Where the Floorboard Doesn't Creak, a Glee oneshot

I do not own Glee. Review and Request! (Also, a note to anonymous reviewer I ship it from Haphazardly Stuck Music Notes: The music to My Only Reprieve is now posted on skwirelygurli . tumblr . com)

Kurt Hummel has always been the curious sort.

For instance: He had been sitting on the couch with Finn, bonding over old episodes of Pokémon. Or rather, he was texting Blaine while his brother insisted on talking with his mouth full of popcorn.

A character had come on. It's name was Jigglypuff, which he assumed had to do with its round appearance. So he asked what seemed to be a harmless question.

"If Jigglypuff went to the gym, what would they call her?"

Finn tore his eyes from the screen. "I don't know. What?"

"I don't know either. That's why I'm asking. Would they call her Buffpuff?"

Needless to say, Finn and Kurt never tried bonding over Pokémon again.

1. Presently, he's in the bathroom with his roommate Blaine. They're both brushing their teeth, and after spitting, he turns to him.

"Can I ask you a question?" He rinses off his toothbrush.

Blaine follows suit. "Yes."

Kurt takes his time swishing the mouthwash around his mouth. There are so many offensive ways to phrase his next question, and he doesn't want to hurt his best friend.

"What do you like about Maurice?"

"Can I change my answer to the first question?" He twists the cap back on the mouthwash.

Kurt huffs. His minty breath hits his roommate in the side of the face. He tightens his grip on the cap.

Self control is becoming his favorite kind of exercise.

Maurice is a good guy. He remembers when they first met. His dog had been running away from him, and ran straight into Blaine, who had been carrying a hot cup of coffee. The same coffee that spilled down the front of his shirt.

Flushed, Maurice had pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed at the stain, begging for his forgiveness. He told him everything was alright. It was nothing that wouldn't come out in the wash.

He had to take hold of his hand to stop his incessant rubbing. At that moment, he had looked into his eyes.

Those darned sparkling blue eyes.

And when he stood at his full height, not being yanked by the leash, or crouched down rubbing at, what was then, a complete stranger's shirt, he was just a head taller than him. That is, if you didn't count that coif of his.

He looked very familiar, though he couldn't put his finger on it.

That afternoon, when Kurt offered to help him do the laundry, he found a piece of paper in his pocket. He had unfolded it to find seven clearly written digits, followed by his name.

He never mentioned that he knew. He had folded it back up as quickly as he could, handing it over to Blaine.

Soon Musical Mondays were Maurice Mondays. Kurt found himself singing alone to Cell block Tango and Summer Nights.

All because some guy had swooped in and taken his place.

Blaine hadn't meant for it to happen. But Maurice was attractive, and funny, and crooned like Sinatra.

"You alright Blaine? If you grip that bottle any harder, it's going to burst."

"Huh?" He blinks, and suddenly it's not Maurice's face he's looking at. It's his own. "Sorry. What was the question?"

"Never mind. I'm going to go to bed, okay?"

"Okay. Good night Kurt." He watches as Kurt pads out of the bathroom.

Somehow, he will make himself get over him.

2. Two months later, Kurt's standing at the stove, stirring soup. His back is to the door, as he is hovered over the pot to stay warm. This apartment is freezing.

He hears the door slam shut. "Back already? I wasn't expecting you for at least another hour."

"His brother called. Said it was an emergency and that he had to rush right over." He unravels the scarf from around his neck.

Well, that would explain why he hadn't heard their usual goodbye kiss. Not that he listened to those things. Often.

"Oh. I'm making soup if you want some." The steam is making him sweat, so he backs up.

Straight into Blaine, who's passing behind him to place his coat on its hook.

"It smells delicious." He sniffs the air.

Kurt dips them two bowls, and sets them on the table. They sit across from each other.

He ladles some onto his spoon, but it's too hot to consume yet. "Can I ask you a question?"


"Do you think he is the one?" He blows on his spoon.

"No, but he's the one for now." Blaine reaches for the pepper shaker.

Kurt nudges it towards him. "Who's the one forever?"

His hand jerks. Drat, that is a lot of pepper. He sets the shaker down before he can further the damage.

"You said a question." He stirs his soup. Taking a bite, he can taste his mistake.

He really has to stop letting Kurt ask him questions.

3. Thirteen days after the soup incident, Blaine and Kurt are walking down the street.

"Can I ask you a question?"

He hesitates. But it's Kurt, and they've promised to always be open and honest with each other. "Yes."

"Why didn't you break up with him? He cheated on you." He adjusts his grip on the umbrella. The rain is pouring harder, so he reigns his roommate in closer.

"Everyone deserves a second chance." His voice wavers.

"After screwing half the city?" He regrets his choice of words as they shoot out of his mouth. "I am so sorry Blaine. I should not have said that."

He stops in the middle of the sidewalk. People have to move around them to get by. He gets shot angry looks, but he doesn't care.

"No, you're right."

It takes him two more days to break up with him.

4. On that second day, when Blaine comes home, tears welling up in his eyes, Kurt offers him a shoulder to cry on.

Once his tear ducts are exhausted, he leans his head on his shoulder. The arm around his back remains.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Blaine sniffles in response.

"What took you so long? I mean, he was a real scum bag." He feels as though it's okay to say this now. They're allowed to bash ex-boyfriends once the breakup is permanent. It's one of their many unspoken rules.

"I don't know. I guess a part of me just wanted it to work out. I'd been single for two years, and then I finally meet a guy that might make me feel something. It's hard to let that go." Kurt rests his chin on the top of his head. Have they really been just friends for two years now?

Because these feelings he's been having beg to differ.

He doesn't say anything more about it. Breakups are hard. And the only way to get through them is ice cream and musicals.

"Do you know what day it is?" He says, gently lifting him.

"Monday?" He falls to the couch as Kurt heads to the freezer.

He opens the door and pulls out a tub of strawberry ice cream. It's already cold out, being January, and he knows it'll only make him colder.

Looks like they'll have to share the afghan to keep warm.

"Musical Monday." He shoves the spoon drawer closed with his hip.

Blaine's eyes light up. "I love you so much right now."

He refuses to take advantage of him in his time of need.

How long is the grieving period?

5. Three days pass. Things return to the way that they should be, pre-Maurice.

They even burn that coffee stained shirt. It sets off the smoke detector, but he feels so free.

"Can I ask you a question?" Kurt asks after turning the alarm off.

"Yes." He tears the charred fabric remains into scraps.

"Do you still love me?"

"Of course. You're my best friend." He tosses the scraps in the garbage.

"That's not exactly what I had in mind." He replaces the garbage lid.

Blaine thinks about it. "You mean like in a romantic sort of way?"

Kurt blushes.

"Mmm," he hums, not managing to get any words out. He can't even make eye contact with him.

"Forever and always. But I respect that you want to be just best friends, and I'll take what I can get. I couldn't imagine my life without you Kurt." He reels him in for a hug.

Why must this be so hard?

6. It's been a week. He's known for a week that Blaine still loves him.

So why can't he just ask him already?

"Can I ask you a question?" He sits on the couch beside him. Their thighs touch, and he has the urge to back up a few inches.

"Hold on a second." He's in the middle of reading a book.

Great. Go and interrupt him reading. That's the most polite way to ask somebody out. "I can ask it later."

It doesn't matter what he says, because Blaine dogears the page and gives him his full attention. And with all of this mental anguish, he's forgotten to back up.

"You can ask me your question now."

He closes his hand over Kurt's so he can't move. Looks like it's now or never.

"Will you go out with me?"


"I'm sweating so much that I'm starting to feel like a fat man in a sauna. I'm freaking out right now. Oh God, why'd I say that." He tugs his hand away and stands up. He needs to get far away, now.

"Kurt." He gets off the couch. He puts his hands atop his shoulders.

"Yes, I'm serious."

"Then I'm going to say seriously yes."

The book stays untouched on the couch the rest of the night.

7. Kurt isn't the only curious one around here.

Blaine paces back and forth across his bedroom. He really should call it their bedroom, considering Kurt hasn't slept in his own in the past year. It's really more of a storage room than anything.

His foot hits the loose board and creaks.

Kurt enters from the kitchen. "Alright, why are you pacing? I can't hear my music over that creaky floorboard."

"Can I ask you a question?" He knows that it isn't his line. It doesn't stop him from using it.

"Yes." He smooths out the front of his apron. The casserole isn't coming out for another five minutes. He has time for one question.

"What would you say if I asked you to marry me?"

"I would say yes."

Blaine lifts the loose floorboard and pulls out a small box. He gets down on one knee.

"Can I ask you another question?"


"Will you marry me and move to a home where the floorboard doesn't creak?"

"Yes." He flings his arms around him. He doesn't get a chance to see the ring, but he doesn't care. He's too busy kissing his fiancé.

Kurt and Blaine have a wonderful summer wedding with their friends. They move into a house that fall, where the floorboards don't creak. Which is a good thing. Because the following spring they take in a stray puppy that loves to run through the house. A puppy who grows into the dog that loves to topple over building blocks of a little four year old girl from an adoption agency when she joins the family. A little girl who loves to tug on his droopy ears.

As for the casserole?

It burns to a crisp.

Not that either of them could care.