Disclaimer: Glee doesn't belong to me, and if it did...I would treat the characters better.
Pale hands grasped at army issue clothes, pulling, pushing, tugging, trying to unwrap their prize; needing, wanting to feel the touch of skin on skin. His skin felt like it was fire, burning to touch, to feel the other man's skin against his own.
Hips, chests, and mouths fused together, neither knowing where one began and the other ended. Fumbling hands, legs parted, fingers seeking, questing for their ultimate goal. A small hiss, a murmured word, a soul-wrenching kiss as hands trailed across sweat-slick skin, memorizing dips and curves, scars and blemishes.
One finger, then two and he was ready. A gentle push…a gentle slide, foreign hands tugging, pushing thighs higher, urging him to wrap his pale legs around his lover's waist. Finally, a hardness, unyielding, burning slightly, but the pleasure outweigh the pain. A quick jab and he was seeing stars, his lover thrusting into the hot, slick heat of his channel, hitting his special spot with every other thrust. He needed more, gripping shoulders tight, leaving bruises in his wake, urging his lover with whispered words, with moans of need. Thrusts increased, the sound of skin slapping against skin joined the moans and pants of desire in the air.
Then whine filled the air, he was close, he needed a little more. Reaching down, he grabbed himself, stroking in time with his lover's thrusts…so very close. With one last stroke, he came, breathing his lover's name into the night air, shooting ribbons of cum across his belly as he clinch hard around his lover. Two quick thrusts and his lover was coming, he watched as the man came apart, filling his body with warmth.
Hands reaching, he grabbed the man, pulling him down, cradling him with his legs and arms before he had the chance to collapse. As their hearts slowed, and sleep began to over take them, the man whispered, "I love you, my husband, my Finn."
"I love you too, Kurt." The soldier breathed out as he settled around his new husband.
When he stepped off the steamship in Victoria's harbor, Kurt felt as though he was still moving, swaying with movement of the railcar as it ate the miles between Halifax and Vancouver. But at last he was almost at the end of his journey; in the span of two weeks, Kurt had said goodbye to his life, to his father in England and traveled almost six thousand miles to live with a complete stranger. Most would call it crazy, and one war bride did; she swore that she wasn't living England until her husband was home and he could take her to Canada himself. But Kurt knew that this opportunity wasn't one he was going let go; after all, it wasn't every day a government would voluntarily pay for the relocation of military spouses to their country.
Sighing to himself, Kurt retrieved his luggage from a bench before slowly walking through the crowded port, hoping to see a face that look familiar in someway. The dock was fairly large and reminded Kurt of the docks at Southampton, where his journey to Canada had begun. As Kurt walked along the platform, he stopped at the sound of voice calling his name.
Turning slightly on his heel, Kurt looked around him as he tried to place the direction the voice was coming from. After having decided that it was coming from the left of him, Kurt began to walk in that general direction, hoping he wasn't wrong and lucky he wasn't. As he rounded the corner of the covered boat dock, Kurt saw an older woman with short brown hair and he just knew that it was Finn's mother; they both had the same soft brown eyes and Kurt could see the makings of Finn's crooked smile on her lips.
Kurt took his steps slowly; he didn't really know how to approach this virtual stranger, who was now his mother-in-law. Fortunately for him, Finn's mother saved him the trouble. Once he was in arms reach of the older woman, Carole Hudson pulled him into a tight embrace. The young Englishman paused, taken back by the display of affection from the mother; but as Carole continued to hold him, Kurt slowly sunk into the embrace, returning it with one of his own, for it had been far too long since he had felt a mother's hug.
Carole was the first to let go, but left one hand on the small of Kurt's back where it had come to rest during their hug. Smiling to the young man, she grabbed Kurt's neglected luggage from the dock before he could stop her. Carole shook her head at Kurt, as she led him through the crowded dock.
"You've had a long journey; your case isn't that heavy, plus the car isn't that far. And neither is home." Carole smiled.
"How far is not far?" Kurt asked, even he could hear the weariness in his voice.
"A few miles, we live about a mile and a half outside of Victoria." Carole explain, "So not far at all, but I can image that even those few miles sounds like a lifetime to you." She finished, grinning to herself as though she had told a joke.
Kurt gave his mother-in-law a weak smile, tired from his long journey and a little frazzled from just being in her presence. This is not how he dreamed he would meet his mother-in-law, but then again he hadn't dreamed that he would meet the man he wanted to grow old with and marry all within the short period of six weeks. But it had happened, and Kurt wasn't going to change it for anything in the world.
As the pair reached the car, Carole gave a light tap on the small of Kurt's back before removing her hand. Kurt watched silently, shifting slightly on his tired legs, as Carole stowed his luggage in the backseat before moving to open the driver side door. Leaning across the bench seat, Carole pushed the door open for Kurt, indicating for him to get in. As he grasped the door handle, Kurt could feel the heat in his cheeks, slightly embarrassed at appearing to be dim in front of Carole. But once in the car, it seemed that Carole hadn't paid the small moment any notice and within minutes, the dark forest green saloon car was speeding down the street as fast as its engines would go. The drive from the harbor to the house was silent; Kurt watching through the window as the city blocks sped by, before giving way to tree-lined streets and densely populated homes. It was so much different than the death and devastation that Kurt had left behind in London, but even the wide open spaces and safety of being thousands of miles from the war didn't soothe Kurt's troubled mind. He was worried about Finn fighting in Europe; he was worried about his father, who had tried to continue business even with the dropping of German bombs. Shaking his head to clear these thoughts, Kurt turned his attention back to the scenery as it passed, because he knew that dwelling on those thoughts wasn't going to changed anything.
When the car got closer to its final destination, Carole began talking, her voice pulling Kurt from his thoughts and back into the present. "I know it isn't much, but I do understand what it's like to be a stranger in a strange land. Did Finn ever tell you how I meet his father?" With a shake of his head, Kurt prompted her to continue. "I was a nurse at a military hospital in Halifax when I met him. It was a few months after the end of the Great War, and Christopher was one the lucky few. He had come home, uninjured and with his sanity. He was visiting a friend in the ward, and when I saw him my heart stopped. It was then that I knew I wanted to marry this man. And I did…a month later."
Kurt giggled, his heart lightening at hearing that Carole's story was almost like his. "But how did you end up in British Columbia?"
"This is where he was from, and let's just say that my in-laws didn't like me very well, bordering on a strong dislike, especially from his mother, if I'm completely honest. But I followed Christopher back here," Carole said, "and he built this house with his own hands." Concluded just as the car stopped in front a quaint medium size bungalow painted a cheery yellow color.
Exiting the car, the young husband let his eyes wonder across the home and its features, with is slanted roofed porch and rock foundation. Kurt grabbed his case from the backseat before Carole could, which earned him a raised eyebrow from the smaller woman. Shrugging his shoulders in reply, Kurt followed the woman into the house, watching his step as he ascended the front stairs. Once inside, Kurt took a moment, spinning in a slow arch as he took in the interior of the quaint home.
Motioning for Kurt to set down his case, Carole led him through the home, pointing out the various rooms on the ground floor before returning to the living area and his suitcase. With Kurt's case in hand, Carole mounted the stairs, sure that her son-in-law would follow.
"The back bedroom is Finn's so I thought you might like to stay in that room." Carole told Kurt, but paused at the unreadable expression on the man's face. "Or you can the small guest room off the kitchen if that is better. Whatever you are comfortable with."
"Finn's room is fine. I'm sorry for seeming so ungrateful, but I'm still a frazzled by my journey."
Carole smiled kindly at the young man, "I understand, dear…all to well. Now there's the bathroom; I'm sure that you really want a bath after such a long journey. I'll be downstairs if you need me, so I'm going to let you get settled, and dinner is at six."
Kurt watched as Carole left, before kicking his case over and falling onto the bed. All he wanted to do was have a nice hot bath and sleep for the next sixty years. Rolling on his back, Kurt stared at the room's ceiling; he was feeling a little more at ease in this foreign house just by the intimacy of knowing that his husband once slept in this bed. With a sigh, Kurt hauled his tired body into a sitting position, before swinging his legs to the floor. Crouching next to his toppled luggage, Kurt clicked it opened, rummaging for his toiletries and his bathrobe. Once both were in hand, Kurt left the fairly good size bedroom, taking an immediate right into the bathroom with its claw-foot tub.
Forty minutes later, Kurt exited the bath, feeling clean and almost human again. Dropping his toiletries on the dresser by the door, Kurt shuffled toward the bed, falling onto its soft mattress once more. As he pulled the blankets around him, Kurt took a minute just nuzzling the pillow…Finn's pillow. It might not smell like the other man, but Kurt liked the idea that once the war was over, he would be sharing this pillow with Finn. Smiling to himself, Kurt drifted off to sleep for a well deserved nap.
It was half passed five when Kurt awoke to the sound of voices drifting up from the downstairs; throwing back the blankets, the young Englishman began to dress, picking out his best clothes of dark grey slacks, a white dress shirt, bluish-grey tie, and topped it all off with a navy blue jumper. After checking his reflection in the small mirror hanging above the dresser, Kurt left the bedroom, making his way down the stairs and into the living area. But at finding no one, Kurt followed the sound of voices coming from the direction of the kitchen.
Pushing the door open slightly, Kurt paused in the doorway, taking in the two young woman seated at the large kitchen table. One was dark where the other was light, but both women were dressed in the latest fashions, which Kurt was envious of. At seeing the man, Carole waved him into the kitchen, motioning for him to take a seat in an open chair. The young Englishman smiled at the welcoming manner of his mother-in-law as he slid behind the table.
"Did you have a good nap?" Carole asked, as she worked on kneading the dough to make biscuits for dinner.
"Yes, thank you." Kurt replied, although he wasn't looking in their direction, he could feel their eyes as the two young women sized him up. Kurt had met their type before, they saw him as competition; but Kurt wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of seeing him flinch at the scrutiny of their gaze.
"Oh, sorry, where are my manners. Kurt, let me introduce you to Rachel Berry and Quinn Fabray," Carole said, indicating to each woman in turn. "They went to school with Finn."
Kurt smiled as he held out his hand for each of the girls to shake. Rachel Berry, the darker haired woman, grasped his hand politely; as for Quinn Fabray though, she looked at the hand as though it belonged to a leper, but shook it anyway. Flipping her hair to the side, Quinn turned her attention back to Carole.
"Do you need any help, Mrs. Hudson?" The blonde asked. Kurt raised an eyebrow at the sound of the sugary sweet voice she used when talking to the older woman, and had to stifle a chuckle at Rachel rolling her eyes in response to the voice.
"No dear. I wouldn't want to ruin your pretty nail polish."
"Quinn, since when do you know how to bake?" Rachel questioned, earning herself a sharp glare from the blonde. "I thought your cook did all of that. After all, your mother made it point to let everyone in town know that her daughter was the prefect well-bred lady, who didn't know the meaning of the word 'manual labor'."
Carole cleared her throat, letting both girls know that they behavior wasn't wanted or needed…Ever. Quinn smiled sweetly at Carole before focusing her attention on Kurt.
"So, Kurt was it?" Quinn asked, not waiting for his reply before continuing with, "Were the bombings as bad as the papers are claiming?"
Kurt looked at her, flinching slightly at the question; she had hit a nerve and it hurt. Just as he opened his mouth to reply, Carole cut him off with a sharp reprimand leveled at the young blonde. "You're out of line, Quinn. And I do believe its time for you to be getting home to your mother."
Pushing back her chair, Quinn stood, murmuring a quick 'goodbye' as she fled the kitchen. Carole Hudson was not a woman to cross—she was fiercely loyal to her family, even if that family was a virtual stranger to her.
Waiting a moment, Rachel stood as well, gathering her purse as she did so. "It was wonderful to meet you, Kurt. But I must be on my way as well; my grandmother is in town for the weekend, and dad said I needed to be home in time for dinner."
Sighing to herself once the kitchen was cleared of her guests; she sank into the nearest chair and grasped Kurt's hand in her own. "I had no idea that either one of them would show up, or that Quinn would act like that; but I should have expected it. Those girls have been chasing and vying for Finn's attention and affection since grammar school. Finn has always had a soft spot for them, it's his nature; but as they got older, their affection for him grew while his had diminished and he just never had the heart to them 'no, he didn't love them in that way'. Finn had honestly hoped that when he volunteered for service, the girls would back off and realize they would be spending their youth waiting on him. Unfortunately, he was wrong, and each one had fully expected a marriage proposal and a wedding before Finn had left for England.
And now they see you as competition for Finn's affections…a thief, really. And if there is one thing I know about both of those girls, they have always gotten their way…their parents have seen to it."
"But not this time," Kurt remarked with a smile at Carole, "Finn married me, so I've won the war—a war which I didn't even know I was fighting."
Carole laughed at Kurt's comment; the more she spoke with the young man, the more she understood why her son had married him. He was beautiful (and if she had been twenty years younger, she might have been tempted to try for him), smart, witty and had a wonderful sense of humor.
"That you have, and I couldn't be happier. Now, do you know how to bake?" Carole asked, rising from her seat to finish kneading the dough.
"Yes. And I know how to cook, sew, and repair automobiles." Kurt answered proudly. At seeing Carole's shocked face, he explained. "My mother was ill for a lot of my childhood and she taught me cooking, baking and sewing, so that my dad and I would be alright, once she was gone. As for the auto repair, my dad makes his living as a mechanic. He owns a small garage in London, and we lived in a flat not far from it."
"I'm sorry for your loss, it must have been hard loosing your mother so young," Carole said, squeezing Kurt's shoulder in sympathy. "If you ever feel the need to sew, though, we have a machine in the spare bedroom behind the dining room." She added, steering the conversation away from the sad memories.
Kurt nodded his head, before deciding to join Carole in baking. As the pair worked, they talked, trading stories back and forth—about each other, about Finn and about the differences between living in Canada and England. Eventually dinner was ready and as they sat down to eat, a knocked sounded at the backdoor.
Rolling her eyes as she pushed her chair back from the table, Carole stood up to answer it. "Blaine, you do know what time it is? A time when normal people usually sit down to eat."
The man, apparently known as Blaine, grinned at Carole, clearly unfazed by the tone of her voice. "Sorry, Mrs. Hudson, I just wanted to drop off your grocery order."
"Uh huh." Carole replied; her face showing that she didn't believe his story in the slightest. "Are you sure that you didn't drive out here to meet Finn's husband, for I'm sure that Rachel and Quinn have already told the town everything."
Blaine bit his lip, "Rachel might have come into the store and I might have overheard her talking to my cousin, Brittany."
Sighing to herself, she opened the door wider to let the younger man in. "Well, you're here now. Come in, I can't really send you away without dinner."
Upon entering the warm kitchen with his box of goods, Blaine smiled at the sight of Kurt sitting at the food covered tabletop. After placing his burden on the counter, he joined the other young man at the table; but not before grabbing a plate from an overhead cabinet, a task which Kurt thought looked very natural, almost as though this man had done it countless times before.
"Oh this looks great, Mrs. Hudson." Blaine commented, shoveling food on his plate as if he hadn't been feed in years. Carole affectionately rolled her eyes at the boy, retaking her seat at the table.
"Actually, Kurt helped with some of dinner. He's a very good baker." Kurt blushed lightly at the praise from his mother-in-law. "Kurt, this is Blaine Anderson. His father owns the general store in town, and doubles as an attorney as needed. If you can't tell, Blaine is almost like another son, practically raised him along side of Finn, well along with Noah too."
"Puckerman?" Kurt prompted.
"Yes," Carole responded, "did you meet him?"
"Yes, I had the pleasure, if you could call it that." Kurt said, frowning at Carole.
Carole laughed at the statement, "Sounds about right then."
"So, Rachel says you're from London." Blaine broke in, wanting to know as much as he could about this man. Just from his looks, Blaine could see why Finn had married the other man. And even if Kurt was a married man, there was nothing wrong with being friendly to a friend's husband, providing an ear or a shoulder if needed.
"Yes. Hammersmith, actually, it's a borough of London."
Blaine nodded at Kurt's clarification, before voicing his next question. "How was your trip here?"
"Uneventful and long…very long; but I'm here now and happy to be." Kurt replied, giving Carole a warm smile as he finished. Carole returned the smile with one of her own, as she motioned for the pair to eat.
The dinner continued, with Blaine asking twenty questions, and Kurt answering them as best he could, while Carole interrupted every so often—scolding Blaine about letting Kurt breathe and eat his dinner in peace. Kurt smiled good-naturally at Blaine, thinking the other man was charming in his enthusiasm to know him; but even that charm would never hold a candle to Finn. Eventually, dinner ended with Carole all but throwing Blaine out of the house—with the tip of his imaginary hat, Blaine left the way he came, through the backdoor.
Kurt helped Carole clear the table before giving her a light kiss on the cheek as he left the kitchen. They both froze, and Kurt's cheeks heated slightly, worried that he might have overstepped his bounds. After a few seconds of frozen silence, Carole broke the awkwardness by pulling the young man into a hug and laying a kiss upon his flushed cheek. Kurt chuckled as he returned the hug, before releasing the mother, who began shooing Kurt towards the living room and up the stairs—mumbling about it being late and them both needing rest after such a long day of traveling and surprise visitors.