So this just kind of happened. Heard a Shakespeare Sonnet in drama and based a ridiculously fluffy fic off of it. Instead of focusing on my multi-chapter. Welcome to my life. Plus I had written a seriously angsty fic a few days ago (that I will NOT be convinced to publish) and I needed to recover. With fluff. Let me know what you think!


Kurt wasn't really a Top-40 kind of guy. He liked to think that while he stayed up-to-date fashion-wise, his music taste was a bit more classy; fine-tuned to his needs and refined in ways that Britney Spears and Kanye West were simply not.

So the fact that Raise Your Glass and Hey Soul Sister were among the top-played songs on his iPod combined with his long-term ringtone of Teenage Dream just proved the effect that Blaine had upon him.

And the music wasn't the only tell-tale sign. That was only the beginning. Kurt's newfound vehemency in his glee club songs, his head held high with "courage" as he walked through the streets wearing his unusually inspired and creative outfits were some of the more obvious clues.

But so what if Blaine convinced him to open up the strict standards of his iPod? So what if he was a strong influence on the flamboyancy of Kurt's outfits on the weekends, just in case he happened to run into his best friend? So what if he added that extra punch to Kurt's voice when he sang; if he inspired Kurt to be the best he could be?

Because Kurt obviously did not influence the already-perfect man that Blaine was.

Blaine was Kurt's muse. Not, unfortunately, the other way around.

Kurt had known it all along, since the day they met on the staircase. Kurt's feelings were unrequited, but he was quite alright with that. Having a perfect (if not a little flirty) best friend, who inconsequentially happened to make Kurt himself a better person was a pretty good deal. Not perfect, for Kurt would've someday liked to be someone's muse, but pretty close.


Kurt and Blaine walked side by side down the painted, ornate hall of Dalton, taking their daily abandoned shortcut from early morning Warblers practice to English class. Kurt was humming aforementioned P!nk song, which they had been practicing for at least a month for Regionals, under his breath ad Blaine's nose was buried in the Shakespeare sonnet he had to memorize for class.

"Pay attention, will you?" Kurt huffed, pausing his melody to pull Blaine out of the way of an impending armchair. "I have to admit your annoying habit of jumping up on furniture is preferable to running into it."

Blaine groaned and flung his hands to his sides in frustration, breaking focus from his paper. "Will people stop making fun of me for that?" he laughed. "It was only once. During Bills Bills Bills and it was late at night."

"I think you may be forgetting the infamous Gap Attack, in which you sang about sex toys on a rotating clothes table."

Blaine winced. "Below the belt," he moaned.

"I don't think you even remember half the things you did in your frenzied state of Gap-passion," Kurt smiled, enjoying the one act of embarrassment he could hold over Blaine's perfect head.

"I need to get this memorized," Blaine mumbled, cheeks flushing as he brought his sonnet back up to his face to change the subject.

"Serves you right," Kurt scolded as they turned into a more populated hall. "If you had performed it last week like me, you wouldn't be worried about it now." He adjusted his flashy Peacock broach on his blazer self-righteously before continuing. "Why are you trying so hard anyway? You said you had it down weeks ago, and Mr. MacIntosh wouldn't care if you read it from the paper anyway."

For some reason Blaine seemed to choke on his own oxygen intake, flushing an even deeper shade than before. Kurt looked at him with a puzzled expression in the moment of hesitation it took for him to speak quietly.

"I want it to be perfect," he said lightly, rubbing the back of his neck and smiling. Kurt couldn't help but feel he was missing some kind of inside joke, but shrugged without another thought as they made their way into the classroom.

They walked through the aisles of navy-and-red-clad boys to their adjacent seats at the back of the room. "I'm sure it will be," Kurt grinned supportively, "Since you've been practicing it for a month. I resent your denying my advice though; I could've helped you with it."

"It was something I had to do on my own, I think," Blaine said with a funny expression on his face, smiling lopsidedly at Kurt.

Kurt's reply was lost in his throat when Blaine's hand brushed Kurt's briefly before they took their respective seats.

For some reason Kurt couldn't bring himself to look at Blaine after that. Partially because Mr. MacIntosh had begun class and maybe a little bit because he was thinking about fingers, and hands, and maybe when he and Blaine hung out that weekend he would wear that black sweater with the white hand-prints on it-

A folded scrap of paper skidding onto his desk snapped Kurt out of his reverie. He opened it, reading Blaine's orderly scrawl:

Will you tell me what you think after I recite it?

Kurt frowned in amusement and replied back:

Calm yourself, it's not a Warblers solo! But sure, anything you want.

Kurt watched in bewilderment as he observed Blaine lower his pen to write a response, then bring it to his mouth pensively, then lower it quickly, and away, then finally set the pen down before stuffing the note in his blazer pocket. When Blaine finally realized Kurt was still staring at him he looked over jumpily.

"What's wrong with you?" Kurt mouthed curiously.

"Nervous," Blaine grinned back, shifting a little in his seat.

Kurt shook his head indulgently, filing Blaine's weird jumpiness away as just Blaine wanting everything he did to be perfect as always.

"So let's begin with our Shakespeare sonnets, shall we?" Mr. MacIntosh clapped his hands together enthusiastically, effecting scattered badly-hidden groans around the classroom. But not from Blaine; he was now sitting ramrod straight, blushing furiously. Kurt sighed, wondering if someone had slipped him a special brownie before school or something.

"Blaine-"

"Yes!" Blaine shouted, a little too loudly, at the sound of his name. Such a puppy, Kurt thought affectionately, leaning his chin on the hand Blaine had touched before.

Mr. MacIntosh chuckled. "You seem ready to go, why don't you start us off?"

"O-okay," Blaine stuttered, rising a little jerkily. Kurt frowned. Had Blaine ever been one to stutter?

Up in front of the classroom, Blaine looked more at ease. That was only natural, though, considering he was a performer. "I'll be performing Sonnet Twenty," he announced, eyes flicking multiple times back to Kurt.

"Memorized?" Mr. MacIntosh queried.

Blaine nodded, smiling faintly.

"Extra credit!" The teacher announced, marking next to Blaine's name on his grade sheet with a flourish of his pen. "Hush now, everybody, let's be respectful."

When the point of silence had arrived, Blaine's eyes found Kurt's. Kurt beamed and gave him a thumbs up.

Blaine's eyes shot down to the floor as he took a deep breath, but slowly, hesitantly, rose to Kurt as he began, keeping them there from start to finish. Every word hung echoing in the still air, every stanza recited in perfect iambic pentameter, every hidden meaning seemingly directed at Blaine's best friend.

A woman's face with Nature's own hand painted
Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion;
A woman's gentle heart, but not acquainted
With shifting change, as is false women's fashion;
An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling,
Gliding the object whereupon it gazeth:
A man in hue, all hues in his controlling,
Much steals men's eyes and women's souls amazeth.
And for a woman wert thou first created;
Till Nature, as she wrought thee, fell a-doting,
And by addition me of thee defeated,
But since she prick'd thee out for women's pleasure,
Mine by thy love and thy love's use their treasure.

Kurt was seeing things. Kurt was about to cry, and about to laugh, and about to frown, and about to smile because he was seeing things. He was going insane because there was no way Blaine was looking at him like that, like nothing else in the world mattered but Kurt, there was no way Blaine had picked, out of two-hundred-something sonnets, one for Kurt. This was Kurt's hyped up hormones speaking, telling him horrible, horrible lies that would only eat away at his poor heart harboring unrequited feelings-

But the way Blaine was looking at him...

It was only after a few moments that Kurt realized the classroom was eerily quiet. The performance, simple yet literally heartwrenching, had stunned the boys. A few more seconds passed by before they broke out of their trance, all at once breaking into polite applause, but unsure as if they were afraid of intruding upon a private moment between Blaine and, whatever it was.

Not between Blaine and Kurt, a certain someone forced himself to think.

"Very, very nice, Blaine. I think you should consider adding Drama Club to your long list of extracurriculars," Mr. MacIntosh piped up, joining in on the tail end of applause.

"Thank you, sir," Blaine said, eyes still trained upon Kurt.

Mr. MacIntosh flipped through his notes. "Why don't you tell us what it's about?"

"He's talking about a man," Blaine said without hesitation, gaze stubbornly on Kurt, whose heart was beginning to pound furiously, "A man beautiful to him as a woman should be but without a woman's flighty, vain tendencies. And that man is his Muse."

Kurt's heart stopped.

"The person who inspires him to be the best he can be," Blaine finished, smiling nervously. Kurt's hand came up instinctively to his unsteady chest, and his breath hitched slightly when Blaine's hand twitched as if wanting but failing to give in to the impulse to mirror Kurt's movement.

"Perfect, as always," Mr. MacIntosh said, breaking their connection. Kurt looked down at his desk, and Blaine at his shoes. "That will do, Blaine. Have a seat."

More scattered applause, boys rolling their eyes bitterly at Blaine for setting the bar so high. But Blaine was oblivious to them, concentrating extraordinarily hard on making his way back to his seat as steadily as possible.

Kurt's eyes impulsively found Blaine's as he took his seat, and he found his chest warming at the little smile that his friend gave him before becoming quite enthralled with the next presenter.

Kurt smiled a little himself, deciding that Blaine wore bashfulness very well.


"So," Blaine breathed once class was over and they were strolling down the hall and out into the courtyard for break, "What did you think?"

Kurt recited the line he had been practicing for the rest of class perfectly nonchalantly. "I thought you had grown out of the habit of serenading people in public."

Blaine laughed, put at ease by Kurt's humor. "Again, below the belt."

"At least you didn't sing it," Kurt offered,ignoring the fact that Blaine had definitely not denied the Sonnet was for him and chuckling along his friend. "That's definitely progress."

"But seriously Kurt," Blaine stopped them under the shade of a giant oak tree. "I- what did you think?"

He said it with more weight than before, locking his eyes tightly with Kurt's.

"It... was beautiful," Kurt sighed truthfully. "Like Mr. MacIntosh said. Perfect, as always," he smiled weakly.

"That's not what I meant," Blaine tilted his head slightly, gaze flickering away and back from Kurt. He analyzed the gears turning in Kurt's head. "A penny for your thoughts?"

Kurt sighed. "It's just..." he grunted frustratedly. "Blaine, I hate it when you do this," he said honestly.

"Do what?" Blaine asked innocently.

"Set me up for something..." Kurt's heart beat wildly as his brain worked, not wanting to reveal too much, "...And then don't follow through. You seem to like... blurring the lines. A lot. And not that it isn't..." Kurt searched for an appropriate word other than the truthful ones running around his head, "...Flattering. But it's a little frustrating."

"I know Kurt," Blaine said, smiling a little. "And you need to know that when you first talked to me about that a few weeks ago, around Valentines Day, remember? Well I realized that wasn't fair. And I'm trying to be more aware." He lay a hand on Kurt's shoulder, but then thought better of it and slid down his arm to take his hand. "But remember what I said that day, too. I care about you, Kurt. And that back there," he jerked his head back towards the English building at Kurt tried very hard to concentrate on Blaine's words despite the fact that they were holding hands, "Wasn't just me being obliviously flirty."

Kurt floundered for words, opening and closing his mouth several times before Blaine took over again. "I also told you that I'm not very good at talking about my feelings. But I'm trying to get better at that too, because of y-" he looked away from Kurt's eyes for a moment before changing his train of thought. "Anyway, I picked that sonnet because it explains how I feel. About you. And our friendship."

"M-me?" was all Kurt could stammer.

"You're the best friend I've ever had, Kurt," Blaine said earnestly, the sincerity dripping from his voice. "You get me like no one else. And knowing you has changed me, for the better I'm pretty sure. I find myself staring at my closet on the weekends, wondering 'What Would Kurt Wear?' And I see you singing harmonies along with the boys in Warblers practice and it makes me so grateful to be able to lead you guys, gives me that extra push I need for a good performance and seeing you walk with your head held high puts a little spring in my step too and God at least half my iPod is filled with those songs from the CDs you always play on our way to the Lima Bean and I'm rambling now but that's how best friends should be. You make me a better person, and it's okay if I don't affect you that much because hey," he chuckled, "You're pretty perfect already but just know that you have that affect on people. On me especially. You need to know you have the power to do that to people. You're beautiful, Kurt, inside and out, and I wish you could see it more. Hopefully me telling you all this allows you to. And I hope it wasn't weird that I recited you a freaking sonnet because I know singing you a stupid Top-40 song wouldn't have as much of an effect."

"It would have been added to my iPod," Kurt blurted. It was all he could say due to the fact that his spluttering heart was still processing the fact that Blaine thought he was beautiful.

"You have Top-40 songs on your iPod?" Blaine asked after a pause.

Kurt smiled, mind bizarrely numb. "They tend to get in your head once your best friend has been singing them non-stop."

Blaine grinned back and pulled Kurt into a friendly embrace.

Kurt reveled in Blaine against him, wrapping his arms around him and cherishing the warmth blossoming in his chest until Blaine began to sing softly in Kurt's ear.

"You think I'm pretty without any makeup on..."

"Way to ruin the moment!" Kurt laughed, shoving him playfully away but Blaine persisted.

"You think I'm funny when I tell the punchline wrong..."

"I don't know you," Kurt huffed indignantly, stalking off in the direction of the main building but Blaine grabbed his hand to slow him down.

"I know you get me, so I let my walls come down... dooOWAH!"

They had stumbled a little together and Kurt used his free hand to cover Blaine's mouth, but Blaine continued on, muffled through Kurt's fingers.

"-"

"Where's the off button on this thing?" Kurt joked, releasing his hand from Blaine's mouth to poke at Blaine who continued to sing through raucous giggles while trying to wriggle away from Kurt. "You brought me- GAH- to life now-EEK- every February- AHA-"

He finally scrambled away from Kurt, walking backwards in front of him and miming a heart with his fingers as he sang with a sweet smile, "Now every February, you'll be my Valentine," He held his hand out to Kurt, charmingly dapper and persuasive smile on his face. "Valentine?"

Kurt rolled his eyes before taking Blaine's hand, and they sang together.

"Let's go all the way tonight, no regrets, just love. We can dance until we die, you and I, we'll be young forever!"

"You know, I think you sound better when I sing it with you," Kurt smiled as Blaine made his scrunchy singing face to mutter the rest of the chorus under his breath.

"I couldn't agree more," Blaine declared as they walked through the doors of the school to their next class. "Now if only I could get you hooked on some more Katy Perry-"

"Only if you try Lady Gaga," Kurt reminded him.

"Ugh, truce," Blaine grimaced and Kurt laughed and swung their hands playfully.

So maybe not all of his feelings were quite so unrequited.

And maybe he would add a few more Katy Perry songs to his iPod tonight.