warble_on
Dec. 22, 2011, 7:13 a.m.
Sing Me To Sleep
A happier take on the post-prom events. Includes Klaine cuddles and Blaine internal monologues.
K - Words: 808 - Last Updated: Dec 22, 2011 884 0 0 1 Categories: Cotton Candy Fluff, Characters: Blaine Anderson, Kurt Hummel,
The tiara is still perched on his head, only a few hairs out of place after an hour of rigorous dancing. His eyes hold a mix of something Blaine had never seen on him before- a strange combination of dejection and delight. He bites his lip sometimes, and each time, Blaine prays a tear doesn’t come along with it.
Kurt’s driving back to his house- Blaine has no desire to drive to Westerville at 1:30 in the morning, and Kurt’s house is infinitely more inviting than the Dalton dorms. Blaine keeps stealing looks at Kurt, just hoping he’s alright, just praying he’s fine. They haven’t spoken for a while. Blaine knows when to leave Kurt alone with just his thoughts. Often times, he would cower away from touches at times like these. He would reject anyone who tried speaking to him and just keep to himself. But Blaine can’t take it anymore. He had given him time. He just needs to know Kurt is fine.
“Are you okay?” Blaine says simply as Kurt slows down to a red light. Kurt inhales deeply and purses his lips before he nods.
“Yeah, I think so. I mean, however humiliating it was to get it, I still got a tiara out of all this, right? And I owned those bitches.” Kurt says.
“Owned them like nobody I’ve ever seen.” Blaine laces his hand into Kurt’s, the bottoms of his fingers fitting into the dips of Kurt’s knuckles. “You were incredible out there, Kurt. I could never have done what you did...I’m always just preaching courage and never having it myself.” Blaine buries his face in his hands.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Kurt scolds, shooting a sharp look at Blaine. “You went to this prom, didn’t you? You went to this prom and you danced with me in front of the entire student body and you made me happy in a horrible haze of humiliation. That’s pretty damn courageous.” Blaine can’t put a finger on his tone. It’s reprimanding, certainly, but it gets soft, like he’s being reminded of Blaine’s hand clutching to his back as he swayed Kurt to ABBA.
“Thanks.” Blaine murmurs, still grasping Kurt’s hand as he tries to drive with only one. They come up to Kurt’s driveway, and Kurt stops the car, turning to face Blaine and taking both of his hands.
“Blaine, I didn’t think I was even going to get to go to my prom. I thought I was going to spend prom night on the couch with a pint of Cherry Garcia and season 6 of “Grey’s Anatomy”. But I didn’t. I spent it with my fabulous, beautiful boyfriend who protected me when I needed it and who gave me everything I wanted at my prom.” Blaine’s smiling like a loon now. He puts his hand on the back of Kurt’s neck, guides him closer for a kiss. He smiles against Kurt’s lips, moves his mouth methodically- not aggressive, just sweet. Kurt didn’t need to be potentially terrified of Blaine’s possible forwardness tonight. Kurt pulls away, keeps his lips just centimeters away from Blaine’s, and says, “You know, as horrible as this night was, you made it so…un-horrible.” Blaine gives a little smile, one that quickly grows larger with each hitch of Kurt’s breath and circle his finger rubs on the nape of Blaine’s neck.
“You look really good in the tiara.”
“I know I do.”
----
Kurt’s leaning against Blaine’s chest, his head resting on his shoulder, Blaine gently tracing around Kurt’s earlobe as he falls asleep to the ending credits of Chicago (Blaine had let Kurt pick the movie) on Kurt’s bed. He drops his fingers lower, grazing them along the juts and dips of Kurt’s collarbone (how could the skin possibly be so unbearably soft?). Blaine pulls Kurt in closer to him- as silly and selfish as it sounds, he never wants to let go of him. He never wants to relinquish his grasp on Kurt, one of the only places Kurt is completely safe from the hate. He just wants to protect him. Blaine wraps both arms around Kurt, just feeling him-against-him. He drops a kiss to the top of Kurt’s head and Kurt groggily grabs at Blaine’s forearm, struggles to find his fingers to weave into his own. Blaine allows him to work at it- he likes the soft, tired pats Kurt is placing up and down his arm, the way Kurt is opening and closing his eyes in that stunted, sleepy state, how, when Kurt finally does find Blaine’s fingers, he makes a show of lacing one-by-one each one of his into each one of Blaine’s. Kurt’s nearly asleep, but Blaine can’t be. He’s drunk off this boy and the touches he gives and the thoughts he makes Blaine think- like he might have more courage than he thought.
Kurt’s driving back to his house- Blaine has no desire to drive to Westerville at 1:30 in the morning, and Kurt’s house is infinitely more inviting than the Dalton dorms. Blaine keeps stealing looks at Kurt, just hoping he’s alright, just praying he’s fine. They haven’t spoken for a while. Blaine knows when to leave Kurt alone with just his thoughts. Often times, he would cower away from touches at times like these. He would reject anyone who tried speaking to him and just keep to himself. But Blaine can’t take it anymore. He had given him time. He just needs to know Kurt is fine.
“Are you okay?” Blaine says simply as Kurt slows down to a red light. Kurt inhales deeply and purses his lips before he nods.
“Yeah, I think so. I mean, however humiliating it was to get it, I still got a tiara out of all this, right? And I owned those bitches.” Kurt says.
“Owned them like nobody I’ve ever seen.” Blaine laces his hand into Kurt’s, the bottoms of his fingers fitting into the dips of Kurt’s knuckles. “You were incredible out there, Kurt. I could never have done what you did...I’m always just preaching courage and never having it myself.” Blaine buries his face in his hands.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Kurt scolds, shooting a sharp look at Blaine. “You went to this prom, didn’t you? You went to this prom and you danced with me in front of the entire student body and you made me happy in a horrible haze of humiliation. That’s pretty damn courageous.” Blaine can’t put a finger on his tone. It’s reprimanding, certainly, but it gets soft, like he’s being reminded of Blaine’s hand clutching to his back as he swayed Kurt to ABBA.
“Thanks.” Blaine murmurs, still grasping Kurt’s hand as he tries to drive with only one. They come up to Kurt’s driveway, and Kurt stops the car, turning to face Blaine and taking both of his hands.
“Blaine, I didn’t think I was even going to get to go to my prom. I thought I was going to spend prom night on the couch with a pint of Cherry Garcia and season 6 of “Grey’s Anatomy”. But I didn’t. I spent it with my fabulous, beautiful boyfriend who protected me when I needed it and who gave me everything I wanted at my prom.” Blaine’s smiling like a loon now. He puts his hand on the back of Kurt’s neck, guides him closer for a kiss. He smiles against Kurt’s lips, moves his mouth methodically- not aggressive, just sweet. Kurt didn’t need to be potentially terrified of Blaine’s possible forwardness tonight. Kurt pulls away, keeps his lips just centimeters away from Blaine’s, and says, “You know, as horrible as this night was, you made it so…un-horrible.” Blaine gives a little smile, one that quickly grows larger with each hitch of Kurt’s breath and circle his finger rubs on the nape of Blaine’s neck.
“You look really good in the tiara.”
“I know I do.”
----
Kurt’s leaning against Blaine’s chest, his head resting on his shoulder, Blaine gently tracing around Kurt’s earlobe as he falls asleep to the ending credits of Chicago (Blaine had let Kurt pick the movie) on Kurt’s bed. He drops his fingers lower, grazing them along the juts and dips of Kurt’s collarbone (how could the skin possibly be so unbearably soft?). Blaine pulls Kurt in closer to him- as silly and selfish as it sounds, he never wants to let go of him. He never wants to relinquish his grasp on Kurt, one of the only places Kurt is completely safe from the hate. He just wants to protect him. Blaine wraps both arms around Kurt, just feeling him-against-him. He drops a kiss to the top of Kurt’s head and Kurt groggily grabs at Blaine’s forearm, struggles to find his fingers to weave into his own. Blaine allows him to work at it- he likes the soft, tired pats Kurt is placing up and down his arm, the way Kurt is opening and closing his eyes in that stunted, sleepy state, how, when Kurt finally does find Blaine’s fingers, he makes a show of lacing one-by-one each one of his into each one of Blaine’s. Kurt’s nearly asleep, but Blaine can’t be. He’s drunk off this boy and the touches he gives and the thoughts he makes Blaine think- like he might have more courage than he thought.