Stop Loss, Chapter 15 (Part One)
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine, Rachel/Jesse, mentions of Jesse/Kurt
Rating: We're now officially in NC-17 territory, folks. Be scared, I certainly am.
Warnings: Sexuality, violence consistant with canon, mild drug/alcohol use, mental/emotional themes (depression, anxiety, etc), dysfunctional family situations
Summary: AU. Kurt Hummel never went to McKinley. Instead, his father sent him to Carmel, where he flourished as a member of Vocal Adrenaline under the watchful eye of Jesse St. James. Everything was falling into place for him, until the day that Blaine, a beautiful, damaged transfer student with his own set of issues, throws his world upside down.
A/N: So far, this story has been written as a Single Point of Departure fic-everything that deviates from canon is somehow related to Kurt's presence at Carmel or absence from McKinley. However, in this chapter, an event takes place that both directly contradicts canon, and has nothing to do with Kurt. I didn't realize it until I was halfway done with the scene, and when I did, I liked it too much to cut it out. So, I'm sorry. You're all pretty.
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Dr. Ramirez had brown eyes behind her black-framed glasses, and a comfortable white couch that Blaine was allowed to put his feet on, as long as he took his shoes off first. She had mentioned it offhandedly at his intake appointment, but Blaine didn’t actually attempt it until halfway through his second real session, when the muscle in his leg that he’d pulled during rehearsal needed a softer surface to rest on. It had been awkward at first, curling up on someone else’s furniture while talking about his home life, but Blaine had quickly gotten used to it. Even with explicit permission, it sort of felt like breaking all the rules-or, at least, violating about half a dozen etiquette guidelines earnestly taught by one of the novices at Aquinas back in 7th grade.
Blaine kind of liked it.
“So, Blaine, how was school this week?” Dr. Ramirez wanted to know, crossing her legs and leaning back in her armchair.
Blaine mirrored her posture cautiously-he had changed clothes after rehearsal, but was very conscious of his sweaty hair. “It was fine,” he answered neutrally. “I had a math test today, but I think I did all right on it. It’s Kurt’s best subject, so he’s been helping me study before rehearsals.”
Dr. Ramirez nodded. “Has it been difficult, balancing school and rehearsals?” she asked, making a note on the legal pad to her left. “Vocal Adrenaline sounds like quite the time commitment.”
Blaine stifled the urge to laugh at her massive understatement. “At first, I guess,” he admitted, “but I was behind in all my classes, too, since the curriculum at Carmel is a little more advanced. Now that I’m caught up and used to the rehearsal schedule, it’s easier. I mean, it’s still a lot, but not too much, I don’t think.”
“You’re certainly one of the busiest students I work with, I don’t mind telling you that,” Dr. Ramirez told him, smiling. She tilted her head slightly, the way that Kurt often did right before asking something personal. “I wonder,” she mused, “what would ‘too much’ look like to you?”
Blaine shifted slightly in his seat. “I don’t know,” he confessed, picking absently at a loose thread on his jeans. “I just know that I’m not there; not yet.”
Dr. Ramirez nodded. “Something to think about for next time, maybe,” she suggested. “And how about your life outside of rehearsals? Have you done anything social this week? I know you said last week that you don’t really like talking on the phone, but did you go out at all, talk to anyone online?”
Blaine started to shake his head, then paused. “Not exactly,” he said slowly. “But…I have plans. For Sunday.”
He’d been waiting at the pharmacy on Tuesday night, texting Kurt while his prescriptions were filled, when he’d heard the slightly familiar voice:
“Blaine, is that you?” Wes asked, smiling at Blaine when he looked up.
Blaine smiled back at Wes, who was impeccably groomed and still in his blazer, clutching his phone a little bit tighter. “Hi Wes, how are you?” he’d asked automatically, both glad to see him and dreading the moment when Wes would ask what he was doing there.
The moment never came. “I’m doing well, and yourself? I trust you’re keeping busy, with the holidays coming up.”
Blaine confirmed it and asked about Wes’s vacation plans, and they’d made polite conversation for another couple of minutes before Wes tilted his head to the side, studying Blaine. “I know this is an unusual request,” he acknowledged, “but the Warblers are going to be performing at the mall in Westerville this Sunday, at 2:30. If you’re not busy, would you like to join us?”
Blaine, surprised and gratified by the request, had quickly agreed, giving Wes his contact information so that he could send Blaine the details.
In the end, Wes had gone on with his shopping, leaving Blaine blessedly, thankfully alone when the pharmacist called his name. There were some things you just didn’t tell people who were still sort of strangers, no matter how nice they were.
Dr. Ramirez made another note. “That’s terrific, Blaine, that you’re making connections outside of your vocal group,” she praised.
“Even if it’s with a different vocal group?” Blaine asked slyly, making Dr. Ramirez laugh.
“Even then,” she agreed with a smile, before changing topics somewhat. “Now, I know last week, you’d mentioned having a bit of a conflict with Kurt over the weekend,” she began, tone carefully neutral. “How have things been with him, besides the math?”
Blaine smiled down at his hands, now loosely intertwined in his lap. “Things with Kurt are good,” he confirmed. “Great, actually. He’s…”
He trailed off. “This is going to sound stupid,” he sighed.
Dr. Ramirez arched an eyebrow.
“I know I don’t really have anyone else to compare him to, but sometimes it feels like he’s perfect for me,” Blaine explained, feeling uncomfortably inarticulate, but still unable to keep the corners of his mouth from creeping up into a smile. “Like he knows exactly what to say and do, no matter how I’m feeling or what we’re talking about. And he doesn’t even have to think about it; he just does it, and its right.”
Dr. Ramirez nodded. “That does sound perfect,” she noted in an impartial tone, waiting for him to continue.
He did. “I’m trying not to get in over my head, at least not right away,” he admitted. “But it’s hard. He’s one of the only people I have right now that makes me feel good, and he’s so careful with me.”
Dr. Ramirez looked at him, toying absently with her pen. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” she wanted to know.
Blaine frowned, not sure how to answer.
“It can be both, if that’s how you feel,” she added. “You just didn’t sound quite as enthused as you did before, and I’m curious what him being careful with you means to you, and how you feel about it.”
Blaine swallowed nervously. “Can I have a minute to think about that?” he asked awkwardly.
“Of course,” Dr. Ramirez answered. Seeming to pick up on Blaine’s discomfort, she smiled gently at him. “I’m not trying to trick you into answering, or saying anything you don’t want to say,” she promised. “Take whatever time you need.”
Drawing his-shoeless-feet up on the couch, Blaine thought about the question. About Kurt-how Kurt almost never pressed him to talk about anything Blaine gave the slightest indication he didn’t want to discuss. How big and soft his eyes would get sometimes, watching Blaine with a mixture of emotions Blaine wasn’t sure he could name; how gentle his hands were whenever he touched Blaine, never gripping or bruising or pulling unless Blaine’s did first.
How Kurt’s odd, almost vulnerable, gentleness had drawn Blaine in, nearly from the start.
“I like that he’s careful,” Blaine said slowly, finally. “I like that he cares enough to be careful. Even if I didn’t need it, I’d probably still like the feeling behind it.”
He sighed, looking back down. “I guess I just wish I didn’t need it,” he admitted. “I get upset over stupid things, and half the time I can’t even explain why to him, and he’s so good about being whatever I need, but it has to be hard on him. I don’t want him to have to worry about upsetting me all the time-and he does; I’ve told him he doesn’t have to, but I know he does. I’d probably be the same way, if our situations were reversed.”
He quirked his mouth self-deprecatingly, a little embarrassed by his sudden, unexpected rambling. “That wasn’t a very clear answer, was it?” he asked ruefully.
Dr. Ramirez looked thoughtful. “Maybe not,” she allowed. “But it was a complicated question; it deserves a complicated answer, don’t you think?”
Blaine shrugged.
She adjusted her glasses. “I did notice, though, that when you were talking about wishing you didn’t need such carefulness from Kurt, you talked about it from his perspective; why it must be difficult for him.”
Blaine sat up a little straighter in his seat, eyeing her warily.
Dr. Ramirez didn’t react. “I just wonder if maybe your underlining concern is about Kurt’s awareness of your need for extra emotional support right now, and not just your wish to get back to a more comfortable space, mentally,” she suggested.
Blaine…had no idea how to even begin thinking about that. “Can’t it be both?” he asked, uneasy with the turn in the conversation.
Dr. Ramirez blinked. “It can absolutely be both, if that’s how you feel,” she agreed. “And it’s not necessarily a bad thing, as long as your desire to heal from your experiences isn’t solely tied to your relationship, and how you believe others see you. At least some of it has to be for you.”
She eyed the clock, before looking back at him. “That being said, being perceived as vulnerable, especially in a romantic relationship, can be a very difficult thing, Blaine,” she said gently. “I’d say it’s probably one of the biggest barriers we have, in communicating with one another, and it sounds like something you’ve been struggling with lately.”
She shifted slightly in her seat. “Would talking a little bit about that, the ways you feel like your situation affects the dynamics of your relationship with Kurt, be something you’d feel comfortable bringing up in Group?” she asked, looking more curious than anything.
That Blaine knew the answer to. “No,” he said assertively, shaking his head. “Not without talking to Kurt, first-I told him I wouldn’t talk about him in Group, when I asked if I could tell you about him.”
Dr. Ramirez nodded. “And there’s obviously no time for that today,” she commented lightly.
Blaine glanced at his watch. She was right-his appointment was nearly over, and group therapy began ten minutes after that.
“Do you think it’s something you’ll ask him in the future, or is that something you’d rather revisit down the line?” Dr. Ramirez wanted to know.
Blaine shrugged-and God, he was doing a lot of that today. “I don’t-no. I don’t know,” he answered, running a hand through his hair in a way that would make Kurt roll his eyes. “I know everything we say is supposed to be confidential, but…my parents don’t know that Kurt’s my boyfriend, yet. I’d want to tell them first, just in case.”
Dr. Ramirez nodded thoughtfully, writing something down. “Can I ask-who does know about your relationship with Kurt, besides his father?” she wondered. “Is there anyone in your day to day life that you can talk to about him, even if it’s nothing as serious as what we’ve been discussing?”
“People at school know,” Blaine replied. “Kurt’s really popular at Carmel, so people just sort of know things like who he’s dating. And it’s not like we’ve made a point of hiding our relationship, even if I don’t really talk to anyone about it.”
“Do you feel like you could talk to someone at school about it, or would that be too uncomfortable for you?” Dr. Ramirez prompted gently.
Blaine thought about it. “It’s not that it would make me uncomfortable,” he said slowly. “I mean, I would be, definitely. But…the people I know best at Carmel are all in Vocal Adrenaline, and they’ve known Kurt longer than they’ve known me,” he explained. “It’s not like I think they’d go running to tell Kurt anything I said, but…I guess I don’t think that’s fair to anyone, really.”
Dr. Ramirez nodded, sitting back in her seat. “I can see how that might be troublesome,” she acknowledged. “So here’s what I’d like from you for next time, Blaine. I’d like for you to think about the people in your life, and try to identify one or two people that you’d feel comfortable talking to about Kurt; people that are yours, more so than his. You don’t have to say anything to them yet, if you don’t feel ready-just figure out who those people might be.”
Blaine nodded, and Dr. Ramirez smiled at him. “And it’s not all about problems and concerns, Blaine,” she added. “When you’re happy, it’s natural to want to share that happiness with others. And it sounds like your relationship with Kurt is a fairly significant source of happiness for you, these days.”
She glanced at the clock again. “We have another minute or two before we have to head downstairs for Group,” she told Blaine, looking at him with searching eyes-which, strangely, didn’t make Blaine feel nearly as uncomfortable as he would have thought. “Is there anything else you want to touch on, before we finish up?”
Blaine shook his head. “I think I have enough to think about for now,” he admitted with a small smile.
Dr. Ramirez smiled in return. “True,” she agreed. “In that case-I’m going to mention this downstairs as well, but since it affects you individually, I’ll tell you first: you know next Thursday is Christmas Eve, and the offices will be closed.”
Blaine nodded. “And the Thursday after that is New Year’s Eve, so my appointment is scheduled for Wednesday, instead,” he replied.
“That’s right,” she confirmed. “But since I won’t be seeing you for nearly two weeks, and Group won’t be meeting again until January, I want to remind you that you have the number for our answering service, and that you can call it any time, if you think you need support. They’ll redirect you to an appropriate hotline, if you need someone to talk to, or in a genuine emergency, they’ll get in contact with me, or help you call 911 if you’re in crisis.”
“I won’t be,” Blaine said firmly. “I mean-I’m not, like that.”
Dr. Ramirez’s eyes softened. “I don’t mean to imply that I think you’re suicidal,” she reassured him. “Quite the opposite, actually; I think you’ve made tremendous strides over the past month. I just know that the holidays can be rough for a lot of people-a loss of routine, interacting with different people than those you see on a daily basis, societal pressure to be ‘on’ or ‘happy’, regardless of your actual feelings or state of mind.”
She flipped her legal pad back to the first, blank page, before sliding it back into the file on her desk. “I just wanted to remind you that you have a support system here, should you feel like you need it in whatever capacity,” she finished.
Locking his folder into the filing cabinet behind her desk, Dr. Ramirez turned back to Blaine. “Shall we?” she offered, tilting her head toward the door with a smile.
Nodding, Blaine stood, holding the door open for Dr. Ramirez to exit the office. He waited patiently for her to lock the door, then followed a step behind her as they walked down the hall toward the stairwell.
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Blaine had no idea what they were supposed to be studying in History the next day-Kurt was wearing a sweater that he’d ‘stolen’ from Blaine’s car, and Blaine’s brain was busy trying not to explode.
He didn’t even realize that the bell had rung until Kurt was turned around in his chair looking at him, expression a mixture of exasperated and amused. “Are you planning on hanging out in here all day?” he quipped, ruffling Blaine’s hair before leaning over to grab his book bag. “As fascinating as post-war Europe is, I would think that you have better ways to spend your time.”
Oh. That’s what Blaine hadn’t learned a single thing about, just then.
“Just thinking,” he explained lightly, tearing his eyes away from Kurt’s (his) sweater and shouldering his own bag.
Kurt led the way out the door and into the hall. “What about?” he wanted to know, waving at Sasha and Mandy as they passed them in a hurry.
You in my clothes. “Rehearsal,” Blaine lied, not wanting to sound as creepily obsessive as he felt. “Ryleigh and I have practice with Shelby now, even though we’re not supposed to be working on our song in rehearsal today.”
He frowned. “Actually, I don’t remember what we’re supposed to be working on in rehearsal today,” he admitted.
“Bad Romance,” Kurt replied smoothly, naming one of their group numbers. “It’ll be nice to actually have a piece completed and polished again-I know we’ve been slaving away in rehearsals, but it’s always a shock to go from a competition program into a mess of half-finished numbers.”
Blaine, who hadn’t really experienced that to the same extent, shrugged his shoulders. Then shook his head, attempting to force his brain to work again. “Do you want to go out after we’re done tonight?” he asked hopefully.
Kurt sighed dramatically. “’Want to’, yes; ‘can’, no,” he lamented, lacing his fingers through Blaine’s. “My dad has a doctor’s appointment tonight, and it’s not a good idea for him to drive himself home if they draw any blood samples.” He squeezed Blaine’s hand. “How about tomorrow night?”
Blaine thought about it before nodding. “Can we do something Christmas-y?” he wanted to know. “I need holiday spirit.”
Kurt stared at him, looking a little surprised. “Like what?” he asked, sounding vaguely confused. “Build a snowman? Make cookies?”
Blaine smiled brightly. “Cookies, definitely,” he agreed, making Kurt laugh.
“All right, cookies,” Kurt promised. “But let’s do that on Tuesday, so you can take them with you on your International Sleigh Ride to the Land Where Cold Goes to Die-“
“Also known as Canada,” Blaine interrupted, amused.
“-also known as Canada,” Kurt allowed, “and they’ll still be fresh. Tomorrow, we’ll just be unbelievably, nauseatingly adorable and go to the movies. I’ll even sit through something with reindeer in it, if you promise to let me wrap my arm around you without having to do the ridiculously predictable fake-yawn thing.”
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Blaine was starting to see why Kurt was so invested in the idea of potentially singing lead next year-it was sort of awesome.
“Less vibrato,” Shelby was coaching Ryleigh through a particularly high note. “Better. Finish the phrase.”
Ryleigh complied. “Good,” Shelby decided. “Blaine, join her on that section, please.”
Breathing deeply, Blaine followed Ryleigh’s lead in, their voices combining flawlessly now that Shelby had fixed Ryleigh’s slight squeak. It was such a different sound than when Blaine had listened to Kurt and Sasha duet for Kurt’s evaluation-their voices had blended beautifully, the overall sound sweet and whimsical. Blaine and Ryleigh’s sound was anything but; their voices raw and powerful as they filled the room with sound.
When they cut off suddenly, perfectly together, Blaine’s ears rang slightly with the echo. Shelby nodded, looking pleased. “Excellent, exactly what I was hoping for,” she told them, her praise not effervescent, but filling Blaine with warmth all the same.
“Ok. I think we’re done for now,” she continued. “We’re running it on Monday, so keep practicing over the weekend and don’t lose your voices. Ryleigh, if it doesn’t sound perfect to you, it probably isn’t-I’ll alert the department that you get top priority on Monday if you need someone to coach you through it again before rehearsal.” Ryleigh agreed with a smile, seemingly relishing the attention.
Shelby turned to Blaine. “Blaine, you’re friends with Kurt, yes?” she wanted to know.
Blaine’s eyes widened, before swiftly dropping to the floor to avoid Shelby’s gaze. “Uh, yes?” he stammered out-because he couldn’t correct his teacher about something like Kurt not being his friend, but his boyfriend whom he liked to make out with-Shelby was probably just trying to gauge how well he knew Kurt, not if he knew what Kurt’s tongue tasted like.
And God, he was going to have to stop thinking about Kurt’s tongue before he said or did something horrifically embarrassing.
If Shelby noticed his complete mental breakdown, she didn’t mention it. “Have him practice with you once or twice over the weekend, to keep you sharp,” she directed. “It’ll be good for him to stretch his voice; the countertenor parts aren’t as high this time around as they were for our Sectionals program.”
She shooed them out of the room after a minute, citing a phone conference that was starting in two minutes. “Tell Ben I have good news for him, if you see him before rehearsal,” she added, before closing the door.
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Out in the hall, Blaine glanced at his watch-there were fifteen more minutes left before the bell was scheduled to ring. “Can I walk you to class?” he offered politely, slinging his bag over his shoulder before stuffing his hands into the pockets of his cardigan.
Ryleigh shook her head, her dark hair flying around her face. “No thanks,” she replied easily. “Not much point in going to science if I’m only going to be there for the last ten minutes. Cafeteria?” Blaine shrugged in agreement, since that was where he was supposed to be anyway, and they started walking down the hall.
“Thanks for the offer, though,” Ryleigh added after a moment. “You’re nice. It’s refreshing.”
Blaine must have looked confused, because she laughed lightly when she looked over at him. “What?” she said, mockingly defensive. “You are. And you have to have noticed by now that not too many of us are very nice.”
Blaine frowned. “I hadn’t, really,” he disagreed. “Everyone’s been great so far.”
Ryleigh nodded knowingly. “You’ll get there,” she said ominously.
Before Blaine could respond, she changed the subject. “You know, you could have told Shelby that Kurt’s your boyfriend,” she pointed out. “She wouldn’t have cared.”
Blaine grimaced. “I panicked,” he admitted darkly, making Ryleigh laugh again. “If I’d tried to correct her, I probably would have said something mortifying, and would have had to sink into the floor immediately.”
Ryleigh shook her head, smiling. “Whatever. She doesn’t care if you’re gay,” she promised. “If you were the lead, she’d probably help control your image a little more tightly; make sure you’re palatable to judges and casting directors and college department heads, but she was the one who talked the administration into earmarking funding for a Gay-Straight Alliance.”
Blaine looked over at her, surprised. “We have a GSA?” he asked, wondering how he had gone so long at Carmel without noticing that. Not that he had really gone around shopping for extracurriculars, but still.
Ryleigh glanced around before pulling out her cell phone. “Be my lookout,” she requested, scrolling through her text messages. “I don’t know how big it is, or who’s in it, but yeah, we have one,” she continued, tapping buttons with swift fingers as Blaine looked up and down the hall, keeping an eye out for teachers or security guards. “They’re the ones who throw the Winter Ball, and it’s always the best dance of the year.”
Blaine swallowed roughly.
Ryleigh didn’t notice. “You and Kurt are going, right?” she pressed, eyes still on the screen.
Blaine was saved from answering her by the sudden appearance of the vice principal, 50 yards ahead. “Mr. Sanders,” Blaine muttered discreetly, causing Ryleigh to hiss a string of curses before tucking her cell phone back in her purse, just in time.
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The next few days flew by in a haze of rehearsals and classes and papers and singing and holiday preparations, and before Blaine knew it, it was three days until Christmas and he was done with school until January.
A light snow was falling when classes let out on Tuesday afternoon, and Blaine walked extra-slowly across the parking lot, arms full of books, candy, and presents. A surprising number of people had approached him over the course of the day with beribboned candy canes or Christmas cookies, wishing him a Merry Christmas and asking about his vacation plans. He tried to respond with equal grace, glad that Kurt had warned him to bring something to pass out (he’d bought a few pounds of homemade fudge from an entrepreneurial church group raising money at the mall in Westerville, and his mother had been all too happy to dig out some red and green ribbon when he explained what he needed it for).
Even if the people who had given him treats did the same thing for everyone, the gift tags and cards still had his name and a smiley face on them, and the well wishes had been genuine. For him, it was enough.
The sing-along with the Warblers on Sunday had been equally unexpectedly gratifying. Wes had emailed him the set list on Friday-and had obviously warned the other boys that he was coming, if their enthusiastic greetings and freely proffered handshakes were any indication. One of the freshmen had even brought a spare blazer for him to wear for the performance, which was extremely well-received by the observing shoppers. After making it through all eleven songs-mostly group numbers, but a couple of soloists were featured, and the most stunning rendition of The First Noel Blaine had ever heard was performed by a quartet of seniors-the Warblers broke off into smaller groups to shop, under strict orders from Mark (“The senior-most member of the Warbler’s Council; I’m in line for his position next year,” Wes had muttered into Blaine’s ear) to be back on the bus in forty-five minutes.
Blaine had spent the time with Wes and a few of the others, getting coffee (Wes insisted on paying for his, “as a thank you for lending us your dulcet tenor”) and talking about Dalton in general (“I know you’re not allowed to talk about Vocal Adrenaline, and discussing anything Warbler-related outside of rehearsal tends to become…counterproductive”). Blaine had a genuinely nice time, and was sad to see them go when 4:30 rolled around, though Wes and the other council members insisted that he was welcome back at any time.
It wasn’t quite enough to make him wish he had chosen Dalton, because Dalton didn’t have Kurt. But watching the bus pull out of the parking lot, Blaine couldn’t help but feel a small, inexplicable sense of loss.
Kurt was spending the afternoon cleaning the house and preparing the guest room-that Blaine still really wanted to see-for his great-aunt, whose train was arriving that night. Blaine’s offer to help had been met by a fond eye roll, and instructions to come over for Christmas cookie baking around 6:00.
“It’ll give me time to wash off that Lemon-Based Cleaner scent,” Kurt had explained. “Besides, I still have to wrap your present-and, no pressure, but you should pretend to like it, even if you don’t, in order to avoid hurting my ego.”
Blaine had yet to mention the Winter Ball that Ryleigh had told him about. After getting over the initial, Pavlovian-like dread at the word ‘dance’, Blaine had spent a few hours fluctuating back and forth between a.) hurt that Kurt hadn’t asked him to go, despite the fact that Kurt had to know about it, b.) guilt that Kurt probably thought he couldn’t handle going, and was consequently avoiding the topic entirely despite his own love of dancing, and c.) shame that Kurt might be right in thinking that. He’d had every intention of flat-out asking Kurt about the dance on their date on Saturday, but in the end, they’d been having such a nice time (Kurt pretended to moan at the reindeer, but Blaine could tell that he was secretly enjoying the movie anyway) that Blaine couldn’t bring himself to spoil it.
If he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t sure what he would say if Kurt did ask him to go. It would be so different than his old school-the dance was sponsored by the Gay-Straight Alliance, for one thing, and Carmel had the security guards and strict bullying policies that his old school lacked-but it was one thing for Blaine to understand that intellectually, and quite another to really know it in his gut.
He still hadn’t made up his mind, whether or not to say anything to Kurt about it, by the time he was standing on Kurt’s doorstep that evening, Christmas gift in hand.
Any thoughts of the dance were driven out of Blaine’s mind, however, when Kurt opened the door wearing yoga pants.
“Come in, come in,” Kurt greeted Blaine, ushering him inside and quickly closing the door behind him. “You’re freezing; let me make you some hot chocolate.”
Hot chocolate sounded like a fantastic idea, so Blaine quickly pulled off his coat and boots and followed Kurt into the kitchen, trying not to stare blatantly at the swing of Kurt’s hips, just in case Mr. Hummel was home.
As if he knew what Blaine was thinking, Kurt smiled as he filled up the tea kettle. “Dad’s going straight from work to the station in Columbus to get Mildred,” he told Blaine. “They shouldn’t get in until 10:00, so you’re safe from her for now.”
Blaine raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t she in her seventies?” he asked, trying to remember what Kurt had said about her, and if he should legitimately be afraid for any reason.
“At least,” Kurt said dryly, taking a set of mugs down from the cabinet. “I’m pretty sure she used to terrify the dinosaurs back in her youth with her inappropriate questions and ability to drink a T-Rex under the table, but Dad says that might be a slight exaggeration on my part.” He brushed past Blaine, getting a carton of skim milk out of the refrigerator. “Did you eat yet” he asked, filling each mug halfway before glancing at Blaine. “I can make you something, or you’re welcome to try the horrible vegan spice cake that Jesse’s girlfriend brought over last night.” He nodded at the counter to the left of the sink, where a Saran-wrapped creation that could only generously be referred to as a cake was sitting on a floral dish.
“It’s pink,” Blaine observed, drawing away from it instinctually.
Kurt nodded. “Apparently, her specialty is ‘I’m Sorry’ cookies, but she couldn’t think of anything she’d done to me that merited an apology, and didn’t want to purposely wrong her boyfriend’s best friend, just to appropriately inspire her baking,” he recited solemnly. “Which, if you’ve talked to Rachel for more than five minutes, actually makes a twisted sort of sense.”
Blaine couldn’t stop staring at the pink mass. “Yeah, I’m going to have to say that I’m not particularly hungry right now,” he decided, shuddering slightly.
Kurt smirked. “Wise choice,” he agreed.
The kettle whistled, and Kurt turned off the burner. “So,” he said casually, filling the mugs the rest of the way with hot water and adding spoonfuls of chocolate powder, “cookies first, or presents?”
Blaine picked up the blue bag that held Kurt’s present. “Presents,” he decided, taking care not to drop the bag and shatter the glass within.
Kurt handed Blaine a mug of hot chocolate. “Presents it is,” he agreed with a smile. “Yours is in the living room; shall we?”
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Rating: We're now officially in NC-17 territory, folks. Be scared, I certainly am.
Warnings: Sexuality, violence consistant with canon, mild drug/alcohol use, mental/emotional themes (depression, anxiety, etc), dysfunctional family situations
Summary: AU. Kurt Hummel never went to McKinley. Instead, his father sent him to Carmel, where he flourished as a member of Vocal Adrenaline under the watchful eye of Jesse St. James. Everything was falling into place for him, until the day that Blaine, a beautiful, damaged transfer student with his own set of issues, throws his world upside down.
A/N: So far, this story has been written as a Single Point of Departure fic-everything that deviates from canon is somehow related to Kurt's presence at Carmel or absence from McKinley. However, in this chapter, an event takes place that both directly contradicts canon, and has nothing to do with Kurt. I didn't realize it until I was halfway done with the scene, and when I did, I liked it too much to cut it out. So, I'm sorry. You're all pretty.
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Dr. Ramirez had brown eyes behind her black-framed glasses, and a comfortable white couch that Blaine was allowed to put his feet on, as long as he took his shoes off first. She had mentioned it offhandedly at his intake appointment, but Blaine didn’t actually attempt it until halfway through his second real session, when the muscle in his leg that he’d pulled during rehearsal needed a softer surface to rest on. It had been awkward at first, curling up on someone else’s furniture while talking about his home life, but Blaine had quickly gotten used to it. Even with explicit permission, it sort of felt like breaking all the rules-or, at least, violating about half a dozen etiquette guidelines earnestly taught by one of the novices at Aquinas back in 7th grade.
Blaine kind of liked it.
“So, Blaine, how was school this week?” Dr. Ramirez wanted to know, crossing her legs and leaning back in her armchair.
Blaine mirrored her posture cautiously-he had changed clothes after rehearsal, but was very conscious of his sweaty hair. “It was fine,” he answered neutrally. “I had a math test today, but I think I did all right on it. It’s Kurt’s best subject, so he’s been helping me study before rehearsals.”
Dr. Ramirez nodded. “Has it been difficult, balancing school and rehearsals?” she asked, making a note on the legal pad to her left. “Vocal Adrenaline sounds like quite the time commitment.”
Blaine stifled the urge to laugh at her massive understatement. “At first, I guess,” he admitted, “but I was behind in all my classes, too, since the curriculum at Carmel is a little more advanced. Now that I’m caught up and used to the rehearsal schedule, it’s easier. I mean, it’s still a lot, but not too much, I don’t think.”
“You’re certainly one of the busiest students I work with, I don’t mind telling you that,” Dr. Ramirez told him, smiling. She tilted her head slightly, the way that Kurt often did right before asking something personal. “I wonder,” she mused, “what would ‘too much’ look like to you?”
Blaine shifted slightly in his seat. “I don’t know,” he confessed, picking absently at a loose thread on his jeans. “I just know that I’m not there; not yet.”
Dr. Ramirez nodded. “Something to think about for next time, maybe,” she suggested. “And how about your life outside of rehearsals? Have you done anything social this week? I know you said last week that you don’t really like talking on the phone, but did you go out at all, talk to anyone online?”
Blaine started to shake his head, then paused. “Not exactly,” he said slowly. “But…I have plans. For Sunday.”
He’d been waiting at the pharmacy on Tuesday night, texting Kurt while his prescriptions were filled, when he’d heard the slightly familiar voice:
“Blaine, is that you?” Wes asked, smiling at Blaine when he looked up.
Blaine smiled back at Wes, who was impeccably groomed and still in his blazer, clutching his phone a little bit tighter. “Hi Wes, how are you?” he’d asked automatically, both glad to see him and dreading the moment when Wes would ask what he was doing there.
The moment never came. “I’m doing well, and yourself? I trust you’re keeping busy, with the holidays coming up.”
Blaine confirmed it and asked about Wes’s vacation plans, and they’d made polite conversation for another couple of minutes before Wes tilted his head to the side, studying Blaine. “I know this is an unusual request,” he acknowledged, “but the Warblers are going to be performing at the mall in Westerville this Sunday, at 2:30. If you’re not busy, would you like to join us?”
Blaine, surprised and gratified by the request, had quickly agreed, giving Wes his contact information so that he could send Blaine the details.
In the end, Wes had gone on with his shopping, leaving Blaine blessedly, thankfully alone when the pharmacist called his name. There were some things you just didn’t tell people who were still sort of strangers, no matter how nice they were.
Dr. Ramirez made another note. “That’s terrific, Blaine, that you’re making connections outside of your vocal group,” she praised.
“Even if it’s with a different vocal group?” Blaine asked slyly, making Dr. Ramirez laugh.
“Even then,” she agreed with a smile, before changing topics somewhat. “Now, I know last week, you’d mentioned having a bit of a conflict with Kurt over the weekend,” she began, tone carefully neutral. “How have things been with him, besides the math?”
Blaine smiled down at his hands, now loosely intertwined in his lap. “Things with Kurt are good,” he confirmed. “Great, actually. He’s…”
He trailed off. “This is going to sound stupid,” he sighed.
Dr. Ramirez arched an eyebrow.
“I know I don’t really have anyone else to compare him to, but sometimes it feels like he’s perfect for me,” Blaine explained, feeling uncomfortably inarticulate, but still unable to keep the corners of his mouth from creeping up into a smile. “Like he knows exactly what to say and do, no matter how I’m feeling or what we’re talking about. And he doesn’t even have to think about it; he just does it, and its right.”
Dr. Ramirez nodded. “That does sound perfect,” she noted in an impartial tone, waiting for him to continue.
He did. “I’m trying not to get in over my head, at least not right away,” he admitted. “But it’s hard. He’s one of the only people I have right now that makes me feel good, and he’s so careful with me.”
Dr. Ramirez looked at him, toying absently with her pen. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” she wanted to know.
Blaine frowned, not sure how to answer.
“It can be both, if that’s how you feel,” she added. “You just didn’t sound quite as enthused as you did before, and I’m curious what him being careful with you means to you, and how you feel about it.”
Blaine swallowed nervously. “Can I have a minute to think about that?” he asked awkwardly.
“Of course,” Dr. Ramirez answered. Seeming to pick up on Blaine’s discomfort, she smiled gently at him. “I’m not trying to trick you into answering, or saying anything you don’t want to say,” she promised. “Take whatever time you need.”
Drawing his-shoeless-feet up on the couch, Blaine thought about the question. About Kurt-how Kurt almost never pressed him to talk about anything Blaine gave the slightest indication he didn’t want to discuss. How big and soft his eyes would get sometimes, watching Blaine with a mixture of emotions Blaine wasn’t sure he could name; how gentle his hands were whenever he touched Blaine, never gripping or bruising or pulling unless Blaine’s did first.
How Kurt’s odd, almost vulnerable, gentleness had drawn Blaine in, nearly from the start.
“I like that he’s careful,” Blaine said slowly, finally. “I like that he cares enough to be careful. Even if I didn’t need it, I’d probably still like the feeling behind it.”
He sighed, looking back down. “I guess I just wish I didn’t need it,” he admitted. “I get upset over stupid things, and half the time I can’t even explain why to him, and he’s so good about being whatever I need, but it has to be hard on him. I don’t want him to have to worry about upsetting me all the time-and he does; I’ve told him he doesn’t have to, but I know he does. I’d probably be the same way, if our situations were reversed.”
He quirked his mouth self-deprecatingly, a little embarrassed by his sudden, unexpected rambling. “That wasn’t a very clear answer, was it?” he asked ruefully.
Dr. Ramirez looked thoughtful. “Maybe not,” she allowed. “But it was a complicated question; it deserves a complicated answer, don’t you think?”
Blaine shrugged.
She adjusted her glasses. “I did notice, though, that when you were talking about wishing you didn’t need such carefulness from Kurt, you talked about it from his perspective; why it must be difficult for him.”
Blaine sat up a little straighter in his seat, eyeing her warily.
Dr. Ramirez didn’t react. “I just wonder if maybe your underlining concern is about Kurt’s awareness of your need for extra emotional support right now, and not just your wish to get back to a more comfortable space, mentally,” she suggested.
Blaine…had no idea how to even begin thinking about that. “Can’t it be both?” he asked, uneasy with the turn in the conversation.
Dr. Ramirez blinked. “It can absolutely be both, if that’s how you feel,” she agreed. “And it’s not necessarily a bad thing, as long as your desire to heal from your experiences isn’t solely tied to your relationship, and how you believe others see you. At least some of it has to be for you.”
She eyed the clock, before looking back at him. “That being said, being perceived as vulnerable, especially in a romantic relationship, can be a very difficult thing, Blaine,” she said gently. “I’d say it’s probably one of the biggest barriers we have, in communicating with one another, and it sounds like something you’ve been struggling with lately.”
She shifted slightly in her seat. “Would talking a little bit about that, the ways you feel like your situation affects the dynamics of your relationship with Kurt, be something you’d feel comfortable bringing up in Group?” she asked, looking more curious than anything.
That Blaine knew the answer to. “No,” he said assertively, shaking his head. “Not without talking to Kurt, first-I told him I wouldn’t talk about him in Group, when I asked if I could tell you about him.”
Dr. Ramirez nodded. “And there’s obviously no time for that today,” she commented lightly.
Blaine glanced at his watch. She was right-his appointment was nearly over, and group therapy began ten minutes after that.
“Do you think it’s something you’ll ask him in the future, or is that something you’d rather revisit down the line?” Dr. Ramirez wanted to know.
Blaine shrugged-and God, he was doing a lot of that today. “I don’t-no. I don’t know,” he answered, running a hand through his hair in a way that would make Kurt roll his eyes. “I know everything we say is supposed to be confidential, but…my parents don’t know that Kurt’s my boyfriend, yet. I’d want to tell them first, just in case.”
Dr. Ramirez nodded thoughtfully, writing something down. “Can I ask-who does know about your relationship with Kurt, besides his father?” she wondered. “Is there anyone in your day to day life that you can talk to about him, even if it’s nothing as serious as what we’ve been discussing?”
“People at school know,” Blaine replied. “Kurt’s really popular at Carmel, so people just sort of know things like who he’s dating. And it’s not like we’ve made a point of hiding our relationship, even if I don’t really talk to anyone about it.”
“Do you feel like you could talk to someone at school about it, or would that be too uncomfortable for you?” Dr. Ramirez prompted gently.
Blaine thought about it. “It’s not that it would make me uncomfortable,” he said slowly. “I mean, I would be, definitely. But…the people I know best at Carmel are all in Vocal Adrenaline, and they’ve known Kurt longer than they’ve known me,” he explained. “It’s not like I think they’d go running to tell Kurt anything I said, but…I guess I don’t think that’s fair to anyone, really.”
Dr. Ramirez nodded, sitting back in her seat. “I can see how that might be troublesome,” she acknowledged. “So here’s what I’d like from you for next time, Blaine. I’d like for you to think about the people in your life, and try to identify one or two people that you’d feel comfortable talking to about Kurt; people that are yours, more so than his. You don’t have to say anything to them yet, if you don’t feel ready-just figure out who those people might be.”
Blaine nodded, and Dr. Ramirez smiled at him. “And it’s not all about problems and concerns, Blaine,” she added. “When you’re happy, it’s natural to want to share that happiness with others. And it sounds like your relationship with Kurt is a fairly significant source of happiness for you, these days.”
She glanced at the clock again. “We have another minute or two before we have to head downstairs for Group,” she told Blaine, looking at him with searching eyes-which, strangely, didn’t make Blaine feel nearly as uncomfortable as he would have thought. “Is there anything else you want to touch on, before we finish up?”
Blaine shook his head. “I think I have enough to think about for now,” he admitted with a small smile.
Dr. Ramirez smiled in return. “True,” she agreed. “In that case-I’m going to mention this downstairs as well, but since it affects you individually, I’ll tell you first: you know next Thursday is Christmas Eve, and the offices will be closed.”
Blaine nodded. “And the Thursday after that is New Year’s Eve, so my appointment is scheduled for Wednesday, instead,” he replied.
“That’s right,” she confirmed. “But since I won’t be seeing you for nearly two weeks, and Group won’t be meeting again until January, I want to remind you that you have the number for our answering service, and that you can call it any time, if you think you need support. They’ll redirect you to an appropriate hotline, if you need someone to talk to, or in a genuine emergency, they’ll get in contact with me, or help you call 911 if you’re in crisis.”
“I won’t be,” Blaine said firmly. “I mean-I’m not, like that.”
Dr. Ramirez’s eyes softened. “I don’t mean to imply that I think you’re suicidal,” she reassured him. “Quite the opposite, actually; I think you’ve made tremendous strides over the past month. I just know that the holidays can be rough for a lot of people-a loss of routine, interacting with different people than those you see on a daily basis, societal pressure to be ‘on’ or ‘happy’, regardless of your actual feelings or state of mind.”
She flipped her legal pad back to the first, blank page, before sliding it back into the file on her desk. “I just wanted to remind you that you have a support system here, should you feel like you need it in whatever capacity,” she finished.
Locking his folder into the filing cabinet behind her desk, Dr. Ramirez turned back to Blaine. “Shall we?” she offered, tilting her head toward the door with a smile.
Nodding, Blaine stood, holding the door open for Dr. Ramirez to exit the office. He waited patiently for her to lock the door, then followed a step behind her as they walked down the hall toward the stairwell.
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Blaine had no idea what they were supposed to be studying in History the next day-Kurt was wearing a sweater that he’d ‘stolen’ from Blaine’s car, and Blaine’s brain was busy trying not to explode.
He didn’t even realize that the bell had rung until Kurt was turned around in his chair looking at him, expression a mixture of exasperated and amused. “Are you planning on hanging out in here all day?” he quipped, ruffling Blaine’s hair before leaning over to grab his book bag. “As fascinating as post-war Europe is, I would think that you have better ways to spend your time.”
Oh. That’s what Blaine hadn’t learned a single thing about, just then.
“Just thinking,” he explained lightly, tearing his eyes away from Kurt’s (his) sweater and shouldering his own bag.
Kurt led the way out the door and into the hall. “What about?” he wanted to know, waving at Sasha and Mandy as they passed them in a hurry.
You in my clothes. “Rehearsal,” Blaine lied, not wanting to sound as creepily obsessive as he felt. “Ryleigh and I have practice with Shelby now, even though we’re not supposed to be working on our song in rehearsal today.”
He frowned. “Actually, I don’t remember what we’re supposed to be working on in rehearsal today,” he admitted.
“Bad Romance,” Kurt replied smoothly, naming one of their group numbers. “It’ll be nice to actually have a piece completed and polished again-I know we’ve been slaving away in rehearsals, but it’s always a shock to go from a competition program into a mess of half-finished numbers.”
Blaine, who hadn’t really experienced that to the same extent, shrugged his shoulders. Then shook his head, attempting to force his brain to work again. “Do you want to go out after we’re done tonight?” he asked hopefully.
Kurt sighed dramatically. “’Want to’, yes; ‘can’, no,” he lamented, lacing his fingers through Blaine’s. “My dad has a doctor’s appointment tonight, and it’s not a good idea for him to drive himself home if they draw any blood samples.” He squeezed Blaine’s hand. “How about tomorrow night?”
Blaine thought about it before nodding. “Can we do something Christmas-y?” he wanted to know. “I need holiday spirit.”
Kurt stared at him, looking a little surprised. “Like what?” he asked, sounding vaguely confused. “Build a snowman? Make cookies?”
Blaine smiled brightly. “Cookies, definitely,” he agreed, making Kurt laugh.
“All right, cookies,” Kurt promised. “But let’s do that on Tuesday, so you can take them with you on your International Sleigh Ride to the Land Where Cold Goes to Die-“
“Also known as Canada,” Blaine interrupted, amused.
“-also known as Canada,” Kurt allowed, “and they’ll still be fresh. Tomorrow, we’ll just be unbelievably, nauseatingly adorable and go to the movies. I’ll even sit through something with reindeer in it, if you promise to let me wrap my arm around you without having to do the ridiculously predictable fake-yawn thing.”
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Blaine was starting to see why Kurt was so invested in the idea of potentially singing lead next year-it was sort of awesome.
“Less vibrato,” Shelby was coaching Ryleigh through a particularly high note. “Better. Finish the phrase.”
Ryleigh complied. “Good,” Shelby decided. “Blaine, join her on that section, please.”
Breathing deeply, Blaine followed Ryleigh’s lead in, their voices combining flawlessly now that Shelby had fixed Ryleigh’s slight squeak. It was such a different sound than when Blaine had listened to Kurt and Sasha duet for Kurt’s evaluation-their voices had blended beautifully, the overall sound sweet and whimsical. Blaine and Ryleigh’s sound was anything but; their voices raw and powerful as they filled the room with sound.
When they cut off suddenly, perfectly together, Blaine’s ears rang slightly with the echo. Shelby nodded, looking pleased. “Excellent, exactly what I was hoping for,” she told them, her praise not effervescent, but filling Blaine with warmth all the same.
“Ok. I think we’re done for now,” she continued. “We’re running it on Monday, so keep practicing over the weekend and don’t lose your voices. Ryleigh, if it doesn’t sound perfect to you, it probably isn’t-I’ll alert the department that you get top priority on Monday if you need someone to coach you through it again before rehearsal.” Ryleigh agreed with a smile, seemingly relishing the attention.
Shelby turned to Blaine. “Blaine, you’re friends with Kurt, yes?” she wanted to know.
Blaine’s eyes widened, before swiftly dropping to the floor to avoid Shelby’s gaze. “Uh, yes?” he stammered out-because he couldn’t correct his teacher about something like Kurt not being his friend, but his boyfriend whom he liked to make out with-Shelby was probably just trying to gauge how well he knew Kurt, not if he knew what Kurt’s tongue tasted like.
And God, he was going to have to stop thinking about Kurt’s tongue before he said or did something horrifically embarrassing.
If Shelby noticed his complete mental breakdown, she didn’t mention it. “Have him practice with you once or twice over the weekend, to keep you sharp,” she directed. “It’ll be good for him to stretch his voice; the countertenor parts aren’t as high this time around as they were for our Sectionals program.”
She shooed them out of the room after a minute, citing a phone conference that was starting in two minutes. “Tell Ben I have good news for him, if you see him before rehearsal,” she added, before closing the door.
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Out in the hall, Blaine glanced at his watch-there were fifteen more minutes left before the bell was scheduled to ring. “Can I walk you to class?” he offered politely, slinging his bag over his shoulder before stuffing his hands into the pockets of his cardigan.
Ryleigh shook her head, her dark hair flying around her face. “No thanks,” she replied easily. “Not much point in going to science if I’m only going to be there for the last ten minutes. Cafeteria?” Blaine shrugged in agreement, since that was where he was supposed to be anyway, and they started walking down the hall.
“Thanks for the offer, though,” Ryleigh added after a moment. “You’re nice. It’s refreshing.”
Blaine must have looked confused, because she laughed lightly when she looked over at him. “What?” she said, mockingly defensive. “You are. And you have to have noticed by now that not too many of us are very nice.”
Blaine frowned. “I hadn’t, really,” he disagreed. “Everyone’s been great so far.”
Ryleigh nodded knowingly. “You’ll get there,” she said ominously.
Before Blaine could respond, she changed the subject. “You know, you could have told Shelby that Kurt’s your boyfriend,” she pointed out. “She wouldn’t have cared.”
Blaine grimaced. “I panicked,” he admitted darkly, making Ryleigh laugh again. “If I’d tried to correct her, I probably would have said something mortifying, and would have had to sink into the floor immediately.”
Ryleigh shook her head, smiling. “Whatever. She doesn’t care if you’re gay,” she promised. “If you were the lead, she’d probably help control your image a little more tightly; make sure you’re palatable to judges and casting directors and college department heads, but she was the one who talked the administration into earmarking funding for a Gay-Straight Alliance.”
Blaine looked over at her, surprised. “We have a GSA?” he asked, wondering how he had gone so long at Carmel without noticing that. Not that he had really gone around shopping for extracurriculars, but still.
Ryleigh glanced around before pulling out her cell phone. “Be my lookout,” she requested, scrolling through her text messages. “I don’t know how big it is, or who’s in it, but yeah, we have one,” she continued, tapping buttons with swift fingers as Blaine looked up and down the hall, keeping an eye out for teachers or security guards. “They’re the ones who throw the Winter Ball, and it’s always the best dance of the year.”
Blaine swallowed roughly.
Ryleigh didn’t notice. “You and Kurt are going, right?” she pressed, eyes still on the screen.
Blaine was saved from answering her by the sudden appearance of the vice principal, 50 yards ahead. “Mr. Sanders,” Blaine muttered discreetly, causing Ryleigh to hiss a string of curses before tucking her cell phone back in her purse, just in time.
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The next few days flew by in a haze of rehearsals and classes and papers and singing and holiday preparations, and before Blaine knew it, it was three days until Christmas and he was done with school until January.
A light snow was falling when classes let out on Tuesday afternoon, and Blaine walked extra-slowly across the parking lot, arms full of books, candy, and presents. A surprising number of people had approached him over the course of the day with beribboned candy canes or Christmas cookies, wishing him a Merry Christmas and asking about his vacation plans. He tried to respond with equal grace, glad that Kurt had warned him to bring something to pass out (he’d bought a few pounds of homemade fudge from an entrepreneurial church group raising money at the mall in Westerville, and his mother had been all too happy to dig out some red and green ribbon when he explained what he needed it for).
Even if the people who had given him treats did the same thing for everyone, the gift tags and cards still had his name and a smiley face on them, and the well wishes had been genuine. For him, it was enough.
The sing-along with the Warblers on Sunday had been equally unexpectedly gratifying. Wes had emailed him the set list on Friday-and had obviously warned the other boys that he was coming, if their enthusiastic greetings and freely proffered handshakes were any indication. One of the freshmen had even brought a spare blazer for him to wear for the performance, which was extremely well-received by the observing shoppers. After making it through all eleven songs-mostly group numbers, but a couple of soloists were featured, and the most stunning rendition of The First Noel Blaine had ever heard was performed by a quartet of seniors-the Warblers broke off into smaller groups to shop, under strict orders from Mark (“The senior-most member of the Warbler’s Council; I’m in line for his position next year,” Wes had muttered into Blaine’s ear) to be back on the bus in forty-five minutes.
Blaine had spent the time with Wes and a few of the others, getting coffee (Wes insisted on paying for his, “as a thank you for lending us your dulcet tenor”) and talking about Dalton in general (“I know you’re not allowed to talk about Vocal Adrenaline, and discussing anything Warbler-related outside of rehearsal tends to become…counterproductive”). Blaine had a genuinely nice time, and was sad to see them go when 4:30 rolled around, though Wes and the other council members insisted that he was welcome back at any time.
It wasn’t quite enough to make him wish he had chosen Dalton, because Dalton didn’t have Kurt. But watching the bus pull out of the parking lot, Blaine couldn’t help but feel a small, inexplicable sense of loss.
Kurt was spending the afternoon cleaning the house and preparing the guest room-that Blaine still really wanted to see-for his great-aunt, whose train was arriving that night. Blaine’s offer to help had been met by a fond eye roll, and instructions to come over for Christmas cookie baking around 6:00.
“It’ll give me time to wash off that Lemon-Based Cleaner scent,” Kurt had explained. “Besides, I still have to wrap your present-and, no pressure, but you should pretend to like it, even if you don’t, in order to avoid hurting my ego.”
Blaine had yet to mention the Winter Ball that Ryleigh had told him about. After getting over the initial, Pavlovian-like dread at the word ‘dance’, Blaine had spent a few hours fluctuating back and forth between a.) hurt that Kurt hadn’t asked him to go, despite the fact that Kurt had to know about it, b.) guilt that Kurt probably thought he couldn’t handle going, and was consequently avoiding the topic entirely despite his own love of dancing, and c.) shame that Kurt might be right in thinking that. He’d had every intention of flat-out asking Kurt about the dance on their date on Saturday, but in the end, they’d been having such a nice time (Kurt pretended to moan at the reindeer, but Blaine could tell that he was secretly enjoying the movie anyway) that Blaine couldn’t bring himself to spoil it.
If he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t sure what he would say if Kurt did ask him to go. It would be so different than his old school-the dance was sponsored by the Gay-Straight Alliance, for one thing, and Carmel had the security guards and strict bullying policies that his old school lacked-but it was one thing for Blaine to understand that intellectually, and quite another to really know it in his gut.
He still hadn’t made up his mind, whether or not to say anything to Kurt about it, by the time he was standing on Kurt’s doorstep that evening, Christmas gift in hand.
Any thoughts of the dance were driven out of Blaine’s mind, however, when Kurt opened the door wearing yoga pants.
“Come in, come in,” Kurt greeted Blaine, ushering him inside and quickly closing the door behind him. “You’re freezing; let me make you some hot chocolate.”
Hot chocolate sounded like a fantastic idea, so Blaine quickly pulled off his coat and boots and followed Kurt into the kitchen, trying not to stare blatantly at the swing of Kurt’s hips, just in case Mr. Hummel was home.
As if he knew what Blaine was thinking, Kurt smiled as he filled up the tea kettle. “Dad’s going straight from work to the station in Columbus to get Mildred,” he told Blaine. “They shouldn’t get in until 10:00, so you’re safe from her for now.”
Blaine raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t she in her seventies?” he asked, trying to remember what Kurt had said about her, and if he should legitimately be afraid for any reason.
“At least,” Kurt said dryly, taking a set of mugs down from the cabinet. “I’m pretty sure she used to terrify the dinosaurs back in her youth with her inappropriate questions and ability to drink a T-Rex under the table, but Dad says that might be a slight exaggeration on my part.” He brushed past Blaine, getting a carton of skim milk out of the refrigerator. “Did you eat yet” he asked, filling each mug halfway before glancing at Blaine. “I can make you something, or you’re welcome to try the horrible vegan spice cake that Jesse’s girlfriend brought over last night.” He nodded at the counter to the left of the sink, where a Saran-wrapped creation that could only generously be referred to as a cake was sitting on a floral dish.
“It’s pink,” Blaine observed, drawing away from it instinctually.
Kurt nodded. “Apparently, her specialty is ‘I’m Sorry’ cookies, but she couldn’t think of anything she’d done to me that merited an apology, and didn’t want to purposely wrong her boyfriend’s best friend, just to appropriately inspire her baking,” he recited solemnly. “Which, if you’ve talked to Rachel for more than five minutes, actually makes a twisted sort of sense.”
Blaine couldn’t stop staring at the pink mass. “Yeah, I’m going to have to say that I’m not particularly hungry right now,” he decided, shuddering slightly.
Kurt smirked. “Wise choice,” he agreed.
The kettle whistled, and Kurt turned off the burner. “So,” he said casually, filling the mugs the rest of the way with hot water and adding spoonfuls of chocolate powder, “cookies first, or presents?”
Blaine picked up the blue bag that held Kurt’s present. “Presents,” he decided, taking care not to drop the bag and shatter the glass within.
Kurt handed Blaine a mug of hot chocolate. “Presents it is,” he agreed with a smile. “Yours is in the living room; shall we?”
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