#I don’t even think I five hearted Kurt first time round

[vesperione]

IS YOUR MAN an elderly scientist able to cheat death who is definitely using his research illegally with the ability to create sacrifices for higher deities who lives in a mansion in isolation, who’s also gay, with a stockpile of some sort of necessity in the basement, who also has a habit of holding you at gunpoint.

Bcs idk what to tell u because that might be Kurt (Dread Weight) or Henry Hidgens (Hatchetfield) and I’m morbidly concerned over the fact this happened twice

[starpunchsoup]

The Void Doesn't Feel So Empty

Summary: Blaine is having a hard time forgiving himself for what happened between him and Kurt. Sam, being the bestest friend in the whole wide world, swoops in to help.

(AO3 link!)

Blaine stared at his phone for ten full minutes before he finally picked it up. It took him another five before he actually hit the ‘dial’ button.

“Hey man, what’s up?” Sam greeted, picking up Blaine’s call immediately.

“Oh, nothing much. W-What are you up to?” Blaine had no idea why he was so nervous, Sam had become his best friend over the last couple of weeks, but Blaine can feel his hands start to shake.

“Eh, I’m just watching some YouTube videos. The house is empty because everyone is visiting Carole’s sister in Toledo for the weekend, so I’m just watching a bunch of Elder Scrolls lore right now. What’s new with you? Or did I ask that already?” Blaine could almost picture Sam looking up at the ceiling as he tries to remember if he already asked what Blaine was up to, and he can’t help but smile.

“I’m kind of in the same boat, so I was wondering if you wanted to…I dunno, hang out or something. Unless Tamriel is really calling to you at the moment.”

“Nah, it’s cool. Do you want me to bring over some movies or something? Or we can always go bowling, I know Lima Lanes is open until midnight.” Sam suggested.

Blaine’s heart rises up to his throat. “Yeah, that sounds good! I do enjoy some bumper bowling…”

“I know dude. The one time you beat Santana, Tina and Finn, all you wanted to do was go bowling for weeks after. Do you want to just meet there or…?” Sam teased.

“I’ll just meet you there, if that’s cool. I’ll head out now!” Blaine said, immediately looking for a pair of socks.

“You’ll probably beat me there, so just get us all set up alright? See you in ten.”

______________

“Hey, I don’t want to bring the mood down, but um…can I ask you something?” Blaine asked, eating another french fry.

“Yes, we can play another round after you eat. I’m not doing much else tonight.” Sam agreed with a shrug, staring at Blaine’s plate.

“No, not about that. I mean, I’m glad you still wanna play, even after I just beat you. But my question is about Quinn, actually. You guys dated, right?” Blaine tried to broach the subject slowly, because he’s only heard bits and pieces of what happened, and he doesn’t want to upset Sam at all.

It only sort of works, because Sam visibly tensed before taking a deep breath in. “Yeah, we dated when I first came to Lima. What about her?”

“She…she cheated on you with Finn, yeah?” Blaine had a hard time making eye contact with his best friend, and he felt slightly nauseous at the influx of emotions (and shitty bowling alley potatoes) stirring in his belly.

“Yeah. Santana used Finn’s stupid kissing booth to give them both mono while it happened. It’s um. Not a chapter I look back on nicely.” Sam’s voice sounded tired more than angry, which is what gave Blaine the courage to look up and meet his eyes.

“Did you ever forgive her? Or Finn? Like…did that scar you for life or anything?” Blaine wrenched his hands together underneath the table, trying to keep his nerves in check.

“Okay, I know this isn’t actually about me and Quinn, but I’m going to entertain your question anyway.” Sam’s smile is small, but it was comforting enough to make Blaine feel a little less nervous. “Forgiving Quinn wasn’t that hard, actually. I mean, yeah, it still hurts like hell if I think about it too hard, but she’s a really good person and I know that. When I saw her at church the week my house got foreclosed on, I knew she was somebody I could trust. Somebody who would have my back. Plus I think, after Beth and all, it was good for her to be around the little guys. My siblings really liked having her around. Finn was a little harder to get over, but I knew it wasn’t personal against me or anything. He was just really trying to get over Rachel I think, but he ended up making everyone more upset in the process, himself included. And now we’re roommates and play video games a good portion of the day. It’s kind of weird, with him helping run the glee club and all right now, but whatever. Does that make you feel any better?”

Blaine smiled a little, looking down at his lap. “Yeah, a little. But like…are you okay? Like, even if you knew it wasn’t personal, did that make dating Mercedes hard?”

“Not really. I mean yeah, I’ll never forget it, but I knew it was a one-off thing. Well, I mean, I knew she cheated on Finn with Puck, but that was another weird thing. I don’t think she really meant to hurt anyone either time. If I got cheated on again, I’d be fucking pissed though. But I knew Mercedes wasn’t that kind of girl. I’m okay now, Blaine. Time fixes a lot, and honestly? Perspective fixes a lot too.” Blaine tries to reach for another fry, but Sam grabs his hand before he makes it to the plate. “He’ll forgive you. I promise. It may not go back to what it was before, but that can be a good thing. Someday, when you’re adults, like real actual adults, you can write it off as teenage hormones or something. Ku-” Sam cut himself off, unsure if Blaine could handle hearing his name. But he swallowed and nodded politely. “Blaine. Kurt will forgive you. I promise. He cares about you so much. What you guys have going on, that’s not something that will fade away overnight, and nothing he can just forget about. I’m gonna be honest and say I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t want to date again, at least not for a while, but he’ll be back. I promise. If, for no other reason than Burt and Carole still ask about you a bunch. You’re a part of him, and he’s always going to be a part of you. You’re gonna be okay, man. I promise.” Sam’s smile was warm, and Blaine could feel every single word echo inside his head.

“Thank you, Sam. Really. You’re the best best friend a man could ever ask for, you know that?” Blaine moved his hand to give Sam’s a squeeze, before they both let go and Blaine could continue to eat his fries.

“Hell yeah I do. Now finish eating those half-cold oily monsters so I can beat you this time.”

[blurglesmurfklaine]

Death Cannot Stop True Love

Summary: After being kidnapped from his kidnapper by the Dread Pirate Roberts, Blaine reminisces on the poor farmboy who once held his heart.

The Princess Bride AU, one shot, 1.7k words

A/N: did i work on ANY of my wips this weekend? no <3

BUT DID I WATCH THE PRINCESS BRIDE TWICE AND THEN SUBSEQUENTLY WRITE THIS? YOu BET YOUR ASS I DID

I've never really written anything like this??? But I surprisingly had a lot of fun with it, so let me know what you think! :D

Read on Ao3

*** 

Blaine’s hands land a bit too roughly against the grey granite for his taste, rather put off by the masked stanger’s manhandling.

He supposes being kidnapped by Willaim Schuester, then having the Dread Pirate Roberts kidnap him from his kidnapper wasn’t quite the delightful way he’d expected to end his evening ride, either.

“Rest, your Highness,” the man in black commands, the strands of tattered fabric that secure his mask tied behind his head billowing in the wind. Blaine refuses to shiver at the cool air of the highland whipping across his face, not wanting to show this man any signs of weakness. “You’re going to need it.”

“You’re the one who’s going to need rest,” Blaine spits, turning to face the man and take a proper seat on the stone. “My betrothed will come for me. Prince Smythe is an excellent tracker. He could track a falcon on a cloudy day, and he and his infantry will have me back in the castle and you in shackles by dusk.”

He should not make such bold claims at a time like this, and certainly not to someone as deadly as the Dread Pirate Roberts. Well, Blaine is only mostly sure he’s speaking to the infamous Pirate known for his murderous voyages on his ship, “Revenge”, but he’s certain enough.

“Ah, yes,” the man says bitterly back, fingers drumming ansty along the handle of his sheathed sword. “Prince Smythe. You have much faith in your most beloved, don’t you?”

Having his daily outing interrupted by that faux-philosopher Schuester from earlier and his two henchmen was unpleasant enough, but of all the things he’s heard come out of someone’s mouth this was the foulest. The law of the land gives Smythe the right to choose his spouse, and he chose Blaine. Despite this, Blaine knows he could never love Sebastian back. Now when he’s really known and lost his true love.

“I never said he was my most beloved,” Blaine snarls.

No. That title belongs to a name too precious to be uttered in front of the likes of a cheating, stealing, slaying pirate.

It’s been five long and lonely years since his dearest Kurt left him to venture out to sea, but Blaine can still feel Kurt’s hand in his sometimes, can still feel the residual warmth, as if it were yesterday. When he closes his eyes, it’s Kurt’s beautiful blue ones that are waiting for him when he falls asleep. Every round that his heart beats, it beats for the long dead Kurt Hummel.

Kurt had been Blaine’s family’s farm boy, and Blaine, in his infantile arrogance, loved nothing more than to boss him around. Whether it was “Farmboy, shine my saddle. I want to see my face shining in it by morning,” or “Farmboy, take these jugs down by the river to wash,” Kurt always responded with the same simple sentence that sent Blaine’s heart aflutter.

“As you wish.”

Blaine didn’t understand it at first—how could he, when he’d never been in love—the quickening of his pulse when he was near Kurt, how his knees seemed to careen and fail when hazel met piercing blue.

He didn’t understand why, when he’d asked Kurt to clean the stables, Kurt had looked at him with electricity in his eyes like a thunderstorm, and Blaine felt compelled to add a meek, “Please?” to the end of his request. He didn’t understand why when Kurt so softly answered him with those three little words— “As you wish” —Blaine would light like a lantern from the inside out.

He didn’t understand why he asked Kurt to fetch him a pitcher hanging right by his own head, just so he could be graced with having him in such close proximity, chest to chest.

“As you wish,” Kurt had said, and Blaine didn’t understand the magnetic force drawing them closer and closer.

And then Kurt’s lips were on his, and oh, how Blaine finally understood. He understood why wars were waged over Helen of Troy, and why lutists serenaded the public with foolish tunes of love that were actually the least foolish things in their nature.

He understood that every time Kurt said, “As you wish,” what he truly was saying was “I love you.”

He understood so clearly, and everything that wasn’t Kurt was reduced to complete and utter nonsense.

For a short year, they lived on borrowed time. Kurt’s family wasn’t from money, so he left the farm—and with it, Blaine—to seek wealth enough to ask for Blaine’s hand in marriage. It wasn’t long until the news came back to him that Kurt had encountered the Dread Pirate Roberts on the high seas.

There are three things Blaine knows to be true. Kurt Hummel was his one true love, death takes everyone and does not discriminate, and the Dread Pirate Roberts never takes prisoners.

Kurt never returned to him after that.

“No, I suppose he’s not your one true love,” the Dread Pirate responds, unimpressed. “I wonder whether a royal-to-be like yourself has ever truly loved.”

“I’ve loved and been loved deeper than you will ever know!” Blaine counters. “He was stolen from me, his blood on your sword. I know who you are. You’re the Dread Pirate Roberts, admit it.”

The Dread Pirate gives a little flourish, his night black outfit a stark contrast to the verdant grass of the highlands. “With pride.”

“You killed my love.”

“Quite possible. I’ve killed many of noble blood aboard my ship.”

“You know nothing,” Blaine says. “He was poor. Poor and perfect and with eyes like the sea after a storm. I received notice that he’d crossed your path on the high seas, and as we all know, you never take prisoners.”

Roberts shrugs, displaying such upsetting nonchalance at Kurt’s demise. “Can’t afford to make any exceptions. Once word leaks out that a pirate has gone soft, people begin to disobey you, and then it's nothing but work, work, work, all the time.”

Being held hostage by Schuester while the Dread Pirate fought off Michael Chang, one of the best swordsman ever to walk the earth, was nerve wracking. Hearing how he then proceeded to physically conquer who is probably the tallest man Blaine has ever seen, and then listening as he sat blindfolded to this man outwit William into drinking from a poisoned cup was a hellish enough adventure on its own, but it was not as dreadful as hearing his anguish ridiculed by this stranger.

“You mock my pain!”

“Life is pain, Highness.” The pirate gives Blaine a look that he would consider hurt, if he did not hate him so. “Anyone who says different is selling something… I think I remember this farmboy of yours. This would be about what, five years ago?”

Five years, three months, and sixteen days, Blaine refuses to say. His silence doesn’t deter Roberts from continuing.

“He died well, if it pleases you to hear that much.”

“With all due respect—which is little to none—nothing you can say will please me. Likewise, nothing you can say will harm me.”

“He made no attempts at either bribery or blubbering. He simply said Please. I need to live. It was the please that caught my attention. I need to live for him.” The pirate’s eyes grow misty and distant and so painfully reminiscent of his love’s that Blaine is forced to look away for a moment. “He spoke of a boy so lovely, and of enduring faithfulness. Sad to see he died for nothing. Tell me, Highness, when you heard news of his death, did you immediately become engaged, or did you wait a week out of respect for the dead?”

“Had I a choice in this matter I would join him among the realm of the dead!” Blaine yells back, surprised to see a bit of shock in the thief’s eyes. “You mocked my pain once, do not do it again. I died that day!”

The unmistakable sound of hooves pounding into the ground of the hillside opposite them causes Blaine to sigh in relief. He never thought he would be so elated to see his fiance. Still... elated may be too strong of a word.

The Dread Pirate turns to scout the incoming commotion, and Blaine acts before he has time to second guess himself.

“And you can die, too, for all I care,” he grits out, and shoves hard on the Dread Pirate’s back, sending the murderer tumbling down the hillside.

Blaine’s expecting to hear shouts of terror coming from the pirate, but what he hears next makes his stomach pool with dread.

“Aaaaaas yoooouuuuu wiiiiiiish!” echoes through the hillside, coming from the Dread Pirate Roberts and Blaine’s jaw drops.

“Kurt,” he gasps. “Oh God, what have I done?”

“Over there!” he hears Sebastian’s familiar and grating voice call out from just beyond the hillside. One glance behind his shoulder and Blaine knows they will come for him, and when they do, he will never see Kurt again.

So he jumps forward and follows Kurt rolling down along the slope of the hill.

Small rocks and flowers swirl past him in a blur, dirt kicked up every time his boots collide with the ground, and after falling for what feels like ages, his body finally comes to a halt, right next to Kurt’s warm one.

Blaine shifts to see Kurt better, body bruised from the fall, but soul absolutely jubilant.

Kurt scrambles over to him, black mask having been knocked off in the tumble. “Are you alright? Can you stand?”

Blaine laughs and reaches out to grab Kurt’s— Kurt’s —hand on top of his chest. as if to keep them physically tethered this time. “Stand? You’re alive. If you want, I could fly.” He buries his head deep into Kurt’s shoulder, inhaling the scent of him mixed with the grass and the dirt and the absolute joy of him being alive.

Kurt holds him back just as tight. “I told you I’d always come for you.”

“I thought you were dead.”

“My sweet Blaine,” Kurt murmurs, hand warm against Blaine’s cheek. “Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while.”

Blaine barely has time to smile before Kurt’s lips are on his again, back in their rightful place.

[leigh-kelly]

(More Hospital!AU)

Though Santana calmed down a little after her conversation with Brittany, she realizes that her anger with Kurt doesn’t fade. She doesn’t want to burden Brittany with it, not while she’s still recovering, and the last thing she wants to do is get Mercedes involved, so she bottles it all up. It scares her sometimes—well, all the time—how her emotions tend to eat her alive, and she fears running into Kurt in the hospital. All she can keep thinking is that he just doesn’t get it. There was a time where she’d drop everything to hang out with him, but now she has responsibilities that she just can’t drop...and she doesn’t want to.

Two weeks go by. Brittany is getting stronger every day, she’s hardly taking her Vicodin and she’s really killing it on the crutches. The Pierces get the house and they go back to Boston to pack up, but Santana feels okay that they’re running the house on their own. With the exception of bath time, Brittany has pretty much conquered everything on crutches. She cooks dinner, she cleans up the house and Santana is so grateful for it.

On the first day of the third week, there’s a knock on her office door. When she looks up, she sucks in a breath. It’s Kurt, and she’s still not really sure she’s ready to talk to him. He hurt her feelings, but she won’t do the weepy thing with him.

“Can I come in?” He asks, leaning against the door frame.

“I...yeah, I guess.”

“So...”

“Yeah.”

“Dave told me I was wrong.”

“And do you agree with him?” Santana raises an eyebrow.

“I...I don’t know.”

“So you came here to tell me you don’t know?”

“Yes. No. I honestly don’t know. You’re my best friend, Santana. I miss you.”

“Well I don’t have time for gallivanting in bars. I’ve got three kids, I’ve got an injured wife, I have to help my in laws move into their new house in a week.”

“You make time for Mercedes.” He mumbles.

“What was that?”

“I said you make time for Mercedes.”

“Because Mercedes recognizes that I have different priorities. Do you think the night Britt got hurt, I even thought about calling you to come watch the boys? No. You’ve made no bones about it that kids aren’t your thing.”

“I would have watched your kids.” Kurt defends. “But that doesn’t mean hanging out with you always has to be with them and Brittany.”

“What do you want me to do, Kurt? You don’t just get to pick and choose when you’re a mother.”

“Other mothers leave their kids at home once in a while.”

“Other mothers don’t have an infant son who might have cerebral palsy. Do you know how much of my mind is occupied by making sure Oliver is okay? That I’m not giving him too much attention and neglecting Liam and Max? You know better than anyone that my mind goes a hundred miles a second, now add the worries of motherhood into that equation.”

“I can’t say I get it, Santana. I don’t know what you’re going through.”

“You’re right, you don’t.”

“Then let me know. Half of the news I get about you, I get about Mercedes and another forty-five percent I get from gossiping interns. You don’t even bother to let me in anymore.”

“I...you’re right.”

“I want to be part of your life. I was hurt when you got married and I wasn’t there. I was hurt when you told Mercedes you were pregnant first. I guess I just feel like I don’t matter anymore.”

“Kurt.” Santana takes a breath. “You’re always going to matter to me.”

“I just...I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Kurt. I’d love to spend time with you, I just wish you didn’t hate my kids.”

“I don’t hate your kids at all. I love them, actually. I’m just not...good with them.”

“Just spend time with them. Come over and have dinner with us, without Mercedes, without anything else. I want to spend time with you, I just have..a lot on my plate right now.”

“Okay.” Kurt more. “I can do that.”

After Kurt leaves Santana’s office, she doesn’t feel like everything is resolved, but it’s a start. And maybe Kurt is right, maybe other mothers can take a step away, but it’s just not something she can do. She spends enough of her time away from her kids at work, she can’t imagine not being there for bedtime, she can’t imagine just...leaving them for something else.

The rest of her day is packed with surgeries. She wants it that way. She feels like Lauren Zizes is on her heels and she wants to be the best. Maybe it’s all in her head, maybe Zizes isn’t interested in competition...but they’re surgeons, so she probably is. After she finishes her last set of rounds for the day, she doesn’t even bother to change out of her scrubs. She’ll just go home and take a shower, have dinner with her family and relax.

When she gets to the house, it’s loud. Liam is shouting, the babies are crying and Brittany looks like she’s at the end of her rope. With one arm holding a crutch, the other cradles Max, trying to settle him and Santana immediately feels bad. Maybe she should have taken more time off, maybe she shouldn’t have left Brittany to deal with all of this while she should be healing. But she insisted she would be fine, she insisted that she didn’t need Maribel to come down and help. Still though...

“Hey honey.” Brittany smiles as she walks into the living room, a shock of hair fallen over her face. “You’re home.”

“I’m home and it looks like just in time.”

“Do you want to deal with babies or Liam?”

“I’ve gotta nurse, if you don’t mind handling Liam.”

“Nope, got it.” Brittany hands Max over to Santana and grabs her other crutch before hobbling into the kitchen where Liam sits on the floor screaming.

“Hi Maxie baby.” Santana coos down to him, then lifts Oliver from his seat. “What’s going on with my boys today, huh?”

“I don’t like it!” Liam screams from the kitchen. “Go away, Mama!”

“Li...” Brittany sighs. “I’m sorry we couldn’t go to the park, I really am.”

Santana’s heart breaks just a little at that. She knows Brittany wants to enjoy the kids while she’s home, but obviously, going to the park is just something she physically can’t do. And of course, it’s impossible to reason with a four year old, especially when he’s been cooped up in the house except on the weekends. It’s clear that Brittany is pained by the fact that she can’t do what she used to do and Santana just wonders if she should have taken more time, despite Brittany’s insistence that she shouldn’t.

“It’s not fair! I want to go!”

“Liam. I told you if you had good behavior today, we would see if Mommy could take you, but you didn’t have good behavior.”

“I don’t want you! I want Mommy Noodle!” He tears into the living room and hops up onto the couch, jostling the twins away from nursing and making them start wailing again.

“Liam.” Santana says firmly, hating when she has to and trying to settle Max and Oliver back on her breasts. “This behavior is not nice and you need to say you’re sorry to Mama right now.”

“No! No! No! No!”

“I’m sorry guys.” Santana murmurs down to Max and Oliver, slowly taking them off her and laying them down. They start to cry again and she has no idea if she’s making the right choice, but she needs to take Liam upstairs, needs to have him sit and regroup in his room. “Let’s go, we’re going upstairs.”

Carrying Liam up the stairs and feeling like her breasts are going to explode, Santana looks quickly over her shoulder at Brittany who has settled on the couch and is trying to soothe the little boys. Liam kicks and screams the whole way up and Santana realizes she hasn’t ever seen him like this. She thinks of something one of her patient’s moms had told her years earlier about the “fuck you fours” and she thinks this might be the epitome of that. Once she’s sitting on Liam’s bed with him, he tries to run out of the room, but she stands up and stops him.

“We’re staying here until we calm down.”

“I don’t want to!”

“I understand that, but when you’re not treating Mama nicely and you’re scaring your brothers, you have no choice.”

He screams and cries until he finally throws himself on the bed and collapses in total exhaustion. It’s early for him to go to bed, but Santana thinks that maybe he needs it. She’s sure Brittany has fed him dinner by now and she’ll just get up a little earlier to bathe him in the morning. Breathing in deeply, she goes back downstairs to where Brittany holds the whimpering twins in her arms.

“He’s sleeping.” Santana tells her, lifting up her shirt completely and taking Oliver, then Max to get them all some relief.

“He’s been like this all day. I just feel so...helpless.”

“I know, he never had a fit like that when I was on bed rest, but I know the feeling of being helpless.”

“I’m just ready for this to be healed. There’s ten million things I want to do that I can’t. Take Liam to the park, help my parents pack in Boston, go back to work...” Brittany buries her face in her hands and Santana aches for her. “I’m just...God, this is horrible but I need to get out of this house. I’m about to go back to work and at least sit in my office.”

“Is that what you want to do?”

“Who knows if Sue will even let me?”

“There’s no reason you can’t run your department. You’re all but off painkillers. Even if you just started with some shorter days. It would probably be good for you.”

“You don’t think it’s crazy?”

“I don’t.” Santana shakes her head. “I’d do the same thing. You know I would have, I begged Shelby to let me do anything. I’ll call my mom tonight and you can see if you can set up a meeting with Sue when I go in tomorrow, that way you only have to take a cab one way.”

“You really are the best, I hope you know that.”

After Santana and Brittany eat dinner, the twins finally soothed, Santana calls her mom while Brittany calls Sue. Maribel is understandably not as thrilled about Brittany going back to work, worried about how she’ll be able to rest and recover, but she agrees to come in the morning. Luckily for Brittany, Sue has a meeting open at eight the next morning, so she’ll go in with Santana, see how things go and then work from there.

After the phone calls, they spend some time with just Max and Oliver, laying on the floor and playing with them. Santana is always so carefully observing Oliver, seeing if he’s catching up, but she knows there’s some rigidity to his limbs. Contrary to his she felt before and at his appointment, she’s reconciled in her mind that it will be okay if he needs a little extra help, that she doesn’t love him any less or love herself any less if he has special needs. He’s one of her beautiful, wonderful, perfect boys and she’ll spend her whole life fighting for him to have the very best of everything.

“I talked to Kurt.” Santana murmurs as she picks up both boys to bring them up to bed. “I’m going to put them down for the night and then we’ll talk.”

Santana looks over her shoulder at Brittany settling in on the couch and she walks up the stairs with the boys. They’re both nearly asleep when she gets up there, but once she lays them down in the bassinet, she can’t help but look over them. Max’s fingers are in his mouth and Oliver has his hand over his eyes and she swells with love for them as they settle into their dreams. She thinks of how they’ll grow up always side by side, how Liam will watch over them and is so grateful for this life she has.

She leaves the room and checks on Liam, glad he’s still sleeping, before she heads back downstairs. Brittany is in the big chair and she has her feet up on the ottoman and Santana is so glad to see that she looks much more comfortable than she has in the weeks past. She sinks down onto the couch, close enough so she can touch her, and runs her hands through her hair.

“Long day.” Brittany says. “For both of us.”

“I’m sorry they were such a handful today.”

“It’s okay, Santana. We both know they have those days. But tell me what happened.”

“He came to my office. It was...kind of a lot. I don’t know, I have this weird guilt thing with him, I guess. He said Dave said he was wrong, but I don’t know, I think it’s more complicated than that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I guess it’s like...I don’t know, you become friends with someone when you’re one person and then you go through these evolutions and you’re just not the same anymore, I don’t know.”

“I think...” Brittany takes a breath and Santana thinks she’s really considering her words. “Okay, I think that friendships evolve with you, I don’t know. Like you two have been friends since med school, you getting married and having kids shouldn’t change that.”

“He was really hurt that we got married without telling him and that Mercedes knew I was pregnant first.”

“I can understand that on some level.” Brittany nods. “But he also knows you have anxiety and have to do things your own way.”

“Do you not think I should forgive him?”

“No, I’m not saying that at all. I’m just saying that I don’t want you coming out of this thinking you’re in the wrong.”

“I’m not, I promise. He started about how other mothers leave their kids to go out with their friends and I...just can’t do that, I told him that. We leave them to go to work and once in a blue moon for a date night, but I love being here for bedtime, I don’t know.”

“What did he say to that?”

“He said he’d come over and spend time with us. Also that he doesn’t hate our kids. So that’s a start, right?”

“I think that’s a really good start.”

“It was easy when we were young, you know? We were all single and getting drunk after twelve hour shifts. But that being said, I wouldn’t trade what I have now for being young. I wasn’t happy, not really.”

“I know, honey. Lately, you’ve been less anxious than you have been since I’ve known you. You’ve found your stride and it looks really good on you.”

“For someone who never thought they’d have kids, I sure am into it.”

“And maybe that’s part of what’s going on with Kurt, you were both kind of on the same page about where your life was going to go and you changed your mind. That’s hard.” Brittany reaches over and takes Santana’s hand.

“I guess, I don’t know, Britt, it’s hard.”

“I know, and it’s okay if you want to stop talking about it.”

“I do. Have you decided if you want to go to Boston?”

“I mean, I feel like we should, I just don’t know what kind of help I’m going to be.”

“Your parents understand if you need to relax. I mean, especially if Sue lets you go back to work. You’ll probable be exhausted by the weekend. And when they get here, we’ll go out to Long Island, I’ll unpack with them.”

“Yeah.” Brittany sighs. “I guess it’s still just a thing for me about Liv’s stuff, I want to make sure it’s okay.”

“They’re going to take care of it, it means as much to them as it does to you.”

“No, I know, you’re right. I’ll tell them tomorrow that we’re not going to go. They said they had it under control. Sorry, I’m just...whatever.”

“It’s okay to be like that, it’s a lot.”

“I know my mom told you I never got to grieve. And she’s right. I’ve got a lot of stuff to unpack.”

“You know you can do it with me, right?”

“I know.” She nods. “It’s just still hard for me to process the way she died. And the fact that she’d overcome so much. She wished for a life where she was happy with a family of her own and she was just getting started. She deserved so much more. I don’t know, we’re new at our family thing and it scares me a little.”

“Like it’ll all be taken away?”

“I don’t know, maybe I just don’t feel like I deserve it. I know you go through that sometimes.”

“But you’ve always been the one who tells me I do. And I’m going to tell you the same.”

“I don’t think I ever got to thank you, you know, for letting me name Oliver after her.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I feel like he has a special guardian angel, I don’t know. I don’t normally believe in that stuff.” Santana shakes her head.

“I don’t either, but yeah, I feel that. I just always think about how she would have been so calm about the whole thing.”

“Britt, you’re so calm about the whole thing. You’ve been a rock while I’ve freaked out. But I feel like we’re in a good place with it now.”

“I can tell. We’ve got this, whatever comes along.”

“I know.”

Santana watches TV with Brittany for a little while and then she showers and they go up to bed. Santana is surprised how infrequently the twins wake up throughout the night and she savors the extra sleep. It may be restless, since she’s still not taking her pills, but she sleeps. When she gets up in the morning, she’s surprisingly refreshed and she rolls over, seeing that both boys are up and gurgling contentedly in the bassinet. Brittany is already out of bed, she hears the shower running, and Santana picks both of them up to nurse. While they do, she thinks about how surprised she is that Liam is still sleeping, but she’s glad he’s getting the rest he needs.

Once the babies are fed, she lays them back down and gets dressed. She slips into the bathroom to wash up and brush her teeth, then she carries them into Liam’s room. He’s slowly opening his eyes and a Santana just looks at her oldest son. He’s had a tough day yesterday, but he’s still just the sweetest boy, and she sits down beside him with Max and Oliver in her arms.

“Hi, Mommy Noodle.” He murmurs sleepily, not opening his eyes.

“Hi, Sir.” She smiles, leaning over to kiss him on the head. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“I feel like I’m ready to go to the park. Can you take me?”

“I have to go to work, but Grandma Maribel is coming over and I bet she’d be glad to take you.”

“What about Mama?”

“Mama’s going to come with me to talk to Dr. Sue this morning. But I promise you this, tomorrow is Saturday and I’ll definitely take you to the park then.”

“Hmmm...okay, what about Maxie and Ollie?”

“They’ll come with us. And we’ll see how Mama’s feeling, maybe she can come too.”

Once her promise is made to Liam, Santana brings the three boys downstairs and puts a waffle in the toaster for her oldest. Brittany comes down the stairs, one crutch under her arm, and Santana smiles at her. Brittany looks beautiful, dressed up for her meeting with Sue and a big smile on her face. With everything that went on with her parents and then her leg, Brittany hasn’t worn that smile of hers in too long, so Santana goes over to her and kisses her, just soaking it all in.

Brittany is chatty on the way to the hospital and Santana is so happy to talk to her, she almost doesn’t want to get out of the car. But they get there and Santana kisses her again outside her office and goes to meet her first patient. She knows she has back to back surgeries all day so she won’t be able to check in with Brittany for awhile, but she hopes that things go well with Sue, she hopes her wife can come back to the hospital and feel like she can breathe again.

The day feels like it lasts forever, and when Santana finally gets back to her office at the end of the day, realizing that she hasn’t pumped in six hours and her breasts feel like they’re going to fall off, Brittany is sitting on the couch and smiling at her. She’s so happy to see her wife’s smiling face that she immediately pulls her in for a kiss.

“You’re back?”

“I’m back.” Brittany grins. “Sue said I know my body and if I feel like I can work, I can work. It’ll be a few weeks before I can go back to surgery, but I’ll take just being here and running my team.”

“That’s amazing, Britt. I’m so glad it went well!”

“Are you okay? You keep rubbing your breasts.”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just haven’t pumped in basically forever. I’d love to wait to get home and just feed the boys, but I feel like I might actually die if I don’t get some milk out of me. Do you mind?”

“Honey, do what you have to do. I checked in with your mom a little while ago and things are all good over there.”

“I’ve gotta be better about this. My milk is going to dry up if I keep waiting so long to pump.” Santana sighs, closing the door and grabbing her breast pump from her bag.

“How do you feel about that?”

“What?”

“Your milk drying up? I mean I know nursing and working full time has been a lot on you.”

“You know...I honestly don’t know. I told myself I was going to do it for a year, especially for Oliver, but finding time to pump just feels like it’s impossible. I know they have to give it to me, but also I can’t exactly stop in the middle of a surgery to do it. I don’t know.”

“Okay. You know that whenever you’re ready to stop, I’m okay with it, right?” Brittany asks, gently touching Santana’s shoulder.

“No, I know. I guess I’m ready to start thinking about it. It feels weird to say that out loud.”

“The boys are doing great, it’s amazing you’ve been able to keep this up this long.”

“Thank you. But seriously, I want to hear all about your day.”

“It was a lot of scheduling stuff, my team really stepped up while I was out, so there were no major fires to put out. And I was able to talk to some of my long term patients who are still here. It felt good, when I was at home, I didn’t feel...useful. I felt like Liam was always mad at me for not being able to do things, I don’t know.”

“I felt like that when I was home too, so I get it.” Santana nods. “But he loves you.”

“No, I know. And I miss all three of the boys today, but it also felt really good to be here.”

“Our second home.”

[awackyphdinadorkable]

Cherik Moodboard - Casino AU

As Sebastian Shaw’s security manager at the Hellfire Casino, Erik has seen people gamble their lives away for just another roll of the dice or because they foolishly believe that no one can beat the cards they have in hand. As a result, he never tries his luck with the slot machines or by playing poker. After all, Erik knows the house always wins.

When Azazel and the others inform him that they have taken someone who supposedly cheated at the poker table, Erik is shocked to see the one gambler he ever played against - and lost to - roughened up in the basement.

“Charles?”

Erik makes arrangements for the man’s release. After all, Charles broke no rules by using his innate abilities as a telepath against human scum. Things are only different once you bet among your own kind, the mutants. At least those are the rules in the Hellfire Casino. And Erik enforces those rules with the same iron-clad fist with which he can control metal.

Erik still can’t believe it, though. He thought he’d never see Charles again in a lifetime.

“Vice versa,” the telepath assures him as Erik takes him to his apartment to allow Charles to clean himself up after Azazel and the rest went a bit too roughly on him for supposed cheating. But leave it to Charles to “forget” to tell them that he is a telepath and sport that ridiculous smile even with a split lip.

They met about five years ago, at some bar downtown. Erik only ever went there to get away from Shaw for a while, after the two winded up with an argument about how to handle the “mutant question”. And out of nowhere, Charles sat down next to him and wanted to convince Erik to buy him a drink. And that even though Erik made it very clear that he was not searching for company of whatever kind. But Charles kept at it, arguing about how this was his first time in the city, “finally free, for a couple of days” and how he wanted the “whole experience”.

Long story short, Erik didn’t wake up in his apartment the next morning, and he was not alone in bed. Because apparently, he dared to gamble, and of course, he lost to a gambler. You always lose when it comes to gamblers, one of the first rules you learn in the business, and yet, Erik forgot it when he looked into those big blue eyes, full of hope.

It was a blissful time, against all odds. Room service, playing chess, talking about everything and nothing, and enjoying a seemingly endless appetite for one another over and over again. Charles fascinated him in ways Erik couldn’t put into words even now. There was something mysterious about him, just like it is now. The perfect poker face.

The only thing Erik knows about Charles is his dream and how it came into existence. Charles told him that much the morning he woke up, sitting on the window sill, watching the lights of the casinos fade in the light of dawn. Charles started playing poker “professionally” when he was still a child. He helped his stepfather keep the family estate. Because Kurt Marko was about as good at playing poker as he was raising his son and his stepson. Young Charles had spent numerous nights in the room next to where his stepfather invited wealthy businessmen to gamble with him, forced to look into their minds and learn the game. Charles only ever planted the “inspiration” for his stepfather to raise the stakes or fold, but never told him that he was silently watching on with his telepathy.

“I wouldn’t have wanted him to know that there was a sure way to win. Or else he would have kept at it even more.”

When Kurt Marko passed away, Charles hoped he’d finally gained his freedom, but no such luck. His stepbrother had since learned of his abilities and just raised the stakes. As the oldest, he was in charge, and Charles would only inherit once he was 21. And so, Charles was forced to play along, continue the game without a chance to fold and start over new. That was when he got dragged to the casinos by his older brother, or rather, to tell him what to do, sitting behind the dumpsters while Cain pretended to be the ace at the poker table.

The night he and Erik ended up in bed together was the time Charles ran away from home. Because his brother got an “inspiration” to pursue his dream of becoming a soldier and join the military. Charles just wanted to wait until Cain was gone, so he wouldn’t have a chance to put the family estate on the line at a last round of poker, as he had threatened to do if Charles did not oblige.

“He wanted to go to the military long before he started gambling. It’s merely a push. At least that’s the more comforting thing to think… that we both will be free afterwards.”

Charles came to the city to get a bit of starter money and then pick up his education again. Genetics, Erik learned, because “mutations are groovy”, apparently. Thus, the trip to the city was a way of saying goodbye for Charles. And so, when Erik and he left the hotel room later on, they understood that it was not just a goodbye to the city but to each other as well.

But now, five years later, Charles is back at gambling - and Erik can’t understand why. He thought Charles wanted to make something out of himself, become a teacher, do some good in the world. And yet, here he is, sold on the belief that he can win against the house. Shaw’s house, no less.

“Why are you back, Charles?”

“It’s a free country, you know?”

Still that same smile, still that same attitude. Erik knows he shouldn’t be surprised, but he is shocked. He thought that given the chance, Charles would be smart enough not to try bet away his freedom again.

“I mean it,” Erik insists. It’s not like they are a couple or anything. They winded up having sex - lots of sex - over a weekend five years ago. Erik knows Charles doesn’t owe him explanation the same way he knows it’s not his place to lecture him. And yet, he can’t help himself. Because no small part of him had hoped that Charles would gain his freedom and would keep it.

But it seems that the game’s already swallowed him and Erik just didn’t see the signs.

“I mean it, too, Erik. You of all people should know what a gambler would do in the city this time of the year.”

“You want to take part in Shaw’s tournament.”

Charles just laughs at him, brighter than he should after delivering such news. “And we have a winner!”

Erik can’t understand any of this. Charles is so clever, so kind-hearted, and yet, he sounds like one of the gamblers he watches throwing their lives away as they roll the dice, day in, day out.

Even the short time with him five years ago assured Erik that Charles was an inherently good person, which is rare enough, especially in this kind of domain. While Charles has a wicked side to him, his intentions always come from a good place. At least that was the impression Erik was most sure of by the time they bid farewell. A telepath who spends a weekend with a stranger, for casual sex only, only to then hold the stranger close as he cries for the mother and father he lost, though he didn’t allow those tears for so many years? Such a man can’t be a bad person, can he?

And even if not, Charles is clever. And so he should know that there is no way he can win a tournament in the Hellfire Casino, even less so when Sebastian Shaw himself is playing. Charles won those games because he was playing against humans, people without telepathy. Which makes it not that much of a great gamble beside the danger of being discovered. But things are different from Shaw’s internal tournaments, hosted specifically for mutants and thus adapted to “make them all equal” at the table.

But Charles doesn’t seem to care much, no matter what Erik tells him.

“I thought you wanted to finish up school and become a teacher.”

Charles shrugs. “Been there, done that. You can call me Professor, by the way.”

“Then why would you be here for Shaw’s tournament? If you have your professorship, if you are a teacher?” Erik demands to know. “I thought that was your dream.”

“Dreams change.”

“When did yours change?” Erik wants to know.

Charles just smlies at him, brighter than he should have any business smiling. “Isn’t that obvious? The day I met you, of course.”

“What did that change?”

“Wrong question. Who changed my dream is the appropriate question,” Charles lectures him. “and the answer to that is just as simple: You.”

“Me?”

“Before I met you, I thought I was the only one, I told you. Don’t you remember? I thought I was the only one with such abilities. The dream I had before, of teaching, getting out gambling, it was just about my life, but after I realized that there is people like us out there… I had to raise the stakes. I want to build a school for the likes of us. To train together, grow together. But you know how it is… dreams cost money.”

Erik still tries to wrap his head around what he is hearing. “I thought you prevented Cain from gambling the estate away.”

“I did, but it turned out that Kurt initially used the money out of my inheritance to gamble with his friends. Some loophole in the contract. And he went to their places, so I didn’t know. It was never on his mind. He didn’t care. By the time I wanted to open up the treasure chest, there was a big nothing in there. I have the estate, but I have no means to make it a school. And for what I have in mind, I don’t get federal funding. So… I have to get the money somehow.”

“And so you think winning it by gamble is the honorable solution?”

“In my experience, the people running casinos are no angels. And even if they weren’t… I’d find it about just right that somoene like Sebastian Shaw would come to fund my school. After all, he is such big talk about the mutant question, right?”

“Shaw’s rules will make it impossible for you to use your telepathy. He’s never lost in his entire life,” Erik warns him.

“Well, he will lose to me. It will be a valuable lesson to him.”

“Charles.”

“And it may be one for you as well.”

Erik frowns. “What now?”

“Shaw is not invincible. Even if he likens himself to be one, he is not a god. His opinions are not absoulte. What he thinks about mutantkind doesn’t have to be absolute either. And if you asked me, there is more than just one shady thing about a man who keeps a telepath in his company but is too afraid to take off his helmet in the presence of one. I told you as much already five years ago. It seems I failed to teach you that lesson back then.”

“That man took me in. He raised me as his own son after my mom died. He made me his right-hand man. He gave me a purpose.”

“When it comes to Shaw, you have a perfect poker face, because you believe in the cards Shaw handed to you all those years ago. But once you are ready, open your eyes and think deep if those cards are not biased in any way.”

“Shaw would never…”

“Wouldn’t he? You know, you say that about a guy who runs a casino.”

“And you are a gambler,” Erik scoffs.

“And you are worth more than being some lackey to watch the security cameras for a guy whose only intentions are power and more power, with his means of acquiring it being money and more money.”

“And you just want money.”

“I want money to build a future. Shaw wants money to destroy one,” Charles tells him. “And even if all of that were untrue, you can trust me on that one thing, gambler now or not.”

“Which would be?”

“I am here not just for my dream, I am here for yours, too. So you may choose your own future instead of just following Shaw’s lead. It’s a free country, I told you. I will show you. Because I am a gambler at heart.”

Charles excuses himself shortly thereafter and is gone before Erik can come up with a great rebuttal. What’s it to him anyway? Fine, the two were involved for a short amount of time, and Charles was on his mind more than any other fling he’s ever had since, but Erik knows he can rely on Shaw. That man was him like a father. And even if he does not always agree with the methods, Erik knows Shaw is right about how mutants are superior and have to fight for it.

Much to his dismay, Charles winds up at the tournament despite his warnings, full of himself and absolutely sure that even Sebastian Shaw can’t beat him, even as they put the collar on him to supress his telepathy, even as he sits down at the poker table with the likes he wanted to get away from as he watched dawn wash over the city lights five years ago.

To his credit, Charles keeps winning the first rounds. No less did he expect. Charles spent more time in casinos than most men twice his age have in their entire lives. For better or worse, Charles has played poker for almost all of his lifes, trying to beat the odds. Erik just cannot understand why Charles chose this tournament, why he chose such a risky game. There are other tournaments, against humans, that he could have won in a landslide.

Instead, he is here, back in the city, his eyes always set on the man sitting next to Erik, watching, laughing, enjoying himself, Sebastian Shaw. The man who saved him, the man who gave him purpose, who handed him a deck of cards and told him to shuffle.

For so many years, Erik watched people gamble, gamble their lives away. And so he knows they aren’t to be trusted. People who have something worth keeping shouldn’t be that foolish to give it all away. If it’s worth keeping, you’d have no reason to put it on the line. It should be enough.

Then why does he want to trust the gambler smugly grinning at him whenever he wins another round, gets one step closer to Shaw’s table? And why do Shaw’s words suddenly sound so different in his ears, when he was so sure that they were the groundwork not just for his future but that of mutantkind?

Why does he want Charles to win? After all, Erik knows that the house always wins. The odd thing though is that Erik is suddenly no longer sure whether he wants the house to win…

[lady-divine-writes]

Kurtbastian one-shot - “Inflated Egos” (Rated G)

Summary: When Kurt takes one of his students to compete in their first competition after landing their Axel, Kurt is confronted with the conundrum of choosing good sportsmanship or doing anything you can to win...

And Sebastian and Blaine are of no help whatsoever. (2080 words)

Part 69 of Outside Edge

Read on AO3. 

“I wanna add the Axel!”

"I know you do, Kevin. It's exciting to land your Axel. But we can't add it to your routine last minute."

"Why not!? I know the perfect place for it!"

Kurt sighs, steering his precocious pupil down the corridor that leads to the ice, rehashing this conversation they've had close to a hundred times over the past three hours.

“You can't add the Axel because you're competing at a level that doesn't include Axel."

"But this isn't a technical competition!" Kevin argues, the words tumbling around his mouth as if they don't belong. "I'm skating spotlight artistic! I can have an Axel in my program. They just won't score it!"

"Wow. You have such a firm grasp of the rules and qualifiers for a ten-year-old. Almost as if someone fed them to you... " Kurt shoots his boyfriend a dirty look. Sebastian shrugs, but he doesn't look the least bit guilty.

"It might be considered bad sportsmanship, and that could lower your score,” Blaine adds, inching in on Kurt's side of the argument. He has nothing against Kevin adding the jump. It would add pizzazz to his program. But judging at the ISI level can be ambiguous, to put it nicely. Not like in higher levels where it's required to put real-time scores on a readily available screen throughout the performance for transparency. If a judge doesn't like your music or your costume or your coach or you in general for whatever reason, a skater can lose fractions of a point. 

And those add up.

Most ISI judges coach competitors, and they tend to favor skaters in their own skating clubs. Scratches magically disappear if a coach happens to know the performer, knows that they've done better in the past, and cuts them some slack. 

It happens more often than the casual onlooker may think.

Kevin is a talented up-and-comer who hasn't ruffled anyone's feathers (that Blaine knows of), so he doesn't see how one little Axel could sully his reputation. And Kevin is correct - it's not technically against the rules for his event class. 

It's just frowned upon.

But if Blaine joins the Kevin-Sebastian tag team, that would be three against one, and that wouldn't be fair to Kurt. Kurt is looking out for his skater like any good coach would. Bad scoring won't tank a judge, but bad sportsmanship can kill a skater's career before it starts.

“I know the kids at the rink love this event, but I've never competed in spotlight artistic," Kurt admits. "Only technical. So I don’t really know what to expect.”

"I didn't either," Blaine chimes in. "My coach was adamant that it was a waste of time for serious skaters."

“I did a few," Sebastian says, "when I was part of Elite."

Kurt peeks over at his boyfriend, lips twisted behind his mask in an amused grin. "Why? That doesn't seem like Elite's cup of tea."

"Because coach wanted our names on the board for every event possible - technical, spotlight, shoot-the-duck, spirals... "

"What sort of routines did you do?"

"Nothing too impressive. Not like my technical programs. I was a big Avengers fan, so I stuck with that. I was Thor one year. Had a Mjölnir with lightning coming out of it and everything."

"Oh, please tell me there's a video of this somewhere!" Blaine begs, clasping his hands together in front of his chest. "I would pay good money to see it!" 

"You can't afford it," Sebastian says, blowing him off without a glance. "You had to have a prop for spotlight, but coach always said it was about the skating, like every other event. Or it was." He raises an eyebrow at a tractor prop covered in LED lights, quietly questioning, "What the hell song is that for?" as it drives by. "Something tells me that may have changed a tad.”

“Ya think?” Blaine chuckles, pointing to three skaters dressed in inflatable T-Rex costumes pulling an animatronic Indominus Rex the size of a VW bus behind them.

Kevin gasping diverts their attention to a podium covered in holographic wrap, a giant "diamond" mounted on top spinning slowly, throwing colored beams across the floor, pushed by a young lady dressed as a one-eyed spy. "These props are awesome!" he says, his own small prop clutched in his right fist.

"Maybe next time, we can wrap you up in Christmas lights and glue drones to your shoulders to make you fly," Sebastian suggests. "Eh, Kevin?"

"Can we?" Kevin asks, bouncing on his blockers, excited at the prospect of taking his hand-made Elvis costume to the next level.

"No! Kevin doesn't need any bells or whistles," Kurt declares, unsure what Christmas lights and drones have to do with Elvis. "His routine is about his skating. Props are just gravy. We don't need more. One is enough."

"Yeah. Right. Okay," Sebastian and Kevin grump. Even Blaine looks disappointed. 

So when Kurt hears a chuckle, his ears prick up, and his head turns.

Everyone he sees around them seems focused on their warmups. No one is paying attention to them. But off to his right, he spots a brown-haired woman, her smiling green eyes darting their way, then back to the ice. When she looks back and notices Kurt watching her, she knows she's been caught and waves their way.

"I'm sorry," she says, trundling over. "I didn't mean to overhear, but I was wonderin'... are you fellas new?"

It's not often that Kurt walks into a rink in Ohio and isn't immediately recognized. But unlike Sebastian, he enjoys the anonymity.

"Let's just say I am," Kurt says. "What am I missing?"

"A lot." She laughs again so hard, she snorts. "I'm sorry. Saying it's about the skating is admirable. That's what it should be about. But it's not. Not in this category. It's about the props. The bigger the prop, the better. You have to use every advantage you have if you want your skater to come close to winning a medal."

"Not everybody thinks that way," Kurt argues.

"Oh no? Do you see that boy over there in the gold crown?" She motions with her head past the crowd to where a boy slightly older than Kevin, dressed in pale blue and gold brocade, warms up. "That's Michael. He's skating as Tommen from Game of Thrones. His dragon prop is programmed to roll around the ice on its own. It even breathes fire! And at the end, he's going to jump out a tower window."

"Wow," Sebastian says when he catches sight of said tower. It has to be made of styrofoam. The skaters are responsible for getting their props on and off the ice by themselves. There is no way this kid would be able to push his tower around unless it was constructed out of foam. But it looks like stone. It stands at least six feet tall with a platform roughly three feet up and outfitted with a cushion for Michael to land on, painted to look like a cloud that will blend in with the ice. "Kurt, you're super dramatic and stuff. This sounds right up your alley! How about we sign you up for the next go-'round? You can do an excerpt from Wicked. Or Phantom of the Opera! We just need to find you a cape, a mask, and about seven dozen candles! Whaddya say?"

"I say it depends on which testicle you want to lose," Kurt mutters, hoping the bubbly stage-mom dressed in head-to-toe flair doesn't hear.

"Look, it may not be my place to say," she starts. "You are his coach and all, but... uh... " Her eyelids narrow. "What event is your skater in?"

"Thirty-seven," Kurt says.

She sighs, looks strangely relieved. "Okay. My Maggie's in twenty-three."

Kurt's brow furrows. Then he rolls his eyes, realizing she asked to make sure Kurt's skater wouldn't be competing against her daughter after she imparts this valuable nugget of information.

"If you want some advice, let him add the Axel. His prop is a little... well, it's a little... " She glances down at the object Kevin is strangling in his grip, searching for a polite word to describe it "... puny. He'll need a little oomph. Ooo!" She yelps so suddenly, all four boys jump. "I almost forgot! I have a boom box in my trailer from Maggie's last spotlight! It's got a detachable disco ball and flashing strobe lights! It would go great with his costume!"

"Is it big?" Sebastian asks, infuriating Kurt by getting caught up in this woman's prop propaganda. 

"It's the size of an Irish Wolfhound!" 

"And they're big," Blaine concurs, sharing a nod with Kevin, then Sebastian.

"Oh, I couldn't put you out..." Kurt tries, but she shakes her head, refusing to let him turn down her offer.

"Nonsense! I'm parked right outside the loading doors! It'll take five minutes to get!"

"It couldn't hurt," Blaine says, having the good sense to move away after.

Kurt can't reach him, but he fixes him with a glare that could melt glass.

"You can't honestly believe the skating doesn't matter?" he says, not directed at any one person.

"Of course, I believe the skating matters," Maggie's mom says. "But in this event, you have to have some sort of edge. Especially when you're up against stuff like that." She points past them, her eyes traveling up, way up, and Kurt's heart sinks into his stomach before he even turns around.

”Jesus Christmas,” Sebastian moans, staring at the monstrosity traveling their way - the biggest, gaudiest, parade-style float he has ever seen indoors, decorated to look like a six-year-old girl's dream: the base wrapped in tons of fluffy pink tuille intertwined with hundreds of white twinkle lights, crystal baubles and gold balls hanging from fishing line so they look like they're suspended in air, no less than three machines spewing bubbles straight up, a hidden fog machine obscuring the view slightly with pink mist, and in the center, a whole family of inflatable rainbow unicorns on an elevated platform, each one rotating independently, all surrounding a cocoon of pink satin pillows where a skater sits, carried onto the ice by this cotton candy throne. “I’m not even skating, and I’m suffering from some serious prop envy.”

Kurt stares at the thing as it passes by, its smug passenger waving at them like they're peasants waiting for crumbs of stale bread, until the image is burned into his retinas. He looks at Kevin and his pathetic prop - a lime-green inflatable guitar his mother bought for five dollars at the last county fair. There's something wrong with it. It keeps deflating at the neck. Kurt brought a hand pump with him, one he uses to put air in his yoga ball. One of Kurt's jobs as Kevin's coach is to fortify the thing before Kevin takes to the ice. He tosses it about three seconds in to his routine anyway. 

Because it's not the star of the show. 

Kevin is.

Kevin could probably skate circles around half these kids, but if what Maggie's mom says is true, he doesn't have a chance simply because they didn't think to look for anything larger for him to hold than this defective pool toy. Kurt finds it horrible that Kevin has lost before he even begins because his prop is less in-your-face than everyone else’s.

Excuse him for thinking that a skating competition would be judged on skating!

Kurt isn't necessarily proud of his next few decisions since they play into the "anything to win" mentality. But later, Sebastian will convince him he wasn't elevating Kevin so he could win. It was leveling the playing field so he had a chance.

And Kurt can live with that.

"Sebastian? Blaine?"

"Yeah, babe?"

Blaine debates calling Kurt babe, too, if for no other reason than to rankle Sebastian, but now might not be the best time. "Yeah?"

"Could you please escort this kind woman to her trailer and retrieve the enormous boom box she has graciously offered to lend us?"

"On it," Blaine replies.

"Yessir." Sebastian gives Kurt a playful salute, then hurries away, led by the now effervescent woman who couldn't be more thrilled than if they were outfitting her daughter. 

“And Kevin?”

“Yeah, coach?”

Kurt puts his hands on Kevin's shoulders and gives him a reassuring squeeze as they watch that grotesque, bubble-spitting giant take the ice. “Add the Axel.”

[darriness]

Klaine Fic - Season of Happiness

Author: darriness

Rating: Explicit

Category: AU

Word Count: 11,172

Summary: A Christmas with the Anderson’s - what could possibly go wrong?

Author’s Note: So I started watching Happiest Season the other day and got inspired! I have only watched an hour of the movie though so far. Once it sparked this fic idea, I wanted to run with it without having to think about how closely it aligned with the movie. So any similarities, especially near the end, are coincidental. That being said, there are two lines from the movie I used in my fic word for word because I loved them so much (if you want to know which they are just ask and I'll tell you - I take no credit for them). As always this fic was beta'd by the lovely @darrenismydarcy but any left over errors are completely my fault! Enjoy and Happy Holidays!

AO3 Link

“There it is. There it is.” Blaine Anderson pants as he rocks his hips. Kurt Hummel, the man currently on the receiving end of Blaine’s thrusting hips, puts his hands into his hair as his noises become more desperate. He is so. Close. And Blaine knows it.

“Oh God, Blaine.” Kurt moans.

“Come on. Come. Come around my cock.” It’s those growled words that do it. Kurt feels everything in him tighten before it releases in blinding light and sparks.

He is aware of Blaine’s almost pained groan above him and after the initial wave of sensation is over, Kurt makes the concerted effort to squeeze his muscles as Blaine continues to thrust.

“Coming.” Blaine announces in a strained voice as he stills and Kurt hums at the pulsing sensation deep inside.

They are still but for their panting breath for several moments afterwards. Kurt is enjoying the little sparks of sensation still zinging all over his body and he has a feeling Blaine is about five seconds away from collapsing on top of him.

4, 3, 2, 1…

Blaine lets out a huff and his arms collapse under him so he’s lying on Kurt’s chest. Kurt smirks - he knows his boyfriend. Kurt brings his hands up to run them absently along Blaine’s sweaty back as the other man rests his cheek on Kurt’s sternum. He knows sooner rather than later Blaine will have to get up to dispose of the condom, but for now he’s going to wait until he can feel his extremities a little more and just enjoy this moment.

Six months in and it seems to only get better.

He met Blaine in a coffee shop, of all cliche places. Witty banter and flirty, coy smiles were exchanged and just like that Kurt had himself a date for the evening. Six months later finds the twenty-four year old men living together in Kurt’s small but impressively decorated one bedroom apartment in Brooklyn and more in love than either can really comprehend.

Kurt is forever thankful that he decided to stop at that particular coffee shop before work all those months ago.

Blaine brings him back to the present with a groan as he pushes off Kurt to quickly dispose of the condom before pulling the blanket up to cover them both and snuggling back in beside Kurt.

“Love you.” Blaine whispers.

Kurt turns with a smile, enjoying the way the passing lights from the street outside cause the light to play on Blaine’s beautiful face, “Love you, too.” He answers back.

Blaine gives a small smile, “And thanks for letting me do that.”

The comment makes Kurt actually laugh out loud, which makes Blaine’s smile grow bigger.

“You say that like it never happens.” Kurt says after he’s done laughing, “I’ve let you fuck me quite a few times.”

Blaine shrugs, “Yeah, but you much prefer to fuck me.” 

It’s Kurt’s turn to shrug, “Fair point. But it’s not like I only let you top on your birthday and Christmas or anything. And don’t pretend you don’t prefer it the other way.”

Blaine smirks, “You are very talented with your hips.” He concedes which does wonders for Kurt’s ego, “But it’s close enough to Christmas so the whole ‘only let me fuck you on Christmas’ thing could hold water.”

Kurt snorts and rolls his eyes before looking back at Blaine who suddenly has a serious expression on his face.

“Speaking of Christmas…” Blaine starts and Kurt’s eyes widen slightly.

It’s not like he hadn’t been expecting this conversation. They’ve been dating for six months and living together for one. It’s the middle of December. He’s actually surprised the topic of their first Christmas together hadn’t come up sooner.

“Yes.” Kurt says, slowly.

Blaine bites his lip, “I was wondering if you’d...come to my parents place for the holiday.”

Something in Kurt’s chest instinctively tightens. Meeting the parents. For Christmas. It’s a lot.

It’s not like Kurt’s never met a boyfriend’s parents. He’s had two major relationships in his twenty-four years, both lasting two years, and he met the parents both times. It’s just that...the meeting hadn’t gone overly well either time. In fact, the disaster that was meeting Ethan’s parents was what had caused him and Kurt to break up.

It’s not that Kurt doesn’t want to meet Blaine’s parents - he and Blaine are serious enough to warrant a meeting for sure - he had just been hoping to avoid it a little bit longer.

He must not be answering quickly enough because Blaine picks his head up from where it had been resting on Kurt’s chest with a furrowed brow, “If you don’t want to, that’s okay. I know it’s a big step.”

Looking into Blaine’s round, large, hazel eyes, Kurt finds his heart melting and he smiles despite his misgivings, “I would love to spend Christmas with your family.” He says and the bright smile Blaine gives him is enough to know he’s made the right decision.

-- -- --

“No, Dad, I already told you. Blaine’s parents live in Westerville. We’ll spend Christmas Eve and Christmas morning with them and then we’ll drive to Lima and spend Christmas afternoon and the twenty-sixth with you and Carole.” Kurt is saying to his dad as he finishes packing his bag.

It’s not the first conversation he’s had with his father about the subject. This won’t be the first Christmas Kurt has had to divide his time, but it’s definitely not the norm, and Burt Hummel is having a difficult time with it.

His father coughs before grumbling, “Couldn’t it be the other way around?” 

Kurt sighs and pauses in his packing, “Dad,” He says, “I already told you this, too. Blaine’s parents and brother are flying out to LA on Christmas Day.”

Burt sighs, “I know you told me, I just...want you here.”

Kurt pouts a little, “I know, Dad. But it’s the only way to make it work without Blaine and I spending Christmas apart. And it’s just easier to get both ‘meeting the parent’ moments out of the way.”

Burt huffs, “So now I’m something to be gotten ‘out of the way’?”

Kurt looks up at the ceiling, “Daaaaad.” He all but whines and this time Burt laughs.

“I’m just joking about that last one.” He says and Kurt feels some of the tension leave him, “Promise me you’ll FaceTime me on Christmas Eve at some point?” Burt asks.

Kurt nods, “Of course. Will Finn be around to help you figure out how to work FaceTime?” He asks.

“Hey now…” Burt says in warning and then the father and son are laughing.

“I’d better go, Dad.” Kurt says, “But I’ll see you in a few days.” 

-- -- --

Kurt drums his fingers on the window ledge of the car as he looks out at the trees passing them by. They’ve been on the road for a few hours and while Kurt doesn’t necessarily want to speed up the time it takes to get to Blaine’s house and the meeting of his parents, he also wouldn’t mind if this car ride was shorter.

For whatever reason, Blaine has been tense the entire time. He’s kept both of his hands on the wheel, even going so far as to pull his hand back when Kurt had gone to grab it and bring it into his own lap, and he hasn’t said more than a single sentence in the last hour. Kurt has tried to ask if everything is okay but he just gets a nod and tight smile in return.

This can’t be a good start to this whole thing.

He figures Blaine is just nervous as well though, and decides not to push. He hums along with the radio and watches the scenery pass them by.

His phone rings in his pocket at one point and Kurt pulls it out to see his best friend Elliot’s name on the screen. He smiles as he turns the radio down and answers the call.

“Hey! Settling in okay?” He asks. He notices Blaine’s eyes flick from the road over to Kurt briefly before returning to look straight ahead.

“Definitely. Your place is amazing.” Elliot says. Kurt had asked Elliot to house sit while they were gone. It may only be four days, but Kurt wanted someone there in case something went wrong. Elliot would be staying in New York for the holidays and Kurt and Blaine’s apartment is only ten minutes from Elliot’s parents house. It worked perfectly, “But please tell me you changed your sheets before you left.”

Kurt lets out a laugh and lays his head back on the headrest, “Yes, we changed the sheets before we left.” He looks over to see Blaine smirk slightly.

“Excellent.” Elliot says, “So, on a scale of one to ten, how nervous are you right now?”

Kurt sighs and looks over at Blaine again who hasn’t looked away from the road but seems to be even more tense than before, “Like eleven.” Kurt confesses, “But I gotta go, El. We’ll talk soon.”

“Okay, but just do me one favour?” Elliot says.

“What’s that?” Kurt asks.

“Don’t pass up the opportunity to fuck that boy in his Star Wars sheets.”

Kurt can’t help but laugh out loud which draws Blaine’s attention, “Bye Elliot!” Kurt sings into the phone before hanging up on his laughing friend. He smiles down at the phone before turning to find Blaine’s eyes still on him. When their eyes connect, Blaine looks away and back to the road.

Kurt lays his head on the headrest, “Do you...have Star Wars sheets in your childhood bedroom?” He asks.

Blaine’s face scrunches in confusion before he shakes his head, “No. They’re green and burgundy.” He says.

“Damn.” Kurt whispers with a smirk.

“Why?” Blaine asks.

Kurt shakes his head, “Never mind.” Blaine isn’t in the mood for jokes right now Kurt can tell. He sighs and looks out the window, setting himself up for another few hours of silence.

A few moments later, Blaine sighs roughly, “Kurt...I have to tell you something.”

Kurt looks over at him in concern, “What’s up?” He asks.

Blaine presses his lips together and shakes his head before he sighs again, “I figured I should let you know, before we get to my parents place that….they don’t know we’re a couple.”

Kurt’s face pulls together in confusion, “What? They don’t? You haven’t told them we’re together?” 

Blaine shakes his head, “No.”

Kurt immediately gets a bad feeling but he pushes it aside. Their romance has been a bit of a whirlwind and Blaine doesn’t really talk to his family so maybe he’s just waiting to tell them when they get there?

“So they’re going to find out we’re a couple when we get there?” Kurt clarifies.

Blaine swallows, “Not...exactly.”

Kurt begins to panic just a little, “Okay...you need to start saying more words.”

Blaine sighs and brings one hand from the wheel to rub his eyes, “I haven’t told my parents we’re together because...I haven’t told my parents I’m gay.”

Kurt feels all the air around him leave the car. He feels a tightness in his chest that makes him want to bring a hand up to massage it away. 

He’s about to go into a home where not only does no one know he and Blaine are a couple but where no one knows Blaine is even gay. What in God’s name did he get himself into here?

He tries to tamp down his feeling of panic, considering the look of absolute nausea on Blaine’s face. He loves this man. There has to be a reason.

He swallows and shakes his head to clear it before turning to Blaine, “So...who do they think I am to you?”

Blaine looks over at him and squints, “You don’t want to know why my family doesn’t know I’m gay?”

“Oh, we’ll get to that.” Kurt says and Blaine winces, “But I need time to process what they think I am to you.”

Blaine shrugs, “They think you’re my roommate. That I moved in six months ago to help with the expenses.”

“Moved into my one bedroom apartment?” Kurt asks, incredulously. 

Blaine winces again, “They don’t know it’s a one bedroom.”

Kurt sighs, “So, they’re just okay with your gay roommate crashing their Christmas?” Kurt is really getting tired of Blaine’s winces, “What?” He asks, annoyed.

“They...think you’re straight.” Blaine says.

Kurt just stares at him for a moment before huffing and gesturing to himself, “Oh yeah, you know everyone always tells me how much of a straight man I come across as!”

“Kurt, I didn’t know what to do! I was going to tell them before I brought you, but then my dad has this really important investor meeting tomorrow and I didn’t want to rock any boats before that. It’s important.” Blaine argues.

“And I’m not?” Kurt asks, hurt. He’s hurt. That’s the emotion he’s settled on. He’s hurt that Blaine didn’t feel enough about their relationship to tell his parents.

Blaine sighs and suddenly he’s pulling the car over. He puts them in park when he’s reached the shoulder and turns so his hand is resting on Kurt’s headrest and one of his knees is pulled up onto the seat.

“Kurt, you are the most important thing to me.” Blaine says and Kurt can’t deny the sincerity in his eyes, “It’s just, my family is...complicated. I’ve known I was gay since I was fourteen and yet I’ve never felt like I could be open and honest with them. But you...you make me want that. You make me want to tell them everything and to finally come out to them and live as authentically in their presence as I do everywhere else.”

Kurt crosses his arms and pouts but...Blaine’s got a point. It’s not like Blaine’s in the closet. Far from it. Their life in New York is as out as it can be, and for the most part they enjoy the same life any other couple does. There has to be a good reason why Blaine isn’t out to his family and Kurt doesn’t have the right to judge him for that.

He also gets a warm feeling in his stomach at Blaine’s words. Their relationship is making Blaine want to be open with his parents!

Kurt rolls his head on the headrest to look at Blaine, “I understand.” He says and he can see Blaine relax a little in relief, “But,” Kurt starts and Blaine looks back at him, “and not to sound at all like a bad teen movie or like I’m pressuring you at all, when were you planning on telling them?”

Blaine smiles even as he swallows nervously, “Christmas Eve. After my Dad’s dinner.”

Kurt looks at Blaine, the man he’s come to love over the past six months, and smiles, “Okay. I can play your straight roommate for one day.”

Blaine laughs and lets his head drop in seeming relief before smiling up at Kurt, “You are my favourite person.” He says, crossing the divide of the centre console to kiss Kurt.

Kurt kisses him back before pulling back to say, “I expect so much sex to make up for this though.” 

Blaine laughs and lets his head drop on Kurt’s shoulder. After a moment, he picks it up to glance at the road around them. He seems to be considering something before he shrugs and smirks at Kurt, “Might as well start now.” He says, reaching for Kurt’s fly and lowering his head.

Kurt thinks about protesting but...they’re on a fairly deserted stretch of highway and, Oh God, Blaine’s mouth is magnificent.

-- -- --

“Blaine!” Mrs. Anderson shrieks as she pulls open the door Kurt and Blaine stand in front of. She’s a small woman, shorter than Blaine, with dark brown hair pulled back into a bun. She’s dressed immaculately for being home at 1 pm and Kurt can respect her for that.

She pulls Blaine into a hug and kisses both of his cheeks before pulling back and turning to Kurt, “You must be Kurt!” She says, reaching her hand out.

Kurt takes it, noting its delicacy, before smiling shyly, “I am. Thank you so much for having me, Mrs. Anderson.”

Mrs. Anderson waves a hand and laughs, “It’s no trouble. We couldn’t very well let you spend Christmas on your own!”

Kurt turns to Blaine, wondering what story Blaine had given his parents that he hadn’t filled Kurt in on. Blaine shrugs and smiles a little. Kurt will have to ask him later. He also notes that unlike his father, who had told all of Kurt’s friends and boyfriends to call him Burt, Mrs. Anderson hadn’t extended the same offer.

“Come in boys! You can get settled into your rooms before your dad gets home from work and Cooper, Amelia, and the kids get in.” Mrs. Anderson says, gesturing them into the house.

The outside of the house is nothing compared to the inside and the outside was quite spectacular. It’s more an estate then a simple house and Kurt had lost his breath for a second at the sheer size of the exterior. Inside, the house is perfectly and elegantly decorated. Kurt takes in the fine fabrics, crystal adornments, and beautiful artwork. It’s a show piece of a house, that’s for sure.

It’s after Kurt’s initial overview of the front rooms he can see that something Mrs. Anderson said catches his attention. Rooms. More than one. He and Blaine won’t be sleeping in the same room. It’s not something that had occurred to him until this moment. Even after Blaine had confessed in the car and then given Kurt the most amazing road head, Kurt had been too floaty to consider that for the next two nights he would be sleeping away from Blaine.

Blaine gives him an apologetic shrug as they are led up the stairs and down the hall. Mrs. Anderson opens a door on the right of the hallway and gestures inside, “Blaine, I washed your sheets so you’re good to go.”

“Thanks Mom.” Blaine says as he, Kurt, and Mrs. Anderson enter the room. It’s not really at all like Kurt had imagined it. It looks less like a teenage boy’s room and more what a design catalogue would tell you a teenage boy’s room should look like. He knows Blaine hasn’t lived in this room for many years, but something tells him not much has changed.

“And Kurt, you’ll be across the hall.” Mrs. Anderson says, gesturing for him to follow.

Kurt does and, indeed, just across the hall from Blaine’s room is a generic guest room. It actually doesn’t look much different from Blaine’s room except it’s lacking in the few personal touches he caught in Blaine’s - no pictures with friends, sports memorabilia, and if Kurt wasn’t mistaken, boxing gloves. The guest room is similar in colour to Blaine’s but it just has a bed, a dresser, and a window seat.

“Looks lovely.” Kurt says with a smile.

Mrs. Anderson smiles and runs a hand along the duvet as Blaine joins them, “Well, I’ll let you boys get settled in and then meet me in the kitchen. I’ve been baking and if you want the chance to decorate anything you might want to do that before Cooper and the kids get here!”

She leaves Kurt and Blaine alone in the guest room and Kurt drops his bag on the bed before turning to Blaine, “We haven’t slept apart in months.” He says.

Blaine puts his hands in his pockets and shrugs, “I know. I’m sorry.”

Kurt puckers his lips in thought, “However...you are just across the hall. I could always,” He starts, sidling up in front of Blaine and grabbing fistfuls of his sweater, “sneak in in the middle of the night.”

Blaine blushes and gulps but is prevented from answering when a loud crash sounds from downstairs followed by a booming voice, “I’m home!”

Blaine looks over his shoulder, “That would be my brother.” He says.

Kurt nods, dropping his hands and stepping back, “Well, then, let’s go say hello.”

-- -- --

Cooper Anderson, as Kurt is discovering after one afternoon in his presence, is just as handsome as his brother but so much more egotistical. Kurt hasn’t been able to finish a sentence while they decorate cookies without Cooper interrupting and providing a personal anecdote. 

Blaine spends most of the afternoon rolling his eyes at his brother’s shenanigans while simultaneously playing footsies with Kurt under the table.

Cooper’s kids seem sweet enough. He’s got a five-year-old son named Dylan and an eight-year-old daughter named Ella. They laugh at Kurt’s jokes and politely ask for icing or candies to put on their cookies. Kurt counts those as wins. Cooper’s wife, Amelia, is quiet but pleasant.

Overall, it’s not a horribly spent afternoon.

Kurt does have to stop himself from reaching over for Blaine’s hand, or pressing a kiss to Blaine’s temple when he passes him something though. All the little things that have become commonplace in their interactions are now things he has to stop himself from doing. He’s never had to think this hard about how he interacts with Blaine, or anyone for that matter.

Blaine’s father comes home around 6 pm and their interaction is brief, void of emotion, but not hostile.

“Blaine, glad you’re home.” Mr. Anderson says, patting his son on the back after hugging Cooper, the kids, and Amelia.

Blaine nods, “Good to be home, Dad.” He says before gesturing to Kurt, “Dad, meet Kurt. My...roommate. Kurt, this is my dad, Bill Anderson.” Kurt is sure he’s the only one who catches the hesitation before ‘roommate’.

Mr. Anderson smiles benignly and reaches a hand forward, “Good to meet you, Kurt.” He says.

Kurt smiles, “Thank you for having me, Mr. Anderson.”

Mr. Anderson nods and then he’s gone. To his office Blaine informs Kurt. Kurt is fine with that. He felt a little as if he had just met a politician - all show but no substance.

Dinner that evening is a quiet affair. They order pizza which bemuses Kurt considering the posh surroundings he finds himself in, but he’s glad for the more relaxed meal.

When it’s time to get ready for bed, he and Blaine stand at the sinks in one of the upstairs washrooms brushing their teeth.

“So, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Blaine asks after he spits.

Kurt finishes a swipe of his toothbrush and spits himself before wiping his mouth with a towel and smiling, “Your family is really nice.” He says.

Blaine shrugs, “I mean, I know Cooper is a bit self-centred but he means well for the most part.”

Kurt nods as he inspects his skin in the mirror, “I can see that.”

Blaine sighs and places both hands on the vanity, “Why do I feel like we’re fighting?”

Kurt’s eyes widen and he turns to look at Blaine in alarm, “We’re fighting?” He asks.

Blaine’s eyes widen incredulously, “All day, since I told you about my family not knowing, I feel like you’ve been distant with me. And I thought you were okay with everything but now I’m not sure and just...tell me if we’re fighting.”

Kurt’s brow pinches, “I’ve been distant?” He asks and Blaine nods, “Well, of course I have! If I’m not distant then I kiss you randomly in the middle of cookie decorating, or drag you onto the first horizontal surface when you start playing footsies with me. I am fighting my every instinct right now so...yeah, maybe I seem a little distant. But I’m not mad at you. I’m trying to follow your wishes.”

Blaine looks at Kurt through the mirror with a pout on his face before he sighs and turns to pull Kurt to him. He buries his face in Kurt’s chest and wraps his arms around his waist. Kurt sighs and wraps his own arms around Blaine’s neck.

“I’m sorry. I’m just…” He pauses.

“Nervous?” Kurt asks.

Blaine nods into his chest before pulling back to look at him, “You make me want to be brave, Kurt. You make me want them to know about me. About us. But I’m also scared shitless of how they’re going to react.”

Kurt runs his fingers along Blaine’s hairline before smiling softly, “Can you do me a favour?” He asks.

Blaine nods, “Anything.”

“Don’t...tell them for me.” Blaine’s brow furrows in confusion and Kurt goes on, “Tell them because you want them to know you better. Don’t tell them because you want to prove something to me, or because you think I want you to. Do I love the fact that we’re both basically in the closet this weekend? Absolutely not.” Blaine blushes, “But,” Kurt continues, “Coming out shouldn’t be something you do on anyone’s timeline but your own, or for anyone else but yourself. I’ll still be here. Our life in New York will still be there.”

Blaine is nodding and Kurt can see tears forming in his eyes, “I love you so much.” Blaine whispers.

Kurt smiles, “I love you, too.” He says softly, “Now, let’s go to bed. Because the sooner everyone else is asleep the sooner I can sneak into your room.”

Blaine’s laugh makes Kurt’s heart feel lighter.

-- -- -- 

“Wait, you’re telling me Blaine’s still in the closet?” Elliot asks later that night. Kurt lies in the comfortable enough but nothing like his and Blaine’s own bed with his phone to his ear. He’s waiting for an appropriate time to sneak across the hall. He figures sometimes around 1 am should be sufficient.

Kurt sighs, “With his family, yeah.” He says, “He’s scared how they will react.”

“So, who do they think you are?” Elliot asks.

“His straight roommate.” Kurt whispers.

There’s silence on the other end of the line before Elliot coughs, “His family has met gay people before, right? Because, I love you honey, but passing...you are not.”

Kurt rolls his eyes, “They’ve known a gay person for twenty-four years and had no idea. I don’t think their gaydar is functioning properly. And I resent the insinuation that I can’t pass!”

Elliot chuckles, “I’m not saying you’re inability to pass is a bad thing! I admire you! I just can’t imagine how repressed these people are to look at you and think ‘Yes, I can believe this man has vaginal intercourse on the regular.’”

Kurt grimaces at the turn of phrase.

“You just grimaced at my use of the words ‘vaginal intercourse’, didn’t you?” Elliot says, knowingly.

Kurt sighs, “He’s just not ready to come out to his family.”

“I’m sorry, Kurt, but that’s a giant red flag.” Elliot says, but before Kurt can argue Elliot continues, “Look, I know coming out is a person’s own journey, but for him to be out in every other way other than his family? Something weird has to be going on. Do you really want to be in the middle of all that drama?”

It’s not like Kurt hasn’t thought of that. No matter the reason, Blaine’s family finding out he’s gay after all these years is bound to cause some drama. Does Kurt really want to be in the middle of it when it happens?

“I love him, Elliot.” Kurt answers and to him, that’s all the answer he needs to give, “And besides,” Kurt says with a shrug, “it’s kind of fun ‘sneaking’ around. There’s a delicious, albeit frustrating, tension.”

Elliot hums, “Well, you know there is nothing more erotic than concealing your authentic selves.”

“Elliot…” Kurt grumbles.

“All right, all right. That’s my last comment for the night. You know I always support you, right?” Elliot asks.

Kurt smiles, “I do. And that’s why I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Elliot says, “And your apartment. Have I mentioned how much I love your apartment?”

Kurt laughs, “Once or twice.” He glances at the clock, “Oooh! I should go. Blaine’s family should be asleep by now. I’m going to go get lucky.”

Elliot chuckles, “Enjoy!”

After Kurt hangs up, he sits on the bed without moving, listening intently to the sounds of the house around him. All is quiet so he very quietly gets out of bed and tip toes across the hall. He can honestly say this is the first time he’s had to sneak into a boyfriend’s bedroom. He figured at twenty-four the chance for that experience had passed him by. Obviously he’d been mistaken.

He eases Blaine’s door open and peaks inside. For all he knows, Blaine’s asleep himself.

He’s not though and Kurt smiles as he sees Blaine sitting up against the headboard of his childhood bed. His feet shuffle happily beneath the sheets when he sees Kurt and with the almost innocent smile on his face, Kurt has a flash of what it may have been like to know Blaine when they were sixteen and doing this exact same thing back then.

“You came!” Blaine enthuses quietly.

Kurt chuckles as he eases into the room and closes the door behind him, “You are too adorable.”

Blaine shrugs a coy shoulder and looks up at Kurt through his lashes, “Adorable or sexy?”

Kurt smirks, “Adorable.” He says, “But that doesn’t mean I’m not also going to come over there and devour you.”

Blaine’s mouth pouts around a smile, “Well, what are you waiting for?”

Nothing, Kurt thinks. I’m waiting for nothing.

He stalks to the bed and crawls up to kiss Blaine. Blaine sucks in a breath and cups his hands under Kurt’s jaw as he kisses back. It’s heated from the very start and Kurt’s hands smooth down Blaine’s sides as he straddles Blaine’s legs.

“I have been wanting to do that all day.” Kurt says when they pull back.

Blaine smirks, “I’m pretty sure even if my family knew about me, and us, you wouldn’t have been able to do THAT in front of them.”

Kurt rolls his eyes, “Can we not talk about your family when I’m trying to turn you on?”

Blaine sits up slightly and brings his mouth close to Kurt’s. He doesn’t kiss him but lets warm air puff across his lips, “You don’t have to try. I’ve been turned on all day.”

Kurt groans and presses their lips together while simultaneously grabbing the bottom of his shirt and pulling it over his head. Their lips barely disengage during the act and even more impressively they somehow find their way to a horizontal position without stopping the kiss either.

Kurt lines up their hips and presses down slightly into the hardening flesh he feels below him. Blaine lets out a stuttering moan before bracing his feet flat on the bed and returning the thrust.

Kurt hasn’t engaged in clothed frottage since college, and the dirty innocence of the act causes a shiver to run up his spine in the most delicious way. Everything about Blaine turns him on.

He’s just considering how best to get Blaine naked without stopping the delicious grind when somehow, over the noise of their breath, he hears a tap at the door.

He sits up like a shot and his eyes widen down at Blaine. Blaine for his part, pushes up onto his elbows with a disgruntled look on his face.

“Why’d you…” Kurt shushes him with a finger to his mouth and jerks a thumb over his shoulder to the door. 

There’s another tap on the door and this time Blaine’s eyes widen.

“Blaine?” It’s Blaine’s father. Coming to his door at 1 a.m. and Kurt is currently straddling his son. His straight son for all Mr. Anderson knows.

Kurt and Blaine stare at each other, both trying to figure out what to do. Kurt’s not sure if Mr. Anderson will just walk in if Blaine doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t want to take the chance.

He quickly gets up from the bed and looks around the room. He notices Blaine’s closet and without thinking much he quietly makes his way over and into the smaller enclosure.

In the next moment, Kurt hears Blaine’s door open and thank God he’d thought to hide. He wishes he could see what is happening, but instead he sits on the ground, pulls his knees up to his chest, leans his cheek on his knee and listens.

“Hey, I was hoping you’d still be up.” Mr. Anderson says.

Blaine coughs and Kurt can hear the shuffling of sheets, “Yeah. Couldn’t sleep.” Blaine answers. Kurt can hear a breathy quality to his voice that he hopes Mr. Anderson doesn’t.

“Oh, well, I was just finishing up some work in the office and thought I’d see if you were awake because I wanted to run something by you.” Mr. Anderson says.

“Oh. Sure.” Blaine says.

Mr. Anderson sighs, “You know how important tomorrow’s dinner is to my work, right?” Kurt assumes Blaine just nods because Mr. Anderson continues, “I need these investors and nothing can go wrong.”

“I get that.” Blaine answers and Kurt can hear a bit of confusion in his voice.

“Merrick Clark, one of the investors tomorrow, has a daughter about your age.” Mr. Anderson says and Kurt’s stomach instantly drops to the floor. Certainly Mr. Anderson isn’t about to propose what Kurt thinks he’s about to propose, “She’s just recently out of a very bad relationship and when her dad heard that you’d be home for Christmas…”

“Dad, I don’t think…” Blaine starts but Mr. Anderson cuts him off.

“I need to keep these people happy, Blaine. And I would really appreciate it if you could do your part.” Mr. Anderson says sternly.

Kurt’s heart breaks in the silence that follows. His mind is screaming for Blaine to just tell his father the truth. Tell him that he can’t date this random girl because he doesn’t like girls in that way and that he’s in love with the boy that’s across the hall (or so Mr. Anderson thinks). But this isn’t a movie, despite the comical timing of Mr. Anderson’s entrance tonight, so Kurt’s heart breaks a little more when Blaine answers.

“Yeah. Sure. Of course, Dad.” He says.

“Fantastic.” Mr. Anderson says and then there is silence for a moment before Mr. Anderson says something else, but this time his voice is further away, as if he’s at the door, “Good night, Blaine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Night Dad.” Blaine whispers and then Kurt hears the door to Blaine’s room open and close.

He stays in his place in the closet (the irony of his position not lost on him) for a moment. He tells himself he’s waiting until Blaine’s father is officially out of hearing distance but really his brain is trying to process the last few minutes. Somehow, not only does he have to be in the metaphorical closet for the next day, he has to watch his boyfriend play nice with the investor’s daughter. He feels sick to his stomach.

Soft light floods the closet as the door opens and Kurt looks up to see Blaine looking down at him and for as nauseous as Kurt feels, Blaine LOOKS even more sick.

“Kurt…” He says in a pained whisper.

Kurt reaches for one of Blaine’s hands and pulls the smaller man down to him. Blaine crumples to the floor to sit between Kurt’s legs and lean against his chest, his breathing erratic and he’s trembling slightly.

“Shhhh, it’s okay.” Kurt soothes, rubbing Blaine’s back.

Blaine shakes his head against Kurt’s chest and Kurt understands - it’s not okay. None of this is okay. 

-- -- --

“So, let me get this straight.” Elliot says the next day over the phone. Kurt’s outside, sitting on one of the Anderson’s outdoor couches. He’s wrapped up in his coat and shivering but he didn’t want to have this conversation where he could be overheard, “Oh, sorry, should I not use the word ‘straight’?” Elliot asks.

Kurt huffs and rolls his eyes, “Be serious, please.” He says.

Elliot sighs, “I’m just saying, you have moved from having to play the straight roommate for two days to having to play that role while your boyfriend is set up on a date with a woman!” Kurt sighs as well, he’s aware of the situation, “You know what I’m going to say. I would have been out after the first injustice, but now?”

Kurt huffs again and watches as his breath puffs out in front of him, “Elliot, are you done shaming me now? Can we move onto the actual advice-giving?”

“I’m not shaming you,” Elliot defends, “I just think the choice you’re making is dumb and you should feel bad about it and yourself.”

“Elliot!” Kurt exclaims as his friend laughs.

“Sorry. Just trying to lighten the mood.” Elliot says but when he speaks again he sounds serious, “Look, I love you, Kurt. And a big, very big, part of me just wants to tell you to get out of there. Is a six month relationship with a guy really worth all this?” Kurt goes to answer but Elliot continues before he can, “But I know what you’re going to say and so my advice to you is to just ride it out. Blaine said he’s going to tell his father after the dinner? Give him that chance. If he doesn’t, then you can reevaluate.”

Kurt nods, “You’re right.” He says.

“I usually am.” Elliot jokes and this time Kurt chuckles at the joke, “Now I’m going to go and sit on your extremely comfortable couch and watch a movie before going to my parents where their couches are decidedly less comfy.”

“Enjoy.” Kurt says, echoing Elliot from the night before and he hangs up. He sighs as he lets his phone drop into his lap. He knows Elliot has a point. Six months is not that long a time and Blaine has given him enough red flags just in the last day to make staying with him questionable but...there is just something that Kurt can’t walk away from. 

“Hey.” Kurt jumps slightly and turns to find Blaine walking toward him. He’s all bundled up in his winter wear and Kurt’s not sure how long he’s been outside but Blaine’s nose and cheeks are adorably pink from the cold. Kurt’s breath catches at the sight.

“Hey.” Kurt says as Blaine comes to sit next to him on the couch.

“You okay?” Blaine asks. 

They haven’t really talked all morning. Kurt had stayed in Blaine’s room last night, getting up to go back to his own around 5 am, but it had not been the sexy romp he’d been hoping for. They’d snuggled and slept. Very little had even been said after exiting Blaine’s closet and Blaine had been busy all morning helping his mom with the evening’s meal.

Kurt nods and then shrugs, “Yeah. I guess.”

Blaine sighs and reaches for Kurt’s gloved hands in his own. Kurt allows him to pull his hand into his lap and Blaine plays with his fingers as he talks, “You know that...no matter what happens tonight, it doesn’t change how I feel about you, right?”

Kurt swallows. He wants to believe that so badly. Instead of answering verbally, he nods.

Blaine gives a small smile, “This dinner is really important to my dad.” He continues. Kurt is pretty sure he’s heard that sentence more than ‘I love you’ from Blaine over the past day. He holds back the urge to roll his eyes and stays quiet as Blaine continues, “I know it’s not how you would want to spend Christmas Eve but I promise, once we get through the meal I’ll...I’ll tell my parents.”

Kurt sighs, “Is it okay if I ask now why you haven’t told them in ten years?”

Blaine’s eyes widen but he nods, “Of course. You have a right to know.” Kurt’s not sure that’s true but he appreciates that Blaine is willing to tell him. Blaine shrugs and looks out over the backyard, “It’s not an overly complicated story though. My parents have always made their views on gay people very clear. They don’t hate them, but would almost rather pretend like they don’t exist. They’re deeply Republican and are very into appearances. A gay son doesn’t really fit into the world they’ve created for themselves. I was terrified of the way they would react and didn’t want anything to jeopardize the relationship we had.”

“What about Cooper?” Kurt whispers.

Blaine shrugs again, “Cooper is just too much of a wild card. We’re eight years apart in age. We’ve never been overly close but we struck up a sort of tentative relationship after I turned sixteen. I know Cooper has no problem with gay people, I just don’t know where his allegiances would lie if my parents reacted poorly. I didn’t want whatever relationship we have to disappear if he chooses my parents over me.”

Kurt’s heart breaks once again for the man in front of him. At the moment, Blaine looks like a frightened little boy, and in a lot of ways he is. He has come a long way to accept himself but when it comes to his family he might as well be that fourteen year old boy discovering his sexuality for the first time.

Kurt squeezes Blaine’s fingers, “No matter how they react, I’ll be here.” He whispers.

Blaine looks up at Kurt with wide wet eyes and takes a deep breath. He doesn’t say ‘I love you’ but Kurt can see it and feel it when Blaine brings his lips to Kurt’s in a kiss. Is it the smartest thing to kiss in the backyard? Probably not, but Kurt isn’t going to turn Blaine away especially when he can feel Blaine relax the more they kiss.

-- -- --

“Okay, you’re going to have to change.” Kurt turns from where he’s inspecting his outfit in the full length mirror in the guest room to find Blaine standing in the doorway to the room. His boyfriend leans back to check both ways down the hallway before continuing, “Because if you don’t change I’m going to spend the whole night fighting an erection and the urge to drag you into a closet.”

Kurt smirks, turning back to the mirror and straightening his tie, “And how would we explain that to your family. Just bros helping bros?”

Blaine chuckles as he walks into the room and closes the door behind him. He walks up behind Kurt and wraps his arms around Kurt’s waist before hooking his chin on Kurt’s shoulder. Kurt smirks again because he knows the position means that Blaine is standing at least partially on his tip toes.

“You’re picking up on my ‘fratty talk’.” Blaine whispers into his ear and Kurt groans as he laughs. Blaine is the one who tends to pull out phrases that only a frat boy would say. No wonder his parents believe he’s straight. Kurt immediately banishes the negative thought, though, as Blaine begins to kiss along his neck. He leans his head away to give him more room, “I’m rubbing off on you.”

Another laugh is punched out of Kurt’s lungs as Blaine’s phrase is simultaneously accompanied by Blaine rubbing his hardening cock against Kurt’s ass. Blaine bites his neck softly, “Don’t laugh when I’m trying to seduce you.” He says.

Kurt groans as Blaine’s hand moves down to cup him through his pants. They don’t have the time, or the privacy, for this at the moment. Kurt’s look took him nearly an hour and if Blaine’s going to mess it up by having sex then he’ll be late to the dinner. While not an overly horrible thing in Kurt’s mind, any excuse to miss his boyfriend playing nice with a woman his parents are trying to set him up with, he knows how rude it would look.

“We don’t have time.” Kurt whispers, “This look took me an hour.”

Blaine sighs and Kurt shivers at the feeling of his breath across his neck before the shorter man drops down from his toes and backs away, “You’re right. I would hate to mess up perfection for a quick orgasm.” Blaine agrees, “And besides, soon enough we’ll have the time to take things slow.”

He’s referring to when they leave Blaine’s parents house tomorrow morning. Kurt mentally scrolls through what they have to get through in order to make it to that, and his brain hurts to do so.

He turns to take Blaine in properly and smiles, “Gorgeous.” He says.

Blaine strikes a mini pose that causes Kurt to laugh, “Why, thank you, kind sir.” Blaine says before offering his arm, “Shall we?”

Kurt takes in a deep breath and then takes Blaine’s offered arm. They only hold on until they get to the door and then separate once Blaine opens it. Kurt has no idea what this dinner will hold, but he knows the sooner it starts the sooner it will be over for better or worse.

-- -- --

“Ah and here he is now!” Kurt and Blaine hear as they make their way into the Anderson’s living room. It’s Mr. Anderson that speaks and he gestures Blaine forward into the mini circle he and two other people have made. Kurt threads his fingers together in front of him and waits a little further back.

“Merrick, I’d like you to meet my youngest, Blaine.” Mr. Anderson says, speaking to an older gentleman to his left, “Blaine this is Merrick Clark. He owns one of the most successful real estate companies in the midwest.”

Blaine smiles and extends a hand, “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Clark.”

Merrick Clark lets out a booming laugh and grasps Blaine’s hand in a mighty shake, “Please, son, call me Merrick!”

Kurt tenses at ‘son’ even though he intellectually knows that’s how a lot of older men address younger men. Blaine nods as his hand is released. Kurt wonders if anyone else notices how uncomfortable Blaine is at the moment or if it’s only Kurt.

“And this,” Mr. Anderson says gesturing to the woman beside Merrick, “is Tamara Clark. Merrick’s lovely daughter.”

Tamara is objectively beautiful but Kurt is immediately put off by how fake she seems. Everything about her - from her face, to her hair, to even her breasts - screams FAKE! to Kurt and the smile she gives Blaine is one of the most predatory looks Kurt has ever seen.

She extends a hand in the way some women do when they don’t seem to know how to shake hands or want to touch you as little as possible and all Blaine can do is grasp her fingers and shake them awkwardly, “Bill, you didn’t tell me your son was so gorgeous!” Tamara enthuses and Kurt immediately hates her voice. Like nails on a chalkboard.

Blaine blushes at the compliment and Kurt knows that blush. He’s made Blaine blush that way, a lot. His hackles rise to think of this fake woman eliciting that reaction from HIS boyfriend.

Blaine coughs as if he, too, realizes what his reaction was before he turns and smiles at Kurt, “I’d like you to meet my roommate, Kurt.”

Kurt bristles at  ‘roommate’ but is pleased that Blaine wants to introduce him. All eyes swing to him and Mr. Anderson coughs, “Ah, yes. Kurt. Blaine’s friend who is here for the holidays.”

Kurt just barely catches himself before he glares. With that one sentence, Mr. Anderson has made his feelings toward Kurt very clear and they aren’t favourable. Considering he and Kurt have exchanged all of ten words since they’ve met, and Mr. Anderson knows next to nothing about him, Kurt finds this disdain strange. Though he guesses he’s done the same thing with Tamara, but it’s not like Kurt’s trying to sleep with Mrs. Anderson.

“Nice to meet you.” Kurt says with a small wave.

There’s a beat of silence before Merrick nods, “Right. Well, Bill why don’t we leave these two to chat?” He says, gesturing to Blaine and Tamara.

Mr. Anderson nods, “Of course. Why don’t we go talk a little shop before dinner?”

The pair leaves the living room which leaves just Kurt, Blaine, Tamara. Kurt’s not sure where Tamara’s mother or Cooper and his family are but he suddenly feels like a giant third wheel.

He shifts in the silence and when he looks at Tamara she is glaring daggers at him. Kurt lifts an eyebrow. So this is how it’s going to be?

“Blaine,” Tamara says, “Can you show me where the little girl’s room is?”

Blaine nods and gestures down the hall, “It’s just down the hall…” He starts but Tamara interrupts him by laying a hand on his arm. Kurt’s eyes zero in on the contact. So do Blaine’s.

“I’d really rather if you’d show me.” She says with a coy smile.

Blaine coughs, lets his eyes dart to Kurt, before he nods, “Sure. I’ll...be right back, Kurt.”

As they leave, Tamara threads her arm through Blaine’s just like Kurt had done upstairs. Kurt sighs. It’s going to be a long night.

-- -- --

“So Kirk!” Merrick booms a half hour later as everyone sits at the dinner table. Merrick isn’t that far down the table from Kurt but his voice cuts through every conversation and suddenly all eyes are on Kurt.

“Kurt.” Kurt corrects with a patient smile.

Merrick nods and takes a drink of his wine, “Right. Kurt. I knew that.” He says, “So, what brings you to your roommates house for Christmas?”

Kurt shifts in his chair and tries to avoid looking across the table at Blaine. He’s actually tried to look at Blaine as little as possible since he and Tamara had left him in the living room earlier. He feels like there are too many landmines there considering the situation, and he also has no interest in watching a woman, who seems not at all shy with physical touch, be around his boyfriend.

“Um my dad is working tonight so Blaine offered to have me spend Christmas Eve with him. I’ll be driving home tomorrow afternoon to see my family.” Kurt answers. Burt Hummel is definitely not working tonight but no other untrue story could explain his presence here tonight.

Merrick nods again, “Very kind of him.” Kurt nods and dares a quick smile in Blaine’s direction. He wishes he hadn’t when he sees Tamara’s hand on Blaine’s shoulder. Is she cutting her turkey with one hand?

“No girlfriend to spend the holidays with?” Clara Clark asks from beside her husband. She was introduced to Kurt drunk and hasn’t stopped drinking since.

Kurt presses his lips together in a pained smile and shakes his head.

“No?” Merrick booms, “Why not? A youngu, virile looking young man like yourself? No woman to speak of?”

Kurt’s not sure where to start. Why is this man commenting on his apparent virility and why is him not having a girlfriend such a travesty to a man he just met?

Before Kurt can answer though, a tiny voice pipes up from down the table, “Kurt and Uncle Blaine kiss each other.”

The entire table becomes so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Kurt feels his stomach sink as he looks down to find little five-year-old Dylan Anderson happily eating his mashed potatoes, seemingly unaware of the bomb he just dropped. All eyes swing from Dylan to Kurt and Blaine, and now Kurt has a very, very small window to figure out how to react to this. 

His body reacts for him and suddenly he’s laughing. All eyes swivel to him as he laughs in his chair, and he has the forethought to keep from breaking into hysterical laughter because he’s already probably coming across as not very mentally stable.

“Dylan.” Mr. Anderson finally says as Kurt’s laughter calms, “Why would you say that? You know, it’s not good to spread lies.”

Dylan shrugs as he picks up some cranberry sauce on his fork, “I saw them outside.” He says, still unaware of how his words are affecting the table.

With this new information, Kurt finally looks across the table at Blaine. His boyfriend is staring at his plate like it holds the answers to the universe and is as still as a statue. Tamara still has a hand on his shoulder and she’s staring at Kurt with a quirked eyebrow.

“Blaine,” Mr. Anderson says, once again breaking the silence, “Is this true?”

Kurt watches as Blaine begins to shake and Kurt holds his breath as he waits for the answer. He hates that this is the way Blaine has to come out to his family, feels sick to his stomach about it actually, but a small part of him is relieved.

Blaine swallows down at his plate before picking his head up, catching Kurt’s eyes for a brief moment before turning to his father. He laughs, the sounds almost robotic to Kurt’s ears, “Of course not.” He says.

For the second time, Kurt feels his stomach drop but this time his heart goes with it. What…?

Tamara laughs beside Blaine, “Maybe Dylan saw Kirk outside with one of his boy toys. Because if he’s straight? Then I’m Kim Kardashian.”

Kurt feels his ears go hot as the entire table turns to look at him. Everyone except Blaine, who’s head whips in Tamara’s direction. Tamara for her part just smirks with a shrug.

Before Kurt can comprehend what his mind and body are doing, he’s on his feet. His chair scrapes against the floor in the silence and he stands frozen for a moment, staring at Blaine and Tamara across the table.

He points across the table at the bottle blonde, “You’re right. I am gay. And proud of it. I wouldn’t want to be anything else. But I’m sure you’re happy I’m not straight because then you’d have to explain why your flat ass is no match for Kim’s beautiful butt.”

Tamara’s mouth opens as if she’s offended but Kurt pays her no more attention as he turns to look at Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, “Thank you for having me last night but I think we can all agree that I’ll see myself out now.”

He doesn’t wait for them to answer, but does spare one more look at Blaine’s conflicted face before he stalks out of the room and up the stairs.

As he packs he keeps expecting, or rather hoping, that Blaine will come upstairs and beg him to stay. That he’ll apologize for denying them as a couple and say to hell with his family and that Kurt is more important.

That doesn’t happen though, not that Kurt actually expected it to, and ten minutes after leaving the dining room Kurt is packed and down the stairs. He can hear voices from the dining room but keeps going out the door and to the car he and Blaine rented. He’s not sure what Blaine is going to do for a ride the next day, but at the moment he doesn’t care. He just needs to get out of here before he starts crying.

He almost succeeds. 

He’s at the bottom of the driveway before the first tears fall and he’s on the highway before he’s full on sobbing.

-- -- --

Kurt wakes up slowly the next morning. He blinks his swollen eyes into the early morning sunlight streaming in through the window and has a moment of confusion. Where is he?

He hears pots clanging somewhere in the house and when his eyes finally adjust he sees the familiar surroundings of his bedroom at his Dad’s house. Oh right, he’s with his family. And his eyes are swollen because he spent the entire drive here crying and then proceeded to cry himself to sleep after crying on his dad’s shoulder for a few hours.

He’s not sure what time it is, but he knows he hasn’t gotten enough sleep. That being said, the comforting presence of his father is too much to ignore so he slowly rises into a sitting position before pushing to stand and shuffle out of the room.

When he gets to the kitchen he finds his dad and his wife, Carole, moving around the room with practiced ease, while Finn, Kurt’s step brother, sits at the kitchen table, most likely after being told to stay out of the way. Kurt smiles at the scene as much as he can before his Dad notices him in the doorway.

“Hey bud.” Burt sighs as he leans back against the counter.

“Wow, Kurt, you must be feeling bad.” Finn pipes in, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so...messy.”

Kurt rolls his eyes at Finn’s bluntness but it’s Carole who answers, “Finn!” She admonishes her son, “Maybe go take a shower before breakfast and presents.”

Finn, who looks confused why he’s being sent away, does so without comment, leaving just Kurt, Burt, and Carole in the kitchen.

“I’m,” Carole starts, handing the spatula in her hand to Burt, “going to check on the presents.” She says and then she, too, is gone.

“Subtle.” Kurt sighs as he lowers himself into a chair.

Burt chuckles softly, “They’re worried about you.”

Kurt quirks an eyebrow, “Even Finn?”

Burt inclines his head, “In his own way, yes.” Kurt ‘aha’s sarcastically but he does, in fact, believe that both Carole and Finn care about him and are worried about him. He may not have felt that way when they entered the Hummel family eight years ago after it just being Kurt and Burt for years after Kurt’s mom had died, but every year the ‘step’ gets less and less important.

“How ya doing?” Burt asks, flipping a pancake before taking the pan off the heat and lowering himself into a chair next to Kurt.

Kurt shrugs, “Like I did a lot of drinking last night...after getting my heart broken.”

Burt pouts slightly before sighing, “I can’t believe that’s how it all went down yesterday.”

Kurt nods, “Me either. But it did. Now it’s just me having to get over it.”

Burt tilts his head, “What are you going to do about the fact that you share an apartment with this man?”

Kurt sighs and shrugs again, “I don’t know. That’s a New York Kurt problem. Lima Kurt just wants to eat carbs, open presents with his family, and forget yesterday even happened.”

Burt nods just as there is a knock on the front door. Father and son turn toward the sound in confusion. Who would be coming to call at 6 am on Christmas morning?

“Kurt?” Carole calls from the front hallway where she had presumably answered the door.

Kurt’s brow furrows as he looks at his dad. The older man just shrugs and gestures toward the door. Kurt shrugs and gets up to see who it could possibly be.

He rounds the corner into the front hall and stops short.

It’s Blaine.

Blaine is standing on his front doorstep, winter hat being wrung between his gloved fingers and biting his lip with a guilty look on his face. Kurt hates how adorable he looks.

Carole is standing at the door with a look of worry on her face. She seems conflicted.

“It’s...okay, Carole.” Kurt says and the older woman nods before making her way past Kurt. She reaches a hand out to squeeze his arm as she passes.

When it’s just Kurt and Blaine, they stand in silence for a long time. Kurt doesn’t even invite the other man in. He just stares as Blaine shifts back and forth on his feet.

“Why are you here?” Kurt finally asks.

Blaine jolts like he hadn’t realized Kurt was still there or he’d been so lost in his own head that he hadn’t anticipated Kurt speaking first. He looks up at Kurt with wide eyes before looking back down at the carpet at his feet.

“I told them.” He whispers.

There’s silence again as Kurt processes this information. Eventually, he slowly reaches to grab his jacket off the hook and puts it on. He heads to the door and steps out, causing Blaine to take a step back, and closes the door behind him so the pair is now standing on the porch.

He gestures to the porch swing and he and Blaine sit next to each other.

“I’m listening.” Kurt says, softly. He’ll give Blaine that much. He’ll listen.

Blaine sighs roughly, “As soon as you left I wanted to go after you. But I knew that would just make things worse. I needed to deal with things with my family before I could come to you. Hell, as soon as those words were out of my mouth I wanted them back.” 

Kurt knows what words Blaine is talking about. He’s heard ‘Of course not’ repeated in his head over and over since they left Blaine’s mouth.

Blaine shakes his head, “And I wanted to slap Tamara for what she said but,” and at this Blaine smirks a little, “you kind of verbally slapped her for me.”

Kurt feels the corner of his mouth twitch upward but he’s still too wary to really find humour or compliment in Blaine’s words.

“After you left, my dad started making this big speech about how wrong it was to have a gay person try to hide who they were and ‘sneak’ into his house. How he felt violated.” Kurt’s stomach starts to turn sour. Blaine huffs and his breath comes out in a puff of steam, “And he’s going on and on about how you deceived me and the family and I just kept getting angrier and angrier until eventually I just exploded.

“I told him that if he felt deceived by the two days he didn’t know about you then he was in for a doozy because I’ve been ‘deceiving’ him for ten years. That shut him up real quick.” Blaine laughs humourlessly, “And everyone just stared at me. I told them that I was gay and in love with an amazing man and that if they couldn’t handle that then they needed to check their priorities.”

Blaine falls silent and Kurt’s eyes widen expectantly, “And?” He asks breathlessly.

Blaine sighs and looks out across the front lawn, “And then my dad told me that if that’s the way I felt I could get the hell out of his house.”

Kurt gulps.

Blaine is quiet as he looks out over the lawn before he turns to Kurt, “And you know how I feel now?” Kurt shakes his head and slowly a smile blooms on Blaine’s face, “I feel relief. I am so relieved to no longer have this hanging over my head. In the end, I couldn’t care less about how they reacted, I just needed to say it.”

Kurt gives a small smile, “Well, then I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks.” Blaine breathes and then he shifts and Kurt thinks it looks like he goes to reach for Kurt’s hand but then at the last moment thinks better of it and retracts his hands into his own lap again, “Look, I know just because I came out to them doesn’t erase the fact that I forced you into a closet and then lied about you point blank. I get that.” He nods, almost resignedly, “But,” He says, looking up at Kurt with wide eyes, “I love you so much, Kurt. And if you can somehow find a way to forgive me, I promise that I will NEVER do anything like that again. You weren’t the reason I decided to come out to my family but your love made me feel like I’d have a soft place to land no matter what.” He grimaces, “And I fucked that up.”

Kurt is quiet as he looks at the man in front of him. He’s only known Blaine for six months but from the very beginning it’s felt like he’s known Blaine his entire life. They zinged in a way he never has with anyone else. They’re love was real and deep and something worth fighting for.

Is.

Is something worth fighting for.

Kurt reaches across the divide and grabs Blaine’s hand. Blaine inhales sharply and he looks down at their hands and then up at Kurt. Kurt smiles and squeezes the hand in his own.

“It’s still a soft place to land.” He whispers and Blaine all but melts against him. Blaine’s lips are on his and Kurt’s still warm enough from the house to get a small jolt from the coldness of Blaine’s lips. He silently vows to keep kissing until their lips are the same temperature.

“Woooohoooo!”

The exclamation makes the pair pull apart much too soon for Kurt’s liking and he turns toward the sound in alarm.

Standing beside a blue SUV on the street is none other than Cooper Anderson. He’s got his arms in the air and a bright smile on his face.

Kurt laughs in disbelief as he turns to Blaine who is smiling sheepishly, “What…?” Kurt trails off.

Blaine’s smile grows, “Turns out when push comes to shove...Cooper’s allegiance is to me.” He says it with a little bit of disbelief and Kurt can see his eyes twinkle with the beginning of tears.

“I told you he’d forgive you!” Cooper exclaims, loud enough for the whole street to hear and then he bends to high-five a bouncing Dylan who Kurt just realizes is next to him.

Kurt and Blaine laugh, “Coop! You’ll wake the neighbours!” Blaine admonishes.

Cooper shrugs, “Well, I haven’t heard Kurt extend an invite for Christmas morning breakfast yet!”

Kurt laughs as he tugs Blaine up to stand with him and gestures Cooper and Dylan forward, “My dad and stepmom are making pancakes. Would you like to join us?”

He directs his question to all three Anderson’s as Cooper and Dylan comes closer but he’s only got eyes for Blaine.

Cooper and Dylan slide past them and he enters the house without further comment but Kurt and Blaine hear him bellow, “Good morning Kurt’s family! I’m Cooper, Blaine’s brother. This is my son, Dylan. And we were told there were pancakes!”

Kurt and Blaine laugh again as they hold hands facing each other on the porch, “I guess we should go explain.” Kurt says, tilting his head toward the door.

“One more kiss.” Blaine says and Kurt smiles as he indulges him. He bends down and presses his lips to Blaine for a moment before pulling back.

“We can kiss inside where it’s warm, too.” Kurt says.

Blaine smiles, “Yeah, but if we do it inside Cooper will make inappropriately lewd comments.”

Kurt smirks, “Actually, my step brother Finn probably will, too.”

“They’ll probably get along famously.” Blaine comments.

“Probably.” Kurt whispers before kissing Blaine one more time, “Merry Christmas, Blaine.”

“Merry Christmas, Kurt.” Blaine whispers before the pair link fingers and enter the house together.

[pinktintedmonocle]

Dedicated Followers of Fashion - A Cobra Kai Lawrusso Fanfic - Chapter 3

“Do you still have yours?” Daniel asked.

Johnny blinked in confusion.  “My what?”

Daniel inclined his head towards the tournament gi on the wall.

In which Daniel is not on fire, Johnny performs a heist and they finally attempt to deal with their feelings for each other with the help of two iconic outfits…

Trigger warning: some references to outdated and ill-informed views on homosexuality and bisexuality.

1981

“Mr Lawrence.  Stay behind for a moment, will you?”

Kreese’s voice cut through the air, and although it was framed as a question Johnny knew that it was a command rather than a request.

“I’ll see you later”, Johnny murmured to Bobby, and hung back while the rest of the class shuffled out.

When they were alone Kreese surveyed him for a moment, his cool gaze sweeping Johnny from head to toe, and Johnny forced himself to stay standing straight up, head high, shoulders held back rather than turning tail.  He knew that gaze, not just from Kreese but from Sid as well, knew that it almost always preceded a sneer followed by a torrent of insults carefully constructed to inflict the most pain possible.

But no insults were forthcoming; instead Kreese just nodded, once, and walked past Johnny into his office. He emerged a few seconds later, a pile of black cloth held in his arms, and crossed back over to Johnny, holding out the bundle.

“For you, Mr Lawrence”, Kreese said smoothly, and Johnny’s jaw fell open when he realised what it was.

“A tournament gi?” he whispered, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice just in case he was mistaken.  “For me, Sensei?”

Kreese smiled indulgently and inclined his head down, indicating for Johnny to take the uniform.

Johnny picked it up, sucking in a deep breath as he did so.  He’d just been a spectator at the All Valley tournament for the last two years, sitting in the front row and cheering his fellow Cobras on, hoping against hope that one day it would be him up there, leading Cobra Kai to victory.  He ran his fingers over the patch on the front of the top, scarcely believing that he was seeing his own name (his own name!) printed above the motif of a fist.

“Do you really think I’m ready, Sensei?” he asked quietly, and Kreese’s smile widened as he laid a hand on Johnny’s shoulder, squeezing it softly.

“Yes son”, said Kreese. “It’s time for you to get out there and show everyone what a true champion is made of.  I have a feeling that gi is only the first of many.”

Johnny felt his chest swell with happiness as a grin spread over his face.

“I won’t let you down, Sensei”, he promised fervently.  “I swear it. I’ll never, ever let you down.”

 December 20th, 1984

“Johnny?  Johnny, are you OK sweetie?”

Johnny burrowed deeper under the bed covers, ignoring his mom.  His throat was throbbing painfully and he desperately needed to pee, but he didn’t want to move from his dark cocoon.  After a minute his mom stopped calling his name, and he thought she’d gone away when he heard his bedroom door open softly and feet pad across to him. He felt the bed dip as she sat down before her hand landed on his back, rubbing soft circles into it through the covers.

“Hey”, she said soothingly. “It’s OK, Johnny.  I know you did your best.”

“How?” croaked Johnny, voice muffled by the blankets.  “How do you know what I did when you weren’t even there?”

His mom’s hand stopped moving.  “I’m so sorry I missed it sweetie, but Sid had a work dinner and I had to go-”

“You always choose him over me”, Johnny said hoarsely, shifting across the bed out of his mom’s reach.

“You know that’s not true, Johnny”, Laura said quietly.

Johnny didn’t reply, and a few seconds later he felt his mom stand up and start to walk away.  He heard her footsteps pause, and then a rustling sound; the crinkle of cloth.

“Where do you want me to put this, Johnny?” she asked, and Johnny didn’t need to look to know that she was holding the gi that he’d torn off and discarded on the floor when he’d got home.

“I don’t care”, he said, curling up further under the blanket.

Laura sighed.  “OK, well I’m going to keep it if that’s alright with you.  I’ll put it with the others.”

Johnny was silent, and after a minute he heard his mom leave, the door closing behind her.  He held his breath for a moment, making sure she wasn’t about to come back, before he let himself cry, the tears running down tracks still present on his cheeks from the night before.  He didn’t care what his mom did with the gi; he never wanted to see it again.

 2019

They won the tournament, Miguel delivering the winning kick against Robby in a nail-biting final, and while the kids celebrated Johnny and Daniel had hotfooted it out of the All Valley Sports Arena, desperately searching for Robby and Kreese.  They eventually found them around the back of the building, Kreese having apparently learned his lesson from last time and avoiding the crowded parking lot.  He had Robby in a headlock, second place trophy in pieces on the ground, and for a sickening moment Johnny felt as if time had rewound thirty-five years and it was all happening again.

They had acted as one, Johnny sweeping Kreese’s leg while Daniel delivered the kick to his face, and while Daniel had pulled a shaken and spluttering Robby out of the way Johnny had stood over his old Sensei, mouth set in a hard line.

“Now get the hell out of here and never come back”, he had growled.  Before Kreese had a chance to respond Johnny had turned away, attending to Robby.

After an exhausting few weeks of sorting out the mess Kreese had left behind (“A lot of those kids he was brainwashing are going to need many years of therapy”, Daniel had said) and making sure Robby was OK (he had let Johnny and Daniel take him to hospital after the tournament, but had barely talked to either of them since, opting instead to move back in with Shannon who was fresh out of rehab), Johnny and Daniel had decided to keep their new dojo open, with them both teaching evening classes while Johnny managed most of the day sessions solo when Daniel was at the dealership.  (“Just try to be nice, OK Johnny?  No inappropriate nicknames.”  “Define inappropriate.”  “Anything you would’ve used in the 80’s.” Daniel answered drily.  “Then what the hell am I supposed to call them?” Johnny protested. “Their names, Johnny.”)

They had also managed to avoid being alone together for any length of time; Miguel, Sam and Hawk had begun to join them for lesson planning and nights out always included Amanda and Carmen.  Johnny was starting to think that Daniel had either forgotten or decided to abandon their plan to talk about The Thing between them (Johnny had started to refer to it as The Thing in his mind, even though that also made him think of the Kurt Russell film, which was confusing at times.  But he didn’t know what else to call it; what was the appropriate terminology for the overwhelming urge to kiss the face off your childhood karate rival turned reluctant co-sensei?), when he’d received a Facebook message from Daniel one night after practice.

Dinner.  My place. Saturday night, 7.30pm.  Amanda out and the kids at sleepovers.  And get a damn cell phone, Johnny.  I’m sick of having to wait for you to turn on your laptop before you pick up my messages.  (Johnny had rolled his eyes and responded with the middle finger emoji, followed shortly after by yeah, whatever, see you then.)

On Saturday night Johnny tried on the entire contents of his wardrobe, searching for just the right outfit in which to discuss what to do about The Thing.  After several hours his bedroom looked like an explosion in a thrift store and he finally settled on his dark suit and yellow shirt combo, telling himself as he adjusted his tie and slicked his hair back that he was going to Daniel’s to deal with the business of The Thing between them, so what better outfit than a business suit?  They would drink (there was no way Johnny was doing it sober), they would talk, they would eat, they would try and come up with a solution to their feelings which didn’t end with Johnny just pushing Daniel up against a wall and ramming his tongue down the other man’s throat.

The outfit selection had taken so long that it was well after 7.30pm by the time Johnny headed out of his apartment and drove round to the LaRusso house, but even after he arrived he still stayed in the car for a while, hands clutching the steering wheel as the Valley darkened around him.

Eventually he took a deep breath and got out, grabbing a bag from the passenger seat and locking the door before squaring his shoulders, walking purposefully up to the front door and ringing the bell.  He shifted nervously from foot to foot, and when Daniel didn’t come to the door after a minute he pressed the bell again, keeping his finger held down on it for a good ten seconds before letting go.  After there was still no response, Johnny started to feel a little uneasy.  What if something’s happened to him?  Johnny had a sudden vision of Daniel trying to cook some overly complicated recipe that involved a blow torch like Johnny had seen on the Food Network and setting fire to himself.  Or maybe he’d tripped over those ridiculously long legs of his and fallen down the stairs and was lying in a crumpled, broken heap at the bottom.  Or what if Kreese had returned despite his promise to stay away and had finally gotten his revenge?  Johnny’s heart started to race as he thought about what it would be like to live in world without Daniel LaRusso.  He felt bile rise in his throat and he swallowed it down as he found his feet carrying him swiftly around to the rear of the house.  He was making for the back door (rapidly formulating a break-in plan in his mind, which largely consisted of just kicking the door until it opened) when he saw that there was a light on in Daniel’s home dojo; he hurried in, shoes squeaking on the floor, half expecting to see Daniel’s lifeless body spread out in front of him.

“Johnny?” asked a familiar Jersey-accented voice, and Johnny turned to see Daniel sitting on a bench pushed up against a Japanese style screen, a wine glass raised halfway to his lips.  “Are you OK?”

Johnny breathed a huge sigh of relief, and then felt like an idiot.  His cheeks reddened.  “What? Er, yeah, I’m fine.  I just thought you might be on fire or something but you’re not, so we’re all good.”

Daniel frowned. “Johnny, why the hell would I be on fire - ” he started, before he cut himself off and shook his head.  “You know what?  I don’t want to know.  He shuffled along the bench, making room for Johnny, and gestured to a bottle of wine. “You want a drink?”  

“I’m good”, said Johnny, holding up his bag as he sat down and pulling out a crate of Coors Banquet.

Daniel rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything, instead reaching out for the bottle of wine and topping up his glass.  Johnny stared at him; he was dressed in corduroy pants and a fleecy blue sweatshirt, hair product-free and sticking up in fluffy tufts as if he’d been running his hands through it.  Johnny tore his eyes away, feeling a little hot.  He shrugged off his suit jacket and undid his top button, pulling at his collar. He took a bottle of Coors of out its cardboard container and twisted the cap off, taking a big gulp of beer.

“You missed dinner”, Daniel said.

“What was it?”

“Pesto and arugula linguine.”

Johnny pulled a face. “Sounds green.”

Daniel huffed, although Johnny thought he saw a hint of a smile on his lips.

“I didn’t think you were going to come.”

“Yeah, well.  I did”, Johnny said.  He was just close enough to Daniel that he could smell the smaller man’s aftershave (clean and fresh with just the slightest hint of musk).  He took another swig of beer.

“Yeah”, said Daniel, leaning in ever so slightly.  “For some reason you’re dressed like a detective from the 1970’s and you were over an hour late, but yeah, you came.”

Johnny reached out and shoved Daniel’s shoulder playfully, but rather than pulling back he left his hand there, fingers gently stroking Daniel’s arm through the soft fabric. Daniel bit his lip and Johnny realised he was about five seconds away from giving into temptation and kissing Daniel until his own lips were too sore to form coherent sentences.  He let his arm drop and glanced away, shifting on the bench to put a little more space between them, looking around the room for a distraction.  His eyes settled on the framed gi hanging on the wall.

“Of course you framed it. Bet you look at it every day and get a little thrill thinking about how you beat me.”

“Actually the reason I framed it was because Mr Miyagi gave it to me for my birthday”, Daniel replied. “The bonsai was embroidered by his wife before she died.”

“Oh”, Johnny said awkwardly, but then Daniel’s mouth quirked up in a smirk.

“But yeah, it does also remind me of kicking you in the face.”

Johnny picked up his discarded bottle cap and threw it at the smaller man.  It landed softly in Daniel’s hair and he scowled, plucking it out and throwing it back at Johnny who caught it easily.

“Asshole.”

“Twerp.”

They drank in silence for a minute before Johnny finally asked the question that had been bugging him for weeks.

“Why is blue my fault?”

Daniel didn’t even acknowledge that he’d heard Johnny, instead fiddling with a loose thread on the sleeve of his fleece.  He drained his glass and then picked up the bottle to re-fill, and Johnny was about to repeat the question when Daniel finally spoke.  

“I- I liked you in high school.”

Johnny snorted in derision. “I think we both know that’s not true.”

Daniel sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face.  “No, I mean I liked you in high school, Johnny.”

It took Johnny a moment to realise when Daniel meant; when he did, he blinked in surprise. “Oh.  Shit.”

Daniel swirled the wine around in his glass.  “Yeah. After the tournament I started having these dreams about you, and when I saw you at school…”.  He paused, taking a sip of wine and staring down at the floor. “There wasn’t any information about it in those days, you know?  About men who liked men or men who liked both men and women.  Not useful information, anyway.  The news just said it made you sick, and my neighbour Freddy told me he’d once seen an Al Pacino movie about it and that it meant you had to wear a lot of leather and might be murdered.”  He took a big gulp of wine and stared down at his feet, not meeting Johnny’s eye, and when he spoke again his voice was somehow both soft and brittle.  

“So I just tried to ignore it and hoped that it would go away, but of course it didn’t.  So the next time I needed new clothes I just bought everything in blue, because – I don’t know, it just seemed like a safe colour. Like people were less likely to know…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“Oh”, Johnny said again.  (He felt that he should probably have said something else, but had no clue what that would be.)  “And then what?”

Daniel shrugged.  “And then, eventually, there was more information and I learned that it was OK to like both men and women, but by that time I was already with Amanda and I didn’t want anyone else.”  He went to take another sip of his wine but then seemed to change his mind, placing the glass down on the bench and running a hand through his hair.  

Johnny realised his mouth was hanging open and quickly closed it.

“And what about you, Johnny?”

“What about me, LaRusso?”

“Did – did you like me too? Back then?”

Johnny had a sudden, vivid memory of the day they first met, of looking down at Daniel playing with Ali on the beach and feeling an odd swooping sensation in his stomach at the sight of long legs and slim hips that he hadn’t fully understood and had masked with anger.

“Maybe”.  He went to take a pull on his Banquet, but the bottle was empty.  He cracked open another and took a long swig from it.

“We would be terrible together”, Daniel said bluntly.  “We’d argue over everything and we’d probably try and kill each other within a week.”

“Yeah”, Johnny agreed. “It’d be a fucking nightmare.”

“And yet –”, said Daniel, gesturing at the space between them, at the thirty-five year old heart-shaped elephant in the room.  “-there’s this”.            

“Yeah.  The Thing.  Our thing, I mean, nothing to do with Kurt Russell.”  Johnny looked down at his feet.  “I don’t know what to do about it, LaRusso.”

“No”, Daniel said miserably. “I don’t either.”

They looked at each other, and Johnny was suddenly overcome with the urge to just get up and run out of there at full pelt (he could be in his car and on his way home in under a minute if he moved fast).  He hadn’t expected it to go this way; he thought that Daniel would have some carefully constructed five-point plan for how to deal with their feelings, or that he’d get some sudden flash of inspiration (damn business suit had been no help at all). Instead he breathed deeply in and out and shifted just a little closer to Daniel, holding out a hand.  Daniel hesitated for a fraction of a second before he took it in his.

“Do you still have yours?” Daniel asked after a while.

Johnny blinked in confusion. “My what?”

Daniel inclined his head towards the tournament gi on the wall.

“Oh.  No.  But it might still be at Sid’s with some of my mom’s old stuff.”

Daniel nodded slowly. “You think you could go round there and see if you can find it?”

“Maybe”, said Johnny, frowning.  “Why?”

**********************************************************************************

Johnny loitered outside the house, watching as Sid clambered into his car with the help of Rhonda. The chauffeur got in and started the engine and Johnny ducked behind a bush as the car swooped down the driveway. When it was safely out of sight he walked briskly up to the front door and rang the bell (he knew better than to try and sneak round the back; Sid’s home security systems had always been state of the art and he’d tripped the alarm more than once as a teenager, creeping back home after an all-night rager).

When the butler answered the door Johnny walked straight past him, talking fast.

“Hey, is my step-dad home? It’s just that I think I left something here last time I visited and I wanted to see if he’d found it.”

The butler hurried behind Johnny as he walked into Sid’s study.  “Mr Weinberg is out at the moment, Mr Lawrence, but perhaps if you come back another day after you’ve made an appointment-”

“Ah, it’s OK, I think I know where I left it”, said Johnny.  “I’ll go grab it and be out of your hair in just a sec.”  He looked at the butler again.  “Well, actually, you don’t have any hair, but you know what I mean.”

“Mr Lawrence, I must protest-” began the butler, but Johnny stepped around him and back out into the hall before turning left and taking the stairs two at a time.  He ran along the corridor to his old bedroom (now a storage room) and began to search for the boxes with his mom’s name on them. He could already hear the butler talking to someone on the phone and he reckoned he had about three minutes before the burly security guards that Sid kept on site found him, and a further two minutes before Sid arrived back home (Johnny knew that he would order his chauffeur to turn right back around as soon as the butler told him what was going on; his step-father would never miss an opportunity to kick Johnny out of his house).

After a minute of searching Johnny found the boxes marked ‘Laura’ and tore them open, pulling out high heels and floral dresses, some of which still smelt faintly of his mom’s perfume. His stomach clenched at the scent, memories flooding back; he shook his head, forcing himself to focus.  He opened another box, and then another, and was just starting to think they weren’t there, that Sid must have thrown them out, when he found them folded up neatly at the bottom of the last box. Four black gi’s with yellow trim. He pulled them all out and held them up one by one to determine which was the biggest, which was the one from 1984. When he’d identified it he quickly stuffed the pants, top and a belt into the backpack slung over his shoulder and sprinted back down the corridor and the stairs.  As he barrelled out of the door he heard heavy footsteps behind him and several deep voices shouting at him to stop, but he kept running, breath hitching in his chest.

Sid’s car pulled back into the driveway as Johnny ran out of it, and as Johnny raced down the road, the security guards puffing along behind him for a few paces before giving up, he heard Sid shout.

“And don’t you ever come back here, you good-for-nothing schmuck!”

Don’t worry, Johnny thought, slowing his pace a little as he turned a corner out of sight.  I won’t.

**********************************************************************************

“Good work today everyone!”, said Sam, clapping her hands together, and Johnny smirked as Daniel raised an eyebrow at his daughter as their students began to talk amongst themselves.

“You know that’s my line, right?” Daniel asked.

Sam grinned.  “You snooze you lose, Dad.  Maybe it’s time for you to start thinking about stepping back a bit, let the new guard take the lead.”

Daniel rolled his eyes. “Hey, you’re not getting rid of me that easily.  Plenty of life left in this not-so-old dog yet.”

“So what’s the plan for tonight, Sensei and Mr LaRusso?” piped up Miguel, taking a slug of water from his bottle and wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “More lesson planning?”

Johnny and Daniel exchanged a glance.

“Ah, no, not tonight kid”, said Johnny.  “Me and LaRusso have got some stuff we need to work on.  Just – er – just us two.”

The teenagers frowned.

“What is it?” asked Hawk. “Some kind of secret new move?”

“Paperwork”, Daniel replied quickly.  “Although if you really want to stay and help out-”

Sam, Miguel and Hawk all made noises of protest, muttering vaguely about needing to get home.  Sam gave Daniel a quick hug while Miguel and Hawk chorused “See you later, Sensei” at Johnny before all three of them joined the other students as they trooped out of the yard.

Robby smiled tightly at them as he passed.  He’d shown up a few days prior and stood at the back of the class, joining in with kata but abstaining from sparring.  He hadn’t talked to Johnny or Daniel yet, but it was a start.  

Then it was just the two of them.  Johnny stared down at his feet, scuffing his shoes against the grass, before raising his eyes to look at Daniel.

Daniel’s tongue darted out to lick his lips nervously.  “You hungry?” he asked.

Johnny took in Daniel’s appearance, skin flushed and hair mussed from training.  Not for food.

“Ah, no, I’m good. But if you wanna go get something for yourself-”

“No”, said Daniel.  “I just – I just want to get on with this. Did you bring it?”

Johnny nodded, and together they walked inside.  Daniel gestured around the dojo.  “I’ll get changed in here.  You take the office.”

“Alright”, agreed Johnny, trying to keep the nervousness out of his voice.  He walked into the next room and snagged a bottle of Banquet from the refrigerator before opening up his gym bag.  He pulled out the black uniform, freshly washed and neatly folded.

“It’s important it looked how it did then”, Daniel had said. “Don’t show up with it all smelly and crumpled.”

The plan had appeared to make something resembling sense when they were drunk.  Johnny, remembering Ali’s words (“Sometimes it’s good to visit the past to know where you are now”) had agreed to it, but sober (or at least as sober as Johnny ever was) the idea seemed more than a little bat-shit crazy.  But if it had even the slightest chance of helping them process their feelings for one another he was willing to give it a shot. Besides, Johnny had always felt most clear headed in the midst of a fight; adrenaline singing through his veins, blood pumping, everything appearing just that little bit sharper and brighter.

He pulled off his workout clothes and sneakers and held up the black gi pants, wondering if he was even going to be able to get them past his thighs.  He pulled them on very slowly, just about managing to get them all the way up without busting a seam, and then leaned down at an awkward angle to grab the rest of his uniform.  He put on the top (was it really a good idea to be showing so much chest around someone who was madly in lust with him?  Probably not), tied the belt and walked stiffly into the dojo.

Daniel was standing on the opposite side of the room, fiddling with his sleeves.

“You haven’t even changed yet!” Johnny protested, gesturing towards him.

“What?  I have!”, Daniel replied, pointing towards an identical heap of white cloth on the floor.

Johnny shook his head. “Of course it still fits you.”  He walked towards Daniel, trying not to bend his knees too much.  Daniel just stared at him.

“Jesus, Johnny.  How did you even get that on?”

Johnny shrugged, still moving robot-like across the room until he was in front of Daniel.  Close up Johnny could see that Daniel’s gi was not quite identical to the one he’d worn in class; it was slightly more worn, frayed around the edges, and it was also quite snug.  His hand crept out and he touched Daniel’s chest (fully covered unlike Johnny’s, no exposed nipples in sight), and let his fingers glide down the fabric, coming to rest low on Daniel’s stomach, skimming the softness there.

Daniel shifted, but didn’t pull away.  “Why do you always touch me there?”, he asked.

Johnny felt a smile pulling at his lips.  “Only place you’re not perfect, LaRusso.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow. “You think I’m perfect?”

“Well you’ve spent enough money tying to still look like you did in high school”, replied Johnny, gesturing with his free hand to Daniel’s carefully dyed hair and moisturiser-softened skin.

Daniel scowled, but then his eyes drifted down to Johnny’s hand, still resting on his stomach.  “So it’s my imperfections that you like, Johnny?”

“Maybe”, Johnny said. He thought back to the night of the pink shirt, of the brief glimpse of Daniel’s bare torso.  He would only have to move his fingers a little to the left to reach Daniel’s gi belt; one tug and the top would fall open, exposing Daniel’s body, just like opening a present on Christmas Day.  Instead he stepped back, arms dropping to his sides.

Daniel cleared his throat. “You remember your moves, Johnny?”

Johnny shrugged. “Yeah, I think so”.  (Of course he remembered them; that fight was part of him and always would be, whether he wanted it to be or not.)

“Just go easy on my knee this time, yeah?” asked Daniel.

“Ditto, but for my face”, countered Johnny.

They got into position and Johnny bowed, deep and deliberate, locking eyes with Daniel as the smaller man mirrored him.  Then they straightened up, getting into fighting stances, and began.

Johnny lunged forward with a jump kick and heard a tearing sound as the too-tight material of his gi pants gave way.  “Oh shit”, he muttered.

Daniel sidestepped Johnny’s leg, avoiding contact, “You alright there?” he asked, inclining his head towards Johnny’s crotch.

“I’m fine”, Johnny replied, feeling his cheeks redden.  He dived straight back into the fight with a flurry of kicks and Daniel landed a blow to the chest (“one point LaRusso”), his knuckles skimming over bare flesh.  Daniel went in for a punch and Johnny pushed him to the ground, hand lingering for a second on Daniel’s chest before Daniel flipped himself up (not quite as gracefully as the last time, Johnny noted a little smugly) and they circled each other, panting heavily, before Johnny kicked out and Daniel went low, pulling Johnny down with him and tapping him on the back (“That’s two for LaRusso”), and they both lay there for a moment, legs tangled together (those legs, what Johnny wouldn’t do to stay wrapped in them), before they clambered up, parting reluctantly, getting ready to face off again.

“You need a time out, Johnny?”  Daniel asked lightly, but there was an edge to his voice and his body was braced, ready for attack.

“I’m good.  Didn’t bust my nose this time, LaRusso.”

Daniel nodded, bouncing on the balls of his feet, and suddenly it was as if it was 1984 again and they were in the All Valley Sports Arena, the crowd roaring around them and Kreese standing to the side, arms crossed, confident that Johnny would obey him no matter what.

“Sweep the leg.”

“You have a problem with that?”

“No Sensei.”

“No mercy.”

Johnny’s leg went up, his body moving by itself as though he had no control over it, like a puppet on a string.  Daniel tensed, waiting for the inevitable blow to his own leg, and Johnny wasn’t sure which of them was more surprised when it never came.  Instead the kick struck Daniel’s chest, a fair kick, not targeting a known weakness, and the smaller man fell back onto his ass, blinking in surprise.  They stared at each other for a moment, panting heavily, and then Daniel’s face split into a grin before he got up again, and Johnny felt his own lips pull into a smile as they continued.

Johnny fought the rest of the fight with his own moves, every kick and punch shredding the material of his gi a little bit more, and he found that he felt lighter with every ripped seam as if shedding a too tight skin that he hadn’t realised he was still wearing.

“I won’t let you down, Sensei, I swear it.  I’ll never, ever let you down.”

“You’re nothing, you lost, you’re a loser”.

“I did warn you about this.  I told you not to show weakness.”

“I will never let my students lose.  Even if they have to learn the hard way.  One day you’ll thank me for this, Johnny.”

Rip

Tear

Pull

Break

Johnny kept his eyes trained on Daniel as they sparred, on the man who Johnny had blamed for so many things that were never his fault, weren’t Johnny’s fault either, but instead were entirely the fault of someone who had seen Johnny as an impressionable young kid and decided to warp him into a solider.

Johnny didn’t grab Daniel’s leg, didn’t ram his elbow into the back of his knee.  Instead they danced around each other, Johnny’s cheeks aching from the smile that seemed to have taken up permanent residence on his face, and then Daniel raised two arms and a leg, preparing for the crane kick. There was a moment of stillness and Johnny stared at the person in front of him; this tiny, forceful creature who had crashed back into his life after thirty odd years, and he felt that same swooping sensation in his stomach that he had that night at the beach.  Then Daniel’s leg flew out, or at least it almost did; Daniel’s gi pants pulled tight around thighs that were just a little thicker than when he was a teenager, and as the material restricted his movements Daniel’s eyes went wide and he fell over backwards, landing on his ass.

Johnny felt something rise up his throat and into his mouth (for a second he thought he was going to barf all over Daniel’s precious gi, which would have kept him amused for weeks after even if he did have to pay the dry cleaning bill), but instead what came out was a snigger followed by a chuckle, and before he knew it Johnny’s body was wracked with laughter and he dropped to his knees next to Daniel, chest heaving.  For a moment Daniel stared at him as if he was mad, but then Daniel’s own shoulders started to shake and soon they were both laughing uncontrollably.  Johnny felt that lightness again, both wonderful and dizzying (“the unbearable lightness of being Johnny Lawrence”, Daniel said, years later, when Johnny tried to recall the feeling.  Johnny just rolled his eyes and threw his bottle cap at Daniel, grinning when it landed in the other man’s greying hair).

When they finally stopped, guffaws subsiding into giggles that eventually petered out into silence, Johnny felt limp but happy, as if all the tension had been drained from his body. He looked at Daniel sat on the floor before him, sweaty and out of breath but with his white gi still pristine and perfectly intact while Johnny’s black one hung off him in tatters (and if that wasn’t a perfect representation of their relationship then Johnny didn’t know what was).  He shuffled forward and raised a hand to Daniel’s face, thumb rubbing against a soft cheek where just the slightest hint of stubble had appeared.  

“Johnny”, Daniel murmured, leaning into the touch.

“Daniel”, whispered Johnny, the name unfamiliar on his lips, and they locked eyes before closing the distance between them and pressing their mouths together.

Johnny had never really understood the act of kissing as something in and of itself before; for him it had always been a means to an end, and that end was usually sex or at least a good grope (Dutch had taught him that; always try to put a hand on a girl’s boob while making out), and he had imagined it would be like that with Daniel; a desperate, frantic mashing together of lips and teeth as they ripped each other’s clothes off.  But although Johnny could feel lust coiling in his belly the kiss was nothing like that at all; it was slow and sweet, Daniel’s soft lips moving gently against his, his mouth warm and inviting.  It was somehow both too much and not enough, and Johnny didn’t know if it was the first kiss or the last, the beginning of something or the end.

Eventually they broke for air but stayed close, breath mingling, foreheads pressed together.

“It’s getting late”, Johnny said, pulling back and nodding towards the slight gap in the screen doors where a sliver of inky black sky was visible.  He gestured between them.  “We should – ah – we should probably get changed”.

“Yeah”, Daniel replied, glancing at Johnny’s ruined gi. “We should.”

But neither of them moved, and Johnny found himself wondering what would happen if they just stayed there forever, curled around each other in that little house (he could get Bobby to send food parcels).  But his legs had started to cramp and so he got up reluctantly, holding out a hand to help Daniel to his feet.  They smiled at each other for a moment longer before they both nodded in silent agreement and turned away.  Johnny started to walk into the office to gather his clothes, but only took a few steps before he turned, drinking in the sight of Daniel’s bare back as he carefully removed and folded up his gi top, muscles shifting.  Johnny tore his eyes away and forced himself into the next room, firmly closing the screen door between them.  Maybe there would be time in the years to come for him to explore Daniel’s body, maybe not, but whatever happened at least the past was finally behind them while the future stretched out in front, unwritten, a blank page ready to be filled with whatever story they chose for themselves.

[wheresmynaya]

Cupcake Battles Ch.3 | Brittana

Also available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x) & below the cut! 

Tensions are high as we return to the Cupcake Battles arena where the remaining two teams duke it out for the opportunity to win $10,000 and have their final cupcake display featured as  the centerpiece at the Annual Cheerios Breakfast Benefit. Reinforcements have been called upon and are hard at work assisting the teams with the task of producing 1,000 cupcakes in order to fill their displays.

After such a close call in the second round, Brittany and Sugar have a new sense of determination as they work and keep their usual antics to somewhat of a minimal.

Keyword: somewhat.

“Ugh, this isn’t right!” Sugar grumbles out in frustration to a ball of fondant before her. The color is all wrong but even she can’t fix it, so what does she do with a wrecked ball of fondant?

What any other person would do, of course, throw it at her enemies!

“Ow!” Tina yelps as she is pelted square in the chest. She looks down to her counterspace and finds the misshapen, discolored ball of sugar. She scoffs at it and snaps up to find Sugar pumping her fist triumphantly.

“Bullseye!” Sugar cheers and the sound makes Brittany look up from the frosting she is working on to see what the fuss is about.

“What did you do?” She drawls out behind a smirk and follows Sugar’s gaze to find Tina rubbing her chest, “You didn’t…”

“I did,” Sugar says proudly and dusts off her shoulder, “Right in the tit!”

Brittany chuckles as she reaches over for a high five, “Nice one.”

\\

Over by the judges’ panel, Sam’s face is covered in the remnants of Mercedes and Artie’s cupcakes from the previous round. Through the smeared frosting and cupcake crumbs, there is a content smile.

Santana, Kurt and Sue just stare at him with pure judgement.

“How is it all over his face?” Santana questions from the opposite end of the table, “With a mouth like that I’m sure he could’ve unlocked his jaw and swallow the thing whole.”

“Someone get this man a napkin!” Kurt beckons but Sam’s already reaching for his – very expensive – pocket square.

“It’s okay guys,” Sam waves off, “I got one!”

Kurt looks on in horror as Sam uses it to wipe his face, “Dear God, not Versace.”

“It was hideous,” Santana brushes off and finally looks away from the scene, “He’s doing us all a favor.”

Kurt looks as scandalized as ever, but his comments get lost as the camera is back on Sam. He wipes away the remaining evidence but completely misses the bits that have somehow gotten in his hair as he scrambles to make his announcement.

“You’re almost out of time, bakers!” Sam calls out to the teams, “Just 30 more minutes before your fates are decided.”

\\

Santana eyes drift over to Brittany’s station again and she watches as Team Batter Up Cupcakes continues to work at a steady pace. She’s never really rooted for anyone in particular when it comes to these things, it kind of defeats the purpose of her job, but this battle has been different for her in many ways. Of all the contestants she has met through the show, she has never met someone like Brittany. She can’t put her finger on it, but there’s just something special and she finds herself wanting to know more.

How she gets so wrapped up like this in a matter of hours, she’ll never understand.

She’s still going to judge fairly and remain unbiased like always, she’s proven that thus far, but deep down she’s hoping and wishing that Brittany and Sugar come out of this on top.

She wants them to win.

She wants Brittany to win.

She wants to reward her for being so damn talented and for being the first girl in a long time to make her blush, but when the reward in her mind doesn’t exactly match up with the prize money or the benefit she thinks she might be in a little trouble here.

So maybe Kurt is right and maybe she has a little bit of a crush on the baker but honestly, who wouldn’t? The girl is damn near perfect in Santana’s eyes.

It doesn’t help that Kurt is on to her now though and makes a comment about Santana’s leering every two seconds. She’s close to smacking him upside his head, but she manages to control herself and ignore most of the things he says like:

“I’m all for happiness, Santana.”

“Love is Love, Santana.”

“Let her touch your other boob, Santana.”

“Will you just shut up already!” Santana finally snaps, “I’m so close to beating you with this chair.”

Kurt frowns but quiets down anyway.

\\

Brittany inhales deeply, trying to settle her rattling nerves as she glances up at the clock for the twentieth time in the last five minutes. The round is really zooming by and they’re making great time, but the pressure is still there. She has seen what happens when you don’t finish on time so she doesn’t want to give Bland and Tacky over there any help.

They need to be on point!

With the help of the reinforcements, there is no doubt they’ll finish strong but she just hopes that the adjustments she and Sugar decided to make to their recipes will pass over well with the judges. They’re confident though in what they’ve changed, so they at least have that going for them. Just another thing they do so much better than the competition.

There’s also just a little part of Brittany that she keeps to herself that wants to make Santana proud.

The co-judge sees something in them, something that sometimes goes over everyone else’s heads. Where others have called Brittany and Sugar weird or random or strange, Santana sees talent and sheer genius. It’s like Brittany finally feels understood and it’s such a great feeling, but at the same time she doesn’t want to let Santana down. She doesn’t want that faith in her to be misplaced or wasted.  

The next time Brittany checks the time, she finds Santana’s eyes are on her. There’s a soft smile playing at her pouty lips and there’s this glimmer in deep brown eyes as she watches Brittany pause for a moment.

Something inside Brittany swells and she fills with a warmth that only seems to happen when Santana looks at her like that. It’s like the brunette only has eyes for her which is saying something since she’s supposed to be judging everyone but Brittany isn’t exactly complaining.

When Santana gives her a subtle nod, Brittany feels like her heart bottoms out and the smile she didn’t realize she wore grows bigger. She tries to stay focused though and turns back to her work, but not before sending Santana a wink as she goes.

\\

“How’d we do?” Their designated builder, Rory, asks as he and a couple others roll out the display Brittany and Sugar had designed earlier in the round.

It’s this massive set up with differentiating heights for shelving and pops of color that fit in with the Cheerios’ theme along with the backlights lining the underside of the shelving. It’s flashy but not too much that it distracts from the main focus which will be their cupcakes.

Brittany and Sugar are ecstatic as they moon over how great it looks; meanwhile, Blaine and Tina’s display is presented too.

“Oh wow, amazing job guys!” Blaine compliments as he takes in their masterpiece.

It’s basically a wooden table with one stand in the center that is carved out to look like a cheerleader with pom-poms. No color, not lights, no excitement.

It’s so underwhelming that even the builder looks a little uneasy about it.

“You sure we can’t do anything else?” Jake the Builder asks but Blaine just shakes his head.

“No, this is exactly what we envisioned. It’s so perfect!”

Tina nods as well, “We didn’t want to be too obnoxious with our display. The cupcakes are the real focus here.”

Brittany and Sugar can tell who that comment is meant for judging by the quick glare Tina gives them, but they fake a snore and abruptly wake up when Tina adds, “Unlike some people here.”

“Were you saying something?” Brittany calls out to them innocently, “Your display put us to sleep.”

“Yeah, I knocked out for a good five minutes!” Sugar agrees.

“You’re just jealous!” Blaine replies in a huff, “We don’t have to rely on – “

Sugar lets out another loud faux-snore and Brittany fakes looking shocked as she turns to her partner then back to Blaine and Tina, “Great! Look what you’ve done. You put her asleep again!”

Tina only rolls her eyes and turns back to Blaine, “They’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah, well…your display makes my eyes hurt!” Blaine yells over and his face is already tinting a shade of pink from frustration.

Brittany and Sugar just laugh as the other team continues to try and insult them although nothing the say seem to bother the girls. A bit of trash talk never really fazed them anyway.

\\

With just ten seconds left, it’s a mad dash to finish off the final touches to the teams’ displays. For Brittany and Sugar, everything is perfectly in place and they stand back to admire their work with seconds to spare.  

Blaine and Tina looked as stressed as ever rushing around, occasionally bumping into each other and their helpers. It’s utter chaos and completely hectic which is so unusual for them since thus far they have been really great with time management.

Brittany and Sugar just stay huddled together as they join Sam in counting down the final seconds as loud as they can. They – of course – don’t miss Blaine and Tina tossing them dirty looks as they go.

“5…4…3…2…1!” Sam calls out then his voice turns deeper, “Step away from your displays, it is time for Judgement Day!”

Blaine is wiping his brow while Tina looks like an anxious mess. They both have somewhat of a worried look on their faces as they eye their display.

Brittany takes such a weighty moment to poke fun at them and gestures over to the left side of their display, “You missed a huge gap right there!”

Blaine’s eyes widen and he rushes around to look although he knows he isn’t allowed to make any changes. When he finds that Brittany was just messing with him – yet again – he rolls his eyes tiredly.

“This is the last time we’re competing against you guys,” He says grumpily.

“Awh don’t be like that!” Brittany replies through a sweet smile, “This is like our ritual. You make boring things and kiss everyone’s ass – “

“Gross,” Sugar interjects.

“And we make fun of you and win!” Brittany shrugs, “It’s the best.”

Blaine opts to stay silent and Tina just shakes her head as Sam brings around the judges to get a better look at their finished products. This time their first stop is Team Baking Dreams Come True and Brittany and Sugar lose the playful banter while they await their turn.

\\

She’s a tad bit weary after listening to Santana completely demolish Blaine and Tina’s display for being, “A perfect example of what not to do if you’re claiming something is rustic. It’s not even that. It’s not even minimalist. It’s just uninteresting but I’m not surprised.”

For Blaine and Tina, their cupcakes better blow the judges away or else that’s it for them!

Brittany and Sugar’s display isn’t boring, that’s for sure, but being too busy can be just as bad. Regardless, she and Sugar are proud of their work no matter what the judges have to say. They’re proud of themselves for making it to the final round and they’ve had a ton of fun.

\\

“Okay esteemed judges,” Sam says as the group approaches the final team, “Last stop: Team Batter Up Cupcakes.”

“Hey judges!” Brittany greets happily. She has miraculously regained some composure after the whole Chocolate Boob incident and keeps a level head as the judges have a look at their display. She and Sugar are off to the side on stand-by while the judges walk around it but as Santana rounds the corner, her eyes catches Brittany’s.

Brittany then sees her stop and turn to her with the same familiar soft smile as before.

“You’ve got a little,” Santana says and gestures to her own nose but her voice is so low that Brittany doesn’t hear what she’s trying to say and leans in closer for a better listen.

“Sorry?” She asks confusedly.

“There’s just some – “ Santana pauses then takes the back of her hand to brush gently against the tip of Brittany’s nose.

Brittany doesn’t blink, doesn’t breathe, she just lets it happen like she’s having some out of body experience. She’s just brushing something off of her nose, but there’s something oddly intimate about the whole thing. If she wasn’t on national tv right now, this would be the moment where she would shoot her shot but that’s not the case. She stays grounded where she stands, frozen by Santana’s touch.

When Santana finally pulls away, Brittany can see her visibly gulp.

“Flour,” Santana clarifies.

“Oh,” Brittany’s sure her entire face goes red, “Thanks.”

There’s a twitch of a smile before the trance is broken and Santana goes back to studying the display.

Brittany’s trying to process that but earns a backhanded slap against her arm, curtesy of Sugar. She has to mouth shut up to the other baker in fear of her going rogue and doing something embarrassing like telling Santana that Brittany thinks she’s drop dead gorgeous.

Sugar isn’t wrong, but like…now isn’t the time for that.

\\

Kurt watches the whole scene like it’s the most racy thing he’s seen all day.

“What was that?” Kurt asks in a hushed whisper.

Santana surrounds herself with an air of indifference, “What was what?”

“That!”

“Yeah,” Santana chuckles as she turns away to focus on something else, “You’re gonna have to be a little more specific.”

Kurt catches up to her and lowers his voice even more, “I may be – as you say – the Queen of England, but even I know what an eye-fuck looks like.”

“Kurt!” Santana gasps then laughs, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say fuck before. That was amazing.”

“Don’t deflect,” Kurt says with narrowed eyes, “You need to dial back the obvious gay before you get accused of favoritism, especially with this kind of rivalry going on. You need to focus.”

Santana grits her teeth because he has a tiny bit of a point, but she’s not going to admit that to him. Instead she keeps her eyes on the team’s work as she smirks, “Can you say fuck again? I need a laugh.”

Kurt just lets out frustrated groan.

\\

“Glad someone incorporated the Cheerios colors,” Sue agrees with her eyes still roaming the display, “Looks fine.”

“This came out really great and I spy a new cupcake too,” Kurt points out a moment later looking somewhat impressed, “Should I be nervous?”

Brittany smiles softly, “Well there are quite a few spices involved…”

“Great,” Kurt says but he lacks enthusiasm, “What is it?”

“So we took the judges’ feedback into consideration and got rid of the Piña Colada cupcake and replaced it with our take on a Dirty Chai,” Brittany tells them, “The cake batter is infused with classic chai spices, topped with an espresso whipped cream frosting and garnished with a chocolate covered coffee bean.”

“Oh!” Kurt looks to Santana in surprise before turning back to Brittany, “That actually sounds lovely.”

Brittany smiles proudly before Santana speaks up.

“Mercedes and Artie did a very good coffee-based cupcake last round,” Santana comments while looking straight at Brittany. There’s something different in her tone that Brittany can’t quite place, “So I have pretty high expectations.”

Brittany smiles confidently though despite the change and the moment they had just a few minutes ago, “I always come through for you, don’t I?”

“We’ll see if you can keep that up,” Santana smirks and it causes Brittany to perk up before it falters. Santana glances back to the display and her expression is unreadable, “It’s an okay design. The different heights are a nice touch.”

Brittany and Sugar share a look; so far their feedback has been okay – better than Blaine and Tina’s for sure– but okay nonetheless. The big thing that’ll earn them a win is taste though and they’re pretty confident they’ve got that in the bag.

Brittany and Sugar thank them before Sam is directing the judges back to the panel for the final tasting.

\\

For maybe the first time ever, Brittany kind of feels bad for Blaine and Tina.

Team Baking Dreams Come True are up first and the judges have already gone through three of the four cupcakes Blaine and Tina decided to go with. Again, the feedback is all over the place but the biggest struggle is that Santana’s facial expressions are pretty unreadable and her remarks are either really positive or really negative.

There is no in between.

Sue continues with the bluntness while Kurt kind of smooths over their sharp words with his diplomatic critiques. Their flavors are there as well as the execution so at a surface-level, they did great but they’re just missing something. With everything considered, Brittany and Sugar have no idea how the judges truly feel about Team Baking Dreams Come True.

By the time Blaine and Tina are dismissed to their station again, Brittany’s stomach is in knots.

“We’re totally going to win this. We got this, Brittz!” Sugar whispers encouragingly as they walk the short distance over, holding onto each other’s hand tightly.

Brittany nods resolutely at the reminder and says, “Yeah we do.”

\\

Brittany’s thinking so far so good as the judges work their way through the cupcakes.

Everyone’s feedback has been relatively positive! Kurt even thanked them for dialing back the cayenne pepper in the Spicy Mexican Hot Chocolate cupcake because he could actually enjoy it now. Sue was a little disappointed that the Piña Colada cupcake had been replaced which the bakers found confusing since she was the one that said it wouldn’t go over well at the benefit.

And Santana…well, she’s unreadable still. Brittany had gotten use to the stolen glances and secret smiles but since the moment they shared near her team’s station, Santana has gone…cold? Brittany isn’t sure what it is.

It’s like Santana’s trying to keep her cards close to her chest with how short she’s being with her feedback and this newfound seriousness is making Brittany and Sugar nervous. There was this warmth Santana possessed when she spoke to them – to Brittany – but that’s gone now and Brittany wonders why that is.  

Overall though, Santana has commended their high skill level and their ability to balance flavors perfectly…but that’s nothing new. Brittany and Sugar already know they’re awesome in those departments and Santana has spent the entire morning confirming that.

\\

It’s not until they reach the team’s final cupcake – their new one inspired by a Dirty Chai – that a crack appears in Santana’s stiff exterior.

“You weren’t joking about the spice,” Kurt notes as they begin to taste, “But it’s not overpowering and the cake is deliciously moist. There’s a warmth to this one that I really love. I think it might be my favorite.”

Brittany’s heart skips a beat. Thus far, their cupcakes have been a hit or a miss when it came to Kurt so she’s glad that he speaks so highly of this one.

Sue chimes in next and she’s already halfway through the entire thing as she says bluntly, “I don’t hate this either.”

Brittany and Sugar share a look; that’s two out of three so far!

“What are you thinking, Santana?” Kurt prompts as he looks to the side at his co-judge.

She’s deep in thought as she drags the tip of her fork through the frosting before taking it to her lips for another taste. There’s a glimpse of her tongue against the metal and Brittany thinks she’s never been so jealous of a fork before.

“What was this called again?” Santana asks after running her tongue along the curve of her bottom lip.

Brittany’s zeroed in on the movement but blinks back into focus, “Dirty Chai. It’s one of my favorites to start the morning. I think it tastes like Christmas in a cup.”

Santana hums in response and looks down at the plate.

Brittany’s heart is racing faster than it has all day and she thinks that she has never wanted to be a mind reader more in her life. If Santana doesn’t say something soon, Brittany might actually pass out from anticipation.

“Christmas in a cup,” Santana repeats like she’s testing the words then she begins to smile. She finally meets Brittany’s gaze and her smile grows even wider, “That’s cute.”

“Cute?!” Kurt practically gasps and stares at Santana with this confused look, “Since when do you – “

“Don’t,” Santana cuts him off quickly with a glare before turning back to Brittany. She smiles again and the warmth is there but only briefly. The smile she wears slips away seconds later and the seriousness is back, “I think it was a very wise decision to replace your Piña Colada cupcake with this. It fits in perfectly with the rest you’ve chosen. It was bold of you to make such a drastic change in the final round, but it was well executed.”

Brittany fills with pride and she can’t help but ask, “And the frosting?”

Santana smirks at the forwardness but relents with a bow of her head, “Tastes like espresso.”

Brittany beams at her before looking to Sugar; there’s no way they’re leaving the arena without a win now, she’s sure of it!

“Well Brittany and Sugar,” Sam cuts in, already eyeing the judges’ leftovers, “You can return to your kitchen while the judges get to deliberating.”

\\

When it’s time to announce the winner, it’s like Sam decides to take a dramatic pause after every single word and it’s complete torture. Sugar is close to losing it and just stomping over to read the little card herself, but Brittany keeps their hands joined as they wait it out.

When Sam finally says the winners’ names aloud, Brittany swears she blacks out for a good five seconds before she’s registering who the cheering and confetti cannon explosions are for. The excitement moves around her in a blur and her ears are ringing with the sound of We Are The Champions and she struggles to focus as a huge check is being guided into hers and Sugar’s hands.

Nothing makes sense though until her eyes land on Santana who stands just a few feet away from her wearing the proudest of smiles while she claps for them.

When Brittany blinks, suddenly everything is back to normal and she gets it.

“Holy shit,” She says as she looks down at the check then turns to Sugar, “We won.”

“Duh!” Sugar beams before weeding out Blaine and Tina with their sourpuss faces, “We’re rich, bitches!”

Blaine and Tina just rolls their eyes before sulking out of the arena.

Brittany laughs and pulls Sugar into a one-armed hug, “We’re so awesome!”

“Hell yeah we are,” Sugar agrees, “And now we get all dolled up and go to a swanky benefit!”

Brittany’s smile falters and her face fills with confusion, “Wait. We actually get to go to the benefit?”

“Yeah, didn’t you hear when Guppy Face was explaining?” Sugar asks before she begins to smirk, “Or were you too busy daydreaming about Santana…“

“I wasn’t daydreaming,” Brittany sighs and begins to explain, “I was just – “

“Op, heads up! Hot Judge alert,” Sugars rushes out just in time.

“Congratulations,” Santana says as she approaches and the rest of Brittany’s words die on her lips.

Sugar’s wearing this mischievous grin before suddenly disappearing, leaving Brittany to hold the giant check alone.

“Thanks,” Brittany replies with a shy grin, “We’ve had a lot of fun today. The money is cool too.”

Santana nods, “You definitely earned it.”

“Totally,” Brittany says as she looks down at the thing, “Just not sure how I’m meant to cash it.”

Santana chuckles at that, “We got rid of the money gun. Sam broke the thing last season.”

“Bummer,” Brittany jokes, “Would’ve loved to make it rain.”

Santana bites her lip, “I just wanted to come over and congratulate you myself. It was a pleasure to watch you work. You’re a very talented baker.”

“Thanks,” Brittany blushes but pushes through, “That’s really awesome coming from someone with your kind of experience.”  

Santana ducks her head bashfully at the compliment before replying, “Well I’ll let you go to get ready for the benefit.”

Brittany barely gets a word out before the blonde is soon whisked away by stylists and rejoins Sugar in some room where they spend the next couple of hours getting primped.

\\

It has been the longest day ever for Brittany, but when she and Sugar finally arrive to the benefit and spot the many guests admiring their cupcake display it’s all so worth it. They linger around it for the first thirty minutes or so, accepting various compliments and congratulations before they sneak off to the bar for a well-deserved drink.

“You think we can keep these outfits?” Sugar asks wistfully after the bartender places their drinks in front of them. Sugar is pointing her toe out and gliding her hand down her side, “I look hot in this jumpsuit. Plus it has pockets!”

Brittany snickers, “Well they didn’t say we have to give them back. Maybe we can keep them? I wouldn’t mind adding this dress to my wardrobe.”

Sugar nods and goes to clink her glass with Brittany’s, “You’re a total babe, Brittz!”

Brittany grins at the compliment as she brings the glass up to her lips. Sugar follows suit before her eyes drift around the room, “I wonder if there are any single people in here for me to – fuck!”

Brittany’s eyes widen at the smack she feels against her arm that causes her cocktail to slosh around, “Sug, you have got to stop doing that. We don’t waste alcohol.”

“Britt, look!” Sugar urges as her eyes stay glued on someone across the room.

Brittany reluctantly swivels around, still dabbing at her arm, “What?”

When she doesn’t get an explanation, she looks up to find what has Sugar’s attention this time. It doesn’t take Brittany long to figure it out though because the woman across the room is glowing. Brittany swallows dryly at the sight of a plunging neckline and the way shimmering black fabric clings to perfect curves. Again, she finds herself in a trance as she stares the brunette down.

“We aren’t the only honeys in this joint,” Sugar says in awe, “Santana cleans up good, huh Britt?”

Brittany’s speechless; she didn’t know the judges would be attending too but she just nods in response to Sugar. Her words don’t seem to be working right now anyway.  

The crowd parts for Santana as she pauses to greet those that approach her and despite the reputation that proceeds her, she seems rather friendly with them. She looks genuinely happy to meet everyone and there’s this gleaming smile she wears that ignites the room. These people are like moths to a flame and if Brittany wasn’t so far away, she’d be right there with them getting burnt to a crisp.

Brittany can feel herself falling deeper and deeper and Santana hasn’t even looked her way yet. Who knows what’ll happen if she ever does?

She feels so silly about it because she’s only known the woman for a few hours and with all things considered, she really doesn’t stand a chance. The woman isn’t just some random she met at the grocery store. She’s Santana Lopez, the world renowned pastry chef and entrepreneur and Brittany is just…Brittany.

That’s not self-loathing or anything because Brittany knows that she’s special, but Santana is next-level. She’s famous and Brittany is just a small-town girl. What could she possibly offer someone like her? It’s that thought that has Brittany turning back to her drink with a sigh.

This is just a little crush and it’ll go away soon.

“What’s that for?” Sugar asks. She’s leaning her back against the bar top edge people-watching while she sips on her cocktail. When Brittany doesn’t answer right away, Sugar gives her a poke.

Brittany shakes her head and finally answers, “It’s nothing.”

“We haven’t known each other since like birth or anything and there’s a little bit of an age difference here, but show me a little respect…” Sugar says with her hand on her hip. She’s giving Brittany a look with her brow quirked, “You think I don’t know when my best friend is in a mood?”

Brittany frowns at that because of course Sugar notices everything. She thinks about her words carefully and what she’s feeling while she takes another sip of her drink.

Brittany has always been pretty secure with who she is. She has always been a risk-taker, always defied the laws of man and thought outside of the box, always known who she is. When it comes to women or men, Brittany has never had a problem before. Not to say that she’s some kind of player, but she can carry on a conversation pretty easily. She doesn’t usually get nervous around them either, but it’s different with Santana.

For the first time maybe, she’s kind of intimidated.  

“This whole thing with Santana is ridiculous, right?” Brittany finally asks but she’s more so just thinking out loud. She takes another sip and adds, “Like I’m completely off my hammock for thinking something could happen? Like she’s totally out of my league?”

Sugar ponders for a moment before shrugging, “How? You’re hot. She’s hot. Why not be hot together?”

Brittany snorts, “I don’t think it’s that simple.”

“It totally is,” Sugar replies easily, “Just talk to her. You miss all of the shots you don’t take.”

“I don’t see how alcohol is involved here…” Brittany squints.

Sugar gives her a look, always well-tuned to when Brittany’s trying to troll her, “I love a good shot as much as the next person, especially if it’s free, but I think you know that’s not what I’m talking about here.”

“Yeah, I know,” Brittany’s aloof demeanor falters, “I don’t know what’s going on with me. I’m so off my game.”

“You’re just getting in your head about it,” Sugar says then downs the rest of her cocktail, “How about this? You finish off your drink and we’ll get you another then we’ll take a bunch of pics in the bathroom mirror and send them to Blaine and Tina to rub it in their faces?”

“I don’t know,” Brittany frowns, “I’m not really in the mood for that.”

“Come on Britt,” Sugar begs, “Nothing cheers you up like making fun of our archnemeses.”

Brittany just swirls the liquid around in her glass like she’s deep in thought until Sugar starts to chant, “Chug! Chug! Chug!”  

That causes a grin to break out and soon Brittany’s tipping back her glass while Sugar claps excitedly beside her. They gain some attention from those that sit near them at the bar, but they don’t pay them any mind. They’re here for a good time, not a long time.  

“Hey hottie!” Sugar calls out to the bartender with a wave, “Another around for us and make those babies doubles!” Brittany’s just about to protest when Sugar cuts her off, “I’m gonna grab us some snacks, brb.”

Then Sugar is gone in a flash before Brittany can say okay.

\\

More than ten minutes go by and Sugar still isn’t back yet. Brittany wonders how far away these snacks are because she’s starting to get a little hungry but then suddenly a small plate topped with various hors d'oeuvres slides in front of her.

“Finally!” Brittany feigns annoyance as she begins to turn to Sugar, “Your drink is probably so wa – “

The rest of her words fall away because her best friend isn’t the one standing before her, it’s Santana. She wears this sexy, smug little grin and her dark brown eyes are dazzling as she stares right back.

“You’re…not Sugar,” Brittany points out without thinking but the comment makes Santana laugh.

“Unfortunately no,” Santana chuckles nervously.

Brittany chastises herself for being so rude, “I – I’m sorry. That came out wrong. Hey Santana, you…you look really beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Santana smiles coyly.  “Sugar asked me to bring this to you,” Santana answers with a nod to the plate, “She also wanted me to tell you that she’s chatting up a hot DILF and she’ll be back soon. Honestly, she’s got her work cut out for her because Kurt had his eyes on him the moment we got here.”

Brittany chuckles at that, “Yeah…she likes a challenge. You should’ve seen her in college.”

Santana adds, “I can only imagine. She kind of just started rambling at me then passed me that plate. Your friend is a lot.”

“Yeah, that’s a thing she does,” Brittany says and presses her lips together to keep from laughing out in embarrassment, “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Santana grins then glances to the bar, “She said a drink would be waiting for me when I arrived – albeit watered down – as well as someone needing a little company while she’s off trying to score herself a man.”

Brittany facepalms; she can totally see where Sugar’s trying to go with this. She conveniently running into Santana and directing her over to the bar is just too big of a coincidence.

So much for taking bathroom selfies and blowing up Blaine and Tina’s phones.

“I’m sorry,” Brittany apologizes again, “She has a slight problem with boundaries and gets worked up around attractive people.”

“I can’t blame her,” Santana says around a smirk, “She didn’t say the person in need of some company would be drop dead gorgeous though and absolutely killing it in that dress.”

Brittany tries to fight off the blush and shy smile as she catches Santana’s eyes lingering on her legs. She’s really thanking whoever out there designed it because man, do they know how to craft a sexy leg slit. She’s totally going to try to smuggle it back to Lima after this thing.

“You look really great,” Santana adds earnestly.

Brittany brings her glass to her lips as if she’s trying to hide behind it as she says, “Don’t flatter me.”

“I’ll do as a like. Especially when it’s true,” Santana replies smoothly before giving Brittany a cheek-bunching grin. It’s a combination of sweet and smug but what really has Brittany struggling to keep her composure are Santana’s cute-as-hell dimples.

Brittany’s impressed by Santana’s forwardness though, she has always loved confidence on anyone and Santana does it so well. It has Brittany thinking that maybe she stands a chance after all if Santana is flirting with her like this but she’s still a little hesitant.

She and Sugar are meant to return to Lima tomorrow; what is she expecting to happen with Santana within the next 16 hours? Can’t be much.

“So,” Santana hums as she slides into Sugar’s vacant seat.

“What are you doing?” Brittany questions, mostly surprised that she’s choosing to stay.

“Keeping you company?”

“You don’t have to do that,” Brittany laughs, “I’m sure there are loads of people here you probably have to mingle with.”

“True,” Santana nods and from the corner of Brittany’s she can see Santana turn to her, “But I rather mingle with you instead.”

When Brittany looks back – just to check that she’s really there and she really said that – she’s momentarily distracted by Santana’s utter beauty. Sure, she was stunning back at the Cupcake Battles arena but here it has intensified ten fold. Santana is gorgeous, flawless even, like words can’t begin to describe how amazing she looks all done up and of all the seats in this place, she chooses the one next to Brittany.

How did Brittany get so lucky?

That familiar warmth from before surrounds Brittany and the crazy butterflies soon fill her stomach yet again. Her resolve is slowly starting to crumble the longer Santana stares at her, but she has to at least try to hang onto the last bit of dignity she possesses.  

“You sure it’s not because Sugar bribed you with a drink?” Brittany smirks, her confidence slowly returning.

Santana shakes her head though and giggles, “I’m sure.”

\\

From across the room, Sugar tucks away her phone after scoring the DILF’s number and grins proudly at her work taking place at the bar. She watches as Santana tosses her head back with a laugh because Brittany is freaking hilarious and she’s probably working that infamous Pierce Charm on her. Just a little push in the right direction was all Brittany needed, the most awesome wing-woman ever strikes again!

“Huh,” Kurt hums as he comes to stand next to Sugar. He’s holding a plate of hors d'oeuvres as they both watch everything unfold between Santana and Brittany from afar, “You’re a pro.”

“Of course I am,” Sugar says smugly as she swipes a pitted olive from his plate and pops it into her mouth. She scrunches her nose at the taste and spits it out somewhere off to the side, “Gross.”

Kurt just looks at her like she’s both amazing and horrifying.

\\

Any of the nerves Brittany was struggling with before have long since vanished as she talks with Santana at the bar. They’ve both had a couple of drinks now so that might have something to do with the ease of conversation, Brittany thinks. She’s truly having a great time getting to know Santana and finds that the brunette is so easy to talk to, not to mention witty as hell.

Well, she knew that already from what she has seen on the show but it hits differently in person. Santana has been portrayed as this intimidating, no-nonsense judge who is prone to going all Lima Heights on anyone that challenges her critiques but the more Brittany gets to know her, the more she realizes that there’s a clear divide between her on-screen persona and what she’s like in person.

In person, Santana is sweet and little bashful at times and pulls the cutest faces when Brittany makes a joke. She has the greatest laugh and the most beautiful smile Brittany has ever seen. Not to mention those eyes, she could stare into them for hours on end.

It’s taking everything in her not to stare at Santana’s boobs though especially with that plunging neckline, but she also keeps catching Santana lingering longer on the exposed skin of her thigh or her lips and she’s kind of thankful that she isn’t the only one struggling. This leering thing is apparently a two-way street.

She also finds that they have so many things in common aside from the whole baking thing. They were both cheerleaders in high school, both relatively popular growing up, and both made drastic career choice changes. After giving Santana a little more backstory about her time at MIT, Brittany learns that Santana is a classically trained singer and before deciding on culinary school she wanted to pursue a career in music.

“My scholarship for culinary school covered more than anything I received for music so making the change was an obvious choice,” Santana says with a shrug.

“Do you still sing?” Brittany asks, ever so intrigued by all the little details she’s learning.

Santana nods, “Sometimes but mostly just at home in the kitchen or in the shower. I kind of miss it. I wonder what my life would’ve been like if I went that route instead, like would I be raking in the dough and topping charts or would I have been a flop?”

“You totally would’ve been a star,” Brittany says with a certainty that makes Santana chuckle.

“How can you be so sure?” She questions through a giggle, “You’ve never heard me sing.”

“I just know these things,” Brittany shrugs, “And you have to go with it, I’m kind of a certified genius you know.”

“Ah, who am I to argue then?” Santana relents as she starts to soften some. There’s this delicacy as she adds, “I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone that before, about my singing.”  

“Well your secret is safe with me,” Brittany winks and it makes Santana blush.

“You’re very easy to talk to,” Santana admits a short while later.

It’s Brittany’s turn to blush then and she thinks if she spends any more time with the woman, she might just fall for her which is why she’s a little annoyed when Sugar finally returns with a loud, “Hey girl hey!”

Santana turns to her with this look that is a mix of annoyance and confusion, but it subsides when Brittany speaks up.

“Were you successful?” She asks remembering this DILF mission Sugar was wrapped up in while her friend orders herself another drink.

Sugar smirks, “You could say that.”

Brittany shakes her head and laughs, “They won’t know what hit’em.”

“Totally. What are we talking about?” Sugar asks while the bartender crafts her drink.

“We?” Santana questions and there’s just a touch of irritation behind her smile, “You’re staying?”

Sugar raises a brow at that, but before anything else can be said Brittany quickly intervenes with a subject change, “I was just telling Santana about the Great Eggs Benedict Debacle of 2016.”

Santana looks confused again and asks, “The great what?”

“Ooh, good story,” Sugar nods in approval, “Smackdown of the century, classic.”

Brittany doesn’t pay too much attention to Sugar’s comment and glances to Santana again to clarify, “The moment that solidified my dislike for all things breakfast.”

“Wait, you don’t like breakfast?” Santana has her nose cutely scrunched at that, “How come?”

“There are several things at play,” Brittany tells her, “For one, you can have it at any time of day – just look at this benefit – and that doesn’t make any sense to me. Lunch has a specific time of day and so does dinner. Why is it any different for breakfast? It’s dark out and that person over there is eating pancakes but it’s not considered dinner. It’s so confusing.”

“Make sense,” Santana nods and begins to grin, “You must not be a fan of 24 hour pancake parlors then?”

Brittany’s reply gets lost because the way Santana stares at her, almost tenderly, makes Brittany’s knees shake and she isn’t even standing. Sugar seems to notice too but miraculously stays quiet as the bartender places her drink in front of her.

“Santana!” Kurt calls out from somewhere close and the women turn to him as he approaches. He greets Brittany and Sugar before turning to his co-judge, “It’s almost time. We should head to our table.”

“Right. I’ll be there in a sec,” Santana says and goes to stand.

“I should grab us a spot too,” Sugar tells Brittany before she’s disappearing again with her drink without another word. Brittany looks between the two a little lost.

“These things wrap pretty quickly once the speeches get going,” Santana explains as she starts poking around in her clutch for something.

Brittany nods and looks over to where Sue Sylvester is already taking her place in front of the room. They don’t have much time left now.

“Take this,” Santana offers and Brittany looks down to find a card between her fingertips, “It’s my business card.”

“Oh,” Brittany accepts it with a surprised smile, “Thank you.”

“You know,” Santana starts and she almost looks nervous, “If you’re ever in L.A. again or need some business advice or whatever…give me a call?”

Brittany’s pretty sure she has stopped breathing and her words struggle to form at the gesture. Santana Lopez has just given her a business card containing her personal phone number, of course she can’t think straight at the moment!

“So yeah,” Santana chuckles nervously at Brittany’s silence then juts out her hand.

Brittany eyes it and takes it into her own and she swears sparks fly at the very touch. She grips Santana’s hand, and it’s soft and firm at the same time somehow.

“It was nice chatting with you,” Santana says politely as she pulls away from the handshake, “I hope I did well in keeping you company.”

Finally Brittany gets her words working again and replies, “Totally. Easily the highlight of my day.”

“You won a fat check and became a Cupcake Battles Victor, yet this was your highlight?”

“Well I’d rather be Victoria,” Brittany says with a shrug, “But yeah, it was. These competition wins are a dime a dozen, but I rarely get the chance to talk to someone like you.”

Santana gives her that look again from earlier and Brittany doesn’t know who swoons first, “You’re something else, Brittany.”

Brittany cocks her head to the side and smiles back bashfully.

“Santana!” Kurt calls out again and starts to wave the co-judge over, “Hurry up!”

Santana flicks him off and turns back to Brittany with an apologetic grin, “Sorry, duty calls. I’ll try to find you again after all of this?”

“Yeah sure,” Brittany replies with a bow of her head before Santana joins Kurt at their table. She feels like she’s on cloud nine and she knows Sugar is going to want every single detail but for now she just soaks this moment in.

\\

Brittany spends the rest of the evening getting to know everyone at the table she and Sugar share. It’s great food and great company which makes for an awesome time, but Brittany can’t get Santana out of her head.

She finds herself glancing over to where Santana sits, watching the way she lights up around the other guests. The brunette seems swept up in conversation with some other prestigious pastry chefs that Brittany recognizes. Kurt sits next to Santana and the two bounce off of each other just as they do on the show, but a little part of Brittany wishes she could take his place.

Brittany doesn’t think she’s ever been quite so jealous of a gay man before, but the feeling stands. She wants to be the one sitting next to Santana, to be in her presence again and listen to the whispers of her snarky comments which says a lot because she already got a couple hours worth of alone time with her already. Maybe she was a little spoiled with all the attention Santana gave her at the bar, but she can’t help it.

Santana has her hooked.

If she’s lucky though, sometimes Santana glances her way too. When their eyes meet and the smile Santana wears matches her own, Brittany thinks maybe Santana is just as helpless.

\\

True to Santana’s earlier prediction, the benefits wraps up quickly after the speeches take place. There are people everywhere and Brittany eventually loses sight of the brunette amongst the crowd with everyone standing now. She hangs back with Sugar though and they try their hardest to find the woman.

“She could’ve gone out the back way?” Sugar suggests, “A special exit for celebs?”

The word celebs sits funny with Brittany now that she has had the chance to get to know Santana a little better. The woman is known all over the world in the culinary industry and an esteemed judge on a popular tv show, but Brittany doesn’t consider her a celeb. Not anymore.

She’s just Santana; a beautiful girl who loves to bake and probably has the voice of an angel.

Yeah, Brittany is definitely in trouble.

“No. She said she would find me afterwards,” Brittany tells her and she kind of hates how hopeful she is.

“She must’ve gotten busy?” Sugar tries, “I don’t see her anywhere. Wait, give me a boost. You think this table will hold me?”

Sugar’s already scrambling up to stand on her chair while Brittany continues to look around.

“I have to say goodbye,” Brittany tells Sugar, “I didn’t get to before.”

Sugar frowns at her best friend for a moment, feeling a little sorry for her, before she’s back to vigilantly searching the room for the brunette in question.  

Brittany starts to feel a twinge of sadness as she continues to scan the room with no avail. She doesn’t know why she’s getting so caught up in her feelings. It wasn’t as if Santana promised to come find her afterwards, it’s not like she owed it to her or anything. She just kind of wishes they had a proper goodbye, whatever proper means.

Brittany doesn’t quit until they’re being ushered into a car that’ll take them back to their hotel.

When The Turtles’ Happy Together starts to play through the speakers and Sugar starts to groove in her seat, Brittany thinks she might just punch a hole straight through the radio.

[sherala007]

Creative non-fiction done for school

The Crucible of Youth

I felt the pile of carpet beneath my tummy, poking like pinpricks through my shirt as I lay across the living room floor, reading my book.  Mom sat nearby in her chair next to the window, the dull grey of the winter/spring changeover still in the sky.  She was working on her crocheting while watching the news on TV. I usually ignored the news.  It was always bad.  Tonight’s news was no different.  Tonight I couldn’t ignore it.  The words gang rape grabbed my attention quick making me forget my book. Mom even set down her work.

           It was March of 1983 and the reporter spoke about a woman who was raped by four men in Big Dan’s Tavern in New Bedford, MA, all for going in to buy a pack of cigarettes (Chapie). I watched the story, at first not fully understanding what was going on.  Then it started to click what rape meant.  I was heartbroken.  How could someone do that to another person? I didn't understand to the fullest extent what rape was yet but from the look on mom's face, I knew it was serious. I remember mom saying "She had to have done something to deserve it.  Nothing like that happens without a cause."

I looked up at mom as she dismissed the woman's pain and went back to her crocheting. The lack of concern or care on mom's face frightened me.  She'd always been so compassionate to those in need, kind and caring, but not demonstrative in showing physical affection.  This lack of concern wasn't like her at all.  It looked as if she was dismissing the rape as the woman's fault, absolving herself of the need to think on it anymore.  Her words chilled me and would come echoing back in my mind soon.

           July 4th! What a time to be a kid.  It was summer.  It was hot out.  It was time for swimming in the pool and running carefree.  We were at my sister Patty’s for a picnic.  There weren't a lot of kids, just me; my niece Sandy, who was the youngest; Kurt who was eleven, and his fifteen-year-old brother Dale. I'd just turned twelve a few months before and was already developing into a young woman.  Kurt had noticed.  All-day long he was my shadow.  He was big for his age, already almost a foot taller than me and I was only about four foot six.  His father owned his own construction company and Kurt and Dale worked with him on the weekends so both boys were very strong.

We'd been swimming most of the day, only getting out to eat.  We waited the required 30 minutes, then back into the pool. We'd exhausted all the games we could think of to play in the water.  We tested our breath holding limits; scrounged for items on the bottom as they were thrown in; and did as many laps as we could.  It was a round pool so laps were short and annoying.  I was pruney and bored.  I remembered I had a great book with me that I’d gotten into only yesterday and sitting out for a while sounded nice and relaxing.  I ducked underwater to swim to the ladder and felt something poke me in the bum.  Popping up quickly I saw Kurt pop up right next to me.

           “You two, knock that crap off!”  I heard my sister Patty yell from the top deck of the house.  She turned and carried another tray of food down to the picnic table at the bottom.  

           I got out of the pool, wrapped up in my towel, and headed to the table.  “I didn’t do anything, Patty.  I was only swimming.”

"You let a boy touch your butt.  Good girls don't do that."  She looked me in the eye, anger, and disgust on her face then turned and stormed off to join the other adults.  

           I’d felt like I was punched in the stomach.  I sat down on the bench, picked up a hotdog and started to nibble.  I was about to take another bite when Kurt walked up to me, grabbed it and scarfed it down.

           “Don’t worry about her. Let’s go for a walk.”  He threw his towel down on the bench and slid his flip flops on waiting for me.  Dale and Sandy liked the idea of a walk and wanted to join us.  Dale went over, asked permission, and was given instructions to take care of us girls and off we went.  We were only permitted to go up the road to the trail we used to ride our horses on.  We were still in our swimsuits, Sandy and me with towels wrapped around us, the boys in their shorts.

The trail wasn't a trail per se but a dirt road, rocky, twisty, and bumpy, but it was a change for us.  Being on the plump side, I wasn't as fast as the others.  I fell behind as we went up a hill and around a bend in the road, thick trees lining either side, houses scattered farther and farther apart. Kurt stayed with me and spotted an abandoned barn off the side of the road in someone’s back yard.  We stopped and looked to see if anyone was around. Sandy and Dale were out of sight as Kurt grabbed my hand, pulling me up the sloping gravel driveway, the small white rocks making for rough going, and around the corner of the barn to the door on the other side.

It was cooler inside.  I could smell the dampness of the mold and mildew all around me, mixed with the smell of roses and wildflowers from outside.  Some of the shabby barn boards looked worm-eaten, barely hanging on by the few remaining nails holding them in place.  There was dirt and dust everywhere, blown in through the cracks and crevices, or washed in through the large opening in the corner of the roof where part of it had fallen in.  In the far right corner, I could see a large spider web, its maker fat and creepy, perched on one of the outer edges.  I could see rusted out tools tossed about like unwanted toys, no longer needed or desired, littering the floor along one wall.

           I heard Kurt walking near the middle of the floor, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, as I entered watching for any critter that may try and come near me. Looking around at everything I'd lost track of where Kurt was for a moment.  He'd gotten quiet.  One second I was standing a few paces inside the doorway looking at how creepy everything was, the next I was on my back in the dirt on the floor, Kurt's left hand around my neck.

"Don't move," he said.  His hand was so large it wrapped halfway around my neck.  The look in his eyes was cold, freezing me in place as he held me down with that one hand, not tight enough to bruise, but enough so I couldn't risk moving.  I couldn't think, couldn't figure a way out of his grip.  Why was he doing this?  What did he want from me?  He used his right hand to free himself from his shorts and then to slide the panty half of my suit aside, digging himself inside me hard like a blunt shovel.  All I felt was pain, burning, and tearing.  I was trembling.  I wanted to scream but couldn't with his hand still on my throat.  His pig-like grunting and the slap of skin on skin echoed in my head.  I thought it was loud enough others would hear and come to help me.  No one came.

I was numb. I don't remember him finishing.  I don't remember how I got home.  I remember going right into the shower, cleaning up, and throwing my towel and bathing suit into the washer.  I don't even remember how I got the bleeding to stop. I just know it did.  Hours later I still couldn't remember any of the details of how I got home.  Any time I tried I would get sick to my stomach.  I do remember the thoughts that echoed in my head for the next twenty-five years.  Dirty.  Bad girl. I deserved it.  I’m worthless.  Those thoughts stay with me today, though they're not as loud as they used to be. They were the only thoughts I could hear for a long time, and they always echo in my mom’s voice.  This was just the first time I was raped.  It happened again four years later when I was sixteen and at another 4th of July gathering with my then-boyfriend. That time I was raped on top of a pile of refuse and debris in an old, dilapidated camper.

           What did I do to cause this to happen to me?  Why me?  Why did I deserve this?  It took a long time in therapy to discover a few things.  I didn’t do a DAMN THING to deserve this or cause it to happen to me. Why me?  I’m small.  I’m female. I’m seen as prey.  Men that rape are in search of a power rush.  They’re not in it for the sexual gratification.  They’re in it to hurt, humiliate, and degrade.  It's not about sex only power.  I just reach five foot two now.  Back then I was shorter and thinner than I am now.  Because of all this trauma, I gained a great deal of weight.

Imagine what this trauma does to a teen?  Adults usually think teens are dramatic.  I remember all the times my mom would tell me to stop being so dramatic when I was jumpy or had to have my back to a wall.  Most adults don't listen to teens or notice the signs of PTSD.  Teens are still developing their identities and personalities. Rape puts a deep and heavy scar on their psyche that they have to grow into and carry for the rest of their life. Teens may be young and still growing emotionally but they have the same feelings adults do and respond in similar ways. All the same side effects we suffer from rape, teens do, also.

Sixty-six percent of all victims of rape under the age of eighteen are between the ages of twelve and seventeen (Rainn).  Well, that statistic fits me both times.  I never used to be a jumpy person.  After the rape, I would jump at the drop of a hat.  I also dealt with bouts of depression.  There are days even now where I struggle to get out of bed to live a normal life doing normal things.  Those days are fewer and farther between.  The biggest issue I deal with now is when I’m working on a task and someone strolls up to me to ask a question and startles me.  They’re not even trying to be stealthy but I’m instantly in a fight or flight panic.  My heart races like I’ve run a marathon.  I hold my breath for a few seconds then I pant like I’m being choked again.  Now and again I’ll even start to tremble.  I can hide that sometimes but my close friends know when it’s happening.  I discovered that this is all part of PTSD (Rainn).

I discovered something terrifying while dealing with treatment as well as doing research; per the Center for Family Justice (CFJ) one in four women and one in six men are sexually abused (CFJ).  In eight out of ten cases the victim knows the attacker (CFJ).  There are three main after-effects of rape; depression, flashbacks, and PTSD (Rainn).  I've had to live most of my life with two out of the three' until now.  In rewriting this paper the third has started, but only a few times.  The smell of roses and mold triggered flashbacks as I was rewriting the barn scene. That lasted for about three weeks and has now stopped.  The saddest thing for me is it's been thirty-three years and these effects still happen.

           Did I ever tell my mother?  No.  The woman who raised me was actually my grandmother.  She adopted me from her oldest daughter when I was ten but had raised me since I was four months old.  She was born in 1933.  Things were so much different for her growing up so she still had the antiquated mindset for her generation.  By the time I was able to talk about it nothing could be done anyway so why stir things up?  I know it would have made her feel horrible and wouldn’t have solved anything.  

I will tell you, surviving rape has made me a very strong woman.  I didn't realize this until about five years ago:  I've lived through the worst that man can do to woman, short of murder.  I've not only survived but in the last few years, I've thrived.  I'm able to live on my own.  I make new friends all the time.  I can hold down a good job.  Do I still have some issues now and then?  Yes, but they’re infrequent now.  I’m too strong to let it keep me down anymore.  I’ve realized that, yes I have suffered horrible violence, but unlike others, I don’t have to let it define who I am.  I refuse to let it do so.  I choose to act and be seen as a woman who can stand on her own and who doesn’t need to hide behind anyone else.  I do understand when I’m out on my own I have to pay attention to my surroundings and be vigilant but I don’t have to be afraid of every shadow.  Yes, I used to hide behind the victim label I let others put on me, but not anymore.  I am alive and I will continue to embrace every day because I am worth it, not because someone else says so but simply because I’m here; alive, walking, talking, and breathing.

While I was working on one of the drafts of this article, a friend at work offered to read it and help me edit it.  I gave it to her on a Friday.  Monday morning she came up to me crying.  She couldn't read it.  She told me about how she was raped twenty years ago and still can't talk about it with anyone; not even her husband.  She can't have a deep, healthy relationship with him because of it.  She asked me how I can be so relaxed and open after all that. What was my secret?  Truth is, I don't have a secret.  I freely admit what happened to me when anyone asks why I get startled as I do.  I know now that I didn't do anything to ask for what happened to me.  It was not my fault.  It took a while for that to sink in but now that it has it's one of my mantras when those horrid thoughts get loud on me again; because they do sometimes. I remind myself that I am alive. I have hope.  I get up for work every morning.  I answer calls from customers needing help every day.  Some of them are not so nice about asking for it either. I work for a security company and every so often I get that call from that woman who went through that same experience.  I stop and listen.  I do what only a fellow survivor can do.  I give her hope too.

 Works Cited:

No Author, Sexual Assault Stats, Center for Family Justice.org, web, 6-27-16

Capie, Lindsay.  Big Dan’s Tavern Gang-Rape, New Bedford 1983, LindsayChapie.wordpress.com, web, 7-9-16

No Author, No Article, Statistics, Rainn.org, web, 6-27-16

[gleekto]

Roommate Wanted (11/12)

Summary/Prompt (stolen from @hazelandglasz - thank you!):  Straight guy (Blaine) worries he’s being homophobic to gay roommate (Kurt), then realizes he’s fallen for him. NYADA AU. Blaine POV.

One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six (Interlude (Kurt POV), Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten

Eleven

“Show me.” Blaine breathes out and lets his dark eyes look up and down Kurt’s body in his impossibly skinny grey jeans. He raises his hand gently to Kurt’s neck, underneath the blue scarf where the hickey is fading, and moves his thumb slowly up and down. Kurt closes his eyes shut under the scrutiny.

“We should,” Kurt’s voice is shaky. “We should talk. First.”

“Yeah,” Blaine’s voice is equally shaky. “Okay.” He lets his lips tickle Kurt’s ear. God.

Negotiation is easy when everyone is on the same page and eager to stop talking. Kurt pulls Blaine over to the couch and they sit down, knees touching, hands intertwined. Blaine runs his index finger along Kurt’s bare forearm. He can see it distracts Kurt - that’s the point.

“What do you have in mind, Blaine Anderson?”

“You.”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “I’m serious. If you actually want to get naked at some point tonight, you need to answer.”

Blaine’s eyes light up with the confirmation that they are, in fact, on the same page. “Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, I’d like to get naked with you. Tonight. And we can stop at any time.” Blaine will definitely definitely not want to stop. 

“Agree,” Kurt says. “But no, you know-that.” He stops.

“Anal sex?” Kurt squeaks his affirmation and Blaine laughs. 

“Not yet,” Kurt recovers.

“Not yet,” Blaine agrees. 

“What have you done, anyways?” Blaine figured this was on Kurt’s mind. He’s had sex with one person, it taught him a lot. No regrets. 

“I’ve had sex,” Blaine says. “With a girl. My then girlfriend of many months, Julie. And I got tested before I came to NYADA. Just in case, you know, I met someone.” He smiles at Kurt.

“Did you - I mean, was it- You don’t have to tell me the details or anything.”

“I liked it.” Blaine understands the question. “I like sex. I liked sex with Julie. It felt good. And I loved Julie in a, I guess now, sort of platonic way. But it wasn’t-” Blaine searches for the word. “Like it is with you.” Not like he is now - a shaken up soda can, finally open and fizzing over, his body on fire just thinking about it.

“You don’t know how it is with me.”

“Kurt.”

“You’re going to be very good at this, aren’t you?”

Blaine blushes at the expectation. “Well, I don’t know about that,” He shakes his head dismissively. “But I do like,” Blaine pauses in a moment of nervousness. “Sex. And I may have been told that I sometimes talk - like during -  I may say things to you. That I’ve been thinking. It heightens it, for me. Unless it embarrasses you. Then I won’t-”

“You can,” Kurt says quickly. “I like that you’re” Kurt breathes out, “Not shy.  But I am. Still. I think,” Kurt muses. “I want this. So don’t interpret my total awkwardness for embarrassment.”

“You’re not awkward.” Blaine has untucked Kurt’s yellow shirt, and is making small circles on his lower back. Kurt is letting him. “But just to be clear,” Kurt’s getting goosebumps.“Whatever you want to do to me - even if it’s very little, it’s okay with me. I just want you to be comfortable. So I can be comfortable. You don’t even have to look at me naked-” 

Kurt laughs, “I want to look at you naked, Blaine.”

“Okay,” Blaine licks his lips. “Then the last thing is, so there are no unwanted surprises, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to go down on you.”

Kurt laughs out loud. “Oh my god, Blaine. Why is that a term of negotiation?”

“I want to,” Blaine shrugs innocently. “I’ve been thinking about it.” 

“Okay, I can live with that,” Kurt answers. Blaine finally lies him down on the couch and settles on top of him.

“Okay.” Blaine is where he wants to be.

...

It starts gently. They have all night. Blaine licks slowly at Kurt’s lips underneath him. Kurt mirrors him, slow, soft kitten licks. A tease. 

“I’m going to really kiss you now.” Blaine moves his hand behind Kurt’s neck, sinking himself into the kiss. Kurt moans and Blaine sighs into his mouth at the sound. He can feel Kurt’s hands on the small of his back, moving slowly lower. “Grab my ass,” He breathes into Kurt’s ear, burying his mouth on his neck.

“Oh my god,” Kurt laughs breathlessly but he does.

“Your hands feel so good.” Blaine warned him he would talk.

“You know I like your ass,” Kurt squeezes harder and Blaine feels powerful.

...

Too many minutes of kissing, pressed on top of each other on the couch and Blaine’s jeans are very uncomfortable. Which means Kurt’s jeans must be painful.

“Kurt,” Blaine lifts up. “Do you think we can move this to somewhere more comfortable?”

“Your place or mine?” 

They choose Kurt’s bigger bed, standing up from the couch and moving as quickly as possible. Kurt crawls on to his bed and Blaine quickly takes off his own shirt while Kurt is facing the other way. He’s not rushing - just wants to turn the heat up one notch.

“Wow,” Kurt is sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at a now half naked Blaine. Blaine preens, stepping between Kurt’s legs and bends gently to kiss at his neck, encouraging. Kurt places his hands on Blaine’s stomach and explores, running hands and fingertips over his nipples and Blaine starts to unbutton Kurt’s canary yellow shirt.

They lie beside each other, shirts off, kissing slowly. Kurt gets goosebumps every time Blaine runs a finger pad over a nipple. “Ahh. Sensitive.” But Blaine likes the sound he makes so he does it again. And then sucks Kurt’s nipple into his mouth. “Hnnngh ah!” 

“And I thought I would be the vocal one.”

“Shut up, Blaine. It’s intense there. For me.” Blaine does it again and Kurt groans deeply. Blaine sees Kurt’s toes curl. “Wow. It’s just a lot.”

Blaine gives a last lick and gently moves back to his pillow, stares at the ceiling for a breath. “We can stop now, you know? I won’t be disappointed. Well, maybe a little,” Honesty is the best policy. “But there will just be more for next time. It’s really okay.”

Kurt turns his head to face Blaine. “I did not say that I wanted to stop.” Kurt turns back to the ceiling too, breathing heavy, determined. He looks straight up, bites his lower lip, and puts his right hand firmly on Blaine’s clearly hard dick hidden in his jeans. Blaine’s heart races and he stays very still. Wants to let Kurt do whatever he wants. Kurt starts to run his hand up and down, gently squeezing. 

“I like that, Kurt. Your hand on me.” Blaine’s breath is shaking and he closes his eyes.

“I think you might like it more if we got these off.” Kurt pulls at his jeans. 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

...

 It doesn’t take them long to each remove their jeans. Blaine was not even going to try to peel Kurt’s off of him. He thinks he would have had to use a scissors which would have been a definite mood killer. Instead, he watches Kurt remove them slowly, turned around in a way one does for privacy when changing in front of someone. It gives him a chance to take in Kurt’s body - his long, strong legs, his round ass in black briefs, his broad back.

“Are you staring at me?” Kurt turns around, blushing slightly.

“Yes,” Blaine says. “Come here.”

...

Making out in only underwear is so much better. His cock has been hard since the couch and now he can feel Kurt against him, he can press against Kurt. He’s not sure the first time he does it how Kurt will react - Too forward? Letting Kurt feel how turned on he is. But Kurt grunts and mirrors his movements, his cock against Blaine’s leg, Blaine’s cock. It’s a new feeling completely - He grabs Kurt’s ass and pushes them together.

“Never felt anything like this before, Kurt,” Blaine lets out between soft moans.

Kurt is on top of Blaine and lifts up on his forearms and pushes his pelvis down in response. “You’ve never been gay before, Blaine,” Kurt smirks, mimicking him.

“Yeah,” Blaine can barely talk “So hot.” He takes the next step and slips his hands on to Kurt’s bare ass in his briefs, keeping the rhythm. “I want to see your cock.”

...

They stand in front of each other, naked and hard, and stare. “Your body is amazing, Kurt. All of it. You’re big.” Blaine knows he’s staring shamelessly. He wants to look.

Kurt is deep red but doesn’t rush to move, instead reaches out to fit Blaine’s cock in his own hands. He pumps gently. “You’re hot.”

Blaine presses them together again and they fall on to the bed, kissing and grabbing and rubbing more urgently against each other. Blaine can feel Kurt’s urgency.

“You’re getting close,” Blaine whispers in his ear and Kurt scrunches his eyes shut.

“I don’t want to be,” Kurt pants. “But yes.”

“So I’m going to suck you now, Kurt. Okay?” It’s a rhetorical question. “Spread out for me, babe.” The word feels new on his lips and he sees Kurt blush but that could be for other reasons. Kurt is a babe. Kurt opens his legs as Blaine kisses the inside of his thighs. He licks up, paying attention where he would want it, letting his tongue swirl around the head. Kurt whimpers and pants. “This is what I wanted, Kurt.” He licks lightly again. He knows he’s teasing. “Was hoping you would let me.” Kurt grabs on to the sheet beneath him, close. “Don’t be afraid to move, okay?” And then Blaine sinks down on him, jaw loose, trying to focus on all the sexual sensations around him. 

“Ah ah, Blaine! I’m going to-” Blaine keeps bobbing with just enough suction, and puts his hands under Kurt’s ass, lifting him in deeper, encouraging him. Kurt puts his hands on Blaine’s head, lets himself buck up. He screams loudly as he comes in Blaine’s mouth.

Blaine only chokes a bit, and he grabs a tissue to wipe at his mouth and does his best to swallow the rest. It’s slightly gross, but also epically hot. He’s so turned on he thinks he could come just from thinking about it.

“Sorry,” Kurt pants out as he opens his eyes. “That was loud.”

“That was literally the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced,” Blaine is still panting.  “Because you were loud - and who cares? We’re alone,” Kurt can’t argue with him. “And also because you, you know, weren’t shy.”

“Thanks,” Kurt smirks. “I’m trying. And so,” Kurt is now staring at Blaine’s still very hard cock, as Blaine kneels beside him unabashedly. “It’s your turn.” Kurt moves quickly -  opening his mouth and licking, before Blaine can begin a lecture on making sure Kurt is comfortable, being happy to wait until next time. He would be. “Ah Kurt, you don’t have to-”

“Please be quiet,” Kurt huffs out before opening his mouth wide and sinking down. Blaine is still kneeling, and puts his hands down behind him, grabbing the sheets. Blaine can watch him like this, eyes closed in concentration and mouth working. He puts his hands gently on the back of Kurt’s head, likes to feel the movement on him. He arches back.

“Kurt, I’m going to-” Kurt pops off as Blaine moans deeply and comes, on himself, on Kurt’s stomach. He watches Kurt’s amazed expression as he finishes.

There is a sticky mess all over both of them. “I wasn’t sure I would be able to swallow,” Kurt apologizes. “But I thought it would be hot to ummm,” Kurt looks sheepish. “Make a mess.” Blaine takes his index finger and traces it along the mess on Kurt’s stomach, and holds it up playfully to Kurt’s lips.

Kurt eyes it uncertainly, but sucks the tip in, assessing. “It’s not that bad, right?” Blaine encourages. 

“You tell me.” Kurt presses his mouth to Blaine’s, pushing them both over into a tangled mess of now very satisfied naked bodies.

“I love it,” Blaine answers into Kurt’s neck, cupping his ass and holding them together.

“Of course you do,” Kurt laughs. “Blaine, you have definitely earned your membership card. With honours.”

[outroshooky]

“the dawn before sunrise is darker than anything

but never forget the stars you hope for only appear in the dark”

a young man once told me that the dawn before the sun rises is always the darkest.

another young man told me that we can only live for today and the self we choose to grow into, day after day after day. we may not know about tomorrow, but we can certainly choose who we become in the end. 

it is nearly 2020- the end of this decade, the start of the next. the holiday season is a time of wonderful joy and celebration, but it is also a time of quiet reflection.

the idea of tomorrow has stuck with me month after month this year, for some reason. perhaps it’s a byproduct of struggling with dissociation, trying to get a grasp of what exactly it means to be real and present in life. perhaps it’s living in a world where nothing is guaranteed, where i have teachers who break me down rather than build me up by telling me that it is shameful to be a woman, god forbid a gay person who speaks her mind. indeed, something i’ve always taken for granted- tomorrow creeping in its petty pace, as it so likes to do- is suddenly juxtaposed against a great backdrop of change. this year meant finding an amazing therapist; gaining an understanding of self-love; solidifying who I am without the spindly, choking threads of trauma; and so, so much more.

who says that we are entitled to a tomorrow? who decides who lives, who dies, who falls somewhere in the middle?

there have been weeks this year where i begged that tomorrow wouldn’t come in hopes it would offer some sort of respite from everything i felt at the time, some ounce of shelter. on those days, i paid attention to lyrics that told me to accelerate more, not to get too far away, reminding me that i am loved without fail even when I find it impossible to look at the reflection staring back at me in the mirror.

thankfully, after falling headlong into them for days at a time, those weeks are in the past. i’m no longer holding onto a wisp, but grabbing a fistful and clutching onto it with everything I’ve got. in june 2020, i leave to pursue my childhood dream, putting everything aside and diving headfirst into a brand new world, with no idea of what may come. if seven months from now is the dawn, there are several hundred days of darkness i’ll have to wade through before i get there.

but i’m not afraid anymore.

i don’t know if i’m entitled to tomorrow. i don’t know if i’ll make it to that day, or the day after, or the next month, or to that fated day in june when i pack everything into the trunk of the car and shed a tear or two. i’ll never know until i live and breathe it, but i’m at peace with it. the north star will always shine in the heavens just as surely as we will change, but i am secure in the knowledge that i am evolving for the better. i am evolving for the days that i can look myself in the mirror and not be so critical about the way that shirt hugs my curves. i am evolving for the days that i can let go of my concerns and run headlong into life without being so worried about what happens as a result. i am evolving too for the days when the most i am capable of is retreating away from the world into the safety of my own bedsheets. it is those days, the ones where i doubt if the next will ever come, that the stars will shine down at me and smile just a little bit brighter.

thank you for the laughs, the tears, the sense of community, and falling in love with something that is bigger than yourself that will have your back without fail. thank you for your feedback and for reading my works, even if it’s just one word at a time. thank you for supporting me, for trusting me, for being patient with me.

thank you for walking with me on this journey into tomorrow, for painting the dawn in crimson and orange and the prettiest shades of pink. i can’t wait to see what the daylight brings.

merry christmas everyone, and have a blessed new year.

all my love, hope

“however it goes, it doesn't matter, yeah, yeah

it may be different to what you were hoping for

how you live on and how you love might change

that’s true

yeah, so, are you gonna move?

we are too young to be hesitating, just run head-on onto it

so what you gonna do?”

⤷ suga’s interlude; 2019

(a very belated) follow forever, for those who made 2019 such a special year!

🌙 = mutuals!; 💌 = a message for you can be found below!

a-m 

@170v3you🌙 / @94hixtape🌙 💌 / @a-big-woofle🌙 💌 / @aegissi / @baeseoul / @blushnote / @btssmutgalore 🌙 💌 / @chwepen / @dearlytea 🌙 / @diabolusdamnoselaborat 🌙 /  @fyeahsuga / @goldenscript / @gukgalore / @guksheart🌙 💌 / @gukster🌙 / @haoaiini / @hobidreams / @honeymoonjin 🌙   / @jincherie / @jingetspegged 🌙 💌 / @joonbird 🌙 / @junghelioseok / @jurngkook / @kassareo / @kookosaur / @kookyjin / @minjoun / @mi-ss-o / @moonmonos 🌙

n-z

@pantaemonium / @pjmskosmos 🌙 / @prolixitae 💌 / @pvrpletae 🌙 / @readyplayerhobi / @ruy-tan / @sanada6 🌙 / @seokjinglebells 🌙 💌 / @seulin / @slipped-away / @spidey-son 🌙 / @sugasinterlude 🌙 / @sugaxjpg / @syuga / @valetonvi / @versigny / @winetae / @writingseoul / @yoonsgiggle 🌙 💌  / @yooyoohoratio 🌙

a letter for you / sincerely, me

💌 @94hixtape:

my dear lu, it’s your old friend hope. i miss you more every day that goes by. i know life hasn’t been very kind to you, and i hope things have started looking up for you since the last time we talked briefly. i don’t expect you to see this anytime soon, but it feels wrong somehow to not write a dedication to you. although we only knew each other for what feels like the briefest of moments in the grand scheme of it all, you impacted me in a way few others have. you’re forever kind, full of endless love that overflows and bursts from the seams in the best way possible. you are warm and compassionate and good, and you impacted my heart with rays of sunlight, bountiful and bright. i cannot even describe how much i miss you; there’s so much to tell you. every time i see a sunset, i think of you.

i love you always, once around the sun and back again.

💌 @a-big-woofle​

woofle, we’ve found ourselves perched on the cusp of a new start, it seems. we’ve known each other since the first day of kindergarten many moons ago, and to imagine life without you is to imagine lungs without breath. we’ve completed each other for years now: the yin to my yang, tik to my tok, peanut butter to my jelly. they say hundreds of miles cannot separate two hearts who truly care, and it’s our bond that has taught us the truth in that statement. i miss you so much, but i can’t wait to explore disney with you next year- not as the gangly, awkward kids we once were, but as best friends in adulthood, just being with each other in all of the goodness of those words.

you are loved beyond words and you are so more than your flaws. i’m beyond proud of everything we’ve achieved and i cannot wait to make more memories with you.

💌  @btssmutgalore​

dee, i know that we’ve barely talked, but you’ve helped me heal in ways others cannot even dream of touching. sin city was a series i read before i even created a tumblr account, and it ended up meaning more to me than i could have ever imagined. the way you speak your voice touches my heart over and over and gives me hope that i will someday be in a position to learn to trust again in the same way that jimin does. when i feel absolutely broken, your fics remind me that healing is not a linear process; i feel safe when i am immersed in your writing. 

there is such goodness in your heart and it does not go unnoticed. thank you for helping me fight the worst of my trauma and realize that i’m not a broken person- i just need a little bit of patience. 

💌 @guksheart​

cait, my dear, it’s been five months since we last saw each other, but it feels like a century has gone by. you will be here! in two months!! i’m counting down the days, i really am.

there were times this year when we didn’t think we were going to make it. we braced ourselves for the brunt of the impact, but when it hit, we didn’t shatter. we may have cracked, but like the japanese pottery tradition, we filled those crevices in with gold. we truly are shining, even in the darkest moments of the night when we can’t see our own glow. it is that bond that will keep us going, because as long as you reflect in me and i in you, we can recognize that beautiful innate worth we share.

i am honored to walk into tomorrow with you- my platonic soulmate, sister, best friend, fellow crackhead, therapist, gay mother, ramen enthusiast, cat lover, future author, psych nerd, the yoongi to my jungkook, and so much more. i love you more than words can express, and i know tim and kurt do, too.

💌 @jingetspegged​

elin, i know we’re not very close, but your posts constantly and consistently make my day. thank you for being unapologetically you- it is a dose of reality that i need and a reminder that there is space in the world to be who you are and exactly who you’re meant to be. you’re proud to be yourself and that’s something i could really learn from. plus, you’re a jin stan, which means you’re automatically one of the best people out there. 

thank you for being an inspiration to a young gay trying to find her place in the world. all my love to you!

💌 @seokjinglebells​​

meara!!! i am so glad we’ve become close recently; i’ve been blessed with an angel at my side. you helped make one of the darkest times of my life just a little bit brighter, and your words bring solace to my heart. i truly hope we get to meet someday, because i think we’d have the best adventures together. 

never forget how sweet and kind and lovely you are, like a flower that blooms year-round despite the frost and the rain. in fact, you flourish despite these things- a source of goodness and beauty no matter what life throws your way. i adore you with every ounce of my being!

💌 @yoonsgiggle​

hannah, if i could wrap min yoongi himself in a box and give him to you, i would. your soul is too good for this world, but at the same time you are a living example of what yoon meant when he said “may your trials end in full bloom.” even on days when it feels like the world is collapsing, know that you are loved and there are so many wonderful things in store for you. 

you inspire me not only as a writer, but as a person. i wish i could have as much love in my heart for the simple things as you do in yours.

happy holidays, everyone. here’s to a christmas season filled with peace in our hearts and joy in our souls, wherever we may find it. 

[musiclovingbitch]

Pros Vs. Cons

Summary: Prompt-fill: Kurt is taking a CPR class and Blaine's the hot af instructor.

A/N:  All the information about CPR included is actually accurate.

~1.7k

on AO3

Kurt had mixed feelings about being here. He made a list of pros and cons in his head to make himself feel better, but also to pass the time, because the instructors were running late.

Firstly, CPR training was something that would add an extra boost to his resume. Secondly, it was generally a very useful skill to have in life. A small, dark part of his mind added that he might need it to help his dad one day. He ignored that last thought and all its implications. A third thing on the pros list was that he wasn’t even paying for it, Vogue was.

The first and only thing on the cons list was that he had to wake up at six in the morning. On a Saturday. That’s practically torture. But, it also meant the subway car wasn’t packed like a can of sardines.

The cons list only had one item in it, but Kurt wasn’t sure if the pros won out. You had to admit, it was a pretty big con.

He took another grateful sip of his coffee and relaxed further into his chair.

He almost choked on his coffee when he saw the instructors walk in. He sat up straighter in his chair, coughing slightly. Okay, then, another item on the pros list.

“Woah, careful there, no one around you knows CPR yet.” said one of the instructors.

He smiled at them as they walked past him. They were both unfairly gorgeous. One was tall and blonde, with the body of a model. The man next to him was shorter, and had maybe the most beautiful pair of eyes Kurt had ever seen. His clothes were what intrigued Kurt the most, though. He was dressed kinda like a grandpa, but he pulled it off remarkably well. Kurt wouldn’t have thought bow ties of all things were a thing for him, but there he stood--well, sat--corrected. But maybe it wasn’t the bow tie, maybe it was just the man. Kurt was pretty sure he would like anything, provided that that man was wearing it. Well, except maybe for crocs. He had some standards.

He took another sip of coffee, draining his cup, as the instructors reached the front of the room.

“Alright, everyone. My name’s Blaine,” the man with the bow tie gestured to himself, and then to the blonde, “and this is Sam. Hello, and welcome to CPR 101.”

--

After a brief explanation of the theory behind CPR, they took questions from the few people who had them, and announced that they were going to start the practical demonstration. They asked them to split up in groups of three or four. Blaine went to the back and retrieved a plastic dummy of a person’s chest and began handing one to each group. When Blaine gave his group their dummy, Kurt smiled up at him.

“Thank you!”

He was rewarded by a smile thrown in his direction, and was also rewarded with the sight of Blaine’s ass when he turned to give the group next to theirs their dummy. He looked down quickly, biting his lip, but he couldn’t do anything about the colour of his cheeks.

Blaine rejoined Sam at the front of the room.

“Okay, so. It’s not very complicated. One hand on top of the other, fingers interlocked. It doesn’t matter which over which, whatever you feel more comfortable with. You wanna use the meat of your palm, and press on the sternum, a good reference point is the nipples. So, right about at that height, you use your full body to press down.” Blaine acted out Sam’s words. Kurt was captivated by the movement of his arms, imagining how he would use them in a wildly different situation.

“Now, you wanna be careful, especially if you’re a very physically large person, or a really strong person, you don’t want to press down too hard, or else you’ll risk breaking their ribs. You wanna press down at least four centimeters, but no more than six. I know, I know, that doesn’t really give you a proper idea of what to do.

“Oh, another important thing. See what Blaine is doing there? When you press down, keep your elbows locked and push down with your entire body. And keep your back straight. If your elbows are moving and doing all the work, you’re doing it wrong.”

“See, you’re supposed to do this,” Blaine spoke up and did a proper compression, keeping his elbows locked and using his whole body to press down onto the dummy, “not this.” he pressed down on the dummy again, only this time only his forearms were moving up and down, and his torso was still. “The biggest problems with doing that, are that, one: you’re most likely not pressing down hard enough, and two: your hands will get tired much faster, which is less than ideal.”

“Okay, people, now it’s your turn to try. We mentioned this in the first part of the seminar, but the protocol that currently stands is thirty two chest compressions followed by blowing air in the victim’s mouth twice. So, you’ll do a full round of CPR each, and we’ll supervise and come help if you need it.” Sam said.

Kurt let the other people from his group go first. It was definitely because of the goodness of his heart and definitely not so he could watch Blaine surreptitiously as he moved around the room and helped everyone, making slight adjustments to people’s form and praising them when they got it right.

When his turn came he was relatively confident he was doing well. He remembered everything they said, and made sure to keep his elbows straight.

He was counting under his breath, seven, eight, nine, ten, as the others looked on, when he felt a warm hand on his back. He stopped, and looked to his side. Blaine was squatting next to him. He resolutely did not look at Blaine’s legs. Which wasn’t as hard as he would have thought, because Blaine’s eyes up close were like tiny little swirls of heaven.

“You’re doing a great job, but you’re slouching a little. That will make you get tired faster. Keep your back and your shoulders straight.”

Kurt didn’t really know what came over him, but the words were out of his mouth before he could even think of stopping them. “Being straight was never something I was good at, but I’ll try.”

A beat of silence. Kurt felt the blood rush to his cheeks. Oh god, did I really say that out loud? He heard Blaine’s choked off laughter, his attempt to cover it with a cough. The other members of his group laughed freely.

God, he loved New York.

Kurt shook his head and rushed to correct his stance, huffing out an embarrassed laugh and mumbling out an apology. He counted five compressions in his head, before he heard Blaine’s voice

“Great job. Keep it up.” he felt Blaine’s hand pat him on the back and then it was gone. He felt strangely cold.

After everyone had a turn at performing CPR, and they got it right, Blaine and Sam spoke some more and gave a couple of pointers, and then the seminar was over.

Kurt waited with the members of his group in the reception area of the hotel, where they were told to remain until everyone’s certificates of attendance could be signed. Name after name was called, in alphabetical order, and little by little, the room started to empty out.

“Hummel, Kurt?” Blaine called out.

“That’s me.” Kurt said to the remaining people of his group, and they bid him goodbye.

He walked up to Blaine. “Hi, that’s me.” Blaine handed him the certificate. Their hands brushed and Kurt could swear he felt a spark. “Thank you.”

“No problem. You were great! And I do have to say, that brooch is incredible. I mean, a hippo wearing a bow tie? I just fell in love with you a little bit.” Blaine said, his cheeks a faint red colour.

Kurt’s cheeks pinked in response. “Oh, this old thing? I found it in a vintage shop when I was in high school. It’s one of my favourites. And I have to say as well, anyone who can pull off bow ties as well as you can is alright in my book.”

Blaine’s cheeks, if possible, reddened further. “Oh, thank you so much!” he smoothed his bow tie with a smile. He readjusted the shoulder strap of his messenger bag, which Kurt just noticed he was carrying. He also noticed the rainbow flag enamel pin on the flap.

Blaine must have seen him look at it because his hand reached down to stroke it.

“Yeah. Your joke back there reminded me how much I love New York. It wasn’t even a big deal, you know?”

They exchanged knowing looks.

“I know exactly what you’re talking about. Growing up in Nowhere, Ohio was--”

“You’re from Ohio? Me too!” Blaine exclaimed.

Kurt took a chance. “Maybe we can meet up for coffee and talk about it?”

Blaine froze. Kurt braced himself. Had he read everything wrong? Oh god, he didn’t even know if Blaine was single. But then, the best thing happened. Blaine unfroze, and smiled. He smiled the sweetest smile Kurt had ever seen. His knees felt weak.

“I’d love that.” he said, in an impossibly soft voice.

“Great!.”

“Blaine!” Sam’s voice startled the both of them.

“Be there in a second!” Blaine yelled back. “Um, so. I may have been hoping for something like this to happen, so. Here’s my number.” he held out a small, folded piece of paper.

Kurt took it. Their fingers brushed again. There’s that spark again.

“Blaine!” came Sam’s voice, more frustrated now.

Blaine winced. “I really have to go. But, I’ll talk to you later?” a small, hopeful smile lit up his face.

“I’d love that.” Kurt echoed Blaine’s words from before.

They shared a smile and Blaine hurried over to the other side of the room. Kurt exited the hotel.

The pros definitely outweighed the cons.

[chungledown-bimothy]

Trust Me: Chapter 9

I cannot thank y’all enough for your patience. Hopefully the fact that it’s a relatively big chapter a little bit kinda makes up for the wait? Either way, thank you so much for reading, and I love you <3

Chapter 1 Chapter 8 AO3 Chapter 10

Warnings: A brief mention of the wounds from previous chapters’ violence, very briefly implied nsfw/daddy kink (to skip it, just don’t read the text messages after “Aww, you’re so sweet!”

Author’s Note: Again, the cipher is crackable with the information you have. (I’d argue that this one might be a bit harder, because I gave you fewer/subtler clues, but if you get how it’s encrypted, decoding it is a lot easier.) Shoutout to y’all who got last chapter’s! <3

Word Count: 3,660

Tag List: @ccecode​ @emo-sanders-sides-loving-unicorn​ @ren-allen​ @ilovemygaydad​ @bloodropsblog​ @funsizedgremlin​ @raygelkitty​ @roxiefox23​ @thomasthesandersengine​ @spookyingarbageisland​ @band-be-boss-blog​

"The truth, however ugly in itself, is always curious and beautiful to the seeker after it," Virgil muttered. Running his hand through his hair, he looked up to see that it was 8:30. He'd been at his desk staring at a copy of the note for over two hours. There was something familiar about the phrase; the feeling that he'd heard it before played in the back of his mind, just out of reach. He was sure that it was the key to solving the entire thing.

God, I wish I remembered more from that cryptology class I took in college. Okay, time for a new approach. Clean slate, let's go through what we know about him, Virgil thought.

He's a man in his late twenties or early thirties. He's highly intelligent and well-educated, likely with a medical background of some sort. He's a mission-based killer, set on punishing people he feels got away with things, things the system should have punished them fore. Before Jason Dean, it seems. That change in victimology must be connected to why he sent this note, so I'll put a pin in that for now; I'll talk to Vincent about the autopsy report when he's done with it. 

He seems divided; some of the torture is methodical, but some of it seems more motivated by rage than purpose. And then there's how he treats them. Mission-oriented killers don't often torture their victims; the payoff is from the kill itself. But he's feeding them, keeping them alive for a while so he can torture them.

Does he want them to know what he's done? That's it. He wants them to recognize their 'sins', perhaps even repent for them. He needs the validation that comes from them acknowledging his power and that he is correct.

Everything he does has a literal meaning and a symbolic one, he continued. Nothing has only one meaning. On the surface, he's saying that he knows that what he's doing is wrong, legally at least, but he finds it beautiful. Interesting choice of wording. Not right, not just. Beautiful. It feels like he cares more about the torture than the mission. But then why the remorse with the pseudo-burial? He's so full of contradictions. And then there's the bit at the end. "Publish me", he said, not "publish this". Which goes back to the fact that he's got one hell of an ego; he wants the focus on him. Which directly flies in the face of most mission oriented killers- they want the focus on their message. 

I would almost think that there might be two unsubs, but two people being this organized and methodical is extremely unlikely. He's way too egotistical to cooperate with a partner, however submissive said partner might be. 

So, we've got an incredibly smart unsub who knows it and feels like he isn't getting the attention he deserves. A younger child, maybe? Not that that would help us find him. Round up every smart, egotistical younger son in the city. We'd get the founders of every tech start-up in the city; it'd be Gentrifiers-R-Us. Virgil shook his head to clear out the unhelpful thoughts. Focus, Virge. You're on a clock. So, what kind of encryption does someone like that send? What kind of encryption has each word represented by three numbers? It's not a trifid cipher; none of the numbers would be bigger than three, and these numbers range from 1 to 192. Most number ciphers assign a number to each letter; no way in hell all of the words are three letters, and 192 and 26 do not play well together mathematically. Think, Virgil.

Fuck. Okay, let's try another new angle. The series of numbers at the end. Clearly not part of the message. 10 digits, but clearly not a phone number. 055 certainly isn't a US area code, and the number isn't long enough for a foreign dialing code plus the rest of the phone number. Wait. Maybe it's backwards? 310 is Los Angeles. 

Virgil took out his phone and dialed 310-053-3550, heart in his throat. It rang twice before an automated voice informed him that "the number you have dialed is no longer in service". Damn. His heart started beating in an entirely different way when he saw that he had some new texts.

6:22 [Patton]- Hi cutie! Are you free, by any chance? It's been a really bad day, and seeing you always makes me feel so much better. <3

6:50 [Patton]- I was thinking we could get some dinner and then watch a movie or something at my place

7:48 [Patton]- Virge?

Virgil's stomach dropped. Oh god do they think I'm ignoring them? Oh shit. He quickly typed out a reply.

8:53[Virgil<3]- Hey, Pat, I'm here. I'm so, so sorry you're having a bad day. I can't hang out tonight, though. :'( I'd be with you if I could, though. It's been a rough one for me, too. Wanna talk about what's been bringing you down?

Their reply was almost instant.

[Patton]- Virgil! :D Aww, stormcloud, it's okay. Life happens; it wouldn't be healthy for either of us if you dropped everything when I'm just a little down. Besides, it was nothing, really. Just me being dramatic lol

Virgil felt himself blush at the endearment, but his brow furrowed reading the rest of the message.

[Virgil<3]- You sure? It also isn't healthy to bottle up your emotions. I care a lot about you and am always here if you want to talk about anything.

[Patton]- God, you're the sweetest! <3 I care a lot about you too. I promise, though, I really am fine. Do you wanna talk about what's bumming you out?

[Virgil<3]- I really wish I could, but I actually have to get back to it. I'll message you later <3

[Patton]- okie dokie. Don't work too late, okay?

He chuckled as he put his phone away and looked back at the note on his desk. Heather and Kurt are obviously people, Ram probably is too. Who are they, and what do they mean to him? The phone on his desk started to ring; Virgil jumped.

"H- hello? Detective Mason here." Virgil cursed himself for the shaky greeting.

"Virgil! I'm glad you're still here. It's Vincent. You said you wanted to know as soon as the autopsy was done; I'm waiting for a couple of particulates to come back, but the bulk of it is ready for you." 

"Vincent, you are a lifesaver. I'll be down in a minute."

"Did you know that the candy Life Savers was invented in 1912 as a summer confectionary alternative to chocolate, which has a melting point of approximately 86 degrees?"

"I definitely did not know that, but I did know that they started as mints and didn't become the fruity candy we associate most with the brand now until the mid-1920s."

"Fruit flavors were introduced in 1921, to be exact, but they did not have holes in them like the mints did until 1925, which is probably the date to which you were referring."

Virgil laughed. "Damn, I thought I had you. I'll be right down." He hung up the phone and left for the morgue. 

Three minutes later, he found himself being hugged by Dr. Nigel-Murray.

"I'm as touch-starved as the next gay, but why the hug? We just saw each other, like, five hours ago." Virgil looked slightly down at Vincent with a small smile.

"I'm sorry, I'm trying to curb my workplace-inappropriate tendencies, but, barring once during a time of great stress, people in general don't respond in kind to my facts." Virgil's heart broke for the vulnerability and pain in his voice, and he made a mental note to learn as much trivia as possible.

"That's a damn shame. You're a great guy, Vince- let's get coffee or something once I've cracked this damn code."

"That sounds quite lovely, actually. What code, if I may ask?" Vincent's smile was appropriate for the fact that they were at work, but Virgil could tell that he was practically bouncing with excitement internally.

"Our killer sent a reporter a coded message. I've got about 21 hours to crack it if I want to get this guy to come to me."

"Not to overstep, but I've dabbled a bit in cryptography; perhaps I could be of some assistance?" 

"I'd love another set of eyes on this, actually. Thank you! Here, give me your number, and I'll text you a picture of it once we've wrapped up here." Virgil pulled out his phone and unlocked it to find that his messages with Patton were still pulled up. He tried to stop himself from smiling, but he couldn't.

Vincent chuckled. "He must be pretty special, to get a smile like that out of you." Virgil blushed.

"Uh, yeah, they are. At least, I think so. I hope so." Virgil fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, refusing to make eye contact.

"Sorry about the pronoun flub. So, tell me about them!"

Virgil hesitated; opening up about his feelings certainly wasn't one of his strong suits, but he liked Vincent and wanted to be his friend.

“They’re incredible. Their name is Patton, and they run We Hart Coffee just a few blocks from here. They’re so funny and kind, and I’ve never seen a smile like theirs. It’s so genuine and infectious. The world genuinely is a brighter and happier place around them.”

“You really love them, huh?” 

“I- What? No. No way. That’s way too cliche. We meet in a coffee shop and are in love within a couple of weeks? This is real life, and stuff like that only happens in movies and fanfiction. And completely unrealistic. What?" Virgil snapped, seeing the grin on Vincent's face.

"Trust me, Virgil. My first doctorate advisor, Doctor Brennan, was in deep denial of her love for her partner, Agent Booth. They're now happily married with two kids. I know what repressed love looks like, and you, my friend, have it in proverbial spades."

"I'm not sure that that's the right use for that cliche, and besides…" Virgil sighed, running a hand through his hair. "So what if you're right? Even if I did love them, which I don't, they don't love me back."

"Not yet, perhaps, but you're a great guy, Virgil. Smart, funny, caring, and quite handsome. If I were into men, I'm certain I would be half in love with you, myself. Just give them time."

"Christ, Vince, I'm gonna cry at work and ruin the tough-guy aesthetic I work so hard to maintain."

Vincent hummed his disbelief. "As much as I love chatting with you, I believe you're here about a murder. Follow me, if you will."

"Right. Murder." Virgil muttered before following him into the lab.

"So, you know who he is. 18 year old Mission High student Jason Dean. You saw the burns, frostbite, and acid damage. We were able to determine that the frostbite was caused by liquid nitrogen, and the killer used hydrochloric acid. We also found that while he was less dehydrated than the part victims, likely due to being held for only about a week, as opposed to two or three like previous victims, he was far more malnourished than the others."

"God, why is he changing so much? A kid, a shortened timetable, not feeding him. What was the cause of death?"

"Strychnine poisoning."

"See, that's a huge departure, too. All of the previous torture was from knives and hands. Why the sudden change to substances? Did he get injured, or is something else limiting his manual dexterity?"

"I don't know about any of that, but strychnine is a fairly popular poison in popular culture; Agatha Christie used it three times- in Mysterious Affair at Styles, The Coming of Mr. Quin, and How Does Your Garden Grow?, and Arthur Conan Doyle used it in-"

"Oh. OH. Vincent, I love you, you know-it-all." Virgil started pacing, running his fingers through his hair.

"I beg your pardon?"

"The Murder of Roger Ackroyd."

"What? Strychnine wasn't used in The Murder of Roger Ackroyd; Ackroyd was stabbed."

"Yes, I know. The note the killer sent. At the bottom of the code, he wrote 'the truth, however ugly in itself, is always curious and beautiful to the seeker after it'. It seemed so familiar, but I couldn't place it until you just brought up Agatha Christie. Poirot said it in The Murder of Roger Ackroyd. The number. I'm an idiot."

"Breathe, Virgil. I assume that you just cracked the code?"

"Not quite. But I cracked our unsub. I knew it. I knew he'd hand me the answer. I can't believe it took me this long to figure it out."

"Okay, so how does The Murder of Roger Ackroyd help you?"

"Under the quote is a thirteen digit number. I'd bet my life that it's an ISBN for a specific printing of the book. It's an Arnold Cipher. Each series of three numbers is a page, line, and word. It was staring me in the face. I truly am Boo-Boo the Fool." Vincent was puzzled by Virgil's last sentence, but Virgil was far too agitated for questioning it to be prudent.

Virgil took a deep breath. "Okay, sorry about that. So, back to Jason?"

"Oh, right. Jason. Um, the only other thing of note that we have found at this point are fibers from a 1950s Volkswagen Beetle."

"That's gonna help a ton, as well. Vincent, you are my hero!" Virgil scooped him up into a big hug before leaving the morgue, leaving Vincent speechless for the first time in his life.

Virgil ran back up to his desk, furiously typing in his password. It took him three tries to correctly enter the number into the San Francisco Public Library website's search bar. He eventually got it, and there it was. The Murder of Roger Ackroyd by Agatha Christie. And two copies were available. The library didn't open until 12 pm the next day, however, so he went home after setting an alarm on his phone and sending a quick text to Patton.

9:52 [To:Patton]- Hey, wanna get dinner tomorrow night?

He was ecstatic to see a message from them when he got home.

9:55 [Patton]- Absolutely! You got the problem worked out? :D

10:10 [Virgil <3]- I found the solution, and will get it resolved by the end of the week. I'll pick you up on Friday at 7? We'll take a walk in the park and then House of Prime Rib, on me?

[Patton]- Are we celebrating something? Or are you trying to tell me you want to be my sugar daddy? ;P

[Virgil <3]- Trust me, Pat, if I had sugar daddy money, I'd love nothing more than to spoil you rotten. But nah, it's a combination of a small celebration and an apology for being unavailable today and for the next few days until Friday. (and i may or may not be buttering you up in hopes you'll share what's bringing you down)

[Patton]- Aww, you're so sweet! <3 (Can I call you daddy anyway?)

[Virgil <3]- Only if you want to be rewarded, baby. ;)

[Patton]- I'll be a good boy for you, daddy, I promise. 

Virgil noted their preferred appellation and responded in kind with a wicked smile.

--------

The next morning, Virgil woke up half an hour before his alarm was set to go off, feeling more relaxed than he had in months. I'm finally going to get this guy.

Figuring there was no point in just waiting around, he got ready and went right to work. He knew Captain Sanders would want a breakdown of the previous night's findings before he could start following the leads he had gotten from Vincent the previous night.

He got to the station and immediately started looking into Jason Dean and the possible claim that he was a murderer. It didn't take him long to find that three Mission High students committed suicide 2 months prior named Heather, Kurt, and Ram. Virgil tracked down the police reports for the deaths. By all accounts, they appeared to be through-and-through suicides. If Jason did kill them, the killer would need to be quite close to either one of the victims or Jason himself. Linking the suicides would imply that he's close to all of them. Maybe through school? Science classes are more than likely to have liquid nitrogen and hydrochloric acid. Any teacher would have access, but I'll look more into science teachers in particular. He's displayed some anatomical knowledge as well. 

Captain Sanders walked into the precinct, calling for Virgil to follow him into his office.

"So, what do you have?" he asked, after they'd arrived and shut the door.

"The note is a book cipher based on Agatha Christie's The Murder of Roger Ackroyd. The library has a copy of the specific edition I need to crack it, so I'm going to pick that up at noon, as soon as the library opens. Looking into the 'murderer' thing, there were three suicides at Mission High 5 months ago, whose names match the three not-coded words in the note- Heather, Kurt, and Ram. If they were murdered by Jason, that means the killer is close to one of them, most likely Jason himself. I think that's what the killer is alluding to in the note, but we'll see once I've decoded it. Add in the liquid nitrogen, and it points to a teacher, likely a science teacher. So I'm going to crack the code and look for other insights into him and look into Mission High science teachers. I have an updated profile, and I'll email that to you right away."

"That sounds wonderful, Mason. You've been doing excellent work; we're glad to have you."

Virgil shifted his weight from foot to foot. "I'm just doing my best, sir. If you'll excuse me, the library is about to open, and I'd like to get the book as soon as possible."

"Sounds great to me! Just send me that profile before you go."

"Will do, sir. Thank you." Virgil turned and left the room, hurrying to his computer before rushing to the library.

--

A short while later, he was back at his desk with a battered copy of The Murder of Roger Ackroyd. It wasn't difficult to decode the message, but it did take a bit of time and a lot of counting and re-counting. Word by word, the message became clear: He killed Heather, Kurt, and Ram. Find the weapon; I know he had it. It is your evidence.

Virgil sat back in his chair once he'd finished, puzzled by what the note revealed that he hadn't already deduced. 'He' has to be referring to Jason. He knew we'd find out the reasons for him choosing the previous victims, but he needed to be sure we'd know why he thinks Jason deserved to die. I looked at the police reports for those deaths; the gun used to kill Ram and Sweeney was recovered on-site and is in police custody. He's obsessed with his mission, though. He wouldn't make this claim if he wasn't sure. I'll look into that once we've caught our killer. For my peace of mind, at least. Virgil cracked his knuckles and picked up his phone.

"Roman Prince, SFGate, how can I help you?"

"Roman, it's Detective Mason. Can you come down to the station right away?" The responding scream was so loud, Virgil had to move his phone away from his ear. "I'll take that as a yes?"

"Absolutely, Detective. I will be there as soon as physically possible."

"Don't break any traffic l-" The line went dead, cutting Virgil off.

--

Far sooner than could have been legal, Roman skidded to a stop in front of Virgil's desk.

"HelloVirgildidyoucrackthecode?DoIgettowritearesponse?CanI-"

"BREATHE, Roman." Virgil stood, grabbing him by the shoulders. "Yes, I cracked the code. Yes, you will publish a response tonight. But I'm writing it. I assume your laptop is in your bag?" Roman simply nodded- he knew that if he tried to speak, he'd start rambling again. "Fantastic. Let's get going."

45 minutes (and one call from Captain Sanders to Dan Humphrey about how not allowing it to be posted immediately would be obstruction of justice) later, a new post was live on SFGate's website. It was 4:02 pm, two hours before the deadline.

An Open Letter to U N Owen

It was a pleasure hearing from you. While I obviously cannot condone your methods, you are correct that our justice system is imperfect, and those imperfections need addressing. You gave me quite a puzzle, and I enjoyed solving it. It was clever, but not clever enough. I hope you'll forgive me for not following your directions; please let me know if this is inadequate.

Vq rwv kv dnwpvna, aqw'tg ytqpi. Jg fqgup'v jcxg kv, yg fq. Yg'xg jcf kv htqo vjg xgta dgikppkpi. Dwv aqw cntgcfa mpqy vjcv. Aqw'tg hct vqq engxgt vq jcxg pqv mpqyp vjcv. Wpnguu K'o qxgtguvkocvkpi aqw, yjkej ku c fghkpkvg rquukdknkva. Aqwt qvjgt cuugtvkqp jcu dggp pqvgf, cpf K uygct vq aqw vjcv K yknn rwtuwg vjcv qpeg yg ugvvng vjku ocvvgt dgvyggp wu.

Hqt pqy, vjqwij, aqw ujqwnf mpqy vjcv aqw'xg iqvvgp unqrra, cpf vjcv kv'u qpna c ocvvgt qh vkog dghqtg K hkpf aqw cpf tgrca aqw kp vjg ngicn hqto qh vjg eqkp aqw icxg vjgo. Aqw yknn (ogvcrjqtkecnna) jcpi hqt vjku.

Sincerely,

Det. Mason Poirot II

--------------------

Logan refreshed SFGate.com for the thirteenth time that day and was finally rewarded for his tenacity; the post was less than five minutes old. He read it twice, rage simmering in his chest and a smile on his face. "Detective Mason," he said to his empty apartment, "a worthy adversary indeed. The game is on."

[lilyvandersteen]

Feeling Adventurous

This is the smutty one-shot I teased about in Puppy Eyes: Kurt spending his lunch break in Blaine's office and the two of them getting up to all sorts of fun.

You can also read this on Fanfiction.net or on AO3.

Links to the main story, Puppy Eyes: Fanfiction.net and AO3.

“That was amazing,” Kurt sighed.

Blaine gave him a loopy smile and parroted, “Amazing.”

Kurt made to slip out of Blaine, who whined and clung on to him like a koala. “Noooo! I want you to stay in me forever!”

Kurt rolled his eyes, but secretly felt pleased. And wait a second, wasn’t that the perfect occasion to try out one of the toys they’d ordered online?

“I got you, babe,” Kurt said, contorting his body to reach the nightstand without unseating himself. He opened the drawer and got out the lube and a butt plug.

Blaine caught sight of the toy and moaned. “Oh, yes, please.”

Kurt grinned, winked and got to work lubing the plug up.

Ten minutes later, they were spooning in bed, Blaine wriggling his tush ever so often.

“How does it feel?”

“Full. And my body doesn’t seem to know if it should feel weird or turned on, so I get both reactions.”

Kurt hummed in understanding. “Want to keep it in? Or do I pull it out?”

“Leave it in. I kind of like the thought of feeling full all night. And you being able to just take it out in the morning and thrust in.”

Kurt felt his dick twitch. “Oh… Okay. We’ll do that.”

“Night, beautiful.”

“Good night, honey.”

 K&B

The next morning, they overslept, and didn’t have time for the morning sex Blaine had promised.

In fact, they were so much in a hurry that Blaine didn’t realize he still had the butt plug in until they were taking their leave of each other in front of their apartment building. “Oh shoot, I still got that… thing… in me.”

Kurt’s eyes widened. “No…”

“Yes! Ugh, and I’m late already, I can’t go back upstairs.”

Kurt looked around, and when he saw the street was deserted, he slipped a hand inside Blaine’s trousers and boxers to trace the outline of the butt plug, grabbing the end and pulling it out a little, then pushing it back in.

Blaine keened beautifully, so Kurt did it again, making sure to switch the device on at the same time.

Blaine’s eyes widened.

“Oh… I forgot… This thing vibrates!”

Kurt smirked. “It does. Feeling good?”

Blaine moaned softly and nodded, unconsciously rubbing his hard-on against Kurt’s thigh.

“Unf, that’s so hot. Keep it in all morning and I’ll come to campus for my lunch break to fuck you in your office.”

Blaine’s mouth fell open.

“Too much?”

“N-no. That’s…”

Blaine’s Adam’s apple went up and down, and he adjusted himself in his pants.

Kurt chuckled and kissed Blaine. “Well, bye, then, sweetie, weren’t you in a hurry?”

“Oh… Oh, right. Bye! See you at lunch?”

Blaine ran off.

Kurt was just as late as he was, but doubled back to the apartment for the plug’s manual. It came with all sorts of features, the most interesting of which was that it could be remote controlled through a phone app. All that was needed was a wireless internet connection.

Once Kurt was at work, he checked Blaine’s schedule. Block A, classroom 315. All right. What was the wifi password again for that building?

He found it, logged in the device remotely, and then rifled through the manual to get some ideas as to what he wanted to do to Blaine.

Hmm… I can make the plug wider. Blaine, sweetie, get ready to feel even fuller…

Kurt widened the plug, and then checked his work mail and continued working on his current project.

It didn’t even take five minutes for Blaine to text him.

From: Blaine

What did you do? It’s so much bigger now. I can barely sit or walk! Switch it off. Please.

Kurt smirked.

To: Blaine

I can do that. But then I’m not coming over for lunch. Your choice.

From Blaine

I’m AT WORK. I need to walk around class and check on my students’ progress. Switch. It. Off.

Kurt pouted, but returned the plug to its previous dimensions.

From Blaine

Thank you. Don’t mean to be a bad sport, but that hurt.

Kurt bit his lip. Oh. That wasn’t the point to this. It was supposed to be fun.

To Blaine

Sorry, honey. Are we still on for lunch?

It took a bit longer for Blaine to answer this time.

From Blaine

Sure, beautiful. Looking forward to it.

Kurt grinned and called Blaine’s favourite Thai restaurant for a take-out meal for two, to be delivered at Kurt’s work address.

He left Blaine alone for most of the morning, but at a quarter to twelve, he switched the plug back on, setting the vibrations on the lowest level. When that got him no reaction, he upped it to level two, and a bit later to level three.

From Blaine

I’m sweating bullets. My students are asking me if I’m feeling ill.

Kurt smirked, but didn’t answer.

From Blaine

No, seriously, take it down a notch please? I’ve got such a raging boner that I can’t get up from my seat.

Kurt laughed out loud.

From Blaine

Kuuuuuurt!! I’ve got a wet spot! On my fave red chinos! And my coat isn’t long enough to hide it!

Kurt shrugged.

To Blaine

Hold your coat in front of your crotch instead of putting it on.

A few minutes later, the next pleading message arrived.

From Blaine

I’m about to come. I don’t wanna. Not in front of my students. Switch it off please. Please. I’ll do anything.

Kurt raised his eyebrows. Hmm, interesting. He switched the plug off.

From Blaine

Thank you.

To Blaine

Anything?

From Blaine

Sigh. What do you want?

Somebody knocked on the door of Kurt’s office, and he hurried to sign and pay for his take-out meal, and then told his colleagues he was going out for lunch.

On his way to Parsons’ campus, he felt his phone buzzing again. He transferred the take-out bag to his other hand and fished out his phone.

From Blaine

What do you want? Heading to my office now.

Kurt grinned.

To Blaine

I’m on my way too. I want you to strip naked and bend over with your hands on your desk.

To Blaine

And spread your legs. I want to see your yummy tush and dick on full display when I step into your office.

Kurt rounded the corner and smiled at Paula, who was just exiting the building and held the door open for him.

“Lunch date?”

Kurt winked at her and hurried inside. “You got it!”

She chuckled and shook her head. “Anyone would think you two were newlyweds. And you’ve been married for six years!”

Kurt shot her a cheeky grin. “A bit of adventure keeps a relationship fresh. Enjoy your weekend!”

“You too!”

Kurt hastened to Blaine’s office, and was just in time to see Blaine arrive, biting his lip and his gaze skittering across the corridor before he unlocked the door and slipped in.

Quick as a flash, Kurt followed, making sure to open and close the door quietly, and shoving the sturdy deadbolt into place. He’d installed that one after Paula had caught them having a quickie, and Blaine had been so mortified that he’d refused to have sex for a week. Even at home. In their bed. With no-one else there, not even Ollie and Mollie.

Blaine, who had in the meantime discarded his sweater vest, still had his back to Kurt and hadn’t noticed him coming in. He sighed, ran a hand through his curls and muttered, “All right, then. I really hope nobody will come in.”

Kurt felt a pang of guilt. This, to Kurt, was a fantasy come true. But to Blaine, who was now undoing the buttons of his shirt and shivering a little when the cold air hit his skin, it must feel more like a nightmare. Kurt had been teasing – well, annoying – him all morning, and then he’d cajoled him into stripping in his office with the door unlocked, though Kurt knew very well that Blaine wasn’t into exhibitionism.

Kurt hurried to Blaine, hugged him from behind and stopped his hands from unzipping his trousers. “Babe, stop a minute, okay?”

Blaine visibly started and turned around. “Kurt! When did you get here?”

“Just now. Honey… I need to know. Are you okay?”

Blaine gave Kurt a heart-melting smile. “Perfect now that you’re here.”

“You’re not mad at me?”

Blaine nuzzled Kurt’s neck. “No, beautiful. Why would I?”

“Because I played with the plug. While you were working.”

Blaine shrugged. “You stopped when you had to. And I don’t think my students realized what was going on. So… No harm done.”

Kurt let out a long breath. “Oh good. You can stop stripping, though. I know you’re not really into that. And it’s kind of chilly here.”

“You’ll warm me up,” Blaine shrugged. “And I promised. Though… If you WANT me to be mad about all of this… I could play the strict professor and discipline you?”

Blaine visibly perked up at the thought, so Kurt grinned and nodded, quickly taking off his clothes as well and bending over so that his torso was on Blaine’s desk and his buttocks high in the air. He wriggled them invitingly.

Slap!

“Stay still.”

“Yes, Professor,” Kurt whimpered. Blaine hadn’t held back, and it stung.

“Why am I punishing you?”

“Because I made you horny in class. Because I hurt you widening the plug. Because I made you strip here in your office.”

“That’s right. You’re getting five spanks for each of those transgressions.”

“Yes, Professor.”

“I want you to count out loud.”

“Yes, Professor.”

Blaine’s hand came down again, and Kurt choked out, “One.”

Obediently, Kurt counted to fifteen. By the time Blaine was done, Kurt’s ass felt like it was on fire, but that didn’t stop him from asking, “You want to fuck me now?”

“What? No! I want you to fuck me. I’ve been looking forward to it all morning.”

Kurt grinned. “I can do that.”

They swapped places, and Kurt played with the plug for a bit until Blaine started to squirm. “In me, Kurt. I want you in me. Now. Stop teasing me.”

Kurt fished the lube out of his trouser pocket and lubed himself up. He pulled the plug out and slid into Blaine with ease. They moaned in unison, and Blaine whispered, “So good…”

Kurt grabbed Blaine’s hips and started to thrust, slowly at first, and then faster and harder when Blaine begged for more.

It didn’t last long for either of them – they were too worked up already. Blaine came first, with a drawn-out shout he tried to stifle with his hand, and Kurt followed suit, biting down on Blaine’s shoulder to muffle his own sounds of ecstasy.

Five minutes later, Kurt sat on Blaine’s lap in his desk chair, wolfing down his Thai takeout as if he hadn’t eaten in days and occasionally accepting a bite from Blaine’s Gaeng Daeng and offering a shrimp to Blaine in return.

When they had finished eating, Kurt threw away the food containers and then straddled Blaine to get some more kisses before he had to leave for work again.

At some point, Blaine fondled Kurt’s ass, frowning when Kurt let out a hiss. “You okay?”

“A bit sore,” Kurt said. “Worth it, though.”

Blaine let out a blissful sigh. “Totally.”

A knock on the door startled them both, and Blaine checked his watch and blanched, whispering, “My consulting hours are about to start, and we’re not wearing a stitch! My hair’s probably a mess, too.”

Kurt stifled a giggle and hopped off Blaine’s lap, hunting for his clothes and putting them on as fast as he could. “Your students won’t mind waiting a little longer.”

He looked up when he heard Blaine curse under his breath, and bit back his laughter at the scene unfurling in front of him. Blaine had found his chinos and had jumped into them as fast as he could, not noticing that he was putting them on backwards and now frowning at the lack of a zipper and looking over his shoulder at his backside.

“I’ll help,” Kurt offered, and in no time, Blaine was properly attired as a professor again, his hair styled into submission with Kurt’s emergency hairspray.

“Perfect,” said Kurt, and Blaine sighed in relief. “Thanks.”

“Did we clean up the desk?” Kurt asked.

“Yup. There’s only one thing we forgot,” Blaine answered, picking up the plug. “What are we going to do with this?”

“It’s clean?”

“Yep, I washed it.”

Kurt grinned and grabbed the lube from his pocket, shoving it into Blaine’s hands. Then, he unzipped his trousers, pushing them down along with his briefs and presenting his ass to Blaine. “My turn, then.”

Blaine gaped at Kurt, and then hurried to lube the plug up. “Won’t it hurt?”

“No, sweetie, go on.”

Blaine pushed the plug in, and Kurt let out a deep breath and focused on relaxing his muscles, so that it slid in without too much resistance.

“So hot,” Blaine breathed, switching on the toy to fuck Kurt with it and watching in fascination as Kurt squirmed and moaned and became little more than a jittery bundle of nerves.

Another knock on the door made them both jump a foot in the air.

Kurt switched the toy off, put his briefs and trousers on again, kissed Blaine goodbye and slipped out of the office with a nod and a broad smile for the student who was waiting to speak with Blaine. The boy gawked at him and blushed.

“Professor Anderson will see you now,” Kurt told him, and the student’s blush deepened.

Kurt caught Blaine’s eye and mouthed, “Crushing on you. So hard.”

Blaine shook his head, chuckling. “Come on in, Justin.”

Kurt strutted down the hallway, laughing to himself when he caught the student’s awed question, “Is that your husband, Professor?” before Blaine closed the door.

The boy was clearly just out of the closet, and very impressed with Blaine, and now Kurt, too.

Had he heard them having sex? Yes, he probably had. Blaine would never realise, being his oblivious self, but Justin would look up to him even more now than he did before.

Kurt smiled at the thought, and hurried back to work, where he sank his teeth into an interesting new ad for McDonalds and didn’t look away from his computer screen until he became aware of something vibrating inside of him. His dick had taken note far earlier than his brain, and was throbbing enthusiastically, urging Kurt to free it from its skinny jean prison.

Kurt checked the time and squeaked when he saw it was nearly six p.m. He saved his work and then turned off the computer and left his office. The building was deserted – all his colleagues had already left.

When Kurt stepped outside, the vibrations suddenly became twice as intense, and then stopped entirely, and Kurt’s cell phone beeped four times in succession.

Kurt picked it up and read:

From: xxHubbyxx

Clearly you’re so absorbed in your work that you haven’t noticed it’s time to come home.

From: xxHubbyxx

And the toy isn’t working either for some reason? Does the app not work on my phone?

From: xxHubbyxx

Anyway. I’m naked and prepped and waiting for you. So hurry home already, beautiful.

The fourth message was a picture of Blaine. Naked, yes, and pouting. How did he manage to look so hot and so adorable at the same time?

Kurt smiled at the picture and quickened his pace until he was jogging. The plug inside of him bumped uncomfortably, but he paid it no mind, focusing on the lovely view that was waiting for him.

And yes, when he opened the door, there Blaine was, exactly as Kurt had described wanting to see him that morning: bent over the sofa, stark naked, his legs spread as wide as they would go, muscles straining, and his dick and balls and ass perfectly on display.

Kurt’s mouth went dry. He closed the door and locked it with shaky hands, dropped his briefcase and started to strip as fast as he could.

Then, he went up to Blaine, running a hand from his thigh up to his shoulder blade. Next, he followed the same path with his mouth, slower now, taking his time to worship Blaine’s body with his lips and his tongue, and murmuring about how everything about his sexy husband turned him on.

Blaine stayed in the same position throughout, though Kurt felt him tremble underneath his caresses.

It wasn’t until Kurt started focusing on Blaine’s balls, licking them and sucking them into his mouth one by one, that Blaine lost it. “Kurrrrt! Stop teasing. Please. Fuck me! Fuck me now! I’m so on edge, and I don’t want to come until you’re in me.”

Kurt, who was painfully hard by now, needed no more encouragement. He grabbed the nearest tube of lube, slathered some on his dick and eased it inside, plastering his whole body against Blaine’s. He stayed stock still like that for a moment, soaking in how good it felt and knowing all too well that it would all be over in a second if he moved right away.

“Move!” Blaine ordered, and Kurt laughed and started to pump in and out, fast and hard from the onset, his hands gripping Blaine’s hips so firmly that they were sure to leave bruises.

Blaine didn’t complain. His eyes closed, his head thrown back and his throat producing the most gorgeous sounds, he thrust back against Kurt, giving him as good as he got.

When Kurt felt his orgasm barreling towards him, he grabbed Blaine’s dick and started pumping it frantically, until he felt a vice-like grip on his own dick and heard Blaine cry out in ecstasy. That made him tip over the edge as well, and then slump against Blaine as if he’d just run a marathon.

“Can’t feel my legs,” Blaine complained after a while, and Kurt released him and sank down onto the floor.

“That was good,” Kurt proclaimed.

Blaine sat down next to him and put his head on Kurt’s shoulder. “The best. Why is every time we have sex the best time all over again?”

“Dunno. I like it, though. You looked good enough to eat, bent over the sofa like that. You’re so sexy.”

“You too. I love it when you take me like that.”

“Mm-hm. Hey, where are Ollie and Mollie?”

“In the spare bedroom. I didn’t want any interruptions.”

“Good thinking. Let’s take them for a walk and bring back pizza. We’ve earned the calories.”

“We have.”

“You up for another round later?”

“Always. Shower?”

“Shower.”

[lady-divine-writes]

The Prince of the Sea and his Child of Fire - Chapter 6/15 (Rated NC17)

Summary: Blaine is a water sprite, prince of the undersea kingdom and sole heir to the throne. Five days away from turning seventeen and his big coronation, he decides to take a journey to the surface, to seek out a legendary flame said to be tended by an evil witch. Instead of a witch, he finds something else entirely ...

Kurt is a fire fairy, prince of a race of fire fairies and heir to the throne. Five days away from turning seventeen (on the night of a full solar eclipse when he will transform and become king), he sees for the first time in his life a water sprite - a member of a race that he's been raised to hate.

What will happen when these two mortal enemies fall in love? Is there any way for them to escape destiny and be together?

Read on AO3.

Chapter 6

The sun rises, the sky turns gold, and Kurt can’t stop smiling.

There’s a new spring in his dance, a new song in his heart, and the flame – glowing in shades of champagne and primrose – has never looked happier.

Elizabeth smiles as she steals a moment to watch her son dance, relieved that he seems so much more joyful and carefree. Kurt tosses his flowers into the flame and the fire rises high into the sky, mirroring his joy, bending and swaying with him as he leaps into the air. Elizabeth drops down onto the branch, giggling delightedly at the giddy expression on her son’s grinning face.

It makes her feel young again.

“That’s a lovely song, my son,” she comments. “Is it new?”

Kurt stops twirling and immediately bows, so lost in his memories of Blaine that he had lost track of the rising sun and the imminent arrival of his mother.

“New song? What?” Kurt hadn’t been intentionally singing a different tune, but as his thoughts drifted to Blaine’s kisses, he couldn’t help himself. “Yes! It’s something I’ve been trying! Something new … uh … for the fire!”

Elizabeth watches her son’s eyes dart guiltily away, his cheeks color, his upper lip quiver … and she knows.

A mother always knows.

“And does … the fire like it?” Elizabeth asks, gathering up flowers from the meadow nearby. She can’t help noticing the petals that litter the pool, set adrift through the night, floating and swirling in formation like tiny boats.

“Y-yes.” Kurt tosses his last handful of petals into the flame. “V-very much so, I think. But it’s not a complete song yet. Just a few strains. I’m not even sure that I’ll keep it, to tell you the truth.”

“A-ha.” His mother throws her first batch of flowers into the fire, watching the colors change from the intense turquoise Kurt had managed to cull to a more sedate sky blue. “That’s a love song that you are singing.”

“Is … is it?” Kurt looks from his mother’s perceptive eyes to the petals floating in the water. “To tell you the truth, I-I hadn’t really noticed.”

Elizabeth leaves the flame to devour the remainder of the flowers and walks over to her son. She peers over his shoulder, the reflection of her face joining his, framed by the petals all around.

“Sweetheart, you’re going to become king in three days,” she says, combing his hair back into place with her fingers. “Right now is not a good time for you to fall in love.”

Kurt’s mind wanders, back to thoughts of his night with Blaine, and he swallows a sob.

“Will there ever be a good time?” he asks, looking past his reflection and far beyond the pool, out to the open ocean.

Kurt hears his mother sigh behind him. He folds his arms over his chest, raising his hands to cover hers where they rest on his shoulders.

“No, my darling,” she says, resting her forehead against his temple, wishing she could use her powers to rid him of his pain. “It will never be a good time. So whoever it is … I suggest you forget about them.”

***

Blaine emerges from the forest of kelp – exposed, vulnerable, out of his depth and miles beyond the borders of his kingdom. The kelp forest is farther than he has ever traveled alone, but he doesn’t have to go too much farther before he spots the animal he’s come for.

Sue.

An ancient sea turtle and one of the oldest living creatures beneath the sea.

A recluse, she spends most of her time terrorizing errant water sprites who wander too far from the castle and grazes in the jellyfish fields far beyond the boundaries of where it is deemed safe for any sprite to go … especially one of royal blood.

Blaine watches her list from side to side, her massive flippers pushing the water around her. He swims up behind her, keeping an eye out for other fish, especially jellyfish, who might look to capture him – or eat him. There’s not much use for political prisoners out here in the deep, this much he knows for certain.

He’s nearly upon her when she spins around unexpectedly, locking him in the gaze of her large, round, coal-black eyes – eyes full of experience and intelligence, but not an inch of compassion. She stares at him impatiently, every line of her face creasing in vexation at his presence as she lazily chews a jellyfish, the poor thing wrenching its translucent body back and forth in an effort to escape her bite.

“Now why would you try a stupid thing like sneaking up on me?” she mutters, mouth full.

Blaine remembers from numerous etiquette lessons that sea turtles like to be flattered, spoken to with an extraordinary measure of respect worthy of their incredible age. (And, according to his teacher, he should overdo it to be on the safe side.) Blaine bows low in her sight and, humbling himself, begins to speak.

“Oh, great and wise sea turtle, revered queen of the open ocean, guardian of …”

“Cut the crap!” the turtle gripes, spitting out the struggling jellyfish. It aligns its torn body with the current, preparing to escape, but Sue sucks it back into her grotesque maw, clamping down on it with her jaws. “Just skip to the end where you tell me what the hell you want! I’m eating here, and looking at your ugly mug gives me indigestion.”

Blaine frowns, but bites his tongue quickly to keep from saying anything that will make her angry.

“I want to know, wise turtle, if there is any way a fire fairy can visit my father’s kingdom beneath the sea?”

The turtle narrows her eyes at him but continues chewing, mouth slightly open, the mangled jellyfish making a last ditch effort to break free. Suddenly, Blaine feels sick. Sue sees him turn several shades of green and gulps down the squiggling remains of her lunch.

“Don’t feel sorry for him, Your Highness,” Sue says with a smirk. “Stupid brainless things, jellyfish. Can’t make a single decision for themselves. That’s why they’re so easy to catch.” She takes one last huge swallow to force it down, then belches in Blaine’s face. He raises his hands and covers his mouth to keep from losing his stomach. “Now, why would you want to bring one of those flitty little porcelain playthings down here to paradise with us?”

“I have my reasons,” Blaine says, undeterred by her sarcasm.

Sue watches the sprite closely and for an uncomfortably long time before she speaks again.

“You’ve fallen in love with one of them, haven’t you?” Sue laughs, nimbly spinning onto her back and then righting herself again. “Oh for heaven’s sake! Your father’s going to have field day if he ever finds out!” she proclaims with a cruel glimmer in her eyes.

“He’s not going to find out,” Blaine says, his voice changing from respectful to clear warning. She glares at him, challenging the young prince’s authority, but seeing his determination, she shrugs her front flippers, deciding that defying him is not worth her time.

 “Well, be that as it may, there is nowhere beneath the water a fire fairy will be safe, so you might as well forget your silly notions about bringing one down here,” she grumbles, turning her prodigious body around and preparing to leave.

“I have seen hot things beneath the ocean before,” Blaine argues, “so there has to be a way.”

“Oh have you, young prince?” Sue asks with a wicked chuckle. “And what happens to fire that is brought beneath the sea? Hmm?”

“It … uh …” Blaine stops, seeing her point before she makes it, but she’s not about to let it die there.

“I’ll tell you,” she cuts in. “It turns cold, it turns black, and then it dies. You know that this is true. And anything you come up with to protect your fairy will only prolong the inevitable.” Sue shakes her huge head. “But if you don’t believe me, go ahead and bring your fairy down here. Watch it turn blue and cold and freeze to death. Watch the light in its eyes go out.” The turtle swims up to him, stopping nose to nose. Blaine can see his face reflecting back at him in her shiny black eyes - not a safe place to be. “You know, death for a fire fairy under the ocean is slow and excruciatingly painful. I wouldn’t wish it on anybody. And I loathe pretty much everybody!”

Blaine imagines Kurt beneath the ocean – his pale skin turning unnaturally blue, his vibrant eyes going dark, the last breath in his body turning into bubbles and floating away with the tide.

“Do you really want my advice, Prince Blaine?”

“Yes,” Blaine says, willing to do anything, cut a deal with anyone, to find a way for him and Kurt to be together. “Please.”

“Forget about your fire fairy,” she says, sounding not the least bit apologetic. “You are going to become king of all the oceans. So why don’t you start by growing up?”

Blaine’s heart sinks, hard and fast. It must show on his face. With a smile of satisfaction on her fat, green lips, the turtle turns and leaves the prince in her wake, paralyzed by her words.

 ***

Twilight falls with the undersea kingdom in an uproar when Blaine returns. Guards pour out of the castle, dressed for battle and armed to the teeth, heading in all directions. Amid the chaos of soldiers deploying, Trent manages to find the prince and drag him over to a secluded wall.

“Blaine! Where have you been!?” he asks, tremendously relieved. “Your father has been asking all over for you!”

“What the hell’s going on here?” Blaine asks, the excitement - and subsequent anguish - of his recent excursion overshadowed by the current chaotic activity.

“There’s been another jellyfish attack! When I couldn’t find you, knowing where you’ve been going, I feared the worse!”

“Where was the attack? Is anybody hurt?”

“The king doesn’t have that information yet. But it was a small colony over by the outer kelp forest.”

Blaine stares at Trent with confused eyes. “Did you say the outer kelp forest?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I just came from there!” Blaine exclaims, ignoring the re-emerging look of hurt on Trent’s face. “There was no attack! The king’s intel is wrong! Who gave him this information?”

“I don’t know.” Trent hurries along the wall as Blaine heads inside the castle. “But from what I hear, it’s a reliable source.”

“No, it isn’t!” Blaine rushes with Trent in tow towards his father’s throne room. “It’s a set-up!”

The castle feels hollow, abandoned with the bulk of its inhabitants amassing outside and guarding the gates. Blaine can hear generals barking orders, preparing to send sprites by the hundreds to the kelp forests.

To start a war with no just cause.

Without even knowing it, Blaine returned just in time.

Blaine races down the hall and bursts through the ornate double doors of the king’s throne room, where his father sits, staring out the window, watching sprites gather from all over to protect their kingdom.

“Father,” Blaine announces himself, bowing to the king.

“And here comes my disgraceful son … at long last,” Malek scowls, wide yellow eyes staring at the still ocean. “To what do I owe the displeasure of your company?”

“Father!” Blaine pushes Malek’s insults aside for the good of their kingdom. “You have to call the troops back!”

“Why should I do that?” Malek asks, shifting his huge tentacles on the floor and re-locating to a different window.

“Because whatever information you have is wrong! I have a feeling that our kingdom is being set up. Why, I don’t know. But someone is intent on starting a war, and they’re using you to do it!”

Malek sits quietly, barely moving as his eyes follow the lines of soldiers in the courtyard.

“And why should I listen to you?” Malek asks, the room echoing with the resonance of his voice. “Even if what you say is the truth, you have shown yourself to be spoiled, disobedient, unworthy.”

“Father,” Blaine says, standing firm before his king, “I beg you to listen to me! What I say to you is the truth!”

Malek doesn’t comment on his son’s pleas, moving back again to the first window, his eyes fixed on his ever-growing army of sprites..

Blaine looks to Trent, who nods at him encouragingly. Hell or high water, he has to do what’s right - consequences be damned.

“I have just come from the kelp forest, Great King,” Blaine admits. “There is no army there. There’s been no attack. I swear this to you.”

Malek sighs his discontent. “Tell me, Blaine, why were you in the kelp forest to begin with? Your present duties did not require you to travel to those reaches of our kingdom.”

Blaine stares at his father, the truth dangling from his lips. “I … I … can’t tell you why, Father.”

Malek’s eyes burn with frustration and rage. “What!?” he roars to shake the entire palace. Trent drops to his knees with his hands over his ears.

“It was personal business of my own,” Blaine says, the closest thing to the truth that he can bring himself to admit. “Be angry with me if you want, but Father, you are making a mistake! You’ve been played! Someone is using you to start a war, but it doesn’t need to be that way! Call back your troops now!” Malek bares sharp, black teeth at his son. Blaine gets down on his knees before his father. “Please! We can put an end to this! Don’t be a pawn! Don’t be part of this slaughter! You want me to be a good king, and I’m trying to be! Listen to me! For once, listen to me!”

Malek’s expression doesn’t change. His tentacles coil into knots like fists; some of them pound the floor.

“If you are as loyal to this kingdom as you say,” Malek sneers, “then prove it! Go outside, stand a post, and defend this castle!”

Blaine glances out the window at the fading light crawling up toward the surface with a single thought in his mind.

Kurt.

“But …”

“Stand a post! Defend this castle, and then you might regain some of my trust!” Those are Malek’s final words on the matter. He leaves the hall, disregarding his son as he sweeps by, nearly knocking him to the ground.

The throne room goes still after his father’s departure, and quiet as a tomb, the heavy walls blocking the thump, thump, thump of battle drums marking time outside. Trent nudges Blaine on the shoulder. Blaine turns to him, hoping that, even after Blaine tore into him, he’ll have words of comfort for him. Of support. Of wisdom.

But Trent says nothing.

He hands Blaine a trident – a weapon reserved for royalty.

Grimly, Blaine takes it. He has no other choice. He twirls it once in his hand, setting the base on the floor with a heavy thunk. Trent smiles, giving Blaine an approving pat on the back, glad to see his prince taking charge, fighting for his kingdom.

Back where he belongs.

Blaine gazes out the window in the direction of the cove and the forbidden waters that would take him to Kurt.

The waters he yearns to swim right now.

“I’m sorry, Kurt,” he says, watching the daylight disappear into the waves, then blink out of sight. “I’m so sorry.”

 ***

Kurt can’t hide his excitement as he rushes to the cove, eager to see Blaine again. He’d listened to what his mother said and had given it a fair amount of thought throughout the day, but he decided in the end that he doesn’t care. They still have a few days left till the eclipse. If that’s all they are given, then Kurt will take it.

Besides, he understands full well what this is between them. It’s love. And love thrives. It endures. Maybe if they put their heads together, they will be able to find a way to make this last beyond their coronations.

Beyond the inevitable.

Of course, there will be plenty of putting their heads together if Blaine kisses him again.

Kurt is surprised when he reaches the cove and Blaine isn’t there, hiding in the weeds, waiting for him to arrive like he had the night before, but Kurt isn’t discouraged. He sings his new song as he dances around the flame, adorning the water with petals, weaving the flowers into his own hair, hoping that somewhere beneath the water his music will reach Blaine, wherever he is, and lure him to the surface.

But it doesn’t.

Twilight turns into dusk, then dusk becomes dawn.

And Blaine does not return.