Ultimate Valentine, a Glee one shot

I do not own Glee. Please remember to review and request!

He shuts the door to his car, buckling his seat belt. The clock radio reads six o'clock. He's spent the last two hours practicing his duet with Kurt.

They're singing at Will and Emma's Valentine's day wedding.

There is a part of him that wants to be the one to catch her bouquet. Then he can slyly look over to Kurt, who will blush and bite back a smile.

Except he's a boy. Boys don't catch bouquets.

So he makes a plan. He's going to get him the ultimate Valentine. Something that screams 'I love you,' but can be muted down to a mere 'I love you as a friend' if need be. He doesn't want to freak him out. They've promised friendship, but if pushing it means losing that, then it isn't worth it.

Still, he needs to take a chance.

But what to get him?

He realizes he hasn't left the driveway yet. Kurt's head is peeking out from behind the curtains. He turns his headlights on, blinking them twice to acknowledge his presence. In the small stream of light, he can see him waving back at him.

Blaine backs out of the driveway. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, hoping an idea will come to him.

Chocolates. The corner store sells those Whitman's samplers. The ones that have not one, but two pieces of Toffee Chip. It's Kurt's least favorite flavor of the bunch. He doesn't know why, as he loves it, but it is rude to take two pieces from the sampler you are gifting to your best friend. If he's going to get him something, it will be something he will thoroughly enjoy.

Besides, he's trying to stay in shape for dance class. He probably wouldn't even eat them.

He flips on his turn signal.

Maybe flowers could work. He could buy him a rose.

Here Kurt, I got you a flower. No, it's not from the bouquet. I got it for you because I clearly have the creativity of a turtle.

Not that he would know how creative a turtle is. They could be very artistic creatures, drawing pictures in the sand, only to be washed away by the tide.

He double checks traffic and completes the turn.

He could get him a piece of jewelry. Sam had shown him the necklace he bought for Brittany.

He had gotten him that promise ring for Christmas last year. It would be bad to repeat. And Kurt was more of a brooch and bow tie kind of guy. If anything, he'd have to buy him a pin.

Pulling into a parking lot, he cuts the engine. There is no use in driving home. Then he wouldn't have a reason come back out, in the cold, to buy a gift for his best friend. In the comfort of his room, he would come to his senses.

These are the moments he needs a little insanity to push him along.

A card. All it would take is a simple Valentine card. It could be cutesy, with the picture of the banana saying 'You have an ap-peal to me.'

Or it could be one of those mushy gushy 'I love you to infinity and beyond' cards.

Wait, that was Toy Story. Cut off the 'to infinity and beyond.'

Not that he can, because that would break the rule of being able to mute down.

Better staple that 'infinity and beyond' back on.

Maybe getting a card is a bad idea. He'd be a lot better off getting him a teddy bear. Someone cute and cuddly he could curl up against in bed.

There had been those nights when Rachel was spending the night out, and Kurt would call, spooked by the slightest of noises. He should have been used to it. It was New York, after all.

That didn't stop Blaine from picking up every time, no matter what the time.

Including two in the morning, when Kurt woke up to the sight of a mouse, curled up on his bed.

Yeah, getting him a stuffed animal is starting to look like a bad idea.

If anyone, he should be cuddling up next to him. There is no way he's battling a stuffed toy for Kurt's affections when he gets to New York. It's not going to happen.

He is definitely not getting him a gift card. It is perhaps one of the most impersonal things he could get. Yes, he'd have to know where he shopped, which on some level would be personal. But he's looking for that gift that lets him know how well he knows him.

He wants him to see that he remembers that he likes Grande Nonfat Mochas, not just coffee. A gift card to Starbucks can't say that.

Picking up his phone, he does a quick web search.

Fragrance, it suggests.

He rather likes the way Kurt smells. Buying him a fragrance could send him the wrong message.

One, it says he stinks.

Two, it says I don't like your current fragrance, and I haven't been sleeping in your scarf because it smells like you.

Which he hasn't. It stopped smelling like him weeks ago.

Perhaps he could borrow another scarf from Kurt?

He scrolls down.

Date, it suggests.

That would require the two of them to already be going out. Otherwise that would have been at the top of his list. His parents were going on a dinner date. They'd have the house to themselves, and he could cook them dinner. The type that he could pop in the oven and set the timer while he had his way with Kurt.

His way involving his couch, lips, and that curve in Kurt's neck. The one that made him giggle uncontrollably.

It ought to figure the next suggestion on the list is kiss.

Trust him. If he had it his way, he'd be doing both of those. In excess.

There is one worthwhile suggestion on the list. A mix tape.

He glances at the clock. He needs to be up early tomorrow for the wedding. Mix tapes take time. There has to be that perfect balance of songs that tell a story. It has to tell their story.

And as easy as it would be to throw on every song they ever dueted to, there are far more that can't even begin to explain his feelings.

He hits the bottom of the list.

Nothing. He has sat in this parking lot for half an hour, and come up with absolutely nothing.

He takes the keys out of the ignition. Opening the door, he steps out into the cold.

The store is pretty empty. Most of the Valentine displays have been pawed through, leaving the few remains knocked over and on the ground. The employee at the cash register hasn't noticed.

Either that, or he doesn't care.

He bypasses the travel sized bottles of moisturizer. He thumbs through the magazine display. There's an old copy of Vogue, which he is certain he already has.

It's at this point he'd like to slide down onto the floor and stare at the ceiling until something comes to him. Or until he gets kicked out.

He rests his head against the door to the freezer. He's not interested in the ice cream and frozen dinners that lurk behind it. Instead, he's looking at what he sees in the reflection of the glass.

An idea pops into his head. He takes one and heads to the register.

(the page breaks here)

After the wedding, he heads out to the parking lot. Kurt is right behind him, having carpooled. He opens the door for him.

"Thank you," he says, climbing in.

Blaine shuts the door and rounds the front of the vehicle. He slides in next to Kurt.

"I have something for you." He digs into his pocket.

"You didn't have to get me anything," Kurt protests. He wiggles in his seat so he can face him.

He places it in his hand. "It was no big deal."

It was a huge deal, but he can't let him know that.

Kurt looks down into his palm and laughs.

"It originally said Ohio, but I made the o's into smiley faces. So now it just says hi. I figured you could put your keys on it so you don't lose them again. I bet no one else in New York will have a key chain like that." He smiles, trying to mask his fear. He laughed. That's a good sign.

That doesn't stop his heart from trying to sneak up his throat.

"I love it." He flips it over to see Blaine has altered both sides. "I love you."

He almost asks him to repeat himself. There is no way he heard what he thinks he heard.

"I'm glad."

"That I love it, or love you?" Kurt asks, confused.

He must have said it. His ears wouldn't deceive him twice.

"Both. Mostly the second one." He turns further, hitting his knee against the steering wheel. He tolerates the pain.

He'd much rather his hands be holding Kurt's than rubbing his knee.

Kurt glances over his shoulder. The window is beginning to fog up. He wipes away a small portion. He can't see anybody.

And if he can't see them... then they can't see him.

He sets the key chain in the cup holder. He opens the door of the car. "Where are you going?"

Slipping into the backseat, he shuts the door.

"You didn't think I was going to climb over the console, did you?"

Blaine squeezes his way between the two seats into the back.

"I didn't think you were going to say you loved me, and you did. How was I to know you weren't going to surprise me again?" The windows are completely fogged by now.

"Would it surprise you if I kissed you?"

"Well, now it wouldn't."

Kurt kisses him anyway.

"I'm sorry I didn't get you a gift too."

"This is far better than any key chain."

"I like my key chain."

This time Blaine kisses him.

"You don't have to lie, you know."

"I'm not. Every time I look at it, I'll remember I have the best boyfriend ever." He pauses, letting the term 'boyfriend' sink in. "And I use my keys every day."

He whispers it like it's some sort of seductive turn on.

Truth be told, Blaine is still a little stuck on the boyfriend part.

He's not sure who initiates the kiss this time. It doesn't matter. There will be plenty more opportunities for him to kiss Kurt and for Kurt to kiss him.

"So my parents are out to dinner tonight," he says.


"I didn't even ask anything yet."

"So you weren't going to ask me over?" His bottom lip juts out.

"Come on." Blaine climbs back over the console. He holds a hand out for Kurt.

Kurt squeezes through the gap. He tumbles into his seat and buckles up.

"Next time, I'm using the door."

(the page breaks here)

Four months later, Kurt sets his keys on the kitchen table. He admires his key chain for a moment.

He takes his purchase out of the bag and sits down, Sharpie marker in hand.

When he finishes his handy work, he slips a key on.

"You made it!" He says, sweeping Blaine up in his arms when he sees him at his doorway. It's awkward with the moving box between them. He sets it aside and resumes his hold.

"Hey kiddo. Where do you want these boxes?" Burt asks, tightening his grip on the two remaining boxes.

"Dad!" He sets the boxes with the other and hugs him.

"Mind if I use the bathroom? It was a long drive here."

Kurt pulls away. "Of course, go ahead."

He leads Blaine to the kitchen table. There sits his masterpiece. He picks it up, handing it to Blaine.

"I heart MY Boo?" he reads, laughing.

"It used to say I heart NY. I put your key on it. I figure no one else in New York will have one." He grins.

He twirls it around on his finger.

It's absolutely perfect.

He'd kiss Kurt, but his dad comes back from the bathroom.

He settles for his cheek.

(the page breaks here)

Years later, Kurt comes home from work. He sticks his key in the door, his Ohio key chain dangling off the side.

Some things will never change.

And he knows, tucked safely into the pocket of his husband is that New York key chain.

Some things don't have to change.