Title: School Spirit
Notes: Spoilers for 2.08 "Furt"
"You what?" Blaine demanded. He doubled over, clutching his stomach, laughing hard. Breathing was next to impossible, and his uniform was being creased in a particularly destructive way, but at the moment everything seemed less than important, at least when compared to what Kurt had just told him. "I find that very hard to believe."
Kurt crossed his arms over his chest, his arms obscuring a designer label. For Kurt, the uniforms at Dalton were both a gift and a curse. After all, he certainly enjoyed the way the gray slacks made his boyfriend look, especially when he bent for something, and Kurt had spent hours slipping his fingers under Blain's jacket, running his fingers around the crisp, white shirt underneath, and then pulling it slowly from his body while they kissed. Kurt had never been a sucker for uniforms, and yet he could hardly glance at Blaine in the Dalton uniform and not feel flustered.
The downside, however, was that any kind of creativity and individuality disappeared, at least during the school week. Kurt wore the same uniform day in and day out, and after only a few weeks into his stay at the Academy, the entire thing had started to feel repetitious to a sickeningly boring degree. That was why Kurt lived for the weekends. On the weekends he went home to Lima. Sometimes his father came and picked him up, and other times Blaine drove him. Once, Finn had come alone and they'd had a very long and very awkward talk about their parent's sudden explosion of teenage hormones.
Coming home meant getting to see all of his friends, going shopping at the mall, hovering over his father during mealtime, and most importantly, getting to exercise his expansive closet.
"They're just clothes," Finn had remarked to him one Saturday morning, the teen hanging back while Kurt rooted through his closet. "You've got a million."
Kurt turned back, eyebrow raised, "You'll understand the moment that variety is taken from your life. A restricted dress code is wonderful in theory, in order to promote a level field for all students at a school, but as one who expresses himself through his wardrobe, it's very difficult for me."
"Oh," Finn said a bit dumbly.
Kurt sighed and fingered the pleats on a navy blue kilt. With a pair of leggings, he was certain he'd found his Saturday night outfit.
It was the limited at wardrobe at Dalton that had Kurt going a bit over the top when he did come home. Carole was always respectful, and kept a firm hand on the back of Finn's neck to keep him that way as well. His father complained, but good naturedly, just happy to have him home for whatever period of time. But above all else, it was Blaine's opinion, with his wide smile and firm kisses that Kurt cared most for.
They'd often spend Sunday afternoons laying across Kurt's large bed, fingers hooked easily together as a movie played on. There would be lazy kisses, and fingers brushing lightly against barely exposed skin, and the always lurking Burt Hummel to make sure there was never any kind of satisfaction exchanged of a more than innocent degree.
It was one such Sunday when Blaine discovered truly one of the last things Kurt had forgotten to mention about his stay at William McKinley High School. They were scheduled to catch a late lunch with Mercedes and Tina, and Kurt requested, "Can you look in my closet and see if you can find my Armani gray fleece?" It was February, and going outside was still a bother to Kurt who hated the cold.
Blaine rolled from the bed and remarked, "I'm certain by now you understand that I don't have a clue about these labels and designers. I'm seventeen and my mom still buys most of my clothes for me."
Kurt propped a hand under his chin. "Which continues to stun and disappoint me. If you would just pay attention during my lessons we wouldn't be stuck at this impasse."
"Just because I'm gay," Blaine trailed off over his shoulder. He rooted through the closet for a moment, then pulled free a gray coat. "This one?"
Kurt flipped the page in a magazine. "That's the Calvin Klein. Go further back."
"Your closet is expansive," Blaine remarked. "I can't imagine why you'd want to ever come out of here."
Setting the magazine aside, Kurt slipped off the bed and remarked sarcastically, "I see what you did there."
"This one?" Blaine asked again, a different gray coat held up. "There are several jackets in here that meet your criteria, you understand."
Stepping up behind Blaine, Kurt let his arms wrap easily around the other boy. "Nope," he said, a smile pressing into Blaine's back. "That's the Moschino."
Setting the jacket aside, Blaine turned, folding his own arms around Kurt's lithe shoulders. "I would like you to understand that I have had several complaints from Rick and Jack about your wardrobe, and I'm only beginning to understand why now."
Kurt rolled his eyes at the mention of his roommates. They were truly good guys, and people that had taken Kurt in and accepted him without hesitation. It had been odd at first to get used to having completely straight roommates who strode around in their underwear and had no qualms about touching him. But it was refreshing and liberating and Kurt wasn't sure he could ever settle for anything less.
"What do they say?" Kurt demanded playfully, letting his lips linger at Blaine's jaw line. "What's this blasphemy about my clothing?" As much as Kurt had attempted to fight the compulsion to take his wardrobe with him, several of his best pieces had made their way to Dalton. It wasn't every single week that Kurt came home, and when he remained at the academy for the weekend, or visited Blaine's family, he needed something to wear.
Blaine laughed. "The way I hear it, you've got several blazers, pants and plenty of accessories in each of their closets. They let you because they actually like you, I can't imagine why, but that doesn't mean they don't complain to the rest of us."
With a pout, Kurt protested, "I like to have options. And you'd better be nice to me, or I'll tell David. I'll tell Wes and David!"
Blaine blanched a little. "As long as it isn't your father. Most fathers threaten boyfriends with shotguns. Your father actually pulled it out, let me know how extremely competent he is with it, and then asked me my preferred method of burial. My father handed me a condom and told me to be careful. That is a fine distinction."
Kurt waved a hand, slipping away from Blaine. "Dad hasn't been on the shooting rang in almost over a year."
"That does very little to comfort me."
"Just grab me a coat," Kurt requested, flipping a light on in the nearby bathroom. "Whichever you want is fine. We'll be late if we don't hurry."
Kurt had barely set in with freshening up when laughter pierced the basement. It was heavy and loud and a bit obnoxious, leading Kurt to believe it was authentic. "What's going on?" he asked, peeking his head back into the bedroom.
"Was this your Halloween costume?" Blaine demanded. He continued to laugh, shaking hard.
Kurt said bluntly, "No."
"Then what is it?" Blaine held the hanger up high, the red and white flashing under the florescent light in the bedroom. "What is this, Kurt?"
"Last year," Kurt explained, keeping his voice level, "I was attempting to broaden my horizons."
Blaine crossed over to him and then dropped a quick, chaste kiss on his lips. "I'm not making fun of you. However, this is something you should have thought to share with me right away."
"I was supposed to give it back," Kurt pressed on, reaching out to run his fingers along the material. "I almost had to sign over a kidney in order to take it home."
"Then it's true?"
Kurt confessed, "You've never met Coach Sylvester. When she tells you you're going to do something, it's best just to do it."
Blaine laughed once more, pressing the Cheerio's uniform against Kurt's body and trying to imagine what he'd look like in it. "A cheerleader! You were a cheerleader!"
Rambling a bit, Kurt held onto the uniform and said, "It was only for my Sophomore year and Coach Sylvester wanted to use me for my face and my voice. I was a terrible dancer. In Glee all we had to do was remember a few steps. The Cheerios gave me a whole new definition of dancing. It was hard, trying to balance school, and glee and cheerios, and when the season was up, I decided not to go back. I don't know why I didn't turn the uniform back in."
Blaine's hands were cold as they framed Kurt's face, pulling him in for a soft kiss. "Would you be uncomfortable if I told you how incredibly turned on I am by the idea of you wearing that uniform?"
One of Kurt's hands settled easily on Blaine's hip and he kissed him back, breathing in deep the lingering smell of his boyfriend's cologne. "Not really."
"Because I do think you'd look gorgeous in it."
Tilting his head to the side, Kurt returned another kiss and offered, "I always hated the way I looked in it. I'm too pale, and I have pear hips."
Blaine's hands fell to Kurt's hips instinctively and pressed them close together, smiling wickedly when Kurt gave a sudden gasp. "No complaints here."
Kurt could hear someone walking above the basement and relented, "This is about to leave the PG category."
Flustered, Blaine nodded and pulled back. "Sorry."
Sometimes Kurt felt like a cocktease. It was a distasteful to think of, but he did. Blaine was older, and more experienced, and just as male as Kurt was. Sex was a constant dark cloud that loomed over them. Blaine was always careful not to push any faster than Kurt was ready to go, but Kurt simply wasn't willing to commit to sex. At least not just yet. There was some heavy petting, and Blaine had been surprised, but not unhappy a week previous when Kurt had dropped to his knees and started working on his zipper, but aside from that, Kurt remained a virgin. He had no doubt that Blaine would be the person he'd give his virginity to eventually, but the day was still off in the distance, and the only thing more awkward than thinking about it, was knowing his father was currently a floor away and always listening for the first sounds of sexual activity, shotgun ready.
"I'm sorry, too," Kurt said, squeezing Blaine's hand.
Blaine shrugged. "Win some, loose some."
The rest of the trip was spent in good spirits, and after a late lunch with nearly half the glee club turning up instead of merely Mercedes and Tina, and then a bit of last minute bonding with Burt, Blaine drove himself and Kurt back to Dalton.
"I was thinking you'd come home with me next week," Blaine offered, slipping an arm around Kurt's waist as they walked along towards the West end dormitories. "I know my family is infinity less exciting than yours, but my mom has been pestering me and if it helps any, you can root around in my closet looking for something embarrassing. There should be something in there from when I was fourteen. I must have something with a Harry Potter logo on it."
"Deal," Kurt agreed easily, and then held the strap to his overnight bag a bit tighter, feeling the extra weight of it.
Blaine walked him to his door in the junior dorms, and leaned in eagerly as a kiss was pressed upon him. "Come over later?" Kurt asked. "Rick won't be back until tomorrow morning, and Jack is at his girlfriend's. We can catch a movie."
"Sure," Blaine agreed. "I'll just call my mom and then be back in about half an hour, okay?"
Kurt gave him a kiss to the cheek and slipped into his room, already rooting around in his bag.
Forty-five minutes later, and sounding apologetic in his tone, Blaine knocked on the door to Kurt's dorm and identified himself.
"Come in!" Kurt called from far inside. "I'll be there in a second."
"Don't fall in," Blaine said with a laugh as the faucet in the bathroom shut off. "And sorry about running behind. My mom wanted a play-by-play of this weekend. She also said to tell you that she's going to spoil you rotten the next time she sees you, and to be prepared for exaggerated amounts of attention and fawning, those are her words, not mine. I think you've endeared yourself to her, not that I'm surprised, and only time will tell if that's a good thing or not."
Blaine drifted through the commons, and into the bedroom, and then inched even closer to the cracked bathroom door. "Is this a bad time? What's going on?"
There was silence, and then Kurt mumbled nearly so low that Blaine had to strain to hear him, "If you laugh, I swear to god, I will never do anything like this ever again."
"Laugh?" Puzzled, Blaine reached out for the bathroom door.
Before Blaine could push the door open, Kurt's fingers curled around it and he pulled it open. He took a visible, deep breath, smoothed his hands on his stomach and remarked, "I guess it still fits."
Blaine felt himself list a bit to the side, mouth open, heart pounding so hard and so fast in his chest as he took in Kurt's appearance. "You put it on," he remarked, gaping openly at his boyfriend in the red and white Cheerio's uniform.
"Well," Kurt said a bit bashfully, "you seemed taken by it, and I thought it couldn't hurt to-" The rest of his words were caught off as Blaine surged forward, pressing him back against the bathroom door and devouring his mouth in a heated kiss. Blaine's fingers were firm and fitted on Kurt's hips as he worked Kurt's mouth open, never more sure that there was a higher power looking down on him favorably.
"Happy, I take it?" Kurt managed, sucking in a breath of air. His hands slid over Blaine's shoulders and he pulled the older male flush against him.
Blaine confessed, "I don't know if I just wanted to look at you in it, or rip it off you." He pressed a kiss to the underside of Kurt's jaw. "Maybe both, in no particular order, mind you."
"If I had know beforehand," Kurt gasped out a little, feeling Blaine's leg fit in-between his own, "that you would react so favorably, I might have done this much-," then his words fell away completely. Blaine was mouthing so expertly at his neck, and the other boy's leg was creating an amount of friction that was dangerously close to boiling over.
"You look gorgeous," Blaine managed, "and I really don't see how you didn't have the boys of McKinnley lining up for you."
"Blaine," Kurt warned, eyes shuddering closed as Blaine's tongue worked across his skin. "Blaine!"
"It's okay," Blaine offered quietly, then hiked Kurt up a little, dove in a bit more forcefully, and let his hand do the rest of the work.
Sucking in air and leaning forward onto Blaine, Kurt grumbled, "How am I supposed to explain this to the dry cleaners?"
Blaine chuckled, then swore, "If you promise to wear this again, I'll take it there myself."
Gingerly, Kurt extracted himself from Blaine's grasp and asked incredulously, "You really like this uniform."
"On you," Blaine amended. "I don't think it would look half as good on anyone else. Thanks, Kurt."
Kurt sent a glance down at the uniform. "I never liked this thing, not from the moment Coach Sylvester handed it to me. I think it makes me stick out."
Blaine's fingers curled under the shirt and tugged it up, over Kurt's head. "You like to stand out, Kurt. You were born to."
"I like to stand out because of who I am," Kurt argued, toeing off his shoes. "And not because I'm wearing a uniform that, on a good day, lets me pretend like I'm not at the very bottom of the social ladder. And Coach was right, I have pear hips, and you can really see them in this thing."
Blaine's chin rested forward onto Kurt's shoulders. "Didn't I tell you earlier that you'll hear no complaints from me. I like you just the way you are, Kurt, with or without your pear hips." Blaine let his fingers play over the elastic of the red pants for just a moment, then he straightened up and said, "You'd better catch a quick shower, before any of your roommates come back."
There was only a moment of hesitation, in which Kurt's eyes flickered from his boyfriend to the shower, and then he said, "You could use one as well."
Blaine nodded. "I'll head back to my room, then."
"No." Kurt caught Blaine's wrist in a confident grasp. "With me."
"That a good idea?" Blaine asked bluntly. "Our clothes have to be completely off for that."
Quickly Kurt stripped himself of his pants, standing before Blaine in only his boxers. "Nearly there."
Blaine pulled hotly at his tie with his free hand. "The things you do to me, Kurt."
Kurt pulled at Blaine. "Come on. You're absolutely the only gay boy who'd think twice about getting naked in a shower with his boyfriend."
A smile pulled at Blaine's face. "Turn the water on."
As promised, Blaine had the uniform dry cleaned, and when Kurt stated quite firmly that he wouldn't be returning it to Coach Sylvester, Blaine slid the garment to the back of his closet the next time they were in Lima. "Just in case," he told Kurt. "Because if you ever want to put that on again, I'm right there with you."
Kurt rolled his eyes, then asked, "Did I ever tell you I was the football team's kicker for half a year? I have that uniform around here somewhere, too."
Blaine felt his brain lag, then he nodded eagerly. "We have time to look for it."