Summary: Kurt and Blaine love each other very much. That part has never changed, but somewhere along the way they forgot what made them so close in the first place: that they used to tell each other everything, even the things that hurt, and they were always honest with each other. Somehow, they’ve lost that, but a brutal conversation puts them back at the beginning, and lets them start anew. [Kurt/Blaine, one-shot, where they get back together again, but it’s not easy]
Spoiler Warning: Spoilers for 4.18 that I think were actually jossed, but considering those spoilers were what inspired this fic I’m going to keep that warning up just in case. This fic tentatively takes place in what should be 4.19, timeline-wise.
Kink Warning: rimming and blowjobs and adorable baby kinksters, talk of sexual preferences and bottom!Blaine
Other Warnings: I am Ryan Murphy in that I promise this fic has a happy ending, but it takes a while to get there. Kurt and Blaine are screaming at one another through a good portion of this fic, so if you absolutely cannot handle Kurt and Blaine yelling at one another and/or arguing, this is not the fic for you. I made my betas very unhappy with me at certain points because Kurt and Blaine are brutal, when they fight they go straight for the jugular, okay, but I promise this ends with sunshine and rainbows and smut, alright, it just takes a while to get there, they’ve got issues.
Also, Kurt and Adam break up in this, so.
Word Count: 7195
Many Thanks: to my two betas, the magical and mystical Multicorn and the always fabulous Misqueue, without whom this fic would be an absolute disaster, Adam would be unrecognizable, Kurt would be even harsher and a lot of stuff wouldn’t even make sense. A lot of this is as much their baby as it is mine, and I could not have done it without them.
Kurt is having dinner with Adam when Finn calls.
“Sorry,” he laughs to his new boyfriend, standing up next to their table in the quaint Italian restaurant. “It’s my brother. I normally wouldn’t do this, but Finn doesn’t usually call and it might be about my dad—“
Adam nods understandingly, shooing Kurt away with a breadstick. “Take your time.”
But Finn is Finn, no matter how grown up he likes to pretend to be, and so when Kurt answers the phone with a shaky “Hello?” Finn’s response is to go:
“Hey Kurt. Someone tried to shoot Blaine—“
And Kurt’s heart stops dead in the middle of Brooklyn.
“—And Brittany and Marley, but nobody’s hurt, they’re all fine, I just thought you probably ought to know before you see it on facebook or something.”
Kurt forces himself to sit down on the steps outside of the restaurant. “Finn? Go back to the part where someone tried to shoot Blaine!”
Finn does, and tells him everything, even the parts Kurt doesn’t particularly care about (about Ryder and the shooter and Sue Sylvester and the how Lima’s made the National news), but Kurt spends a while talking to him, and by the end of it has made plans to go home for the weekend, just to make sure everyone is okay.
He must have been on the phone for a long time, because Adam comes out after him, right as he gets off the phone. “Is everything okay? You’ve been out here for a while.”
Kurt wipes his eyes—he hadn’t even realized he had been crying, not really. “I’m going to have to cancel our date, I’m sorry.”
“There was a shooting at my old high school—“
“Oh my God—”
“—so I need to go home, I’m sorry.”
Adam hugs him softly. “It’s okay, you do what you have to. Did—God, was anyone you know hurt?”
Kurt shakes his head. “No, thankfully, no one was injured, but—Blaine was one of the people who was shot at, and I want to make sure he’s okay.”
Adam stiffens. “Oh.”
Kurt slides his phone back into his pocket. “Oh?”
“—Well, no one was injured, right?” Adam shifts, and looks down at his feet nervously. “That’s what you just said.”
Kurt lifts an eyebrow. “And?”
“Well, if nobody’s hurt, I just—why do you need to rush home, exactly?” He says earnestly, with soft, quiet eyes. “Can’t we finish eating, at least?” He asks, brushing his shoulder against Kurt’s. “I was hoping we could split a cannoli for dessert.”
Kurt stops, and looks over at Adam like he’s the crazy one for asking such a thing. “Adam, Blaine was shot at! Of course I need to go home! I need to make sure he’s okay!”
“So you can, what, check for any boo-boos? Make sure he didn’t get a paper cut or anything in the crossfire?” Adam tries to joke, but the humor doesn’t quite work, the light not quite reaching his eyes. “You have a phone, why can’t you just call him?”
“You don’t know Blaine,” Kurt shakes his head. “He’s been through—through something violent like this before, he’s been a victim—I can’t—I can’t just let him go through this alone.”
“He’s not alone, though, sweetheart,” Adam argues softly. “He’s a big boy. I’m sure he’s got other friends and parents—“
“You don’t know him.”
Adam softens, and reaches his hand out and gently squeezes Kurt’s hand. “I know you, though. And I know you still care about him. But Kurt, you aren’t ever going to move on if you can’t let him go.”
Kurt stews, dropping Adam’s hands and letting his own fist at his side. “I can’t believe you’re being so insensitive.”
Adam huffs, dropping Kurt’s hand and throwing his arms in the air. “I’m not. It would be fine to run off home if your boyfriend had been shot at. But you aren’t dating Blaine anymore, Kurt! You’re dating me!” Adam shakes his head. “If—if you and I are going to be together, Kurt, then I need you to prioritize spending time with me. I can’t—I can’t play second fiddle to your ex, Kurt.”
Kurt freezes like he’d just been slapped. “I—Blaine’s still my best friend.” He says softly, because it’s the only thing he can think to say. How do you explain I thought we were soulmates and we planned to spend forever together and then we didn’t to someone?
“No. Rachel’s your best friend. Blaine’s the boy you’re still in love with. Whether you want to admit it or not, you aren’t over him, and I’m beginning to see how much you don’t want to be.”
Adam’s words sting Kurt like ice, and he finds himself staring down at his feet. “Adam, he is my best friend. You don’t—please don’t make me choose between the two of you, because I can’t—“
“I’m not. I wouldn’t, Kurt, you know I wouldn’t,” Adam shakes his head. “I’m just saying, if you can’t prioritize me and our relationship together, then…I’m done.”
Kurt blinks back tears. “You’re breaking up with me?”
“What am I supposed to do?” Adam sniffs, and Kurt looks up and notices he’s crying, too. “You’re literally leaving a date with me so you can go be with your ex.”
“He was shot at!”
“Would that matter?” Adam wipes his eyes. “You’d still go to him, wouldn’t you?”
Kurt doesn’t have an answer for that, and so he doesn’t say anything for a moment. “But I really like you.”
“I really like you, too.” Adam half-laughs, half-cries. “I still want to be your friend. And maybe someday when you figure all of this out, if you want to try again—I—we’ll try again. But I deserve better than this, Kurt.”
Kurt cries the entire plane ride home. He’s not even sure why he’s crying—he and Adam didn’t date for very long (barely three months) and certainly not very seriously, but Adam was fun and nice, a good distraction, if nothing else, and Kurt was honest when he said he really did like him.
Still, right now he hates him, a little bit, not because of the broken cracks he left in his heart but because of the magnifying lens he held up to it.
Blaine’s the boy you’re still in love with, whether you want to admit it or not, you aren’t over him, and you don’t want to be.
Adam isn’t supposed to be right.
Falling into bed with Blaine again is the easiest thing he’s ever done. It’s ten o’clock at night by the time he reaches Lima and knocks on Blaine’s door, and he’s a tear-stained, ugly, puffy mess, but seeing Blaine, alive and well and whole, makes him feel better than he has since—since Valentine’s Day.
So when Blaine opens the door, Kurt kisses him.
And Blaine kisses him back, because Blaine always kisses him back. They cling to one another, Blaine’s hand digging into Kurt’s hair while Kurt’s hands circle around Blaine’s waist, until they finally pull apart for air.
“Kurt,” Blaine breathes, like he’s not even sure he’s really awake right now. “What are you doing here?”
Kurt licks his lips. “Finn told me what happened. I had to see you—I had to make sure you were okay.”
Blaine’s eyes shine, and he is the most beautiful boy in the world. “You—you came here, just for me?” He asks, like he can’t even believe what he’s hearing. Kurt nods, and Blaine kisses him, tongue first.
They fumble up the stairs, tangled around one another, unable to let go. They stagger into Blaine’s bedroom, and Kurt tosses his jacket onto the floor before crawling on top of Blaine, pressing his mouth against his jaw.
“Kurt,” Blaine gasps, his fingernails digging into Kurt’s shoulder. “Kurt, wait—I—“
He ignores him, and sucks deeply at his throat, licking across his Adam’s apple and tasting the salty skin.
“Kurt, I said stop.”
He lifts his head immediately, and catches his breath. “Yes?”
Blaine’s cheeks flush pink, and he seems nervous, suddenly. “Tell me this means something to you.” He whispers, and runs his hand lightly through Kurt’s hair. “Tell me you love me, tell me we’re back together, but please don’t just—come in here and kiss me and act like it doesn’t mean anything to you.”
Kurt groans, his body vibrating with desire and conflict. “Blaine, I—“ His heart feels raw, exposed and cracked from worry and a break-up, and the thought of letting Blaine—beautiful, expectant, lovely Blaine—so close when he’s so vulnerable, is—daunting. “Does it have to mean something?” He breathes heavily, leaning down and peppering light kisses against the side of Blaine’s face. “I’m so glad you’re okay, I was so worried about you earlier, I just,” He closes his eyes, not wanting Blaine to see the fear on his face. “Can’t we keep it simple? Can’t it just be—“ and he feels a little ridiculous saying this, trying to lighten the mood while his face flushes red “—bros helping bros again?”
Blaine’s face turns cold. “No, it can’t.” He shoves at Kurt weakly. “Please get off of me.”
Kurt rolls off of him, but stays close. “Blaine—“
“No.” Blaine sniffs, pulling the duvet off of his bed and wrapping it around him like a cocoon, getting off the bed and walking to his swivel chair. “You just—I don’t even understand you anymore, Kurt. You sing with me, you flirt with me, you kiss me, you have sex with me, you act like you want to be back together with me but then you go back to New York and act like we’re just friends and even date some other guy and I just—I can’t do this with you, Kurt.”
“I don’t, actually, have a boyfriend back in New York.” He plays with the sheets underneath him and doesn’t look up at Blaine, because that seems simpler than actually talking about anything. “He broke up with me because I wanted to come here and see you.”
Blaine blinks at him, his eyes large and wet. “Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?” Blaine asks, sounding exasperated. “What am I, then, your rebound?”
“Of course not! Jesus fucking—I came here because I was worried sick about you!” Kurt shrieks, and he hopes Blaine’s parents aren’t actually home because if they are this might get awkward, fast. “Finn called me and told me what happened at school, and I booked the first flight I could to Ohio because I was scared, okay? Scared about you.”
Blaine scoots the chair closer to the bed. “Okay, you’re scared. So you kiss me, and you—you try to go to bed with me, and then you tell me and yourself that it doesn’t mean anything? And I’m supposed to believe that? That doesn’t make a lot of sense, Kurt.”
“I don’t owe you anything, Blaine,” Kurt says wearily, standing up and picking up his jacket off the floor. “I shouldn’t have even come here. You’re right, I don’t know why I even—“
But Blaine grabs him before he can leave, and just—holds him, and Kurt lets him for a moment, relishes the feeling of Blaine wrapped around before he struggles—“Let me go.”
“Please,” Blaine whimpers, soft against his skin as he lets go of Kurt. “Please just—just stay and talk to me, please. I’m so confused.”
Kurt slides out of Blaine’s arms, and he goes to the door of Blaine’s bedroom and he—he waits, for just a moment, his hand on the doorknob, debates with himself (stay or go, stay or go) before he finally closes the door softly. Blaine is risk, but Blaine is also his (teenage dream, come what may, a thousand different dreams put in the body of a fragile human boy) love, and if he leaves now and doesn’t—doesn’t give him a chance to talk, he’ll regret this for the rest of his life.
Besides. They were supposed to talk at Christmas. This is long overdue.
“I think you’re so confused because I’m so confused,” he confesses to Blaine, walking back into Blaine’s sanctuary and sitting softly at the end of Blaine’s bed. Blaine follows him, but doesn’t sit next to Kurt, but on the floor Indian-style, his legs crossed looking up at Kurt. His eyes are bright and wet and full of love, and Kurt can’t stand to even look at him, so he hides his face into his hands. “I don’t even know how I feel, about you. Some days I—I think I forgive you, and I want to be with you again, pick up right where we left off, b-before. And other days all I can think about is how much you hurt me and it makes me sick and I can’t—I can’t even stand to look or talk to you or even be around anything that reminds me of you. Then I hear you’re sick, or Tina’s molested you in your sleep, or that someone tried to shoot you, and it’s like none of that even matters because all I want to do is hold you and kiss you and m-marry you so no one can ever hurt you again, not without dealing with me.”
He sobs grossly into his hands, and Blaine—doesn’t say anything, just rubs his knees softly, a small measure of comfort.
He wipes his nose on his sleeve, and looks down at Blaine. “You hurt me so much.” He cries, and Blaine looks away, ashamed.
He keeps crying for the longest time, and Blaine just lets him, doesn’t move to hold him or comfort him any more than where his hands trace light circles into his knees.
Eventually, Kurt’s tears subside, and Blaine feels brave enough to speak.
“I’m sorry,” Blaine whispers. “I’ve said I’m sorry, but—you hurt me too, though.”
Disbelief settles over him as fury begins to bubble hot within his stomach. “Excuse me?” He whispers, fists clenched tightly at his sides. Blaine is not allowed to be hurt. More importantly, Blaine is not allowed to blame Kurt for being hurt, and how dare—how dare—he try and take away some of the blame. He’s the one who cheated on Kurt—he’s not allowed to try and shift the blame for everything that went wrong away from himself.
He bites his tongue, and stops himself from saying something he knows he’ll regret.
Blaine doesn’t look up at him. “Did you ever wonder why I—I cheated on you?”
Kurt doesn’t look at Blaine, looks over at—oh God, is that like a shrine of pictures, just of—of him? Kurt swallows, and thinks that maybe this will give them both closure, if nothing else. “You—you said you were lonely and I wasn’t there.” He says thinly, his voice vacant and hollow.
“I was miserable,” Blaine cries, his voice hitching slightly, but Kurt doesn’t look down at him, can’t, won’t. “I didn’t have any friends at McKinley—“
“That’s not true!”
“Not at the beginning,” Blaine sobs, snot dripping down his nose. “Last year I hung out with you, Kurt. And Rachel and Mike and Finn, and you all graduated and when school started I had no one. Not one single friend.”
Kurt wipes his eyes. “You have Sam—“
“I do now.” Blaine admits. “But at the beginning of the school year I didn’t. He and I weren’t that close, remember?” Blaine wipes his eyes and sniffs. “A-and Tina was mad at me for being named Captain over her and B-brit and I were c-competing to be class president and I didn’t really know any of the new kids, and I just—I was so alone. All I had was you and you were in New York.”
Kurt feels guilty at that. He’s never thought about it like that before, and yeah, he can see how that would be hard. But Blaine’s like a puppy most days—just a big ball of charismatic fun, people tend to flock towards him all the time. The idea of Blaine ever feeling friendless is a hard one for Kurt to imagine.
“And then it felt like New York was all you cared about,” Blaine sniffs, looking back down at the carpet. “Every time we talked, I couldn’t get a word in because all you would talk about would be your fabulous life in New York, the life I wasn’t a part of.” He wipes his eyes. “Then you started canceling our dates and not answering your phone, and it was like you didn’t care about me, either.”
Kurt takes in a deep breath. He doesn’t really remember his first few months in New York—they’re overshadowed now by the memory of Blaine’s affair. But he knows himself, and he knows how—focused—he can get sometimes, so he looks down at Blaine, and rests his hand against his cheek. “So that’s it? You cheated on me because I didn’t answer the phone a couple of times? Really?”
Blaine shakes his head. “No. I cheated on you because I felt like you didn’t love me any more.”
Kurt feels like he might as well have been slapped.
“How can you say that?” He whispers, his heart lumped and bruised inside his chest. “How could you even think that—?”
“I don’t know!” Blaine cries, and buries his face into his hands. “I just—that was how I felt, and then every single time I tried to talk to you about it you just brushed me off and it just, I don’t know, reinforced that idea?” he wails, his lips quivering. “It was like every fear and anxiety I had before you left came true!”
Kurt purses his lips. “If you really felt that way, then why didn’t you tell me?”
“I tried to, Kurt, but then you hung up on me so you could listen to gossip—“
“That was my job!”
Blaine hangs his head down low. “You didn’t answer your phone, the night I called to tell you I won class president,” he grits out, standing suddenly to grab a tissue off of the nightstand and blow his nose. “I—I realized then that you were the only reason I was even at McKinley, and you didn’t even care about that anymore. It was like everything I did—none of it even mattered. I didn’t matter to you anymore.”
Kurt doesn’t remember that phone call, but then again, there were a lot of calls he didn’t take. More than he remembers, apparently.
His heart hurts. He curls into himself, drawing his knees to his chest and holding them close. Blaine is screaming at him, angry and lost and hurt, and Kurt—Kurt had no idea. God, he was as bad as Rachel, so self-absorbed that he couldn’t see right in front of him that Blaine had been hurt, that Blaine was in pain. If Blaine was so miserable and Kurt never once noticed, what else might he have missed—?
“I didn’t realize I was such a terrible boyfriend to you.”
Blaine drops his dirty tissue and crawls across the bed towards Kurt. “You aren’t. You weren’t, I mean—I love you, Kurt, I—“
“I had no idea,” Kurt cries into his knees. “I had no idea you felt that way, Blaine, I’m so sorry—I never—I never wanted you to feel like I didn’t love you, because I do, I love you so much, I—fuck,” he wipes his eyes. “I love you. I love you, even now.”
Blaine kisses him softly, hesitantly, but Kurt grabs him and clings, like Blaine is his salvation. They fall together back onto the bed, wrapped around each other, not kissing so much as breathing the same air, relishing the feeling and the comfort of skin upon skin.
Kurt hesitates. “You—the—the boy you cheated on me with. Did—did you seek him out, or how d-did that—?”
Blaine rests his forehead against Kurt’s. “His name’s Eli. I knew him back from my old school, before Dalton, but we’re only just—acquaintances. He came out after I left, and friended me on facebook,” he rests his hand on Kurt’s face. “He would always flirt with me, but he was always—harmless. Just—sending me a few messages like hey sexy or what’s up stud, just—stupid stuff, really. I mostly ignored him. But when you were gone and I didn’t have anyone else to talk to it was—-I don’t know, nice.”
Kurt runs his hand across Blaine’s curls. “You were lonely.”
Blaine sniffs. “Yeah.” He snuggles closer to Kurt. “He invited me over to his house, and I thought—well, why not?” He breathes in deeply. “I never—I didn’t know what would happen, I thought we would just hang out or something, but—when he kissed me, I…I didn’t stop him.”
Blaine’s words sting—Kurt suspects they will always sting, for the rest of his life—but they don’t hurt as much as he thought they might, with Kurt holding on to him. “Go on.” He encourages, because as much as this has hurt it’s also helped so much, God, they should have had this conversation months ago, but the timing was just never right.
“I—it felt nice, you know?” Blaine says shyly, ducking his head against Kurt’s chest. “Kissing again. Being touched.”
Kurt smiles softly despite himself. “You’re so tactile.”
“Yeah,” Blaine admits, scratching at his nose. “I needed—I needed to be touched. To—t-to feel wanted. So much so that I was willing to trade the love of my life for a handjob from a guy I knew in middle school.”
“The worst part,” Blaine confesses, shaking and raw, exposed in a way Kurt’s forgotten in the months they’ve been apart. “The worst part is, after I came, I knew, I knew what I did was wrong, I knew that we were soulmates and we belonged together and that I had just ruined everything, and for nothing. All I had done just—heightened how lonely I was. It didn’t make it better.”
Kurt wraps his arms around Blaine, pulls him closer until Blaine is burrowed into his chest and Kurt surrounds him, shielding him, comforting him.
“And then?” Kurt asks softly, keeping his chin gently on top of Blaine head.
“I bought the first ticket out to New York and cried my way through Teenage Dream.” Blaine murmurs, and Kurt winces at the memory of the song, of the once-kind memories that’ve been tainted by that night.
They don’t say anything for the longest time. They lie there, Blaine wrapped up in Kurt’s arms, and they share space and body heat, but they don’t speak.
It feels like the opposite of the night they broke up, sleeping on opposite sides of the bed and trying desperately not to touch.
Finally, Kurt kisses his forehead. “You’re my best friend,” he says quietly, the in the quiet light of Blaine’s bedroom. “And I love you.”
Blaine smiles up at him. “I love you, too. You’re my best friend as well. I’ve never—there’s no one in my life like you, Kurt.”
“We used to tell each other everything,” Kurt murmurs sadly. “Even the things that hurt. When did we stop being honest with one another?”
Blaine blinks back tears. “I don’t know. I—I miss it. I want to go back, to being that way.”
Kurt bites his bottom lip. “I do, too.”
He kisses Blaine slowly, capturing his lips and savoring the taste and feel him. There is no rush and no hesitation: they both want this, and they aren’t in a hurry for it to be over.
The need to breathe, though, comes too soon, and when they pull away Kurt finds himself mesmerized by the fluttering of Blaine’s eyelashes. “If we try this again,” Kurt whispers against Blaine’s skin, squeezing his hand softly. “You have to tell me when you’re unhappy because I can’t—I can’t read minds, Blaine. And you can’t cheat on me again, because I can’t handle that. I can barely stomach the thought of it now, even.”
“I won’t,” Blaine promises, and Kurt believes him. “I promise, I won’t—ever.” He brushes his head against Kurt’s. “To be honest, the thought of it kind of makes me sick, too.”
Kurt laughs lightly before leaning forward to capture Blaine’s lips, their noses bumping as he turns, deepening the kiss. Blaine’s hands slide across his waist and wrap around his back, pulling him closer until they’re flushed together, body against body, soul against soul.
They pull away slowly. “Make love to me?” Blaine whispers, tracing circles into Kurt’s back.
“Well,” Kurt nibbles on his jaw-line. “I don’t want you to feel like a booty-call…”
Blaine giggles, moving his arms to Kurt’s shoulders. “Well, do you love me?”
Kurt smiles as he kisses him. “I do.”
“Then,” Blaine’s eyes shine as he rolls them over, so that Kurt’s lying on top of him. “It’s okay, bro.”
Kurt snorts with laughter as Blaine props himself up, attaching himself to Kurt’s neck and sucking lovemarks into his skin. “What,” Kurt gasps, one arm on the bed holding himself up, and the other tangled in Blaine’s mess of hair. “What do you want, exactly?”
“Mmmm,” Blaine pulls away, admiring his handiwork. “You.”
“Blaine.” He moans as Blaine kisses down his neck. “Be specific.”
Blaine pulls away, lying back down with his head on the pillow, looking up at Kurt with bashful eyes. “I want you inside of me,” he says, suddenly shy, and Kurt has to resist the urge to lean forward and kiss him again. “I—I always prefer it, that way.”
“Really?” Kurt blinks, a little surprised. “You never told me.”
“Well, I’m telling you now, aren’t I?” Blaine’s eyelashes flutter. “Don’t get me wrong, I like everything we do, I just—prefer bottoming, I guess.” He leans forward and steals a quick kiss. “I guess I never told you because I was afraid you—I don’t know, prefer the opposite—“
“Not particularly.” Kurt shrugs. “I have no strong feeling either way. I like both.”
Blaine laughs. “Good to know.” He smiles, playing with the hair on the back of Kurt’s neck. He crooks his head slightly and bats his eyelashes. “What’s something that you like, that you’ve never told me?”
Kurt groans before leaning down and kissing his cheek. “Do I have to?”
“Kurt,” Blaine teases, kissing him lightly, playing with the back of Kurt’s hair. “We used to tell each other everything. Whatever it is, I won’t make fun of you, I swear I—“
“Rimming,” Kurt blurts out, and then blushes. “I know we’ve never—done it, but it sounds stupidly hot to me for some reason, and if you don’t want to that’s fine, but—“
Blaine kisses him suddenly, sealing his lips over Kurt’s and shutting him up with one swift movement. “I want to try everything with you,” he says when he pulls away, his eyes bright and full of love. “But, um—“ He blushes slightly, the top of his cheeks pink. “Can I shower first?” He runs his hand down Kurt’s arm and squeezes it gently. “Unless you wanted—?”
Kurt’s face flames red and he buries his head into his hands. “E-either is fine! W-we don’t e-even have to if you d-don’t want!”
But Blaine just sits up and smiles at him. “I want to,” he reassures Kurt, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “I will be right back.”
Kurt lowers his hands. “Okay.”
Kurt’s face is still red. “If you say so.”
Blaine kisses him quickly. “Fastest shower of my life.”
Kurt shoves him playfully. “Go. And hurry back!”
“Yes, sir!” Blaine salutes him.
Kurt swats him on the ass, and laughs as he shrieks and rushes out the door.
It’s a little strange, being in Blaine’s bedroom again, especially without Blaine there beside him. In all honesty, Kurt’s not sure what to do with himself. Getting naked under the covers feels a little presumptuous, even though he knows what’s coming, so he doesn’t.
He busies himself instead by picking up Blaine’s room, putting the duvet back on the bed and making sure the snotty tissues make it into the trash can. When that’s finished, he takes off his shoes and his socks and his jacket, and he places them on the floor next to Blaine’s dresser.
Then he sits on the bed, and he—waits.
Blaine’s bedroom hasn’t changed much. There are a few different pictures on the walls—more pictures of Sam and Tina and various New Direction shenanigans, fewer pictures of the Warblers (Kurt’s not sure that he sees any)—but for the most part the room is the same as it was when Kurt left back in September. It smells like home, the musky scent of Blaine, and Kurt’s forgotten how much he’s missed this.
He lies down on the bed and breathes in deeply. He turns his head, and finds himself staring at a trio of pictures of himself.
It makes his heart beat fast in his chest to know that even when they were broken up, Blaine wanted to be sure Kurt’s face was the first thing he saw before he went to sleep, and the first thing he saw when he woke up again in the morning.
Then Blaine walks back in wearing nothing but a towel, and Kurt loses track of his thoughts entirely.
“Oh,” Blaine says disappointingly, holding the towel haplessly to his waist. “You aren’t naked.”
Kurt lets his eyes wander across Blaine’s still-wet body, mapping out all the places he wants to touch and taste, and he has to stop himself from grabbing Blaine and just throwing him on the bed. So instead, he swallows, “Felt presumptuous.”
Blaine smirks at him. “By all means,” he gestures to the bed. “Presume away.”
Kurt unbuttons his shirt as fast as he can, tossing it off the bed as Blaine crawls into his lap, the towel falling to the floor as he does.
“Missed you,” Blaine breathes between kisses, straddling him as Kurt’s hands trail across his wet back. “Missed you so much, Kurt.”
“Blaine,” He gasps, letting his mouth wander down Blaine’s neck. “I’ve missed you, too. I’ve missed you so much.” His fingers press bruises into his hips, he’s holding onto him so tightly— “Even when I wasn’t supposed to, I missed you.”
Blaine smiles into his kiss, pressing Kurt back onto the bed, one of his hands digging into Kurt’s hair while the other grasps at his shoulder. Kurt bites down into Blaine’s neck.
“Wanna suck you,” Kurt moans, listening to the way Blaine’s breathing hitches as his hand trail down and gently cups his ass. “Wanna lick you, want to fuck you, want everything with you. Always, I—Blaine—” he gasps as Blaine sits up suddenly, mourning the sudden loss of contact.
But then Blaine shimmies up his chest, until he’s straddling Kurt’s shoulders and his dick practically against Kurt’s lips. He looks down at Kurt with a sheepish grin. “Thought I’d help,” he says cheekily, resting his hands on either side of Kurt’s head.
Kurt doesn’t say anything: he just smiles as he gently kisses the tip of Blaine’s cock before he opens his mouth and swallows around him. The angle is awkward—he can’t take him in as deeply as he’d like, but he’s missed this so much that it doesn’t even matter. The salty-smooth taste of Blaine’s skin on his tongue is amazing, and the breathless noises of pleasure coming from above him are almost too much for him to take.
He pulls away slowly, leaving a trail of spit between his mouth and Blaine’s cock. “Roll over.” He gasps, licking his lips and squeezing Blaine’s ass gently.
Blaine whines at the loss of contact, but does what he’s told, rolling onto his stomach and pushing his ass into the air. Kurt unbuttons his pants and slides them off with his briefs, giving his cock a few quick strokes to relieve the pressure, and tries to think of less sexy things. It’s hard, though, when Blaine is right there, looking gorgeous and waiting for him, like he’s been waiting for him all year.
He doesn’t want to make him wait any longer.
He crawls on top of Blaine. He kisses the back of Blaine’s neck gently, one of his hand playing with the still-damp curls there. “I love you so much,” he whispers softly against Blaine’s skin, kissing his way down his spine. “I promise, I’ll do better this time.”
He hears Blaine’s breathe hitch, and then he watches as Blaine’s hand reaches behind his back, blindly reaching for Kurt’s own. He finds it and squeezes it tightly. “I know you will,” he says quietly, and Kurt—Kurt thinks he might be crying, softly. “I’ll do better, too. We both will.”
Kurt doesn’t let go of his hand, but he does kiss down Blaine’s spine, lingering at the small of his back, peppering the skin there with lovemarks and affection.
He pulls away slowly. “Are you ready?”
The hard line of muscle in Blaine’s back trembles, and then softens. “Yeah,” he breathes out. “I’m ready.”
Kurt presses one last kiss to the small of Blaine’s back before letting go of his hand. He gently kneads Blaine’s cheeks before pulling the flesh apart, and then, before he can think too deeply about it, presses a light kiss to his center. Blaine doesn’t—jump or stiffen, so Kurt continues, another kiss, and a light slip of his tongue.
Blaine shivers, so Kurt pulls away. “Still good?”
“So good,” Blaine breathes. “Don’t stop, please.”
So Kurt doesn’t. He licks him again, once, twice, again. He likes the taste of Blaine, down here, clean from the shower, but also earthen and uniquely Blaine. He presses his tongue in and listens to Blaine moan out his name. Blaine reaches back and holds his hand out, and Kurt slides his hand into his, squeezing it gently.
“Oh God, Kurt.” Blaine gasps, thrusting his hips down into the mattress as Kurt fucks him with his tongue. “D-don’t stop, p-please.”
Kurt grips his wrist, trying to keep Blaine from moving so much. “I can’t do this,” he laughs lowly, pulling away to hear Blaine’s disappointed groan. “If you don’t stop wiggling around.”
“Just,” Blaine gasps, trying and failing to stop his fidgeting hips. “Feels weird. Good, really good, just—ohmygodKurt.” He groans as Kurt dips his tongue into him again, surprising him, zigging when he’s expecting a zag. Blaine practically shakes from desire, and Kurt has to stop himself from smiling.
He loves him so, so much.
So he fucks him with his tongue, and Blaine screams into his pillow, thrusting his hips down into the mattress in an attempt to ease the friction. Kurt loves this, loves how much Blaine is enjoying this, how much his body is begging for it, begging for Kurt.
Then Blaine comes, sooner than Kurt anticipates, his body collapsing underneath him. Kurt pulls away with a subtle smile.
“I take it you enjoyed that?”
Blaine doesn’t answer him: he just mumbles unintelligibly into his pillow.
Kurt laughs and sits up, kissing the back of Blaine’s neck. “Blaine?”
“Did I break you?”
Blaine turns his head and groans. “Broke me with fantastic sex, yes, oh my God.” He rolls over and holds his arm over his head. “I don’t think I can move.’
Kurt raises an eyebrow. “So you’re doing that for me next time, then?”
“Oh my God, yes.” Blaine’s eyes shine at next time. “Did you come yet?”
Kurt groans: he’s been doing his best to ignore that, trying to hold it off for as long as possible. “Not yet.” He admits, biting his bottom lip.
Blaine laughs at him gently. “I’m sort of useless to you at the moment, I’m sorry.”
Kurt kisses his forehead before wrapping his hand around his (throbbing, nearly painful) cock. “That’s okay: you’re very inspiring.”
Blaine smiles at him coyly before covering Kurt’s hand with his own, and Kurt nearly sobs with relief. “I like being helpful.”
They lie against one another, useless and sated for a few minutes before the stickiness and the sweat and the sheets just become gross, and the need to clean up overwhelms everything else.
They take turns cleaning each other off, and then they put on a set of fresh sheets on Blaine’s bed so they can go to sleep, because it’s actually two o’clock in the morning and the day has already been exhausting, but wonderful.
They sort of collapse into sleep after that, tangled and sated but happy, and Kurt doesn’t dream as he sleeps.
When he wakes up the next morning, the first thing he sees is the golden specks in Blaine’s eyes, with Blaine leaning heavily on his chest.
“You’re really here,” Blaine says as he first blinks the sleep away from his eyes. “I didn’t just dream last night up, did I?”
“Hope not,” Kurt yawns as Blaine rolls off of him. He sits up and stretches, tries to loosen out the kinks in his back. It’s been a while since he’s slept with someone else in bed beside him. “Last night was too nice to be a dream, don’t you think?”
Blaine smiles at him brightly, letting his (cold!) toes brush against Kurt’s shin. “Yeah—yeah, it was.”
They get up together and brush their teeth, put on some pajamas (even though Blaine’s barely fit Kurt anymore) before they slide back into bed, intending on going back to sleep but really, they just sort of lie there, soaking in one another’s company.
“I guess the only thing I still want to know is,” Blaine asks hesitantly, running his hand down Kurt’s cheek. “Why now? Why not…earlier, or when I move to New York? Why take a chance on us now?”
Kurt breathes out. “Because I thought I was going to lose you. I know—I know no one was hurt yesterday, but when Finn told me what happened—-all I could think about was, what if you had been? And I never—I would have never gotten to see you again.”
He swallows coarsely, and tries to think of how to say what he wants to say. “I always—God, I always thought you were out of my league, you know? That you would never notice me, that I would never even stand a chance with you. And then you did notice me and I just knew—I knew it couldn’t last. You’d find someone better eventually. But then you told me you loved me, and we—we were together for so long, and I started to think—and then when you cheated on me it’s like all my old insecurities just came crashing down around me.” He runs a hand through Blaine’s hair. “I mean, on the scale of good looking guys you’re a ten and I’m on a seven on a good day, how were we supposed to last?” Kurt laughs scathingly. “Maybe an eight if I wore the right pants.”
Blaine’s eyes flicker angrily. “You’re not an eight—you’re a twelve.” He presses a firm kiss to Kurt’s lips. “How—how the rest of the world doesn’t just fall to its knees and want to worship you, I have no idea. You’re breathtaking.”
Kurt sucks in his breath. “Well, I’m no Alpha Gay like you, I guess.” He forces a laugh out, and Blaine stiffens in his arms. “Blaine?”
“If we’re being honest?” Blaine whispers hesitantly. “You—it always bothered me when you say that.”
“Say what?” Kurt questions. “Alpha gay?”
“Yes.” Blaine sighs wearily. “You—you make it sound like I’m straight or something, and I’m not, Kurt. I like guys. I like men. I’m just as gay as you are.”
“Yeah, but you’re—“ Kurt waves his hand in the air, like that encompasses all that Blaine is. “I don’t know, more masculine.”
“Why.” Blaine questions, only it comes out more like a statement. “Because I like sports? You work on cars! That’s way more masculine.”
Kurt frowns. “This really bothers you, doesn’t it?”
“Girls don’t believe me when I say I’m gay,” Blaine grumbles into Kurt’s chest. “And when I’m hanging out with a bunch of guys they all act like I’m supposed to be the man in the relationship, like—what does that even mean? It’s like my identity doesn’t matter, and when you—of all people—try and do the same? It just hurts.”
Kurt brushes a kiss to his forehead. “I didn’t know.”
“I know,” Blaine softens against him. “That’s why I’m telling you now.” He grabs his hand and squeezes. “Honesty, remember?”
Kurt bites his bottom lip, and he considers not even saying anything, just—just letting it go, letting Blaine feel vindicated and just—going to sleep or something.
But. Honesty, remember.
“I mostly call you that because I’m jealous,” he blurts out, and wishes he hadn’t when Blaine’s head snaps up off of his chest.
“Jealous?” Blaine repeats, both eyebrows raised. “Of what?”
“Of—of you,” Kurt mumbles, looking down at Blaine’s impressive high thread count cotton sheets. “You—you have it so easy sometimes, Blaine. Everyone loves you, and you always get solos, and people always want to hang out with you and people always take you seriously at auditions and I—I don’t have that same luxury, okay?” He folds his knees back up to his chest. “Sometimes I wish I did.”
Blaine looks up at him like someone just kicked a puppy in front of him. “Kurt—I—I can’t help that. I—”
“I know,” Kurt pecks his nose gently. “I’m just—sharing, I guess. I’m not mad at you about it. God, even if you could help it I wouldn’t be mad—you deserve all the praise that you get, Blaine, because you’re so, so good, you’re really, you’re just—the best.” He reaches out and grabs Blaine’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I just—you remember when we both auditioned for Tony during West Side Story?”
Blaine nods carefully.
“Right. Well, when I auditioned—I got laughed at.”
Blaine gasps. “Kurt—! You—you never told me that! Who—who laughed at you? That’s so—I can’t believe anyone would be that unprofessional! I ought to—”
Kurt silences him with a kiss, soft and tender, and pulls away from him slowly. “It doesn’t even matter. Not anymore. But you—you’re my boyfriend—” and Blaine’s eyelashes flutter when he says that, like he can’t quite believe this is real. “—And you’re just as gay as I am, but nobody laughed at you when you auditioned.”
“Oh Kurt,” Blaine nuzzles against him, wrapping his arms around his shoulder blades. “For what it’s worth? I think you would have been an amazing Tony.”
“Yes,” he admits, enjoy the warmth of Blaine’s skin against his own. “But not quite as wonderful as you. You really were an excellent Tony, Blaine. And it’s already different for me in New York, so who knows what sort of opportunities I’ll have there that I didn’t have back in Lima. I just—since we were talking about it and all, wanted you to know how I felt.”
“I’m glad you told me.”
“I’m glad you told me,” Kurt laughs softly, rubbing his nose gently against Blaine’s. “I’ve missed talking to you, like this. I forgot how much.”
“I’ve missed you, period.” Blaine scooches closer, until his breath is warm against Kurt’s face. “Kiss me?”
Kurt is more than happy to oblige.
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