This is what revision does to a person. I'm revising solidly all day and have the flat to myself - this means breaks have been frequent and I've been writing randomly at times as well as drinking endless cups of tea and singing loudly to music. Sooo... this is the product! I really hope you enjoy it :)
FOR THOSE WHO READ THE LITTLE THINGS:
This was something I started writing a long while back (before they got together on the show) and some of these little scenes were going to make it into TLT but were cut from it. Don't worry - Chapter 38 IS coming. I'm in the middle of THE biggest exams ever and they're EXTREMELY important so that's why you're having to wait. As soon as I get my life back, you get your Chapter 38 ;)
Kurt couldn't help his mind wandering aimlessly nowadays. It even extended beyond the many ways he was going to escape Lima, Ohio to show everyone what he was made of and that new wide lapel jacket he'd been coveting for weeks; it generally wandered back to wondering what Blaine was thinking, what he did when they parted and went their separate ways and Kurt, despite his inner monologue forcing him to 'stop it right now', often wondered what Blaine dreamed about at night.
They'd been together long enough now to have a nice little bank of details that they knew about each other and Kurt couldn't quite shake one particularly horrifying detail Blaine had let slip a few days previously.
"Not even when you were younger, with friends?"
Blaine sighed, stirring dark sugar into his coffee with a frown. "No Kurt, not even then." He was sure Kurt's eyes were going to pop right out if he widened them any further.
"But it's- it's just something everyone has to do, at least once," Kurt stated matter of factly, placing down his mug. They were sitting in the central portion of the Lima Bean and had been for some time now. It was a habit they both cherished, especially now Kurt was a McKinley student once more.
Kurt watched Blaine's fingers deftly break a piece of biscotti in half, scooping up the cream from the top of his celebratory Friday drink and eating it so properly it seemed rehearsed. "Well, you haven't lived until you've experienced a sleep over. I'm sure it's a rite of passage, like boys shaving or girls getting a training bra. You have to do it at least once."
Blaine smiled slightly, tilting his head. "Who do you have sleepovers with? Surely Finn doesn't hunker down in his pjs and watch girly movies with you? If he does, that's something I need to witness in person."
Kurt frowned playfully. "No, know it all, he doesn't but Mercedes and I always have sleepovers and recently even Rachel, Tina and sometimes Santana and Brittany too. I miss being around girls a lot."
With a raised eyebrow and mock sadness, Blaine replied. "Oh really?"
"Oh don't be like that. You know I love the Warbler guys and spending time with you but let me ask you," Kurt began haughtily, pursing his lips, "what do you think of the new Clinique skin care range?"
"Or how about Rodarte's new Spring collection?"
"Collection of what?"
With a soft chuckle, Kurt shrugged. "See," he sighed, "girl time. I may be a guy and perfectly adept at scoring winning goals in football and changing an oil tank but you find me a Warbler or any guy at Dalton for that matter who'll let me paint their nails and I'll admit I'm wrong about girls being able to provide something for me that guys can't."
Blaine was sure he was open mouthed and gawping. Oil Tank? Kurt could change an oil tank. It was an image guaranteed to distract him entirely but Kurt was passionate about this topic and, if Blaine had learned anything about his boyfriend, it was that he appreciated Blaine's willingness to listen even if he didn't agree.
"Well, I've clearly missed out," he said eventually, blinking back into the moment.
"We'll have to rectify that then won't we?" was Kurt's reply. It was so full of surety and thoughtfulness that Blaine knew exactly what was going to happen.
"He'd sleep on the floor."
Burt was tired and, above all, he wasn't up to using his brain in the evening – TV, beer and a good meal were the three aims after finishing a long shift in the garage – a conversation about Kurt's boyfriend staying the night was not part of the deal.
"He can sleep in the garden," Burt replied.
Kurt wasn't too proud to begin stamping his feet. He was ready to just as Carole entered the room, beer in hand.
"There you go sweetheart," she cooed, handing the can to Burt before reaching into her pocket for her own and flicking it open with a hiss. "Who can sleep in the garden?"
"I asked Dad if Blaine could stay over because he's never experienced a sleep over before, well, a proper one, and he said no."
Carole, now perched on the arm of the couch by her husband, glanced down at him over the rim of her can. "You did?"
"He did," Kurt interrupted before Burt even had a chance to open his mouth, "even after I promised that Blaine would sleep on the floor and there'd be nothing 'inappropriate' going on. There'll be simple, clean fun only. He still said no."
If Kurt knew one thing about his father, it was that he held a particularly significant weakness for one Carole Hudson-Hummel. Ever since their marriage, Kurt had watched Burt spear salad leaves into his mouth and even wash his shirts after wearing them only once. He knew he was onto a winner if he could only get Carole on his side.
"Is there a reason you don't want Blaine to stay over, honey?"
Burt growled, stabbing the volume down with the remote. "Look, this kid spends enough time here. Can he not just come over like normal people? Does he have to sleep here too?"
Kurt huffed loudly. "Dad, he's my boyfriend and boyfriends hang out together. If you can remember that far back to your teens," he sighed, letting his hands rest on his hips purposefully, "and you can hardly have a sleepover without, well, sleeping over, can you?"
Carole nudged her husband, smiling slightly. Burt was silent for a moment, deep in thought. "He'd be on the floor?"
"Yes, Blaine will sleep on the hard floor just to make you feel better."
Burt frowned; he was used to his son's petulance but was not a fan of the fact that his wife was gazing at him so lovingly with a motherly understanding for his son that it all made so much sense. Kurt had waited too damn long for a scrap of happiness and, although attempting to keep Kurt safe and protecting his son, he knew he was being a little too hard line. This Blaine kid made him smile after all.
"Tell him he can come."
Kurt squeaked, rocking on the balls of his feet before kissing Carole hard on the forehead and throwing his arms around Burt's neck with a tight squeeze. "Oh, thank you thank you, Blaine's going to love it, he's not going to know what's hit him when he sees what I've got in store!"
With that Kurt disappeared upstairs leaving Burt wide-eyed and regretting his famous last words. Carole chuckled, petting her husband's head affectionately. Regardless, Kurt's smile and general giddiness was enough to satisfy them both.
The giddiness extended to the following evening as Kurt took charge of the kitchen and fell into his own world of chintz aprons, playlists consisting of impassioned female singers and a whole host of grocery bags stuffed with so much it took Finn and Carole to help him haul them inside.
"I need you to stay out of the kitchen."
Finn blinked, frowning as Kurt snatched the juice carton from his hand before he had the chance to sneak a sip, slotting it back in the refrigerator door. "Woah, dude. Uncool."
"Finn," Kurt began, speaking slowly as if to a three year old, "I just need you to stay in your room and out of my hair for a few hours because I know you. We might be brothers-from-another-mother but we're close, we live together. Don't think I haven't seen you sticking your fingers in the bowl when your mom bakes a cake or that time you smashed her crystal stemware. Kurt in the kitchen means no Finn in the kitchen. Got it?"
It took a slight pause to process the mass rant but Finn seemed to understand – eventually. He took a step back towards the stairs. "What's all this for anyway?" he asked with a slight huff.
"Blaine's staying over."
As Finn began to climb the stairs, he peeked a glance at his brother unpacking a mountain of supplies. "I'll just, um, be in my room then," he called with a wry smile.
Kurt sighed, shaking his head. Finn was, what could only be described as, a douche bag of epic proportions at times but he was Finn... it was hard not to love him. "I'll bring up some milk later and you can be my official food taster."
Blaine was stressed. It wasn't as if he'd never slept at a strange house before, nor was it the prospect of it being his first ever 'sleepover' (sober) with a friend because it wasn't a friend, it was his boyfriend and his boyfriend's house and boyfriend's family.
Burt Hummel was a mild manner guy, it seemed. Blaine had almost shuffled out of the garage after their regrettably odd conversation about Kurt's sex life but he knew, deep down, that he was doing the right thing. He'd seen something in Kurt's eyes that afternoon which was both endearingly honest and highly worrying, therefore, he'd felt unable to hold back. In hindsight, talking to a boy's father about his son's lack of sexual education when said boy was gay and said father knew you were also gay and spending inordinate amount of time with his son- well, it hadn't been Blaine's finest moment. It was from the heart though and that was the premise upon which he had realised that Burt Hummel was a good guy.
If Kurt had sauntered into Alexander Anderson's office prompting a discussion about gay sex and STIs, Blaine was sure he'd have been forced to race to casualty to care for his father post-heart attack. Burt Hummel was not that guy. He cared enough to listen for longer than Blaine was sure most men would have. It wasn't fear of Burt Hummel that was causing nerves; it was a tug in his stomach that desperately wanted Burt to know how much he cared for Kurt. He did – so much.
Packing a bag was also proving difficult. Kurt had given very strict instructions in relation to 'sleepover supplies', issuing Blaine with a list including, amongst other things, 'appropriate pajamas' and 'your favourite DVD'.
Finding pyjamas was a laugh. Blaine wasn't sure he even owned a pair never mind ones which Kurt would deem 'appropriate'; knowing Kurt's fondness for fashion and only the most adequate of labels, he wasn't sure his Target flannel pants and collection of plain cotton t-shirts would really cut the mustard. Regardless, he slotted everything into a large messenger bag alongside his copy of 'It's a Wonderful Life' and 'Singin' in the Rain', pulled on his jacket and left for the Hummel-Hudson residence.
"Kurt, honey! Door!" Carole called, her voice sing-song happy. Kurt smiled, knowing she relished guests as much as he did. He smoothed down his pillar box red cardigan and descended the stairs.
Kurt could barely focus though. He'd held sleepovers before with the New Directions' girls and Blaine had even slept in his bead before – granted he was barely conscious – but Blaine was his boyfriend now and the protocol was so different. He was clueless. The plan was to proceed as he did with the girls – homemade pizzas, facials, snacks and a movie then late night talks whilst snuggled down in fluffy blankets. It was a well tested and tried routine, one which Kurt secretly adored, but the thought of those things plus Blaine, plus his smile, his presence in the room, his voice, his help with cooking, his input, his movies choices...
Kurt swallowed, taking a breath. He could do this – it was Blaine after all. He'd be happy with whatever they ended up doing.
As he eased open the door, it was almost criminal the feelings Blaine caused. It was always an enormous swooping feeling, one which hadn't decreased even a little bit since they'd begun dating. His skin flushed warm as Blaine's bright eyes met his own.
"Hi," Kurt replied, smiling as he stepped aside to let Blaine in, "Here." He held out his hand for Blaine's bag and, without another word, began climbing the stairs again. He could hear Carole and Burt bustling in the kitchen as they got ready to go out (Carole was kind enough to usher her husband out for a meal to give them some peace) and turned to flash Blaine another smile as they reached the top of the stairs.
"Is that pizza I can smell?" Blaine asked, flopping down on Kurt's bed and running his hands over the fur throw out of habit.
Kurt positioned the bag at the foot of the bed and took a seat at his vanity chest. "Yes," he grinned with a sharp, excitable nod, "and I have every topping your creative mind could ever wish for so we can make our own once my dad and Carole leave."
Blaine smirked, his eyes intent on Kurt's. "You made pizzas for us?"
Kurt couldn't function under the attention. It was something he usually adored, loved, craved and required to live, just as Rachel Berry needed applause, but when the eyes on him were those of Blaine Anderson, it was a different matter. He could feel them. It wasn't unpleasant, not by any stretch of the imagination, but that was the problem – he felt his heart quicken, his skin warm, his cheeks flush and every nerve ending fizz frantically. How he was expected to deal with that as well as focus on other menial tasks such as breathing and speaking was a mystery. They'd been dating a matter of weeks and it was still so overwhelming.
"I didn't just make pizzas Blaine," Kurt elaborated, opening his closet to pull out his collection of blankets and throws, "I made cookies too."
Blaine chuckled softly, kicking off his shoes and pulling his legs up underneath him. "So, how does a sleepover begin?"
"Well," Kurt offered, somewhat quietly, "I think I heard the door so that means the kitchen's empty. Want to eat?"
"When have you ever known me to turn down food?" Blaine teased, standing to follow Kurt. It all seemed a little tense, something which always seemed to happen before one of them broke it by instigating a touch or a kiss.
Kurt hummed in response. "True. Let's go."
As he reached the door, Blaine tracked the way Kurt's hands were clasped together in front of him despite his entire posture being that of strength and confidence. It was something that would forever fascinate Blaine. Kurt was so fierce and bold yet he held such vulnerability evident in his eyes and the way he tangled his fingers together.
"Hey?" he said quickly.
Kurt turned with a small smile. "Mmm hmm?"
"Come here," Blaine urged, reaching out tug Kurt's clasped hands forward. He watched the corners of Kurt's lips twitch into a tentative smile, the thin but rounded curve of them pouting slightly in a way designed to flood Blaine's mind with a multitude of sins.
"What?" Kurt asked, still rigid.
Blaine smiled. He lifted his right hand to slide softly along Kurt's jaw, drawing him closer slowly. He watched Kurt's eyes fall closed, his expression soften and felt his own breath catch at the sheer beauty of the moment. His heartbeat pulsed in his fingertips as he pressed his lips lightly to Kurt's, threading his fingers along the fine hairs at the nape of Kurt's neck, revelling in the way they felt against his skin.
The slump of Kurt's shoulders occurred almost instantly, his arms unsure of where to touch first but eventually settling for resting firm against Blaine's chest. They didn't move, just pressed there, Kurt's fingers moving ever so slightly to hold onto the knit of his sweater. Blaine felt a light gasp between their lips as he took a breath, chasing Kurt's before they had chance to escape. He pulled tighter, wrapping his arms around Kurt's waist and kissing deeper and deeper.
"Well that's never happened at one of my sleepovers before," Kurt breathed out, his eyes still closed and Blaine's lips mere millimetres away. He couldn't quite stand straight and was so grateful for the slight grounding that Blaine provided in order to keep him upright.
"I like to bring something new to the table," Blaine quipped, leaning back. He smiled as Kurt's eyes found his, wide and expectant.
"So I'm learning." That was it. Kurt couldn't resist the smile that spread across his face or the way he slid his hand tentatively down Blaine's arm to clasp his hand (he could do that now). With that, he led him down into the kitchen.
"You did not make these."
Kurt slid his hands out of the oven gloves and raised his eyebrows at Blaine across the counter. "Are you calling me a liar, Blaine Anderson?"
"Would I do such a thing?"
Kurt laughed lightly, his heart fluttering wildly in his chest at how domestic it all felt. He'd spent most of his adolescence wondering if he'd ever be able to act upon his seemingly unusual desire to cook for someone special – now he could and it was even more wonderful than he'd imagined.
"Come on, you can choose your toppings."
Blaine watched as a large tray covered with a collection of tiny pots was slid out of the refrigerator and placed on the counter in front of him. It was all a little much to process.
"You did all of this?" he asked, walking to stand beside Kurt. He nudged his hip playfully as Kurt placed the two freshly cooked pizzas alongside the toppings.
"Well, I didn't know what you liked so I thought I'd buy a bit of everything. I guess we haven't got around to memorising each other's pizza toppings yet. We kind of exhausted ourselves with the whole coffee thing."
Blaine smiled hugely, his eyes crinkling. Kurt couldn't quite grasp the fact that Blaine's eyes were sparkling and the possibility that he'd caused that to happen. With a deep breath, he passed Blaine the pot of sundried tomatoes and they began to get creative.
"Get any on my sheets and you die," Kurt laughed, almost choking on his mouthful of pizza. It seemed that his favourite movie, 'The Sound of Music' created somewhat of a monster in Blaine.
"You... cannot sit... still when... this song is on," Blaine coughed out, fumbling to place his paper plate on Kurt's night stand. They were both sitting side by side on the bed but Blaine's spontaneous dance moves were proving problematic if Kurt had any intention of staying in one place.
"You're going to kill yourself," Kurt laughed. He reached out to pull Blaine back but it was pointless.
"Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes," Blaine sang, his arms out wide and the goofiest smile on his face, "snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes, silver white winters that melt into springs, these are a few of my favourite things!"
"Look at you," Kurt accused, cocking an eyebrow. He could barely keep the grin off his face regardless.
"I'm getting in the sleepover mood, aren't you supposed to do things like this?" he sang out, still waltzing around the bed with perfect rise and fall. Kurt barely had chance to respond before two hands clasped his own and pulled him up and into the centre of the floor.
"What are you doing?"
Blaine wrinkled his nose in a silly smile and began to waltz them both. "We're dancing Kurt. It's one of my favourite things, as are you."
Kurt knew his skin was on fire, his cheeks ablaze with a fierce blush. "You are so cheesy it physically hurts."
All Blaine could do was smirk, his eyes flashing playfully as he bowed to the end of the song, releasing Kurt from his clutches. "Don't pretend you don't love it really."
"Keep telling yourself that," Kurt snapped back with a grin. He really and truly had the goofiest boyfriend in the world.
"So," Blaine asked, struggling to regain a normal breathing pattern as he repositioned himself on the bed, "we've created the world's most delicious pizzas, we've watched your favourite movie, we've danced like 'mental patients' as you so fondly put it. Now what?"
Kurt swallowed hard with a wry smile. "I have just the thing."
Kurt spat out a laugh but kept going, smoothing the thick green paste over Blaine's cheek. It had taken a little bit of persuasion but Blaine had, with the promise of cookies, milk and his favourite movie, eventually given in.
"Sit still or else you'll be eating it," Kurt urged, his right hand now working to smooth the mixture across Blaine's forehead whilst his left hand kept Blaine's hair out of the way. He couldn't allow himself to think about the position they were in or the way Blaine's hair felt through his fingers because he knew that his body would either inappropriately betray him or he'd become so overcome with that inevitable rush of emotion that it'd render him useless and when it came to facials and beauty regimes, Kurt Hummel was serious.
"I'm sure I could eat this. What is it? Avocado and what?"
"Avocado, honey, yoghurt and cucumber," Kurt sighed softly, tilting Blaine's head for the final stretch. He was all done.
Sitting back, Kurt wiped off his hands and stifled a giggle. The curls that spent most of their time encased in gel were still tamed except for the trademark few at the front, cheekily fighting free and causing Blaine to look a little crazy – crazy but exceptionally cute.
"How do I look?" Blaine asked, pulling a face.
"Ridiculous," Kurt stated simply, biting his lip to stop any laughter from escaping.
"Oh you think it's funny?" Blaine pushed, lurching forward rapidly, "you think it's so funny?"
Kurt squeaked, diving to the side as Blaine's hand grabbed his wrists. "What are you doing?" he laughed out, ducking to struggle free, "Blaine you're going to get gunk on my bed. Blaine!"
Laughing, he succumbed to the pressure at his lower arms and sat up, casting accusatory glances at Blaine. "Are you quite finished?"
"I hate you," Kurt bit back, narrowing his eyes playfully, "what are you doing?"
Pushing Kurt back against his pillows, Blaine tugged the towel from under him and laid it down to rest Kurt's head against it. "If you get to make me look like a creature from out of space then it's only fair I get the pleasure of seeing you look equally as ridiculous."
Kurt's eyes flew open. He wouldn't. "Oh no you don't," he groaned out, struggling to sit up but it was too late; Blaine already had a handful of green paste.
"Just sit back and enjoy. You've already cleaned your skin so this is acceptable, right?" Kurt nodded, biting his lip once more. He had never allowed another person to do this before. It felt both monumental and wonderful. He shuffled, feeling heat radiating from Blaine's skin as his fingers slid slowly over his cheeks and up along his temples. Ordinarily, the prospect of such things would have prompted outrage but it felt strangely intimate and not in a way he couldn't deal with. He cracked open his eyes momentarily as Blaine turned to scoop up more and found himself sighing contentedly at his own miraculous reality. He had a boy in his bedroom who happened to be his boyfriend, happily surrendering to face masks and sleepover nonsense and sitting so close that Kurt was sure he could hear Blaine's heartbeat. He took a deep breath and let himself sink into the pillows under his head, safe in the knowledge that he finally had something special in his life.
"It's like satin," Blaine cooed, running his fingertips over his cheek again and again with an expression of pure wonder.
Kurt was smug, his face talking for him as he sat, arms holding his crossed legs in place at his vanity. "I told you. Do that once a week and you'll have the most exquisite skin."
"Wow," Blaine sighed, flopping back on Kurt's bed, "so do I get my cookies now?"
"I thought, um," Kurt began, suddenly overcome with a strange sense of apprehension. How did you broach the subject of changing into something a little more comfortable without it sounding suggestive and ridiculous? "I thought maybe we could change beforehand."
Blaine bounced upright, smiling. "Pyjama time?"
Kurt giggled, biting his lip. "Yes, Blaine. Pyjama time." He rolled his eyes wondering why he ever grew anxious in Blaine's presence – he was so completely confident in all aspects of his life and perfectly able to mask any insecurities but being with Blaine was different. There were only a few people in his life that brought out the true Kurt underneath, only a few that made him feel comfortable and changed him completely and they consisted of Burt and Mercedes. He'd cried in front of them, let his guard down and was never afraid to speak from the heart. Blaine was different still. He elicited Kurt's most fierce honesty but, at the same time, there was a tension coiled inside whenever Blaine was around that kept him nervous. He could be himself and would never forget the fact that he'd cried in front of Blaine the very first day he'd met him so there was something exceedingly profound about that but the main thing was the way Blaine made him feel stripped bare and open for all to see. It was terrifying and something Kurt was sure he'd never ever get used to. It wasn't as if he thought Blaine would take advantage, it was the realisation that Blaine would always be honest back and regardless of anything, he'd be there and he'd try – always.
"Can I use your bathroom?" Blaine asked, noting the wistfulness in Kurt's far away eyes. Kurt nodded quickly, blinking into the present.
Blaine wasn't about to push things. He wasn't worried about changing in front of people having played football with guys for years but he knew Kurt well enough to pre-empt any awkwardness. They'd get there, it'd just take some work. Blaine was more than up for the challenge, after all, Kurt had absolutely nothing to be concerned about – he was pretty much the most stunning guy Blaine was sure he'd ever set eyes upon.
Pulling on his sweatpants and t-shirt, he caught a glimpse of his face in Kurt's sparkly bathroom mirror. He smiled. Where his cheeks were usually pale and ordinary, they were now dotted pink and his eyes, instead of being simply hazel, were lit up bright. Something deep inside ached in the most incredible way. Blaine wanted nothing more than to exit the room and pull Kurt to him tightly, telling him everything he'd ever wanted to tell anyone, spilling his innermost feelings and just holding on for dear life. He'd always wanted a boyfriend but this was different – it was so much more than that.
"Ta da!" he called as he exited the bathroom, holding his arms out to Kurt who had changed into a pair of pressed black pyjamas with white piping. Blaine was sure he clocked a Chanel stamp over the chest.
Kurt blinked a few times before offering a smile. "You'll do," he said simply, hiding his face as he folded his clothes.
In second, Blaine swatted Kurt's hands away, letting the clothes fall to the ground and tugged him towards the door. With a petulant frown, Kurt glanced at his crinkled belongings. "But-"
"But nothing. You promised me milk and cookies."
The microwave pinged loud in the silent, lamp lit kitchen as Kurt pulled out the three mugs of milk. He began stirring gently, his eyes flickering to Blaine who seemed to be taking in the decor.
"I'm going to guess that you had a hand in how amazing this place looks," he said quietly, leaning his head on his propped up hand.
Kurt smiled. "I might have offered a little advice."
"Kurt, this place has you written all over it."
"Ok, so I decorated it all. It took up so much time what with trying not to make the same mistakes as last time when- um," He stopped talking, realising he'd gone too far. Blaine frowned, watching Kurt's eyes cloud over. "Um, I'll just take this to Finn. Meet you back upstairs?"
As Kurt disappeared, Blaine took his mug and the towel covered plate up to Kurt's room. He chuckled at the abandoned pile of clothes and folded them quickly, placing the neat pile on Kurt's chair. He was still deep in thought, wondering why Kurt had closed up so quickly.
"Thank you," came a whisper from the doorway as Kurt nodded towards the folded clothes with a tiny smile. He cornered the bed and sat by Blaine's side uncovering his baked masterpieces and offering one to Blaine.
"Kurt," Blaine said simple, taking a breath, "what did you mean before about 'making the same mistakes as last time'? What mistakes?"
Silence reined for a second. Kurt shifted a little, unsure if he wanted to go there. He didn't want to taint Blaine's image of him or his family but boyfriends did these things - they shared.
"Well, before I met you," he began quietly, "just after Dad and Carole got together, we asked them to move into our old house which meant Finn and I had to share a room. I decorated it and spent a week making colour charts and picking out signature pieces to accentuate both my flair for design and, well, Finn's more wholesome ways. It didn't go so well so this time I wanted to make sure that when Carole and I decorated our new house, it'd be a touch on the neutral side but in a way that said the house was lived in and homely."
Blaine kept his eyes on Kurt, mapping the tiny nuances in his expression from the slight crinkle in his forehead to the way he pursed his lips at the end as if to say 'and that's that'.
"What do you mean 'it didn't go so well'?"
"Finn didn't like it." He could feel Blaine's eyes on him, piecing together whatever concoction of a story he could and attempting to read his face. He just wanted to tell Blaine everything, from the way he'd become so infatuated with his step brother simply because he was the nicest to him out of the bullies he'd been taunted by, how he'd tried all he could to grasp onto Finn and the way he made him feel regardless of the fact he knew, deep down, that Finn Hudson was as dumb as soup and as straight as an arrow. It'd been a low point, granted, but one which had both changed him and changed his life.
"Well, you tried and you went to so much effort," Blaine added, offering a smile. Kurt returned it, looking up through his eyelashes.
"Things were a little different back then," he took a long and steady breath, reminding himself that Blaine cared, and carried on, "I may have developed somewhat of a crush on Finn. Misguided, yes, but it was there and I may have gotten ahead of myself with the promise of having him around so much."
Blaine's eyes widened, taking in exactly what Kurt was saying and the underlying things he wasn't. He shuffled closer, leaning back into the cushions. "So, you had a thing for him?"
Kurt frowned. "I guess you could say that but, even now, it sounds wrong and incestuous because he's my brother and no way do I feel that way about him now but, back then I didn't have a lot of people around to spend time with." Even trying to imagine that was difficult for Blaine. He wanted to show Kurt exactly how much he had now but instead he rested his shoulder against Kurt's and let him finish. "It ended up where Finn and his mildly ignorant and borderline homophobic tendencies called my designs 'faggy'. My dad heard, he kicked him out and I spent three days returning the room to Dior grey."
It was so matter of fact, the way Kurt spoke and how he glossed over the obviously deep rooted pain he felt. It was a characteristic Blaine was beginning to get to know well. "So, does Finn have a problem with people being gay?"
"No," Kurt said, a little too quickly, "not really. It was all a little new for him so I guess I can't blame him but he's less than educated."
"You did a nice thing for him, Kurt. You tried to make him feel comfortable."
Kurt laughed bitterly. "I bought a cherry wood privacy partition and reams and reams of Moroccan fabric from Sheets & Things to drape the ceiling with." Kurt turned, raising an eyebrow in Blaine's direction.
"Oh right. I see," Blaine laughed lightly, smirking as he nibbled at his cookie, "so not really something Finn would appreciate?"
"His old room had cowboy wallpaper. Make of that what you will."
"Did it upset you?" Blaine dared to ask, turning his body slightly but never losing contact with Kurt's side.
"The word did but he apologised a couple of days later and we've been good ever since. Before that, he didn't want me near him and used to duck out of the way whenever I'd go near but now we're brothers and he's family. We get on great."
Something inside Blaine hurt. He could only imagine the look on Kurt's face if someone flinched away from his touch, the initial shock, the pain, the anger, the petulance and finally the foolish realisation that he should have expected it all along. It wasn't right and the mere thought of that happening made Blaine frustrated. He changed the subject.
"These cookies are delicious," he said happily, bouncing slightly on the bed. Kurt glanced into his eyes, grateful for the easy change in topic.
"My dad and I have been trying to spend more time together after he got kind of high on having a football loving son in Finn last year so we've been baking a lot."
"Your dad's awesome."
Kurt smiled, taking a sip of his milk. "He is."
"Hey Kurt?" Blaine asked, placing his milk on the night stand. As he turned back around, he smiled and reached for Kurt's hand, drawing him a little closer. "I want you to know something."
"What's that?" he smiled, watching Blaine's adorable nervousness seep in gradually causing his eyes to flicker and lips to falter before he spoke.
"You've probably noticed that I'm pretty affectionate. I'm all for hugs and holding hands and reaching out to people so I just wanted you to know that I'd never move away from you. I'd never do that. If you come close, I'm always going to move closer. Just so you know." As he spoke, Blaine threaded their fingers together, drawing Kurt's close to his lips and planting a kiss there. It felt like a promise.
Kurt sat silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on Blaine's and watching his every move. The hazel in his eyes glittered in the glare of his lamp, causing his breathing to hitch in the back of his throat.
"That's good to know," Kurt replied, unable to find appropriate words to sum up his gratitude and the general explosion of indescribable feelings he felt inside.
Blaine understood. He sat back on his heels and took a breath as if to break their intense bubble. "So, is it movie time yet?"
"So demanding," Kurt groaned, nibbling at his lip playfully as he slid off the bed and began fussing with the DVD player.
Kurt felt suffocated but in the best way possible. Blaine had jumped at the chance to drown in a sea of fluffy blankets and scatter cushions. They were lying side by side on their stomachs, angled towards the television.
"Just a warning, this movie makes me cry."
"You're more of a girl than I am and I own a hope chest full of tiaras," Kurt quipped, turning his head with a smile.
Blaine's chest tightened at the sight. He chuckled lightly, leaning to his left and planting a soft kiss against Kurt's cheek.
"What was that for?"
Blaine smiled, slow and smug. "Just because."
With a contented sigh, Kurt snuggled down into the blanket and rested there, feeling his eyes droop closed. He was sure he'd never been so comfortable in his entire life. He'd heard his dad and Carole return about an hour ago but neither had bothered them, instead, Carole had cleverly dragged his dad to bed and there'd been silence ever since.
"So, how was your first ever sleepover?" Kurt asked, turning his head on his arms to glance up at Blaine.
"Well," Blaine sighed, lowering his head to rest against Kurt's and speaking into his hair, "I think I can officially say I'm a convert."
"Even though I made you wear edible face masks?" Kurt chuckled, the vibrations running through his arms. He shuddered, feeling Blaine's breath against the back of his neck.
"My skin has never felt better."
"Tell me if you want to sleep because I can set your bed up at any point."
Blaine smiled into Kurt's hair and took a deep breath. Most boys he'd been close to had smelled of aftershave or a mixture of other rough and almost sour scents but Kurt was so different. He still had a guy smell, that was ever present, but it was addictive to breathe in close to him as his scent was so ... nice. He smelled like honey as Blaine took another deep breath, settling his head against Kurt's shoulder blade.
"I will but I'm pretty happy at the moment."
Kurt closed his eyes, trying to squash the automatic need to squeal and flail his arms around in a manner completely unbecoming. Blaine had a unique way of saying exactly the wrong thing at the wrong time even though he meant well but he also had a gift of being able to make someone feel cherished with the utterance of just a few simple words. This was one of those moments.
At around the half way point of the movie, Kurt blinked awake, his eyes shrouded in sleep and limbs completely at ease. He slowly immersed himself in the moment, feeling a dead weight against him and bit his lip in surprise as he glanced down. Blaine was fast sleep, head curled against Kurt's chest and nose buried in the material of his pyjamas. His left arm was slung across too and his legs tucked up beside him. Kurt shuffled, biting back another grin as Blaine reacted, nuzzling closer and pulling at the blanket in his grip; he let out a sigh and mumbled something incoherent before drifting back to sleep.
Realising the ridiculous position they were in and how their feet were where the pillows lay, Kurt shook his head and let it fall back. He stared at the ceiling, letting his mind wander and attempt to understand when this had become his life. He curved his arm around Blaine's neck, shivvering a little as he felt the heat engulf him, wrapping him up completely and drawing him back into sleep. As his fingers found Blaine's hair, he smiled and gave up, closing his eyes and drifting back under.
Carole padded softly along the corridor after visiting the bathroom. She smiled, noticing the light was still glowing bright from Kurt's room. As she rounded the door frame, she gasped, smiling at the sight of her son, her new and very treasured son, curled up and tangled in the arms of his boyfriend. It was obvious that they'd fallen asleep whilst watching a movie and hadn't been up to anything that could be considered lewd and, in the words of her husband, 'inappropriate'. It was a sight so touching that it reminded her of days gone by and the blissful simplicity of her youth. She softly made her way to the DVD player, switching it off and flicking out the lamp too as she went. Burt wouldn't get to interrupt Kurt, not in a moment so special and she'd make sure of that. She'd watched her own son struggle through adolescence and was now faced with Kurt who was so void of happiness at times that she felt so sad for him. The tiny but oh so meaningful smile fixed on his lips as he lay sleeping was too wonderful to even begin to think about interrupting. He deserved every second.
She sighed, easing the door half closed, and walked back along the hall with a happy heart.