Day 039: Thursday 25th October, 2012
Philadelphia, Redux (Kentucky)

"What about Elizabethtown?"

"Isn't that supposed to be super depressing?"

"I think it's actually pretty funny. That's what the reviews said, anyway..."



"Holy hell," Kurt panted, collapsing back against the pillows on his side of the bed. He let out a breathless laugh, the back of his hand drifting over the expanse of Blaine's chest and keeping slow time with the mellow Nouvelle Vague song playing in the background. Up until five seconds ago, he hadn't even remembered that music was playing. "If this were a movie, I'd be smoking a cigarette right now."

Blaine hummed under his breath, eyes slipping closed as he said, "Don't say anything. Just bask."

Smiling lazily, Kurt let his gaze drift toward the ceiling and concentrated on getting his labored breathing under control. It felt like the only thing he could control anymore, but the curious thing was that it wasn't bothering him as much as he would have expected.

The moment he'd decided to give himself over to Blaine in Memphis, standing at Elvis' grave of all places, things had begun to fall into place. It was as if not just a single brick had become displaced from the intangible but undeniable wall between them—no, this time it was as if they had both taken a sledgehammer to the foundations of the entire construct, and were building something new, something the likes of which Kurt had never known. He had already noticed a shift in both their moods, and how free they had suddenly become with one another. Like we used to be, he thought, only now we're more. And if we can't be everything, at least we're more.

They didn't come close to speaking about the myriad intricacies of exactly what was happening between them, and Kurt found himself inwardly breathing a heavy sigh of relief every time Blaine looked at him as if he wanted to say something and then, at the last moment, thought better of it. If either of them were to put this under a microscope and examine it, everything would be ruined. He would be weighed, measured, and found wanting—and so, in turn, Blaine would no longer want him.

"I believe, Mr. Hummel, you promised to show me a good time tonight," Blaine finally said, his words punctuated by the stretch of his arms up over his head, a motion which Kurt followed with tired eyes.

"Forgive me, Mr. Anderson, but if what just happened isn't a good time," Kurt began, shifting closer and capturing Blaine's mouth in a firm kiss, "then I don't know what is."

"Come on, Kurt. You know exactly what I'm talking about," Blaine said, eyes shining even in the dim evening light.

"Hmm... Nope, can't say that I do," Kurt replied, unable to hold back the grin creeping its way along the curve of his mouth.

"I have ways and means of making you talk, you know," Blaine said slowly, and before Kurt had the chance to put up a fight, Blaine had rolled them over so that he was straddling Kurt's thighs. The thin sheet covering them slipped away as Blaine leaned forward and took Kurt's wrists in his hands, stretching his arms up above his head and holding them there. Their faces were mere inches apart, Blaine's warm breath fanning over Kurt's slightly parted lips, and Blaine simply stayed there.

When Kurt craned upwards to kiss him, Blaine pulled away, eyes still locked on Kurt's. It stirred the puddle of fiery want in his belly again and he let out a sound somewhere between a whimper and a groan.

"Okay, fine, you win," he acquiesced, and when Blaine did nothing more than blink down at him, he wriggled a little in his grasp. "What, do you want it in writing?"

"No, I just didn't think you'd cave so soon. I had a strategy," Blaine said, and loosened his grip.

"Oh, a strategy," Kurt repeated, sitting up as Blaine climbed off him. "And what did this strategy involve?"

"Mostly tickling you until you begged for mercy."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Wouldn't I?" Blaine challenged, leveling him with a fervent look.

Kurt sighed, inwardly admitting defeat. He sat up and swung his legs off the mattress, bending down in search of his underwear, and asked, "So what kind of good time are you looking for?"

There was quiet for a moment, and then the mattress dipped behind him and he felt the skin of Blaine's bare chest pressing against his back and strong arms wrapping around his shoulders. Blaine pressed a kiss just behind his ear, and announced, "You're taking me dancing."

"I am, huh?" Kurt asked, and leaned back into Blaine, letting his eyes slip closed for a brief moment.

"Yep. Bar Complex; it's downtown," Blaine said, and abruptly, the warmth of his body was gone as he clambered off the bed once again and walked around to the wardrobes. Kurt tilted his head and watched as Blaine pulled on a fresh pair of underwear, feeling oddly voyeuristic but not troubled by it as he would have been—and, admittedly, frequently was—at the beginning of their trip.

Blaine caught him looking, and shook his ass from side to side with a smirk. Kurt let out a bark of laughter and finally pulled himself together enough to join him, bumping Blaine's hip with his own. Separating himself from Blaine by opening one of the mirrored doors to begin pulling outfit options, behind the safe barrier of wood and glass, he mouthed the words to the chorus of the song still playing quietly by their messy, rumpled bed.

Oh, give me the words, give me the words that tell me nothing...



By the time they got to The Bar, the dance floor had only just opened, but it was already heaving with people. Kurt immediately took Blaine by the hand and led him through the crowd, their pace matching the heavy, pulsing beat of the song that was playing. It was winding up as he found them a spot and turned to Blaine, hands slipping to his waist and pulling him close.

Just for a moment, Kurt let himself get lost in it; his eyes drifted closed and Blaine was pressed against him from chest to thigh. Just for a moment, everything slowed: the ghostly drag of Blaine's fingertips along Kurt's arms as he moved them to rest atop his shoulders; the rise and fall of Blaine's chest against his, only thin layers of steel gray and blood red separating them; the sensation of something slotting into place as Blaine gripped his hips and brushed his lips over Kurt's collarbone. Just for a moment, he let himself belong to Blaine completely.

He was grateful when the moment passed, the intensity of it close to overwhelming until he pulled himself together enough to shake his head and let himself focus on moving with Blaine to the beat of the next song, one that he immediately recognized from his early teens. Judging by Blaine's grin as he wrapped his arms around Kurt's waist and rocked him from side to side in a parody of a slow dance at high school prom, he recognized it, too.

Feeling bold—certainly bolder than he had within the confines of the R.V., at least—Kurt pointed at Blaine and mouthed along with the last line of the chorus: It just won't do without you.

"Where have I heard this before?" Blaine asked, raising his voice over the music.

"David's party, freshman year of high school," Kurt said, close to his ear. "Remember when you were so excited that he invited you because you had that huge crush on him?"

"I didn't—Kurt, I hadn't even come out in freshman year!"

"Didn't stop you from spending that entire party mooning at him from across his basement, though."

"No, there's no way that actually happened," Blaine insisted, shaking his head. He spun Kurt to face out into the crush of bodies around them and pulled him back, one arm wrapped around his waist and the other around his chest. Momentarily, Kurt flashed on another club like this one, dancing with Blaine in front of a neon equalizer and words falling out of his mouth quicker than he could register. Bending his knees a little, he leaned back into Blaine and rested his head on his shoulder.

"You're remembering it all wrong! You had that huge crush on him because he had, and I quote, 'the best smile.'"

"I didn't have a crush on him, Kurt—I had a crush on you."

Abruptly, Kurt turned in Blaine's arms and stared him down, not believing him for a second. "That's not funny."

"Wasn't meant to be," Blaine replied.

"You didn't even know if I was gay!"

"What? Of course I did. Don't you remember what I told you when you came out to me? That I'd known since I was thirteen and Burt let slip about the shoes?"

"But you—you learned guitar so you could take over Wes' spot in the jazz band after he graduated! I thought it—wasn't it just an excuse to spend more time with David?"

Blaine shook his head, his expression growing more serious by the second, and Kurt couldn't hold his gaze any longer. The last line between them was still a fine one and he had to walk it carefully: instead of letting the overwhelm chase him away from Blaine and this uneven foundation of theirs, he consumed it, letting it run through him like a current. He dropped his eyes to the front of Blaine's shirt, the pastel shades of flashing neon lights casting the crimson fabric in every color there was.

"I learned guitar because you wouldn't stop talking about how awesome guitarists were. I thought you liked Wes and I wanted to make you like me instead," Blaine said, "and look how well that worked out. I still lost out to Brandon Flowers and Adam Levine, those assholes."

Like air rushing in to fill the void of a vacuum, the tension broke and Kurt burst into laughter, burying his face in Blaine's shoulder to keep from doubling over.

"So what did this crush of yours involve?" he asked when he finally got ahold of himself.

"We were fourteen, Kurt," Blaine said, rolling his eyes.

"So? Tell me."

"Mainly, um..." Blaine trailed off, and Kurt looked at him expectantly. "Mainly taking you out for ice cream, holding hands with you... You know, all that cutesy teenage stuff."

"Back when you were still wearing your Ninja Turtles shirts?" Kurt asked wryly.

"You know I'd still be wearing those if it wasn't for your big intervention sophomore year," Blaine said, grinning at the memory.

"Please, those shirts wouldn't fit you now. Unless you were trying to look like a rent boy, of course," Kurt mused, running his hands over the breadth of Blaine's shoulders and trying to find the skinny, awkward little teenage boy he remembered beneath the muscle and flesh. He was still there, somewhere, buried far below the bravado and fa�ade, and while Kurt didn't particularly miss being that young and confused all the time, he missed how simple things used to be between them.

Yet still he couldn't refrain from taking this new thing, having it and keeping it and not thinking about the date stamp printed indelibly through them both, through every look and touch and kiss. It felt too much like something he'd been waiting to discover his entire life.

"What, you don't like that look?" Blaine teased, eliciting a fresh round of giggles from Kurt.

"Well, I guess I could be persuaded," he replied, trailing his hands down to Blaine's waist and tugging on his belt loops. "God, look at us. Look at you. We grew up."

"We did."

"And now we have this."

"And this," Blaine began, punctuating with a firm, fleeting kiss, "is much better than ice cream."

Wrapping his arms tightly around Blaine's neck, Kurt returned the kiss almost forcefully, all open mouth and dipping tongue, his teeth nipping at Blaine's bottom lip and leaving impressions of himself behind. The heat in the club was almost stifling and sweat was beading at his temples, but he pulled them deeper into the crowd. Later, when they were danced out and he'd let Blaine get him hard and drive him crazy with want, he'd take Blaine by the hand and lead him out of the club and back to the R.V. They'd shed layers of clothing and modesty alike, and from the first touch to the last second before Kurt succumbed to sleep, he would once again, for that brief time, let himself belong to Blaine completely.

And as one song faded into the next, beats seamlessly flowing together and the lights pulsing in time, bodies packed tight around them, Kurt reminded himself of what he'd been thinking earlier that very evening, lying spent in bed next to Blaine.

If we can't be everything, at least we're more.



Distance: 4,936 miles