Chapter Twenty-Three: Blackbird
TPD: Original Song-A Night of Neglect

It constantly surprised Blaine how natural he felt around Kurt. He was halfway to cuddling his boyfriend's nerves away before their duet, and Blaine was professional about this sort of thing to a fault. He never would have done that before. Maybe he felt too much too fast, but he was definitely, definitely falling hard for Kurt.

It scared him.

What was going to happen when Kurt found out? Sure, his chest was normal, and Kurt was happy to stop at the touch of the fingertips now, but not always. What was going to happen when Kurt felt comfortable enough to just touch Blaine whenever and wherever he liked? Would the still-there slight curve to his torso be noticeable? Would his slightly larger pelvis draw notice? Would Kurt press too close and wonder why nothing was between Blaine's legs? Would it even occur to him?

Everything evaporated when they hit the stage and he met Kurt's eyes. Blaine felt so happy with Kurt looking at him, shy, maybe a little punch-drunk. Kurt was broadcasting bashful heart-eyes, and Blaine was the one who made him feel like that.

When Kurt threw himself into Blaine's arms at the ovation, he knew he would do anything to keep this.

That night, he went on the internet again. He knew he could find something cheaper than surgery and more realistic than a rolled up sock, and he did. For about an hour, he compared prices and reviews and then used the prepaid credit card he'd bought to buy a packer. It had some kind of scary attachment that sent the dysphoria simultaneously flaring and going out in his chest. It wouldn't be too bad, though. He'd figure it out and then he could stand while he used the bathroom. He'd always been afraid to use the bathroom while other guys were in because the sound was different. He didn't care if they thought he was a shy pee-er or if he was dropping the kids off at the pool, but he really didn't want anyone to know he sat to pee. So now he wouldn't. Maybe if it looked real enough, he'd consider using a urinal.

That night he dreamt of Kurt. He dreamed that they were older, married, had adopted a boy and girl, and were living in New York. Not the actual city, but the suburbs just beyond where they could have a green fenced-in yard. He dreamed that they were making love and woke up in tears because in the dream, he'd been cisgendered, and suddenly the dream felt like a taunt. He was never going to have that.

Well, fine. Maybe Kurt would leave him. Maybe he wouldn't. But right now, they were together and Kurt was hopefully too in love to notice the way Blaine angled his hips away from their hugs until the mail delivered... his package.

Anyway, he soon had bigger things to worry about. Kurt's old school was having a performance and Kurt had asked him to go. It was in the evening, so Blaine was going to have to wear something besides his Dalton uniform. That meant he was dressing to impress a boy, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd done that. Worse, he thought maybe the last time he'd done that might have involved a dress. He pushed the memory of school dances and bloody borrowed formal wear to the back of his mind.

He didn't have a lot to choose from, so he just picked out his favorite ones, mixed them up, and tried not to think about it. If he convinced himself he looked like James Bond, it would all work out fine.

They went to dinner at Breadstix and talked about what the Warblers were going to do now that they weren't going on to Nationals. He remembered the feeling of their hands folded together the day before when they buried Pavarotti, when he saw firsthand how deeply Kurt could love something most people wouldn't have cared about. Blaine wondered if he was like Pavarotti. The more he thought about it, the more he felt like that little bird. People didn't mind him around, even liked the songs he sang, but they liked him in a cage where they could easily throw a blanket over him when he was getting too annoying or acting too different. He couldn't picture most people crying over their Warbler dying. Kurt had barely known Pavarotti, and he had sung a song for him. He'd decorated a coffin for him, cried when they buried him.

When they walked out of the restaurant, Blaine was twice as in love as he'd been when they walked in. At this rate, they'd have to stop spending time together or he was simply going to explode.

They ran into Karofsky, and for a second Blaine was scared. Then he did something he never pictured himself doing: he hit the bully. Shoved him. Blaine was ready for an all-out fight. After all, what was the boxing for if not to protect those he cared about? Sure, Karofsky probably wasn't going to really attack them, but Blaine wasn't taking any chances. Not with Kurt.

He was spared the brutalities when Santana cut in. He was grateful. Willing as he was to fight, he didn't really want to.

The show started out rough and then got better. Not just because they were holding hands behind the wall of that pseudo-balcony. It was such a good night until Santana pulled him away from Kurt.

"Okay, Warbler spy," she began in a tone that was simultaneously terrifying and disinterested. "Let me make one thing clear to you. Kurt is very important to those of us here at McKinley. We gave him to you, yes, but that was for him. Whether you're making him happy or the change of scenery, I'm still not one hundred percent clear, but if I find out you-"

"Spare me the theatrics," Blaine cut in confidently. "If I hurt him in any way, you have my full permission to go all Lima Heights Adjacent on me. But I won't. I think- I'm pretty sure- I love him."

This threw her, but she was straight back to her serious threatening demeanor a moment later. "Good. But remember- razor blades. All up in there." She gestured to her hair as she backed away and he couldn't hide the small smile. It was nice to know that someone at McKinley cared that much about Kurt. He'd been worried that no one did. After all, Kurt had to transfer to Dalton to feel safe.

He fell into bed so, so happy.

Unfortunately he woke up a few hours later completely miserable. This time, he'd dreamt of Kurt finding out and leaving, and then of Santana coming after him.