Disclaimer: I'm just playing in the Glee sandbox. If you recognize it from elsewhere, I don't own it.
Timeline: Between "Original Songs" and "Night of Neglect"
Spoilers: All of Season 1 and 2
Author's Note: Hello, I'm Heather. I'll be your author for this story.
I wrote this story as a way to clarify something for myself: How did Blaine go from asking Burt to give Kurt "the talk" in "Sexy" to sitting comfortably in the living room with him in "Prom Queen"? Just as a warning, this story alternates between fluff, angst, and fluffy-angst at an alarming rate. My own variable moods are definitely showing through in Kurt and Blaine.
The title "One Fine Day" comes from the Carole King song, although I've used the lyrics in a slightly different way from their typical interpretation. If you have never heard Darren Criss sing this song, you can go to YouTube and find it. It will break your heart, and that is Blaine's underlying emotional state throughout most of this story. I encourage you to take three minutes to listen.
I hope you enjoy the story. Thank you for reading and even more for reviewing.
ONE FINE DAY
The spring storm rolled through Lima in the afternoon. Fluffy white clouds floating languidly through the forget-me-not blue sky turned steely gray, and lightning flashed between cloud castles for an hour before the first fat raindrops began to fall. Kurt and Blaine retreated indoors like everyone in the path of the storm and took up residence in Kurt's second floor bedroom. The iPod on the dock shuffled randomly through Kurt's music library while the boys lay on the bed flipping through the June issue of Vogue and the quickening rainstorm pounded a backing rhythm on the roof.
Kurt paused in the middle of turning the page. Blaine peered up through his eyelashes to see his boyfriend smiling, eyes closed, head angled to the ceiling. Kurt hummed contentedly in his throat.
"I love rainstorms," he confessed with a slight laugh, almost like a giggle. "The rain sounds magical on the roof, doesn't it? Every time it rained when I was little, my mom would turn off everything in the house until it was absolutely silent, then we would cuddle and just listen to the rain."
The iPod cut off unexpectedly, and Kurt felt the glossy Vogue page slipping from his fingers. He opened his eyes to find Blaine tossing the dock remote onto the bedside table and sliding the magazine across the comforter.
"I didn't mean we had to …"
Blaine wore such a look of loving tenderness Kurt trailed off and didn't even bother to argue the point. He let his boyfriend pull him into an embrace and tangle their limbs together. They lay a little awkwardly with their heads at the foot of the bed and their feet propped up on the pillows, but anything felt right when he was in Blaine's arms.
"I would kiss you now, but I'd feel weird kissing you when you're thinking about your late mom," Blaine said.
Kurt buried his head in the hollow were his boyfriend's neck met shoulder to hide his laughter. His shaking shoulders betrayed him, however, and he felt Blaine's reluctant smile against his temple. Kurt pushed closer to Blaine, and Blaine wrapped himself more securely around Kurt.
"What's so funny?" Blaine demanded when Kurt didn't stop laughing.
"Nothing. It's just that the first time you kissed me, I was decorating a casket. Then you brought up my mom at the funeral and held my hand. But a happy memory of my mother is off limits? Your sense of romance is incredibly macabre. I can't imagine what would initiate an actual make out session."
Blaine stayed silent for a long time, and Kurt began to wonder if he'd overstepped with his teasing. In the time that followed his comment and Blaine's response, the splatter of rain on the windows and roof turned into steady pounding as the heavens unleashed its full force against Lima. A peal of thunder rolled so loudly it rattled the bottles on Kurt's vanity and drown out the rapid beating of Blaine's heart against his cheek for a moment.
"Do you want me to kiss you? I don't want to push you, Kurt. I'm happy just being with you, just holding you like this. Just being your boyfriend is more than I ever hoped for."
Kurt breathed in deeply the scent of coffee and cinnamon and Blaine. He felt lost in the heady aroma and the tender words and the boy wrapped around him. He pulled his cheek away slightly from the comfortable spot between Blaine's neck and shoulder and placed a gentle kiss to his collar. He felt Blaine's breath stutter in his chest, and his fingers tightened almost imperceptibly against Kurt's back. So he continued littering featherlight kisses on his boyfriend's neck and relished the way Blaine's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly and the way he hummed in pleasure.
"How are you so perfect?" Blaine whispered.
Kurt heard the desperate hitch in his boyfriend's voice, and it shot a jolt of empathy straight to his chest. He had asked the same question so many times. When Blaine smiled that special smile or batted those exquisite eyelashes or rubbed his thumb over the back of Kurt's hand. Because after all the abuse Kurt had gone through, he'd stopped hoping for this; he'd accepted he would be lonely for a long time to come. But here was, deliriously happy with a boy who was not perfect, but at moments like this, it felt like even his imperfections were perfect.
"How are you so perfect?"
Kurt raised his head, reluctantly removing his lips from the kissable skin, to gaze into his boyfriend's warm hazel eyes so full of emotion. He brushed his fingertips over Blaine's cheek, and his eyelids fluttered shut. Kurt marveled at the way those long, full eyelashes splayed so beautifully over Blaine's olive skin.
"A touch of the fingertips indeed," Blaine said, grinning blissfully.
"Don't open your eyes," Kurt whispered.
"Are you going to kiss me?"
"In a minute."
Kurt wanted a few more moments to drink in the beauty and memorize the glorious sight of Blaine with his head tilted up, lips puckered slightly, waiting for Kurt to kiss him. The knowledge that anyone wanted him overwhelmed Kurt, but this was Blaine, and that made it so much more moving. He dipped his head to press his lips lightly to his boyfriend's. The light touch wasn't enough for Blaine, who lifted his head from the comforter to press back firmly. Kurt gasped in surprise and felt his boyfriend's tongue flick between his parted lips experimentally.
Overhead, thunder boomed again with a terrible violence. Somewhere in the distance, an ambulance siren wailed. But it was all lost to Kurt, adrift in the wonderful sensation of Blaine's tongue in his mouth, exploring and rubbing against his own tongue. He heard a keening note, and identified it as high D before he recognized his own breathy moans had reached a pitch only a male soprano could release. He wanted to feel embarrassed, but really he only wanted more. More kisses, more fingertips digging into his back and hips, more Blaine.
Behind their closed eyelids, the boys did not notice the sky turning black at three o'clock in the afternoon or see the bedside lamp dim and flicker twice. They did not hear the dying buzz of a house full of electronic devices shutting off. They did, however, hear a throat clearing significantly from ten feet away.
Kurt's brow furrowed, and he made a shooing motion with his hand. He wanted Finn to go away and stop bothering him for just a little while longer. Blaine's tongue retreated from his mouth, and Kurt took the opportunity to slide his own tongue past Blaine's lips. His boyfriend made a startled, strangled sound nowhere near as sexy as Kurt's high-pitched whines. He pulled back sharply, wondering if he had done something wrong or if his body on top of Blaine's had become uncomfortable.
He gazed down at his boyfriend quizzically. Blaine lay prostrate on the bed, his face frozen between shock and panic. Kurt felt Blaine's palms leave his back and hover in the air, palms outward, as if in surrender. Blaine did not gaze at Kurt, but rather upward and to the left so that he stared at the half-open door upside down. Kurt followed his boyfriend's line of sight directly to his father, who stood awkwardly in the doorway.
Kurt let out a squeak of embarrassed surprise and scrambled off his boyfriend. Blaine sat up quickly and deftly slid across the silky comforter so there was a good three feet between them. Kurt felt his cheeks flaming. He had practically attacked Blaine with his tongue while his dad watched. Burt surveyed the two boys shrewdly, his eyes flicking between Kurt and Blaine.
"Mr. Hummel," Blaine began bravely.
Burt held up a hand, and Blaine fell silent instantly. The dark-haired boy looked even smaller than usual with his shoulders hunched and his body folding in on itself as he tried to make the smallest possible target for Burt's ire.
"I came up here to say that with the air conditioner off, it's going to get hot up here pretty quickly." Burt released a deep throated, insinuating chuckle that sent more heat to Kurt's cheeks. "You boys should come downstairs and try to stay cool until the power comes back on."
Kurt and Blaine both started and craned their necks towards the bedside lamp that had shut off fifteen minutes ago. Burt laughed again and waved his hand, prompting the boys to rise from the bed and trot across the bedroom to the door. Blaine flinched away as he passed Burt, but it was Kurt who got a heavy hand on his shoulder and a stern look from his father.
"You remember what we talked about when I gave you the pamphlets?"
Kurt thought his face could get no redder, and he saw Blaine go ghostly pale in the corner of his eye. Kurt could not believe his dad brought up the pamphlets in front of his boyfriend, who bore the responsibility of the mortifying conversation in the first place and knew the significance of the word "pamphlets" because Kurt had given him a piece of his mind about it followed by a three day silent treatment.
"Yes," Kurt said in a small voice.
"Well …. Look. There's no point pretending. I saw what I saw even if we'd all rather I didn't. Kurt, you gotta know … Blaine matters too."
Both boys' eyes had become fixated on the carpet, but now their heads snapped up to stare disbelievingly at Burt. Blaine's jaw went slack as his mind reeled to catch up to the statement, but he felt he'd missed something vital and would never understand. Kurt sputtered indignantly, but Burt only arched an eyebrow at his son before going downstairs again.
"What … I don't … What?" Blaine asked.
Kurt had told Blaine about "the talk" but not in great detail. He had summarized, however, and included his dad's insistence that Kurt mattered, so his boyfriend couldn't be confused about the meaning. More likely, he didn't know how to react to Kurt's dad being as concerned for him as for his own son. It didn't surprise Kurt as much, who had once been told to respect Brittany.
"From his vantage point, I was all over you," Kurt explained.
Blaine's lips worked furiously before settling into a grin. He waggled his eyebrows, producing even more pronounced triangles that Kurt should have wanted to pluck, but really found too cute.
"Yeah, you kind of were. Not that I'm complaining," Blaine rushed to say. His cheeks turned pale pink when he added, "I really liked our first make out session."
Kurt nudged his boyfriend's shoulder, too embarrassed and elated to respond verbally, and slipped his hand into Blaine's as they made their way down the stairs and into the living room. Finn had already come downstairs and lay sprawled on the couch. He sat up when he noticed Kurt and Blaine and scooted over so they could sit.
Carole came into the room with an armload of candles a few moments later, and Blaine jumped up to take some of the jars from her. As they spaced out the candles and struck matches to light them, Kurt peered out the front window with a frown. A heavy sheet of rain obscured the view of the road, and the front yard had turned into a standing puddle. A few of the tulips just beginning to bloom in the flower bed had broken free of the topsoil and floated in a current over the sidewalk and into the driveway.
"Found it," Burt announced.
He held up an old battery-powered boom box circa 1996 complete with cassette deck in front. Kurt remembered playing Disney soundtracks on the boom box and dancing around his bedroom pretending to be Ariel and Belle. Burt tuned the radio to his favorite classic rock station, and they listened to the streaming weather report that had replaced the usual "non-stop classic rock" on Saturday afternoons.
The rainstorm Kurt had professed to love turned out to be the most rain Ohio had received in one day in the last hundred years. Creeks and rivers across the northwest corner of the state had already risen above their banks and flooded roads and highways. Flash flood warnings had been issued for seven counties, including Allen County. Most of the same area was without power. The storm system would likely last until midnight.
"No way we're letting you drive home in this. Looks like you'll be staying here for awhile," Burt said to Blaine as he switched off the radio.
Blaine smiled tightly. "I'm sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Hummel. We probably should have checked the weather report before we planned our day."
"Oh, no, sweetie," Carole said, gently shushing him. "We love having you over here. You'll just be here a little longer than usual is all. You want to call your dad and let him know? He must be worried about you."
Kurt's hand tightened instinctively on Blaine's. They had talked about their dads enough for Kurt to know three things. One, Mr. Anderson desperately wanted a straight son. Two, Blaine desperately wanted an accepting father. Three, Kurt had everything Blaine wanted. It broke his heart to think of it in those terms, and yet it was true.
When his boyfriend excused himself to retrieve his phone and make the call, Kurt turned to Carole to explain. Her kind eyes carried a trace of worry in the way they had when Coach Sylvester said Karofsky would be coming back to McKinley. He caught Finn peering at him curiously from the end of the sofa. If Finn had noticed the change in atmosphere ….
"Blaine's dad … he …." Kurt sighed helplessly. "Blaine says he's not a bad guy, but he wants a straight son."
"And he's passive-aggressive about trying to get what he wants," Burt added darkly.
Carole's hand covered her mouth, and she blinked at the angry moisture collecting in her eyes. Kurt loved his stepmom more in that moment than he ever had before, even when she gave up her honeymoon to pay Dalton tuition.
"Dude," Finn began, but he had no words. He didn't need them, though, to express himself. Kurt read the sympathy in Finn's slightly confused, slightly uncomfortable face.
Blaine returned a few minutes later tucking his phone into his back pocket. He wore the calm, almost stony façade Kurt recognized from the first time they had talked about their bullies over coffee. No trace of tender, affectionate Blaine radiated through. It never did after Blaine spoke to his father, but Kurt had faith that the vulnerable boy beneath the mask would emerge again in a few hours when he remembered there were people in the world who loved him and accepted him.
"Thank you for letting me stay," Blaine said to Kurt's parents.
He didn't say his dad was okay with it or that his dad had been worried. Kurt suspected Mr. Anderson hadn't even known Blaine left the Dalton dormitory every Saturday to spend time with Kurt or stay over with one of their Warbler friends. He probably thought his poor, gay son had no friends at Dalton and only survived because of the no bullying policy.
"It's no problem," Carole reiterated. "So what do the Hummels do when the power is out and there's still a little daylight?"
Burt shrugged. "Inventory at the shop. But I'm guessing you and Finn have a tradition?"
"It's way better than inventory," Finn exclaimed.
He beamed at his newly formed family in a way Kurt would only use before announcing there was a sale going on at Bloomingdale's.