Title: Sing Your Life (the love songs of Kurt Hummel) 6/6
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: They've been dating for five weeks when Blaine comes to Kurt's house to sleep over for the first time.
Author's Note: Hi :) Here's the last chapter – finally! Let's just pretend this story didn't take me almost half a year to write, eh? ;) Thank you so much to my beta cynicalwhimsy for sticking it out and being encouraging and kind and helpful every slow step of the way!
This is a companion piece to The Love Songs of Blaine Anderson.
Sing Your Life (the love songs of Kurt Hummel)
Chapter Six: Blaine Anderson
They've been dating for five weeks when Blaine comes to Kurt's house to sleep over for the first time.
The boarding students at Dalton are allowed to spend the weekend away from school as long as their parents give written permission and provide the address where their child will be staying. Kurt is a day student and drives home every afternoon, but Blaine's parents live in New Jersey and Blaine only goes home to his family on the holidays.
Kurt had spent the better part of the previous Tuesday hanging around at the garage, bugging his dad to agree to the arrangement. Today is Saturday. His dad has already demonstratively put out sheets and blankets for Blaine on one of the sofas in the living room. Meanwhile Kurt has spent most of the day fretting over which outfit to wear, cleaning his room and obsessively rearranging books and throw pillows, even though Blaine has visited him several times before and knows what his room looks like. He has just changed out of his form fitting Dior sweater in favor of the slightly more muted Ralph Lauren cardigan when the doorbell rings.
"I'll get it," Kurt shouts, hurrying down the stairs to get to the door before anyone else. Outside, Blaine is standing on the doorstep with a bright and dorky smile on his face. Kurt stops short, hand still on the doorknob. Blaine's hair is gelled back and neatly parted in accordance with Dalton fashion, but he is out of uniform instead wearing a short sleeved checkered shirt and a pale pink bow tie. Kurt pauses, taking him in for a moment. It had been a bit of a surprise the first time he'd seen Blaine out of uniform – he'd been prepared for the polo shirts and the cardigans, not so much the bow tie collection and the cropped pants. Sometimes Blaine looks fantastic and sometimes, well, fashion is hard, but Kurt is getting used to Blaine's hit-and-miss sense of it. He can't help smiling back at his boyfriend's excited expression, and then Blaine steps up and clasps his face in his hands, drawing Kurt in for a quick kiss. "Hi," he says, sounding a little breathless. Something about him seems electric with a nervous energy that Kurt can fully relate to.
"Hi," Kurt echoes, helplessly staring at Blaine's gorgeous eyes, his long eyelashes and the slight shadow of stubble on his cheeks. He doesn't shave on the weekend, Kurt thinks, stowing away the information along with all the other little new things that he notices about Blaine every day. He still sometimes has trouble believing that this beautiful boy is really his boyfriend.
He grabs Blaine by the hand and drags him into the living room where his dad is sitting on the couch with a Bud Light in one hand. His sock-clad feet are resting on the coffee table, which means that Carole and Finn mustn't have come home from visiting Finn's aunt yet.
"Dad, Blaine's here. We're going upstairs," Kurt says in a rush, feeling impatient, but dutifully complying with the agreed-on Hummel-Hudson house protocol. His fingers tighten instinctively when he feels Blaine's hand sliding out of his grip.
"Hello sir," Blaine says formally. His eyes are fixed on Burt and he is standing military straight. He doesn't seem to be aware that he is suddenly squeezing Kurt's hand.
"Hello Blaine," Burt replies, sounding a little stilted. He moves his eyes from the screen for a second to acknowledge him, and then shifts his gaze to Kurt. "Door stays open, Kurt, don't forget. And dinner's at seven."
Kurt smiles and rolls his eyes at Blaine's expression as they turn to leave the room. "Don't worry," he says once they are in the hallway, "My dad always turns monosyllabic when there's a game on." And, Kurt's beginning to notice, also when he's feeling a little awkward - but he doesn't say that to Blaine.
Blaine spent Friday afternoon practicing with the Warblers, so the two of them spend a good hour going through the new steps that David came up with for the Maroon 5 number. He also fills Kurt in on the latest news on Jeff and Nick who are either living out an epic bromance, or might actually be a little bit in love. Whatever's the case, Kurt and Blaine follow every new development in their relationship with keen interest.
After a while Kurt goes downstairs, past his dad in the living room ("You guys having a good time?" "Yes, Dad," "Good."), to get two cups of coffee from the kitchen. When he returns to his room, the CD they'd put on has come to its end. Blaine is sitting in front of his vanity mirror and Kurt realizes that he's holding the lipstick that Kurt bought along with bunch of other beauty products a few months ago - studying it intently as he turns it over between his fingers.
Kurt stops just inside the door. He had put his cosmetics out on the table along with his lotions and hair products to make room for something else in the drawer, and then sort of forgot about it. He uses one foot to pull the door to, and then straightens up, holding the two mugs of coffee out in front of him. "I bought that for a performance I did in Glee club," he says, clutching the handles on the mugs. He lifts his chin, but he can't help feeling a little nervous. He has only known Blaine for four months, and there's still a bunch of stuff that they haven't really talked about. "Le Jazz Hot from--"
"Oh, from Victor/Victoria," Blaine finishes for him, looking up and smiling briefly. Kurt sets down the mugs on the coffee table. Blaine's still preoccupied with the lipstick, but he doesn't look surprised or weirded out, and Kurt relaxes slightly. "It's a really good movie," Blaine adds, and Kurt nods. It's still a tiny thrill to him that Blaine knows these sorts of things; that even though they've grown up completely different, it still seems like they've been drawn towards the same things as if by homing beacons.
Blaine puts down the lipstick and moves on to touch the eye shadow and the flat gold canister containing the blush. "Did you dress up in drag at school?" he asks, sounding like he's wavering between awe and disbelief.
Kurt hesitates for a moment. "No, I wasn't in drag," he finally responds, framing his words carefully. He walks over to the CD player and presses the play button - the room is too quiet.
When he had first begun to realize that he was gay, Kurt spent some time online - enough to decide that he never needed to watch porn again ever, enough to discover that even some gay guys make fun of queens and sissies - and enough to learn that a lot of gay dating profiles specifically ask for straight-acting boyfriends. For all that Blaine knows his musicals, he also knows his standard football lineups and basic boxing techniques. He told Kurt that he came out when he was fifteen, and no one had guessed it beforehand, not even his parents or his closest friends.
Kurt finally turns back towards Blaine. "I don't really do drag. I just. I like make-up. Sometimes." He shrugs, carefully dropping his shoulders to look relaxed.
"Okay, I mean, that's--" Blaine breaks eyes contact. Kurt studies his turned away face. He can't read his expression. On the stereo, Adele starts in on 'Hometown Glory'. Kurt moves over to the vanity and Blaine slides over on the bench to make room for Kurt next to him.
"I know a lot of people don't get it, but I don't care," Kurt says, and it comes out a little sharper than he meant to, but Blaine's silence is raising his hackles.
Blaine is fidgeting with the crease on his pressed pants, his face still turned away. "I've never really, I mean – I haven't," he starts. "But at my old high school there was this guy, this ballet dancer, Ricky Abrams." Blaine stops, biting his lip. "He tied his hair back with big flowery scarves and sometimes he wore make-up and nail polish. People used to give him hell for it."
"I know how that feels." Kurt is unable to keep a hint of bitterness from his voice, and Blaine moves his head in a small nod of acknowledgment without looking up. "Yeah," he breathes out, and Kurt knows that they're both thinking about Karofsky.
Blaine finally meets Kurt's eyes in the mirror. "I had the biggest crush on Ricky," he says, carefully searching Kurt's face. "Sometimes when I was practicing with the choir he'd be down at the other end of the gym stretching, and I couldn't keep my eyes off him." Blaine rolls his eyes, mocking himself a little, smiling although he looks uncomfortable. Kurt doesn't really know how to react. "But I was too scared to tell him," Blaine says quietly, "I was too scared to tell anybody."
Kurt clears his throat, feeling at a loss. He's not used to seeing Blaine likes this, searching and insecure. "I've been scared, too," he offers.
"Yeah," Blaine acquiesces, but he doesn't look entirely convinced. He straightens up in the seat, looking maybe a little embarrassed. "You know what people called me at my old high school?" Kurt shakes his head. "Plaine." Blaine catches his eye for a moment in the mirror and grimaces. "Well. That and Blanderson." Kurt shakes his head imperceptibly without really thinking about it. To him, Blaine had always seemed self-assured and charismatic - intensely interesting from the first time Kurt set eyes on him.
"I spent so much time trying to stay out of sight. When I came out, and people started talking about me, I had no clue what to do. I know how to get straight A's and win trophies, but I'm not brave the way you are...." Blaine sighs. "All of this," he makes a motion that encompasses the both of them, and Kurt quickly takes in what the mirror shows him: two boys in pretty clothes, sitting close together on a vanity bench and sharing secrets. "I guess I'm still trying to figure it out," Blaine finishes with an uncertain smile.
Kurt realizes that Blaine was afraid of receiving anger or condemnation for his confessions. He has to swallow down a lump of affection. In the end he doesn't say anything at all. He touches Blaine's bowtie with two fingers, and then leans in to kiss him softly.
Blaine leans into the kiss, and Kurt can almost taste his relief. After a moment he pulls back and gestures at his bowtie. "Do you like it?" he asks earnestly, his face open and unguarded.
It's been dawning on Kurt that Blaine isn't the larger than life, out and proud guy that Kurt had first crushed on. Blaine doesn't try to hide it. Even though they haven't known each other all that long, Blaine lets all of his guards come down when they're together. It's still hard for Kurt to understand how Blaine can stand being so vulnerable, how he still wants to believe that every new person he meets is going to be reasonable and kind, and that guys like Karofsky will understand the error of their ways if he just talks to them. Blaine constantly puts himself out there, and is disappointed every time people let him down. Kurt can't help but admire Blaine's stubborn optimism, especially when he knows that Blaine has been hurt and humiliated in the past, too, although in different ways than Kurt. From what he knows, Blaine's experiences were sudden and violent, without the years and years that Kurt has had to build up resilience. Blaine hasn't told him much about it yet, but Kurt has noticed the vertical scar beneath Blaine's lip, which Blaine had explained as coming from a split lip and then said nothing more about.
Kurt leans back on the bench and takes it all in: Blaine in his preppy shirt and baby pink bow tie, with his soft, dark eyes and naked expression. He tugs on the bowtie, smooths his hands over the checkered shirt. "I like it," he says, bending the truth a little bit, but not really lying.
Blaine smiles, pleased and blushing a little. "I never wore these clothes before I met you," he says, "they were just hanging in my closet."
Kurt is distracted by Blaine's eyes, which keep going back to Kurt's lips. Ricky Abrams, his brain helpfully supplies, and the hungry expression that he suddenly recognizes in Blaine's covert glances sends hot sparks all through his body. He swallows, feeling suddenly daring. "Hey, there's something I want to show you."
Kurt also has clothes in his closet that he's never worn to school. Some of them he bought at Timepiece, others he bought online within the last few years. He has to stop himself from holding his breath while he watches Blaine silently push back one hanger after the other: the shimmery Quasimi leggings that work so well with his knee high boots, the Gaultier corset that he bought to wear over a billowy silk shirt, the cutaway jacquard jacket with the gold buttons and mutton sleeves, the H&M kilt that Kurt actually wore to school one time and which earned him both a slushie by Karofsky and a dumpster toss by Azimio. Most of these clothes he has kept in his closet, along with his occasional wish to to grow his hair out, to have longer legs, a smaller waistline and a more androgynous face.
Blaine stops at the smooth cotton t-shirt dress with the wide boat neck that dips down below Kurt's shoulder blades in the back. He runs his fingers over the fabric, then pulls the hanger out of the closet. "This is gorgeous," he says, and then hesitantly, "could you... can I see you it on you?" Kurt draws a deep breath. The tips of Blaine's ears are bright pink.
Kurt almost protests, but Blaine looks so eager – embarrassed, but not ashamed – and Kurt can still feel how Blaine's appraising gaze sends little shudders of something quick and hot and exciting along the web of his veins. "Give me a second." Kurt steps over to look out the window and down into the driveway. Carole's car still isn't back. He walks over and pulls the door further open. From downstairs he can hear the faint murmur of the sports commentator on the TV set, the creak of springs as his Dad shifts on the sofa. He pushes the door almost shut. "Okay," he acquiesces, his heart hammering a mile a minute.
Blaine sits back down on the vanity bench and watches avidly as Kurt applies the black liner and eye shadow. Kurt uses a big soft brush to apply a matte blush along the underside of his cheekbones. Finally, he drags the lipstick carefully over his lips, using the tip of his little finger to remove a tiny smudge on his Cupid's bow. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Blaine's fingers twitch slightly where he has placed his hands, one over the other on the vanity's white glass surface.
He steps away from the vanity. "Okay, so. I'm going to change now."
Blaine nods mutely, his eyes dark and intense. He turns his back to Kurt when he walks to the clothes hanging ready on the closet door, but doesn't offer to leave. Kurt grabs the hanger and stands still for a minute, listening for sounds from the hall. Nothing. He starts in on the buttons on his cardigan, fumbling slightly. Blaine is being a gentleman, turning away - he has seen Kurt in his underwear before, since they have gym together at Dalton. But this feels different, deliciously and excruciatingly intimate. The murmur of Adele's voice is still playing in the background, but the hushed sound of fabric moving over skin sounds so much louder than the music to Kurt as he changes into the shirt and leggings. Blaine keeps resolutely gazing out of the window, but Kurt can see the flush creeping up the back of his neck, the tense set of his shoulders.
"You can, um. You can look now."
Blaine turns around. "Wow."
Kurt swallows. He doesn't know where to put his hands, doesn't know quite how to hold himself beneath Blaine's open appraisal.
"Is this..." Blaine runs his palms over his own thighs, then pushes himself up to stand. "Is this a part of yourself that you usually keep in the closet?" he asks, moving close. They both cringe a little at the unintentional corniness, but then their eyes meet and they both crack a smile.
Kurt wants to say something witty or sarcastic, but all he comes up with is: "In a way, I guess, but it's not really... the clothes are just a part of it. Of all of it. All of me, I mean." Because it's not just about the clothes: it's about preferring to be a part of the girls' group in Glee, it's being thankful for having grown up tall and slender like his mom - about loving musicals and make-up and his countertenor voice. It's about how he doesn't feel entirely like either a boy or a girl, or even a girly boy, and how he doesn't like putting too many words to it, not until he feels like he's found better ones.
Blaine's smile softens. "I like it," he starts, and blushes deeply. "Understatement of the year," he mumbles self-consciously, looking down, and then back up. "I mean, I like it, but not just like --" he flounders, flushing an even darker shade of red. "I like you - you telling me stuff, getting to know you."
Kurt rolls his eyes, his own cheeks burning with pleasure and embarrassment. His boyfriend is such a sentimental dork sometimes.
Blaine just smiles and reaches out to put a hand on the back of Kurt's neck, warm fingers sliding through the short hair there, while he places his other hand on Kurt's waist. The edge of his palm comes to rest on the jut of Kurt's hipbone just above the lining of the low cut leggings, his fingers touching lightly against skin and muscle beneath the thin shirt. He leans in and catches Kurt's tiny gasp with his lips, turns it into a kiss, his mouth hot, his tongue soft and teasing despite the stuttered rhythm of his breath.
The CD player makes a tiny sound as the music stops and the disc stops spinning.
Kurt leans into the kiss as he trails his fingers down Blaine's arms, drawing a feather-light outline along the muscle, the rougher skin on his elbows, the hair of his underarm. Blaine's pulse is steady and rapid just below the thin skin on his wrist, and Kurt gives in to just absorbing the sensory information from every point of contact between them, every press and slide and tangle of tongues and fingers.
When Blaine finally pulls back he wipes a finger across his own lips and looks at the smear of red on the pad of his finger "Wow," he reiterates dumbly.
Kurt blinks hard, startled by his own body's visceral reaction to that image. Blaine seems equally rattled, looking back at him, and Kurt quickly assesses himself: one side of the shirt has fallen down over his shoulder, and his hair and mouth must be a mess. He shivers hard, and he is just about to lean back in towards Blaine, when the sound of a door slamming somewhere downstairs shakes him out of his trance. This wasn't exactly something that Kurt had planned on happening, and even though his dad has always been ten kinds of awesome, there are still some things that Kurt doesn't necessarily want him to know about. He takes a step back. "My dad," he reluctantly says, casting a glance at his jeans and shirt, neatly folded over the back of his desk chair.
"Oh." Blaine breathes out, shaking himself a little. The look of disappointment on his face is at the same time comical and very, very flattering. "Can we just... for a little while longer?" Blaine looks slightly undone, eyes wide, lips red and swollen.
"Dinner'll be ready in --" Kurt protests weakly, but then Blaine places a palm on his shoulder where the shirt has slid down, cupping his naked skin. His thumb slides tentatively over Kurt's collarbone just underneath the neckline of the shirt, and Kurt's breath hitches. He doesn't really recognize himself like this, but he likes it. He hadn't needed to worry so much about being timid or unexcitable, he realizes, because kissing and touching Blaine like this makes him feel something that those stupid online clips never made him feel - something hot and churning and almost unbearably good.
He quickly checks the clock on the wall behind Blaine. Five fifty-five. In the silence of his room, he thinks he can hear the radio playing from the kitchen, which means his dad has started in on cooking dinner. All the tension drains out of his body. The door is almost closed all the way, and through the small crack of the opening the hallway is dark. He wets his lips. So far, he and Blaine haven't had time for much more than chaste kisses and quick make-out sessions. After dinner, Finn will be home, and in his room on the other side of the hallway. A metallic clang of a pot or a pan being dropped convinces Kurt that his dad is busy in the kitchen.
"Do you want to - we could lie down on the bed, if you like."
Blaine's eyes go wide, his whole body rigid. "I can't," he stutters, blushing deep scarlet. "If we lie down I'm going to -- I can't." His hands are suddenly eager and nervous as he draws Kurt in against him to hide his face, clutching him and bringing their bodies close. Pressed together like this, Kurt can feel the hot line of Blaine's erection through the thin layers of clothing separating them. Heat pools in his groin, in the low of his stomach, and everything's suddenly a little overwhelming. This is so far from anything they've done before. He tightens his grip and feels Blaine do the same. For a moment they just stand still, clinging to each other in the middle of the room. Blaine's skin is burning hot beneath Kurt's palm. His breath is rushing through the small hairs at the nape of Kurt's neck, making them stand on end despite the fact that he is burning up, too.
The sound of a car pulling into the driveway makes them spring apart abruptly, and a few seconds later they can hear car doors slamming, and then Finn's voice from outside.
For a moment, Kurt feels like he could almost cry with frustration, but then he looks over at Blaine – almost at the other end of the room, obsessively smoothing his hair back into place and pulling his shirttails out to cover the front of his pants - and when their eyes meet they share a nervous, giddy laugh. They meet in the middle of the room, still grinning sheepishly. "I can't wear these," Kurt says, pulling the shirt in place over his shoulders. He gives Blaine a final, firm kiss, and then walks over to the clothes hanging over the back of his chair.
Blaine regretfully tugs at the sleek fabric of the t-shirt before letting him go. "Once we get to New York," he says wistfully. Kurt's hands still on the folded jeans and shirt. Those six words have become a kind of mantra for them: "Once we get to New York we can go to awesome gay bars," "once we get to New York we can walk in the Pride," "once we get to New York we can hold hands in public."
For years, Kurt has been telling himself that there are guys in New York that walk around in these kinds of clothes like it's nothing; that he just needs to get out of Ohio. But sometimes it's been hard for him to hold on to that thought, being fourteen, fifteen, sixteen years old and living in Lima. For the longest time, the thought of New York was the only thing that could make him feel like he could brave another day at McKinley. But then he had met Blaine and New York had become a shared fantasy, a dream that they both could spend hours elaborating on. Now, here, it suddenly seems very close, almost a reality.
Blaine has courteously turned his back again, standing by the window, but Kurt walks over and grabs his hand, turns him around and draws him back into a tight hug.
"What is it?" Blaine asks into the nape of his neck.
Kurt draws in a deep breath. Blaine is warm and solid against him; his hands come up to close around Kurt's back. Around Blaine, Kurt doesn't have to worry about feeling vulnerable or exposed. "Just, what you said that first time we kissed?" he mumbles quietly, "I'd been looking for you for a long time too, you know."