Fall Down From the Sky

By: Mytay

Rating: M – It starts off mostly with teenagers, being teenagers, and a string of frank and awkward conversations dealing with . . . well, awkwardness frankly ;) But then, in the last chapter, we get a little action to go with those awkward conversations, which is what makes this story an 'M' :D

Summary: Follow-up to Moondust and Starlight. Herein one can find conspiring Warblers, Kurt's discovery that he can be sexy, aching for his days in a McKinley choir room, Blaine's family and their issues, and the continuing awesomeness of the Hudson-Hummels.

Basically: the beginning of Kurt and Blaine's relationship as they ease into it and try to figure out just what it means to be someone's boyfriend, with a moderate dash of added drama.

Spoilers: Everything up to and including Season 2, Episode 16, Original Songs.

Disclaimer: I do not own, nor claim to own, anything Glee related in what follows.

Warnings: None that I can think of, other than some more fluff, a few embarrassing conversations, intense instances of angst, and copious amounts of family/friend bonding. And FLUFF! Of all sorts: the kind between friends, family, and boyfriends! Consider yourself warned ;)

Note: I don't think you need to read Moondust and Starlight to understand this story, though this tale will refer to situations in that one (at times directly). But feel free to read on, if you do not wish to read this story's prequel.

To my lovely readers of my WIPs: I swear I'm working on them – and this story is NOT a work-in-progress – it is, in fact, complete. All that remains is proofreading/editing each part before I post.

This story is my "oh my God, I'm FINALLY DONE my essays! YAY!" celebration – I started it while procrastinating hopelessly on those essays, and then finished it up this week after handing in my last one. Hopefully, more chapters for my other stories will now follow :)


Chapter 1


Kurt suspected there was a conspiracy in their midst. However, he wasn't looking too closely at the root of this mystery, as its consequences were empty closets and secret hallways where he could make out with his boyfriend whenever the mood struck him – which was often. Very often. Near constant.

"I think Wes is the instigator, to be honest."

Kurt had been trying to even out his breathing because while one can breathe and kiss at the same time, doing so for an extended period can lead to a general lack of oxygen to one's brain. Especially if one skips the breathing part because their boyfriend does something absolutely spectacular with his tongue that renders breathing a secondary concern to the kissing.

He looked up at Blaine from his reclined position – they were sitting on a large desk in an empty, never-used classroom. The desk had been shoved into a corner, hidden behind a clutter of chairs and globes and old chalkboards on wheels. It had been the cleanest thing in the room and thus became their main make-out spot.

"You think so?"

"Yeah. I think he got fed up with us sneaking out early from practice –"

"Or arriving late," Kurt added with a self-satisfied smirk.

"And is attempting to give us as many opportunities alone as he can. For the good of the Warblers."

Kurt pursed his lips in thought. "It has worked. And, while not quite as comfortable as common room couches, we never get interrupted in here – or in the closets . . . I wonder if he has the Warblers keeping watch on these places."

"What, you mean, like . . . 'page Blaine and Kurt, free closet in second floor hallway'?"


Blaine's arms were tight around Kurt, who put his head back against Blaine's chest, eyes falling shut. His boyfriend laughed after a few minutes contemplation. "Oh wow. That is precisely what they're doing, isn't it? I can't decide if that's creepy . . . or awesome."

Kurt hummed his agreement, eyes fluttering shut. It had been a long and exhausting day; he'd had two tests, a presentation, and so much note-taking that his fingers were cramped and he had a callous forming along where his pen pressed against the ring finger of his right hand. Moreover, while marathon making-out sessions were by their very definition awesome, they could be tiring in their own right.

They had been discussing what to do with the half an hour between their last class and the Warblers' meeting, when David had casually suggested they wander off for some alone time before said meeting – "Go on and do whatever you need to be focused and attentive," were his exact words. Kurt was even more certain of his theory, based on David's somewhat smug look. Not only were Blaine and Kurt more likely to show up on time and stay the duration, but they were also less likely to spend the meeting ignoring the Council by sneaking small pecks, stroking each others' hands, and generally behaving like utter fools in love.

It made him want to giggle. All the time. And smiling, there had been lots of smiling – it was straining his facial muscles daily. He was in serious danger of developing laugh lines before he was thirty.

Blaine sighed heavily. "Kurt, we've got to go."

Kurt groaned softly, then pressed a quick kiss to Blaine's chest through his shirt (their blazers lay discarded on a nearby chair). "Not inclined to move right now. Sorry."

"I think our fellow Warblers' conspiracy to aid us in our . . . plight, will be put on hold if it doesn't yield the results they want."

Kurt made a discontented noise, but slowly sat up, straightening hair and tie as he went. He pouted slightly, and Blaine swooped in, kissing him hard, sucking Kurt's lower lip into his mouth. Crap, that's not fair, he thought with little annoyance because Kurt knew how to fight back now. Blaine was pressed against him in no time at all, a low rumble in his throat as Kurt put his newfound frenching skills to good use. He started a mental timer in his own head: five, four, three, two, one.

"Okay," Blaine gasped out, practically ripping himself off and away from Kurt – then he reached for his blazer, whipping it on and trying to subtly tug it down, under the pretense of straightening it. Kurt just rolled his eyes, reaching for his own uniform jacket. Blaine coughed. "We've seriously got to stop now, otherwise we're going to be very late."

Now, Kurt was unreasonably, over-the-damn-moon happy. Blaine was incredible in many, many ways. But months of being friends with the boy had alerted Kurt to a fair few of his faults as well. Namely, his mistaken assumption that he had to be perfect and charming at all times, even when getting sweaty and disheveled with his boyfriend.

Kurt was shy about sex and sexuality in general. He still had trouble believing that he was appealing. That being said, he had an idea that Blaine, at least, found him attractive. There was physical evidence of this fact, amongst other obvious indicators. What Kurt was having trouble with was Blaine's reticence to acknowledge said physical evidence. It was never 'Kurt, we need to stop because this is going a little too far' or 'Sorry, it's a bit much for me, can we slow down?' No, it was 'oh, I think I heard your, dad,' or 'damn, I thought for sure my phone was ringing,' or, Kurt's personal favourite, 'sorry, too much diet Pepsi at lunch – let me take a quick bathroom break.'

At first, Kurt was fine with this – because, again, his inner thoughts tended to stop him with a quick hello, embarrassment, let's just not talk about these things, okay? The first time Kurt had felt the evidence, he'd blushed so hard he could feel actual heat radiating off his face. It took a long while for him to stop mildly freaking out in his own head – was it wrong that he didn't react as strongly in the physical sense, and did that physical reaction mean Blaine was ready for more right this second? And on and on his mind would whir.

But now, with a crash course in making-out spread out over several weeks, he'd become deliciously familiar with the sensations and noises that resulted from spending hours exploring each other's mouths. He understood the most basic biological concepts even before his education via pamphlets and awkward conversations with his father, and while having in-depth discussions about them wasn't high on his list of things to do, it was getting slightly frustrating to have Blaine backtrack any time things got heated. Kurt was a boy, too – and it was as if Blaine was treating him like a fragile princess, removed from and far above these sexual urges. Sometimes, Blaine would call a halt before anything even really happened, for whatever reason.

A touch of the hand was nice, even lovely. It was romantic. But Kurt was also coming to appreciate moments that ended with him thinking 'holy hell, never stop sucking on my neck – like, ever!' If only Blaine would get that just because Kurt didn't know everything there was to know about sex, and just because it still made him blush stupidly, that didn't mean he was totally oblivious to such obvious . . . His mind rebelled against thinking about it directly again. Gah, why is this so complicated? Good grief, he complained to himself.

"Kurt, you all right over there?"

Kurt sighed out his frustration, and focused on the happy again – it really wasn't that hard to do so. "Yes, I'm fine. Shall we get to practice? I'm absolutely dying to watch Wes and David do their version of New York, New York. Which seems a little tasteless considering we're not, you know, going."

Blaine laughed. "Yeah, but I prefer to consider it a 'we'll do it next year' sort of a celebration. Had New Directions not gone with original songs, we totally would've won that thing."

Kurt suspected their loss had more to do with their not quite up-to-par vocals in their duet (heh, he couldn't really regret the reason behind that) and Miss Tea Party member. However, he was so proud of his old Glee club that he didn't let that latter dark thought sit for long.

New Directions absolutely killed it. Afterwards, when both he and Finn got home, he all but spun Kurt around the room, giddy about their win (and then apologized profusely about being less than sensitive about Kurt's not winning in his usual sincere-but-awkward manner). His stepbrother told him, with all seriousness, that his locker shoving line was all about Kurt, and if Kurt had still been with them, it would have been his line to sing. The ever-present ache in Kurt's chest, whenever he thought of New Directions, thrummed painfully. God, he missed them.

Kurt fiddled with the strap of his bag and held the door open for Blaine. Once they were out in the hall, he grabbed his boyfriend's hand as they walked towards the stairs. Blaine smiled at nothing in particular, Kurt could see it out of the corner of his eye, which of course, made him grin in turn. Ow. Facial muscles objecting again.

They made it to Warblers' practice with a minute to spare – probably mussed enough to make their previous activity quite obvious, but no one really reacted to that anymore. Kurt had heard tell of an on-going bet that resulted in Jeff winning an obscene amount of money, but as of yet, the rumour was unsubstantiated. That being said, Jeff was unbearably enthusiastic about Kurt and Blaine's relationship. He winked at them as they sat down on the couch together.

"Kurt, we were thinking you take the lead on this one, and Blaine, Nick and Jeff can take lead on . . ."

Kurt felt a slight crack in his neck as he jerked his head up, looking at Wes in total shock. Blaine squeezed his hand, shaking with suppressed laughter as Kurt gaped soundlessly. Wes' mouth was twisted up into that same cocky little smile he'd given Kurt a few weeks ago when they'd all voted to give him the duet with Blaine.

"A part of me can't help but feel that they're doing this as payment for my being Prince Consort to King Warbler," he muttered into Blaine's ear as a great deal of loud discussion broke out over patterned ties.

Blaine snorted, the sound going unnoticed by the arguing Warblers. "Please. They're just finally acknowledging your unspeakably amazing talent. And not only yours – check out my shared lead with two other Warblers. You've brought about some serious change, Kurt. Feel proud."

Kurt did feel rather proud – while it had been Blaine who had insisted on changing things up a little, Kurt knew that his intentional blows to Blaine's well-ordered world of endless solos had been instrumental to that. His own version of a smug, yet happy grin was overtaking him now, and Blaine spoke lowly in his ear, "Stop it. You get that same look after you've managed to kiss me into oblivion."

"Am I making you uncomfortable, Blaine?" Kurt had no idea his voice could, well, purr like that. Interesting.

As was Blaine's instant reaction to it, namely to jerk slightly in his seat, sliding the barest inch away, while still holding tightly to Kurt's hand. Kurt couldn't help but wonder at this reaction. Really? That was all it took? Why? Blaine could easily provoke Kurt into kissing him into a wall (couch, desk etc.) with a few choice words in a certain tone, but Kurt hadn't stopped to consider the fact that he may have the same power. Again, he understood that Blaine was attracted to him, that Blaine wanted to kiss him . . . but he didn't know how much of that was due to Kurt being Kurt, versus Kurt looking or sounding like Kurt.

Was he that attractive? He didn't really think so – not in comparison to Blaine's looks, at any rate. He was just so handsome, whereas Kurt was . . . unique. Feminine. Even baby-faced. He could appreciate individual aspects of himself: his complexion (which he worked hard for), his eyes, his perfectly coiffed hair, his flawless fashion sense, but when combined on a whole, he wasn't sure that it was something truly appealing.

Perhaps Blaine wasn't the only one with a problem. And Kurt wasn't sure how to communicate this particular issue either or even if it really was an issue.

Forget it, focus on the happy. That wasn't hard at all, with the warm fingers and hand of his boyfriend settled so comfortably in his own.


He didn't know what possessed him to do it – he normally avoided potentially embarrassing moments like one would avoid plague-infested rats. But, for some reason, instead of asking Finn during one of their evenings-with-glass-of-warm-milk, or picking up the phone and calling Mercedes, Tina (who had a boyfriend and thus maybe some actual knowledge on this), or even Quinn (who he'd heard some not-nice things about from the two girls previous, and it was making him think some kind of intervention might be needed), he was sitting next to his dad on the couch, blushing like crazy, and trying to spit out exactly what was bothering him.

He used to be so good at deflection, but one side-long look from his father, a soft, "You okay, Kurt? You look a little . . . down," and he was lost. Maybe sitting down while his father was watching sports highlights was a big indicator of something amiss, because he never did that. Finn had taken one look at Kurt's face, and then quietly informed them he was going to hit the sack early.

Once Finn was gone, his father repeated the question, and Kurt parted his lips, thought long and hard about what he wanted to say, and then blurted out, "Dad, it's a sex thing!"

He felt his father tense up instantly, and his head whipped towards Kurt so fast it was actually a little alarming. Kurt pressed his lips together, as if trying to prevent further humiliation from tumbling out, and then rolled his eyes skyward – hello God-I-don't-believe in, it's me, Kurt. Pretend you're the benevolent father your followers declare you to be and STOP DOING THIS TO ME.

"Um, what?" was his dad's eloquent response. Kurt really couldn't blame him for that.

He sighed through his nose, and then tried again, with a greater degree of success. "I . . . have something I need to ask you about . . . well, sex."

His father blinked for a long moment, and then turned on the couch to face Kurt, speaking quickly and urgently, "Kurt, you've only been with Blaine for a few weeks, barely over a month, you can't –"

"No, no, dad. A world of no. I promise." Kurt hastened to correct his father's assumption, because this was already embarrassing enough.

He didn't relax much, but a bit of the tension left his frame. "Okay. Okay. So, what's your question?"

"I, um, I . . . Blaine and I have been . . ." Kurt stared up at the ceiling, over at the TV, now turned off, and down at his shoes. "We kiss. A lot. And that's all. And that's enough, for me. But, a few times, when we've been . . ." Trying to crawl into each other's mouths. "Kissing, Blaine's been . . . into it, shall we say? And it sort of . . . freaked me out, a little."

His father inhaled deeply. "Kid, you gotta gimme a little more than that. Has he been pressuring you or something? Or is it all going a little too –"

"No, no, none of that. It's really silly, actually, because it's perfectly normal, but . . ."

Perhaps there was a God after all, because his father suddenly got it, his eyebrows shooting up, and his mouth opening in a silent 'oh.' "Well, um, Kurt, you know that's normal so why . . ."

"I don't know! Maybe because he always pulls away, or makes up some excuse, and it's like he can't even bring himself to acknowledge it, let alone talk to me about it. And a part of me wonders if maybe he's trying to, I don't know, protect me. Another is doubting myself, because I . . ." I think I know what's normal, but maybe I'm wrong?

His father let him lapse into silence, his eyes narrowing as he thought quietly to himself. Kurt plucked miserably at a nearby blanket; he wanted to resign as a teenager, as a boyfriend, from life, because here he was seeking relationship and sex advice from his father.

"Kurt, when you're with Blaine and you're . . . doing the kissing thing, how do you feel?"

Kurt blinked in surprise at the question, and shot a glance over, uncertain and fairly incredulous. His dad smiled, albeit tentatively. "It's all right, kiddo, I'm not gonna run away screaming. You be as honest as you need to."

Kurt managed to regain control of his vocal chords, and made sure to take his time in replying.

"I feel happy, first and foremost. I think about how good it feels, and how I could do this, just this, forever. And that Blaine is amazing. And that I never want to stop kissing him. Sometimes it's overwhelming, but when it gets to be too much I just . . . sing, in my head. It helps, weirdly enough, because I'm happy and singing stupid love songs in my head . . . and yes, that's everything."

His father stared at him with something like awe, the smile more genuine. He sounded full of affection when he said, "Really, kiddo? That's . . . really nice, Kurt. And do you, um, ever . . ." His father lifted his hand, and then dropped it before he could make any gesture that would likely mortify them both.

"Yes," Kurt admitted, ignoring the redness in this cheeks, because really, at this juncture? What was the point? "But not like . . . it was like, Blaine was ready . . . to go. Right that moment. And it scared me. And is there something wrong with me that I'm not that . . ." He grit his teeth and said it. "Turned on?"

To his dad's credit, he didn't react dramatically to that; he only shook his head, explaining gently, "Kurt, I think you are, you just have some truly unbelievable self-control. Finn'd be jealous." Kurt choked, almost raising his hands to his ears, and his father's eyes went wide. "Crap. Pretend you didn't hear that."

"Already done." Kurt waved it off, as if banishing it into nonexistence.

His dad took a second, grimacing, and then continued. "Um, what I'm saying is that, you're perfectly normal. You're scared to go too fast, but you want Blaine to be happy too. And Blaine, it sounds like, is as scared as you are. That's why he keeps turning tail and running every time. Just because he's . . . yeah, it doesn't mean he wants sex right then, it's his body reacting . . . Anyways, you're both normal. And, uh, not to . . . but Kurt, eventually you're gonna get to the point Blaine's at now. That is, not really able to stop your body from . . . and that's fine. You just make sure you both know where the line is, and things will be okay."

And for whatever reason, Kurt truly believed his father when he said that. He let loose a long breath. "Okay. Thanks, dad. Sorry for, um, general awkwardness."

His father snorted. "Don't apologize, kiddo, I'm thinking we're gonna have a few more of these talks in the future, and it's not something I ever want you to feel ashamed about. Thank you, for coming to me."

Kurt felt his lips tug upward at that, and his father smiled back, reaching to put an arm around his shoulders. "You make me proud, Kurt. And just for the record, I trust you and respect any decisions you make when it comes to Blaine."

Kurt didn't know why, but tears were burning at the backs of his eyes. He nodded wordlessly, smiling at his lap.

"But, uh, that door of yours stays open when he's here. And when Carole and me aren't here? You call one of us to let us know you and Blaine are. You got me?"

Kurt nodded again, his head falling to rest against his father's shoulder. "Yeah, dad."

Silence, then, "Anything else, kiddo, since we're kinda on a roll here?"

Kurt considered asking his father about the whole attraction thing, but no matter how he put it in his own mind, it sounded so terribly . . . pathetic. I want my boyfriend to like me for my body, not just my brains and my personality. Yeah. No. He shook his head.

His father hugged him close once, and then reached with the other hand for the remote, flicking the television back on. An over-excited announcer immediately began rattling off scores and Kurt winced. "Okay, so I'm going to go upstairs and at the very least mime doing my homework while I call Mercedes – did you need anything from the kitchen or something?"

His father shook his head as Kurt extricated himself from their embrace. "Nah, son, you go and, uh try to actually do something productive."

Kurt laughed. "He said to his son – who's already on the honour roll."

His father grinned in response. "Yeah, but I figure I've gotta get at least one or two of those in before you're beyond my reach."

Kurt rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. "All right, dad, I'll get some math done first, then I'll call Mercedes."

His father gave him a thumbs up before becoming fully absorbed in whatever he was watching. Kurt took the stairs slowly, going over his father's words, resolving to discuss this with Blaine. It couldn't be more embarrassing than talking about it with his dad, right?


Author's Note: Wheeee! No more essays! *cartwheels, confetti, cake!* I've been on a happy-high for over a week! And sleeping in, oh my God, I've forgotten how glorious that is! *bounces in chair*

Fair warning, this story will get a little more complicated, and most definitely angsty at points - particularly when dealing with Blaine's own set of issues - but I promise that it won't be over-the-top or violent.

AND, I don't normally do this romance-type thing. Moondust and Starlight is my only venture into that to date. It was learn-as-you-go in writing this, hopefully it's . . . readable.

Love to everyone who's been so kind and patient in regards to my other stories, and to anyone who's made it to the bottom of his page – all the more gratitude to you if you decide to leave a review as they are most encouraging and provide fuel for proofreading sessions, whether it be praise or constructive criticism! :)