Interruptions
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Interruptions: Chapter 4


E - Words: 3,526 - Last Updated: Jun 10, 2012
Story: Complete - Chapters: 19/19 - Created: Feb 03, 2012 - Updated: Jun 10, 2012
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Author's Notes: Rating: Hard R (I wouldn't call it smut...but...)This chapter begins one week after chapter one.
Saturday, March 29, 2031 (One week later)

“How was dinner last night?” Blaine asked. His eyes were still downcast. They had been since Kurt had walked in, taken the seat opposite him, and begun sipping from the nonfat mocha Blaine had already ordered for him. In all the years Blaine had known Kurt, his coffee order had never changed. It had been one of the first things he had memorized about Kurt. Followed by the unique, vibrant blue of his eyes. Then, the crescent moon wrinkles that played at the corners of his mouth when he smiled—wrinkles which had become more defined over their nearly twenty years together. Blaine liked to think it was him who made Kurt smile the most. Now, he was no longer sure. Had Kurt’s face changed in the past week? Would his face show signs of the smile someone else was putting there? He could not bear to know. So Blaine sat there, his eyes fixed on his hands, which were clamped around his medium drip so that their shaking would not give away his nerves.

“It was different…without you.” Kurt’s voice faltered. He was nervous as well. Maybe there was hope. Blaine allowed his eyes to flit upward. Even in his obvious sadness, Kurt was still beautiful. Sadness.

“I wanted to be there,” Blaine confessed. “It was the first Friday night we haven’t had dinner together since…since…” he trailed off, bowing his head and tightening his grip on his cup.

“Since my dad died,” Kurt whispered. A moment of silence passed between them. “They miss you. Tori and Bertie.”

“I miss them too.” Blaine’s voice was rough with his pain. “I’d like to see them.” Kurt could hear the question, the hope in Blaine’s voice.

“They would like that,” Kurt responded, offering a small smile.

“What about tomorrow?” Blaine perked. “I could come pick them up.”

“That would be nice. I’ll tell them tonight.”

“Where are they now?” Blaine asked, looking around as if he expected them to be sitting nearby sharing a rice krispy treat.

“With Rachel.”

“Have they asked about me?”

“Bertie doesn’t really understand, but Tori...” Kurt paused, shifted his eyes to the side and blinked back tears. When he finally spoke, his voice was light and on the edge of breaking. “She wants to know where her Daddy is.”

Blaine had never wanted this. He had promised himself his children would not ever be forced to ask these kinds of questions, especially of him. “What have you told her?” Blaine breathed.

“What was I supposed to tell her, Blaine?” There it was. Kurt’s anger was rising to the surface. “I didn’t even know where you were. You get angry. Storm out. No word from you for nearly a week. A week, Blaine! Until some random text asking me to meet you here. What should I have told her, Blaine?”

“Don’t do that,” Blaine said, trying to keep his voice even. “You always do that.” He was looking Kurt directly in the eyes for the first time.

“Do what, Blaine?” Kurt raised his voice.

“Try to make this my fault,” Blaine jabbed the table with his index finger more forcefully than he had intended. “Instead of asking where I was, you should remind yourself why I left.” He had told himself he would not get angry—they would behave like adults and discuss this with the proper decorum. Blaine should have known better. Kurt always had a way of getting under his skin. He knew the buttons to push. And now Kurt was sitting there laying the entirety of the blame for Tori’s pain at Blaine’s feet. “I should be asking where you were while I was at home—our home—taking care of our kids, while you were out doing who knows what with Mr. Liberty Medical.” Blaine was just getting warmed up, gesturing wildly and pointing an accusatory finger at Kurt.

“It wasn’t like that,” Kurt leaned in and whispered in his conspiratorial tone, anxious to avoid a scene. “Calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down,” Blaine said, pounding the table with his fist, drawing alarmed looks from other customers. “How about you explain exactly what it was like and I’ll determine whether I need to calm down.” Blaine took a breath, leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs, and with a wave of his hand said, “Go ahead. Elucidate.”

***

The first few dinners had been purely professional. No, Kurt had not told Blaine that he was out with Brimley. Kurt was at a meeting. That is all Blaine needed to know because that was all there was to it. Until about two months ago when dinner turned into dinner and drinks.

Tuesday, January 7, 2031 (Two months ago)

They sat in a corner booth. The lights were dim. The ambient noise of the click of silverware against plates and couples chatting around them was soothing. Kurt was nursing his third cranberry and vodka. Brimley sat across from him, slowly sipping his bourbon.

“So, how did you end up with Mr. Anderson?” It was not a question born from innocent interest.

“Anderson-Hummel,” Kurt corrected.

“Naturally.”

“We met in high school.”

“Ahh, high school sweethearts. How charming.” Again, this was not meant to be a compliment. How could it be when it was dripping with condescension?

“Yes. He is very charming,” Kurt countered.

“As are you.” That was supposed to be a compliment.

“Stop, Brimley.”

“No. You need to learn to take a compliment.” Brimley sat his drink aside, intertwined his fingers and leaned forward. His voice was low and sensual when he spoke. “I get it. You’ve been with the same guy basically all your life. Other men see you, and want you, but they’re too intimidated to approach you, and you’re too caught up in Prince Charming to notice them noticing.” Brimley cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes as if studying Kurt—sizing him up. “You’re not used to being pursued. It’s understandable but unacceptable. How many years has it been?”

“Nearly 20.”

“You’ve only been with one man? Twenty years? Ugh. I don’t know how you do it. You’ve never had any doubts?”

“No…” Kurt looked away.

“Really?” Brimley pressed.

“Well…yes…once, but it was a long time ago. It was stupid.”

“Does he know?”

“Of course. We tell each other everything.”

“Does he know you’re here with me?” Brimley arched his eyebrows.

“No,” Kurt murmured, averting his eyes.

“Mmmm.”

Kurt should have ended it then. He did not. Kurt loved Blaine. Of course he did. But, in a way, Brimley was right. Kurt had never been pursued. He had never been desired or wanted. What was the harm in allowing someone to chase him, especially when he knew he would never let himself be caught? So dinner and drinks quickly turned into just drinks and Kurt never noticed that Brimley was gaining on him.

***

Thursday, February 20, 2031 (One month ago)

They were at the bar. Again. Kurt was perched on a stool with drink in hand and legs crossed. Brimley’s hand was on Kurt’s knee. Again. They were taking it in turns to ridicule the sad fashion choices of the other patrons.

“You’re cruel,” Brimley chuckled.

“You like it,” Kurt giggled.

“I like you.” Brimley let his hand drift up Kurt’s thigh.

“I know,” Kurt responded coyly, grabbing Brimley’s offending hand by the wrist with his index finger and thumb, as though it were a soiled rag, and tossing it to the side.

“So, you’re just stringing me along?”

“Yes.” Kurt declared in his patented superior tone.

“Why?”

“Because you like it,” Kurt teased.

“And you like the attention.” Brimley leaned in.

“And what if I do?” Kurt asked, lifting his chin.

“Liking the attention isn’t a problem, especially since I like giving it.” Brimley began stroking the inside of Kurt’s wrist with his fingertip. “But you should ask yourself why you’re here bathing in my attentions and not at home with your Prince Charming.”


***

Tuesday, March 18, 2031 (11 days ago)


He had been in Brimley’s apartment that night. He should have never gone. He should have left when Brimley brushed his hand along the small of his back when he led him from kitchen to living room. He should have left when Brimley closed the space between them on the couch and placed his hand on Kurt’s thigh. He should have left when Brimley was close enough for Kurt to smell the bourbon on his breath. Then, Brimley suddenly palmed his crotch and whispered, “Does he touch you like this?” Finally, Kurt left.

When Kurt crept into his bedroom that night, he felt dirty. The guilt clenched his gut when he laid eyes on his husband, his Blaine, lying in their bed. Even in sleep, Blaine’s hand was extended onto Kurt’s side of the bed, attempting to hold him even in his absence. Why had he been out with another man when this perfect man was here waiting for him? The shame caked Kurt’s skin like a layer of grime. He needed to get clean.

Kurt hastily removed his clothes. They smelled of Brimley, smoke and lies. Although, like most of the garments he owned, they were dry clean only, he shoved them to the bottom of the dirty clothes hamper. He could not bear to look at them. Kurt crossed the room quickly and silently, avoiding his reflection in the bathroom mirror, as he entered and turned on the shower. He stepped into the stream of water. It was scalding but not hot enough to wash off the guilt. They had not done anything but Kurt had done enough. He had been lying for months—telling Blaine he was in meetings. And, yes, maybe that is what they were at the beginning, but those “meetings” had become something more. They had become dates. Kurt had allowed another man to flirt with him, to pursue him, to touch him. Worse, he had wanted it. For what? To feel attractive? Desired?

Kurt had abused Blaine’s trust. Blaine, who found him beautiful, wanted him, desired him so much so that even Blaine’s unconscious self reached out for him. And where was he? Out with another man. He did not deserve Blaine.

“Kurt? Babe?” Blaine was there, like he always was. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Kurt sniffled, suddenly realizing he had been crying. Kurt bowed his head under the flow of water to mask his tears.

“No you’re not. You’re crying.” Blaine was standing outside of the shower, his feet cold on the marble floor, the flannel pajama pants Kurt hated loose around his waist, his chest bare, his hair mussed and wild around his concerned face. Kurt, the guilt pressing in on him from all sides, began to collapse into himself from the pressure. His knees gave way and his body rocked forward until his forehead was flush with the tile, his hands catching the wall just in time to stop himself from falling completely. Kurt was slipping, but then Blaine was behind him, his arms firmly around Kurt’s waist, holding him up. Seeing Kurt’s distress, Blaine had pushed open the glass shower door and, without even bothering to remove his pants, stepped in and taken his husband into his arms. Kurt let himself go completely, Blaine supporting all of his weight as Kurt let his body be wracked with sobs.

“Kurt, you’re scaring me!” Blaine’s breath was coming quickly now. His voice was panicked. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m so sorry,” Kurt sobbed.

“For what, Kurt?” Blaine’s confusion and panic increased with each heaving breath Kurt took.

“For lea-lea-ving. For not be-be-ing here.” Kurt forced the words through the tears.

“Babe, I understand you have to work. Don’t beat yourself up about it.” Blaine tried to rid his voice of fear and fill it with comfort.

“No! You don’t under-st-st-and! I was gone!” Kurt wailed. “I wasn’t here.”

“You’re here now, Kurt.”

“I shouldn’t have left. You, you don’t deserve that. I don’t de-de-serve you.”

“Stop it,” Blaine said firmly as he clutched Kurt tighter, his chest now flush against Kurt’s back. “Don’t talk like that,” he continued soothingly, running one of his hands through Kurt’s soaked hair. “I love you. You’re just stressed out. We are fine.” Blaine could feel Kurt begin to still. “Everything will be fine. The line is almost done.” Blaine leaned Kurt’s head back onto his shoulder and gently kissed his neck. “You need to rest.” Another kiss. “Let’s get you to bed.” Blaine reached for the shower door, but Kurt grabbed his arm.

“No.” Kurt whispered, putting Blaine’s hand back on his body. “Touch me.”

“Kurt, you should rest,” Blaine cautioned.

“Please,” Kurt begged. Kurt needed this. Needed Blaine on him, in him. Kurt needed to erase the guilt and shame with something good, something he knew was right. He needed to come back. Completely.

“Kurt, are you sure?” Kurt nodded adamantly. He reached out behind him and frantically grabbed at Blaine’s soaked pajama pants, trying to pull them from Blaine’s skin.

“Need you,” Kurt pleaded and he bent forward, forehead and palms against the tile, as Blaine’s pants fell heavy and wet around his ankles. Kurt felt Blaine’s fingers at his entrance and he reached back to slap Blaine’s hand away, and instead grabbed his hips and pulled him forward.

“But, Kurt—“

Kurt answered with an insistent tug, cutting Blaine off mid-sentence. Yes. Now. He sighed with relief when he felt Blaine slowly acquiesce, making Kurt assure him of his comfort and continued desire with every inch. Desperate, Kurt pushed back against Blaine. Kurt wanted to feel it—now, tomorrow, forever. He had been gone for so long. Now he was back. He wanted to hold on to the feeling as long as possible. Kurt wanted a physical reminder of the love he had and had almost allowed himself to forget. Although Blaine did not know it, he was reminding Kurt with every soft caress, gentle stroke and whispered “I love you.” Blaine held Kurt tightly and they rocked together as the water flowed over their warm bodies.

Kurt’s tears came again, born from the guilt of knowing that he had allowed Blaine, this man who so clearly and fully loved him—was loving him—had always loved him—to be pushed from his mind, his heart, for even one second. Blaine, feeling Kurt’s renewed tremors, bent forward and placed one hand above Kurt’s head on the tile, steadying himself, while the other gripped firmly on Kurt’s hip. Blaine aligned his chest with Kurt’s back, and assured his lover, “It’s okay. I’m here. You’re here. You’re here.” Those words continued to flow from Blaine’s lips, like a mantra, accompanying each thrust as Kurt pushed back against him, their bodies in sync. Blaine repeated it, and repeated it, and repeated it until both their bodies were overcome with the truth and pleasure of it and the last word to escape their lips was the name of the other.

Spent, they collapsed onto the shower floor and lay entwined in each other until the water ran cold.

***

Wednesday, March 19, 2031 (Ten days ago)

Kurt was going to end it. Whatever it was. Today.

“Tiffany,” Kurt called into the speaker, “have Brim—Mr. Johnson meet me in my office for lunch.”

“Are you sure, Mr. Hummel?”

“Tiffany! What have I told you about questioning me?”

“I know, Mr. Hummel, but…it’s just…”

“It’s just what, Tiffany?”

“You’ve been seeing a lot of Mr. Johnson…” she was practically whispering now, “…and I know it’s not my place but…Blai—“

“Tiffany!” His voice was harsh. It should not have been. Tiffany was right and it was his fault. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath. Then, softer,
“I know. I’m trying to fix it.” He paused. “Please, just have Mr. Johnson meet me at noon. Okay?”

“Yes, Mr. Hummel.”

Kurt fidgeted through his morning meetings. He was so distracted he did not even comment when Phoenix Song smudged pastels on her chair. The Gaggle of Gays had brought it to his attention during their meeting and Kurt just waved it off. Thankfully and unfortunately, Brimley was nothing if not punctual. He came strolling in at exactly 12 o’clock.

“Can’t even wait for dinner, hmm?” Brimley said, strutting confidently into Kurt’s office and stalking across the room toward him. Kurt rose instinctively and defensively from his seat.

“Brimley, we need to talk,” Kurt tried.

“We need to do more than talk,” Brimley teased as he closed the distance between them. Kurt found himself retreating until his back was up against the glass of his windows.

“I’m tired of chasing you,” Brimley whispered into Kurt’s ear, “boosting your ego.” Brimley, only inches separating he and Kurt, placed his lips where Kurt’s jaw met his neck and Kurt closed his eyes and turned away from the sensation. Brimley did it again and that jolted Kurt into action. Kurt pressed his palms against Brimley’s chest and pushed him away.

“We can’t. I can’t,” Kurt said as forcefully as possible.

“He doesn’t have to know,” Brimley pressed, pushing against Kurt’s hands.

“I’ll know! So, he’ll know. It will kill him. And that will kill me.”

“Stop fighting this, Kurt. You know you want this.”

“And that’s bad enough!” Kurt nearly yelled as he pushed Brimley away.
“You have to go. Just get out!” And he went.


****

Saturday, March 29, 2031 (Today)

It had been painful to say, but Kurt knew it had been even more painful for Blaine to hear.

“He tried to kiss you?” Blaine asked in a measured tone.

“Yes?”

“Did you want him to?” Blaine always had a way of getting to the truth of the matter and Kurt would not deny him.

“…yes.”

At this, Blaine shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his coffee abandoned and cold. “But you pushed him away?”

“Yes.”

“Is that all?”

Kurt wished it was but it was not and he had done enough lying. “No.” He took a breath. “I invited him to drinks that night to--”

“Wait. Wednesday night?”

“Yes, but--” Kurt knew what was coming and he knew he deserved it.

“Let me get this straight.” Blaine took a shuddering breath. “You carried on a…a relationship, with another man for months. That man tried to kiss you. You wanted to kiss him. So you took him to drinks instead of spending the night with your husband and eating the dinner your children made?” Blaine’s voice broke at the mention of their kids and he did not even try to stop the tears as they fell from his eyes.

“Yes, Blaine. But I needed to know…”

“Know what, Kurt?” Blaine’s voice was hoarse with tears. “What’s there to know except that I love you? That was always enough for me. Why am I never enough for you?”

“It’s not about whether you’re enough,” Kurt pleaded.

“Then what is it Kurt? Please tell me so that I can know. So that the next time you leave, I can understand why.”

“I didn’t leave Blaine. You did!”

“I left because you left!”

“I left because I wanted you to chase me, but you didn’t even notice I was gone!”

“Well, Kurt, forgive me if I was too busy raising our kids to worry about you
fulfilling your cat and mouse fantasies.”

“Why don’t you ever fight for me, Blaine? Pursue me?”

“Why do you run?” Blaine nearly yelled. There it was—the question that had been hanging in the air for years, finally spoken aloud.

Silence.

Suddenly, the rest of the coffee shop rushed into their peripheries reminding them that they were not alone. Kurt pulled himself up to his full height, determined to remain dignified under the scrutinizing gaze of the other customers. Blaine, however, sagged with the weight of the release, his shoulders slumped, and his head cradled in his upturned palms.

“I shouldn’t have to fight for your love, Kurt,” Blaine muttered into his hands. “You’re my husband…or at least you were.”

“Blaine!” Panic. Pain. Desperation. “No. Wait. Let me finish,” Kurt begged. He reached out for Blaine, but when his hand brushed Blaine’s arm, he flinched. Blaine actually flinched at his touch.

“I’m tired of fighting.” It was true. There was no fight in Blaine’s voice—only defeat. Kurt heard it and tried again to take hold of Blaine, to keep him there, to keep him in his life. Blaine slowly and gently pulled his arm out of Kurt’s grasp and stood to go. Blaine shrugged on his coat and his whole body sighed. “Let me know when you figure out what you want.” Blaine looked down on Kurt and their eyes met one last time. Kurt realized that even now, even though he had chased light and joy from his lover’s eyes, there was still that look. The look that had been there since the first day at the foot of that staircase. The look that had lived in Blaine’s eyes since Kurt had taken up residence in his soul. But it was flickering.

What had Kurt done? What would he do? What could he do but watch as Blaine turned to go. Blaine took a step, paused, and his body seemed to waver with indecision. Then, Blaine whispered, “I’ll be by tomorrow to pick up the kids.” And he was gone. He did not look back.
Kurt sat alone across from Blaine’s empty chair, staring at Blaine’s empty cup, and he feared the next time he looked into Blaine’s eyes, they too would be empty, along with his life.


Comments

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I love this story but it's tearing my heart out! Kurt needs to make this right - and quick - PLEASE!!!

This is beautiful but sooooo heartbreaking. Please let them find their way back to each other.

You're story is killing me and I keep asking myself why I'm reading this, it's heartbreaking. It feels like I've been cheated on which is not right. Yet I can't stop. Why must I do these things to myself?

I just want to lock up Sebastion, Chandler, and now Brimley in a small room where they can't ever break up Klaine... *speaks in tiny tiny terrified voice* ...he isn't going to break up Klaine is he?! Is he wake-up-kid? *runs to a corner and plots ways to destroy Brimley*