#klaineweek

Colored my Klaine!AU outlines from Klaineweek. Which one do you like more? :3

Day 2 - Klaine AU

Kurt is not amused. Forty minutes on the 1 train all the way up to Washington Heights -- past Washington Heights -- just to meet a man who was probably crazy, or out to steal his identity, or so desperate to get laid he was forced to resort to extreme, albeit creative measures. Has it really come to this? Is there no other solution? Perhaps he's the crazy one. He had answered the ad, after all. Moments before the train stops at Dyckman Street Station, Kurt takes one last look at the ad, and then leaves his copy of the Village Voice on the seat next to him. He doesn't want the man, this Blaine Anderson, to see him with it. Besides, he's read it so many times, he has the damn ad memorized. Wanted: A boyfriend for Christmas. Need to bring a respectable-looking man home to beautiful Westerville, Ohio for the Christmas holiday to get my over-eager parents off my back about dating. I am 26, also respectable-looking, and not a serial killer or weirdo. I'm just a guy who doesn't want to deal with his family's matchmaking this year. Must be between the ages of 22 and 35. No criminal record. (My friend Wes will confirm.) Will pay $500/day plus travel expenses. No sex. (You can have the bed. I'll sleep on the floor.) Please send an email to [email protected] with basic info about yourself, and why you are willing to give up your holidays to help a happily single guy out. Must respond by October 25th. Thanks in advance for taking the time to respond to this ad. :) As he climbs the steps to the Dyckman Street entrance, Kurt realizes it was the smiley face that helped him make up his mind. He'd been intrigued by the ad initially because the man was from Westerville, a town not far from where he grew up. And after the fourth read it finally dawned on him that this man's solution for his own holiday woes could solve his problem, too. In theory. He'd hemmed and hawed, dumped the Voice in the trash and then picked up a new copy several times before he zeroed in on the smiley face at the end of the ad and thought, He can't be all that bad. He's from Ohio. Besides, all the serial killers are from Wisconsin, right? Coming up on Swindler Cove Park, Kurt laughs at the irony. Swindler. Maybe it's a sign. Maybe this Blaine person is up to no good. Turning to walk up the path to the Sharp Boathouse, he shrugs off his worries. He hadn't really given Blaine too much to go on, so it would be difficult for him to track him down, or assume his name, or anything like that. Besides, there was a slim chance that this could work. Very. Slim. He walks up path and onto the dock that leads to the famed Boathouse, and marvels at the restoration. He loves the orange doors and yellow trim, a stark contrast against the gritty ambience along the river. He'd read up on the project, but never really given any tours in this area. He's the go-to guide for the Theater District, Fifth Avenue, Union Square and the West Village, and sometimes takes over for Dale, who covers Wall Street, Ground Zero, Tribeca, and SoHo. June always handles the Washington Heights tours, and Harlem, so he's never had the chance to show off all he learned about the return of crew to the Harlem River. Granted, it's not as much as he knows about Christopher Street, or Theater Alley, but it's more than most New Yorkers would know. He cracks open the Boathouse door and peeks inside. There are a few guys in red and white spandex crew uniforms, securing a boat to the wall. He wasn't prepared for spandex. No. He looks to his left and notices a man with dark curly hair, crouching down to talk to a teenage girl, also in spandex. The door creeks a bit as he opens it further, drawing the attention of the man, who turns to look at Kurt and sweet Jesus, he's fucking gorgeous.  Suddenly all thoughts of criminal Blaine Anderson are replaced with a steady mantra of pleasebeBlaine, pleasebeBlaine, pleasebeBlaine. The man says something to the girl, stands and moves toward Kurt, a question in his eyes and a giant, brighter-than-the-sun smile on his face. "Are you Kurt?" he asks. "I'm Blaine. Blaine Anderson." Kurt shakes his hand and says, "Yes. Kurt Hummel. I'm him." "Thanks for meeting me here. I know it's a haul," Blaine says, looking Kurt up and down. It doesn't feel like leering, like the other men who pull this same move on him on almost a daily basis. It feels exciting. Tingly. Definitely tingly. "No problem. Well, it is pretty far from my place, but I've been wanting to see the Boathouse since they completed the restoration." "Right, you're a tour guide," Blaine says. "When I'm not auditioning, yes," Kurt says. "And you're a rowing instructor?" "Yes. I'm one of the pros they hired after the restoration," Blaine explains. He pauses, looks Kurt over again and says, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but, you said you didn't have a boyfriend." "I don't." "I find that hard to believe." "Why?" "Well, look at you," Blaine says, eyes dancing. "Oh, well. I assure you I don't have a boyfriend," Kurt says. "You're not flirting with me, are you? I thought the ad said 'no sex.' It's definitely a no-sex deal, right?" Blaine laughs and nods. "No sex. Absolutely. And I don't really care if you have a boyfriend, just as long as you don't tell my parents." "So what is this then? They don't approve of you, so they keep trying to fix you up with girls?" Kurt asks. "Umm... no. That stopped my senior year in prep school. There was this kid, from a different school, he tried to commit suicide when his teammates outed him, and my folks found out about it. Next thing I know, my Dad is locked in his study, watching It Gets Better videos until he can't see straight. Within a month my conservative parents are hosting PFLAG meetings in our living room." Kurt giggles, thinking of the time he dragged Finn to a PFLAG meeting. He ate all of the cookies and asked seven inappropriate questions before he finally shut up and listened to the group. "They're fixing you up with guys, then?" Kurt asks. "Yes. It's constant. Constant."  "And that's a bad thing?" "It's an awful, terrible, very bad thing," Blaine replies, followed by the smile. That smile. "It's nice that they're so supportive, though," Kurt offers. "They ride on the float at the Columbus Pride march. They hang a rainbow flag from our flagpole on National Coming Out Day. My Dad's audi has a bumper sticker that says, 'Hate is not a family value'." "Well, it's not," Kurt says, still giggling. "And wait... you have a flagpole?" "I just thought you should know. They're a bit... much." "So you've decided, then?" Kurt asks. "I have now. You're kind of... perfect. Provided your background check works out, of course," Blaine says. "About that. I'm not giving you my social security number, or even my address. I don't know you, and you can get everything you need to know about me from Google or Facebook or whatever." "Well, I am paying you..." "And that's another thing. I should tell you why I answered the ad," Kurt says, his palms sweating. This was a make-or-break moment.  "You told me in your email..." "Not exactly. Well, not everything," Kurt says. Blaine looks intrigued, so he continues. "I don't want your money. I want to trade. I'll be your boyfriend for Christmas, and then you'll be mine. First Westerville, then Lima. We can split it up however you like, but we're a Christmas morning family, so..." "We're Christmas Eve," Blaine says. "Well, good. That's good." "A trade, huh? Are your parents trying to fix you up with girls?" Blaine teases. "No. Never. My Dad, he thinks I'm not over this old boyfriend, and he sort of, tries to make me feel better in really, really annoying ways," Kurt says, trying not reveal too much. "So you do me, and I do you?" Blaine asks. "Well, not exactly." "I'm teasing. No sex, remember?" "Of course. So we're doing this?" Kurt asks. "Yes. Definitely," Blaine says, extending his hand. "So what's our backstory?" ***

So friends, the idea for this very un-SLY fic came to me while indulging in my guilty pleasure: Hallmark Christmas movies. I thought, why can't we have gay protagonists in this cheesy, wholesome movie? Why can't we have gay romantic leads who don't end up dead, or gay-bashed, or bullied; who don't cheat, or kill people, or any of the other horrific things that so often happen to gay people in movies.

Then I said, "Wait, I can have that. I'll just write it."

So I came up with a cheesy title, "A Boyfriend for Christmas," and a very Hallmark plot, and then added my twist (and sex, of course, sex), and came up with this little fluffy fic that has lots of hijinks and fun and mildly-angsty-but-predictable scenarios so I CAN BE HAPPY. 

By the way, I Googled "A Boyfriend for Christmas," and it actually exists! I've never seen it, but know that the plot for that movie is not my plot.