Day 017: Wednesday 3rd October, 2012
Peak and Shatter (Pennsylvania)

"How about Philadelphia? It was one of the suggested additional movies to watch in Gay and Lesbian Studies, but I never got around to it."

"I didn't know you took Gay and Lesbian Studies."

"A lot happened while you were gone, Blaine."



It was surprising just how much distance could be put between two people inside a confined space. When that distance was filled to the roof with overly-bright small talk that left not a single moment for silence, it became as the walls of a fortress, impenetrable and impassable, with no d�tente in sight.

Since their lost moment in the HMag penthouse, it seemed that Kurt was doing all he could possibly think of to act like everything was normal between them, when everything was as far from normal as it could be. To Blaine, it only felt like salt in the wound. In walking away from him, Kurt had made it perfectly clear that he didn't want Blaine like Blaine wanted him, and that was fine. It was more than fine: it was great, and absolutely for the best. Blaine had been expecting some awkwardness, some avoidance, and some dancing around the issue.

What he hadn't been expecting was Kurt to start acting like some maniac on acid, filling every single minute of their first day in Philadelphia with every possible thing he could apparently think of to do. They'd spent a few hours walking around the city, starting at the Random Tea & Curiosity Shop on 4th, then stopping to see the Liberty Bell and Dream Garden before catching a bus out to West Philadelphia to visit the Please Touch Museum, where they had ridden the carousel two horses apart.

By the time they had made it back to the R.V., Blaine was so exhausted that it was all he could do to shower before collapsing into bed, only noticing as he was finally drifting into the warm clutches of sleep that all of the lights in the rest of the vehicle were turned off and Kurt hadn't slid in next to him.

Blaine had found him early the next morning, sipping coffee at the kitchen counter while he scrolled emails on his phone, any traces of his having slept on the pull-out couch already tucked away. Kurt had smiled at him like everything was fine, and sure, it was all just peachy. Honestly, though, Blaine was just pissed. He'd let his imagination run away with him yet again, and not only did it result in a sharp sting delivered directly to his heart, it had almost put his entire friendship with Kurt on the line. It was just a stupid crush, and he needed to get over it for both their sakes—and if he'd done it at fourteen, he could do it at twenty-two.

Both feeling the need for a more relaxed pace than the almost farcical nature of their previous day, they had settled onto the couch with only a few words exchanged, and watched Philadelphia. The anger that had been knotted up inside Blaine's stomach only roiled more the further into the movie they got, and he could tell that Kurt was experiencing something similar by the way he immediately got up afterwards and went outside for some fresh air, despite their being parked in another Walmart lot.

When he'd come back, Kurt had driven them out to Longwood Gardens, where they had spent a while in a more companionable silence than they had shared in over a week. Finally, they'd delved into a complete deconstruction of the movie, debating issues upon which they'd long since established their stances to one another, but going over it all again anyway.

And now, on the way back to the Walmart with no real plans for what to do with their evening, Blaine could feel that the edge had worn off. The silence had morphed back into something comfortable rather than awkward, the radio station playing Springsteen and the sun dipping below the horizon in their wake.

Until his phone trilled in the cup holder, and he saw the name flashing on the display: Dad.

Blaine had every intention of ignoring it, reasoning that he was driving and would just call his dad back later, even though he knew he wouldn't. And then Kurt, who was sitting with the laptop in the chair behind the cab, asked innocuously, "Aren't you gonna get that?"

With a sigh, Blaine swiped his thumb across the screen and raised the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

"Blaine, hi. I was expecting your voicemail," his dad said, and his cheerful tone already had Blaine feeling prickly. "I just wanted to let you know that I won't have to work this weekend after all. The Nix case settled out of court like we were hoping, so we'll have a couple days of real father-son time. I thought I could show you around D.C., how's that sound?"

"Sounds great, Dad," Blaine said, his teeth gritted and heart sinking. He'd been hoping to just get away with an evening at most. "Though you remember I have Kurt with me, right? So it won't just be father-son time."

"No, I know. Kurt's always welcome, you know that. And actually, I wanted to ask you about sleeping arrangements, because Alison's got two of the guest rooms all set up for you, or you can both stay in one if you'd—"

"We'll be staying in the R.V.," Blaine interrupted, and he tried not to feel the immediate regret at his harsh tone too keenly, adding, "I'm sorry Alison went to all that trouble."

"Well... You know your stepmom; it was no trouble at all. And the driveway's plenty big enough—"

"Dad, I'm driving so I should probably..."

"Right, of course, safety first. I'm—I'm excited to see you, Blaine."

"You too."

"Okay, I'll see you Saturday. Love you, son."

Blaine paused, the words almost spilling from his mouth automatically, but he bit them back. "Bye, Dad."

Silence descended again, lasting the remaining ten minutes it took him to get them back to the Walmart lot, and no sooner had Blaine cut the engine than he was out of the cab. He took a deep, gulping breath of the fresh night air and leaned against the sun-warmed metal of the R.V., waiting until the churning in his gut subsided. Everywhere he turned there was tension, thick as the fog that rolled in off the ocean on cold mornings back in Maine, and it was threatening to overwhelm him if he didn't just do something, already. He needed to decompress, he just didn't know how, and that was what got to him more than anything.

"I'd tell you to go smoke a cigarette, but I think we both know how that'd turn out," Kurt said, leaning out of the open driver's side door. "You okay?"

"He's just so... Fucking oblivious, acting like we're best friends," Blaine spat. "Ugh. I just... I need to get laid."

"Well, yeah," Kurt said, climbing out of the cab and standing in front of Blaine with his hands in the pockets of his sinfully tight jeans. "So why don't you?"

"Can we not have this conversation again?"

"You brought it up. Blaine, I'm serious, you don't know what you're missing. And I've seen the way you look at—" Kurt stopped, cutting himself short, and didn't seem quite able to meet Blaine's eyes. Oh, if only he'd just finish that sentence... "I've seen the way you look at some people. Is this some sort of internalized homophobia thing, are you ashamed, is that it?"

"No, I'm not ashamed. I'm out and proud, you know that."

"Well, sure, but it's not like you ever act on it. You're not a robot, I mean... If that movie taught us anything, it's that life's too fucking short. Everyone has needs, Blaine."

"And 'needs' are what got you kicked out of that bar when we were here the last time," Blaine spat, and Kurt's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that, you know I wouldn't ever judge you for..."

"For getting around."

"Kurt, I'm just... Look, sex complicates everything. Okay? I've seen it. I've lived it," Blaine said, the old guilt coming back to haunt him with a vengeance, and dammit, he thought he'd put all this shit behind him once and for all. "Sex is the reason that my entire family got ripped apart, and I don't—I can't—it was my fault, it was all my fault—"

"Blaine, hey—Blaine, look at me," Kurt cut him off, both hands cupping his face and gently but firmly forcing Blaine to meet his eyes. "None of what happened between your parents—no, let me fucking finish. None of it was your fault, you have to know that. I'm sorry. Blaine, I'm sorry. Look... Okay, this is what we're gonna do. We're going to go back into the city, find the first bar we can, and get absolutely wasted."

"Since when did that ever solve anything?" Blaine asked, though the argument was weak. A night outside his head actually sounded pretty good. He sighed and covered Kurt's hands with his own, not wanting to lose the comforting touch just yet. "Okay. Okay, let's do it. What's the worst that could happen, right?"



"Ugh. I can't believe I had to get all dressed up in the parking lot of a fucking Walmart," Kurt griped as they stood outside the famous Woody's Bar, surrounded by students and edging gradually closer to the front of the line. They were close enough to hear the music pounding from inside, something fast-paced and frenetic.

Blaine swept appraising eyes over Kurt's outfit; a slim-fit pair of black dress slacks belted just above the hip paired with a deep purple shirt, sleeves rolled at the elbow, and a scooped-out black vest. The only accessory he wore was his black leather cuff, and it set off the rest of the ensemble perfectly. "You look great," he said into Kurt's ear, his voice low. You look gorgeous, fantastic, breathtaking. "Me, on the other hand..."

"Please, you look hot," Kurt waved him off. Taking in his own short-sleeved white shirt, black skinny tie and teal jeans, Blaine reminded himself that he wasn't there to pick up guys anyway. He was there to dance, to let himself loosen up and breathe.

When they reached the front of the line, they paid their $10 cover and went inside. The music was loud and got inside Blaine's head immediately, and he drummed his fingers on the bar as they waited for their beers.

He lost Kurt to the crowd after four drinks and about half an hour of close-but-not-too-close dancing, and he was fine with being on his own, even though he spent a couple of songs here and there dancing with a few attractive but ultimately uninteresting strangers. The longer the evening wore on, the more relaxed and pliant he felt. Kurt had been right: this was exactly what he needed.

Arms raised up over his head as he swayed his hips amongst the crush of bodies in front of the giant equalizer lit up on the wall, Blaine grinned when the crowd cheered at the next song, and the atmosphere changed almost immediately. The crowd seemed to slow and speed up at the same time, couples moving against one another while the rest bounced along with the unrelentingly fast pace and looked around to find a partner—with its pounding beat and dirty bass line, this was a song made for grinding.

Blaine wasn't surprised when he felt a warm body pressing into his back, fingertips dragging down the length of his raised arms, and he reveled in the contact, leaning into the touch and chasing for more. Bodies were packed tight around him, the beat pulsing through them, and he felt as if all of them were there simply to bear witness. He couldn't hear the moan he let out when he felt a mouth sucking and nipping at his neck but he felt it rumble up from deep in his chest, vibrating throughout his entire body. The stranger was pressed against him from head to toe and Blaine ground back in time with the beat. Arms wound tightly around him—the right all the way around his middle and the left a palm tight against his chest—and he reached back to bury his hand in the stranger's soft, thick hair, pulling him closer because the way he was worshipping Blaine's neck with his mouth was addictive in its filth.

Blaine opened his eyes and glanced down at the stranger's hands as they began loosening his tie and working open the buttons of his shirt, and just for a moment, he froze. As the song blended seamlessly through to a quieter, more intimate sounding song Blaine thought was called Midnight City, the lights came up only to drop straight back down. In the sudden flash, he caught the most fleeting glance of a black leather cuff wrapped around the stranger's pale wrist, the sleeve of a purple shirt rolled to the elbow.

"Dance with me, Blaine, come on," Kurt said, the words cutting straight through the light beer haze that fogged Blaine's mind. He let out another moan as Kurt traced his tongue along the outer shell of his ear and nipped at the lobe, and couldn't help melting back into Kurt's body. "Been watching you all night; everyone has. You're so fucking hot..."

Kurt wrapped himself around Blaine completely, seemingly oblivious to everything that wasn't the feeling of Blaine's body against his own. He nudged Blaine's thighs apart, taking almost all of his weight and swaying them from side to side in time with the sudden and insane beat of the chorus.

"I want you so fucking badly; you don't even know how much. God, they've all been watching you and wanting a piece of you, but you're mine. You're mine..."

Eyes closed and lips bitten to the quick, Blaine ground down onto Kurt's thigh, tightening his grip on Kurt's hair to keep him there, keep him doing exactly this because this was... This was...

It wasn't enough. Maybe there would never be enough. But there was only one way to tell, and Kurt had moved from his ear down to his neck, still muttering words into his skin that Blaine could no longer hear, only feel the shapes of. Somewhere in his mind it dimly registered that Kurt was hard against him, moaning into the hollow of his neck with hot breath that smelled like whiskey. And it really, really wasn't enough—Blaine wanted, felt buoyed up with the confidence to not only demand but to take and have and keep it all locked inside some warm and secret place.

Already aching with need and anticipation, he turned around and looked deep into Kurt's eyes, thumbing over Kurt's cheekbone and then taking him by the hand.

Getting back to the R.V.—thankfully parked just up the street—was a blur of shivers in the considerably cooler night air, rushed footsteps and Kurt's arm around his waist, teeth nipping at his earlobe every so often. It took almost everything he had to keep from pushing Kurt into a doorway and having his way, right there where anybody could see.

When Kurt finally stepped into his space in the privacy of the R.V.'s bedroom, his stare deep and searching, Blaine said nothing. Didn't even blink, just yanked his tie over his head and went to work on the buttons of his shirt. Kurt followed the motion with his pupils blown and a flick of his tongue that made him look ravenous. He hooked two fingers into Blaine's belt and pulled him past the mile-sized inches left between them, replacing Blaine's fumbling hands with his own, strong and sure, and that was what bridged the final gap in Blaine's synapses. He was wanted, and it was Kurt that wanted him—a weight was finally lifted from his shoulders and he let himself fall back onto the bed, Kurt following in the next heartbeat.

He hovered over Blaine for a moment, breathing hard as he pushed the shirt from Blaine's shoulders, and there was a single, suspended moment where he just stared at Blaine's parted lips, and then leaned down, down, past Blaine's mouth and sucked hard onto his pulse point.

Seconds passed that felt slower than molasses, the ringing in Blaine's ears still holding remnants of the beats to which they'd danced and touched and lost themselves. One moment, Kurt was all he could feel, all around him, and in the next moment there was no warm and firm body pinning him; instead there were hands divesting him of his jeans and underwear in one quick sweep and tossing them over the side of the bed.

Heavily, Kurt dropped to his knees and slid his arms under Blaine's thighs, thumbs hooking around and pressing into his hipbones as he gripped Blaine's sides and yanked him to the edge of the bed. Blaine swore he could feel the slightest stutter in Kurt's pulse against his skin just before Kurt licked up the underside of his cock and sank his mouth over the head, his eyes locked on Blaine's.

"God, your mouth," he breathed, descending into a moan at Kurt's ensuing dark chuckle, followed by the quick raking sound of a zipper being undone. Wet heat surrounded him and it was all Blaine could do to hold back from tumbling and disappearing inside of it all, nothing about it measured or patient, instead the inevitable boiling point of a gradually heating pot. It was too much, and he could feel the movement of Kurt's arm against his leg as he jerked himself off in tandem with working Blaine over like he was made for it. The thought only drove Blaine even further lost, spiraling down into the fuzzy insanity and tingling warmth that he could feel torpidly crawling up from the base of his spine.

Blaine pulled at Kurt's hair when he felt himself getting closer, tugged harder and harder to let him know, because he couldn't say his name. He couldn't let those four letters slip from his mouth because then this would become something real, something that with all of the facets of his inebriated state, he was so much less than equipped to deal with. Kurt shook his head slightly, humming around him with his fingernails digging painfully into the back of Blaine's hip, and Blaine jolted upwards with a cut-off groan.

He threw an arm across his eyes and pressed, pressed until yellow ink blossomed behind his eyelids like oil on water and he came harder than he ever had in his life, crying out and digging his fingers into the mattress. Kurt took it all, working him through it with his own muffled moan of arrival, until finally he pulled off with a lewd pop and dropped his forehead to rest on the inside of Blaine's thigh, warm breath fanning over the sensitive skin there.

"Fuck," Blaine managed as Kurt stood, already tucking himself back into his boxer briefs but leaving his pants undone. His lips were the color of a kiss they hadn't shared. Blaine sat up and forward, hooking his fingers beneath the vest that Kurt still wore, and pulled limply. "Come here."

"Blaine, I—"

"Just come here."

Tentatively and without meeting Blaine's eyes, Kurt climbed onto the bed and they crawled up the length of it together. Lying down, Kurt pressed his damp forehead against Blaine's neck, brushed a single kiss against his collarbone and exhaled shakily.

They were silent, and minutes was all it took for Kurt to fall asleep. Blaine wasn't as lucky, staring up at the ceiling until the edges of his vision blurred, and eventually he switched off the bedside lamp, wondering if he'd find answers swathed in darkness instead.

He didn't.



Distance: 1,323 miles