Remind Me to Forget
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Remind Me to Forget: Chapter 15


T - Words: 4,931 - Last Updated: May 29, 2017
Story: Closed - Chapters: 35/? - Created: Feb 24, 2014 - Updated: Feb 24, 2014
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Author's Notes:

Im still in awe from all the reads and reviews; thanks to every one of you for your support! Thanks to my wonderful betas slayerkitty and jessicamdawn for their run-throughs and discussions as well :)

Remind Me to Forget

 

Chapter 15

 

The final bell rings and Blaine rubs his eyes, and takes his time packing his bag. He's not anxious to join the rush in the hallway, especially since he'd be heading further into the building rather than toward the main doors. Moments later he exits the room, heads across the mostly empty hallway to join Sam at his locker.

 

“Ready for Glee?” Blaine starts the conversation, preempts the ‘are you okay' he knows Sam's itching to ask after he'd flinched crossing the hall.

 

There's a pause, and then Sam replies, “You know it.” Sam closes his locker and Blaine falls into step as they head toward the music room.

 

“At least we don't have Nationals practice today.” Blaine smiles. “Tina'll be happy. We get a little break.”

 

Sam laughs as they enter the choir room.

 

“What's so funny?”

 

Blaine turns at Unique's question. “Nothing really. I just figured Tina would be happy since we only have regular Glee today.”

 

“I –” Sam ducks his head and laughs some more before he manages to control his breathing. “Sorry. I was just imagining Tina's face.”

 

“Don't let her hear that.” Unique pauses as she takes a seat in the front row. “Or at least change your phrasing. Nobody wants to hear that you were laughing because of their face.”

 

“Right.” Sam takes a seat next to Blaine, leans over him to face Unique. “Any other advice for me today?”

 

“No, you've met your limit of Tips from Unique; you'll have to survive on your own for the rest of the day.”

 

Blaine nudges Sam's shoulder. “Are you done getting your tips? Or should we switch seats?”

 

“Well –”

 

“Alright guys!” Mr. Schue's arrival interrupts Sam's reply. “We've had some amazing performances this week; every song was meaningful to the performer and we could feel that, even if we don't know why. I know today's performers will be the same as we finish the week. So without further ado, Sam! You're up!”

 

Sam stands with a smile and moves to the center of the room. Blaine sets his phone to record and the music starts moments later, Sam's voice ringing with sincerity. Blaine sits back and smiles; he'd forgotten how emotive Sam could sing when the situation warranted it. He wouldn't have chosen a Bruno Mars song for his friend, but Sam had obviously practiced, despite his comments days before. The song ends to applause minutes later and Blaine taps his phone before placing it back in his pocket.

 

“So that's why you wanted a recording.” Blaine comments as Sam returns to his seat beside him.

 

“It was a good performance.”

 

“Right.” Blaine's voice carries his skepticism. “No way you came up with that in two days.”

 

Sam offers a small smile. “Who said I only thought of it two days ago?”

 

“But on Wednesday you said –”

 

“ –and our last performer of the week, Blaine Anderson!” Mr. Schue's announcement interrupts Blaine's reply.

 

“Explain later,” Blaine hastily mutters the comment before moving to the front of the room. It's only as he passes by Mr. Schue and sees the concern in his eyes that it hits him: he's singing today. He's singing a song that speaks to him, a song he can relate to, in front of a group of people who already look at him like he's moments away from breaking.

 

Blaine shakes his head slightly, pushes the thoughts away. He's tired, but he's not going to break: he's done running. He takes his seat at the piano, closes his eyes, and begins.

 

He tunes out the whispers as he plays, keeps his eyes closed and focuses instead on the chords in his memory. He hears his voice catch and forces it to return to strength on the chorus, loses himself in the performance.

 

The last note fades minutes later and Blaine raises his hands from the keys. He's met with silence from his fellow Glee Club members, concerned looks and worry replacing the usual applause. Blaine rises from the piano bench, returning to his seat with a tight lipped smile.

 

“So how long did you have that song planned?” Blaine questions Sam as he leans back into his seat.

 

“Huh?” Sam faces Blaine, leans closer. “Are you okay? That was –”

 

“A song that fit the assignment,” Blaine finishes for Sam, not giving him the chance to voice the obvious question. “But really. When I Was Your Man? You planned that.”

 

Sam blinks and then the concern fades to an impish smirk. “I know some amazing women.”

 

“I'm pretty sure you sang it to just one,” Blaine teases, internally sighing in relief at Sam's acceptance of the change in topic.

 

“Maybe I did.” Sam's reply is whispered, and Blaine wonders if Sam meant for him to hear the words.

 

“Well,” Blaine startles at Mr. Schue's clap moments later, his spine hitting the plastic back of the chair in his surprise, “we've had some powerful performances today, and I think this week has been one of the strongest Glee's had this year. Thanks for your work, guys. Let's just run through Nationals – music only – and then you all can start to enjoy your weekend.” Mr. Schue ends with a smile, and Blaine absently wonders if the choir director is proud of the cliché speech.

 

He stands with the rest of the Glee Club (but without his fellow performers' groans of annoyance) and takes a breath as accompanists prepare for the routine.

 

At least there's a break from dancing.

 

-*-*-*-

 

Kurt absently skips the song on his iPod and takes another sip of his coffee, wincing at the temperature. He enjoys his mochas; he enjoys them more when they don't scald his tongue. He sets the cup down with a sigh and readjusts his ear buds before pulling his phone from his pocket.

 

Text message from Kurt:


Burned my tongue :(

 

Text message from Blaine:

 

I'm withholding my first thought to that comment ;)

 

Kurt laughs at Blaine's response, shaking his head. It's nice to flirt – even via text –the mundane action soothes the anxiousness that creeps when he thinks of everything Blaine's going through. Some days Blaine laughs and flirts and sends Kurt surprise presents in the mail and Kurt can smile freely; others, Kurt remembers why Blaine isn't living at his own parents' house, sees the shadows under Blaine's eyes, hears the fear in his voice.

 

Kurt absently shakes his head, intentionally dismissing the worries.

 

Text message from Kurt:

 

I thought you were a gentleman

 

Text message from Blaine:

 

I am! But I'm also a gentleman with an amazingly hot fiancé

 

Text message from Kurt:

 

Amazingly hot?

 

Text message from Blaine:

 

Fishing for compliments?  

 

Text message from Blaine:

 

You don't need to – you're beautiful, and I don't know how I got lucky enough to find you so early, but I'm the luckiest man in the world :)

 

Kurt can't suppress his grin, knows his cheeks are tinted dark but can't bring himself to care.

 

Text message from Kurt:

 

And you claim you're not romantic…

 

Text message from Blaine:

 

I wasn't! I didn't have the proper motivation yet ;)

 

Text message from Kurt:

 

You're incorrigible

 

Text message from Blaine:

 

I thought I was the one in AP English?

 

Text message from Kurt:

 

You are; I've already graduated from that class, remember?

 

Kurt pauses after sending the message, takes another sip of his coffee before he sighs and taps out another.

 

Text message from Kurt:

 

…I'm not distracting you from homework, am I?

 

Text message from Blaine:

 

Not this Friday ;)

 

Kurt frowns slightly at the vague words even as he relaxes, knowing he's not taking Blaine's focus away from school work, even if it is technically the weekend.

 

Text message from Kurt:

 

I'm glad – you deserve to relax ;)

 

Text message from Kurt:

 

Mr. Schue even cancelled Nationals rehearsal today, right?

 

Text message from Blaine:

 

He did – I'm going to the house for the piano though…

 

Kurt pauses after reading the text, hand hovering over this phone. He doesn't like thinking about Blaine in his parents' house, even though he knows the Andersons aren't there. Kurt takes another sip of his coffee, reminds himself that Blaine's practiced at the house before (countless times, actually) – worry is irrational.

 

Unfortunately, it's also persistent.

 

Text message from Kurt:

 

I thought you were going to relax

 

Text message from Blaine:

 

I need the practice

 

Text message from Blaine:

 

Piano is relaxing :)

 

Kurt's frown turns into a laugh with the arrival of the second text, and he shakes his head.

 

Text message from Kurt:

 

Piano is relaxing? Weren't you begging for a distraction the other afternoon?

 

Text message from Blaine:

 

I wouldn't say I was begging…

 

Text message from Blaine:

 

And regardless of how relaxing something is, any distraction is welcome after several hours :p

 

Text message from Kurt:

 

I'll be sure to keep that in mind the next time I know you're rehearsing

 

Text message from Kurt:

 

…are you going to practice for hours? Because it's Friday, Blaine

 

Text message from Blaine:

 

And now that song is stuck in my head

 

It takes a moment, but when he catches the reference Kurt huffs a laugh. Moments later he's humming.

 

Text message from Kurt:

 

Mine too. And don't think I didn't notice that you avoided the question

 

Text message from Blaine:

 

I'll practice until I'm confident for Nationals ;)

 

Kurt shakes his head even as fondness sweeps over him. He finishes his coffee and taps out a reply.

 

Text message from Kurt:

 

I suppose that's the best I can hope for…

 

Text message from Kurt:

 

Don't work too hard! Weekends are supposed to be fun and you can't talk to me if you're sleeping <3

 

Kurt jumps when his phone rings moments later, skidding slightly on the table. He turns off his music and gathers his empty coffee cup before picking up his bag and standing.

 

“Hey Dad.”

 

-*-*-*-

 

The door closes behind Blaine, the quiet click sounding disproportionally loud in the silent house. Blaine adjusts the strap of his bag on his shoulder as he turns, heads for the hallway with a barely perceptible skip when he passes the staircase. Moments later he sets his bag down next the piano before pulling a warm-up book from inside the bench. With Nationals in just three weeks, Blaine can't afford any additional mishaps, and while the keyboard at the Hudson-Hummels did have all eighty-eight keys, it couldn't replace the feel of a piano – which he'd be playing in California.

 

He has practiced here since moving in to Kurt's old home – if he's been coming here more often since he realized the keyboard bothered Carole, well that was his own prerogative – but this is his first return since the performance Sunday. Blaine mentally plans – he can't afford to get side tracked. He rolls his neck and stretches his hands with a sigh, ignores the unease brought on by being in the empty house. Shaking his head, he takes his seat, sets his phone by the highest C key and opens the book to a series of scales embellished with trills. He plays them until the progression is smooth; his fingers crossing and stretching with ease. With a slight smile he takes the book from the ledge, setting it aside. He takes a breath and rests his hands on the keys; then, with a determination settling on his shoulders, he begins to play.

 

Time passes and despite Kurt's worries, Blaine does relax, the notes flowing as he goes through the songs. He takes a break, getting a glass of water and setting it on the lower end of the piano, wonders what it says about him when he deliberately forgoes a coaster just to spite memories of his parents.

 

He plays through the Nationals pieces, and after getting through the second piece without any errors he sits back with a smile, picks up his phone and dials.

 

“Hi. Are you done practicing?” Kurt's light voice makes Blaine's grin widen.

 

“I'm done with Nationals. But,” Blaine pauses, and when he continues his voice is teasing, “we have another concert soon, and I was hoping you'd be willing to be my duet partner.”

 

“Blaine,” Kurt laughs. “I might be talented, but not even I can sing a duet in a concert from New York.”

 

“Oh!” Blaine laughs and shakes his head before remembering that Kurt can't see him. “I didn't mean then. I was thinking you could practice with me now? Over the phone…”

 

“I hope your phone's speakers aren't too distorting.”

 

“So you'll do it?” The words come out in a rush, Blaine almost merging them all in his haste to reply.

 

“When have I ever turned down a duet with you?”

 

Warmth blooms in Blaine chest and he's smiling as he pulls the phone away to set it to speaker.

 

“– even know this song you want me to sing?” The latter part of Kurt's sentence has Blaine shaking his head.

 

“Is Kurt Hummel admitting I know songs he doesn't?”

 

“Didn't we have a conversation about your sense of humor?”

 

“Mm.” Blaine laughs. “But don't worry – you know the song.” With careful hands Blaine sets his phone back on the ledge before retaking his seat on the piano bench. “Here we go.”

 

Blaine plays the opening chords, ignores the intake of breath from the line. He closes his eyes, sings through the first verse - Measuring days in the spaces between our goodbyes – and fights to keep his voice steady when Kurt joins in for the chorus.

 

Kurt takes the next verse without hesitation, the two of them in sync even via the phone. Blaine continues to play, relishing in the sound of Kurt's singing. The speaker does distort the sound some, but Blaine's fiancé is talented, and the notes are beautiful in spite of it.

 

“– I want only to stay where the farthest you are is a heartbeat away.” The echo of words, Kurt's voice clear and bright, has Blaine's hands slipping on the keys in a discordant mash of sound before he spins so his back is to them.

 

Kurt stands in the doorway.

 

Blaine is frozen. Absently he notes that his mouth is open, gaping in shock. Kurt steps forward in the ensuing silence, waves his phone.

 

“I was going to just surprise you while you were playing, but when you called to ask if I wanted to sing…well, I couldn't resist. It was too perfect. For a second I worried you'd somehow found out I was here.”

 

The comment snaps Blaine out of his shock and he scrambles to stand, crosses the room in quick, hurried strides. He pulls Kurt in for a too-tight hug, feels a previously unnoticed tension lift when he rests his head on Kurt's shoulder and breathes in his cologne.

 

Moments later, Blaine pulls back enough to look Kurt in the eye, keeps his arms around Kurt's waist.

 

“Hi.”

 

“Hello.” Kurt smiles, and the arms around Blaine's shoulders tighten.

 

“What – How?” Blaine pauses, takes a breath. “Kurt,” Blaine has to pause again, bask in the pleasure of saying Kurt's name face to face, “Kurt not that I'm complaining, but how are you here?”

 

“Well,” Kurt smirks, “I got on this thing called a plane…”

 

Blaine shakes his head. “Kurt.” Blaine draws out the name, overemphasizes the vowel even as he gives his best pleading look.

 

Kurt rolls his eyes. “Did you really think I'd forget?” A pause and his eyes go soft. “Happy Birthday, Blaine.”

 

“My birthday's not til Wednesday.”

 

“Oh, is it? In that case,” Kurt moves his arms and starts to take a half-hearted step back, “I guess I'd better go back to New York…”

 

“No!” Blaine's voice is firm despite Kurt's teasing. “You're stuck now,” he takes half a step forward, gives Kurt a kiss. “Aren't you supposed to be nice to people on their birthday?”

 

“Mm.” Kurt mumbles, “But it's not your birthday yet. Besides,” Kurt gives Blaine a playful glare, “that wasn't a very convincing kiss.”

 

Blaine takes the comment as the hint that it is, leans forward again. By the time they separate they're both a bit breathless, and Blaine notes that Kurt's cheeks are a lovely shade of pink.

 

“Better?”

 

“If you have to ask…” Kurt trails off, ending the sentence with a small laugh. “Sorry,” he shakes his head, “I've missed you.”

 

Blaine swallows back the emotion rising at the words, blinks before responding. “I missed you, too.” The thought has Blaine frowning, elation fading. “How long are you here?”

 

“I fly back Monday morning.” Kurt gives Blaine a warm smile. “I can afford to miss one class, so you've got me for two whole days.”

 

Elation returns; Kurt's staying the whole weekend. “I think,” Blaine moves and runs his hand over the ring Kurt wears, “that you're stuck with me longer than two days.”

 

“Is that so?” Kurt glances around the room before he reaches out and takes Blaine's hand, leads him around the room. “It's a good thing it's lovely, then,” Kurt comments with a nod to his ring. “Although,” Blaine smiles when Kurt rubs his thumb over their clasped hands, “it seems a bit one sided.” The backs of Blaine's knees hit the piano bench and he sinks down at Kurt's unvoiced prompting.

 

“Kurt, what –”

 

“Shh.” Kurt grins before sliding to his knees. “Just…just listen, okay? I don't have show choirs or rose petals.” Kurt gives a slightly nervous laugh. “I don't even have a song, unless you count my surprise entrance earlier. But,” Kurt reaches into his pocket and Blaine's breath leaves him when he sees the small box in Kurt's hand, “I do love you, Blaine Devon Anderson, and as much as I love showing the world that I'm yours, I want the world to know you're mine, too. We're in this together, after all.” Kurt pauses, takes a breath even as Blaine still struggles to find his own. “So,” Kurt flips the box open, revealing a twin to the ring Blaine had picked out months before. “It's just us, and this is me, asking you a question: Will you marry me?”

 

Blaine's off the stool in seconds, collapsing into Kurt's arms.

 

“Yes, yes, yes.” The word is a litany, falling from Blaine's lips in an unending stream. Kurt slides the ring onto Blaine's finger and then Blaine can't stop himself from leaning forward, stealing salty kisses.

 

-*-*-*-

 

“Blaine,” Kurt sighs and starts to lean back for the fifth time before giving in with a sigh and stealing another kiss. “No. Blaine, Blaine.” Kurt pulls back and stands. “Sorry,” Kurt gives an apologetic shrug and offers Blaine a hand, “but Dad and Carole are expecting us for dinner at some point.”

 

“You talked to your dad and Carole?”

 

Kurt shakes his head at Blaine's question, gives him a teasing smile. “Someone had to pick me up from the airport.”

 

“The airport…” Blaine's sentence trails off before he gives Kurt a startled look. “When did you get here?”

 

“Not too long ago, promise.” Kurt's tone turns teasing, “Why do you think I was so curious about if you were practicing?”

 

“You were here then?” Kurt lets out a small laugh at Blaine's words.

 

“There's a reason I texted you instead of calling.”

 

“You! You –” Blaine sputters and Kurt can't hold in his laughter, allows Blaine to tug him close with a pull of his hand. The ensuing kiss can barely be called such, Kurt's unwavering smile preventing more than the barest brush of lips.

 

“It wouldn't have been much of a surprise if you'd heard flight announcements over the phone.”

 

“No,” Blaine leans back and Kurt lowers his eyes to meet his gaze, “that would have been hard to explain.”

 

Kurt hums in agreement and squeezes Blaine's hand. “I like giving surprises.” He smiles and then gently leads Blaine back toward the piano, picking up the bag there and ignoring Blaine's attempts to grab it himself. “Now, though, we have to get back to my house.”

 

“I didn't know we were on a schedule – didn't you say weekends were for relaxing?”

 

Kurt smiles at Blaine's teasing tone even as they head for the hall. “Yes. But we can't relax if Dad and Carole are constantly calling because they're holding dinner.” Kurt pauses and pulls his phone from his pocket, jokingly waves it in front of Blaine. “And you know Dad would call – he wants his dinner and he'd want to know where we are.”

 

“I'm not going to win this, am I.” Blaine comments with a sigh, getting his own phone from the piano. “I just,” Blaine cuts himself off and Kurt tightens his grip on his hand, waits for him to gather his thoughts. “I guess I still can't believe you're really here.” Blaine gives a small smile and Kurt's breath catches. “Part of me thinks that as soon as I step out the door you'll vanish.”

 

Kurt stops, pulls Blaine in to a hug before stepping back and moving to catch Blaine's hands in his own. “Look,” Kurt raises Blaine's left hand, tilts it until the newly given ring catches the light, “that's real. It's yours; you'll still be wearing it when you leave this house, you'll have it when you go to sleep tonight.” Kurt pauses and then his voice turns teasing. “You'll have it Monday too – for all of Glee to see…unless you plan on keeping it at home?”

 

Blaine's shaking his head as soon as Kurt finishes his sentence. “I'll never take it off; I want everyone to know.”

 

Kurt feels himself blushing and ducks his head before gathering his thoughts and managing a reply. “Right answer.”

 

Blaine smiles and Kurt resumes leading them out of the room, content.

 

“I meant it, you know.” Blaine's statement has Kurt turning to glance at him. “It's perfect,” Blaine continues, swinging his left hand and Kurt's along with it, “I'll always think of you when I see it.”

 

Kurt smiles even as his hand gives Blaine's a brief squeeze. “Hm. Mine always reminds me of you, too,” he adds with a quick glance to his left hand. “It's comforting.”

 

“I'm glad.” Blaine's warm tone has Kurt blinking rapidly, swallowing back emotion even as Blaine continues. “Something to remind you of me in the big city.”

 

Kurt quirks a smile, “Of course. I'd be liable to forget you otherwise.” Blaine laughs and Kurt aches with happiness brought on from the evidence of how he and Blaine have grown: a year ago the comment would have held hints of worry, rife with tension. Now, the humor rings true.

 

“– put on a ring on it.” Blaine's words startle Kurt from his reverie and have him shaking his head in fond exasperation.

 

“You're never going to get tired of using that lyric, are you?” Kurt keeps his voice light, teasing.

 

They exit the house, and Kurt watches as Blaine fishes his keys from his pocket before giving a shrug. “It fits.” Blaine pauses as he locks the door and then turns back to face Kurt, smiling. “Besides, Beyoncé is queen and you can't argue with that.”

 

“Mm.” Kurt hums as he nods in agreement. “I'm pretty sure you could manage something better than a Top Forties lyric, though.”

 

“Maybe.” Blaine laughs and Kurt wraps his left arm around his waist, leading him to their cars. He jerks to a stop moments later when Blaine freezes.

 

“Blaine, what –” Kurt starts to question before Blaine interrupts him.

 

“We have separate cars.” Despite the seriousness of Blaine's tone Kurt can't hold back his laugh, tension brought on by Blaine's sudden stop vanishing in seconds.

 

Kurt forces down his laughter to reply. “Did you just realize that?”

 

“Well, yes.” Blaine blushes and lowers his head. “I just – I forgot that we wouldn't be riding back home together.”

 

Kurt catches the hint of sadness in Blaine's voice even as warmth blossoms in his chest as his mind connects home and Blaine in the same sentence, half-formed fantasies of coming home to Blaine taking prominence in his thoughts. He shakes his head slightly, brings his focus back to the present, to Blaine standing a foot in front of him.

 

“It's not that long of a drive,” Kurt says with a hint of a smile. “And I promise I won't disappear as soon as your car door closes.”

 

Kurt watches as Blaine glances to their clasped hands, smiles at the sight of the ring newly adorned to his finger. “I know.” Blaine sighs. “I wish we didn't have to, though.”

 

Kurt hums in response before closing the distance between them, giving in to the urge to kiss the frown from Blaine's lips. He loses himself in the sensation, wonders how he's made it months without being able to touch Blaine, much less kiss him. The simple peck Kurt had intended is lost within moments, Blaine's arms tightening around him and Kurt relishing in the contact. They part an indeterminate about of time later, Blaine breathing heavily and Kurt eying his bruised lips with a thrill of satisfaction.

 

“I think it's obvious I don't want to be away from you either.” Kurt's voice has a touch of breathlessness to it, and he forces himself to steady his breathing before he continues. “It's not for long though. We can even listen to our playlist so we have the same music. And,” Kurt darts forward and pecks Blaine of the cheek before he has a chance to respond, “you can kiss me hello again once we're home.”

 

Blaine's smile is brilliant, and Kurt absently congratulates himself on deciding to get Blaine a ring too – the world (and New York boys) needs to know Blaine is very much off the market.

 

“I'll hold you to that.” Blaine's soft words carry easily across the scant space between them, the happiness audible.

 

“We'd better get going then,” Kurt skips back a step with Blaine's bag swinging from his shoulder, waits until the last possible moment to let go of Blaine's hand. “The sooner we get home the sooner I get my kiss. And I'm not known for my patience.”

 

Blaine laughs before giving Kurt a look that has him tempted to close the distance again. “I can think of one time you were patient,” Blaine adds with a wink, “it took me a while to overcome my stupidity and recognize my soul mate, remember?”

 

Kurt laughs, bright and clear. “Extenuating circumstances,” he pulls his keys from his pocket. “Get in the car, Blaine.”

 

“Fine.” Blaine fiddles with his keys before finally unlocking the car door with a teasing smile before slipping inside. “You still have my bag, you know.”

 

“Oh?” Kurt speaks clearly, ensures his voice carries between the two vehicles. “Do I? Well, consider it insurance.”

 

“I'm following you anyway.” A pause. “Can we pretend that didn't make me sound like a stalker?”

 

Seated in his car, Kurt chuckles, the sound barely audible over the hum of the engine. “Just get ready to drive, Blaine,” Kurt replies before shutting the car door.

 

He pulls out of the Anderson's driveway moments later, Perfect streaming from the car's speakers as Blaine follows behind.

 

-*-*-*-

 

Blaine shuts off the engine and exits his car in a flash, his keys jangling as he crosses to meet Kurt who's pulling Blaine's bag from the back seat.

 

“I can get that, you know.”

 

Kurt turns with a smile, shutting the car door with a bump of his hip. “Mm. You could, but I already have it. Now,” Kurt steps forward and Blaine smiles when his arms come to rest on his shoulders, “I believe you owe me something.”

 

Blaine had planned on prolonging this moment, relishing in the ability to just flirt and see Kurt's responses. But now, with Kurt's arms around him Blaine can't bring himself to wait, and he leans forward on instinct, re-familiarizes himself with the taste of Kurt's lips. By the time they break apart Blaine feels the heat in his cheeks, the slight soreness that comes with bruised lips, sees the mirror on Kurt as they both catch their breath.

 

“Better?”

 

Kurt nods and takes Blaine's hand as they turn to head to the front door. “Much. Although you already knew that.”

 

“Affirmation is always appreciated,” Blaine responds with a squeeze of Kurt's hand, “but I'll admit I'm a bit out of practice, so if you want to continue later…” Blaine lets the sentence trail off, delights when the flush on Kurt's cheeks darkens.

 

“Blaine Anderson!” The admonishment loses its edge with the fondness in Kurt's tone. “My Dad is inside,” Kurt adds with a slight shake of his head. “Anyway, here,” Blaine meets Kurt's gaze as Kurt drops his keys into Blaine's free right hand. “I can't open the door left handed.”

 

Blaine gently swings their clasped hands as he fits the key in the lock, gives Kurt one last smile before opening the door.

 

“Should –”

 

“Happy Birthday!” The shout cuts off Blaine's question, has him giving a slight jump in alarm as he's surrounded by the Hudson-Hummels and members of Glee Club.

 

“I – what?”

 

“Happy Birthday, dude!” Sam yells from his left, “You're late though – I thought you were never going to get here and I'm starving!”

 

Blaine blinks. “But, my birthday isn't til Wednesday,” he comments for the second time. “I don't –”

 

“You didn't really think Mr. Schue cancelled Nationals practice just because we were tired, did you?” Tina questions as she steps forward, heels clicking on the floor. “We needed time to get ready for the party.”

 

Blaine's overwhelmed, only the grip of Kurt's hand keeping him grounded. Smiling faces greet him from every angle, excitement floating in the air like a drug.

 

“Happy birthday, kid,” Burt comes to stop in front of Blaine, rests a hand on his shoulder. “Kurt figured an early party would be a better surprise. And he was more than willing to make sure you stayed out of the house for a bit.”

 

Burt laughs at Kurt's responding hiss, gives Blaine's shoulder a squeeze before stepping back. “I'm glad you're here now, though. I think everyone's ready for dinner.” Burt glances around, “Pizza's in the kitchen, but the birthday boy gets first pick, so I think we'd better head that way.”

 

Blaine nod and lets Kurt lead him to the kitchen. “I can't believe you did this.”

 

“Like I'd let my fiancé turn eighteen without throwing a party.” Kurt smiles, “And I wanted to give you a certain present while it was just us, so it all worked out.”

 

“I love you.” Blaine feels the words resonate in him, emotion gathering behind his eyes and swelling unimpeded. “So, so much.”

 

Kurt bends down and gives him a quick kiss as they enter the kitchen, heedless of the audience. “I love you, too. Happy early birthday, Blaine.”

 

 

 


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