WHAT IN GOD'S NAME IS THIS?! AN UPDATE?! Hi, it's me, it's been about, well, a year. :/ I have no excuses. I simply just got fed up with Glee because ugggh continuity, and uggggh what have you done to Klaine, and uggggh everything, so I lost interest in my fics. But I was looking over the old reviews, and you guys have been so nice to me, and you deserve a conclusion, so I am going to try and finish this one at the very least. (Handling It fans, I will endeavor to work to finish that one too, but it's harder to write, and has gotten away from me a bit, so I don't want to make more promises I can't keep. I will simply say that I will try.)
If you still want to read this, then you are a God-send, and if you're all like, "no, screw you, you made me wait for a million years for an update," then I do not blame you. I just hope you won't hate me forever.
Also, keep in mind that this is still in the end-of-season-2-verse, and I have not included any canon after that, because the canon after that is stupid and I don't like it. :) Reminders: Blaine is still a Warbler, Puck and Zizes are together, Kurt and Blaine are in the same year, etc.
Okay, without further adieu, the next chapter of Let's Talk about IT!
Kurt escaped from the table at the first opportunity. This was becoming habitual, this dashing away from awkward situations red faced and horrified. He lied to himself, pretending he just really needed to get his homework done, which would have been a better excuse if he hadn't already done everything that was due for the next day.
He settled for re-writing French sentences using the present perfect tense (he needed the review anyhow). He barely paid attention though, so the lesson was lost on him. All he could focus on was the all too recent memory of his father's face when the words, "sexually frustrated" barreled out of his mouth like train a steaming down the track. If Finn's horrific intrusion was better than a cold shower, the thought of his dad knowing about his "problem" would be the equivalent of dipping himself in the Arctic Ocean, for the foreseeable future.
"Knock knock," Carole's voice rang out, making Kurt jump. He looked up from his French sentences to see his stepmother smiling warmly at him from his open door. "Can I come in?"
"Uh, yeah," Kurt said hesitantly, gesturing for her to have a seat on his bed. He non-discreetly moved his most recent issue of Cosmo off the comforter and into his desk drawer. Carole took the offer and settled down on the mattress. Kurt waited patiently for her, and she took a deep breath and let it out in a huff.
Uh-oh, Kurt thought.
But no, there was no way Carole was up in his room to discuss what he was pretty sure she was there to discuss. Because he could deal with Finn, Mercedes, Brittney and Santana, Puck and Zizes, and even Rachel and her insane dads, but this was Carole, and Carole reminded him of his dad, and just. No.
But Kurt knew better. He'd faced this situation too many times in the past few weeks, and he felt it in his gut what was coming. Carole didn't avoid his room, per say, but it was his area, and they didn't generally converge up there, and they certainly didn't sit down just to chat at random. Normally, if Carole or Kurt wanted bonding time, one of them would propose a latte date, and they'd go to Lima Bean and discuss school, work, fashion, and everything under the sun. Today was different, and that made Kurt's insides twist painfully.
"So, dinner tonight," Carole started, confirming Kurt's fears. He groaned, and leaned over, letting his forehead hit his desk with a pathetic "thud".
"Do we have to?" he asked his neat scrawl on the notebook paper he'd been practicing on.
"Yeah, 'fraid we have to, kiddo," came Carole's response.
"Why?" Kurt asked, suddenly more angry than embarrassed. He shot back up, crossed his arms over his chest, and gave Carole a look. "For weeks now, I haven't been able to turn the corner without someone saying to me, 'hey Kurt, you should masturbate more,' or 'hey Kurt, here's how you have sex with men,' but no one ever asks me if I want this information. Everyone just piles it on me, ignoring my questions and my concerns, just telling me what they think I should know, and it's getting overwhelming, Carole, so whatever you have to say, I think I can do without it!"
Carole just watched him patiently as he breathed heavily, waiting for him to calm down. Finally, when the tense air lessened a bit, she just gave him another kind smile and said, "Kurt, honey, that's exactly what I wanted to talk to you about."
"I'm sorry, what?"
Carole reached over and put a comforting hand on his elbow, as she said, "This isn't something your dad is putting me up to, or anything like that. If he feels like he needs to talk to you, then you know he will. I just… I guess I just wanted to throw my two cents into this conversation. I know he gave you a talk a while back-"
"Don't remind me."
"-But I think, and correct me if I'm wrong, but I think the circumstances have changed a bit since then. Would you say that's right?"
"I…guess," Kurt said, shrugging. For someone who so determinedly avoided everything hot and raunchy, Kurt had probably had had more sex talks than anyone he knew.
"How is your relationship with Blaine?"
"Non-sexual, if that's what you're asking."
"That's not what I'm asking," Carole said gently. "I want to know how your relationship is. How do you feel about him? Where do you see yourself going with it? Tell me about everything."
Kurt was dumbstruck for just a moment, because in all the talks he'd had thus far there had been so little to do with Blaine. Kurt didn't realize how bizarre this was until Carole was sitting there asking him to talk about his boyfriend, and he had to struggle to think up the words to describe it. He'd spent so much time worrying about being with Blaine, that he forgot to think about what it was just... being with Blaine.
"It's great," he said finally. "Wonderful. He matches my talent musically, he's smart, gorgeous, he's a year behind me in French so I get to tutor him and hear him botch the language so adorably, and I know he's in that uniform pretty much 24/7, but when he's not he has such a good sense of fashion, Carole, I can't even tell you." Kurt babbled on, and stopped, embarrassed, at Carole's beaming face. "What?" he asked, suddenly bashful.
"That's what I want you to remember, Kurt," she said gently. "Because you know everyone and their dog has an opinion about sex, but only you know what it's like to be with Blaine. You can't base your choices off of what everyone says. In this case, you have to base what you do on your experiences with this one other person."
"But I am so clueless about this stuff, Carole," Kurt argued, sounding miserable. "How can I make decisions like that if I don't even know what I'm deciding?"
"Asking for advice is fine, sweetie, but don't let everyone make the choices for you. Honestly, letting a bunch of teenagers, who are probably just about as clueless as you, just better at hiding it, isn't going to solve your problem. It's just going to make it more complicated."
"I'm more confused about this whole sex thing than I was before everyone started trying to teach me."
"Exactly. And through this whole thing, have you even asked yourself the most important question?"
"Do you want to have sex with Blaine?"
"That's all I've been thinking about," Kurt said, confused, but Carole shook her head.
"But have you really thought about it? Sure you've thought of the consequences, and maybe even the benefits, but have you thought about what it would be like to share that experience with Blaine? Are you ready for him to know you that intimately? Is your relationship strong enough to take it? Those are the things you should be deciding right now. Everything else? You'll learn in time." She shrugged. "You need to have sex when you're ready to have sex, Kurt. Now when everyone else is ready for you to."
"Thank you," was all Kurt could think to say. Carole smiled as she stood.
"Anytime, and I mean that." She started for the door. "Oh and Kurt?"
"Please don't take sex advice from Cosmo, alright?"
And of course, Kurt blushed.
About an hour later, Kurt was on his back staring at his ceiling, still thinking about what Carole had said to him. It had been a refreshing conversation, but it still left him with new complications to consider. He reached over on his bedside table and grabbed his phone. He dialed the number by heart.
"Hey," Blaine's voice said on the other end after just two rings.
"Hey, sorry, I know it's getting late, I didn't wake you or anything, did I?"
"At ten o'clock? Yeah right," he said laughing. "Haven't even started my homework yet."
"Don't make me drive out there and make you do it, Blaine Anderson," Kurt said, grinning.
"You know, telling me I'll get to see you if I don't do my homework isn't the best threat."
"Fine, then I'll refuse to see you unless you get straight A's."
Blaine faked a gasp. "You wouldn't dare, Hummel."
"I'd have to come find you myself."
"I'd pretend to be John Cusack and stand outside your window with a stereo and play bad love songs until you agreed to see me."
"That only happens in the movies," Kurt said, laughing. "Besides, I'd rather hear your voice."
"Then I'll sing you bad love songs outside your window until you agreed to see me."
"That has a better chance of working. Maybe. Only if you got nothing lower than a B."
"I could probably manage that."
"Good, I'd hate not seeing you."
"I'd hate it more. Hey, not that I'm complaining, but you don't normally call at this time. Everything okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine, I just wanted to hear your voice. I guess I just feel like I haven't really gotten to be with you in a while."
"I know what you mean. You free this weekend? We could see a movie, get dinner, my treat?"
"Do I get to pick the movie?"
"Then count me in."
"Looking forward to it."
"Alright, well, I'll let you get back to your homework, which you had better be doing, but I'll call you sometime tomorrow, alright?"
"Sounds good. I love you."
Kurt's heart still fluttered whenever he heard Blaine say that. If stomach butterflies were any indication, then Carole was spot on. What mattered here wasn't what other people thought he should do—what mattered is what Blaine wanted to do, and what he wanted to do with Blaine. It really was that simple.
"Love you too," Kurt replied, feeling a sense of calm wash over him that he hadn't felt in ages. Hanging up the phone, he got ready for bed, and slept better than he had in weeks.
But of course calm never lasts.
Which is how, bright and early the next morning, before the first bell had even rung, Kurt found himself face to face with Quinn Fabray, who was shoving about twenty condoms in his face.
Maybe, he thought to himself miserably, it wasn't so simple after all.