I re-read the fic âDaltonâ by CP Coulter every year, usually starting in November-December. I just finished up and Iâm dyyinngggg for an update. An update Iâve been wanting for a decade.
I had a literal aneurism when CP Coulter started posting again on Tumblr, promising to update. I hadnât been on tumblr in yeaarrssssss and I just so happened to check in on her page one day and had a meltdown! Itâs been quiet for almost two years now, but Iâm still hoping and waiting for her return. <3
So hereâs just a small piece that I was dying to write because Reed and Shane are my all time favorite pairing of ALL TIME! So this is another version of Kurt trying to help Reed figure it out.
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The bristles of the paint brush slid across the canvas, lopping at the end, leaving behind a dark, delicate curl of hair. The artist pulled his brush back, scrutinizing his work. His lips pursed and his brows scrunched as he gazed at the piece of artwork, searching for what was missing. To anyone else, this picture would have looked complete, but to Reed Van Kamp, it was not. Because, wellâŚ
He could never finish.
He let out a frustrated breath, pushing his supplies away and crossing his arms. âHaving a moment?â He could hear the amusement in his roommates voice.
âPlease, Kurt, Iâm already struggling.â His strawberry curls fell around his porcelain, freckled face as he dropped his head, shaking it slightly. âWhy canât I stop?â
âStop what?â Kurt asked. âStop painting him? Or stop failing to paint him?â
âStop thinking about him.â Reed whispered. Kurt tried to suppress a smile, failing only slightly. âI donât know whatâs happening to me.â
âYouâre falling in love, I think.â The countertenor answered from where he was proofreading an essay for the 10th time. Professor Murdoch would never be able to fail this one.
âKurt, donât say things like that!â Reed flailed so hard, he almost sent himself off the edge of the stool he sat upon. âI donât even think IâmâŚgay. Or at least, Iâve never thought about it!â
Kurt let out a breath through his nose, noting his place in the essay and pushing his chair back from the desk. He strutted over to Reed, grabbing his wrist and yanking him to the artistâs plush white bed. Reed stumbled on the way, falling onto the bed with an âoof.â
âReed,â Kurt gave him a stern look as he pulled him upright. âHave you ever actually thought about anything? Like being straight, I mean,â the diva clarified. âHave you ever been attracted to a girl?â Reed was silent for several seconds. Kurt waited patiently, knowing the answer.
âWellâŚnot exactly, I guess?â The small artist finally relented. âIâve grown up watching the most gorgeous women strut down runways and model for magazines, and Iâve always been able to acknowledge that, of course. But, I guess Iâve never thought anything other than that. That they look good in the designer clothes.â He sighed and fell backwards on the bed, his legs hanging over the edge. âItâs justâŚscary. Iâve never had someone so openlyâŚtaken with me?â
Kurt snorted. ââTakenâ is the understatement of the century. Shane literally worships the ground you walk on. When youâre within a mile of him, his eyes never leave your direction.â He patted Reed on the knee. âI know itâs confusing and stressful for you, Reed, trust me, I do. But no one is expecting or forcing you to make any decisions. Even Shane. He may be hoping and praying and pleading to the heavens, but he would never pressure you into an answer or reciprocation. Time is all yours, my fellow fashionista.â He glanced over at his best friend, who had his face hidden behind the arm draped over his head. âI do think, however, that you should seriously consider trying to figure it out soon, though. I can see how much this is bothering you. We will all love and support whichever decision you make. Do you want me to ask Blaine to have Shane back off?â
A small spasm caused the bed to shake slightly. âIâll take that as a âno?ââ Kurt smirked, enjoying the color making its way to Reedâs face. âOkay, letâs get real here. Do you think heâs cute?â
âKurt-â Reed groaned, pulling his arm from his face and glaring at the ceiling.
âAnswer the question, Reed. Stop being such a drama queen.â
ââŚâ Kurt could hear Reed grumble a quiet response.
âReed! Sit up and answer me right now, or Iâll take the tweedlesâ zombie apocalypse baseball bat to your brand new art supplies!â Reed shot straight up, staring wide eyed at Kurt.
ââŚyou wouldnât.â He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. His roommate just raised a delicate eyebrow at him, poker face strong.
âWould you like to test that theory?â Reed wasnât sure that he did. He saw Kurt destroy Tabitha without even breaking a sweat. âNow, do you, Reed Van Kamp, think that Shane Anderson is cute?â
Absentmindedly, Reed was tinkering with the ring that hung around his neck as he glanced over to the abandoned painting. His eyes traced over the perfect details of the subjectâs face. Every laughter line and every smooth curl of his brunette hair. He lingered on the swirls of green in the eyes that he had memorized and he almost smiled. âHeâs beautiful.â
Kurtâs eyebrows shot up. âLike runway model beautiful? Or like youâre falling in love beautiful?â Read glared at him, but he was failing at fighting the grin that began to grace his face. âNoted.â Kurt laughed. âSo, what does anything else matter, then? You donât need to label yourself, Reed. If youâre not completely comfortable with shouting it from the rooftops, then donât. But if you like him, and he makes you happy when heâs around, then isnât that enough? It would be enough for him. And you know as well as I do that everyone here would be more than happy for you.â
Reed shook his head with a laugh, eyes misty. âI do know that, of course. I donât know why Iâve been so worried.â He threw his arms around Kurt, who yelped in surprise, but hugged him back, patting his messy hair. âThank you, Kurt. You always know what to say.â
Kurt chuckled as Reed pulled away, and he held onto the shorter boyâs shoulder. âI just want you to be happy. I can see that, even though you get jumpy around him, you do enjoy his company. I just hope you can âdiva upâ soon and claim it.â The âAliceâ of Windsor winked at him. The âDormouseâ just pushed him slightly away with an eye roll accompanied by a smile.
âDonât hold your breath,â Reed sighed, eyes still a little prickled from the conversation. He stood and brushed his hands over his wrinkled clothes. Yanking his sleeves up, he made his way back over to the canvas, only tripping slightly on the way. Planting back down onto the stool, he picked up a clean brush, dipping it into one of the colors on his palette. Kurt considered him for a moment, but decided to just let him be for now to sort through his thoughts. The countertenor walked back over to his desk, starting back where he left off on his paper.
It could not have been more than 20 minutes before Kurt heard the clatter of a brush hitting the ground. He cringed at the image of spilled paint, but the concerned thought left him the moment he saw Reedâs face.
The strawberry blonde boy sat, paint streaked down his clothes from where the brush fell, staring in amazement at his artwork.
His finished artwork.
âIâŚI did it.â As Shaneâs lovestruck expression stared back at him from the canvas, the expression he always wore when looking at Reed, the smile that took over the artistâs face was small and intimate, and a single tear finally escaped his eyes.
