CHAPTER 13

It’s Quinn who’s the cause of the first argument between Kurt and Blaine.

It starts with an innocent question Kurt asks as they enjoy their usual cup of coffee at the Andersons’ kitchen table. They’ve just finished their preparations for the history quiz they have the next day.

“So have you ever had a boyfriend?”

Blaine looks up at him with that lopsided little smile that always stirs something in Kurt’s chest.

“No, not really. I went out with a few boys while at Dalton, but none of them were what I wanted, so it never went beyond a couple of dates and a kiss or two. I’m sure I could have had more, with one of them for sure – he was quite clear that he was interested and, um… experienced. But I felt nothing special for any of them, so it just didn’t seem right, you know? I don’t want my first boyfriend to be someone that just happened to be there and interested, someone I don’t lo- um, feel anything for.” Blaine blushes a little, his eyes darting to the side for a moment before he clears his throat and asks. “What about you? I know you haven’t had boyfriends, how about girls?”

Kurt shakes his head, feeling himself color too. It’s as personal as they’d ever gotten – talking about feelings. Opening up like this is something new for him, something he’s never done except when he’s writing in his journal.

“No, Quinn is the first one.” He shrugs. “Most likely the only one, too.”

Blaine frowns a little, just a slight knitting of his eyebrows that Kurt wouldn’t have even noticed if he hadn’t spent so much time looking at his face lately that he knows every line and dimple, and every tiny frown or smile.

“What?” Blaine just shakes his head without a word, but Kurt isn’t going to let go. “Blaine. Tell me.”

There’s an apologetic expression on Blaine’s face as he finally speaks.

“Just… don’t you think you deserve more? That Quinn deserves more?”

“More?” Kurt can feel his defenses snap back into place, a long nourished instinct. He knows it shows by the way Blaine tenses, clearly sorry he spoke at all. “No, don’t you try to stop now. What do you mean, more?”

Blaine seems to be looking for the right words, but eventually he shrugs, his face set in a determined look.

“Something real and honest, something beautiful? I mean, do you love her? Are either of you truly happy in this relationship? You say you just want to survive high school and then you’re off to greener pastures, and I get it, it’s your life and your choice – but have you ever thought how Quinn’s going to feel when she learns, sooner or later, that you’re gay? That for her first long-term boyfriend, she was just a beard?”

Blaine’s words punch into Kurt, deftly targeting all the most vulnerable spots his shields leave open. He doesn’t tell Blaine how many times he’s tried to push the same concerns deep to the back of his mind. Instead, he shoots up from the chair and starts pacing the kitchen, anger quickly substituting other, less welcome emotions.

“That’s between me and Quinn, don’t you think?” he snaps, sharper than he intended, but not sorry about it. He’s on a roll now. “You know nothing about the relationship we have, Blaine, nothing. We may not be the love of each other’s lives, or end up married one day, but we’re good together.”

“You’re living a lie.” Blaine’s voice is quiet, his jaw set.

“So what if I am?” he’s almost yelling now. “This is the way I chose, Blaine, and I’m glad I did. I’m not slushied or called names, or thrown into dumpsters. I’m liked and popular. For almost three years now, I haven’t been scared to go to school every day. And Quinn… she knows it’s not… that I don’t… don’t love her. That it’s just a high school romance.”

“Are you sure about that? Have you actually asked her?” And damn, these honest, amber eyes, this voice, so calm… it’s breaking Kurt. He grabs his bag from where he left it just outside the kitchen entrance.

“I better go. Bye, Blaine.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, doesn’t look back as he walks briskly out the door and towards his car. It’s raining outside, distant thunder rumbling through the darkening sky. Mrs. Anderson is just getting out of her car and stops, surprised, when she sees Kurt.

“Kurt, hi, I thought you’d be staying for dinner tonight?”

He takes a deep breath, trying not to sound or look angry – it’s enough that he’s just ruined his relationship with her son, he doesn’t want to make her hate him, too.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Anderson, I have to go. Have a good evening!”

The rain is falling harder with every mile he drives until it’s a true downpour preventing Kurt from seeing anything beyond two feet in front of his car. Fortunately, it’s just a ten minute drive so he gets home safe, but the short run between his car and the front door is enough to get him drenched and in an even worse mood. There’s no dinner ready, since he was supposed to stay at Blaine’s and his dad has a date, so Kurt grabs an apple and slumps down the stairs to his room to strip off his wet clothes and take a hot shower.

By the time he’s back in his bedroom with his pajamas on, munching on the apple, there are three unanswered call alerts on his phone, all from Blaine. Feeling vindictive, Kurt switches off the phone and settles in bed with a book. Two hours later, he has no idea what he’s been reading about and his anger is gone, leaving space for regret, guilt and misery.

He screwed up. He couldn’t take the truth and now he lost the only person who could truly understand him in all this mess . He feels like crying.

So he does, switching his light off first, so that his dad would think he’s asleep when he’s back from his date. Kurt curls into his duvet in a fetal position and lets the tears flow.

He must have fallen asleep at some point because when he opens his eyes, it’s well after midnight. Kurt’s mind flashes back to the events of the evening and he feels his throat constrict in grief again. He should have known he would suck at this friendship thing. No one can take him the way he truly is – bitchy and mean and just –

A quiet tapping sound from the window interrupts his thoughts. It’s still raining hard outside, but it’s not the rain tapping, it’s almost like… knocking. Carefully, Kurt gets out from under the covers and passes to the window to peek behind the curtain. There’s his dad’s car on the driveway and their front yard is drowning in mud, but what pulls Kurt’s focus immediately is the dark figure crouching right outside his window. Before he can scream or do anything even less dignified, the person notices the flutter of the curtain and switches on a torch that they direct at their face, revealing –

Blaine.

A very real, very wet Blaine Anderson, crouching just outside Kurt’s bedroom window and gesturing for him to come outside.

Into the rain. Is he crazy?

Apparently they both are, because no more than a minute later Kurt is out there, in his raincoat over the PJs, his wellington boots and with an umbrella, and Blaine is grabbing his hand with an earnest expression, speaking over rain and thunder.

“Kurt, I’m sorry. I should never have said any of this, of course it’s your life and your choices. I have no right to tell you what to do. I just… I really care about you, Kurt, and I want to see you happy. But I was out of line and I’m sorry, and I promise I will never push you like that again. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had and I really don’t want to screw this up. Do you think we could try to forget about this evening?”

There’s so much pleading and – is that fear? – in Blaine’s face that even if Kurt was angry at him, he’d have to cave. As it is, he just throws himself at his friend to hug him, narrowly avoiding decapitating him with the umbrella in the process.

“Of course, silly. It’s me who should be sorry. You were right, you know, and that’s why I snapped. I know all this, I think about it too, but I’m not ready and – Just not yet, Blaine. But you’re right, and you’re my best friend too, and please don’t stop talking to me even though I’m a bitch sometimes.”

The force with which Blaine returns the hug steals most of the air out of Kurt’s lungs, and it’s the best feeling ever, despite the night and the rain, and the mud under their shoes, which –

“Blaine, for god’s sake, you’re completely soaked!”

“Well, I couldn’t take a car without waking up my parents, so I walked here.” There’s a sheepish expression on Blaine’s face, even as his teeth start chattering.

“Without an umbrella or a raincoat or anything? And in your tennis shoes? Why are you here now, anyway? You could have waited until morning!”

“I couldn’t sleep, knowing that I hurt you, and you didn’t pick up your phone, so I had to come apologize or I’d be a wreck by morning. I’ll go now. But… are we good?”

Kurt shakes his head incredulously. “We are perfectly fine, but you are going to catch pneumonia if you stay out here any longer. Come on, we have to get you into dry clothes and warmed up.”

Blaine doesn’t even protest too much, too busy shivering all over as Kurt pulls him by the hand into the dark house and downstairs to his room. He leads the wet mess of his friend – friend, he can say it now – right into his bathroom and gives him a towel.

“Okay, I’ll find you some clothes and make you cocoa while you take a hot shower. I can lend you my raincoat and the umbrella, but my boots won’t fit, your feet are bigger than mine. And I can’t drive you home without waking my dad, either. Unless –“ Kurt’s not sure if the idea is genius or crazy, so he spits it out before he can talk himself out of it. “Would your parents notice if you didn’t come home until morning?”

Blaine rubs the towel through his dripping curls, thoughtful. “Probably not, they both leave for work before I get up. Why?”

“You could stay here and I’d drive you home before school so that you could change and take your bag. This way you wouldn’t have to get wet again. And my bed is wide enough for us both to sleep comfortably.”

Kurt knows he’s blushing hard at this point, the mere thought of sharing a bed – even platonically – with another boy, and Blaine in particular, making his insides twist in a not entirely uncomfortable way. Blaine’s eyes widen almost comically.

“I… you… what about your dad?”

“He has an early morning at the garage tomorrow, doing the books. I’ll only see him when I drop by with his lunch on my way to school.” He feels just a tiny twinge of guilt for hiding this from his father, but he’s got years of practice at suppressing those feelings. He focuses on Blaine’s stunned face instead. “And I don’t mind, so if you want to, this may be the best solution. To, you know, prevent you from getting sick.”

Blaine smiles at last, though amazement still shines in his eyes. “In that case… okay. Thank you, Kurt.”

Kurt nods with a grin and ducks to his closet to take out some rarely used sweatpants and a simple T-shirt. With his cheeks burning, he adds a pair of black boxer briefs and takes the small stack to the bathroom where Blaine is just taking off his soaked shirt.

“Here. You can sleep in these, and I’ll find you something else in the morning.”

Not waiting for an answer, Kurt turns away from his (gorgeous, half-naked, oh my god Kurt get a grip) friend and flees up to the kitchen, where he takes his time, slowly and meticulously making them both cocoa with marshmallows and determinedly not thinking about the naked boy in his shower. He only returns downstairs five minutes after he hears the water turn off.

Blaine’s there, dry except for his hair, his broad shoulders making the T-shirt cling to his chest. He looks fresh and smells of Kurt’s body wash, and damn, why is it such a turn on? Why is Kurt suddenly changing into a raging hormonal sex maniac and can’t stop reacting like this? It’s never been an issue before!

They sip their cocoa and talk for a bit until they’re both yawning widely, and there’s no way to avoid it much longer. Kurt finds a new, spare toothbrush for Blaine and they brush their teeth standing by the sink together, which feels weirdly intimate for some reason, and then it’s time to go to bed.

It’s not bad, despite Kurt’s fears. They each settle comfortably enough on opposite edges and before Kurt can overanalyze and freak out properly, he’s out.

In the morning, Blaine’s still on his half of the bed. Kurt, however, not used to restricted space while sleeping – yes, of course it’s the only reason – wakes up to find himself cuddled into a firm, cotton-clad chest, his head resting on Blaine’s shoulder and his arm embracing his trim waist.

He jerks away immediately, praying for Blaine to stay asleep just a bit longer and pushing the thoughts about how amazing it felt away, to revisit at a later time. He’ll have a hard enough time getting back into his school persona as is.

Everything goes swimmingly after that. Blaine wakes up five minutes after Kurt leaves the bathroom and accepts the clothes Kurt finds for him. They eat a quick breakfast, grab their coffee to go and are on their way. Blaine ends up going to school in Kurt’s clothes because there’s no time for him to change. It gives Kurt another bout of strange feelings, which must be somehow connected to the fact that someone else gets to wear his clothes (and look damn good in them, too).

Their friendship is fine, and Kurt is so happy about it that he feels like singing and dancing and fixing everything that’s wrong in the world, so he starts close to home. He may not be ready for changes yet, but Blaine’s right, Quinn deserves more than he’s been giving her lately. So that evening, after Cheerio practice, he goes with her to her house, where they stay together until Kurt’s curfew.

Next morning, Quinn’s smile is more dazzling than ever.