Chapter 7

Songs Used in this Chapter:
Brandi Carlisle – The Story
The Darkness – I Believe in a Thing Called Love

A few days later, on one of their pointless drives only to get out of the house, Kurt pulls into the Lima Bean's parking lot without even one line of explanation.  He's hardly left Blaine's side these past few days, and it feels good to spend the time together, especially since they are usually on opposite sides of the country and less than friends.  He links his arm with Blaine's casted one as he drags him up the stairs toward the apartment.  It's an unspoken agreement that they need to reminisce within the place where their relationship truly started, and nostalgia gets the best of them, both quiet with each creak of the stairs.

“It's left exactly the same from after...”

“I haven't really been here since then.  Come on.”  He takes Blaine's hand and pulls him toward the couch.  “It feels like twenty-thirteen all over again.”

“Feels better.  Like I might actually deserve you.”

Kurt sighs.  “B…”

Blaine bites his lip, looking around and petting at the new curtains.  He picks up a picture of them together, grazing the glass that's protecting the picture and smiles back at the photo, every ounce of feeling from that day crashing back into Kurt's heart at the sight. 

Blaine looks back to Kurt, eyes full of moisture ready to burst at the seams.  “You know, I lost my virginity here.”

“Blaine, I-”

“No, Kurt.  Don't make me talk about this.”  Blaine places the picture back on the table and sighs when Kurt gives him a pointed look.  “Okay, fine.  We have to talk about it.”

“You first.”  Kurt approaches him, picking up the photo Blaine just put down and staring at it.  “We should lay everything that we're feeling out on the table so we can keep moving forward.  It's a very necessary step to healing, you know.”

“God.  Don't you know by now that I can't?  Heal, I mean.”

Kurt makes eye contact.  He tilts his head and nods a bit, returning the photo back to its designated spot.

Blaine leads them to the once-shared bedroom, talking all the while down the hall.  “Okay, look.  Let's just get through the initial nostalgia and make it fun.  We lived here, Kurt.  Together.  Let's remember that fondly and maybe I'm not the best person to discuss Oliver with… or maybe anything else that's happening in your life, but you know you can talk to me about it all.  As awkward as it may be to talk about your boyfriend with you, I'll still listen to you and try to give you an unbiased opinion about the guy.”  Blaine brushes his fingers along the footboard; he's clearly still reminiscing.

“Yeah.”  Kurt nods and makes sure his flooding eyes meet Blaine's.  They stare at each other as their world goes still.  “What?”  Kurt smiles, shyly at first but wider when Blaine smirks at him.

“Stop your crying, pretty.  It breaks my heart.”  Blaine sits at the edge of the bed, staring at a mounted, framed picture that sits high on the wall opposite of the bed: the first one they ever took, at the Lima Bean with matching aprons.

“Mmm, sorry.”  Kurt wipes his eyes.  “So, happy thoughts huh?  Do you remember when Jules came upstairs to get the keys and you tortured her without a shirt?”

Blaine laughs and looks at him.  “Poor girl; she loved me.  I'm such a douche.”

“True.”

Blaine gasps as a mockery as he jolts upright again, a grin plastered to his face all the while.  “Excuse you, sir!  You loved the guarded attitude and the ankle bracelet.  Besides, I haven't really been a douche since I told you how much my cock missed you in front of those housewives at the Lima Bean.  That might have been a little disrespectful.”

“Love.”

“Huh?”

“You said I loved those things.  I love them, present tense.” 

“That's my line, baby.”  Blaine grins and winks.  “Anyway, being a douche to those skanks was only punishment for sitting at our table.”  Blaine says with a shrug.  He opens his good arm, hinting that Kurt should come closer.

“Don't mess with my tiny little delinquent.”  Kurt sighs and pushes himself against Blaine's chest again.  “FYI:  The reserved sign is still there.  In case you find that you still may need it.”

Time stops yet again and they can physically feel the love pouring out of any opening on his body. 

Their bodies separate and Blaine continues to their bathroom.  It's clear he is making a point to see every single room again, in search of triggering the happy memories in this apartment instead of lingering within the sad ones. 

Naturally, Kurt follows.  “Okay, okay.  These past few days have been focused on your getting better and, while that's important, I need to know more about you.  Dating?  Boyfriend?”

Blaine takes Kurt's hand and twirls his body so he's standing against the sink and looking into the mirror.  Kurt gasps as Blaine hugs him from behind; squeezing at his waist the best he can with one arm and hooking his chin to his shoulder.  They make eye contact in the mirror. 

“None of the above.  There are no dates and definitely no boyfriends.  There is San Francisco, the Castro.  There are always condoms.  I'm a smart college boy now, pretty.”  Blaine kisses Kurt's cheek and lets go of him.  He walks back down the hall and into the kitchen.  It takes some effort for him to launch himself on the counter one-handed, but he succeeds after only two noble hopping efforts.

Kurt follows.  “So does that mean there's lots of sex?”

“I guess.”  Blaine shrugs; Kurt senses that he hasn't been thoroughly satisfied since they last slept together.  Kurt only knows this because he identifies with the sentiment of sex meaning more than just someone inserting something into another's something.

Kurt laughs; his insides feel warm, like a steaming cup of tea after sledding for hours during a mid-western winter.

“Do you even know how to put a condom on, B?”  Kurt pushes at Blaine's legs so they open enough for him to stand between them.  He places both of his palms at Blaine's identical hipbones.  The magnet is, once again, in full force.  “I mean, we never…”

“Of course I do.  Now.”  Blaine grins.  “When I first moved, I gave this guy the blowjob of his life and it resulted in a very long string of antibiotics.”  He scrunches his nose and continues.  “I felt really dirty and worthless for a long time.  Then I got back out there and sought out what I needed, but this time I brought protection.”

“Um, what are you saying?”

“Gonorrhea, Kurt.  I had Gonorrhea.”

Kurt shrugs.  “Curable and common.  Nothing crazy, considering this new lifestyle in the Castro District, yeah?”

“Hey!  Are you calling me a slut?”  It's a joke; Blaine must know he's a slut already.  He specifically confirmed that there's a fair share of sex.

“No.  Blaine, I just mean… it's good that… that's all you… dammit.”

Blaine laughs.  “It's okay pretty.  I know I'm sort of a whore.  It's gone now, obviously, and I'm a lot more careful now than before.”  Blaine shrugs and plays a bit with the nape of Kurt's neck.  “Can I speak candidly for a minute here?”

“Of course.”  Kurt leans into Blaine's touch.

“We can both fuck around to whatever capacity we feel necessary for now but eventually, that New York guy loses. All those guys in San Francisco don't stand a chance, either.  You know that, don't you?”

“Mmmm.”

“After all is said and done, after all the other guys we fuck and after the STDs and the clingy boyfriends we can't fall in love with, you're the one in bed with me fifty years from now.  We'll be old and wrinkly, laughing about today when we foreshadowed our entire life: broken up but still in each other's lives, come hell or fucking high water, pretty.  There's a long way to right all of our wrongs, to mend our flaws, but we're going to do it because you are the only one I can't live without and I like to think you feel the same way about me.”

Kurt looks up at him, eyes glistening with moisture spilling over at the seams.  He nods slightly; of course he feels the same way.

“I'm probably overstepping every boundary and being totally inappropriate.”

Kurt shakes his head, eager to hear what Blaine has to say.  He moves his hands down and rests them on Blaine's thighs.

“You're it for me, Kurt... you have to know that.  You're the only one in the entire world I can be myself around, the only person in the world I've never lied to, the only one I would ever make my husband if that's what you wanted.  We've been through some shit and came out stronger, and I think these past three years apart just proves that we can survive anything.  If we can survive Christian, surely we can do this?”  He unwraps his hand from the back of Kurt's neck and pushes at his chin to angle Kurt's lips right where he wants them. 

He places a soft, lingering kiss squarely in the center of Kurt's mouth.  When they separate, Blaine makes a show out of not pulling away.  Kurt can feel each exhale as Blaine breathes his air into Kurt's lungs.  Every word of this declaration puffs out more hot air, controlling Kurt until he's paralyzed in the warmth of Blaine's oxygen. 

“I have two people in San Francisco that I actually consider my friends.  It happens that they're dating and they have been for a really long time.  They remind me so much of what we were, almost to where it's painful to go out with them but it's also kind of comforting at the same time because it leaves me with hope.  They've broken up twice and got back together after some time alone, and they're disgustingly in love.  They don't give a shit who the fuck sees it, they're always in their own world and it's actually kind of cute.  I can't help thinking that I want to take you on a double date with them.”  Blaine smiles.  “But I can't, because you're not mine anymore.”

Kurt speaks in a low whisper after a moment of exchanging breath.  “I'm happy you have friends.  I was worried about that.”

“Yeah.  They're cool.  Steve is kind of stereotypical sometimes, but Jimmy evens him out most of the time.  You'd love them.”

“I've made a few new friends that aren't also yours, and it feels weird to not talk about them to you because I remember you don't know them.”

“I'll come to New York.  You can introduce me.”

“You know, after that first year, Santana and Rachel were kind of trying to get me to move on.  An outsider's point of view might have thought it was completely over between us, I guess, so they started suggesting that there were other fish in the sea.”

“But what do you do when in order to find another Kurt Hummel, you need to Christopher Columbus that shit and discover an entirely new ocean?”

“Exactly!  I mean, about you.  You were so much more than just a fish to me, B. You were my whole fucking world, and everything you just said only reiterated it for me.  I mean, you're talking candidly about fifty years from now.  Not everyone in my life can do that and get away with it.”  There is minimal effort required for a new kiss, a kiss as though they are elaborating on what they need to say not through words, but through each shared inhale. 

“If I were your fish, that suggests that there are plenty more of me that you could claim when I leave, and I don't think you feel like that about me, do you?”

“You only get one true love, Blaine Anderson, and you are it for me too.  You're the ocean.”  Their lips meet again; there's so much to say but they have the rest of their lives to speak.  Now is about the kissing.

“I feel exactly the same about you, Kurt Hummel.  I think I needed to get the crazy sexcapades with multiple partners out of my system before we lock it down for the rest of our lives.”  Blaine opens his mouth and bites down on Kurt's lower lip.

“Well, you probably didn't need to do that.”  Kurt smiles.

“Come on, pretty.  I'm in my early twenties.  Of course I needed to do that.”

“Fair enough.”  Kurt nods.  “I'm so happy you get what I'm saying.”

“That was never our problem.”

“It wasn't.”

“You shouldn't judge me for being a slut in San Francisco.”

“I don't!  If I lived in San Francisco at your age, I would do exactly the same thing.  You should go out and hook up with hot guys all the time.”

Blaine pushes Kurt back and jumps down off the counter.   He puts his good arm around his shoulders and pulls him in again, nearly forcing Kurt's head to meet Blaine's shoulder.  “You say the word and I stop all that shit and I come home to you.”

“Promise?”

“On every single thing I am, Kurt.  You just… call me home and I'm on the next flight.”

xK&Bx

Someone leads someone back over to the couch and a half hour of silence goes by with hardly any shifting or movement between the two.  They just need to be connected.

Kurt is gaping at Blaine, his ex-lover, his ex-everything rooted to the cushion next to his.  He can blatantly identify with the feeling of a crossroads of sorts coming soon to turn his world upside down.  He's staring, he knows he's staring, but Blaine is so beautiful and the blame would be irrelevant.  He's lost all care for everyone and everything else in his life; he missed him.  Blaine is home.  And he can't do this without him.

“Kurt.  Babe, we can't be together.  You said just friends.”

“What?  I know that.  What, why did you say that?”

Blaine smiles down at him and kisses him hard on the cheek.  “You're staring.”

“I'm sorry.”  Kurt grins embarrassingly into his hands.  “Let's go back to Dad's.  I'm pretty sure he has a razor you could borrow.”

“Oh, come on!  You love the beard.”

“I think I have actual cuts all over my face from the barbed wire growing out of your chin.”

“Mmmm, so you'd mind if I kissed you again?”

“Haven't you ever kissed anyone with a beard before?  It really hurts!”

“For a hot as hell, grown man… you sure know how to embrace your inner whiny five-year-old.” 

Kurt raises an eyebrow and tries to get up off the couch but Blaine pins him down into a headlock and his lips are a pleasure cruise on high seas, rough and scratchy with every wave taking it in as a plaything.  The coarse hair of Blaine's beard scratches in the most erotic way possible as he dominates the hard peck against Kurt's lips.  He breaks away and gets up, looking exactly like the cat that got the cream. 

Blaine winks and jumps up. 

Before following after Blaine, who can be found stumbling down the stairs, Kurt puts two fingers over his lips and feels the movement of his mouth as he whispers, “fuck.”  He snaps out of it and turns his head in the direction of where Blaine used to be.  “You fucking drive me crazy, Anderson.”  He locks up and checks to make sure that it was successful twice before joining Blaine at the bottom of the stairs.  He rolls his eyes when he sees Blaine's wide grin, splitting his face in half and then in half again.

“You love it.”

Blaine takes it upon himself to retrieve the car keys from Kurt's back pocket.  “So.  Why are you with Oliver if forever isn't a possibility?”

“Back-up plan.”

“You, of all people, do not need one of those.”  Blaine unlocks the doors with the keychain remote and holds the passenger's side door open, clearly in hopes that Kurt will let him drive.  Kurt rolls his eyes and smiles but rushes over to the driver's side of Burt's truck.  The Navigator has officially been retired and the Honda went back to Enterprise as soon as possible; Kurt drives one of the tow trucks when he's home anyway.

Blaine sighs and jumps up into the passenger's seat and puts the key in the ignition to the melody of Kurt's infectious laugh.  Buckling up must be hard to do with a casted right arm, but Kurt can only laugh harder in response to Blaine's grin on his face, finally proof that they are both okay.

Kurt feels so light, it's like he's flying.  He taps his fingers against his leg to the beat of the song on the radio and merges into traffic.

I wanna kiss you every minute, every hour, every day
You got me in a spin but everything is a-okay
Touching you, touching me
Touching you, God you're touching me

They're both belting out the words of the perfect song and cracking up as one tries to outdo the other.  Kurt takes the long way home, whipping into the driveway and pulling the gear into park nearly twenty whole minutes after they leave Main Street. 

xK&Bx

Blaine returns to California for two weeks, under the pretense of midterms but half of that is true.  Sure, Blaine does go back because of his midterms in an effort to not fuck up his final year of college.  There is another reason, though, and this one is a bit more detrimental to his mental health than any other reason on the surface. 

The other reason he goes back to San Francisco is to get away from Kurt for a while.  Blaine hasn't had sex in a few weeks, and to go from sixty to zero was doing something to him that he isn't sure he would have been able to endure.  He really didn't want to get so horny and uncomfortable that he would solicit Kurt and ruin everything once again.

Meaningless sex has become such a major source of survival for Blaine in the years without Kurt and it needs to work the same now.

The Wednesday he returns to San Francisco, the day after his cast is sliced open and left at the doctor's office in Ohio, he rushes through one of his three midterm papers due in a week and deems it good enough to submit early.  He closes his laptop and texts “I'm back” to the two familiar California-based phone numbers in his cell phone and goes to take a shower. 

(He and his friends in San Francisco had been banded together by some crazy force of nature that is general admission seating at a Hanson show at the Fillmore a year and a half ago.  Although they have sworn to never reveal how they met to the outside world, they still laugh about it from time to time; usually when they are entirely drunk off their asses and someone – usually Blaine –   starts singing “Where's The Love”.)

The Café on Market isn't his usual stomping ground, but it's where they decide to meet tonight.  San Francisco is lit up with nightlife and he passes through the crowd.  He leans up against the wall next to the club and lights a cigarette, waiting for Jimmy and Steve to get here.  It's just a matter of time before they're hugging each other, pecking hello on the lips, and heading inside. 

There is drinking and dancing as usual, and even some grinding, but this time doesn't seem to fill the void, the want, the need, the desire to have a stranger under him and rutting until the friction completes the common goal, despite the dry spell he's willingly put himself through.  He sneaks out before midnight, goes home and falls asleep on his own bed with no one next to him.

Jimmy blows up his phone with text messages while Blaine is fast asleep, criticizing the fact that Blaine Anderson actually went home alone for the first time since he'd met him.  He responds with a simple go fuck yourself in the morning and shuffles to the kitchen for the sake of breakfast and coffee.  He dials Kurt's number; he just wants to make sure he's okay and he really can't stop thinking about him in every waking moment.  It's terrifyingly close to the anniversary of Kurt's attack, and it makes Blaine uneasy that he's not there to help in any way he can.

In lieu of a greeting, Kurt says, “I could really get used to you calling me all the time again, B.  What's up?”

“Just woke up.  Miss you.”

“I miss you.  I loved having you here.  Coming home soon, I hope?  Thanksgiving?”

Blaine wants to tell him all about last night; how he wasn't in the mood for hooking up because he couldn't get Kurt's gorgeous face out of his mind, how he could have had his pick of at least ten guys and he wound up leaving early and alone.  His brain begs his mouth to reveal the chants of Kurt's name whispered between his lips on the cusp of riding out a self-inflicted orgasm, how he only comes as hard as he does when he says Kurt's name to whatever stranger is below him on any given night.  He wants to say that he can only have sex with a guy if he pretends it's true love, if he pretends the slut next to him is Kurt.

He wants to tell him details about the friends he's made, the people completely unrelated or connected to Kurt.  He wants Kurt to tell him everything that's happened since they said goodbye two and a half days ago.

Instead, Blaine listens to Kurt hum a tune he doesn't recognize.  Blaine sighs.

“I miss you, pretty.  So much.”

“Blaine?  You said that already.  Are you okay?  Where are you?”

“Fine, I'm good.  In my kitchen.  I'm going to look at flights today.  I have to figure that out before they're a billion dollars.”

“Email the info and I'll pick you up… unless, of course, you're bringing one of your playboys home to meet the parents.  Then you're on your own and I'll see you at the house but I'll have you know that Burt is infamous for intimidation-based first impressions on the boyfriends; don't you remember?  Consider yourself warned that Burt will rip your new boy toy apart until he's shredded on the porch.”

“Haha.”  Blaine says, but with no conviction.  “Very funny… but Kurt?  I don't do boyfriends.”

“You did me…”

Blaine barks out a laugh.  “Mmmm, I sure did.”

“You've probably done somebody else's boyfriend.”

“You can't blame me if they don't tell me they have boyfriends, Hummel.”

Kurt huffs.  “Blaine, are you sure you're okay?  Do I need to come beat someone up?”

“I'm fine.  I just…” Blaine sighs.  “I'm good.  I'm feeling uneasy, not being there with you right now.  Are you okay?  It's not fair I had to leave you right before Thanksgiving.  Why do I need college, again?”

“At this point, because you're almost done with it.  Anyway, I'm okay.”  There's a beat.  “He's not going to get me.”

“That doesn't mean your nightmares will stop.  I hate that you're alone right now.”

Kurt laughs.  “I love you.”  Then,  “what are you doing tonight, stud?”

“I am going to live out the fabulous, single life in San Francisco by doing homework until I fall asleep drooling on my laptop.”

“Blaine.”

“What?  It's a perfectly acceptable night for anyone who is currently in college.”

“I'm fine, B.  I promise.”

“The sooner I go finish these papers, the sooner I can come home.  I'll see you in a few days, okay?  Love you, baby.”  He hangs up abruptly and pops a K-Cup into the coffee maker, going on with his strict routine.  He sits at the island to eat his self-prepared breakfast and stares at the phone, dark and lonely.  “God dammit, Kurt Hummel.”

He gets through the day by concentrating on any piece of schoolwork he can, and keeping Kurt as far out of his mind as possible.  Before he knows it, he's been blackmailed into going out and it's nine o'clock in the evening as he's spritzing cologne at each pulse point despite his honest attempt to stay out of the clubs.  Steve swears he'll come over and drag him out of the house if he doesn't see him at The Café by eleven.

He greets his usual suspects at ten-thirty and proceeds to the bar, vocalizing a clear plan to load himself up with the alcohol he suddenly needs to get through tonight.  Blaine's penis wins over his heart tonight as an unnamed prospect trails his fingertips at the small of Blaine's back, enticing him to turn around and appreciate his assets.  The bartender delivers his beer and they wordlessly find a spot on the dance floor. 

Blaine feels the music in his bones and the boy's hand rubbing against his half-hard cock.  He brushes a piece of hair off of the boy's forehead and realizes that he has enough of a resemblance to Kurt for him to thoroughly enjoy this.  That's the only detail that decides it, really, so they dance more intensely than before and the boy gives him a light mark on his neck, silently offering up his services as soon as he's ready to get out of here.  That was easy. 

“Come on.”  Blaine nips at the boy's ear and takes his hand, leading him out of the throbbing club and into the street.  Blaine drapes his arm around him and leads him around the corner to his house. 

The foreplay is, as usual, limited.  They fuck immediately, Blaine taking dominance over this nameless albeit admittedly gorgeous man underneath him.  He thrusts in and out ruthlessly, destroying Faux Kurt's tight hole as if he's the first one who's ever been granted access.  He very well might have been.  He comes quickly, thinking entirely of Kurt's face in the midst of the most compromising positions.  He catches his breath, still inside the boy, and laughs weakly.  He rolls off and spreads out and over his partner for a few minutes.  Eventually, Blaine turns his head to check him out and smiles.  “Thanks, babe.”  He gets up and starts the shower.  He peels off the condom and ties it off, hoping this guy gets the hint to leave.  He needs to scrub extra hard tonight.

He hears footsteps on the stairs and lets out a breath, stepping into the shower.  He washes every part of his body thoroughly and twice, just to be sure.

xK&Bx

The night of Thanksgiving is spent so perfectly, one might think it was rehearsed prior to the gathering.  Kurt observes his family's dynamic with Blaine flawlessly infused into it, and fully approves of the addition.  Kurt's never, not once, challenged the possibility of Blaine's love for him not being real, even toward the end of the relationship.  Seeing him in the midst of his family activities though, he can comparatively doubt Oliver's true intentions of being accepted into his family one day; he simply doesn't want it the way Blaine does.  Blaine doesn't even have to try; he's just a Hummel now.

Of course, there is a sense of an incomplete experience without his mother or Finn at any holiday, let alone one where its tradition correlates directly with giving thanks for the people and things that make life exceptional. 

He leans back, resting his head on the backside of the couch.  Closing his eyes, he takes his glass of wine cautiously to his lips, inhales, and sips.  It's delicious, of course – Blaine brought it from California after slipping a “gorgeous girl with boobs” at the security gate a fifty-dollar bill to let it go through as one of his carry-on pieces.  He savors the taste of it and holds it in his mouth before swallowing, tasting the hint of sugar and grapes all the way to the pit of his stomach.  Apparently he has an audience because when he opens his eyes, Blaine is frozen to his spot at the end of the stairs, Monopoly board loosely hanging from his hand with his jaw slack.  Kurt blinks his eyes to open wide and unconsciously bites his lip, maintaining the intense eye contact with his ex-lover.  He tilts his head as an invitation and when Blaine moves to approach him, dropping the board game on the love seat en route, Kurt can't help but make a space directly next to him entirely empty so Blaine can occupy his personal bubble completely for as long as he feels necessary.

“Having fun torturing me?”

Kurt sings his favorite Coldplay lyrics.  “Oh, I never meant to do you harm.”

Blaine knocks his shoulder with Kurt's and whispers through his smile.  “I want to do you.”

Kurt laughs and holds his stomach in discomfort.  “Oh my God, Blaine.”

“Sorry.  Shut up.”

“Make me.” Kurt sways his head to both sides using just his neck, teasing Blaine and everything he is. 

Blaine chews his bottom lip and blinks.  He glances behind them toward the kitchen where Carole and Burt disappeared to the kitchen for the pumpkin chocolate tiramisu in the fridge.  He leans in slowly, stopping inches from Kurt's face to silently check in with him, to make sure everything is okay. 

Kurt's slight nod invigorates Blaine and he continues until their lips are as one.  There's no movement but Kurt's hands falling to his lap with his wine glass; there's nothing but a feeling of drowning in love, in the lack of breath, taken completely by another man.

Burt's adamant laugh pulls them apart, bright blushes on their cheeks and the general inability to look at each other.

“About time, boys.  Oh Kurt, by the way, your boyfriend's on the phone.”