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wrestlersownmyheart · 10 months ago

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"Her Outlaw Hero" (Sons Of Anarchy-Chibs Chapter fic) Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the Original Characters in this story. I am only using Kurt Sutter's characters from Sons of Anarchy. He created the characters and the show—I am in no way taking any credit for his creations. This story is for entertainment only. Content/Warnings: Violence against both men and women including rape. Summary:

Adelaide Watson is fleeing Tennessee—on the run from her violent past.

When she has a car accident on a lonely road in Charming, California, she has no choice but to walk to town for help. But help comes to her instead. In a very unexpected way.

Chapter 3

Adelaide parked her Nissan Versa in the alley behind the house of her best friend, Angela McSands. Gingerly getting out of the car while also trying to calm her swimming head, she tried to hurry toward Angela's back door and then proceeded to pound on it.

"Angie! Angie, please open the door—it's Addy!" She pounded as loudly as she could with her fists, and then with the palms of her hands till they both stung. "Angela!" Oh, God, please let her be home, she prayed.

The door opened suddenly and Angela emerged clad in a terrycloth bathrobe, her short, blond hair still wet from an apparent shower. "Oh, my God—Addy! What hap-" Her gaze raked quickly over Adelaide's slender frame and took in every detail. Her best friend's temple had a goose egg, a bruise marred the alabaster skin of her cheek, and her lip was split. And that was only what she was able to see. There was no telling what injuries Liam Walker had bestowed Adelaide with underneath her clothes. "It was Liam, wasn't it?" She gently tugged her unsteady friend into her house. "Come inside. Let's get you cleaned up and into some…" She trailed off when she fully took in the state of Adelaide's ripped and disheveled clothing. There was no denying what had happened. "Oh, Addy… I'm so sorry…" She hugged her friend close and stroked her dark hair, then led her into the living room. "Come on, honey. Let's get you to the hospital. They'll need to do a rape kit."

"No," Adelaide whispered, as Angela led her into the living room. She sank weakly down onto the sofa. "He's a cop, Angie. He'll get away with it. Then he'll kill me."

"But, there's proof, Addy. Your clothes, the cuts and bruises, his DNA…"

"He'll turn it around somehow. That is, if he's still alive."

"What do you mean," Angela asked, sitting down beside her and brushing some tangled hair out of Adelaide's face.

"He was raping me, and I… I tried to fight him off. I was feeling for a weapon to use and I was able to grab my heavy fruit bowl." She shuddered before continuing. "I hit him on the head with it—several times. I don't even know if he's alive. If he's dead, I'm in even deeper trouble."

"No, honey," her friend tried to convince her. "If he's dead, then you can explain it as self-defense…"

"You don't get it," Adelaide cried, wrapping her arms around herself. "They're his friends! They won't believe a word I say! They'll think I murdered him!"

Angela was silent for a moment and let this sink in. Maybe she's right, she thought. If she's this terrified, there's a reason. "Okay," she finally said. "You need to get out of here, and soon. Go get a shower so your appearance doesn't get noticed and raise questions. Then you're going to take one of my cars and get out of town—far away from here."

"But what about my car? If Liam sees it parked here, he'll hurt you—"

"I'll drive it into the river. Don't worry. It'll look like you drowned. He'll never know."

Tears filled Adelaide's blue eyes again. "We may never see each other again."

Angela nodded sadly. "I know. But your safety has to come first. That's what matters most to me."

Adelaide sniffled and wiped at her tears. "And yours matters most to me."

"I'll be fine," Angela assured her, placing her hand over Adelaide's. "Like I said, I'll take care of your car. If Liam thinks your dead, he's got no reason to do anything to me. Okay? So go get yourself cleaned up and I'll get you some fresh clothes together."

About twenty minutes later, Adelaide was showered and wearing a pair of jeans, a black WWE t-shirt and sneakers. Angela handed her a key to her old Jeep, a small suitcase of clothes along with a pocket knife, and then proceeded to press many paper bills into her hand. "And take this too."

"No, Angie. It's bad enough you're giving me one of your cars. I have money. I stopped at an ATM before I came-"

"Hon, I could care less about the money. It's only a few hundred dollars, but it could help get you out of a bind. I'll sleep a lot better knowing I've done everything I can to help you."

Adelaide swallowed hard and smiled sadly at her best friend. "I would never have made it without you."

"Oh, yes you would've," Angela contradicted her, her green eyes filling with tears. "You're stronger than you realize, Addy. You're going to be fine, honey. Now get out of here, and start living again."

"I'm going to miss you," Adelaide said, hugging her friend close. "So much."

"I'll miss you too, but I'll take comfort in knowing you're alive," Angela replied, returning Adelaide's hug.

"Be sure and get my cell number out of your contacts," Adelaide warned. "I left my cell phone behind and if you call it, Liam will realize you know something."

Angela nodded, "I'll take care of it right now."

Minutes later, Adelaide was pulling out of Angela's garage and began heading for Interstate 40 West, tears streaming down her face.

00000000

A loud curse echoed throughout the MC's clubhouse. Juice rubbed his shaved head for the third time in one game of pool. "You're gonna take my head off if you keep jumpin' the cue ball like that," Juice shouted at Rat. "What are ya trying to pull, bro?"

"I was just trying a new trick is all, settle down, Juicey," Rat grumbled as he picked the cue ball up from the floor and put it back on the pool table.

"How about ya play the right way, and then I'll settle down," Juice retorted.

"No, how about the two of ya quit bickering like a couple of little girlies," Chibs asked from the bar. "I can't hear myself think!"

The two smaller men each mumbled something unintelligible under their breath but resumed their game in a quieter manner.

Daisy, Tig's pet pit bull he rescued from a dog fight, scratched at the club's front door and whined for what seemed like the hundredth time in the past half hour.

"What's with her," Happy asked, draining his beer bottle.

"I don't know," Tig replied thoughtfully. "I just took her out to use the bathroom, and she took a long piss, so I'm totally clueless."

"Maybe she's constipated," Chucky suggested, wiping down the bar. He blushed when he noticed everyone staring at him. "I mean… Ya know… It's a possibility."

"Shut up and grab me another beer, Chucky," Happy ordered.

"I accept that," Chucky murmured, grabbing another bottle of brew from the cooler.

At that moment, Quinn returned from a repossession and opened the door to enter the club house, and Daisy took that instant to flee.

"Daisy," Tig yelled. "Come back, girl!" He shot up from his seat and bolted for the door. Sticking his head out, he was distraught when he discovered the dog had completely vanished. "I've gotta find her. Chibs…help me out, brother?"

"Ah, come on," Chibs groaned. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Drive the van," Tig suggested, his vivid blue eyes pleading with his friend. "I can't very well bring her back on my bike, and she gets nervous in a vehicle. Someone needs to drive while I keep her calm."

"Mother Mary," Chibs growled as he pulled the keys to the club's van from his vest pocket and put on his sunglasses. "Let's go get this over with." The two men hurried out to the van and pulled out onto the road.

"Did you see what direction she went," Chibs asked Tig.

"No. Not really. DAISY! WHERE ARE YA, BABY," he shouted.

Chibs cursed and looked at his friend as if he were crazy. "Do you really think-"

Tig shushed him and yelled for Daisy again. To Chibs' utter surprise, he could hear the dog barking in the distance.

"That way! Go," Tig hooted, happy to have an idea of where his dog was. "I know my girl, Chibby! Follow that bark!"

Rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses, Chibs turned the van in the direction the dog's barks came from and they drove down the road, keeping their eyes peeled for Tig's pit bull.

000000000

Adelaide touched a hand to her head as another wave of dizziness came over her. She groaned softly at the pain and struggled to keep her eyes open.

"At least I'm just on an empty old dirt road," she reasoned with herself. If I come across some traffic, I'll have to pull over until this dizziness passes.

In the next instant, she was aware of opening her eyes and discovered she was in the wrong lane. Reflexively, she jerked the wheel back into the right lane and breathed a shuddering sigh. Realizing she was briefly losing consciousness, she rolled her window down the rest of the way in hopes of getting some more air. The California heat was stifling and the old Jeep's air-conditioner had long ago kicked the bucket.

"I need water," she thought out loud, realizing she must be severely dehydrated.

She couldn't even remember her last sip of liquid or bite of food, or sleep for that matter. She'd been in such a hurry to get away from Nashville, she drove for two days strait. She'd been too frightened to pull over and close her eyes, afraid that Liam—or someone affiliated with him—would capture her when she was at her most vulnerable.

Suddenly, Adelaide realized she was coming too again, and prepared to jerk the wheel into the appropriate lane once more. But too late, she saw a telephone pole looming just ahead of her. A hard collision followed, along with the sound of breaking glass and grating metal. If not for the airbag deploying, she would have smacked hard into the steering wheel. Her head was spared yet another trauma, but her ribs weren't. The airbag's tautened material slammed into her hard, and she heard a very audible cracking sound as a burning pain shot up and down her side. The car slammed to a stop and she gasped and sobbed as another agonizing stab of pain sucker punched her.

"Oh….my God…" she wheezed out, shocked by the sudden pain.

She grasped the key and turned it in the ignition, and the engine tried to turn over but didn't manage it. Adelaide tried a couple more times, but gave up on it when it became clear the car was not going to start. She grabbed the small pocket knife Angela gave her and somehow managed the strength to open her door and feebly climb out of the Jeep. Her legs wouldn't hold her, however, and she sank to her knees.

"Get up," she ordered herself, teeth clenched. "You don't have time to fall apart. Not yet."

Shakily, she held onto the car for support as she stood to her feet. I have to get to a mechanic and see if they'll tow the Jeep and repair it, she thought. And then I need a hotel where I can get some sleep, or I'm going to end up killing myself and possibly some innocent people.

Slowly, she began her long walk down the road, in hopes of finding a mechanic that would help her out.

00000000

Chibs continued driving down the road as Tig leaned out the passenger side window calling for Daisy.

"I think we've lost her, brother," Chibs said softly, aware of how much the dog meant to his friend. "I haven't heard her bark in several minutes."

"She's here, I know it," Tig insisted, and then he pointed at what looked to be a dark-haired woman up ahead of them. "Look, there's someone walking down the road. Pull up beside them. Maybe they've seen her."

Skeptical, but humoring his friend, Chibs pulled up beside a woman walking at the side of the road. "Hey lady, have ya by any chance seen a white pit bull around here," Chibs asked. "My friend's lost his dog and we thought she'd headed this way."

The young woman seemed to be startled by his inquiry but she turned to glance in his direction, the sun catching on her icy blue eyes, "Y-yeah… I did," she replied softly. "She w-went up th-that way…" She motioned behind her with a wave of her hand.

"Thanks," Tig called from the passenger side. "Let's go, Chibs!"

"Just a sec," the Scotsman muttered under his breath. Something wasn't right. The woman was moving very slowly and he'd noticed bruising on her pale face. "Are you alright, lady? Do you need a ride somewhere?"

The woman seemed to jump out of her skin again, and shook her head without paying him even a glance. "No, thank y-you. I-I'm fine."

"Ya sure? It's an awfully hot day to be walking a long distance," he pressed, noting her jean-clad legs. The black t-shirt can't help matters either, he thought, recalling how hot the club's black clothing could get in the heat of the California sun. "I can give you a lift somewhere if ya want."

"No," the woman answered curtly, without even looking up and kept walking gingerly in the other direction.

Chibs sensed Tig was about to set out on foot himself to go retrieve his dog. So, feeling conflicted, he drove on, in search of Daisy.

Minutes later, and a few miles down the road, they spotted an older model Jeep wrecked against a telephone pole.

"Wow," Tig said, "That's one busted up Jeep. Do you think it belongs to the woman we passed a few miles back?"

"That would be my guess," Chibs replied grimly. "She's got to be hurt. I saw some bruises on her face, and-" He cut off when he noticed Daisy sitting dutifully by the Jeep. "What the…?"

"She was trying to lead us to her," Tig commented. "She somehow knew what happened to that woman."

"I think you're giving your dog a little too much credit," Chibs said skeptically.

"How else would you explain it," Tig asked.

Chibs pulled to a stop next to the vacated car, his black eyes flashing, "I don't know. Get your dog and then we're gonna go help the woman."

Tig climbed out of the van and approached Daisy, "Come on, girl," he coaxed. "Come back with me, baby. We're gonna go help the lady. Come on." He led the apprehensive dog back to the van and then lifted her up and settled her on his lap once he climbed into the passenger seat."

In the next instant, Chibs pulled a sharp U-turn and headed back for the dark-haired stranger.

If you want on my tag list, just let me know! 🙂

Tagging:

@mrsfilipchibstelford @ravennaortiz

#sons of anarchy #chibs telford #sons of anarchy fic #chibs imagine #chibs x oc

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weirdthoughtsandideas · 8 months ago

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Two dads

Sorry to all my glee fic readers who had to wait literally 16 days for a new glee oneshot in the pride prompts event.

Nonetheless! Guess which couple canonically were expecting a kid in the last episode and I decided to explore how they are as dads? ;)

Their daughter is unnamed though, because I couldn't come up with a good name. It's a pretty short oneshot anyway, because most of these are between 500-2000 words long.

Read on ao3 or under the cut.

The little girl woke up crying. She was a baby, so this is how she woke up most days.

Her two dads were quick to come into the room.

“We’re here, darling!” Kurt said soothingly. “Don’t you worry.”

“We’ve prepared a marvelous breakfast for you, princess,” Blaine said. “But first, we need to get you ready!”

“Yes!” Kurt lifted her out of her crib. “As we all can smell, you need a change out of your morning diaper. Have you let it all out or is there more? We don’t want to waste too many cloth diapers, it’s too much laundry as it is.”

The baby gurgled.

“I’d take that as you’ve emptied it all out.”

“Good, then you have plenty of room for breakfast!” Blaine said.

The men only had cloth diapers for their girl. Better for the environment, and they save so much money! Plus, the cloth diapers were really pretty.

“Tell me, your highness,” Blaine said, “Which diaper would you like to wear this morning?”

Their daughter kind of moved her foot slightly, which they interpreted as her pointing at a pink pair.

“Pink is an excellent choice!”

They put her down in the high chair.

“Bon appétit!” Blaine exclaimed. “I made some scrambled eggs for the little lady!”

The baby shrieked and flapped her little hands.

“Let me assist you,” Kurt cooed. “Open your mouth!” He fed her the scrambled eggs. Both him and Blaine could tell she loved it.

“How do you rate this cuisine?” Blaine asked.

“Weh!” their daughter exclaimed and held up both her hands.

“Full stars! Woah, I’m so honored!” He pretended to bow in front of her, causing her to giggle.

After breakfast, it was time to go out for a walk. Kurt strapped their daughter onto a baby carrier. ”Now you just sit there enjoying the view, my love.”

”I’m jealous, I wish I could sit in a baby carrier,” Blaine said.

”And she’s probably jealous you can walk,” Kurt joked.

They walked out around the park, enjoying the weather. Some people stopped them just to comment about their cute baby.

Some people asked which one was the father, and got quite a surprise when they answered ”both!”. Apparently, even in the 2020s people were surprised about two dads…

After half an hour, they noticed the baby was getting a bit cranky.

”It’s time for your pre-lunch nap, isn’t it?” Kurt asked.

”Kurt, she’s not supposed to nap for another hour.”

”Hm, then why is she cranky?”

They decided it was best to head back home, so they could calmly help their daughter with whatever was bothering her.

She had been growing increasingly more cranky by the minute, and the men almost felt the need to run home to figure it out.

Finally, they reached their house. The second they came inside, Blaine lifted her out of the baby carrier.

”There, there, princess… what’s wrong?”

She just cried and made grunting sounds.

”Maybe she’s just feeling overwhelmed,” Kurt suggested.

Blaine nodded. He patted her back.

”Yeah, sometimes being outside is a lot… but it’s ok… just let it all out.”

Right then, she very loudly started to fill her diaper.

Kurt and Blaine stared at each other in silence for a few seconds.

”Well, she seemed to have let it all out,” Kurt joked, and both laughed slightly.

They went to the changing table. As they laid her down, she started to yawn.

”Maybe messing herself took a lot of energy out of her,” Kurt said.

”Yeah, I mean, sometimes it drains your energy,” Blaine replied. ”Maybe we could have her nap be a bit earlier.”

”Good idea. Little lady, what color of the diaper you’re gonna wear for nap time will you choose?”

”Eeh,” their daughter gurgled.

”Violet? Well, why not!”

They put her down in her crib.

”What would miss like to hear as a lullaby?” Blaine asked.

Their daughter seemed to be up for anything, as long as it soothed her to sleep.

So, her two dads sang her the first song that came to their minds. They hummed the melody, and smiled as they watched their little baby close her eyes and drift off to sleep.

”Have a nice nap,” Kurt whispered, kissing her on the forehead before the two walked out.

”Kurt?” Blaine asked, ”Will we continue to sing her a lullaby at every single nap time?”

Kurt nodded. ”I hope so. I wanna sing to her every day… until she’s a moody teenager who asks us to stop.”

They laughed.

Luckily, their little angel would not be a teenager for many, many years, so they could look forward to a lot more lullabies to sing her to sleep with.

#glee #klaine

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calledbyflowers · 8 months ago

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holy shit this reminds me of the idea i came up w for a front-facing comedy skit back in the day which is guy who confuses michael stipe with kurt cobain and thinks kurt cobain was an egg and thinks michael stipe wouldve voted for trump. "yknow back in the day if that goddamn bitch courtney love hadnta shot her yknow? if she hadnt a blown her brains right out i think michael stipe wouldve voted for trump. like u listen to the man on moon? u listen to that shit not hte he hey hey hey thing w nirvana that everybodys talking abt no the actual words yknow she saying the deep state got jfk and the moon landing was faked and andy kaufmanns out there running around yknmow all these things ppl think ppl think she was a liberal they thought she was a liberal cuz yknow cuz she may have been a faggot u know and i mean i love faggots yknow all respect to faggots and ill support faggots rights as soon as they apologize for what they did on 9/11 and yknow also cuz she talks abt the environment i know but trump trump luvs the environment hes out there every day golfing enjoying nature u cant say he doesnt love the environment and like usee from the man on the moon song that she saw thru this stuff htis liberal propoganda she knew what was rlly going on she could see the holy war thats raging for the soul of this naiton and so i fink she wouldve voted for trump. def. def she wouldve voted for trump. maybe not the second time but certainly the first time and certyainly this time."

#michael stipe #Kurt cobain #nirvana #rem #trans

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blurglesmurfklaine · 1 year ago

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made up fic title:

don't put your lips so close to my cheek

🥰

Hiiiii sorry this took so long! my brain is *vague noises of failure*

Okay so I’ve technically already written this for Kurt/Blaine but fuck it I’ll reimagine it for Javey because my mind is just a little trash panda looking for scraps of self indulgent angst

Is David Jacobs a swiftie? No. Not really. He doesn’t follow Taylor Swift’s Instagram and search endlessly for hidden Easter eggs, clowning that she’s going to randomly drop an album. That being said… The Red album changed him fundamentally as a person.

And now, Taylor is rereleasing it, and Davey still has never had his heart properly broken so how on earth is he going to relate to this rerelease?? He’s had disappointing dates, sure, people who were interested in him and flings that just. Never went anywhere, but he’s 24, applying to graduate school and been so busy with his career and life that hes never been FULLY devastated by someone and at this point it’s sort of rude???

In a drunken stupor, he (mostly jokingly) posts on his Instagram story “Need my heart DEMOLISHED by November 12th. Any takers?” And then proceeds to black out on his couch

When he wakes up, he’s got a ton of responses to his story—mostly his friends who responded with “LMAO!” Or laughing emojis. But among those messages is one from Jack Kelly.

(I haven’t decided how they know each other yet. Maybe they went to High School together but dodnt really know each other? Maybe they currently run in the same circles but again, haven’t really interacted) anyway. Jack’s like “I volunteer as tribute” and in my mind, Jack’s got a bit of a reputation (no pun intended) so Davey’s really got nothing to lose and decided fuck it let’s do it

So basically they pretend to date and as they get to know each other, Davey slowly develops real feelings for Jack and starts to spiral because it’s not real and it’s HIS FAULT (also not knowing the only reason Jack even agreed to it was bc he’s got a MASSIVE crush on Davey in the first place)

So it’s an entree of fake dating with a splash of stupid boys and just a hint of angst :)

#ask #asks #somanywords

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quartersety-of-a-holsety · 1 year ago

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Here's the haul!

The Pokemon booster is just three cards and my dad actually got that with another unrelated purchase he made, so he gave it to me. The five YGO packs are reprints of the first four sets and sixth set, and got the Obelisk structure deck on top of it -- now I have two tournament-legal Egyptian God cards! Only Ra to go!

My eternal search for a Rick Allen Funko Pop continues, but I did find my boi Yami Bakura!

I learned two things today: 1. The guy who played Snyder on BTVS also played Quark on DS9 -- yes, I'm an uncultured swine for not know this already, and 2. HE WRITES BOOKS! I got the whole trilogy as a boxed set!

The other two books came from the same booth -- the two guys running it teach a writing class so some of the books they were selling were written by their students. The former is an anthology and its proceeds go to charity and the latter was free since I bought four books

There were two button making stations: one for Sci-Port, and a different independent booth. Decided to recreate my tat -- not exactly, but close -- and jot down one of my favourite Doctor Who lines

DERG PLUSHIES ARE FINALLY MINE! Dragonair has a bendable rod and Dratini is knitted! So smol, so cute

The dragon egg was 3D printed and it rattled when I picked it up and was like "cool" -- didn't find out until after I got home that it opened and contained mini dice!

I didn't get a picture with Veronica like I did with Kurt, but I did get a signed Micaiah print -- I was fully intening on getting an Ash print, but once I saw Micaiah, that decision was sealed. The trainer card is something she was giving out to everyone who visited her table and it does hit a bit different knowing that she was supposed to be at Geek'd Con last year but had to pull out due to testing positive for COVID -- that said, I'm glad she was able to make it this year and it was worth the wait!

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jimmyjamjemz · 2 years ago

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Ghetsis Game - Part 1

In 2012 I started a Nuzlocke in Pokemon White. I decided since I rarely used ghost and dark type 'mons, I would limit myself to those types. I made an egg of every eligible Pokemon and whenever I made a successful catch, I traded it for an egg! The plan was always to make a comic, (and I had a whole The World Ends With You inspired plot!) but after 10 years of trying, I'm finally ready to let it go, and present what was quite an eventful run in a different way! More details of what happened as I beat the first three gyms under the cut!

Gastly was a fitting starter! Her name was Kim and she was fairly grumpy!

Laura joined the team next. An insecure Pawniard who was never as tough as the others in her clan.

I pictured Beth as a bit of a scaredy cat, while Thor was quite the opposite, a brave and protective kinda guy. I loved these guys!

I wasn't taking very extensive notes to start with, but I don't remember Cress being a problem. Afterwards I could get into the Dreamyard grass where Zoe joined the team! She had a gentle nature and was very stubborn.

Cheren's Oshawott was scary! Zoe and Laura both almost died before a crit killed Kim. And then Purrloin used Water Gun with Assist against Beth and gave me a heart attack, but she survived and won the fight.

Sophie and Kurt were the next additions. A couple of great gen 3 mons, and Kim's death meant there was room for both. The two of them were quite mischievous!

After a bit more plot, an apology from Cheren and a flawless battle with N, Dick, a Robin Hood type, replaces Kurt on the team!

We defeated Lenora with Dick, Sophie and Laura without much trouble.

Pinwheel Pokemon ended up being a Rotom named Justin who loved food and would possess ovens to steal it! Zoe was boxed so Justin could join the team.

I entered the third gym to fight some Harlequins, but Beth died to a Dwebble that ended up being quite tough to defeat. Dick probably shouldn't have come to a Bug gym, but he did, and he died to a Bug Bite from a Sewaddle.

There's an encounter on Route 4 you can get before beating the gym, so I found Millie. Just after she'd evolved I tried to escape a Pansear that I knew had lick, but I couldn't get away...

So after wasting my time on that I went back to Burgh. Laura dealt with the first two 'mons, and Justin and Sophie spent a long time chipping away at Leavanny, even with it paralysed, confused and using a lot of String Shots. But eventually we got our third badge!

Part 2 coming soon!

#pokemon #pokemon art #pokemon fan art #pkmn art #pokemon nuzlocke #nuzlocke #monolocke #nuzlocke challenge #Pokemon white #pokemon bw #traditional #traditional art #marker art #copic markers #copic #nuzlocke comic

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kurtanaaa · 4 years ago

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random question i thought of and was like “this seems like something that rae would answer best”

what’s each of the new directions favorite chapstick brand/flavor?

ana i love u thank u for thinking of me for this. lets go girls

santana: absolutely a lip gloss girl. has a massive collection of different lip glosses and judges them all on a specific set of criteria. her favourite one is a coca-cola scented lip smackers lip gloss that she got as a gift that was somehow perfect across the board. the day they stop selling it is the day she burns the world to the ground

sam: a classic man. he likes chapstick best! as we know from his massive collection in his locker. he really likes the holiday ones that smell like candy canes and baked goods and shit like that they make him happy

puck: didnt use to use chapstick (would just lick his lips like a weak bitch) until rachel forced a tiny container of vaseline into his hands. now hes never seen without it

mercedes: shes obsessed with eos lip balms. she LOVES those little eggs and all their bright colours and she does not give a shit about them being a dead trend. she will keep collecting her little eggs forever. her favourite one is the orange scented one she got in a limited edition set

rachel: only uses beeswax lip balm from small pop up businesses that she finds wherever she can. shes very specific about them being made with all natural Ingredience and it all has to smell like roses.

kurt: i think ive said this in another post but his favourite scent is mocha and he uses pretty much whatever lip balm comes in that scent. its not about the brand for him its about the Experience. unless that brand of mocha smells bad. then he puts that brand on blast online and they take a massive hit in their stock

mike: he also likes chapstick brand. he really likes the mint one and buys them in massive packs of twelve constantly. its the only one he'll use and if he runs out he will simply exist with dry lips until he can get more.

tina: this bitch is infatuated with all things lush. shampoo from lush. conditioner from lush. bath bombs from lush etc etc she loves it there she loves walking in and being wallopped by scent. she loves the little pots of lip balm and her favourite is the key lime pie one bc the colour is so fun and it smells DELIGHTFUL

quinn: shes a glossier girl. shes a bad bitch. she has the Money. also she really likes that the little tubes look like paint tubes because marketing tactics work on her. her favourite scent is mango bc mercedes once said that mangoes were her favourite fruit and in her heart of hearts quinn will always be a little bit in love with mercedes

artie: blistex. his mom buys it for him because shes a lovely woman who thinks its a perfectly good choice of lip balm and buys it in bulk at costco

blaine: this man is addicted to burts bees lip balm and is also addicted to losing them. he has to buy new ones every two weeks because good lord is he incapable of keeping track of this shit. "just put them in your pockets" he CANT because that creates uneven lines in his PANTS samuel evans ‼️‼️ he likes the tinted ones best bc hes a fun little man like that

brittany: glittery lip smackers that smell like cookies and cake all the way down. gets really upset if her lip balm doesnt smell like baked goods so santana always carries some for britt just in case she loses her own. the scent is very calming to her

finn: didnt use lip balm, still doesnt, never will, somehow never has an issue with dry skin. everyone hates him.

#literally i fucking love getting asks like this so much they force me to be somewhat creative and have fun i love this thank you #ana i am giving u a kiss #glee #asks #ana 🍎#long post #glee headcanons #rae's headcanons #new directions #rae talks

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aliwritesfic · 4 years ago

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The Night Shift part 5 (F!Reader x Frankie Morales)

Quick summary: You learn the meaning behind Frankie's nickname

Warnings: None, I think, please let me know if I need to add some <3

W/C: 1.7k

Spotify (mainly just vibes, some songs have meaning, also updated regularly)

Part 1 Part 6

The smell of cooking bacon made your stomach growl as you entered the diner on Tuesday evening. You hadn’t eaten much all day, just a piece of toast and a handful of stale cheerios. Frankie was in the kitchen, his back to you. Your throat dried at the sight of him, remembering what you had done and how you had fantasized about him only a few hours earlier.

“Hi, Frankie,” you said, pushing thoughts of what you wanted him to do with his hands out of your mind. Stop being such a hornbag! You scolded yourself. Then he set those dark brown eyes on you and your brain ceased to function. Could he see your secret written on your face?

“Hey,” he said, smiling up at you. “You look tired.”

You almost sighed in relief. Maybe he couldn’t tell at all. You grabbed the coffee pot and poured yourself a cup. “I didn’t sleep much today. I was . . . worried about the kitten.” It wasn’t a whole lie; you really were worried about the kitten. The vet hadn’t sent you any updates, and you hoped that was a good thing.

“Are you gonna keep the kitten, if she lives?” Frankie flipped eggs as he spoke and set up a couple of plates.

“I can’t,” you grimaced, “Kurt would never go for it. He’s not really a fan of pets.”

Frankie made a face. “Not even adorable kittens?”

��Not even then,” you sighed. “It’s fine, though. It’s not like I have the time to properly care for one. I’m here most nights and I’m so busy with housework during the day when I’m not sleeping that it just- it just wouldn’t work.”

You kept your tone light, aware that customers could be listening. You didn’t want to scare off any tips with how miserable the subject made you. Frankie seemed to understand, because he didn’t bring the subject back up.

You were surprised at how easily you two worked together. Completely in sync when you had to be, entire sentences seemed to be translated through quick looks and raised eyebrows. This guy is a serial complainer. Want me to do something about those frat boys? Can you pretty please make me one of whatever this lady’s having?

All too soon it was 5:30 and the morning crew was there, breaking the comfortable silence between you. You found yourself lingering again, although you weren’t sure what for. You didn’t exactly need to stay. But still.

~*~

Frankie was shocked to see you still there. He was pulling his keys out of his jacket pocket when he saw you, standing outside, shivering in the early spring air.

“Thought’d you’d be halfway home by now,” he said, but he was still pleased to see you. He had come to the conclusion last night that you had a boyfriend, he would respect that and not make any untoward moves on you. Friendship suited him fine, even if he did think your boyfriend was a bit of a freak for not wanting a pet.

“I wanted to ask you something,” you said.

“Go ahead,” Frankie prompted.

“How’d you get the nickname Catfish?”

At this, Frankie’s lips twitched. He hadn’t been expecting that. “Before we were deployed, the boys and I went on a fishing trip. Well, one thing led to another and I had a huge catfish on my hook. This was a catch and release type of situation, you know?” When you nodded, he continued. “So, I reach in this creatures mouth to unhook it, and the bastard clamps down! Whole hand, in its mouth! And the thing about catfish, is they don’t have teeth, so they can’t technically bite, but they suck. It was like my hand was in a vacuum seal. When I eventually managed to get it out, no help from the boys mind you, it looked like a giant hickey on my hand. So, that’s where the nickname comes from.”

You snorted with laughter, and Frankie began to laugh too. At the time, it hadn’t been funny but looking back, he knew he would have been laughing his ass off if it happened to any of the other boys.

“I think Santi got a photo of it, I’ll try and find it for you if you want,” Frankie said. You nodded eagerly, wiping a tear from your eye.

“Please do, I’d love to see it,” you said with a grin that made his heart do something it really shouldn’t. Frankie nodded, making a mental note to call Santi and demand that the bastard rip apart his house to find it if he had to.

You turned to leave, and before he could stop himself, he was asking “do you want a ride?” Friends gave each other rides when they needed it, he reasoned. You hesitated, and Frankie kicked himself. Of course he’d overstepped. You didn’t know him that well, he was just the fry cook.

“Uh, yeah actually. It looks like it might rain.”

As if you had summoned it, thunder rumbled low overhead. Fat drops of rain began to fall slowly painting the ground. Frankie jangled his keys and you both sprinted to his truck. He opened your door for you, and ran around to his side. He didn’t miss that you sat with your back ridgid, your hands curled so tightly your knuckles were white.

“You okay?” he asked, although you obviously were not.

“Yeah, no, it’s just . . . You’re aware your truck looks like a death trap?”

Frankie snorted. He was very aware of this, but he was also very aware of what was under the hood. He trusted this truck more than any fancy modern car. Still. He decided that this was the perfect opportunity to mess with you. Just to see how you responded.

“Have you ever seen The Fast and The Furious?” He began, and you raised an eyebrow at him, your face skeptical. “Tokyo Drift, specifically. Well, this truck won me the title of Drift King several years in a row. That’s how well she runs.”

“Oh, fuck off!” You rolled your eyes, but you were laughing. “That’s not even slightly believable.”

“Yeah, you’re right. But how cool would it be if it were true.”

You rolled your eyes again, but you were smiling as you did it, and Frankie counted that as a victory. You gave him directions as he drove, surprising him with how close you lived to him. Only a five minute drive away. How long had you been this close? How had he never noticed you in the neighbourhood? Had he been blind, all these years?

“Thank you,” you said quietly as he pulled up outside your building, a three story walk up with a faded brick facade. The rain was coming down hard now, and lightning flashed.

“Anytime,” Frankie said in a tone that he truly meant any time. You nodded and ran through the rain, disappearing into the building. Frankie idled for a moment, wishing he could call you back and kiss you goodbye.

But he didn’t, because it wasn’t decent and it wasn’t what friends did. Friends didn’t crush on their friend like a fucking idiot kid.

So Frankie drove himself home and drove all thoughts of your mouth out of his head. That was until he checked his phone, and saw a text from an unknown number.

Thanks for the ride, I really appreciate it :) sent 5:57AM

Frankie quickly saved your number in his phone, not taking the risk of losing it somehow. A second message from you buzzed through.

Oh and lunch on Sunday is at Taylor’s Bistro, on High Street if you still wanna come sent 6:01AM

Frankie wrote his message quickly.

Wouldn’t miss it x

He stared at it for too long, erased the x, replaced it with a smiley face and hit send before he could overthink it entirely. Then he remembered his promise to you, and called Santi almost instantly.

“Fish, what the fuck man? It’s four in the morning,” Santi groaned into the phone.

“It’s six you dope, but I need a favour,” Frankie said.

“Money?”

“No, man, nothing like that. Do you still have that photo of the catfish on my hand?”

“Yeah I’ve got a copy in my wallet.” Santi sounded more awake, and Frankie could hear his fancy espresso machine whir to life.

“Why do you- nevermind. Look, I need a copy ASAP.”

“What for? If it’s to destroy it just know I’ve thought ahead and I’ve got four physical copies and one in the Cloud.”

“No, nothing like that. It’s for a girl at work, she asked how I got my callsign and now I’ve gotta show her the photo.”

“Oh?” Santi sounded intrigued. “Who’s this girl?”

“A friend,” Frankie said a little forcefully. “She has a boyfriend.” As if that closed the matter. Apparently, it didn’t.

“Why should that stop you?” Santi asked. “You’re hot, I don’t know this chick but she’d be blind to not be into you.”

“Well, for one, my brain isn’t directly wired with my dick.” At this, Santiago scoffed. Frankie continued, ignoring him. “Secondly, she’s like, twenty five or six. She’s probably not into old guys.”

“You’re thirty-three, you’re not old. Also, chicks dig DILFs.”

“I don’t have a kid.”

“And yet you still have big DILF energy. I wonder if there are any little Francisco’s running around that we have yet to discover.”

“Shut the fuck up, man, it’s bad luck to say that kind of shit. Just get the photo to me, please.”

Santiago roared with laughter as Frankie hung up. Trust Santiago to work one of his deepest fears into conversation. Frankie wasn’t sure what he was more afraid of: having children, or having children and having no clue they existed. It wasn’t that he was against having kids altogether, it was just he knew he wasn’t in the right headspace to take care of someone who depended on him entirely. Some days he forgot to take care of himself, he didn’t want a kid to suffer. It wouldn’t be fair.

He brushed the thought aside as he climbed into bed. It was bad luck to linger on bad thoughts, at least, that’s what his abuela always told him whenever he complained about something as a kid.

He wasn’t sure why exactly he had told you that there was photographic evidence of a catfish latched onto his hand. Maybe he wanted to impress you? But no, he reasoned, there was nothing impressive about that. It was just plain embarrassing. He realised with a start that what he wanted was willing to do anything to hear your laugh again.

Taglist: @hnt-escape @sharkbait77 @1800-fight-me @annathewitch @darnitdraco @frankiecatfish

#the night shift #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier

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chocoholicannanymous · 4 years ago

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If the Spit Hits the Fan (Glee) Part XV

Follows pt I, pt II, pt III, pt IV, pt V, part VI, pt VII, part VIII, part IX, part X, part XI, part XII, part XIII and part XIV.

Being Sebastian's boyfriend really isn't that much different from being his friend. They do a lot of the same things, and talk about the same stuff, only now there's hand-holding and kissing and cuddling with it. Apart from the touching though? Nothing really changes much.

Which kind of makes it sound like how it was with Blaine.

It's not though.

Sebastian will hold his hand in the hallway without worrying about being seen. And yes, Dalton is different from McKinley – so, so much different, and safer – but Blaine even hesitated to hold Kurt's hand in the choir room, surrounded by friends.

Sebastian kisses him in a way that never leaves Kurt doubting there's attraction, and has to stop his hands from wandering too far on a regular basis – yet never making Kurt worry he won't stop.

Sebastian makes Kurt have to stop himself, both from allowing it and from doing his own wandering. They're still too new to go there, no matter how much Kurt's hormones sit up and beg every time Sebastian touches him. (They'll get there, Kurt's sure, just... Step by step, and not yet.)

Sebastian reaches out for Kurt without looking – sometimes seemingly without thinking – to pull him close, and always makes a space for him.

And when Sebastian sings, it's with Kurt, or for him, not at him.

It's a far cry from scheduled make-outs and avoiding even PG13 levels of PDA and being made to feel like his boyfriend is more interested in his own hand than in Kurt.

It's amazing.

There's a rainbow rose hanging on Kurt's door on Valentine's day. He and Sebastian have been dating for two days – a day and a half, if he was to be picky – and Kurt knows from last year's insanity that there's not a flower shop within two hours of Vesterville that carries rainbow roses. They have to be ordered special, and with a lot more warning than two days.

Kurt's not the least bit ashamed about how he squeals, or how he turns on his heel and kisses his boyfriend (!) for long enough to be a little dizzy afterwards.

This isn't to say that Sebastian is a perfect boyfriend. He's not. Then again, neither is Kurt. He's working from romantic movies and the examples from the New directions, and of course from his time with Blaine. Neither is a good road map. Romantic movies have so many flaws Kurt don't really want to examine, and a lot of his favorites are set too far back in time to be useful as guidelines. The loves lives of his old glee mates are...well. They're flawed too, when seen without rose-colored glasses and envy.

As for his relationship with Blaine... Even if he's not counting how it ended that relationship was so very less than perfect, and honestly it was both their faults. Kurt's not without blame, he knows that and can admit it without somehow pretending what Blaine did wrong never happened.

So he's trying to learn from his mistakes, and other people's mistakes, and he does his best to communicate with Sebastian – who does the same in return.

Also, no one can say that they don't argue. They definitely do. They have from the beginning, and they're both opinionated passionate people, so why should they stop now? Their relationship has changed – they themselves haven't.

It's just that they manage to argue in a way that works. That doesn't makes Kurt pull out his claws to eviscerate Sebastian, that doesn't scare Kurt, or make him give in to “preserve the peace”. That, right there, was one of the things that had sent his relationship with Blaine down the wrong turn. When he'd first told his dad that he'd begun dating Blaine Burt Hummel had told him never to go to bed angry with his partner. He'd meant to sort out arguments and disagreements, but Kurt had interpreted it as needing to back down and push down his anger or hurt. With Sebastian he doesn't.

They argue, because that's who – and how – they are, but they do it in as mature and healthy way as they are able to, being teenagers. And they apologize if they step over the line. Not Kurt apologizes, regardless, with Sebastian pouting until he does, but both of them.

If Kurt had to, he'd call it damned near perfect. Instead he'll just say it's good, and he's happy.

That's never something to look down on.

The week of Regionals is weird. Kurt's never felt as prepared or as calm with a competition approaching, which is rather telling. The rest of the Warblers are a different story though. Kurt has made it clear that his primary goal is to beat the Troubletones, and his friends are feeling the pressure. They even ask if Kurt and Sebastian won't reconsider singing 'Human Nature'.

“Look, guys, I'm honored, really, that you would trust me, us like that. But I want to win more than I want that solo. And even if we ignore the fact that Ohio doesn't seem ready for a gay duet, I really do think the setlist we have is stronger as is. The Troubletones have a great presence, and both Mercedes and Santana are awesomely talented. However, everything about the Troubletones are built around them. The rest of the girls are background and dancing. If we go on with a number that's the same they are going to win, for no other reason than that most people find girls prettier and nicer to look at.

“But if we go on as an actual choir, for a show choir competition? We'll win. I'm sure of it. We've worked so hard with our songs, and I wouldn't change a thing about our setlist.”

And it's true. They have an amazing setlist, and everything flows in a way that makes Kurt feel practically professional, and he's not giving that – and its chance to win – up to stare longingly at Sebastian while singing a song that exposes them to the core.

No. Kurt's going to have quite a lot more time in the spotlight than he'd expected when turning down a proper solo. He's going to sing with his friends, and his boyfriend, and he's going to show McKinley what it means to be a team onstage.

The Troubletones are just as amazing onstage as Kurt thought. They've done a good job picking their songs, and Mercedes still has the best voice he's ever heard live. Santana's not quite as talented, but give her the right song – which these are – and she'll blow your mind. Their choreography showcases the girls poached from the Cheerios without making Mercedes look too far behind, and their clothes look good.

Kurt would vote for them any day, even with Rachel being given a place in the background, except this one. This is going to be his day. He meets Sebastians eyes as they line up and nods.

Showtime.

'I want You Back' does exactly what it's meant to, namely getting the audience in a party mood. As the last notes flows into the first from 'Man in the Mirror' the mood shifts and Kurt feels his own shift with it. His solo feels a little raw, because in no way can he sing those lines without being reminded of all the crap he's gone through over the past 6 months.

“...a willow deeply scared, somebody's broken heart and a washed out dream...”

Well. His heart might have been broken, and his dreams about Blaine did wash out. But he's got new dreams, and his hearts healed, and no matter the scars he's whole where it matters. And even if he wasn't? He's looking in the mirror, and he's changing.

They bring the party back with their last song, giving their all transforming the sounds of 'Beat It' to sounds that can be reproduced by the human throat. The dancing is the most demanding Kurt's ever done onstage, and he knows he will definitely be beat after. But they look and sound awesome, and that's all that matters.

Or maybe not, he ruefully thinks as he sees Finn on his feet, jumping up and down and whooping as the Warblers are proclaimed the winners and Rachel looks like she's been pelted with eggs again.

“You stole our songs!”

Of course. All Kurt wants to do is get on the bus, go back to Dalton and celebrate. Okay, shower, then celebrate. So naturally Rachel is waiting to ambush him. Well, that's not going to go the way she's probably thinking.

“Really? Really Rachel, you're going there? You know very well that we didn't steal anything. Oh, I know that there was a suggestion that the New Directions do Michael for Sectionals, but I also know that you were the one who refused to accept it.

“You really blew it there. Michael is a great choice for Sectionals or Regionals, what with the Ohio mindset, and I'm pretty sure you would have won with the setlist the guys suggested. I'm not surprised you put a stop to it though.”

Rachel draws back, looking first shocked, then insulted, then finally like an angry goose, complete with hissing sound. He's not letting it touch him though, lets it run over him, one might say, like water over a goose.

“There are no songs in Michael Jacksons discography that's a given for you, no certainty that you'll be featured. And in the end, that's what mattered, wasn't it? Not that the New Directions won, but that you won. You wanted to beat the Troubletones, didn't you? Wanted to show that you were better than Mercedes, wanted to prove that her beating you when auditioning for Maria was just a fluke. Wanted to prove what everyone knows, that's she's every bit as good as you, and sometimes better, is wrong.

“Well, congratulations. You got what you wanted in terms of the setlist and the spotlight, but you fucked up everything else. And not just for you, but for everyone.”

An expression of pain flies across Rachel's face, and he pushes the knife in a little bit further.

“We weren't as blind though. The minute Finn told me about the Michael setlist I knew it was a winner. As did the other Warblers. I asked Finn first, and Sam and Puck. They didn't think we needed their permission, as you didn't use the songs, but they gave it any way.”

Kurt looks at Rachel, looks at the way she's still fuming, still refusing to see any other side than her own. It won't matter what he says – she'll keep ignoring any and all arguments against her. Once he might have tried harder to make her understand, but as things are he just wants to leave. His boyfriend's waiting and that makes Kurt out of time to spend on his former friend.

“Your loss, our gain.”

He starts to leave, but thinks better of it. He's got one more jab in him.

“Oh, and Rachel? Don't worry. Going to Nationals is a privilege, and we won't waste it. We've already gotten started on a setlist.”

It's petty, but. So's she.

That evening the Warblers celebrate as thoroughly as a bunch of uniformed boys in a well-staffed boarding school can. This means that it's late when Kurt drags Sebastian to his room (unlike him Sebastian's in a single), but neither of them is under the influence of anything but happiness.

That's important to Kurt as they tumble into Sebastian's bed while kissing, because he doesn't want there to be any doubt in Sebastian's mind that when Kurt pulls off his shirt and then goes for his fly it's because he wants to.

Having Sebastian stop him is frustrating, to say the very least.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

It's only the fact that it's Sebastian, and that he's shown himself trustworthy in so many ways over the past months that stops Kurt from storming out.

“I thought we... You know?”

It's so hard to say, to open himself up like this, years of being told he's a predator, or ugly, or plain wrong getting just as much in his way as the fact that he's never done this, and the only time he's been even close wasn't even about him.

Apparently he's going to have to use his words regardless, because Sebastian's not taking the opening.

“I thought we could have sex.” There. Words. Consent. Door wide open.

And yet Sebastian's still not taking the opening.

“What's the hurry?”

Kurt pulls back a little, hurt blooming.

“No, no, don't. Talk to me, okay? I'm a bit surprised I guess. We haven't even been dating for two months yet, and I know this is new for you.”

“So? It's not like I'm waiting for marriage.”

Kurt knows he sounds a bit snippy, and he has sort of been waiting – not for marriage, but for something, some feeling of more. He's got that feeling with Sebastian, so what's the point of waiting any longer? Everyone else his age (or so it feels) is having sex so why can't he?

Some of it must bleed through because Sebastian gets that “aha” look, and nods a bit.

“Look, regardless of what I might have said or implied when chasing Blaine, I'm actually not the whore of Babylon. I have, however, rounded a few bases and enjoyed them. I think you'd enjoy them too, and I would love to find out first hand. But that doesn't have to mean we go straight to fucking.” Kurt blushes, because he might be ready to do it, but those words...

“So. I'm not going to push, and I'm not going to rush. I am more than interested though, I'm just happy to take it a bit slow. To build up to every step. As far as I'm concerned you've earned that.”

Sebastian's looking so earnest it kills Kurt annoyance, and then lightning-quick it's replaced by a vicked look than makes him shiver all over.

“I wouldn't mind showing you the first of many, many bases now though. How about it, babe?”

Kurt doesn't mind either, neither then nor the next day.

#chocoholic fics #kurt fic #kurt hummel #sebastian smythe #a wild sebastian appears #kurtbastian

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lady-divine-writes · 3 years ago

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Kurtbastian fic “Always and Forever” Chapter 3

Summary: After the death of their daughter Grace, Kurt and Sebastian drift apart. Kurt wraps himself up in his grief so tightly he starts to push Sebastian away, and Sebastian, feeling himself shoved aside when he needs Kurt most, cheats. They make the decision to start over, to leave New York City and their pain behind, and start over again in a house Upstate. Sebastian buys Kurt a "fixer upper" and gives him free reign. While redecorating the room that will be his studio, Kurt comes across something interesting underneath the wallpaper. It starts to become an obsession for Kurt - an obsession that begins to replace Kurt's love for his husband, which Sebastian is holding on to by a thread. Can Kurt and Sebastian break through the pain and the hurt and find a way to fall in love again?

Read on AO3.

Chapter 3 (4753 words)

Kurt stares out his studio window at the neighborhood below. It’s 10:15 a.m. and a Tuesday, so it isn’t as if the place is teeming with activity. Everyone living on Colony Lane seems content to stick to their own spaces, abide by their own schedules, and go about their lives without much interference from the world outside.

Kurt hates to hand it to Sebastian, but that’s what he wants as well. Isolation in a quaint fixer-upper is precisely what he needs.

Another point for Sebastian.

Damn.

He seems to be racking them up lately, while Kurt…

Kurt can admit that he’s not trying as hard as he should be, but he’s giving himself permission to be selfish. There shouldn’t be a timetable for bouncing back from loss, and Kurt got the double-whammy.

Sebastian gave him betrayal to get over, too.

Kurt knows that he should deem repairing his marriage a priority, but he also needs to do what’s right for him.

He hasn’t figured out what that is yet, but it'll come to him.

Underlying childhood guilt has him believing that he should introduce himself to the neighbors. Etiquette and all that. It’s what his mother would do. Every time his family moved, and there had been a handful of times, Kurt’s mother would bake a batch of cookies for the neighbors. She'd put a baker's dozen into colorful cellophane bags, tie the tops with curled ribbon, and take them door to door to say hello. She wouldn’t wait for people to show up on their doorstep with a casserole and a smile. She believed in being proactive. She would tell him, “New neighborhood, new life. Go out and be a part of it.”

But Kurt doesn’t want to, and the neighbors seem fine with that.

It’s been three days, and Kurt and Sebastian have only gotten one visitor – the technician who came to fix the heating. Of course, the neighbors could be waiting for them to get settled. Then they’ll pounce over with perfectly iced Gingerbread Bundt cakes and Chicken Kievs, church invites, and Girl Scout cookie order forms, like a swarm of Stepford Wives.

Kurt doesn’t care about being proactive, and his mother isn’t around to scold him for behaving like a hermit.

That may sound harsh, but it's true.

The clouds pulling together in the sky overhead, threatening rain, give Kurt an excuse to shut himself away and work on the house - an excuse he can ply without the assistance of a tragic backstory. With his laptop open on the floor in front of him, he browses those websites that feed his design fetishes: Ethan Allen, Neiman Marcus, Anthropologie.

But he's not the least bit inspired.

He’d decided to start small, take things room by room instead of attacking everything at once. But he gets stumped, staring at the screen in front of him, unsure whether the chair he’s been mulling over for the past half hour is gorgeous or gaudy.

He should focus on bringing the living room together since it’s where they do the bulk of their entertaining, provided they ever start entertaining again. And he should do something about the master bedroom, which, for the moment, houses a bed, a TV, and a dresser within the confines of four ashy walls.

Opinions on the topic vary, but Kurt has always felt that the bedrooms are the heart of the home. They’re sanctuaries where dreaming, planning, and affirmation happen. He only has the one to worry about, so he should put extra effort into making it comforting, relaxing, sensual on the off chance he ever plans on touching his husband again.

The jury is still out on that one, unfortunately.

The kitchen, he’s not looking forward to decorating. Aside from his studio, he and Grace spent much of their time together in the kitchen. They baked daily: cakes, cookies, bread, and anything else they could slop onto a baking sheet and shove into the oven. They also made jam, pickled fruit, and taught themselves (using YouTube videos mainly) to prepare various types of cuisine. Some were a hit, others a miss, but it was always an adventure.

Kurt had done something similar with his mother and her collection of vintage cookbooks, congregating around the kitchen island in the afternoons to shed the angst of public school, and spread the wings of his stifled creativity. He and his mother discussed everything in the kitchen while sifting flour and creaming butter. It was a tradition he had so looked forward to continuing.

Now, he’d rather not be bothered going into the kitchen again.

He could pick a page out of the IKEA catalog and recreate it. That should offend him. It did when Sebastian suggested it the first time Kurt redecorated their penthouse. But Kurt hardly cares. It doesn’t matter as much as it did. He can’t remember the last time he stepped into the kitchen and prepared anything more elaborate than toast and coffee, maybe dry scrambled eggs. Sebastian took over cooking duties after Grace died, which, nine times out of ten, means ordering out, if for no other reason than he gets to leave the house to pick up the food.

He knows Kurt appreciates the time alone more than he does a home-cooked meal.

Then there’s Sebastian’s office, which Kurt is decorating for the first time. He has tried to start a shopping cart for it numerous times, but, unlike the windfall of ideas he had for his studio, he can’t get into a groove. He remembers a time when thinking about decorating Sebastian’s office put a hundred ideas into his head.

Currently, he has only one.

The cheap, vomit-worthy, knock-off furnishings of the no-tell hotel room he pictures whenever he thinks of Sebastian sleeping with another man.

Kurt shivers in disgust. He wouldn't wish that on his worst enemy.

The room or the infidelity.

But how would Sebastian react if Kurt decorated his office to look like the business suite at the Marriott?

Kurt snickers, envisioning the sitcom-worthy shock that would erupt on Sebastian's face if he presented that to him.

"As you can see," Kurt would say, strolling through the room with his head held high atop the straightest spine pettiness can deliver, "I have chosen the most flame-retardant carpet available in subtle hues of tan and beige, a color combination well suited for concealing cum stains. This ergonomic, curved leather loveseat, for when you want to get adventurous with your afternoon romps, which, at your age, requires plenty of lumbar support. Plus, it cleans up in a snap with just a Clorox wipe, so that's a useful feature. Faux fireplace, faux aquarium, faux chandelier... are we sensing a theme? And in the corner, I've provided you a foldout of your own, for when you bring... ahem... work home."

The grin on Kurt's lips slides when Sebastian, wearing a gutted expression, pops to mind. It's an expression that Kurt didn't believe possible for Sebastian till their daughter died. He's only seen it once. He doesn't want to bring it back.

He sighs.

Revenge-dreaming isn't helping.

It isn't as satisfying as he thought it would be.

He’s not breaking through his creative block anytime soon. He puts his plans for the other rooms on the back burner and decides to spend time picking out furniture for his studio. With the exception of his sewing machines, he didn’t bring anything from his penthouse studio here, so he’s starting over fresh. He switches tabs and starts filling his online shopping cart with the basics: a new drafting table, a cabinet, a chair he’ll have to custom-upholster, a bolt of drapery fabric he can repurpose to make a bedspread (if he goes through with his plans for a foldout), and a few other miscellaneous odds and ends, nothing worth wasting too much brain-power over.

The clunk-clunk of Sebastian stacking cans in the kitchen cabinets reaches Kurt upstairs, as does the water running in the sink while he washes dishes and the squeak of the sticky pantry door when he fixes it. Kurt plans on redoing the kitchen and giving the entire room a facelift. Sebastian knows that. But repairing the door gives Sebastian something to do.

Sebastian has been considerate enough to let Kurt do his thing undisturbed for the morning. Kurt’s reluctance to talk to anyone extends to Sebastian, which Sebastian understands. He’s keeping his distance. But it’s nice to hear him puttering around the house. It gives Kurt comfort, the same way listening to his father snore in the middle of the night helped Kurt feel less alone after his mother died.

He may want to be left alone, but it’s nice to know that he’s not alone.

Especially not today.

Today did not start out good for Kurt.

Kurt woke up later than he’d intended, and when he did, he couldn’t remember where he was. Sebastian had woken up and gotten out of bed hours earlier, leaving Kurt alone to sleep in. Kurt climbed out of bed and wandered around frightened, hands crawling along the walls, searching for something familiar. Footsteps passed somewhere underneath him, and he froze. He didn’t want to venture downstairs because he didn’t know who could be there. Maybe someone had broken in, or worse - this was somebody else’s house, and Kurt was the intruder.

His heart raced. He started hyperventilating. He went from room to room, trying to figure out where he was and why he was there. It wasn’t until the second time he went into his studio that he began to remember. He saw his bag on the floor and, beside it, his sketchbook. He remembered sitting in there the day before, making plans. He remembered the wood grain of the floor, the dusty glass, the tree outside, the wallpaper, and that ripped corner by the window, which Kurt refuses to acknowledge any more than he has to.

He feels it behind him, like the sun on his back, trying to get him to turn his face to it, but he refuses. Of all the things he needs to deal with, that ripped corner and the word beneath it don’t make the list. It isn't doing the palpitations in his chest any favors.

It confuses him.

It angers him.

It saddens him.

It makes him consider what could have been, forces him to face everything he's lost. He didn't succeed in running away from his problems. He ran headlong into brand new ones.

But this is his house. He has to get used to it.

These episodes aren’t uncommon. They crop up whenever Kurt needs to adapt to change. They’re unexpected, like mines in fields he discovers he’s been running through when a second ago he was picking flowers in the park or strolling down the street.

It's their unpredictability that is the true torture.

They show up even on his good days.

His life for the last ten years revolved around his daughter. When she was a baby, he adjusted his work schedule to match her sleep schedule. They had the money to afford the best nurses in New York, but Kurt didn’t want that. He didn’t want his daughter raised by a governess. He was as hands-on a parent as there ever was.

As Grace grew, her schedule changed, and Kurt adjusted: daycare, Gymboree, kindergarten, ballet, elementary school. He dropped her off in the mornings, then picked her up in the afternoons. They spent the rest of the day going over her homework until it was time to make dinner, which they did together.

That was the great thing about being a designer and freelance editor. Kurt could work from anywhere, and, aside from doing consultations at Vogue, he could work any time.

When Grace became sick, her doctor visits and her medication regimen dictated Kurt's schedule, then her chemo.

Towards the end, there was only one item written in Kurt’s schedule - lie beside his daughter in her bed, holding on to her for dear life.

And not just her life.

His, too.

In sickness and in health, Grace kept Kurt’s life regulated.

Things flipped drastically when she died.

He felt adrift. Detached from the life he had gotten used to, he didn’t know what to latch on to. His internal clock would wake him up at six to get Grace ready for the day, only to find himself walking into a vacant bedroom. At the supermarket, he would grab her favorite cereal out of habit and put it in his cart, even though it wasn’t on the list. He would jolt when he'd come across a song he thought she’d like or saw an advertisement for a movie he thought she’d enjoy.

He has yet to stop the automatic deposits from his bank account to hers, her weekly allowance piling up on top of birthday and Christmas money. She had earmarked it for college (her decision, not his). Now it waits to be donated to the children’s hospital that took such incredible care of her. He doesn’t have the heart to empty it. She was so proud of it.

He doesn’t know what it will do to him to see the balance at zero.

But the worst moment of all, the absolute worst, was when he tried to go back to work right after they lost her.

There are many moments after Grace’s death, during Kurt’s own struggle for acceptance, that blur together, but this one he remembers so vividly, it brings a lump to his throat and tears to his eyes.

He was in the middle of a brainstorming session with his team. His boss Isabelle was there. She had dropped by with a box of cronuts and a grande nonfat mocha. Kurt hadn’t been eating. Everyone could tell. But Kurt overlooked the signs – the sharper than normal angle to his cheekbones and chin, his collarbone that showed through his skin a little too much, his hands that never stopped shaking. He had waved the food away when she offered.

An hour later, he was on his third one.

The tension of his presence in the office so soon after his daughter’s death slowly dissipated, making way for the familiar, though attenuated, back and forth banter he had so missed. Without knowing it, he was paving the way for a potential comeback. He wouldn’t have a line up for a while, and he would need to keep an eye on fashion trends as they came and went in his absence. But this, this felt so natural, so normal, it almost seemed like it was. He got caught up in the rhythm of this impromptu jam session. He smiled, he laughed.

He felt alive again.

Somewhere in the middle of outlining a rough schedule, he glanced down at the time on his phone. Mid-sentence, he got up from his chair and walked over to get his coat off the hook by the door.

“Alright,” he said with a chuckle over Chase’s last clap back at a jab from his boyfriend Ian, “thanks for everything, you guys, but I’ve gotta run. We’ll talk about this more when I come in tomorrow.”

The room went pin-drop silent. Kurt didn’t notice.

“Where are you going?” Isabelle asked, getting up from her seat on the corner of his desk and approaching, knowing that he would need her in a second, the way she always knew. Kurt has referred to Isabelle as his Fairy Godmother ever since he first walked into Vogue fresh out of high school and trying to find a foothold in the hectic Gulf Stream that is New York City. She became his pillar of support, a sympathetic ear, and a clear head whenever he needed one. She had thrown his bachelor party. Hers was the condo he stayed in the night before his wedding. She’d hosted Grace’s baby shower.

Also, Grace’s wake.

She didn’t have children of her own and didn't plan on it, but she loved Grace as much as anyone.

And hers was the shoulder Kurt cried on when he found out Sebastian had cheated.

Kurt looked at her, confused, wondering why it was that everyone around him seemed to be holding their breath. “I just… have to go pick up Grace. From school. I’m going… I’m going to be late.”

Isabelle shook her head and put a hand on his. “Sweetie… ”

It took Kurt a second.

Even after one person gasped and another sniffled, with Isabelle’s sorrowful eyes staring at him, begging him to remember so she wouldn’t have to say it, he didn’t catch on.

When he did, it hit him like an electric shock straight through his body, rendering his muscles useless, and he crumbled to the floor. Isabelle held him for over an hour in that spot until Sebastian arrived. Kurt didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to go to their empty penthouse and face the truth about his empty life. He wanted to stay at Vogue with Isabelle and live in that moment where everything was alright again for one shimmering second, even if it wasn’t real.

But he had to go. He had to leave with Sebastian, who had hurt him, back to his home, even if it killed him because even though he felt like his life was over, everything else continued on. People lived, and people died. The sun set in the evening, but in the morning, it would rise again.

He just didn’t want to be a part of it anymore.

Not without his Grace.

He was cried out by the time Sebastian got him home. Sebastian undressed him, helped him with his cleaning and moisturizing routine, and then put him to bed. It was Friday evening when Kurt shut his eyes and went to sleep. He lived that horrible moment at his office over again a hundred times before he opened his eyes. And when he did, it was Sunday morning.

Like this morning, but to a greater extent, when these attacks happen, locked in his own brain, sifting through the pieces to find one big enough and sturdy enough to hold on to, Kurt loses time.

In a blink, hours go by, sometimes a day. He’ll climb in the shower in the morning, turn the water on hot, and by the time he realizes it’s cold, it’s close to noon. He has sat at the dining room table for breakfast, staring at a bowl of oatmeal, and when he found the will to pick up the spoon, the oatmeal was old and stiff, and it was dinner time. He’s gone to bed on Monday and stared at the black behind his eyelids till Wednesday.

As far as Kurt knows, it’s only around lunchtime, but he glances at the clock in the corner of his screen to make sure.

12:45.

He breathes a sigh of relief. He double-checks the date to make sure he has a reason to and sighs again.

Still Tuesday.

Kurt switches back to the IKEA tab he’d been laboring long but not hard on earlier. He looks at the shopping cart he’s been steadily filling, scrolls through his selections of personality bereft, assembly line furniture, and groans. This isn’t him. This house, this blank slate, should be an endless fount of motivation.

But he's numb.

Maybe he's rushing into this. He should give this house and the neighborhood time to grow on him before he sentences it to the mundane.

He needs a break. (Kurt Hummel need a break from shopping? Since when?) He flips to a new page in his sketchbook. For shits and giggles, he tries drawing a sketch for his husband’s office. He starts with the easy part – Sebastian’s desk. Sebastian didn’t leave that in the penthouse, so Kurt will make it the linchpin and design around it.

Things flow surprisingly easily from there once he gets started, with a pencil in his hand writing on paper instead of working on a screen: an ornamental rug, a matching leather chair, burgundy velvet curtains, a chainmail style Tiffany desk lamp, 1930s art deco décor with a soupcon of Persian flair. But he doesn’t want the room to be too dark. No. Kurt wants nothing in their house to be dark. He adds a Salento chandelier over the open portion of the room and a sweep of color – one wall, opposite a window, a lighter shade than the rest. He doesn’t know what Sebastian’s office looks like, but there has to be a wall in there that will fit the bill.

An enamel and copper vase, a Khatam inlaid photo frame, a few Negar Gari…

Kurt stops.

Would Sebastian want that? The softer elements countering the strict lines of the art deco pieces, what could be described as feminine influences, are Kurt’s signature touch. But might Sebastian prefer the art deco without Kurt’s fingerprints all over it? Isn’t that what Sebastian meant by Kurt being heavy-handed with the pastels?

Back in high school, Kurt had decorated his bedroom so that he and his stepbrother could share it. He'd skipped school so he could complete it in one day. He’d worked hard on it, trying to fuse a masculine air with his theatrical influence. What he thought was an eclectic representation of the masculine and the feminine turned into a Moroccan-themed disaster.

The word his stepbrother chose to use at the time was faggy, but there were ulterior motives behind it.

Sebastian made jabs in high school about Kurt not wearing boy clothes, comments that adult Kurt recognizes as the teenage boy equivalent of pulling Kurt’s pigtails. But at the time, they stung. Sebastian wouldn’t have made those comments if there weren’t a grain of truth to them, would he?

Sebastian has never retracted those statements, so as far as Kurt is concerned, they stand.

Kurt flips his pencil over and starts erasing. He’ll pare down the extras – trade the Tiffany lamp for a banker’s lamp, replace the rug with something more Brooks Brothers than Pier 1.

Maybe he should just opt for another IKEA recreation, but that feels like copping out, going back on his word.

He could always ask Sebastian. He swears his husband has passed by a few times, his footsteps rising and falling outside his door, but Kurt didn’t think anything of it. He figures Sebastian is passing through on his way to get something from the bedroom that he needs downstairs. Kurt doesn’t imagine the man is pacing the hallway, even if he is, trying to find a way to tell Kurt that lunch is ready. Little things like lunch, innocuous things, have become huge divides over the past few months. With anyone else, Sebastian has a history of railroading over them, hurt feelings be damned.

But Sebastian has learned his lesson. He paid a hefty price learning it, too.

Contemplating between clearing his throat so that Kurt knows he’s there and letting another meal go cold, he sees Kurt’s head lift up. It seems like an opening. Whether or not it is, Sebastian takes it.

“Lunch is ready.”

“Mm-hmm,” Kurt mumbles, brushing eraser shavings aside.

“Are you… are you coming downstairs?”

Kurt erases again, then pencils something on a sheet of paper that Sebastian can’t see. “Hmm… mmm?”

It sounds like a question and an answer, but since Kurt doesn’t follow it up with anything, it most likely means that Kurt will be skipping lunch… again. Sebastian knocks idly on the door frame, giving Kurt a second longer to tell him for sure.

“Alright.” Disappointed, he turns to leave. “I guess I’ll come back up at dinner then.”

Kurt doesn’t know why the thought returns when he wasn’t even thinking about it, why it decided to nag at his brain when he had been able to ignore it for this long, but that’s the way his brain works now. His thoughts don’t always travel straight paths. They twist and turn, taking one thing and linking it to something unrelated. Erasing the ideas he’d sketched out, removing every inch of himself from Sebastian’s office, made him think about how eager he was to be rid of that word darling from above the window, and that ripped corner returns to his mind with a vengeance.

Well, as long as Sebastian is there, he might as well ask.

“Sebastian?”

Sebastian pauses in the doorway, not daring to move. “Yes?”

“When was the last time you were here?” Kurt raised an eyebrow at the idea when it originally came to him. When would Sebastian have come to this house that Kurt didn’t know? They traveled Upstate once a year, but they always did it together as a family. And while they were here, Sebastian rarely ventured out alone. Sebastian isn’t the kind of person who would buy a house sight unseen.

Unless he had found it during one of his outings with Grace. Which would mean that Grace had seen the inside.

Grace would have seen this room and thought it would be hers, thought that they would someday live here, and Sebastian hid that word darling by the window for her and not Kurt.

The thought is so painful, it makes Kurt want to tear his nails out with his teeth so he’ll stop thinking about it.

Sebastian keeps his eyes locked to Kurt’s profile so he won’t miss the moment Kurt decides to look at him instead of the floor, the wall, or the ceiling.

“I found this house online. It wasn’t even on the market when I stumbled on it. To be honest, I’d only driven by it once. I hadn’t been inside until we moved in.”

“But you saw the inside,” Kurt asks. “Otherwise, how would you know about this room?”

“I took a virtual tour,” Sebastian admits sheepishly, “but it was extremely thorough. I’ve seen the blueprints, gone over the permits and the zoning. I had Tristan from the office look over the place when he came up to visit his folks. He facetimed me while he was here.” Sebastian furrows his brow. “Why? Is something wrong?”

Kurt’s heart beats regular again. Grace hadn’t seen it.

Thank God.

His eyes find the torn section of wallpaper, but they don’t stay there. He doesn’t want to clue Sebastian in about it if Sebastian doesn’t already know. He wants to uncover this mystery on his own. If Sebastian gets to keep secrets, big ones at that, then Kurt wants this one for himself.

“No, no. Nothing’s wrong. I was just curious, you know. Wanted to understand your process. Why this house, why this neighborhood, that sort of thing.”

Kurt’s sentence comes out choppy. It’s odd how awkward talking has become for them. Sebastian used to think that the two things they had mastered were talking and fucking. They did both together with such ease. There were never any boundaries between them, emotionally or physically. Even when they were cutting each other down, which they did in the beginning, they did so with such finesse.

Not like now, when Sebastian is walking on eggshells and Kurt doesn’t want to hear half of what he has to say.

“If you come down for lunch, we can talk about my process. If you’re curious, that is.” Sebastian watches Kurt expectantly, waiting for an answer.

And while Sebastian does, Kurt looks at his sketch – Sebastian’s office, the same way Sebastian always has it decorated. This is Sebastian without him and Grace: bland and emotionless, no light, little color, and no joy. Nothing exciting, nothing nuanced, nothing to indicate that he and Sebastian are together.

Not even those snapshots he’s so proud of.

Kurt hasn’t decided whether that’s a bleak picture or not.

“Sure. I’ll be down in a sec,” Kurt decides because he does and doesn’t have an answer to that one. It changes as the day changes, and the days change too quickly.

“Alright. I’ll be waiting.” Sebastian walks away, or Kurt thinks he does. He checks the time on his clock. It’s closing in on 2.

Kurt glances up at the window, the dangling wallpaper bouncing with the breeze coming from a draft near the ceiling. It would be so easy to tear it down – grab an edge and rip, be done with it once and for all. It might even feel cathartic, exposing whatever is underneath it. But lunch is ready. He’s already left Sebastian waiting long enough.

He leaves that mystery for another day.

#kurtbastian #sebkurt #sekurt #sebastian smythe #kurt hummel

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lilyvandersteen · 4 years ago

Text

The Christmas Guest Chapter 10

Author’s Note: Here’s Blaine’s point of view of the kiss and what comes after. Fluff galore. Enjoy!

Read Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4 and Chapter 5, the Interlude, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8 and Chapter 9 here on Tumblr, or read the story on AO3 or FF.net.

Chapter 10: Part of the Family

As soon as Blaine’s lips touched Kurt’s, he felt Kurt freeze for a moment, but just when he wanted to draw back and apologize, Kurt let out the softest sigh and melted against him. He also started kissing back, and held Blaine as if he’d never let go again. It made Blaine completely forget where he was and why. All that existed was Kurt, and how he felt, and how he tasted, and how he made Blaine’s head whirl with the simplest touch.

Blaine had no idea how much time had passed when the two of them were jolted apart by another party-goer, but it was not nearly long enough. He blinked hazily at Kurt, who looked as kiss-drunk as Blaine felt, and then at the people around them, who were… counting?

Oh. Right. New Year. Oh, brilliant, then we can kiss some more!

As soon as everybody started yelling Happy New Year, Blaine kissed Kurt again, reveling in the fact that he could, and that Kurt seemed to welcome his attentions. They needed to talk about this, yes, but first… First, he was going to enjoy this!

Again, he had to stop before he was ready to, this time because one of Kurt’s friends took offence to their PDA. They were quickly defended by Kurt’s other friends, but Blaine could tell Kurt felt uncomfortable, so he didn’t protest when Kurt wanted to go home, though he was a bit apprehensive about the conversation they would be having once they were back in Kurt’s room. Had he overstepped Kurt’s boundaries without realizing? Had Kurt only kissed back to keep up appearances? Surely, Blaine couldn’t have misread the situation that badly?

He chanced a quick glance at Kurt, who hadn’t said a word since they left the party, but his face was unreadable. He was shivering, though, and at once, Blaine’s preoccupations flew out of his head and he only thought of warming up Kurt.

In thanks for his efforts, Kurt sent him a glowing smile, which kept Blaine going until they were back in Kurt’s bedroom, putting their pajamas on, still in silence. By the time Blaine slipped into bed, his skin was skittering with all the feelings and words cooped up inside of him. As he cuddled up to Kurt, he couldn’t keep it all in anymore, and he burst out into an apology – right at the same time as Kurt started talking.

Well, not so much talking as asking for an explanation. Which was only fair, of course. Only… What answer did he expect? Could Blaine be honest and tell Kurt he’d tumbled head over heels in love with him? Would he dare?

Blaine hedged a bit, but Kurt pressed on, and his resistance crumbled. He could no more lie to Kurt than he could to himself. And maybe it was crazy to feel this way about someone he’d only known for a few days, but if by some miracle, Kurt felt the same way, maybe they could try dating for real?

He didn’t have to wait long for an answer. Kurt’s lips found his, and his heart leapt happily. Yes!

K&B

When Blaine woke up the next morning, Kurt was still deeply asleep, his head on Blaine’s bicep and his arm thrown over Blaine’s chest.

Blaine smiled up at the ceiling, happier than he could remember ever being, and enjoying this quiet private time holding Kurt in his arms.

This Christmas break had been nothing like he’d expected, but it had been everything he needed. Relaxing. A slice of home and family. Scrumptious food and fun pastimes. And most importantly: Kurt.

My boyfriend.

Oh, it felt good to think those words and know they were finally true. It felt so right. Like it had from the very beginning, when Kurt sat down next to him on the plane, and Blaine had smiled at him as though they’d known each other forever.

Well, maybe in another life they had.

Blaine heard floorboards creak, and a second later, Burt’s head peeped in.

“Good morning!” Blaine whispered. “And Happy New Year!”

“Kurt still asleep?”

“Dead to the world.”

“Glad you got home okay. Did Finn’s girl sleep over too?”

“Yes. We were all exhausted.”

“That late?”

“Just after midnight. That’s late enough for me.”

Burt hummed in assent. “Well, come down to breakfast if you can pry Mr. Koala loose. Carole’s making blueberry pancakes.”

That made Blaine’s mouth water. He looked down at Kurt sleeping peacefully, and then back at Burt, torn.

Burt chuckled. “Or not. You can always whip up a batch yourself later, if you want a bit of a lie-in. But no shenanigans, you hear me?”

Blaine nodded, and the door closed again.

Blaine closed his eyes and softly stroked Kurt’s hair.

“What time izzit?” came a sleepy inquiry.

Blaine smiled and told Kurt, “Way too early for you. Go back to sleep, sweetie.”

Kurt curled into him like a contented cat, rubbing his head against Blaine’s hand. “Feels good when you do that.”

So Blaine kept up his gentle caresses until Kurt’s face went slack, and he nodded off again himself a while later.

By the time they made their way downstairs, it was past ten o’clock, and Blaine’s stomach was rumbling in protest.

“Morning, sleepyheads,” said Carole. “Burt’s off to work already, and Finn finished all the pancakes, I’m afraid. I swear he’s got some sixth sense for food cooking. Always shows up seconds after the pan starts sizzling.”

Kurt yawned. “No worries, Carole, we’ll fend for ourselves. Are there still eggs?”

Twenty minutes later, Finn came into the kitchen, sniffing like a dog. “Is that cinnamon toast I smell?”

Blaine hid a smile. Carole had spoken the absolute truth. Finn had shown up not even a minute after the first toast had hit the pan.

Kurt swatted at Finn with the spatula. “Out! Yes, it’s cinnamon toast, and no, you can’t have any. You’ve already had breakfast, and you finished your own as well as ours, says Carole.”

“I was hungry!”

“Well, now WE are hungry and don’t want to share. Clear out!”

“Aw, come on!”

“Maybe that works on Cathy, but not on me. What did you do, swipe half of her pancake while she was talking to Carole?”

“No! She had a whole one herself. And then she let me finish her second one.”

Kurt fake-swooned. “Aw, true love! Where’s Cathy, anyway?”

Finn pouted. “She went home already. Said she still had tons of work to do. Lessons to prepare. For next week.”

“Well, at least one of you takes their studies seriously. Why don’t you take her good example and get some work done as well? Not much else to do, ‘cause Puck and the other New Directions will be hungover, and Blaine and I will be packing because we’re going back to New York.”

“Hang on, you’re leaving today?”

That was news to Blaine too. His plane ticket back to New York was for two days later, as he didn’t have class until Tuesday afternoon. Still, he could try and get his flight rebooked. He just wished he’d known a bit earlier.

As soon as Finn had left the kitchen, Blaine asked Kurt what flight he was taking, and then spent a good half hour on the phone to sort things out. When he hung up with a triumphant smile, having scored not only the flight but also the exact seat he wanted, Kurt shook his head, smirking.

“When you start pouring on the charm, I don’t think anyone could say no to you if they tried.”

Blaine cocked his head to the side and moved a bit closer. “Hmm… You can’t say no to me? Now that’s interesting…”

Kurt squeaked in apprehension – actually squeaked, and Blaine grinned.

Kurt’s chin went up. “I’ll learn to say no. So there. I’ll become immune, after a while.”

Blaine’s grin widened. “I wouldn’t be too sure, if I were you.”

“Oh, hush you!”

“Make me.”

And then he lost both his words and his grin when Kurt grabbed his head and kissed him.

They didn’t stop kissing until Finn came stomping into the kitchen looking for a snack, and asked, “Weren’t you going to pack?”

When Burt drove them to the airport that evening, he looked at Blaine in the rear-view mirror – they’d opted to both sit in the back again – and asked, “So are you sad you didn’t get to spend the holidays with your own folks, bud?”

Blaine squeezed Kurt’s hand, looked at him with all his love showing, and answered, “Not a bit. I had a marvelous time. Again, thank you so much for your hospitality.”

“Happy to have you, kid. Feel free to tag along every year from now on. We’ve all accepted you as part of the family.”

Blaine felt ridiculously close to tears, even as the corners of his mouth curved up, and could not manage a response. It made him happy to be so accepted, yet he felt guilty, too, for deceiving Burt.

Kurt kissed his cheek and announced, “Good, ‘cause Blaine is here to stay. Though, Blaine, I do want to meet your family too, someday.”

As soon as Blaine could strings words together again, he promised, “You will. We can go see my parents this summer. And Skype with Cooper one of these days. Though… I apologize in advance for all the ridiculous things Cooper is going to say.”

“Brothers,” Kurt nodded knowingly.

Kurt hugged his father tightly at the airport. When he let go, Blaine held out his hand for Burt to shake, but instead, Burt wrapped him up in a bear hug, too.

“Take care, kiddo. And look after Kurt for me, will you? Make him eat enough and sleep enough and have some fun in between all his work.”

“I will. I promise.”

Burt let him go and clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re a good kid. Wouldn’t mind having you as my son-in-law one day.”

“Daaaaad!” Kurt moaned.

“What, like you haven’t planned the wedding already in your head?”

Kurt looked as if he wanted to sink through the floor. “Dad, please! Do you want Blaine to run for the hills? We’ve only just become boyfriends!”

Well, isn’t that the truth… But I can totally picture myself married to you, so I’m not running anywhere but into your arms.

“I don’t think Blaine’s the kind to be easily scared off. He let us kidnap him when he didn’t know us from Adam, didn’t he?”

Both Kurt and Blaine gaped at Burt.

He chuckled at their gob-smacked expressions. “I heard you, kid. Inviting Blaine ‘as a friend’ because he’d been nice to you on the plane. I saw you making goo-goo eyes at each other. But Blaine didn’t dare say yes. So I made him come with us. And I don’t regret it. Do you?”

Kurt closed his mouth with a snap, and shook his head slowly, his eyes misty and his smile radiant.

Blaine shook his head as well. “Best thing that ever happened to me.”

#klaine fanfiction #my fic #The Christmas Guest #chapter 10 #enjoy!

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fizzip0p · 4 years ago

Note

What do you think of Kurt’s relationship with:

Rachel

Mercedes

Santana

any other friendship with girl? Brittany or Tina?

Oh boy. Okay.

Rachel: hate it. Hate the way it transitioned to sudden besties out of no where. Hate how it turned Kurt into her cheerleader 90% of the time while she took the 10% to reciprocate (Swan Song for example, that was a good pep talk from her to him). Hate how when he's not with New Directions, she's happy to help him try for a solo because he's her "only competition". Yet, when he tries for leading man material at McKinley, she too laughs in his face. When he gets the NYADA letter and she doesn't, she turns his excitement into her pity party. When he wins Midnight Madness, she turns it into "I guess I'm not talented enough and won't audition for anything". I hate how when she ditches him for fake friends who bad mouth him, she doesn't see that as a red flag to ditch them, until they vote for him and not her. I hate how she manipulates Elliott into claiming Kurt kicked her out when it was her own damn choice, and disowns Kurt when he didn't automatically take her side by playing referee for her outlandish claims against Santana. I hate "my best gay", it isn't cute, it isn't quirky, it's stupid and Kurt Hummel does deserve a better best friend who doesn't just use him to hoist themselves up. I'm glad Colfer called it the fuck out in his episode, even if it was magically fine at the end again just because she showed up to his Peter Pan show - shocker. I hate how she destroyed him being the actual student president by cheating, but that's fine because she owns up to it I guess? Like they still had to claim the cheerleader the winner who did nothing all year, when they could've had Kurt who would actually have done something good, but aT LeAsT sHe WaS HoNeSt right?????? I mean she is the one who also decided to run against him for a hot minute too, but SHE DROPPED OUT GUISE. BFF'S. It would've been so much better if they both went to New York, and then agreed to be roommates because it would be cheaper and we see them expand into actual friendship from there. Kurt doesn't need to stay relevant as a character just by being Rachel's best friend on the fact they both are into Broadway. THAT is the stereotype. Because remember, he's gay and she has two gay dads, so meant to be in each other's lives. Also ew having Rachel as a surrogate, what the fuck. No. Keep that controlling person away from any child of Kurt and Blaine's, that'll just cause more problems.

Mercedes: Maybe it's Colfer and Riley's friendship chemistry showing on screen, but I love and will forever love this friendship. I love that Kurt can admit he's wrong with her! ON HIS OWN! No sob story, no passive aggressiveness, no call out. Him realizing encouraging her to lose the weight was wrong? Growth. No, it isn't a perfect friendship, but it didn't start out of no where either. Kurt being dumb with trying to set her up with dates so he didn't feel bad in befriending Blaine. Mercedes letting her religious blinders encourage Kurt to go to church with her - but at least she approaches this conversation honestly, she doesn't sugar coat it from her point of view, which is good. They're both honest with one another. They're in each other's corners. Kurt Hummel heart eyeing every time she performs is the best. And it's dumb that it got pushed to the back for season 3 and onward. It should've grown from high schooler kids to young adults like a fine wine, instead of getting overlooked. There was potential of Mercedes being the surrogate, or even just another egg donor! But you know, some people needed to be zeroed in on and characters had to be tied to that characters hip, and Mercedes wasn't it.

Santana: Can you imagine how great (or terrible) this could've been if Kurt remained on the Cheerios? We can dream! But what we got in S4&S5 was great. Nice bantering, a mutual respect and understanding becoming a thing over time. They made pacts! They swore to each other about things off screen! She and him would've made a dangerous duo in New York if Rachel never moved back into the loft. She could've encouraged him to loosen up more, he would've helped her unlock a more vulnerable side of emotions when it came to catching feelings! Would've loved to see them bonding more like they did with the boyfriend arms watching TV! We were robbed, and s6 destroyed it all together, so. I wish we could've seen them on double dates, with Dani and Blaine. I wish we could've seen her trying to hook him up with guys in season 4! But no, two Slytherin's teaming up is too dangerous I guess. Fuck you glee.

Brittany: In the first season, it's nice to see that Brittany was the popular girl but still showing up to Kurt's house and dancing with him. It's because of her he joins the football team, briefly, and we get to see him kick ass at it and make a win for the Titans for the first time in however long! That's a big deal. I'm glad that she also approaches him in his "straight" phase and offers to help. And I'm glad she encourages Santana to go support Kurt during Prom Queen. BUT ANYTHING AFTER THAT, is null and void. Because she suddenly becomes this overly stupid child who only wants things done her way. When she offers to help him with his running for class president, she only focuses on him being gay and that's it - because it makes him a unicorn? It's a homophobic school, you really think shoving it in the bullies faces won't get him laughed out of a win? And he ditches the idea last minute anyway, so why bother going with that twist anyway? And when he gives her the rundown on what he wants to do, she ignores him and does it her way. When he gets mad, all of a sudden it's poor Brittany, she was just trying to help, Kurt's a meanie face. And when he (stupidly) accepts her idea for the campaign posters, she's like "oh by the way, I'm running against you now sorry I didn't tell you lol". And the bullshit of season 6 of her telling him that he needs to get over Blaine, then magically wants them to be in her and Santana's wedding? No. Keep her as far away from Kurt as possible after season 2.

Tina: Remember when Kurt fake dates her first? Wouldn't that have been an interesting play throughout that episode? Seeing Burt ask about Tina, Kurt bringing Tina over for dinner, Kurt and Tina discussing this new beard-ship for his dad, and then when he comes out, she would've been so happy for him? WE WERE ROBBED, YET AGAIN. We see them being friends throughout the seasons, but there isn't any growth with it. We don't really see her and Kurt doing things outside of school again. We see her help him for his NYADA audition as Christine (which he replaces her for Rachel, big shock, fuck you). We see him defending her against the jock bullies in the hallway. We see them walking to glee club together. But there's still nothing expanded on so it just falls flat. Clearly she and Kurt talk still after he graduates, as they both enjoy gossip. But what else?! We don't know! It had potential for friendship outside of school and outside of just gossiping! But alas.

#answered #anti Rachel Berry #anti hummelberry #anti brittany pierce #long post #fuck glee basically #😌 kurtanacedes ot3 basically. could've had it all.

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