.
“Kurt? Kurt, hey baby. Where are you?” He checked the kitchen and their bedroom as he pulled his tie loose and threw his jacket over the back of a chair but there was no sign of Kurt.
Returning to the living room he dropped onto the sofa and stretched his legs out onto the coffee table, something Kurt would never allow. Relishing the quiet of the apartment after the noise of the reception he leant his head back against the cushions and closed his eyes. Just five minutes, he assured himself.
Three hours later Blaine started awake. He looked round, dazed, his eyes settling on a sheet of yellow paper that he had kicked to the floor when he sat down.
“Kurt?” he called as he leant down to pick it up. “Hey Kurt, babe…” He stopped as he recognised the handwriting.
Fully awake he ran to the door, wrenching it open.
“Where is he?” he shouted at the shocked troopers. “Where is he?”
“Governor?”
“Kurt. Where is he?”
The trooper spoke briefly to his controllers as Blaine hopped from foot to foot.
“He left about four hours ago.”
“But where did he go?”
The trooper looked apologetic. “I’m still waiting for that information.”
“Well get it and get it quick. Then take me to him - now!”
oOo
Kurt sat on a metal bench in the airport check-in hall staring at his hands as they rested in his lap. I really need a manicure, he thought, then felt guilty for thinking about such a trivial thing at such a big moment. He looked around the check-in as more and more staff arrived. He should be able to check in soon. He supposed he could have driven but he had not seen his own car in months and did not fancy the media frenzy that would ensue if he tried to 'borrow' one from the troopers. He could just imagine the headlines.
Kurt did not need to look up to know that Blaine had joined him, he felt an increase in the pressure on his body as all the extra security arrived.
He did look up when Blaine stopped some distance away, not immediately pulling him into a constricting bear hug and kissing his neck, his cheek, any area of exposed skin.
Kurt’s mouth fell open in an ‘O’ of surprise when he saw the broken look on Blaine’s face, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.
“You’re leaving? You’re leaving and you didn’t have the decency…” Blaine’s voice cracked but he kept trying to talk. The only word Kurt could make out was ‘goodbye’.
“It’s not goodbye, never goodbye,” Kurt protested, standing and wrapping his arms round an unresisting Blaine. “You can do so much here, you don’t need me pulling you down and every turn, making things harder.”
“But…”
“I don’t belong here. I never have and we both know it,” Kurt added as Blaine opened his mouth to speak. “If I’m in New York you can concentrate on doing all the wonderful things I know you will do to make this a better state. Ohio needs you, not me.”
“But…”
“I love you Blaine Warbler, don’t you ever doubt that, but I won’t see you being held back by anyone, especially me. You’re better off with me in New York and…”
Blaine pulled out of Kurt’s arms. “Don’t I get a say in this or have you decided for both of us?” Blaine asked, his voice carrying across the almost empty hall. The few check-in staff on duty glanced up curiously. “Ohio voted for me knowing you were part of the deal.”
“No, well yes,” Kurt said, his tone a little uncertain. “Of course you get a say but I know this is the best course for us.”
Kurt looked at Blaine, worried, as the other man began to pace between the rows of chairs. “So you’re just going to abandon me? I know things have been hard for you. I know I haven’t been around as much as I could have…”
“No, no, it isn’t that.”
Blaine looked at Kurt, disbelief evident on his face.
“Okay,” Kurt admitted. “But we both knew what we were getting into. But I need a job, a purpose, not just opening fairs and shaking hands.”
“So you’ve decided without talking, without asking, that you’re going to… God Kurt, I thought we were a team.” Blaine stopped in front of Kurt, a hand fisted in his hair in frustration. Idly, Kurt thought how much he was going to miss running his hand through Blaine’s unruly curls.
“We are a team.” Kurt sighed, hating how he was making Blaine feel. “But sometimes someone has to take one for the team. And that’s what I’m doing.”
“No Kurt. You’re hurting, I get that, but you’re being selfish. Rachel would be proud.”
Kurt’s mouth fell open. For Blaine to compare him to Rachel was the worst insult. Kurt knew he and Rachel were very similar but, unlike her, he tried to keep his inner diva under control.
Stung Kurt picked up his bag and threw the strap over his shoulder. He turned towards the doors as Blaine grabbed his arm.
“Sorry, sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, you shouldn’t.”
“I… I…,” Blaine took a deep breath. “I need you. I need to know you’re close. Just knowing you’ll be there at night keeps me going when the days and the decisions are hard. But we need to talk about this, properly, calmly. If this,” Blaine gestured to the airport. “Is how it needs to be, fine, but we agree - together.” Blaine placed a hand on Kurt’s shoulder and looked at him, head cocked slightly at an angle, expression challenging him to disagree, and Kurt was eerily reminded of his father the night he told him he was gay.
The edges of Kurt’s mouth raised slightly and he nodded. “Together,” he agreed before he was pulled into a hug.
Eventually they pulled out of each other’s embrace. Blaine slipped his arm through Kurt’s. “Home?”
“Home.”
As they approached the doors Blaine leaned in close. “Were you really about to storm off back there?”
Kurt made a non-committal noise in his throat.
“And you say you’re not the guy version of Rachel Berry? Ow!” Blaine laughed as he rubbed his arm where Kurt had punched him. “Talking of Rachel I might have found a job for you. Well more of a cause really...”
“Mmmm?” Kurt replied pulling Blaine closer, intrigued, as they passed out of the terminal building.
Around them the state troopers fell into position exchanging quick glances. Working for this governor was never boring.
oOo
The following morning Blaine lay in bed savouring the silence. He knew it was early from the soft light shining around the edges of the curtains but that was okay. He rarely got to sleep late these days.
Smiling he rolled over and stretched out his arm to wrap it around the warm, solid chest of his partner.
His smile faded as he encountered only cool cotton.
Suddenly, remembering the events of the previous night, Blaine reluctantly opened his eyes but the bedroom was empty. His body suddenly chilled. Fearing Kurt might have changed his mind and left in the middle of the night, Blaine pulled himself out of bed and padded silently on bare feet into the living room.
The room was empty but he heard the soft sounds of computer keys and mouse clicks from the den.
oOo
Blaine smiled as he watched Kurt on the computer in the den looking more animated than he had in months even though he was sitting still. Absently Kurt picked up the coffee beside him on the desk and took a sip. His face screwed up in a way Blaine found totally adorable as he swallowed the now cold drink but he did not turn away from the computer. Silently Blaine retreated to the kitchen and reset the coffee maker.
When he returned Kurt had not moved, clicking rapidly between different pages and windows. Blaine put the fresh coffee down on the desk and slipped his arms around Kurt’s shoulders leaning in close to see what Kurt was looking at.
“This choir is amazing,” Kurt said without preamble. “They do so much with so little. Taking bullied and vulnerable kids from all over the central Columbus school districts and giving them a chance to relax and be themselves, even if it’s just for a few hours a week.”
“I know,” Blaine agreed. “It reminded me of a weird mix on the Warblers and New Directions.”
Kurt looked at him, curious.
“The safety of Dalton’s no bullying policy combined with the spontaneity of McKinley.”
“And they want me to help?” Kurt’s voice was soft and breathy with disbelief.
“Not exactly,” Blaine replied, knowing he had to come clean. “They want help and publicity. Much though I want to there’s no money in the budget to give them - I’m struggling to fulfil my pledges as it is but I thought you might like to help.”
Kurt’s body stiffened as he folded his arms across his chest. “So they don’t want me?”
“I didn’t say that,” Blaine rushed to explain. “They didn’t ask for you specifically but I thought you might be interested and their musical director loved the idea…”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. He knows you. Or knows of you at least.”
One side of Kurt’s mouth rose in a not quite smile. “A lot of people know me at the moment and not for good reasons.”
“This was different,” Blaine continued, turning Kurt’s seat around so they were facing each other. “Something about you in a blond wig, flirting with his brother? You made quite an impression.”
Kurt looked confused.
“His brother was in the glee club at Haverpool School for the Deaf.”
“Where?”
“Haverpool? Haver-something.”
“Haverbrook,” Kurt realised with a smile. “And I wasn’t flirting. Though a couple of the guys were cute.”
“So it’s true?” Blaine asked, surprised and amused. “I thought he was confusing you with someone else. It must have been years ago.” He paused running a hand over Kurt’s perfectly styled hair. “Though I could see you as a blond.”
“Well you can keep imagining,” Kurt laughed, batting Blaine’s hand away from his hair. “So how do I get in touch with this guy?”
Blaine’s smile widened. “He should be calling later today.”
oOo
“You made it,” Kurt sighed, relaxing slightly as familiar arms slid round his waist from behind and he breathed in the combination of aftershave, hair gel and indefinable something that was Blaine.
“Yep,” Blaine replied, looking over Kurt’s shoulder at the view of New York from the Empire State Building viewing platform.
Lobbying for the organisers to schedule a meeting of state governors to coincide with the time when his partner was in New York for Nationals was probably not exactly a statesman like thing to do but Blaine did not care. The meeting had been provisionally planned for months, all he had done was tweak the dates slightly so he and Kurt could spend some time together in the city they loved.
“How’s it going?” Kurt asked softly as a group took the stage.
“Boring. Mind numbingly boring. But then we finish early for the day and I can do this,” Blaine replied nuzzling Kurt's neck.
“Nine o’clock at night isn’t exactly early,” Kurt commented before losing himself in the feel of Blaine’s lips. Giving in he twisted in Blaine’s arms so he could place a kiss on Blaine's temple.
“Ewww! It's unnatural.”
Kurt and Blaine jumped apart. Blaine swore inwardly at himself and the world. What was so bad about him wanting to show affection to the man he loved?
“Old people making out. It's gross.”
“I'm not old Cindy,” Kurt protested, too shocked to be sarcastic, as Blaine tried to suppress a fit of giggles.
“Sorry Mr H.,” a teenage girl nearby commented. “But you are.” Behind her a gaggle of teenagers nodded.
Blaine took Kurt's hand as he looked crestfallen.
“But we love you anyway,” the girl continued giving Kurt a quick hug as the rest of the group clapped and catcalled.
Talking and laughing the group broke up into twos and threes spreading around the viewing platform.
“So, are you coming back here?” Blaine asked when they were alone once more.
Kurt sighed, looking out over the city, watching the lights stretch out into the distance. It had been a tough few months. After going back to the mansion following Kurt's aborted run to the airport the two men had talked, laughed and cried over a period of days and weeks in a way they had not done since the very early years of their relationship. They had agreed that Kurt would stay in Columbus for another six months and then they would reassess their situation.
The last few days in their adopted home city had been wonderful and heart-wrenching. If he stood in just the right spot Kurt could see the building in which he and Blaine still owned an apartment. It would be so easy to slip away and return to his old life. Even now his life in Ohio was not easy. He still make smart, off the cuff comments that the press took great pleasure in reporting, making things just that little bit harder for Blaine and Quinn still took on many of the traditional First Lady roles. But things were better. They both made sure to make time for the other, to talk about their day and, where possible, involve the other - Kurt could take credit for the new design of Ohio's car licence plates, much to his father's amusement. But was it enough?
“Kurt?” Blaine asked, hand on his arm, pulling him back from his thoughts.
Kurt looked at his partner, then back at the skyline. Blaine's heart tightened as he waited for Kurt's answer.
Behind them someone started singing.
“Start spreading the news, we're leavin' today,
We want to be a part of it,
New York, New York.”
Blaine and Kurt turned, smiling as they saw the kids of Kurt's choir regroup and join in with the song.
“Come and join us Mr H.,” they shouted. Kurt's smile widened. Maybe Ohio did have its good points, the choir who, instinctively recognising a kindred spirit, had taken him to their hearts within minutes being one.
Impulsively Kurt grabbed Blaine’s hand and pulled him forward to join ‘his’ kids as they entertained the bemused tourists.
oOo
Later, as they lay in bed in their hotel, choir and chaperones in the surrounding rooms, Kurt rolled over, wrapping his arm round the solid, warm chest of his partner. Resting his chin on Blaine’s ribs Kurt looked up at him.
“Yes,” he said, his voice soft but sure.
Blaine looked at him, confused.
“Yes, I’m coming back to New York.”
Blaine turned away not wanting Kurt to see the pain on his face.
“In about six and a half years time.”
Blaine took a second to work out what Kurt was saying.
“You’re staying?” he asked, voice full of wonder and hope. “You’re coming back to Columbus? And…”
Kurt nodded. “I want you to run for re-election. If you want to…” His voice trailed off. He was not sure Blaine wanted to stand again, he had just assumed. “Do you?”
Blaine nodded, pulling Kurt up so he could kiss him soundly. “And with you by my side we’ll be unbeatable.”
“Something else,” Kurt added when they finally broke apart for air. “I had an idea for a new name for the choir. What do you think of ‘New Horizons’?”
Rating: G
Summary: Blaine goes into politics. Kurt deals with being, or rather not being, "a political wife."
Warnings: None
Total word count: approx. 8,500
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Ryan Murphy and FOX Broadcasting Company. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's notes: Written for the klaine-endgame futurefest.
There is very little actual politics in this story but as my knowledge of US politics is based almost exclusively on the BBC and The West Wing this is probably a good thing.
My thanks to the original prompter rm - I had been toying with writing something along these lines already so when I saw the prompt I had to take it.
By far my longest completed Glee fic to date. Comments and con-crit gratefully received.
oOo
Kurt lay in bed savouring the silence. He knew it was early from the soft light shining around the edges of the curtains but that was okay. If they woke early enough he and Blaine could usually get a few minutes together before the whirlwind that was Blaine’s life now began again.
Smiling in anticipation, Kurt rolled over and stretched out his arm to wrap it around the warm, solid chest of his partner.
His smile faded as he encountered only cool cotton.
A weight settling in his chest Kurt reluctantly opened his eyes, closing them again quickly as his field of vision was filled with a sheet of bright yellow paper. Reaching up he grasped the paper and held it at arms length.
Train derailment near Akron. No one hurt but needed to go into the office.
See you at the gala tonight.
Have a good day.
B
Sighing Kurt crumpled the paper into a ball and, with an accuracy achieved by frequent practice, tossed it into the trash can beside his vanity on the far side of the room. He smiled thinly as the ball rattled briefly in the bottom of the can before pulling the duvet higher over his shoulders.
If he was honest, and he always tried to be honest, at least with himself, Kurt hated the people of Ohio. Not because they were homophobic though some still were. Not because they were fashion challenged and proud of it - though they most definitely were. He hated the people of Ohio because they had elected Blaine. They had elected Blaine not to the US Senate or Congress where he would at least have been close to New York. No, they had elected Blaine Governor. Governor of the state they had both left age eighteen vowing never to return. And now here they were living in the, admittedly very nice, Governor’s mansion in Columbus, f-ing Ohio. Even in his personal thoughts Kurt tried to filter out swear words, his mother had hated swearing, one of the many, many things that had attracted his father to her, but sometimes only swear words had the power to convey the emotions he needed to express.
Kurt tossed and turned as he tried to get comfortable in the too-big bed, flipping and pummelling the pillow into submission but to no avail.
Eventually, hours before he needed to, he pulled himself out of bed and mentally reviewed his clothing plans for another day of handshakes and fake smiles among a sea of names, faces and personal facts he would forget before the person was out of earshot.
oOo
Kurt studied the playbill for the gala studiously trying to avoid acknowledging the empty seats all around him. He felt more exposed than he had done in years. Resisting the urge to fidget he glanced at his watch. The show was due to start in a little over two minutes and if the text Kurt had received from Blaine's Personal Assistant Ronna was accurate he should be arriving any second.
Kurt hoped Blaine would arrive soon. They never seemed to spend any time together any more, at least not on their own. Here, under cover of darkness Kurt could pretend. When they did manage to snatch some time together they were always being interrupted by some problem or crisis. Blaine's advisors had assured them that the first one hundred days after the election would be the worst as they tried to put as many of Blaine's policies into action as possible. Now they were nine months into Blaine's term and, if anything, things were worse rather than better. The policies were now moving towards coming into effect but they had been replaced as the immediate focus by Blaine's first State of the State speech. And no one had mentioned it to his face yet but Kurt was convinced at least some of the staffers were thinking about Blaine's re-election campaign. He held back a shudder at the thought and forced himself to think of other things.
Just as Kurt began to debate with himself if the 16th Annual Governor's Charity Gala would go ahead without the guest of honour there was a flurry of activity behind him. As one man everyone in the theatre rose to their feet and the orchestra stuck up the state song as Blaine and his staff slipped into the empty seat around Kurt.
“Hey handsome,” Kurt whispered as audience re-took their seats and the lights went down.
“Hey yourself,” Blaine whispered back, his hand grasping Kurt's briefly in the gloom before letting go as the curtain began to rise.
Kurt was just starting to relax enough to enjoy the performance when, soon after the intermission one of Blaine's aides bent down and whispered in his ear. Blaine nodded curtly and stood up, the rest of his staff immediately following his lead. Kurt made to stand up too but Blaine laid a hand on his shoulder and bent down.
“You stay, babe,” he whispered, his breath tickling Kurt's ear. “It's just a work thing. Dom can give you a lift home okay?” Kurt nodded. Blaine squeezed his shoulder. “Don't wait up,” he added before following his staff out to the cars Kurt knew would be waiting at the entrance to the theatre, engines running.
After the final curtain Kurt tried to slip out of the theatre unobtrusively but one of Blaine’s lower ranking staffers, Bruno, caught his arm and gently but firmly directed him towards the theatre bar where the after-show party was just warming up.
“There’s some people here the Governor was supposed to meet,” Bruno explained. “Great supporters, gave big donations to the campaign and I mean big. They’ll be really disappointed they didn’t get the chance to meet him.”
Kurt swallowed. He could guess where this was heading. He disliked doing meet and greets at the best of times. Now, completely unprepared, when all he wanted to do was go home, it sounded like torture.
“Would you?” Bruno asked, breaking into Kurt’s thoughts. Kurt bit back a sigh and nodded. “Excellent. This is…” he continued without pausing. Kurt realised with a start that as they had been talking Bruno had been guiding him across the room. He was going to kill that man one of these days. Tuning back into the conversation just as Bruno disappeared into the throng Kurt's mouth went dry and his palms damp as the little circle looked at him expectantly.
“Em, hi,” Kurt managed with a little wave of him hand. Next to him a waitress gasped as Kurt's elbow caught the edge of her tray, rocking the glasses full of champagne.
“Oh God. I'm sorry,” Kurt apologised, helping the girl steady the tray and grabbing two glasses before she headed away throwing dirty looks over her shoulder.
Kurt turned to offer one of the glasses to Blaine before remembering he was alone with a group of strangers and his blush deepened.
“Can't take me anywhere,” he joked, downing a glass of champagne in one go when his attempt at levity was met with stony silence.
An hour and a half later Kurt was having more fun than he had had in a long time. The group he was talking in really seemed to be enjoying his snarky comments both about the show and the fashion choices of those around them.
“Oh I really shouldn't,” Kurt said as Joey? Johnny? passed him another glass of champagne. “I don't really drink, not after something that happened in high school.” The group looked at him encouragingly. “Well I suppose it won't do any harm, you being friends of Blaine's.” He looked around conspiratorially before leaning in and lowering his voice. “First you have to understand that our high school guidance counsellor had red hair and the most amazing big eyes...”
“Bambi! I love it,” Jason? Jack? barked, slapping Kurt on the back, as the rest of the group dissolved into giggles. High on the sound of his new friends laughter Kurt heard the opening bars of a familiar song come over the sound system. Without thinking he began pushing his way through the little groups dotted around the bar towards the piano in the corner.
“You think that's good watch this,” he called back over his shoulder. Standing on the closed lid of the piano, all eyes on him, he struck a pose and waited for the chorus to start again.
“All the single ladies...”
oOo
Kurt groaned as he rolled over in bed the following morning, his stomach rolling ominously. At the same time his head began thumping as though Finn was practicing the drums on the inside of his skull. He tried lying perfectly still but it did not help. Clutching his stomach in one hand and head in the other Kurt stumbled towards the kitchen of the little apartment where he could hear the TV murmuring softly.
He blinked against the sunlight streaming into the kitchen, the sudden sharp pain in his head and interesting counterpoint to Finn's drumming.
Without looking up Blaine placed a mug of coffee and a couple of tablets at Kurt's place at the table before going back to his paper.
At first Kurt was glad of the silence as the caffeine and painkillers began to take effect. Slowly he gradually became aware of the tension in Blaine's shoulders and the way he held the paper in front of his face as though he was placing a barrier between them.
Kurt felt confused and a little hurt. Blaine did not like either of them getting drunk, especially since he had gone into politics but he had not been that drunk - had he? A couple of glasses of champagne at the most. Disjointed images of places and people came into his mind but he could not pull them together into sequence. Concern starting to grip his insides he looked down at his hands and noticed with a start that his fingernails were painted with alternating baby blue and pink polish. What the...? How? When? He turned his hands over and over for clues but nothing presented itself.
He opened his mouth to ask Blaine as a familiar song began to play on the TV. One after another the memories of the previous night slotted into place. His stomach rolled and his hands shook as his voice joined the music.
“I always liked this song,” Blaine commented softly.
Kurt's stomach suddenly contracted and he dashed from the kitchen, hand over his mouth.
As Kurt returned to the kitchen a few minutes later he paused just outside the door as the TV announcer mentioned his name.
The Ohioan Chapter of the American League of Upright Womanhood have called for Mr Hummel to be replaced at the Governor's partner at all state events. A source had stated that if this is not implemented they will use their influence to obstruct the upcoming votes in what is already a hostile Congress. This could be catastrophic for Governor Anderson's plans for state reform couldn't it Geoff?” the announcer asked.
“Completely catastrophic Mark,” another voice agreed. “The ALUW is very influential...”
The rest of the comments were lost as Blaine switched off the TV.
“Great, just great,” Blaine muttered into the sudden silence.
Kurt slumped against the wall as he heard the door to their apartment open and close without any further words from Blaine. Once again he had done what he was so good at - he had screwed up. Blaine had wanted to get into politics since before they had met. They had lived on next to nothing through college (Kurt's wardrobe had never been so last season) whilst Blaine had studied pre-law and then law at NYU before going into politics full time. Being elected Governor under 40 was amazing. Doing it whilst also being an openly gay man was almost unheard of. Everyone had been so proud when Blaine had been elected. Blaine's parents had even come to the inauguration - the first time they had been willing to be seen in public with Kurt and now...
The weight of the potential consequences of what he had done pushing down on him Kurt slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, his arms wrapped round his knees. He tried not to give in to the tears building behind his eyes but eventually the dam of his self control gave way and once the first tear leaked out he let go and cried as though he was never going to stop.
Sometime later Kurt was awakened by the sound of the phone ringing. Stiff from sitting on the floor so long he gave up on the idea of walking and slowly crawled across the living room pulling the phone off the side unit by the cord.
“Hello?' he croaked, his mouth dry.
“Kurt? Kurt are you okay?”
Kurt tried to place the familiar voice but his brain was too fuzzy to be willing to work.
“Kurt? Are you still there? It's Quinn.”
Quinn. Of course it was.
“I just got the boys off the school and turned on the TV and saw... Are you okay? Do you want me to come over?”
Kurt swallowed. “I'm fine Quinn.”
“Somehow I doubt that. I'll be over in 20 minutes. Tell the guys at security I'm coming and get your backside into a warm shower.” Quinn's voice turned soft. “It'll be okay. Whatever happens, it'll be okay.”
Kurt was not sure how long he sat listening to the dial tone after Quinn hung up before he eventually pulled himself together enough to call the security desk and then forcing himself to his feet did as he had been told and shuffled towards the bathroom, shoulders hunched, arms wrapped tightly round his chest.
By the time he re-entered the kitchen Kurt was feeling slightly better, at least he was clean, but his headache was coming back, the throbbing a counterpoint to the ache in his chest.
He sighed in appreciation at the aroma of fresh coffee and pancakes that filled the room.
“I guessed you probably haven't eaten,” Quinn said, laying a mug of coffee and a plate of pancakes on the table closest to where Kurt was standing before sitting down opposite, her hands wrapped round another steaming mug.
Kurt dropped into the chair.
“Eat,” Quinn encouraged. “Whatever we have to face always seems worse on an empty stomach.”
Kurt reluctantly broke a small piece off the top pancake and put it in his mouth.
“Remember when you and Mercedes were on the Cheerios and Coach Sylvester wanted Mercedes to lose weight and she starved herself until she started seeing everyone around her as food?”
Kurt smiled at the memory. “She said Jesse was a hamburger and Rachel was a cupcake,” he added, tearing off another piece of pancake, suddenly aware just how hungry he was.
He and Quinn traded memories of fun times until the coffee and pancakes were finished. When Quinn moved to put the dishes in the sink Kurt's situation came into focus again and he buried his head in his hands.
“What have I done?”
Quinn came round the table and rested her hands on his shoulders massaging gently.
“Blaine hates me.”
“I'm sure that's not true,” Quinn assured him. “He loves you. He might be angry with you right now but he loves you.”
Kurt shook his head. “He left without saying anything. He hates me.”
Quinn sat down beside Kurt and slipped her hand under his chin forcing him to turn and face her. “He's just annoyed and frustrated. He loves you Kurt, don't try and convince yourself otherwise. You hear me?” Kurt tried to look away but Quinn held him in place. “You hear me?” she asked again more firmly this time. Kurt looked at her with red rimmed eyes seeing the Cheerio she had once been, totally sure of the world and her place in it. Not completely believing but knowing Quinn would not let him go until he agreed, Kurt nodded. “Say it.”
“He loves me.'
“Again.”
“He loves me.”
Quinn smiled as Kurt's voice grew more confident. “Again.”
“He loves me. He loves me. He loves me.” Smiling too now Kurt pulled her into a hug. “Blaine loves me,” he repeated. “Even if I am a complete fuck up at times.” Kurt's eyes went wide and he clapped a hand over his mouth as he realised what he had said.
“Language!” Quinn pulled back trying to look stern but failing as they both began to giggle. “Give him a few hours to cool down then go talk to him, okay?” Kurt nodded, his smile faltering slightly. “In the meantime you can help me find an outfit for the school board dance next Friday. Everything I've tried makes me look like a hooker or my mother.”
“Ah, retail therapy what would we do without it?”
oOo
Kurt held his head high as he entered the building downtown that housed the Governor's office, Quinn's words of encouragement still ringing in his ears. He waved as normal to Col, the security guard, as he passed his desk and did not miss the slightly guilty look that crossed his face before the older man returned the greeting.
As he left the lift Kurt's confidence began to falter slightly as the staff glanced up then looked away. He could not avoid seeing them exchange glances and muttering between themselves as he walked between the desks and towards the private offices beyond.
“So who will he choose do you think? Helen from Finance?” Ginger, one of the senior secretaries asked of the little gaggle of women who had gathered around her desk just outside Blaine's office.
“No she's too nervy. She'd have a panic attack if the Governor spoke to her much less a visiting dignitary,” a leggy blonde commented. “How about Dianna?”
“From the campaigns office?” a dark skinned woman asked mockingly. “You think she'd make a good Governors wife?”
“She's got a laugh like a braying donkey and can't hold more than two thoughts in her head at the same time...” Ginger broke off as the phone on her desk began ringing. She held up one finger to the others - hold that thought. “Governor Anderson's Office. How can I help you?...Oh, oh.” Ginger leaned over and looked round the leggy, blonde woman to where Kurt stood within earshot. “Thanks,” she added before hanging up.
“Is he free?” Kurt asked, gesturing to the door to Blaine's office as the circle of women around Ginger's desk tried to slip away as unobtrusively as possible.
“Um, no sir,” Ginger replied, looking anywhere but at Kurt. “He's not here. He's back at the mansion,” she continued, fidgeting with the papers on her desk. “Emergency meeting following the American League of Upright Womanhood's threat.”
“Oh,” Kurt replied, feeling his fragile confidence crumble to dust. On legs like jelly he turned away without another word, trying to get out of the building as quickly as possible before he broke down completely for the second time in the one day.
Maybe the ALUW were right, he reflected. Maybe he was not the right person to be the first gentleman of Ohio. Maybe he should graciously step aside and let someone else take his place at Blaine's side. He felt his heart contract at the idea that he was not good enough to be the one at Blaine's shoulder. But, he reflected, it was his actions that had brought them to this point. Sinking into the back seat of his official car Kurt sighed and closed his eyes, willing himself to be rational. If he had to choose someone to be Ohio's official hostess who would he choose? The smooth motions of the car as it slipped through the late afternoon traffic calmed him as he pictured as many of Blaine's staff as he could remember. Good, upright, intelligent people they may be but none of them had the spark he knew from experience an Official Hostess would have to have. Opening his eyes as the car stopped at the guard house outside the Governor's mansion he glanced down at the new scarf wrapped around his neck that he had bought earlier in the afternoon. Smiling sadly he realised he knew the perfect person.
oOo
The main meeting room of the mansion rang with voices as names were suggested, discussed and discarded.
“How about Bonnie Clark?” Martin suggested from his seat at the far end of the table.
“Doesn’t she work away from home quite a bit?” someone else commented.
“Oh, okay - Amber Maxwell?” Martin tried.
“As in your sister? Isn’t she about 22?”
“24”
“Guys, guys,” Blaine smiled, holding up a hand. “I appreciate the suggestions but I really don’t think me looking like someone’s sugar daddy will create the right image. We need someone older, more mature.”
“Quinn,” a quiet voice said from the open door.
Blaine and the others in the room looked up in surprise.
Seeing who it was Blaine jumped out of his seat, his heart in his throat. “Kurt… how long have you been standing there?”
“She’s beautiful and intelligent.” Kurt continued, ignoring Blaine’s question. “She’s the ideal image of a political wife. She’ll look great on your arm in photographs and on TV.”
Blaine reached out to Kurt but he pulled back. “You know I don’t want…”
“We both know this is the right thing to do,” Kurt said, his voice quiet and soft, not raising his eyes from the floor. “Quinn lives here in Columbus and she and Jonny need money for Aaron’s college fund so just promise me you’ll pay her well.” Kurt looked up at Blaine for assurance. Blaine desperately wanted to see the passion and vitality he loved so much but all he saw was resignation in Kurt’s red rimmed eyes. “Here’s her number,” Kurt continued at Blaine’s nod, handing a small piece of paper to Ronna where she sat just inside the door taking notes. “Sorry to have disturbed you,” Kurt finished, glancing round the room before turning on his heel, closing the door softly behind him.
The click as the door shut sounded loudly in the silence that greeted Kurt’s departure. After a second the room released a collective breath.
“Fuck,” Blaine muttered shaking himself from his revere before dashing for the door and wrenching it open, his shouts of his partner’s name echoing round the mansion.
oOo
A few weeks later Blaine bounced up the stairs to the private apartment in the Governor's mansion. Who knew official functions could be so enjoyable? He had not been on such a high since he had stopped singing. He loved politics but the wining and dining of dignitaries and supporters was the part he liked least.
He opened the door to the apartment.
“You should...”
He stopped as he realised the room was in darkness.
“Kurt?” he called softly, wandering through the darkened living room to their bedroom.
“Oh there you are.”
Kurt was sitting at his vanity, hair pulled back off his face with a towelling band, rubbing cream into his skin.
“You are a genius.” Blaine bounded across the room and slipped his arms around Kurt's waist, resting his chin on Kurt's shoulder and beaming at his partner's reflection in the mirror. “Quinn was wonderful. The French trade attaché was getting a bit handsy after a cognac or two and she cut him down with a look, just a look. Poor guy spent the rest of the evening following her around like a puppy. He's going to sign that deal on Monday that he's been prevaricating about for months.”
Kurt looked away from Blaine as he reached for another bottle of lotion. “I told you she'd be good.”
“Good - she was amazing.” Blaine stepped back, pulling off his jacket and tie, spinning around on the spot with glee. “I wish you could have been there,” Blaine continued, kissing Kurt's cheek before dancing towards the en-suite bathroom.
Kurt looked at Blaine's retreating back reflected in the mirror blinking back tears of self reproach.
“Yeah,” he whispered. “Me too.”
oOo
Kurt fingered the leaves and flowers delicately, relishing their scent, as he tried to look busy whilst actually having nothing to do but wait. He hated waiting. When you had to wait bad things happened. So long as you were moving you could duck and dive. But waiting was like being a sitting target. You gave your predator time to prepare.
He could not fully understand why he was even here in the rose garden of the mansion, surrounded by photographers, waiting for his brother and his family to arrive. Not that he was complaining about seeing Finn. They had grown close over the years but did not get to see each other too often. When Finn said he was closing the tire shop for the weekend and coming to Columbus for a few days so he and his family could attend a testimonial game for a football player Finn had played alongside in college the press office had gone wild. Finn was everything an Ohioan male was supposed to be - a hard working husband, a loving father, a pillar of his local community.
Everything I’m not, Kurt thought, feeling himself start to slip into a melancholia that lingered close to the surface these days.
He was pulled from his musings by a voice.
“Unc’urt! Unc’urt!”
Kurt turned to see his three year old niece coming running towards him at full speed, long braids streaming out behind her, arms outstretched.
“Unc’urt!”
Bending down Kurt grabbed her under the arms and, using her own momentum, lifted her high into the air making her scream with joy.
“Hi kiddo,” he greeted her as he settled her on his hip, planting a kiss on the top of her head. “Are you visiting on your own?”
“No silly, Mommy and Daddy were too slow.”
Kurt ignored the creases he knew she was putting into his shirt as she gripped the front with her hands and breathed in her unique smell.
“Daddy, Daddy, I found Unc’urt.”
Kurt flinched as the little girl in his arms proved she had lungs to rival Mercedes.
“So I see,” Finn agreed as he walked up, his wife and two sons at his side. “Here,” Finn opened his arms to take his daughter but she gripped tighter, her swinging legs catching in the trims on Kurt’s shirt and pulling it up at the back.
“No.”
“Come on sweetheart.” Finn knew from experience how careful Kurt was about his clothes.
“No!”
Behind him Kurt heard the photographers cameras clicking away, recording this not-quite Hallmark moment for posterity.
“Finn, it’s fine,” Kurt assured him, tickling his niece and making her giggle.
“Unc’urt look,” the little girl gasped as she tried to get her breath back, waving a finger in front of his face. Kurt grabbed her wrist to hold her hand still and saw the bandaid wrapped round one of her fingers.
“Oh sweetie does it hurt?”
She shook her head.
“Starting her early?” Kurt asked, noting the bandaid’s sports balls design.
“She chose it,” Finn protested. “She’s the sporty one. Oh, did we tell you these two have joined the glee club at their school?”
“No,” Kurt replied looking in wonder at the twin boys he had held in his arms the day they were born. Soon even Finn would have to look up to them if they kept growing.
“Good for you,” he congratulated them feeling his heart swell with pride. Before he could ask more he saw an aide out of the corner of his eye gesturing to her watch. Kurt stiffened having forgotten they were not alone. Finn smiled and threw his arm around Kurt’s shoulders turning him towards the lenses.
“Don’t stress dude. It’s fine. Photo’s first, then family stuff. Now smile.”
And, surrounded by his family, Kurt did smile for the camera even when his niece got bored and started playing with his perfectly styled hair.
oOo
Having seen Finn and his family off to the testimonial game, Kurt watched from the kitchen of the mansion as Blaine and Quinn worked the packed ballroom like the pros he supposed they were, moving easily between the groups - a compliment here, a joke there, winding everyone around their little fingers.
Kurt looked admiringly around the room. He had been responsible for choosing the colour scheme, the decorations, the deep maroon vests being worn by the waiting staff, the string quartet who played quietly in the background. For the first time in a long time he felt as though he had achieved something.
“They make a good team,” one of the waiting staff commented as he paused beside Kurt, nodding towards Blaine and Quinn as he loaded his silver tray with canapés ready to take back out. “Is it true he’s, you know?” Kurt opened his mouth to respond but the boy continued. “Cos I swear he’s flirting with her. Had his hand on her butt a minute ago. And she didn’t seem to mind. If you ask me there’s something going on there,” the guy finished, lifting his now full tray and disappearing through the doors into the ballroom.
Kurt looked at the door as it swung back and forth, the young waiter’s words resounding in his head. There could not be any truth in what he said - could there? He was just a spotty faced college kid from out of town brought in for the night to carry trays of canapés. What did he know? But Kurt could not stop himself from watching Blaine and Quinn as they interacted with each other. He watched as they touched and exchanged fleeting smiles and glances, laughed at each others jokes, even seemed sometimes to finish the others sentences. Kurt’s guts clenched.
Eventually Blaine stepped up onto the small platform beside the string quartet, the room falling silent as he took the mike.
“I just wanted to thank you all for coming and I hope you have had a great evening.” He paused as a ripple of polite applause went round the room. “Before we leave I would like to thank someone very special, someone who has made this evening something very special.”
Kurt took a deep breath, warmth and love flowing through him. All his time organising the evening, making sure everything was going to be perfect was about to be recognised. He straightened and looked down at his clothes, assuring himself that he looked decent in case he was called to the stage. He suspected his hair was a little floppy from having spent the evening in the warmth of the kitchens but his outfit was crease free.
On stage Blaine looked out over the guests, his smile wide.
“Ladies and gentlemen I give you Quinn Fabray-Henderson.”
The function room erupted in applause effectively drowning out Kurt’s gasp. He did not see Blaine encourage a blushing Quinn onto the stage as he ran through the kitchens, towards the back stair to their apartment, oblivious to the odd looks from the staff.
oOo
Kurt sat on the sofa in the living room of their Governor’s mansion apartment. With the curtains drawn the room was dim and gloomy, suiting his mood perfectly. His thoughts kept chasing each other round his head - he was not good enough for Blaine any more, that had been proved tonight when Blaine recognised Quinn instead of him, but who could blame Blaine for feeling that way when Kurt brought him nothing but embarrassment. The single ladies debacle was just the biggest and most recent in a long line of embarrassments he had, mostly inadvertently, caused Blaine since his election.
He was pulled from his wallowing in self pity by scuffling and voices from outside the door.
“You do it,” a voice said.
“No, you,” a different voice replied.
“You’re more senior.”
“God, give it here. I’ll do it,” a third voice said, immediately followed by a knocking at the door.
Kurt tried to ignore it.
The knocking paused then started again.
“Mr Hummel, are you in there? We need to speak to you.”
Sighing Kurt pushed himself off the sofa.
Blinking rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the bright light in the corridor he saw three young interns. The one closest to him held out a couple of newspapers.
“We thought you should see these,” he said.
Kurt looked down at the front pages and his blood ran cold. The Governor and the Tramp, the headline on one screamed. The first slut of Ohio? another asked above a photograph of him from the back, Finn’s daughter’s foot caught in his shirt exposing the small of his back and the butterfly tattoo he had had for so long he mostly forgot it was even there.
Hands shaking so badly he nearly dropped the papers Kurt shut the door in the faces of the interns. He leaned his back against the door, banging his head on the smooth wood.
“Mr Hummel,” he heard one of the interns ask. “Are you okay?”
He snorted. No I’m not okay! he wanted to scream. How can I possibly be okay when I keep messing up people’s lives?
Out loud however he managed a choked “I’m fine.” He looked around the apartment, seeing all the things that reminded him of Blaine, the only man he had ever truly loved, and felt his lungs contract. Can’t breathe. He stumbled to the window and threw it open. Music and the rumble of voices all talking at once in the ballroom below filled the air. Instead of being able to breathe more deeply Kurt felt his lungs contract further. Need to breathe. Need air. Kurt started to feel dizzy. In the distance he saw a straight white trail across the sky and suddenly he knew what he needed to do.
Breathing easier now, he picked up the internal phone.
“Bring a car to the back door. Don’t disturb the Governor,” he told the security controller before hanging up.
Minutes later, bag and jacket in hand, he paused, hand on the door handle, and looked back. Shaking his head he grabbed a pad and pen from the desk and wrote quickly. Tearing the sheet from the pad he propped it against the bowl in the middle of the coffee table where it could not be missed.
This time he left the apartment without a backwards glance. Behind him one of the troopers from his security detail spoke softly into his mike.
“Pinnochio is on the move.”
He was not going to miss his codename.
oOo
An hour later Blaine came up to the residence smiling, happy but exhausted. He had not been sleeping well between the pressures of the job and Kurt kicking and talking in his sleep. Kurt had even started sleepwalking, something he had not done since he had finished his final exams at college.
Blaine looked around the living room.
“Kurt? Kurt, hey baby. Where are you?” He checked the kitchen and their bedroom as he pulled his tie loose and threw his jacket over the back of a chair but there was no sign of Kurt.
Returning to the living room he dropped onto the sofa and stretched his legs out onto the coffee table, something Kurt would never allow. Relishing the quiet of the apartment after the noise of the reception he leant his head back against the cushions and closed his eyes. Just five minutes, he assured himself.
Three hours later Blaine started awake. He looked round, dazed, his eyes settling on a sheet of yellow paper that he had kicked to the floor when he sat down.
“Kurt?” he called as he leant down to pick it up. “Hey Kurt, babe…” He stopped as he recognised the handwriting.
Fully awake he ran to the door, wrenching it open.
“Where is he?” he shouted at the shocked troopers. “Where is he?”
“Governor?”
“Kurt. Where is he?”
The trooper spoke briefly to his controllers as Blaine hopped from foot to foot.
“He left about four hours ago.”
“But where did he go?”
The trooper looked apologetic. “I’m still waiting for that information.”
“Well get it and get it quick. Then take me to him - now!”
oOo
Kurt sat on a metal bench in the airport check-in hall staring at his hands as they rested in his lap. I really need a manicure, he thought, then felt guilty for thinking about such a trivial thing at such a big moment. He looked around the check-in as more and more staff arrived. He should be able to check in soon. He supposed he could have driven but he had not seen his own car in months and did not fancy the media frenzy that would ensue if he tried to 'borrow' one from the troopers. He could just imagine the headlines.
Kurt did not need to look up to know that Blaine had joined him, he felt an increase in the pressure on his body as all the extra security arrived.
He did look up when Blaine stopped some distance away, not immediately pulling him into a constricting bear hug and kissing his neck, his cheek, any area of exposed skin.
Kurt’s mouth fell open in an ‘O’ of surprise when he saw the broken look on Blaine’s face, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.
“You’re leaving? You’re leaving and you didn’t have the decency…” Blaine’s voice cracked but he kept trying to talk. The only word Kurt could make out was ‘goodbye’.
“It’s not goodbye, never goodbye,” Kurt protested, standing and wrapping his arms round an unresisting Blaine. “You can do so much here, you don’t need me pulling you down and every turn, making things harder.”
“But…”
“I don’t belong here. I never have and we both know it,” Kurt added as Blaine opened his mouth to speak. “If I’m in New York you can concentrate on doing all the wonderful things I know you will do to make this a better state. Ohio needs you, not me.”
“But…”
“I love you Blaine Warbler, don’t you ever doubt that, but I won’t see you being held back by anyone, especially me. You’re better off with me in New York and…”
Blaine pulled out of Kurt’s arms. “Don’t I get a say in this or have you decided for both of us?” Blaine asked, his voice carrying across the almost empty hall. The few check-in staff on duty glanced up curiously. “Ohio voted for me knowing you were part of the deal.”
“No, well yes,” Kurt said, his tone a little uncertain. “Of course you get a say but I know this is the best course for us.”
Kurt looked at Blaine, worried, as the other man began to pace between the rows of chairs. “So you’re just going to abandon me? I know things have been hard for you. I know I haven’t been around as much as I could have…”
“No, no, it isn’t that.”
Blaine looked at Kurt, disbelief evident on his face.
“Okay,” Kurt admitted. “But we both knew what we were getting into. But I need a job, a purpose, not just opening fairs and shaking hands.”
“So you’ve decided without talking, without asking, that you’re going to… God Kurt, I thought we were a team.” Blaine stopped in front of Kurt, a hand fisted in his hair in frustration. Idly, Kurt thought how much he was going to miss running his hand through Blaine’s unruly curls.
“We are a team.” Kurt sighed, hating how he was making Blaine feel. “But sometimes someone has to take one for the team. And that’s what I’m doing.”
“No Kurt. You’re hurting, I get that, but you’re being selfish. Rachel would be proud.”
Kurt’s mouth fell open. For Blaine to compare him to Rachel was the worst insult. Kurt knew he and Rachel were very similar but, unlike her, he tried to keep his inner diva under control.
Stung Kurt picked up his bag and threw the strap over his shoulder. He turned towards the doors as Blaine grabbed his arm.
“Sorry, sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, you shouldn’t.”
“I… I…,” Blaine took a deep breath. “I need you. I need to know you’re close. Just knowing you’ll be there at night keeps me going when the days and the decisions are hard. But we need to talk about this, properly, calmly. If this,” Blaine gestured to the airport. “Is how it needs to be, fine, but we agree - together.” Blaine placed a hand on Kurt’s shoulder and looked at him, head cocked slightly at an angle, expression challenging him to disagree, and Kurt was eerily reminded of his father the night he told him he was gay.
The edges of Kurt’s mouth raised slightly and he nodded. “Together,” he agreed before he was pulled into a hug.
Eventually they pulled out of each other’s embrace. Blaine slipped his arm through Kurt’s. “Home?”
“Home.”
As they approached the doors Blaine leaned in close. “Were you really about to storm off back there?”
Kurt made a non-committal noise in his throat.
“And you say you’re not the guy version of Rachel Berry? Ow!” Blaine laughed as he rubbed his arm where Kurt had punched him. “Talking of Rachel I might have found a job for you. Well more of a cause really...”
“Mmmm?” Kurt replied pulling Blaine closer, intrigued, as they passed out of the terminal building.
Around them the state troopers fell into position exchanging quick glances. Working for this governor was never boring.
oOo
The following morning Blaine lay in bed savouring the silence. He knew it was early from the soft light shining around the edges of the curtains but that was okay. He rarely got to sleep late these days.
Smiling he rolled over and stretched out his arm to wrap it around the warm, solid chest of his partner.
His smile faded as he encountered only cool cotton.
Suddenly, remembering the events of the previous night, Blaine reluctantly opened his eyes but the bedroom was empty. His body suddenly chilled. Fearing Kurt might have changed his mind and left in the middle of the night, Blaine pulled himself out of bed and padded silently on bare feet into the living room.
The room was empty but he heard the soft sounds of computer keys and mouse clicks from the den.
oOo
Blaine smiled as he watched Kurt on the computer in the den looking more animated than he had in months even though he was sitting still. Absently Kurt picked up the coffee beside him on the desk and took a sip. His face screwed up in a way Blaine found totally adorable as he swallowed the now cold drink but he did not turn away from the computer. Silently Blaine retreated to the kitchen and reset the coffee maker.
When he returned Kurt had not moved, clicking rapidly between different pages and windows. Blaine put the fresh coffee down on the desk and slipped his arms around Kurt’s shoulders leaning in close to see what Kurt was looking at.
“This choir is amazing,” Kurt said without preamble. “They do so much with so little. Taking bullied and vulnerable kids from all over the central Columbus school districts and giving them a chance to relax and be themselves, even if it’s just for a few hours a week.”
“I know,” Blaine agreed. “It reminded me of a weird mix on the Warblers and New Directions.”
Kurt looked at him, curious.
“The safety of Dalton’s no bullying policy combined with the spontaneity of McKinley.”
“And they want me to help?” Kurt’s voice was soft and breathy with disbelief.
“Not exactly,” Blaine replied, knowing he had to come clean. “They want help and publicity. Much though I want to there’s no money in the budget to give them - I’m struggling to fulfil my pledges as it is but I thought you might like to help.”
Kurt’s body stiffened as he folded his arms across his chest. “So they don’t want me?”
“I didn’t say that,” Blaine rushed to explain. “They didn’t ask for you specifically but I thought you might be interested and their musical director loved the idea…”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. He knows you. Or knows of you at least.”
One side of Kurt’s mouth rose in a not quite smile. “A lot of people know me at the moment and not for good reasons.”
“This was different,” Blaine continued, turning Kurt’s seat around so they were facing each other. “Something about you in a blond wig, flirting with his brother? You made quite an impression.”
Kurt looked confused.
“His brother was in the glee club at Haverpool School for the Deaf.”
“Where?”
“Haverpool? Haver-something.”
“Haverbrook,” Kurt realised with a smile. “And I wasn’t flirting. Though a couple of the guys were cute.”
“So it’s true?” Blaine asked, surprised and amused. “I thought he was confusing you with someone else. It must have been years ago.” He paused running a hand over Kurt’s perfectly styled hair. “Though I could see you as a blond.”
“Well you can keep imagining,” Kurt laughed, batting Blaine’s hand away from his hair. “So how do I get in touch with this guy?”
Blaine’s smile widened. “He should be calling later today.”
oOo
“You made it,” Kurt sighed, relaxing slightly as familiar arms slid round his waist from behind and he breathed in the combination of aftershave, hair gel and indefinable something that was Blaine.
“Yep,” Blaine replied, looking over Kurt’s shoulder at the view of New York from the Empire State Building viewing platform.
Lobbying for the organisers to schedule a meeting of state governors to coincide with the time when his partner was in New York for Nationals was probably not exactly a statesman like thing to do but Blaine did not care. The meeting had been provisionally planned for months, all he had done was tweak the dates slightly so he and Kurt could spend some time together in the city they loved.
“How’s it going?” Kurt asked softly as a group took the stage.
“Boring. Mind numbingly boring. But then we finish early for the day and I can do this,” Blaine replied nuzzling Kurt's neck.
“Nine o’clock at night isn’t exactly early,” Kurt commented before losing himself in the feel of Blaine’s lips. Giving in he twisted in Blaine’s arms so he could place a kiss on Blaine's temple.
“Ewww! It's unnatural.”
Kurt and Blaine jumped apart. Blaine swore inwardly at himself and the world. What was so bad about him wanting to show affection to the man he loved?
“Old people making out. It's gross.”
“I'm not old Cindy,” Kurt protested, too shocked to be sarcastic, as Blaine tried to suppress a fit of giggles.
“Sorry Mr H.,” a teenage girl nearby commented. “But you are.” Behind her a gaggle of teenagers nodded.
Blaine took Kurt's hand as he looked crestfallen.
“But we love you anyway,” the girl continued giving Kurt a quick hug as the rest of the group clapped and catcalled.
Talking and laughing the group broke up into twos and threes spreading around the viewing platform.
“So, are you coming back here?” Blaine asked when they were alone once more.
Kurt sighed, looking out over the city, watching the lights stretch out into the distance. It had been a tough few months. After going back to the mansion following Kurt's aborted run to the airport the two men had talked, laughed and cried over a period of days and weeks in a way they had not done since the very early years of their relationship. They had agreed that Kurt would stay in Columbus for another six months and then they would reassess their situation.
The last few days in their adopted home city had been wonderful and heart-wrenching. If he stood in just the right spot Kurt could see the building in which he and Blaine still owned an apartment. It would be so easy to slip away and return to his old life. Even now his life in Ohio was not easy. He still make smart, off the cuff comments that the press took great pleasure in reporting, making things just that little bit harder for Blaine and Quinn still took on many of the traditional First Lady roles. But things were better. They both made sure to make time for the other, to talk about their day and, where possible, involve the other - Kurt could take credit for the new design of Ohio's car licence plates, much to his father's amusement. But was it enough?
“Kurt?” Blaine asked, hand on his arm, pulling him back from his thoughts.
Kurt looked at his partner, then back at the skyline. Blaine's heart tightened as he waited for Kurt's answer.
Behind them someone started singing.
“Start spreading the news, we're leavin' today,
We want to be a part of it,
New York, New York.”
Blaine and Kurt turned, smiling as they saw the kids of Kurt's choir regroup and join in with the song.
“Come and join us Mr H.,” they shouted. Kurt's smile widened. Maybe Ohio did have its good points, the choir who, instinctively recognising a kindred spirit, had taken him to their hearts within minutes being one.
Impulsively Kurt grabbed Blaine’s hand and pulled him forward to join ‘his’ kids as they entertained the bemused tourists.
oOo
Later, as they lay in bed in their hotel, choir and chaperones in the surrounding rooms, Kurt rolled over, wrapping his arm round the solid, warm chest of his partner. Resting his chin on Blaine’s ribs Kurt looked up at him.
“Yes,” he said, his voice soft but sure.
Blaine looked at him, confused.
“Yes, I’m coming back to New York.”
Blaine turned away not wanting Kurt to see the pain on his face.
“In about six and a half years time.”
Blaine took a second to work out what Kurt was saying.
“You’re staying?” he asked, voice full of wonder and hope. “You’re coming back to Columbus? And…”
Kurt nodded. “I want you to run for re-election. If you want to…” His voice trailed off. He was not sure Blaine wanted to stand again, he had just assumed. “Do you?”
Blaine nodded, pulling Kurt up so he could kiss him soundly. “And with you by my side we’ll be unbeatable.”
“Something else,” Kurt added when they finally broke apart for air. “I had an idea for a new name for the choir. What do you think of ‘New Horizons’?”