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wowbright · 1 month ago

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Chapter 21: Picture, Again

Figureskating!Blaine/designer!Kurt Olympics AU for december klaine fanworks challenge. Also on AO3.

~~~

Blaine was warming up on the ice. He looked even more stunning as he moved than Kurt had anticipated, the costume highlighting the strength of his thighs, its blue bringing out the glossy blackness of Blaine's hair, the flared openings of the sleeves and ankles fluttering like wings as Blaine flew over the ice.

Sue was standing next to Kurt, scowling. Her hands gripped the railing. “I thought we were on the same page, Porcelain,” she said without looking at Kurt, her eyes fixed on Blaine.

“I know you usually prefer a more fitted sleeve, but I think—”

“I’m not talking about the costume. Your eye for design is flawless, as usual.” It didn't sound like a compliment. Sue’s tone was bitter. “But your behavior isn’t. You've gone against our agreement. You told me you'd keep your distance, and then the two of you come waltzing in this afternoon like Torvill and Dean.”

“I didn’t say I’d keep my distance. I said I wouldn't be a problem. And I won't.”

“Ha! You're getting him all hot and bothered for you, when what I need him to be hot and bothered for is winning. Cool off.”

“Maybe cooling off isn't what Blaine needs.” Kurt meant it factually, logically—a simple expression that people need different things at different times, and sometimes what they need is not what you expect. But the phrase cooling off triggered the thought of heating up, and then the sensation of Blaine’s chest against the back of his thighs, warmth radiating off his skin and into Kurt’s muscles, and the flames of desire spreading from Kurt’s center through his body, leaping from his fingers and toes back into Blaine, flickering up Blaine’s torso and neck and into his face, his eyes clenching with the heat of his orgasm, his muscles stiff, his mouth hanging open from an ecstasy so brilliant it was almost too much to bear, and again that same face this morning, impossibly intense and as clear as a picture, Kurt clinging to Blaine’s hips as he drove into him as deep as their bodies would allow, driven to madness by Blaine’s cries of yes yes I need you, I need your cock, give it to me Kurt, love me with your gorgeous gorgeous cock, oh yes oh yes love me, love me Kurt, love me with your big cock, I love your cock, I love, I love, I love—

“You played with his poodle, didn't you?” Sue wasn't watching Blaine anymore. She was glaring at Kurt, shooting arrows from her eyes.

They bounced off him like raindrops. “I don't know what you mean,” Kurt lied. He was starting to get the hang of Sue’s strange way of speaking. But he refused to acknowledge what was none of her business. “Blaine doesn’t have any pets. He travels too much.” Kurt turned back toward the rink, toward Blaine. “Speaking of distractions, shouldn't you be paying attention to him? He's about to start.”

Blaine was standing in the center of the ice now, the other skaters cleared from the rink. His head was bowed. His chest expanded as he inhaled deeply. He looked up and his eyes met Kurt’s. It was only for a brief moment, but Kurt felt a new kind of energy crackling between them. It wasn’t sexual—or if sex was part of it, it wasn't at the forefront. It was a new flavor of connection, an exchange of pride and hope and joy.

“You're distracting him again, Porcelain.”

Kurt didn't let the smile drop from his face. “Your harassing me is going to distract him. Stop scowling and give him a thumbs up.”

To Kurt’s surprise, she did exactly that as the music started up.

Blaine was beautiful. Of course he was. And it wasn't just Kurt’s hormones talking. It was objectively true. Kurt could see it in the faces of the skaters and coaches on the other side of the rink. He could hear it in the way Sue was breathing. Kurt had seen this routine before, but he'd never seen this level of passion in it. It looked effortless, almost as if it wasn't Blaine moving across the ice and through the air, but like they were the ones carrying him along: a bird catching the updraft.

“Goddammit,” Sue muttered under her breath when the music stopped and Blaine stood triumphantly at the center of the ice, beaming at the two of them. “That might be the best I've ever seen him.”

Kurt hooted and hollered and clapped as Blaine skated toward them. As soon as his blade covers were on, Blaine kissed Sue on the cheek and tackled Kurt, hugging him so tightly he almost lifted him off the ground.

Kurt watched as Blaine sat down to take his skates off and Sue hovered over him. They were murmuring back and forth in that secret way coaches and athletes have with each other. Kurt watched Blaine’s face for signs of conflict, but he just kept nodding and smiling—genuinely, his eyes alight—and Sue was smiling too.

~~~

The whispering continued as Kurt accompanied Blaine to the locker room. Kurt wondered if Sue was planning to follow Blaine in, like she often had back at the Olympic Training Center. Kurt wouldn’t love that; with Blaine’s meetings this afternoon and the opening ceremonies tonight, this was Kurt’s last chance to be alone with him today. Still, Kurt wasn't going to protest. Blaine was here to win medals, not to be on a honeymoon with Kurt.

Sue slapped Blaine’s back with a parting finality as they approached the locker room. “Remember, we meet in less than an hour with the rest of the team to go over strategy. Be there early.”

Blaine nodded. “Of course, coach.”

“And Porcelain—” She caught Kurt’s elbow. “—I need to talk to you for a sec.”

“Can it wait? I need to help Blaine with the costume.”

“It’ll only be a minute.”

Kurt looked at Blaine for rescue, but Blaine only nodded—reassuringly, but still—before disappearing into the locker room.

“Sue, I don’t want to fight over—”

“Shh, Porcelain.” She pressed her index finger to Kurt's lips. Wow. This woman knew no boundaries. “I've spent the last two years giving Blaine my blood, sweat, and tears, trying to get him back to performing the way he did today. Jean—my sister—she kept telling me that maybe it was Blaine’s time to retire, that his body was done and could only go downhill. But I knew she was wrong. The problem wasn't physical. It was in his head. I did everything I could to put the fire back in him. You couldn’t expect me to just stand by and watch you ruin the tiny bit of progress we’ve made—”

“But I haven’t. You said yourself—”

“Shut up. I’m not done. Every man Blaine has dated, I have hated down to my core. Well, except for the one that tragically turned out to be straight. He was willing to put up with the kind of sacrifices an exceptionally talented person needs to make in order to succeed. He understood that, ultimately, there was only one person who could define Blaine’s purpose in the world.”

Kurt nodded in understanding. “Blaine himself.”

“No. Me. Sue Sylvester. That’s what made the others such losers. They didn't get that Blaine was put on this earth to obliterate the competition. And they made Blaine forget it, too. So you'll understand if I wasn’t happy with your blossoming romance. I'm used to him falling for guys who care more about what they want out of Blaine than what he was born to do. Who suck the life and creativity out of him. But you’re not like the others. If you were, he wouldn't have skated the way he did today. You, Porcelain, are not a leech.” Her voice was never gentle, but on this last sentence, it became more gentle than Kurt had ever imagined it could be. She set her hand on Kurt’s shoulder the same way she did when congratulating Blaine on a good job.

“I don't know how you did it,” she continued. “Whether it was your costumes or your ethereal good looks or biting charm or your penis. But whatever it was, you reminded Blaine of who he is. His fire is back. I envy your power.”

“It wasn’t my—” No. Kurt was not going to legitimize her mentioning his penis by repeating the word. “Those feelings have always been inside of him. I didn't create that.”

“Of course you didn't. I did. But he’d buried them deep enough that I couldn't pull them to the surface anymore.”

Obviously, Sue was deluded in thinking she’d created Blaine’s sense of self. But in terms of his skating, she had done something just as important. “You’re the one who’s kept him going all these years, Sue. You pushed him to get better even when he didn’t care. He told me. And there's no way I could do that. If he looked at me with those sad puppy dog eyes and told me he didn't feel like doing something, I’d surrender in a split second.”

Sue shook her head. “That much is apparent. Even my threatening you with a kitty cat failed to fortify you against the power of those amber orbs. Good thing I'm immune to emotion.”

“I still don't understand how the kitty cat thing is a threat.”

Sue looked Kurt up and down, her eyebrows scrunching together as if she were trying to assess his sincerity. “Really? You don't seem like someone who would be that slow on the uptake.”

“Really.”

She leaned in and lowered her voice, as if sharing a powerful secret that could be misused in the wrong hands. “Porcelain, you're obviously someone who likes to be in control. But you can't be in control with a kitty cat. The kitty cat controls you.”

~~~

“What did Sue want to talk to you about?” Blaine asked when Kurt found him in a secluded corner of the locker room, the closest human off in the showers singing “Part of Your World” from The Little Mermaid in a language that sounded like German, still far away enough that Kurt only caught half the tune. Blaine turned so Kurt could unfasten the zipper hidden in a back seam.

“You don't know?”

“Not really. I mean, I figured she wasn't going to eat you alive, or I wouldn't have left you out there alone. But she didn't tell me what she was going to say.”

“She didn't eat me alive. I think she gave us her blessing?”

Blaine’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Well, she said I'm not a leech, and I haven’t gotten in your way. Those are compliments coming from her, right?”

“Glowing ones.”

“And she seems to think I’ve helped you get your fire back.”

“You have.” Blaine’s voice was soft and full of conviction. He blinked, his mascara-heavy eyelashes fluttering pleasantly as he peeled off the top of the suit, revealing his broad shoulders and the various bundles of back muscles that were merely an undifferentiated mass in most people. “In more ways than one.”

Kurt wanted to plant a line of kisses from Blaine’s eyelids to his neck and across that beautiful back. But this wasn't the place for it. Instead, he held a sleeve in place so Blaine could wriggle his elbow free. “I can't take that credit. I'm glad to be of service, of course, but the talent and the vision and the work you've put in—that's all you, Blaine.”

Blaine met Kurt’s eyes. His own were filled with steady conviction. “Maybe both things are true. Maybe it all comes from inside of me, and maybe knowing you helps me express it. Maybe the sum of us is greater than its parts.”

Kurt's heart swooped. Seriously. How had Blaine ever thought he was bad at romance?

Kurt's body buzzed with it, urging him to curl his hands around Blaine’s jaw and press him against the locker with his kisses, convey them both back to the deep intimacy they had known in his hotel room.

Instead, Kurt sank to his knees to begin gently peeling the costume further away, uncovering the tops of Blaine’s statuesque buttocks. It didn't lessen his desire, but it gave him something else to do with his hands.

“She said something to me, too,” Blaine said. “She likes you.”

Kurt scoffed. “I think that's going a bit far.”

“No, really. I mean, those weren't the words she used, of course, because she's Sue. But she does.”

“What exactly did she say?” Kurt wasn't sure he actually wanted to know, but he needed something to distract him from the incredible muscularity of Blaine’s glutes and thighs and the memory they evoked of their intimacy this morning, when those muscles squeezed around Kurt as Blaine rode him, murmuring praise to Kurt and his cock, wringing unimaginable pleasure from both their bodies.

“Um … I'm not sure me repeating the words would be helpful. A lot of what Sue says gets lost in translation.”

“You realize that saying that only makes me want to know even more.”

“Okay, but—” Blaine rested his hand on Kurt’s shoulder for balance as he stepped out of the costume, leaving him a naked Adonis except for the dance belt covering his genitals and splitting his buttocks into two perfectly risen buns. “—it's going to sound crass. But for Sue, it's a ringing endorsement.”

“You’re not getting out of this.”

“Fine.” Blaine grabbed a towel and modestly wrapped it around his waist before removing his dance belt, a courtesy that felt simultaneously merciful and cruel to Kurt. “She said she knew we were ‘making the beast with two backs’ but she wouldn't hold it against us if I kept performing like that.”

“Wow. Ringing.”

“It's a lot better than what she said back in Colorado Springs.”

“And what was that?”

“Nothing bad about you. Just more ridiculous. She was worried about us getting together before the Olympics because your testosterone might show up on my doping tests and get me in trouble.” Blaine giggled and rolled his eyes. Kurt was used to people who rolled their eyes having disgusted expressions on their face, or at least disapproving ones. But Blaine’s expression looked almost fond.

“What? That doesn't make sense.”

“Nope. But apparently she thinks semen is an illicit testosterone-containing substance and the testosterone somehow enters the bloodstream?”

Kurt burst out laughing. “Ah! So that's the real reason the Olympic Committee hands out condoms.”

“Apparently. I honestly think that was her main concern about us. Well, that and she thought you were the reason I forgot about that meeting on your last day there, even though I explained to her it was the stress of …” Blaine hesitated. “Of all the media interviews that day. Otherwise, I think she’s liked you from the start. You're the only guy I’ve dated she’s called handsome, unless you count Jesse. And all her nicknames for you are based on her favorite fictional characters and celebrity crushes.”

“Which one of those is the Pillsbury Doughboy?”

Blaine shrugged. He looked so comfortable, standing there in nothing but his skin and a tiny towel and sweat-damp swirls of dark hair across his chest and trailing down his limbs while Kurt was covered neck to toe in textiles. “Not sure, but she and her sister have been collecting the figurines since they were little. They have a case full of Pillsbury Doughboy collectibles in their house right next to the trophy case.”

“That … is not something I would have guessed.” Kurt looked down at the costume, paying attention to the way he was folding it as much to distract himself from Blaine’s gorgeous body as to protect the fabric from damage.

“She's often mentioned his stunning blue eyes. Maybe that's why you remind her of him.”

“And here I thought it was because I was pasty.”

“You're not pasty. You’re …” Blaine traced a finger along Kurt’s jaw, coaxing Kurt to look away from the costume and into Blaine’s beautiful brown eyes. “Alabaster and coral.”

“You're not allowed to flatter me when you’re naked except for a towel around your waist and there’s nothing I can do about it because we’re in a semi-public locker room.”

“I wish we weren’t, though. I could go for an encore of this morning. I’m going to miss you so much tonight.”

Kurt glanced over his shoulder before pressing a quick kiss to Blaine’s lips. “When the competition is over, we can shut ourselves in a hotel room for a week and do nothing but that.”

Blaine smiled. “Sounds better than a gold.”

~~~

Kurt loved a spectacle, so the opening ceremonies were right up his alley: floating landscapes, a flying girl, a choir of hundreds of singers in traditional garb ascending from the clouds. Kurt tucked his opera glasses back into his coat pocket and snatched the binoculars from Sebastian’s lap. He needed something more powerful to pick out the details of the singers’ costumes. Each was made of white fabric with gold trim, but every single one was different—different hats and headgear, different cuts and lengths, some with bibs or aprons and others without, each decorated in elaborate patterns sewn by hand. The costume budget must have been massive.

Kurt would have been enjoying himself even more if Blaine were there, explaining what the heck the floating armada and flying volcano had been about. Kurt knew little about Russian history beyond what he’d learned when costuming for Chekhov’s Three Sisters and studying Soviet realism in design school. For each cultural reference that confused him, he knew there were dozens more he wasn't even noticing.

“Do you understand any of this?” Kurt asked.

Sebastian looked up from his phone. He had been glued to it since before the start of the ceremony. That was the life of a manager, Kurt supposed—always on the phone, texting and sending emails, arranging appearances and interviews and lunches and who knew what else. It was getting close to midnight in Sochi, but it was still prime working hours in the United States.

“The Russian landmass is fifty percent permafrost,” Sebastian said. “I think that's what the snow is about.”

“Very helpful,” Kurt said.

When Putin got up to speak, Kurt took the opportunity to check his vibrating cell phone. It was Blaine, who was waiting somewhere in the wings of the stadium and apparently had no interest in paying attention to Putin either. I can't wait until you see our uniforms. They will astonish you.

In a good way or a bad way?

You’ll find out!

Blaine was right. The outfits did astonish Kurt—with their hideousness. Ralph Lauren had been going down the tubes for a while, but this was abominable: saggy white athletic pants; a sweater covered with so many letters, numbers, flags, and logos it looked like a race car; and knit caps whose only saving grace was their size prevented the same excess of symbols that plagued the sweaters.

“Are you going to give me back my binoculars?” asked Sebastian.

“Nope. I’m trying to find my boyfriend,” Kurt said, not lowering the binoculars from his face as he reached into his pocket to retrieve the opera glasses and hand them to Sebastian. “You snooze, you lose.”

“I'm not sure why I thought Blaine’s influence would turn you into a nicer person.”

“It hasn't turned you into a nicer person, has it?”

“No. But I'm not sleeping with him.”

“Oh! There he is! Next to the giant!”

Blaine was cute as ever despite the abominable uniform, waving out to the crowd with a huge smile on his face as he walked between an equally bubbly Sam to his right and, to his left, Mike Chang with a ponytailed Kitty Wilde on his shoulders. She was holding her smartphone up to record the crowd, panning up and down the rows of seats, when she suddenly stopped, lowered her phone, and waved vigorously at Kurt and Sebastian before leaning over to pat the top of Blaine’s head and point him in their direction. He found them and his smile got even wider. He balanced on his toes and waved energetically.

“There's something wrong with these opera glasses. It looks like Blaine is having some sort of fit.”

“He's waving, dumbass.”

“And now he's blowing kisses! Let’s hope Putin doesn't arrest him for that.”

“Seriously, Sebastian. Do you have to ruin everything?”

“Yeah, sorry, that was … not funny. I only said it because I don't think there's any risk of him getting arrested for that. Does that make it any better?”

Kurt ignored Sebastian and watched Blaine turn the corner of the track. Blaine's back was to him now, but Kurt could catch the side of his face when he turned to the side with more waving and kiss-blowing.

“Ooh, Kurt,” Sebastian hissed dramatically. “You might want to look away. He’s blowing kisses to Billie Jean King now. Do you think he’s turned straight? Ow, the betrayal.”

“Oh no, a figure skater blowing kisses to members of the general public,” Kurt deadpanned. “Totally slutty and out of character. I'm devastated.”

Sebastian chuckled. But when Kurt turned to look at him, he saw that Sebastian was not laughing over what Kurt had said. He was looking at his phone again, grinning like the Cheshire cat as he thumbed a message into the screen.

~~~

Sebastian's texting went on through the entire opening ceremonies. Kurt loved his phone as much as the next person, but he was at least trying to enjoy the show. Besides, it wasn't like he could be constantly texting Blaine. It would look bad if, every time a rogue television camera landed on the section of the stadium holding the members of Team USA, Blaine was staring at his phone screen like a bored teenager. Meanwhile, Sebastian was thumbing something into his phone every five minutes. There was no way it was all work, because at least half the time, it was accompanied by the kind of giggling Kurt associated with chatting about celebrity crushes with Rachel and Mercedes in high school.

“I don't understand why you wanted to go to the opening ceremonies at all if you're going to spend the whole time on your phone,” Kurt said on the way back to their hotel. It was a rental car, and Sebastian was driving.

“I wasn't planning to be on my phone the whole time. It just … happened.”

“Work emergency?” Kurt knew that wasn't the answer, but sometimes guessing the wrong thing was the best way to get Sebastian to tell you the truth. Wrong impressions were like pebbles in Sebastian’s shoes. He had to get rid of them or they would drive him crazy.

“No.” Sebastian chewed on his bottom lip. “I … Okay, if I tell you, you have to promise not to be super gay about it. Because I'm driving, and that would be distracting.”

“What do you mean by ‘super gay’?”

“You know. Dramatic. Shrieking like a little girl.”

“Oh, Sebastian. Do we have to have another talk about internalized homophobia?”

“Just promise, okay?”

“I promise not to shriek like a little girl. I don't promise to not be super gay though.”

“Whatever. I … I met someone.”

Kurt inhaled sharply. He kind of wanted to shriek, or at least yell What? extremely loudly. But he had made a promise. “When? Wasn't it like, a week or two ago when you were crying in my hotel room about—”

“I thought we agreed to never mention that again.”

“You said not to mention it to other people, not you.”

“Fine. And yes, since then. Yesterday, to be exact. Or maybe this morning, if you want to be technical about it?”

“You met him last night and you already want to have kids with him?”

“I didn't say that! I just said ... I met someone. Who is interesting and that I actually like to talk to even when we're done fucking. I mean, usually after I have sex with someone I'm through with them, at least until the next time I want to have sex—”

“And you wonder why I never slept with you.”

“—but this guy … I wasn’t hurrying to leave the room. And it wasn’t just because you and Blaine were doing God knows what in our suite. It was … I don't know how to describe it. Like, the noise that's usually crowding my head was gone. I wasn't thinking about work or the things I would need to do today or going through a point-by-point postgame breakdown to compare him to my previous fucks or glean learning points for my arsenal of future sex strategies.”

“Were you high?”

“No! I wasn't high! I don't do drugs when I'm traveling in authoritarian states.”

“Just thought I'd check.”

“And he kept looking at my face, and I admit, I do have a great looking face, but usually it's weird to look at each other's faces too much when you're having sex—”

“It is?”

“—but it didn’t feel weird. Which was weird in itself. It was weird and it should have been a total turn off—”

“Really?”

“—but it just felt ... what's the word?”

“Good?”

“Something like that. So I … I stayed. And I fell asleep. And when I woke up he asked if I wanted to have breakfast, and I … I said yes. I've never said yes to breakfast. And I went back to our suite to change, which gave me the perfect opportunity to stand him up, but did I stand him up? No.�� Because I … I wanted to talk to him. How crazy is that?”

“For you? It sounds pretty crazy.” Since Kurt had met Sebastian half a lifetime ago, he had come to rely on the fact that, no matter how many months or years passed between them seeing each other, Sebastian never changed. Now, suddenly, Sebastian was changing. Kurt wasn't sure what to do with that. “So, are you going to tell me anything about this guy? What makes him so magical?”

“No. I don't want to curse it. Not that there's much to curse. I mean, I've known him for less than twenty-four hours. And he lives on this side of the pond. I'll be lucky if this lasts the full two weeks of the games.”

“Still, that's new for you, wanting something to last even that long. You're a different man than the one I thought you were, Sebastian Smythe.”

“That goes for both of us.”

#december klaine fanworks challenge 2024 #day 16: picture #wowbright writes fic #Figureskating!Blaine/designer!Kurt Olympics AU #klaine fanfiction

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