Title: Teenager in Love (One-shot)
Word Count: ~4,750
Spoilers: Just for Season 2
Summary: "Music as expression has always been the most important thing but the Fifties hold a cherished nook in his heart, full of doo-wop beats and exquisite tailoring." Blaine takes Kurt out for the evening. A bit of a love letter to the Fifties and this lovely pair.
This is in respose to the wonderful realisation that Blaine is, as I always dreamed and hoped, a throwback to days gone by. Those promo shots... I made this post and from then on I couldn't get this story out of my mind.
I have always been so fond of the past (born in entirely the wrong era) and I surround myself with the old fashioned on a day to day basis so I couldn't resist. This was so much fun to write. I can't get over the LOOKS Blaine gives Kurt. 'Heart eyes' is the perfect description. Think of those when you read because my goodness do they lend themselves to sappy teenage swooning.
It's mostly Blaine's POV (again, I'm much more of a Kurt so it's nice to write our resident crooner a little more) and I hope you enjoy the added audio [I did try to embed clever little mp3 players but it got to the point where I was close to throwing my laptop out of the window!]
PLEASE READ ON MY LIVEJOURNAL FOR ADDED MUSIC ! There's a link in my profile.
When no-one else can understand me
When everything I do is wrong
You give me hope and consolation
You give me strength to carry on
And you're always there to lend a hand
In everything I do
That's the wonder
The wonder of you
And when you smile the world is brighter
You touch my hand and I'm a king
Your kiss to me is worth a fortune
Your love for me is everything
I'll guess I'll never know the reason why
You love me like you do
That's the wonder
The wonder of you
The Wonder of You – Elvis Presley
Blaine is well educated and perfectly aware of the situation back in the day. The level of acceptance was, well, that word itself was difficult to identify with when thinking about that particular era. Often remembered as snapshots of crinoline skirts and combed hair, it was hardly a surprise that the darker side of the 1950s was overlooked. Still, from an early age it was a period in time that meant a lot to him.
It was the early spark of change, the beginning of so many parts of modern culture that so many people truly didn't appreciate. It was the era of Marilyn Monroe, Lord of the Flies, James Dean (and hadn't he warmed many a lonely night), Hemingway, Elvis Presley, the first Emmy awards, Marlon Brando (he'd filled in when James Dean had become a little overused), Frank Sinatra, Guys and Dolls, Hitchcock, Singin' in the Rain and Audrey Hepburn to mention a few. It was an era of creativity, the kind of which would span centuries and develop two fold, three fold and beyond to inspire so many.
It's a thing for Blaine. The trouble is, Kurt doesn't.
Kurt wears bow ties, fights to resurrect old Broadway standards and is so appreciative of vintage cinema but Blaine hasn't ever explained how Singin' in the Rain has helped him press through difficult nights. He hasn't let slip how much The Everley Brothers' Cryin' in the Rain means to him. The list is long and although so many modern artists, books and movies litter his favourite's list and anyone can tell his love for the special corners of the Top 40, he spends his days blending in, not standing out. Music as expression is always the most important thing, but the Fifties hold a cherished nook in his heart, full of doo-wop beats and exquisite tailoring.
As a child, his hair had always been unruly. His mother had tamed it with Brylcreem and a comb from the very first day of school and there had been no turning back. He can hear her now, her voice fond and sing song on those occasions when he made her particularly proud – "Oh my little Teddy boy!"
Nothing has changed really. He still keeps his hair neat and parted tidily, the allure of a well fitted blazer is glaringly an obvious part of everyday life and he appreciates the products of an era that he wishes, so desperately, that he could experience firsthand – obviously without the blatant lack of understanding for homosexuality and the rife expression of sexism and racism.
Carrying a comb in his back pocket is the nearest he gets to expressing his obsession on a day to day basis.
Kurt is reading silently on his bed. During moments such as these, Blaine knows he is pathetically obvious but it simply can't be helped – Kurt is unbearably beautiful when he's still and statuesque. He's all neat lines and smooth curves, his hair so perfect and cheekbones almost unfairly blessed for a guy but the best thing to stare at, the things that Blaine knows he'd miss most if Kurt wasn't in the same room are his eyes. Windows to his soul, they mesmerise and Blaine knows he could never get enough of them.
He is so very lucky. This is the one thought tumbling through his brain as the sound of Kurt's soft breathing can be heard faintly over the whir of Blaine's laptop.
"You're doing it again," Kurt drawls, his eyes still focused on the book in front of him as dainty fingers pick at the pages.
Blaine knows he's a little flushed and it's not entirely due to the unseasonably warm weather.
Kurt huffs a small breathy laugh and rolls his eyes without so much as moving the rest of his body. "Your books are behind you, Blaine."
"Hey." Letting out a bothered sigh, Kurt turns and raises his eye brows in question. "Don't look at me like that," Blaine whines softly, a subtle edge of playfulness under the surface. He can see the tweak of a smile at Kurt's lips, the way he squirms a little when their eyes meet and Blaine knows he will never ever become accustomed to that feeling. Forget songs and movies and thoughtful literature, there simple isn't a word for the feeling when the very heightened states of comfort, euphoria, fear and longing collide in a person's heart.
"Sorry. Just had a lousy week." Kurt's eyes dampen in brightness, casting down for less than a second but, to Blaine, it is akin to a neon sign. He can read Kurt like a book every now and then. He's beautifully transparent sometimes.
"Well," he begins, the idea already formulating in his mind, "How about we do something? We didn't get to go to the movies the other day because of the extra shifts you had to work at the garage and my lame family trip."
"Right now? At seven in the evening?"
Lips pursed, Kurt tilts his head questioningly. "Where would we go?"
"Would you hate it if I said it was a surprise?" Knowing Kurt the way he does, the response is predictable.
"Yes. Always. I don't do surprises. I like to plan."
Blaine slides the chair closer to the bed, his hands resting mere inches from Kurt's. He watches as Kurt's eyes look down, his index finger lifting to lightly lie against Blaine's palm.
"Well it's a good thing that the place I'm taking you to doesn't require planning or a dress code, isn't it?"
Kurt keeps his eyes on their hands, fingers now tangled as they often found themselves. "I can't say no to this can I?" Kurt asks. He finally looks up and Blaine can detect a hint of a smile. It's oh so Kurt, the fight to keep his feelings in check somehow unable to just allow them to spill out as Blaine is so sure he is guilty of at times. Kurt doesn't seem to mind though; if anything, he seems to get that look in his eyes, the one that is couched in humour, so much fondness and only a mere dash of dismay.
"No." Clasping tight, Blaine tugs at Kurt's arm, dragging him off the bed.
He sounds a little outraged as his books tumble to the floor. Blaine can see a squashed page and a pen without it's lid but Kurt is one for forward thinking and if they're ever going to be able to spend time together then spontaneity shall have to be the key.
Kurt sighs heavily as Blaine watches the resignation flood his expression. "This can't be good, Blaine. I know that look. That look tells me that I'm about to be forced to do something that you think is 'fun'. Aren't I?"
Blaine reaches for his red cardigan, the same one that Kurt had gaped at in horror but an hour later snuggled into as they walked to the car last week so it became a special garment. He knows he wears it around Kurt more than he does any other item of clothing but it has nothing to do with the fact that it smells of Kurt when he arrives home... not at all. Plus he'd made a very serious move wearing the very same cardigan and that was a reason enough excuse to frame it and hang it from his wall like the pathetic love struck teenage boy he knows he is inside.
Oh how he tries to keep it under wraps.
"Look, you trust me don't you?"
Kurt bites his lip, eyebrows knitted together in thought. "That is a very dangerous question."
"Do you or don't you?" Blaine asks, lifting Kurt's jacket down from the hook on the back of his door. "Here."
Kurt stares at his coat, clearly blaming it too. He glances up into Blaine's eyes. "I do."
"Ok then. We're going out and you're going to love it and eat your words."
Kurt coughs out a laugh. Blaine watches as Kurt's fingers daintily loop the oversized buttons into their holes, his lips pursed in an extremely Kurt-like manner. Blaine knows he simply cannot resist.
"Let me." Kurt's eyes widen as they drift to find Blaine's. So much time has passed since their first kiss and the moment Blaine knew he'd never be able to understand his feelings for Kurt because ultimately, they sent him spiralling, a wistful cloud of contained giddiness washing over Kurt's features. It was the way Blaine knew that they still hadn't become 'normal'. They were still overcome with it all and that was a precious fact that Blaine knew he would never take for granted, especially not if Kurt continued to look at him like he was right in that moment.
Blaine reaches out, tugging the lapels of Kurt's jacket and smoothing them straight. His own skin fizzes at the touch. As he smiles and starts for the door, Kurt's fingertips suddenly ghost his skin, the bare patch just above his collar, as they pass one another. Sending his skin cascading in warmth, Kurt smiles gently and keeps his own eyes on his fingers as they pick at Blaine's zip, sliding it a little higher.
It's during moments such as these that Blaine knows he'll die – actually stop breathing or asphyxiate from sheer bliss – when their relationship progresses past tangled limbs and heated kisses. Kurt will be his undoing but in the best possible way, that moment cannot come soon enough.
For someone so keen to pride themselves upon their ability to remain aloof and completely superior to most of his home town, Kurt is one of the softest people Blaine knows. He is truly affectionate because when it matters, Kurt will instigate a touch so unexpected but laced with an almost unbearable level of tenderness that nobody in the vicinity could ever doubt how pure his heart is. It's devastating that it has been so badly bruised on far too many occasions.
As Kurt's eyes widen one more, his eyes lashes fluttering in what can only be a distant tug of nerves, Blaine slides his hand down until his palm meets Kurt's, warm and firm.
Kurt sighs but smiles, that flicker of delicious resignation making another appearance. "This better be good."
Blaine bounces on the balls of his feet as Kurt closes the car door, hopping down to join him. "Yes."
"We're going in there?"
It's beginning to turn dusky and Blaine loves the way the neon lights look, their pink glow emanating and dousing the car park in an oddly fairytale-like glow. This place had always been a band aid in the past when days were tough and the nights seemed to only provide more stress than he could ever deal with. Standing in the cool breeze with Kurt, Blaine knows it still has magical powers. "Yes we are, and you're going to love it. Follow me."
Before Kurt can say anything, Blaine slips his hand under the sleeve of Kurt's thick coat and tugs him along, the tiny splutter of shock only making Blaine's heart beat faster.
As the door swings closed behind them, the smell engulfs every sense and tickles his skin. In the years he's been coming here, the staff have changed over and over, the menu has altered with each new manager and it has experienced a couple of renovations, however, the feel of it, the comforting way it seems like home is one steadfast feature. Blaine sighs, his eyes sliding to Kurt who is glancing around the room with a touch of wonder.
"Hi there, boys. What can I get you?" A waitress in a soft pink dress, small pristine apron and a kiss curl approaches them with a beaming smile.
Kurt looks stricken for a moment, his eyes startled. "A booth, please," Blaine says simply, stepping towards Kurt instead of reaching for his hand.
As they slide onto the plastic pink glittering chairs, the waitress who appears to be called Julie and who is 'happy to help', hands them each a laminated menu and flashes a grin. "Let me know when you're ready, boys. In the mean time, can I get you anything to drink? Our special for the day is pink lemonade."
Kurt grins into his menu, eyes sparkling with humour. "Two, please."
As she saunters off, her bright white sneakers squeaking on the lino with each step, Kurt leans close and whispers. "This place is fantastic but why are we here?"
Blaine's shrugging his coat off and Kurt follows suit, settling forward on the white plastic table and resting his arm against the metal napkin holder. He looks incredible in the neon light, his hair reflecting the subtle auburn tints and cheeks a little rosier than normal. "I used to come here when I felt, um, down," Blaine explains gently as Kurt tilts his head in understanding.
"I've never been to a place like this before. I mean, you see them on the roadside but never have I seen one like this before. It's like stepping back in time, like Back to the Future, and it's so clean," he shrugs, "which is a shock."
Blaine chuckles, resting his head on his hand without breaking eye contact. Kurt looks happy all of a sudden, his feigned lack of interest has gone and in its place is look of enchantment. "I found it one day when I was out for a drive, avoiding home and trying to waste some time. I think I've always had this affinity for all things old fashioned."
Kurt is aesthetic and the wonder of beauty and decor is part of who he is. It's so obvious from the look in Kurt's eyes when he walks into a room or strolls around the mall; he's entranced by colour, texture and composition. Blaine knows he's still learning about Kurt and vice versa but it becomes so much easier to see into Kurt's soul when he's challenged or placed in an environment that isn't familiar to him. He drinks in the surroundings, eyes focusing on particular things just as he doesn't seem able to tear his gaze from the jukebox across the room or the way his fingers seem to be threading through the cloth napkins.
"So is this the reason for the hair?" Kurt asks, smiling as Julie drops two tall glasses with multi-colored straws onto the table.
Blaine knows he's making that face again, the one that makes Kurt's breath stutter, but he can't help it. He purses his lips, rolling his eyes. "I thought you liked the hair."
Kurt bites his lip and mirror's Blaine's stance. "I do," he laughs, sing song, "but I can feel a few pieces slotting together."
"What do you mean?"
"You," Kurt smiles. "This place suits you. The real Blaine Anderson, I mean, minus the blazer."
Blaine swallows, feeling Kurt's knee press warm against his and linger there, unmoving. "I like it here. It smells nice. The food is delicious and it's what I like to call a guilty pleasure."
For a second, Kurt's eyes deepen and drift off, distant and thoughtful. "I like seeing you like this."
"Like you're excited and passionate. It makes me feel normal about dancing down the aisle in the Gershwin theatre or not sleeping during the night before Black Friday or the finale of America's Next Top Model."
Laughing, Blaine tugs the menu from under Kurt's elbow and sets it between them at an angle. It feels nice to talk like this, to have the focus of Kurt's eyes entirely and to share with him. He's never had this – not until Kurt.
"What are you going to order?" he asks. Kurt leans closer, nudging Blaine's shoulder unintentionally but he doesn't move, just rests there. "I'd suggest the Chicken and Ranch wrap followed by the Cinnamon and Pecan Rolls. They're incredible."
Kurt's answering grin is smoothly affectionate and followed by a nod. "Sounds distinctly unhealthy but I'll go with it."
"Oh you will?"
Kurt raises his eye brow and smirks. "Maybe," he admits, leaning back and resting his laced fingers on his lap, "for you."
After ordering and waiting for a short time, laughing and talking quietly, Blaine can't help but notice the way Kurt still cannot stop staring down the jukebox as if it's taunting him. He looks wistful.
Digging in his pocket for his wallet, Blaine pulls out a quarter and presses it to Kurt's palm. "Here."
Blinking, Kurt tilts his head. "What's this?"
"Go choose a song. It won't play just by staring at it," Blaine laughs, pushing the coin firmer as Kurt huffs indignantly in an attempt to hide the smile teasing at his lips.
"You think you're so clever."
Blaine winks, resting his head down again and watching Kurt stride across the room. When he reaches the jukebox, he sits in his hip and lets his finger lightly slide across the glass. He looks stunning and not at all out of place. His hair is piled high and soft and his waistcoat fitted to perfection as always; he's grand and delicate all at once and Blaine sucks in a breath. His heart is hammering. Never did he think, all of those years back when the very same place was a haven of comfort on dark nights, that he'd bring his boyfriend some day and share just a tiny part of his soul in the process.
As Kurt swings around and pulls a face, so clever and smug, Blaine just wants to kiss him. The sultry tone of Elvis' voice croons from the speakers and Kurt, sighing contentedly, drops into his seat once more.
"I can't help falling in love with you. It's just outside of the fifties but who's criticising?"
Blaine almost wishes the table between them didn't exist. Kurt looks so pleased with himself but not only that, his eyes are tentative and flickering with nerves.
"Oh and why this particular song?"
"Elvis had a beautiful voice," Kurt says, all matter of fact and Julie plants two plates in front of them piled high with a wrap stuffed full of salad and chicken plus a mound of crispy fries.
Blaine can't tear his eyes away from Kurt's pink cheeks and secret smile. "Yeah, beautiful voice..." he echoes and watches Kurt blush some more, high on his cheekbones.
"The lyrics are nice too," Kurt says after a while, wiping his fingers on a napkin and licking his lips. He looks at Blaine for a second and it's like smooth butter down toast, a blanket on an icy evening...
Blaine can feel himself grow serious for a second, eyes zeroing in on Kurt's and holding them tight in place. "You're right. They're beautiful."
The diner is emptier now, only a couple so wrapped up in each other at one end of the thin walkway and an elderly couple in a booth towards the entrance. It's darker outside and the neon glow is magical.
The jukebox is still tripping out tunes and seems to be making its way through some utter classics including Dion and the Belmonts, Connie Francis, The Drifters, Andy Williams and Doris Day but Kurt is, of course, focused on the risk of ice cream on his shirt.
"Stop complaining and eat," Blaine laughs, swooping the spoon closer and enjoying the adorable squirming motion Kurt makes with his shoulders as he bats at Blaine's hand.
"Blaine Warbler, don't you dare," he hisses with a choked giggle, "I swear if you stain this shirt, you're shelling out for the dry cleaning bill."
"Just relax and eat."
Kurt sighs and faces forward. "Well, if you get to feed me like a baby then it's only right I get the pleasure too. This is ridiculous, you know that? We're in public."
"Very true, but I don't care. Nobody can see us," Blaine sings, heart fluttering, "and you have a deal." Kurt sucks the spoon into his mouth and smiles slowly, his tongue swiping at the cream on his lips.
He can't seem to take it eyes off Kurt. It's pathetic really, mooning over him as if he's a love sick puppy but he's so present and wonderfully close. It astounds Blaine sometimes. Being so void of the proximity of another to soothe his soul for so long, his heart somehow finds itself momentarily suspended in disbelief when he's least expecting it.
"So," Kurt begins, leaning in once more. His eyes are searching as he picks at the cherry on the top of their sundae. "Did you come here alone?"
Thinking back, Blaine couldn't remember ever visiting Rosie's accompanied. He'd always sought out its warmth and goodness as a release from frustration in hope that it would provide something vibrant and briefly happy into his life when it all became too tough. It had become a secret, a haven of sorts that he didn't envisage sharing with anyone for risk of it losing it's significance. Kurt was different.
"I had a few places I'd go when I felt down," he says softly, passing Kurt the wafer. Kurt takes it with a tiny smile, listening intently. "The Warblers helped. Singing helped and so did Dalton. I had friends there eventually so it took away some of the residual issues but I felt, um..."
Kurt's hand falls lightly on his, moving only to settle comfortably. Blaine glances down and the world seems to simply make sense.
With a sigh, Blaine nods. "I guess you could say that. It's a little ridiculous though. I know that."
Kurt shakes his head and squeezes Blaine's hand ever so lightly. "It's a bit ridiculous but it suits you. I like it here. It's hard to feel down when you're surrounded by glittery pink plastic and neon flamingos." He pauses for a second to bite the end of the wafer, swallowing it with a sigh. "I'm pleased you brought me here. I didn't know you were so into all of this."
"I thought it could help our gradual process of getting to know each other even more than we actually do. We, um, we got together as best friends after all and we always share what we love, so..."
"You do realise you're giving me the perfect excuse to talk you into joining me for sale shopping, don't you?" Blaine's skin tingles at the look in Kurt's eyes. He's so sparkly, so wound tight with nuclear fusion-level excitement but nobody gets to see it that often. Blaine feels proud to know he's witnessed it more than once and has a few ideas about how to make it happen again.
After years of holding this figure, this image of wishful thinking and concocted dreams, Blaine just knows how Kurt is nothing like how he imagined. He's not a stereotype, he's doesn't fall into a cliché nor can he be compared because he's so perfectly unique that sometimes Blaine can't help but wonder what on Earth Kurt sees in him.
It is during moments like this when they share something unusual and see a little further into each others' soul that Blaine understands how they became so close. They appreciate one another on a level that remains unspoken and sometimes, as they catch eyes or touch accidentally, it becomes overwhelming how good it feels to have found something like that.
Hearing the well known fickle thrown remarks about teenagers and love thrown about, it seems realistic and sensible to consider that things will change but Blaine knows that monogamy is the most attractive thing in the world. The thought of becoming so close and intimate with another person is all he's ever dreamed of and Kurt... well, Kurt is more than he could have hoped for, better than he could have dreamed up because he's real and sitting across from him sipping pink lemonade with the sweetest smile in the world.
"I can drop you off at home if you'd like," Blaine says eventually, breaking the silence as they walk to the car.
Kurt looks pensive for a moment as he tugs his scarf higher. He starts as if to speak but swallows it down, sighing and turning to Blaine.
The smile is new. Kurt's eyes are shining in the bright lights, illuminated in the darkness and accompanying the tenderest smile. Kurt spends his life remaining solid and strong but Blaine knows he is inconceivably sensitive and as he looks straight into Blaine's eyes, Blaine knows that this is one of those moments.
"I always hoped I'd get to do things like this."
With a breathless laugh, Blaine steps closer, huddling Kurt against the car. "What? Be dragged to roadside diners at night? Bit creepy isn't it?"
He watches Kurt's expression twitch amused but he doesn't lose that look in his eyes, the one that's making Blaine's palms sweat.
"Learn about someone. Share evenings with someone. It might sound cheesy but it's the truth." Kurt sighs out his feelings, glancing away momentarily. "I told you I was a fan of romance."
"Nothing says romance like a chicken wrap and strawberry sundae."
Watching Kurt's eyes wrinkle as he laughs to himself, Blaine threads his fingers through the belt across Kurt's coat and tugs gently. Kurt gasps and stiffens slightly in shock but as Blaine's lips land softly, he melts immediately and clasps hold of Blaine's arm.
Blaine can still hear the jukebox playing. As Kurt breathes in deeply, tightening his hold of Blaine's jacket, it's all he can do to remain upright. He slides his right hand to Kurt's jaw and is so aware of the arch of his own back, he way he's standing on the balls of his feet to get closer – anything to get closer – that he almost laughs.
He doesn't though. Instead, as Kurt responds by resting his hands, warm and a little desperate against Blaine's chest, he parts their lips gently but doesn't step back. He can feel the rapid beat of Kurt's heart through his many layers and can clearly see - even in the darkness – the blush of his cheeks.
"I don't want to go back to school next week," Kurt breathes, stuttering and full of emotion, "I know we have evenings and weekends but-"
"We'll be fine."
Quick as a flash, Kurt's eyes widen. "Oh I know. I know that, it just doesn't feel enough sometimes. I guess I'm greedy."
Blaine slides his hand down Kurt's arm and hooks his index finger with Kurt's mindlessly. "Well, you did eat most of my salad and devour most of that ice cream so-"
"Shut up," Kurt giggles and his eyes glow. "Just take me home like they do in old fifties movies and kiss me on the porch."
At that moment, Blaine's heart swells. There's a reason he just loves this boy. "So demanding."
"Hey," Kurt scowls playfully as he detangles himself from Blaine's grasp and circles the car, "this is your dream, Blaine, your dream, remember?"
He laughs to himself, feeling clever, and Blaine cannot argue with that. It is his dream. It's a stupid obsession he's held dear for as long as he can remember. He was Gene Kelly in the rain, Elvis on stage and James Dean in the depths of his wild imagination but he knows he's growing to accept who he is after spending so long being indifferent and Kurt is a huge part of that.
They're so chaste and traditional in their approach to everything: their relationship, their passions, interests and ideals. They break the mould in every conceivable way but something about them never fails to feel simple – that's what Blaine holds dear.
He climbs into the car to find Kurt flicking through his iPod and can't help but grin into the darkness as they pull out of the car to the sounds of Buddy Holly.
It seems he's not the only one who appreciates times gone by.
I hope you enjoyed it - please let me know what you think