#klainevalentines2019

“At least you didn’t have to wait for me to get out of the hole this time,” Blaine jokes as Kurt opens the exit door of the Urgent Care.

“Shut up,” Kurt says, opening the passenger side door of his car for Blaine to climb in. “You don’t get to say anything until your hand stops throbbing.”

Blaine leans in for a kiss as Kurt buckles his seat belt, and is met with the door slammed in his face and Kurt heads for the driver's seat. “Babe it’s not even that bad! Two weeks of ice and ibuprofen that’s all, I guess now I’ll have to train my left to be a little stronger-” he stares at Kurt’s profile as he strokes his thigh.

Kurt moves it back to Blaine’s lap. “Ice your fucking hand,” he says, eyes on the road.

“I don’t know why you’re bugging so much,” Blaine huffs as they pull into Kurt’s driveway. “When this is healed I should find those assholes and fuck them up-”

“You don’t get it do you?!” Kurt screams more than asks, looking at Blaine and immediately hitting the steering wheel in frustration. He screams again, hitting the his palm on the curve of the wheel over and over so much Blaine is prepared to give him his bag of ice after. Kurt rakes his hands in his hair and looks Blaine dead in the eyes.

“I’ve been through this for years- fucking years Blaine- and kept my cool. Do you now get that you’re giving what they want when you do this? That it could be so much worse?” He has tears in his eyes now, hands shaking as he goes on. “I get you’re upset but I’ve been upset, and don’t have time to relive these reactions all over again-” he trails off, gasping for air from talking so fast.

Blaine’s on him in a second, ignoring the pain from flexing his hand so suddenly as he unbuckles his seat and wraps his arms around Kurt’s middle, shushing him as he shakes. I’m sorry, so sorry, it’s alright he repeats asks he threads his hands in Kurt’s hair, holding him as solid as possible with the gear shift shoved against his gut.

They stay like this until Blaine’s ice pack melts, jiggling on the car mat as Blaine tries to shake Kurt from when he’s fallen asleep in his arms.

“Baby, c’mon,” Blaine whispers, stroking Kurt’s arm and sighing as Kurt wakes up. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“If you try to fuck me now I swear Anderson,” he says laughing, his walls immediately coming up as he gets his keys and Blaine follows suit.

***

An hour later Blaine has made them sandwiches and Kurt’s painting Blaine nails a deep blue as a movie plays in the background. “I really am sorry,” Blaine says, eyeing Kurt as he painting his thumb as a new ice pack balances on his knuckles.

“Just when I thought you were going to be quiet,” Kurt saying without looking up, poking his tongue out a little to concentrate. “And it’s fine.”

“Are you alright?” Blaine asks, not giving Kurt the time to change the topic. “You’ve have freaked out like that since-”

He trails off and Kurt sighs. He knows there’s too many things he can fill in that sentence with. The night we met, the first time I tried to fuck you, every time we’ve visited Burt, that one dinner with your parents, and many more. “I’m fine,” he repeats. “It all gets overwhelming sometimes, you know? And I can’t have you punching lockers when it does.”

“I won’t,” Blaine replies in a heartbeat and Kurt huffs out a laugh at his suddenness.

Kurt smiles. “Good, because we both know I’m the drama queen in this relationship,” and this time Blaine laughs. “Now give me your other hand.”

Although they’ve never had a conversation, Blaine knows by his bell of laugh, Greek god of a profile and graceful motions as he works the drive-thru window that he’s crush-worthy— he also knows by his lean legs and tight ass, but he won’t mention that.

Towards the middle of April, Kurt’s second phrase of training has him working the register and their encounters move from longing one-sided gazes on Blaine’s side to “one medium drip please” and a “coming right up!” from Kurt. May hits and Kurt casually asks one day: “can I get your name?” and Blaine knows it’s protocol and not for him, but it doesn’t help as he stutters it out.

When he gets his coffee at the end of the bar, a loopy “Blein” is scrawled on the side. He laughs so hard a few customers stare.

The next day Kurt asks for his name again, and Blaine gives it again with a smile. ‘Blake’ is written on the side and he just rolls his eyes.

He understands that having your name spelled wrong is customary at Starbucks, hell he sees some of friends post it daily, but it can’t be too hard, right? Either way, he’s too nice to correct Kurt and it brings up a new talking point for them.

“With an ‘H’? Really?” He asks one day, referring to Tuesday’s “Blhain” cup.

“You didn’t like it?,” Kurt says with a smile, leaning his forearm on the counter to look at Blaine closer. “I’m trying to get creative.”

“Well, keep ‘em coming,” he replies, feeling his heart race.

Kurt wasn’t lying about trying. So far he’s gotten Brad, Blanne, Blayne, Blajhen (a Dutch influence, Kurt had joked) and a variety of other spellings. He’s also learned that Kurt is a music and language double major at NYU, and can find him drinking a non-fat mocha right before his shift if Blaine catches him soon enough.

“So when are you gonna ask me out?” Kurt casually adds to the end of their register conversation one day in July.

“When you learn to spell my name right,” Blaine says, expression not changing as he swipes his debit card.

Talking to Blaine Anderson was a struggle to the say the least. It’s hard enough talking to your crush as it is, but combined with Kurt’s situation of being in the closet and Blaine not knowing he exists at all a simple half hour just wouldn’t do.

Which how they somehow find themselves in Blaine’s kitchen one day after school, Blaine trying to explain the overarching themes of Romeo and Juliet as Kurt fidgets uncomfortably in his Cheerios jacket.

“So Romeo was with Rosaline and totally dumped her for Juliet?” Kurt asks, acting as if he’s never read the play. He’s more than aware of Romeo’s actions; when he was seven he made his mother help him sew original costumes and reenact it in their backyard.

“Basically,”  Blaine says with a laugh. “But he had good reason. He never truly loved Rosaline and was completely captivated with Juliet the minute he saw her.”

“So soon?”

Blaine let out a content sigh. “I know love at first sight may seem crazy, but when you know how you feel there’s no question about it.”

Is everything that easy? Kurt wonders, thinking about the itch that’s been begging to be scratched in the back of his brain for months. The curiosity that only gets to be explored in the middle of the night in the dark, his cock in his hand as he jerks off to the desires he wonders if he’ll ever get the chance to act on. If he even really wants to or if it’s just his hormones going crazy-

“Um, Kurt?” Blaine asks softly, tapping his pen lighting on the kitchen table to get his attention. “Everything ok?”

“When did you know you were gay?” He blurts out. And there it is. Hanging in the air, an unspoken question he practiced meticulously over and over again in the mirror. His heart is racing and he forces himself to push once more. “Or h-how, I guess.”

“Oh,” Blaine quirks his head, eyes darting around. “Are you..?”

Kurt straightens himself out, pulling at his sleeves and running a hand through his hair sprayed bangs. “I-I don’t-”

“That’s fine,” Blaine interrupts, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. “You’ve got plenty of time to figure it out. I um- it took me a while to know but if there’s something telling you that you’re...then it’s probably for a reason.”

Kurt gives a small nod. “Alright. I mean there’s..I’ve…”

He trails off in fear of embarrassment. He doesn’t have the heart to tell Blaine he’s one of the biggest reason that he’s thinking this, that sometimes Blaine leans back in his chair in their shared English class he catches the slightest whiff of his hair gel and Kurt gets so hard so fast his head spins.

Blaine shifts in his chair to pull his phone from his back pocket. “Take your time. You can give me your number and we could talk later. Or text or whatever you may need.”

Kurt takes the the phone from his outstretched hand, shuddering as their hands brush. “Thank you,” he says with relief. “I feel ridiculous now, failing all these papers to try and talk to you alone. I didn’t think it  would only take this long.”

“Me? Really?” Blaine asks, his posture deflating as he laughs. “I cleaned the whole house before you came here! God I was so nervous.”

Now they’re both laughing, defusing the bomb that Kurt dropped on them moments ago.

“So..” Blaine starts. “I’m assuming you already know about Romeo and Juliet?”

“You guessed right,” Kurt says, his cheeks heating up. “I’m a sucker for a good love story.”

When they first moved in, Kurt had taken up baking on a weekly basis but it soon died off when he realized what that meant for his bank account of organic ingredients and patient of washing a counter full of dishes immediately after.

For Blaine it means flour scattered across the counter as he glides around listening to his “coffee shop jazz” playlist, trying to perfect his mother's pie crust recipes. It annoys Kurt to no end seeing a mix of raspberry stained bowls and batter-caked whisks, but it’s one of the best pies he’s ever had.

The bathroom, albeit small, will always be Kurt’s safe haven. Santana and Rachel’s arguments occupy the space in the mornings, but at night he gets a chance to have a quiet shower if he blasts his iPhone speaker loud enough. If everyone’s asleep he’ll indulge himself by singing whatever song he’s working on or hum something he’s considering adding to his repertoire. Once Blaine is there it’s just someone to look during the morning brawls as he brushes his teeth, and at night Blaine  knows not to infringe on his skincare routine, but when Kurt climbs into bed he’ll receive the occasional “I love that song” or “Is that for showcase? I can’t wait,” accompanied with a goodnight kiss. It makes all the difference.

It also means Sam and Blaine have the occasional video game tournament on Saturday nights when they don’t feel like going clubbing. Kurt forgets how much of a boy Blaine can be, their excuse of a  living room gorged with chips, pizza and beer -which is only allowed when Sam comes over.  Yes, they stay up too late and Kurt couldn’t care less about what’s going on, but Blaine always crawls into bed and immediately curls around his fiance to the most loving, familiar warmth Kurt has ever known.

Yes, they fight. It’s inevitable. And there are harsh words. Bringing up of old wounds and past mistakes. Regretful tones. But occasionally, to avoid more , there’s makeup sex. Half satisfied, messy, dirty sex that only solves the problem temporarily and is the only thing that stops them from going to bed angry. They’ll wake up, cuddle and discus calmly and if they do as they lazily grind against each other, so be it.

Every time is dad calls, it’s the same beginning: “How’s the big city, champ?” followed by “How’s my future son-in-law?” If Blaine’s close enough he’ll call out “things are great, Mr.-I mean Burt!” which makes all of them laugh. And there are times when Kurt is sitting in his bed and has a great view of Blaine studying on the couch, pencil vigorously composing a score that he’ll receive an audio file of later on; he sees the concentrated look Blaine gets when nothing else matters but his music, a love that Kurt wonders he matches up to. Then, as if Blaine can hear his thoughts, he glances up and gives a smile so soft Kurt could melt then and there and he doesn’t care what the answer is.

Kurt turns quickly to look at Blaine’s profile. “Blaine, I worked on my audition for weeks,” he says as if that explains it all.

“I know,” he says with a shrug, trying to be nonchalant. Of course he knows, Kurt did prepare two after all and blew everyone away at the last minute, shiny pants and all. “And sometimes we don’t get the things we want. So what happens?”

Kurt gets a far away look in his eyes as he answer. “Well I’m either here for a year-maybe two. And everyone will know I couldn’t get away or I go to another school knowing that I wasn’t good enough to-”

Blaine pauses the T.V.

He could tell Kurt to chase after his dreams, tell him how great he’d do at a SUNY or how he’s a NYADA shoo-in. That’s what he should do, right?

“I love you,” is all he can think of. “And it-it’ll be alright.” 

He’s not sure who he’s saying it to.

Kurt opens his arms up, an open invitation to cuddle and while Blaine should be the one coddling him, he can’t deny that Kurt’s impending move stresses him out more than all the clubs he’s in combined. He moves the bowl of popcorn between them towards his boyfriend’s embrace.

“ We’ll be okay,” Kurt replies into his hair. “And I love you.”

“You’re amazing,” Blaine mumbles, in a voice he gets only around Kurt, his voice softer and lazy in the way that he doesn’t have to worry about how his inflection is being judged constantly. “When you were up on that stage-”

Kurt huffs out a laugh.“I know. I could see you through all the lights. I love that shirt on you."

Dear Blaine,

Things are beautiful, I think that goes without saying. Think a cleaner, more established Moulin Rouge <3

And letters are romantic, silly! Remember, we watched ‘Letters To Juliet’ before I left?

Honestly my biggest regret is not stuffing you in my suitcase, I hope the girls don’t drive you crazy.

Your fiance :),

Kurt.

Dear Kurt,

Really missing you today. That conducting for stage and screen class? Closed the minute I tried to register. So it looks like I’ll have to take that play writing course instead. Which is fine, but we both know you’re more of the writer here. (Got any half finished scripts I could borrow?) :p

Your fiance (!!!),

Blaine.

Dear Blaine,

Hope the start of spring break is going well. I can already picture you sunbathing on the dingy room of the loft. ((Which is quite the visually, if you don’t mind me saying.))

I took a trip to Berlin last weekend! Gorgeous city, equally gorgeous outfits and architecture. Wish you here to see all the museums- I went mainly for the art. Wish you were here to tell me about fancy beers and all that history you love so much.

Your fiance,

Kurt <3

Dear Kurt,

Sending this two weeks before you come home (miss you!) so I’m not sure it’ll reach you by then. Maybe someone will find it and wonder who we are (i.e. 'Letters to Juliet').

The past few months have felt like the longest  I’ve ever had in New York. I can’t wait until you arrive so we can sit back on the couch and watch Real Housewives- my commentary is never as good as yours- and sleep in late to go to our Central Park walks.

(There’s also other things, but just in case someone reads this I’ll just remind you how great all your Snapchats have been.)

Fly safe honey!!

Your fiance (!!!!!),

Blaine.

Dear Blaine,

I’m writing this from the airport and will attempt to find somewhere to drop this off, although it’ll be weeks until you get it.

Paris has been wonderful, as you can assume, but I must say that it’s only proven how great New York with you. Then again we’ve never been away together...if only we could afford the big honeymoon I want for you.

Can’t wait to see you cooking in the loft and coming to bed half asleep (and half dressed) without your hair gelled. What a sight.

Your fiance (!),