Chazzam
Dec. 17, 2012, 1:22 p.m.
Midnight Confessions: Chapter 14
E - Words: 2,800 - Last Updated: Dec 17, 2012 Story: Complete - Chapters: 21/21 - Created: Dec 06, 2012 - Updated: Apr 13, 2022 784 0 0 0 0
Monday, 4:30p.m. - 8:02p.m.
Kentucky and Indiana
It took a few hours for the intense rush of everything to mellow into something manageable, but the songs on the radio grew slower and the stretches between conversation became longer and a measure of calm became inevitable.
The robbery had changed absolutely everything. But so had the fact that they had money now – only just shy of $600, true – but it would be enough to at least get them to the border. And now they were together, outside of frenzied passion and near-catatonic fear. They were together, and Blaine was leaving Dave, really leaving Dave to be with Kurt and start some mystery of a new life together if they could manage to avoid getting arrested or killed.
And forty-eight hours earlier Kurt had been serving drinks at Songbirds and hoping that Dave would let Blaine leave the city for a few days.
Blaine glanced over at Kurt shyly, which would have made Kurt laugh, given the fact that Blaine's face had been in his lap just a few hours earlier, if he hadn't been looking back with a similar expression on his own face.
“Come here,” Kurt said quietly, taking his right hand off the steering wheel and lifting his arm so that he could wrap it around Blaine's shoulders. Blaine ducked and smiled, his cheeks beautifully scarlet.
“Okay,” he agreed, leaning over and resting his head on Kurt's shoulder.
“This is still kind of weird,” Blaine said after a moment.
“Oh?” Kurt asked nervously.
“Yeah. Not in a bad way, god, but – I never thought you'd go for someone like me.”
“What do you mean, someone like you?”
Blaine sighed. “I don't know. Someone...boring? Insecure? Clingy?”
Kurt tightened his arm around Blaine. “Oh my god, Blaine, you are none of those things. Well, insecure, maybe, but that just makes you more real. You're exactly my type. You're sweet and kind and funny and thoughtful and strong.”
“I am not str–”
“Shut up, Blaine, don't you dare insult my taste in men. You also happen to be devastatingly sexy, in case you still haven't figured that out.”
Blaine tilted his head to place a kiss on Kurt's shoulder. “So are you, you know.”
Kurt hummed. “I suppose. But I honestly never thought I'd be your type.”
“What? Kurt, that's insane.”
“Is it?” Kurt asked, raising his eyebrows. “Look at my bases for comparison: Dave, Puck, that guy Jeremy that you hooked up with freshman year–”
“None of those guys could hold a candle to you, Kurt,” Blaine said vehemently.
Kurt grinned. “Well. Perhaps not. But I thought you only liked big, muscle-bound, straight-acting jocks. You can't blame me for thinking you wouldn't be interested in me.”
Blaine frowned. “You knew I was attracted to you, though. You had to know that.”
“I did. In college, anyway, I did...I just suppose I didn't think I was the kind of guy you would...you know...” Kurt trailed off.
“What, Kurt?” Blaine prodded gently.
“I just didn't think I was the kind of guy you'd want to bring home to your parents. You know how your father is about gay men that flaunt their sexuality, after all.”
Blaine was silent for a moment. “I wish I could say you were completely wrong,” he finally said, his voice soft and sad. “And honestly, if I'd known that being with you was really a viable option I would have happily told my dad to fuck off if it meant I could be with you. But...god, they were so happy when I brought Dave home, you know? It's like the next best thing to a straight son was a son who could at least pass for straight, and I just...” Blaine sighed. “It was the first time I ever really felt like he was proud of me. Like he might really be okay with me. I...I used to wonder if that was the real reason I got married to Dave in the end.”
“Was it?” Kurt asked, rubbing his hand softly up and down Blaine's bicep.
“That was definitely at least part of it. God, Kurt, why do you even want me? I'm a mess.”
“You're the best mess I've ever seen,” Kurt murmured. Blaine laughed softly and cuddled up closer to Kurt.
The blare of a deafening horn made them both jolt. Blaine looked up to see an 18-wheeler just ahead of them. The driver reached his hand out and waved for them to pass.
“Oh, thank god,” Kurt muttered. “I thought we were going to be stuck behind that guy forever.”
“See, Kurt?” Blaine chided. “You don't give people enough credit. He's being really gracious.”
Kurt rolled his eyes but didn't argue, managing to move his arm to shift gears without disrupting Blaine’s head on his shoulder.
“Hey!” The driver called out as they passed him. He was sporting a ginger mullet and a short but ill-kept beard, and was looking down at them with something very much like disgust.
“You ladies want to keep that shit to the bedroom?” The man yelled at them. “There are people with kids on these roads, you know!”
Blaine stared up at the man incredulously, rage stirring in his gut.
“Just ignore him,” Kurt muttered, looking resolutely ahead as he sped up. The truck sped up as well to remain abreast of them.
“I ought to do the world a favor, run you fags off the road!” The man spat, and yeah, his words were definitely a bit slurred. Kurt gripped the steering wheel tightly. A thin guardrail separated the Camaro from a steep, rocky cliff, and this man definitely seemed both drunk and crazy enough to do exactly what he was threatening to do.
“You are a horrible person!” Blaine yelled up at him as Kurt swerved, avoiding the truck as it swayed dangerously close to them.
“Don't pretend you're not gagging for it, pervert!” The man yelled, as Kurt navigated them past the truck, the driver blaring his horn behind them. His insults slowly faded as Kurt put as much distance as possible between them.
“What the fuck was his problem?” Blaine raged. “We weren't even doing anything, not that it should have mattered if we were. What does he think is going to happen if some kids see you with your fucking arm around me?”
“I know,” Kurt said calmly. “But...don't yell at guys like that, Blaine, it isn't safe.”
Blaine laughed bitterly. “Kurt, have you actually been here the past couple of days, or was that just a very convincing stunt double? Nothing we're doing is safe!”
“I know, Blaine,” Kurt snapped. “But I just...” Kurt sighed, his voice softening considerably. “If we end up run off the road by some angry, drunken redneck homophobe, then what's the point of all this? What's the point of even trying?”
“Kurt...” Blaine said, pulling Kurt's arm back around him. “I just...I can't stand someone being that disgusted with the most beautiful thing that's ever happened to me. Not now. Not today.”
“Blaine,” Kurt replied gently, “I didn't like hearing it either, but he's just some pathetic neanderthal. He can't touch us or what we have, okay? No one can.”
Blaine reached his hand up to lace his fingers together with Kurt's. “I'm so lucky that you love me,” he murmured.
“You're not the only lucky one,” Kurt responded, pressing a kiss into Blaine's curls.
~000~
“Thank god you packed an entire pharmacy worth of personal hygiene products,” Blaine muttered, accepting another pre-moistened towelette from Kurt as they both attempted to freshen up under the dim lights of a dingy rest stop bathroom. They had decided that another motel simply wasn't worth the money or the risk, making this the closest thing to a nighttime skincare routine that either of them could manage.
“Thank you,” Kurt said, tossing a toner-soaked cotton ball into the trash and opening a small tub of moisturizer. “Now you never get to make fun of me for it again.”
“I don't make fun,” Blaine defended with a pout. “I...tease. With love.”
Kurt smiled, catching Blaine's eye in the mirror. “I know,” he said with a fond smile.
Blaine leaned in and kissed Kurt, his skin smelling of toner and faded sunscreen.
“Blaine, I think you should call Dave,” Kurt murmured against his lips.
Blaine pulled back sharply, fixing Kurt with a horrified look. “What? Why? I told you, Kurt, I'm not leaving you. I have nothing left to say to that man.”
“I just want you to find out if he knows anything,” Kurt explained calmly. “If he does, you need to hang up as soon as possible. Because if he knows anything, that means the police have told him what's happening and they're planning to trace the call.”
“Trace the call? Kurt, it's a prepaid phone,” Blaine protested, watching Kurt smooth rosemary-scented lotion across his face.
“You think an untraceable phone exists, Blaine?” Kurt asked, finishing up in front of the mirror and gathering his toiletries into a cloth pouch. “We're talking about armed robbery and murder one, here. I think it's a good idea to find out exactly how much trouble we're in.”
“Murder one? We can't even say it was self defense?” Blaine asked incredulously as they headed back toward the car.
“Well, it wasn't,” Kurt reminded him. “We were walking away.”
“But they don't need to know that!” Blaine protested. “It was just you and me there. I'll say...I'll say he raped me and you had to shoot him. I mean, that really is almost the truth, Kurt.”
“It won't work,” Kurt said firmly, shaking his head.
“Why not? If we just say–”
“Because there's no physical evidence,” Kurt interrupted. We can't prove that he did it. By now, we probably can't even prove that he touched you at all.”
Blaine swallowed. “I...wow. I hadn't even thought of that.” Blaine tried to ignore the jolt of panic that was racing through him. He had known it would be bad if they got caught, but he hadn't allowed himself to realize just how bad. If they got life in prison, there was no way anyone would let them share a cell. And that would only be if they got life instead of the death penalty.
No. Getting caught was absolutely not an option.
“How do you know so much about this anyway?” Blaine asked, looking at Kurt curiously.
“Besides, how are we going to explain the robbery?” Kurt continued, ignoring Blaine's question. “There's no such thing as justifiable robbery.”
Blaine rolled his eyes. “Okay, Kurt. But we needed the money. What else were we going to do?”
“I'm not complaining, Blaine, I'm just saying it complicates things.”
Kurt placed his bag of toiletries in the backseat and pulled the phone out of his messenger bag.
“All right, now if you think he knows, if you even have the slightest suspicion, I want you to hang up,” Kurt said, holding the phone out to Blaine.
“I know, I know,” Blaine answered with a sigh, eying the phone with distaste. “Well, here goes nothing, I suppose.”
Blaine chewed on his lip as the phone began to ring, hoping very much that it would go directly to voicemail so he could avoid the confrontation entirely.
“Hello?” came Dave's voice, his tone unreadable.
“Dave, it's me,” Blaine said.
“Blaine! Baby, I'm so happy to hear from you!” Dave exclaimed, his voice hearty and warm.
Blaine disconnected the call. “He knows,” he said, turning to Kurt.
“Shit!” Kurt hissed, kicking a rock across the dirt parking lot.
~000~
“I need more time,” Sandy said, looking up from his laptop.
Santana glared at Dave pointedly, her arms folded across her chest.
“What?” Dave demanded. “All I said was hello!”
Santana sighed and rubbed her temples, fighting off her growing headache. She was about to share some precisely worded thoughts about just how badly Mr. David Karofsky had fucked things up for them, when his phone rang again.
“Hello?” Dave answered quickly on the first ring.
“Dave, it's Kurt. Let me talk to the police.”
“Kurt, hi!” Dave enthused.
“Let me speak with the police, Dave,” Kurt repeated, enunciating each word carefully.
“What – uh, what are you talking about? There are no police here,” Dave said, trying and failing to convey shock at the mere idea . “Hey – where are you boys, anyway?” He asked, smiling at Santana slyly and shooting her a conspiratorial wink.
“Dave, will you just let me speak to whoever's in charge there? Please?” The irritation was rising in Kurt's voice.
“How do you know there–”
Dave was cut short as Santana reached out and snatched the phone from his hand.
“Hello, Mr. Hummel? I'm investigator Santana Lopez, Pennsylvania state police. How are you?” Santana asked breezily.
“Well, I've been better,” Kurt answered with a small, bitter laugh, as he began pacing around the small dirt parking lot.
“I really hope you boys are being careful with that gun,” she said, because she'd been wanting to say it for at least twenty-four hours.
“Yes, ma'am, I know,” Kurt replied softly.
“You two are in some hot water, but I imagine you already figured that out. Are you both OK? Neither one of you are hurt?”
“Yes, we're fine,” Kurt said. “We're both....” he paused, his eyes lingering on the bruises still visible on Blaine's face. “We're both fine,” he forced himself to finish.
Blaine gave Kurt a small, tentative smile from where he sat perched on the hood of the car, and lit a cigarette. It was still so strange to see Blaine smoke. When we get to Canada I'm quitting, Kurt thought. When we get to Canada we're both going chem-free and getting lots of fucking therapy.
Kurt paused in front of Blaine and leaned in, taking a deep drag from between Blaine's fingers. Because they sure as shit weren't in Canada yet.
“Well, I'm glad that you're both all right. You want to tell me what happened?” Santana asked briskly.
“Sure, over coffee sometime,” Kurt said, taking another drag when Blaine held the cigarette out to him. “I'll buy.”
“I want you to know, neither one of you are charged with murder yet,” Santana told Kurt, as she began pacing around Dave's living room. “You're just still wanted for questioning. Although now, Mr. Karofsky-Anderson is wanted in Kentucky for armed robbery.”
Kurt paused his pacing, giving Blaine a pointed look. Accurately guessing what Kurt was being told, Blaine suppressed a smirk.
“No kidding. Look, we've got to go. I'll call you back, all right?”
Sandy motioned frantically for Santana to keep Kurt on the line. “Mr. Hummel, I don't think you two are going to make it to Canada,” Santana said abruptly.
Kurt came to a complete stop, almost dropping the phone.
“We should talk,” Santana continued. “Please,” she added, an edge of desperation in her voice, “I want to help you.”
Kurt disconnected the call quickly.
“Shit,” Kurt muttered. “Shit. That Puck is a little shit!”
Blaine eyed Kurt uneasily. “What? Kurt, what is it?”
Kurt walked over to the car and stood in front of Blaine, who was still sitting on the hood.
“Blaine, I'm not...I'm not angry at you, okay?” Kurt began, taking Blaine's hand. “I just want you to answer something for me.”
“OK,” Blaine said, watching Kurt cautiously.
“Do you have any idea how they might have known we're going to Canada? You didn't – you didn't tell that thieving little opportunistic bitch where we were going, did you?”
Blaine cleared his throat and glanced away before steeling himself to meet Kurt's eyes. “I...um...I'm not sure I believe you about not being angry with me.”
Kurt sighed. “Fine. I'm angry. Blaine, how could you?”
Blaine's gaze fell to his feet. “I just...I just asked him if he'd ever been, if he maybe had any advice about where to go – I didn't tell him, I didn't think–”
“No, Blaine, you didn't think,” Kurt agreed, fighting the burning desire to have a proper meltdown about this. “Fuck!”
“Kurt, I'm sorry,” Blaine said miserably, his head hanging.
Kurt slid onto the hood of the car beside Blaine, letting go of Blaine's hand just long enough to cuddle him close.
“Blaine, it's just – up until now, we had two things going for us; No one knew where we were and no one knew where we're going. Now one of those things is gone, and that's going to make everything a lot more difficult. You just – I know you didn't mean to, I get that, and I love how you still always seem to see the best in everyone despite everything you've been through, but you just – you need to really think before you talk to people. You need to stop being so open, all right? We're fugitives now. We've got to start acting like it.”
Blaine nodded emphatically in agreement. “You're right. You are completely, one hundred percent right.”
Kurt couldn't help but crack a smile at that. “I love you, Blaine. We're in this together until the end, OK? I just – I don't want the end to be either of us dead or behind bars. If anything happened to you–”
'I know,” Blaine murmured, pulling Kurt closer. “I'm sorry.” Kurt gave him a gentle squeeze and a kiss on his cheek.
They sat on the hood of the car together and waited for the sun to finish setting.