Blaine takes Kurt out of his comfort zone - to the wilds of the North Fork of Long Island.
Author's Notes: I can't let these boys of mine go. So I'm back! This is the second story in my newly minted verse. As thank yous to my darling girls who have held my hand so dearly through this process, I asked them for prompts. This story is for happyinchintz72 who requested cuddles, snarkiness and apples. I hope I did them justice! PS The farm referenced in this story actually does exist!Much love to my two darling betas H & L who are the best.
"It's supposed to be great weather this weekend and we're not too bogged down with work yet. Let's go do something. Oh, I know! Apple picking!" Blaine said, pulling himself away from the laptop, sliding his glasses off to rub away the strain from his eyes.
"Like you want me to climb a tree and get apples? Please Blaine; it's why we have Dean & Deluca, beautiful organic Fujis and Granny Smiths. Without me having to get dirty or commune with nature," Kurt explained. "Not to mention we live in the city. Where do you expect to find an apple orchard, you know they don't have those in Central Park."
Blaine couldn't help but roll his eyes at his boyfriend. Pushing back from the desk, he made his way over to where Kurt was sprawled on the couch with his sketchbook and an inspiration board. Curling up next to the couch, he leaned his head on his arms, placed carefully on the couch next to Kurt and looked up at him.
"Come on, apple picking is nothing like that at all. Maybe back in Ohio farm country, but not out this way. One time, I think I was 8 or 9, when Mom and Dad had to go on one of the infamous excursions, they packed me up. I got to spend a week with Nana and Gramps out here," Blaine stated. "We went to this family run farm out on the north fork. Gramps & I took the hayride out to the fields to pick apples and pumpkins since we lost Nana to the farm store. They have fresh apple cider, the best cinnamon sugar cider donuts, not to mention all the rest of the fresh homemade food plus the fruits and vegetables. Beat our awfully lame class trip to the farm we had that year when I got back to Ohio hands down. It smelled, there were no apples and I got pushed into a pile of cow shit before we went back on the bus."
Kurt didn't want to dwell on the slight hitch Blaine's voice took on as his story progressed, he knew the same happened with his own when talking about stories that involved his mom; instead he knew exactly what to nudge Blaine about. "Now I know that the sweet tooth stemmed from earlier habits. From hot apple cider and cinnamon donuts to medium drips and hazelnut toffee biscotti," Kurt jabbed, poking Blaine's arm with the back end of his pencil.
Blaine laughed, yanking the pencil out of Kurt's grip and tossing it aside. "You think I was born with a cookie in hand don't you? Always picking on me, so mean. I'm on good knowledge though, that someone likes my munching on those biscotti. For more than one reason I may add."
Kurt flushed remembering the time back when he always had to look away when Blaine would nibble at biscotti at the Lima Bean. Later on, Kurt remembered tasting the sweetness on his lips as they would steal kisses from each other in the car before they headed back to Dalton.
"Can we get some Applejack then? There's this recipe I saw in Saveur where you flamb� the apples for this great crostata topped with almond crumble and vanilla cr�me anglaise," Kurt started daydreaming, his eyes glazing over slightly as he thought about what else he could do in their kitchen. "Plus I could make some of my mom's recipes, like her cinnamon applesauce."
"Does this mean Kurt Hummel is agreeing to go on a hayride with me?" Blaine asked, taking all of Kurt's work and placing it on the coffee table before hovering over him. "Agreeing to walk hand in hand, sneaking kisses underneath apple trees, feeding each other bites of the warm, sticky cinnamon sugar donuts?"
Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine's waist to bring him flush against his chest, "If I must darling. As long as you promise I won't get too messy in the process."
"Yes, yes, thank you. I promise no harm will come to you or your wardrobe. It's going to be a great afternoon," Blaine said excitedly, dropping kisses all over Kurt's face and neck. He shifted slightly, wrapping himself further into Kurt. "This will be so much fun, trust me."
The combination of the warmth of Blaine pressing on top of him, the tickling of his breath against his ear and just the general feeling of comfort that Blaine brings to him was lulling him into a hazy, drifting sleep. "Mmm hmm. Cuddly nap now, planning your weekend excursion later," Kurt mumbled.
Saturday morning brought the perfect fall weather; crisp blue skies with whispy white clouds, a slight bite to the air. After sorting things and getting a zipcar, they were on their way out to the north fork of Long Island. Blaine was able to find the exact farm he went to online. Wickham's Fruit Farm is one of the oldest, continuously running farms in the country. "That's part of its charm. They've tried to keep it as true to their roots as possible," Blaine said as he told Kurt all about the farm on the drive out. "We're hitting it just right too, we'll be able to pick the last bit of raspberries along with the apples and some of the early pumpkins. Plus I know you'll find something in the farm store you'll not be able to head home without."
"I do have some restraint when it comes to shopping Blaine," Kurt chided, sticking his tongue out at him. "However, if things are as great as you say and if you lost Nana to the store…"
"Admit it, I may be right after all," Blaine said with a smile, reaching over the gearshift to tangle his right hand in with Kurt's left. "Just try to think of it like the Union Square greenmarket, just spread out more and with a little more actual green to it."
After the two parked and wandered through the small shed-like 'store' to pay for their hayride and pick your own tickets complete with reusable bags to hold their produce, they made their way hand in hand up the slight hill to meet the tractor. When then settled in on the bales of hay lining the wood planked hitch behind a bright cherry red tractor, Kurt's eyes were immediately drawn to the tiny boy seated across from them.
Kicking his bright green Wellies against the bale of hay, the sandy haired boy had his head hanging down, staring intently at his hands folded carefully in his lap. "Come on sport, this is going to be so much fun," the man next to the child said, nudging him with his elbow. "Just like last year."
The little boy sniffed and mumbled, "No not like last year. Whose gonna help me make the baked apple trees? Or the hot apple cider in the super special apple mugs that hold your cinnamon sticks for you?"
Kurt's heart broke. Rewind his life a few years and this was him, exactly. Transpose this scene into his old backyard and substitute apples with a tea set; this would be him and his father. His dad, bless his heart, tried his damndest to keep things as Kurt's mom did with him, but it was never exactly the same. He reached over and took a strong hold of Blaine's hand and leaned his head down against his shoulder.
"Kurt?" Blaine questioned, squeezing his hand and shrugging his shoulder to try to get Kurt to look at him. "What's wrong?"
He bit back a sniffle, shifting slightly so he could speak softly in Blaine's ear without drawing attention to their conversation. "That little guy across from us, the one with the green Wellies and navy pea coat? I can't help but think of…he's so sad Blaine. His dad's trying, still letting them do all the same things they used to year after year. But it's not the same; it's never going to be the same. I just, I know words don't help, hugs kind of play as a small band aid, but it's…" Kurt said in a fluster, tripping over words as the emotions bubbled up out of his chest. "I wish I knew a way to tell him, show him, that eventually it evens out. That it gets to be okay."
Blaine looked down at Kurt then across to the little boy he mentioned. He caught enough to hear the man next to him, presumably his father, call him Alex and draw the little boy up onto his lap. Holding him close, he saw his father whisper something into his ear before pulling him into an even tighter hug. Alex threw his arms around his neck, like he was never going to let him go.
"I think they're going to be just fine, take a look for yourself," Blaine said lightly. Kurt lifted his head up to catch the end of the scene unfolding before them. "I think Alex and his dad are going to be just like you and Burt. They're going to have rough patches; it's going to be hard at times. In the end though, they're going to love each other and they're going to make it through."
Kurt looked back and forth, between Blaine and the young boy wrapped tightly around his father. Blaine was right. "You. I love you. I love you so much," Kurt sighed, before kissing him thoroughly. It took Blaine by surprise, Kurt, despite them being in New York for a few years now, was still not always comfortable with overly blatant PDAs. He wasn't going to deny him and returned the kiss with the same amount of emotion Kurt was pouring into it.
The rest of the afternoon went according to Blaine's hopes from earlier in the week. Kurt laughed watching Blaine try to jump to pick what he deemed 'the most perfect apple ever' off an older apple tree. They made their way wandering from the orchard to the raspberry patch. Blaine, like he thought, lost Kurt in the farm store as he oohed and ahhed over the fresh artisan cheeses and bakery items. After stocking up, and then some, on all the goodies the store had to offer, the two sat out on the side patio. They sipped hot apple cider, snuck bites of the donuts Blaine had raved about. "You were right, these are amazing," Kurt sighed, savoring the last bite. "Maybe we should get a few more to bring home." Blaine couldn't help but nod and smile.
Maneuvering through the weekend traffic, Kurt refused to let go of Blaine's hand once throughout the whole drive. When they made it home and unpacked their farm share, about 15 pounds of apples, 5 pounds of raspberries the stand out of the bounty, Kurt sighed as he leaned back against their refrigerator door. "Looks like I need to do more research on recipes in the next day or so. That or figure out who we can share some of this with."
Blaine finished placing the two loaves of sun dried tomato and garlic pesto bread into their breadbox and walked over to Kurt, bracing his hands on the fridge near Kurt's neck. He pressed a light kiss to his temple, "I'll help too. Maybe I can find a raspberry scone recipe on Food Network's website."
"Of course, something else sweet for you to nibble on," Kurt teased, ducking out underneath of Blaine's arms. "Now, if you will excuse me."
After Kurt scurried off into the bathroom for his like clockwork nightly skin care routine, Blaine slyly picks up the phone. "Hi Carol. How are you? No, no. Everything's good, nothing's wrong. Just wondering, is Burt around?" he asks softly, just in case Kurt didn't completely shut the bathroom door.
After a brief fifteen minute conversation with Burt that ended with a promise of Carol emailing him tonight, Blaine started to make plans. He knew his easy day was Tuesday, while Kurt had classes straight from 9 until at least 4. Blaine started his day early, his dreaded 7:45 am lecture, but was done for the day by noon. He'd get started then.
The hard part of all this? Keeping his plan a secret and not letting Kurt catch onto him by any means. It was only a two and a half days, it wouldn't be difficult.
The recipe that was Kurt's mom's, an apple raspberry spice muffin, seemed easy when Carol emailed it over to him. However, when Blaine got started on the process Tuesday afternoon, it was a different story. Flour dusted over the counter, a few cabinet fronts and not to mention himself. Despite borrowing Kurt's apron, the dry ingredients seemed to find its way to coat different parts of Blaine. Streaks of white were scattered throughout his hair, a dark smudge marked his left cheek and a fine powder coated over his right forearm.
"It's all going to be worth it when he gets home," Blaine said out loud to himself, using his forearm to push back the curls flopping in his face as he stirred in the last of the flour dusted fruit into the spice batter. One last stir and it was done. He set the mixture into the muffin pans and off they went to bake. While they were finishing up, Blaine could clean up the kitchen, set up the dining room table and perhaps, if he had the time, clean up himself a little bit.
By the time everything was falling into place, he heard Kurt's key turning in the lock. He got everything he needed to done, Kurt would just need to see him a little bit baking worn.
"Blaine, you home?" Kurt asked, as he made his way further into their apartment. "What's that smell, did you leave a candle…"
"Surprise!" Blaine said jumping out from the kitchen towards Kurt. "Come here."
"What did you do this afternoon?" he asked as Blaine took him by his hands and dragged him to their dining room table. Blaine looked a little worse for wear, noticing how rumpled his boyfriend was looking.
"Just a little something for you is all," Blaine explained, moving out of the way so Kurt could see the set up.
Their table was set with a bouquet of Kurt's favorite tiger lilies. His mom's pale pink bone china tea set was carefully arranged around them. What caught Kurt's eye the most was the small wicker basket, lined with a white linen napkin that was overflowing with what looked to be muffins. Lopsided at best, but golden brown and still steaming warm. He took a deep breath, he knew that smell. It knocked him backwards, literally.
"Blaine," he asked with a shaky voice. "Is that, I mean are they, how did you?"
"Your mom's apple raspberry spice muffins? Yeah they are. I called Burt and Carol after we got back home Saturday night. I knew how much little Alex hit home with you. I wanted to, or try to at least, do a little something for you. Something I knew your mom would do for you when you were his age, a tea party with her freshly baked muffins. I followed it to the best of my abilities, they may not look too great but I snuck a taste of a really lopsided one and I don't think they're bad."
He just stood there; slack jawed watching Blaine tell this story. His wonderful, amazing Blaine who was streaked with flour and cinnamon, who took what was his one afternoon during the week to catch up on schoolwork or to rehearse the song he was writing for the conservatory course he was hoping to make into, baking and bringing Kurt's childhood memories of his mother back into his life.
Kurt tilted his head slightly, a smile creeping across his lips. He began to inch his way closer to Blaine until he was close enough to place a finger over his lips. Kurt pressed his own to Blaine's cheek, right over the smudge of cinnamon still dusted there. Nibbling and licking slightly, Kurt heard Blaine's breath catch in his throat. He made his way across his cheek until his lips were hovering over Blaine's ear.
"Even if they tasted like cardboard, I'd love them," Kurt said into Blaine's ear. "You don't know how much this all really means to me. You're just, how did I get so lucky? Can I keep you for forever?"
"Always and forever," Blaine said, winding his arms around Kurt. Kurt's eyes were shimmering, tears close to overflowing. He will never forget this moment; never not appreciate everything Blaine has done for him. He just needs Blaine. Kurt tugged on the back of his apron, trying to lead him away from the table.
"But what about the…" Blaine asked
"Everything will keep," Kurt said with a smirk, leading Blaine by the front of his apron towards their room.